Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 5, May 1852

by Various

I found him in his old room, with half-a-dozen books at his feet—tried, and thrown down upon the floor. All his activity was gone. He was quiet and still enough now; but when he saw me, he started up, and we ran into each other’s arms, as father and son, weeping very bitterly.

We never mentioned her name, and I do not recollect that, during the whole fortnight I remained there, he ever alluded to her except upon one occasion, and that was, when we were on the eve of parting.

First, however, let me say how we came to part at all. Our minds had become a little more calmed. We sat together, and sometimes conversed. He had resigned his professorship, took no interest in any thing which had pleased and amused him before, and saw no one but myself and one or two old friends. One day, however, while we were seated together, not talking, but with our eyes fixed upon vacancy, and our thoughts resting on the past, the Chief of Police came in, and spoke to him in a whisper. The old man’s attention was soon roused, and as he had a great hatred of secret communications, he answered and asked questions in a loud tone, which soon made me aware of the following facts: that France extending her aggressions far and wide, and at this time exercising a sort of Dictatorship over Prussia, under whose Protectorate Hamburgh was supposed to be, had demanded that all emigrants who had found refuge in that city should be expelled or arrested. Resistance was not very easy. Submission was not very pleasant; and the mode which the authorities took to escape from their difficulty was—to inform all emigrants of the demand which had been made, with a hint that it would be better for them to deliver Hamburgh from their presence. The amount of the whole information was, that there was no longer any safety for me there; that at any moment I might be arrested at the mandate of France, and no one in those days could tell what would be the result.

The poor professor was in a terrible slate of distress and agitation; and I was very much grieved to leave the father of my poor Louise. But my resolution was soon taken. The ship in which I had engaged my passage to America, was still in the port, and to sail in three days. All my preparations were rapidly made, and nothing remained but to bid my good father-in-law adieu. On my marriage day he had given me a rouleau of gold Frederics, amounting to the two thousand dollars he had promised; but without this, I was comparatively rich; for my fifty louis d’ors remained untouched, and I had accumulated a good many dollars by teaching. I therefore took him back the rouleau, and told him I did not think I had any right to retain it. He would not receive it, however, saying:

“Put it up, put it up. Do you think, Louis, I would rob my dead child? No, no, my dear boy. You and poor Louise were one. I had hoped that you would have remained here to close my eyes; for my time will not be long. But God punishes me by denying that satisfaction. You must write to me as soon as you reach the shores of America, and you shall hear from me very soon after. If I have occasion to communicate with you before, I will address my letter to Boston.”

This was the only occasion on which he mentioned his daughter’s name. His eyes remained tearless, however, and the words were spoken in that dull, cheerless, despairing tone, which made me fear, not without reason, that he would never recover from the shock he had received. He saw me on board the vessel, and took leave of me, as a father might of a son whom he could never behold again. He was very, very sad; and when he had descended the ship’s side, and sat in the little boat, he bent down his eyes, and never lifted them to look at the vessel which was about to carry me away.

It was growing dusk when I embarked, and the ship was to sail about the time of high water, which was at ten o’clock. I went down therefore at once to my little, uncomfortable berth, with no great hope of sleeping, but rather to be out of sight, for there were feelings in my heart at that moment, which I did not wish exposed to the eyes of others. I was weary, however, and exhausted; for I had slept but very little during the last three days, and after lying in sad stillness, shut up in the close, evil-smelling cabin for about an hour, I fell into the most profound slumber that I ever recollect to have obtained. I heard nothing, I knew nothing; and when I woke, the broad day was looking at me through a round, thick glass window, like an eye, in the side of the cabin; and I could hear a strange sort of rushing, gurgling noise close at my head, giving me the first intimation that there was nothing but that frail plank between me and the wide, deep sea. A negro, in a white jacket, with his sleeves turned up from his large-boned, sinewy, black arms, was laying a table in the middle of the cabin, as if for the morning meal, and putting out my head, I asked him where we were.

He grinned at me with his white teeth, saying—

“Can’t tell, massa. No post-house in middle of sea. You glad of your dinner, I reckon, habin’ had no breakfas’. You come and eat good dinner. Keep him down if you can. He, he, he.”

I did not feel myself the least disposed to be sick, however, and the ship seemed to be going with so smooth and easy a motion, that I felt very sure for that day at least, I should escape the infliction which most young voyagers have to endure. I rose and dressed myself, but had hardly completed my toilet, when my friend, the negro, made his appearance with an enormous piece of roast beef. He then brought in a great tureen of pea-soup, and a dish of potatoes; and such was our fare almost every day during the voyage, with the slight, and not very pleasant variation of strongly salted beef, instead of fresh, which took place when we had been about six days at sea. Such was the provision of an American packet-ship in those days. Hunger, however, they say is good sauce, and I must confess that I was ravenous. When the dinner was served, the captain of the vessel came down, with his only other passenger, one of the most extraordinary looking beings I ever saw. She was a Madame Du Four; an emigrant like myself; dressed in the fashion of the court of Louis the Fifteenth, with a robe of stiff brocade silk, not very clean, and a petticoat, shown in front, of green satin. She had strong-marked aquiline features, very keen dark eyes, and shaggy brows, was enormously tall, and had also added to her height by a sort of tower upon her head of most extraordinary construction, consisting, I fancy, of a cushion, over which her hair, well powdered, was carried on all sides, with a lace cap, and coquelicot ribbons surmounting the whole. She was highly rouged, and painted white also; but those female vanities did not prevent her from having a somewhat fierce and masculine look, which was not at all softened by a sort of finikin minauderie of manner with which it contrasted strongly. On the first day, too, I could not help thinking when she moved across the cabin, or walked about the deck, that I detected a pair of Hessian boots under her enormous petticoats. On the following day, however, she had shoes, buckles, and silk stockings. Our dinner passed pleasantly enough, though the bluff American Captain could hardly get on with his meal for laughter whenever Madame Du Four opened her mouth. The fun he had out of her during the passage was quite as good as double passage money, although I must acknowledge she spoke English very well, and therefore it was not at her language that he laughed. She was exceedingly agreeable, too, notwithstanding her oddities, had an immense fund of information, and seemed to have traveled a great deal. Like all Frenchwomen she had great curiosity, and never rested till she had wormed out of me, my whole history, with the exception of that part which referred to my poor Louise—a subject too sacred to be touched upon by me. To my surprise, and not altogether to my satisfaction—for it made me accuse myself of indiscretion—she took down the name of Father Bonneville and Madame de Salins, and I endeavored to get in return, some information respecting herself. But there she was proof against all enquiries; and I could only discover that she had friends or relations in Louisiana.