University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

In the porch of the house, at Satanstoe, stood my dear
grandmother, and the notable Tom Bayard, to receive us.
The first glance at the latter told me that he was a “proper
man;” and by the second, I got the pleasing assurance that
he had no eye, just then, but for Kate. This was pleasant
to know, as I never could have been happy in consenting to
yield that dear girl to any but a man who appreciated her
worth, and fully admired her beauty. As to my dear “ole
ole” grandmother, who was not so very old neither, being
still under seventy, her reception of us was just what I had
ever found it; warm, affectionate, and gentle. She called
my father, the general, Corny, even when she spoke to him
in a room full of company; though, for that matter, I have
heard my mother, who was much more of a woman of the
world, having lived a great deal in society, do the same
thing, when she thought herself alone. I have read some
priggish book or other, written no doubt by one who knew
men only through pages like his own, decry such familiarities;
but, I have generally found those the happiest
families, and, at the bottom, the best toned, where it was
Jack, and Tom, and Bob, and Dick, and Bess, and Di. As
for your Louisa Adelinas, and Robert Augustuses, and all
such elaborate respect, I frankly declare I have a contempt
for it. Those are the sort of people who would call Satanstoe,
Dibbleton; Hellgate, Hurlgate; and themselves accomplished.
Thank heaven, we had no such nonsense at
Lilacsbush, or at the Neck. My father, was Corny; my
mother, Anneke; Katrinke, Kate; and I was Mordy, or
Mord; or, when there was no hurry, Mordaunt.

Tom Bayard met my salutations frankly, and with a gentlemanlike
ease, though there was a slight colour on his
cheek which said to me, “I mean to get your sister.” Yet
I liked the fellow's manner. There was no grasping of the
hand, and coming forward to rush into an intimacy at the
first moment we met; but he returned my bow graciously,
and gracefully, and his smile as he did so seemed to invite
father and better acquaintance.

Now, I have seen a man cross a whole room to shake
hands at an introduction with an utter stranger, and maintain
a countenance the whole time as sombre as if he were
condoling with him on the loss of his wife. This habit of
shaking hands dolefully is growing among us, and is imported
from some of our sister States; for, it is certainly not
a New York custom, except among intimates; and it is a
bad usage, in my opinion, as it destroys one of the best
means of graduating feelings, and is especially ungraceful
at an introduction. But, alas! there are so many such innovations,
that one cannot pretend to predict where they are
to stop. I never shook hands at an introduction, unless it
were under my own roof, and when I wished to denote a
decidedly hospitable feeling, until after I was forty. It was
thought vulgar in my younger days, and I am not quite
certain it is not thought so now.

In the little old-fashioned drawing-room, as of late years
my good grandmother had been persuaded to call what was
once only the best parlour, we found Miss Priscilla Bayard,
who, for some reason that was unexplained, did not come
to the porch to meet her friend. She was in truth a charming
girl, with fine dark eyes, glossy hair, a delicate and
lady-like form, and a grace of manner that denoted perfect
familiarity with the best company of the land. Kate and
Pris. embraced each other with a warmth and sincerity that
spoke in favour of each, and with perfect nature. An affected
American girl, by the way, is very uncommon; and
nothing strikes me sooner, when I see my own countrywomen
placed at the side of Europeans, than the difference in
this respect; the one seems so natural, while the other is
so artificial!

My own reception by Miss Bayard was gracious, though
I fancied it was not entirely free from the consciousness of

having, on some idle occasion, heard her own name intimately
connected with mine. Perhaps Kate, in their confidential
moments, may have said something to this effect;
or, I may have been mistaken.

My grandmother soon announced that the whole party
was to pass the night at Satanstoe. As we were accustomed
to such plans, neither Kate nor myself raised the least objection,
while the Bayards submitted to orders which I soon
discovered even they were not unused to, with perfect good-will
and submission. Thus brought together, in the familiarity
of a quiet and small party, in a country house, we
made great progress in intimacy; and, by the time dinner
was over, or by four o'clock, I felt like an old acquaintance
with those who had so lately been strangers to me, even by
name. As for Bayard and my sister, they were in the best
of humours from the start, and I felt satisfied their affair
was a settled thing, in their own minds; but, Miss Priscilla
was a little under constraint for an hour or two, like a person
who felt a slight embarrassment. This wore off, however,
and long before we left the table she had become
entirely herself; and a very charming self it was, I was
forced to admit. I say forced; for, spite of all I had said,
and a certain amount of good sense I hope, it was impossible
to get rid of the distrust which accompanied the notion that
I was expected to fall in love with the young lady. My
poor grandmother contributed her share, too, to keep this
feeling alive. The manner in which she looked from one
to the other, and the satisfied smile that passed over her
countenance whenever she observed Pris. and myself conversing
freely, betrayed to me completely that she was in
the secret, and had a hand in what I chose to regard as a
sort of plot.

I had heard that my grandmother had set her heart on
the marriage of my parents a year or two before matters
came round, and that she always fancied she had been very
instrumental in forming a connection that had been as happy
as her own. The recollection, or the fancy of this success,
most probably encouraged her to take a share in the present
scheme; and I have always supposed that she got us all
together on that occasion, in order to help the great project
along.

A walk on the Neck was proposed in the cool of the
evening; for Satanstoe had many a pleasant path, pretty
vista, and broad view. Away we went, then, the four of
us, Kate leading the way, as the person most familiar with
the “capabilities.” We were soon on the shore of the
Sound, and at a point where a firm, wide beach of sand had
been left by the receding waters, rocks fringing the inner
boundary, towards the main. Here one could walk without
confinement of any sort, there being room to go in pairs, or
all abreast, as we might choose. Miss Bayard seeming a
little coy, and manifesting a desire to keep near her friend,
I abandoned the intention of walking at her side, but fell
behind a little, and got into discourse with her brother.
Nor was I sorry to have this early opportunity of sounding
the party who was likely soon to become so nearly connected
with me. After a few minutes, the conversation
turned on the late revolution, and the manner in which it
was likely to influence the future fortunes of the country.
I knew that a portion of the family of my companion had
adhered to the crown, losing their estates by the act of confiscation;
but I also knew that a portion did not, and I was
left to infer that Tom's branch belonged to the latter division
of his name, inasmuch as his father was known to be
very easy in his circumstances, if not absolutely rich. It
was not long, however, before I ascertained that my new
friend was a mild tory, and that he would have been better
pleased had the rights we had sought, and which he was
willing enough to admit had been violated, been secured
without a separation of the two countries. As the Littlepages
had actually been in arms against the crown, three
generations of them, too, at the same time, and the fact
could be no secret, I was pleased with the candour with
which Tom Bayard expressed his opinions on these points;
for it spoke well of the truth and general sincerity of his
character.

“Does it not strike you as a necessary consequence of
the distance between the two countries,” I remarked, in the
course of the conversation, “that a separation must, sooner
or later, have occurred? It is impossible that two countries
should long have common rulers when they are divided by
an ocean. Admitting that our separation has been a little

premature, a circumstance I should deny in a particular
discussion, it is an evil that every hour has a tendency to
lessen.”

“Separations in families are always painful, major Littlepage;
when accompanied by dissensions, doubly so.”

“Quite true; yet they always happen. If not in this
generation, in the next.”

“I do think,” said Tom Bayard, looking at me a little
imploringly, “that we might have got along with our difficulties
without casting aside our allegiance to the king.”

“Ay, that has been the stumbling-block with thousands;
and yet it is, in truth, the very weakest part of the transatlantic
side of the question. Of what avail is allegiance to
the king, if parliament use its power in a way to make
American interests subservient to those of England? A
great deal may be said, that is reasonable, in favour of
kingly power; that I am ready enough to allow; but very
little that renders one people subject to another. This thing
called loyalty blinds men to facts, and substitutes a fancied
for a real power. The question has been, whether England,
by means of a parliament in which we have no representative,
is to make laws for us or not; and not whether George
III. is to be our sovereign, or whether we are to establish
the sovereignty of the people.”[1]

Bayard bowed, civilly enough, to my remark, and he
changed the subject. Sufficient had been said, however, to
satisfy me that there would be little political sympathy between
us, let the family tie be drawn as close as it might.
The girls joined us before we had got altogether into another
vein of discourse, and I was a little chagrined at finding
that Kate entered rather more into her admirer's views of
such subjects than comported with the true feelings, as I
fancied, of a Littlepage, after all that had passed. Still, as I
should have liked the woman I loved to agree with me in
opinion as much as possible in everything, I was not disposed
to judge harshly of my sister on that account. On
the other hand, to my surprise, I found Miss Priscilla a
zealous, and, to say the truth, a somewhat blind patriot;
condemning England, the king, and the efforts of parliament
with a warmth that was only equal to that with which
she defended every thing, act, measure, principle or policy,
that was purely American.

I cannot say I had as much tolerance for the patriotism
of Miss Bayard as I had for the petit treason of my sister.
It seemed natural enough that Kate should begin to look at
things of this nature with the eyes of the man she had made
up her mind to marry; but it looked far more like management
in her friend, who belonged to a tory family, to volunteer
so freely the sentiments of one she could not yet love,
inasmuch as until that day she had never even seen him.

“Is it not so, major Littlepage,” cried this lovely creature,
for very lovely she was, beyond all dispute; and feminine,
and delicate, and lady-like, and all I could have wished
her, had she only been a little less of a whig, and a good
deal more of a tory; her eyes sparkling and flashing, at the
same time, as if she felt all she was saying from the very
bottom of her heart — “Is it not so, major Littlepage? —
America has come out of this war with imperishable glory;
and her history, a thousand years hence, will be the wonder
and admiration of all who read it!”

“That will somewhat depend on what her history may
prove to be, between that day and this. The early history
of all great nations fills us with admiration and interest,
while mightier deeds effected by an insignificant people are
usually forgotten.”

“Still, this revolution has been one of which any nation
might have been proud!”

As it would not have been proper to deny this, I bowed
and strayed a little from the rest of the party, under the
pretence of looking for shells. My sister soon joined me,
when the following short conversation passed between us.

“You find Pris. Bayard a staunch whig, major Littlepage,”
commenced my warm-hearted sister.

“Very much so; but I had supposed the Bayards excessively
neutral, if not absolutely the other way.”

“Oh! that is true enough of most of them, but not with
Pris., who has long been a decided whig. There is Tom,
now, rather moderate in his opinions, while the father and
mother are what you call excessively neutral; but, Pris.
has been a whig almost as long as I have known her.”

“Almost as long! She was, then, a tory once?”

“Hardly; though certainly her opinions have undergone
a very gradual change. We are both young, you will remember;
and girls at their first coming out do very little
of their own thinking. For the last three years, certainly,
or since she was seventeen, Pris. has been getting to be
more and more of a whig, and less and less of a tory. Do
you not find her decidedly handsome, Mordaunt?”

“Very decidedly so, and very winning in all that belongs
to her sex — gentle, feminine, lady-like, lovely, and
withal a whig.”

“I knew you would admire her!” cried Kate, in triumph.
“I shall live to see my dearest wish accomplished!”

“I make no doubt you will, child; though it will not be
by the marriage of a Mr. Littlepage to a Miss Bayard.”

I got a laugh and a blush for this sally, but no sign of
submission. On the contrary, the positive girl shook her
head, until her rich curls were all in motion, and she laughed
none the less. We immediately joined our companions,
and by one of those crossings over and figurings in, that
are so familiar to the young of the two sexes, we were soon

walking along the sands again, Tom at Kate's side, and I
at that of Priscilla Bayard's. What the other two talked
about I never knew, though I fancy one might guess; but, the
young lady with me pursued the subject of the revolution.

“You have probably been a little surprised, major Littlepage,”
she commenced, “to hear me express myself so
warmly in favour of this country, as some of the branches
of my family have been treated harshly by the new government?”

“You allude to the confiscations? I never justified them,
and wish they had not been made; for they fall heaviest on
those who were quite inoffensive, while most of our active
enemies have escaped. Still, it is no more than is usual in
civil wars, and what would surely have befallen us, had it
been our fortune to be the losing party.”

“So I have been told; but, as no loss has fallen on any
who are very near to me, my public virtue has been able to
resist private feeling. My brother, as you may have seen,
is less of an American than I am myself.”

“I have supposed he is one of the `extremely neutral;'
and they, I have thought, always incline a little in favour
of the losing party.”

“I hope, however, his political bias, which is very honest,
though very much in error, will not materially affect him
in your good opinion. Too much depends on that, for me
not to be anxious on the subject; and, being the only decided
whig in the family, I have thought I would venture to
speak in behalf of a very dearly beloved brother.”

`Well,' I said to myself, `this is being sufficiently managing;
but I am not quite so unpractised as to be the dupe
of an artifice so little concealed! The deuce is in the girl;
yet she seems in earnest, looks at me with the good faith
and simplicity of a sister who feels even more than she expresses,
and is certainly one of the loveliest creatures I ever
laid eyes on! I must not let her see how much I am on
my guard, but must meet management with management.
It will be singular, indeed, if I, who have commanded a
company of continentals with some credit, cannot get along
with a girl of twenty, though she were even handsomer,
and looked still more innocent than this Pris. Bayard, which
would be no easy matter, by the way.'

The reader will understand this was what I said to myself,
and it was soon uttered, for one talks surprisingly fast
to himself; but, that which I said to my fair companion,
after a moment's hesitation, was very different in language
and import.

“I do not understand in what way Mr. Bayard can be
affected by my opinion, let it be for or against him,” I answered,
with just as much innocency of expression, according
to my notion of the matter, as the young lady herself
had thrown into her own pretty countenance, thereby doing
myself infinite credit, in my own conceit; “though I am
far from judging any man severely, because he happens to
differ from me in his judgment of public things. The question
was one of great delicacy, and the most honest men
have differed the widest on its merits.”

“You do not know how glad I am to hear you say this,
Mr. Littlepage,” returned my companion, with one of the
sweetest smiles woman ever bestowed on man. “It will
make Tom completely happy, for I know he has been sadly
afraid of you, on this very point.”

I did not answer instantly; for, I believe, I was watching
the traces of that bewitching smile, and speculating against
its influence with the pertinacity of a man who was determined
not to be taken in. That smile haunted me for a
week, and it was a long time before I fully comprehended
it. I decided, however, to come to the point at once, as respects
Bayard and my sister, and not be beating the bush
with indirect allusions.

“In what manner can my opinion influence your brother,
Miss Bayard?” I asked, as soon as I was ready to say anything.
“To prevent misconceptions, let me beg of you to
be a little more explicit.”

“You can hardly be ignorant of my meaning, I should
think!” answered Priscilla, with a little surprise. “One
has only to look at the couple before us, to comprehend
how your opinion of the gentleman might have an influence
on himself, at least.”

“The same might be said of us, Miss Bayard, so far as
my inexperienced eye can tell. They are a young couple,
walking together; the gentleman appearing to admire the
lady, I will confess; and we are a young couple walking

together, the gentleman appearing to admire the lady, or he
does no credit to his taste or sensibility.”

`There,' said I to myself, again, `that is giving her quite
as good as I receive; let me see how you take that.'

Pris. took it very well; laughing, and blushing just enough
to make her appear the loveliest creature I had ever laid
eyes on. She shook her head, very much as my sister had
done not long before, and disclaimed the analogy, first in
her manner, and next with her tongue.

“The cases are very different, sir,” she answered. “We
are strangers to each other, while Tom Bayard and Kate
Littlepage are acquaintances of years' standing. We do
not love each other in the least; not a bit, though we are
inclined to think very well of each other, on account of the
interest we take in the couple before us, and because I am
the intimate friend of your only sister, and because you are
the only brother of my intimate friend. There, however,”
and she now spoke with emphasis, “our interest ceases,
never to be increased beyond a friendly regard, that I trust
will grow up out of our respective merits, and respective
discernment. It is very, very different with the couple before
us;” here, again, the flexible girl spoke with extreme
feeling; every tone and cadency of her voice denoting lively
sensibility. “They have been long attached, not admirers
of each other, as you call it, major Littlepage, but attached;
and your opinion of my brother, just at this moment, is of
the last importance to him. I hope I have, at last, made
myself understood?”

“Perfectly; and I intend to be just as explicit. In the
first place, I enter a solemn protest against all that you have
said about the `other couple,' with the exception of the interest
we each feel in the brother, or sister. Next, I proclaim
Kate Littlepage to be her own mistress, so far as her
brother Mordaunt is concerned; and lastly, I announce that
I see or know nothing in the character, connections, fortune,
person, or position of her suitor, Thomas Bayard, of the
Hickories, Esquire, that is in the least below her pretensions
or merits. I hope that is sufficiently satisfactory?”

“Entirely so; and from the bottom of my heart I thank
you for it. I will own I have had some little apprehensions
on the subject of Tom's political opinions; but, those removed,

nothing else can remain to create the smallest uneasiness.”

“How is it possible that any of you could consider my
notions of so much importance, when Kate has a father, a
mother, and a grandmother living, all of whom, as I understand
things, approve of her choice?”

“Ah! Mr. Littlepage, you are not conscious of your importance
in your own family, I see. I know it better than
you appear to know it yourself. Father, mother, grandmother
and sister, all think and speak of Mordaunt, alike.
To hear the general converse of the war, you would suppose
that he had commanded a company, and captain Littlepage
the regiment. Mrs. Littlepage defers to Mordaunt's
taste, and Mordaunt's opinions, and Mordaunt's judgment,
even in housekeeping and hem-stitching. Kate is for ever
saying `my brother says this,' `my brother writes that,'
`my brother does t'other;' and, as for the old lady here, at
the `Toe,' she would hardly think her peaches and cherries
could ripen, unless Mordaunt Littlepage, the son of her son
Corny Littlepage — by no accident does she ever call him
`general' — were on the face of the earth, to create an eternal
sunshine!”

Was there ever a girl like this! That speech was made
too, in the quietest, most gentle, lady-like manner, possible.
That the young lady had spirit and humour enough, was
very apparent; and for a moment I doubted whether both
were not accompanied by the most perfect simplicity of
character, and the most perfect good faith. Subsequent remarks
and occurrences, however, soon revived all my
original distrusts.

“This is a vivid picture of family weaknesses, that you
have so graphically drawn, Miss Bayard,” I answered;
“and I shall not easily forget it. What renders it the more
lively and pointed, and the more likely to be relished by the
world, is the fact that Mordaunt so little deserves the extreme
partiality of the friends you have mentioned.”

“The last feature forms no part of my picture, major
Littlepage, and I disown it. As for the world, it will never
know anything about it. You and I are not the world, nor
are we at all likely ever to be the world to each other; I
wish you particularly to understand that, which is the reason

I am so frank with you, on so short an acquaintance.
I tell you, your opinion is of the last importance to Tom;
as your sister would not marry him, did she believe you
thought, in the least, ill of him.”

“And she would, did I think well of him?”

“That is a question a lady must answer for herself.
And, now, we will say no more on the subject; for my
mind is easy since I find you entertain no political hostility
to Tom.”

“Men are much less apt to entertain such feelings, I
fancy, after they have fairly fought out a quarrel, than when
they only talk over its heads. Besides, the winning party
is commonly the least rancorous, and success will make us
whigs forgiving. I give you my honour, no objection will
be raised against your brother, by me, on account of his
opinions of the revolution. My dear mother, herself, has
been half a tory the whole war; and Kate, I find, has imbibed
all her charity.”

A singular, and, as I thought, a painful smile, crossed the
sweet face of Priscilla Bayard, as I made this remark; but
she did not answer it. It seemed to me she was now desirous
of quitting the subject entirely, and I immediately led
the discourse to other things.

Kate and I remained at Satanstoe several days, and Tom
Bayard was a daily visitor; the distance between the Neck
and the Hickories being no great matter. I saw the young
lady twice during that interval; once, by riding over to her
father's residence with that express object; and once when
she came across on horseback to see her friend. I confess
I was never more at a loss to understand a character than I
was that of this young woman. She was either profoundly
managing, or as innocent and simple as a child. It was
easy to see that her brother, my sister, my grandmother,
and, as I fancied, the parents of the young lady herself,
were anxious that I should be on as good terms as possible
with Pris., as they all called her; though I could not fathom
her own feelings on the subject. It would have been unnatural
not to have loved to gaze on her exceeding beauty, or
not to have admired her extremely graceful and feminine
manner, which was precisely all that one could wish it to
be in the way of ease and self-possession, without being in

the least free or forward; and I did gaze on the one, and
admire the other, at the very moment I was most disposed
to distrust her sincerity, and to believe her nature the very
perfection of art. There were times when I was disposed
to fancy this Pris. Bayard as profound and skilful an actor
as one of her sex, years, and condition in life could well
become, without falling altogether; and there were moments,
too, when she seemed to be instinct with all the sensitive
and best qualities of her sex.

It is scarcely necessary to say I remained heart-whole,
under such circumstances, notwithstanding the obvious
wishes of my friends, and the young lady's great advantages!
A man no more falls blindly in love when he distrusts
anything amiss, than he sees anything amiss when
he is blindly in love. It has often been a matter of surprise
to me, how often and how completely the wisest of the
earthly races conspire to deceive themselves. When suspicions
are once excited, testimony is not needed; condemnation
following much as a logical induction, though founded
on nothing better than plausible distrusts; while, on the
other hand, where confidence exists, testimony is only too
apt to be disregarded. Women, in particular, are peculiarly
apt to follow the bias of their affections, rather than of their
reasons, in all cases connected with guilt. They are hard
to be convinced of the unworthiness of those who belong to
them, through the affections, because the affections are
usually stronger with them than their reasoning powers.
How they cling to their priests, for instance, when the cooler
heads and greater experience of men condemn, and that
merely because their imaginations choose to adorn the
offenders with the graces of that religion which they venerate,
and on which they rely! He is a shrewd man who can
draw the line between the real and the false in these matters;
but he is truly a weak one who disregards evidence,
when evidence is complete and clear. That we all have our
sins and our failings is true, but there are certain marks of
unworthiness which are infallible, and which ought never
to be disregarded, since they denote the existence of the
want of principle that taints a whole character.