Kitabı oku: «The Witches of New York», sayfa 11
She is a Frenchwoman, and has had about half a century’s experience of her present fleshly tabernacle, which is somewhat the worse for wear, although from the fossil remains of bygone beauty, still visible in her ancient countenance, her customer inclined to the belief that in some remote age she was comely and pleasant to the eye. He founded this hypothesis upon the brown hair and hazel eyes which time has spared.
In respect to personal cleanliness, the Individual regrets to say that the Madame was not in every respect what a critical observer would wish to see; her hands and arms were in a condition which would naturally lead to the belief that the Croton Corporation had cut off the water; and under each of her finger-nails was a dark-colored deposit, which may have been snuff, but looked like something dirtier. She was dressed in a light striped calico dress, over which was a black velvet mantle trimmed with fur, and on her head was a portentous head-dress which was fearfully and wonderfully made of shabby black lace; her face was in the same condition as her hands and arms, as was also her neck, which was only visible to the upper edge of the collar-bone – further deponent saith not.
She more nearly approached the Cash Customer’s notion of the Witch of Endor, than any other lady he had ever heard mentioned in polite society. She at once prepared for business.
She seated herself behind a small stand, dusty with snuff, on which were a number of little books on astrology, written in French and German, and as dirty and as fragrant as if they had been some kind of clumsy vegetable which had been grown in a tobacco plantation.
She asked her visitor if he spoke French or German, to which he replied that, had he been conversant with all the languages invented at the Babel smash-up, he would on this occasion, for particular reasons, prefer to confine himself to English. He also ventured an inquiry as to terms, upon which she produced a card containing a list of her charges, printed in English, French, and German. He learned from this dingy document that the prices of telling fortunes by lines of the hand, by cards, and by the stars, varied in amount from one to five dollars. The Individual concluded that one dollar’s worth would suffice, and, approaching the little table, he announced the result of his cogitations. The enchantress, who was so saturated with snuff and tobacco that every time her customer looked her in the face he sneezed, then brought a pack of very filthy cards, which were covered over with mysterious hieroglyphics done in black paint. She asked her visitor to “cut” them, which he reverently though daintily did, whereupon she laid them on the table before her in four rows, and spoke, having previously explained that she used no witchcraft but did all her wonders by the signs of the zodiac. The Individual concentrated his attention, and listened with all his ears while the witch of Broome Street spoke thus:
“I will tell you first what these cards indicate, then I will look at the lines of your hand, and then I will answer three questions.”
Here she paused, while her agitated listener sneezed a couple of times; then she resumed, speaking with a strong foreign accent:
“You are good disposition – have excellent memory, you don’t have many enemy, but what you do is of your own sex – you are very frank person and you was born in the sign of the Crab. You have some lucky days which are Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, whatever you do on these days is well, but you shall not wash your hair on Thursdays, if so, you will wash all your luck away. You must be very careful of fire and water, you will be in great danger of fire and water and you must be very careful. You may die by fire or water, I cannot say but you must certain be very careful of fire and water. You must also be very careful of dogs, very careful of dogs, you may die by a dog, but you must certain be very careful of dogs.”
Here she paused again, and while her visitor was meditating on the full force of what he had heard, and was inwardly resolving to go immediately home, shoot Juno, and drown her as-yet-unoffending-but-in-after-days-dangerous-to-his-peace-of-mind-and-the-happiness-of-his-life pups, she prepared for the second portion of her discourse.
Taking the Individual’s hand in hers, a proceeding which made him feel as if he had put his fingers into a bladder of Maccoboy, she made the following prediction: “You will be the father of five children, two of them will be boys, who will be a great comfort to you when you grow old.”
She spoke no good of the girls, and the customer foresaw feminine trouble in his household with those same young ladies. Having a few moments to himself before she resumed, he worked himself into a great passion with the ungrateful hussies who were about to treat their kind old father in so scandalous a manner; but presently recollecting that they were as yet in the condition of “your sister, Betsey Trotwood, who never was born,” he felt that he was slightly premature in his wrath, so he cooled down and resolved to make the best of it with his comfortable boys.
The yellow sorceress continued: “Your line of life is long, and you will live to a good old age. You have had much trouble in love affairs, and now your first love is entirely lost to you. You can never reclaim her, and you must never venture anything in lotteries.”
Whether Madame Fleury supposed that her visitor intended to spend his salary in lottery tickets, in the hope of winning back his early love, or whether she supposed that the woman then exhibiting herself as “Perham’s Gift Lady,” was the person, is not in evidence; but, from the peculiar construction of her last remark, something of the kind must have been in her thoughts. She had now reached the third part of her discourse, and come to the “three questions.” She produced an old French Bible, dingy with age and snuff, and which she informed the observer had been in her family for three hundred years; an old iron key was tied between the leaves, with the ring and part of the shank of the key projecting, and the Bible was tightly bound round with many folds of black ribbon. Making her visitor hold one side of the ring of the key, while she held the other, she said: “Ask your three questions, and if they are to be answered in the affirmative the book will turn.”
The Individual, who had been much impressed by her canine observation of a few minutes before, and whose thoughts were still running upon his pet Juno, and her six innocent offspring, in a fit of absence of mind propounded this interrogatory:
“Shall I marry the person of whom I am now thinking?” The potent enchantress repeated the question aloud in French, and then, with pale lips and trembling voice, she addressed the book and key thus:
“Holy Bible, I ask you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, will this man marry the person now in his mind?” – then she closed her eyes for a moment, placed one hand over her heart, and rapidly muttered something in so low a tone that it was inaudible to her listener. Immediately the Bible commenced to turn slowly towards her, and soon had made a complete revolution, thus expressing a very decided affirmative.
Having started a matrimonial subject with so satisfactory a result, her customer thought he could do no better than to follow it up, and accordingly asked question No. 2:
“If I marry this person, will the marriage be a happy one?” The same answer was given, in the same manner. Being now satisfied as to his own matrimonial prospects, he concluded to ascertain those of his children, and question No. 3 was asked, as follows:
“Shall I live to see my children happily married?”
There was a long delay, which was undoubtedly occasioned by the difficulty of properly providing for those refractory girls, but at last there came a reluctant “Yes.”
Having now got all that his dollar entitled him to, the customer prepared to depart. The Madame informed him that in a few days she would have her “Magic Mirror” from Paris, with which she could do new wonders, and she hoped that he would soon call again, adding, “If I was ten year younger I would not admit gentlemen, but now I am old and I must.”
CHAPTER XIV.
A BLACK PROPHET, MR. GROMMER, No. 34 NORTH SECOND STREET, WILLIAMSBURGH
Describes an interview with the “Cullud” Seer, Mr. Grommer, of No. 34 North Second Street, Williamsburgh, and what that respectable Whitewasher and Prophet told his Visitor
Besides those who advertise in the daily journals, there are many other witches in and about the city who do not deign so to inform the world of their miraculous powers. Either they have not full faith in their own supernatural gifts, or they distrust the policy of advertising; at any rate they are only known to the inquiring stranger by accidental rumors, and mysterious side-whisperings emanating from those credulous ones who have had ocular proof of the miracle-working facility of these veiled prophets.
In certain of the older States of the Union, there cannot probably be found any country village that does not boast its old crones of fortune-telling celebrity – women who are not named by the awe-struck youngsters of the town, but with low breath and a startled sort of look thrown backward over the shoulder every minute as if in half-fear that the evil eye is even there upon them. And in almost every neighborhood in any part of the country, there will be one or more old women who delight in mystifying the young folks by telling fortunes in tea-cups, by means of the ominous settling of the “grounds;” – or who, sometimes, even “run the cards,” or aspire to read the fates by the portentous turning of the Bible and key. All these conjurations are given without money and without price in the rural districts, but they sometimes work no little mischief.
There people do not advertise their willingness to read the fates, and only exercise their gifts in that direction as a matter of friendship to certain favored ones. The city and the suburbs are full of people of this kind, who profess to know the gift of prophecy and of miracles, but who do not make their whole living by the exercise of their supernatural powers, depending in part on some popular branch of industry. They differ, however, from their sisters of the country in this regard; whenever they do consent to do a little magic for the accommodation of an anxious inquirer, they are very careful to charge him a round price for it. Many of them combine fortune-telling with hard work, and do their full day’s work of faithful toil at some legitimate employment, and in the evening amuse themselves with witchcraft.
These are chrysalis witches; prophets in embryo; magicians in a state of apprenticeship; they are learning the trade, and as soon as they feel competent to do journey-work, they drop their hard labor, and at once set up for full-fledged witches or conjurors.
Mr. Grommer, the Black Sage of Williamsburgh, and his solid and amiable wife, were in this half-way state when they were visited by the Cash Customer. Their fame had reached his ears by the means of some kind friends who were cognisant of his peculiar investigations at that time, and who told him of the supernatural gifts of this amiable old couple.
Accordingly the Individual, having made exact inquiries as to their local habitation, one fine morning set out in pursuit, and in due time made up the following report. Since that time it is reported that this worthy pair have followed the law of progression hereinbefore hinted at, and having arrived at the fulness of all magical knowledge, have laid aside the whitewash pail and discarded the scrubbing-brush, and given their time entirely to the practice of the Black Art.
The Individual beginneth his discourse thus: —
It is an old saying, that “The Devil is never so black as he is painted.” What may be the precise shade of the complexion of his amiable majesty the Cash Customer has no means of ascertaining to an exact nicety at this present time of writing; but he makes the positive assertion, that some of the Satanic human employees are so black as to need no painting of any description.
Whether or not the ancient “wise men from the East” were swarthy skinned he is not competent to decide; but he is able to prove, by ocular demonstration, to an unbelieving sceptic, that some of the modern “wise men” are particularly “dark-complected.”
Mrs. Grommer, of No. 34 North Second Street, in the suburb of Williamsburgh, is a case in point. The fame of this illustrious ebony lady had gone abroad through the land, and her skill in prophecy had been vouched for by those who professed to have personal knowledge of the truthfulness of her predictions. But an air of mystery surrounded the sable sorceress, and it was declared to be impossible to obtain a knowledge of her exact whereabouts, except by a preliminary visit to a certain mysterious “cave,” the locality of which was accurately described.
A cave! this promised well; no other witches encountered by the Cash Customer, had he found in a cave, or in anything resembling that hollow luxury.
A cave! the very word smacked of diabolism, and had the true flavor of genuine witchcraft. Our overjoyed hero thought of the Witch of Vesuvius in her mountain cavern – of her lank, grey, dead hair; her livid, corpse-like skin; her stony eye; her shrivelled, blue lips; her hollow voice, and her threatening arm, and skinny, menacing forefinger – of the red-eyed fox at her side, the crested serpent at her feet, the mystic lamp above her head, and the statue in the background, triple-headed with skulls of dog, and horse, and boar. Something of this kind he hoped to witness in the present instance, for he argued that any sorceress who lived in a cave must surely be supplied with some more cabalistic instruments with which to work her spells than greasy playing-cards or rusty brass door-keys. At last, then, he had discovered something in modern witchcraft worthy the ancient romance of the name. Triumphant and overjoyed, he prepared for the visit, confident in his ability to witness any spectacle, however terrible, without flinching, and in his courage to pass any ordeal, however fearful. He swallowed no countercharms or protective potions, and did not even take the precaution to sew a horse-shoe in the seat of his pantaloons.
It is true he was rash, but much must be forgiven to youthful curiosity, especially when conjoined with professional ambition. The carelessness, in respect to his own safety, was productive of no ill effects, for he returned from this perilous excursion in every regard as good as he went. He had by this time entirely recovered from his matrimonial aspirations, and had given up all hope of a witch wife. Still, he hoped to find in the cave, something more worthy the ancient and honorable name of witchcraft than anything he had yet seen.
Alas! for the uncertainty of mortal hopes. All is vanity, bosh, and botheration.
On arriving at the enchanted spot, it soon became evident to the senses of our astonished friend that the “Cave” was not a cavern, fit for the habitation of a powerful sorceress, but was merely a mystifying cognomen applied to a drinking saloon with a billiard room attached, which had accommodations, also, for persons who wished to participate in other profane games.
On entering the “Cave,” your deluded customer saw no toothless hag with the expected witch-like surroundings, but observed only a company of men, seemingly respectable, indulging in plentiful potations of beer and certain other liquids, which appeared, at the distance from which he observed them, to be the popular compounds designated in the vulgar tongue as “whiskey toddies.” Addressing the nearest bystander, the gulled Individual ascertained the habitation of Mrs. Grommer, and immediately departed in search of that interesting female.
The way was crooked, as all Williamsburgh ways are, but after an irregular, curvilinear journey of half an hour, the anxious inquirer stood in front of the looked-for mansion.
The grading of the street has left at this point a gravel bank some six or eight feet high, on the summit of which is perched the house of Mrs. Grommer, like a contented mud-turtle on a sunny stump. It is a one-story affair, with several irregular wings or additions sprouting out of it at unexpected angles, and, on the whole, it looks as if it had been originally built tall and slim like a tallow candle, but had melted and run down into its present indescribable shape. The architect neglected to provide this beautiful edifice with a front door, and the inquirer was compelled to ascend the bank by a flight of rheumatic steps, and make a grand detour through currant bushes, chickens, washtubs, rain-barrels, and colored children, irregular as to size, and variegated as to hue, to the back, and only door. Here his modest rap was unanswered, and he composedly walked in, unasked, through the kitchen, and took a seat in the parlor, where he was presently discovered by the lady of the house, but not until he had time to take an accurate observation.
Mrs. Grommer had, up to this time, been engaged in making a public example of certain ones of her grandchildren, who had been trespassing on the currant bushes of a neighbor, and had been caught in the act. Their indulgent grandmother, being scandalized by this exhibition of youthful depravity, with a regard for the demands of strict justice that did her infinite credit, had inflicted on several of the delinquents that mild punishment known as “spanking.” The novelty of the sight had drawn together quite a collection of the neighbors, who signified their approval of the deed by encouraging cheers.
Meantime the Individual had ample time to contemplate the inside beauties of the mansion of the sable prophet. Mrs. Grommer soon finished her athletic exercise out-doors, and came into the house to rearrange her dress and receive her company.
The reception-room was about 10 by 12, and so low that a tall man could not yawn in it without rapping his head against the ceiling. In places the plaster had been displaced and the bare lath showed through, reminding one of skeletons. The floor was dingily carpeted; a double bed occupied one side of the room, a small cooking-stove stood in the middle of the floor and had a disproportionately slim pipe issuing out of the corner, like a straw in a mint-julep; seven chairs of varied patterns, a small round table, on which lay a pack of cards covered with a cloth, and a tumble-down chest of drawers completed the necessary furniture of the apartment. The ornaments are quickly enumerated. A black wooden cross hung by the windows, a few cheap and gaudy Scriptural prints were fastened against the wall, a chemist’s bottle, of large dimensions, and filled with a blue liquid, reposed on the chest of drawers, side by side with a few miniature casts of lambs and dogs; and on a little shelf stood a quarter-size plaster bust of some unknown worthy, of which the head had been knocked off and its place significantly supplied with a goose-egg.
In a short time Mrs. Grommer emerged from an unlooked-for apartment and entered the room. She is a negress and a grandmother – her age is 65, and a brood of children, together with a swarm of the aforesaid grandchildren, reside near at hand and keep the old lady’s mansion constantly besieged.
As to size – she is large, apparently solid, and would struggle severely with a 200 pound weight before she would acknowledge herself conquered. She was neatly attired, and, in fact, a most grateful air of cleanliness pervaded the entire establishment, and it was a refreshing contrast to most of the dens of the fairer-skinned witches heretofore encountered by the cash delegate.
The sable one entered into conversation, and a few minutes were passed in cheerful chat, in the course of which she thus referred to the scapegrace husband of one of her numerous daughters: “They think Anson is dead, but I can’t station him dead. I think he’s at sea somewhere, or in a foreign land, but I can’t station him dead. He might as well be under ground for all the good he is, for he is such a poor, mis’able, drinkin’ feller that he aint no use, but, after all, I can’t run him dead.”
At last, the object of the visit was mentioned, and, to the individual’s great surprise, Mrs. Grommer positively and peremptorily refused to give him the benefit of her prophetic powers.
She said: “It aint no use; I never does for gentlemen. I does sometimes for ladies, but I can’t do it for gentlemen.” Remonstrance and entreaty were alike useless; she was immovable. At last, she said she would call her “old man,” who could tell fortunes as well as she could, but she added, with a determined shake of the head: “He’ll do it, but he will charge you a dollar; and he wont do it under, neither.” When her hearer expressed his willingness to learn his future fate by the masculine medium, she addressed him thus: “You station there, in that chair, and I’ll send him.” The disappointed one “stationed” in the designated chair, and awaited the coming of the “old man.” He soon appeared and seated himself, ready to begin.
“Old Man” Grommer is a professor of the whitewashing branch of decorative art. He occasionally relaxes his noble mind from the arduous mental labor attendant upon the successful carrying on of his regular business, and condescends to earn an easy dollar by fortune-telling. He is a shrewd-looking old man, with a dash of white blood in his composition; his hair curls tightly all over his head, but is elaborated on each side of his face into a single hard-twisted ringlet; short crisped whiskers, streaked with grey, encircle his face, and an imperial completes his hirsute attractions; his cheeks and forehead are marked with the small-pox.
He was attired in a grey and striped dress, the peculiarity of which was that the coat and vest were bound with wide stripes of black velvet. He speaks with but little of the peculiar negro dialect, except when he forgets himself for an instant, and unguardedly relapses into the old habits, which he has evidently carefully endeavored to overcome. He looked at his visitor very sharply for a minute or two, while he pretended to be abstractedly shuffling the cards; and collecting his valuable thoughts, at last he remarked:
“I s’pose you want me to run the cards for you?” The reply was in the affirmative, and the colored prophet concentrated his mind and began. Slowly he dealt the cards, and spake as follows:
“You don’t believe in fortunes, my son – I see that. Must tell you what I see here – can’t help it – if I see it in the cards, must tell you. You’ve had great deal trouble, my son; more comin’. Can’t help it; mus’ tell you. I see trouble in de cards; I see razackly what it is.”
Here he suddenly stopped, and resuming his guarded manner, continued: “You’ve lost something, my son; something that you think a great deal of. Now I don’t like to tell about lost things; I’se ’fraid I’ll get myself into a snare; I’d rather not say nothing about it; fear I’ll get myself into trouble.” His auditor here gave him the most positive assurances that he should never be called into court to identify the thief of the missing article, and that he should be held free from all harm; whereupon he consented to impart the following information:
“Dis thing you lost is something that hangs up on a nail – something bright and round – you thinks a great deal of it, my son – when it went away it had on a bright guard – hasn’t got a bright guard on now; got a black guard – you see I knows all about de article, my son, and I can tell you razackly where de article is – but I’se rather not tell you ’bout it, my son; ’fraid I’ll run myself into a snare; dat’s the truth, my son, rather no say nothin’ ’bout de article.”
Being again assured of safety, he went on: “Well, my son, I’ll tell you ’bout this yer thing. Has you got any boys in yer employ? No. Got two girls have you? One of dem girls is light-haired and de other is dark – the light one is de one who comes in your room in your boarding-house every morning when you’se gone away – ’cause you lives in a boardin’ house, I sees that – can see it in the cards, can always tell razackly. If you make a fuss about dat article you make your landlady feel bad. You has accused somebody of taking that article, but you ’cused de wrong person. The light-haired girl is who’s got that article. Can’t help it, my son, must tell you – de light-haired girl is de person. Mebbe she’s put it back, my son, I’ll see.”
Here he cut the cards carefully, and continued:
“There’s trouble ’bout dat article, my son, can’t help it, must tell you – but you’ll get the article, but you’ll have disappointment. Whenever you see dat card you may know there’s disappointment comin’ – dat card is always disappointment – can’t help it, my son, must tell you.” Here he exhibited the nine of spades, to the malignant influence of which he attributed the future woes of his hearer.
“When you go home look in your bed between the mattresses and see if the article is there, for mebbe she’ll put it back – if it aint there you must go to her and ’cuse her of it, ’cause it’s in the house and she’s got it – can’t help it, my son, must tell you.”
It is perhaps needless to say that the customer had met with no loss of property, and that all this was entirely gratuitous on the part of Mr. Grommer. Having, however, settled the matter to his satisfaction, that gentleman turned his attention to other things, and in the intervals of repeated shufflings and cuttings of the cards he said:
“Dere is a journey for you soon – and dis journey is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you – but dere is a little disappointment first – can’t help it, my son, must tell – here you can see for yourself,” and out came the malicious nine of spades again. “You will get money from beyond sea, my son – lots of money, lots of money, my son – here it is, you can see for yourself,” and he exhibited the cheerful faces of the eight, nine, and ten of diamonds. “You will have disappointment before you get this money,” and up came the hateful visage of the nine of spades once more. “You was born under a good star, my son – under a morning star – you was born under the planet Jupiter, my son, at 28 minutes past four in the morning – lucky star, my son, very lucky star. You are going to make a great change in your business, my son, which will be good; you will always be successful in business, but I think there is a little disappointment first; can’t help it, must tell you.” Here the listener looked for the nine of spades again, but it didn’t come. “After a little while you turns your back on trouble; here, you can see for yourself – see, this is you.”
The king of clubs was the Individual at that instant, and the troubles upon which he turned his back are, as nearly as he can remember, the knave of clubs, the nine of spades, and the deuce of diamonds.
The sage went on. “I’m comin’ now to your marriage. You’se goin’ to be married, but you’ll have some disappointment first – can’t help it, my son, must tell you. You see, here is a dark-complected lady that you like, and she has a heart for you, but her father don’t like you – he prefers a young man of lighter complexion – see, here you all are, my son. This is you,” and he showed the king of clubs – “and this is her.” The “her” of whom he spoke so irreverently, was the queen of clubs. “This is the heart she has for you,” and he exhibited the seven of that amorous suit. “This is her father” – the obstinate and cruel “parient” here displayed, was the king of spades – “and dis yer is de young man her father likes,” and he placed before the eyes of the customer a hated rival in the shape of the knave of diamonds. “You see how it is, my son, dere is trouble between you – can’t help it. You may possibly marry de dark-complected lady yet, but don’t you do it, my son, don’t you do it – now mind I tell you, don’t you do it – she is not the lady for you – can’t help it, must tell you; if you marry dat lady you will be sorry dat you ever tie de knot. See, here is the knot,” and he showed the ace of diamonds. “See, this is the lady you ought to marry,” and he produced the queen of diamonds; “and she will be your second wife if you do marry de dark-complected lady, but you’d better marry her first if you can get her, and let de dark-complected lady go for ebber; dat’s so, my son, now mind I tell you.”
He condescended no more, and the Cash Customer disbursed his dollar and departed, all the grandchildren gathering on the bank to give him three cheers as a parting salute.
