Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Were this chapter of his adventures at the beginning of the first volume instead of being at the end of the third, I might be tempted to describe at some length the various ways in which his conjugal and paternal affections acted as siphons upon the female pockets of this amiable inland sea population; but the time is past for this, and I must therefore content myself with stating that for nearly a month the reverend Mr. O’Donagough lived upon the fattest fat of the Sandusky land, and that seldom a day passed during this period without adding a dollar or two on some pretence or other to his resources. The liberality of Mrs. General Pedmington, indeed, was not restrained to such little offerings as these, for ere he parted she presented her new friend with five hundred dollars for the embellishment of his humble chapel in England, upon condition, affectionately expressed and fully understood, that he should revisit Mount Lebanon before his departure for the old country.

  It was not, perhaps, the least agreeable feature of this delightful month, that the major during the course of it had the singular gratification of hearing himself perpetually talked of, described, and condemned to all sorts of pains and penalties, as one of the most audacious swindlers that ever ventured to poach on the native preserves of the Union, while he sat tranquilly by, uttering an occasional “alas!” at the strange depravity of human nature.

  At length, however, some feelings of weariness began to creep, like a mildew, over the delights of the Mount Lebanon reunions; not indeed among the charming society to its manners born, but to the stranger, who had first to learn their ways and then to adopt them. It was amidst showers of tears that the sisters of the Needle Steeple congregation took their last reluctant leave of the gentle major, and the judicious tenderness with which he graduated his farewell benedictions to them all, had in it a delicacy of tact, that upon recollection positively surprised himself, and caused him to exclaim as so many have done before him, “No man knows what he is capable of performing till he tries.”

  Can it be doubted that the meeting with his family at Pittsburg was delightful? Or that Mrs. Allen Barnaby was rewarded with more than one glass of her favourite wine, for having so long and so patiently endured the absence of her beloved husband?

  And at Pittsburg, as before decided, they took into consideration the comparative advantages of risking returning for a few days to New Orleans, or its neighbourhood, which could be done with perfect convenience by water, or of travelling across the Alleghany mountains to Baltimore for the purpose of embarking for Europe. Against the first, there was the danger of the major’s being recognised as the hero of the Big-Gang Bank festivities. Against the last, was the expense and fatigue of a long land journey, with the doubt whether the major would be much safer there than at New Orleans.

  Patty, whose fears from discovery were of a considerably graver nature than those of the rest of the party, protested strongly against returning to New Orleans, declaring that though “pap” did sometimes put her into dreadful passions by being so stingy of his money to her and the Don, she did not want to have him hanged. Few ladies, on the whole, could be less victims of delicate sensibility than my beautiful bride, yet nevertheless, she now exhibited considerable feeling, for upon her mother saying that she thought they would be all safe at New Orleans if they did but take a little care, and put up at the further end of the town from Mrs. Carmichael’s boarding-house, she burst out upon her with great vehemence, and declared that she believed in her heart that she was looking forward to being a widow again, and making conquests.

  The major was a good deal touched by this testimony of his daughter’s affection, but being himself very strongly in favour of the New Orleans scheme, he told her, after a hearty hug, that he was excessively obliged to her for her kindness, and that the fear of vexing her if anything went wrong with him, would be as likely to make him careful as the dread of the gallows itself.

  “But if you could have seen me at Mount Lebanon, my darling, you would have been cured at once and for ever of all fears on my account. I really did not know my own powers before, Patty, but now, I declare to you upon my word and honour, I would rather have the fun of bamboozling the natives than not. I would venture to bet five thousand to one against any one of those we saw at New Orleans knowing me again, if I did not choose they should do so. Besides, my dear, I have another word to say in favour of the New Orleans plan. I heard from many people, while I was at Sandusky, that it would be a sin and a shame to leave the country without spending a few weeks at Natchez, which for pleasant amusements and all that” (and here the major gave a sidelong glance of intelligence to his wife and the Don) “is quite New Orleans in miniature. And, moreover, by reposing ourselves there for a little while, it would be easy enough to leave when there was a good vessel going to start for Havre, and our places might be easily secured on board her without our ever making our appearance in the city till the very day she set off. I vote, therefore, for our making our way by the Ohio and the Mississippi to Natchez, and remaining exactly as long as we find it agreeable, and not an hour longer.”

  This scheme seemed to satisfy all parties, and was accordingly acted upon forthwith. The long river voyage was performed with much less tediousness than any of them expected, for the major and his son-in-law scarcely ever passed an idle hour while they were on board, nor one that was not more or less profitable, for this long line of river travelling is as remarkable for its industrious gambling, as for any other of its agreeable features.

  As to Mrs. Allen Barnaby and Patty, they found means to amuse themselves exceedingly well, though they played neither at whist nor piquet. There were several ladies on board, who by asking them, day after day, incessant questions respecting themselves, gave them both such an opportunity of vapouring about their European grandeur as kept them in perpetual good humour, so that they all arrived at Natchez in excellent spirits, and ready to meet whatever adventures might chance to befall them there with sharp wits and sturdy courage.

  It took but little time to convince Major Allen Barnaby that the information he had received respecting the social and intellectual advancement of the population of this flourishing little town, was perfectly correct; it realised all his hopes and exceeded all his expectations, so that for rather more than two months that the party remained, he had scarcely a single misadventure or disappointment of any kind to recount to his faithful wife.

  This steady current of good fortune, however, only served in the long run to convince him that with his talents and advantages (his son-in-law ranking higher and higher every day among the latter) he could not do himself justice while carrying on business in so small a way. His high-minded wife, also, was most decidedly of the same opinion, and being, moreover, as well as her daughter, heartily tired of the town and everything in it, the feminine influence of the family was put forth with considerable activity; while even the peaceable Tornorino, though exceedingly well pleased by a few well-timed donations from his father-in-law, began to hint now and then, in a gentle murmur, that “de vin vas not ver good.”

  In a word, their speedy departure was fixed and decided upon a certain evening when little or nothing had been done at the usual place of meeting; and on the following morning the major started alone for New Orleans by an early steamboat, intending to disembark a mile or two above the town, and to proceed early on the following morning direct to the quays, where the large vessels bound to Europe were sure to be found, the costume he assumed for this expedition was that of the reverend Mr. O’Donagough, over which, on leaving his lodging he threw a large cloak to prevent any observations from his neighbours, and quietly walked on board, in all outward respects so utterly unlike the military gentleman who had figured as an East Indian of a large fortune, during his residence at Natchez, that there was certainly very little chance of his being recognised.

  While he is prosperously borne by tide and steam towards the place of his destination, we will rapidly follow the fortunes of Mr. Egerton, from the time he left the side of Annie Beauchamp in pursuit
of him.

  In the first instance he proceeded, in consequence of the information he had received, to New York, and devoted himself most indefatigably to the task of discovering if any such personage as Major Allen Barnaby was to be found there. Not a single hotel, boarding, or lodging-house of tolerable respectability was left unquestioned, and such was the zeal and perseverance, of his perquisition, that had the major been in the city he could scarcely have escaped it. But during the days thus employed, our major and his family were, as the reader well knows, at Philadelphia.

  Being at length reluctantly convinced that no Major Allen Barnaby was to be found there, Mr. Egerton returned to New Orleans, convinced that he had begun his search very unadvisedly in taking it for granted that his slippery countryman was likely to be found where he said he should be, and determined for the future to trace him step by step, on surer evidence than his own word. He ventured not, however, to present himself, at Big-Gang Bank, but obtained from his fair correspondent there, all the particulars she could gather from the slaves who had attended upon the Allen Barnaby party, as to the place to which they had conducted them. To this place he immediately repaired, but though the party as described by him were perfectly well remembered at the principal hotel there, he found it impossible to ascertain with certainty whither they went afterwards. Most of the people of the house declaring that they went to New York, while one or two porters positively stated that their luggage was put on board a vessel going to Philadelphia.

  In this dilemma, the young man had recourse to his own judgment as to which was most probable, and although he had already satisfactorily convinced himself that, in the first instance, he certainly did not go to New York, he still thought his chance of finding him would be better if he again returned to that city, in the hope of his having visited it subsequently, than waste his time and trouble by going to Philadelphia, knowing enough of the style of its society to be convinced that if the object of his search had really been there he did not stay long.

  To New York, therefore, he again repaired, but not till Major Allen Barnaby had left it about four-and-twenty hours. But though he found not him, he found enough concerning him to add proof to conviction as to his character. For here chance favoured by sending him upon his arrival to the same house in which the illustrious English family had boarded, and his very first inquiry brought forth from the party at the dinner table where it was made, the most violent burst of indignation against the major, who was declared by the whole company to be the most atrocious swindler that ever lived. Beyond this, however, he gained little information sufficiently authentic to be of any use to him.

  He had been traced to the Springs, they said, and clearly recognised as the suspicious individual to whom Mr. Gabriel Monkton had devoted so much attention. But beyond the deck of the steamboat all trace of him was lost; and that how, when, and where he got on shore, no one knew, or, notwithstanding the national propensity, could even venture to guess. Mr. Monkton had declared that he had himself watched every passenger that had left the boat, both at Cleveland and at Sandusky, and that Major Allen Barnaby was most certainly not amongst them. It was, however, the general opinion of the whole party that he had escaped the very active pursuit after him, by travelling “pretty considerable far west,” such being, as they said, the universal custom of all the gentry who had made the “Old States” too hot to hold them.

  The evident probability that this was the fact, was a severe disappointment to poor Egerton, who had hoped to return to the house of Colonel Beauchamp with such confirmation of his statement respecting the major, as might have restored the confidence and a friendly feeling of himself and wife, in greatly less time than it would take him to reach the “far west,” and obtain such legal confirmation of what he had asserted, as could admit of no contradiction or evasion. The news he had of the runaway at New York was, however, such as very satisfactorily to strengthen his hopes of obtaining this could he overtake him, and he therefore once more set forth with no other guide than what was furnished by a list of the various towns through which he was likely to pass, or where he might have been tempted to tarry. This very laborious expedition, however, proved entirely abortive, and at length, weary and desponding, he gave up the chase, and determined upon returning with all speed to New Orleans (where Annie’s letters informed him the family would soon be settled for the winter), with no better proof of what he had stated, than the reports he had heard at New York.

  Harassed, and out of spirits, Egerton was traversing the galley-walk of the steam-boat that was taking him his last day’s voyage towards the place of his destination, when the boat stopped to take in wood and passengers at Natchez. The young man was in no very speculative humour; and though he listlessly bent over the rail as if to watch the comers and goers, he in reality paid but little attention to any of them.

  There was one figure, however, which, notwithstanding his abstraction, drew his attention and fixed it. This was a peculiarly nice-looking elderly gentleman, dressed in black, whose whole dress and aspect declared him to be of the clerical profession, and whose remarkable quietness of demeanour offered a strong contrast to the half horse, half alligator population, of which the passengers were almost entirely composed. This venerable personage entered the vessel and moved onward, without looking either to the right or to the left, and in doing so, passed close to Mr. Egerton, but without seeing him. The profile of this respectable gentleman struck Egerton as being very like that of some individual whom he had seen, he knew not where or when, and he followed him with the sort of curiosity which this imperfect kind of recollection always produces.

  When the stranger reached the gallery in front of the great cabin, he seated himself for a moment on a sofa that was placed there, and with his hands rather formally crossed upon his breast, lifted his mild eyes and looked about him. In this circular glance he caught sight of Mr. Egerton, and in doing so started, evidently, at least to the young man himself, whose eye was fixed upon him; but not sufficiently to attract the attention of any other person.

  This involuntary movement on the part of the respectable gentleman in black, naturally attracted a more scrutinising glance from Egerton in return, and then, though the reverend personage was moving away, and that a portion only of his face was visible, he instantly became convinced that he saw before him the man he was seeking. His own mode of proceeding was immediately decided on. The start and the sudden departure showed him both that he was recognised and avoided, and he determined, while strictly keeping watch over him, that he would show no symptom of recollecting their having met before.

  At the dinner table, the black-coated gentleman took his place with the rest of the company; but Egerton while taking care to look around him with an equal air of indifference upon them all, was aware that his looks, words, and gestures were carefully watched by the stranger. He felt certain if his ci-devant acquaintance perceived that he was known, in spite of his disguise, he would bolt at the first station at which the boat should stop to take in wood for the engine; but so well did he contrive to look at the man, as if he had never seen him before, that our major (for most surely it was himself) became perfectly reassured, and fully confirmed in the agreeable conviction that when he chose to disguise himself, nobody could find him out. The reverend Mr. O’Donagough therefore (it was thus that his carpet-bag was labelled) continued his voyage to New Orleans, with no further precaution than taking care not to speak within hearing of Mr. Egerton, lest his ear might prove more discerning than his eye.

  It was as dark as an American night could well be, when they reached New Orleans, and Egerton, aware that it would be impossible to watch his suspicious fellow-traveller without following him too closely to avoid being watched in his turn, very cleverly enlisted in his service a negro-lad, who had charge of a neatly-ornamented bird-cage, containing a fine mocking-bird, to whom during many hours of the day he had been teaching various tunes. This rather amusing occupation first caused Mr. Egerton to notice him, and th
e sable youth giving sundry indications of sharp-wittedness in his answers, it struck him that a dollar might be well bestowed in securing his services as a spy. The offer was promptly made and promptly accepted. The reverend Mr. O’Donagough paid no attention whatever to the young slave and his bird-cage, who having seen the parson-gentleman safely housed at an obscure inn, returned swiftly to his employer, who was awaiting him at a well-known hotel near the landing-place.

  The diligence and intelligence of the lad induced Egerton to inquire if he could serve him further, and he was readily answered in the affirmative; the young slave stating that he was the property of a pretty young lady, who was very good-natured and would not scold him, even if he did stay out of the house a bit now and then.

  No arrangement could be more favourable for his purpose, as no agent could be employed less likely to excite suspicion; and accordingly, having paid him in a style very effectually to answer his zealous services, he made the youth understand enough of his object to render them available, and then repaired to the postoffice, where, according to promise, he found a letter from Annie.

  She told him that their removal to New Orleans was postponed, in consequence of some plantation business, which was to be completed before they left the premises, but that she thought he might venture to pay them a visit, “if he wished it,” as both her father and mother had first become affronted, and then suspicious, in consequence of never having received a single line from their dear friend Mrs. Allen Barnaby, from the time she had left them. Moreover, their far-off neighbour, Mr. Hapford, having at length recovered from a violent fit of the gout, had been at the bank and declared his conviction of having been cheated at play by the whiskered Englishman whom he had met there at his last visit.

  All this, as Annie gently observed, would greatly lessen the probability of his being rudely received if he came to visit them. His fair correspondent then went on to say, that she thought poor Louisa Perkins, to whom he had always shown so much kindness, was greatly in want of some friend to put her in the way of getting back to England, for that though she and her sister were come again to the Bank, after making a circle of visits among the people who most wished to honour Sirs. Allen Barnaby, it was very evident that her father and mother wanted to get rid of them, and Annie said, she greatly feared they would not much longer delay letting them perceive this, in a manner that it would greatly pain her to witness. —