The Bondwoman's Narrative (30 page)

Gas is lighted in divers
The lamps are lighted in divers[e] places, but rather serve to render the gloom visible than to dispel it. The shops are
lighted too, and soon, very soon there is a gleaming of lights from little windows and great windows that seems to betoken
warmth and comfort within.

Just where the gloom was densest, and the muddy street the muddiest there was I, wrapped in a very thin shawl and carrying
a very small box in my hand. I had been to a shop in Pennsylvania Avenue, much frequented by the slaves of fashionable Ladies,
who sought to add artificial to natural charms. Paints and cosmetics in every variety, perfumes from China and India, hair
of every color in curls or braids, teeth, washes, powders magnetic or otherwise, filters, love-tokens, and similar articles
of great perfection and infinite variety were to be exchanged for gold.

Mrs Wheeler conceived her beauty to be on the wane. She had been a belle in youth, and the thought of her fading charms was
unendurable. That very day an antiquated lady, with a large mouth filled with false teeth, a head covered with false hair,
and a thin scrawny neck, beneath which swelled out a false bust, had called on my mistress with what she designated very highly
important information. I supposed at first that the President’s wife
was dead, or the secretary’s daughter about to be married,
but it was something more interesting to fashionable ladies than even that. Some great Italian chemist, a Signor with an unpronounceable
name had discovered or rather invented an impalpable powder, fine, highly scented, and luxurious, that applied to the hands
and face was said to produce the most marvellous effect. The skin, however sallow and unbeautiful, would immediately acquire
the softness and delicacy of childhood. Tan, or freckless [freckles], or wrinkles, or other unseemly blotches would simultaneously
disappear, and to render the article still more attractive it was said that only two or three boxes of it yet remained. Of
course Mrs Wheeler was all impatience to obtain one of them, and her visitor was scarcely out of hearing when I was summoned,
and directed to go at once to the Chemist’s, and get a box of the Italian Medicated Powder. No hesitancy on account of mud
or bad weather was allowable. I went, purchased the last box, and when returning passed two gentlemen, standing in a somewhat
sheltered place apparently conversing on some subject of deep interest. There was something in the coat of seedy black, and
the general bearing and manner of one of them, which instantly arrested my attention, but the driving mist and sleet was full
in my face, with the gloom momentarily thickening, so that I failed to obtain a perfect view of his features. It was certainly
very ill-mannered, but stimulated by curiosity I even turned back to look at them, and not minding my footing through pre-occupation
of mind I slipped very suddenly and came down with all my weight on the rough paving stones. The two gentlemen immediately
came forward, and one of them assisting me to rise, kindly inquired if I was hurt. I looked into the face of the other I knew.
I knew him on the instant
Oh then I knew him on the instant, I could have remembered his eyes and countenance among a thousand. It was Mr Trapp[e].

Whether or not the recognition was mutual I had no means of
ascertaining, but his presence to me seemed ominous of evil, and
hastily murmuring my thanks I hastened home.

Mr Wheeler was in the apartment of his wife when I entered it. He was a little dapper man, very quick in his motions, and
with little round piercing black eyes set far back in his head. He had the exact air and manner of a Frenchman, but was reputed
to be very obstinate in his way, and to have little respect for constituted authorities in his moments of passion. Report
said that he had actually quarreled with the President, and challenged a senator to fight a duel, besides laying a cowhide
on a certain occasion over the broad shoulders of a member of Congress. At any rate he had been turned out of office, and
now was busily engaged in hunting another. Consequently he was seldom at home, being usually to be found haunting the bureau
of some department or other, and striving to engage attention by talking in sharp shrill voice, accompanied with violent gesticulation
of what should be done in one place, or had been left undone in another. He knows exactly where a screw is loose, and he understands
perfectly to tighten it again. On many matters he is better informed than the President. He could give instructions to the
secretaries of the army and navy, but they are old, obstinate, and headstrong, and won’t listen to his advice.

Of course Mrs Wheeler was particularly interested in these schemes of her husband, and when he came home occasionally they
had a little familiar talk on the affairs of the nation generally, and the chances for office in particular, where a vacancy
has occurred and where another is likely to occur, and similar interesting matters.

“How are you getting along, any chance yet?” was the spousal salutation repeated perhaps for the thousandth time in the same
soft voice, with the same languid air.

“Well” replies Mr Wheeler, crossing his legs and rubbing the
topmost up and down “I am not discouraged. It takes a great deal
to discourage me, you know, besides I have a promise”

“A promise” the languid air is dropped for a moment, then taken up and put on again, as though it were a mantle.

“A veritable promise” repeats the husband. “You know Riggs of the Naval Department is almost dead. His physician, who has
been consulted, says he can’t live over a week; Trotter expects to succeed him, and if Trotter does succeed him, I’m in for
it.”

“In for it, how vulgar you are” says the lady.

Riggs, however, contrary to the expectations of his physician, and notwithstanding the pills, powders, and doses of which
he had taken enough to have killed two or three common men actually recovered, and so both Trotter and Mr Wheeler had to turn
their attention to some other quarter. I occupied a little room, communicating by a single door with that of my mistress.
She wanted me always near and handy, she said, so that when summoned I could come on the instant. A little bell stood on a
table by her side, and its ting a ring ding reminded me of my servitude a hundred times a day. In this room I could hear every
word of conversation repeated in the other.

“I don’t see what old people must live forever for” said Mrs. Wheeler to her husband, when the astounding news that Riggs
was actually abroad reached her ears. “But that’s just the way, and thus younger and better ones are kept out of their legitimate
sphere.[”]

“Well I don’t know” replied Mr Wheeler “but it’s an old saying that some people will live as long as they can see anybody
alive, and I verily believe that Riggs must be of that sort. However there’s another vacancy. A clerk connected with the Treasury
Department after lining his pocket well with the funds has suddenly decamped. If I could only obtain that situation.”

“Why can’t you, is there opposition?” inquired the lady.

“Opposition” repeats her husband “why there were two hundred applicants there to[-]day, crowding and jamming each other, and
each one intriguing to set forth his claims to the best advantage. There was one, a blacksmith’s son from New York, who actually
had the insolence to smile when I recommended myself as being the most proper person from my extensive acquaintance with political
business.”

“A blacksmith’s son” repeated the lady, with
a sparkling
a sparkle of the eyes and agitation of manner. “A blacksmith’s son, indeed; an Abolitionist I dare say, who would reverse
the order of nature, and place Negroes at the top instead of at the bottom of society. Really smiled at you, the wretch.”

The next day it was ascertained that the blacksmith’s son had obtained the appointment.

On the present occasion Mr Wheeler came to ask a favor of his wife. Another vacancy had occurred, but the gift was in the
power of a gentleman, with whom at some time or another of his life Mr Wheeler had some disturbance, and much as he desired
the office he dreaded still more the humiliation of asking for it. Could not his wife be induced to make the request? He thought
with a little well-timed flattery she might. Ladies of great consideration not unfrequently petitioned for their husbands.
The President had been importuned by them till he almost feared the sight of a woman. The Secretaries had fared little better;
indeed all who had offices to bestow had been coaxed, and flattered, and addled by female tongues untill they scarcely knew
what they were about. They said, too, that female petitioners were likeliest to succeed. Perhaps that was the reason of his
frequent failure. Had he brought his wife sooner into the field, in all probability he would have secured a prize with far
less trouble. The experiment is worth trying at any rate, though he is not positive that the lady will concur.

“My dear” says Mr Wheeler, discreetly eyeing his wife. “My dear.”

“What?” inquires the lady in a very soft voice, and with a very languid air.

“I have been thinking that
if your galaxy
you are not quite in your usual spirits to[-]day, yet I never saw you looking better.”

“Well, I don’t know” says the lady brightening a little.

For say what you will of lovers there’s nothing so flattering to female vanity as the praise of a husband, because it is universally
considered a more difficult matter to retain affection than to win it.

“And faith, nor do I know” reiterates the husband. “A woman of your fine presence has no right to be out of spirits. That
isn’t a countenance to be sad or meloncholly. Then you haven’t no care, no public or private burdens on your mind. You never
ask for offices without expectations of gaining them. You never ask for offices, my dear.”

He dwells rather longer on this phrase than is strictly necessary, considering the extent and variety of his conversational
abilities. Twice or thrice he repeats it with his peculiarly listening face, as if expecting an answer. “You never ask for
offices, my dear”

“And I don’t know why I should” she answers “Since

At last the answer is elicited with a sort of vague smile. “I never have indeed, I don’t know why I should, since my husband
is fully capable of doing his own business.”

The little man runs his fingers thoughtfully through his hair, and replies

“But his abilities, my dear, are not rightly appreciated. It takes time to convince people that you possess abilities. Then
abilities are so very common; they are possessed by every man. Lord bless you, Mrs Wheeler, men of abilities are as thick
all over Washington as are cherries in June.”

The lady looks at him and wonders what he is driving at. He continues.

“With female beauty, my dear, it is very different. Any one having the use of his eyes can readily discover that. Then, too,
beauty is rarer. It’s only once in awhile that a beautiful woman crosses your path, and when such is the case, why, Lord,
the men run nearly stark mad.
Any she wishes, must be complied with
Her slightest wish is obeyed, and they are proud and happy to do her a service. That is the reason I suppose why so many
women have succeeded in obtaining offices for their husbands, when the husbands themselves failed to do so. There was Mrs.
Perkins, you know.”

“Mrs Perkins” retorted the lady scornfully “you don’t call her beautiful, I hope.”

[“]Rather good-looking, that is all, and nothing comparable with you. I was thinking, however, that as her good looks accomplished
much, perhaps your beauty might do more.”

A gleam of intelligence flitted over her countenance, mingled I thought with an expression of slight displeasure, and she
inquired in a voice raised somewhat above the common key.

“Is it possible that you wish me to do as Mrs Perkins did? Is it possible that you desire me to hang around some haughty official
till I weary him
by my constant
with continual coming, that you ask me to weep before him, and kneel at his feet with importunities
that will not be answered in the negative?—is it possible Mr Wheeler, I say—?”

“No, my dear, it is not possible,” said the gentleman deprecatingly. “I require you to do no such thing. Of course I don’t,
but my love could you feel willing to lend your influence in the affair. I am certain it would go a great way. No mind. I
don’t require this of you. Indeed, it would be too much to expect from any other woman of your admirable presence and beauty,
but you have always
been so kind to me, and so considerate of our interests, and I am under so many obligations to you already
that I shouldn’t be at all surprised if another still greater was to be added to them.”

What this prospective obligation might be he did not think proper to specify, but his finishing of the sentence restores him
to favor, and the lady’s looks imply, tho she does not say “what a sensible man this husband of mine is. Surely if the public
understood its interests he would have been laden with offices before this time.”

“I regret to say, my dear” continued Mr Wheeler “that I am the object of continued opposition. Men of attainment in a high
position of society always have their enemies of course. I have mine. Not so with you. You, I am proud to say it, are universally
admired. Then no gentleman would think for a moment of opposing a lady. Certainly not. Now a vacancy has just occurred, and
Mrs Piper is intriguing to have it filled by her husband. It is a very important office, worth about two thousand a year.”

“Then she expects to get it, does she?—and a failure would mortify her exceedingly. She is so haughty, vain, and conceited.
Wouldn’t it be pleasant to disappoint her?”

“It would, indeed.”

“Who makes the appointment?”

Mr Wheeler gave the desired information.

The lady sate [sat] a few moments in profound silence, then she spoke though rather as talking to herself than any one else.
“Mrs Piper, indeed, going to obtain a situation for her husband when mine has none. But I’ll disappoint her, that I will.
Mr Wheeler you shall have this office. I’ll see to it that you do.”