GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK
Philadelphia, February 1850

MISS BREMER'S VISIT TO COOPER'S LANDING.

BY ONE WHO WAS THERE.

THERE was an unusual excitement in the streets of Cooper's Landing, a little town on the Hudson River, not many miles from Newburgh. It is not clown in any map or panorama, it is true; but for all that it has its sloops, its tow-boat, its groceries, and its hotels. It was at one of the last-mentioned places of resort that the stir we speak of commenced. It was a very nice resting-place for travelers, this came white, wooden edifice, with its green blinds and shady piazzas. Moreover, it rejoiced in "double parlors," in one of which stood a mahogany piano of doubtful tone, which, by the way, was kept locked, when children were staying there, by the careful landlord. This he explained to a lady visitor, who had inquired for the key, adding, that " it was a valable instrument, and he didn't like to have it ruinated;" after which he complimented his visitor on her songs, gallantly saying, "she had exactly the right heft of voice."

But that has little to do with our tale, except that these elegant apartments of the "Cooper' House" were thronged with visitors, one fine October morning in the last year. However, they were doomed to disappointment; at least, all but Mrs. Bench – the wife of Judge Bench, and the mistress of the finest house in town. She had been beforehand with the whole party, and she now appeared from one of the three private parlors on the second floor, and announced to the anxious and expectant group, that " Miss BREMER was too much fatigued with her ride to see any one this morning, but had promised, with the greatest condescension, to meet a select circle at her house that evening, who were to be assembled in honor of the distinguished lady's appearance at Cooper's Landing,"

Here, then, is the key to the intense excitement that caused the ladies of the place to assemble in the parlor, the men in the bar-room, and the boys on the front piazza of the Cooper House.

Early that morning, a light "covered buggy," driven by a boy some sixteen years of age, had arrived at the hotel. Mine host, with his usual politeness, assisted a middle-aged lady to alight from it, and ushered her in with one of his most profound bows. But his civility was exchanged to an overpowering demonstration of regard, when a young law student, who was hanging about the bar, read the names soon recorded in the register in an awkward, schoolboy hand-

HIRAM POWELL, Jr.,

Mrs. FREDRICKA BREMEN

and informed his fellow loungers that" the distinguished Swedish authoress was actually in their midst.

What made the conclusion more certain was, that the "Newburgh Republican" had announced editorially, the past week, that Miss Bremer was paying a visit to a gentleman of that place, well-known for his taste and liberality. The editor, with that peculiar freedom which distinguishes the " American press,:" gave a description of her personal appearance; and this was now hunted up, and mine host made an express trip to the parlor to compare notes, after the passport or thief-talking fashion.

"She suttingly ain't tall," was his report; "and she's got on a cap. I couldn't get a good look at her eyes; and I reckon she's about the desired age."

This was regarded conclusive. All regretted they had not cross-questioned the charioteer, who had driven on immediately, saying he would be back at nightfall for the lady, who had concluded to stop, as she was not very well, until his return from the next landing. There was no help for it now, however, and Judge Bench tilted his chair down to' the floor, took his feet from the front window-sill, and his thumbs from the arm-holes of his vest, and walled up at a brisk trot – for him – to inform his lady-wife. The Columbus of this discovery, Byron Olmstead, Esq., as he wrote his name (who, though he did not expect to be "admitted" for a year yet, practiced at the hotel bar meantime, as most law students commence life), hurried off to some young ladies of his acquaintance. Others caught the story; and, by ten o'clock, all Cooper's Landing was aware that a live authoress was among them.

Mrs. Bench was what is commonly called " a quick woman." She put aside the letter she was writing for the Home Journal, to which she contributed under the signature of "Lillias Grieve," and the personification of a young and extremely interesting girl, who recorded her impressions of natural scenery, the fine arts, Cole's pictures, and forest walks, in the most arch and naive style imaginable. Indeed, it is said several sophomores fell desperately in love with the fair unknown, and proposed for her under cover to Mr. Willis. Her admirers were destined to wait another week, however, on this important occasion; for, quick as thought, she had resolved to secure Miss Bremer for a soiree, to be held at her house, in humble imitation of the literary reunions which her favorite journal described so glowingly.

She had thought of half the company by the time her hair was disengaged of curl-papers; the rest were decided on while her bonnet and mantilla were arranged; and before she reached the Cooper House, she already had shadowy views of future celebrity based upon this entertainment. She would write a description of it for the Home Journal: half-formed paragraphs floated through her brain, as –

"Can I describe to you – you, who have known so many of the bright stars in the literary galaxy – half the rapture, the transport I felt on standing, for the first time, in the presence of this illustrious woman? All my childhood's dreams," etc. etc.

And, better still, might not Miss Bremer allude to her hospitality in her next novel, or in the volume of travels she was, of course, intending to write ? It was so like a great authoress, to travel in this plain way; she had heard Miss Bremer came to see the people of America, to mingle with them; – but how came she to select Cooper's Landing? Could it be possible? It must be! – she had beard of "Lillias Griene," and had come to welcome her to author-land land!

Such was the busy soliloquy that quickened Mrs. Bench's steps, lest any one should be before her.

What a triumph over the Woods, who had taken such airs in the summer, because Mrs. Osgood passed a day with them! How the Bells, whose cousin knew Fanny Forrester, would hide their diminished heads! How fortunate that Mr. Gibson was still at his sister's, Mrs. Morrison's, for he had often met Mr. Griswold, and once dined with "Boz" (at a table d'hote, though this was not generally mentioned). Yes, fortune favored her, and the happy little woman was in a perfect fever of delight and excitement as she entered the parlors before alluded to.

But Miss Bremer had, meantime, been accommodated with a private parlor by the obliging landlord, and thither was Mrs. Bench ushered by two waiters and a chambermaid, all of whom were anxious to catch a glimpse of the authoress; for they, too, had read "Harper's Popular Library" – that valuable collection in brown-paper covers.

We will not enter into details of that interview, interesting as it would doubtless prove, but return with Mrs. Bench to the assembly of ladies, who, by this time, had hastened to pay their respects to the stranger.

With what triumphant satisfaction she announced the acceptance of her invitation to the Bells, two maiden sisters, who had never married – Byron Olmstead declared – because no man ever knew them apart long enough to be sure which one he was proposing to. They were always in half-mourning for the death of some distant relative. Mrs. Wood and her three daughters were as crestfallen as could have been desired, for they had come with similar designs upon Miss Bremer; although, not being of so daring a temperament as Mrs. Bench, they had only planned a tea-party. Mrs. Morrison, on the strength of her brother's intimacy with so many lions of the day, had thought of asking her to drive out with that gentleman and herself, in one of the three carriages owned in Cooper's Landing. Mr. Olmstead's friends, the Lords, were satisfied with an invitation to the soiree, and delightedly under-took to circulate the hasty notes which Mrs. Bench was to dispatch to those of the " first families" not present. They were amiable girls, not long from Miss Willard's boarding-school at Troy, where they had studied Bulwer, Dickens, and Miss Bremer, more deeply than the classics. At present, they "doated" on Jane Eyre, and were in love with that divine Rochester.

"Now I must tell you about this, girls," said Mrs. Bench, as she hurried home between them. "She isn't handsome."

"Who '? Miss Bremer?" said Anna Lord.

" There, that's another thing. I had them bring me the register while I waited in the parlor, and I see she has had her name put down as Mrs. Bremer. Now, you know, it's a European fashion that ladies of a certain age are called Mrs."

"O yes; Mrs. Hannah More," suggested Ellen.

" Precisely. Now put everybody in mind of this. And for yourselves, my loves, let, her see that there are some people, even in' this remote part of the country, who are accustomed to European styles. Talented as you are, Anna" –

"O, Mrs. Bench!" exclaimed the blushing girl.

"Yes, my dear, I repeat it; for your ' Lines to a Dying Snowdrop' are worthy of Miss Landon herself. You should try to make a favorable impression."

Mrs. Bench, being so sure of her own literary reputation, could afford to be generous to so humble a rival.

" Indeed, Anna, I have serious thoughts of inclosing that poem to Mr. Willis, with a note of admiration – of introduction, I mean, from myself;" and here she entered the garden-gate, leaving the young girl overwhelmed with grateful emotion.

Mrs. Bench was a busy woman that day. Fortunately, as she had often heard no refreshments were offered at literary reunions – the company being expected to satisfy their hunger "with the feast of reason," and quench their thirst in " the flow of soul" – there was not much to be looked after in the kitchen department. Mrs. Bench, being hospitably inclined, and, moreover, having the prettiest cake-baskets in town, and a new set of lemonade-glasses, could not bring her mind to dispense with all refreshments; but it was easy to buy up all the stock on hand at Newton's, the baker's, and to get a dozen bottles of lemon syrup at the apothecary's.

The arrangement of her rooms, however, cost her more thought and anxiety. Her own apartment was given up as a ladies' dressing-room, much to the discomfiture of the Judge, who had to take his afternoon nap in the" spare chamber," one story higher, and who had an aversion to sleeping in strange beds. The toilet-cushion her sisters had made at her marriage (it bore an unaltered inscription in pins, " To Angeline. May you be happy!") was paraded conspicuously on the dressing-table, which had a fresh dimity cover, and a vase of chrysanthemums and life everlastings. The best Marseilles counterpane waS brought out, and ruled pillow-cases completed the decorations of the apartment.

And now for the parlors. Mrs. Bench was determined they should be relieved of all stiffness, and evince, by their tout ensemble, the graceful and tasteful hand of their mistress. The sofas were wheeled into angles with the wall; the chairs grouped with artistic skill in the most unlikely positions for well-bred mahogany chairs to assume; the curtains were looped back with studied carelessness; and the piano opened and strewed with sheets of music. To crown all, the centre-table was loaded with engravings, the journals and magazines of the day; while Miss Bremer's works, m one volume, bound in muslin, with a portrait, occupied a conspicuous place. All this she surveyed with an air of satisfaction; the good Judge looking on and congratulating himself on his wonderful good fortune in having secured such a miracle of refinement and taste in a wife; and then, as the shadows lengthened, Mrs. Bench " rested" herself with tea and toast in the kitchen, before she commenced her elaborate toilet.

Nor was the mansion of Judge Bench the only one that exhibited marks of hurry and excitement. Young ladies were making impromptu head-dresses, and cleaning soiled white kid gloves with bread crumbs or India-rubber; matrons selected their most imposing caps and collars; and every one, from the invited guests to the young ladies of the various mantua-making establishments, and the clerks at the grocery store, were talking of Miss Bremer's arrival. Half the population of the town had occasion to pass the Cooper House just at the dinner hour, and many were the curious glances directed towards the dining-room windows, which opened on the street. But all in vain, the lady was invisible; having her roast-beef and custard-pie in her own room, at the polite suggestion of the landlord.

Of course, Miss Bremer, being accustomed to European hours, could not be expected to arrive at the soiree before eight in the evening; but many of the townspeople were already there when the Judge, armed by a note of introduction from his wife, was dispatched to escort her from the hotel.

" Does she speak German?" inquired Mr. Gibson, who had a commercial knowledge of that language.

"Oh, of course; but her English is excellent; a little accent perhaps, but no more than a Connecticut woman has to us New Yorkers. I was surprised to find it so I suppose her French is equally good. I have been told by travelers" – (a German music teacher, dear reader) – " that, on the Continent, both languages are considered indispensable to a genteel education."

"Now you here the advantage of us, Anna," she continued, to Miss Lord. "Your accent is purely Parisian; I shall expect you to entertain Miss Bremer in French; and if Mr. Gibson speaks German, she will have an exalted idea of the general diffusion of education among all classes in America, which is only proper."

"How fortunate Byron Olmstead noticed her name; she might have been at the hotel a week, and not have seen a soul," said Ellen Lord. "If she had only written it herself, I should have begged that leaf of the register for my collection of autographs."

"Don't you dread to meet her, Mrs. Wood?" asked a very young lady. "I fairly tremble to think of being in the presence of one I have heard so much

"O no," said Mrs. Wood, with an air of studied indifference. "This feeling soon wears off; when you come to know authoresses and authors intimately, as I have done. One finds they are only men and women at the best. We are quite a literary family. My great Uncle Thomas wrote his voyages to Botany Bay, or some of those places; and my husband has a cousin who published a volume of poems year before last – ' Lays of Wounded Affections' – have you ever seen it ?"

But, just at this moment, the company were en muse; for Judge Bench walked into the room with an air of sublime gravity on his round, good-natured face, and on his arm leaned the lady of whom they spoke.

Many hearts beat quickly, and some few, who truly appreciated the natural and touching tales of Swedish life by which Miss Bremer has endeared herself to many a stranger heart, could have grasped her hand with true Swedish cordiality, and called her "thou." But, for a time, she was engrossed by her hostess, and the guests had leisure to " look their fill." She seemed a plain, unassuming, middle-aged lady, dressed in a black silk, with a cap trimmed with white satin ribbon. She wore no gloves, and seemed a little ill at ease as she glanced around upon the crowd of strange faces, every eye turned upon her with anxious scrutiny.

Ellen Lord heard her say to Mrs. Bench: "I thought you expected a few friends sociably. I did not know it was a party."

" Oh, it is a mere family gathering, I assure you, Miss – Mrs. Bremer. We Americans are the most social people in the world. Make yourself quite at home, I beg. I am sorry Mr. Powell did not return in time for us to have the pleasure of his company."

" Yes, he ought to have come back an hour ago. But boys are boys ', and he's a careful driver, so I'm easy about him."

"What a benignant countenance!" murmured Anna Lord to Byron Olmstead's fellow-student, Mr. Riggs. "Her very air breathes the benevolence of her nature."

"Oh, Anna," returned the youth, "be always thus confiding. I love to look thus into your inner life, though the crowd do not comprehend the depths and richness of your nature."

" No one but you has ever understood me," murmured the pensive girl, still lower than before.

" I am dying to hear her speak," said Ellen to Miss Martha Bell. "See, Mrs. Bench is introducing sister Anna and Mrs. Wood. What an air Mrs. Wood puts on! – I detest her. She buys all her dresses in New York; our stores are not good enough for her."

"And now," said Mrs. Bench, "I must tear myself away, dear lady, for a little while, having introduced my most particular friends to you. Miss Ellen Lord, Mrs. Bremer; Mr. Olmstead, Mr. Gibson. I shall try to persuade Miss Agnes. Bell to give us a little music, and then I shall call upon you, my dear, for that charming duet – ' Take them, I beseech thee.' "

" ' I implore thee,' Mrs. Bench; it's from Norma," said Ellen Lord, blushing at the sound of her own voice in such an august presence.

" It's of no consequence as to terms, my dear; half the world are quarreling about words now-adays. But," and here Mrs. Bench stooped down and whispered, as if concluding the sentence, "I forgot to tell you that Miss Bremer does not like to talk about her own works; at least, she affects not to understand any allusion I make to them. Resides, she's a little deaf, I discover; so when you see a kind of surprised look, speak a little louder."

As Miss Bremer had turned away to answer a question asked by the Judge, this information was speedily circulated through the little group around her. By this time, Miss Bell had been persuaded to "favor the company," and being of a rather antiquated school of music, the Storm Rondo soon drowned all attempts at conversation. Variations on the Swiss Boy, by her sister, followed, and both being eight pages long, by the time they had finished refreshments were announced.

Miss Bremer declined the lemonade, but seemed to enjoy the very nice cake. The conversation progressed in monosyllables. Lemonade is not usually very inspiring; but it seemed to rouse the suspended animation of Byron Olmstead, who observed to the authoress, with a most insinuating look –

" I cannot tell you how much your ' Neighbors' charmed me."

"Yes," was the reply; " I must say, our neighbor-hood is excellent."

"How well she turns it off'!" whispered Ellen. " But I must tell her, for all that, how Nina won my heart."

"That dear Bear," continued Mrs. Wells, a young married lady; "I have called my husband 'Bear' ever since. He has. just the doctor's expression."

"A very strange taste," said Mrs. Bremer, as if determined not to understand. But Anna, who thought she saw a secret satisfaction concealed in this, responded –

" My passion was that charming ' H. Family," the Judge's wife is perfect."

"She seems to be a most excellent woman," returned Miss Bremer, kindly.

" The modesty of true genius," whispered Ellen, again; and here, as the servant returned with the cake-basket, her sister saw an excellent opportunity for her French.

" Vonlez-vous avoir un gateau?" she inquired, fresh from "Olendorf's Method."

Ellen noticed the puzzled look Mrs. Bench had spoken of, and motioned to her sister to speak louder.

"Wollen Sie etwas Kuchen nehmen?" vociferated Mr. Gibson.

By means of sundry gestures towards the cake-basket, Miss Bremer at last understood that she was expected to help herself again, and did so accordingly; while Anna sunk into mortified silence at her bad pronunciation, to which she attributed the slowness of comprehension.

After having collected the lemonade-glasses from the ladies, and deposited them on the piano (where every one made a ring on the mahogany, which kept Mrs. Bench rubbing an hour the next day), Mr. Riggs ventured his first remark, in a confidential undertone –

" We are literary ourselves, in a small way, Miss Bremer. My friend, Mr. Olmstead, writes charming poetry. You should see his ' Leaves from Lillian's Album.' Number twenty-eight was published in the Herald of Freedom last week. Miss Anna is our poetess, and will write for the best magazines next year. Oh, as Dickens so aptly says of the amiable Miss Pecksniff, ' she is indeed a gushing thing. To know her as I know her!' " and he clasped his hands in an ecstasy of admiration, and looked up to the ceiling with an earnest gaze.

"Oh, Mr. Riggs!" was all that the delighted Anna could articulate, at this compliment from her lover, for such he was.

While Byron Olmstead declared, in a manner which he meant should be particularly disembarrassed, "His poetry! – oh, it was mere nonsense: trifles which amused his leisure hours in the midst of intense application to graver pursuits."

Mr. Riggs returned to the charge.

"You must give me permission – painful as I know it is to a sensitive nature to listen to its own praises – to thank you, profoundly, in behalf of my many thousand countrymen and countrywomen, who have read Harper's Select Library, for the exquisite gratification which, as my friend Byron has often remarked, your ' Brothers and Sisters' afforded us."

"Indeed," returned the lady, apparently overcome by this unexpected tribute, "I did not, know that you were acquainted with our family. l said to Mrs. Bench, this morning, 'Mrs. Bench, your warm hospitality to a stranger I shall never forget.' "

" You a stranger?" ejaculated Miss Martha Bell.

"America opens her arms to you," responded Mr. Riggs, metaphorically.

Mrs. Bench came at this moment to claim the duet; and, as the young ladies were considered wonderful vocalists, and could rarely be persuaded to give this celebrated duet, the beaux followed them to the piano, leaving the circle about the lioness comparatively thin.

Miss Martha Bell remained seated on the sofa by her. She had burned for this opportunity of expressing her admiration, and lost no time in doing

" Every one has their favorite, you know," said she, " and I confess the 'President's Daughter' is

"How many daughters has General Taylor?" returned her listener, innocently.

"I suppose, if you go to Washington this winter (as, of course, you will, when Congress meets), you will have the pleasure of an introduction to them. But your ' President's Daughter –"

Miss Martha Bell never spoke very distinctly. Miss Bremer had not comprehended. Miss Martha tried another tack.

"I suppose you enjoy writing very much?"

" I can't say I do. I always make Jane write my letters."

"And yet you have given the world so much pleasure by your books."

"I'm always willing to lend what books we have, it's true; but none of my people ever care much about reading."

"They do not deserve you, Miss Bremer. But I have often heard that 'a prophet is not without honor save in his own country and among his own kindred.' "

"So have I," returned the lady, as if a little puzzled to see how the quotation could be applicable to her., And then, suddenly assuming a confidential look and tone, which delighted Miss Martha beyond measure, she added –" Miss, you look like a very nice, sensible girl, who could not take my questions: amiss. Will you tell me, then, if all strangers are warmly received in your town'? – for, if so, I must say Cooper's Landing is a pattern to the whole country."

"I cannot say they are," answered Miss Martha; " but surely it is no more than you might have looked for. Are you not the genius which half a world admires? the pride of your own country? the Miss Bremer whose charming works have endeared you to us all?"

" Indeed, my dear, I am neither the one nor the other," answered the good lady, plainly. " I have thought there was some mistake all along."

" But are you not Miss Bremer, the celebrated Swedish authoress?"

"I never wrote a line in my life, except letters, when there was no one else to do it. And, now you speak of it, I do believe I heard sister Ella say something about such a lady being in Newburgh last week."

Miss Martha was at the point of suffocation with eagerness. Oh, if it was true – if Mrs. Bench had been mistaken! But the name on the register!

" May I ask your real name, then?" she ejaculated. " Certainly, for it's one I'm not ashamed of. My husband is Captain Beamer, Captain Frederick Beamer, of Nantucket; and I'm staying in Newburgh on a visit to my sister, Mrs. John Ellis, whose husband keeps a grocery there. I started this morning to go up with Hiram, their store boy, to the next landing – I forget the name – where some goods of theirs have been left by mistake. Sister thought it would be a nice little jaunt for me; but I felt a sick headache coring on – I'm subject to them – so I concluded to stop at the tavern and wait till Hiram came back. That's the long and short of it. And, I must say that I thought the people of this town was the most obliging and attentive people I ever come across – from the landlord down. But, dear knows, I didn't mean to impose upon them in borrowed feathers."

Now, it is not to be supposed that this confidential chit-chat was without listeners; for everybody was, of course, expecting "pearls and diamonds" of conversation to fall from the mouth of the last speaker, after the fashion of the good princess in the fairy tale. By the time it was concluded, two or three of the group – Mrs. Wood being the first – comprehended the whole affair. What was the surprise of Mrs. Bench, on turning from the piano, to find her guest talking eagerly, in a loud and excited tone, as she stood in the midst of them! What was her consternation when a dozen voices explained the mistake she had fallen into! her rage and mortification when she at last was made to comprehend that all her care, her pride, and her hospitality had been lavished on the wife of a Nantucket sea captain,. whose brother-in-law kept a retail grocery in the next town'. She, the aristocratic, the literary, the sharp-sighted Mrs. Bench!

It was too much for woman to endure.

Good Mrs. Blamer was suffered to depart almost without a farewell, from her late hospitable entertainer. The guests, as a general thing, stood as far aloof. The Judge proved himself the best bred person of the party; for he had a most interesting conversation, going to the hotel, upon the subject of whaling voyages generally; and ever afterwards declared that, if the lady wasn't Miss Bremer, she was a first-rate, sensible woman. But alas for the busy schemes which his wife had planned! Never will she be allowed forgetfulness of this unfortunate contretemps. Mrs. Wood made a party last week, to which Mrs. Bench sent regrets, and where the matter was talked over at length, and Byron Olmstead had to take his share of popular opprobrium for being such a bad manuscript reader.

"But it was an awful hand, I've no doubt," said Miss Ellen Lord, who took the part of her absent friend. "I saw Hiram when they drove off the next morning, and he doesn't look as if he could spell his own name."

" So she wasn't deaf, after all. No wonder she didn't understand French," said Miss Anna.

"Or German," added Mr. Gibson.

"Did you see Mrs. Bench's poem in the Home Journal, Saturday?" asked Miss Wood. "It was called ' Blighted Hopes.' There's one thing – she'll never get over the airs she took that night. It was a good lesson for her."

And so it was, dear reader; and a lesson for all who rush with impertinent curiosity to look upon a distinguished man or woman, as if they were wild beasts caged for the occasion; for all who "patronize" genius, or wit, or beauty only because it is the fashion, and that they may thereby share in the notoriety. And though America does, indeed, welcome Fredrika Bremer with warm hearts and earnest sympathy, we should remember that, as a woman, she must shrink from coarse flattery or attentions devoid of feeling.

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