Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “I will give the levy whenever the things are all brought up,” replied Mrs. Allen Barnaby; “but I tell you, Cleopatra, that you can’t do it by yourself; it is perfectly impossible.”

  Cleopatra answered nothing, but grinned and departed. During her absence, Mrs. Allen Barnaby arranged her room in the best manner she could devise for the reception of the ponderous baggage she expected; and this done, she sought and found her daughter, and the two Miss Perkinses, whom she informed of what was going on, and then requested that they would all come into her room to assist her.

  “I’ll be hanged if I do, though,” replied Madame Tornorino; “and while I’m slaving for you, mamma, I wonder who’s to unpack my own things? I was just talking to Matilda about them when you came in, wasn’t I, Matilda?” she added, addressing her friend with a wink, which demanded an affirmative. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do, mamma, and that will be all fair and no tyranny, which nobody you know can abide in this free country — which is news that I have just learned from Mrs. Grimes — I’ll tell you what we’ll do; you shall take Matilda, and I’ll take Louisa, because I like her best for this sort of thing, and then we can both set to work fair and above board.”

  The two sisters eagerly proclaimed themselves perfectly ready to perform everything that was required of them, and Mrs. Allen Barnaby finding she could do no better, submitted to the arrangement. Whereupon the party, who were, during the discussion, assembled in the apartment of Madame Tornorino, divided — two ladies remaining where they were, while the other two proceeded across a wide corridor to the domain of Mrs. Allen Barnaby. But just as Miss Matilda and her respected friend reached the top of the stairs, which they passed in their way to its entrance, they were greeted by the sight of a huge hamper that seemed making its own way up the staircase. The figure of Cleopatra was, in fact, totally hid by the wide burden she had deposited on her head, but the next moment made it visible as, without looking to the right or to the left, the steadily balanced black machine passed on, with quite as little attention to what it met as a steam-engine. The two ladies followed; Miss Matilda wondering, for she knew not of the hamper scheme, and Mrs. Allen Barnaby delighted. Ever since her arrival she had endured a sort of undefined anxiety about the time and manner of her reunion with the treasures which that hamper and its fellows contained. She knew, indeed, or at any rate she believed, that those treasures were safe, nay, that they were, as it might be said, near her; but there was something so unusual, so impracticable in the nature of their envelopments, that difficulty, uncertainty, and opposition seemed to overhang her tangible possession of them.

  Nothing, in fact, short of the absolute necessity produced by Mrs Beauchamp’s request could have given her courage to issue the command she had pronounced to Cleopatra, and joyful was she — oh! very joyful, when she perceived one division of her unwieldly armament thus far advanced on its march towards her own quarters. What then were her emotions on entering her room to see all her eight hampers spreading themselves far and wide before her eyes, and the well-pleased Cleopatra grinning in the midst of them. She seized upon Matilda’s arm, and grasped it fondly.

  “Isn’t that a comfort, Matilda?” she exclaimed. “I have hardly ever said a word about it, even to the major, but I declare to you, upon my honour and life, Matilda, that I always felt as if I never should get them all together again.”

  Miss Matilda stared with the most unaffected astonishment at the display which so enchanted her friend.

  “Hampers!” she exclaimed, in an accent which expressed, better than any words could have done, how perfectly unintelligible their appearance was to her.

  “Yes, my dear, hampers,” returned their happy owner, laughing heartily. “Do you think I have brought over a stock of wine in them, Matilda?” Then turning to the negress, while she honourably drew forth the promised levy (value eleven pence), she said, “And where are the people who have helped you to bring all these up, Cleopatra?”

  “De people is me own self, missis,” replied the girl, holding out her hand for the well-deserved gratuity.

  “Well, to be sure, you are a strong girl! I didn’t quite intend to be giving three fips at a time to any nigger; but there, you shall have it as you have done the job so quickly; but remember, all Madame Tornorino’s things are to be brought up too. However, I can tell you for your comfort that there is not one half so many as mine. I’m sure I don’t know how it is, Matilda. I have always dressed Patty uncommonly elegant, as you well know, and I should not say I had ever begrudged her anything — should you? And yet, somehow or other, it always happens that I get quantities more things for myself. That does look a monstrous sight of dresses, doesn’t it, Matilda?”

  “Dresses!” exclaimed the still mystified Matilda. “Do all those wine hampers contain dresses, Mrs. O — Mrs. Allen Barnaby?”

  “You shall see, my dear,” was the reply. “Just hand me over that razor of the major’s, will you, Matilda? Now, then, which shall we begin with? Let me see if I can remember anything about it. My court dress is in the biggest of all. That’s it, isn’t it? Let us begin with that.”

  The major’s razor was sharp and true, the stout whipcord snapped before it, again, again, and again, till the top was fairly disengaged on all sides, and fell creaking to the ground. Mrs. Allen Barnaby hastily snatched away the linen wrappers which still intervened. between her and her court dress, and then stood gazing upon it as it lay richly heaped in all its splendour, with an intensity of pleasurable emotion to which the pencil could do better justice than the pen.

  Alas! the poor Matilda! “How stood she the while?” All -the finery she had in the world had crossed the ocean in one trunk, two bandboxes, and a bag, and all the consolation which the unpacking, handling, and setting it in order, could convey to her spirit, had been already enjoyed! At that moment, perhaps, she did envy Mrs. Allen Barnaby, notwithstanding her large waist and her gray hairs; but a little reflection caused her to turn her eyes towards the looking-glass, whence the youthful contour of her figure greeted her so cheeringly, that her spirits revived, and she set about the business she was summoned to perform, almost without breathing a sigh, though she had to hand out from this and the seven following hampers, not less than thirty-two dresses, three cloaks, five shawls, nine scarfs, sixteen fichus, and twenty-eight embroidered collars! Nevertheless, the operation was certainly in some degree a painful one. Yet was it soothed by the delightful consciousness, that not one of all the things she saw and handled, but would look five thousand times better upon her than upon its owner!

  And thus passed the hours, till the first dinner-bell gave notice that it was time to dress. Miss Matilda heard it with joy and gladness, Mrs. Allen Barnaby with dismay. She had not found lodging-room, notwithstanding Mrs. Carmichael’s very handsome assignment of drawers, for one half of her belongings, and now actually wrung her hands, almost in despair, as she exclaimed —

  “Oh! Matilda, Matilda! What am I to do with my three -velvets?”

  “We must think of that another time, my dear Mrs. O — Allen Barnaby,” replied the young lady, giving notice that it was her decided intention to depart, by walking straight towards the door, and instantly opening it. “I have got something very particular to do to the cap I am going to wear at dinner to-day,” she said, “and I can’t stay a minute longer.”

  Before she could be answered she was gone, and the perplexed Mrs. Allen Barnaby looked around her with the mixed feeling of enjoyment and distress, so frequently produced by the embarras des richesses. At this moment her husband entered, for the purpose of preparing himself for dinner, and great was his astonishment at the spectacle that greeted him. The eight huge hampers, though emptied of their contents, occupied not the less space on that account, but so choked up the room with their bulk, that it seemed nearly impossible to get across it.

  “What on earth are you about, wife?” he exclaimed, and not, perhaps, in the gentlest of accents. “What is the good of dragging out all this trumper
y if we are to start away up the Mississippi in a week or so? Is it for the pleasure of looking at it all? Upon my soul, I did not think you were such a fool.”

  Strong in conscious innocence, my admirable heroine lost not her temper, but explained to him, as he performed his ablutions, after having scrambled over the obstacles which impeded his approach to the washing-stand, how absolutely necessary it was that she should comply with the marked request of Mrs. Beauchamp, and show that she had some dresses fit for a Christian to wear.

  “It is quite plain to me, Donny,” she continued, soothingly handing him his rose-coloured satin cravat, “perfectly plain and clear that Mrs. Beauchamp, who is evidently a remarkably sensible woman, does not choose to commit herself by introducing strangers of whom she knows no more than the child unborn, to all the best families of New Orleans. Now she knows, as well as I do, that dress speaks for itself — and though she did it in a very genteel, ladylike way, I don’t greatly doubt, I promise you, that if I had made any shuffling excuses, about not liking to unpack my things, we should presently have found her as shy as you please about introducing us. But everything will go right now, depend upon it. Just ask yourself if anybody in their senses could look upon such dresses as these, and feel any doubt of the high respectability of the person to whom they belong? Just ask yourself, major?”

  “To be sure, there is something in that,” replied the reasonable husband. “But how in the world, my dear, aid you contrive to collect such an immense quantity of rich, expensive-looking dresses? — are they all paid for, my Barnaby?”

  “My dear major, I always consider that to be a question between myself and my conscience, with which nobody, not even you, my dear, has any right to meddle. I know my own heart, Donny, and when I feel that it is for the advantage of my husband and child to do a thing, I do it, without stopping to consider what anybody else may think of it. If everybody did the same, Major Allen Barnaby, you may depend upon it the world would be a deal better than it is. But I am sorry to say that duty is often and often put out of sight, and that, too, by people who fancy they are mighty good. I thank heaven that I know what’s right better than that comes to — and it is not a little that will stop me, nor ever did, when I feel that I am doing my duty to my family.”

  “You are a charming woman, my dear,” returned the major, with a very gallant air, “and as I have often told you before, were certainly made on purpose for me. But hark! — there goes that gong of a dinner-bell — come along, my dear! I suppose I must sit by Mrs. Beauchamp again to-day, as I have begun to do it, though I have no particular object in it now.”

  “Don’t say so, my dear Donny,” replied his lady, looking at him rather reproachfully. “Remember, that as a husband and a father, you have your duties to perform, as well as myself. You have still a great deal to do, my dear. As yet you have only made her understand that I am a woman of genius, and a writer greatly approved in my own country; and you should go on now to dwell upon our position in fashionable society, and among people of rank.”

  “Why, my dear,” replied the major, giving a last brush to his whiskers, “they one and all of them hate people of rank — they say so every moment almost.”

  Mrs. Allen Barnaby drew on her black silk mittens, smiled, and nodded her head.

  “Major,” said she, while her eyes assumed an exceedingly clever expression, “major! — don’t be affronted — but you don’t see so far into a stone wall as I do.”

  “Don’t I, my dear? Why, how far do you see?”

  “Just far enough to convince me that they just dote upon titles and rank as much as ever I did, when I used to toady that horrid old cat, Lady Susan — and that’s saying a good deal.”

  “Yes, so it is, my dear,” replied her husband. “But if you say as much in your book, I don’t think it will answer.”

  “No more do I, my dear,” she rejoined; “but come along, Donny, come to dinner; don’t be afraid, you may trust me.”

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE dinner of this day passed very much as the others had done. Mrs. Carmichael wheezed, and eat, and hoped the gentlemen and ladies found the canvas-backs and the hominy good, and then wheezed again. Major Allen Barnaby did his very best to confirm all Mrs. Beauchamp’s favourable impressions respecting the excellent standing of himself and his family. His lady sat, dispensing smiles around, the very picture of admiring observation and travelling intelligence. Miss Louisa Perkins unexpectedly found Annie Beauchamp seated next to her, and therefore felt herself considerably nearer being comfortable than at any moment since she first breathed the air of the United States; for she heard herself repeatedly spoken to, and that with the most engaging kindness and good nature. Miss Matilda believed herself to be looking much better than usual, having very successfully altered her blond and amber cap, and got her hair to curl and hang beautifully. Patty pinched her husband’s elbow, and laughed loud with delight, when he turned suddenly round to see what was the matter. Mr. Egerton talked a good deal to Miss Beauchamp, and flattered himself that he had made her exceedingly angry. And the rest of the good company went on very much as usual.

  But on the following morning several important circumstances occurred, tending greatly to change the position of our travellers, and to advance each and every of them in the direction they wished to pursue.

  Before leaving the room where the boarders breakfasted, Mrs. Allen Barnaby made her way to the side of Mrs. Beauchamp, and lowering her voice to a confidential tone, said —

  “Whenever you like to come to my room, my dear madam, I shall be ready to see you. I have now got a few of the dresses unpacked, about which I desired to consult you.”

  This was enough to secure the immediate attendance of the lady whose good opinion she wished to propitiate, and who had, indeed, feelings stronger than mere curiosity to make her accept the invitation. Never, perhaps, had Mrs. Allen Barnaby displayed more acuteness than when she guessed that Mrs. Beauchamp was anxious to ascertain the style of her wardrobe, before she ventured upon introducing her and her family to any persons of Louisianian importance.

  This was precisely the fact. Not that Mrs. Beauchamp entertained the slightest doubt of Mrs. Allen Barnaby’s being a person of great talent; of that she felt sufficiently assured, by the manner in which she admired everything she saw; but as it appeared that the party had omitted to bring letters of introduction to New Orleans (which the major accounted for by saying that their original intention had been to sail to New York), she confessed to her husband that she knew no other safe and sure criterion, excepting dress, whereby she could sufficiently ascertain their standing, to justify her introducing them to her tip-top friends; and to confess the truth, the note which was to secure the strangers an invitation bad yet to be written.

  Mrs. Allen Barnaby found means to watch, with a good deal of tact, and without at all betraying her deep, interest in the matter, the sort and degree of effect produced by the display of her rich suits upon her American friend, nor had she any reason to feel disappointed at the result of the experiment.

  Mrs. Beauchamp, indeed, said little, much less than was usual with her on most occasions; but she looked, she touched, she meditated, and she reasoned. The two ladies moved gently about, from chair to chair, from the bed to the sofa, and from the sofa to the bed, without any of the bustling noisy discussion which such an examination generally produces between female friends. Indeed, very little was said by either of them: Mrs. Beauchamp understood good manners a great deal too well to give utterance to the increased and still increasing esteem, to which the velvet, satin, and lace displayed before her, gave birth; while Mrs. Allen Barnaby felt too much alive to the importance of that esteem, to interfere with the mental process, which she clearly saw was going on, to augment it.

  The first words, however, or nearly so, which were spoken while this examination lasted, were uttered by the owner of the articles, which pleaded thus trumpet-mouthed, for her gentility. Mrs. Allen Barnaby said at length, but in an accen
t very nearly of indifference —

  “You must not forget, you know, my dear Mrs. Beauchamp, that you promised to tell me whether the style of any of these dresses would be fit for the society to which you have so kindly offered to present me.”

  “No, indeed, my dear ma’am,” returned Mrs. Beauchamp, “I am not going to do any such thing, I assure you; and I am happy to say that I don’t see any one thing among all these handsome articles which you might not put on with the very greatest propriety when visiting any of the great families here. When you have been a little longer in the country, my dear Mrs. Allen Barnaby, you will find out, I am sure, for you are a great deal too smart and observing to miss seeing it, that this southern part of the Union enjoys a much higher class of society than those who have been ill-advised enough to make themselves free states. They grovel, as we all say, in the very outskirts of civilisation, and have just missed the only way to make a republic in any degree elegant and respectable; and the cause is plain to those who don’t shut their eyes on purpose, because they won’t see. For it’s easy enough to guess, that no white free-born Americans, whether men, women, or children, will choose to make household drudges of themselves and work for wages. It follows in course then you see, that we must either scrub, and rub, and toil, and sweat for ourselves, like so many downright savages, or else that we must make use of the creatures that we have luckily got hold of — that are neither white nor free-born — and make them do what it is quite positively necessary that ladies and gentlemen must have done for them.”

  While these words were spoken, Mrs. Allen Barnaby stood with her hands clasped together, and her eyes fixed on the speaker, with the air of one who is listening to the most important information that one human being can bestow upon another.

  “Every word you utter, my dear madam,” she said, “convinces me that Providence has thrown me in your way, in order to prevent my putting forth to the world, with the authority of my name (which truth at this moment obliges me to confess is not inconsiderable) any of those false views on the subject of negro slavery, which, I blush to say, are too freely propagated in Europe. I see at once the full force of your argument, and you will do me a great favour if you will just sit down here for a moment while I make a memorandum of your observation. Never mind that crimson “velvet dress, my dear Mrs. Beauchamp — it was made at Paris last year; but you know the great misfortune of velvets is, that they are eternal!”