# The Knickerbocker/Volume 1/Number 2/Fanny

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FANNY; In Seven Chapters. "Fanny was younger once."—Halleck.
Chapter First. A Hero. "Ανδρα μοι εννεπε, Μουσα, πολύτροπον."—Homer.
"Well," said Mr. Egerton Winthrop, as he was sipping his coffee one fine morning at about eleven o'clock, "I think I am done—done!"—
"Who is there?—Oh, Lupin, it is you.—Come in—come in; and shut that cursed door."—
"Did you see the Pedrotti last night?"
"Damn the Pedrotti"—
"Damn the Pedrotti!—Damn the Pedrotti!!!"
"Lupin, sit down. You are not quite a fool, I believe, and"—
Mr. Lupin smiled with an air of conscious greatness.
"Well, well—and you can hold your tongue sometimes—Besides—in short, I am—ruined."
"Hum!—Well," (slowly) "I did suppose it must be pretty nearly so."
"Here," turning out a pair of empty pockets, "are my means—And here," taking up a paper, "is my credit—'Narr' (reading) 'de bene esse—Please to take notice'—and so forth—'To Mr. E. Winthrop"—Last night at the club I lost ———; that must be paid"—
"Why, Egerton, you know"—
"Yes, yes, I know perfectly well that you will not lend money when you are not sure of getting it back again—But what shall I do?"
"There—is—one—thing"—
"Matrimony—I suppose; it can be nothing else that you drag forth with such funereal solemnity."
"Yes;—'Farewell forever hence, &c.'—But really, I am told, it is not so very bad."
"But—my life has not been quite that of which parents and guardians approve—And something must be done so soon"—
"There are difficulties—no doubt. Dine with me to-day—I have something in my head—alone, at five."—
"At five!—And let us have the Brahmin."
Chapter Second. A Heroine. "Dum moliuntur dum comuntur."—Terence.
It was done—Toussaint had given the finishing touch. And the dress had been pulled, and pinned, and tucked, and—the Lord knows what—In short there was nothing more to do.
​And there was mamma, and grandmamma, and aunt Beisy, and aunt Sally, and aunt Nicky, and cousin Polly, and cousin Nancy,—in all thirty-seven. What a noise they made!
The poor girl was twisted and turned; this one must have a look, and that one must have a look. They screamed admiration, like a chorus at the opera—to those who don't understand music. Such sounds! such gestures! such looks!
(Chorus.) "Oh! here is papa! Papa must see her; throw it away; throw it away—that vile segar! There, papa, look!—What do you think? Her hair—so nice!—Is n't that dress—" (Papa.) "Very pretty—very pretty, indeed." (Chorus.) "Oh!—your hands!—his hands!—his hands!!—Don't touch!"—Thank—the heathen gods!—there's the carriage.
Rattle away!—In a tumult of delight—my pretty Fanny!—how hope, and fear, and joy, mingle and struggle in her young bosom! And the vague expectation of something terrible, yet delightful!—The opening of a mystery!—
It was her first ball.
Chapter Third. Rather Episodical. Κακιςτον μεν ύδωρ.—Pindar.
I hate the man who loves not thee, Madeira!—He cannot know the world; he cannot be a gentleman; he cannot have a head; he cannot have a heart; he cannot have a palate—Not for such "the hand of Douglas"—But I am wrong, after all; there may be, there doubtless are, clever people, in a homely way, who yet by birth, and breeding, and education, and perchance the coarseness of the clay, whence they were fashioned, are unfitted, unable to enjoy, to understand the finer and more delicate sensations of which our nature is susceptible!—
—Let 'men of business,' fox hunters, and prize-fighters muddle themselves over port! Claret, I think, suits well the weak heads of fops, and the hungry stomachs of authors.—For all the tribes of German wines, the whole conjugation of heimer, Rhine and Rhone, and red and white;—why I sincerely hope my friend Delmonico may be able to get rid of his present stock. For myself, I must positively decline drinking them again—'en personne.' Champagne, bah!—'tis for vulgar mirth! for noisy boys—and giggling girls—for—
But Madeira!—princely Madeira!—Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse!The vulgar know thee not, and thou know'st not them—My first love and my last!
As I raise thee to my lips, bright and clear, thy blush is like sunset, so rich, so warm!—For a moment I pause; I drink that breath rich with the ​perfumes of a hundred climes—This, thou hast caught from the "spicy breeze" of Ceylon; and, here is the native sweetness of thine own wood-land isle. I can resist no longer—Come, to my—mouth!—
Circe's cup; nonsense!—That made men brutes; this might make brutes men, men demi-gods. "'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip?"—Ah! Tom Moore, you never tasted it; the right sort. They don't get it in England. Woman's lip, after it, I grant you; and it was then perhaps you wrote.—But what were woman's lip or woman either without?
Beautiful traveler!—Blest be thy lonely, distant home!—Blest the blue Atlantic that wantons on its shore!—Blest be the winds that pipe in its valleys! Blest the mountain side where the sun warmed and ripened thee!—Blest be thy parent vine! Blest be the careful old man who pruned its too great luxuriance! Blest the little boys and girls who gathered thy ripe clusters! Blest the wine-press to which thou didst yield thy virgin charms!—
Oh! blest be the ship that first bore thee on the deep! Blest be each particular sail, rope, spar, and block from her topmast down to her keel!—Blest be the very bilge-water in her hold, and the barnacles that grew to her bottom!—Blest be her captain!—Blest be her mates, her passengers, her men before the mast, her cabin boys!—Blest be her cook!—* * * *
The world brightens:—Love, Friendship;—ye are not illusions!—The poets have not feigned.—There are many whom I love, and who love me; Charles, John, Dick; these men would die for me, or I for them; cheerfully, gladly. And my wife loves me; very much, very much!—She has her ways,—but she loves me—And my children!—What a delightful thing to have a large family! Mine is perhaps a little too large: I am a happy man:———
I believe I am drunk. **** "I wish," said Mr. Winthrop, "it was some other father."———
"Why," said his friend, they are not quite in the first circle to be sure; rather, rather"———
"Oh!—that's nothing—you know he has a son; you must have seen him. The youngster had a notion for fashion—there were some conveniences about it, and I took him under my wing. He would play; I warned him against this; but one night I became winner from him of about five thousand dollars; this was rather beyond my young gentleman's present means the father called upon me, he wanted me to abate—I was obstinate; not a farthing; could not, a debt of that nature.—It was all paid. But you see the old gentleman will not be disposed to regard me in the most favorable light"—
"That is a difficulty."
"No matter, I think something can be done—I have a notion of my ​own, if your's fails. You will let me have the money that I want now?———
"On your promise"———
"Yes, I pledge myself—if it can be done by marriage and in no other way, I will marry—But must n't I dress? What o'clock is it?—You know I am to see her to-night."
"By St. George!—Yes; I had no idea it was so late—Make the most of yourself, Egerton—Good night"—
"I half envy him," said Mr. Lupin conceitedly, as he twitched his collar by the glass; "she's a sweet creature."
Chapter Fourth. The Conquest. "Veni vidi vici."—Julius Cæsar.
Odi profanum—Are you in good society, reader? Has your father left off? Do you know Mrs. ———? Do you dine with ———?—If not, then not for you do I unfold the sacred mysteries. Procul! O procul! este profani!
Upon the whole, however, I won't describe it—I could now—I am in the vein. There is a flush on my cheek!—Drops from Helicon are on my forehead!—A nervous agitation convulses my quill. The estro! The poetic rage! I feel the presence of Apollo and the Nine!—So kind in them to visit me in this sociable way; sitting all alone in my night-gown and slippers.———
Benoit was there, of course—a sensible man by-the-bye, Benoit!—Perhaps a little old-fashioned in his notions. He says, 'the Misses Benoit shall not waltz.'—But that 's foolish.—
Our hero and Mr. Lupin stand apart. He is pointed out to Fanny; she turns to look at him as on 'some bright particular star'—To her surprise his eye is upon her; of course she blushes—Poor girl, she had fallen into the clutches of ———; that indefatigable prowler after all the young débutantes.———
The cotillion is over—Mr. Egerton Winthrop advances. He gives Fanny an opportunity to observe and admire the ease and elegance of his manner; his careless but graceful accost; the brightening of eyes at his approach; the frequent endeavor to detain his attention—and then—taking Mr. Lupin's arm, he advances—no—yes—yes, ye gods! to her; and Mr. Lupin asks, 'permission to introduce his friend Mr. Egerton Winthrop.' Nor is that all. Shade of uncle Richard, the rich old tobacconist!—the spectre that had seemed to forbid her approach to the realms of fashion—he asks her to dance!—He asks her to dance!—She could but bow assent;—her gratitude was too deep for words—And then he leaves her to feel her happiness.———
He leads her to the dance.—New surprises!—He is so kind in his manner; so sociable; so chatty even. She had no idea she could feel so easy.​—Her spirits rise—she moves with a more assured grace. He is more and more agreeable. Those soft eyes were never so bright!—In truth, she looked very pretty.———
The dance over, he conducts her to a seat—And now he ventures a few distant allusions—he lets fall one or two seeds of sentiment;—well knowing how soon in the unfurrowed soil of a young girl's heart they spring into love! A waltz!—'Will she waltz?'———
Now this had been a matter of some discussion. She had vowed she never would—Never!—Her embarrassment was visible—'You waltz, of course?' in a tone of slight surprise. She dared not say, 'No.'—She rose; she accepted his proffered arm———
Ah! that waltz———
Chapter Fifth. Romance. "Oh! love———"—Campbell.
What were the thoughts that kept Fanny awake last night?—What were the dreams that detained her so late in the morning?—
Wherever she goes now, she meets Mr. Egerton Winthrop—At papa's he does not visit; but at parties, in the street, at the opera, in church; whether she goes to see some newly-arrived paintings "by the first masters," or some newly-arrived hats, "just received from Paris," that graceful form, those eloquent eyes, she is sure to encounter—And Fanny is in love! What may not be accomplished (in love) in a fortnight?
And at last the tale came—no matter where; her eyes are downcast, but she drinks the tones of his silver voice. She believes,—poor girl,—she believes it all. She must speak. The word is faltered forth—the half-articulated assent; and her face is covered with blushes.———
They meet still more frequently—she can more than listen now; she can raise her eyes to his; she can return the pressure of his hand. He talks sometimes of his poverty; fears that her parents will not consent; doubts the constancy, the strength of her attachment—then mystifies her with extravagances—persuades her that their union will be bliss unspeakable;—a separation—worse than ten thousand deaths.—Her love becomes passion; something she can't quite understand; that half frightens her; but without which, she is certain she could not exist.
"Yes, Fanny, you may love me, but not as I love; I am afraid your attachment may yield to obstacles; that you may be persuaded out of it—Oh, tell me, do you, will you always, love me with your whole heart?"———
She did not answer; but her head fell on his shoulder—and she raised her eyes to his, bashfully, but with an expression so tender! so confiding!———
A dandy has no heart.
Chapter Sixth. Business. "Man of the world—man of the world."—Corporal Bunting.
The progress of events carries us to No. — Chambers Street; the scene, a snug parlor crowded with mirrors and clocks, ottomans, little bronze figures, &c., &c. All was new, still, and solemn. The owner, evidently, had not inherited his Penates.———
A thick-set, middle-aged man was walking up and down with short, quick steps. The bell rings—'Who is there?'—The servant introduces, Mr. Egerton Winthrop.'
A bashful man is never so bashful as when he attempts to be impudent; nor an impudent man ever so impudent as when he assumes modesty.—Our hero entered with a Joseph Surface air of penitence and deep respect. There was something in it (under the circumstances) vastly exasperating to a man of the choleric temperament.
"Mr. ——— I have taken the liberty to call—The veneration I feel for your character—I should perhaps sooner—In short, sir, your daughter Frances,—my feelings were uncontrollable!—I have conceived an attachment—and I—I believe it is mutual—I———
"I know it, sir—I know it all"—(in a rage)—"You have behaved like———I won't say what—She never disobeyed me before! I don't know what you can have done to her, to make her so obstinate.—For a whole week now"———
"Mr. ———," said our hero, entirely changing his manner, "let us talk this matter over coolly; I understand you to have objections to me as a son-in-law"———
"Objections!—I have objections!"———
"And you would never consent to my marriage with your daughter?"
"Never."
"And this daughter is your only child—You have no other near relative to whom you could leave your property.—Hitherto, I understand you, she has been affectionate and dutiful; you must therefore love her. But now you find her determined to have her own way; believe me she will continue so"———
"Do you mean to insult me?—I can tell you Mr. Egerton Winthrop"—
"A little patience, sir. You cannot prevent her marrying me, if she chooses to do so; and I choose to marry her. She has property of her own; not very large, but considerable—And yet—perhaps the matter may be settled"———
"Sit down—take a chair." **** After conversing half an hour, they drove to No. — Pine Street—What took place there is a professional secret.
Chapter Seventh. Conclusion. "——— my eye and Betty Martin."—Old Saying.
"Dear Toler, "Enclosed is a check for $—;—and no matrimony, either.—'Richard 's himself again.'
"Winthrop."
"My Dear Miss,— "It is is with great pain that I sit down to make the following communication; but a sense of duty compels me to the task.
"I have had a long and interesting interview with your very worthy and excellent father. He informs me that he can never consent to what we had both so earnestly wished; I had not supposed his objections to be so strong. He thinks, that my character and habits are such, that he could not trust to me the happiness of his daughter. Perhaps he is right. I know, at any rate, that my dear Miss ———, could never be happy if, in so serious a matter, she disobeyed the commands of her parents. I trust she will do justice to the delicacy which induces me to release her from a promise too inconsiderately asked, too rashly given. May some better man———but, perhaps, the eagerness of my friendship is leading me to the verge of impertinence.
"I enclose a lock of your hair;———and remain, with great respect,
Your sincere friend And humble servant, "Egerton Winthrop.
"Wednesday Morning." **** It will cost me—my life!" said Fanny, and she burst into tears and left the room.
"I hope not," said her father;—"It cost me—humph!"
What could Fanny do? She kept her bed, and cried for three days, and for some weeks longer she was sullen, and out of spirits.———
"Fanny!" said her papa one morning, with a peculiar smile, "Mr. ———, is coming to see you this evening.
"I won't see him," said she pouting.
Alas! alas! we cannot always be wretched! Time, time, obliterates all feelings—all recollections. She did see him—an active young man in the Jobbing business. * * * *
Fanny detests handsome young men now; and abhors romance and novel-reading. She is a good wife; and a very notable woman.