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CITY CRIMES;
OR
LIFE IN NEW YORK AND BOSTON. A VOLUME FOR EVERYBODY: BEING A MIRROR OF FASHION, A PICTURE OF POVERTY, AND A STARTLING REVELATION OF THE SECRET CRIMES OF GREAT CITIES
{First published 1849}
Title page of _City Crimes_, 1849 edition. Reproducedwith the permission of The Huntington Library, San Marino, California.]
CHAPTER I
_A Young Gentleman of Wealth and Fashion--a noble resolve--theflatterers--the Midnight Encounter--an Adventure--theCourtezan--Temptation triumphant--how the Night was passed._
'What a happy dog I ought to be!' exclaimed Frank Sydney, as he reposedhis slippered feet upon the fender, and sipped his third glass of oldMadeira, one winter's evening in the year 18--, in the great city of NewYork.
Frank might well say so; for in addition to being as handsome a fellowas one would be likely to meet in a day's walk, he possessed an amplefortune, left him by a deceased uncle. He was an orphan; and at the ageof twenty-one, found himself surrounded by all the advantages of wealth,and at the same time, was perfect master of his own actions. Occupyingelegant apartments at a fashionable hotel, he was free from any of thosepetty cares and vexations which might have annoyed him, and he kept anestablishment of his own; while at the same time he was enabled tomaintain, in his rooms, a private table for the entertainment of himselfand friends, who frequently repaired thither, to partake of hishospitality and champagne suppers. With such advantages of fortune andposition, no wonder he exclaimed, as at the beginning of our tale--'Whata happy dog I ought to be!'
Pursuing the current of his thought Frank half audibly continued--
'Yes, I have everything to make me truly happy--health, youth, goodlooks and wealth; and yet it seems to me that I should derive a moresubstantial satisfaction from my riches were I to apply them to the goodof mankind. To benefit one's fellow creatures is the noblest and mostexalted of enjoyments--far superior to the gratification of sense. Thegrateful blessings of the poor widow or orphan, relieved by my bounty,are greater music to my soul, than the insincere plaudits of myprofessed friends, who gather around my hearth to feast upon myhospitality, and yet who, were I to lose my wealth, and become poor,would soon cut my acquaintance, and sting me by their ingratitude.To-night I shall have a numerous party of these _friends_ to sup withme, and this supper shall be the last one to which I shall ever invitethem. Yes! My wealth shall be employed for a nobler object than topamper these false and hollow-hearted parasites. From this night, Idevote my time, my energies and my affluence to the relief of deservingpoverty and the welfare of all who need my aid with whom I may come incontact. I will go in person to the squalid abodes of the poor--I willseek them out in the dark alleys and obscure lanes of this mightymetropolis--I will, in the holy mission of charity, venture into thevilest dens of sin and iniquity, fearing no danger, and shrinking notfrom the duty which I have assumed.--Thus shall my wealth be a blessingto my fellow creatures, and not merely a means of ministering to my ownselfishness.'
Noble resolve! All honor to thy good and generous heart, Frank Sydney!Thou hast the true patent of nature's nobility, which elevates andennobles thee, more than a thousand vain titles or empty honors! Thouwilt keep thy word, and become the poor man's friend--the liberal andenlightened philanthropist--the advocate of deserving poverty, and foeto the oppressor, who sets his heel upon the neck of his brother man.
The friends who were to sup with him, arrived, and they all sat down toa sumptuous entertainment. Frank did the honors with his accustomedaffability and care; and flowing bumpers were drunk to his health, whilethe most flattering eulogiums upon his merits and excellent qualitiespassed from lip to lip. Frank had sufficient discernment to perceivethat all this praise was nothing but the ebullitions of the veriestsycophants; and he resolved at some time to test the sincerity of theirprotestations of eternal friendship.
'Allow me, gentlemen,' said Mr. Archibald Slinkey, a red-faced, elderlyman, with a nose like the beak of a poll-parrot--'to propose the healthof my excellent and highly esteemed friend, Frank Sydney. Gentlemen, Iam a plain man, unused to flattery, and may be pardoned for speakingopenly before the face of our friend--for I will say it, he is the mostnoble hearted, enlightened, conscientious, consistent, and superlativelygood fellow I ever met in the course of my existence.'
'So he is,' echoed Mr. Narcissus Nobbs, a middle-aged gentleman, with nonose to speak of, but possessing a redundancy of chin and a wonderfulcapacity of mouth--'so he is, Slinkey; his position--his earning--histalent--his wealth--'
'Oh, d----n his wealth,' ejaculated Mr. Solomon Jenks, a young gentlemanwho affected a charming frankness and abruptness in his speech, but whowas in reality the most specious flatterer of the entire party. Mr.Jenks rejoiced in the following personal advantages: red hair, a bluenose, goggle eyes, and jaws of transparent thinness.
'D----n his wealth!' said Jenks--'who cares for _that_? Sydney's a goodfellow--a capital dog--an excellent, d----d good sort of a whole-souleddevil--but his _wealth_ is no merit. If he lost every shilling he has inthe world, why curse me if I shouldn't like him all the better for it! Ialmost wish the rascal would become penniless tomorrow, in order toafford me an opportunity of showing him the disinterestedness of myfriendship. I would divide my purse with him, take him by the hand andsay--Frank, my boy, I like you for yourself alone, and d----n me if youare not welcome to all I have in the world--That's how I would do it.'
'I thank you gentlemen, for your kind consideration,' said Frank; 'Itrust I may never be necessitated to apply to any of my friends, for aidin a disagreeable emergency--but should such ever unfortunately be thecase, be assured that I shall not hesitate to avail myself of yourgenerous assistance.'
'Bravo--capital--excellent!' responded the choir of flatterers, in fullchorus, and their glasses were again emptied in honor of their host.
It was midnight ere these worthies took their departure. When at lengththey were all gone, and Frank found himself alone, he exclaimed--'Thankheaven, I am at last rid of those miserable and servile fellows, who inmy presence load me with the most extravagant praise and adulation,while behind my back they doubtless ridicule my supposed credulity. Ihave too long tolerated them--henceforth, I discard and cast them off.'
He approached the window, and drawing aside the curtain, looked forthinto the streets. The moon was shining brightly; and its rays fell withdazzling lustre upon the snow which covered the ground. It was a mostlovely night, altho' excessively cold; and Sydney, feeling not the leastinclination to retire to rest, said to himself:
'What is to prevent me from beginning my career of usefulness andcharity to-night? The hour is late--but misery sleeps not, and 'tisnever too late to alleviate the sufferings of distressed humanity. Yes,I will go forth, even at the midnight hour, and perchance I mayencounter some poor fellow-creature worthy of my aid, or visit someabode of poverty where I can minister to the comfort of its wretchedinmates.'
He threw on an ample cloak, put on a fur cap and gloves, and taking hissword-cane in his hand, left the hotel, and proceeded at a rapid pacethro' the moon-lit and deserted streets. He entered the Park, andcrossed over towards Chatham street, wishing to penetrate into the moreobscure portions of the city, where Poverty, too often linked withCrime, finds a miserable dwelling-place. Thus far, he had notencountered a single person; but
on approaching the rear of the CityHall, he observed the figure of a man issue from the dark obscurity ofthe building, and advance directly toward him. Sydney did not seek toavoid him, supposing him to be one of the watchmen stationed in thatvicinity, but a nearer view satisfied him that the person was nowatchman but a man clothed in rags, whose appearance betokened theextreme of human wretchedness. He was of a large and powerful build, butseemed attenuated by want, or disease--or perhaps, both. As heapproached Sydney, his gestures were wild and threatening: he held inhis hands a large paving-stone, which he raised, as if to hurl it at theother with all his force.
Sydney, naturally conceiving the man's intentions to be hostile, drewthe sword from his cane, and prepared to act on the defensive, at thesame time exclaiming:
'Who are you, and what do you wish?'
'Money!' answered the other, in a hollow tone, with the stone stillupraised, while his eyes glowed savagely upon the young man.
Sydney, who was brave and dauntless, steadily returned his gaze, andsaid, calmly:
'You adopt a strange method, friend, of levying contributions upontravellers. If you are in distress and need aid, you should apply for itin a becoming manner--not approach a stranger in this threatening andruffianly style. Stand off--I am armed, you see--I shall not hesitate touse this weapon if--'
The robber burst into a wild, ferocious laugh:
'Fool!' he cried. 'What can your weak arm or puny weapon do, against thestrength of a madman? For look you, I am mad with _hunger_! For threedays I have not tasted food--for three cold, wretched nights I haveroamed thro' the streets of this Christian city, homeless, friendless,penniless! Give me money, or with this stone will I dash out yourbrains.'
'Unfortunate man,' said Sydney, in accents of deep pity--'I feel foryou, on my soul I do. Want and wretchedness have made you desperate.Throw down your weapon, and listen to me; he who now addresses you is aman, possessing a heart that beats in sympathy for your misfortunes. Ihave both the means and the will to relieve your distress.'
The robber cast the stone from him, and burst into tears. 'Pardon me,kind stranger,' he cried, 'I did intend you harm, for my brain isburning, and my vitals consumed by starvation. You have spoken to me thefirst words of kindness that I have heard for a long, long time. Youpity me, and that pity subdues me. I will go and seek some othervictim.' 'Stay,' said Sydney, 'for heaven's sake give up this dreadfultrade of robbery. Here is money, sufficient to maintain you forweeks--make a good use of it--seek employment--be honest, and should youneed further assistance, call at ---- Hotel, and ask for Francis Sydney.That is my name, and in me you will ever find a friend, so long as youprove yourself worthy.'
'Noble, generous man!' exclaim the robber, as he received a fifty dollarnote from the hands of Frank. 'God will reward you for this. Believe me,I have not always been what I now am--a midnight ruffian, almost anassassin. No--I have had friends, and respectability, and wealth. But Ihave lost them all--all! We shall meet again--farewell!'
He ran rapidly from the spot, leaving Frank to pursue his way alone, andponder upon this remarkable encounter.
Leaving the Park, and turning to the left, Frank proceeded up Chathamstreet towards the Bowery. As he was passing a house of humble butrespectable exterior, he observed the street door to open, and a femalevoice said, in a low tone--'Young gentleman I wish to speak to you.'
Frank was not much surprised at being thus accosted, for his longresidence in New York had made him aware of the fact that courtezansoften resorted to that mode of procuring 'patronage' from such midnightpedestrians as might happen to be passing their doors. His first impulsewas to walk on without noticing the invitation--but then the thoughtsuggested itself to his mind: 'Might I not possibly be of some use orbenefit to that frail one? I will see what she has to say.'
Reasoning thus, he stepped up to the door, when the female who hadaccosted him took him gently by the hand, and drawing him into theentry, closed the door. A lamp was burning upon a table which stood inthe passage, and by its light Frank perceived that the lady was bothyoung and pretty; she was wrapped in a large shawl, so that the outlinesof her form were not plainly visible, yet it was easy to be seen thatshe was of good figure and graceful carriage.
'Madame, or Miss,' said Frank, 'be good enough to tell me why--'
'We cannot converse here in the cold,' interrupted the lady, smilingarchly. 'Pray, sir, accompany me up-stairs to my room, and yourcuriosity shall be satisfied.'
Frank (who had his own reasons) motioned her to lead the way; she tookthe lamp from the table, and ascended the staircase, followed by theyoung gentleman. The lady entered a room upon the second floor, in whichstood a bed and other conveniences denoting it to be a sleeping chamber;a cheerful fire was glowing in the grate. The apartment was neatly andplainly furnished, containing nothing of a character to indicate thatits occupant was other than a perfectly virtuous female. No obscenepictures or immodest images were to be seen--all was unexceptionable inpoint of propriety.
The lady closed and locked the chamber door; then placing two chairsbefore the fire, she seated herself in one, and requested Frank tooccupy the other. Throwing off her shawl, she displayed a fine form andvoluptuous bust--the latter very liberally displayed, as she was arrayedin nothing but a loose dressing gown, which concealed neither her plumpshoulders, nor the two fair and ample globes, whiter than alabaster,that gave her form a luxurious fullness.
'You probably have sufficient discrimination, sir, to divine my motivein inviting you into this house and chamber,' began the young lady, notwithout some embarrassment. 'You will readily infer, from my conduct,that I belong to the unfortunate class--'
'Say no more,' said Frank, interrupting her, 'I can readily guess whyyou accosted me, and as readily comprehend your true position andcharacter. Madame, I regret to meet you in this situation.'
The lady cast down her eyes, and made no immediate reply, but for someminutes continued to trace imaginary figures upon the carpet, with thepoint of her delicate slipper. Meanwhile, Frank had ample leisure toexamine her narrowly. His eyes wandered over the graceful, undulatingoutlines of her fine form, and lingered admiringly upon the exposedbeauties of her swelling bosom; he glanced at her regular and delicatefeatures which were exceedingly girlish and pretty, for she certainlywas not much over sixteen years of age. When it is remembered that Frankwas a young man of an ardent and impulsive temperament, the reader willnot be surprised that the loveliness of this young creature began toexcite within his breast those feelings and desires which are inherentin human nature. In fact, he found himself being gradually overcome bythe most tumultuous sensations: his heart palpitated violently, hisbreath grew hurried and irregular, and he could scarcely restrainhimself from clasping her to his breast with licentious violence. Hispassions were still further excited, when she raised her eyes to hisface, and glanced at him with a soft smile, full of tenderness andinvitation. Frank Sydney was one of the best fellows in the world, andpossessed a heart that beat in unison with every noble, generous andkindly feeling; but he was not an angel. No, he was _human_, and subjectto all the frailties and passions of humanity. When, therefore, thatenticing young woman raised her eyes, swimming with languishing desire,to his face, and smiled so irresistibly, he did precisely whatninety-nine out of every one hundred young men in existence would havedone, in the same circumstances--he encircled her slender waist with hisarm, drew her to his throbbing breast, and tasted the nectar of her ripelips, which so plainly invited the salute. Ah Frank, Frank! thou hastgone too far to retract now! Thy hand plays with those ivory globes--thylips kiss those rounded shoulders, and that beauteous neck--thy brainbecomes dizzy, thy senses reel, and thy amorous soul bathes in a sea ofrapturous delight!
* * * * *
Truly, Frank Sydney, thou art a pretty fellow to prate about sallyingforth at midnight to do good to thy fellow creatures!--Here we findthee, within an hour after thy departure from thy home, on an 'errand ofmercy,' embraced in the soft arms of
a pretty wanton, and revelling inthe delights of voluptuousness. We might have portrayed thee as aparagon of virtue and chastity; we might have described thee asrejecting with holy horror the advances of that frail but exceedinglyfair young lady--we might have made a saint of thee, Frank. But weprefer to depict human nature _as it is_ not _as it shouldbe_;--therefore we represent thee to be no better than thou art inreality. Many will pardon thee for thy folly, Frank, and admit that itwas natural--very natural. Our hero did not return to his hotel until anhour after daybreak. The interval was passed with the young lady offrailty and beauty. He shared her couch; but neither of them slumbered,for at Frank's request, his fair friend occupied the time in narratingthe particulars of her history, which we repeat in the succeedingchapter.
City Crimes; Or, Life in New York and Boston Page 1