Robert Fitzgerald

"And now, Van Rensselaer," said Colonel Manysnifters, "it's around to you. I reckon you have something up your sleeve that will surprise us, eh?" The debonair Congressman from the Empire State was quite equal to the occasion. He seemed primed and ready, and needed no further urging. There was another hiss of soda, the clink of glasses, and with a prolonged sigh of satisfaction he began.

"This is a true tale, and unfolded now for the first time. Harken unto the evidence.

"It was a lovely afternoon in early spring, and 'The Avenue' was alive with a leisurely moving throng—for no one hurries in Washington. I strolled along, thoroughly enjoying the balmy weather, the crowds, and the charm of it all. About four o'clock hundreds of government clerks streamed out sluggishly from the side streets. At the crossings fakirs were busy, their customers good-naturedly elbowing each other in their eagerness to be swindled. And violets everywhere! The air was filled with the scent of them. Men, women, and children with trays piled high with the tiny purple and white flowers were doing a tremendous business; their customers ranging from dignified statesmen to the loudly dressed Afro-American gayly swinging along. Out of the fashionable Northwest came many carriages, passing from the grim shadow of the Treasury into the sunlit way beyond. The trend of movement was eastward—always eastward—toward the great white dome on the hill. Congress was in session, and history was making there. The war debate was on in all its fury, with the whole world listening breathlessly. Pictures of the ill-fated Maine were much in evidence, and maps of Cuba in the shop windows were closely scanned. The probability of war with Spain was loudly and boastfully discussed by seedy looking men in front of the cheaper hotels and restaurants. Extra editions of the New York papers with huge scare headlines were eagerly bought up. The latest news from the Capitol—via New York—was seized upon with avidity. The papers were filled with the rumored departure of the American Consul-General from Havana. 'Twas said that he was coming direct to Washington. His portrait and the Maine lithographs were hung side by side, and the people spoke of 'Our Fitz' with enthusiastic affection. The President and his Cabinet were roundly censured for their policy of moderation. Much whiskey and beer was consumed by thirsty patriots. The pent-up feeling of the people found relief here and there by loud cheering—especially at the bulletin boards. Tiny Cuban flags were worn. Crossed American and Cuban flags were everywhere displayed.

"The De Lome incident—the intercepted letter of the imprudent Spanish Minister, and his subsequent disgrace and recall—was another much-discussed topic. It was an open secret, especially among the newspaper fraternity and others in the know, that the former minister had dispensed with lavish hand a corruption fund to influence writers on the American press. A little clique of journalists in and around the Capitol had profited greatly. Information about alleged filibuster movements found a ready market at the Spanish legation. These, and a dozen other subjects relative to the momentous events then impending, occupied the thoughts of a highly excited public.

"That walk down Pennsylvania Avenue from the Treasury to the Capitol opened my eyes wider than ever to the fact that the popular clamor was for war, war, the sooner the better. The sentiment in Washington voiced that of the entire country. Similar scenes were occurring in all the large cities, and I could fancy the crowd at the home post-office waiting for the latest Buffalo papers, hear the warm debate at Steve Warner's, and see Major Kirkpatrick haranguing the boys from the steps of the city hall; which, in fact, he did. (See the Hiram Intelligencer of that date.)

"Henley of Iowa had the floor when I took my seat in the House. The galleries were filled. It was warm in the chamber, and fans, bright bits of color, waved briskly. In the Diplomatic gallery the representatives of many nations seemed anxious and absorbed. Subdued murmurs of applause, like the hum of a mighty hive, arose at the telling points of the speech, which was for war! war! war! The galleries reeked with enthusiasm, and quailed not before the stern eye of the Speaker.

"Notwithstanding Henley's fiery eloquence, I was desperately sleepy, having been up late the night before; indeed, there were streaks of rosy light in the eastern sky when I reached my hotel. I found myself nodding at my desk, and it was with an effort that I turned to the work which had accumulated before me. An enormous mail had arrived. The usual place-hunting letters from constituents, a petition from the Women's Christian Temperance Union of Hiram Center protesting against the sale of liquor at the Capitol, invitations to dine, a tempting mining prospectus, circulars without number, and at the bottom of the pile a square blue affair with the Washington postmark. I gave it my immediate attention. The letter began abruptly, and ran as follows:

"'Ah, senor, have you forgotten Saratoga, and the little Mercedes? Have you forgotten your promise to the Cuban girl? Surely not! The pain in my heart you must well understand, for I know that you love your country very dearly. I read your speeches—all of them—I read them in the papers, but not a word for Cuba—my poor, bleeding Cuba! And yet you swore to me that night on the veranda, with the moon shining so softly through the vines, that your voice would ever be raised for Cuba—Cuba Libre! Would I have kissed you else? Now, dear friend, when you make one of your beautiful speeches again, think of Cuba, my gasping, dying Cuba, and

"'Mercedes.

"'P. S.—I am in Washington, at the Arlington.—M.'

"This was interesting, to say the least. Of course, I remembered Mercedes, and old Villasante, her fat papa, and Manuel the brother, and Alejandro the cousin. Yes, I remembered them all very well and the night on the veranda, with the moon shining softly through the vines, the music floating out to us from the ballroom, the innumerable bumpers with Manuel Villasante, Carlos Amezaga, Alejandro Menendez, and others of the Cuban colony at the hotel. Also the promise made to my lovely partner as to the voice for Cuba—Cuba Libre!—when I took my seat in Congress; the warm pressure of her arms around my neck—and the kiss! How could I forget it? But that was two summers ago, and my views now and then were vastly different. Whatever I may have said under the combined witchery of Mercedes, the moonlight, and the champagne was not to be seriously considered now. Like all Americans and lovers of liberty, I thought of course that Cuba should be free, that she should make every effort toward that much-to-be-desired end, but the idea of my own country stepping in to aid her did not strongly appeal to me. While Cuban affairs elicited the warmest interest in the States, those of our people who had actively assisted the patriots had become involved in endless trouble both with the home government and that of Spain. Filibustering was severely frowned upon, and many recent attempts had proven most disastrous, jeopardizing both the lives of the 'patriots' and the entente cordiale between two great and friendly nations. The blowing up of the Maine, undoubtedly the work of Cuban insurgents in order to hasten hostilities with Spain, had rendered the situation most acute. Pledged to the Administration, I was a conservative of conservatives. I was therefore opposed to any interference in Cuban affairs, and I regarded a conflict with Spain as the height of folly. I was determined to fight to the bitter end any measure for war.

The Kiss!

"With all this in mind, I tore up the fair Cuban's letter and threw it into the waste-basket. At that very moment a page hurried to my side and handed me a card.

"Manuel Villasante was waiting to see me!

"I went out to him most reluctantly. He greeted me with enthusiasm; his delight amounting almost to rapture. I am afraid I did not meet him half way, nor anywhere near it. He did not appear to notice it.

"'My dear, dear friend,' said he, 'this is a sublime moment! To see you, the gay companion, the good fellow, the butterfly, I may say, of other days, a member of this great body is certainly soul-stirring! So you have realized your ambition? What next? The Senate? And then—then?' he pointed upward, 'higher yet? and still higher? Ha! The White House? Who knows?' he whispered prophetically.

"I cast my eyes modestly to the floor.

"'This is quite enough for me, or any other good American; but, Senor, tell me about your father and the Senorita, your sister; are they well? And how long have you been in Washington? It is certainly good to see you again.'

"'We are all here for a few days—my father, my sister, and I. You know we are living in New York this winter?'

"'In New York, eh? Fine! It is strange,' I continued, 'but I was thinking of you and your family the very moment your card was brought in.'

"'Ah, my friend,' he said mysteriously, 'you know what it is, do you not? It is the mental telepathy. I have known of things most wonderful to happen by the mental telepathy. Only yesterday my sister Mercedes——'

"'Quite right,' said I, heading him off, and remembering something I had read not long before, 'it is indeed a wonderful, subtle thing. We live in the midst of the unknown. Unseen forces drag us hither and thither. At times we are brought face to face with the occult, the eerie, the gruesome. Charcot says in his superb work on the subject that—er—that—well, we will hardly go into it now. Some other time. The matter is a profound one, and not to be touched upon lightly. How is my old friend Alejandro Menendez?'

"'He is well, but—sh! Caution! Are we quite safe here? Yes? It is a great secret, but I tell you—you, a trusted friend. I tell you all! Alejandro Menendez is at this very moment approaching the shores of our beloved isle! I can see it now—the beautiful yacht, the calm blue sea, the brave patriots, and our glorious flag floating in the breeze! And a more magnificent body of men never set forth in a grander cause; with hearts full of courage and high purpose to fight, aye, to die, in the sacred cause of Liberty!'

"'That's great!' said I, with a burst of false enthusiasm, 'great! never heard anything better in my life! Villasante, old fellow, put it there! I admire your ner—feeling!' And we clasped hands.

"'And you will join them?' I added.

"'No, not yet,' he said, with an expressive shrug; 'I am more needed elsewhere; here—in New York. There is money to be raised, arms and ammunition to be procured, sympathies to enlist, influence to gain. Later, I will see Alejandro, and the beautiful Sylph.'

"'The what?' I asked, rising excitedly.

"'The Sylph—the Sylph—queen of vessels! Senor Robson's yacht. Senor Robson—the tall handsome fellow who was with us at the Spa. You know him.'

"'Know him? Of course I know him! Robson? Robson a filibuster? Impossible!'

"'Why so?' asked the Cuban coldly.

"'Hell, man!' I said, 'don't you realize what it all means?—certain failure, disgrace, death! My God, what folly!'

"'Never, never!' shouted Villasante, waving his arms. 'Glory awaits them! The plaudits of the world! The embraces and blessings of a freed people! Laurel wreaths shall crown their brows! Poets shall chant their praises! History will render them immortal! Oh, what an opportunity is theirs! And everything has been most carefully planned. 'Twas Robson's own idea. A picked lot of men, with rifles and ammunition. He to command the vessel; Menendez to assume the lead on landing. Their destination, co-operation with the patriots on shore, supplies—everything has been arranged for. As to their success, I have no fear whatsoever!'

"I was aghast! The thought that my hare-brained cousin was engaged in such a foolhardy expedition was maddening. I loved the boy as a brother—indeed he was my foster-brother, brought up in my own family, and regarded as one of us. The Cuban studied my face curiously.

"'Senor,' said he gravely, 'knowing your sentiments, I came here to-day for advice. There is much more to be told. Every moment is precious. To-morrow in New York——'

"'Stop!' I thundered, 'you have gone too far already! There is some mistake. You are laboring under a delusion. I will tell you frankly, Villasante, that you misjudge me. Many things have happened since I saw you at Saratoga two years ago. My views upon public questions have changed, as a more intimate acquaintance with any subject is apt to effect. I should like to see your country self-governed, the Spanish yoke overthrown, and liberty in its best sense gained; but the United States must keep her hands off! It would mean war with a friendly nation, an ancient ally. In other words, there would be the Devil to pay! Can't you see our position in the matter?'

"'Caramba!' (or something like that) exclaimed Villasante excitedly, walking up and down, and clenching his fists. 'Your country must aid us! We can not free ourselves—quite impossible! We are weak; Spain is mighty! For centuries she has held us in her torturing grasp! It has been a continual drain of our blood, our pride, our gold, and all that goes to make for the self-respect and prosperity of a nation! Cuba is desolated! She cries for aid—first to you; if unheeded, then to the whole world! Shall the Pearl of the Antilles fall to Germany, France, or England?'

"'Not while the Monroe Doctrine is respected and enforced, as it will be!' said I spread-eagle-ly.

"'Your Monroe Doctrine, bah, I care not that for it!' said he, snapping his fingers. 'Let the United States look to herself if she refuses to help us! As for you, Senor,' he continued in milder tones, but with a threatening note, 'if, as you tell me, you are no longer our friend, as a gentleman you will at least respect the secret that I have so ill-advisedly betrayed to you. My kinsman's life, as well as that of the Captain Robson, depend upon your silence. I rather think you will do us no harm, eh?' And there he had me. If I was ever disposed to violate his confidence, the fact that I would thereby jeopardize my young cousin would effectually deter me. I assured the tempestuous fellow that his secret was safe with me, and after a few moments we parted, with a great show of politeness on both sides. I was glad to have him go.

"Again back in my seat my reflections were anything but pleasing. It was harrowing to think of Charlie Robson so completely in the power of these desperadoes, his probable fate, and the grief of his family and friends. And what could I do to save him? My hands were completely tied.

"The Villasante family and I were under the same roof, all of us being at the Arlington, but I hoped to avoid seeing them. Certainly, after my talk with Manuel, a meeting would be anything but agreeable. With these and a thousand other perplexing thoughts I left the House, hailed a cab, and was hurried to my hotel.

"While dressing for dinner there came a discreet knock at the door, and Manuel Villasante glided in.

Manuel Villasante.

"I was distinctly annoyed.

"'Pardon this intrusion, Senor,' he said courteously, 'also what I may have said to you this afternoon. I was excited—distressed—wounded to the heart! Perhaps I forgot myself. Let us forget it all, and be good friends once more,' and he held out his hand with a smile. I took it. There was something very winning about the fellow, and he made me feel sorry and ashamed. Somehow all the blame shifted over to me. We shook hands warmly.

"'Now,' he said, 'you are the bon comrade I knew at Saratoga. Let it always be so. My father and sister are waiting below and long to see you. Perhaps you will dine with us? We will consider ourselves fortunate.'

"We went down to the parlors and found Mercedes and her father. She was as beautiful as ever, and the old fellow was the same courtly, polished man of the world as of yore; a little grayer and more rat-like, perhaps, but showing no other signs of advancing age. Mercedes was a trifle more plump than when I last saw her, but not unbecomingly so. What a magnificent creature she was!

Papa Villasante.

"My Cuban friends had much to say about their life in New York, the many flattering attentions received from friends and acquaintances, the opera, the shops, and other delights of metropolitan life. The Senorita said she preferred New York to Paris; so did her papa and brother. They loved America and everything American.

"The dinner was a delight. Afterward we went to the theatre. The excitement in the streets did not escape the notice of the Cubans. Nor did the flag of Cuba Libre picked out in electric lights over the entrance of a restaurant near the theatre, nor other significant sights and sounds. But they warily held their peace. I looked for some show of feeling, but there was none. A tÉte-Â-tÉte with Mercedes was out of the question, and for this I fervently thanked the gods! There was no telling the havoc that bewitching face might have wrought. Principles, opinions, and theories might have withered and fallen utterly consumed beneath the fire of those ardent glances and the magic of that caressing voice! So it was all for the best.

"After the play there was supper, and then we returned to the hotel. Parting with the Senorita at the elevator, not without a tender pressure of her jeweled fingers,—ah me!—I proposed to the father and son that we go to my club, a few staggers away. They consented and we ambled leisurely along, the streets now quite deserted. The night was fine; clear, and unusually warm for the season. We moved along silently, enjoying our cigars; at peace with ourselves and all the world. As we approached H Street I was roughly seized by the collar, a gag thrust into my mouth, and turning in amazement was felled by a terrible blow from a cane—Papa Villasante's cane! While on the pavement, stunned and bleeding, blows and kicks were rained upon my face and shoulders by the pair, who were evidently bent upon killing me. Then Manuel drew a long, deadly looking knife! I caught its hideous gleam in the semi-light as it was about to descend, and then I lost consciousness!

"An interested and amused group surrounded me when I opened my eyes and realized that the end was not yet. Hillis, of Kentucky, Campbell, of Ohio, Reyburn, of Texas, and many others were grouped about my desk in mock solemnity. A loud laugh arose as I staggered to my feet; for I alone, of a vast gathering, had slept soundly through one of the most exciting debates in parliamentary history! Through it all—the battle raging around me, and the House swept as by a great storm. Through it all, yea, even unto the adjournment!"

"A very pretty tale, and one to be remembered," observed Colonel Manysnifters thoughtfully. "I never had an adventure like that, because I am awfully careful about what I eat and drink, and I roost at chicken-time. There's no telling what will happen to a man when he violates Nature's laws. Night is made for sleep, and the three hours before midnight count for more than all the rest."

"And yet, Colonel," remonstrated Van Rensselaer, "by your own admission just now——"

"You mean my outing with the 'Jewels,' I suppose. That, my friend, is the solitary exception that proves the rule. That little adventure simply confirmed yours truly in his belief of the old maxim learned at Mammy's knee, that

"I may misquote, but it will do. Old Sol has scarce seemed to illumine the Western heavens ere I seek my humble couch. And yet I do not pose as a saint. But stop! If I do not greatly err, the junior Senator from Massachusetts seems restless and eager-eyed. I think he would like to take the floor. I know the signs, having often observed just such a readiness in many a good man before."

Senator Wendell, blushing, denied the charge, but when urged by all present responded gamely.

"I really think I have no story to tell that would interest you. My life has been cast upon very hum-drum matter-of-fact lines, and I can recall no startling incident. In my native town there is a shop-keeper who, when he is out of any article called for, tells his customers to wait a moment while he sends the boy over to the warehouse,—the 'warehouse' being the larger and more prosperous establishment of a rival just around the corner,—and the boy never returns empty-handed. I shall have to imitate my worthy friend; so pardon me just a moment." And the Senator left us and went to his room. He soon returned with some papers.

"I am, as perhaps you know, connected with the —— Magazine, and this is one of the many manuscripts that reach our office every day. These things, with a very few exceptions, are promptly returned to their authors—provided, of course, that sufficient postage for that purpose is enclosed. This particular effort is as yet under advisement. Perhaps the tale will interest you. It is called 'The Creaking of the Stairs,' and is rather out of the ordinary. You may fancy it."