Angel of the City Free Online: A Love Story Between a Guardian Angel and a Surgeon

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Today we may take our water for granted, but late 19th century Manhattanites understood that without the Old Croton Aqueduct, New York would never become the great city it hoped to be. The Water Terrace Fountain, as the Bethesda monument was originally known, would celebrate the birth of a great Metropolis. To Olmstead and Vaux, memorializing the Old Croton Aqueduct, which brought fresh, clean water to the city, was of a piece with their vision for Central Park as a place where ordinary people could free themselves from the miasma of crowded slum conditions and breathe good, clean air.

Her audience might have seen this as a reference to the ravages of cholera before clean Croton Water arrived in the city. But the sculptor herself might have wanted to convey other, more personal concerns. The angel's face bears a strong resemblance to Stebbins' lover, the famous stage actress Charlotte Sanders Cushman. At the time, Cushman was dying of breast cancer. Perhaps Stebbins put her own passionate hope for healing and rebirth into her best-known work. Cushman died in 1876, three years after the statue's dedication.

It was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated anunusually hearty dinner, of which the dyspeptic truffe formed notthe least important item, and was sitting alone in the dining-room,with my feet upon the fender, and at my elbow a small table which Ihad rolled up to the fire, and upon which were some apologies fordessert, with some miscellaneous bottles of wine, spirit, and liqueur.In the morning I had been reading Glover's "Leonidas," Wilkies"Epigoniad," Lamartine's "Pilgrimage," Barlow's "Columbiad,"Tuckermann's "Sicily," and Griswold's "Curiosities"; I am willing toconfess, therefore, that I now felt a little stupid. I made effortto arouse myself by aid of frequent Lafitte, and, all failing, Ibetook myself to a stray newspaper in despair. Having carefullyperused the column of "houses to let," and the column of "dogslost," and then the two columns of "wives and apprentices runaway,"I attacked with great resolution the editorial matter, and, reading itfrom beginning to end without understanding a syllable, conceivedthe possibility of its being Chinese, and so re-read it from the endto the beginning, but with no more satisfactory result. I was about tothrow away, in disgust, This folio of four pages, happy work Which not even poets criticise,when I felt my attention somewhat aroused by the paragraph whichfollows: "The avenues to death are numerous and strange. A London papermentions the decease of a person from a singular cause. He was playingat 'puff the dart,' which is played with a long needle inserted insome worsted, and blown at a target through a tin tube. He placedthe needle at the wrong end of the tube, and drawing his breathstrongly to puff the dart forward with force, drew the needle into histhroat. It entered the lungs, and in a few days killed him." Upon seeing this I fell into a great rage, without exactly knowingwhy. "This thing," I exclaimed, "is a contemptible falsehood- a poorhoax- the lees of the invention of some pitiable penny-a-liner- ofsome wretched concoctor of accidents in Cocaigne. These fellows,knowing the extravagant gullibility of the age, set their wits to workin the imagination of improbable possibilities- of odd accidents, asthey term them; but to a reflecting intellect (like mine," I added, inparenthesis, putting my forefinger unconsciously to the side of mynose), "to a contemplative understanding such as I myself possess,it seems evident at once that the marvelous increase of late inthese 'odd accidents' is by far the oddest accident of all. For my ownpart, I intend to believe nothing henceforward that has anything ofthe 'singular' about it. "Mein Gott, den, vat a vool you bees for dat!" replied one of themost remarkable voices I ever heard. At first I took it for a rumblingin my ears- such as man sometimes experiences when getting very drunk-but, upon second thought, I considered the sound as more nearlyresembling that which proceeds from an empty barrel beaten with abig stick; and, in fact, this I should have concluded it to be, butfor the articulation of the syllables and words. I am by no meansnaturally nervous, and the very few glasses of Lafitte which I hadsipped served to embolden me a little, so that I felt nothing oftrepidation, but merely uplifted my eyes with a leisurely movement,and looked carefully around the room for the intruder. I could not,however, perceive any one at all. "Humph!" resumed the voice, as I continued my survey, "you mus pe sodronk as de pig, den, for not zee me as I zit here at your zide." Hereupon I bethought me of looking immediately before my nose, andthere, sure enough, confronting me at the table sat a personagenondescript, although not altogether indescribable. His body was awine-pipe, or a rum-puncheon, or something of that character, andhad a truly Falstaffian air. In its nether extremity were inserted twokegs, which seemed to answer all the purposes of legs. For armsthere dangled from the upper portion of the carcass two tolerably longbottles, with the necks outward for hands. All the head that I saw themonster possessed of was one of those Hessian canteens whichresemble a large snuff-box with a hole in the middle of the lid.This canteen (with a funnel on its top, like a cavalier cap slouchedover the eyes) was set on edge upon the puncheon, with the hole towardmyself; and through this hole, which seemed puckered up like the mouthof a very precise old maid, the creature was emitting certain rumblingand grumbling noises which he evidently intended for intelligibletalk. "I zay," said he, "you mos pe dronk as de pig, vor zit dare andnot zee me zit ere; and I zay, doo, you most pe pigger vool as degoose, vor to dispelief vat iz print in de print. 'Tiz de troof-dat itiz- eberry vord ob it." "Who are you, pray?" said I, with much dignity, although somewhatpuzzled; "how did you get here? and what is it you are talking about?" "Az vor ow I com'd ere," replied the figure, "dat iz none of yourpizzness; and as vor vat I be talking apout, I be talk apout vot Itink proper; and as vor who I be, vy dat is de very ting I com'dhere for to let you zee for yourzelf." "You are a drunken vagabond," said I, "and I shall ring the bell andorder my footman to kick you into the street." "He! he! he!" said the fellow, "hu! hu! hu! dat you can't do." "Can't do!" said I, "what do you mean?- can't do what?" "Ring de pell," he replied, attempting a grin with his littlevillainous mouth. Upon this I made an effort to get up, in order to put my threat intoexecution; but the ruffian just reached across the table verydeliberately, and hitting me a tap on the forehead with the neck ofone of the long bottles, knocked me back into the arm-chair from whichI had half arisen. I was utterly astounded; and, for a moment, wasquite at a loss what to do. In the meantime, he continued his talk. "You zee," said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now youshall know who I pe. Look at me! zee! I am te Angel ov te Odd!" "And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was alwaysunder the impression that an angel had wings." "Te wing!" he cried, highly incensed, "vat I pe do mit te wing? MeinGott! do you take me vor a shicken?" "No- oh, no!" I replied, much alarmed, "you are no chicken-certainly not." "Well, den, zit still and pehabe yourself, or I'll rap you again midme vist. It iz te shicken ab te wing, und te owl ab te wing, und teimp ab te wing, und te headteuffel ab te wing. Te angel ab not tewing, and I am te Angel ov te Odd." "And your business with me at present is- is-" "My pizzness!" ejaculated the thing, "vy vot a low bred puppy youmos pe vor to ask a gentleman und an angel apout his pizzness!" This language was rather more than I could bear, even from an angel;so, plucking up courage, I seized a salt-cellar which lay withinreach, and hurled it at the head of the intruder. Either he dodged,however, or my aim was inaccurate; for all I accomplished was thedemolition of the crystal which protected the dial of the clock uponthe mantelpiece. As for the Angel, he evinced his sense of myassault by giving me two or three hard consecutive raps upon theforehead as before. These reduced me at once to submission, and I amalmost ashamed to confess that, either through pain or vexation, therecame a few tears into my eyes. "Mein Gott!" said the Angel of the Odd, apparently much softenedat my distress; "mein Gott, te man is eder ferry dronck or ferrysorry. You mos not trink it so strong- you mos put de water in tewine. Here, trink dis, like a goot veller, und don't gry now- don't!" Hereupon the Angel of the Odd replenished my goblet (which was abouta third full of Port) with a colorless fluid that he poured from oneof his hand bottles. I observed that these bottles had labels abouttheir necks, and that these labels were inscribed "Kirschenwasser." The considerate kindness of the Angel mollified me in no littlemeasure; and, aided by the water with which he diluted my Port morethan once, I at length regained sufficient temper to listen to hisvery extraordinary discourse. I cannot pretend to recount all thathe told me, but I gleaned from what he said that he was the genius whopresided over the contre temps of mankind, and whose business it wasto bring about the odd accidents which are continually astonishing theskeptic. Once or twice, upon my venturing to express my totalincredulity in respect to his pretensions, he grew very angryindeed, so that at length I considered it the wiser policy to saynothing at all, and let him have his own way. He talked on, therefore,at great length, while I merely leaned back in my chair with my eyesshut, and amused myself with munching raisins and flipping the stemsabout the room. But, by and bye, the Angel suddenly construed thisbehavior of mine into contempt. He arose in a terrible passion,slouched his funnel down over his eyes, swore a vast oath, uttered athreat of some character which I did not precisely comprehend, andfinally made me a low bow and departed, wishing me, in the language ofthe archbishop in Gil-Blas, "beaucoup de bonheur et un peu plus de bonsens." His departure afforded me relief. The very few glasses of Lafittethat I had sipped had the effect of rendering me drowsy, and I feltinclined to take a nap of some fifteen or twenty minutes, as is mycustom after dinner. At six I had an appointment of consequence, whichit was quite indispensable that I should keep. The policy of insurancefor my dwelling house had expired the day before; and, some disputehaving arisen, it was agreed that, at six, I should meet the boardof directors of the company and settle the terms of a renewal.Glancing upward at the clock on the mantel-piece (for I felt toodrowsy to take out my watch), I had the pleasure to find that I hadstill twenty-five minutes to spare. It was half past five; I couldeasily walk to the insurance office in five minutes; and my usual postprandian siestas had never been known to exceed five and twenty. Ifelt sufficiently safe, therefore, and composed myself to myslumbers forthwith. Having completed them to my satisfaction, I again looked towardthe time-piece, and was half inclined to believe in the possibility ofodd accidents when I found that, instead of my ordinary fifteen ortwenty minutes, I had been dozing only three; for it still wantedseven and twenty of the appointed hour. I betook myself again to mynap, and at length a second time awoke, when, to my utter amazement,it still wanted twenty-seven minutes of six. I jumped up to examinethe clock, and found that it had ceased running. My watch informedme that it was half past seven; and, of course, having slept twohours, I was too late for my appointment "It will make no difference,"I said; "I can call at the office in the morning and apologize; in themeantime what can be the matter with the clock?" Upon examining it Idiscovered that one of the raisin-stems which I had been flippingabout the room during the discourse of the Angel of the Odd hadflown through the fractured crystal, and lodging, singularly enough,in the key-hole, with an end projecting outward, had thus arrested therevolution of the minute-hand. "Ah!" said I; "I see how it is. This thing speaks for itself. Anatural accident, such as will happen now and then!" I gave the matter no further consideration, and at my usual hourretired to bed. Here, having placed a candle upon a reading-stand atthe bed-head, and having made an attempt to peruse some pages of the"Omnipresence of the Deity," I unfortunately fell asleep in lessthan twenty seconds, leaving the light burning as it was. My dreams were terrifically disturbed by visions of the Angel of theOdd. Methought he stood at the foot of the couch, drew aside thecurtains, and, in the hollow, detestable tones of a rum-puncheon,menaced me with the bitterest vengeance for the contempt with whichI had treated him. He concluded a long harrangue by taking off hisfunnelcap, inserting the tube into my gullet, and thus deluging mewith an ocean of Kirschenwasser, which he poured, in a continuousflood, from one of the long-necked bottles that stood him instead ofan arm. My agony was at length insufferable, and I awoke just intime to perceive that a rat had ran off with the lighted candle fromthe stand, but not in season to prevent his making his escape withit through the hole. Very soon, a strong suffocating odor assailedmy nostrils; the house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a fewminutes the blaze broke forth with violence, and in an incrediblybrief period the entire building was wrapped in flames. All egressfrom my chamber, except through a window, was cut off. The crowd,however, quickly procured and raised a long ladder. By means of this Iwas descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a huge hog, aboutwhose rotund stomach, and indeed about whose whole air andphysiognomy, there was something which reminded me of the Angel of theOdd,- when this hog, I say, which hitherto had been quietly slumberingin the mud, took it suddenly into his head that his left shoulderneeded scratching, and could find no more convenient rubbing post thanthat afforded by the foot of the ladder. In an instant I wasprecipitated, and had the misfortune to fracture my arm. This accident, with the loss of my insurance, and with the moreserious loss of my hair, the whole of which had been singed off by thefire, predisposed me to serious impressions, so that, finally, Imade up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow disconsolatefor the loss of her seventh husband, and to her wounded spirit Ioffered the balm of my vows. She yielded a reluctant consent to myprayers. I knelt at her feet in gratitude and adoration. Sheblushed, and bowed her luxuriant tresse into close contact withthose supplied me, temporarily, by Grandjean. I know not how theentanglement took place, but so it was. I arose with a shining pate,wigless, she in disdain and wrath, half buried in alien hair. Thusended my hopes of the widow by an accident which could not have beenanticipated, to be sure, but which the natural sequence of eventshad brought about. Without despairing, however, I undertook the siege of a lessimplacable heart. The fates were again propitious for a briefperiod; but again a trivial incident interfered. Meeting mybetrothed in an avenue thronged with the elite of the city, I washastening to greet her with one of my best considered bows, when asmall particle of some foreign matter lodging in the corner of my eye,rendered me, for the moment, completely blind. Before I couldrecover my sight, the lady of my love had disappeared- irreparablyaffronted at what she chose to consider my premeditated rudeness inpassing her by ungreeted. While I stood bewildered at the suddennessof this accident (which might have happened, nevertheless, to anyone under the sun), and while I still continued incapable of sight,I was accosted by the Angel of the Odd, who proffered me his aidwith a civility which I had no reason to expect. He examined mydisordered eye with much gentleness and skill, informed me that Ihad a drop in it, and (whatever a "drop" was) took it out, andafforded me relief. I now considered it time to die, (since fortune had so determined topersecute me,) and accordingly made my way to the nearest river. Here,divesting myself of my clothes, (for there is no reason why wecannot die as we were born,) I threw myself headlong into the current;the sole witness of my fate being a solitary crow that had beenseduced into the eating of brandy-saturated corn, and so had staggeredaway from his fellows. No sooner had I entered the water than thisbird took it into its head to fly away with the most indispensableportion of my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for the present, mysuicidal design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleevesof my coat, and betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with all thenimbleness which the case required and its circumstances wouldadmit. But my evil destiny attended me still. As I ran at fullspeed, with my nose up in the atmosphere, and intent only upon thepurloiner of my property, I suddenly perceived that my feet restedno longer upon terre firma; the fact is, I had thrown myself over aprecipice, and should inevitably have been dashed to pieces, but formy good fortune in grasping the end of a long guide-rope, whichdescended from a passing balloon. As soon as I sufficiently recovered my senses to comprehend theterrific predicament in which I stood or rather hung, I exerted allthe power of my lungs to make that predicament known to the aeronautoverhead. But for a long time I exerted myself in vain. Either thefool could not, or the villain would not perceive me. Meantime themachine rapidly soared, while my strength even more rapidly failed.I was soon upon the point of resigning myself to my fate, and droppingquietly into the sea, when my spirits were suddenly revived by hearinga hollow voice from above, which seemed to be lazily humming anopera air. Looking up, I perceived the Angel of the Odd. He wasleaning with his arms folded, over the rim of the car, and with a pipein his mouth, at which he puffed leisurely, seemed to be uponexcellent terms with himself and the universe. I was too muchexhausted to speak, so I merely regarded him with an imploring air. For several minutes, although he looked me full in the face, he saidnothing. At length removing carefully his meerschaum from the right tothe left corner of his mouth, he condescended to speak. "Who pe you?" he asked, "und what der teuffel you pe do dare?" To this piece of impudence, cruelty, and affectation, I couldreply only by ejaculating the monosyllable "Help!" "Elp!" echoed the ruffian- "not I. Dare iz te pottle- elpyourself, und pe tam'd!" With these words he let fall a heavy bottle of Kirschenwasser which,dropping precisely upon the crown of my head, caused me to imaginethat my brains were entirely knocked out. Impressed with this idea,I was about to relinquish my hold and give up the ghost with a goodgrace, when I was arrested by the cry of the Angel, who bade me holdon. "Old on!" he said; "don't pe in te urry- don't. Will you pe takede odder pottle, or ave you pe got zober yet and come to your zenzes?" I made haste, hereupon, to nod my head twice- once in thenegative, meaning thereby that I would prefer not taking the otherbottle at present- and once in the affirmative, intending thus toimply that I was sober and had positively come to my senses. Bythese means I somewhat softened the Angel. "Und you pelief, ten," he inquired, "at te last? You pelief, ten, inte possibilty of te odd?" I again nodded my head in assent. "Und you ave pelief in me, te Angel of te Odd?" I nodded again. "Und you acknowledge tat you pe te blind dronk and te vool?" I nodded once more. "Put your right hand into your left hand preeches pocket, ten, intoken oy your vull zubmission unto te Angel ov te Odd." This thing, for very obvious reasons, I found it quite impossible todo. In the first place, my left arm had been broken in my fall fromthe ladder, and, therefore, had I let go my hold with the righthand, I must have let go altogether. In the second place, I could haveno breeches until I came across the crow. I was therefore obliged,much to my regret, to shake my head in the negative- intending thus togive the Angel to understand that I found it inconvenient, just atthat moment, to comply with his very reasonable demand! No sooner,however, had I ceased shaking my head than- "Go to der teuffel ten!" roared the Angel of the Odd. In pronouncing these words, he drew a sharp knife across theguide. rope by which I was suspended, and as we then happened to beprecisely over my own house, (which, during my peregrinations, hadbeen handsomely rebuilt,) it so occurred that I tumbled headlongdown the ample chimney and alit upon the dining-room hearth. Upon coming to my senses, (for the fall had very thoroughlystunned me,) I found it about four o'clock in the morning. I layoutstretched where I had fallen from the balloon. My head grovelled inthe ashes of an extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon thewreck of a small table, overthrown, and amid the fragments of amiscellaneous dessert, intermingled with a newspaper, some brokenglass and shattered bottles, and an empty jug of the SchiedamKirschenwasser. Thus revenged himself the Angel of the Odd.

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