University of Virginia Library

THE
ROMANCE OF BROADWAY.

“I have earned three shillings, York, this blessed
afternoon!” I exclaimed with ill-suppressed exultation,
as I threw down my pen, which I had been diligently
using for four hours—(I was penning “an article”
for a certain “monthly,” dear reader)—pushed
my closely written manuscripts from me, and complacently
took a yellow cigar from my hat, which I have
made my chief pocket since my fifth year, the time, I
believe, when my discriminating parents exchanged
my infant cap for the manly castor. Three York
shillings have I made this blessed day, heaven be
thanked! and now I can conscientiously take a little
“ease in mine inn!” Whereupon, I ignited my cigar
with a self-enkindling apparatus, a gift from my considerate
landlady—pray heaven she charge it not
in her bill—to save her candles, and ascending the
three steps to my window I seated myself in my
accustomed chair, and forthwith began to speculate
on things external. It was that calm, lovely time,
which is wont to usher in the twilight of a summer
evening. The roll of wheels in Broadway beneath
me was ceaseless. Bright forms flashed by in gay
carriages! The happy, the gallant, and the beautiful,

were all forth to take the air on the fashionable evening
drive! Why was I not with the cavalcade! Where
was my Rosinante? Where was my “establishment?”
Echo answered, “where?” I puffed away silently
and vigorously for a few seconds, as these mental
queries assailed me; and, blessed soother of the
troubled, oh, incomparable cigar! my philosophy returned.

Diagonally opposite to my window, stands one of
the proudest structures on Broadway. It is costly
with stone and marble, lofty porticoes and colonnades.
This edifice first attracted my attention by its architectural
beauty, and eventually fixed it by a mystery,
that seemed, to my curious eye, surrounding one of its
inmates! But I will throw into the story-vein what I
have to relate, for it is a nouvellette in itself. I can
unveil you the mystery, lady!

A lady of dazzling beauty was an inmate of that
mansion! and, for aught I know to the contrary, its
only inmate. Every afternoon, arrayed in simple
white, with a flower or two in her hair, she was seated
at the drawing-room window, gazing out upon the
gay spectacle Broadway exhibits of a pleasant afternoon.
I saw her the first moment I took possession
of my dormant nook, and was struck with her surprising
lovliness. Every evening I paid distant homage
to her beauty. Dare a poor scribbler, a mere
penny-a-liner, aspire to a nearer approach to such a
divinity, enshrined in dollars and cents? No! I worshipped
like the publican, afar off. “'Tis distance
lends enchantment to the view.” But she was not
destined to be so worshipped by all. One afternoon
she was at her window, with a gilt leaved volume in
her hand, when a gentleman of the most graceful
bearing rode past my window. He was well mounted,
and sat his horse like an Arabian! He was what
the boarding school misses would call an elegant fellow!
a well bred woman of the world, a remarkably

handsome man! Tall, with a fine oval face, a black
penetrating eye, and a moustache upon his lip, together
with a fine figure, and the most perfect address, he
was, what I should term, a captivating and dangerous
man. His air, and a certain indescribable comme il
faut, bespoke him a gentleman. As he came opposite
her window, his eye, as he turned it thither, became
fascinated with her beauty! How much lovelier
a really lovely creature appears, seen through “plate
glass!” Involuntarily he drew in his spirited horse
and raised his hat! The action, the manner, and the
grace, were inimitable. At this unguarded moment,
the 'hind wheel of a rumbling omnibus struck his
horse in the chest. The animal reared high, and
would have fallen backward upon his rider, had he
not, with remarkable presence of mind, stepped quietly
and gracefully from the stirrup to the pavement, as
the horse, losing his balance, fell violently upon his
side. The lady, who had witnessed with surprise the
involuntary homage of the stranger, for such, from
her manner of receiving it, he evidently was to her,
started from her chair and screamed convulsively.
The next moment he had secured and remounted his
horse, who was only slightly stunned with the fall,
acknowledged the interest taken in his mischance by
the fair being who had been its innocent cause (unless
beauty were a crime) by another bow, and rode
slowly and composedly onward, as if nothing unusual
had occurred. The next evening the carriage was at
the door of the mansion. The liveried footman was
standing with the steps down, and the handle of the
door in his hand. The coachman was seated upon
his box. I was, as usual, at my window. The street-door
opened, and, with a light step, the graceful form
of my heroine came forth and descended to the carriage.
At that moment—(some men surely are born
under the auspices of more indulgent stars than others)—the
stranger rode up, bowed with ineffable grace
and—(blessed encounter that, with the omnibus
wheel!)—his bow was acknowledged by an inclination
of her superb head, and a smile that would make
a man of any soul seek accidents even in the “cannon's
mouth.” He rode slowly forward, and, in a
few seconds, the carriage took the same direction.
There are no inferences to be drawn from this, reader!
All the other carriages passed the same route. It was
the customary one! At the melting of twilight into
night, the throng of riders and drivers repassed. The
“lady's” carriage—(it was a landau, and the top was
thrown back)—came last of all! The cavalier was
riding beside it! He dismounted as it drew up before
the door, assisted her to the pavé, and took his leave!
For several afternoons, successively, the gentleman's
appearance, mounted on his noble animal, was simultaneous
with that of the lady at her carriage. One
evening they were unusually late on their return.
Finally the landau drew up before the door. It was
too dark to see faces, but I could have sworn the
equestrian was not the stranger! No! he dismounted,
opened the door of the carriage, and the gentleman
and lady descended! The footman had rode his horse,
while he, happy man! occupied a seat by the side of
the fair one! I watched the progress of this amour
for several days, and still the stranger had never entered
the house. One day, however, about three
o'clock, P. M., I saw him lounging past, with that
ease and self-possession which characterized him. He
passed and repassed the house two or three times, and
then rather hastily ascending the steps of the portico—
pulled at the bell. The next moment he was admitted,
and disappeared out of my sight. But only for a
moment, reader! An attick hath its advantages! The
blinds of the drawing-room were drawn, and impervious
to any glance from the street; but the leaves
were turned so as to let in the light of heaven and my
own gaze! I could see through the spaces, directly
down into the room, as distinctly as if there was no
obstruction! This I give as a hint to all concerned,
who have revolving leaves to their venetian blinds.
Attick gentlemen are much edified thereby! The
next moment he was in the room, his hand upon his
heart—another, and I saw him at her feet! Sir—
would that I had language to paint you the scene!
Lady—I then learned the “art of love!” I shall have
confidence, I have so good a pattern, when I go to
make my declaration! The declaration, the confession,
the acceptation, all passed beneath me, most edifyingly.
Then came the labial seal that made his
bliss secure. By his animated gestures, I could see
he was urging her to some sudden step. She, at first,
appeared reluctant, but gradually becoming more placable,
yielded. In ten minutes the landau was at the
door. They came out arm in arm, and entered it! I
could hear the order to the coachman, “drive to St.
John's Church.” “An elopement!” thought I. “Having
been in at breaking cover, I will be in at the
death!” and taking my hat and gloves, I descended,
as if I carried a policy of insurance upon my life in
my pocket, the long flights of stairs to the street, bolted
out of the front door, and followed the landau,
which I discerned just turning the corner of Canal
street! I followed full fast on foot. I eschew omnibuses.
They are vulgar! When I arrived at the
church, the carriage was before it, and the “happy
pair,” already joined together, were just crossing the
trottoir to re-enter it! The grinning footman, who
had legally witnessed the ceremony, followed them!

The next day, about noon, a capacious family carriage
rolled up to the door of the mansion, followed
by a barouche with servants and baggage. First descended
an elderly gentleman, who cast his eyes over
the building, to see if it stood where it did when he
left it for the Springs. Then came, one after another,

two beautiful girls; then a bandsome young man.
“How glad I am that I have got home again,” exclaimed
one of the young ladies, running up the steps
to the door. “I wonder where Jane is, that she does
not meet us?”

The sylph rang the bell as she spoke. I could see
down through the blinds into the drawing-room.
There was a scene!

The gentleman was for going to the door, and the
lady, his bride, was striving to prevent him! “You
sha'n't!”—“I will!”—“I say you sha'n't!”—“I say
I will!”—were interchanged as certainly between the
parties, as if I had heard the words. The gentleman,
or rather husband, prevailed. I saw him leave the
room, and the next moment open the street door. The
young ladies started back at the presence of the new
footman. The old gentleman, who was now at the
door, inquired as he saw him, loud enough for me to
hear, “Who in the devil's name are you, sir?”

“I have the honor to be your son-in-law!”

“The devil you have! and who may you have the
honor to be?”

“The Count L—y!” with a bow of ineffable
condescension.

“You are an impostor, sir!”

“Here is your eldest daughter, my wife,” replied
the newly-made husband, taking by the hand, his lovely
bride, who had come imploringly forward as the
disturbance reached her ears. “Here is my wife,
your daughter!”

“You are mistaken, sir, she is my housekeeper!”

A scene followed that cannot be described. The
nobleman had married the gentleman's housekeeper.
She had spread the snare, and like many a wiser fool,
he had fallen into it.

Half an hour afterward, a hack drove to the servants'
hall door, and my heroine came forth, closely

veiled, with bag and baggage, and drove away. The
Count, for such he was, I saw no more! I saw his
name gazetted as a passenger in a packet ship that
sailed a day or two after for Havre. How he escaped
from the mansion, remaineth yet a mystery! Henceforth,
dear reader, I most conscientiously eschew matrimony.