America--an age of liberty; of comparatively equaldistribution of wealth; of democratic institutions. Now we have butthe shell and semblance of all that. We are a Republic only in name;free only in forms. Mohammedanism--and we must do the Arabian prophetthe justice to say that he established a religion of temperance andcleanliness, without a single superstition--never knew, in its worstestate, a more complete and abominable despotism than that underwhich we live. And as it would be worse to starve to death in sightof the most delicious viands than in the midst of a foodless desert,so the very assertions, constantly dinned in our ears by the hirelingnewspapers, that we are the freest people on earth, serve only tomake our slavery more bitter and unbearable. But as to the buying upof women for the harems of the wealthy, that is an old story, my dearfriend. More than a century ago the editor of a leading journal inLondon was imprisoned for exposing it. The virtuous communitypunished the man who protested against the sin, and took the sinnersto its loving bosom. And in this last century matters have grownevery day worse and worse. Starvation overrides all moralities; theconvictions of the mind give way to the necessities of the body. Thepoet said long ago:
"'Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure The ne'er-touched vestal.'
"But he need not have confined this observation to women. Thestrongest resolves of men melt in the fire of want like figures ofwax. It is simply a question of increasing the pressure to find thepoint where virtue inevitably breaks. Morality, in man or woman, is amagnificent flower which blossoms only in the rich soil ofprosperity: impoverish the land and the bloom withers. If there arecases that seem to you otherwise, it is simply because the pressurehas not been great enough; sufficient nourishment has not yet beenwithdrawn from the soil. Dignity, decency, honor, fade away when manor woman is reduced to shabby, shameful, degrading, cruelwretchedness. Before the clamors of the stomach the soul is silent."
"I cannot believe that," I replied; "look at the martyrs who haveperished in the flames for an opinion."
"Yes," he said, "it is easy to die in an ecstasy of enthusiasm for acreed, with all the world looking on; to exchange life for eternalglory; but put the virgin, who would face without shrinking theflames or the wild beasts of the arena, into some wretched garret, insome miserable alley, surrounded by the low, the ignorant, the vile;close every avenue and prospect of hope; shut off every ennoblingthought or sight or deed; and then subject the emaciated frame toendless toil and hopeless hunger, and the very fibers of the soulwill rot under the debasing ordeal; and there is nothing left but thebare animal, that must be fed at whatever sacrifice. And remember, mydear fellow, that chastity is a flower of civilization. Barbarismknows nothing of it. The woman with the least is, among many tribes,mostly highly esteemed, and sought after by the young men forwedlock."
"My dear Maximilian," I said, "these are debasing views to take oflife. Purity is natural to woman. You will see it oftentimes amongsavages. But, to recur to the subject we were speaking of. I feelvery confident that the younger of those two women I saw in thatcarriage is pure. God never placed such a majestic and noblecountenance over a corrupt soul. The face is transparent; the spiritlooks out of the great eyes; and it is a spirit of dignity,nobleness, grace and goodness."
"Why," said he, laughing, "the barbed arrow of Master Cupid, my dearGabriel, has penetrated quite through all the plates of yourphilosophy."
"I will not confess that," I replied; "but I will admit that I wouldlike to know something more about that young lady, for I never saw aface that interested me half so much."
"Now," said he, "see what it is to have a friend. I can find out foryou all that is known about her. We have members of our society inthe household of every rich man in New York. I will first find outwho she is. I will ask the Master of the Servants, who is a member ofour Brotherhood, who were the two ladies out riding at the time ofour adventure. I can communicate with him in cipher."
He went to the wall; touched a spring; a door flew open; a receptaclecontaining pen, ink and paper appeared; he wrote a message, placed itin an interior cavity, which connected with a pneumatic tube, rang abell, and in a few minutes another bell rang, and he withdrew from asimilar cavity a written message. He read out to me the following:
"The elder lady, Miss Frederika Bowers; the younger, Miss EstellaWashington; both members of the Prince of Cabano's household."
"Estella Washington," I repeated; "a noble name. Can you tell meanything about her?"
"Certainly," he replied; "we have a Bureau of Inquiry connected withour society, and we possess the most complete information, not onlyas to our own members, but as to almost every one else in thecommunity of any note. Wait a moment."
He opened the same receptacle in the wall, wrote a few words on asheet of paper, and dispatched it by the pneumatic tube to thecentral office of that district, whence it was forwarded at once toits address. It was probably fifteen minutes before the replyarrived. It read as follows:
Miss ESTELLA WASHINGTON.--Aged eighteen. _Appearance_: Person tall and graceful; complexion fair; eyes blue; hair long and golden; face handsome. _Pedigree_: A lineal descendant of Lawrence Washington, brother of the first President of the Republic. _Parents_: William Washington and Sophia, his wife. Father, a graduate of the University of Virginia; professor of Indo-European literature for ten years in Harvard University. Grandfather, Lawrence Washington, a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States for fifteen years. Sophia, mother of Estella, _nee_ Wainwright, an accomplished Greek and Sanscrit scholar, daughter of Professor Elias Wainwright, who occupied the chair of psychological science in Yale College for twenty years. Families of both parents people of great learning and social position, but not wealthy in any of the branches. _History_: Father died when Estella was eight years old, leaving his family poor. Her mother, after a hard struggle with poverty, died two years later. Estella, then ten years old, was adopted by Maria, widow of George Washington, brother of Estella's father, who had subsequently married one Ezekiel Plunkett, who is also dead. Maria Plunkett is a woman of low origin and sordid nature, with a large share of cunning; she lives at No. 2682 Grand Avenue. She had observed that Estella gave promise of great beauty, and as none of the other
relatives put in a claim for the child, she took possession of her, with intent to educate her highly, improve her appearance by all the arts known to such women, and eventually sell her for a large sun, to some wealthy aristocrat as a mistress; believing that her honorable descent would increase the price which her personal charms would bring. On the 5th day of last month she sold her, for $5,000, to the Master of the Servants of the so-called Prince of Cabano; and she was taken to his house. Estella who is quite ignorant of the wickedness of the world, or the true character of her aunt, for whom she entertains a warm feeling of gratitude and affection, believes that she is to serve as lady-companion for Miss Frederika Bowers, the favorite mistress of the Prince, but whom Estella supposes to be his niece.
You can imagine, my dear brother--for you have a kind and sensitiveheart, and love your wife--the pangs that shot through me, anddistorted my very soul, as I listened to this dreadful narrative. Itscalm, dispassionate, official character, while it confirmed itstruth, added to the horrors of the awful story of crime! Think of it!a pure, beautiful, cultured, confiding girl, scarcely yet a woman,consigned to a terrible fate, by one whom she loved and trusted. Andthe lurid light it threw on the state of society in which such asacrifice could be possible! I forgot every pretense of indifference,which I had been trying to maintain before Maximilian, and, springingup, every fiber quivering, I cried out:
"She must be saved!"
Maximilian, too, although colder-blooded, and hardened by contactwith this debased age, was also stirred to his depths; his face wasflushed, and he seized me by the hand. He said:
"I will he
lp you, my friend."
"But what can we do?" I asked.
"We should see her at once," he replied, "and, if it is not yet toolate, carry her away from that damnable place, that house of hell,and its devilish owner, who preys on innocence and youth. We have onething in our favor: the Master of the Servants, who bought Estella,is the same person who answered my first message. He belongs, as Itold you, to our Brotherhood. He is in my power. He will give usaccess to the poor girl, and will do whatever is necessary to bedone. Come, let us go!"
Those thin, firm lips were more firmly set than ever; the handsomeeyes flashed with a fierce light; he hurried for an instant into hissecret room.
"Take this magazine pistol," he said, "and this knife," handing me along bowie-knife covered with
Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century Page 9
