Читать книгу The Von Toodleburgs - F. Colburn Adams - Страница 15

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Young Tite Toodleburg has grown up to be a boy of sixteen. A bright, handsome fellow he is, every inch a sailor, and full of the spirit of adventure. There is something more than Dutch blood in Tite, and it begins to show itself. His figure is erect and slender, his hair soft and flaxen, and his blue eyes and fresh, smiling face, almost girlish in its expression, gave to his regular features a softness almost feminine. And yet there was something manly, resolute, and even daring in his actions. There was no such thing as fear in his nature. He had acquired such a knowledge of seamanship that he could handle the good sloop Heinrich quite as skilfully as the skipper, and, indeed, make the voyage to New York as promptly as the greatest navigator on the Tappan Zee. He was expert, too, at taking in and delivering out cargo, could keep the sloop's account, and drive as good a trade as any of them with the merchants in Fly Market. In this way Tite made a host of friends, who began to look forward to the time when he would have a sloop of his own, and be in a way to do friendly acts for them, perhaps to make a fortune for himself.

Tite thought very differently. Navigating the river in a sloop, to be passed by one of Mr. Fulton's steamboats, was not the sort of sea-faring that suited his ambition. He had seen big ships come home, after long voyages, and the majesty of their appearance excited his spirit of adventure. He had also spent his evenings reading the works of celebrated navigators and travellers; and these very naturally increased his curiosity to know more of the world and see the things they had seen. He had also looked out through the Narrows of New York harbor, and his young heart had yearned to be on the broad ocean beyond. If he could only master all the mysteries of Bowditch, be a skilful navigator, and capable of sailing a ship to any part of the world, and see strange things and people—that day might come, he thought to himself. He had listened, too, for hours at a time, to the stories of old sailors who had come on board the sloop while in port. One had been to India, and another to Ceylon; and both told wonderful stories concerning the voyages they had made and the people they had met. Another had seen every port in the North Pacific, had been wrecked on Queen Charlotte's Island, and told wonderful stories of his adventures in rounding Cape Horn. His adventures among the South Sea Islands were of the most romantic kind, and colored so as to incite the ambition of a venturesome young lad like Tite to the highest pitch. There was another old sailor who had sailed the South and North Pacific, had killed his score of whales, and been as many times within an inch of losing his own life.

These stories so fired the young gentleman's imagination that he resolved to try his fortune at a whaling voyage as soon as the people of Hudson sent their first ship out. There was the wide world before him, and perhaps he might find the means of making a fortune in some distant land. But how was he to break this resolution to his kind parents, whom he loved so dearly? What effect would it have on his mother, who doted on him, and for whom he had the truest affection? His mind hung between hope for the future and duty to his parents. Regularly every Saturday afternoon Tite had come home, received his mother's blessing, and put his earnings into her hands for safe-keeping. There would be an end of this if he went to the South Sea. Then his parents were both getting old, and would soon need a protector, and if anything serious happened to them during his absence how could he ever forgive himself. Week after week and month after month did Tite ponder these questions in his mind, and still his resolution to see the world grew stronger and stronger.

It was about this time that there settled in Nyack a queer and very inquisitive sort of man of the name of Bigelow Chapman. He was a restless, discontented sort of man, very slender of figure, with sharp, well-defined features, keen gray eye, and wore his dark hair long and unkept. His manner was that of a man discontented with the world, which, he said, needed a great deal of reforming; indeed, that it could be reformed, ought to be reformed, and that he was the man to do it. He had been the founder of Dogtown, Massachusetts, where he had built up a very select community of keen-witted men and women—just to set an example to the world of how people ought to live. Dolly Chapman, his wife, (for what would a reformer be without a wife,) was a ponderous woman, weighing more than two hundred pounds, and a proof that even in matrimony the opposites meet. She was a fussy, ill-bred woman, spoke with a strong nasal twang, and a sincere believer in all the reforms advocated by her husband, though she differed with him on one or two points of religion. And there was Mattie Chapman, a bright, bouncing girl of fifteen, with rosy cheeks and fair hair, ambitious for one of her age, and evidently inclined to make a show in the world. These constituted the Chapman family.

Dogtown, of which I made mention, was a creation of Chapman's. With it he was to demonstrate how the world could be reformed, and how the prejudices were to be driven from other people's minds. Strong-minded people from various towns in Massachusetts came and settled in Dogtown, invested their money, were to do an equal share of work, and receive an equal share of profits, and live together as happily as lambs. But Dogtown did not long continue a paradise. Indeed, it soon became famous for two things: for the name of Bigelow Chapman, and for having more crazy and quarrelsome people in it than could be found in any other town in Massachusetts, which was saying a good deal. The brothers and sisters, for such they called themselves, got to quarrelling among themselves on matters of politics and religion, though charity was a thing they made no account of. In truth, there was more politics than religion in their preaching.

Chapman constituted himself treasurer of the community, and some little private speculations of his led to a belief among the brothers and sisters that his mind was not solely occupied with schemes for reforming the world. To tell the truth, Bigelow Chapman was not so great a fool as his followers. He had intended, when Dogtown got thoroughly under way, to sell out, put the money in his pocket, and employ his genius somewhere else. He, however, undertook the enterprise of building a church on speculation, being persuaded to do so by an outside Christian.

The church was to be a large, handsome building, with a butcher's shop and a grocery, a shoe store and a confectionery in the basement, and a school and a dancing academy up stairs; so that the brothers and sisters could get everything they wanted, religion included, in one locality. But the enterprise failed for want of funds to finish it, and Dogtown went to the dogs, and the Chapman family to Nyack. Report has it that the church was afterwards finished and converted into an insane asylum, where several of the brothers and sisters lived for the rest of their lives.

It was hinted that Chapman had brought some money to Nyack with him, but exactly how much no one knew. The only thing positively known about him at that time was that he had a great number of new ideas, all of which he was in great haste to develope. Indeed, he soon had Nyack in a state of continual agitation. He declared it his first duty to open the eyes of the Dutch settlers to truth and right; then to get them to thinking; and finally to make fortunes for all of them. He begun business, however, by quarrelling with nearly everybody in the village, and asserting that he knew more than all of them.

Twice he had Titus Bright, the inn-keeper, up before the magistrate and fined for selling liquor in opposition to law. He proclaimed it highly immoral to sell liquor at all, and told Bright to his teeth that no honest man would do it. For this he had been twice kicked out of the inn by Bright, who damned him as a meddling varlet, not to be tolerated in a peaceable village. Again he had Bright up before the magistrate, who justified the aggression, but fined the aggressor ten dollars a kick, which Bright considered cheap enough considering what was got for his money. Bright declared it a principle with him to give his customers what they wanted, and let them be the judge of their own necessities. Bigelow Chapman held that mankind was a big beast, to be subdued and governed by laws made for his subjection. It never occurred to him, however, that there might be reason in the opinions of others. Finding, however, that he could not get the better of Bright in any other way, he organized a company and set up an opposition tavern, where a traveller could feel at home and have none of the annoyances of beer. The new inn was to be conducted on strictly temperance principles, and the price of board was to be reduced a dollar a week. But the principle of temperance was carried out so rigidly in the fare that travellers, although treated politely enough, found it difficult to get anything to eat, to say nothing of drink.

While this was going on Mrs. Bigelow Chapman was busying herself getting up an anti-tea-and-coffee-drinking society. She declared that this coffee and tea-drinking was nothing less than an oppression, breaking down people's health and making them poor, while the grocers who sold the stuff were getting rich. It was evident, also, that she was carrying her principles out on the table of the new inn. However commendable these reforms might be in the eyes of a true reformer, they were not exactly the thing to satisfy the wants of hungry travellers. The new inn soon got up an excellent reputation for giving its customers nothing but politeness and clean linen. This not being satisfactory to the travelling public generally, the establishment had to close its doors for want of customers. Chapman was surprised at this. He could not understand why reformers were not better appreciated about Nyack. The stock-holders, however, had lost all their money, and were glad to sell out to Chapman, which they did for a trifle, and that was all he wanted.

People began to inquire what the big building would next be turned into. Mrs. Chapman and her dear husband, as she called him, were always projecting something new. Indeed, she saw two fortunes in the future where Chapman only saw one. The thought invaded her mind that there was a fortune to be made by turning the big house into a great moral progress boarding-school for young ladies, where "all the proprieties" would be strictly attended to. Yes, "the proprieties" would take with steady-minded people. She could attend to the proprieties, and dear Chapman could look after the little money affairs. She did not want to trouble herself with the sordid things of this world; she only wanted to reform it. And to do that you must begin at the bottom. You must teach young people, and especially young ladies, the value of reforms. In that way you enable them to reform their husbands when they get them, and also make them comprehend the value of new ideas. As for old people, she declared it time wasted to try to get new ideas into their heads.

Chapman congratulated his dear wife on this new and grand idea. He agreed with her that a woman was just the thing to straighten up a husband in need of mental and physical reformation. But it would not do to start the enterprise until you could get people to take stock enough to insure a sound basis. He did not care about money himself, still it was necessary to the success of all great enterprises. And seeing that the inn had failed, though based on great moral principles, he was not quite sure that the people would hasten to take stock in the new enterprise.

It was also an objection with Chapman that with such an institution there would be nothing to run opposition to except a few beer-drinking school-masters, who got their victuals and fifteen dollars a month for driving a knowledge of the rule of three into the heads of little Dutch children. How different it would be with a church. And then the big inn could be made such an excellent church, at such a small expense. A man owning a church could feel himself strong in both politics and religion, and have all the quarrels he wanted. Chapman was delighted with this new idea of his; and his good wife supposed it was infinitely superior to her own. It was another proof to her that there was no greater man in the world than her dear Chapman. Once get the church going, and with a preacher of the Dogtown school, to preach out and out transcendentalism, and another ism or two, and they could get up an opposition that would be popular with the people. In that way the thing would be sure to go.

Chapman declared this a golden opportunity. He had felt for some time like getting up something that would drive the devil and all the Dutchmen out of Nyack and into the Tappan Zee, and establish an entire new order of things.

It was agreed between Chapman and his good wife that the church should be put on its legs without delay; that the work of reforming Nyack and the rest of the world should begin at once. As funds were necessary to all great enterprises, and Chapman was inclined at all times to husband his own, the good woman got up a regular season of religious tea-parties, exclusively "for ladies." Mrs. Chapman was intent on popularizing the enterprise, and to that end had inserted on her cards of invitation, "exclusively for ladies." There was nothing like tea when you wanted to make a great reform movement popular. Chapman had more than once said that woman, under the inspiration of tea, made a mighty engine in moving the world. Under its influence they gave enlargement and development to progressive ideas. It had been charged that great generals won their most celebrated battles under the influence of strong drink. He had known great generals to win great battles under the inspiration of tea alone. Tea and women were prodigious in their way.

The tea parties were not only got on their legs, but soon became very popular. There were women enough in Nyack to give them, and neither rain nor hail would keep them home of a Thursday evening. The great value of progressive ideas was thoroughly discussed over these cups; and the fact that their husbands were to be brought into a line of subjugation not before anticipated had an inspiring effect. In short, female Nyack began to carry a high head, and to make male Nyack feel that he was no longer master in its own house. Dolly Chapman presided at these tea-parties with that smartness peculiar to women of her class, taking particular pains to explain how much could be done for Nyack and the world—if only the women could get the direction of things into their own hands. A church as the means of carrying out these new and grand ideas was exactly what was wanted. The tea-party women all took up the idea, and the enterprise was made so popular that each resolved herself into a begging committee, and soon had collected the sum of seven hundred dollars, an amount sufficient to put the thing on its legs.