I have some previously mentioned on several occasions a man who was at one time very prominent in New York, Major General Sandford.
In his time there was quite a fine singer, a Mrs. Coleman, who was very popular not only on the stage but off of it. She was not only handsome and cleve,r but very ladylike and attractive; very hospitable and social. Everybody liked her, General Sandford among the number. She was married to an Englishman, whose chief claim on the world was as the lady’s husband.
One day Sandford was waited upon professionally as a lawyer by a party who wished to engage his services in a divorce case. But Sandford declined to have anythin’ to do with a divorce case. He had always made it a cast-iron rule to have nothin’ to do with divorce cases.
It was a very good rule, but somehow when Sandford was told that the party in the divorce case was Mrs. Coleman, who wanted upon good and sufficient grounds to get a divorce from her husband, why Sandford determined to make an exception to his cast-iron rule, and to see this divorce case through at all events.
It was a very proper case for a divorce, too–a perfectly legitimate case, and any lawyer would have undertaken to put it through–for a female, and for a fee. But Sandford put it through without a fee, for the sake of the female altogether. Believing Mrs. C. to be an injured woman the general gallantly worked up her case splendidly, and got the lady the divorce she was entitled to, refusin’ any compensation.
It was a generous thing, and, not to be outdone in generosity, the lady when free accepted the addresses of General Sandford and made him an excellent wife.
Sandford was a crotchety sort of a man, and every now and then got into some squabble with some of the men or officers of the National Guard.
Once he had quite a time with General Duryea, who is still a hale and hearty and finely preserved gentleman.
At that time night drills of the militia had been ordered by General Sandford, and were bein’ held in one of the rooms of the Centre Market buildin’. Duryea had taken a tremendous interest in these night drills, and was workin’ at ‘em, drillin’ his men, as if his life depended on it.
One night he had taken possession of the drill room, and was puttin’ his men through their exercises, when a captain of the then popular German regiment known as the Jefferson Guard came in, and seemed surprised at seein’ Duryea and his men there. Duryea was equally surprised at seeing the Jefferson Guard man there and then in the drill room which, accordin’ to the custom of the place, was considered as belongin’ exclusively to the company or companies occupying it, per order.
General Duryea held he was occupyin’ the room per order, and so he politely hinted that he would like very much to know what the German Jefferson Guard man was wantin’ there, with his big shako on his head and his battle axe on his arm, in all the glory of full uniform.
The Jefferson Guard German quietly told Duryea that he wanted him and his men to get out; that the drill room really belonged now to the Jefferson Guard, who intended to occupy it forthwith.
This sort of talk made Duryea hoppin’ mad, and after a good deal of chin music he ordered the German Jefferson Guard man out of the drill room, and as he wouldn’t go, why, he was, by the orders of Duryea, put out bodily.
This sort of thing made in his turn the German Jefferson Guard man tearin’ mad, and he at once complained to his superior officer, who complained to the commander of the Jefferson Guard, who complained to General Sandford, who gave the commander of the J. G.’s a positive peremptory order for Duryea to vacate, which order the original Jefferson Guard man took particular pleasure in servin’ on Duryea, after a lively tussle to get into the drill room at all.
But by this time Duryea was so swearin’ mad that he wouldn’t recognize the order of Sandford, really thinkin’ the order to be bogus, or some mistake, as Duryea had received from the usual official source the permission to occupy the drill room. Findin’ the German held on to his order and insisted on it Duryea told his men to take hold of the German again, and insisted on his vamoosin’, which he was compelled to do, making him madder than ever.
But by this time the officer in charge of the drill room had heard of the row, and inquirin’ into it, found that he had himself made a mistake of a night, and that it was the Jefferson Guards’ night, not Duryea’s. As soon as he told Duryea this it put a new face altogether on the matter, and Duryea was as ready now to apologize like a gentleman and to vamoose as he had been previously belligerent.
But by this time the Jefferson Guard had all got their dander up and there was the deuce to pay. The “outrage” put upon the original Jefferson Guard man had been told all round the regiment, and there was a deep, dire and deadly desire to revenge it generally expressed. The officers of the organization looked unutterable things, and, for that matter, uttered a good many.
Duryea, however, determined not to sing small, but to put on a bold front even while backin’ down and marchin’ out; so he got his men into shape, put ‘em in as martial and imposin’ a form as possible, and placin’ himself at their head, vacated the premises, but in such a tremendously imposin’ way that it turned defeat into victory. Right through the ranks of the Jefferson Guard marched Duryea’s men, right past the original German Jefferson Guard whom he had twice put out marched Duryea himself, and so fierce was the aspect of Duryea’s command that not a German or Jefferson Guard man said a word or did a thing till Duryea and his men were not only out of the drill room, but out of sight.
Talking of General Duryea reminds me of the time when he tried to get some information as to the correct pronunciation of the word so often used in military parlance, “oblique.”
Up in West Point Duryea heard some of the officers pronounce the word as if it was written ob-like–while other officers pronounced it as if written ob-leek.
So Duryea was puzzled which pronunciation was right; and not having anythin’ else to do just then, determined to find out. So one day in New York he met General George P. Morris, the editor of the Mirror, and asked him how he pronounced the word “oblique.”
“Why, ob-like, of course,” said Morris.
“Not ob-leek?” asked Duryea.
“Of course not,” answered Morris. “The word is an English word and should be pronounced like one; the ‘i’ is an ‘i,’ and not an “e,’ while the final ‘e’ is silent–ob-like, of course.”
“Will you write your opinion down for me?” asked Duryea.
“Certainly,” said Morris, and he wrote as follows: “Oblique is an English word, and should be pronounced as if spelled ob-like–to pronounce it otherwise, or as ob-leek, is vulgar.” Then he signed this “George P. Morri” with a flourish.
“All right, General,” said Duryea, sailin’ out with Morris’s autograph.
A half hour or so later Duryea met Professor Anthon, of Columbia College, the learned linguist.
“How do you pronounce the word ‘oblique,’ Professor?” asked Duryea.
“Why, ob-leek, of course,” answered Anthon.
“Not ob-like?” suggested Duryea.
“Of course not,” said Anthon.
“Are you certain?” asked Duryea.
“Perfectly certain,” answered Anthon. “You see the word is not in English word pure and simple–not Saxon. It is derived from the French, which in turn is derived from the Latin. It should always be pronounced as if spelled ob-leek.”
“Will you kindly reduce your opinion to writin’, Professor?”
“Certainly,” said Anthon. So he wrote as follows: “Oblique is not an English or Saxon word, but it was derived from the Latin through the French. It should be pronounced as if written ob-leek–to pronounce it otherwise, or as ob-like is vulgar.” And he signed his learned name, but without a flourish.
Duryea thanked the professor and went off laughin’. He had in his pocket two directly opposite opinions by experts, and knew just as much and no more than before he had ‘em.
The general is still open to information as to the right pronunciation of the word “oblique.”
[Editor’s notes: Classical scholar Charles Anthon was correct; but the U.S. Navy, Marines and Coast Guard still use the “ob-like” pronunciation. General Sandford managed the militia troops during several of New York City’s worst riots.]
