The Mysteries of Montreal.

by Charlotte Fuhrer.

INTRODUCTION

During a long practice of over thirty years I have seen many things enacted here in this city of Montreal which, if told with the skill of a Dumas or a Collins, might not only astonish but startle the sedate residents of this Church-going community. I have often, while waiting for the advent of a little midnight visitor, beguiled the weary hours with a narrative of some of my experiences, and have been amused at the expression on the faces of my fair patients when told that my memory, and not my imagination, had been drawn upon for materials. Enquiry having frequently been made as to whether my recollections were published, I have been induced to print this volume, changing only names of persons and localities, so as to avoid identification. Many persons will find it hard to believe some of the occurrences which are herein mentioned, but those who have been concerned (directly or indirectly) with any of the parties to my narratives, will recognize, under the disguise of a false name, some person with whose history they are familiar. Should any discover his own actions here narrated, let him not think that I have wantonly endeavored to open old sores, but rather to warn others from taking that first false step which so often leads to future misery and bitter remorse.

MONTREAL, May, 1881

CHAPTER I.

Early Life and Professional Struggles.

My father, an officer in the Hanoverian Army, having died while I was almost a child, I found myself, at the age of 17, governess in the family of the Baron Grovestein in Hamburg, Germany, where I met my present husband, Gustav Schroeder, at that time one of the most "eligible" young gentlemen in that city.

Though not particularly handsome, Gustav was all that could be desired in other respects. He was young, well educated, and the son of wealthy parents, and of an amiable disposition. Soon after my engagement at the Baron's, young Schroeder's visits (ostensibly to the family) became so frequent, that his friends, who had divined the cause, forbade his having anything to say to me, more than cold civility demanded; and insisted that his visits to the Grovestein mansion should be discontinued. This, it may well be supposed, had quite the opposite effect, and in a short time we were engaged to be married, with the formal, if not the hearty approval of Gustav's relations, and in course of time the marriage ceremony took place, with all the paraphernalia of an _Alt-Deutsch Hochzeitsfest_.

Now, however, came the question: How are we to live! for my husband had no settled profession, and his parents, though wealthy, could not deprive their more obedient children of their rights to benefit the perverse Gustav. They gave him sufficient to start him in business, with the understanding that he would emigrate to America, their idea being that a German gentleman with a little capital could not fail to make a fortune among the comparatively illiterate Columbians. To New York accordingly we came, and Gustav labored a.s.siduously to establish a business as importer of German manufactures; he soon found, however, that men who did not know Horace from Euripides could drive closer bargains, and make quicker sales than he could, and, as he was too proud to compound with his correspondents in the old country, and insisted on conscientiously paying a hundred cents for a dollar, we found ourselves in less than three years, with diminished capital in specie, and an increased one as regards future candidates for the Presidency, on our way back to our common Fatherland. Through the influence of his friends, Gustav procured a good situation in a merchant's office, but he was altogether unsuited both by temperament and education for such a position, and I soon made up my mind that I must either prepare to enter the world's great battlefield in person, or live in helpless dependence on my husband's relations.

I had often while in America wondered why the ladies of that Republic (so advanced and enlightened in everything else) should submit to a practice so revolting, so contrary to all ideas of morality and refinement as is the system of man-midwifery so widely practiced in the United States. No German lady would think of permitting the attendance of a man at her bedside on such an occasion, and though custom in England seems generally to sanction the absurd practice, yet Her Majesty Queen Victoria never allows her medical advisers to be in attendance in any other capacity than that of _consulting_ physicians. I had discussed the matter frequently with married ladies in New York, and they were generally agreed, that, could only competent ladies be found in the United States, man-midwifery would soon cease to be practiced in that Republic. I accordingly resolved to devote all my energies to the study of that particular branch of the medical profession, and my efforts were crowned with success. In two years I obtained a diploma from the Hamburg University, and soon after prepared to return to America.

[Footnote: Dr. Playfair, President of the Obstetrical Society of London, in his address delivered in February, 1879, said:--"I confess that it is with a feeling of regret, something akin to shame, when I reflect that I am supposed to teach a cla.s.s of young men the entire subject of midwifery, and the diseases of women and children, in a short summer course of something under forty lectures. The thing is a manifest and ridiculous absurdity, hence we have, of necessity, to omit, year by year, _at least half of midwifery proper_."

The Princ.i.p.al of Calcutta Medical College writes Dr. Playfair thus:--"To what a hideous extent is the practice of midwifery carried on in England, by utterly unqualified men, whom the unhappy women and their friends believe to be qualified, and the system in your hospitals sadly favors this."

"Yet there are some women who will smother every feeling of modesty and morality, and trust their lives to one of these licentiates rather than commit themselves to the care of a thoroughly trained midwife of their own s.e.x. Surely nothing can be more absurd and irrational."]

About this time a friend of my husbands' informed us that the climate of Canada was very much superior to that of the Eastern States, and much more like that of Germany, and that in Montreal I would be likely to find, not only a pleasant city, but a people more European in style and custom, also a capital field for the exercise of my profession. For Montreal then we sailed with hearts full of hope, and, being fifty-four days at sea, I was summoned by the Captain to attend a lady on board (which I did with the success which has since invariably attended my efforts), and this was my debut as a professional accoucheur.

On our arrival at Montreal we presented letters of introduction to the German Consul, and the leading members of the German Society, and I soon became fully occupied in the exercise of my profession. Dr. X---- (now one of our most distinguished physicians) not only tolerated my vocation, but, with a magnanimity worthy of his genius and ability, gave me counsel and advice, and recommended me as highly as possible to his confreres and the public. Some few resident doctors threw cold water on my enterprise, but, to their credit be it spoken, the profession at large treated me invariably with the greatest kindness and courtesy, shewing thereby a liberality and largeness of heart which is ever the outcome of real ability.

I was not long installed in my new home when, as we were sitting cosily round the fire, the door bell was rung furiously, and on my going down to receive my visitor, I was astonished to find a gentleman with a newborn baby wrapped in the tail of his broadcloth coat. He said he was its father, and that the mother had taken suddenly ill before any provision could be made for its reception, and he implored me to take it, as he would otherwise feel impelled to throw it in the river.

I thought my heart would break to see the poor infant so ruthlessly treated, so I took it from him, promising to see it safely to some charitable inst.i.tution. He told me his name was Ferguson, that he was in business in Montreal, and that if I would deposit the child in some charitable inst.i.tution and call and see its mother during her recovery, he would pay all necessary expenses. It was too late that night to go out with the child, so I prepared some food for its nourishment and kept it till the next day, resolved to go after dusk and see the Lady Superior at one of the nunneries, but to my chagrin I discovered that the nunnery was closed, and I was obliged to return home with the babe, which, by-the-by, continued to roar l.u.s.tily all the way, and so attracted public attention to me (its presumptive mother) that I wept as bitterly as the child itself, and was heartily sorry that I had undertaken any such mission.

Next day I set out again in good time, but now a new difficulty awaited me. The good Sister who received me informed me that only those who were baptized and received into the Catholic Faith were eligible for admission. On hearing this I burst into tears; I told her my story, that the child was not mine, but that I was commissioned by its father to deliver it to her, and I besought her so earnestly to take it from me that she very considerately did so, and on my handing her the necessary fee, she undertook to have it regularly baptized and admitted.

In the evening I called to see the mother; she was lying on a miserable couch in a low lodging-house in the Quebec suburbs, yet she had about her the air of a lady, and on her finger glittered a ring set with brilliants. She wept when I told her how her child was disposed of, but said that she had no other alternative, as if her father, who was a lawyer of eminence, had any idea of her predicament, he would cast her off in shame; that when she first discovered her condition she persuaded her paramour to make a formal proposal for her hand, but her father was enraged beyond measure, and threatened her so terribly that she, for a time at least, put away all thoughts of Ferguson from her mind, and had not quite decided how to act, when the occurrence took place which led to the visit aforementioned, and caused the necessity for my attendance.

Miss L---- had barely time to call in a carriage at Ferguson's office, and apprise him of her condition, when she was taken ill, and obliged to procure a lodging with all speed. Ferguson selected the wretched hovel alluded to, as being away from all chance of discovery by his or her friends, and after my visit, empowered me to engage a nurse, and make what other arrangements I could for Miss L----'s comfort. She managed to get a confidential friend to telegraph her father from Quebec that she had arrived in that city, and then sent on a letter and had it mailed there, stating that she had gone on the steamboat the previous evening to see some friends off, and, remaining too long on board, was taken away eastward, but would return on receiving the pa.s.sage money from Montreal.

With this story she managed to deceive her otherwise astute father, and in four days she actually got up and went to her own home in a carriage; insisting on retiring immediately to her room in consequence of the nervous excitement and fatigue she had undergone. The nurse I had engaged to attend her, she on some pretence or another smuggled into the house as a domestic servant, and so not only managed to have an attendant, but to keep up a clandestine communication with Ferguson and the outer world.

In the frantic hope of acquiring a rapid fortune, Ferguson migrated to New Orleans, but just then the American war broke out, and he was pressed into the service. Whether he was killed or not Miss L----never found out; his letters became gradually less frequent, till finally she lost all trace of him whatever, and she eventually married a wholesale merchant of this city, who is to this day probably unaware of this little episode in his wife's former career. Sometimes I see her in her carriage driving with liveried servants along St. James street, and I cannot refrain from thinking of the innocent babe as it lay in poor Ferguson's coat-tail.

CHAPTER II.

A Just Retribution.

One evening, about the middle of June, 18--, a gentleman called to see me, accompanied by a lady closely veiled. He said he wished me to procure suitable lodging for her, and to attend her on her accouchement, which was now close at hand, stating that no money would be spared to furnish everything necessary either to her comfort or convenience. As I did not know of any lodging suitable to a person of her station, I was puzzled how to act; I did not want to lose a patient, and yet could not, even if so disposed, make room for her in my own house. I knew that my next door neighbor (an elderly French-Canadian lady) was accustomed to take in lodgers; so, leaving the lady and gentleman for a while in my parlor, I went to see if I could make arrangements for the reception of the former. Madame Charbonneau, my neighbor, had all her rooms occupied, but said she was willing for a consideration to give up her drawing-rooms for a time to the fair patient. This was eminently satisfactory to me, as, in the event of an emergency, I would be close at hand; I accordingly arranged for Mrs. Trotter's accommodation, and on reporting to Mr. Dombey, the gentleman aforementioned, he seemed to be perfectly satisfied. From, what I afterwards learned, I am able to inform the reader that Mr. Dombey was junior partner in the house of Dombey & Son, dry goods merchants, in this city, his father, Jacob Dombey, sen., being considered one of the wealthiest importers in Canada. In his youth Jacob Dombey, jun., had been pampered and petted beyond measure, his every whim being carried out even at great expense; arrived at the age of twenty-one he became enamored of a young lady whose father kept a small toy-shop on Notre Dame street, and nothing would content him but a marriage with the "G.o.ddess," as his innamorata was called. At first he was quite proud of his pretty wife, and was to be seen daily in Sherbrooke street, driving her behind a splendid span of spirited bay horses, but after a few months he grew tired of this routine, and with his bosom friend, Richard Fairfax, might be seen, nightly at the theatres and other places of amus.e.m.e.nt, while his poor wife sat in patient loneliness awaiting his return.

Mrs. Trotter was the daughter of a Civic Official of high standing, and had married at a very early age a retired English Officer, who, being well advanced in years, left her at the age of twenty-four a widow with four children. Trotter was possessed of little besides his pension, which died with him; so Mrs. T. was obliged to eke out a miserable subsistence on the receipts from a little city property left her by her father. Soon after her husband's demise Mrs. Trotter removed to Lachine (a small village on the river side about nine miles above Montreal), in order to live more economically, and soon became acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Dombey, who had taken up their abode there for the summer season.

Mrs. Dombey took quite a fancy to the fascinating widow, and they soon became inseparable.

Every evening on the promenade might be seen Mrs. Trotter leaning on the arm of Mr. Dombey, his wife following accompanied by his friend Fairfax; or they were together on the river boating, or enjoying a picnic on "Dixie" Island. Occasionally, when the weather was unfavorable to out-door amus.e.m.e.nts, they would engage in a rubber of whist, generally ending the evening with a little music. Dombey did not know one tune from another, but his wife praised Mrs. Trotter's singing so highly that he soon imagined that in that art, as in others, she was nearly, if not altogether, perfect. When it became time for Mrs. Trotter to go home, Jacob used to escort her to her cottage on the river bank, about a mile distant from his own residence, and after a few weeks there sprang up an intimacy between them which culminated in the incidents which gave rise to my narrative.

On the day following that on which I had engaged her apartments Mrs.

Trotter took up her abode at Madame Charbonneau's, and about six weeks afterwards her baby, a beautiful girl, was born; she sent a message to Mr. Dombey's office, and in the afternoon he called to see her. He was greatly pleased with the baby, and took it up fondly in his arms, and on leaving placed a roll of bank bills in my hand, telling me to get everything necessary for either the mother or her child, also to get the latter whatever clothing it might require. After that he called almost daily, and when Mrs. Trotter was sufficiently recovered to return to her home, he pressed me so strongly to keep the baby till it was a little older, and not to leave it to the tender mercies of an ignorant nurse, that I consented to keep it till it was two years old, and then to obtain for it, if possible, adoption by some respectable married persons.

Margery, the baby aforementioned, turned out one of the most beautiful children I had ever seen. Her father and mother visited her frequently during the time she was at my house, and on my giving her for adoption to Mr. Walker (a respectable Vermont farmer without any children of his own) they were both deeply affected. Dombey was anxious that Mrs.

Trotter should take it to her own home, but, as "Mrs. Grundy" had already been discussing her movements, she dare not, without fear of ruining her children, take the baby under the roof. As there was no help for it the baby was allowed to go to Vermont, and grew up a beautiful girl, pa.s.sionately devoted to the only parents she had ever known; Mrs.

Walker dying during the child's infancy, Mr. Walker had her educated as well as his means would permit, and they pa.s.sed their time in the most perfect harmony and sweet content. After the war, however, Walker found himself almost without a penny in the world, and, thinking to better his fortunes removed to New York, where he managed to make a poor living as a subordinate in the Custom House. Margery regretted this change of circ.u.mstances very much, but, being thoroughly devoted to her father, she did not repine, but did all in her power to make his home as happy as could be under such conditions. She missed her accustomed amus.e.m.e.nts very much, and although in New York she saw many things and found many opportunities which would have been altogether unknown to her in the country, yet she was a long time in becoming reconciled to the close and stifling atmosphere of a great metropolitan city.

One night her father promised her a great treat, they were to go to X----'s theatre to see Mademoiselle B---- in Romeo and Juliet. Margery sat with strained eyes gazing wistfully at the play, laughing and weeping by turns as the great master's power was exerted on the audience by the artists engaged, and at the close she heaved a deep sigh, consequent upon having held her breath so long, and without thought exclaimed aloud:--"Oh, what would I not give to be able to act like that." The manager who was close by, and who had been watching the attentive beauty for some time, overheard the remark, and intercepting the pair on their way out of the theatre said:--"I noticed that you were favorably impressed with the piece; would you like an introduction to Miss B----, the princ.i.p.al actress?" Margery was overcome with delight, and besought her father so earnestly to allow her to go into the green room that he accompanied her thither, and they obtained an introduction to the famous artiste. Miss B---- was quite taken with the innocent enthusiasm of the girl, and invited her to come to her benefit on the following evening, when she was to appear as Parthenia in "Ingomar;"

Margery, having obtained her father's permission, readily consented, and all the way home was full of praises for Juliet, Romeo, the manager, and all concerned. On the following evening the manager drew her father aside and whispered in his ear:--"You have a fortune in that girl of yours." Walker, misunderstanding the purport of his words, replied:--"Yes, she is a good and affectionate child, as much so as if I were her natural parent." "You do not understand me," said the other; "I mean she has immense emotional power, which, if artistically cultivated, would, coupled with her personal appearance, make both her fortune and yours."

"Do you think so?" replied Walker; "well, if we had only the means I would certainly have her trained, for, since she has seen Mademoiselle B---- act, her great ambition seems to be to occupy a similar position."

After further conversation it was agreed to place Margery under the care of Mrs. L----, with a view of becoming a professional actress; for, although Walker did not at all care for the stage or its concomitants, still he did not wish to throw any obstacles in the way of his adopted child's prosperity. Margery, therefore, was allowed to pursue the bent of her inclinations, and such an apt pupil was she that in a little over eighteen months her debut was announced in the papers, and a crowded house showered floral and other trophies on the beautiful debutante.

Offers of engagements from different cities came flowing in, and before long Miss Margery Montague was announced to appear in Montreal. Her fame had preceded her thither, and Fairfax was instructed to secure a box for the Dombey family. Dombey himself (who had followed the career of his child) tried hard to excuse himself from going, but his wife was not satisfied to leave him at home; he sat in the back of the box, and as the applause grew louder and louder, he showered costly bouquets, and other offerings on the stage, his breast meanwhile being torn by conflicting pa.s.sions. How proud he would have been to clasp her to his heart and call her his own; but he had willfully put her away from him, and now, even could he receive her into his family, would her adopted father be willing to give her up again. With flushed face and beating heart he sought the manager, and begged to be allowed to see the fair artiste, a favor which was granted; and, as he stood before his child, and poured forth the usual stereotyped compliments and congratulations, he bit his lips as he thought that he dared not press her to his heart, but was forced to speak to her in terms of cold politeness.

On their return from the Theatre Mrs. Dombey announced her intention of calling on the talented actress, and the following day she went, accompanied by her daughters, to the St. Lawrence Hall, at that time the most fashionable hotel in the city, where she was cordially received; and the young actress made such a favorable impression on the ladies that they invited her to dine at their house on the following day, an invitation which was readily accepted.

Dombey was greatly moved when he heard that Miss Montague had accepted an invitation to dinner, but there was no help for it, and, as though to make matters worse invitations were sent to a few intimate friends, including Mrs. Trotter. Here, then, was a painful position for the two guilty ones: they were forced to sit and see the child whom they had cast off feted and honored by the woman both of them had injured. It seemed as if a wet blanket were placed over the whole a.s.sembly: Dombey sat moodily biting his finger-nails, and as Mrs. Trotter would not sing and Mrs. Dombey _could_ not, matters went very slowly indeed.

When the time came for separating, Mrs. Dombey motioned to Jacob to see Miss Montague to her hotel, but he being deep in a fit of abstraction, his eldest son Charles stepped forward, and before his father could prevent him, was equipped in greatcoat and overshoes, ready for a moonlight stroll. During the evening he had noticed that Charles was rather attentive to the fair actress, and the thought that an intimacy between them was possible drove him to the verge of distraction, Mrs.

Dombey noticed his strange behavior, and asked him the cause, on which he muttered something about "Auction lunch--infernal champagne," and some other incoherent exclamations, altogether unintelligible to his unsuspicious wife. When he and his paramour got outside they walked along in gloomy silence for several minutes--at last he addressed her: "Is it not strange that this child, whom I had thought far removed from me and mine, should be brought even into my own house, and eat at my table?"

"Oh, it is fearful; only think what would be the consequence if an intimacy should spring up between her and Charles!"

"Yes, I must send him away at once."

Mrs. Trotter reminded him that this step was unnecessary, as Miss Montague left the next day for Chicago to fulfil a professional engagement. He heaved a sigh of relief, and then, with a pa.s.sionate tug at Mrs. Trotter's door bell, turned to go away.

"Will you not come in a while, Jack?" she said.

"No, he replied, Clara (Mrs. Dombey) would suspect something. She looked at me very strangely this evening."

"But you will come to-morrow," rejoined the temptress.

"Yes, I will look in on my way up from the office," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Jack," said she.