Going to the Springs; or, Vulgar People

by T.S. Arthur

　　"I suppose you will all be off to Saratoga, in a week or two," saidUncle Joseph Garland to his three nieces, as he sat chatting withthem and their mother, one hot day, about the first of July."We're not going to Saratoga this year," replied Emily, the eldest,with a toss of her head."Indeed! And why not, Emily?""Everybody goes to Saratoga, now.""Who do you mean by everybody, Emily?""Why, I mean merchants, shop-keepers, and tradesmen, with theirwives and daughters, all mixed up together, into a kind ofhodge-podge. It used to be a fashionable place of resort--but peoplethat think any thing of themselves, don't go there now.""Bless me, child!" ejaculated old Uncle Joseph, in surprise. "Thisis all new to me. But you were there last year.""I know. And that cured us all. There was not a day in which we werenot crowded down to the table among the most vulgar kind of people.""How, vulgar, Emily?""Why, there was Mr. Jones, the watchmaker, with his wife and twodaughters. I need not explain what I mean by vulgar, when I give youthat information.""I cannot say that I have any clearer idea of what you mean, Emily.""You talk strangely, uncle! You do not suppose that we are going toassociate with the Joneses?""I did not say that I did. Still, I am in the dark as to what youmean by the most vulgar kind of people.""Why, common people, brother," said Mrs. Ludlow, coming up to theaid of her daughter. "Mr. Jones is only a watchmaker, and thereforehas no business to push himself and family into the company ofgenteel people.""Saratoga is a place of public resort," was the quiet reply."Well, genteel people will have to stay away, then, that's all. I,at least, for one, am not going to be annoyed as I have been for thelast two or three seasons at Saratoga, by being thrown amongst allsorts of people.""They never troubled me any," spoke up Florence Ludlow, the youngestof the three sisters. "For my part, I liked Mary Jones very much.She was----""You are too much of a child to be able to judge in matters of thiskind," said the mother, interrupting Florence.Florence was fifteen; light-hearted and innocent. She had never beenable, thus far in life, to appreciate the exclusive principles uponwhich her mother and sisters acted, and had, in consequence,frequently fallen under their censure. Purity of heart, and thegenuine graces flowing from a truly feminine spirit, alwaysattracted her, no matter what the station of the individual in whosesociety she happened to be thrown. The remark of her mother silencedher, for the time, for experience had taught her that no good everresulted from a repetition of her opinions on a subject of thiskind."And I trust she will ever remain the child she is, in thesematters," said Uncle Joseph, with emphasis. "It is the duty of everyone, sister, to do all that he can to set aside the false ideas ofdistinction prevailing in the social world, and to build up on abroader and truer foundation, a right estimate of men and things.Florence, I have observed, discriminates according to the quality ofthe person's mind into whose society she is thrown, and estimatesaccordingly. But you, and Emily, and Adeline, judge of peopleaccording to their rank in society--that is according to theposition to which wealth alone has raised them. In this way, and inno other, can you be thrown so into association with 'all kinds ofpeople,' as to be really affected by them. For, the result of myobservation is, that in any circle where a mere external sign is thepassport to association, 'all sorts of people,' the good, the bad,and the indifferent, are mingled. It is not a very hard thing for abad man to get rich, sister; but for a man of evil principles torise above them, is very hard, indeed; and is an occurrence that toorarely happens. The consequence is, that they who are rich, are notalways the ones whom we should most desire to mingle with.""I don't see that there is any use in our talking about thesethings, brother," replied Mrs. Ludlow. "You know that you and Inever did agree in matters of this kind. As I have often told you, Ithink you incline to be rather low in your social views.""How can that be a low view which regards the quality of another,and estimates him accordingly?" was the reply."I don't pretend to argue with you, on these subjects, brother; soyou will oblige me by dropping them," said Mrs. Ludlow, coloring,and speaking in an offended tone."Well, well, never mind," Uncle Joseph replied, soothingly. "We willdrop them."Then turning to Emily, he continued--"And so your minds are made up not to go to Saratoga?""Yes, indeed.""Well, where do you intend spending the summer months?""I hardly know yet. But, if I have my say, we will take a trip inone of the steamers. A flying visit to London would be delightful.""What does your father say to that?""Why, he won't listen to it. But I'll do my best to bring himround--and so will Adeline. As for Florence, I believe I will askfather to let her go to Saratoga with the Joneses.""I shall have no very decided objections," was the quiet reply ofFlorence. A half angry and reproving glance from her mother, warnedher to be more discreet in the declaration of her sentiments."A young lady should never attempt to influence her father," saidUncle Joseph. "She should trust to his judgment in all matters, andbe willing to deny herself any pleasure to which he objected. Ifyour father will not listen to your proposition to go to London, besure that he has some good reason for it.""Well, I don't know that he has such very good reasons, beyond hisreluctance to go away from business," Emily replied, tossing herhead."And should not you, as his daughter, consider this a mostconclusive reason? Ought not your father's wishes and feelings beconsidered first?""You may see it so, Uncle; but I cannot say that I do.""Emily," and Uncle Joseph spoke in an excited tone of voice, "If youhold these sentiments, you are unworthy of such a man as yourfather!""Brother, you must not speak to the girls in that way," said Mrs.Ludlow."I shall always speak my thoughts in your house Margaret," was thereply; "at least to you and the girls. As far as Mr. Ludlow isconcerned, I have rarely occasion to differ with him."A long silence followed, broken at last by an allusion to some othersubject; when a better understanding among all parties ensued.On that evening, Mr. Ludlow seemed graver than usual when he camein. After tea, Emily said, breaking in upon a conversation that hadbecome somewhat interesting to Mr. Ludlow--"I'm not going to let you have a moment's peace, Pa, until youconsent to go to England with us this season.""I'm afraid it will be a long time before I shall have any peace,then, Emily," replied the father, with an effort to smile, butevidently worried by the remark. This, Florence, who was sittingclose by him, perceived instantly, and said--"Well, I can tell you, for one, Pa, that I don't wish to go. I'drather stay at home a hundred times.""It's no particular difference, I presume, what you like," remarkedEmily, ill-naturedly. "If you don't wish to go, I suppose no onewill quarrel with you for staying at home.""You are wrong to talk so, Emily," said Mr. Ludlow, calmly butfirmly, "and I cannot permit such remarks in my presence."Emily looked rebuked, and Mr. Ludlow proceeded."As to going to London, that is altogether out of the question. Thereasons why it is so, are various, and I cannot now make youacquainted with all of them. One is, that I cannot leave my businessso long as such a journey would require. Another is, that I do notthink it altogether right for me to indulge you in such views andfeelings as you and Adeline are beginning to entertain. You wish togo to London, because you don't want to go to Saratoga, or to anyother of our watering places; and you don't want to go there,because certain others, whom you esteem below you in rank, canafford to enjoy themselves, and recruit their health at the sameplaces of public resort. All this I, do not approve, and cannotencourage.""You certainly cannot wish us to associate with every one," saidEmily, in a tone less arrogant."Of course not, Emily," replied Mr. Ludlow; "but I do most decidedlycondemn the spirit from which you are now acting. It would excludeothers, many of whom, in moral character, are far superior toyourself from enjoying the pleasant, health-imparting recreation ofa visit to the Springs, because it hurts your self-importance to bebrought into brief contact with them.""I can't understand what you mean by speaking of these kind ofpeople as superior in moral character to us," Mrs. Ludlow remarked."I said some of them. And, in this, I mean what I say. Wealth andstation in society do not give moral tone. They are altogetherextraneous, and too frequently exercise a deteriorating influenceupon the character. There is Thomas, the porter in my store--aplain, poor man, of limited education; yet possessing high moralqualities, that I would give much to call my own. This man'scharacter I esteem far above that of many in society to whom no onethinks of objecting. There are hundreds and thousands of humble andunassuming persons like him, far superior in the high moralqualities of mind to the mass of self-esteeming exclusives, whothink the very air around them tainted by their breath. Do yousuppose that I would enjoy less the pleasures of a few weeks atSaratoga, because Thomas was there? I would, rather, be gratified tosee him enjoying a brief relaxation, if his duties at the storecould be remitted in my absence."There was so much of the appearance of truth in what Mr. Ludlowsaid, combined with a decided tone and manner, that neither his wifeor daughters ventured a reply. But they had no affection for thetruth he uttered, and of course it made no salutary impression ontheir minds."What shall we do, Ma?" asked Adeline, as they sat with theirmother, on the next afternoon. "We must go somewhere this summer,and Pa seems in earnest about not letting us visit London.""I don't know, I am sure, child," was the reply."I can't think of going to Saratoga," said Emily, in a positivetone."The Emmersons are going," Adeline remarked."How do you know?" asked Emily, in a tone of surprise."Victorine told me so this morning.""She did!""Yes. I met her at Mrs. Lemmington's and she said that they were allgoing next week.""I don't understand that," said Emily, musingly."It was only last week that Victorine told me that they were donegoing to Saratoga; that the place had become too common. It had beensettled, she said, that they were to go out in the next steamer.""Mr. Emmerson, I believe, would not consent, and so, rather than notgo anywhere, they concluded to visit Saratoga, especially as theLesters, and Milfords, and Luptons are going.""Are they all going?" asked Emily, in renewed surprise."So Victorine said.""Well, I declare! there is no kind of dependence to be placed inpeople now-a-days. They all told me that they could not think ofgoing to such a vulgar place as Saratoga again."Then, after a pause, Emily resumed,"As it will never do to stay at home, we will have to go somewhere.What do you think of the Virginia Springs, Ma?""I think that I am not going there, to be jolted half to death in astage coach by the way.""Where, then, shall we go?""I don't know, unless to Saratoga.""Victorine said," remarked Adeline, "that a large number ofdistinguished visiters were to be there, and that it was thought theseason would be the gayest spent for some time.""I suppose we will have to go, then," said Emily."I am ready," responded Adeline.""And so am I," said Florence.That evening Mr. Ludlow was graver and more silent than usual. Aftertea, as he felt no inclination to join in the general conversationabout the sayings and doings of distinguished and fashionableindividuals, he took a newspaper, and endeavored to becomeinterested in its contents. But he tried in vain. There wassomething upon his mind that absorbed his attention at the same timethat it oppressed his feelings. From a deep reverie he was at lengthroused by Emily, who said--"So, Pa, you are determined not to let us go out in the nextsteamer?""Don't talk to me on that subject any more, if you please," repliedMr. Ludlow, much worried at the remark."Well, that's all given up now," continued Emily, "and we've made upour minds to go to Saratoga. How soon will you be able to go withus?""Not just now," was the brief, evasive reply."We don't want to go until next week.""I am not sure that I can go even then.""O, but we must go then, Pa.""You cannot go without me," said Mr. Ludlow, in a grave tone."Of course not," replied Emily and Adeline at the same moment."Suppose, then, I cannot leave the city next week?""But you can surely.""I am afraid not. Business matters press upon me, and will, I fear,engage my exclusive attention for several weeks to come.""O, but indeed you must lay aside business," said Mrs. Ludlow. "Itwill never do for us to stay at home, you knows during the seasonwhen everybody is away.""I shall be very sorry if circumstances arise to prevent you havingyour regular summer recreation," was replied, in a serious, even sadtone. "But, I trust my wife and daughters will acquiesce withcheerfulness.""Indeed, indeed, Pa! We never can stay at home," said Emily, with adistressed look. "How would it appear? What would people say if wewere to remain in the city during all the summer?""I don't know, Emily, that you should consider that as having anyrelation to the matter. What have other people to do with matterswhich concerns us alone?""You talk very strangely of late, Mr. Ludlow," said his wife."Perhaps I have reason for so doing," he responded, a shadowflitting across his face.An embarrassing silence ensued, which was broken, at last, by Mr.Ludlow."Perhaps," he began, "there may occur no better time than thepresent, to apprise you all of a matter that must, sooner or later,become known to you. We will have to make an effort to reduce ourexpenses--and it seems to me that this matter of going to theSprings, which will cost some three or four hundred dollars, mightas well be dispensed with. Business is in a worse condition than Ihave ever known it; and I am sustaining, almost daily, losses thatare becoming alarming. Within the last six weeks I have lost, beyondhope, at least twenty thousand dollars. How much more will go I amunable to say. But there are large sums due me that may follow thecourse of that already gone. Under these circumstances, I am drivento the necessity of prudence in all my expenditures.""But three or four hundred are not much, Pa," Emily urged, in ahusky voice, and with dimmed eyes. For the fear of not being able togo somewhere, was terrible to her. None but vulgar people staid athome during the summer season."It is too large a sum to throw away now. So I think you had allbetter conclude at once not to go from home this summer," said Mr.Ludlow.A gush of tears from Emily and Adeline followed this annunciation,accompanied by a look of decided disapprobation from the mother. Mr.Ludlow felt deeply tried, and for some moments his resolutionwavered; but reason came to his aid, and he remained firm. He wasaccounted a very rich merchant. In good times, he had entered intobusiness, and prosecuted it with great energy. The consequence was,that he had accumulated money rapidly. The social elevationconsequent upon this, was too much for his wife. Her good sensecould not survive it. She not only became impressed with the idea,that, because she was richer, she was better than others, but thatonly such customs were to be tolerated in "good society," as weredifferent from prevalent usages in the mass. Into this idea her twoeldest daughters were thoroughly inducted. Mr. Ludlow, immersed inbusiness, thought little about such matters, and suffered himself tobe led into almost anything that his wife and daughters proposed.But Mrs. Ludlow's brother--Uncle Joseph, as he was called--abachelor, and a man of strong common sense, steadily opposed hissister in her false notions, but with little good effect. Necessityat last called into proper activity the good sense of Mr. Ludlow,and he commenced the opposition that has just been noticed. Afterreflecting some time upon the matter, he resolved not to assent tohis family leaving home at all during the summer.All except Florence were exceedingly distressed at this. Sheacquiesced with gentleness and patience, although she had muchdesired to spend a few weeks at Saratoga. But Mrs. Ludlow, Emily,and Adeline, closed up the front part of the house, and gavedirections to the servants not to answer the door bell, nor to doanything that would give the least suspicion that the family were intown. Then ensconcing themselves in the back buildings of theirdwelling, they waited in gloomy indolence for the "out of the city"season to pass away; consoling themselves with the idea, that ifthey were not permitted to join the fashionables at the Springs, itwould at lest be supposed that they had gone some where into thecountry, and thus they hoped to escape the terrible penalty oflosing caste for not conforming to an indispensable rule of highlife.Mr. Ludlow was compelled to submit to all this, and he did sowithout much opposition; but it all determined him to commence asteady opposition to the false principles which prompted such absurdobservances. As to Uncle Joseph, he was indignant, and failing togain admittance by way of the front door after one or two trials,determined not to go near his sister and nieces, a promise which hekept for a few weeks, at least.Meantime, every thing was passing off pleasantly at Saratoga. Amongthe distinguished and undistinguished visitors there, was MaryJones, and her father, a man of both wealth and worth,notwithstanding he was only a watchmaker and jeweller. Mary was agirl of no ordinary character. With beauty of person far exceedingthat of the Misses Ludlow, she had a well cultivated mind, and wasfar more really and truly accomplished than they were. Necessarily,therefore, she attracted attention at the Springs; and this had beenone cause of Emily's objection to her.A day or two after her arrival at Saratoga, she was sitting near awindow of the public parlor of one of the hotels, when a young man,named Armand, whom she had seen there several times before, duringthe watering season, in company with Emily Ludlow, with whose familyhe appeared to be on intimate terms came up to her and introducedhimself."Pardon me, Miss Jones," said he, "but not seeing any of the MissLudlows here, I presumed that you might be able to inform me whetherthey intend visiting Saratoga or not, this season, and, therefore, Ihave broken through all formalities in addressing you. You are wellacquainted with Florence, I believe?""Very well, sir," Mary replied."Then perhaps you can answer my question?""I believe I can, sir. I saw Florence several times within the lastweek or two; and she says that they shall not visit any of theSprings this season.""Indeed! And how comes that?""I believe the reason is no secret," Mary replied, utterlyunconscious that any one could be ashamed of a right motive, andthat an economical one. "Florence tells me that her father has metwith many heavy losses in business; and that they think it best notto incur any unnecessary expenses. I admire such a course in them.""And so do I, most sincerely," replied Mr. Armand. Then, afterthinking for a moment, he added--"I will return to the city in the next boat. All of their friendsbeing away, they must feel exceedingly lonesome.""It will certainly be a kind act, Mr. Armand, and one, the motivefor which they cannot but highly appreciate," said Mary, with aninward glow of admiration.It was about eleven o'clock on the next day that Mr. Armand pulledthe bell at the door of Mr. Ludlow's beautiful dwelling, and thenwaited with a feeling of impatience for the servant to answer thesummons. But he waited in vain. No servant came. He rang again, andagain waited long enough for a servant to come half a dozen times.Then he looked up at the house and saw that all the shutters wereclosed; and down upon the marble steps, and perceived that they werecovered with dust and dirt; and on the bell-handle, and noted itsloss of brightness."Miss Jones must have been mistaken," he said to himself, as he gavethe bell a third pull, and then waited, but in vain, for thehall-door to be swung open."Who can it be?" asked Emily, a good deal disturbed, as the bellrang violently for the third time, and in company with Adeline, wentsoftly into the parlor to take a peep through one of the shutters."Mr. Armand, as I live!" she ejaculated, in a low, husky whisper,turning pale. "I would not have him know that we are in town forthe world!"And then she stole away quietly, with her heart leaping andfluttering in her bosom, lest he should instinctively perceive herpresence.Finding that admission was not to be obtained, Mr. Armand concludedthat the family had gone to some other watering place, and turnedaway irresolute as to his future course. As he was passing downBroadway, he met Uncle Joseph."So the Ludlows are all out of town," he said."So they are not!" replied Uncle Joseph, rather crustily, for he hadjust been thinking over their strange conduct, and it irritated him."Why, I have been ringing there for a quarter of an hour, and no onecame to the door; and the house is all shut up.""Yes; and if you had ringing for a quarter of a century, it wouldall have been the same.""I can't understand you," said Mr. Armand."Why, the truth is, Mr. Ludlow cannot go to the Springs with themthis season, and they are so afraid that it will become known thatthey are burying themselves in the back part of the house, anddenying all visiters.""Why so? I cannot comprehend it.""All fashionable people, you know, are expected to go to thesea-shore or the Springs; and my sister and her two eldest daughtersare so silly, as to fear that they will lose caste, if it is knownthat they could not go this season. Do you understand now?""Perfectly.""Well, that's the plain A B C of the case. But it provokes me out ofall patience with them.""It's a strange idea, certainly," said Mr. Armand, in momentaryabstraction of thought; and then bidding Uncle Joseph good morning,he walked hastily along, his mind in a state of fermentation.The truth was, Mr. Armand had become much attached to Emily Ludlow,for she was a girl of imposing appearance and winning manners. Butthis staggered him. If she were such a slave to fashion andobservance, she was not the woman for his wife. As he reflected uponthe matter, and reviewed his intercourse with her, he could remembermany things in her conversation and conduct that he did not like. Hecould distinctly detect a degree of self-estimation consequent uponher station in society, that did not meet his approbation--becauseit indicated a weakness of mind that he had no wish to have in awife. The wealth of her father he had not regarded, nor did nowregard, for he was himself possessor of an independence.Two days after, he was again at Saratoga. The brief interview thathad passed between him and Mary Jones was a sufficient introductionfor him; and, taking advantage of it, he threw himself in her wayfrequently, and the more he saw of her, the more did he admire herwinning gentleness, sweet temper, and good sense. When he returnedto New York, he was more than half in love with her."Mr. Armand has not been to see us once this fall," said Adeline,one evening in October. They were sitting in a handsomely furnishedparlor in a neat dwelling, comfortable and commodious, but not sosplendid as the one they had occupied a few months previous. Mr.Ludlow's affairs had become so embarrassed, that he determined, inspite of the opposition of his family, to reduce his expenses. Thisresolution he carried out amid tears and remonstrances--for he couldnot do it in any other way."Who could expect him to come here?" Emily replied, to the remarkof her sister. "Not I, certainly.""I don't believe that would make any difference with him," Florenceventured to say, for it was little that she could say, that did notmeet with opposition."Why don't you?" asked Adeline."Because Mary Jones--""Mary Jones again!" ejaculated Emily. "I believe you don't think ofanybody but Mary Jones. I'm surprised that Ma lets you visit thatgirl!""As good people as I am visit her," replied Florence. "I've seenthose there who would be welcome here.""What do you mean?""If you had waited until I had finished my sentence, you would haveknown before now. Mary Jones lives in a house no better than this,and Mr. Armand goes to see her.""I don't believe it!" said Emily, with emphasis."Just as you like about that. Seeing is believing, they say, and asI have seen him there, I can do no less than believe he was there.""When did you see him there?" Emily now asked with eager interest,while her face grew pale."I saw him there last evening--and he sat conversing with Mary in away that showed them to be no strangers to each other."A long, embarrassed, and painful silence followed this announcement.At last, Emily got up and went off to her chamber, where she threwherself upon her bed and burst into tears. After these ceased toflow, and her mind had become, in some degree, tranquillized, herthoughts became busy. She remembered that Mr. Armand had called,while they were hiding away in fear lest it should be known thatthey were not on a fashionable visit to some watering place--how hehad rung and rung repeatedly, as if under the idea that they werethere, and how his countenance expressed disappointment as shecaught a glimpse of it through the closed shutters. With all thiscame, also, the idea that he might have discovered that they were athome, and have despised the principle from which they acted, in thusshutting themselves up, and denying all visiters. This thought wasexceedingly painful. It was evident to her, that it was not theirchanged circumstances that kept him away--for had he not visitedMary Jones?Uncle Joseph came in a few evenings afterwards, and during his visitthe following conversation took place."Mr. Armand visits Mary Jones, I am told," Adeline remarked, as anopportunity for saying so occurred."He does? Well, she is a good girl--one in a thousand," repliedUncle Joseph."She is only a watchmaker's daughter," said Emily, with anill-concealed sneer."And you are only a merchant's daughter. Pray, what is thedifference?""Why, a good deal of difference!""Well state it.""Mr. Jones is nothing but a mechanic.""Well?""Who thinks of associating with mechanics?""There may be some who refuse to do so; but upon what grounds dothey assume a superiority?""Because they are really above them.""But in what respect?""They are better and more esteemed in society.""As to their being better, that is only an assumption. But I see Imust bring the matter right home. Would you be really any worse,were your father a mechanic?""The question is not a fair one. You suppose an impossible case.""Not so impossible as you might imagine. You are the daughter of amechanic.""Brother, why will you talk so? I am out of all patience with you!"said Mrs. Ludlow, angrily."And yet, no one knows better than you, that I speak only the truth.No one knows better than you, that Mr. Ludlow served many years atthe trade of a shoemaker. And that, consequently, these high-mindedyoung ladies, who sneer at mechanics, are themselves a shoemaker'sdaughters--a fact that is just as well known abroad as anything elserelating to the family. And now, Misses Emily and Adeline, I hopeyou will hereafter find it in your hearts to be a little moretolerant of mechanics daughters."And thus saying, Uncle Joseph rose, and bidding them good night,left them to their own reflections, which were not of the mostpleasant character, especially as the mother could not deny theallegation he had made.During the next summer, Mr. Ludlow, whose business was no longerembarrassed, and who had become satisfied that, although he shouldsink a large proportion of a handsome fortune, he would still have acompetence left, and that well secured--proposed to visit Saratoga,as usual. There was not a dissenting voice--no objecting on thescore of meeting vulgar people there. The painful fact disclosed byUncle Joseph, of their plebeian origin, and the marriage of Mr.Armand--whose station in society was not to be questioned--with MaryJones, the watchmaker's daughter, had softened and subdued theirtone of feeling, and caused them to set up a new standard ofestimation. The old one would not do, for, judged by that, theywould have to hide their diminished heads. Their conduct at theSprings was far less objectionable than it had been heretofore,partaking of the modest and retiring in deportment, rather than theassuming, the arrogant, and the self-sufficient. Mrs. Armand wasthere, with her sister, moving in the first circles; and EmilyLudlow and her sister Adeline felt honored rather than humiliated byan association with them. It is to be hoped they will yet makesensible women.