Chapter _Two_
I Rule by Right]
On the wreck of many social thrones--for the town named after the Duke ofYork passed through numerous transitions the world knows nothingof--Patricia's aunt, Miss Georgina Knickerbocker, had elected to raise hersceptre. "I rule by right" was her dictum. "My family is old; few familiesare older or more aristocratic. The famous Judge Josiah Knickerbocker wasmy father, and my brother Jonathan owns Knickerbocker Mansion, the finestdwelling in York."
No potentate ever wore a crown more blissfully than Miss Georgina. Tall,beak-nosed, gruff-voiced she was, always with her younger sister, MissJulie, in tow and under good control--Miss Julie, who smirked and copiedher when family pride was concerned, though she had her own misgivings andopinions on other matters. Miss Julie even had emotions andsentimentalities of her own, which she struggled to keep bottled up beforeher relatives and the world, uncovering them only in secret, as she didher jasmine scent and pomatum pot.
The little woman's real name was Jerusalem, bestowed upon her at a timewhen the judge her father's religious spirit was in its blossoming period.One great grief of her life was that she had given way to wickedness andchanged this outlandish cognomen. She often brought the subject up beforeDr. Slumnus, as he stopped in for a social game of chess. "Indeed, MissJulie," he would answer soothingly, "the name is so Christian that itsounds heathenish. No well-conducted female should presume to bear thename of the holy city. Nay, ma'am, it would have come perilously nearsacrilege to retain it!"
Thus assured, Miss Julie would give herself over to the excitement ofendeavoring to queen a pawn. Later, in her chamber, ready to blow out hercandle, alone with the crowd of memories waiting to conduct her to theland of dreams, she shuddered. Her father's stern eyes would glare at herreproachfully; sometimes she would try to mock at them, remembering thewords of Dr. Slumnus--but oftener a tear or two trickled down her fadedcheeks and stained the strings of her nightcap.
Together these two elderly Knickerbockers were unweary in their efforts tointerpret high life to their circle. Their family pride was more expansivethan their brother Jonathan's. He talked chiefly of his Aunt Jane, themilk-weed lady, of his renowned father, and of that dim shade of aKnickerbocker who was the friend of Lord Cornbury. Miss Georgina hadclimbed higher into her hereditary tree. She prated of a great-uncle whomarried a niece of Lord Campbell--a cousin underscored in her records asLaird of Barula--the grand Makemies, the high-stepping Gabies, and thelearned Gobies. And, as for Aunt Jane, why, she was dowered with a largerchest of silver than any Jersey woman of her day. Those records of herpaduasoys and alamodes would have sickened a Custis; and herlove-affairs!--the wench herself might have been astounded at hearing thatshe once refused a patroon of Rensselaerswyck and a president of theCollege of New Jersey.
Quietly Miss Julie would sit and listen to her sister, but, once away fromher, she would assume what she believed to be the Almack manner, callimagination to her aid, and discourse to her long-suffering acquaintance.Aunt Jane's chest of plate became a veritable crown furgeon laden withtasters, posset cups, punch-bowls, muffineers, and salvers of pricelessand unique patterns. Her gowns would have done credit to a Drury Lanequeen. The patroon of Rensselaerswyck drank a flask of camphor to forgethis Jane. Scores of suitors died of lacerated hearts for her dear sake,and the president of the College of New Jersey vowed he could not hear theword love spoken in his presence, not even in his young gentlemen'sconjugations.
It was the arrival, from the vulgarian camp of Trenton, of one Mrs.Snograss that first brought interference with the sway of these gentleladies. That year, in which Richard Sheridan first played the organ in St.Paul's and Mrs. Snograss elected to reside in York, proved, indeed, aneventful one for the community. The genteel portion of Gotham society,like the family of the Vicar of Wakefield, was wont to lead a peacefullife. Most of its adventures befell it by its own fireside, or consistedof migrations from the blue bed to the brown. Or there was the yearlyglimpse of the Branch, or Schooley's Mountain, and on rare occasionsventuresome parents took their offspring to Hobuck for afortnight--especially if they were marriageable daughters.
The Misses Knickerbocker had visited the latter place in its transitionperiod. There Georgina purchased her Davenport tea-service for a song, andwas fond of telling of the fact. And Julie treasured a sweeter memory ofthe green Elysium--a dried-up flower of memory, but once a rose,nevertheless, carefully guarded from the world, hidden indeed from herselfmost of the time.
No one knew exactly how it began--that social war over the two capitals ofTrenton and York. Black "Rushingbeau," the York pronunciation for Mrs.Snograss's serving-man, Rochambeau, meeting Juma at the morning market inthe centre of the green, had dubbed the Knickerbocker chickens"spinkle-shanked fowls."
"Wot you know 'bout hens in yo' small 'count town!" retorted the loyalchampion of York. Like a mushroom the story grew, and spread from VeseyStreet kitchens into sitting-rooms and parlors. Of course the aspersiveattitude toward York was that of Mrs. Snograss reflected in Rochambeau.
"To think that a resident of Trenton, a city named after a mere merchant,should have the effrontery to speak disparagingly of our ancient capital!"cried Mrs. Rumbell, mother-in-law of Dr. Slumnus. "These are degeneratetimes, alack! What would poor Roberta Johnstone say if she were here? Letme see how many royal governors have lived amongst us."
Mrs. Rumbell counted on her slim, old fingers. The Knickerbocker ladies,who lacked the Rumbell knowledge of their city's past, brought all theirbrightest family banners to the fray.
"Lud," said Miss Georgina, and Miss Julie promptly echoed her, "I havenever even visited the spot where the Snograss woman came from; I knowthat the Comte de Survilliers, or plain Mr. Bonaparte, as he prefers to becalled, when he failed to secure Knickerbocker Mansion for a residencedecided to repair thither. Poor man, he must have languished!" she addedwith a final snort.
"And he was such a showy man too!" sighed her sister.
Mrs. Snograss, learning of the ferment her servant had aroused,sagaciously remarked: "Let them talk; their chatter is a lecture to thewise; as for capitals, everybody knows, counting out the inhabitants ofthis mud-hole, that Trenton came near being the capital of the wholecountry!"
When this bombastic statement was hurled at Vesey Street, it made as muchof a sensation as the late news from Cherubusco. Most of the Governmentofficers were classed with the Snograss widow by the affronted Gothamites,and Mrs. Rumbell said openly that if she had her life to live over Englandshould have welcomed her when the cross of St. George was torn down fromthe courthouse flag-staff.
The winter died and still there was no cessation of hostilities. Thechoir-room of St. Paul's, where the ladies of the Bengal mission met andlistened to itinerant lecturers, or sewed garments for the needy, was theusual field for battle. When Mrs. Snograss arrived late one day for Mr.Timbuckey's talk on the piety of George Crabbe, she was unfortunatelyushered to Miss Georgina Knickerbocker's bench. That haughty lady, theenemy being comfortably ensconced, arose and stalked over to Mrs.Rumbell's seat, followed by her sister and the Mansion girls, so that thebustle ensuing spoke to everybody of what was taking place. Patriciasmiled a mortified, half-sad smile at Mrs. Snograss, but the Trentonianonly accepted it as additional insult.
A month later Mrs. Rumbell fainted when her sewing-chair was placed by thedisturber of her peace. She was one of the most violent in her aversion tothe newcomer. The Rev. Samuel Slumnus shook his fat finger at hismother-in-law, as the crafty dowager, enjoying the excitement created byher feigned swoon, could see with her eyes half-opened. Such conduct wasnot to be borne. "Rebellion in my own family," fumed the perplexeddominie. "I must put a stop to it at once." In his agitation he claspedand unclasped his hands and caressed his sparse locks. When a hush fell atlast upon the room, he was seen mounting the choir-platform.
"The meeting of the Easter Guild will be held this year at the residenceof Mrs. Snograss," he sputtered. For a full minute silence reigned--thencame a clango
r of tongues. "He is almost as red in the face as if hechoked on the prune-pits in the Knickerbocker fruit-cake," some irreverentone whispered. It was said afterward that Mrs. Snograss had put afive-dollar bill in the mission-box as she left the choir-room thatmorning--a performance not without effect. A few parishioners were evenheard to lament the fact that Dr. Slumnus's family was not of the samestanding as his wife's. Miss Georgina declared privately to her sisterthat any one who went to the Snograss woman's should never darken the doorof Goby House again. But when the day preceding Easter came, and she heardfrom Julie of the delight the town was taking in the prospect of viewingthe much-talked of Snograss interior, one venturesome housekeeper havingeven asserted that she intended going up to the chambers, Miss Georgina,wild with jealousy,
The ghosts of their ancestors Page 3