 | The Baroness of New York |  |
VII.
And the lawyer bowed: “Sir Francis, I think.”
And he turned a quid in his mouth with a wink,
Then dropped his eyes to the floor again,
To a foot that dragged as if dragging a chain:
And he turned a quid in his mouth with a wink,
Then dropped his eyes to the floor again,
To a foot that dragged as if dragging a chain:
“Now you are a nobleman. Pardon me,
If business and pleasure must blend in one,
But I am in search of a nobleman's son;
And the thought has occurred that you might be he.
No? but business is business. Pardon me, pray—
Stay, stay but a moment. Perhaps it will pay.”
If business and pleasure must blend in one,
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And the thought has occurred that you might be he.
No? but business is business. Pardon me, pray—
Stay, stay but a moment. Perhaps it will pay.”
And he looked right straight at the turning guest,
And he reached a broad hard hand to his breast.
“Now here's an estate that is waiting an heir;
A noble estate that lies over the sea,
Of a great Irish lord that is just deceased,
And I am an advocate. Now answer fair,
And square, if your lordship should be so pleased,
The questions I ask. 'Twixt you and me,
Your answers shall rest till your dying day,
And I think your lordship can make it pay.”
And he reached a broad hard hand to his breast.
“Now here's an estate that is waiting an heir;
A noble estate that lies over the sea,
Of a great Irish lord that is just deceased,
And I am an advocate. Now answer fair,
And square, if your lordship should be so pleased,
The questions I ask. 'Twixt you and me,
Your answers shall rest till your dying day,
And I think your lordship can make it pay.”
Then the butterman's son of the Avenue,
In swallow-tailed clothes and two-buttoned kids,
Came forward and languidly lifted his lids
And stared as if staring Sir Francis through,
And the lawyer went on. “I think that you
Might have met this heir in Australia; he, too”—
The shot struck centre. As pale as a ghost
Sir Francis started, stood close to the wall,
Then lifting his two hands let them fall
Both helpless down, and stood still as a post.
In swallow-tailed clothes and two-buttoned kids,
Came forward and languidly lifted his lids
And stared as if staring Sir Francis through,
And the lawyer went on. “I think that you
Might have met this heir in Australia; he, too”—
The shot struck centre. As pale as a ghost
Sir Francis started, stood close to the wall,
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Both helpless down, and stood still as a post.
Then the advocate laughed, laughed low and deep,
A deep and a devilish laugh laughed he,
And he seemed to take no note at all
Of the stranger's start and deep agony,
But he turned to the crowd with his back to the wall;
And he spoke of the weather, of the crowd together
That jostled each other like silly sheep,
In the sociable jam; of scandal and tea,
Of tea as weak as water could be,
Of scandal as strong as alcohol.
A deep and a devilish laugh laughed he,
And he seemed to take no note at all
Of the stranger's start and deep agony,
But he turned to the crowd with his back to the wall;
And he spoke of the weather, of the crowd together
That jostled each other like silly sheep,
In the sociable jam; of scandal and tea,
Of tea as weak as water could be,
Of scandal as strong as alcohol.
Sir Francis now gathered his strength at last,
And pale and silent he would have passed;
But the man reached out and laid hold his breast
In vulgar pretence of a friendly request
That he would linger, and so held him fast
With hand and eye, and Sir Francis Jain
Stood bound as bound with a twice-linked chain.
And pale and silent he would have passed;
But the man reached out and laid hold his breast
In vulgar pretence of a friendly request
That he would linger, and so held him fast
With hand and eye, and Sir Francis Jain
Stood bound as bound with a twice-linked chain.
“Nay, wait, Sir Francis, a stranger are you
On this fast and fashionable Avenue.
And I have a fancy that you some day
Might choose to marry, and make it pay.
On this fast and fashionable Avenue.
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Might choose to marry, and make it pay.
“For you, Sir Francis, I have no doubt,
Like all foreign noblemen, are seeking out
Some oil man's daughter, some dealer in cheese,
In rags, in offal, or in what you please,
Only that she has plenty of tin—
Nay, nay, Sir Francis. Stop, sir! Stay!
These marrying men they make it pay.
And that you may not be taken in,
Why, I will tell you, Sir, while you wait,
Of their moral characters—that is, their estate.
Like all foreign noblemen, are seeking out
Some oil man's daughter, some dealer in cheese,
In rags, in offal, or in what you please,
Only that she has plenty of tin—
Nay, nay, Sir Francis. Stop, sir! Stay!
These marrying men they make it pay.
And that you may not be taken in,
Why, I will tell you, Sir, while you wait,
Of their moral characters—that is, their estate.
“That milk-white maiden parading there
With painted brows and slate-pencilled hair,
Is heiress to millions. Just wait for the day
She can lift her face in her prayers and say
‘Our Father in heaven,’ in a double sense,
And she, she can handle her weight in gold.
Then it's something to know that her parents are old,
And can die and be buried at the slightest expense.
Particularly now, as they make it pay,
Cremating, at a dollar and sixty cents.
With painted brows and slate-pencilled hair,
Is heiress to millions. Just wait for the day
She can lift her face in her prayers and say
‘Our Father in heaven,’ in a double sense,
And she, she can handle her weight in gold.
Then it's something to know that her parents are old,
And can die and be buried at the slightest expense.
Particularly now, as they make it pay,
Cremating, at a dollar and sixty cents.
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“Stocks? Not in stocks, but commerce. You see,
They made it in commerce of milk. That is,
They bought in the country and sold in the town
For the same price here that they there paid down.
Nay, stop, Sir Francis; stay, listen to me,
And learn the way that men make it pay.
They minted the money! The secret is this,
And it doesn't affect the good name of the daughter;
But New York is an island, an island, you see?
An island! Sir Francis,—surrounded by water.
They made it in commerce of milk. That is,
They bought in the country and sold in the town
For the same price here that they there paid down.
Nay, stop, Sir Francis; stay, listen to me,
And learn the way that men make it pay.
They minted the money! The secret is this,
And it doesn't affect the good name of the daughter;
But New York is an island, an island, you see?
An island! Sir Francis,—surrounded by water.
“That dark, gipsy beauty in screw-heel shoes,
And shoulders thrown forward, Sir Francis, means screws!
That is, her father, a tinker by trade,
One cold, sloppy day when he couldn't get out,
On account of bad shoes, and go howling about,
Sat down in a corner, while this same heiress played
In the ashes beside him, and carelessly made
A sharp pointed screw. Then what did he do?
Why, he went to work, and with that same screw
He screwed himself on to the Avenue.
And shoulders thrown forward, Sir Francis, means screws!
That is, her father, a tinker by trade,
One cold, sloppy day when he couldn't get out,
On account of bad shoes, and go howling about,
Sat down in a corner, while this same heiress played
In the ashes beside him, and carelessly made
A sharp pointed screw. Then what did he do?
Why, he went to work, and with that same screw
He screwed himself on to the Avenue.
“Yon east-iron woman means hinges.
Her hardware husband swings open this door;
In fact, I may mention, there really is more
That hinges and turns on what he arranges
Than turns on returns of elections, twice o'er.
Her hardware husband swings open this door;
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That hinges and turns on what he arranges
Than turns on returns of elections, twice o'er.
There are women put together with hinges;
God bless them: I pity their lords;
One shrinks at the thought, and one cringes
At the thought of being caught in these hinges
As caught between tackle and cords.
God bless them: I pity their lords;
One shrinks at the thought, and one cringes
At the thought of being caught in these hinges
As caught between tackle and cords.
“Yon blonde, so surrounded with half the gay beaux
Of Gotham, good sir, is the Princess of Pills.
She is weighed down with diamonds as dews weight a rose,
She is smothered in satins, in laces, and frills;
She walks through the world with a heavenward nose,
And yet it means pills, sir, nothing pills.
Silks and satins and laces and frills,
Fine French masters and milliner's bills,
Pills, sir! moving and marvellous pills.
Of Gotham, good sir, is the Princess of Pills.
She is weighed down with diamonds as dews weight a rose,
She is smothered in satins, in laces, and frills;
She walks through the world with a heavenward nose,
And yet it means pills, sir, nothing pills.
Silks and satins and laces and frills,
Fine French masters and milliner's bills,
Pills, sir! moving and marvellous pills.
“She is wooed by a dozen brave counts who propose
To swallow her pills, her diamonds, her nose,
And all at a gulp without sugar. For, oh!
They adore this fair girl, and her diamonds, so.
Yet only to think of it! Every bright stone
Must have cost her a million of pills alone.
Pills, pills! How she laughs at life's ills!
A coachman's cockade, a poodle that kills!
Pills, sir! active, industrious pills.
To swallow her pills, her diamonds, her nose,
And all at a gulp without sugar. For, oh!
They adore this fair girl, and her diamonds, so.
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Must have cost her a million of pills alone.
Pills, pills! How she laughs at life's ills!
A coachman's cockade, a poodle that kills!
Pills, sir! active, industrious pills.
“Horses and houses in blocks and in rows,
She lives in a palace, she lifts her nose
At every man less than a millionaire,
If he be not a prince with a pompous air.
And how do you say they make it pay?
Pills, sir! active, industrious pills!
Pills that are doing both night and day,
Pills that work while their masters play.
She lives in a palace, she lifts her nose
At every man less than a millionaire,
If he be not a prince with a pompous air.
And how do you say they make it pay?
Pills, sir! active, industrious pills!
Pills that are doing both night and day,
Pills that work while their masters play.
“And yet my lady with the lifted head,
The palaces high and the broad, rich lands,
The upward nose with its rose of red,
The broad flat foot and the bony hands—
She is not happy. For all her pills,
For all her finery, for all her frills,
I pity, indeed, my Princess of Pills.
The palaces high and the broad, rich lands,
The upward nose with its rose of red,
The broad flat foot and the bony hands—
She is not happy. For all her pills,
For all her finery, for all her frills,
I pity, indeed, my Princess of Pills.
“For all her wooings and chances to wed,
For all her wealth and her heavenward head,
She is not happy. Prince de Hotelle,
The proud Italian who learned his airs
In lighting his master's guests up stairs,
Is gone! and the gossips they laugh and tell
How her father refused him for fear his bills
Might swallow up all his industrious pills.
For all her wealth and her heavenward head,
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The proud Italian who learned his airs
In lighting his master's guests up stairs,
Is gone! and the gossips they laugh and tell
How her father refused him for fear his bills
Might swallow up all his industrious pills.
“That woman that waddles so crabwise there,
And toddles and puffs and pushes the crowd,
Means oil. 'Tis oozing from out her hair.
And why does she dress so large and so loud?
And why does she crowd and elbow through?
Why, she is a light of the Avenue;
A leader of women, the delight of men,
And, learned men say, is sharp with the pen.
And toddles and puffs and pushes the crowd,
Means oil. 'Tis oozing from out her hair.
And why does she dress so large and so loud?
And why does she crowd and elbow through?
Why, she is a light of the Avenue;
A leader of women, the delight of men,
And, learned men say, is sharp with the pen.
“A widow is she of forty and five,
The relict of Septimus Boggs;
A widow is she of proud degree,
And the wealthiest widow alive.
A widow is she, and as you can see,
Her waist is as large as a log's;
Yet she, she is wooed by the wisest men,
For she made her fortune along by the pen.
The relict of Septimus Boggs;
A widow is she of proud degree,
And the wealthiest widow alive.
A widow is she, and as you can see,
Her waist is as large as a log's;
Yet she, she is wooed by the wisest men,
For she made her fortune along by the pen.
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“How oily she is! how smiling when
She waddles along in her airy walk!
You hear her grunt when she turns to talk
To one of the wise and the wooing men.
She toddles, she puffs like an engine shunt,
And all Cincinnati is in that grunt,
Now, I say oil made her rich; but then,
She says she made it alone by the pen.
She waddles along in her airy walk!
You hear her grunt when she turns to talk
To one of the wise and the wooing men.
She toddles, she puffs like an engine shunt,
And all Cincinnati is in that grunt,
Now, I say oil made her rich; but then,
She says she made it alone by the pen.
“Oh, she is the wealthiest widow alive,
She is wooed by a thousand men;
A widow is she of forty and five,
And the relict of Septimus Boggs.
A widow is she, and she came to thrive
By making a corner in hogs!—
By cornering all the pigs, and then,
She made her fortune, you see, by the pen.
She is wooed by a thousand men;
A widow is she of forty and five,
And the relict of Septimus Boggs.
A widow is she, and she came to thrive
By making a corner in hogs!—
By cornering all the pigs, and then,
She made her fortune, you see, by the pen.
“Nay, stay! But, sir, if you will begone,
Why I will follow you idly on;
And as we leisurely elbow through
This creme de la creme of the Avenue,
Will tell you of the Popper. Why, sir, you
Have saved her to-day. She was hanging to
The skirts of society, sir, till you
Came by to-day and so pulled her through.
Why I will follow you idly on;
And as we leisurely elbow through
This creme de la creme of the Avenue,
Will tell you of the Popper. Why, sir, you
Have saved her to-day. She was hanging to
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Came by to-day and so pulled her through.
“No, this is not the best. And yet
It is, some say the very best
Society in all Manhattan.
We have some families we call “old,”
Some sluggish Dutch whose founders sat and
Let the town grow east and west,
The while they sat as old hens set,
And idly hatched their eggs of gold.
So that Manhattan's proudest ones
Are simply, sir, some Dutchman's sons.
It is, some say the very best
Society in all Manhattan.
We have some families we call “old,”
Some sluggish Dutch whose founders sat and
Let the town grow east and west,
The while they sat as old hens set,
And idly hatched their eggs of gold.
So that Manhattan's proudest ones
Are simply, sir, some Dutchman's sons.
“And these same families are so old,
So walled about by bags of gold,
Their wealthy children quite forget
Whether their parents who left them lands
Were gentlemen, or men whose hands
Did open oysters or draw the net,
Or measure peanuts from side stands.
So walled about by bags of gold,
Their wealthy children quite forget
Whether their parents who left them lands
Were gentlemen, or men whose hands
Did open oysters or draw the net,
Or measure peanuts from side stands.
“Indeed, it hardly is settled yet
Whether these gents whose tents were set
Along the new shore's unclaimed sands,
Were gentle pirates or mere brigands—
The Knickerbockers? The same, but, oh!
They are so respectable, you know,
So very respectable and—slow!
Whether these gents whose tents were set
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Were gentle pirates or mere brigands—
The Knickerbockers? The same, but, oh!
They are so respectable, you know,
So very respectable and—slow!
“You hear those bottles just popping, sir,
Back yonder, where Popper now sweats and swears,
And opens his bottles and then declares
To his gathered guests that he brought the wine
Himself, from the cellars of his German friend,
The Baron of Heiderofisterchir?
Well, that is the battle of Murray Hill.
These Poppers they hold the fort. They will
Drink their wine, they will shout and shine
Their day: they will fire at all below
With champagne bottles, who would gladly blow
My lady grand to the moon, and hold
Her place with their new and their greasy gold.”
Back yonder, where Popper now sweats and swears,
And opens his bottles and then declares
To his gathered guests that he brought the wine
Himself, from the cellars of his German friend,
The Baron of Heiderofisterchir?
Well, that is the battle of Murray Hill.
These Poppers they hold the fort. They will
Drink their wine, they will shout and shine
Their day: they will fire at all below
With champagne bottles, who would gladly blow
My lady grand to the moon, and hold
Her place with their new and their greasy gold.”
Sir Francis met, ere he had quite withdrawn,
The Baroness again; again he courtly bowed,
And, lest the knave who followed through the crowd
Might make familiar if he paused, passed on.
“You know her then! this wealthy Baroness?
This sort of female Count of Monte Christo?
Why, sir! you writhe, is if you felt distress;
And, sir! what makes you double up your fist so?
She is the grandest in the land, but—well,
We lawyers know some things we never tell.”
The Baroness again; again he courtly bowed,
And, lest the knave who followed through the crowd
Might make familiar if he paused, passed on.
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This sort of female Count of Monte Christo?
Why, sir! you writhe, is if you felt distress;
And, sir! what makes you double up your fist so?
She is the grandest in the land, but—well,
We lawyers know some things we never tell.”
| The Baroness of New York | |