The Silver Bottle; or, The Adventures of Little Marlboro in Search of His Father
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On the wall at the extremity I saw a bas relief in green marble of an eagle with his claw upon the head of a serpent. While I was looking at it and wondering, and trying to recall what connection that eagle and serpent had with something which seemed to weigh upon my memory, but which I could not recall, a double door was thrown open beneath the marble escutcheon, and two ushers coming forth, bowed to me, and then pointed forward through the door. I advanced and entered a circular apartment of great splendor. It was hung with tapestry worked in gold thread. At its extremity on a sumptuous couch reclined a female form. By her side kneeled a tall man. I approached them. The female was dead. He was gazing with tears upon her cold features. She was about forty with a profile of exquisite beauty and heavenly expression still resting upon her mouth. I involuntarily knelt on the opposite side of the couch. The gentleman, who was a noble looking man of about fifty, looked up and gazing on me tenderly, and without any surprise said,
`You have come too late, my son! The spirit has just flown!'
`I gazed upon her! I knew that it was my mother, and casting myself upon the body I wept.
I awoke! My cheeks were bathed in tears; and a sadness lay heavily at my heart. The dream made a deep and singular impression upon me! It has given a tinge of melancholy to all my thoughts of my parents, while it has led me to believe that I shall never again behold them living; that I shall go down to the grave without ever knowing to whom I owe my being.
I reached Norfolk in time to join my ship. In a few days we put to sea, and I entered with zeal and alacrity upon my duties. Our destination was the Mediterranean. After cruising in those agreeable latitudes for a few months, I joined the North Carolina, 74, and after a cruise of three years, returned to the United States. I did not delay an hour in New York, but at once hastened to my foster-mother, who had regularly written to me, and whom I now found perfectly well, and now that I had returned, perfectly happy. Aunt Keezy met me with a warm welcome, but couzin Mariah looked as if she were sorry I was not safe in the bottom of the sea. This feeling doubtless had its origin in the fact of her having presented the good parson a little pug-nosed baby boy, whom she had christened George Darwell and in whose way she felt I stood.
I had now acquired a good knowledge of seamanship and was so fortunate as to be ordered to Philadelphia to prepare for examination. While there I devoted myself wholly to study and passed the ordeal midshipmen so much dread not only without difficulty but with flattering commendations from the Board of Examiners. Up to this time from the hour of my entering the navy nothing had transpired that could lead me to believe that the mystery of my birth was know to my fellow officers. But the evening of the day on which I passed my examination showed me that I had not been forgotten by my implacable enemy Russel Carryl. The `Passed' Midshipmen partook of a supper. I was of the party. There was also present a midshipman who for some reason or other had taken a dislike to me. He had passed with difficulty and I had answered invariably every question to which he had failed. This irritated him, I saw at the time. At the supper, observing he looked at me from time to time with a clouded brow, I felt a disposition to conciliate him, and said pleasantly,
`Frank, I will take wine with you!'
`I drink wine only with gentlemen,' he answered in a haughty and most insulting tone.
I was thunderstruck. Every eye was turned upon us! In reply I threw my wine into his face and sent the glass after it. Every man sprang to his feet.— My antagonist drew his dirk and leaped across the table. He was seized and disarmed. I did not draw. A terrible feeling rushed upon me. It was the idea that his insulting words had some connection with a knowledge of the mystery hanging around my infancy! I was rendered almost insensible at the thought. The excitement was very great among the young men. All condemned him and acquitted me; while they demanded of him his reason for using such language.
`He is no gentleman, I repeat,' was the answer of the incensed young midshipman.
`You must prove this or fight him,' said one.
There was a loud murmur of surprise and every eye rested full on me. I stood silent and pale as death. I felt that the curse of my destiny had followed me. I did not speak—for I could not! my limbs and tongue were paralysed! The cold sweat stood in large drops upon my forehead My emotion was witnessed by all. It confirmed my degradation.
`You see he does not deny it,' said the midshipman with scornful exultation. `I happened to be a school-fellow of Russel Carryl, a young fellow now in New Orleans, and to day I got a letter from him, in which he states that he knew Darwell when a boy, and that he was then notoriously known to be the illegitimate son of a woman Darwell who kept an Inn. He says he wrote to me, seeing by the papers that I was here a candidate for `passing' and Darwell's name also; and supposing this gentleman might possibly try to cultivate the intimacy of respectable people he put me on my guard.'
On hearing this there was a general burst of indignation. Every eye was fixed upon me with menace.
`Infamous,' said one.
`Degrading to the navy,' cried a second.
`He deserves to be broke for his audacity in getting into the service,' cried another.
`Can this tale possibly be true?' asked a fine young officer approaching me with a look of surprise and sympathy.
`It is false,' I cried, instantly aroused and my whole spirit kindled. `He who asserts it is a liar and a ruffian.'
`I assert it,' retorted my antagonist.
`Then are you a liar and a ruffian,' I answered calmly but firmly. The young man became pale as marble.
`You must fight him,' said several, `you cannot pass this by.'
`I will not fight a degraded fellow like this.'
`Then defend yourself, coward,' I cried, advancing upon him with my dagger, for I was beside myself with anger.
A circle was opened for us and for several moments we fought with our dirks, giving and receiving wounds. At length he fell! I felt my arm firmly taken by the friendly midshipman and his voice in my ear, said,
`Fly! You have slain him.'
CHAPTER IX.
My determination taken to leave the Navy—Sunshine amid the gloom—My resolution formed to devote myself to one purpose—I return home—My plans and intentions communicated to Dame Darwell—I prepare to enter upon my several duties.
The wounds were not mortal which I had inflicted on my antagonist. In a few days he was out of danger and the intelligence of this fact relieved my mind from a great weight. It is true I had been greatly provoked, but this would never have excused me to my own conscience if he had died. Besides, I could not but reflect in my calmer moments that what he had said might be true. Indeed the idea began to take such hold upon my mind that I became wretched and filled with gloomy despair and borne down by a painful sense of degradation.
I had left the coffee house in company with the friendly midshipman and gone to his rooms to remain until I should learn the issue of my rencontre. He learned from me my whole story, and comforted me greatly with the confident assurance of his belief that I was honorably born. My affair with Frank — had occurred among us midshipmen alone and did not reach the Department, as it was kept as secret as possible by those who had witnessed it, lest all should suffer. I did not fear a court martial, therefore; yet I resolved at once to resign my berth in the navy. I felt that I could no longer remain in it without experiencing daily insult and a sense of infamy. I felt that the word of disgrace had been spoken and would fly from lip to lip. I therefore resolved to quit the service; and at the same time I made up my mind to enter upon no other pursuit, to devote myself to no other profession, but to give myself up, from that moment, to endeavor to ascertain my parentage. I felt until I could establish my birth I was, in whatever career I might enter upon, a banned man— an object for the finger of contempt and scorn! In the secret chambers of my soul I solemnly formed the resolution to give myself no repose until I should unravel this mystery! To this pursuit I sacredly dedicated myself and all my energies!
Having formed my secret determination I penned a brief letter to the Secretary of the Navy tendering my resignation, and then with a certain feeling of freedom and hope I resumed my seat at the window. I had hardly done so when I saw two young ladies walking by on the opposite side of the street. As they passed, one of them turned her face and, I know not by what accident, glanced up at my window. My heart ceased to beat! I recognised the beautiful features of Emma Field! She evidently recognised me, for she half arrested her steps, and a glow of surprise and pleasure flushed her lovely countenance. I instinctively touched my lips and waved a salutation. She veiled her face and hastened on, and I was overwhelmed with pain at the idea that my audacity had offended her. But with the regret was mingled an emotion of the deepest joy that I had once more seen her who lighting from time to time crossed my heart's dreary way. The last time I had seen her I have not recorded. It was the year before in Summer street, in Boston. I was passing down and noticed a carriage finely appointed driving up. At the window I beheld Emma Field. She smiled, bowed and waved her fair hand. Before I could recover from my surprise the handsome equipage had rolled onward, and I had the satisfaction of feeling that I must have looked very stupid not even to have had self-possession to return her gracious salute. She was then about seventeen, and beautiful exceedingly. I saw her no more until I beheld her passing my window on Walnut street. A year had, if possible, added to her loveliness. Every charm that woman possesses seemed to have become her rich inheritance. It was but a transient glance, but I saw that she was surpassing fair. Her figure was just tall enough to be graceful, and she walked with the step of a sylph tripping over beds of flowers. After she had gone by a shadow seemed to have fallen upon the street. It soon cast a gloom over my soul. The thought of this charming girl whose form had mingled with all the happy day dreams of my boy-hood and maturer youth, deepened my bitterness of heart! The idea that I was degraded and outcast, and forever, perhaps, destined to approach no nearer the idol of my adoration, filled me with grief and anguish inexpressible. I rose and paced my chamber, and felt like cursing my destiny! I was tempted to utter execrations upon the parents who could thus cast upon an unfeeling world their offspring! But I restrained the utterance of these feelings; for, ever had I cherished a tender and superstitious reverence for those unknown parents! But the more I compared my present degraded position with that far removed from me, of the beautiful creature who had just appeared before me like an angel of light and with whom forever to unite my destiny I felt would be the highest happiness I should on earth aspire to, the more deeply and painfully I realised my unhappy condition. But instead of giving myself up to despair I was strengthened in the purpose I had just formed; for in addition to the incentive held out by the discovery of my birth, in itself, was the sight of the bright star of love in the distance guiding me to success!
From this hour I was changed in feeling and character. A new spirit seemed to take possession of my being. Instead of being broken and despairing I was buoyant with hope. Love had renewed me and given me courage. I felt inspired by her idea, and resolved that I would win her or perish.
But what step was I first to take? My success depended on the proof of my honorable birth, without establishing which I felt I was bound to consider myself, as all men regarded me, degraded. This proof I was not to make to her, or for her satisfaction, for she was yet ignorant of my passion. It was to be made to the world—to those who had ejected me from their companionship! It was to re-establish me among honorable men, from which position alone, could I dare regard her. Love then, as well as a feverish desire to ascertain my parentage and an honest ambition to assume my proper station in society, was the motive for entering upon my task; a task that seemed hopeless, if I for a moment began to reason upon it and weigh the difficulties and enumerate the chances against me. But love was strong; and hope lighting her torch at the fires of her altar went forward confidently in the search.
After a while deliberating upon the course I should first adopt, my heart instinctively turned towards her, in whose affection and truth I could trust, and who had always been my guide, my friend, my judicious counsellor. Need I name my good foster-mother? I felt the need of a friend and adviser, and resolved at once to proceed home and lay before her all my plans. The next day I left Philadelphia, but not before I had contrived to ascertain that the charming girl whose image was enshrined in my heart, was at a fashionable school in the city and living with an aunt. I did not meet her again before leaving town though tempted to call upon her. But the consciousness of my equivocal position in society led me to reject the thought and to resolve manfully never to see her until I could do so without any ignominy upon my name.
The reader who has kindly condescended to follow me thus far in my narrative, will have seen that my present unhappy condition was no fault of my own. That I was degraded without having committed a single error or wrong against society. This consciousness while it naturally sustained me during my persecutions, served also to render me impatient under them. I could not help feeling that I was sacrificed for another's act, and that I was ill-treated by my fellow-men! Yet I could not prove that I was not what I had been represented; which, if I could or should yet prove, would degrade me as much in my own eyes as I was in theirs. My situation was in every respect a painful one; and as I was both high spirited and sensitive, it was a source of the deepest anguish to me. Peace no more, I felt, could be enjoyed by me, unless I could have in my hands the disproval of the charge brought against my birth. This proof I resolved to obtain.
In three days after leaving Philadelphia I reached `The Silver Bottle' Inn. My foster-mother met me with a cordial affection and sincerity that drew tears of gratitude from my eyes. She had heard of my having successfully passed my examination, as I wrote to her the same day. Pride, therefore, mingled with her love for me and her pleasure at my return. I was not unexpected, as I told her I should visit her as soon as I had `passed.' Her quick eye of motherly affection at once detected a sadness in my air and tones as I replied to her numerous inquiries touching my health.
`Something unpleasant has happened, son,' she said in a tone of anxious solicitude after we were seated alone in her little parlour. `Don't keep any thing from me, but tell me all, dear.'
`I will conceal nothing from you, my more than mother,' I answered; and then related to her the events that are already known to the reader.
She wept and tenderly embraced me when I had ended. `Do not mind it, Marlboro,' she said warmly; `your birth will one day be established and you will put all your enemies to shame. Mark my words! Don't let it trouble you. This is a cold-hearted world and people do act strangely, as if you yourself were not just the same whether your mother was wedded or not wedded. I am so vexed that this should come upon you so and make you unhappy. Cheer up, and the clouds will give way to sunshine. Now you will stay at home with me. You shan't go any where else to be wounded in your feelings and have your happiness broken up this way. You shall now be with me, Marlboro', and I dare say you will be more contented here than among men.'
`I desire no happier home—no pleasanter condition than this, dear mother.' I answered overcome by her kindness. `In truth, I have no disposition to go into society. It has spurned me and I shall not at present court it.'
`Here you shall have what you want. I am worth full twenty thousand dollars and when I die it is to be all your own, except a legacy for poor aunt Keezy, if she should outlive me, and a small annuity for couzin Mariah, if she should ever become a widow. You shall have all, my son. And if it is too lonely here for you and you want to live
in Boston, I will go there and live with you.'
`You are all goodness, noble and excellent woman, my more than mother,' I answered; `I only regret that circumstances which have been beyond my controul have prevented my continuance in a career in which I trust your heart would delight to follow me with its approval. It is my intention to remain at home a few days till I am in little better spirits and then enter upon a duty which I have solemnly imposed upon myself.'
`What duty, son?' asked my foster-mother with surprise and anxiety.
`To endeavor to ascertain who are my parents. You start and look with doubt and compassion upon me. I feel that there are great difficulties in the way; but my desire to disprove the ignominious epithet men now attach to my name, will give me a spirit more than human to prosecute this search. I have come to see you and talk with you upon the subject. The idea has long been in my thoughts, but the purpose is now indelibly fixed in my soul.'
When I had ended she shed a few tears, which she said were caused by the thought that I might possibly find my parents and then forget her. But on my assuring her that if my mother then stood before me, my heart would only acknowledge her as my mother, she was tranquilized; and in a few minutes afterwards she entered with kind readiness into all my views and wishes. I caused her to repeat once more to me all she knew of my history; to describe the carriage and horses; the gentleman and lady; the year and day they came and every thing that had any connection with their appearance. The substance of which was, and my only ground to start from, that in a pleasant June afternoon, 1822, a yellow barouche drawn by a pair of dark bay horses drove up to the Inn door. A gentleman and lady both attired in deep mourning alighted and followed by their black coachman bearing a large traveling basket entered the house and were shown to the `Court Chamber.' The gentleman wore a black cloak, was tall and of fine appearance, with dark eyes and hair and about eight-and-twenty. The lady was not above two-and-twenty, graceful in person, with a face very lovely but pale and sorrowful. That he at first said they should remain all night, but after ten ordered the carriage and departed as the moon rose, taking the turnpike to Boston. The door of the carriage and the blinder of the horses were ornamented with an eagle trampling upon a serpent—probably a Crest. Several hours after the carriage had departed the hostess hearing the cry of an infant followed the direction and entering the `Court Chamber' discovered lying in the bed a male infant about seven months old. In his hand he grasped a silver nursing bottle, on which was the same device of an eagle treading upon a serpent, which had been upon the carriage and harness. Beneath the crest was a cypher—the single letter `M.' This initial with two others preceding it (F. R. M.) were upon the brass plate of a trunk behind the carriage. With the infant was left a note and bundle. This note, written in a delicate, though trembling hand, gave no clue to the mystery, save to confirm the first suspicion of the child's having been left by the gentleman and lady who had occupied the room.