 | Saratoga in 1901 |  |
THE GREAT SCANDAL CASES.
BARONS AND JUDGES IMPLICATED.
Saratoga, Aug. 21.
The other day, at the suggestion of several wags at Congress
Hall, who couldn't live without their daily joke, I put the following
in my correspondence from here:
SCANDAL.
The two great scandals at
the Clarendon are finally out.
The married ladies are mixed
up, and several aristocratic
families are compromised. I
cannot promise full particulars
till to-morrow.
Heavens! what a commotion
those four little lines
caused in Saratoga. Every
gossip was on the qui-vive.
The great hotels resolved themselves into investigating committees,
everybody became suspicious, and society was generally
upset.
At the Clarendon it fell like a moral earthquake among the
unhappy guests. Everybody was looked upon with suspicions,
and that great social Congress resolved itself into two
parties—the watchers and the watched. Each lady looked upon
the other with distrust. People communicated in subdued whispers.
Wives kept close to their husbands, and sweethearts never
for once left the conspicuous glare of the front balcony seats.
Old bachelors, who heretofore had been tolerated as objects of
pity by young and pretty married ladies, were cut dead. Even
propriety as stiff and prim as a Queen's drawing-room. Mrs.
Jones read the paragraph and whispered something about Mrs.
Green. Mrs. Green had her suspicions of Mrs. Jones, but she
told Jones to watch Mrs. Smith. The cliques drew closer
together, and everybody waited breathlessly for the developments.
THE JOKE A SUCCESS.
Hardly had I finished my breakfast and the Saratogian the
next morning, before I received a note from the Clarendon. It
was written on heavy tinted cream paper, surmounted by a
beautiful monogram, the letters A. J. C.
(American Jockey Club) being
beautifully interwoven. It read
thus:
“I notice the paragraph in the
Commercial. It is to be hoped
you will not use names. I am
an old, gray-haired man. I
have lived a life of usefulness,
and have been long honored as
a member of the open Board of
Brokers in New York. If I have been indiscreet in a thoughtless
moment, I beg of you not to ruin everything by using my name
in connection with any developments which you propose to make.
Come and see me. I will remain in my room all day.
I went to my room to read this letter, but I had hardly finished
it when rat! ta!! ta!!! came at my door, and a servant handed
me the following:
“As God is my witness, you have been wrongly informed if you
have heard anything detrimental to my character. I have been
a vestryman of Grace Church for fifteen years. I am incapable
of any such actions; besides, I have a devoted wife, and we are
very fond of each other. I gave $25,000 to the Dudley Observatory
and $50,000 to Cornell University, and have been a
subscriber to the Commercial for seventeen years. I am
incapable of such indiscretion. Whatever other church-members
do, I am as pure as a new-born babe. Come and see me or give
us your company at dinner. I am almost always at church or on
the balcony with my wife.
I had hardly finished reading the above when Judge K—,
of the Supreme Court, entered my room unannounced. He
looked confused. His eyes wandered around the room while he
twisted his whiskers and bit off the ends.
“Have you granted the injunction in the case of the twenty-seven
ladies of Congress Hall versus John R. Cecil for loud
snoring?” I asked.
“No, but I will do it instantly if you will do one thing for
me,” said the Judge trembling from head to foot.
“What?”
“Well, in this scandal case don't use my name. You know I
live at the Clarendon. I've been on the bench sixteen years.
I may have been indiscreet this time. Every man is liable to be
indiscreet some time. Even Jefferson Davis was not infallible.
Besides, everybody knows me in New York. What would Judges
Barnard and Bixby and Ingraham think of me after such an
exposure?”
“Never mind, Judge, `mum's the word.”'
“One thing more,” said the Judge, lingering.
“What?”
“Well, I've always been the confidential attorney for Mrs. Z.
She's an estimable widow lady. She may have been carried
away for a moment by this man's villainy; but, sir, she is a good
woman—highly connected. She explained all how it happened
to me. She is very sorry, and she wished me to come and see
you about it.”
“Why, Judge, you surprise me. I didn't know anything about
any scandal case. I put that paragraph in as a joke—that was
a Congress Hall joke, and I thought you were so very pure up
there that you could stand it. I wouldn't have dared to have
said it about the Grand Union or Congress Hall. We don't
pretend to be so very good here. But I thought you Clarendonites
were like Cæsar's wife—above suspicion.
“Good God!” exclaimed the Judge, throwing both hands
wildly in the air; and then he went back to the Clarendon a
happy man.
My mail now came up. There were eleven more letters from
the Clarendon—some were sealed with aristocratic coats of arms,
some with illuminated monograms.”
The first one opened had a baronial crown stamped in red
and blue. It read as follows:
I saw one paragraphe en ze journal, ze Commourshal, about
ze grande scandale of which you have accuse me.
Ze customs of ze countree I will not understand, but I am un
grand officier in ze légion d'honneur and I shall not be scare when
you have accuse ma chère, ze Madame, with one grand flir-ta-ti-on
(what you dam American call him.)
I shall be of ze Madame un grand protecteur avec ze pistools.
You shall meet me ce soir à six heures, in ze grande parcke, when I
shall shoot you—dam, what you call him—dead!
de la légation française à Washington.
My next letter was written in the trembling hand of a lady.
She said:—
I write this as a friend of yours. You have been deceived.
Some of our people came down to Congress Hall, and told these
scandalous things out of spite. Baron Flourins has been a little
exclusive. We have kept him entirely in our clique. The rest
are mad because we have not introduced him. He is a dear duck
of a man, as harmless as he is handsome.
We take him out to drive, and even to our private parlors to
play chess, with perfect impunity. Some envious common
people mistook my parlor for my private sleeping-room. The
mistake was ludicrous, wasn't it? Mrs. Q— sends regards,
and hopes you will be at our ball to-night. I have a sweet,
pretty young lady to present to you. The villagers will not be
allowed to come in. Don't fail to come.
So the letters went on. I'm sorry I put in the paragraph. It
has caused me a great deal of annoyance. I have spent most of
the day reading letters and listening to explanations. If I
should put in such a paragraph about Congress Hall, I know I
should never be able to read the correspondence which would
result from it; and if I should do the same to the Grand Union,
letters would be brought to my room in wagon loads. I have
not said anything; I don't know anything; only I do give you
the letters as received.
“Honi soit qui mal y pense!”
| Saratoga in 1901 | |