Mrs Elton in Amercia

by Diana Birchall

  "And have you served in many, pray?"

  "Dear, yes, sir," he said cheerfully, "been at sea since I was not much bigger than your lad here; and this run to Halifax and Boston is a mere nothing."

  "You don't think any of us will be - ill?" faltered Mrs. Elton hopefully.

  "Why, I couldn't say, to be sure, ma'am, that depends on what good sailors you are. On our last crossing however, hardly a soul was sick. We expect a good fast crossing storms this time of year have never been heard of - and nowadays there is far more comfort aboard than would have been the case only a few years ago. The Medusa, you know, has every convenience. Ladies will hardly know they are at sea at all."

  Edward briskly departed to attend to other passengers, and assuring themselves that they were quite equal to making their way about the ship, the Eltons ventured along the passage to the cramped dining quarters, where the novelty of a meal at sea was gone through without any more surprise or displeasure than what the coarseness of the serving implements and the tight fit at table occasioned. The children were delighted at the charming way the plates slid about with every movement of the ship, and the meal was so successfully undergone, that the Eltons congratulated themselves once again upon the excellence of their seamanship. This was premature, however, for by bed-time, they fully perceived that something was amiss with their cabin. The shoes they had taken off, seemed to have slid up onto the walls, and the beds, narrow and thin as they were, appeared to have turned upon their sides.

  "Oh, husband, help, help, I am sure this is sinking! We shall all be drowned!" cried Mrs. Elton, and the children awoke and began to wail.

  Mr. Elton fumbled about in the darkness, forced open the cabin door and breathed great swallows of the open air. A steward, not Edward, rushed along the passage, and Mr. Elton called out, "I say! Are we all right? Is this a hurricane, or a squall? You don't anticipate our foundering?"

  "Just a bit of rain and wind, sir, nothing more" called the man over his shoulder, and ran on. Mr. Elton crawled back into his alarmingly tilting berth and spent the remainder of the long, dark, frightful night trying to soothe his wife and children.

  Such nights dawned into days when no one left the tiny, airless cabin, and only listlessly partook a very little of whatever drink or victuals the steward brought; sickness reigned supreme, and Mrs. Elton lay, mercifully oblivious to what her position in the ship's social circles might have been, were she able to struggle to the deck, or into the dark, narrow saloon where such passengers who were not desperately ill, idled away the long daylight hours.

  On one particularly smooth and sunny afternoon, Mrs. Elton took a little broth, and then, arraying herself in a large shawl, and with her older children clinging to her skirts and little Augusta Phillipa in her arms, she cautiously undertook the journey to the deck, and there she sat, lost and uncertain, glancing around miserably at her fellow passengers.

  "I wish we had gone to Italy," she lamented. "To think that we should be confined to such a dismal little vessel as this, and surrounded by such villains and low people."

  "Hush, my dear, you will be overheard. You do not wish to insult any one, whether we are among oddities or no. I think you are feeling better?"

  "No, to be sure, not at all. I do not comprehend, Philip, how it is that we are not treated as passengers of the first class. Here we are amongst emigrants, and people who can be of no property at all."

  "Why - the sea is a democratising business; and these are young families, going to seek their fortunes in the New World, as we are," her husband tried to assure her, "and we are settled in the best sort of cabin there is upon the ship, after all, Augusta; I made certain of that."

  "If you please, ma'am," said a plain, neatly dressed young woman respectfully, "if you are not quite recovered from the sea-unpleasantness, I wonder if it would relieve you to have me hold your baby for a little while? I should be so glad to do so. What a fine one she is."

  "Why yes - thank you," said Mrs. Elton, a little less ungraciously. "My maid has been prostrated, like me, but she cannot be expected to have as much spirit as I have, and she is still below. I never have endured any such agony in my life as this crossing. Were I not such a good sailor, I should have suffered dreadfully; only I think the higher the mind, the more resources one has. Are you going out to America as a servant?"

  The woman smiled, and explained. "No; my husband is a clergyman, ma'am, and we are going to Boston, intending to undertake missionary work. Our parents are dead, you see, we have no family ties and are alone in the world; and so we thought there would be wide opportunity for good works, in the new world."

  "A clergyman! Good heavens. Pray excuse me, madam, for taking you for a servant, but two weeks at sea alters every one's appearance shockingly. Why, Mr. Elton my caro sposo - is a clergyman too, and is to take up a fine post in charge of the Federal Street Church in Boston. He and Mr. Knightley have been writing to a certain Dr. Channing about his instalment there."

  "Are you quite sure, ma'am? Dr. Channing's church is one of the most respected in Boston, and he is a famous man of the cloth. I have never heard that he might be resigning his office."

  "Oh! yes, depend upon it, that is what Mr. Elton was told," Mrs. Elton insisted carelessly.

  "I do not like to contradict, but my husband, too, has been in correspondence with Dr. Channing; and I know that it is from the Federal Street Church that so many clergymen are sent out, all round the country, to spread the word about man's perfect ability, and to talk against the slave trade. I think you will find that Mr. Elton may not be situated at the Federal Street Church, after all, but sent elsewhere, as we expect to be."

  "Nonsense! Of course I know what his position will be, better than you can possibly do; he is to be one of the foremost men of the city. An English clergyman, you know, like Mr. Elton, will be quite looked up to by mere Americans. They cannot have the advantages of his education, his cultivation, not even in Federal Street."

  Mr. Elton had been listening to this converse with some perturbation. "I beg your pardon, madam - if I may inquire, what is your husband's name?"

  An open-faced young man of fresh, healthy appearance moved to his wife's side as she spoke his name, "Mr. Benson."

  "Ah, you are Benson? Yes, I believe you were mentioned in one of Dr. Channing's letters, as a young man going to take over one of the new parishes. So, you are making the crossing as the same time as we are, what a very odd thing."

  "Yes; God does work in mysterious ways," the young man said cheerfully. "And you are Mr. Elton. Dr. Channing has mentioned you, as well. We are to be brother workers. The good Doctor is quite anti-dogmatical, you know, and likes his clergymen to be doing, rather than speechifying; and I have no doubt that we will be sent to the parishes that stand in greatest need of our practical aid. It is my earnest hope that I may be allowed to do something to help the poor slaves. What a shocking thing slavery is, sir, and such a disgrace to a new nation; we have been blessed in England to be comparatively untouched by the business. Abolition may be slow in coming, but in the meanwhile, there is much good work to be undertaken in helping these poor souls. It is a rich harvest. Perhaps we may be sent out to missions in the South."

  "The South? What do you mean, sir? I assure you that I am sorry about slave conditions myself - very sorry but I was given to understand that I should be working with Dr. Channing himself, directly, and in Boston: not in the South."

  "Yes, to be sure you are mistaken," put in Mrs. Elton with energy. "My husband is an established clergyman, very well known in Surrey, in Bath and even in London: you are a young man, just beginning, and may be suited to be sent out to the barbarous Southern regions, but Mr. Elton can look to something better, depend upon it." She nodded vigorously.

  Mr. Benson only smiled. "We will see what the good doctor has in mind for us, in due course," he said pleasantly. "For the present, we have the rest of this voyage to perform, in safety I am sure it is to be hoped. Are you feeling strong enough to walk,
Maria? We will undoubtedly see much more of you later, Mr. and Mrs. Elton."

  Mrs. Benson relinquished Augusta's baby, and with a nod and a courtesy, moved away with her husband.

  The Eltons turned to one another with concern. "Philip - what do they mean?" she exclaimed. "It is unthinkable. Sent to the South! I thought you were assured of being in Boston."

  "That was my understanding, indeed, my love," he said uncertainly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bedraggled and dirty as the Eltons were from four weeks on board the Medusa, their spirits were lifted by their first sight of Boston, which U was, as its rising fame had heralded, a very handsome city indeed. Fine stone public buildings, of a sufficient antiquity to bespeak extensive and comforting evidence of civilization; and pretty, light-coloured wooden houses ranged up and down green hills, that looked fresh and gay in the open, if intense, sunshine of July.

  The travellers were welcomed at the dock by the great man himself, Dr. Channing, a tall, grey-haired man of benignant expression. He would not speak then and there of their prospects, but assured them that such discussions could wait, and in the meanwhile all would be done to make the new arrivals comfortable. They were conducted to be housed in a set of pleasant, good-sized rooms in a rooming house adjacent to the church, kept for visiting clergy and their families.

  In a plain but clean room, with bright patchwork quilts upon the bed, and the most modern and convenient of wash-stands, Mrs. Elton was reassured to learn from the landlady that her travel stained garments might be washed and refreshed for very little cost. She had a full minute or two of surprise, however, when she saw that the person sent to wait upon her and her children, was a quiet-spoken young woman of African race. Mrs. Elton stared at the servant for several moments, and at length addressed her with:

  "Are you a slave?"

  The young woman looked up from the pile of garments she was folding, and smiled. "No, ma'am, though your question is natural enough. I am a free woman; my name is Ella."

  "Oh - then please forgive my questions. We are new to America, and know nothing of these things. You were born in slavery, were you?"

  "No, ma'am, I was born in Boston. Massachusetts is not a slave state, you know, and any of the coloured people you meet here will be free. Many have formerly been slaves, however, and have escaped in some way or other. My husband was born a slave, and his family is still in the South. We hope to be able to purchase their freedom, some day."

  "Well! upon my word, how peculiarly interesting, it is quite a tragedy," exclaimed Mrs. Elton. "Children, do you hear this? This young woman's husband was a slave. There must be something to be done, and if no one will dare to act, then Mr. Elton and myself must. When we are established here, in our own home, Ella, we must see what we can do for yourself and your husband."

  The servant thanked her with more quietness than Mrs. Elton's effusion would seem to warrant, and then ventured a question of her own.

  "Your husband, then, ma'am, I was given to understand, is one of Dr. Channing's missionaries?"

  "Yes - that is, no. I am not yet entirely acquainted with the terms upon which Mr. Elton is to stand; but I believe he is to figure as Dr. Channing's right hand."

  "Oh, then, perhaps he will go to the South, and help my people," said the young woman, clasping her hands. "That would be God's work. People there are in such dreadful need, I know your blessed labours will be rewarded."

  "Why, I am sure they shall," said Mrs. Elton, rather pleased, "though I do not at all know where we are likely to be stationed, and rather fancy it will be here in Boston."

  After a rest and a meal of cold chicken, the travellers began to feel quite restored. Mrs. Elton was seized with a desire to go out walking, to explore the neighbourhood, and her husband made no objection.

  "It is quite safe to go promenading," he assured his lady. "In due course, no doubt, we will have a carriage; but it is always best to see a new city on foot, at first, to make intimate acquaintance with all its thoroughfares and byways."

  Mrs. Elton hardly listened, being occupied in staring at the different shops that lined the streets. "I declare, Mr. Elton, have you ever seen so many shops? Quite as many as are in Bath, I dare say, and almost as many as in London. Very excellent shops too from the look of them: those ribbands are the latest thing, and that bonnet looks fresh from Paris, I declare."

  "It is remarkable, is it not, to see so much ingenuity displayed in the New World," said Mr. Elton. "Far from the fields of manufacture, they have built their own machinery and stores and seem to have quite achieved an independence from our country, in terms of economy as well as politics. I am sure we shall do very well here, Augusta; I do believe it is quite a civilized place, after all."

  Mrs. Elton was inclined to agree with him, especially after a walk upon Beacon Hill and a shopping excursion to Market Street, all accomplished within the space of the next two days. The children were enchanted by the variety of goods and toys in the shops, but somewhat disappointed in the people passing in the streets, who looked too much like those back home.

  "I thought we would see Indians," said little Philip Augustus in disappointment. "I like seeing the black people, and the Chinamen; but why are there no Indians?"

  "Indians are in Indian country," said his father, swinging the boy up onto his shoulder, "and we are not going there."

  The Eltons and the Bensons had been to dine with Dr. Channing, but he continued to civilly defer the discussion of where they would live and work, until, as he said, they had accustomed themselves to their new surroundings, and he had made better acquaintance with them and formed a fair impression of his new clergymen's capacities. Not until a week after their arrival, therefore, did the momentous consultation take place. Mrs. Elton waited for her husband in their rooms, anxious to hear tidings of their fate.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed to Ella, who was sewing quietly while the children, who had taken a great fancy to her, played at her feet. "I do hope we may remain in this pleasant city. It is so very nice. The lodger next door - what is her name, Mrs. Gilham, says there are so many sweet little literary societies, and musical circles, some of them frequented by the cream of society, and highly educated people from Harvard. But I do not know if it would not be better to go to the South, after all, and help your people, poor things."

  "I am sure Dr. Channing will decide what is right," said Ella calmly. "Mr. Elton is such a nice man; he will make a good missionary. English people are always so sympathetic about the poor slaves, and we do admire them for having none in their own country."

  At home, Mrs. Elton would never have allowed such open talking from a servant, but she believed she had grasped the idea of American equality, and felt herself able to make more free with Ella than she ever would with her own maid, a Highbury village girl, Kitty, who in truth had not much to say.

  Footsteps were heard upon the stairs. "Hark!" said Mrs. Elton, "here he comes, my herald, bearing the news of our fate! Well, my love?" she demanded as he entered, with an indescribable look upon his face. "What is it? Do not hold back the tidings. Break it to me at once!"

  "You will find it very surprising," said Mr. Elton, finding his voice after a moment. "I know I am surprised. I hope it will not be too much of a shock to you, and I can do no better than to say it simply. My love - we are to go out to the Indians."

  Mrs. Elton fell back in her chair with a shriek.

  Ella and Kitty were called upon to administer calming powders and embrocations for the rest of that evening; but Mrs. Elton was no faint spirit, and quickly rallied and recovered her shock. On calmer consideration, she concluded that the only hopeful part of a desperate business was that they were not to depart for six weeks. It would take that long to arrange their outfit and their stores, and for Mr. Elton to learn something about the Indian customs. They were to set out upon the first of September, in hopes of making part of their journey before snow flew. There was a respite, then, time to be spent in Boston during which Mrs. Elton m
ight improve her acquaintance with the place, and enjoy the shopping, the lectures, and the musical concerts to her heart's content. She clung to the thought that, after all, anything might happen - the plans might alter; Dr. Channing might change his mind, or die; or Mr. Elton might leave the church.

  In the meanwhile, the Eltons were treated very civilly by Dr. Channing's circle, and they did not at all object to being feted like heroes that were to be. Oyster suppers and chicken dinners, musical parties and dances, were given to them in abundance, all very much as might have proceeded at home, among their friends in Highbury, or in a circle of clergy families in London. The fresh-painted houses were brighter and newer-looking, the hours somewhat earlier and the food more abundant; but the only real novelty in the Eltons' new American lives was the style of the suppers taken in their own lodging-house, at which all persons in the house, young, old, of high station and low, were expected to sit together round a long table, for the more efficient consumption of tall bowls piled full of cranberry jellies, plates of beefsteaks and fricasseed chickens, heaping mounds of mashed potatoes and turnips, and johnny cakes sweetened with maple-sugar. Despite the excellence and abundance of the food, the high-bred feelings of Mrs. Elton could never become accustomed to meals taken in such common public circumstances, and she invariably took her bread-and-milk in her own bed chamber.

  Mrs. Elton had early become fast friends with her lodging-neighbour, Mrs. Gilham, a sociable clergyman's widow, who had some fortune of her own and was pleased to gad about the shops with the English newcomer. It was harder to amalgamate with the earnest young Mrs. Benson, and their intimacy did not at first improve beyond the slight acquaintance they had made aboard ship. Mrs. Elton prided herself on being a woman of activity, and she found the energy and spirits to sally out every day with Mrs. Gilham in search of bonnets and laces; it was not as pleasant to follow the example of Mrs. Benson, who spent long hours in what corresponded to cottage-visiting in England.