The Man. A Story of To-day

BEAUTY’S BLOWOUTA FREE RIDEHOW ASPASIA HOBBS HOBNOBS WITH CAPTAIN KILBUCK AT NO. 10

Church goers yesterday morning in the vicinity of Main and Exchange streets were treated to the shocking sight of seeing one of Buffalo’s former society belles taking a ride with the genial Jimmy Smith, who received first prize in the recent Times contest as the most popular policeman in Buffalo.

Old residents well remember Hobbs, of Hobbs, Nobbs & Porcine, who skipped by the light of the moon to Canada, and the fair virgin in the patrol-wagon was none other than Aspasia Hobbs, daughter of the above. Now who says there is nothing in heredity? Aspasia was attired in her bare feet and a blue quilt which the officers provided for her for decency’s sake, and looked as if she had been having a high old time with the elderly hayseed seated in the wagon with her.

Well, the good book is right when it says, “There is no fool like an old fool.” Verily, when a woman falls she goes to depths to which a man can not descend. The festive Hobbs has been going it strong lately and as there are quite a number of charges against her, doubtless Judge Prince will do his duty. By the way, we hear the worthy judge has decided to accept the nomination for another term.

CHAPTER XXII.

BY THE WAY

Reader, pray do not be a fool and say this story is fiction. Would that part of it was! But the treatment I received by the mob on that terrible night is the most natural and easiest thing in the world under the present conditions of society. It may happen to you, and worse, anytime, in any town, village or city, from Boston to Texas – for humanity is the same wherever you go.

Woodbur and Bilkson arrived at the village of Jamison at eight o’clock on that Saturday evening. They called on the shoemaker, who was a justice of the peace, showed him their warrants for the arrest of “John Doe” and “Mary Roe,” supposed to be secreted in a log house in a certain woods two miles away. They desired to surround the house at three o’clock in the morning and capture the inmates, who were said to be desperate characters.

The shoemaker J. P. put on his specs, read the warrant with a great show of wisdom, said of course he would help make the capture, and so would his son Tom.

Tom was called in, told the circumstances, and requested to engage the services of two or three trusty men to go along. “But, Tom, mind you keep the matter quiet,” wound up the shoemaker.

So Tom promised, and of course told confidentially every one he saw that the “cranky old man and stuck up woman” they had seen, who lived in Smith’s log house up in the clearing, were escaped murderers, and that all who wanted to help make the capture must be at the tavern at three o’clock Sunday morning. Now excitement is a scarce article in country towns, and mankind is ever greedy for it; so at three o’clock the select male population of Jamison was at the tavern – mind you not bad people either, just good, plain, homely, honest citizens. Most of them would have been terribly insulted if you had hinted that they were not Christians.

I told you only one man out of fifty thinks, that the rest have no opinions but those furnished by parents, preachers and sophistical politicians. I do not say these opinions are error necessarily, but that they are simply borrowed. Having received this second-hand opinion, they will dig over the whole earth for reasons and excuses to defend it, honestly thinking the while they are in search of truth – mere followers of a bell-wether.

Bilkson just at this time was the aforesaid bell-wether. Someone said this man and woman were criminals (there is the opinion); therefore they must be – in fact, there was no proof to the contrary. Then they began to back up the opinion which had been so skilfully injected into them. They remembered certain blasphemous remarks of the man, for had he not said, “I am the son of God, and all men may be if they claim their heritage,” – “I have divine rights by reason of heavenly parentage,” – “A church is no more sacred than a blacksmith shop,” – “Sunday is no more holy than any other day, and a preacher’s calling no more sacred than a farmer’s,” – “No man by dying can wipe out the sins of others, but every man is a savior of his race who lashes himself to the mast of righteousness” etc.?

“Just as if there is any sense,” said the blacksmith, “in lashing one’s self to the mast except to save one’s self! He is a Catholic, too, for didn’t he say he not only worshiped Jesus but also His mother?” And another declared he had heard him say he not only worshiped the Virgin Mary, but all good women who conceived good thoughts and had high and holy aspirations. Then someone had asked him what worship was, and he said it “was not an act of the body, like going to a church and kneeling, but only that state of mind where the worshiper thought of the person or being worshiped with profound respect, good-will and love.”

The simple country people were very sure that any man who held such heretical beliefs was a rascal or worse, and being about like other people at the time, were honest in the belief that a man who rejects the Trinity cannot have much respect for the Ten Commandments. So they were glad of an opportunity to assist in ridding the community of a man who was endangering the religious faith of the young. In short, the man was corrupting the youth of Athens and must go.

On this particular occasion Bilkson was leader, for when a man assumes leadership and calls in a loud voice “Fall in everybody,” he is never without a following.

The persistent advertiser in trade is a self-appointed leader, and if he talks big and keeps his promise passably well, he can hold his followers for a time at least.

If you would go well-dressed, smiling, serene and confident, to the homes of any of these mobbers, they would acknowledge your superiority; and if you were only firm and plausible, they would grant you any favor and lend you any assistance you desired. You are leader then – not Bilkson. But woe betide you if cold, naked, a-hungered, you fall famishing on their doorsteps, and at the same time some Bilkson happens to point the finger of suspicion in your direction. You have no “inflooence.” “Inflooence” is king not only with Straight, superintendents of schools, and other politicians, but also in society and church. He who subscribes the largest amount to the pastor’s salary has the most to say in the management of the church, and if he becomes displeased he threatens to “come out,” (the “come outers” are numerous), and adds, “You know that if I go I do not go alone.” Thus does he shake his “inflooence” over us as a club, and we cringe, explain, apologize, and the fear that the big subscriber will tramp out with heavy tread, numerous following and fierce black looks, disappears as we see the great man placated by our abject attitude.

Fear of losing the favor of people of influence keeps men respectful and decent when nothing else will.

“Inflooence” is first cousin to Mrs. Grundy. Inflooence is king – Mrs. Grundy queen.

Note you how some men leave their quiet and virtuous homes where Mrs. Grundy’s goggle eyes are on every side, and go to New York where Mrs. Grundy is not watching them. How intent they are on seeing the “elephant,” and how they do buy green goods and gold bricks! Great is “Inflooence” – great is Mrs. Grundy!

A grimy tramp with thick neck and knotty club possesses “inflooence.” His wishes in rural districts at least are often respected.

Now you are a woman. You may be free from guilt and you may not, but if you are purity itself – sorrowfully do I say it! – in the year of Our Lord, 1891, innocence is not a sufficient shield; and if you are weak, weary and footsore, from the miles and miles you have come down through years of injustice, and the crowd is pressing you close with intent to stone you, it is a miracle if from out the mob there steps the commanding figure of a man, and raising his hand aloft to warn them back, says in a voice not loud but which all can hear,

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone!”

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FREEZER

The freezer in No. 10 police-station is a very warm place – an iron cage set up on a platform in a large stone room; said cage being made of iron bars, set three inches apart, with iron floor; the furniture consisting of just two pieces, a wooden bench and an iron bucket. This cage is open on all sides. “So as to give ventilation,” I was told by the officer who helped me up the steps. He remarked as the grated door swung to with a snap, “Oh, now me charmer, you will feel at home, for you have been here many a time afore. Oh, we knows you, we do. If yer wants anything jist tech the ’lectric bell.”

This kind of cell, I am told by those who have tried both, is much worse to be dreaded than a dungeon. Open on all sides, the light is glaring; and any one coming into the room, can walk around the cage, viewing the unhappy prisoner from every side.

It was eleven o’clock Sunday morning when I was locked up, and about every hour an officer came in and looked at me as though I were a wild beast. Once two men came together, and stood carrying on a joking conversation between themselves. One seemed to be a philosopher, for as they went out I heard him say, “It beats the devil to what depths a woman falls when she does go wrong!”

At six o’clock the captain came in, and he seemed more gentlemanly and considerate than any of the officers I had seen. He took off his cap, and leaning against the bars of my cage, said,

“Now, you woman, I am awful sorry for you and am going to help you out of this scrape. I know all about you just as well or better than you know yourself. In fact, your partner, the old man, has given the whole thing away – made a clear confess, don’t you know – and he will have to go down. Now if you will make a clean breast of it all, we can let you off. We already know all about it, but want you to confess just for a formality so as to lay the case before the judge, who is an awful tender-hearted man and does just as I tell him. Now, lady, what do you say? Come, now, shall I unlock that cage and take you in the office where we can write it all out? Come, now, why don’t you speak, haven’t you any tongue? Well, you are the queerest woman! Can’t talk – eh? Oh! well, it’s no difference to me of course. I just wanted to do you a favor, but you have about as much gratitude as most of the rest of the soiled doves. All right, you needn’t say a word if you don’t want to. Hey, you there, Murphy, don’t let anybody see this gal. Bread and water will do, too. She ain’t any appetite. Do you hear? – I’m going now, miss. If you have anything to say now is your time; but if you prefer to have the cage locked for a week or so, why I ’spose you must have your own way. We’re allus willing to oblige our guests, you know. Can’t even say thank you, can you?” (Hesitates at the door – looks back and goes).

Bang went the outside door and I was alone for the night – my only company four electric lights, which made a dazzling glare. I lay down on the bench and tried to sleep. Then I tried the floor. At last I propped the bench against the bars, and half-seated, half-reclining, the long hours passed as a fitful nightmare.

I have since learned that when Martha Heath saw me in the patrol-wagon she hastened straight to the station-house, but they told her I was not there, and showed her the blotter showing the name of “Mary Roe” – Bilkson having explained that my right name was unknown, and further by keeping a prisoner very close they are more apt to confess.

Martha insisted on seeing Mary Roe, who they said was asleep and must not be disturbed. “Call to-morrow,” they said. Martha still insisted, until the captain bawled out to the doorman, “Hey, you, have you got a vacant cell for this crazy woman?” Martha was not to be frightened by such a threat so she said, “All right, put me in a cell! I dare you to! I’m no better than Aspasia Hobbs, and you have locked her up.” The captain took the persistent Martha by the arm, and led her to the door and showed her down the steps.

The good girl saw she was powerless, and as my mother knew nothing about the matter she concluded to wait until Monday morning and then stir heaven and earth if needs be to get me out.

Monday morning, bright and early, Mr. Bilkson and Mr. Woodbur walked arm in arm down South Division street, to the cottage of Mrs. Hobbs, and Grimes showed them into the little parlor. Mrs. Hobbs entered, delighted to think two such eminent gentlemen should call on her; and in her joy she forgot the time of day, and believed it was only a social call, for on Delaware Avenue callers were constant. What is the matter with South Division street?

Both gentlemen shook hands with the widow. Then they whispered together. Then Woodbur said,

“Mr. Bilkson, will you please oblige the lady and also myself by assuming a standing position?”

Bilkson obeyed.

“Mr. Bilkson, now will you further oblige us by opening your mouth?”

Bilkson’s face opened in half, and revealed to the now thoroughly astonished woman a very lacerated set of gums and absence of front teeth.

“That will do, Mr. Bilkson. Now your eye.”

Mr. Bilkson removed the bandage from his left eye, and revealed a symphony in black, blue and yellow, shaded with green.

“That will do, Mr. Bilkson – be seated.”

Woodbur still remained standing in tragic attitude, with his right hand thrust in the bosom of his buttoned coat. Suddenly raising his voice he shouted,

“Madame, it was your daughter who done this – your daughter! Yes, madame, your daughter! Ah, you doubt it; but I have the proof, madame, the proof!” and he drew forth a copy of the Morning Times on which the ink was scarcely dry and read in a deep sepulchral voice the article which I have already mentioned, “Beauty’s Blowout,” etc.

Among his other accomplishments Mr. Woodbur was an elocutionist, and Grimes afterward told me that he read the article so effectively and with such fierce looks directed over the top of the paper at Mrs. Hobbs, that at the last words the good lady fell in hysterics on the sofa, screaming:

“Oh, my daughter, my adopted daughter! why did you do this? Why did you do it? Disgraced us! You have disgraced us! I, who before we bust, when we lived on the avenue, furnished you a chiropodist, and an elocootionist, and a manicure, and the best pew in the Rev. Doctor Fourthly’s! I, who educated you, and cared for you, and never let you go to the public but always sent you to a private school, and taught you dancing, French and music, and gave tiddle de winks and progressive eucher parties in your honor! Oh, why, w-w-w-h-y – d-d-did you do i-t-t-t!”

Dr. Bolus was hastily sent for and administered morphine and whisky. When my mother had been quieted (Woodbur and Bilkson had in the meantime departed), the doctor called in Grimes and demanded the reason of this row which had so unnerved Mrs. Hobbs.

“Some dam lie about ’Pasia that is in the paper,” said Grimes. “Two devils with high hats was here – one had no teeth – and they read the paper at Mrs. Hobbs’ head so she just throws up her hands and yells and yells and cries and shouts and thanks God that ’Pasia ain’t her own child. And then she cries agin and so she kep’ it up ’till you come.”

“Why, why this is queer, very strange! Two – what did you say they were that read the paper, Grimes? Strange! – Say, you black cub” (calling to a colored boy holding his horse at the door) “get up town, as quick as you can and get me a Times. Don’t play marbles on the way, or I’ll slice you up for a subject.”

The boy soon returned with the paper, and the doctor quickly adjusted his glasses and read the article. He dropped the paper from his hands and sat in amazement.

“It’s acute dementia, combined with melancholia! I knew it all along – hereditary! Who were her parents, Mrs. Hobbs? Ah, yes, you don’t know. That proves it – hereditary! Takes to crime like a duck to water. Why, she’s crazy, that’s all, Mrs. Hobbs, crazy as a bed bug! Now take these powders as I told you, Mrs. Hobbs – but then, we ought to get the girl out though. What’s that! Great God! She killed Bilkson did you say? Why didn’t you tell me five minutes ago that Bilkson was here? Oh, I see; she tried to kill him. That is different.”

“And it’s a pity she didn’t succeed!” broke in Grimes, who was standing in the doorway.

“Will you shut up, you old fool!” shouted the doctor. “How impertinent servants are getting now-a-days! Never mind, Grimesy, you don’t know any better. I’ll be here with my double carriage at one o’clock, and we will all go up and get Aspasia out. Oh, I say, Grimes, if the old lady has ’em again just put the powders in the whisky and give her a tablespoonful every ten minutes until she lets up – hear?”

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE TRIAL

Scene – The freezer – enter Officer Murphy with big bunch of keys – unlocks door of cage.

Murphy – Now, you there, lady, make yer toilet and fix yer finery for in fifteen minutes the court opens and yer the first on the docket. Doctor Bolus axed yer a lot of questions didn’t he? Lord, how scared he was when I told him I was going to let you out of the cage! And yer old woman sniveled too, and stood off clear to one side as if you was goin’ to make a swipe at her. Why wouldn’t you talk to ’em, my dear? You was confidential enough with that black-eyed young woman. She knows more than Bolus and all of ’em. She gave me a dollar and said I should get yer a nice breakfast, and you got it too, didn’t you? Well, here’s the dollar, I don’t want it. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout you except what the black-eyed one said, but yer all right, I know you is. It’s all a great big fool blunder, that’s what it is. The captain has let that Woodbur shyster razzle-dazzle him – beg yer pardon, miss, I didn’t mean to swear. Oh, I didn’t swear though, did I? But my feelins is so worked up since the black-eyed one told me of you that I come dam near swearin’ right afore you. Yes, yer looks all right. Yer ain’t exact the size of the black-eyed one, but then her close fits ye pretty fair. Come on now and don’t be scared – see. Ye haven’t cried yet and ye mustn’t now or I will slop over myself. The jedge tries to look awful cross, but he isn’t half as bad as folks think he is. Don’t be scared of him, and if he is not too full yer will get off easy.

Scene – Police court – Judge Prince on throne – Officer Donahue with brass buttons, helmet and club, stands by side of throne – Hustler, Bilkson and Woodbur holding conversation – Mixed crowd of onlookers in the background.

[Oyez, Oyez, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera].

Judge Prince (Reading.) “Mary Roe, right name unknown. First charge, larceny in taking glue from factory of Hustler & Co. Second charge, drunk and disorderly. Third charge, assault with intent to kill.” (Spoken) Now, Mr. Woodbur, you represent the prosecution – which charge are you going to try her on? Oh! I see, last first – assault. Well, bring on your witnesses, and quick, too – here are (counting) twenty-one bums on the list and the Polish church riot, besides – let ’er go, Gallagher! Bilkson, the name is – first name? Why yes, of course, in my unofficial capacity I know your name, but the court is not supposed to know nothing – Woodbur, can’t you let up on that chuckle? John Bilkson – what the devil’s name is the man standing like that with his mouth open? Why, someone might fall in. Oh, your teeth are gone! Yes, I see. Keep the beefsteak on the peeper – it will soon be all right. The Express tried to give me a black-eye too, last ’lection. Did they do it? Not if the court house understands itself as Shallkopp says. Yes, she rides a bicycle – that’s right, make her out as bad as you can – hold on, let me write that down (writing – to the officer standing like a statue near) Donahue, how the devil do you spell it? Bi – call it a b-i-k-e and let ’er go? Yes – go on. I am all ears. (In a roar.) Silence in the court.

You tried to make the arrest peaceably, an’ then you went up the ladder and she hit you with an ax – not an ax though, Bilkson, come off, it would have gone clear through your skull, thick as it is. Oh, let up! She hit you, that is enough – with an u-n-k-n-o-w-n w-e-e-p-u-n. All right, go on – Donahue, make the cod dab fool shut up that cavern. Haven’t you showed me three times she knocked your teeth out?

Oh, yes, you searched the house and didn’t find any glue. Well, what if she did carry off a package every Saturday – how do you know it was glue? Hasn’t anyone got a right to carry a package without being jumped on by a fool glue-maker? – Well, that is all right – let me say a word now and then – there ain’t no proof she ever stole a cent’s worth of glue; and what’s more, you hadn’t any business out there tryin’ to get up in her room at three o’clock in the morning when you hadn’t any appointment with her – (aside – Eh! Donahue, how’s that!!) No, sir; and you too, Woodbur, you old stick-fast, what the devil are you always tryin’ to get decent folks in trouble for? Haven’t women got hard enough time to get along without being dogged by a pot-bellied shyster, a cross between a detective and an attorney, who sports a high white hat with a black band, which means he is in mourning for his lost virtue? – Shut up, will you. Don’t talk back to me, Woodbur! I’m on to you with both feet. You haven’t proved a thing against the gal or against the man. The old fellow enticed the gal off, into the woods did he? How do you know he did, are you a mind reader? Well, I see no fault in him. I’ll scourge him and let him go – that is, I’ll fine him five dollars on general principles for disorderly conduct and kick him out. Will you shut up, you dirty blackguard! Confound you Woodbur, who is running this court anyway, you or me? What do I care for Doctor Bolus? To hell with Bolus! Where is he? I’ll give him thirty days. The girl ain’t crazy. She ain’t crazy, I tell you – she has got more sense than anyone in the court room but me – (aside – Eh, Donahue?) Of course she wouldn’t answer their questions. Neither would I. Here you arrest a man and woman on a mere groundless suspicion, or ’cause you got a spite against them, and then the whole police department turns to and tries to justify the arrest by blackening their characters. When you once puts your claws on a man you turn the county upside down and wrong side out to convict him – when you know he ain’t guilty, but you just work to make a reputation for yourself. I’m drunk, am I, Bilkson? Here you clerk, Mr. Bilkson is fined five dollars for contempt of court. What’s that? I have no right to fine you? Oh, no, that’s so, I haven’t? – make it ten, Mr. Clerk. No, sir, I won’t even fine the old man, but I’ll fine you, Woodbur, if you give me any more of your jaw. You Balaam’s ass – you make me weary! You say you found ’em out there together. Well, you old reprobate, hasn’t the gal reached the age of consent? (Aside – Eh – Donahue, how’s that?) Silence in the court!! Git out of here, Mary Roe alias Aspasia Hobbs. Bounce you, John Doe, and never show up here again! You’re old enough to know better. Great Scott, Bilkson, haven’t you shut up that cavern yet? Yes, I know she knocked out your teeth. I’m dab glad of it. (Aside – Eh! Donahue?)

Next!

Martha Heath took my arm as we walked down the steps from the court-room, and The Man walked by my side. I looked at him, and on the gentle face I saw not the slightest look of trouble, unrest or nervous tension. While my nerves were completely unstrung by the last three days’ experience, he looked as refreshed as if he had just come from the quiet and restful woods. He was hatless – the same magnificent poise of the head – calm, serene. He turned on me those wondering gentle eyes as we stood on the walk for an instant. He did not speak. I noted the firm chest, the strongly corded neck, the massive head with its snow-white wavy hair, face large-featured and bronzed by the kiss of the summer sun, lean of flesh as though chiseled by manly abstinence, plain, but all stamped with the seal of fearless honesty, the lips parted showing the strong white teeth, the voice came low but firm,

“If I go away I will come again,” – he turned and was lost in the crowd.

THE END

1

For fear that some may imagine that the character of Mr. Straight, superintendent of schools, is untrue to life, and that such a man could not hold the position, it must be explained that in the city of Buffalo this office is an elective one, and is held by the person able to control the caucus and secure the votes; so very naturally the gentleman has an eye on next year’s election, and when he appoints new teachers he accepts those (provided of course they are competent) who are best backed up by influential friends. It must be said, however, that the present incumbent of the office alluded to is a most worthy and competent man, and also that the school-teachers of Buffalo outrank in fitness those of most other cities; but these two facts do not in the least condone the dangerous principle of having the office of Superintendent of Schools a political one.