In black and gold; a story of twin dragons

Front matter

Shelf..Y/4.-b3l

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

W r-

Preface

Virgil tells us of Twin Dragons which with flaming eyes and tongues that played like forked lightnings and wreathing coils that lashed the sea to foam, came on the ill-fated plains of Ilium, and destroyed Laocoon and his sons. The fable is for this day and this land. Twin Dragons, those of the gaming-table and alcohol, are destroying by thousands young men and old. Against the drink Dragon already strong war is waged, but its Twin, hiding more closely its snares and its victims, has challenged less the attack of those who do battle against all wrongs. In this little book we set forth these two deadly Dragons in their daily work among us. If any shall be warned more sedulously to guard, warn, defend, and avenge the youth of our land, the story will have well performed its mission.

Julia McNair Wright.

Contents

CHAPTER page

I. A Human Hive 7

II. The Queen Bee 34

Chapter I. A Human Hive

‘IME : eight o’clock the last day of May,

187-. Place : 97 Andover street, Boston ; city and number correct, street name fictitious for reasons. Ninety-seven was one of those human hives packed from cellar to attic with people struggling for a subsistence — a mass without cohesion, driven into 97 by winds of adverse fate, likely to be swept out again by the same fate, expressed in the breath of an irate landlord ; meanwhile, each and all pursuing their ends without any reference to the others. The cellar ignored even the existence of the attic ; the first floor was unconscious of the personality of the second floor ; the second floor never heeded whether a hearse or a baker’s cart called for the third floor ; the

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

fourth floor toiled up all its stairs, wheezed and panted, and nobody knew whether it went burdened or empty-handed. Ninety-seven was a jostling world in miniature. The cellar of 97 was a cobbler’s shop ; the upper panes of the window and the transom of the door were about the level of the walk, the lower portions of each received light and customers respectively by means of a little stone well. The shop was ‘^twelve by twelve.” A shelf ran all the way around it, on which were trophies of the worker’s art or industry. Boots and shoes with heel-taps, side-taps, half-soles, heels, toes, vamps, glorious in new leather against the old material ; rips valiantly sewed up with conspicuous waxed end ; boot-legs refooted ; now and then a new pair of shoes ; wooden pegs, stitches, nails, rims of “ armorplates,” — these made up the variety in unity of the shelf.

The shop was lit by one large, flaring gasjet from the centre of the ceiling ; it shone on the cobbler, a big man with bent shoulders, well developed arms and hands, fine head, insignificant legs, a great and dirty apron of

A HUMAN HIVE.

ticking — said cobbler sitting on a stool, hammering away at a shoe-sole on a last between his knees. By his side was a tray with knives, awls, wax, waxed-ends, needles, bristles, buttons, eyelets, pegs, scissors, endless small paraphernalia. A side of leather stood in a roll in a corner. Some smaller rolls of morocco lay on a cutting-counter; the floor was covered with fragments of old and new leather. The door was open, but the smell of leather conquered the fresh air, drove it out, pursued it even to the sidewalk, gloating over its victory. The gas-light flared over the salient points of bright steel, new skins, and the shining baldness on top the cobbler’s head, the broadly exhibited new patches and pieces on the shelf, and these were set in strong relief by the black chippings, the ancient grime of floor and apron, the old shoes, the wax, the dust, and the blackened walls.

The two windows above the cobbler’s shop were uncurtained, and broadly lit to attract the passers-by. The side entrance was liberally placarded in red, blue, and yellow; a great white poster shone under each window. In lO

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

the well lit lobby stood a fat, old woman ; behind her an iron stand for canes and umbrellas ; beside her, well riveted to the wall, an iron money-box, with a slit in the lid and a strong padlock on the side. Over this dame’s arm hung a string of leather checks. She stood well planted on a pair of big feet in low buskins ; her figure seemed modelled on a feather-bed, with a rope tied around the centre, ready for carrying it away. The upper part of her dress was a loose light calico jacket, with a silk kerchief carelessly knotted about her throat, to save collar and conceal sundry deficiencies in the way of hooks and buttons ; the lower portion of her attire was a reckless multiplicity of petticoats, of different colors and lengths — the upper one shortest — so that a black merino, a gray flannel, ' a yellow cloth, and finally a light striped calico were revealed, with the prodigality in this line of a New Haven fish-wife. The old woman’s hair was black and beautifully waved, her dark eyes were set deep in their sockets, she had a perpetual rosy bloom, and all her teeth were gone but the two lower front ones, which were large and long, and

A HUMAN HIVE.

I which she had a habit of shooting out conspicuously over her upper lip, when she said anything particularly impressive. A hardworking life, wherein she had never taken any care of herself, had not destroyed in this good creature the traces of more than usual early beauty.

She kept her eyes steadily fixed on the steps of the lobby; each passer-by was inspected. When one passed oblivious of the posters declaring great attractions within in the form of a “Wax-work show,” the old woman looked wrathful and worried ; when the pedestrian, on the contrary, ascended the steps, the old woman greeted him with a wide smile, took his money, gave him his change, dropped her booty in the iron box, relieved him of his cane, which she checked, and pointed him to the door at the side, where was “his money’s worth.” The old woman was not idle. Between seven and nine she took in considerable money. The show was popular. After nine, new-comers were semioccasional, so the old woman took a seat close to her box and umbrellas, put a pair of ironbowed spectacles on her Greek nose, and set herself to read the daily paper.

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

Meanwhile all the flies which had walked into the parlor of this portly old spider were in the large room with the well lit windows. The walls of this room were covered to a height of six feet with black or red cloth in loose folds. Set in strong relief against this, a succession of very gorgeous, very silent, very motionless, very staring and curious persons, between whom and the world received by the old woman was drawn a thick, faded green rope. On second glance all these staring wall-flowers were seen to be wax. The quaintest, most original figure in the room, the one which really attracted this nightly audience, was not wax ; she was a very small, snugly made creature, in an ancient gown of cheap blue silk, short and tight in the waist and scant in the skirt. This gown was rather liberally trimmed with cheap Spanish lace ; the little girl’s slender arms were bare to the elbow, and she carried very gracefully a gilt wand longer than she was tall. Her voice was soft, sweet, distinct, like the low notes of a well played flute ; her eyes were large, gray, earnest, pathetic ; her pretty little mouth was also pathetic, as if she had seen more trouble than

A HUMAN HIVE.

joy thus far in her life journey. But the chief point about this little show-woman was her hair. It was her hair — that and her voice — that brought the crowd. Her hair was golden and glittering, it was brushed back from her face, and held by a blue ribbon bound about her head, — a snood, the Scotch would call it, — and from that it fell in a waving, gleaming cloud, even, fine and silky, down to the hem of her dress, and that concealed her ankles. The eyes of the visitors were fixed rather on this admirable little person than on the showfigures. She, on her part, was either peacefully oblivious of this attention, or so habituated to it that, it was not a matter of any consequence ; she was all intent on her wax.

She had the highest respect for these staring figures. They were her friends and patrons ; she believed in them fully ; they were to her living and instinct with mighty histories ; she was grateful to them ; they paid her rent, and fed her, and made a future possible to her, and they helped her bear the burden of daily life. ‘‘ Familiarity breeds contempt,” and “ No man is a hero to his valet,” — these are old adages,

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

and as untrue as old, in this case. Familiarity of years only made the little show-mistress a firmer believer in her show, and the figures that she decorated, dressed, and reconstructed were heroic in the heroism or fame of their dead prototypes. How many rounds she made nightly of the room, beginning with Cato the Censor, in his toga and sandals, and passing around a hundred transformations of the human figure, through Attila, the Scourge of God, and the Emperor Charlemagne, Pope Gregory the Great, Luther and Ignatius Loyola, standing peaceably side by side ; Mary of Scots and Queen Elizabeth, Marie Antoinette, Ferdinand and Isabella, Christopher Columbus and George Washington, Robespierre, William the Silent, George the Third, Joan the Maid, John Quincy Adams, and Napoleon Bonaparte, Mrs. Fry, Madame Roland, and others, and others, and others, to frivolous Maria Louisa, smiling serene at Josephine, and standing last in the circuit, and so next to Cato the Censor, who would have been unlimited in his condemnation of her had he chanced to meet her, the lownecked, bejewelled, simpering, and shallow-

A HUMAN HIVE.

hearted, as he made his pilgrimage in the flesh !

The golden-haired show-woman advertised an instructive show," “a show that would confer a large knowledge of history and be part of a liberal education." She conscientiously endeavored to fulfil her engagement to the public. She studied her subjects carefully ; hardly a day but this minute being was mounted on a chair at the public library, investigating encyclopaedias or histories for new items about her staring family. Tome after ‘tome of volumes on costume she searched when she pursued her frequent renovation of the show’s wardrobe. This honest purpose had its reward ; there was something so sincere and simple about the little maid and her way that dozens of decent people came to her exhibitions, and listened placidly to her remarks, and did not allow themselves even to think that the eyes, whether blue or black, were dreadfully glassy ; that the paint of the complexions was very unscrupulously laid on, and that it became wearisome at last to see even wax indulging in a perennial and ghastly simper. The show-woman’s eyes were full of living sympathy and emotion ; her color went and came in pink and pale ; she never simpered, seldom smiled, was always thoroughly in earnest with her work. “ There are the little princes of the Tower who were murdered by their wicked uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester. It seems such a pity that their poor mother, the queen, had to give up her children to the care of the man that hated them. I always hope the poor little lads did not wake up to know that they were being murdered. Some people since have doubted whether this dreadful story were quite true, but there is no doubt of it, for lately the step at the foot of the Tower stairs has been taken up, and the bones of the little king and his brother found there, so there is no question about it, and there need never have been, for human nature is capable of being turned to any evil for the sake of a little power or money. This next figure is General Tom Thumb, who certainly was a very small and famous dwarf, and exhibited in all the courts and chief cities of Europe. Queen Victoria was very much pleased with him when he was

A HUMAN HIVE.

shown to her at her palace. For my part, I think a giant would be much better worth looking at ; I don’t admire dwarfs myself, and their hearts and minds seem sometimes as little as their bodies — but not always. I never thought it was quite right for them, when Tom Thumb first went out for a show, to pretend that he was five or six years older than he really was. Truth should always be spoken. Here is Christopher Columbus, standing beside Queen Isabella of Castile, his patroness. It does not seem to me that Isabella was half so good or great a woman as many people consider her. She was very ungrateful to Columbus, listened to his enemies, broke her promises to him, and had him sent home in irons, when he, more than all kings and councillors, had enriched the Spanish nation. Columbus died, aged seventy, some say sixty, poor and unhappy, and broken down by ill-treament. His last voyage was to try and find a way through to China by the Gulf of Mexico, but you know there is no passage through from the Gulf to the Pacific. In those days geography had to be made, and people had to ^find out things for themselves

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

which are now plain as day on the maps. As you turn to look at Isabella, it is only honest to tell you that I think this wax is too nice-looking for her. I think she should h^ve smaller eyes, near together, a long sharp nose, and a more cruel mouth, for I am sure she was a cruel hard woman. You know how terribly she treated the Moors and the Jews. I wonder she could sleep nights, driving out hundreds of mothers with little babies in their arms, old people, sick people, robbed of all they had, poor, frightened, knowing nowhere to go. I am sure it is a pity to be a queen if one is to be left to act like that. It would be hard to die with so much on your conscience. And then to think of burning up people alive for their religion ! I like Isabella so little that I would turn her around with her face to the wall, only that would not be fair to you, who pay your money to see all the figures.”

Turn her round if you like,” shouted a jolly voice from the “ admiring crowd.” “ We can stand it, if you can ! ”

Thus along the line, from figure to figure, went the little show-woman, and told earnestly of the sins of Henry the Eighth, the crowned

A HUMAN HIVE.

Bluebeard, and unblushingly praised Elizabeth, whom she admired for being big and masculine and selfish and stubborn and sensible, in all points but the last quite the opposite of her own little self. And she was pathetic over Lady Jane Grey, and made an effort which would have been honorable to certain historians to do justice to James the First, and did nobly by Oliver Cromwell, and was clapped when she told the story of Lincoln, and was hissed by a stout son of Erin when she paid a pretty tribute to Victoria. To be hissed was new in her experience; the flute voice faltered a little in its music, and tears came into her eyes, whereupon the disturber of the peace came forward, cursed himself for a blockhead, and asked her pardon heartily. The crowd changed several times during the evening, and the little mistress of ceremonies went her rounds three times. Her voice did not weary, nor did she get flushed nor faint, which spoke well for her endurance and the goodness of the constitution done up in so small a parcel.

While this was going on above, the inside door of the cobbler’s shop opened, and a boy

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

twisted himself in at a small space, a side of sole leather lying on the floor and preventing free ingress. He had a book in his hand and a scowl on his countenance ; seemed a little uncertain, too, of his reception. “ Hillo, there. Whim ! I thought you were studying.”

Thus the cobbler ; to which Whim whined : “She wants me to be studying all the time.”

“ Why not } School will close in three weeks, and there is much for you to learn. Buckle to it, my lad.”

“But what’s the use.?” protested Whim. “ I’m going to be a musician. What do I need to know more than my violin .? ”

“A deal more. Suppose you get to be a famous violinist. You will need to know how to write a handsome hand and get up a well spelled, well expressed, gentlemanly letter when you make or decline engagements. You must understand arithmetic, or how will you keep accounts .? If you are a fool in history, and think that Alexander the Great was born in England, you’ll get laughed at. You must . know geography if you’re going to run over the world playing your violin. You wouldn’t make

A HUMAN- HIVE.

much if you were guilty of rushing off to some little charcoal-burning village in the Hartz region, expecting paying audiences. You must know German and Italian and French, too, if you are going to travel Europe. What book is that in your hand ”

“ It’s German,” said Whim. “ She has bargained with the east attic for lessons for me. ' It’s paid for in washing and mending, or some such way.”

“ Humph ! And, with her going that length, you are not willing even to study ! Sit down here by me at once, and work.” Whim sat down cross-legged beside the cobbler, under the gas, and began to write out exercises, pursuing his work aloud: “ Wie geht es, Frau.^* — How are you, madame ^ ”

“ Hold up ! ” said the cobbler ; “you can say : ‘Wie geht es, Knabe,’ speaking familiarly to a lad of your own age, or a servant ; but if you are to be respectful, or address your betters, you can not say, ‘ Wie geht es, Frau } ’ ”

“ What can I say ? ” demanded Whim.

“ Look it up ; I won’t tell you. In one ear and out the other. You’ll value what you work

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

for. I know ; I’ve been a student in my day. Not so lazy a one as you, either.”

“ Then, you liked it? ”

“ I didn’t study for love, I see that. If I had, I would have kept at it. I studied for what study would bring ; — it brought nothing, and I quit after I had reached a certain point. A certain point, I say. I should not like to be an ignoramus, even cobbling shoes. Study ; you’ll be glad of every item you learn.”

“Ho, there, Jonas! what are you doing.?” A pair of legs were coming down the well which enclosed Jonas’ front door. The voice seemed to be carried by the legs.

“Pegging away,” replied Jonas, to a waistcoat, which had dipped into sight.

“And how are you, Jonas.?” this from a round, red, and dishevelled head which had succeeded in getting into view.

“ Pretty well pegged out ; it’s late,” quoth Jonas, and, stretching a long, strong arm up to his shelf, he took a pair of shoes, half-soled and heeled, and flung them at his interlocutor, who caught them as it were a base-ball.

“ Well, you don’t want to trust me for ’em, Jonas .? ”

A HiTMAN HIVE,

“ Too poor an opinion of human nature to trust anybody.”

“ Not even the price of a pair* of heel-taps } ”

“ Anybody can pay for my heel-taps that ain’t too familiar with heel-taps down below at the saloon.”

“ Right you are, Jonas ; and here’s your dollar and a half. I guess the brogans are worth it. Who have you here ^ Gone to school-teaching } — setting up ragged-school like ”

“ Ragged-school yourself ! ” said Whim, wrathfully ; “a little more and I’ll throw this book at your head.”

‘‘ No offence,” said the owner of the mended shoes.

‘'It’s little Doro’s brother,” said Jonas, “ minding his book not so well as he ought, for such a faithful little sister.”

“I do my German well — Rebbler says so,” said Whim.

“ No doubt. Rebbler’s disposition is such that he’d ‘play a part to tear a cat in,’ if you tried any fooling with him. What you need, young man, is a good stiff master over you ;

IN BLACK AND COLD.

but you haven’t one, and more’s the pity! Have you learned that lesson ? ”

“Yes,” said Whim, stretching his arms, “and you need not think so poorly of me, Jonas. I write a beautiful hand, and I’m the best speller in the school, and I am head in arithmetic, and after this term, she says, I may only study music and languages — I hate languages.”

“You’ve got to know ’em; so be off to bed with you.”

Ten o’clock. Room above the shop empty, dark, locked. In the lobby, the small show-woman carefully letting the contents of the iron box into a kerchief spread on the lap of the old woman.

“I suppose you’re tired, Maggie.”

“ Well, I’ve been reading the paper, so I didn’t mind. The paper has a long piece about the priests demanding to have parabolical schools. Now, I don’t think they ought to have parabolical schools, seeing public schools is good for all who goes to ’em. It’s most dreadful hot, and I know I sha’n’t sleep a wink. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll go to bed, and I’ll do up your hair for you at onst.”

A HUMAN H/VE.

“ ril have my hair done in a minute. But I must sit up. What is the use of talking, Maggie } I always sit up ! ”

“To ruinate and break down your health.”

“ I sleep with my head on the table or on a chair.”

“ Much sleep that is,” grumbled Maggie, as the little girl went off with the money in the kerchief. Then Maggie returned to her paper, over the columns of which she slowly travelled in search of further remarks on parabolical schools.

Again the inner door of the shop opened, and this time the intruder was the golden-haired exhibitor of wax-works.

“ Here’s the money, Jonas. Not so much as last night. Am I very much behind now } ” “Well, not so very much,” said Jonas, counting the money ; “ but you want to get ahead, you see.”

“Oh, Jonas! you’ll never, never know how much I want to get ahead, to lay up.” Such a look of care on the child-face I

“You shouldn’t be so determined to do all by yourself ; make Whim put his shoulder to the wheel.”

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

“ But what is there Whim can do ? ” asked Doro.

^‘What is there Whim can do?” said Jonas to Doro. “ He can draw a crowd by music. He can play that old fiddle of his to make one laugh or cry. Set him to playing an hour each evening. Every show needs music, and yours lacks it, while the best in the city is free to you.”

“ But Whim needs all his time to study. He must get on.”

Much he needs it. He hates study. You set him at his books and he idles and shirks. Let him play for an hour, and he will do as much study in two hours after as now in three. He is afraid enough of his masters not to go unprepared. You do Whim a damage by not requiring his help. That is the way that women spoil their men folks.”

“ I think I must set him at it to-morrow. To-morrow will be his birthday.”

‘‘ Better the day, the better the deed,” growled old Jonas, pounding at a peg. The girl went back to the first floor to a small sitting-room, where Maggie, who had finished her

A HUMAN HIVE.

paper, stood ready to brush her hair. This shining hair was Maggie’s pride and glory.

“ I hate hot weather,” said Maggie, while she brushed vigorously. “ I wish it was winter again.”

“ All winter you were hating the cold and wishing for summer.”

‘‘ What’s the use of summer in the city ! — no grass or flowers ! ”

But when we went into the country for a week, you hated the fields, and wanted to come straight back to the city.”

** I was never out of Boston city ten days in my life,” said Maggie, “and I never mean to be. I know the city is going to be very unhealthy. That boy is tearing about all the time. He is sure to die of sunstroke. And I’ve always told you your father would catch diseases — the kind of places he goes to. You may reckon on his dying of cholera. And you won’t hold out, this rate ; you look miserable peaked.”

“ Oh, Maggie ! I feel sure we shall all keep as well as usual.”

“What’s the use of keeping well when you’ve

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

nothing to live on ? The show’s going down; every one’s seen it. We shall be turned out of house and home before long.”

“ I make sure I can keep the rent paid, Maggie.”

“No such great good if you can. It’s the worst house I ever saw : kitchen dark, cellar wet, rooms hot — unfit for a dog. There, your hair’s done ; and, as I can’t entertain you. I’m going to bed. But I know I won’t sleep a wink ; I never do.”

Doro lit a student’s-lamp, turned out the gas, and sat down to read the Bible ; after a time her golden head bowed low, found a pillow onthe sacred pages, and she slept — possibly for some time. She was roused by a step for which she was always listening, whose approach she never failed to hear. The man who came in might have been one of the wax figures animated. His prominent black eyes had a glassy stare ; his black hair, shining with pomade, was parted in the middle and arranged in careful curls ; his complexion, olive and red, might have been painted ; his features were regular and expressionless ; his dress careful.

A Hl/AIAN HIVE.

Doro looked at him narrowly ; she knew the signs : his eyes were blood-shot, his lips tremulous, his hand unsteady.

“ Father, will you have something Shall I make you coffee } ”

“No. I don’t want any thing. How were the receipts to-day } ”

“Not so good.”

“ Not so good ! Always falling off. That is bad. No doubt, you are neglectful ; — you don’t please the public, you don’t apply your mind to it. You don’t understand the business. Girls never do.”

“ Shall I get you some iced lemonade, ‘father ? ”

“ No ! why do you worry me so ? Still, you took in something. Where is the money } Go bring it to me.”

“ It is all paid out, father.”

“Paid out at this time of night

“ There is always some one to take the landlord’s money.”

“ Let him wait for it ; other people do.”

“ But we can not afford to be turned in the street. Wax must be treated more carefully

IN BLACK AND GOLD.

than people, you know. Wax folks can not stand heat or cold, or wet or sun, or handling. We must make sure of shelter for them.”

‘^But it is always this way — money always paid out. I never see it. It don’t go all for rent.”

Sometimes it is coal, sometimes gas and water-rates ; sometimes a barrel of flour, or the meat-bill,” said this child-woman, who, accused of knowing nothing about business, had nevertheless out-generalled this man for three years, keeping him fed and clothed, and him and his from the sheriff or the poor-house. Mr. Granby took out a good kerchief to wipe his face, and a handful of chips fell on the floor. We do not mean that he had supped on Saratoga potatoes and brought a few home in his pocket inadvertently. The chips were thin slips of ivory. Doro, perhaps, did not know what they were called technically. She named them “ ruin,” and saw in them the shame and degradation of her father, the heart-break of her dead mother, the unnatural burden of her own life, the lion in the way of Whim, the wolf ever at the door. She stooped to pick up the bits of bone.