Danger! A True History of a Great City's Wiles and Temptations Part 16

The hearing came up in the private examination room of Judge Otterbourg on Friday last. Judge, and clerks, and lawyers, and princ.i.p.als, and witnesses were promptly on hand. The Judge smoked a cigar, and his smooth white forehead, beneath his Hyperion curls, looked the picture of judicial impartiality. Lawyer Cook looked like Charles the Wrestler, waiting for a burly and muscular antagonist. Lawyer Hummel was all brains and diamonds; and when the Judge wanted a light, Mr. Hummel handed him a match-box of solid virgin gold dug from a California mine by Tony Pastor. The fair plaintiff was nervous. Mr. Ludwig Nisson was very handsome but very pale. His counsel fought for him as earnestly as if his client had been arraigned for murder; and when opportunity offered he whispered in his client's ear and bade him keep up his heart.

The seven witnesses for the defense sat in the rear. Four of them were former friends of Louise. Miss Ruff took the stand and in reply to Mr.

Cook briefly told her experiences. Then Mr. Hummel took her in hand. She answered modestly and straightforwardly, not denying the nature of her intimacy with Mr. Julius Westfall, but stated her inability to remember when that gentleman went to Europe.

Mr. Richard Kloeppel then perched himself gracefully on the witness chair and smiled benignly upon the court and counsel. Mr. Kloeppel is the bartender in the Gilbert House, and in answer to Mr. Hummel declared that he was acquainted with Miss Ruff. He had walked in that portion of Second Avenue known as Love Lane in the company of Miss Ruff, and he had also sweethearted and otherwise mashed other young ladies. n.o.body in court--with the possible exceptions of Louise and her lawyer--were surprised when Richard went into particulars about his intimacy with Miss Ruff.

Mr. Rudolph Fuchs was the next occupant of the witness chair; a bewilderingly pretty brunette with coal-black eyes and perfect teeth.

During the height of the season Mr. Rudolph Fuchs had been the cynosure of all eyes at Brighton Beach, where, for a pecuniary consideration, he condescended to fill the role of waiter. Last year he was similarly engaged at Cable's. Next year, he will probably be the subject of fierce rivalry among Coney Island caterers. Mr. Fuchs gave his testimony with inimitable grace. Mr. Fuchs had also enjoyed the acquaintance and a.s.sociation of Miss Ruff. He had danced with her; he had listened to the band in her charming society; he had escorted her along the street, and he had accompanied her to an establishment that shall be nameless here.

Then Lawyer Hummel called Joseph Neuthen. He was another exasperatingly pretty young man, with pearl complexion and hazel eyes. He was the fourth of the phenomenally pretty young men who had loved Miss Ruff. Mr.

Neuthen rehea.r.s.ed a soft and scandalous tale. He learned to look upon Louise with love two years since this summer. One evening he had been in a private apartment in West Third street with Miss Ruff.

After this charming witness retired, lawyer Cook lashed himself into a rage. Miss Ruff once more graced the witness stand. She told the incidents connected with Mr. Neuthen's acquaintance in a different, but in an equally interesting way. At the same time she emphatically denied the soft impeachments of Richard Kloeppel and Rudolph Fuchs. She had known them, she swore, as casual acquaintances; but closer relations she positively denied. As to "Joseph," Miss Ruff remembered a certain evening, over two years since, when he brought her tidings that Mr.

Westfall wanted to see her. She was gratified by the intelligence, and readily adopted Joseph's suggestion, more especially as Mr. Westfall had charged his messenger with it--to drink a gla.s.s of beer, till the restaurateur arrived. Joseph and Louise waited and waited, but Julius failed to appear. Then Joseph said: "Perhaps he has gone home; perchance he slumbereth; let us go after him." They went to Third street, where Julius was accustomed to woo Morpheus. Joseph and Louise entered a room.

Soon after he became demonstrative in his attentions. But being comparatively a giantess, she kicked him away, and after he had gone to sleep she put off her outer raiment and went to sleep also.

Mr. Theodore Utz, of Stapleton, L. I., an upholsterer by trade, was the next witness. He had received letters from Miss Ruff, and was familiar with her handwriting. He had seen a letter addressed by her to Mr.

Westfall since he left for Europe. The letter was addressed to Mr.

Westfall in Hamburg, and he was familiar with its contents.

Counsellor Hummel: "Now state the contents of that letter as near as you can recollect."

Counsellor Cook: "I object."

Judge Otterbourg ruled out the testimony.

"Put this down on the record," said Mr. Hummel. "Counsel for defendant excepts and insists that the question is admissible on the ground that the complainant having sworn that she did not write a letter to Mr.

Westfall, charging him with the paternity of the child likely to be born, the defense desires to prove by this witness, who has sworn that he knows the handwriting of, and who has received letters from, the complainant, that the complainant did write a letter to said Westfall charging him with the paternity of said to-be-born child; that it is an impossibility to secure said original letter, or said Julius Westfall, it having been proven in evidence that due effort was made to secure the original letter and Westfall, but Westfall is in Europe and not in the jurisdiction of this court."

Mr. Francis L. Specht, a butcher on the east side, who supplied the restaurants of Mr. Nisson, gave some testimony tending to prove that Miss Ruff sometimes kept late hours. When asked by Mr. Hummel, "Do you known her general character for virtue?" plaintiff's counsel objected, and the objection was sustained. The result of the case, however, was that the proceedings were eventually dismissed, the evidence conclusively establis.h.i.+ng the fact that Miss Ruff "loved not wisely but too much."

*Astounding Degradation.*

A WIFE FLIES FROM HER HUSBAND'S HOME--REVOLTING HEARTLESSNESS OF A FATHER--AN ABHORRENT TRUTH STRANGER THAN THE MOST IMAGINATIVE FICTION.

Supreme Court.--John Edward Ditmas against Olivia A. Ditmas. Such is the t.i.tle of an action for divorce inst.i.tuted by Howe & Hummel, on behalf of an injured husband, against a youthful, educated, accomplished and fascinating wife, who had fallen from woman's high estate, violated her marriage vows, and by her own libidinous conduct and l.u.s.tful debauchery become one of the many fallen ones of this great metropolis.

Some years previous to the action, at Perinton in this State, John E.

Ditmas, a well-to-do young farmer of Gravesend, L. I., was united in the bonds of holy matrimony by the Rev. J. Butler, to the youthful, beauteous defendant, whose maiden name was Olivia A. Mead. And for some time they lived most happily together, but her father, thinking that she was then too young--she being only sixteen years of age--to enter into the marriage state, induced her to leave the husband and temporarily board with him at the corner of Main and Clinton streets, in the city of Rochester, in this State, Her father subsequently succeeded in inducing her to enter a ladies' boarding school at Rochester, but her conduct there in flirting with young gentlemen was so openly improper that the proprietress was compelled to expel her from the establishment.

To the utter astonishment of every one and disclosing an unparalleled revolting case of parental heartlessness, William B. Mead, the father of Olivia, induced his daughter to quit the path of virtue, and to enter a fas.h.i.+onable house of prost.i.tution in Rochester, then kept by Madame Annie Eagan; and, as the beautiful but frail defendant states, the paternal originator of her being told her that as she was inclined to be "gay" she might as well live in a "gay" house as not; and he took her there, making arrangements with the proprietress for her stay, and she became one of the inmates, conforming to the requirements and regulations of the situation.

The plaintiff, hearing this heart-breaking intelligence, made every effort to induce the defendant to leave her life of debauchery, and portrayed the misery, disease, and prospects of early death consequent upon such a life; but it appeared to be time wasted to talk to her, as she was evidently too far gone to become awakened to any desire for reformation.

Subsequently, learning that her devoted and much injured husband had determined to avail himself of the law to get free from the legal obligation which bound him to one lost past redemption, the defendant addressed to the plaintiff two letters, of which the following are copies, and which but too plainly admit the extent of the degradation and crime into which the unhappy, and lost, abandoned wife had plunged herself:

"ROCHESTER, . . . . .

"My dear husband,--With a sad and breaking heart I sit down to communicate my thoughts and feelings to you; but oh, if I could tell you how I feel I should be happy, but words can never express or tongue tell. I believe that I am at present one of the most unhappy, as well as unfortunate and miserable beings, that ever existed, but I can only feel to say that it was G.o.d's curse upon me, and that I know that I am deserving all, so I do not murmur. But, oh! the tears I have shed for my past follies would make an ocean; and to-night, if I was only laid in my grave, is my wish. John, what shall I say? In the first place, can you ever forgive me? for G.o.d alone knows that I am penitent if there ever was one in the world. I can hardly hope to be forgiven, for my sins are almost beyond redemption, but G.o.d will forgive at the eleventh hour, and I want to be forgiven and reform. I will reform. I have seen enough, and now I want to settle down and live a virtuous and respectable life the rest of my days and die a happy death, for I have spent many an hour of late in deep thought, and it is not an impulse of the moment, but I have spent hours and days and months, and conclude that this is no life for me to lead. I am cured of my follies and I want to reform. Now, John, I have used you like a dog. I can say nothing for myself only that I am sorry, and have suffered enough, and have had my just dues. But, oh, John, forgive me! I could never do enough for you, and though I should live for years I could never wash out the stain which I have brought upon your name, but I am willing to end my days in your service.

I am willing to do anything for you, if you are only willing to forgive me and live with me again, for I am your wife the same as ever, although I never filled that position or deserved the name. I am now willing to steady down and be a wife to you the remainder of my days. I think it was G.o.d's will that things should have been as they have; for my part, I know that it has been the making of me. I do not think that I could ever have settled down, and have been a woman and true wife, if I had not pa.s.sed through what I have, for now I have seen not only the ways of the world, but the follies of my ways, and am cured, and now I am willing to go anywhere, and live with my husband, and be to him a true wife the rest of my days. That I am penitent and want to be forgiven by you and all of the rest, 'though I can never expect that,' and that the words come right from my heart, G.o.d alone knows. John, I would have written to you long before, but my pride forbade it, for I thought I would wait and see if you loved or cared anything for me, for I thought if you did that you would write or send for me, but when I saw that you did not, it worried me, too, but still I felt that I would not humble myself enough to write. I thought if you did not care anything for me I would not let you know I cared enough for you to write; but it was pride and pride alone; but it had a fall, and I felt as if I had pa.s.sed through a fiery furnace and came out cleansed, for I feel like a different person.

Everybody says it has been the making of me to pa.s.s through what I have.

Many and many a time have I repented of the step I took in the month of August, when I left the city of Brooklyn. Many a time I have prayed that I might once again be placed back to that time. Oh! how differently would I act. Now I can see that I was wholly to blame--alas! when too late, I am afraid. John, you know all, you know everything that has transpired from the time I left you up to the present time, therefore it would be useless to say anything concerning my life for the past six months, only that I am not past reformation, but have steadied down and want to live a virtuous life the rest of my days, and the only one I want to spend them with is my husband, for we are the same to each other as on that October morning when we were p.r.o.nounced man and wife. Then let us forgive as we hope to be forgiven by that Higher One. Now, John, I know that your mother or any of your family would never speak to me or forgive me, but if my future life will ever be the means of restoring the peace again that once existed between your folks and me, I am willing to do anything, sacrifice everything to live so that they will once more recognize me and term me their daughter and sister. I love them all; but, oh! what h.e.l.lish spirit ever took possession of me I know not; but, oh! John, forgive me, take me back, and though they discard me, remember I am your wife.

"Now, John, write to me, for G.o.d's sake; write for the love you once bore me; write, let me know if you are done with me forever or not, for suspense is killing; but, oh, if you ever hope to be forgiven by G.o.d, forgive your wife, and let us once more live together and dwell in harmony and peace.

"Now, John, I send my love to you, and 'Oh, forgive me!' is my prayer.

"John, forgive! But you will have to follow the directions, as no one knows me by any other name. Nevertheless I am your wife. Good-by!

"From your wife, "OLIVIA.

"Direct: Maud Coles, No. 13 Division street, Rochester."

"ROCHESTER, . . . . .

"My dear husband,--I call you so because I have the right to, but, oh, how I have abused that right that I am not worthy of, John. As I sit writing to-day my heart is near breaking and my eyes are filled with tears; and though I have written to you once and heard nothing from you, still I cannot, will not, give you up. Oh, John, I am one of the most miserable and unhappy beings that ever lived. I wish I were dead, and I wish I had died before I ever used you as I did. I do from the bottom of my heart. I shall write just I feel, and as I have felt since I left the path of virtue and abused the only protector and friend,' for you were mine for life.' I don't think any one, after doing as I have done, ever has peace of mind. I am sure I do not. I dream of you most every night, and the other night I had a fearful dream, and I will tell you some other time what it was. John, I was talking about you to-day, and I was saying if you would only take me back and live with me, that I would do anything for you. I would beg on my hands and knees. I would do anything to come back and live with you. I would be through life what you would wish me to be. It lays in your power to determine my future end. If you will forgive me and take me back, I will always do right, and you will never have cause to repent it. You say to yourself that I promised once before. This is only the second offense, and if we do not forgive each other on earth for such trivial offense, 'as we may say,' when compared with our wickedness in the eyes of G.o.d, how can we ever expect to be forgiven for the manifold sins we commit daily? and, John, I am truly repentant, and what I say is not an impulse of the moment, but I have long thought it over, and G.o.d, who alone knows the heart, knows that I want to be forgiven, and that I love you and want to live with you again; and He knows that mine has been a sad and bitter experience, and I am steadied down and profited by it. When I am in trouble and feel unhappy, then it is that I think of you, and all that keeps me up is the cheering thought that at some day you will forgive me and live with me again; but if you should write that I need have no such thought, that you were done with me forever, it would kill me; for, as I have said before, all I care to live for is you, and I do not want to live if you do not forgive me; but, John, you shall never be aught else to me than my husband, and I hope in time to soften your heart towards me, for I want to come back and live with you. I want you to forgive me, for I love you, John, I do; and write to me and say-that I am forgiven. Write, if it is only to say that you are done with me forever, for suspense is killing. I am going to write to Maria and aunt Em to-day, to see how far their influence will go. Oh, John, forgive me! I am your lawful wife, and do not be influenced by any one, for, John, think what I was when you married me--pure and virtuous. I will always be good, and be for the rest of my life a fond and affectionate wife. John, I've got no friends, n.o.body to love or care for me, but I have got a husband, and it grieves me when I read over my old letters which you wrote to me before we were married, 'as I was to-day,' to think of the words of love and promises, and enjoyment we were to take; but, alas! the devil had possession of me. But now I will throw all things aside but the love and interest of my husband. Oh, John, for my sake, forgive me! for G.o.d's sake, forgive me, and I will always be a Christian: if not I will end my days in misery! John, write to me; do write immediately and forgive your erring wife,

"OLIVIA.

"Direct: Olivia, 13 Division street, Rochester. N. Y."

To the request contained in the above letters the husband felt he could not comply, as he learned that she was really attached to the immoral life which she was leading; and he was also deeply overcome at finding that her own father, instead of devoting his life to his daughter's redemption, should have actually perpetrated the horrible crime of consigning his own child to a fas.h.i.+onable den of infamy. Detective Rogers, of Rochester, by the directions of Commissioner Hebbard, arrested the defendant in Madame Eagan's house, as being the inmate of a house of prost.i.tution; but she was suffered to escape on her paying a fine of twenty-five dollars, and return to her evil a.s.sociations.

The plaintiff, coming to the conclusion that his wife was irreclaimable, through Howe & Hummel, sent on process to the sheriff of Monroe County, who served the same on the defendant, whilst she was actually in Madame Eagan's fas.h.i.+onable "Maison de joie," and lost no time ridding himself of the unwholesome partner of his joys. Was ever stranger history of man, wife and father recited?

*Fall of a Youthful, Beautiful and Accomplished Wife.*

For some time past, Theodore Stuyvesant, one of our most prominent and wealthy lawyers, residing at East Seventh street, in this city, and having a splendid country seat in Queen's County, had cause to suspect the fidelity of his youthful, beautiful and accomplished wife, and, unhappily, these suspicions resulted in sad reality.

It appears that for some time past Mr. Stuyvesant and his wife were in the habit of giving magnificent entertainments to a numerous circle of legal, literary and theatrical acquaintances, at some of which some friends of the gentleman observed indications of undue familiarity on the part of the lady with a repeated and oft-invited guest.

The warnings were from time to time unheeded and disregarded by the too confiding and affectionate husband; but, on the afternoon of Thursday, harrowing facts were whispered n his ear, which induced him to resort to the stratagem which resulted in the detection of his wife in grossly improper conduct.

On the day referred to, Mr. Stuyvesant informed his wife that legal business required his absence from the city, and would detain him, probably, ten or fifteen days; and she parted with him, bestowing so affectionate, and apparently loving farewell, as almost to remove the bitter and heart-rending suspicions which were then racking the breast of the injured husband. But, resolved on carrying out his intent, he simulated departure; but instead of leaving the city he remained at the house of a trusty friend, deliberating upon and maturing plans for the carrying out of that project, which was fated to reveal to him his wife's shame and his own dishonor.

After a lapse of some hours, Mr. Stuyvesant, with two friends, repaired to his residence, and having obtained admission through a rear sub-entrance, proceeded to his bed-chamber, on entering which, on tip-toe, he discovered his guilty wife in the embrace of her betrayer.

The dishonored husband stood aghast and petrified--the wife endeavored to conceal herself--while her paramour was summarily ejected through the window by the avenging friends.

The husband, on recovering from the shock which had temporarily paralyzed him, left the house in solemn sadness, and absented himself from the presence of one who had so cruelly dishonored him, and for whom he had always evinced the warmest affection. Fearing lest reason should leave its throne, and he commit an act which would usher the soul of one he fondly loved un-shriven to her last account with all her imperfections on her head, poor Stuyvesant wept and left. His cup of bitterness was full. He repaired to the house of his friend where he pa.s.sed the remainder of the night. In the morning, depressed and heart-broken, he returned to the home, once so happy and joyous, but now bleak and desolate, for the purpose of winding up domestic affairs, breaking up the house, dismissing the servants, and parting forever from the frail and erring woman, now wife to him but in name.

But the lady, instead of expressing contrition and supplicating for pardon for the irreparable wrong she had inflicted, a.s.sailed him with a torrent of vituperative abuse; and on his aged mother remonstrating with the guilty one upon the iniquity of her proceeding, she flew at her with the pa.s.sion of a tigress, and cruelly beat and maltreated the aged lady, who is now verging on the grave. The neighbors, hearing the disturbance, called in the police, and Mrs. Stuyvesant was arrested and taken before Police Justice Mansfield at Ess.e.x Market Police Court, by whom she was committed to the Tombs for trial, in which prison the guilty lady--the lawyer's wife, the leader of fas.h.i.+onable society--was confined, a degraded and fallen woman. Proceedings for a divorce were at once inst.i.tuted by Mr. Stuyvesant, and the judicial tribunal freed him from his unfortunate alliance. He, however, became heartbroken and shortly after died, the disgrace wrecking his home and nearly driving him insane.