A Hairdresser's Experience in High Life/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VI.
minnie.
Some twenty years ago, I knew a family in Kentucky, all the members of which were remarkable for their beauty. We will call them the Smiths. There were two beautiful daughters; the elder one, I called by the pet name of Minnie. As a child, she was amiable and lovely; and she grew up both beautiful and intelligent. At the age of fifteen, her eyes became affected, which procured her leave of absence to return home from school. During that time she became acquainted with Noble in a rather peculiar manner. As he was sitting, with other members of the family, in the hall which went through the middle of the house, he raised his eyes, and was astonished at the vision of loveliness that greeted his sight, coming down the broad stairway. She was dressed in a white cambric morning wrapper, confined at the waist with a rich blue silk cord and tassel; her clear red and white complexion contrasting beautifully with her disheveled hair of dark chesnut, which nearly reached her feet. When she saw the stranger, she gave a scream, and ran back to her room. In the evening, the gentleman returned, and was introduced to her. He had fallen in love at first sight, and the introduction had only tightened the chairs on the part of Noble. But Minnie, young as she was, already loved another.
When her family and friends saw the impression Minnie had made upon Noble, they immediately went to work to make a match between them. Not long after Noble had left Kentucky, they started with Minnie for the East. They remained several days in the city where Noble was; and he and Minnie were thrown together as much as possible. They walked and rode together, and he accompanied her to all the fashionable places of amusement. They were finally engaged to be married, which fatal affair took place in the cemetery. It was within the walls of the dead, and among the silent tombs, that she consented to be his bride. Her object being gained, she started for home, leaving behind her broken hearts in Washington, and every other place she had stopped. When she arrived at home, she was greeted by the one she loved, but not by the one who loved her. Autumn was passing, and winter drew nigh, when they departed for the South. Shortly after, Noble, who loved her so dearly, followed her. This gave her great notoriety, as he was a man of high standing. Minnie now seemed desirous of avoiding him. I have often seen her dodge behind the one she would be walking with; when she would meet him, she, perhaps, would be on the one side of the street, and he on the other. Though engaged to him, she never loved him; she only wanted him for a while: for, after it was known she was engaged to him, she had lovers by the score. She then thought to get rid of him by persuading him to go to Europe, hoping, by the time he got back, she would be married to one she loved.
They corresponded all the time he was in Europe. The letters were sometimes favorable and sometimes unfavorable. At last he told her he was prepared for anything, either for acceptance or rejection. To do her justice, she did at this time discard him, and wrote a letter to him to that effect, which she sent to the post office. Her mother, on learning this, went to the office, and demanded it, on pretense of having forgotten something she intended to put in it. She then went home, and made her daughter write a letter of acceptance, standing by her while she did it.
Two months from that day, the gentleman was on his native shore again; and you may be sure he was not long in presenting himself to the loved one. She received him with a smile, while her heart was bleeding, for she still cherished the hope that she would marry the one she loved. The time for the marriage was set, and the town was on the qui vive.
Noble returned home to settle his effairs, preparatory to the event. In the meantime, Minnie went to the parents of her former lover, and, on her knees, swore she would never give her hand to any one but their son. At the same time, dressmakers, milliners, shoemakers, and even to diamond-polishers, were busy preparing for her coming marriage with Noble—even the hair-dresser was not idle; and friends were not idle, for they were busy watching her, for fear of her eloping. But, through many watchers, she was secured until Noble came. Then were sent out two or three hundred invitations. Such preparations never were known in the Western country before.
They had three rooms opening into one another—one green and gold, another crimson velvet, and the third cherry and gold; they opened into a beautiful conservatory. On the opposite side of the hall was a music-room; then an eating-room, with a table set out I believe no one ever saw surpassed in a private family. There were three pyramids; one, many feet in hight, had on the top a beautiful burner of incense, which sent forth a fragrance that could not be surpassed. They were all covered with different colored lights, and certainly had a grand and beautiful effect.
There were eight bridemaids, dressed in pure white, with pink wreathes on their heads. The bride's dress was a double skirt of Brussels lace over white silk; Brussels vail, fastened with diamonds. I don't believe the Empress Eugenia could have looked more elegant than she did. Her bed-room surpassed anything that at that time had ever been seen in this country. Her bed-cover was white figured satin; the pillow covers were embroidered cambric, finer than the pocket handkerchiefs used in these days; the curtains were of lace, fastened to a canopy in the French style, and on the cornice were crushed roses; the couch was figured satin; the window curtains were of lace, lined with pink satin; and a large oval mirror, which stood between the windows, had a wreath of white roses around it.
Was poor Minnie happy in all this elegance? No; her heart was bleeding, and at every tap at the door to bring her presents she would exclaim, in tones of anguish, "O, God!" She would have no one in the room with her but the hair-dresser alone; she dreaded having her bridemaids in the room lest she should faint or have spasms, as she had during the day.
At half-past eight the bridemaids came in and remained with her till nine, when she was led from her queen-like apartment and married.
When she was pronounced the wife of Noble by the minister, it was the happiest moment her mother had seen for a long time. Many of the guests expected her to refuse the hand of Noble even at the altar, but her former lover did not appear. All who have loved may judge the feelings of poor Minnie at this time. Now came the dance. She danced as merrily as any of her guests, for pride kept her from showing any feeling but that of happiness. Her reception was the third day; it was as grand an affair as the wedding. Her reception dress was made of three skirts of spangled tulle, with a coronet of pearls and diamonds. After this commenced the parties by the bridemaids, at which she danced the polka, and many other fancy dances.
Noble did not at first make any objection, but at the third or fourth party he objected to her dancing the polka. She persisted in it, when he expressly forbid her. Then commenced the trouble. Her mother advised with her; her husband tried to compel her; but in spite of both she would dance what she pleased. Before the parties were through with, there was another objection raised; her color was a little too high.
Noble now took a stand, and forbid her going to parties altogether. At this her father, mother and brother interfered, and insisted she should go where she pleased, and make her toilet to suit herself. I now got tired, and went South, but had only been there about two months when they wrote for me to go East. On my arrival they told me she had been sick, but I knew what her sickness was, as when Minnie took a tantrum she always feigned sickness.
A few days passed, and we all started, for the East, by way of Washington. All the way Minnie was sour and cross to Noble, and never gave him a pleasant word, though she talked and laughed with many on the cars, that I thought a good deal to low for her even to speak to.
On our arrival at Washington, Noble's family, and numerous others, called on and treated Minnie with great respect. While in company she was all life and gayety, but in private she was sour, morose and fretful. Her conduct made Noble very unhappy. One evening Minnie dressed to go down to the parlor when Noble thought she had indulged in too bright a color; on his saying so, she got very angry and told him she did not use cosmetics at all. He went to her trunk, and there found them, which so provoked her that she kept up the quarrel till quite late in the night. He rang the bell for the hair-dresser, and asked her to find all the cosmetics, and throw them in the fire. Minnie became so enraged, when she heard this, that she screamed out loud enough to raise all in the house; and tried to leave the impression on their minds that her husband had struck her. Then commenced the tragedy. It was like the rolling sea, first a calm and then a storm, till we got to our new home.
Noble's family had apartments provided for them at the hotel. These apartments were elegant, and elegantly furnished. She had many useful and valuable presents, but not the kind Minnie wanted. She had set her heart on a carriage and four, and nothing else would satisfy her. Many ladies would have been delighted with the beautiful boquets sent to her, and the elegant vases and baskets that came in; but all failed to please her, and she became more and more unhappy Nothing could be done to please her, by any one; had she been a princess, from foreign lands, there could not have been more attention shown her, than by the family of Noble. But, as she did not love him, any attention from his family was unpleasant to her. It was truly distressing to visit her apartments sometimes, as she was at times gay, cheerful, and full of spirits; at others she would walk the floor as if frenzied, then sit down at the piano and run over all the sentimental pieces she could think of; then rummage over old letters, read them, sometimes laugh and sometimes cry. She kept the likeness of her former lover, which she had a great deal of trouble in secreting. When her husband would come in and find her in her tantrums, he knew she had either been receiving letters, looking over old ones, or writing.
This unhappiness lasted for a long time, without any person finding out or knowing anything of it; but at length a cousin of Noble's found it out, and undertook to increase the trubles of his cousin. His visits were constant; he would tell Minnie that Noble's family was wealthy, and she should have a great many more things than she had, and by his conversation made her very unhappy; then, on her husband's coming in, she would treat him in a very unladylike manner, for which treatment she would give no reason to him.
On one occasion she told him her mother had written for her to come home, when she really had not heard from her mother for ten days. He often demanded to see the letters. Once she had one all ready, and handed it to him, but forgot that all her letters came through his hands, as he had a box in the post-office; on his saying so, she said she received it through her hair-dresser. I, not being aware of this, on-being called in, at once said I knew nothing of it, nor had I brought in any letters. He then saw a letter in her hand, and demanded it, at the same time asking me to leave the room. I expected a fuss, so did not go far away; and, sure enough, in a few minutes I heard Minnie scream in a very loud voice. I rushed into the room when Minnie called to me, "Hair-dresser save me." I asked him, what was the matter? He said he wanted to get that letter, and he would have it at any risk.
By this time many gentlemen from the public offices, attracted by her scream, had hurried up to see what was wrong. I met them at the door and told them she had been sick, but was now better. I then led her to her chamber, and talked to her, and reasoned with her, and then asked her to let him have the letter, but she would not. Noble was determined to have it, so while I was talking to him she minced it up into a million pieces and threw it in the fire. He tried to save the pieces, when she again screamed so loud that he put his hand on her mouth to stop her. I then, for the first time, interfered, and asked him to leave the room for a few minutes, till I could quiet her. He immediately did so, in a very gentlemanly manner.
The next day Minnie sent for the proprietor and demanded a suite of rooms for herself. I talked and reasoned with her, asking her what the people would say about her. Her reply was, "All they can say is, I am a spoiled Kentucky girl." I then told her that would not save her, as the people in this country were not so easily put off. Through much reasoning the proprietor (who is a very gentlemanly man) and I got her to give up the idea of changing just then, and we got her quiet and loving to Noble.
When the news came of the death of her former lover she took sick and laid in her room for weeks. Noble and his friends hoped she would now become domesticated and affectionate; but no, she now got along so badly, and led him such a life that he would often go to his mother's and lock himself in a room. His friends feared he would commit suicide.
The doctor at this time ordered Minnie to a watering-place. While we were preparing to go, the cousin who had interfered with her before came along again, but he was so much afraid of me that he would walk up and clown the halls till I would be out of the way, then he would slip in and talk to her. One day I caught him speaking to her, and telling her what stands to take, and how she could best worry Noble. He had never liked Noble nor any of his family, and would tell her such and such treatment would break their hearts. I then went in and gave him the length of my tongue. I told him for his wife's sake I would not expose him, either to his wife or to Noble, but if I ever again caught him there I would give him a sound thrashing, and that would expose him enough. He then left, but by some means he got to see her again and advised her to have her baggage sent to a steamboat, and go on to Europe instead of to the watering-place, when in a few weeks he and his wife would follow her. She, being young and foolish, consented to the plan, but would not go without her hair-dresser. When I heard it, I in a quiet way put a stop to all, without exposing the matter, as I did not wish either his wife or Noble to have any more uneasiness. We then left for the watering-place.
Minnie was well received there, and was at the head of everything—she was fairly worshiped—when again this cousin came along. He tried to get her to write to her mother that she was sick, and bring her on there to find her in perfect health, as she had done once before at his instigation; but I found it out, and put the mother of Noble in pursuit of him.
Minnie again became dissatisfied. Noble now grew ugly; it was not his natural disposition, but grief drove him to stimulants, and many other things to drown his trouble. Now, for the first time, Minnie found out she had lost her influence over her husband, and made bitter complaints to his mother, for the latter always took Minnie's part to Noble, although knowing she was wrong. She would say to Minnie, "Take a decided stand, Minnie, and begin anew, and try to be steady." Minnie's reply was always, laughing, "I can not be steady—I never was taught to be steady. My ma never made me mind in her life. Had I been raised as you raised your daughters, it would have been different. I will just give you one little instance of how I was raised. One night, on coining down dressed for a ball, the carriage was out of order, and the coachman had neglected to tell mamma; so, not to disappoint me, mamma offered to send out for a hack, which made me so mad I walked out in blue silk boots and silk stockings. The snow was ankle deep. My feet were wet when I got to the ballroom, but I danced till five o'clock in the morning. Had mamma made me go up to my room and undress, how much better that would have been for me."
Noble's mother then said to her, "Minnie, I will again get your teacher. Do you settle yourself, and study hard, and you will yet be an honor to your mamma and all connected with you."
Minnie's troubles were not over yet, for she never stuck to her good resolutions. On one occasion Noble took Minnie out riding. On their return she was sobbing like a frightened child; she said he had whipped her. I can not say if it was true or not, as when I asked him what he had done to her, he replied, in a very gentlemanly manner, he had not done anything to her but get a letter from her she received from her mother. The contents were, that her brother, on his way to Europe, had seen Minnie, and wrote back to his mother to send for and take her home, as she was very unhappy; though every one who knew Minnie knew that, at that time, she was as happy as she could be made; but it was her disposition to make any one from her home believe she was miserable and badly treated.
Of course, this letter made Noble very angry; there was no more peace between them; she would do as she pleased, and he would not have it so. On another occasion he wished her to call on a lady; she consented, when he engaged a private carriage for her, but she engaged a larger one for herself, and took some ladies with her, and a gentleman Noble did not like. When he found what she had done, he drove his buggy up by the side of the carriage, and made her get out and go with him. He took her out in the country; they staid so long I sent out a man on horse-back to look for them; and at last I got so uneasy I went out myself. After going a mile or so, I met them, and asked, "Is that you, Minnie?" The reply came in a low, broken tone, "Yes, it is I."
I hurried home, and was just in time to prevent an exposure. I got them with great difficulty quieted down for that time. A few nights after, she came to my door and told me to get up, as Noble was treating her badly I came down and asked him. His reply was as usual, "I have done nothing to her." I never saw him strike or misuse her, and her words I could not place much confidence in, as it was difficult to know when she was in jest or earnest.
There was a lady who roomed next to her, who heard and saw a good deal of their proceedings; she and I had many a confidential talk about Minnie, and many an hour have I sat in her room, waiting for a storm to be at hand. Minnie told her many things she should have kept back; at least she said so. This lady asked me one night if it was true that Minnie went to Noble's mother's to a dinner party with a calico dress on? I told her Minnie's maid had not a calico dress, and I knew she had not had one since she was ten years old. Then she asked me of the reception Minnie had at Noble's mother's. I told her all about it; how on her leaving Kentucky, Noble wished her to quit using paint; she declared she would not go to balls, parties, theaters, or any other place, if she could not dress as she pleased; she had invitations to many parties, but would not go; many called on her, but she would not see them, till her mother was telegraphed for in a clandestine manner; she came, and of course there was a change then. It was during her stay Minnie's reception came off. I told this lady what an affair it was: Three servants elegantly dressed—one at the hall door, one on the stairway, and one at the parlor door to announce the guests. I told her the number of invitations sent out, the splendor of the tables, and what was on them. There were hundreds of dollars spent in flowers scattered hither and thither through the rooms.
She then asked me how Noble's brothers and sisters treated her. I told her they treated Minnie as if she had been an own loved sister; nothing seemed too much to do for her. She asked how Minnie treated Noble when he was sick. I told her the truth; that she scarcely ever came near him; I and his mother waited on and nursed him. One night, the doctor pronounced him in a very dangerous way; she danced into the room, and said she hoped soon to be the gay widow Noble. I would not have told all this to her, but Minnie had made a confidant of her, and told her many things herself.
Before we got through with our talk it was late, and I heard Noble call me in a hurried tone; I went in as quickly as possible, and found Minnie on her buck in bed, with towels and handkerchiefs spattered with blood all around her; I hastened forward and asked what was the matter with her. She said Noble had been scolding her a long time, and the excitement had brought on a hemorrhage of the lungs. I do not know what it was; whether from a bad tooth, or really from the lungs; but I have known Minnie for a very trifling offense, raise blood, to frighten Noble into doing as she wished.
For several days after this, we had peace, until some more letters came; she locked them in her trunk, and vowed he should not see them. I had retired for the night. He sent and got an axe, and Minnie came running up for me; when I got down, he was about to break open the trunk; I begged and entreated of him to leave them, but he declared the letters he would have, and the letters he did have; then there was another fuss. I told them I would go home the next day; they entreated me to stay a while longer, and at length I consented. In the meantime Minnie had persuaded them to let her go home and visit her parents. During her preparation Minnie and Noble had a worse quarrel than ever.
I found the only possible plan to save them from being blasted for life, was to telegraph for her father to come for her, which I did. I determined not to stay another week; my health was growing bad from constant excitement, and I had concluded to go home, when her father wrote that he would be there at a certain time.
Notwithstanding the exciting occurrences that happened, every one disliked to part with Minnie. Hearing we were to leave so soon, the lady in the next room began asking me questions again. She asked me if it was true Minnie had been followed in the street. I told her yes, Minnie once took me a walking with her, and we were followed by twenty or thirty people. I took her into a jewelry store, till I got a carriage and had her brought home. I then begged her never to ask me to go out with her again. She then said there must be something more between Minnie and Noble, than had yet been found out. I told her, yes, there was more than either editors or lawyers have found out, or can find out, for when I give my word it is sacred. I then said to her, "Madam, you must have been talking a good deal with Minnie." Her reply was, "That Minnie told her a great many things; among others that Noble's mother had gone on her knees to Minnie, and asked her to be kind to her son; though she knew she did not love him, for her sake to be kind to him."
Our conversation had reached this point, and she was about telling me all she had heard, when we were startled by a loud scream. I jumped up and went to their room, knocked at the door, but received no reply. I waited half an hour and then went to bed. Early next morning, on my going to her room I found everything out of her trunks, waiting my packing.
We started for the city; Noble went by the cars, while Minnie and I went by the boat, with our baggage. While on the boat, that cousin, who had done so much mischief, came on to try and have a last interview with Minnie; but, through fear of me, he did not dare speak to her. On our reaching the city, there was a dispatch for Minnie, stating that her father would be there the next day. Noble's mother came to see Minnie, to know what silver, and other articles, she would require, on her return, for housekeeping. I stood by and heard her say what she would want and what not, when I turned and said to Noble's mother, "Madame, Minnie is not coming back." She said to her, "Minnie, are you not coming back?" when she good-naturedly laughed, and said, "If my hair-dresser comes too." She then asked me, "If I would come?" I told her, "had I to live on bread and water, I never would wait on a bride again."
Next morning came Minnie's father; at two o'clock we started; Noble followed us to the cars. Should I live to be a thousand years old, I can never forget his sad expression, when he bade her good bye, particularly as I knew she was not coming back, when he expected her. When the cars started the tears were rolling down his face, while she smiled, and, at last, burst into an immoderate fit of laughing.
I staid with her till she arrived at home, and for a few days after. She seemed, at first, to be quite happy to be back at home, and all seemed happy and contented with her; but, at the expiration of three days, she sent for me and said, if I would go back to the city with her she would go. I told her there was nothing on earth could induce me to go back with her. I then left for Cincinnati, and I had not been long there till I heard she was not to leave her father's again. Truly where Minnie loved she did love, and where she hated she did hate.
I did not again see Minnie for several months, but when I went down to Louisville, I found her as great a belle as ever with gentlemen. She had a number of beaux, and one or more proposals. The ladies always envied her, and now more than ever.
A few months rolled around, and Minnie paid a visit to Cincinnati, to one of the first families, who were acquainted with her father and mother. She was received by Mrs. L. with marked attention, and treated as well as she ever was in her life. Now was the time for calls. Some of the Cincinnati ladies held a consultation whether they should call or not; some who stood upon a slippery hill backed out; but others who were ladies indeed, and felt themselves firm as the rock of ages, knew the rules of etiquette, and called on her—not so much, I must say, on Minnie's account, as on account of Mrs. L., her hostess.
At this time there was a great fair at the Masonic Hall; Minnie was present, accompanied by her friends and many gentlemen. On her entering the room, there were about one thousand people in the hall; all had their backs to the door, looking at the different handsome things around the room; but, as if by a unanimous impulse, all turned round and looked at her; some of her party were disconcerted a little, but Minnie herself took it as a great compliment; she had been so accustomed to admiration she did not think anything of it. She looked more like a fairy than a human creature; her dress was a tulle with three skirts; about her shoulders and waist was a light scarf of a delicate shade of pink, spangled; her boots were pink silk, and she wore a delicate pink kid glove; her hair, as I have before mentioned, was a beautiful chesnut, which laid in massive waves across her head. She had no scarcity of diamonds, and her complexion was most brilliant. As she moved around the room, the crowd moved after her she was more an object of admiration than anything there.
The style of dress I have described was a common thing with Minnie, and though unusual in Cincinnati, was nothing thought of in Louisville. I once dressed Minnie for a ball in Louisville, when her dress was called the rainbow; the first skirt was crimson, the next blue, then pink, and the last white—all the same length, which gave it the appearance of the rainbow; her boots were bine; she had gold bands round her ancles, and plain gold bands round her wrists, and the gold earrings which she wore in her ears were much larger than those on her wrists. Her sister accompanied her; she was younger than Minnie, and very beautiful. She was dressed in a pure white satin dress, with tulle over it, white satin boots, white kid gloves, and white japonicas in her hair. She was pronounced by many the most beautiful lady in the State—while others thought Minnie bore off the palm of beauty.
Minnie's sister had not the opportunity of showing off her beauty that Minnie had, as she eloped before she was of age. She has not had so many triumphs as Minnie, but as she moved through the streets some called her the pretty lady. She was often followed by a number of boys, who called her the handsome lady with the pink boots. Her street dress in Cincinnati was an embroidered dress with three flounces; her mantle was pink, trimmed with the most elegant and costly lace; her bonnet was of the, most elegant description of white lace, and trimmed with the richest pink bows. She had a peculiar style of her own of wearing her bonnet on the very top of her head, but it was elegant.
On my going to see Minnie, she was always inquiring what the people said of her, and was perfectly delighted with the notice taken of her, both at the church and fair, and on the street—taking all as a great compliment. When she asked me, I would tell her. I have known her to receive as a compliment what other ladies would be furious about; and for that reason I would not tell her what folks were saying. I asked her if she had forgotten her promises and conversation while in the East. She said she had made so many she could not remember what; so I told her what her promise was: One morning, while in Boston, we were conversing, and Minnie said she blamed the way in which parents treated their slaves for the conduct of younger members of the family, as the sins of the parents were visited upon the children; and when she went home she would set free a woman and her child who belonged to herself.
I then asked her if she had done so. Her reply was, "No, mamma would not let me." I said, "I thought they were your own property." She replied, "Yes, but on my going home, mamma took all my property out of my hands."
She said she had often laughed at my coaxing her to say her prayers and read her Bible, while in Boston. I asked her if she thought it was a laughing matter, and not a duty; and asked her again, if she said her prayers now. Her reply was, "No; I have not knelt to pray, or opened my Bible since you left me. When my maid passes through the room, I often think of the conversations you and I have had, and say to myself, if she was to go away without leave I would never look after her; for I know, let servants be treated as well as they can be, they want to be free.
A short time after this conversation, sure enough the maid did leave; her husband was in the same service. Minnie's mother sent this man after his wife, with strict charge to bring her back, or not dare to show himself there again. He went, and when he got under the banner of Great Britain, he wrote back to his mistress, saying she desired him not to come back without his wife; but as she had made up her mind to stay where she was, and would not go back, he thought the best thing he could do was to stay with her. Some friends of the family were the ones that helped them to make good their escape. I learned, a short time after, that another of these fugitives passed through this city, who belonged to Minnie's brother. It is a well known fact, these poor creatures could not make good their escape unless they were aided by some influential people.
I will, for the present, leave Minnie, but have not yet told one half that I know.