Papers from Overlook-House

by Frederic W. Beasley

Her particular friends said that she had been very beautiful as a girl. She was one of that select class, scattered over our country, concerning each of whom there was a family tradition, that on some occasion of public ceremonial, General Washington had paused and stood opposite to her in mute admiration. I know that the great Father of his country was reported to have paid such a tribute to one of my maiden aunts—and that the story procured from her nephews and nieces a large portion of respect. I boasted, as a boy, of this fact—regarding it as a sprig of a foreign aristocratic family, would the honors of his aunt, the Duchess. But an unreliable boy at our school matched this history from the unwritten archives of his vulgar relatives. So, in great disgust, I held my tongue on the subject for the future.

Well, thought I, as I mused over the note of the widow, the formation of some of her letters indicating a romantic turn of mind; this is, indeed, a strange, a very strange world. Here I have just done with a client who must get himself hung. A dull, stupid fellow; a blockhead of the most knotty material, "unwedgeable" by any possible force of common sense; a spot on the face of the earth! Hang him! Hanging is too good for him. He was a fellow who had neither eyes, nor nose, nor mouth for the attracted observation of a jury, nor any history, nor any ingenuity in his murderous deed,—as a thread on which a poor advocate could suspend one gem of argument, one gem of eloquence to blaze and dazzle the eyes of the twelve substantial citizens, whose verdict was to life or death. And now here is a call to attend to some legal business to be done in the sunshine of a fair lady's favor! Has she heard of the rare ability displayed in the defence of this man who is so soon to be suspended in the air, as a terror to evil doers? Or has she been allured by my good looks and agreeable manners? Handsome!—a few years older than myself, and then a good little fortune, which my legal knowledge could protect. Well, if this world be odd, I must make the best of it. Society is a strange structure; and happy is the man who is a statue ready for his appropriate pedestal.

It is unquestionably an amiable trait in human character which clothes those, who by special circumstances acquire marked relations with us, in attractions which surpass ordinary charms.

I must freely confess that I never saw the widow look so interesting as at the hour when I made my visit. I presented myself with dignity, as one who represented learning at the bar, and future dignities on the bench. She received me kindly. There was a seriousness in her demeanor, an obvious earnestness, as of one who had a burden on the mind, so that I perceived that the occasion was one of great importance.

I ought here to inform the gentle reader that it had been my good pleasure, instigated by ambition natural to young men, and as a relaxation from my graver studies, to indite various articles in prose and verse for the Newark Democrat;—a paper which was supposed by the editor, the host at the Bald Eagle Inn, the headquarters of the ruling political party in our town, and also by several members of the Legislature who could read any kind of printing, to exert a great influence over the destinies of our country.

There was one contribution of mine, entitled, "The Flame Expiring in the Heart," which obtained great admiration, and was committed to memory by a number of the young ladies at Miss Sykes' boarding-school. It was copied into both of the New York papers. Just, however, as it seemed to be securing a place for itself in American poetry, some one, urged by envy, and under the instigation of very bad taste,—some said it was Paulding, some Washington Irving,—but that was simply slanderous,—I say some one of more self-conceit than of the gift of appreciation of pure versification, and of elevated sentiment, wrote a reply. It had a hypocritical dedication as if the author of the aforesaid poem was affectionately addressed, and as if the utmost tenderness of sorrow was displayed in sympathy. To crown all, the coarseness of the writer was shown in the title, "A Bellows to Fan the Expiring Flame of Alonzo in the Newark Democrat."

However it is not necessary for me to dwell on my literary career. I was compelled to allude to it, in order that you could understand the reasonableness of the conduct of the lady under the circumstances which I now describe.

After a few words of greeting, she at once descended into the "midst of things." She informed me that the reasons of her sending for me, were her convictions of my goodness of heart, which she gleaned, no doubt, from the tone of my poetry, of my elevated desire to promote the interests of science and of letters, and her high idea of my literary abilities, particularly as a writer of prose.

Here I felt that her critical skill was in error. She had not, perhaps, as much natural capacity for the admiration of sterling poetry as of prose. Without intending to hint that I pretend to the false humility of undervaluing my prose style, I am satisfied, that to say the least, my poetry is in all respects its equal. But to return from this brief digression; the fair one proceeded to say, that she perceived that I had a remarkable gift in narrative.

Now, her deceased husband, she said, was a very remarkable man. A true account of his abilities and virtues need only be placed before the public attention to secure him a perpetual remembrance among men. It would be a great wrong,—indeed it would be robbing the world of a just claim, that his character, writings, and his general history should not be widely known. As she discoursed on the subject, she became a little romantic; and when she began to expand her views, and to adopt the figure of a flower concealed from the gaze of men, lying buried in the dark recesses of the forest, which ought to be brought out before the common view, I doubted whether the sentence had not been previously studied. This only proved, of course, her faithfulness to the memory of her husband; and her desire that I should enter into her sympathies.