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diff --git a/10921-h/10921-h.htm b/10921-h/10921-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfe4d62 --- /dev/null +++ b/10921-h/10921-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11431 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The World's Greatest Books, Vol. IV.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10921 ***</div> + +<h1>THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">JOINT EDITORS</h2> + +<h3>ARTHUR MEE</h3> + +<h4>Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge</h4> + +<h3>J. A. HAMMERTON</h3> + +<h4>Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia</h4> + +<h3>VOL. IV</h3> + +<h3>FICTION</h3> + +<h4>COPYRIGHT, MCMX</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#ebers">EBERS, GEORG</a><br /> + <a href="#ebers1">An Egyptian Princess</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#edgeworth">EDGEWORTH, MARIE</a><br /> + <a href="#edgeworth1">Belinda</a><br /> + <a href="#edgeworth2">Castle Rackrent</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#eliot">ELIOT, GEORGE</a><br /> + <a href="#eliot1">Adam Bede</a><br /> + <a href="#eliot2">Felix Holt</a><br /> + <a href="#eliot3">Romola</a><br /> + <a href="#eliot4">Silas Marner</a><br /> + <a href="#eliot5">The Mill on the Floss</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#erckmann">ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN</a><br /> + <a href="#erckmann1">Waterloo</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#feuillet">FEUILLET, OCTAVE</a><br /> + <a href="#feuillet1">Romance of a Poor Young Man</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#fielding">FIELDING, HENRY</a><br /> + <a href="#fielding1">Amelia</a><br /> + <a href="#fielding2">Jonathan Wild</a><br /> + <a href="#fielding3">Joseph Andrews</a><br /> + <a href="#fielding4">Tom Jones</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#flammarion">FLAMMARION, CAMILLE</a><br /> + <a href="#flammarion1">Urania</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#fouque">FOUQUÉ, DE LA MOTTE</a><br /> + <a href="#fouque1">Undine</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#gaboriau">GABORIAU, EMILE</a><br /> + <a href="#gaboriau1">File No. 113</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#galt">GALT, JOHN</a><br /> + <a href="#galt1">Annals of the Parish</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#gaskell">GASKELL, MRS.</a><br /> + <a href="#gaskell1">Cranford</a><br /> + <a href="#gaskell2">Mary Barton</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#godwin">GODWIN, WILLIAM</a><br /> + <a href="#godwin1">Caleb Williams</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#goethe">GOETHE</a><br /> + <a href="#goethe1">Sorrows of Young Werther</a><br /> + <a href="#goethe2">Wilhelm Meister</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#goldsmith">GOLDSMITH, OLIVER</a><br /> + <a href="#goldsmith1">Vicar of Wakefield</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#goncourt">GONCOURT, EDMOND AND JULES DE</a><br /> + <a href="#goncourt1">Renée Mauperin</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#grant">GRANT, JAMES</a><br /> + <a href="#grant1">Bothwell</a><br /> +</p> + +<p>A Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end +of Volume XX.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ebers">GEORG EBERS</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="ebers1">An Egyptian Princess</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Georg Moritz Ebers, a great Orientalist and Egyptologist, was +born in Berlin on March 1, 1837, received his first instruction at Keilhau +in Thuringen, then attended a college at Quedlinburg, and finally took up +the study of law at Göttingen University. In 1858, when his feet +became lame, he abandoned this study, and took up philology and +archæology. After 1859 he devoted himself almost exclusively to +Egyptology. Having recovered from his long illness, he visited the most +important European museums, and in 1869 he travelled to Egypt, Nubia, and +Arabia. On his return he took the chair of Egyptology at Leipzig +University. He went back to Egypt in 1872, and discovered, besides many +other important inscriptions, the famous papyrus which bears his name. "An +Egyptian Princess" is his first important novel, written during his +illness, and published in 1864. It has gone through numerous editions, and +has been translated into most European languages. It was followed by +several other similar works of fiction, of which "Serapis" achieved wide +popularity. Ebers died on August 7, 1898. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Royal Bride</i></h4> + + +<p>A cavalcade of dazzling splendour was moving along the high road towards +Babylon. The embassy sent by Cambyses, the mighty King of the East, had +accomplished its mission, and now Nitetis, the daughter of Amasis, King of +Egypt, was on the way to meet her future spouse. At the head of the +sumptuous escort were Bartja, Cambyses' handsome golden-haired younger +brother; his kinsman Darius; Croesus, the dethroned King of Lydia, and his +son Gyges; Prexaspes, the king's ambassador, and Zopyrus, the son of +Megabyzus, a Persian noble.</p> + +<p>A few miles before the gates of Babylon they perceived a troop of +horsemen galloping towards them. Cambyses himself came to honour his bride. +His pale face, framed by an immense black beard, expressed great power and +unbounded pride. Deep pallor and bright colour flitted by turns across the +face of Nitetis, as his fiery eyes fixed her with a piercing gaze. Then he +waved a welcome, sprang from his horse, shook Croesus by the hand, and +asked him to act as interpreter. "She is beautiful and pleases me well," +said the king. And Nitetis, who had begun to learn the language of her new +home on the long journey, blushed deeply and began softly in broken +Persian, "Blessed be the gods, who have caused me to find favour in thine +eyes."</p> + +<p>Cambyses was delighted with her desire to win his approbation and with +her industry and intellect, so different from the indolence and idleness of +the Persian women in his harem. His wonder and satisfaction increased when, +after recommending her to obey the orders of Boges, the eunuch, who was +head over the house of women, she reminded him that she was a king's +daughter, bound to obey the commands of her lord, but unable to bow to a +venal servant.</p> + +<p>Her pride found an echo in his own haughty disposition. "You have spoken +well. A separate dwelling shall be appointed you. I, and no one else, will +prescribe your rules of life and conduct. Tell me now, how my messengers +pleased you and your countrymen?"</p> + +<p>"Who could know the noble Croesus without loving him? Who could fail to +admire the beauty of the young heroes, your friends, and especially of your +handsome brother Bartja? The Egyptians have no love for strangers, but he +won all hearts."</p> + +<p>At these words the king's brows darkened, he struck his horse so that +the creature reared, and then, turning it quickly round, he galloped +towards Babylon. He decided in his mind to give Bartja the command of an +expedition against the Tapuri, and to make him marry Rosana, the daughter +of a Persian noble. He also determined to make Nitetis his real queen and +adviser. She was to be to him what his mother Kassandane had been to Cyrus, +his great father. Not even Phædime, his favourite wife, had occupied +such a position. And as for Bartja, "he had better take care," he murmured, +"or he shall know the fate that awaits the man who dares to cross my +path."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Plot</i></h4> + + +<p>According to Persian custom a year had to pass before Nitetis could +become Cambyses' lawful wife, but, conscious of his despotic power, he had +decided to reduce this term to a few months. Meanwhile, he only saw the +fair Egyptian in the presence of his blind mother or of his sister Atossa, +both of whom became Nitetis' devoted friends. Meanwhile, Boges, the eunuch, +sank in public estimation, since it was known that Cambyses had ceased to +visit the harem, and he began to conspire with Phædime as to the best +way of ruining Nitetis, who had come to love Cambyses with ever growing +passion.</p> + +<p>The Egyptian princess's happiness was seriously disturbed by the arrival +of a letter from her mother, which brought her naught but sad news. Her +father, Amasis, had been struck with blindness on the very day she had +reached Babylon; and her frail twin-sister Tachot, after falling into a +violent fever, was wasting away for love of Bartja, whose beauty had +captured her heart at the time of his mission in Sais. His name had been +even on her lips in her delirium, and the only hope for her was to see him +again.</p> + +<p>Nitetis' whole happiness was destroyed in one moment. She wept and +sighed, until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. When her maid Mandane +came to put a last touch to her dress for the banquet, she found her +sleeping, and as there was ample time she went out into the garden, where +she met the eunuch Boges. He was the bearer of good news. Mandane had been +brought up with the children of a Magian, one of whom was now the +high-priest Oropastes. Love had sprung up between her and his handsome +brother Gaumata; and Oropastes, who had ambitious schemes, had sent his +brother to Rhagæ and procured her a situation at court, so that they +might forget one another. And now Gaumata had come and begged her to meet +him next evening in the hanging gardens. Mandane consented after a hard +struggle.</p> + +<p>Boges hurried away with malicious pleasure in the near success of his +scheme. He met one of the gardeners, whom he promised to bring some of the +nobles to inspect a special kind of blue lily, in which the gardener took +great pride. He then hurried to the harem, to make sure that the king's +wives should look their best, and insisted upon Phædime painting her +face white, and putting on a simple, dark dress without ornament, except +the chain given her by Cambyses on her marriage, to arouse the pity of the +Achæmenidæ, to which family she herself belonged.</p> + +<p>The eunuch's cunning scheme succeeded but too well. At the end of the +great banquet Bartja, to whom Cambyses had promised to grant a favour on +his victorious return from the war, confessed to him his love for Sappho, a +charming and cultured Greek maiden of noble descent, whom he wished to make +his wife. Cambyses was delighted at this proof of the injustice of his +jealous suspicions, and announced aloud that Bartja would in a few days +depart to bring home a bride. At these words Nitetis, thinking of her poor +sister's misery, fainted.</p> + +<p>Cambyses sprang up pale as death; his lips trembled and his fist was +clenched. Nitetis looked at him imploringly, but he commanded Boges to take +the women back to their apartments. "Sleep well, Egyptian, and pray to the +gods to give you the power of dissembling your feelings. Here, give me +wine; but taste it well, for to-day, for the first time, I fear poison. Do +you hear, Egyptian? Yes, all the poison, as well as the medicine, comes +from Egypt."</p> + +<p>Boges gave strict orders that nobody--not even the queen-mother or +Croesus--was to have access to the hanging gardens, whither he had +conducted Nitetis. Cambyses, meanwhile, continued the drinking bout, +thinking the while of punishment for the false woman. Bartja could have had +no share in her perfidy, or he would have killed him on the spot; but he +would send him away. And Nitetis should be handed to Boges, to be made the +servant of his concubines and thus to atone for her crimes.</p> + +<p>When the king left the hall, Boges, who had slipped out before him, +intercepted one of the gardener's boys with a letter for Prince Bartja. The +boy refused to hand it over, as Nitetis had instructed him to hand it only +to the prince; and on Cambyses' approach the boy fell on his knees, +touching the ground with his forehead. Cambyses snatched the papyrus roll +from his hand, and stamped furiously on the ground at seeing that the +letter was written in Greek, which he could not read. He went to his own +apartments, followed by Boges, whom he instructed to keep a strict watch +over the Egyptian and the hanging gardens. "If a single human being or a +message reach her without my knowledge, your life will be the forfeit."</p> + +<p>Boges, pleading a burning fever, begged that Kandaules, the Lydian +captain of eunuchs, who was true as gold and inflexibly severe, should +relieve him on the morrow. On the king's consent, he begged furthermore +that Oropastes, Croesus, and three other nobles should be allowed to +witness the opening of the blue lily in the hanging gardens. Kandaules +would see that they enter into no communication with the Egyptian.</p> + +<p>"Kandaules must keep his eyes open, if he values his own life--go!"</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Conflicting Evidence</i></h4> + + +<p>The hunt was over, and Bartja, who had invited his bosom friends, +Darius, Gyges, Zopyrus, and Croesus, to drink a parting-cup with him, sat +with the first three in the bower of the royal gardens. They talked long of +love, of their ambitions, of the influence of stars on human destinies, +when Croesus rapidly approached the arbour. When he beheld Bartja, he stood +transfixed, then whispered to him, "Unhappy boy, you are still here? Fly +for your life! The whip-bearers are close on my heels."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Fly, I tell you, even if your visit to the hanging gardens was +innocently meant. You know Cambyses' violent temper. You know his jealousy +of you; and your visit to the Egyptian to-night...."</p> + +<p>"My visit? I have never left this garden!"</p> + +<p>"Don't add a lie to your offense. Save yourself, quickly."</p> + +<p>"I speak the truth, and I shall remain."</p> + +<p>"You are infatuated. We saw you in the hanging-gardens not an hour +ago."</p> + +<p>Bartja appealed to his friends, who confirmed on oath the truth of his +assertion; and before Croesus could arrive at a solution of the mystery, +the soldiers had arrived, led by an officer who had served under Bartja. He +had orders to arrest everybody found in the suspect's company, but at the +risk of his life urged Bartja to escape the king's fury. His men would +blindly follow his command. But Bartja steadfastly refused. He was +innocent, and knew that Cambyses, though hasty, was not unjust.</p> + +<p>Two hours later Bartja and his friends stood before the king who had +just recovered from an epileptic fit. A few hours earlier he would have +killed Bartja with his own hands. Now he was ready to lend an ear to both +sides. Boges first related that he was with the Achæmenidæ, +looking at the blue lily, and called Kandaules to inquire if everything was +in order. On being told that Nitetis had not tasted food or drink all day, +he sent Kandaules to fetch a physician. It was then that he saw Bartja by +the princess's window. She herself came out of the sleep-room. Croesus +called to Bartja, and the two figures disappeared behind a cypress. He went +to search the house and found Nitetis lying unconscious on a couch. +Hystaspes and the other nobles confirmed the eunuch's words, and even +Croesus had to admit their substantial truth, but added that they must have +been deceived by some remarkable likeness--at which Boges grew pale.</p> + +<p>Bartja's friends were equally definite in their evidence for the +accused. Cambyses looked first on the one, then on the other party of these +strange witnesses. Then Bartja begged permission to speak.</p> + +<p>"A son of Cyrus," he said, "would rather die than lie. I confess no +judge was ever placed in so perplexing a position. But were the entire +Persian nation to rise up against you, and swear that Cambyses had +committed an evil deed, and you were to say, 'I did not commit it,' I, +Bartja, would give all Persia the lie and exclaim, 'Ye are all false +witnesses! A son of Cyrus cannot allow his mouth to deal in lies.' I swear +to you that I am innocent. I have not once set foot in the hanging gardens +since my return."</p> + +<p>Cambyses' looks grew milder on hearing these words, and when Oropastes +suggested that an evil spirit must have taken Bartja's form to ruin him, he +nodded assent and stretched out his hand towards Bartja. At this moment a +staff-bearer came in and gave the king a dagger found by a eunuch under +Nitetis' window. Cambyses examined it, dashed the dagger violently to the +ground, and shrieked, "This is your dagger! At last you are convicted, you +liar! Ah, you are feeling in your girdle! You may well turn pale, your +dagger is gone! Seize him, put on his fetters! He shall be strangled +to-morrow! Away with you, you perjured villains! They shall all die +to-morrow! And the Egyptian--at noon she shall be flogged through the +streets. Then I'll----"</p> + +<p>But here he was stopped by another fit of epilepsy, and sank down in +convulsions.</p> + +<p>The fate of the unfortunates was sealed when, afterwards, Cambyses made +Croesus read to him Nitetis' Greek letter to Bartja.</p> + +<p>"Nitetis, daughter of Amasis of Egypt, to Bartja, son of the great +Cyrus.</p> + +<p>"I have something important to tell you; I can tell it to no one but +yourself. To-morrow I hope to meet you in your mother's rooms. It lies in +your power to comfort a sad and loving heart, and to give it one happy +moment before death. I repeat that I must see you soon."</p> + +<p>Croesus, who tried to intercede on behalf of the condemned, was +sentenced to share their fate. In his heart even he was now convinced of +Bartja's guilt, and of the perjury of his own son and of Darius.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Unexpected Witness</i></h4> + + +<p>Nitetis had passed many a wretched hour since the great banquet. All day +long she was kept in strict seclusion, and in the twilight Boges came to +her to tell her jeeringly that her letter had fallen into the king's hand, +and that its bearer had been executed. The princess swooned away, and Boges +carried her to her sleeping-room, the door of which he barred carefully. +When, later, Mandane left her lover Gaumata, the maid hurried into her +mistress's room, found her in a faint, and used every remedy to restore her +to consciousness.</p> + +<p>Then Boges came with two eunuchs, loaded the princess's arms with +fetters, and gave vent to his long-nourished spite, telling her of the +awful fate that was in store for her. Nitetis resolved to swallow a +poisonous ointment for the complexion directly the executioner should draw +near her. Then, in spite of her fetters, she managed to write to Cambyses, +to assure him once more of her love and to explain her innocence. "I commit +this crime against myself, Cambyses, to save you from doing a disgraceful +deed."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Boges, after exciting Phædime's curiosity by many vague +hints, divulged to her the nature of his infamous scheme. When Gaumata had +come to Babylon for the New Year's festival, Boges had discovered his +remarkable likeness to Bartja. He knew of his love for Mandane, gained his +confidence, and arranged the nocturnal meeting under Nitetis' bedroom +window. In return he exacted the promise of the lover's immediate departure +after the meeting. He helped him to escape through a trap-door. To get +Bartja out of the way, he had induced a Greek merchant to dispatch a letter +to the prince, asking him, in the name of her he loved best, to come alone +in the evening to the first station outside the Euphrates gate. +Unfortunately, the messenger managed the matter clumsily, and apparently +gave the letter to Gaumata. But to counteract Bartja's proof of innocence, +Boges had managed to get hold of his dagger, which was conclusive evidence. +And now Nitetis was sentenced to be set astride upon an ass and led through +the streets of Babylon. As for Gaumata, three men were lying in wait for +him to throw him into the Euphrates before he could get back to Rhagae. +Phædime joined in Boges' laughter, and hung a heavy jewel-studded +chain round his neck.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A few hours only were wanted for the time fixed for Nitetis' disgrace, +and the streets of Babylon were thronged with a dense crowd of sightseers, +when a small caravan approached the Bel gate. In the first carriage was a +fine, handsome man of about fifty, of commanding aspect, and dressed as a +Persian courtier. With difficulty the driver cleared a passage through the +crowd. "Make way for us! The royal post has no time to lose, and I am +driving some one who will make you repent every minute's delay." They +arrived at the palace, and the stranger's insistence succeeded in gaining +admission to the king. The Greek--for such the stranger had declared +himself--affirmed that he could prove the condemned men's innocence.</p> + +<p>"Call him in!" exclaimed Cambyses. "But if he wants to deceive me, let +him remember that where the head of a son of Cyrus is about to fall, a +Greek head has but very little chance." The Greek's calm and noble manner +impressed Cambyses favourably, and his hostility was entirely overcome when +the stranger revealed to him that he was Phanes, the famous commander of +the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, and that he had come to offer his service +to Cambyses.</p> + +<p>Phanes now related how, on approaching Babylon by the royal post, just +before midnight, they heard some cries of distress, and found three +fierce-looking fellows dragging a youth towards the river; how with his +Greek war-cry he had rushed on the murderers, slain one of them, and put +the others to flight; and how he discovered--so he thought--the youth to be +none other but Bartja, whom he had met at the Egyptian court.</p> + +<p>They took him to the nearest station, bled him, and bound up his wounds. +When he regained consciousness, he told them his name was Gaumata. Then he +was seized by fever, during which he constantly spoke of the hanging +gardens and of his Mandane.</p> + +<p>"Set the prisoners free, my king. I will answer for it with my own head, +that Bartja was not in the hanging gardens."</p> + +<p>The king was surprised at this speech, but not angry. Phanes then +advised him to send for Oropastes and Mandane, whose examination elicited +the full truth. Boges, who was also sent for, had disappeared. Cambyses had +all the prisoners set free, gave Phanes his hand to kiss--a rare +honour--and, greater honour still, invited him to eat at the king's table. +Then he went to the rooms of his mother, who had sent for him.</p> + +<p>Nitetis had been carried insensible to the queen-mother's apartments. +When she opened her eyes, her head was resting on the blind queen's lap, +she felt Atossa's warm kisses on her forehead, and Cambyses was standing by +her side. She gazed around, and smiled as she recognised them one by one. +She raised herself with difficulty. "How could you believe such a thing of +me, my king?" she asked. There was no reproach in her tone, but deep +sadness; Cambyses replied, "Forgive me."</p> + +<p>Nitetis then gave them the letter she had received from her mother, +which would explain all, and begged them not to scorn her poor sister. +"When an Egyptian girl once loves, she cannot forget. But I feel so +frightened. The end must be near. That horrible man, Boges, read me the +fearful sentence, and it was that which forced the poison into my +hand."</p> + +<p>The physician rushed forward. "I thought so! She has taken a poison +which results in certain death. She is lost!"</p> + +<p>On hearing this, the king exclaimed in anguish, "She <i>shall</i> live; +it is my will! Summon all the physicians in Babylon. Assemble the priests. +She is not to die! She must live! I am the king, and I command it!"</p> + +<p>Nitetis opened her eyes as if endeavouring to obey her lord. She looked +upon her lover, who was pressing his burning lips to her right hand. She +murmured, with a smile, "Oh, this great happiness!" Then she closed her +eyes and was seized with fever.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>All efforts to save Nitetis' life were fruitless. Cambyses fell into the +deepest gloom, and wanted action, war, to dispel his sad thoughts. Phanes +gave him the pretext. As commander of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, he +had enjoyed Amasis' confidence. He alone, with the high-priest, shared +Amasis' secret about the birth of Nitetus, who was not the daughter of +Amasis, but of Hophra, his predecessor, whose throne Amasis had usurped. +When, owing to the intrigues of Psamtik, Amasis' son, Phanes fell into +disgrace and had to fly for his life, his little son was seized and cruelly +murdered by his persecutors. Phanes had sworn revenge. He now persuaded +Cambyses to wage war upon Egypt, and to claim Amasis' throne as the husband +of Hophra's daughter.</p> + +<p>The rest is known to all students of history--how Cambyses, with the +help of Phanes, defeated Psamtik's host at Pelusium and took possession of +the whole Egyptian Empire; how, given more and more to drink and fearful +excesses, he set up a rule of untold terror, had his brother Bartja +murdered in another fit of jealousy, and finally suffered defeat at the +hands of the Ethiopians. They will also know how, on his death, Gaumata, +the "pseudo-Smerdis" of the Greeks, was urged by his ambitious brother, +Oropastes, to seize the throne by impersonating the dead Bartja; how, +finally, the pretender was defeated and had to pay for his attempt with his +life; and how Persia rose again to unity and greatness under the rule of +the noble Darius, Bartja's faithful kinsman and friend.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="edgeworth">MARIA EDGEWORTH</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="edgeworth1">Belinda</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Maria Edgeworth was born at Black Bourton, Oxfordshire, +England, Jan. 1, 1767, and eleven years later her father removed to Ireland +and settled on his own estate at Edgeworthstown. "Belinda," published in +1801, is Maria Edgeworth's one early example of a novel not placed in Irish +surroundings, but dealing with fashionable life. Issued just a year after +the appearance of her first Irish tale, "Castle Rackrent," it betrays +entirely the influence of the novelist's autocratic and eccentric father, +Richard Lovell Edgeworth, with whom the daughter had been previously +collaborating. No one could be less suited than he to advise about fiction, +yet to his daughter his advice was almost the equivalent of a command. The +story is interesting as an example of literary workmanship outside of the +scenes in which special success had been achieved. Miss Edgeworth died at +Edgeworthstown on May 22, 1849. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--A Match-Maker's Handicap</i></h4> + + +<p>Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in the art of rising in +the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest +company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen nieces +most happily--that is to say, upon having married them to men of fortunes +far superior to their own. One niece still remained unmarried, Belinda +Portman, of whom she determined to get rid with all convenient expedition; +but finding that, owing to declining health, she could not go out with her +as much as she wished, she succeeded in fastening her upon the fashionable +Lady Delacour for a winter in London.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, to my mind, can be more miserable than the situation of a poor +girl who fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely from not +beginning to speculate in time)," she wrote from Bath. "She finds herself +at five or six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of the means +of rendering herself independent--for the girls I speak of never think of +<i>learning</i> to play cards--<i>de trop</i> in society, yet obliged to +hang upon all her acquaintances, who wish her in heaven, because she is +unqualified to make the <i>expected</i> return for civilities, having no +home--I mean no establishment, no house, etc.--fit for the reception of +company of certain rank. My dearest Belinda, may this never be your case. I +have sent your bracelet to you by Mr. Clarence Hervey, an acquaintance of +Lady Delacour, an uncommonly pleasant young man, highly connected, a wit +and a gallant, and having a fine independent fortune; so, my dear Belinda, +I make it a point--look well when he is introduced to you, and remember +that nobody <i>can</i> look well without taking some pains to please."</p> + +<p>Belinda had been charmed by Lady Delacour, who was the most agreeable, +the most fascinating person she had ever beheld; and to be a visitor at her +house was a delightful privilege. But, a short time after her arrival, she +began to see through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic +misery. Abroad, Lady Delacour appeared all spirit, life, and good humour; +at home, listless, fretful, and melancholy, a prey to thoughts, seemingly, +of the most painful nature.</p> + +<p>The first time Belinda saw his lordship he was dead drunk in the arms of +two footmen; his lady, who had just returned from Ranelagh, passed him on +the stairs with the utmost contempt.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so shocked and amazed, Belinda. Don't look so <i>new</i>, +child. This funeral of my lord's intellects is to me a nightly ceremony; +or," said her ladyship, looking at her watch and yawning, "I believe I +should say a daily ceremony--six o'clock, I protest!"</p> + +<p>The next morning Clarence Hervey called, and Belinda found him a most +uncommonly pleasant young man. Lord Delacour was jealous of him; but +although he would have started with horror at the idea of disturbing the +peace of a family, in that family, he said, there was no peace to disturb. +Consequently, he visited her ladyship every day, and every day viewed +Belinda with increasing admiration, and with increasing dread of being +taken in to marry a niece of that "catch-matchmaker," as Mrs. Stanhope was +known amongst the men of his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Under the guise of a tragic muse--in which character Lady Delacour had +pretended she was going to a masquerade--Belinda heard his true sentiments +with regard to her.</p> + +<p>"You don't believe I go to Lady Delacour's to look for a wife? Do you +think I'm an idiot? Do you think I could be taken in by one of the Stanhope +school?" he said to the facetious friends who rallied him on his +attachment. "Do you think I don't see as plainly as any of you that Belinda +Portman is a composition of art and affectation?"</p> + +<p>"Melpomene, hast thou forgot thyself to warble?" asked Lady Delacour, +tripping towards them as the comic muse.</p> + +<p>"I am not very well," whispered Miss Portman. "Could we get away?"</p> + +<p>"Do see if you can find any of my people!" cried Lady Delacour to +Clarence Hervey, who had followed them downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Lady Delacour, the comic muse!" exclaimed he. "I had thought----"</p> + +<p>"No matter what you thought!" interrupted her ladyship. "Let my carriage +draw up, and put this lady into it!" And he obeyed without uttering a +syllable.</p> + +<p>"Dry up your tears, <i>keep on your mask</i>, and elbow your way through +the crowd," she said, when she had heard Belinda's story. "If you stop to +be civil and 'hope I don't hurt ye,' you will be trod underfoot."</p> + +<p>She insisted on driving to the Panthéon instead of going home, +but to Belinda the night seemed long and dull. The masquerade had no charm +to keep her thoughts from the conversation that had given her so much +pain.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Fashion and Fortitude</i></h4> + + +<p>"How happy you are, Lady Delacour!" she said, when they got into the +carriage to go home. "How happy to have such an amazing flow of +spirits!"</p> + +<p>And then she learnt the reason of her ladyship's strange unevenness of +temper. She was dying of an incurable complaint, which she kept hidden from +all the world except her maid, Marriott, who attended on her in a +mysterious cabinet full of medicines and linen rags, the door of which she +had hitherto kept locked.</p> + +<p>"You are shocked, Belinda," said she, "but as yet you have seen nothing. +Look here!" And baring one half of her bosom, she revealed a hideous +spectacle.</p> + +<p>"Am I humbled? Am I wretched enough?" she asked. "No matter. I will die +as I have lived, the envy and admiration of the world. Promise--swear to me +that you will never reveal what you have seen to-night!" And Belinda +promised not only that, but to remain with her as long as ever she +wished.</p> + +<p>Belinda's quiet avoidance of Clarence Hervey made him begin to believe +that she might not be "a compound of art and affectation," and he was +mortified to find that, though she joined with ease and dignity in the +general conversation with the others, her manner to him was grave and +reserved. To divert her, he declared he was convinced he was as well able +to manage a hoop as any woman in England, except Lady Delacour; accordingly +he was dressed by Marriott, and made his <i>entree</i> with very composed +assurance and grace, being introduced as the Countess de Pomenars to the +purblind dowager, Lady Boucher, who had come to call. He managed his part +well, speaking French and broken English, until Lady Delacour dexterously +let down Belinda's beautiful tresses, and, calling the French lady to +admire <i>la belle chevelure,</i> artfully let fall her comb.</p> + +<p>Totally forgetting his hoop and his character, he stooped to pick it up, +and lost his wager by knocking over a music-stand. He would have liked a +lock of her hair, but she refused with a modest, graceful dignity; she was +glad she had done so later when a tress of hair dropped from his +pocket-book, and his confusion showed her he was extremely interested about +the person to whom it belonged.</p> + +<p>During her absence from the room Clarence entreated Lady Delacour to +make his peace with her. She consented on condition that he found her a +pair of horses from Tattersall's, on which Belinda, she said, had secretly +set her heart. He was vexed to find Belinda had so little delicacy, and +relapsed into his former opinion of Mrs. Stanhope's niece, addressing her +with the air of a man of gallantry, who thought his peace had been cheaply +made.</p> + +<p>The horses ran away with Lady Delacour, injuring her ankle, and on her +being brought home by Clarence, Lord Delacour wished to enter the locked +cabinet for <i>arque-busade.</i> On being denied entrance, he seized the +key, believing a lover of hers was concealed there, until Belinda sprang +forward and took it from him, leaving them to believe what they would.</p> + +<p>This circumstance was afterwards explained by Dr. X----, a mutual +friend, and Hervey was so much charmed with Belinda that he would have gone +to her at once--only that he had undertaken the reformation of Lady +Delacour.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--An Unexpected Suitor</i></h4> + + +<p>In the meantime, after spending a morning in tasting wines, and thinking +that, although he had never learned to swim, some recollection he had of an +essay on swimming would ensure his safety, he betted his friends a hundred +guineas that he would swim to a certain point, and flinging himself into +the Serpentine, would have drowned before their eyes but for the help of +Mr. Percival. The breach caused by this affair induced Sir Philip Baddely, +a gentleman who always supplied "each vacuity of sense" with an oath, to +endeavour to cut him out by proposing to Belinda.</p> + +<p>"Damme, you're ten times handsomer than the finest woman I ever saw, +for, damme, I didn't know what it was to be in love then," he said, heaving +an audible sigh. "I'll trouble you for Mrs. Stanhope's direction, Miss +Portman; I believe, to do the thing in style, I ought to write to her +before I speak to you."</p> + +<p>Belinda looked at him in astonishment, and then, finding he was in +earnest, assured him it was not in her power to encourage his addresses, +although she was fully sensible of the honour he had done her.</p> + +<p>"Confusion seize me!" cried he, starting up, "if it isn't the most +extraordinary thing I ever heard! Is it to Sir Philip Baddely's +fortune--£15,000 a year--you object, or to his family, or to his +person? Oh, curse it!" said he, changing his tone, "you're only quizzing me +to see how I should look--you do it too well, you little coquette!"</p> + +<p>Belinda again assured him she was entirely in earnest, and that she was +incapable of the sort of coquetry which he ascribed to her. To punish her +for this rejection he spread the report of Hervey's entanglement with a +beautiful girl named Virginia, whose picture he had sent to an exhibition. +He also roused Lady Delacour's jealousy into the belief that Belinda meant +to marry her husband, the viscount, after her death.</p> + +<p>In her efforts to bring husband and wife together, Belinda had forgotten +that jealousy could exist without love, and a letter from Mrs. Stanhope, +exaggerating the scandalous reports in the hope of forcing her niece to +marry Sir Philip Baddely, shocked her so much that when Lady Delacour +quarrelled with her, she accepted an invitation from Lady Anne Percival, +and went there at once.</p> + +<p>There she became acquainted with Mr. Percival's ward, Augustus Vincent, +a Creole, about two-and-twenty, tall and remarkably handsome, with striking +manners and an engaging person, who fixed his favourable attention on her. +The Percivals would have wished her to marry him, but she still thought too +much of Clarence Hervey to consent, although she believed he had some +engagement with the lovely Virginia.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Explanation and Reconciliation</i></h4> + + +<p>Quite unexpectedly a summons came from Lady Delacour, and Belinda +returned to her at once, to find her so seriously ill that she persuaded +her at last to consent to an operation, and inform her husband of the +dangerous disease from which she was suffering. He believed from her +preamble that she was about to confess her love for another man; he tried +to stop her with an emotion and energy he had never shown until now.</p> + +<p>"I am not sufficiently master of myself. I once loved you too well to +hear such a stroke. Say no more--trust me with no such secret! you have +said enough--too much. I forgive you, that is all I can do; but we must +part, Lady Delacour!" said he, breaking from her with agony expressed in +his countenance.</p> + +<p>"The man has a heart, a soul, I protest! You knew him better that I did, +Miss Portman. Nay, you are not gone yet, my lord! You really love me, I +find."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" cried he vehemently. "Weak as you take me to be, Lady +Delacour, I am incapable of loving a woman who has disgraced me, disgraced +herself, her--" His utterance failed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Delacour," cried Belinda, "how can you trifle in this +manner?"</p> + +<p>"I meant not," said her ladyship, "to trifle; I am satisfied. My lord, I +can give you the most irrefragable proof that whatever may have been the +apparent levity of my conduct, you have had no serious cause for jealousy. +But the proof will shock, disgust you. Have you courage to know more? Then +follow me."</p> + +<p>He followed her. Belinda heard the boudoir door unlocked. In a few +minutes they returned. Grief and horror and pity were painted on Lord +Delacour's countenance as he passed hastily out of the room.</p> + +<p>"My dearest friend, I have taken your advice; would to heaven I had +taken it sooner!" said Lady Delacour. "I have revealed to Lord Delacour my +real situation. Poor man, he was shocked beyond expression. The moment his +foolish jealousy was extinguished, his love for me revived in full."</p> + +<p>Lady Delacour awaited the operation with the utmost fortitude; but, to +everyone's joy, it was found there was no necessity for it; she had been +deceived by a villainous quack, who knew too well how to make a wound +hideous and painful, and had continued her delusion for his own +advantage.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Belinda having permitted Mr. Vincent to address her, he was +being given a fair trial whether he could win her love. They had heard +reports of Clarence Hervey's speedy marriage with an heiress, Miss Hartley, +and found them confirmed by a letter Lady Delacour received from him. Some +years ago he had formed the romantic idea of educating a wife for himself, +and having found a beautiful, artless girl in the New Forest, he had taken +her under his care on the death of her grandmother.</p> + +<p>She felt herself bound in honour and gratitude to him when her fortune +changed, and she was acknowledged by her father, Mr. Hartley, who had long +been searching for her, and who had traced her at last by the picture +Clarence Hervey had caused to be exhibited.</p> + +<p>With the utmost magnanimity, Hervey, although he saw a successful rival +for Belinda's hand in Augustus Vincent, rescued him from ruin at the +gaming-table, and induced him to promise never to gamble again.</p> + +<p>"I was determined Belinda's husband should be my friend. I have +succeeded beyond my hopes," he said.</p> + +<p>But Vincent's love of play had decided Belinda at last. She refused him +finally in a letter which she confessed she found difficult to write, but +which she sent because she had promised she would not hold him in suspense +once she had made her decision.</p> + +<p>After this Virginia Hartley confessed to her attachment for one Captain +Sunderland, and Clarence was free to avow his passion for Belinda.</p> + +<p>"And what is Miss Portman to believe," cried one of Belinda's friends, +"when she has seen you on the very eve of marriage with another lady?"</p> + +<p>"The strongest merit I can plead with such a woman as Miss Portman," he +replied, "is that I was ready to sacrifice my own happiness to a sense of +duty."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="edgeworth2">Castle Rackrent</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Castle Rackrent" was published anonymously in 1800. It was +not only the first of Miss Edgeworth's novels,--it is in many respects her +best work. Later came "The Absentee," "Belinda," "Helen," the "Tales of +Fashionable Life," and the "Moral Tales." Sir Walter Scott wrote that +reading these stories of Irish peasant life made him feel "that something +might be tempted for my own country of the same kind as that which Miss +Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland," something that would +procure for his own countrymen "sympathy for their virtues and indulgence +for their foibles." As a study of Irish fidelity in the person of Old +Thady, the steward who tells the story of "Castle Rackrent," the book is a +masterpiece. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Sir Patrick and Sir Murtagh</i></h4> + + +<p>Having, out of friendship for the family, undertaken to publish the +memoirs of the Rackrent family, I think it my duty to say a few words +concerning myself first. My real name is Thady Quirk, though in the family +I've always been known as "Honest Thady"; afterwards, I remember to hear +them calling me "Old Thady," and now I've come to "Poor Thady." To look at +me you would hardly think poor Thady was the father of Attorney Quirk; he +is a high gentleman, and having better than fifteen hundred a year, landed +estate, looks down upon honest Thady. But I wash my hands of his doings, +and as I lived so will I die, true and loyal to the family.</p> + +<p>I ought to bless that day when Sir Tallyhoo Rackrent lost a fine hunter +and his life, all in one day's hunt, for the estate came straight into +<i>the</i> family, upon one condition, that Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin (whose +driver my grandfather was) should, by Act of Parliament, take the surname +and arms of Rackrent.</p> + +<p>Now it was the world could see what was in Sir Patrick. He gave the +finest entertainments ever was heard of in the country; not a man could +stand after supper but Sir Patrick himself. He had his house, from one +year's end to another, as full of company as it would hold; and this went +on, I can't tell you how long.</p> + +<p>But one year, on his birthday, just as the company rose to drink his +health, he fell down in a sort of fit, and in the morning it was all over +with poor Sir Patrick.</p> + +<p>Never did any gentleman die more beloved by rich and poor. All the +gentlemen in the three counties came to his funeral; and happy the man who +could get but a sight of the hearse!</p> + +<p>Just as they were passing through his own town the body was seized for +debt! Little gain had the creditors!</p> + +<p>First and foremost, they had the curses of the country, and Sir Murtagh, +the new heir, refused to pay a shilling on account of the insult to his +father's body; in which he was countenanced by all the gentlemen of +property of his acquaintance. He did not take at all after the old +gentleman. The cellars were never filled, and no open house; even the +tenants were sent away without their whiskey. I was ashamed myself, but put +it all down to my lady; she was of the family of the Skinflints. I must +say, she made the best of wives, being a notable, stirring woman, and +looking close to everything. 'Tis surprising how cheap my lady got things +done! What with fear of driving for rent, and Sir Murtagh's lawsuits, the +tenants were kept in such good order they never came near Castle Rackrent +without a present of something or other--nothing too much or too little for +my lady. And Sir Murtagh taught 'em all, as he said, the law of landlord +and tenant. No man ever loved the law as he did.</p> + +<p>Out of the forty-nine suits he had, he never lost one, but +seventeen.</p> + +<p>Though he and my lady were much of a mind in most things, there was a +deal of sparring and jarring between them. In a dispute about an abatement +one day, my lady would have the last word, and Sir Murtagh grew mad. I was +within hearing--he spoke so loud, all the kitchen was out on the stairs. +All on a sudden he stopped, and my lady, too. Sir Murtagh, in his passion, +had broken a blood-vessel. My lady sent for five physicians; but Sir +Murtagh died. She had a fine jointure settled upon her, and took herself +away, to the great joy of the tenantry.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Sir Kit and his Wife</i></h4> + + +<p>Then the house was all hurry-scurry, preparing for my new master, Sir +Murtagh's younger brother, a dashing young officer. He came before I knew +where I was, with another spark with him, and horses and dogs, and +servants, and harum-scarum called for everything, as if he were in a +public-house. I walk slow, and hate a bustle, and if it had not been for my +pipe and tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my heart for poor +Sir Murtagh.</p> + +<p>But one morning my new master caught sight of me. "And is that Old +Thady?" says he. I loved him from that day to this, his voice was so like +the family, and I never saw a finer figure of a man.</p> + +<p>A fine life we should have led had he stayed among us, God bless him! +But, the sporting season over, he grew tired of the place, and was off in a +whirlwind to town. A circular letter came next post from the new agent to +say he must remit £500 to the master at Bath within a fortnight--bad +news for the poor tenants. Sir Kit Rackrent, my new master, left it all to +the agent, and now not a week without a call for money. Rents must be paid +to the day, and afore--old tenants turned out, anything for the ready +penny.</p> + +<p>The agent was always very civil to me, and took a deal of notice of my +son Jason, who, though he be my son, was a good scholar from his birth, and +a very cute lad. Seeing he was a good clerk, the agent gave him the rent +accounts to copy, which he did for nothing at first, being always proud to +serve the family.</p> + +<p>By-and-by, a good farm fell vacant, and my son put in a proposal for it. +Why not? The master, knowing no more of the land than a child unborn, wrote +over, leaving it to the agent, and he must send over £200 by return +post. So my son's proposal was just the thing, and he a good tenant, and he +got a promise of abatement after the first year for advancing the +half-year's rent to make up the £200, and my master was satisfied. +The agent told us then, as a great secret, that Sir Kit was a little too +fond of play.</p> + +<p>At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote he could raise no more money, +anyhow, and desired to resign the agency. My son, Jason, who had +corresponded privately with Sir Kit, was requested to take over the +accounts forthwith. His honour also condescended to tell us he was going to +be married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had +immediate occasion for £200 for travelling expenses home to Castle +Rackrent, where he intended to be early next month. We soon saw his +marriage in the paper, and news came of him and his bride being in Dublin +on their way home. We had bonfires all over the country, expecting them all +day, and were just thinking of giving them up for the night, when the +carriage came thundering up. I got the first sight of the bride, and +greatly shocked I was, for she was little better than a blackamoor. "You're +kindly welcome, my lady," I says; but neither spoke a word, nor did he so +much as hand her up the steps.</p> + +<p>I concluded she could not speak English, and was from foreign parts, so +I left her to herself, and went down to the servants' hall to learn +something about her. Sir Kit's own man told us, at last, that she might +well be a great fortune, for she was a Jewess, by all accounts. I had never +seen any of that tribe before, and could only gather that she could not +abide pork nor sausages, and went neither to church nor mass. "Mercy upon +his honour's poor soul," thought I. But when, after this, strange +gentleman's servants came and began to talk about the bride, I took care to +put the best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob.</p> + +<p>I saw plain enough, next morning, how things were between Sir Kit and +his lady, though they went arm-in-arm to look at the building.</p> + +<p>"Old Thady, how do you do?" says my master, just as he used to do, but I +could see he was not well pleased, and my heart was in my mouth as I walked +after them.</p> + +<p>There were no balls, no dinners, no doings. Sir Kit's gentleman told me +it was all my lady's fault, because she was so obstinate about the +cross.</p> + +<p>"What cross?" says I. "Is it about her being a heretic?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no such matter," says he. "My master does not mind about her +heresies, but her diamond cross. She's thousands of English pounds +concealed in her diamonds, which she as good as promised to give to my +master before they married; but now she won't part with any of them, and +must take the consequences."</p> + +<p>One morning, his honour says to me, "Thady, buy me a pig," and that was +the first breaking out of my lady's troubles when the sausages were +ordered. My lady went down to the kitchen herself, and desired never more +to see them on her table. The cook took her part, but the master made it a +principle to have the sausages; so, for fear of her place, she gave in, and +from that day forward, always sausages or pig-meat in one form or other +went up to table; upon which my lady shut herself up in her own room, and +my master turned the key in the door, and kept it ever after in his pocket. +We none of us saw her, or heard her speak for seven years after; he carried +her dinner in himself.</p> + +<p>Then his honour had a deal of company, and was as gay and gallant as +before he was married. The country, to be sure, talked and wondered, but +nobody cared to ask impertinent questions, my master being a famous shot. +His character was so well known that he lived in peace and quiet ever +after, and was a great favourite with the ladies; so that, when he gave out +that my lady was now skin and bone, and could not live through the winter, +there were no less than three ladies at daggers drawn, as his gentleman +swore, at the balls, for Sir Kit for their partner. I could not but think +them bewitched, but it was not known how my lady's fortune was settled, nor +how the estate was all mortgaged, and bonds out against him, for he was +never cured of his gaming tricks; but that was the only fault he had, God +bless him!</p> + +<p>Then it was given out, by mistake, that my lady was dead, and the three +ladies showed their brothers Sir Kit's letters, and claimed his promises. +His honour said he was willing to meet any man who questioned his conduct, +and the ladies must settle among themselves who was to be his second, while +his first was alive, to his mortification and theirs. He met the first +lady's brother, and shot him; next day called out the second, whose wooden +leg stuck fast in the ploughed land, so Sir Kit, with great candour, fired +over his head, whereupon they shook hands cordially, and went home together +to dinner.</p> + +<p>To establish his sister's reputation this gentleman went out as Sir +Kit's second next day, when he met the last of his adversaries. He had just +hit the toothpick out of his enemy's hand, when he received a ball in a +vital part, and was brought home speechless in a hand-barrow. We got the +key out of his pocket at once, and my son Jason ran to release her +ladyship. She would not believe but that it was some new trick till she saw +the men bringing Sir Kit up the avenue. There was no life in him, and he +was "waked" the same night.</p> + +<p>The country was all in an uproar about him, and his murderer would have +been hanged surely, but he prudently withdrew to the Continent.</p> + +<p>My lady got surprisingly well, and no sooner was it known that Sir Kit +was dead than all the country came round in a body, as it were, to set her +free. But she had taken an unaccountable prejudice against the country, and +was not easy, but when she was packing up to leave us, I considered her +quite as a foreigner, and no longer part of the family. Her diamond cross +was at the bottom of it all; and it was a shame for her, being his wife, +not to have given it up to him when he condescended to ask for it so often, +especially when he made it no secret he had married her for her money.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Sir Condy</i></h4> + + +<p>The new heir, Sir Conolly, commonly called Sir Condy, was the most +universally beloved man I ever saw or heard of. He was ever my white-headed +boy, when he used to live in a small but slated house at the end of the +avenue, before he went to college. He had little fortune of his own, and a +deal of money was spent on his education. Many of the tenants secretly +advanced him cash upon his promising bargains of leases, and lawful +interest should he ever come into the estate. So that when he did succeed, +he could not command a penny of his first year's income. My son Jason, who +was now agent, explained matters to Sir Condy, who, not willing to take his +affairs in his own hands, or even to look them in the face, gave my son a +bargain of some acres at a reasonable rent to pay him for his many years' +service in the family gratis.</p> + +<p>There was a hunting-lodge convenient to my son's land that he had his +eye upon, but Sir Condy talked of letting it to his friend Captain +Moneygawl, with whom he had become very friendly, and whose sister, Miss +Isabella, fell over head and ears in love with my master the first time he +went there to dinner.</p> + +<p>But Sir Condy was at a terrible nonplus, for he had no liking for Miss +Isabella. To his mind, little Judy McQuirk, daughter to a sister's son of +mine, was worth twenty of her. But her father had locked her in her room +and forbidden her to think of him, which raised his spirit; and I could see +him growing more and more in the mind to carry Miss Isabella off to +Scotland, as she desired. And I had wished her joy, a week after, on her +return with my poor master. Lucky for her she had a few thousands of her +own, for her father would not give her a farthing. My master and my lady +set out in great style, and it was reported that her father had undertaken +to pay all Sir Condy's debts; and, of course, all the tradesmen gave him +fresh credit, and everything went on smack smooth. I was proud to see +Castle Rackrent again in all its glory. She went on as if she had a mint of +money; and all Sir Condy asked--God bless him!--was to live in peace and +quiet, and have his whiskey punch at night. But my lady's few thousands +could not last for ever. Things in a twelve-month or so came to such a pass +that there was no going on any longer.</p> + +<p>Well, my son Jason put in a word about the lodge, and Sir Condy was fain +to take the purchase-money to settle matters, for there were two writs come +down against him to the sheriff, who was no friend of his. Then there came +a general election, and Sir Condy was called upon by all his friends to +stand candidate; they would do all the business, and it should not cost him +a penny.</p> + +<p>There was open house then at Castle Rackrent, and grand dinners, and all +the gentlemen drinking success to Sir Condy till they were carried off. The +election day came, and a glorious day it was. I thought I should have died +with joy in the street when I saw my poor master chaired, and the crowd +following him up and down. But a stranger man in the crowd gets me to +introduce him to my son Jason, and little did I guess his meaning. He gets +a list of my master's debts from him, and goes round and buys them up, and +so got to be sole creditor over all, and must needs have an execution +against the master's goods and furniture.</p> + +<p>After the election shoals of people came from all parts, claiming to +have obliged him with votes, and to remind him of promises he never made. +Worst of all, the gentlemen who had managed everything and subscribed by +hundreds very genteelly forgot to pay, and it was all left at my master's +door. All he could do to content 'em was to take himself off to Dublin, +where my lady had taken a house fitting for a member of parliament.</p> + +<p>Soon my son Jason said, "Sir Condy must look out for another agent. If +my lady had the Bank of Ireland to spend, it would all go in one +winter."</p> + +<p>I could scarcely believe my own old eyes when I saw my son's name joined +in the <i>custodian</i>, that the villain who got the list of debts brought +down in the spring; but he said it would make it easier for Sir Condy.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Last of the Rackrents</i></h4> + + +<p>When Sir Condy and his lady came down in June, he was pleased to take me +aside to complain of my son and other matters; not one unkind word of my +lady, but he wondered that her relations would do nothing for them in their +great distress. He did not take anything long to heart; let it be as it +might this night, it was all out of his head before he went to bed. Next +morning my lady had a letter from her relations, and asked to be allowed to +go back to them. He fell back as if he was shot, but after a minute said +she had his full consent, for what could she do at Castle Rackrent with an +execution coming down? Next morning she set off for Mount Juliet.</p> + +<p>Then everything was seized by the gripers, my son Jason, to his shame be +it spoken, among them. On the evening Sir Condy had appointed to settle +all, when he sees the sight of bills and loads of papers on the table, he +says to Jason, "Can't you now just sit down here and give me a clear view +of the balance, you know, which is all I need be talking about? Thady, do +just step out, and see they are bringing the things for the punch." When I +came back Jason was pointing to the balance, a terrible sight for my poor +master.</p> + +<p>"A--h! Hold your hand!" cries my master. "Where in the wide world am I +to find hundreds, let alone thousands?"</p> + +<p>"There's but one way," says Jason. "Sure, can't you sell, though at a +loss? Sure, you can sell, and I've a purchaser ready for you."</p> + +<p>"Have you so?" says Sir Condy. Then, colouring up a good deal, he tells +Jason of £500 a year he had settled upon my lady, at which Jason was +indeed mad; but, with much ado, agreed to a compromise. "And how much am I +going to sell? The lands of O'Shaughlin's town, and the lands of"--just +reading to himself--"oh, murder, Jason! Surely you won't put this +in--castle, stables, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, murder!" says I. "This is too bad, Jason."</p> + +<p>"Why so?" says Jason. "When it's all mine, and a great deal more, all +lawfully mine, was I to push for it?"</p> + +<p>But I took no heed, for I was grieved and sick at heart for my poor +master, and couldn't but speak.</p> + +<p>"Here's the punch," says Jason, for the door opened.</p> + +<p>So my master starts up in his chair, and Jason uncorks the whiskey. +Well, I was in great hopes when I saw him making the punch, and my master +taking a glass; but Jason put it back when he saw him going to fill again, +saying, "No, Sir Condy; let us settle all before we go deeper into the +punch-bowl. You've only to sign," says Jason, putting the pen to him.</p> + +<p>"Take all, and be content," said my master. So he signed, and the man +who brought the punch witnessed, for I was crying like a child.</p> + +<p>So I went out to the street door, and the neighbours' children left +their play to come to see what ailed me; and I told them all. When they +heard Sir Condy was going to leave Castle Rackrent for good and all, they +set up such a whillaluh as brought all their parents round the doors in +great anger against Jason. I was frightened, and went back to warn my son. +He grew quite pale and asked Sir Condy what he'd best do.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," says Sir Condy, laughing to see his fright. "Finish +your glass first, then let's go to the window, and I'll tell them--or you +shall, if you please--that I'm going to the lodge for change of air for my +health, and by my own desire, for the rest of my days."</p> + +<p>"Do so," says Jason, who never meant it to be so, but could not refuse +at such a time.</p> + +<p>So the very next day he sets off to the lodge, and I along with him. +There was great bemoaning all through the town, which I stayed to witness. +He was in his bed, and very low, when I got there, and complained of a +great pain about his heart; but I, knowing the nature of him from a boy, +took my pipe and began telling him how he was beloved and regretted in the +country. And it did him a great deal of good to hear it.</p> + +<p>There was a great horn at the lodge that used to belong to the +celebrated Sir Patrick, who was reported to have drunk the full of it +without stopping to draw breath, which no other man, afore or since, could +do.</p> + +<p>One night Sir Condy was drinking with the excise-man and the gauger, and +wagered that he could do it. Says he, "Your hand is steadier than mine, Old +Thady; fill you the horn for me." And so, wishing his honour success, I +did. He swallowed it down and dropped like one shot. We put him to bed, and +for five days the fever came and went, and came and went. On the sixth he +says, knowing me very well, "I'm in a burning pain all withinside of me, +Thady." I could not speak. "Brought to this by drink," says he. "Where are +all the friends? Gone, hey? Ay, Sir Condy has been a fool all his days," +said he, and died. He had but a very poor funeral, after all.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="eliot">GEORGE ELIOT</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="eliot1">Adam Bede</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Mary Ann Evans ("George Eliot") was born Nov. 22, 1819, at +South Farm, Arbury, Warwickshire, England, where her father was agent on +the Newdigate estate. In her youth, she was adept at butter-making and +similar rural work, but she found time to master Italian and German. Her +first important literary work was the translation of Strauss's "Life of +Jesus" in 1844, and shortly after her father's death in 1849 she was +writing in the "Westminster Review." It was not until 1856 that George +Eliot settled down to the writing of novels. "Scenes from Clerical Life" +first appeared serially in "Blackwood's Magazine" during 1857 and 1858; +"Adam Bede," the first and most popular of her long stories, in 1859. In +May, 1880, eighteen months after the death of her friend George Henry Lewes +(see PHILOSOPHY, Vol. XIV), George Eliot married Mr. J. W. Cross. She died +on December 22 in the same year. With all her sense of humour there is a +note of sadness in George Eliot's novels. She deals with ordinary, everyday +people, and describes their joys and sorrows. In "Adam Bede," as in most of +her work, the novelist drew from the ample stores of her early life in the +Midlands, while the plot is unfolded with singular simplicity, purity, and +power. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Two Brothers</i></h4> + + +<p>In the roomy workshop of Mr. Jonathan Burge, carpenter and builder, in +the village of Hayslope, on the eighteenth of June, 1799, five workmen were +busy upon doors and window-frames.</p> + +<p>The tallest of the five was a large-boned, muscular man, nearly six feet +high. The sleeve rolled up above the elbow showed an arm that was likely to +win the prize for feats of strength; yet the long, supple hand, with its +broad finger tips, looked ready for works of skill. In his tall +stalwartness Adam Bede was a Saxon, and justified his name. The face was +large and roughly hewn, and when in repose had no other beauty than such as +belongs to an expression of good-humoured, honest intelligence.</p> + +<p>It is clear at a glance that the next workman is Adam's brother. He is +nearly as tall; he has the same type of features. But Seth's broad +shoulders have a slight stoop, and his glance, instead of being keen, is +confiding and benignant.</p> + +<p>The idle tramps always felt sure they could get a copper from Seth; they +scarcely ever spoke to Adam.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock the men stopped working, and went out. Seth lingered, and +looked wistfully at Adam, as if he expected him to say something.</p> + +<p>"Shalt go home before thee go'st to the preaching?" Adam asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I shan't be home before going for ten. I'll happen see Dinah +Morris safe home, if she's willing. There's nobody comes with her from +Poyser's, thee know'st."</p> + +<p>Adam set off home, and at a quarter to seven Seth was on the village +green where the Methodists were preaching. The people drew nearer when +Dinah Morris mounted the cart which served as a pulpit. There was a total +absence of self-consciousness in her demeanour; she walked to the cart as +simply as if she were going to market. There was no keenness in the eyes; +they seemed rather to be shedding love than making observations. When Dinah +spoke it was with a clear but not loud voice, and her sincere, +unpremeditated eloquence held the attention of her audience without +interruption.</p> + +<p>When the service was over, Seth Bede walked by Dinah's side along the +hedgerow path that skirted the pastures and corn-fields which lay between +the village and the Hall Farm.</p> + +<p>Seth could see an expression of unconscious placid gravity on her +face--an expression that is most discouraging to a lover. He was timidly +revolving something he wanted to say, and it was only when they were close +to the yard-gates of the Hall Farm he had the courage to speak.</p> + +<p>"It may happen you'll think me overbold to speak to you again after what +you told me o' your thoughts. But it seems to me there's more texts for +your marrying than ever you can find against it. St. Paul says, 'Two are +better than one,' and that holds good with marriage as well as with other +things. For we should be o' one heart and o' one mind, Dinah. I'd never be +the husband to make a claim on you as could interfere with your doing the +work God has fitted you for. I'd make a shift, and fend indoor and out, to +give you more liberty--more than you can have now; for you've got to get +your own living now, and I'm strong enough to work for us both."</p> + +<p>When Seth had once begun to urge his suit, he went on earnestly and +almost hurriedly. His voice trembled at the last sentence.</p> + +<p>They had reached one of those narrow passes between two tall stones, +which performed the office of a stile in Loamshire. And Dinah paused, and +said, in her tender but calm notes, "Seth Bede, I thank you for your love +towards me, and if I could think of any man as more than a Christian +brother, I think it would be you. But my heart is not free to marry, or to +think of making a home for myself in this world. God has called me to speak +His word, and He has greatly owned my work."</p> + +<p>They said farewell at the yard-gate, for Seth wouldn't enter the +farmhouse, choosing rather to turn back along the fields through which he +and Dinah had already passed. It was ten o'clock when he reached home, and +he heard the sound of tools as he lifted the latch.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," said Seth, "how is it as father's working so late?"</p> + +<p>"It's none o' thy feyther as is a-workin'; it's thy brother as does +iverything, for there's niver nobody else i' th' way to do nothin'."</p> + +<p>Lisbeth Bede was going on, for she was not at all afraid of Seth--who +had never in his life spoken a harsh word to his mother--and usually poured +into his ears all the querulousness which was repressed by the awe which +mingled itself with her idolatrous love of Adam.</p> + +<p>But Seth, with an anxious look, had passed into the workshop, and said, +"Addy, how's this? What! Father's forgot the coffin?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, lad, th' old tale; but I shall get it done," said Adam, looking up. +"Why, what's the matter with thee--thee'st in trouble?"</p> + +<p>Seth's eyes were red, and there was a look of deep depression on his +mild face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Addy, but it's what must be borne, and can't be helped. Let me +take my turn now, and do thee go to bed."</p> + +<p>"No, lad; I'd rather go on, now I'm in harness. The coffin's promised to +be ready at Brox'on by seven o'clock to-morrow morning. I'll call thee up +at sunrise, to help me to carry it when it's done. Go and eat thy supper +and shut the door, so as I mayn't hear mother's talk."</p> + +<p>Adam worked throughout the night, thinking of his childhood and its +happy days, and then of the days of sadness that came later when his father +began to loiter at public-houses, and Lisbeth began to cry at home. He +remembered well the night of shame and anguish when he first saw his father +quite wild and foolish.</p> + +<p>The two brothers set off in the early sunlight, carrying the long coffin +on their shoulders. By six o'clock they had reached Broxton, and were on +their way home.</p> + +<p>When they were coming across the valley, and had entered the pasture +through which the brook ran, Seth said suddenly, beginning to walk faster, +"Why, what's that sticking against the willow?"</p> + +<p>They both ran forward, and dragged the tall, heavy body out of the +water; and then looked with mute awe at the glazed eyes--forgetting +everything but that their father lay dead before them.</p> + +<p>Adam's mind rushed back over the past in a flood of relenting and pity. +Only a few hours ago, and the gray-haired father, of whom he had been +thinking with a sort of hardness as certain to live to be a thorn in his +side, was perhaps even then struggling with that watery death!</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Hall Farm</i></h4> + + +<p>It is a very fine old place of red brick, the Hall Farm--once the +residence of a country squire, and the Hall.</p> + +<p>Plenty of life there, though this is the drowsiest time of the year, +just before hay-harvest; and it is the drowsiest time of the day, too, for +it is half-past three by Mrs. Poyser's handsome eight-day clock.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Poyser, a good-looking woman, not more than eight-and-thirty, of +fair complexion and sandy hair, well shaped, light-footed, had just taken +up her knitting, and was seated with her niece, Dinah Morris. Another +motherless niece, Hetty Sorrel, a distractingly pretty girl of seventeen, +was busy in the adjoining dairy.</p> + +<p>"You look the image o' your aunt Judith, Dinah, when you sit a-sewing," +said Mrs. Poyser. "I allays said that o' Judith, as she'd bear a pound +weight any day to save anybody else carrying a ounce. And it made no +difference in her, as I could see, when she took to the Methodists; only +she talked a bit different, and wore a different sort o' cap. If you'd only +come and live i' this country you might get married to some decent man, and +there'd be plenty ready to have you, if you'd only leave off that +preaching, as is ten times worse than anything your Aunt Judith ever did. +And even if you'd marry Seth Bede, as is a poor, wool-gathering Methodist, +and's never like to have a penny beforehand, I know your uncle 'ud help you +with a pig, and very like a cow, for he's allays been good-natur'd to my +kin, for all they're poor, and made 'em welcome to the house; and 'ud do +for you, I'll be bound, as much as ever he'd do for Hetty, though she's his +own niece."</p> + +<p>The arrival of Mr. Irwine, the rector of Hayslope, and Captain +Donnithorne, Squire Donnithorne's grandson and heir, interrupted Mrs. +Poyser's flow of talk.</p> + +<p>"I'll lay my life they're come to speak about your preaching on the +Green, Dinah. It's you must answer 'em, for I'm dumb. I've said enough +a'ready about your bringing such disgrace upo' your uncle's family. I +wouldn't ha' minded if you'd been Mr. Poyser's own niece. Folks must put up +wi' their own kin as they put up wi' their own noses; it's their own flesh +and blood."</p> + +<p>Mr. Irwine, however, was the last man to feel any annoyance at the +Methodist preaching, and young Arthur Donnithorne's visit was merely an +excuse for exchanging a few words with Hetty Sorrel.</p> + +<p>The rector mentioned before he left that Thias Bede had been found +drowned in the Willow Brook; and Dinah Morris at once decided that she +might be of some comfort to the widow, and set out for the village.</p> + +<p>As for Hetty Sorrel, she was thinking more of the looks Captain +Donnithorne had cast at her than of Adam and his troubles. Bright, admiring +glances from a handsome young gentleman--those were the warm rays that set +poor Hetty's heart vibrating.</p> + +<p>Hetty was quite used to the thought that people liked to look at her. +She was aware that Mr. Craig, the gardener at Squire Donnithorne's, was +over head-and-ears in love with her. She knew still better that Adam +Bede--tall, upright, clever, brave Adam Bede--who carried such authority +with all the people round about, and whom her uncle was always delighted to +see of an evening, saying that "Adam knew a fine sight more o' the natur o' +things than those as thought themselves his betters"--she knew that this +Adam, who was often rather stern to other people, and not much given to run +after the lassies, could be made to turn pale or red any day by a word or a +look from her. Hetty's sphere of comparison was not large, but she couldn't +help perceiving that Adam was "something like" a man; always knew what to +say about things; knew, with only looking at it, the value of a +chestnut-tree that was blown down, and why the damp came in the walls, and +what they must do to stop the rats; and wrote a beautiful hand that you +could read, and could do figures in his head--a degree of accomplishment +totally unknown among the richest farmers of that country-side.</p> + +<p>Hetty was quite certain her uncle wanted her to encourage Adam, and +would be pleased for her to marry him. For the last three years--ever since +he had superintended the building of the new barn--Adam had always been +made welcome at the Hall Farm, and for the last two years at least Hetty +had been in the habit of hearing her uncle say, "Adam Bede may be working +for a wage now, but he'll be a master-man some day, as sure as I sit in +this chair. Master Burge is in the right on't to want him to go partners +and marry his daughter, if it's true what they say. The woman as marries +him 'ull have a good take, be't Lady Day or Michaelmas," a remark which +Mrs. Poyser always followed up with her cordial assent.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she would say, "it's all very fine having a ready-made rich man, +but may happen he'll be a ready-made fool; and it's no use filling your +pocket full of money if you've got a hole in the corner. It'll do you no +good to sit in a spring-cart o' your own if you've got a soft to drive you; +he'll soon turn you over into the ditch."</p> + +<p>But Hetty had never given Adam any steady encouragement. She liked to +feel that this strong, keen-eyed man was in her power; but as to marrying +Adam, that was a very different affair.</p> + +<p>Hetty's dreams were all of luxuries. She thought if Adam had been rich, +and could have given the things of her dreams--large, beautiful earrings +and Nottingham lace and a carpeted parlour--she loved him well enough to +marry him.</p> + +<p>The last few weeks a new influence had come over Hetty; she had become +aware that Mr. Arthur Donnithorne would take a good deal of trouble for the +chance of seeing her. And Dinah Morris was away, preaching and working in a +manufacturing town.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Adam's First Love</i></h4> + + +<p>Adam Bede, like many other men, thought the signs of love for another +were signs of love towards himself. The time had come to him that summer, +as he helped Hetty pick currants in the orchard of the Hall Farm, that a +man can least forget in after-life--the time when he believes that the +first woman he has ever loved is, at least, beginning to love him in +return.</p> + +<p>He was not wrong in thinking that a change had come over Hetty; the +anxieties and fears of a first passion with which she was trembling had +become stronger than vanity, and while Adam drew near to her she was +absorbed in thinking and wondering about Arthur Donnithorne's possible +return.</p> + +<p>For the first time Hetty felt that there was something soothing to her +in Adam's timid yet manly tenderness; she wanted to be treated lovingly. +And Arthur was away from home; and, oh, it was very hard to bear the blank +of absence. She was not afraid that Adam would tease her with love-making +and flattering speeches; he had always been so reserved to her. She could +enjoy without any fear the sense that this strong, brave man loved her and +was near her. It never entered into her mind that Adam was pitiable, too, +that Adam, too, must suffer one day.</p> + +<p>It was from Adam that she found out that Captain Donnithorne would be +back in a day or two, and this knowledge made her the more kindly disposed +towards him. But for all the world Adam would not have spoken of his love +to Hetty yet, till this commencing kindness towards him should have grown +into unmistakable love. He did no more than pluck a rose for her, and walk +back to the farm with her arm in his.</p> + +<p>When Adam, after stopping a while to chat with the Poysers, had said +good-night, Mr. Poyser remarked, "If you can catch Adam for a husband, +Hetty, you'll ride i' your own spring-cart some day, I'll be your +warrant."</p> + +<p>Her uncle did not see the little toss of the head with which Hetty +answered him. To ride in a spring-cart seemed a very miserable lot indeed +to her now.</p> + +<p>It was on August 18, when Adam, going home from some work he had been +doing at one of the farms, passed through a grove of beeches, and saw, at +the end of the avenue, about twenty yards before him, two figures. They +were standing opposite to each other with clasped hands, and they separated +with a start at a sharp bark from Adam Bede's dog. One hurried away through +a gate out of the grove; the other, Arthur Donnithorne, looking flushed and +excited, sauntered towards Adam. The young squire had been home for some +weeks celebrating his twenty-first birthday, and he was leaving on the +morrow to rejoin his regiment.</p> + +<p>Hitherto there had been a cordial and sincere liking and a mutual esteem +between the two young men; but now Adam stood as if petrified, and his +amazement turned quickly to fierceness.</p> + +<p>Arthur tried to pass the matter off lightly, as if it had been a chance +meeting with Hetty; but Adam, who felt that he had been robbed +treacherously by the man in whom he had trusted, would not so easily let +him off. It came to blows, and Arthur sank under a well-planted blow of +Adam's, as a steel rod is broken by an iron bar.</p> + +<p>Before they separated, Arthur promised that he would write and tell +Hetty there could be no further communication between them. And this +promise he kept. Adam rested content with the assurance that nothing but an +innocent flirtation had been stopped. As the days went by he found that the +calm patience with which he had waited for Hetty's love had forsaken him +since that night in the beech-grove. The agitations of jealousy had given a +new restlessness to his passion.</p> + +<p>Hetty, for her part, after the first misery caused by Arthur's letter, +had turned into a mood of dull despair, and sought only for change. Why +should she not marry Adam? She did not care what she did so that it made +some change in her life.</p> + +<p>So, in November, when Mr. Burge offered Adam a share in his business, +Adam not only accepted it, but decided that the time had come to ask Hetty +to marry him.</p> + +<p>Hetty did not speak when Adam got out the question, but his face was +very close to hers, and she put up her round cheek against his, like a +kitten. She wanted to be caressed--she wanted to feel as if Arthur were +with her again.</p> + +<p>Adam only said after that, "I may tell your uncle and aunt, mayn't I, +Hetty?" And she said "Yes."</p> + +<p>The red firelight on the hearth at the Hall Farm shone on joyful faces +that evening when Adam took the opportunity of telling Mr. and Mrs. Poyser +that he saw his way to maintaining a wife now, and that Hetty had consented +to have him.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of discussion before Adam went away about the +possibility of his finding a house that would do for him to settle in.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said Mr. Poyser at last, "we needna fix everything +to-night. You canna think o' getting married afore Easter. I'm not for long +courtships, but there must be a bit o' time to make things +comfortable."</p> + +<p>This was in November.</p> + +<p>Then in February came the full tragedy of Hetty Sorrel's life. She left +home, and in a strange village, a child--Arthur Donnithorne's child--was +born. Hetty left the baby in a wood, and returned to find it dead. Arrest +and trial followed, and only at the last moment was the capital sentence +commuted to transportation.</p> + +<p>She died a few years later on her way home.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Wife of Adam Bede</i></h4> + + +<p>It was the autumn of 1801, and Dinah Morris was once more at the Hall +Farm, only to leave it again for her work in the town. Mrs. Poyser noticed +that Dinah, who never used to change colour, flushed when Adam said, "Why, +I hoped Dinah was settled among us for life. I thought she'd given up the +notion o' going back to her old country."</p> + +<p>"Thought! Yes," said Mrs. Poyser; "and so would anybody else ha' thought +as had got their right ends up'ards. But I suppose you must be a Methodist +to know what a Methodist 'ull do. It's all guessing what the bats are +flying after."</p> + +<p>"Why, what have we done to you, Dinah, as you must go away from us?" +said Mr. Poyser. "It's like breaking your word; for your aunt never had no +thought but you'd make this your home."</p> + +<p>"Nay, uncle," said Dinah, trying to be quite calm. "When I first came I +said it was only for a time, as long as I could be of any comfort to my +aunt."</p> + +<p>"Well, an' who said you'd ever left off being a comfort to me?" said +Mrs. Poyser. "If you didna mean to stay wi' me, you'd better never ha' +come. Them as ha' never had a cushion don't miss it."</p> + +<p>Dinah set off with Adam, for Lisbeth was ailing and wanted Dinah to sit +with her a bit. On the way he reverted to her leaving the Hall Farm. "You +know best, Dinah, but if it had been ordered so that you could ha' been my +sister, and lived wi' us all our lives, I should ha' counted it the +greatest blessing as could happen to us now."</p> + +<p>Dinah made no answer, and they walked on in silence, until presently, +crossing the stone stile, Adam saw her face, flushed, and with a look of +suppressed agitation.</p> + +<p>It struck him with surprise, and then he said, "I hope I've not hurt or +displeased you by what I've said, Dinah; perhaps I was making too free. +I've no wish different from what you see to be best; and I'm satisfied for +you to live thirty miles off if you think it right."</p> + +<p>Poor Adam! Thus do men blunder.</p> + +<p>Lisbeth opened his eyes on the Sunday morning when Adam sat at home and +read from his large pictured Bible.</p> + +<p>For a long time his mother talked on about Dinah, and about how they +were losing her when they might keep her, and Adam at last told her she +must make up her mind that she would have to do without Dinah.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but I canna ma' up my mind, when she's just cut out for thee; an' +nought shall ma' me believe as God didna make her and send her here o' +purpose for thee. What's it sinnify about her being a Methody? It 'ud +happen wear out on her wi' marryin'."</p> + +<p>Adam threw himself back in his chair and looked at his mother. He +understood now what her talk had been aiming at, and tried to chase away +the notion from her mind.</p> + +<p>He was amazed at the way in which this new thought of Dinah's love had +taken possession of him with an overmastering power that made all other +feelings give way before the impetuous desire to know that the thought was +true. He spoke to Seth, who said quite simply that he had long given up all +thoughts of Dinah ever being his wife, and would rejoice in his brother's +joy. But he could not tell whether Dinah was for marrying.</p> + +<p>"Thee might'st ask her," Seth said presently. "She took no offence at +<i>me</i> for asking, and thee'st more right than I had."</p> + +<p>When Adam did ask, Dinah answered that her heart was strongly drawn +towards him, but that she must wait for divine guidance. So she left the +Hall Farm and went back to the town, and Adam waited,--and then went after +her to get his answer.</p> + +<p>"Adam," she said when they had met and walked some distance together, +"it is the divine will. My soul is so knit to yours that it is but a +divided life I live without you. And this moment, now you are with me, and +I feel that our hearts are filled with the same love, I have a fullness of +strength to bear and do our Heavenly Father's will that I had lost +before."</p> + +<p>Adam paused and looked into her sincere eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll never part any more, Dinah, till death parts us."</p> + +<p>And they kissed each other with deep joy.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="eliot2">Felix Holt, the Radical</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Felix Holt, the Radical," was published in 1866. It has never +been one of George Eliot's very popular books. There is less in it of her +own life and experience than in most of her novels, less of the homely wit +of agricultural England. The real value of the book is the picture it gives +of the social and political life, and for this reason, it will always be +read by those who want to know what English political methods and customs +were like at the time of the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. The +character of Mr. Rufus Lyon, the independent minister, is an admirable +study of the non-conformist of that period. Esther's renunciation of a +brilliant fortune for a humbler lot with the man she loved and admired, was +quite in accord with the teaching George Eliot inculcated all her life. The +scene of the story is laid in the Midlands, and the action, covering about +nine months, begins in 1832. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Minister's Daughter</i></h4> + + +<p>The Rev. Rufus Lyon, Minister of the Independent Chapel, in the +old-fashioned market town of Treby Magna, in the County of Loumshire, lived +in a small house, adjoining the entry which led to the Chapel Yard.</p> + +<p>He sat this morning, as usual, in a low upstairs room, called his study, +which served also as a sleeping-room, and from time to time got up to walk +about between the piles of old books which lay around him on the floor. His +face looked old and worn, yet the curtain of hair that fell from his bald +crown and hung about his neck retained much of its original auburn tint, +and his large, brown short-sighted eyes were still clear and bright. At the +first glance, everyone thought him a very odd-looking, rusty old man, and +the free-school boys often hooted after him, and called him "Revelations." +But he was too short-sighted and too absent from the world of small facts +and petty impulses to notice those who tittered at him.</p> + +<p>He was meditating on the text for his Sunday morning sermon, when old +Lyddy, the minister's servant, opened the door to tell him that Mrs. Holt +was wanting to see him. "She says she comes out of season, but she's in +trouble."</p> + +<p>The minister bade her send Mistress Holt up, and a tall elderly woman +dressed in black entered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Holt, Mr. Lyon said to himself, is a woman who darkens counsel by +words without knowledge, and angers the reason of the natural man; and he +prayed for patience while his visitor rambled on concerning her late +husband and her son Felix.</p> + +<p>The minister made out that Felix objected to the sale of his father's +quack medicines, Holt's Elixir and Cancer Cure, and wanted Mr. Lyon to talk +to him.</p> + +<p>"For after we'd been to chapel, he spoke better of you than he does of +most: he said you was a fine old fellow, and an old-fashioned Puritan--he +uses dreadful language, Mr. Lyon; but I saw he didn't mean you ill, for all +that; he calls most folks' religion rottenness."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Holt departed, and in the evening, when Mr. Lyon was in the +sitting-room, Felix Holt knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>The minister, accustomed to the respectable air of provincial townsmen, +felt a slight shock, when his spectacles made clear to him the +shaggy-headed, large-eyed, strong-limbed person of this questionable young +man, without waistcoat or cravat.</p> + +<p>Felix spoke loudly and brusquely when the minister mentioned the subject +of Mrs. Holt's visit.</p> + +<p>"As to those absurd medicines and gulling advertisements that my mother +has been talking of to you, I've no more doubt about <i>them</i> than I +have about pocket-picking. If I allowed the sale of those medicines to go +on, and my mother to live out of the proceeds when I can keep her by the +honest labour of hands, I've not the least doubt that I should be a +rascal."</p> + +<p>"I would fain inquire more particularly into your objection to these +medicines," said Mr. Lyon gravely.</p> + +<p>"My father was ignorant," said Felix, bluntly. "I know something about +these things. I was 'prentice for five miserable years to a stupid brute of +a country apothecary--my poor father left money for that--he thought +nothing could be finer for me. No matter: I know that the Cathartic Pills +may be as bad as poison to half the people who swallow them, and that the +cancer cure might as well be bottled ditch-water. I can keep my mother, as +well, nay, better, than she keeps herself. With my watch and clock +cleaning, and teaching one or two little chaps that I've got to come to me, +I can earn enough."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lyon's suggestion that some situation might be obtained as clerk or +assistant was brushed aside.</p> + +<p>"Why should I want to get into the middle class because I have some +learning? The most of the middle class are as ignorant as the working +people about everything that doesn't belong to their own Brummagem +life."</p> + +<p>The entrance of Lyddy with the tea tray disturbed the conversation, but +the minister, interested in his visitor, asked Felix to stay for a dish of +tea, and Felix accepted.</p> + +<p>"My daughter, who has been detained in giving a lesson in the French +tongue, has doubtless returned now," said the minister. On the entrance of +the young lady, Felix was conscious she was not the sort of person he had +expected the minister's daughter to be, and the incongruity repelled him. +There were things about her, her walk, the long neck and high crown of +shining brown hair, that suggested a fine lady to him. A fine lady was +always a sort of spun glass affair; but a fine lady as the daughter of this +rusty old Puritan was especially offensive.</p> + +<p>The discovery that Miss Lyon read Byron set Felix off on a tirade +against the poet, and his works, and throughout the meal no agreement on +any topic seemed possible between Esther and the guest.</p> + +<p>Felix noted that Mr. Lyon was devoted to his daughter and stood in some +fear of her.</p> + +<p>"That is a singular young man, Esther," said the minister, when Felix +had gone. "I discern in him a love for whatever things are honest and true, +and I feel a great enlargement in his presence."</p> + +<p>"I think he is very coarse and rude," said Esther, with a touch of +temper. "But he speaks better English than most of our visitors. What is +his occupation?"</p> + +<p>"Watch and clock making, my dear."</p> + +<p>Esther was disappointed, she thought he was something higher than +that.</p> + +<p>Felix on his side wondered how the queer old minister had a daughter so +little in his own likeness. He decided that nothing should make him +marry.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Election Riot</i></h4> + + +<p>The return of Mr. Harold Transome, to Transome Court, after fifteen +years' absence, and his adoption as Radical Candidate for the county +created no little stir and excitement in Treby. It also assisted the +growing intimacy between Mr. Lyon and Felix Holt, for though neither +possessed votes in that memorable year 1832, they shared the same liberal +sympathies. Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which +there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking; +and the advent of the public-spirited, contradictory, yet affectionate +Felix, into Treby life had made a welcome epoch to the minister.</p> + +<p>Esther had not seen so much of their new acquaintance as her father had. +But she had begun to find him amusing, though he always opposed and +criticised her, and looked at her as if he never saw a single detail about +her person. It seemed to Esther that he thought slightly of her. "But, rude +and queer as he is, I cannot say there is anything vulgar about him," she +said to herself.</p> + +<p>One Sunday afternoon Felix Holt rapped at the door of Mr. Lyon's house, +although he could hear the voice of the minister in the chapel.</p> + +<p>Esther was in the kitchen alone, reading a French romance, and she +opened the door and invited him in.</p> + +<p>He scoffed at her book, and as the talk went on, upbraided her for her +vanity. Finally he told her that he wanted her to change. "Of course, I am +a brute to say so," he added. "I ought to say you are perfect. Another man +would, perhaps; I can't bear to see you going the way of the foolish women +who spoil men's lives."</p> + +<p>Mortification and anger filled Esther's mind, and when Felix got up to +say he was going, she returned his "good-bye" without even looking at +him.</p> + +<p>Only, when the door closed she burst into tears. She revolted against +his assumption of superiority.... Did he love her one little bit, and was +that the reason why he wanted her to change? But Esther was quite sure she +could never love anyone who was so much of a pedagogue and a master.</p> + +<p>Yet, a few weeks later, and Esther accepted willingly when Felix +proposed a walk for the first time together. That same afternoon he told +her that she was very beautiful, and that he would never be rich: he +intended going away to some manufacturing town to lead the people to better +things and this meant a life of poverty.</p> + +<p>Something Esther said made Felix ask suddenly, "Can you imagine yourself +choosing hardship as the better lot?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can," she answered, flushing over neck and brow. They walked +home very silently after that. Felix struggling as a firm man struggles +with a temptation, Esther struggling as a woman struggles with the yearning +for some expression of love.</p> + +<p>On the day of the election a mob of miners, primed with liquor by an +unscrupulous agent of Transome's, came into the town to hoot the Tory +voters; and as the disturbance increased, Felix knowing that Mr. Lyon was +away preaching went round to the minister's house to reassure Esther.</p> + +<p>"I am so thankful to see you," she said eagerly. He mentioned that the +magistrates and constables were coming and that the town would be quieter. +His only fear was that drinking might inflame the mob again.</p> + +<p>Again Felix told her of his renunciation of the ordinary hopes and +ambitions of men, and at the same time tried to prove that he thought very +highly of her. He wanted her to know that her love was dear to him, and he +felt that they must not marry--to do so would be to ruin each other's +lives.</p> + +<p>When Felix went out into the streets in the afternoon, the crowd was +larger and more mischievous. The constables were quite unable to cope with +the mob, the polling booth was closed for the day, and the magistrates had +sent to the neighbouring town of Duffield for the military.</p> + +<p>There were proofs that the predominant will of the crowd was in favour +of Transome for several shops were attacked and they were all of them "Tory +shops."</p> + +<p>Felix was soon hotly occupied trying to save a wretched publican named +Spratt from the fury of the crowd. The man had been dragged out into the +streets, and Felix had got as near him as he could when a young constable +armed with a sabre rushed upon him. It was a choice of two evils, and quick +as lightning Felix frustrated him, the constable fell undermost and Felix +got his weapon. Tucker did not rise immediately, but Felix did not imagine +that he was much hurt, and bidding the crowd follow him tried to lead them +away from the town. He hoped that the soldiers would soon arrive, and felt +confident that there would be no resistance to a military force.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a cry was raised, "Let us go to Treby Manor," the residence of +Sir Maximus Debarry, whose son was the Tory candidate.</p> + +<p>From that moment Felix was powerless, and was carried along with the +rush. All he could hope to do was to get to the front terrace of the house, +and assure the inmates that the soldiers would arrive quickly. Just as he +approached a large window he heard the horses of the troopers, and then +came the words, "Halt! Fire!" Before he had time to move a bullet whizzed, +and passed through Felix Holt's shoulder--the shoulder of the arm that bore +the sabre.</p> + +<p>Felix fell. The rioters ran confusedly, like terrified sheep.</p> + +<p>It was a weary night for Felix, and the next day his wound was declared +trivial, and he was lodged in Loumford Jail. There were three charges +against him; that he had assaulted a constable, that he had committed +manslaughter (Tucker was dead from spinal concussion), and that he had led +a riotous onslaught on a dwelling house.</p> + +<p>Four other men were arrested, one for theft, and three others for riot +and assault.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Trial</i></h4> + + +<p>A great change took place in the fortunes of Esther in the interval +between the riot and the opening of the assizes. It was found that she, and +not Harold Transome, was the rightful owner of the Transome estates. For +Esther's real name was Bycliffe and not Lyon, and she was the step-daughter +only of the minister. Mr. Lyon had found Esther's mother, a French woman of +great beauty, in destitution--her husband, an Englishman, lying in some +unknown prison. This Englishman was a Bycliffe--and heir to the Transome +property, and on the proof of his death Mr. Lyon, knowing nothing of +Bycliffe's family, married his widow, who, however, died while Esther was +still a tiny child. Not till the time of the election did Esther learn that +her real father was dead.</p> + +<p>Mr. Transome's lawyer--Jermyn--was fully aware of the claim of the +Bycliffes, but knew they were powerless without money to enforce the claim, +and that Esther and her step-father alike were ignorant of all the facts. +It was only when Harold Transome, on his return, quarrelled with Jermyn on +the management of the estates, and, after the Election (which Transome +lost) threatened him with a law-suit, that Jermyn turned round and told +Harold the truth. At the same time, another lawyer, formerly in Jermyn's +confidence, thought the more profitable course could be found in throwing +Jermyn over, and wrote to Esther informing her of her inheritance.</p> + +<p>Harold Transome decided to act openly. With his mother, he drove to the +minister's house and Mrs. Transome persuaded Esther to come and stay at +Transome Court. Both mother and son found Esther to their liking, and it +appeared to Harold that marriage with Esther would be a happy conclusion to +the divided claim to the property. He was rich, and the Transome (or +Bycliffe) property was heavily encumbered.</p> + +<p>The Transomes, Esther and Mr. Lyon all agreed that no law-suit over the +property should take place.</p> + +<p>But while Esther stayed at Transome Court she never forgot her friend in +prison. Mr. Lyon had visited Felix, and Esther herself obtained an +interview with him just before the assizes began.</p> + +<p>She had grown conscious that Harold Transome was making love to her, +that Mrs. Transome really desired her for a daughter-in-law, and it seemed +to her as she waited with the minister in the cheerless prison room, that +she stood at the first and last parting of the ways.</p> + +<p>Soon the door opened, and Felix Holt entered.</p> + +<p>"Miss Lyon--Esther!" and her hand was in his grasp. He was just the +same--no, something inexpressibly better, because of the distance and +separation, which made him like the return of morning.</p> + +<p>"Take no heed of me, children," said Mr. Lyon. "I have some notes to +make." And the old man sat down at a window with his back to them, writing +with his head bent close to the paper.</p> + +<p>Felix had heard of Esther's change of fortune and felt sure she would +marry Harold Transome. It was only when the time for parting came that he +could bring himself to say:</p> + +<p>"I had a horrible struggle, Esther. But you see I was right. There was a +fitting lot in reserve for you." Esther felt too miserable for tears to +come. She looked helplessly at Felix for a moment, then took her hands from +his, and turning away mutely, said, "Father, I am ready--there is no more +to say."</p> + +<p>"Esther."</p> + +<p>She heard Felix say the word, with an entreating cry, and went towards +him swiftly. He clasped her, and they kissed each other.</p> + +<p>When the trial came on Esther went under Mrs. Transome's protection to +the court.</p> + +<p>The case against Felix looked very black when the prosecution closed. +Various respectable witnesses swore to the prisoner's leadership of the +mob, to his fatal assault on Tucker, and to his attitude in front of the +drawing-room window at the Manor.</p> + +<p>Felix then gave a concise narrative of his motives and conduct on the +day of the riot, and explained that in throwing the constable down he had +not foreseen the possibility of death ensuing. It was a good, +straightforward speech, not without a touch of defiant independence, which +did the prisoner little good with judge or jury.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lyon and Harold Transome both gave evidence in favour of Felix, +stating that the prisoner had often expressed his hatred of rioting, and +had protested with indignation against the treating that went on during the +election by some of the Radical agents.</p> + +<p>One or two witnesses were called who swore that Felix had tried to lead +the mob in the opposite direction to Treby Manor, and it was understood +that the case for the defence was closed.</p> + +<p>Then it came to Esther that she must speak if Felix was to be saved. +There had been no witness to tell what had been his behaviour just before +the riot. There was time, but not too much time.</p> + +<p>Before Harold Transome was aware of Esther's intention she was on her +way to the witness-box.</p> + +<p>A sort of gleam shot across the face of Felix Holt, and anyone close to +the prisoner would have seen that his hand trembled, for the first time, at +Esther's beautiful aspect. There was no blush on her face: she stood, +divested of all personal consideration whether of vanity or shyness, and +gave her story as if she had been making a confession of faith.</p> + +<p>She knew Felix Holt well, she said. He came to see her on the day of the +election, and told her he feared the men might collect again after +drinking. "It was the last thing he would have done to join in riot or to +hurt any man, if he could have helped it. He could never have had any +intention that was not brave and good."</p> + +<p>When she was back in her place Felix could not help looking towards her, +and their eyes met in one solemn glance.</p> + +<p>Esther stayed in court till the end. She heard the verdict, "Guilty of +Manslaughter," followed by the judge's sentence, "Imprisonment for four +years." But so great was the impression made by Esther's speech that a +petition to the Home Secretary was at once set on foot by the leading men +of the county.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Felix and Esther</i></h4> + + +<p>One April day, when the sun shone on the lingering raindrops, Lyddy was +gone out, and Esther chose to sit in the kitchen. She was not reading, but +stitching, and as her fingers moved nimbly, something played about her lips +like a ray.</p> + +<p>A loud rap came at the door.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lyon at home?" said Felix in his firm tones. "No, sir," said +Esther: "but Miss Lyon is, if you'll please to walk in."</p> + +<p>"Esther!" exclaimed Felix, amazed.</p> + +<p>They held each other by both hands, and looked into each other's faces +with delight.</p> + +<p>"You are out of prison?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, till I do something bad again. But you--how is it all? Are you +come back to live here then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to be married to Harold Transome, or to be rich?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Felix in rather a low tone, leaning his elbow on the table, +and resting his head on his hand while he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"I did not wish to marry him, or to be rich."</p> + +<p>"You have given it all up?" said Felix, leaning forward a little and +speaking in a still lower tone. "Could you share the life of a poor man, +then, Esther?"</p> + +<p>"If I thought well enough of him," she said, with a smile, and a pretty +movement of her head.</p> + +<p>"Have you considered well what it would be?--that it would be a very +bare and simple life? and the people I shall live among, Esther? They have +not just the same follies and vices as the rich, but they have their own +forms of folly and vice. It is very serious, Esther."</p> + +<p>"I know it is serious," said Esther, looking up at him. "Since I have +been at Transome Court I have seen many things very seriously. If I had +not, I should not have left what I did leave. I made a deliberate +choice."</p> + +<p>She could not tell him that at Transome Court, all that finally seemed +balanced against her love for him, was the offer of a silken bondage that +arrested all motive, and was nothing better than a well-cushioned despair. +A vision of being restless amidst ease, of being languid among all +appliances had quickened her resignation of the Transome estates.</p> + +<p>Esther explained, however, that she thought of retaining a little of the +wealth.</p> + +<p>"How?" said Felix, anxiously. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I think even of two pounds a week: one needn't live up to the splendour +of all that, you know: we might live as simply as you liked. And then I +think of a little income for your mother, and a little income for my +father, to save him from being dependent when he is no longer able to +preach!"</p> + +<p>Felix put his hand on her shoulder, said, lifting up his eyes with a +smile:</p> + +<p>"Why, I shall be able to set up a great library, and lend the +books!"</p> + +<p>They laughed merrily, each holding the other's arms, like girl and boy. +There was the ineffable sense of youth in common.</p> + +<p>Then Felix leaned forward, that their lips might meet, and after that +his eyes roved tenderly over her face and curls.</p> + +<p>"I'm a rough, severe fellow, Esther. Shall you never repent?--never be +inwardly reproaching me that I was not a man who could have shared your +wealth? Are you quite sure?"</p> + +<p>The very next May, Felix and Esther were married. Everyone in those days +was married at the parish church; but Mr. Lyon was not satisfied without an +additional private solemnity, "so that he might have a more enlarged +utterance of joy and supplication."</p> + +<p>It was a very simple wedding; but no wedding, even the gayest, ever +raised so much interest and debate in Treby Magna. Even the very great +people of the county went to the church to look at this bride, who had +renounced wealth, and chosen to be the wife of a man who said he would +always be poor.</p> + +<p>Some few shook their heads; could not quite believe it; and thought +there was more behind. But the majority of honest Trebians were affected +somewhat in the same way as Mr. Wall, the brewer of the town, who observed +to his wife as they walked home, "I feel somehow as if I believed more in +everything that's good."</p> + +<p>Felix and Esther did not take up their abode in Treby Magna; and after +awhile Mr. Lyon left the town too, and joined them where they dwelt.</p> + +<p>As to the town in which Felix Holt now resides I will keep that a +secret.</p> + +<p>I will only say that Esther has never repented. Felix, however, grumbles +a little that she has made his life too easy.</p> + +<p>There is a young Felix, who has a great deal more science than his +father, but not much more money.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="eliot3">Romola</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Romola" was George Eliot's fifth book, and followed "Silas +Marner," which was published in 1861. It is a story of Florence in the days +of Savonarola, and was largely the outcome of a visit the novelist paid to +Italy with her life-long friend, George Henry Lewes. With dim ideas for the +story in her mind, she made exhaustive researches in the Florentine +libraries, gathering historical and topographical details of the city and +its life as they were in the mediæval period which she was setting +herself to re-create. After much study there and at home, and after one +false start, she made a serious beginning in January, 1862. She was engaged +upon it for eighteen months, always in doubt and sometimes in despair of +her ability to accomplish the task, and by June of the following year she +had thankfully written the last words of what is regarded by some as her +greatest book. Meanwhile, the romance had begun to appear serially in the +"Cornhill" in July, 1862. The writing of "Romola" is said to have "ploughed +into her" more than any of her other books. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Tito and Little Tessa</i></h4> + + +<p>Under the Loggia de Cerchi, in the heart of old Florence, in the early +morning of April 9, 1492, two men had their eyes fixed on each other. One +was looking downward with the scrutiny of curiosity; the other, lying on +the pavement, was looking upward with the startled gaze of a suddenly +awakened dreamer.</p> + +<p>"Young man," said the standing figure, pointing to a ring on the finger +of the other, "when your chin has got a stiffer crop on it you'll know +better than to take your nap in street corners with a ring like that on +your forefinger. By the holy 'vangels, if it had been anybody but me +standing over you--but Bratti Ferravecchi is not the man to steal! Three +years ago, one San Giovanni, the saint, sent a dead body in my way--a blind +beggar, with his cap well lined with pieces. But how comes a young man like +you, with the face of Messer San Michele, to be sleeping on a stone bed? +Your tunic and hose match ill with that jewel, young man. Anybody might say +the saints had sent you a dead body; but if you took the jewels, I hope you +buried him--and you can afford a mass or two for him into the bargain!"</p> + +<p>Something like a painful thrill appeared to dart through the frame of +the listener, and arrest the careless stretching of his arms. But he +immediately recovered an air of indifference, took off the red Levantine +cap which hung like a great purse over his left ear, and pushing back his +long, dark brown curls, said smiling, "The fact is, I'm a stranger in +Florence, and when I came in footsore last night, I preferred flinging +myself in the corner of this hospitable porch to hunting for a chance +hostelry, which might turn out to be a nest of bloodsuckers. Can you show +me the way to a more lively quarter, where I can get a meal and a +lodging?"</p> + +<p>"That I can," said Bratti.</p> + +<p>And, talking volubly as they went, Bratti led the way to the Mercato +Vecchio, or the Old Market, promising to conduct him to the prettiest +damsel in the Mercato for a cup of milk.</p> + +<p>But as soon as they emerged from the narrow streets into the Old Market, +they found the place packed with excited groups of men and women humming +with gossip.</p> + +<p>"Diavolo!" said Bratti. "The Mercato has gone as mad as if the Holy +Father had excommunicated us again! I must know what this is."</p> + +<p>He pushed about among the crowd, inquiring and disputing, and was +presently absorbed in discussing the newest development of Florentine +politics, the death of Lorenzo de Medici, and whether or not this death was +the beginning of the time of tribulation that Savonarola had been seeing in +visions and foretelling in sermons.</p> + +<p>Indifferent to this general agitation, the young stranger became tired +of waiting for Bratti's escort, and strolling on round the piazza, felt, on +a sudden thought, in the wallet that hung at his waist.</p> + +<p>"Not an obolus, by Jupiter!" he murmured, in a language that was not +Tuscan or even Italian. "I must get my breakfast for love, then!"</p> + +<p>In a corner, away from any group of talkers, two mules were standing. +One carried wooden milk vessels, the other a pair of panniers filled with +herbs and salads. Resting her elbow on the mule that carried the milk, +there leaned a young girl, apparently not more than sixteen, with a red +hood surrounding her face, which was all the more baby-like in its +prettiness from the entire concealment of her hair. The poor child was +weary, and it seemed to have gone to sleep in that half-standing, +half-leaning posture. Nevertheless, our stranger had no compunction in +awaking her. She opened her baby-blue eyes, and stared up with astonishment +and confusion.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, pretty one, for awaking you," he said. "I'm dying with +hunger, and the scent of milk makes breakfast seem more desirable than +ever."</p> + +<p>She bestirred herself, and in a few moments a large cup of fragrant milk +was held out to him; and by the time he set the cup down she had brought +bread from a bag which hung by the side of the mule, and shyly and mutely +insisted on his taking it, even though he told her he had nothing to pay +her with; and just as he was leaning down to kiss her he was harshly +interrupted by Monna Ghita, Tessa's mother, who had come upon them +unobserved.</p> + +<p>The handsome presence of the stranger and his charm of manner were of no +avail with Monna Ghita; her noisy rating of him drew Bratti and the barber, +Nello, to the spot, and with these he was glad to make good his escape, +having waived a furtive adieu to the pretty Tessa.</p> + +<p>It was not until after Bratti, having business at home, had handed the +young stranger over to Nello, and in the barber's shop he had been shaved +and trimmed, and made to look presentable, that Tito Melema became more +confidential, and explained that he was a Greek; that he was returning from +adventures abroad, had suffered shipwreck, and found himself in Florence +with nothing saved from the disaster but some few rare old gems for which +he was anxious to obtain a purchaser.</p> + +<p>"Let us see, let us see," said Nello, walking up and down his shop. +"What you want is a man of wealth and influence and scholarly tastes; and +that man is Bartolommeo Scala, the Secretary of our Republic. He came to +Florence as a poor adventurer himself, a miller's son; and that may be a +reason why he may be the more ready to do a good turn to a strange scholar. +I could take you to a man who, if he has a mind, can help you to a chance +of a favourable interview with Scala--a man worth seeing for his own sake, +too, to say nothing of his collections, or of his daughter Romola, who is +as fair as the Florentine lily before it got quarrelsome and turned +red."</p> + +<p>"But if the father of this beautiful Romola makes collections, why +should he not like to buy some of my gems himself?"</p> + +<p>Nello shrugged his shoulders. "For two good reasons--want of sight to +look at the gems and want of money to pay for them."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--"More than a Man's Ransom"</i></h4> + + +<p>He was a moneyless, blind old scholar, the Bardo de Bardi, to whom Nello +introduced Tito Melema; a man who came of a proud, energetic stock, whose +ancestors had loved to play the signor, had been merchants and usurers of +keen daring, and conspicuous among those who clutched the sword in the +earliest world-famous quarrels of Florentine with Florentine. The family +passions lived on in Bardo under altered conditions; he was a man with a +deep-veined hand cramped by much copying of manuscripts, who ate sparing +dinners, and wore threadbare clothes, at first from choice, and at last +from necessity; who sat among his books and manuscripts, and saw them only +by the light of those far-off younger days which still shone in his +memory.</p> + +<p>And among his books and antiquities and rare marble fragments, in a +spacious room surrounded with laden shelves, Romola was his daily companion +and assistant. There was a time when he had hoped that his son, Dino, would +have followed in his steps, to be the prop of his age, and to take up and +continue his scholarly labours after he was dead. But Dino had failed him; +Dino had given himself up to religion and entered the priesthood, and the +passion of Bardo's resentment had flamed into fierce hatred towards this +recreant son of his, and none dared so much as to name him within his +hearing.</p> + +<p>Maso, the old serving-man ushered in the two visitors he had announced a +few minutes previously, and Nello introduced Tito to Bardo and his daughter +as a scholar of considerable learning.</p> + +<p>Romola's astonishment could hardly have been greater if the stranger had +worn a panther-skin and carried a thyrsus, for the cunning barber had said +nothing of the Greeks age or appearance, and among her father's scholarly +visitors she had hardly ever seen any but gray-headed men.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, she returned Tito's bow with the same pale, proud face as +ever; but as he approached the snow melted, and when he ventured to look +towards her again a pink flush overspread her face, to vanish again almost +immediately, as if her imperious will had recalled it. Tito's glance, on +the other hand, as he looked at this tall maiden of seventeen or eighteen, +as she stood at the reading-desk with one hand on the back of her father's +chair, had that gentle, beseeching admiration in it which is the most +propitiating of appeals to a proud, shy woman, and is perhaps the only +atonement a man can make for being too handsome.</p> + +<p>"Messere, I give you welcome," said Bardo with some condescension; +"misfortune wedded to learning, and especially to Greek learning, is a +letter of credit that should win the ear of every instructed +Florentine."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to question Tito as to what part of Greece he came from, +learned that he was a young man of unusual scholastic attainments, and that +he had a father who was himself a scholar.</p> + +<p>"At least," said Tito, "a father by adoption. He was a Neapolitan, but," +he added, after another slight pause, "he is lost to me--was lost on a +voyage he too rashly undertook to Delos."</p> + +<p>Bardo forbore to speak further on so painful a topic; he discoursed +freely upon his own studies, his past hopes, and the one great ambition +that remained to him--that his library and his magnificent collection of +treasures should not be dissipated on his death, but should become the +property of the public, and be honourably housed in Florence for all time, +with his name over the door.</p> + +<p>In his eagerness he made passing reference to his son, of how Romola had +been filling his place to the best of her power, and plainly hinted--and +Tito was not slow to profit by the opportunity--that if he could have the +young Greek scholar to work with him instead of her, he might yet look to +fulfill some of the notable designs he had abandoned when his blindness +came upon him.</p> + +<p>"But," he resumed, in his original tone of condescension, "we are +departing from what I believe is your most important business. Nello +informed me that you had certain gems which you would fain dispose of."</p> + +<p>"I have one or two intagli of much beauty," said Tito. "But they are now +in the keeping of Messer Domenico Cennini, who has a strong and safe place +for such things. He estimates them as worth at least five hundred +ducats."</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, they are fine intagli!" said Bardo. "Five hundred ducats! Ah, +more than a man's ransom!"</p> + +<p>Tito gave a slight, almost imperceptible start, and opened his long, +dark eyes with questioning surprise at Bardo's blind face, as if his +words--a mere phrase of common parlance at a time when men were often being +ransomed from slavery or imprisonment--had some special meaning for +him.</p> + +<p>But Bardo had used the words in all innocence, and went on to talk of +superstitions that attached to certain gems, and to undertake that he would +use his influence with the Secretary of the Republic in Tito's behalf. Both +Romola and her father were attracted by the charm and freshness and +apparent simplicity of the young man; but just as he was making ready to +depart they were interrupted by the entrance of Bernardo del Nero, one of +the chief citizens of Florence, Bardo's oldest friend, and Romola's +godfather; and Bernardo felt an instant, instinctive distrust of the +handsome, ingratiating stranger, and did not hesitate to say so after Tito +had left them.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Bardo," he said at length, "thou hast a rare gem of thy own; +take care no one gets it who is not like to pay a worthy price. That pretty +Greek has a sleekness about him that seems marvelously fitted for slipping +into any nest he fixes his mind on."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Man who was Wronged</i></h4> + + +<p>It was undeniable that Tito's coming had been the dawn of a new life for +both father and daughter, and he grew to care for Romola supremely--to wish +to have her for his beautiful and loving wife.</p> + +<p>He took her place as Bardo's assistant, and served him with an easy +efficiency that had been beyond her; and she, happier in her father's +happiness, had given her love to Tito even before he ventured to offer her +his own. He was thus sailing under the fairest breeze, and besides +convincing fair judges that his talents squared with his good fortune, he +wore that fortune so unpretentiously that no one seemed to be offended by +it.</p> + +<p>And that was not the whole of Tito's good fortune, for he had sold his +jewels, and was master of full five hundred gold florins. Yet the moment +when he first had this sum in his possession was the crisis of the first +serious struggle his facile, good-humoured nature had known.</p> + +<p>"A man's ransom!" Who was it that had said five hundred florins was more +than a man's ransom? If, now, under this mid-day sun, on some hot coast far +away, a man somewhat stricken in years--a man not without high thoughts, +and with the most passionate heart--a man who long years ago had rescued a +little boy from a life of beggary, filth, and cruel wrong, and had reared +him tenderly, if that man were now, under this summer sun, toiling as a +slave, hewing wood and drawing water? If he were saying to himself, "Tito +will find me. He had but to carry our gems to Venice; he will have raised +money, and will never rest till he finds me out?" If that were certain, +could he--Tito--see the price of the gems lying before him, and say, "I +will stay at Florence, where I am fanned by soft airs of love and +prosperity; I will not risk myself for his sake?" No, surely not <i>if it +were certain</i>. But the galley had been taken by a Turkish vessel; that +was known by the report of the companion galley which had escaped; and +there had been resistance and probable bloodshed, a man had been seen +falling overboard.</p> + +<p>He quieted his conscience with such reasonings as these, and when +definite tidings reached him that his father was still a prisoner, he +contrived to keep the knowledge to himself, and still did nothing. The +death of the exhausted, emaciated monk who had brought these tidings freed +him of one fear; but this monk was Romola's brother, Dino, and obeying his +summons she had been in secret to see him as he lay dying.</p> + +<p>"Romola," her brother began to speak, "in the deep night, as I lay +awake, I saw my father's room, and I saw you ... And at the <i>leggio</i> +where I used to stand stood a man whose face I could not see. I saw him +move and take thee, Romola, by the hand, and then I saw thee take my father +by the hand, and you all three went down the stone steps into the streets, +the man, whose face was a blank to me, leading the way. And you stood at +the altar of Santa Croce, and the priest who married you had the face of +death; and the graves opened and the dead in their shrouds followed you +like a bridal train. And it seemed to me that at last you came to a stony +place where there was no water, and no trees or herbage; but instead of +water I saw written parchment unrolling itself everywhere, and instead of +trees and herbage I saw men of bronze and marble springing up and crowding +round you. And my father was faint, and fell to the ground; and the man +loosed thy hand and departed; and as he went I could see his face, and it +was the face of the Great Tempter.... Thrice have I had that vision, +Romola. I believe it is a revelation meant for thee--to warn thee against +marriage as a temptation of the enemy...."</p> + +<p>The words died away.</p> + +<p>"Frate," said the dying voice. "Give her----"</p> + +<p>"The crucifix," said the voice of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, who was +standing in the shadows behind her.</p> + +<p>"Dino!" said Romola, with a low but piercing cry.</p> + +<p>"Take the crucifix, my daughter," said Fra Girolamo, after a few +minutes. "His eyes behold it no more."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But, heedless of the distrust and opposition of Messer Bernardo del +Nero, and with this vision of Dino's menacing his highest hope, Tito went +gaily on his triumphant way.</p> + +<p>Also he had renewed acquaintance with the little Tessa. He came upon her +in the thronged streets during carnival time, and seeing her, a timorous, +tearful little <i>contadin</i>, terrified by the burlesque threats of a +boisterous conjurer, took her under his protection.</p> + +<p>Thereafter, he met her again at intervals, finding her naive love and +humble adoration and obedience very pleasant; and, meeting her once at a +peasant's fair, he jestingly yielded to the burlesque solicitations of a +mountebank in a white mitre, paid a small fee, and went through an absurd +ceremony of mock-marriage with her.</p> + +<p>Tessa herself believed the marriage to be real enough, and he would not +mar her delight by undeceiving her. Later, since she was wretched at home +with her scolding mother and a brutal step-father, and there were dangers +in allowing her to go on waylaying him in streets when too long a period +elapsed between his visits to her, he quietly took her away and established +her in a small house on the outskirts of the city, with the deaf, discreet +old Monna Lisa as her servant and companion.</p> + +<p>Neither this nor the darker secret of his treachery to his adoptive +father cast any cloud over his habitual cheerfulness. His love for Romola +was a higher and deeper passion than anything he felt for the child-like, +submissive little Tessa, and when she told him frankly of her brother's +warning vision, he set himself to convince her it was the mere nightmare of +a diseased imagination, and the perfect love and trust she had for him made +the task easy.</p> + +<p>For a while after their marriage she was ideally happy; she was not even +separated from her father, for Tito came to live with them, and was to +Bardo, in his scholastic labours, all that he had wished his own son to be. +Then came the first cloud.</p> + +<p>On November 17, 1494, more than eighteen months after the marriage of +Tito and Romola, the King of France marched his army into Florence on his +way to take possession of Naples and impose peace on the warring little +states into which Italy was divided. There were those in Florence who were +prepared to welcome the invaders, but the majority, the common people in +particular, resented their coming.</p> + +<p>With the soldiery came three wretched prisoners; they were led in ropes +by their captors, and with blows from knotted cords were stimulated to beg. +Two, as they passed, held out their hands, crying piteously, "For the love +of God and the Holy Madonna, give us something towards our ransom!"</p> + +<p>But the third remained obstinately silent. He was old, white-haired, +emaciated, with a thick-set figure that seemed to express energy in spite +of age; yet there was something fitful in his eyes.</p> + +<p>This sight was witnessed by the Florentines with growing exasperation, +and presently from jeering at the French soldiers and hustling them, they +became bent upon rescuing this third prisoner from his tormentors; one +venturesome youth suddenly dashed in, cut the old man's bonds and urged him +to run; and the next moment he had plunged into the crowd, which closed +behind him and hampered the pursuit.</p> + +<p>With one soldier struggling desperately on his track, the fugitive sped +towards the Duomo, to seek refuge in that sanctuary, but in mounting the +steps his foot slipped, he was precipitated towards a group of signori who +stood there with their backs to him, and clutched one to save himself.</p> + +<p>It was Tito Melema who felt the clutch. He turned, and saw the face of +his adoptive father, Baldassarre Calvo, close to his own. The two men +looked at each other silent as death; Tito with cheeks and lips all +bloodless, fascinated by terror. The next instant the grasp on his arm +relaxed, and Baldassarre disappeared within the church.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Romola's Ordeal</i></h4> + + +<p>With Baldassarre lurking in Florence, Tito went in hourly fear. At any +moment the story of his baseness might be blown abroad; at any moment, +worse still, he might be struck down by the old man, in whose wild eyes he +had read only a fierce yearning for vengeance.</p> + +<p>As a precaution, Tito took to wearing a coat of fine chain-mail under +his doublet, and the discovery of this alarmed Romola for his safety, and +shocked her with a suspicion that he was something of a coward.</p> + +<p>But by now Tito was deeply involved in Florentine politics, and easily +persuaded her that it was against secret political intriguers that he thus +shielded himself. He went on to confess that his life was no longer safe in +Florence, and he was resolved to leave the city for good. But to this she +demurred; her father had died and left his library and his collection as a +sacred trust to her and Tito, and until they had carried out his wish and +made them over to the city authorities, she felt she could not go.</p> + +<p>Tito made light of her scruples. Her father's wish, he said, had been a +mere foolish vanity; they had need of money, and he intended to sell both +the library and collection, and when, for the first time in her life, she +spoke bitterly, in scorn and anger of his faithlessness, he told her flatly +it was useless to bandy words for he had sold them already, and they were +to be removed that day.</p> + +<p>Frantic with grief and resentment, she thought of desperate ways of +preventing the accomplishment of his heartless plans, even to borrowing of +her godfather and buying back the treasures, so that Tito might keep his +ill-gotten gain and her father's last wish still be fulfilled; but he +convinced her that all interference was too late, for the things had been +purchased by the Count di San Severino and the Seneschal de Beaucaire, who +were already on their way with the French king to Sienna.</p> + +<p>Latterly, in many ways, Romola had been disappointed in her husband's +character; she had found that his handsome face and gay air masked a +cowardice, a cunning meanness, a sordid selfishness of disposition that +were all at variance with her high ideal of him; but that final unspeakable +treachery of the dead man who had trusted him so implicitly shattered her +love for Tito utterly.</p> + +<p>As soon as her father's library was dismantled and his treasures taken +away, Romola went from the house with the old man-servant, Maso, and would +never have looked upon Tito's face again, but that Fra Girolamo intercepted +her.</p> + +<p>"I have a command to call you back," he said. "My daughter, you must +return to your place. You are flying from your debts; the debt of a +Florentine woman to her fellow citizens; the debt of a wife. You are +turning your back on the lot that has been appointed for you--you are going +to choose another. My daughter, you are fleeing from the presence of God +into the wilderness. My daughter, if the cross comes to you as a wife, you +must carry it as a wife. You may say, 'I will forsake my husband,' but you +cannot cease to be a wife."</p> + +<p>There was hunger and misery in the streets, and he urged upon her that +if she had no other purpose in life she could stay, and help the poor of +her own city. Her pride was broken, and she yielded.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Baldassarre is Avenged</i></h4> + + +<p>Meanwhile, Baldassarre, lurking about Florence, had armed himself with a +knife, and was ravenous for revenge. Being homeless, he called by chance at +Tessa's little house, and she, not knowing who he was, took pity on his age +and misery, gave him shelter in a shed, and food and drink.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was there, Tito came, and, too frankly simple to keep anything +from him, Tessa confessed that she had disobeyed his injunctions against +holding converse with strangers, and was sheltering a strange, weary old +man in the shed without. Her description of this guest left Tito in no +doubt as to his identity, and, subduing his first perturbation, he +conceived that he might turn the situation to his own advantage. He went +out to the shed, and looking down upon Baldassarre in the moonlight, sought +to propitiate him with honeyed words, specious explanations, and a plea for +pardon. But the old man answered nothing, till his smouldering fury burst +into a flame, then he precipitated himself upon the intruder and struck +with all his force; but the blade of the knife broke off short against the +hidden coat of mail.</p> + +<p>Tito insisted that he was welcome to remain there, and said what he +could to soothe him, but Baldassarre would stay no longer when he knew +whose roof covered him. Presently, he armed himself anew, and waited for +another opportunity. He learned all that was to be known of Tito's career +since his arrival in Florence; ascertained that he was married, and had +thoughts of winning his wife's sympathy and telling her of Tessa. Then one +night he contrived to get into the Rucellai Gardens, where Tito was at +supper with a gathering of Florentine notabilities, and, seized in time and +held back from assassinating him, he passionately denounced him before the +company as a scoundrel, a liar, and a robber.</p> + +<p>There were those present who had been on the church steps that day when +Baldassarre had clutched Tito by the arm, and Tito had then explained away +his momentary panic. Questioned now by one of these, he declared that +though when first he encountered his accuser he did not recognise him, he +now saw that he was the servant who years ago accompanied him and his +adoptive father to Greece, and was dismissed on account of misdemeanours, +and that the story of his being rescued from beggary was the vision of a +disordered brain.</p> + +<p>Baldassarre was given a chance to prove that he was not the servant, but +the great scholar to whom Tito was indebted for his learning.</p> + +<p>"The ring I possess," said Rucellai, "is a fine sard that I myself +purchased from Messer Tito. It is engraved with a subject from Homer. Will +you turn to the passage in Homer from which that subject was taken?"</p> + +<p>But sitting to look over the book, Baldassarre realised that the +sufferings through which he had passed had unhinged his mind and his +memory; the words he stared at had no meaning for him, and he lifted his +hands to his head in despair.</p> + +<p>The consequence of this fresh failure was that Baldassarre was cast into +prison, and Tito was at liberty to pursue his political ambitions unhaunted +by that dogging shadow that was to him as the shadow of death. He managed +his affairs so cleverly that whichever party came uppermost he was secure +of favour and money.</p> + +<p>But by-and-by the tide began to turn against him. Baldassarre was at +large again, and met Romola and told her not only of his own wrongs, but of +Tessa. She saw Tessa and her two children, and befriended them, and was so +far from blaming that innocent little creature that she did not even +disclose the truth to her; but she was importunate with Tito that he should +make atonement to the man who had been a father to him. Then came a day +when Tito's treacheries were discovered by the party he was supposed to +serve, and he had to flee for his life through Florence. Scattering jewels +and gold to delay his pursuers, he leaped from the bridge into the river, +and swam in the darkness, leaving the bellowing mob to think he was +drowned.</p> + +<p>But far down the stream there were certain eyes that saw him from the +banks of the river, and when he landed and fell, faint and helpless, +Baldassarre's hands closed on his throat; and next evening a passer-by +found the two dead bodies there.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="eliot4">Silas Marner</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe," begun about November, +1860, and published early in 1861, is in many respects the most admirable +of all George Eliot's works. It is not a long story, but it is a most +carefully finished novel--"a perfect gem, a pure work of art," Mr. Oscar +Browning describes it. Mr. Blackwood, the publisher, found it rather +sombre, and George Eliot replied to him, "I hope you will not find it at +all a sad story as a whole, since it sets--or is intended to set--in a +strong light the remedial influences of pure, natural, human relations. I +have felt all through as if the story would have lent itself best to +metrical rather than to prose fiction, especially in all that relates to +the psychology of Silas; except that, under that treatment, there could not +be an equal play of humour." No novel of George Eliot's has received more +praise from men of letters than "Silas Marner." +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Why Silas Came to Raveloe</i></h4> + + +<p>In the early years of the nineteenth century a linen-weaver named Silas +Marner worked at his vocation in a stone cottage that stood among the nutty +hedgerows near the village of Raveloe, and not far from the edge of a +deserted stone-pit.</p> + +<p>It was fifteen years since Silas Marner had first come to Raveloe; he +was then simply a pallid young man with prominent, short-sighted brown +eyes. To the villagers among whom he had come to settle he seemed to have +mysterious peculiarities, chiefly owing to his advent from an unknown +region called "North'ard." He invited no comer to step across his +door-sill, and he never strolled into the village to drink a pint at the +Rainbow, or to gossip at the wheel-wrights'; he sought no man or woman, +save for the purposes of his calling, or in order to supply himself with +necessaries.</p> + +<p>At the end of fifteen years the Raveloe men said just the same things +about Silas Marner as at the beginning. There was only one important +addition which the years had brought; it was that Master Marner had laid by +a fine sight of money somewhere, and that he could buy up "bigger men than +himself."</p> + +<p>But while his daily habits presented scarcely any visible change, +Marner's inward life had been a history and a metamorphosis as that of +every fervid nature must be when it has been condemned to solitude. His +life, before he came to Raveloe, had been filled with the close fellowship +of a narrow religious sect, where the poorest layman had the chance of +distinguishing himself by gifts of speech; and Marner was highly thought of +in that little hidden world, known to itself as the church assembling in +Lantern Yard. He was believed to be a young man of exemplary life and +ardent faith, and a peculiar interest had been centred in him ever since he +had fallen at a prayer-meeting into a trance or cataleptic fit, which +lasted for an hour.</p> + +<p>Among the members of his church there was one young man, named William +Dane, with whom he lived in close friendship; and it seemed to the +unsuspecting Silas that the friendship suffered no chill, even after he had +formed a closer attachment, and had become engaged to a young +servant-woman.</p> + +<p>At this time the senior deacon was taken dangerously ill, and Silas and +William, with others of the brethren, took turns at night-watching. On the +night the old man died, Silas fell into one of his trances, and when he +awoke at four o'clock in the morning death had come, and, further, a little +bag of money had been stolen from the deacon's bureau, and Silas's +pocket-knife was found inside the bureau. For some time Silas was mute with +astonishment, then he said, "God will clear me; I know nothing about the +knife being there, or the money being gone. Search me and my dwelling."</p> + +<p>The search was made, and it ended in William Dane finding the deacon's +bag, empty, tucked behind the chest of drawers in Silas's chamber.</p> + +<p>According to the principles of the church in Lantern Yard prosecution +was forbidden to Christians. But the members were bound to take other +measures for finding out the truth, and they resolved on praying and +drawing lots; there was nothing unusual about such proceedings a hundred +years ago. Silas knelt with his brethren, relying on his own innocence +being certified by immediate Divine interference. <i>The lots declared that +Silas Marner was guilty</i>. He was solemnly suspended from +church-membership, and called upon to render up the stolen money; only on +confession and repentance could he be received once more within the fold of +the church. Marner listened in silence. At last, when everyone rose to +depart, he went towards William Dane and said, in a voice shaken by +agitation, "The last time I remember using my knife was when I took it out +to cut a strap for you. I don't remember putting it in my pocket again. +<i>You</i> stole the money, and you have woven a plot to lay the sin at my +door. But you may prosper for all that; there is no just God, but a God of +lies, that bears witness against the innocent!"</p> + +<p>There was a general shudder at this blasphemy. Poor Marner went out with +that despair in his soul--that shaken trust in God and man which is little +short of madness to a loving nature. In the bitterness of his wounded +spirit, he said to himself, "<i>She</i> will cast me off, too!" and for a +whole day he sat alone, stunned by despair.</p> + +<p>The second day he took refuge from benumbing unbelief by getting into +his loom and working away as usual, and, before many hours were past, the +minister and one of the deacons came to him with a message from Sarah, the +young woman to whom he had been engaged, that she held her engagement at an +end. In little more than a month from that time Sarah was married to +William Dane, and not long afterwards it was known to the brethren in +Lantern Yard that Silas Marner had departed from the town.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Second Blow</i></h4> + + +<p>When Silas Marner first came to Raveloe he seemed to weave like a +spider, from pure impulse, without reflection. Then there were the calls of +hunger, and Silas, in his solitude, had to provide his own breakfast, +dinner, and supper, to fetch his own water from the well, and put his own +kettle on the fire; and all these immediate promptings helped to reduce his +life to the unquestioning activity of a spinning insect. He hated the +thought of the past; there was nothing that called out his love and +fellowship towards the strangers he had come amongst; and the future was +all dark, for there was no Unseen Love that cared for him.</p> + +<p>It was then, when all purpose of life was gone, that Silas got into the +habit of looking towards the money he received for his weaving, and +grasping it with a sense of fulfilled effort. Gradually, the guineas, the +crowns, and the half-crowns, grew to a heap, and Marner drew less and less +for his own wants, trying to solve the problem of keeping himself strong +enough to work sixteen hours a day on as small an outlay as possible. He +handled his coins, he counted them, till their form and colour were like +the satisfaction of a thirst to him; but it was only in the night, when his +work was done, that he drew them out, to enjoy their companionship. He had +taken up some bricks in his floor underneath his loom, and here he had made +a hole in which he set the iron pot that contained his guineas and silver +coins, covering the bricks with sand whenever he replaced them.</p> + +<p>So, year after year, Silas Marner lived in this solitude, his guineas +rising in the iron pot, and his life narrowing and hardening itself more +and more as it became reduced to the functions of weaving and hoarding.</p> + +<p>This is the history of Silas Marner until the fifteenth year after he +came to Raveloe. Then, about the Christmas of that year, a second great +change came over his life.</p> + +<p>It was a raw, foggy night, with rain, and Silas was returning from the +village, plodding along, with a sack thrown round his shoulders, and with a +horn lantern in his hand. His legs were weary, but his mind was at ease +with the sense of security that springs from habit. Supper was his +favourite meal, because it was his time of revelry, when his heart warmed +over his gold.</p> + +<p>He reached his door in much satisfaction that his errand was done; he +opened it, and to his short-sighted eyes everything remained as he had left +it, except that the fire sent out a welcome increase of heat.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was warm he began to think it would be a long while to +wait till after supper before he drew out his guineas, and it would be +pleasant to see them on the table before him as he ate his food.</p> + +<p>He rose and placed his candle unsuspectingly on the floor near his loom, +swept away the sand, without noticing any change, and removed the bricks. +The sight of the empty hole made his heart leap violently, but the belief +that his gold was gone could not come at once--only terror, and the eager +effort to put an end to the terror. He passed his trembling hand all about +the hole, then he held the candle and examined it curiously, trembling more +and more. He searched in every corner, he turned his bed over, and shook +it, and kneaded it; he looked in his brick oven; and when there was no +other place to be searched, he felt once more all round the hole.</p> + +<p>He could see every object in his cottage, and his gold was not there. He +put his trembling hands to his head, and gave a wild, ringing scream--the +cry of desolation. Then the idea of a thief began to present itself, and he +entertained it eagerly, because a thief might be caught and made to restore +the gold. The robber must be laid hold of. Marner's ideas of legal +authority were confused, but he felt that he must go and proclaim his loss; +and the great people in the village--the clergyman, the constable, and +Squire Cass--would make the thief deliver up the stolen money.</p> + +<p>It was to the village inn Silas Marner went, where the parish clerk and +a select company were assembled, and told the story of his loss--£272 +12s. 6d. in all. The machinery of the law was set in motion, but no thief +was ever captured, nor could grounds be found for suspicion against any +persons.</p> + +<p>What had really happened was that Dunsey Cass, Squire Cass's second +son--a mean, boastful rascal--on his way home on foot from hunting, saw the +light in the weaver's cottage, and knocked, hoping to borrow a lantern, for +the lane was unpleasantly slippery, and the night dark. But all was silence +in the cottage, for the weaver at that moment had not yet reached home. For +a minute Dunsey thought that old Marner might be dead, fallen over into the +stone pits. And from that came the decision that he must be dead. If so, +the question arose, what would become of the money that everybody said the +old miser had put by?</p> + +<p>Dunstan Cass was in difficulties for want of money, and he had killed +his brother's horse that day on the hunting-field. Who would know, if +Marner was dead, that anybody had come to take his hoard of money away?</p> + +<p>There were only three hiding-places where he had heard of cottagers' +hoards being found: the thatch, the bed, and a hole in the floor. His eyes +travelling eagerly over the floor, noted a spot where the sand had been +more carefully spread.</p> + +<p>Dunstan found the hole and the money, now hidden in two leathern bags. +From their weight he judged they must be filled with guineas. Quickly he +hastened out into the darkness with the bags, and Dunstan Cass was seen no +more alive.</p> + +<p>At the very moment when he turned his back on the cottage Silas Marner +was not more than a hundred yards away.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Silas Marner's Visitor</i></h4> + + +<p>It was New Year's Eve, and Squire Cass was giving a dance to the +neighbouring gentry of Raveloe. There had been snow in the afternoon, but +at seven o'clock it had ceased, and a freezing wind had sprung up.</p> + +<p>A woman, shabbily dressed, with a child in her arms, was making her way +towards Raveloe, seeking the Red House, where Squire Cass lived. It was not +the squire she wanted, but his eldest son, Godfrey, to whom she was +secretly married. The marriage--the result of rash impulse--had been an +unhappy one from the first, for Godfrey's wife was the slave of opium. The +squire had long desired that his son should marry Miss Nancy Lammeter, and +would have turned him out of house and home had he known of the unfortunate +marriage already contracted. Cold and weariness drove the woman, even while +she walked, to the only comfort she knew. She raised the black remnant to +her lips, and then flung the empty phial away. Now she walked, always more +and more drowsily, and clutched more and more automatically the sleeping +child at her bosom. Soon she felt nothing but a supreme longing to lie down +and sleep; and so sank down against a straggling furze-bush, an easy pillow +enough; and the bed of snow, too, was soft. The cold was no longer felt, +but her arms did not at once relax their instinctive clutch, and the little +one slumbered on.</p> + +<p>The complete torpor came at last; the fingers lost their tension, the +arms unbent; then the little head fell away from the bosom, and the blue +eyes of the child opened wide on the cold starlight. At first there was a +little peevish cry of "Mammy," as the child rolled downward; and then, +suddenly, its eyes were caught by a bright gleaming light on the white +ground, and with the ready transition of infancy it decided the light must +be caught.</p> + +<p>In an instant the child had slipped on all fours, and, after making out +that the cunning gleam came from a very bright place, the little one, +rising on its legs, toddled through the snow--toddled on to the open door +of Silas Marner's cottage, and right up to the warm hearth, where was a +bright fire.</p> + +<p>The little one, accustomed to be left to itself for long hours without +notice, squatted down on the old sack spread out before the fire, in +perfect contentment. Presently the little golden head sank down, and the +blue eyes were veiled by their delicate half-transparent lids.</p> + +<p>But where was Silas Marner while this strange visitor had come to his +hearth? He was in the cottage, but he did not see the child. Since he had +lost his money he had contracted the habit of opening his door, and looking +out from time to time, as if he thought that his money might, somehow, be +coming back to him.</p> + +<p>That morning he had been told by some of his neighbours that it was New +Year's Eve, and that he must sit up and hear the old year rung out, and the +new rung in, because that was good luck, and might bring his money back +again. Perhaps this friendly Raveloe way of jesting had helped to throw +Silas into a more than usually excited state. Certainly he opened his door +again and again that night, and the last time, just as he put out his hand +to close it, the invisible wand of catalepsy arrested him, and there he +stood like a graven image, powerless to resist either the good or evil that +might enter.</p> + +<p>When Marner's sensibility returned he was unaware of the break in his +consciousness, and only noticed that he was chilled and faint.</p> + +<p>Turning towards the hearth it seemed to his blurred vision as if there +was a heap of gold on the floor; but instead of hard coin his fingers +encountered soft, warm curls. In utter amazement, Silas fell on his knees +to examine the marvel: it was a sleeping child, a round, fair thing, with +soft, yellow rings all over its head. Could this be the little sister come +back to him in a dream--his little sister whom he had carried about in his +arms for a year before she died? That was the first thought. <i>Was</i> it +a dream? It was very much like his little sister. How and when had the +child come in without his knowledge?</p> + +<p>But there was a cry on the hearth; the child had awakened, and Marner +stooped to lift it on to his knee. He had plenty to do through the next +hour. The porridge, sweetened with some dry brown sugar, stopped the cries +of the little one for "mammy." Then it occurred to Silas's dull bachelor +mind that the child wanted its wet boots off, and this having been done, +the wet boots suggested that the child had been walking on the snow.</p> + +<p>He made out the marks of the little feet in the snow, and, holding the +child in his arms, followed their track to the furze-bush. Then he became +aware that there was something more than the bush before him--that there +was a human body, half covered with the shifting snow.</p> + +<p>With the child in his arms, Silas at once went for the doctor, who was +spending the evening at the Red House. And Godfrey Cass recognised that it +was his own child he saw in Marner's arms.</p> + +<p>The woman was dead--had been dead for some hours, the doctor said; and +Godfrey, who had accompanied him to Marner's cottage, understood that he +was free to marry Nancy Lammeter.</p> + +<p>"You'll take the child to the parish to-morrow?" Godfrey asked, speaking +as indifferently as he could.</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" said Marner sharply. "Will they make me take her? I shall +keep her till anybody shows they've a right to take her away from me. The +mother's dead, and I reckon it's got no father. It's a lone thing, and I'm +a lone thing. My money's gone--I don't know where, and this is come from I +don't know where."</p> + +<p>Godfrey returned to the Red House with a sense of relief and gladness, +and Silas kept the child. There had been a softening of feeling to him in +the village since the day of his robbery, and now an active sympathy was +aroused amongst the women. The child was christened Hephzibah, after +Marner's mother, and was called Eppie for short.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV--Eppie's Decision</i></h4> + + +<p>Eppie had come to link Silas Marner once more with the whole world. The +disposition to hoard had utterly gone, and there was no longer any +repulsion around to him.</p> + +<p>As the child grew up, one person watched with keener, though more +hidden, interest than any other the prosperous growth of Eppie under the +weaver's care. The squire was dead, and Godfrey Cass was married to Nancy +Lammeter. He had no child of his own save the one that knew him not. No +Dunsey had ever turned up, and people had ceased to think of him.</p> + +<p>Sixteen years had passed, and now Aaron Winthrop, a well-behaved young +gardener, is wanting to marry Eppie, and Eppie is willing to have him "some +time."</p> + +<p>"'Everybody's married some time,' Aaron says," said Eppie. "But I told +him that wasn't true, for I said look at father--he's never been +married."</p> + +<p>"No, child," said Silas, "your father was a lone man till you was sent +to him."</p> + +<p>"But you'll never be lone again, father," said Eppie tenderly. "That was +what Aaron said--'I could never think o' taking you away from Master +Marner, Eppie.' And I said, 'It 'ud be no use if you did, Aaron.' And he +wants us all to live together, so as you needn't work a bit, father, only +what's for your own pleasure, and he'd be as good as a son to you--that was +what he said."</p> + +<p>The proposal to separate Eppie from her foster-father came from Godfrey +Cass.</p> + +<p>When the old stone-pit by Marner's cottage went dry, owing to drainage +operations, the skeleton of Dunstan Cass was found, wedged between two +great stones. The watch and seals were recognised, and all the weaver's +money was at the bottom of the pit. The shock of this discovery moved +Godfrey to tell Nancy the secret of his earlier marriage.</p> + +<p>"Everything comes to light, Nancy, sooner or later," he said. "That +woman Marner found dead in the snow--Eppie's mother--was my wife. Eppie is +my child. I oughtn't to have left the child unowned. I oughtn't to have +kept it from you."</p> + +<p>"It's but little wrong to me, Godfrey," Nancy answered sadly. "You've +made it up to me--you've been good to me for fifteen years. It'll be a +different coming to us, now she's grown up."</p> + +<p>They were childless, and it hadn't occurred to them as they approached +Silas Marner's cottage that Godfrey's offer might be declined. At first +Godfrey explained that he and his wife wanted to adopt Eppie in place of a +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Eppie, my child, speak," said old Marner faintly. "I won't stand in +your way. Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir," said Eppie dropping a curtsy; "but I +can't leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him."</p> + +<p>Godfrey Cass was irritated at this obstacle.</p> + +<p>"But I've a claim on you, Eppie," he returned. "It's my duty, Marner, to +own Eppie as my child, and provide for her. She's my own child. Her mother +was my wife. I've a natural claim on her."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, why didn't you say so sixteen years ago, and claim her +before I'd come to love her, i'stead o' coming to take her from me now, +when you might as well take the heart out o' my body? When a man turns a +blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in. But let it be as +you will. Speak to the child. I'll hinder nothing."</p> + +<p>"Eppie, my dear," said Godfrey, looking at his daughter not without some +embarrassment, "it'll always be our wish that you should show your love and +gratitude to one who's been a father to you so many years; but we hope +you'll come to love us as well, and though I haven't been what a father +should ha' been to you all these years, I wish to do the utmost in my power +for you now, and provide for you as my only child. And you'll have the best +of mothers in my wife."</p> + +<p>Eppie did not come forward and curtsy as she had done before, but she +held Silas's hand in hers and grasped it firmly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir, for your offers--they're very great +and far above my wish. For I should have no delight in life any more if I +was forced to go away from my father."</p> + +<p>In vain Nancy expostulated mildly.</p> + +<p>"I can't feel as I've got any father but one," said Eppie. "I've always +thought of a little home where he'd sit i' the corner, and I should fend +and do everything for him. I can't think o' no other home. I wasn't brought +up to be a lady, and," she ended passionately, "I'm promised to marry a +working man, as'll live with father and help me to take care of him."</p> + +<p>Godfrey Cass and his wife went out.</p> + +<p>A year later Eppie was married, and Mrs. Godfrey Cass provided the +wedding dress, and Mr. Cass made some necessary alterations to suit Silas's +larger family.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," said Eppie, when the bridal party returned from the +church, "what a pretty home ours is! I think nobody could be happier than +we are!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="eliot5">The Mill on the Floss</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +In "The Mill on the Floss," published in 1860, George Eliot +went to her own early life for the chief characters in the story, and in +the relations of Tom and Maggie Tulliver we get a picture of the youth of +Mary Ann Evans and her brother Isaac. Lord Lytton objected that Maggie was +too passive in the scene at Red Deeps, and that the tragedy of the flood +was not adequately prepared. To this criticism George Eliot answered, "Now +that the defect is suggested to me, if the book were still in manuscript I +should alter, or rather expand, that scene at Red Deeps." She also admitted +that there was "a want of proportionate fulness" in the conclusion. But, +with all its faults, "The Mill on the Floss" deserves the reputation it has +won. The reception of the story at first was disappointing, and we find the +authoress telling her publisher that "she does not want to see any +newspaper articles." But the book made its way, and prepared an +ever-growing public for "Silas Marner." +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Tullivers of Dorlcote Mill</i></h4> + + +<p>"What I want, you know," said Mr. Tulliver, "what I want is to give Tom +a good eddication--an eddication as'll be a bread to him. I mean to put him +to a downright good school at midsummer. The two years at th' academy 'ud +ha' done well enough if I'd meant to make a miller and farmer of him, but I +should like Tom to be a bit of a scholard. It 'ud be a help to me wi' these +lawsuits, and arbitrations, and things. I wouldn't make a downright lawyer +o' the lad--I should be sorry for him to be a raskill--but a sort of +engineer, or a surveyor, or an auctioneer and vallyer, like Riley, or one +o' them smartish businesses as are all profits and no outlay, only for a +big watch-chain and a high stool. They're pretty nigh all one, and they're +not far off being even wi' the law, I believe; for Riley looks Lawyer Wakem +i' the face as hard as one cat looks another. <i>He's</i> none frightened +at him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tulliver was speaking to his wife, a blonde, comely woman, nearly +forty years old.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Tulliver, you know best. <i>I've</i> no objections. But if +Tom's to go to a new school, I should like him to go where I can wash him +and mend him, else he might as well have calico as linen. And then, when +the box is goin' backwards and forwards, I could send the lad a cake, or a +pork-pie, or an apple."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, we won't send him out o' reach o' the carrier's cart, if +other things fit in," said Mr. Tulliver. "Riley's as likely a man as any to +know o' some school; he's had schooling himself, an' goes about to all +sorts o' places--arbitratin' and vallyin', and that."</p> + +<p>So a day or two later Mr. Riley, the auctioneer, came to Dorlcote Mill, +and stayed the night, the better that Mr. Tulliver, who was slow at coming +to a point, might consult him on the all-important subject of his boy.</p> + +<p>"You see, I want to put him to a new school at midsummer," said Mr. +Tulliver, when the topic had been reached. "I want to send him to a +downright good school, where they'll make a scholard of him. I don't mean +Tom to be a miller an' farmer. I see no fun i' that. I shall give Tom an +eddication and put him to a business as he may make a nest for himself, an' +not want to push me out o' mine."</p> + +<p>At the sound of her brother's name, Maggie, the second and only other +child of the Tullivers, who was seated on a low stool close by the fire, +with a large book open on her lap, looked up eagerly. Tom, it appeared, was +supposed capable of turning his father out of doors. This was not to be +borne, and Maggie jumped up from her stool, and going up between her +father's knees, said, in a half-crying, half-indignant voice, "Father, Tom +wouldn't be naughty to you ever; I know he wouldn't."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tulliver's heart was touched.</p> + +<p>"What! They mustn't say any harm o' Tom, eh?" he said, looking at Maggie +with a twinkling eye. Then, in a lower voice, turning to Mr. Riley, "She +understands what one's talking about so as never was. And you should hear +her read--straight off, as if she knowed it all beforehand. But it's +bad--it's bad. A woman's no business wi' being so clever; it'll turn to +trouble, I doubt. It's a pity, but what she'd been the lad--she'd ha' been +a match for the lawyers, she would."</p> + +<p>Mr. Riley took a pinch of snuff before he said, "But your lad's not +stupid, is he? I saw him, when I was here last, busy making fishing-tackle; +he seemed quite up to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, he isn't not to say stupid; he's got a notion o' things out o' +door, an' a sort o' commonsense, as he'd lay hold o' things by the right +handle. But he's slow with his tongue, you see, and reads but poorly, and +can't abide the books, and spells all wrong, they tell me, an' as shy as +can be wi' strangers. Now, what I want is to send him to a school where +they'll make him a bit nimble with his tongue and his pen, to make a smart +chap of him. I want my son to be even wi' these fellows as have got the +start o' me with schooling."</p> + +<p>The talk ended in Mr. Riley recommending a country parson named Stelling +as a suitable tutor for Tom, and Mr. Tulliver decided that his son should +go to Mr. Stelling at King's Lorton, fifteen miles from Dorlcote Mill.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--School-Time</i></h4> + + +<p>Tom Tulliver's sufferings during the first quarter he was at King's +Lorton, under the distinguished care of the Rev. Walter Stelling, were +rather severe. It had been very difficult for him to reconcile himself to +the idea that his school-time was to be prolonged, and that he was not to +be brought up to his father's business, which he had always thought +extremely pleasant, for it was nothing but riding about, giving orders, and +going to market.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stelling was not a harsh-tempered or unkind man--quite the contrary, +but he thought Tom a stupid boy, and determined to develop his powers +through Latin grammar and Euclid to the best of his ability.</p> + +<p>As for Tom, he had no distinct idea how there came to be such a thing as +Latin on this earth. It would have taken a long while to make it +conceivable to him that there ever existed a people who bought and sold +sheep and oxen, and transacted the everyday affairs of life through the +medium of this language, or why he should be called upon to learn it, when +its connection with those affairs had become entirely latent. He was of a +very firm, not to say obstinate disposition, but there was no brute-like +rebellion or recklessness in his nature; the human sensibilities +predominated, and he was anxious to acquire Mr. Stelling's approbation by +showing some quickness at his lessons, if he had known how to accomplish +it.</p> + +<p>In his secret heart Tom yearned to have Maggie with him, and, before the +first dreary half-year was ended, Maggie actually came. Mrs. Stelling had +given a general invitation for the little girl to come and stay with her +brother; so when Mr. Tulliver drove over to King's Lorton late in October, +Maggie came too, with the sense that she was taking a great journey, and +beginning to see the world.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lad," Mr. Tulliver said, "you look rarely! School agrees with +you!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I <i>am</i> well, father," said Tom; "I wish you'd ask +Mr. Stelling not to let me do Euclid--it brings on the toothache, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Euclid, my lad--why, what's that?" said Mr. Tulliver.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! It's definitions and axioms and triangles and things. +It's a book I've got to learn in--there's no sense in it."</p> + +<p>"Go, go!" said Mr. Tulliver reprovingly. "You mustn't say so. You must +learn what your master tells you. He knows what it's right for you to +learn."</p> + +<p>In the second term Mr. Stelling had a second pupil--Philip, the son of +Lawyer Wakem, Mr. Tulliver's standing enemy.</p> + +<p>Philip was a very old-looking boy, Tom thought. His spine had been +deformed through an accident in infancy, and to Tom he was simply a +humpback. He had a vague notion that the deformity of Wakem's son had some +relation to the lawyer's rascality, of which he had so often heard his +father talk with hot emphasis.</p> + +<p>There was a natural antipathy of temperament between the two boys; for +Tom was an excellent bovine lad, and Philip was sensitive, and suffered +acute pain when the other blurted out offensive things.</p> + +<p>Maggie, on her second visit to King's Lorton, pronounced Philip to be "a +nice boy."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't choose his father, you know," she said to Tom. "And I've +read of very bad men who had good sons, as well as good parents who had bad +children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's a queer fellow," said Tom curtly, "and he's as sulky as can be +with me because I told him his father was a rogue. And I'd a right to tell +him so, for it was true--and he began it with calling me names."</p> + +<p>An accident to Tom's foot brought the two boys nearer again, and also +threw Philip and Maggie together.</p> + +<p>"Maggie," said Philip one day, "if you had had a brother like me, do you +think you should have loved him as well as Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, better," she answered immediately. "No, not better; because I +don't think I could love you better than Tom. But I should be so sorry--so +sorry for you."</p> + +<p>Philip coloured. He had meant to imply, would she love him as well in +spite of his deformity, and yet when she alluded to it so plainly he winced +under her pity. Maggie, young as she was, felt her mistake.</p> + +<p>"But you are so very clever, Philip, and you can play and sing," she +added quickly. "I wish you were my brother. I'm very fond of you."</p> + +<p>"But you'll go away soon, and go to school, Maggie, and then you'll +forget all about me, and not care for me any more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I shan't forget you, I'm sure." And Maggie put her arm round +his neck, and kissed him quite earnestly.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Downfall</i></h4> + + +<p>When Tom had turned sixteen, and Maggie, three years younger, was at +boarding school, came the downfall of the Tullivers. A long and expensive +law-suit concerning rights of water, brought by Mr. Tulliver, ended in +defeat. Wakem was his opponent's lawyer.</p> + +<p>Maggie broke the news to Tom. Not only would mill and lands and +everything be lost, and nothing left, but their father had fallen off his +horse, and knew nobody, and seemed to have lost his senses.</p> + +<p>"They say Mr. Wakem has got a mortgage or something on the land, Tom," +said Maggie, on their way home from King's Lorton. "It was the letter with +that news in it that made father ill, they think."</p> + +<p>"I believe that scoundrel's been planning all along to ruin my father," +said Tom, leaping from the vaguest impressions to a definite conclusion. +"I'll make him feel for it when I'm a man. Mind you never speak to Philip +again!"</p> + +<p>For more than two months Mr. Tulliver lay ill in his room, oblivious to +all that was taking place around him. From time to time recognition came to +him of his wife and family, but there was no remembrance of recent +events.</p> + +<p>The mill and land of the Tullivers were sold to Wakem the lawyer, and +the bulk of their household goods were disposed of by public auction; but +the Tullivers were not turned out of Dorlcote Mill. And, indeed, when Mr. +Tulliver, known to be a man of proud honesty, was once more able to be up +and about, it was proposed that he should remain and accept employment as +manager of the mill for Mr. Wakem.</p> + +<p>It was with difficulty that poor Tulliver could bring himself to accept +the situation, but he saw the possibility, by much pinching, of saving +money out of the thirty shillings a week salary promised by Wakem, and +paying a second dividend to his creditors. The strongest influence of all +was the love of the old premises where he had run about when he was a boy, +just as Tom had done after him.</p> + +<p>Tom, who had at once applied to his Uncle Deane, partner in a wealthy +merchant's business, for work, and was now earning a pound a week, had +protested against entertaining the proposition; he shouldn't like his +father to be under Wakem; he thought it would look nothing but mean +spirited.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Tulliver had come to a decision. The first evening of his new +life downstairs, he called his family round him, and began to speak, +looking first at his wife.</p> + +<p>"I've made up my mind, Bessy. I'll stop in the old place, and I'll serve +under Wakem, and I'll serve him like an honest man; there's no Tulliver but +what's honest, mind that, Tom. They'll have it to throw up against me as I +paid a dividend--but it wasn't my fault--it was because there's raskills in +the world. They've been too many for me, and I must give in. But I'll serve +him as honest as if he was no raskill. I'm an honest man, though I shall +never hold my head up no more! I'm a tree as is broke--a tree as is +broke."</p> + +<p>He paused, and looked on the ground. Then suddenly raising his head, he +said, in a louder yet deeper tone, "But I won't forgive him! I know what +they say--he never meant me any harm! I shouldn't ha' gone to law they say. +But who made it so as there was no arbitrating and no justice to be got? It +signifies nothing to him--I know that he's one o' them fine gentlemen as +get money by doing business for poorer folks, and when he's made beggars of +'em he'll give 'em charity. I won't forgive him! I wish he might be +punished with shame till his own son 'ud like to forget him. And you mind +this, Tom--you never forgive him, neither, if you mean to be my son. Now +write--write it i' the Bible!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, what?" said Maggie. "It's wicked to curse and bear +malice."</p> + +<p>"It isn't wicked, I tell you," said her father, fiercely. "It's wicked +as the raskills should prosper--it's the devil's doing. Do as I tell you, +Tom! Write."</p> + +<p>The big Bible was open at the beginning, where many family entries were +put down.</p> + +<p>"What am I to write, father?" said Tom, with gloomy submission.</p> + +<p>"Write as your father, Edward Tulliver, took service under John Wakem, +the man as had helped to ruin him, because I'd promised my wife to make her +what amends I could, and because I wanted to die in th' old place where I +was born, and my father was born. Put that i' the right words--you know +how--and then write as I don't forgive Wakem for all that; and for all I'll +serve him honest, I wish evil may befall him. Write that."</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence as Tom's pen moved along the paper.</p> + +<p>"Now let me hear what you've wrote," said Mr. Tulliver; and Tom read +aloud, slowly.</p> + +<p>"Now, write--write as you'll remember what Wakem's done to your father, +and you'll make him and his feel it, if ever the day comes. And sign your +name--Thomas Tulliver!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, father, dear father!" said Maggie, trembling like a leaf. "You +shouldn't make Tom write that!"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Maggie!" said Tom, impatiently, "I shall write it!"</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--In Death They Were Not Divided</i></h4> + + +<p>The Red Deeps was always a favourite place to Maggie to walk in. An old +stone quarry, so long exhausted that both mounds and hollows were now +clothed with brambles and trees, and with here and there a stretch of grass +which a few sheep kept close nibbled. This was the Red Deeps, and it was +here in June that Maggie once more met Philip Wakem, five years after their +first meeting at Mr. Stelling's. He told her that she was much more +beautiful than he had thought she would be, and assured her, in answer to +the difficulties she raised as to their meeting, that there was no enmity +in his father's mind.</p> + +<p>And Maggie went home with an inward conflict already begun, and Philip +went home to do nothing but remember and hope.</p> + +<p>In the following April they met again, after Philip had been abroad.</p> + +<p>And now he took her hand, and asked her the simple question, "<i>Do</i> +you love me?"</p> + +<p>"I think I could hardly love anyone better; there is nothing but what I +love you for," Maggie answered. But she pointed out how impossible even +their friendship was, if it were discovered.</p> + +<p>Philip, on his side, refused to give up hope, and before they parted +that day she had kissed him.</p> + +<p>Tom intervened before the next visit to the Red Deeps. He had heard that +Philip Wakem had been seen there with his sister, and Maggie admitted, on +his questioning her, that she had told Philip that she loved him.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, Maggie," Tom said coldly, "there are but two courses for you +to take. Either you vow solemnly to me, with your hand on father's Bible, +that you will never have another meeting or speak another word in private +to Philip Wakem, or you refuse and I tell my father everything!"</p> + +<p>In vain Maggie pleaded. Tom was obdurate, and she repeated the words of +renunciation.</p> + +<p>But that was not enough for Tom Tulliver; he accompanied Maggie to Red +Deeps, and in a voice of harsh scorn told Philip that he had been taking a +mean, unmanly advantage.</p> + +<p>"It was for my father's sake, Philip," said Maggie, imploringly. "Tom +threatens to tell my father--and he couldn't bear it. I have promised, I +have vowed solemnly, that we will not have any intercourse without my +brother's knowledge."</p> + +<p>"It is enough, Maggie. <i>I</i> shall not change, but I wish you to hold +yourself entirely free. But trust me--remember that I can never seek for +anything but good to what belongs to you."</p> + +<p>Tom only replied with angry contempt, and led Maggie away. All his +sister's remonstrances he answered with cold obstinacy.</p> + +<p>For his character in its strength was hard. Tom had laboured to one end +in these years: to pay off his father's creditors, and regain Dorlcote +Mill. By his industry, and by some successful private ventures in trade, +the day came when the first of the objects was realised, and Mr. Tulliver +lived to see himself free of debt.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Tulliver's satisfaction was short-lived. Excited by the dinner +given to celebrate the payment of his creditors, he met Mr. Wakem near the +mill. From angry words it came to blows, and Tulliver fell on the lawyer +furiously, only ceasing from attack when Maggie and Mrs. Tulliver appeared. +Wakem went off without serious injury, but Tulliver only lived through the +night; the excitement had killed him.</p> + +<p>"You must take care of her, Tom," said the dying man, turning to his +daughter. "You'll manage to pay for a brick grave, Tom, so as your mother +and me can lie together? This world's...too many...honest man..."</p> + +<p>At last there was total stillness, and poor Tulliver's dimly lighted +soul had ceased to be vexed with the painful riddle of this world.</p> + +<p>Tom and Maggie went downstairs together, and Maggie spoke. "Tom, forgive +me; let us always love each other"--and they clung and wept together.</p> + +<p>But they were not to be always united.</p> + +<p>Tom lived in lodgings in the town, and was anxious to provide for his +sister, but Maggie preferred to take up teaching in her old +boarding-school. She met Philip Wakem again, and though Tom released her +from her old promise, he could not regard Philip with any feelings of +friendship.</p> + +<p>It was when Tom had, by years of steady work, fulfilled his father's +wishes and become once more master of Dorlcote Mill that Maggie +returned--to be no more separated from her brother. She was staying in the +town near the river on the night when the flood came, and the river rose +beyond its banks. Her first thought, as the water entered the lower part of +the house, was of the mill, where Tom was. There was no time to get +assistance; she must go herself, and alone. Hastily she procured a boat, +and at last reached the mill. The water was up to the first story, but +still the mill stood firm.</p> + +<p>"Tom, where are you? Here is Maggie!" she called out, in a loud, +piercing voice. Tom opened the middle window, and got into the boat. Tom +rowed with vigour, but a new danger was before them in the river.</p> + +<p>"Get out of the current!" was shouted at them, but it could not be done +at once. Huge fragments of machinery, swept off one of the wharves, blocked +the stream in one wide mass, and the current swept the boat swiftly on to +its doom.</p> + +<p>"It is coming, Maggie!" Tom said, in a deep, hoarse voice, loosing the +oars and clasping her.</p> + +<p>The next instant the boat was no longer seen upon the water, and brother +and sister had gone down in an embrace never to be parted; living through +again in one supreme moment the days when they had clasped their little +hands in love.</p> + +<p>"In their death they were not divided."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="erckmann">ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="erckmann1">Waterloo</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Emile Erckmann was born at Phalsbourg, in Alsace, on May 20, +1822, and Alexandre Chatrian, at Soldatenthal, on December 18, 1826. +Erckmann, the son of a bookseller, became a law student, and was admitted +to the Bar in 1858. But the law studies were always uncongenial, and +Erckmann meeting Chatrian as a fellow student in the gymnasium at +Phalsbourg, the two young men decided to join forces in authorship. The +Erckmann-Chatrian partnership lasted from 1860 to 1885, and resulted in a +remarkable series of novels, short stories, plays, and operas. "Waterloo" +was published in 1865, and has enjoyed a wide popularity in many languages. +Like "The Conscript," its predecessor, the charm of "Waterloo" consists +largely in the character of Joseph Bertha, the young clockmaker of +Phalsbourg, who tells the story. Bertha is a peaceful citizen who hates war +and has no taste for glory. Yet he is nothing of a coward, and behaves like +a man when he is forced to fight. To the student of history, the light +thrown on the rise and fall of the Bourbon popularity in France, 1813-14, +in this novel, will always be of interest. Chatrian died in Paris on +September 4, 1890, and Erckmann at Luneville, on March 14, 1899. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Napoleon Returns</i></h4> + + +<p>Never was anything so joyous as the spring of 1814 Louis XVIII. was +king, and the war was over. All except the old soldiers were content; and +only when the nobles, who had fled at the Revolution, returned, and it was +said that they were going to bring back all their old ideas, did M. Goulden +express any dissatisfaction. There were great religious processions +everywhere and expiatory services, and talk of rebuilding all the convents, +and setting up the nobles again in their castles. But these things did not +trouble me, because I was married to Catherine, and knew nothing about +politics.</p> + +<p>The treatment of the old soldiers enraged me. On the day of the +religious procession at Phalsbourg, half a dozen old veterans, restored +prisoners, were set upon in our town by that rascal Pinacle and the people +of Baraques, and knocked about. Pinacle did this to curry favour with Louis +XVIII., and M. Goulden warned us that if ruffians like Pinacle got the +upper hand it would open people's eyes.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, Pinacle received the cross of honour in the autumn when the +Duc de Berry came to review the troops at Phalsbourg, and even Aunt +Grédel, who was fond of abusing Napoleon and the Jacobins, and +applauding the king and the clergy, thought this a shameful thing.</p> + +<p>It really was scandalous the way titles and honours were given to +worthless people who shouted for the king. Worse than this was the way +Napoleon's old officers were treated. Men who had fought and bled for +France for twenty years were now well-nigh starving, driven out of the army +to make room for the king's favourites.</p> + +<p>We read all this in the "Gazette," and Zébédé, who +had come back alive and in time for my wedding, and was still in the army, +would often come in and tell us of the growing indignation of the soldiers. +The whole of that winter the indignation was spreading in the town at the +sight of so many brave officers, the heroes of Marengo, Austerlitz, and +Wagram, wandering forlornly about, starving on half-pay, and deprived of +their posts.</p> + +<p>How well I remember one day in January, 1815, two of these officers, +pale and gaunt, coming into the workshop to sell a watch.</p> + +<p>M. Goulden examined the watch with great care and said, "Do not be +offended, gentlemen; I, too, served France under the Republic, and I know +it must cut to the heart to be forced to sell something which recalls +sacred memories."</p> + +<p>"It was given me by Prince Eugène," said one of the officers, +Commandant Margarot, a hussar.</p> + +<p>"It is worth more than 1,000 francs," said M. Goulden, "and I cannot +afford to buy it. But I will advance you 200 francs, and the watch shall +remain here if you like, and shall be yours whenever you come to reclaim +it."</p> + +<p>The old hussar broke down at this, and though his comrade, Colonel +Falconette, tried to restrain him, he poured forth thanks and bitter words +against the government.</p> + +<p>From that time it always seemed to me that things would end badly, and +that the nobles had gone too far. The old commandant had said that the +government behaved like Cossacks to the army, and this was horrible.</p> + +<p>M. Goulden read the "Gazette" aloud to us every day, and both Catherine +and I were pleased to find there were men in Paris maintaining the very +things we thought ourselves.</p> + +<p>All this time the clergy were going on with their processions, and +sermons were being preached about the rebellion of 1790, the restitution of +property to the landowners, and the re-establishment of convents, and the +need for missionaries for the conversion of France. From such ideas what +good could come?</p> + +<p>It is no wonder that when a report came early in March that Napoleon had +landed at Cannes and was marching on Paris we were all very agitated at +Phalsbourg.</p> + +<p>"It is plain," said M. Goulden, "that the emperor will reach Paris. The +soldiers are for him; so are the peasantry, whose property is threatened; +and so are the middle classes, provided he will make treaties of +peace."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--"Vive l'Empereur!"</i></h4> + + +<p>For some days, though all knew Napoleon had set foot in France, no one +dared talk of it aloud. Only the looks of the half-pay officers betrayed +their anxiety. If they had possessed horses and arms I am sure they would +have set out to meet their emperor.</p> + +<p>On March 8, Zébédé entered our house and said +abruptly, "The two first batallions are starting."</p> + +<p>"They are going to stop him?" said M. Goulden.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they'll stop him, that is very likely," +Zébédé answered, winking. At the foot of the stairs he +drew me aside and whispered, "Look inside my cap, Joseph; all the soldiers +have got it, too."</p> + +<p>Sure enough it was the old tricolour cockade, which had been removed on +the return of Louis XVIII.</p> + +<p>At last the papers had to admit that Buonaparte had escaped from Elba. +What a scene it was in the café the night the papers arrived! M. +Goulden and I were hardly seated before the place was filled with people, +and it was so close the windows had to be opened.</p> + +<p>Commandant Margarot mounted on a table with other officers all around +him, and began to read the "Gazette" aloud. It took a long time, the +reading, and the people laughed and jeered at the passages that said the +troops were faithful to the king, that Buonaparte was surrounded and would +soon be taken, and that the illustrious Ney and the other marshals had +hastened to place their swords at the service of the king. The commandant +read on firmly in that distinct voice of his until he came to the order +calling upon the French to seize Buonaparte and give him up dead or +alive.</p> + +<p>Then his whole face changed and his eyes glittered. He took the +"Gazette" up and tore it into little pieces, and, drawing himself up, his +long arms stretched out, cried, "Vive l'Empereur!" with all his might. +Immediately all the half-pay officers took up the cry, and "Vive +l'Empereur!" was repeated again by the very soldiers posted outside the +town hall when they heard the shout.</p> + +<p>The commandant was carried shoulder high round the café, and +everyone was now calling out, "Vive l'Empereur!" I saw the tears in the +eyes of the commandant, tears at hearing the name he loved best acclaimed +once more.</p> + +<p>As for me, I felt as if cold water was being forced down my back. "It's +all over," I said to myself. "It's no good talking about peace."</p> + +<p>But M. Goulden was more hopeful, and after we got home spoke cheerfully +of the blessings of liberty and a good constitution.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grédel did not take this view. She came to see us the +morning after the scene in the café, when all the town was +discussing the great news, and began at once, "So it seems the villain has +run away from his island?"</p> + +<p>Both M. Goulden and I were anxious to avoid a dispute, for Aunt +Grédel was really angry, and she couldn't leave the subject.</p> + +<p>M. Goulden admitted that he preferred Napoleon to the Bourbons, with +their nobles and missionary priests, because the emperor was bound to +respect the national property, whereas the later would have destroyed all +that the Revolution had accomplished. "Still, I am now, and always shall be +till death, for the Republic and the rights of man," M. Goulden +concluded.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman took his hat and went out to escape further argument, +and Aunt Grédel turned to me and told me that M. Goulden was an old +fool and always had been, and that I should have to go to Switzerland now, +unless Buonaparte was taken before he reached Paris.</p> + +<p>In the evening, however, when Aunt Grédel had gone, and we three +were together, Catherine said quietly, "M. Goulden is right; he knows more +about these things than my mother does, and we will always listen to his +advice."</p> + +<p>I thought to myself, "Yes, that's all very well; but it will be a +horrible thing to have to put on one's knapsack again and be off. I would +rather be in Switzerland than in Leipzig."</p> + +<p>Each day now brought news of Napoleon's advance, from Grenoble to Lyons, +from Lyons to Macon and Auxerre. There was no opposition anywhere to his +progress, and the only question that troubled M. Goulden's mind was the +attitude of Ney to the emperor. Could Ney, an old soldier of the +Revolution, though he had kissed the hand of Louis XVIII., betray the +country to please the king? The uneasiness disappeared when we learnt that +Ney had followed the example of the army, the citizens, and of all who did +not wish to go back to the customs and laws of twenty-five years +earlier.</p> + +<p>On March 21, just as it was getting dark, we knew that something +decisive must have happened at Paris. The drums were calling to arms in the +market-place, and a great crowd soon assembled.</p> + +<p>The soldiers fell into their ranks, Commandant Gémeau, who had +only just recovered from his wounds, drew his sword, and gave the order to +form square.</p> + +<p>M. Goulden and I got on a bench to listen; we knew that the fate of +France depended on the message we were to hear.</p> + +<p>"Present arms!" called out the commandant in the same clear voice which +had bidden us at Lützen and Leipzig, "Close up your ranks!"</p> + +<p>Then came the news we had been waiting for.</p> + +<p>"Soldiers, his Majesty Louis XVIII. left Paris on March 20, and the +Emperor Napoleon entered the capital the same day."</p> + +<p>For a second there was a dead silence, and then the commandant spoke of +the banner of France, the banner of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena, stained +with our blood; and the old sergeant drew out the tattered tricolour flag +from its case.</p> + +<p>"I know no other flag!" cried the commandant, raising his sword. "Vive +la France! Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>What a shout there was of "Vive l'Empereur! Vive la France!" at this. +The people and the soldiers embraced one another, and that night and for +the next five or six days there was, if anything, even more rejoicing than +there had been on the return of Louis XVIII. We still hoped for the +continuance of peace, but who could say how long the peace would last?</p> + +<p>Phalsbourg was ordered to put itself into a state of defence, a large +workshop was set up at the arsenal for the repairing of arms, and engineers +and artillerymen came over from Metz to make earthworks in the +fortifications. It seemed to me that a large number of men would be +required for all the guns and forts, and that my watchmaking days would +soon be exchanged for active service. I began to think that, after all, +religious processions were better than being sent to fight against people +one knew nothing about.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--On the Road to Waterloo</i></h4> + + +<p>Aunt Grédel had not been to see us for a month, and it was a +great comfort to Catherine and me when one Sunday M. Goulden proposed that +we should all three pay her a visit at Quatre Vents. As soon as she saw us, +Aunt Grédel rushed to kiss her daughter, and called out, "You are a +good man, M. Goulden, better a thousand times than I am. How glad I am to +see you! It doesn't matter about being a Jacobin or anything else; the main +thing is to have a good heart."</p> + +<p>It was not until the afternoon that M. Goulden explained that he had +known for some days that I should be called up to rejoin my old regiment, +and that he had arranged with the commandant of artillery that I should be +received at the arsenal as a workman. What relief this was to us, for I +could not bear the thought of separation from Catherine. So from that day I +went to work at the arsenal, and Aunt Grédel came to see us again as +she had been accustomed to do.</p> + +<p>It can be guessed with what spirit I worked at the arsenal, and how +pleased I was when the commandant expressed satisfaction at my work. But I +was not allowed to stop at Phalsbourg.</p> + +<p>On May 23 the commandant told me that I must go to Metz with the 3rd +battalion, to which I belonged. He assured me, however, that I should be +kept at Metz in the workshops, and we all did our best to believe that I +was fortunate in my destination. M. Goulden, however, warned me before I +left that France was threatened by her enemies, that the allies would make +no peace with the emperor, but were determined to set Louis XVIII. once +more on the throne, and that now the question was not of invading other +countries, but of defending our own.</p> + +<p>Catherine was asleep when the morning came for my departure, and I was +glad to escape the pain of saying "good-bye." At the barracks, +Zébédé, who was now a sergeant, led me into the +soldiers' room, and I put on my uniform. Then the battalion defiled through +the gates, the soldiers at the outworks presented arms, and we were on the +way to Waterloo.</p> + +<p>It was useless to think of stopping in Metz. We arrived in that city of +Jews and soldiers after five days' march, and were at once, after our +night's rest, supplied with ammunition. I saw that my only chance of +staying at the workshops of Metz would be after the campaign was over, for +we were on the march the very next morning. Zébédé was +not always with me now, and my closest comrade was Jean Buche, the son of a +sledge-maker at Harberg, who had never eaten anything better than potatoes +before he became a conscript. Buche turned in his feet in walking, but he +never seemed to know the meaning of being tired, and in his own fashion was +a wonderful pedestrian.</p> + +<p>From Metz we marched through Thionville, Châtelet, Etain, Dannevoux, +Yong, Vivier, and Cul-de-Sard. All our troops were pouring into +Belgium--cavalry, infantry, and artillery--and though there were no signs +of the enemy, it was reported that we were to attack the English. I thought +as well English as Prussians, Austrians, or Russians, since we were to kill +each other.</p> + +<p>On the night of June 14 we bivouacked outside the village of Roly, and +General Pécheux read a proclamation by the emperor, reminding us +that this was the anniversary of Marengo, that the powers were in coalition +against France, and that the hour had come for France to conquer or +perish.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm at this message from the +emperor; our courage was stronger, and the conscripts were even more +anxious than the veterans for the fighting to begin.</p> + +<p>We were up at daybreak next day and on the march, eager to get a sight +of the Prussians, who had been repulsed from Charleroi by the emperor, we +were told. At the village of Châtelet we halted, and heard the noise of +firing away across the River Sambre, in the direction of Gilly. An old bald +peasant told us that evening that the Prussians had men in the villages of +Fleurus and Lambusart, that the English and Belgians were on the great +Brussels road, and that the causeway through Quatre Bras and Ligny enabled +the Prussians and English to communicate freely with each other. He also +told us that the Prussians said insulting things of the French army, and +were generally hated by the people. When I heard of the way the Prussians +boasted, my blood boiled, and I said to myself, "There shall be no more +compassion. Either they or we must be utterly destroyed."</p> + +<p>I can recall with what splendour the sun rose next morning above a +cornfield--it was the morning of the battle of Ligny. +Zébédé and one or two comrades whom I had known in +1813 came and chattered while we lit our fires. We could see the Prussians +before us, posting themselves behind hedges and walls, and preparing to +defend the villages, and all the time we were kept roasting in the corn, +waiting for the signal to attack. The emperor arrived, and held a short +conference with the superior officers, and I saw him at close quarters +before he rode off again to the village of Fleurus, already vacated by the +Prussians.</p> + +<p>And still we waited, though we knew the attack on St. Amand had +begun.</p> + +<p>At last came our turn to advance on Ligny. "Forward! Forward!" cried the +officers. "Vive l'Empereur!" we shouted. The Prussian bullets whizzed like +hail upon us, and then we could see or hear nothing till we were in the +village.</p> + +<p>No quarter was given that day; we fought in houses and gardens, in barns +and lanes, with muskets and bayonets. Those who fell were lost. At one time +fifteen of us were in possession of a barn, and the Prussians, for a time +outnumbering us, drove us up a ladder. They fired up at our floor, and +finally, when it seemed we were lost, and were all to be massacred we heard +the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the Prussians fled. Out of that fifteen +only six were left alive, but Zébédé and Buche were +among the survivors.</p> + +<p>The battle still raged in the village streets, dead and dying were +everywhere. Towards nightfall it was plain we were the victors; Ligny and +St. Amand were in our hands, and the Prussians had moved away. On the +plateau behind Ligny, where our cavalry had been at work, the slaughter had +been terrible.</p> + +<p>The dozen or so remaining of our company rested for a few hours that +night in the ruins of a farmhouse, and next day came the roll-call of our +battalion, and the sending off of the wounded. More than 360 of our men, +including Commandant Gémeau and Captain Vidal, were disabled, and we +were busy all day over the wounded.</p> + +<p>It was wet and muddy that evening, and we were hungry and dispirited +when we reached Quatre Bras, about eight o'clock. We were not allowed to +halt here, but marched on to a village called Jemappes, and at midnight we +settled down in a furrow to wait for morning.</p> + +<p>The red coats of the English were visible before us when we awoke next +morning; behind their lines was the village of Mont St. Jean, and they had +also the farmhouses of La Haie-Sainte and Hougomont. At six o'clock I +looked at their position, with Zébédé, Captain +Florentin, and Buche, and it seemed to me it was a difficult task before +us. It was Sunday, and I could hear the bells of villages, recalling +Phalsbourg. But in a very little while we heard no more bells, for at +half-past eight our battalion was on its way to the high road in front, and +the battle of Waterloo had begun.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Hour of Disaster</i></h4> + + +<p>I have often heard veterans describe the order of battle given by the +emperor. But all I remember of that terrible day is that we marched out +with the bands playing, that we got to close quarters with the English, +were repulsed, and were assisted by regiments of cuirassiers, that we +carried La Haie-Sainte with terrible slaughter at Ney's command. Hougomont +we could not carry. When we thought we were winning, the news was spread +that Blücher, with 60,000 men, was advancing on our flank, and that unless +Grouchy, with his 30,000, arrived in time to reinforce us the day might be +lost.</p> + +<p>All the world knows now that Grouchy did not arrive, that we threw +ourselves again and again upon the English squares, and that at last, when +regiment after regiment had tried in vain to break the enemy's line, the +Old Guard were called up by the emperor. It was the last chance of +retrieving the day, the grand stroke--and it failed.</p> + +<p>The four battalions of the Guards, reduced from 3,000 to 1,200 men, were +assailed by so fierce a fire that they were compelled to retire. They +retired slowly, defending themselves with muskets and bayonets, but with +their retirement, and the approach of night, the battle ended for us in the +confusion of a rout. It was like a flood. We were surrounded on all sides +when Blücher arrived. The Old Guard formed a square for the emperor and his +officers, and the rest of us simply straggled away, back to France. The +most awful thing of all was the beating of the drum of the Old Guard in +that hour of disaster. It was like a fire-bell, the last appeal of a +burning nation.</p> + +<p>Buche was by my side in the retreat. Several times the Prussians +attacked us. We heard that the emperor had departed for Paris, and we +struggled on, only hoping to escape with our lives. At Charleroi the +inhabitants shut the city gates in our face, and Buche shared in the +general rage, and proposed to destroy the town. But I thought we had had +enough massacres, and that it was not right we should be killing our own +countrymen, and I persuaded Buche to come on with me.</p> + +<p>In a few days we felt ourselves safe from pursuing Prussians, and at the +village of Bouvigny I wrote a letter to Catherine, telling her I was safe. +In this village some officers of our regiment, the 6th of the Line, found +us, and we had to rejoin. Presently we saw all that was left of Grouchy's +army corps in retreat, and a day or two later we heard of the emperor's +abdication. On July 1, we reached Paris, and outside the city, near the +village of Issy, we once more fell in with the Prussians; for two days we +fought them with fury, and then some generals announced that peace had been +made.</p> + +<p>We believed that this truce was to give the enemy time to leave the +country, and that otherwise France would rise, as it rose in '92, and drive +them out.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, we soon learnt that the Prussians and English were to occupy +Paris, and that the remains of the French army were to be kept beyond the +Loire. We all felt that we had been betrayed, and the old officers, pale +with anger, wept in their misery. Paris in the hands of the Prussians! +Besides, were we to go to the other side of the Loire at the command of +Blücher?</p> + +<p>Desertions began that very day, and I said to Buche, "Let us return to +Phalsbourg and Harberg, and take up our work, and live like honest men." +About fifty of us from Alsace-Lorraine were in the battalion, and we set +off together on the road to Strasbourg.</p> + +<p>On July 8 we heard that Louis XVIII. was to come back, and already the +white banner of the Bourbons was being displayed in the villages.</p> + +<p>In some places there were rascals who called us Buonapartists, and +gendarmes who took us to the town hall and made us shout "Vive le Roi!" +Buche and some of the old soldiers hated this; but what did it matter who +was king, and what these fools wanted us to shout?</p> + +<p>Our little company got smaller and smaller as men halted in their own +villages, and when, on July 16, we reached Phalsbourg, Buche and I were +alone.</p> + +<p>Buche went on to break the news of my return, but I could not wait, and +ran after him.</p> + +<p>I heard people saying, "There's Joseph, Bertha," and in a moment I was +in the house, and in Catherine's arms. Then I embraced M. Goulden, and an +hour later Aunt Grédel arrived.</p> + +<p>Jean Buche would not stay and dine with us, but hurried home to Harberg. +I have often seen him since; and Zébédé, too, who +remained in the army.</p> + +<p>Many insulting things were said about us by the Pinacles, but I had +happiness in my family circle, especially when Catherine presented me with +a little Joseph.</p> + +<p>I am an old man now, but M. Goulden always said the principles of +freedom and liberty would triumph, and I have lived long enough to see his +words come true.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="feuillet">OCTAVE FEUILLET</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="feuillet1">Romance of a Poor Young Man</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Octave Feuillet, born at Saint Lô, in France, on August +11, 1821, was the son of a Norman gentleman who regarded literature as an +ignoble profession. When Octave ran away to Paris in order to pursue a +literary career, his father refused to help him, and for some years the +young writer had a very hard struggle. But on taking to novel-writing, +Feuillet quickly acquired fame and fortune. His "Romance of a Poor Young +Man" ("Le Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre"), which appeared in 1858, made him +the most popular author of the day. Standing midway between the novelists +of the romantic school and the writers of the realistic movement, he +combined a sense of the poetry of life with a gift for analysing the finer +shades of feeling. The plot of the "Romance of a Poor Young Man" is +certainly extraordinary; but in the present case some allowance must be +made for the fact that the hero is induced to accept the humble position in +which he finds himself by his old family lawyer, who secretly designs to +marry him to the daughter of his new employers. A scheme of this sort would +not Strike a French reader as improbable, for marriage in France is often +more a business arrangement than a love affair. Feuillet spent the latter +part of his life in retirement, and died on December 29, 1890. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--A Nobleman in Difficulties</i></h4> + + +<p>Here I am, then, in the situation that Lawyer Laubépin obtained +for me. I am alone at last, thank goodness, sitting in a gloomy room in +this old Breton castle, in which the former steward to the Laroque family +used to live. My position is certainly very strange, but as Laubépin +was discreet, and did not tell his clients that he was sending them a new +steward in the person of the young Marquis of Champcey, perhaps I shall not +find my post very difficult. I was afraid that the Laroques were a family +of the vulgarly rich sort, like the dreadful persons who have bought my +father's lands. Laroque is a picturesque figure in his old age, and though +his widowed daughter-in-law is rather more commonplace, his grand-daughter, +Marguerite Laroque, is a nobly beautiful girl.</p> + +<p>If it were not for my accursed pride, I should now feel happier than I +have ever felt since that day of disaster, misery, and shame when +Laubépin told me that my poor dead father had lost his fortune in +speculations, and left nothing but his title and his debts. Well, I have +paid the debts, and if I can now only earn enough money to keep my little +sister Hélène at school, I shall not grumble at my lot. I +feel the loss of my friends, it is true. There is not a soul I can confide +in, and I must find some outlet for the thoughts and feelings that oppress +me; so I will keep this diary.</p> + +<p>It will be at least a silent confidant, and perhaps when I am older I +shall be able to read with a certain pleasurable interest its record of my +singular adventures. No other man in France, on May 1, 1857, can have been +transformed so suddenly, as by the wand of a witch, from a powerful and +wealthy young nobleman of ancient lineage into a humble and despised +domestic servant. Perhaps a good fairy will appear and restore me to my +proper shape; but I wish she had appeared at dinner this evening. There +were twenty guests, and it was the first time since the change of my +fortunes that I took part in a society affair. Nobody spoke to me, except +the pretty little governess of the family, Mlle. Hélouin; and we +were placed at the end of the table. The position of honour was given to a +young and brilliant nobleman, M. de Bévallan, whose estate joined +that of the Laroque family. I gathered from Mlle. Hélouin that it +was his ambition to unite the two estates by marrying Mlle. Marguerite +Laroque. I was, therefore, surprised when the lovely heiress led her +grandfather into the room when everybody was seated, placed him in a chair +by Bévallan, and came and sat by my side.</p> + +<p>"She can't," I thought to myself, "be much in love with her wooer," and +I began to study her with a certain curiosity. Her fine, clear-cut features +and large dark eyes attracted me; and by way of opening the conversation I +spoke of the wildly beautiful scenery through which I had passed on my way +to the castle. It was a bad beginning.</p> + +<p>"I see," she said, with a singular expression of irony, "that you are a +poet. You must talk about the forests and moorlands with Mlle. +Hélouin, who also adores these things. For my part I do not love +them."</p> + +<p>"What is it, then, that you really love?" I said.</p> + +<p>She gave me a supercilious look and said, in a hard voice, "Nothing, +sir."</p> + +<p>I must confess I was hurt. I could not see that I had done anything to +lay myself open to so harsh an answer. No doubt I was only a servant. But +why had she come and sat beside me if she did not want to talk? I was glad +when the dinner was over and we went into the drawing-room. Madame Laroque, +the widowed mother of Marguerite, began to ask M. Bévallan about the +new opera in Paris; he was unable to reply, so, as I had seen the work in +Italy before it was produced in France, I gave her a description of it. I +am afraid I forgot myself with Madame Laroque--a fine-looking, cultivated +woman of forty years of age. Flattered by the way in which she treated me +entirely as her equal, I insensibly glided from theatrical topics to +fashionable gossip, and just stopped in time in an anecdote about my tour +in Russia. A few more words and she would have learnt that her humble +steward, Maxime Odiot--as I am now called--was a man with very aristocratic +connections.</p> + +<p>In order to hide my embarrassment, I moved towards the table where some +of the guests were playing whist. This led to my committing a blunder +which, I fear, may make my position a difficult one. Among the +whist-players was a Mlle. de Porhoet-Gael, eighty-eight years of age and +full of strange crotchets. The last descendant of the noblest of Breton +families, she lived, so Madame Laroque told me, on an income of forty +pounds a year, her fortune having been spent in vainly fighting for the +succession to a great estate in Spain. She was talking about it to her +partner when I came up.</p> + +<p>"The estate belongs to me," she was saying. "My father told me so a +hundred times, and the persons who are trying to take it from me have no +more connection with my family than this handsome young gentleman has."</p> + +<p>And she designated me with a look and a movement of her head. No doubt +she did not mean to imply that because I was a steward I was of mean birth; +but I was stung by her remark, and forgetting myself, I replied rather +sharply, "You are mistaken, madam, in thinking that I am unrelated to your +family."</p> + +<p>"You will have to prove that to me, young man."</p> + +<p>Confused and ashamed, I withdrew into the corner and tried to talk to +Mlle. Hélouin about poetry and art, but at last, upset and +distracted, I arose and walked out of the room. Mlle. de Porhoet followed +me.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Odiot," she said, "would you mind seeing me home? My servant +has not arrived, and I am growing too feeble now to walk without help."</p> + +<p>Naturally, I went with her.</p> + +<p>"What did you mean," she said, as we walked on together, "by claiming to +be a relation of mine?"</p> + +<p>"I hope," I replied very humbly, "that you will pardon a jest +that--"</p> + +<p>"A jest!" she interrupted. "Is a matter touching my honour a jest? I +see; a remark which would be an insult if addressed to a man becomes only a +jest when it is levelled at an old, unprotected woman."</p> + +<p>After that, nothing was left to me, as a man of honour, but to entrust +her with my secret. There had been several marriages between our families, +and after listening with great interest to the story of my troubles, she +became wonderfully kind in her manner to me.</p> + +<p>"You must come and see me to-morrow, cousin," she said, when we parted. +"My law-suit is going very badly and I should like you to go through all my +papers, and see if you can discover any new documents in support of my +claim. Do not despair, my dear, over your own misfortunes. I think I shall +be able to help you."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Love and Jealousy</i></h4> + + +<p>I am afraid I lack the industry necessary for keeping a diary. It is now +two months since I wrote the last entry. If I had made every night a brief +note of the events of the day, I should now have a better view of my +position. Has Mlle. de Porhoet betrayed my secret? There has certainly been +a curious change in my relations with the Laroques. I fancy it began on the +day when Marguerite and I met at last on an equal footing at Mlle. de +Porhoet's house. The document which I had just then found may not be as +important as we thought, but our common joy in what we considered was a +discovery of tremendous value brought us closer together.</p> + +<p>But I cannot understand Marguerite. Sometimes she still goes out of her +way to be insulting towards me, and sometimes she treats me with a sweet +frankness which has something sisterly in it. One day, for instance, she +came to my window and asked me if I would go for a walk with her. "Bring +your sketch-book, Monsieur Odiot," she called out gaily, "and I will take +you to Merlin's Tomb in the Enchanted Valley."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the woods around the castle of the Laroques were +the remains of the famous forest of Broceliande, and I had always been +promising myself a long ramble through this region of romance, but I had +never found time to explore it. I was now glad I had waited, for Marguerite +was a charming guide. Never had I seen her so light-hearted. When we +reached a great block of stone in the depth of the wood, under which the +wizard Merlin is said to be imprisoned by Vivien, Marguerite made herself a +garland of oak-leaves, and standing like a lovely priestess clad all in +white against the Druidic monument, she asked me to make a sketch of her. +With what joy did I paint the poetic vision before me! I think she was +pleased with the drawing, but on our way back to the castle a foolish word +of mine brought our friendship to an end. We came to a picturesque little +lake, at the end of which was a waterfall, overgrown with brambles. In +order to show what a good swimmer her dog was, Marguerite threw something +in the current and told him to fetch it, but he got carried over the +waterfall and caught in the whirlpool below.</p> + +<p>"Come away! He is drowning--come away! I can't bear to see it!" cried +Marguerite, seizing me by the arm. "No, do not attempt to save him. The +pool is very dangerous."</p> + +<p>I am a good swimmer, however, and with a little trouble I managed to +rescue the dog.</p> + +<p>"What madness!" she murmured. "You might have been drowned, and just for +a dog!"</p> + +<p>"It was yours," I answered in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Her manner at once changed.</p> + +<p>"You had better run home, Monsieur Odiot," she said very coldly, "or you +will get a chill. Do not wait for me."</p> + +<p>So I returned alone, and for some days Marguerite never spoke a word to +me. What was still worse, M. Bévallan appeared at the castle, and +she went for walks with him, leaving me in the company of Mlle. +Hélouin. I am afraid that I became very friendly with the pretty +governess. Nothing, however, that I ever said to her, or that she said to +me, prepared me for the strange scene that happened to-night. As I was +walking along the terrace, she came up and took my arm, and said, "Are you +really my friend, Maxime?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me the truth," she exclaimed. "Do you love me, or do you love +Mademoiselle Marguerite?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you bring in her name?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you love her!" she cried fiercely; "or, rather, you love her +fortune. But you shall never have it, Monsieur de Champcey. I know why you +came here under a false name, and so shall she."</p> + +<p>With a movement of anger she departed. I cannot continue here under +suspicion of being a fortune-hunter, so I have written to Laubépin +to obtain another situation for me.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Two on a Tower</i></h4> + + +<p>It is all over. Was it because she still only half believed the slanders +spread against me that Marguerite again asked me to go for a walk with her? +Oh, what an unfortunate wretch I am! We rode through the forest together to +one of the most magnificent monuments in Brittany, the Castle of Elven. +Finding the door unlocked, we tethered our horses in the deserted +courtyard, and climbed up the narrow, winding staircase to the battlements. +The sea of autumnal foliage below was bathed in the light of the setting +sun, and for a long time we sat side by side in silence, gazing at the +infinite distances.</p> + +<p>"Come!" she said at last, in a low whisper, as the light died out of the +sky. "It is finished!"</p> + +<p>But on descending the dark staircase we found that the door of the keep +was locked. No doubt the shepherd boy who looked after the castle had come +and shut up the place while we were sitting, watching the sunset.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur de Champcey," she said, in a cold, hard voice, "were there any +scoundrels in your family before you?"</p> + +<p>"Marguerite!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"You paid that boy to lock us in," she exclaimed. "You think you will +force me to marry you by compromising me in this manner. Do you think you +will win my hand--and, what is more important to you still, my wretched +wealth--by this trick? Rather than marry a scoundrel like you, I will shut +myself up in a convent!"</p> + +<p>Carried away by my feelings, I seized her two hands, and said, "Now +listen, Marguerite. I love you, it is true. Never did man love more +devotedly, yes, and more disinterestedly, than I do. But I swear that if I +get out of this place alive I will never marry you until you are as poor as +I am, or I as rich as you are. If you love me, as I think you do, fall on +your knees and pray, for unless a miracle happens you will never see me +again alive."</p> + +<p>But a miracle did happen. I threw myself out of the window, and fell +upon a branch of an oak-tree. It bent beneath my weight, and then broke; +but it came so near the earth before breaking that if my left arm had not +struck against the masonry I should have escaped uninjured. As it was, my +arm was smashed, and I swooned away with the pain. When I came to, +Marguerite was leaning out of the window, calling, "Maxime, speak to me! +For the love of heaven, speak to me, and say you pardon me!"</p> + +<p>I arose, saying, "I am not hurt. If you will only wait another hour, I +will go home and get some one to let you out. Believe me, I will save your +honour as I have saved my own."</p> + +<p>Binding up my arm, I got on my horse, and galloped back to Laroque +Castle. On the way I met Bévallan.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Mlle. Marguerite?" he said. "We are afraid she has got +lost."</p> + +<p>"I met her this afternoon," I replied. "She told me she was going for a +ride to Elven Castle."</p> + +<p>He rode off in the direction from which I had come, and when I returned +from the doctor with my broken arm set and bandaged, Marguerite and +Bévallan entered.</p> + +<p>Hearing that I had had an accident, Madame Laroque came up late to-night +to see me. Old Laroque has had a stroke of paralysis, she tells me, and she +wishes to get the marriage contract between her daughter and +Bévallan signed to-morrow. Laubépin is bringing the +document.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.---A Test Case</i></h4> + + +<p>I don't know why I take the trouble to go on with this diary, but having +begun it I may as well finish it. Laubépin wanted me to go into the +drawing-room to witness the signing of the marriage contract, but happily I +was too ill to leave my bed; not only was my arm very painful, but I was +suffering from the shock of the fall. What an hour of misery I passed +before Mlle. de Porhoet-Gael appeared with the news of what had happened! +Her sweet, kind old eyes were bright with joy.</p> + +<p>"It is all over," she said. "Bévallan has gone, and young +Hélouin has also been turned out of the house."</p> + +<p>I started up with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she continued, with a smile, "the contract has not been signed. +Our friend Laubépin drew it up in such a way that the husband was +not able to touch a penny of the wife's money. M. Bévallan objected +to this; while he and his lawyer were arguing the matter with +Laubépin, Marguerite rose up.</p> + +<p>"'Throw the contract in the fire,' she said, 'and, mother, give this +gentleman back the presents he sent to me.'</p> + +<p>"Laubépin threw the deed in the flames, and Marguerite and her +mother walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>"'What is the meaning of this?' cried Bévallan.</p> + +<p>"'I will tell you,' I answered. 'A certain young lady was afraid that +you were merely a fortune-hunter. She wanted to be certain of it, and now +she is so.'</p> + +<p>"Thereupon I, too, left the room.</p> + +<p>"But what is the matter with you, my dear boy? You are as pale as a +corpse."</p> + +<p>The fact was that the unexpected news aroused in me such a mixture of +joyful and painful feelings that I fell back in a swoon. When I recovered, +dear old Laubépin was standing by my bed.</p> + +<p>"Will you not confide in me, my boy?" he said rather sadly. "Something, +I can see, has happened which has made you miserable on the very day on +which you should be full of joy. What is it?"</p> + +<p>Moved by his sympathy, I gave him this diary to read, and poured out my +very soul to him.</p> + +<p>"It is useless for me," he said at last, "to conceal from you the fact +that I sent you here with the design to marry you to Marguerite. Everything +at first went as well as I could wish, and Madame Laroque was delighted +with the match. You and Marguerite were made for each other, and you fell +in love almost at first sight. But this affair at the Castle of Elven is +something I had not reckoned on. To leap out of the window at the risk of +breaking your neck was, my romantic young friend, a sufficient +demonstration of your disinterestedness. You need not have taken a solemn +oath never to marry Marguerite until you were as rich as she is. What can +you do now? You cannot forswear yourself, and you cannot suddenly make an +immense fortune."</p> + +<p>"I must depart with you," I said very sorrowfully. "There is no other +way."</p> + +<p>"No, Maxime," he replied, "you are too unwell to move. Remain here for +one month longer; then, if you do not hear from me, return to Paris."</p> + +<p>It is now a week since he left me, and I have seen no one for the last +seven days but the servant who waits upon me. He tells me that Laroque has +died, and that Marguerite and her mother, who have been tending him night +and day, have worn themselves out, and are now laid up with some sort of +fever. Mlle. de Porhoet is also very ill, and not expected to live. Since I +am well enough to walk over to Mlle. de Porhoet. I am told that she keeps +asking to see me.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Two in a Garden</i></h4> + + +<p>The little maid who came to open the door was weeping, and as I came in +I was surprised to hear the voice of Laubépin.</p> + +<p>"It is Maxime, Marguerite," he said.</p> + +<p>Had Marguerite also risen up from a bed of sickness to see Mlle. de +Porhoet? I sprang up the stairs, and entered the room.</p> + +<p>"My poor, dear boy!" said Mlle. de Porhoet, in a strange, broken +voice.</p> + +<p>She was lying in bed. Laubépin, a priest, and a doctor were +standing on one side, and Marguerite and her mother were kneeling down in +prayer on the other. I saw at once that she was at the point of death, and +knelt down beside Marguerite. The poor dying woman smiled faintly, and +groped for my hand and put it in Marguerite's, and then fell back on the +pillow. She was dead.</p> + +<p>Laubépin led me out of the room, and put a document in my hand. +It was a will, and the ink on it was hardly dry. Mlle. de Porhoet had made +me her heir.</p> + +<p>"How good of her!" I said to Laubépin. "I shall treasure her +testament as a mark of her love for me. I will settle her little estate on +my sister. It will at least keep Hélène from having to go out +into the world as a governess."</p> + +<p>"And it will keep you, my friend, from having to go out into the world +as a steward," said Laubépin, with a smile. "Don't you remember that +document about the Spanish succession which you discovered and sent to me? +We have won the law-suit, and you are the heir to an estate in Spain which +will make you one of the richest men in France."</p> + +<p>I went into the garden to think over my strange fortune. How long I sat +there in the darkness I do not know. On rising up, I heard a faint sound +beneath one of the trees, and a beloved form emerged from the foliage, and +stood against the starry sky.</p> + +<p>"Marguerite!" I cried, running up to her with outstretched arm.</p> + +<p>She murmured my name, and as I clasped her her lips sought mine, and we +poured our souls out in a kiss.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I have given Hélène half of my fortune. Marguerite is my +wife, and I close these pages for ever, having nothing more to confide to +them. It can be said of men, as it has been said of nations, "Happy are +those that have no story."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="fielding">HENRY FIELDING</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="fielding1">Amelia</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Henry Fielding was born at Sharpham Park, near Glastonbury, +England, April 12, 1707. His father, a grandson of the Earl of Desmond, and +great-grandson of the first Earl of Denbigh, settled in England shortly +after the battle of Ramillies as a country squire. In due course, Fielding +was sent to Eton, and afterwards to Leyden, where he remained for two years +studying civil law. Financial difficulties, however, put a temporary end to +his intention of entering the Bar, and in 1727 he solved the problem of a +career by beginning to write for the stage. During the next nine years some +eighteen of his plays were produced. In 1748 he was appointed a justice of +peace for Westminster, and his writings on police and crime are of interest +to this day. "Amelia" was published in 1751, when its author was a +magistrate at Bow Street. In a dedicatory letter, Fielding explained that +the book was "sincerely designed to promote the cause of virtue, and to +expose some of the most glaring evils, as well public as private, which at +present infest the country." The licentiousness of wealthy "men about +town," the corruption of justice, the abuses of the prison system, the lack +of honour concerning marriage--these are some of the "glaring evils" +exposed with all the great novelist's power in "Amelia." In the characters +of Dr. Harrison and Amelia herself, the virtuous man and woman are drawn so +clearly that they inevitably win the reader's sympathy. "Amelia" does not +equal the genius of "Tom Jones," but it is remarkable for being so largely +devoted to the adventures of a married couple, instead of ending at +marriage. Fielding died on October 8, 1754. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Inside of a Prison</i></h4> + + +<p>On the first of April, in the year--, the watchmen of a certain parish +in Westminster brought several persons, whom they had apprehended the +preceding night, before Jonathan Thrasher, Esq., one of the justices of the +peace for that city.</p> + +<p>Among the prisoners a young fellow, whose name was Booth, was charged +with beating the watchman in the execution of his office, and breaking his +lantern. The justice perceiving the criminal to be but shabbily dressed, +was going to commit him without asking any further questions, but at the +earnest request of the accused the worthy magistrate submitted to hear his +defence.</p> + +<p>The young man then alleged that as he was walking home to his lodgings +he saw two men in the street cruelly beating a third, upon which he had +stopped and endeavoured to assist the person who was so unequally attacked; +that the watch came up during the affray, and took them all four into +custody; that they were immediately carried to the round-house, where the +two original assailants found means to make up the matter, and were +discharged by the constable, a favour which he himself, having no money in +his pocket, was unable to obtain. He utterly denied having assaulted any of +the watchmen, and solemnly declared that he was offered his liberty at the +price of half a crown.</p> + +<p>Though the bare word of an offender can never be taken against the oath +of his accuser, yet the magistrate might have employed some labour in +cross-examining the watchman, or at least have given the defendant time to +send for the other persons who were present at the affray; neither of which +he did.</p> + +<p>Booth and the poor man in whose defence he had been engaged were both +dispatched to prison under a guard of watchmen.</p> + +<p>Mr. Booth was no sooner arrived in the prison than a number of persons +gathered around him, all demanding garnish. The master or keeper of the +prison then acquainted him that it was the custom of the place for every +prisoner, upon his first arrival there, to give something to the former +prisoners to make them drink. This was what they called garnish. Mr. Booth +answered that he would readily comply with this laudable custom, were it in +his power; but that in reality he had not a shilling in his pocket, and, +what was worse, he had not a shilling in the world. Upon which the keeper +departed, and left poor Booth to the mercy of his companions, who, without +loss of time, stripped him of his coat and hid it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Booth was too weak to resist and too wise to complain of his usage. +He summoned his philosophy to his assistance, and resolved to make himself +as easy as possible under his present circumstances.</p> + +<p>On the following day, Miss Matthews, an old acquaintance whom he had not +seen for some years, was brought into the prison, and Booth was shortly +afterwards invited to the room this lady had engaged. Miss Matthews, having +told her story, requested Booth to do the same, and to this he acceded.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Captain Booth Tells His Story</i></h4> + + +<p>"From the first I was in love with Amelia; but my own fortune was so +desperate, and hers was entirely dependent on her mother, a woman of +violent passions, and very unlikely to consent to a match so highly +contrary to the interest of her daughter, that I endeavoured to refrain +from any proposal of love. I had nothing more than the poor provision of an +ensign's commission to depend on, and the thought of leaving my Amelia to +starve alone, deprived of her mother's help, was intolerable to me.</p> + +<p>"In spite of this I could not keep from telling Amelia the state of my +heart, and I soon found all that return of my affection which the tenderest +lover can require. Against the opposition of Amelia's mother, Mrs. Harris, +to our engagement, we had the support of that good man, Dr. Harrison, the +rector; and at last Mrs. Harris yielded to the doctor, and we were married. +There was an agreement that I should settle all my Amelia's fortune on her, +except a certain sum, which was to be laid out in my advancement in the +army, and shortly afterwards I was preferred to the rank of a lieutenant in +my regiment, and ordered to Gibraltar. I noticed that Amelia's sister, Miss +Betty, who had said many ill-natured things of our marriage, now again +became my friend.</p> + +<p>"At the siege of Gibraltar I was very badly wounded, and in this +situation the image of my Amelia haunted me day and night. Two months and +more I continued in a state of uncertainty; when one afternoon poor +Atkinson, my servant, came running to my room. I asked him what was the +matter, when Amelia herself rushed into the room, and ran hastily to me. +She gently chided me for concealing my illness from her, saying, 'Oh, Mr. +Booth! And do you think so little of your Amelia as to think I could or +would survive you?' Amelia then informed me that she had received a letter +from an unknown hand, acquainting her with my misfortune, and advising her, +if she desired to see me more, to come directly to Gibraltar.</p> + +<p>"From the time of Amelia's arrival nothing remarkable happened till my +perfect recovery; and then the siege being at an end, and Amelia being in +some sort of fever, the governor gave me leave to attend my wife to +Montpelier, the air of which was judged to be most likely to restore her to +health.</p> + +<p>"A fellow-officer, Captain James, willingly lent me money, and, after an +ample recovery at Montpelier, and a stay in Paris, we returned to England. +It was in Paris we received a long letter from Dr. Harrison, enclosing +£100, and containing the news that Mrs. Harris was dead, and had left +her whole fortune to Miss Betty. So now it was that I was a married man +with children, and the half-pay of a lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Harrison, at whose rectory we were staying, came to our assistance. +He asked me if I had any prospect of going again into the army; if not, +what scheme of life I proposed to myself.</p> + +<p>"I told him that as I had no powerful friends, I could have but little +expectations in a military way; that I was incapable of thinking of any +other scheme, for I was without the necessary knowledge or experience, and +was likewise destitute of money to set up with.</p> + +<p>"The doctor, after a little hesitation, said he had been thinking on +this subject, and proposed to me to turn farmer. At the same time he +offered to let me his parsonage, which was then become vacant; he said it +was a farm which required but little stock, and that little should not be +wanting.</p> + +<p>"I embraced this offer very eagerly, and Amelia received the news with +the highest transports of joy. Thus, you see me degraded from my former +rank in life; no longer Captain Booth, but Farmer Booth.</p> + +<p>"For a year all went well; love, health, and tranquillity filled our +lives. Then a heavy blow befell us, and we were robbed of our dear friend +the doctor, who was chosen to attend the young lord, the son of the patron +of the living, in his travels as a tutor.</p> + +<p>"By this means I was bereft not only of the best companion in the world, +but of the best counsellor, and in consequence of this loss I fell into +many errors.</p> + +<p>"The first of these was in enlarging my business by adding a farm of one +hundred a year to the parsonage, in renting which I had also as bad a +bargain as the doctor had before given me a good one. The consequence of +which was that whereas at the end of the first year I was £80 to the +good, at the end of the second I was nearly £40 to the bad.</p> + +<p>"A second folly I was guilty of was in uniting families with the curate +of the parish, who had just married. We had not, however, lived one month +together before I plainly perceived the curate's wife had taken a great +prejudice against my wife, though my Amelia had treated her with nothing +but kindness, and, with the mischievous nature of envy, spread dislike +against us.</p> + +<p>"My greatest folly, however, was the purchase of an old coach. The +farmers and their wives considered that the setting up of a coach was the +elevating ourselves above them, and immediately began to declare war +against us. The neighbouring little squires, too, were uneasy to see a poor +renter become their equal in a matter in which they placed so much dignity, +and began to hate me likewise.</p> + +<p>"My neighbours now began to conspire against me. Whatever I bought, I +was sure to buy dearer, and when I sold, I was obliged to sell cheaper than +any other. In fact, they were all united; and while they every day +committed trespasses on my lands with impunity, if any of my cattle escaped +into their fields I was either forced to enter into a law-suit or to make +amends for the damage sustained.</p> + +<p>"The consequence of all this could be no other than ruin. Before the end +of four years I became involved in debt to the extent of £300. My +landlord seized my stock for rent, and, to avoid immediate confinement in +prison, I was forced to leave the country.</p> + +<p>"In this condition I arrived in town a week ago. I had just taken a +lodging, and had written my dear Amelia word where she might find me; and +that very evening, as I was returning from a coffee-house, because I +endeavoured to assist the injured party in an affray, I was seized by the +watch and committed here by a justice of the peace."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Amelia in London</i></h4> + + +<p>Miss Matthews, being greatly drawn to Captain Booth, procured his +discharge by the expenditure of £20, and obtained her own release at +the same time.</p> + +<p>Amelia arrived in London to receive her husband in her arms. "For," said +she, "your confinement was known all over the county, my sister having +spread the news with a malicious joy; and so, not hearing from you, I +hastened to town with our children."</p> + +<p>Poor Booth, in spite of his release, was very cast down. Seeing tears in +his eyes at the sight of his children, Amelia, embracing him with rapturous +fondness, cried out, "My dear Billy, let nothing make you uneasy. Heaven +will provide for us and these poor babes. Great fortunes are not necessary +to happiness. Make yourself easy, my dear love, for you have a wife who +will think herself happy with you, and endeavour to make you so, in any +situation. Fear nothing, Billy; industry will always provide us a wholesome +meal."</p> + +<p>Booth, who was naturally of a sanguine temper, took the cue she had +given him, but he could not help reproaching himself as the cause of all +her wretchedness. This it was that enervated his heart and threw him into +agonies, which all that profusion of heroic tenderness that the most +excellent of women intended for his comfort served only to heighten and +aggravate: as the more she rose in his admiration, the more she quickened +the sense of his unworthiness.</p> + +<p>His affairs did not prosper; in vain he solicited a commission in the +army. With no great man to back him, and with his friend, Captain James +(now a colonel, and in London), too taken up with his own affairs to exert +any influence on behalf of Booth, it seemed as though no escape from misery +was possible. The beautiful Amelia, always patient and cheerful, remained +his comforter. And Atkinson, now a sergeant in the guards, was the devoted +servant of both Amelia and her husband.</p> + +<p>Then one morning, when Amelia was out, Booth was arrested for debt and +carried to the bailiff's house in Gray's Inn Lane.</p> + +<p>"Who has done this barbarous action?" cries Amelia, when the news is +told her by Sergeant Atkinson.</p> + +<p>"One I am ashamed to name," cries the sergeant; "indeed, I had always a +very different opinion of him; but Dr. Harrison is the man who has done the +deed."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Harrison!" cries Amelia. "Well, then, there is an end of all +goodness in the world. I will never have a good opinion of any human being +more!"</p> + +<p>The fact was that while the doctor was abroad he had received from the +curate, and from a gentleman of the neighbourhood, accounts of Booth's +doings very much to his disadvantage. On his return to the parish these +accusations were confirmed by many witnesses, and the whole neighbourhood +rang with several gross and scandalous lies, which were merely the +inventions of Booth's enemies. Poisoned with all this malice, the doctor +came to London, and calling at Booth's lodgings, when both the captain and +Amelia were out, learnt from the servant-maid that the children had got a +gold watch and several fine trinkets. These presents, indeed, had come from +a certain noble lord, who hoped by these means to win Amelia's affection; +but no suspicion of his evil desire had entered the innocent mind of +Amelia.</p> + +<p>The doctor had no doubt that these trinkets had been purchased by +Amelia; and this account tallied so well with the ideas he had imbibed of +Booth's extravagance in the country, that he firmly believed both the +husband and wife to be the vainest, silliest and most unjust people +alive.</p> + +<p>But no sooner did the doctor hear that Booth was arrested than the +wretched condition of his wife and children began to affect his mind. In +this temper of mind he resolved to pay Amelia a second visit, and was on +his way thither when Sergeant Atkinson met him, and made himself known to +him.</p> + +<p>The doctor received from Atkinson such an account of Booth and his +family that he hastened at once to Amelia, and soon became satisfied +concerning the trinkets which had given him so much uneasiness. Amelia +likewise gave the doctor some satisfaction as to what he had heard of her +husband's behaviour In the country, and assured him, upon her honour, that +Booth could answer every complaint against his conduct, so that the doctor +would find him an innocent, unfortunate man, the object of a good man's +compassion, not of his anger or resentment.</p> + +<p>This worthy clergyman, who was not desirous of finding proofs to condemn +the captain, rejoiced heartily in every piece of evidence which tended to +clear up the character of his friend, and gave a ready ear to all which +Amelia said.</p> + +<p>Induced, indeed, by the love he always had for that lady, whom he was +wont to call his daughter, as well as by pity for her present condition, +the doctor immediately endeavoured to comfort the afflicted, and then +proceeded to accomplish the captain's release.</p> + +<p>"So, captain," says the doctor, on arrival at the bailiff's house, "when +last we met I believe that we neither of us expected to meet in such a +place as this."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, doctor," cries Booth, "I did not expect to have been sent +hither by the gentleman who did me this favour."</p> + +<p>"How so, sir!" said the doctor. "You were sent hither by some person, I +suppose, to whom you were indebted. But you ought to be more surprised that +the gentleman who sent you thither is come to release you."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Fortune Smiles on Amelia</i></h4> + + +<p>Booth was again arrested some months later, and lodged in the bailiff's +house. This time his creditor was a Captain Trent, who had lent him money, +and promised him assistance in getting returned to the army. In reality, +Trent was only seeking to ingratiate himself with Amelia, and meeting with +no encouragement, took his revenge accordingly.</p> + +<p>Amelia at once sought out Dr. Harrison, and told him what had occurred +to her husband; and the doctor set forwards to the bailiff's to see what he +could do for Booth.</p> + +<p>The doctor had not got so much money in town as Booth's debt amounted +to, and therefore he was forced to give bail to the action.</p> + +<p>While the necessary forms were being made out, the bailiff, addressing +himself to the doctor, said, "Sir, there is a man above in a dying +condition that desires the favour of speaking to you. I believe he wants +you to pray by him."</p> + +<p>Without making any further inquiry, the doctor immediately went +upstairs.</p> + +<p>The sick man mentioned his name, and explained that he lived for many +years in the town where the doctor resided, and that he used to write for +the attorneys in those parts. He was anxious, he said, as he hoped for +forgiveness, to make all the amends he could to some one he had injured, +and to undo, if possible, the injury he had done.</p> + +<p>The doctor commended this as a sincere repentance.</p> + +<p>"You know, good doctor," the sick man resumed, "that Mrs. Harris, of our +town, had two daughters--one now Mrs. Booth, and another. Before Mrs. +Harris died, she made a will, and left all her fortune, except +£1,000, to Mrs. Booth, to which will Mr. Murphy, the lawyer, myself, +and another were witnesses. Mrs. Harris afterwards died suddenly, upon +which it was contrived, by her other daughter and Mr. Murphy, to make a new +will, in which Mrs. Booth had a legacy of £10, and all the rest was +given to the other."</p> + +<p>"Good heaven, how wonderful is thy providence!" cries the doctor. +"Murphy, say you? Why, this Murphy is still my attorney."</p> + +<p>Within a short time Murphy was arrested, and the sick man's depositions +taken. Booth was released on the doctor's bail, and on the following +morning Amelia learnt of the change in fortune that had befallen them.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harrison himself broke the good news by reading the following +paragraph from the newspaper.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, one Murphy, an eminent attorney-at-law, was committed to +Newgate for the forgery of a will, under which an estate has been for many +years detained from the right owner."</p> + +<p>"Now," said the doctor, "in this paragraph there is something very +remarkable, and that is that it is true. But now let us read the following +note upon the words 'right owner.' 'The right owner of this estate is a +young lady of the highest merit, whose maiden name was Harris, and who some +time since was married to an idle fellow, one Lieutenant Booth; and the +best historians assure us that letters from the elder sister of this lady, +which manifestly prove the forgery and clear up the whole affair, are in +the hands of an old parson, called Dr. Harrison.'"</p> + +<p>"And is this really true?" cries Amelia.</p> + +<p>"Yes, really and sincerely," cries the doctor, "the whole estate--for +your mother left it you all; and it is as surely yours as if you were +already in possession."</p> + +<p>"Gracious heaven!" cries she, falling on her knees, "I thank you!" And +then, starting up, she ran to her husband, and embracing him, cried, "My +dear love, I wish you joy! It is upon yours and my children's account that +I principally rejoice."</p> + +<p>She then desired her children to be brought to her, whom she immediately +caught in her arms; and having profusely cried over them, soon regained her +usual temper and complexion.</p> + +<p>Miss Harris, having received a letter from Amelia, informing her of the +discovery and the danger in which she stood, immediately set out for +France, carrying with her all her money, most of her clothes, and some few +jewels.</p> + +<p>About a week afterwards, Booth and Amelia, with their children, and +Atkinson and his wife, all set forward together for Amelia's house, where +they arrived amidst the acclamations of all the neighbours, and every +public demonstration of joy.</p> + +<p>Miss Harris lived for three years with a broken heart at Boulogne, where +she received annually £50 from her sister; and then died in a most +miserable manner.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harrison is grown old in years and in honour, beloved and respected +by all his parishioners and neighbours.</p> + +<p>As to Booth and Amelia, fortune seems to have made them large amends for +the tricks she played them in their youth. They have continued to enjoy an +uninterrupted course of health and happiness. In about six weeks after +Booth's first coming into the country, he went to London and paid all his +debts, after which, and a stay of two days only, he returned into the +country, and has never since been thirty miles from home.</p> + +<p>Amelia is still the finest woman in England of her age; Booth himself +often avers she is as handsome as ever. Nothing can equal the serenity of +their lives.</p> + +<p>Amelia declared the other day that she did not remember to have seen her +husband out of humour these ten years!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="fielding2">Jonathan Wild</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Jonathan Wild," published in 1743, is in many respects +Fielding's most powerful piece of satire, surpassed only, perhaps, by +Thackeray's "Barry Lyndon." It can hardly be called a novel, and still less +a serious biography, though it is founded on the real history of a +notorious highway robber and thief. The author disclaimed in his preface +any attempt on his part at authentic history or faithful portraiture. +"Roguery, and not a rogue is my subject," he wrote; adding, that the ideas +of goodness and greatness are too often confounded together. "A man may be +great without being good, or good without being great." The story of +"Jonathan Wild" is really a bitter, satirical attack on what Fielding +called "the greatness which is totally devoid of goodness." He avowed it +his intention "to expose the character of this bombast greatness," and no +one can deny the success of his achievement. Surely no story was ever +written under more desperate circumstances. The evils of poverty, which at +this period were at their height, were aggravated by the serious illness of +his wife, and his own sufferings from attacks of gout. These troubles and +others may well increase our admiration for the genius which, in the face +of all difficulties, is shown in "Jonathan Wild." +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Mr. Wild's Early Exploits</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Jonathan Wild, who was descended from a long line of great men, was +born in 1665. His father followed the fortunes of Mr. Snap, who enjoyed a +reputable office under the sheriff of London and Middlesex; and his mother +was the daughter of Scragg Hollow, Esq., of Hockley-in-the-Hole. He was +scarce settled at school before he gave marks of his lofty and aspiring +temper, and was regarded by his schoolfellows with that deference which men +generally pay to those superior geniuses who will exact it of them. If an +orchard was to be robbed, Wild was consulted; and though he was himself +seldom concerned in the execution of the design, yet was he always +concerter of it, and treasurer of the booty, some little part of which he +would now and then, with wonderful generosity, bestow on those who took it. +He was generally very secret on these occasions; but if any offered to +plunder of his own head without acquainting Master Wild, and making a +deposit of the booty, he was sure to have an information against him lodged +with the schoolmaster, and to be severely punished for his pains.</p> + +<p>At the age of seventeen his father brought the young gentleman to town, +where he resided with him till he was of an age to travel.</p> + +<p>Men of great genius as easily discover one another as Freemasons can. It +was therefore no wonder that the Count la Ruse--who was confined in Mr. +Snap's house until the day when he should appear in court to answer a +certain creditor--soon conceived an inclination to an intimacy with our +young hero, whose vast abilities could not be concealed from one of the +count's discernment; for though the latter was exceedingly expert at his +cards, he was no match for Master Wild, who never failed to send him away +from the table with less in his pocket than he brought to it. With so much +ingenuity, indeed, could our young hero extract a purse, that his hands +made frequent visits to the count's pocket before the latter had +entertained any suspicion of him. But one night, when Wild imagined the +count asleep, he made so unguarded an attack upon him that the other caught +him in the act. However, he did not think proper to acquaint him with the +discovery he had made, but only took care for the future to button his +pockets and to pack the cards with double industry.</p> + +<p>In reality, this detection recommended these two prigs to each other, +for a wise man--that is to say, a rogue--considers a trick in life as a +gamester doth a trick at play. It sets him on his guard, but he admires the +dexterity of him who plays it.</p> + +<p>When our two friends met the next morning, the count began to bewail the +misfortune of his captivity, and the backwardness of friends to assist each +other in their necessities.</p> + +<p>Wild told him that bribery was the surest means of procuring his escape, +and advised him to apply to the maid, telling him at the same time that as +he had no money he must make it up with promises, which he would know how +to put off.</p> + +<p>The maid only consented to leave the door open when Wild, depositing a +guinea in the girl's hands, declared that he himself would swear that he +saw the count descending from the window by a pair of sheets.</p> + +<p>Thus did our young hero not only lend his rhetoric, which few people +care to do without a fee, but his money too, to procure liberty for his +friend. At the same time it would be highly derogatory from the great +character of Wild should the reader not understand that this was done +because our hero had some interested view in the count's enlargement.</p> + +<p>Intimacy and friendship subsisted between the count and Mr. Wild, and +the latter, now dressed in good clothes, was introduced into the best +company. They constantly frequented the assemblies, auctions, +gaming-tables, and play-houses, and Wild passed for a gentleman of great +fortune.</p> + +<p>It was then that an accident occurred that obliged Wild to go abroad for +seven years to his majesty's plantations in America; and there are such +various accounts, one of which only can be true, of this accident that we +shall pass them all over. It is enough that Wild went abroad, and stayed +seven years.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--An Example of Wild's Greatness</i></h4> + + +<p>The count was one night very successful at the gaming-table, where Wild, +who was just returned from his travels, was then present; as was likewise a +young gentleman whose name was Bob Bagshot, an acquaintance of Mr. Wild's. +Taking, therefore, Mr. Bagshot aside, he advised him to provide himself +with a case of pistols, and to attack the count on his way home.</p> + +<p>This was accordingly executed, and the count obliged to surrender to +savage force what he had in so genteel a manner taken at play. As one +misfortune never comes alone, the count had hardly passed the examination +of Mr. Bagshot when he fell into the hands of Mr. Snap, who carried him to +his house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wild and Mr. Bagshot went together to the tavern, where Mr. Bagshot +offered to share the booty. Having divided the money into two unequal +heaps, and added a golden snuffbox to the lesser heap, he desired Mr. Wild +to take his choice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wild immediately conveyed the larger share of the ready into his +pocket, according to an excellent maxim of his--"First secure what share +you can before you wrangle for the rest"; and then, turning to his +companion, he asked him whether he intended to keep all that sum himself. +"I grant you took it," Wild said; "but, pray, who proposed or counselled +the taking of it? Can you say that you have done more than execute my +scheme? The ploughman, the shepherd, the weaver, the builder, and the +soldier work not for themselves, but others; they are contented with a poor +pittance--the labourer's hire--and permit us, the great, to enjoy the +fruits of their labours. Why, then, should the state of a prig differ from +all others? Or why should you, who are the labourer only, the executor of +my scheme, expect a share in the profit? Be advised, therefore; deliver the +whole booty to me, and trust to my bounty for your reward."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bagshot not being minded to yield to these arguments, Wild adopted a +fiercer tone, and the other was glad to let him borrow a part of his share. +So that Wild got three-fourths of the whole before taking leave of his +companion.</p> + +<p>Wild then returned to visit his friend the count, now in captivity at +Mr. Snap's; for our hero was none of those half-bred fellows who are +ashamed to see their friends when they have plundered and betrayed +them.</p> + +<p>The count, little suspecting that Wild had been the sole contriver of +the misfortune which had befallen him, eagerly embraced him, and Wild +returned his embrace with equal warmth.</p> + +<p>While they were discoursing, Mr. Snap introduced Mr. Bagshot; for Mr. +Bagshot had lost what money he had from Mr. Wild at a gaming-table, and was +directly afterwards arrested for debt. Mr. Wild no sooner saw his friend +than he immediately presented him to the count, who received him with great +civility. But no sooner was Mr. Bagshot out of the room than the count said +to Wild, "I am very well convinced that Bagshot is the person who robbed +me, and I will apply to a justice of the peace."</p> + +<p>Wild replied with indignation that Mr. Bagshot was a man of honour, but, +as this had no weight with the count, he went on, more vehemently, "I am +ashamed of my own discernment when I mistook you for a great man. Prosecute +him, and you may promise yourself to be blown up at every gaming-house in +the town. But leave the affair to me, and if I find he hath played you this +trick, I will engage my own honour you shall in the end be no loser." The +count answered, "If I was sure to be no loser, Mr. Wild, I apprehend you +have a better opinion of my understanding than to imagine I would prosecute +a gentleman for the sake of the public."</p> + +<p>Wild having determined to make use of Bagshot as long as he could, and +then send him to be hanged, went to Bagshot next day and told him the count +knew all, and intended to prosecute him, and the only thing to be done was +to refund the money.</p> + +<p>"Refund the money!" cried Bagshot. "Why, you know what small part of it +fell to my share!"</p> + +<p>"How?" replied Wild. "Is this your gratitude to me for saving your life? +For your own conscience must convince you of your guilt."</p> + +<p>"Marry come up!" quoth Bagshot. "I believe my life alone will not be in +danger. Can you deny your share?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you rascal!" answered Wild. "I do deny everything, and do you find +a witness to prove it. I will show you the difference between committing a +robbery and conniving at it."</p> + +<p>So alarmed was Bagshot at the threats of Wild that he drew forth all he +found in his pockets, to the amount of twenty-one guineas, which he had +just gained at dice.</p> + +<p>Wild now returned to the count, and informed him that he had got ten +guineas of Bagshot, and by these means the count was once more enlarged, +and enabled to carry out a new plan of the great Wild.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Mr. Heartfree's Weakness</i></h4> + + +<p>By accident, Wild had met with a young fellow who had formerly been his +companion at school.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thomas Heartfree (for that was his name) was of an honest and open +disposition. He was possessed of several great weaknesses of mind, being +good-natured, friendly, and generous to a great excess.</p> + +<p>This young man, who was about Wild's age, had some time before set up in +the trade of a jeweller, in the materials for which he had laid out the +greatest part of a little fortune.</p> + +<p>He no sooner recognised Wild than he accosted him in the most friendly +manner, and invited him home with him to breakfast, which invitation our +hero, with no great difficulty, consented to.</p> + +<p>Wild, after vehement professions of friendship, then told him he had an +opportunity of recommending a gentleman, on the brink of marriage, to his +custom, "and," says he, "I will endeavour to prevail on him to furnish his +lady with jewels at your shop."</p> + +<p>Having parted from Heartfree, Wild sought out the count, who, in order +to procure credit from tradesmen, had taken a handsome house, +ready-furnished, in one of the new streets. He instructed the count to take +only one of Heartfree's jewels at the first interview, to reject the rest +as not fine enough, and order him to provide some richer. The count was +then to dispose of the jewel, and by means of that money, and his great +abilities at cards and dice, to get together as large a sum as possible, +which he was to pay down to Heartfree at the delivery of the set of +jewels.</p> + +<p>This method was immediately put in execution; and the count, the first +day, took only a single brilliant, worth about £300, and ordered a +necklace and earrings, of the value of £3,000 more, to be prepared by +that day week.</p> + +<p>This interval was employed by Wild in raising a gang, and within a few +days he had levied several bold and resolute fellows, fit for any +enterprise, how dangerous or great soever.</p> + +<p>The count disposed of his jewel for its full value, and by his dexterity +raised £1,000. This sum he paid down to Heartfree at the end of the +week, and promised him the rest within a month. Heartfree did not in the +least scruple giving him credit, but as he had in reality procured those +jewels of another, his own little stock not being able to furnish anything +so valuable. The count, in addition to the £1,000 in gold, gave him +his note for £2,800 more.</p> + +<p>As soon as Heartfree was departed, Wild came in and received the casket +from the count, and an appointment was made to meet the next morning to +come to a division of its contents.</p> + +<p>Two gentlemen of resolution, in the meantime, attacked Heartfree on his +way home, according to Wild's orders, and spoiled the enemy of the whole +sum he had received from the count. According to agreement, Wild, who had +made haste to overtake the conquerors, took nine-tenths of the booty, but +was himself robbed of this £900 before nightfall.</p> + +<p>As for the casket, when he opened it, the stones were but paste. For the +sagacious count had conveyed the jewels into his own pocket, and in their +stead had placed artificial stones. On Wild's departure the count hastened +out of London, and was well on his way to Dover when Wild knocked at his +door.</p> + +<p>Heartfree, wounded and robbed, had only the count's note left, and this +was returned to him as worthless, inquiries having proved that the count +had run away. So confused was poor Heartfree at this that his creditor for +the jewels was frightened, and at once had him arrested for the debt.</p> + +<p>Heartfree applied in vain for money to numerous customers who were +indebted to him; they all replied with various excuses, and the unhappy +wretch was soon taken to Newgate. He had been inclined to blame Wild for +his misfortunes, but our hero boldly attacked him for giving credit to the +count, and this degree of impudence convinced both Heartfree and his wife +of Wild's innocence, the more so as the latter promised to procure bail for +his friend. In this he was unsuccessful, and it was long before Heartfree +was released and restored to happiness.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Highest Pinnacle of Greatness</i></h4> + + +<p>Wild was a living instance that human greatness and happiness are not +always inseparable. He was under a continual alarm of frights and fears and +jealousies, and was thoroughly convinced there was not a single man amongst +his own gang who would not, for the value of five shillings, bring him to +the gallows.</p> + +<p>A clause in an act of parliament procured by a learned judge entrapped +Wild. Hitherto he had always employed less gifted men to carry out his +plans. Now, by this law it was made capital in a prig to steal with the +hands of other people, and it was impossible for our hero to avoid the +destruction so plainly calculated for his greatness.</p> + +<p>Wild, having received from some dutiful members of his gang a valuable +piece of goods, did, for a consideration, re-convey it to the right owner, +for which fact, being ungratefully informed against by the said owner, he +was surprised in his own house, and, being overpowered by numbers, was +hurried before a magistrate, and by him committed to Newgate.</p> + +<p>When the day of his trial arrived, our hero was, notwithstanding his +utmost caution and prudence, convicted and sentenced to be hanged by the +neck. He now suspected that the malice of his enemies would overpower him, +and therefore betook himself to that true support of greatness in +affliction--a bottle, by means of which he was enabled to curse, swear, and +bully, and brave his fate. Other comfort, indeed, he had not much, for not +a single friend ever came near him.</p> + +<p>From the time our hero gave over all hopes of life, his conduct was +truly great and admirable. Instead of showing any marks of contrition or +dejection, he rather infused more confidence and assurance into his looks. +He spent most of his hours in drinking with acquaintances, and with the +good chaplain; and being asked whether he was afraid to die, he answered, +"It's only a dance without music. A man can die but once. Zounds! Who's +afraid?"</p> + +<p>At length the morning came which Fortune had resolutely ordained for the +consummation of our hero's greatness; he had himself, indeed, modestly +declined the public honour she intended him, and had taken a quantity of +laudanum in order to retire quietly off the stage. But it is vain to +struggle against the decrees of fortune, and the laudanum proved +insufficient to stop his breath.</p> + +<p>At the usual hour he was acquainted that the cart was ready, and his +fetters having been knocked off in a solemn and ceremonious manner, after +drinking a bumper of brandy, he ascended the cart, where he was no sooner +seated than he received the acclamations of the multitude, who were highly +ravished with his greatness.</p> + +<p>The cart now moved slowly on, preceded by a troop of Horse Guards, +bearing javelins in their hands, through the streets lined with crowds all +admiring the great behaviour of our hero, who rode on, sometimes sighing, +sometimes swearing, sometimes singing or whistling, as his humour +varied.</p> + +<p>When he came to the tree of glory, he was welcomed with an universal +shout of the people; but there were not wanting some who maligned this +completion of glory, now about to be fulfilled by our hero, and endeavoured +to prevent it by knocking him on the head as he stood under the tree, while +the chaplain was performing his last office.</p> + +<p>They therefore began to batter the cart with stones, brick-bats, dirt, +and all manner of mischievous weapons, so that the ecclesiastic ended +almost in an instant, and conveyed himself into a place of safety in a +hackney coach.</p> + +<p>One circumstance must not be omitted. Whilst the chaplain was busy in +his ejaculations, Wild, in the midst of the shower of stones, etc., which +played upon him, true to his character, applied his hands to the parson's +pocket, and emptied it of his bottle-screw, which he carried out of the +world in his hand.</p> + +<p>The chaplain being now descended from the cart, Wild had just +opportunity to cast his eyes around the crowd, and to give them a hearty +curse, when immediately the horses moved on, and, with universal applause, +our hero swung out of this world.</p> + + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="fielding3">Joseph Andrews</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Joseph Andrews," Fielding's first novel, was published in +1742, and was intended to be a satire on Richardson's "Pamela" (see Vol. +VII), which appeared in 1740. He described it as "written in the manner of +Cervantes," and in Parson Adams there is the same quaint blending of the +humorous and the pathetic as in the Knight of La Mancha. Although such +characters as Lady Booby and Mrs. Slipslop are admittedly ridiculous, +Parson Adams remains an admirable study of a simple-minded clergyman of the +eighteenth century. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Virtues of Joseph Andrews</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Joseph Andrews was esteemed to be the only son of Gaffer and Gammer +Andrews, and brother to the illustrious Pamela.</p> + +<p>At ten years old (by which time his education was advanced to writing +and reading) he was bound an apprentice to Sir Thomas Booby, an uncle of +Mr. Booby's by the father's side. From the stable of Sir Thomas he was +preferred to attend as foot-boy on Lady Booby, to go on her errands, stand +behind her chair, wait at her tea-table, and carry her prayer-book to +church; at which place he behaved so well in every respect at divine +service that it recommended him to the notice of Mr. Abraham Adams, the +curate, who took an opportunity one day to ask the young man several +questions concerning religion, with his answers to which he was wonderfully +pleased.</p> + +<p>Mr. Abraham Adams was an excellent scholar, a man of good sense and good +nature, but at the same time entirely ignorant of the ways of the world. At +the age of fifty he was provided with a handsome income of twenty-three +pounds a year, which, however, he could not make any great figure with, +because he was a little encumbered with a wife and six children.</p> + +<p>Adams had no nearer access to Sir Thomas or my lady than through Mrs. +Slipslop, the waiting-gentlewoman, for Sir Thomas was too apt to estimate +men merely by their dress or fortune, and my lady was a woman of gaiety, +who never spoke of any of her country neighbours by any other appellation +than that of the brutes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Slipslop, being herself the daughter of a curate, preserved some +respect for Adams; she would frequently dispute with him, and was a mighty +affecter of hard words, which she used in such a manner that the parson was +frequently at some loss to guess her meaning.</p> + +<p>Adams was so much impressed by the industry and application he saw in +young Andrews that one day he mentioned the case to Mrs. Slipslop, desiring +her to recommend him to my lady as a youth very susceptible of learning, +and one whose instruction in Latin he would himself undertake, by which +means he might be qualified for a higher station than that of footman. He +therefore desired that the boy might be left behind under his care when Sir +Thomas and my lady went to London.</p> + +<p>"La, Mr. Adams," said Mrs. Slipslop, "do you think my lady will suffer +any preambles about any such matter? She is going to London very concisely, +and I am confidous would not leave Joey behind on any account, for he is +one of the genteelest young fellows you may see in a summer's day; and I am +confidous she would as soon think of parting with a pair of her grey mares, +for she values herself on one as much as the other. And why is Latin more +necessitous for a footman than a gentleman? I am confidous my lady would be +angry with me for mentioning it, and I shall draw myself into no such +delemy."</p> + +<p>So young Andrews went to London in attendance on Lady Booby, and became +acquainted with the brethren of his profession. They could not, however, +teach him to game, swear, drink, nor any other genteel vice the town +abounded with. He applied most of his leisure hours to music, in which he +greatly improved himself, so that he led the opinion of all the other +footmen at an opera. Though his morals remain entirely uncorrupted, he was +at the same time smarter and genteeler than any of the beaus in town either +in or out of livery.</p> + +<p>At this time an accident happened, and this was no other than the death +of Sir Thomas Booby, who left his disconsolate lady closely confined to her +house. During the first six days the poor lady admitted none but Mrs. +Slipslop and three female friends, who made a party at cards; but on the +seventh she ordered Joey, whom we shall hereafter call Joseph, to bring up +her teakettle.</p> + +<p>Lady Booby's affection for her footman had for some time been a matter +of gossip in the town, but it is certain that her innocent freedoms had +made no impression on young Andrews.</p> + +<p>Now, however, he thought my lady had become distracted with grief at her +husband's death, so strange was her conduct, and wrote to his sister Pamela +on the subject.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +If madam be mad, I shall not care for staying long in the +family, so I heartily wish you could get me a place at some neighbouring +gentleman's. I fancy I shall be discharged very soon, and the moment I am I +shall return to my old master's country seat, if it be only to see Parson +Adams, who is the best man in the world. London is a bad place, and there +is so little good fellowship that the next-door neighbours don't know one +another. Your loving brother,<br /> JOSEPH ANDREWS. +</p> + +<p>The sending of this letter was quickly followed by the discharge of the +writer. To Lady Booby's open declarations of love, Joseph replied that a +lady having no virtue was not a reason against his having any.</p> + +<p>"I am out of patience!" cries the lady, "did ever mortal hear of a man's +virtue? Will magistrates who punish lewdness, or parsons who preach against +it, make any scruple of committing it? And can a boy have the confidence to +talk of his virtue?"</p> + +<p>"Madam," says Joseph, "that boy is the brother of Pamela, and would be +ashamed that the chastity of his family, which is preserved in her, should +be stained in him. If there are such men as your ladyship mentions, I am +sorry for it, and I wish they had an opportunity of reading my sister +Pamela's letters; nor do I doubt but such an example would amend them."</p> + +<p>"You impudent villain!" cries the lady in a rage. "Get out of my sight, +and leave the house this night!"</p> + +<p>Joseph having received what wages were due, and having been stripped of +his livery, took a melancholy leave of his fellow-servants and set out at +seven in the evening.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Adventures on the Road</i></h4> + + +<p>It may be wondered why Joseph made such extraordinary haste to get out +of London, and why, instead of proceeding to the habitation of his father +and mother, or to his beloved sister Pamela, he chose rather to set out +full speed to Lady Booby's country seat, which he had left on his journey +to town.</p> + +<p>Be it known then, that in the same parish where this seat stood there +lived a young girl whom Joseph longed more impatiently to see than his +parents or his sister. She was a poor girl, formerly bred up in Sir +Thomas's house, and, discarded by Mrs. Slipslop on account of her +extraordinary beauty, was now a servant to a farmer in the parish.</p> + +<p>Fanny was two years younger than our hero, and had been always beloved +by him, and returned his affection. They had been acquainted from their +infancy, and Mr. Adams had, with much ado, prevented them from marrying, +and persuaded them to wait till a few years' service and thrift had a +little improved their experience, and enabled them to live comfortably +together.</p> + +<p>They followed this good man's advice, as, indeed, his word was little +less than a law in his parish, for during twenty-five years he had shown +that he had the good of his parishioners entirely at heart, so that they +consulted him on every occasion, and very seldom acted contrary to his +opinion.</p> + +<p>Honest Joseph therefore set out on his travels without delay, in order +that he might once more look upon his Fanny, from whom he had been absent +for twelve months.</p> + +<p>But on the road he was attacked by robbers, and, having been left +wounded in a ditch, was mercifully taken to an inn by some later +travellers.</p> + +<p>It was at this same inn that, to the great surprise on both sides, Mr. +Abraham Adams found Joseph.</p> + +<p>The parson informed his young friend, who was still sick in bed, that +the occasion of the journey he was making to London was to publish three +volumes of sermons, being encouraged, as he said, by an advertisement +lately set forth by the Society of Booksellers; but, though he imagined he +should get a considerable sum of money on this occasion, which his family +were in urgent need of, he protested he would not leave Joseph in his +present penniless condition. Finally, he told him he had nine shillings and +threepence-halfpenny in his pocket, which he was welcome to use as he +pleased.</p> + +<p>This goodness of Parson Adams brought tears into Joseph's eyes; he had +now a second reason to desire life, that he might show his gratitude to +such a friend.</p> + +<p>Before pursuing his journey Adams made the acquaintance of another +clergyman named Barnabas at the inn, who in his turn, hearing that Adams +was proposing to publish sermons, introduced him to a stranger who he said +was a bookseller.</p> + +<p>Adams, saluting the stranger, answered Barnabas that he was very much +obliged to him; that nothing could be more convenient, for he had no other +business to the great city, and was heartily desirous of returning with the +young man, who was just recovered of his misfortune. To induce the +bookseller to be as expeditious as possible, he assured them their meeting +was extremely lucky to himself, for that he had the most pressing occasion +for money at that time, his own being almost spent. "So that nothing," says +he, "could be so opportune as my making an immediate bargain with you."</p> + +<p>"Sir, sermons are mere drugs," said the stranger. "The trade is so +vastly stocked with them that really, unless they come out with the name of +Whitefield or Wesley, or some other such great man, as a bishop, or those +sort of people, I don't care to touch. However, I will, if you please, take +the manuscript with me to town, and send you my opinion of it in a very +short time."</p> + +<p>When, however, Adams began to describe the nature of his sermons the +bookseller drew back, on the ground that the clergy would be certain to cry +down such a book.</p> + +<p>An accident prevented Mr. Adams from pursuing a market for his sermons +any further, which he would have done in spite of the advice of Barnabas +and the bookseller. This accident was, that those sermons which the parson +was travelling to London to publish were left behind; what he had mistaken +for them in the saddle-bags were three shirts, which Mrs. Adams, who +thought her husband would need shirts rather than sermons on his journey, +had carefully provided for him.</p> + +<p>Joseph, concerned at the disappointment to his friend, begged him to +pursue his journey all the same, and promised he would himself return with +the books to him with the utmost expedition.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, child," answered Adams; "it shall not be so. What would +it avail me to tarry in the great city unless I had my discourses with me? +No; as this accident has happened, I am resolved to return back to my cure, +together with you; which, indeed, my inclination sufficiently leads me +to."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adams, whose credit was good wherever he was known, having borrowed +a guinea from a servant belonging to a coach-and-six, who had been formerly +one of his parishioners, discharged the bill for Joseph and himself, and +the two travellers set off.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--More Adventures</i></h4> + + +<p>Adams and Joseph Andrews being for a time separated on the road, through +the former's absent-mindedness, it fell to the lot of the parson to hasten +to the assistance of a damsel who in a lonely place was being attacked by +some ruffian.</p> + +<p>Adams was as strong as he was brave, and having rescued the maiden, took +her under his protection. It was too dark for either to identify the other, +but on Mr. Adams ejaculating the name of Joseph Andrews, for whose safety +he was anxious, his companion recognised his voice, and the parson was +quickly informed that it was Fanny who was by his side.</p> + +<p>The fact was the poor girl had heard of Joseph's misfortune from the +servants of a coach which had stopped at the inn while the poor youth was +confined to his bed; and she had that instant abandoned the cow she was +milking, and taking with her a little bundle of clothes under her arm, and +all the money she was worth in her own purse, immediately set forward in +pursuit of one whom she loved with inexpressible violence, though with the +purest and most delicate passion.</p> + +<p>Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age; she was tall and +delicately shaped. Her hair was a chestnut brown; her complexion was fair; +and, to conclude all, she had a natural gentility which surprised all who +beheld her.</p> + +<p>Can it be wondered that on the following day, when Adams and the damsel +overtook Andrews at a wayside ale-house, the youth imprinted numberless +kisses on her lips, while Parson Adams danced about the room in a rapture +of joy?</p> + +<p>It was so late when our travellers left the ale-house that they had not +travelled many miles before night overtook them. They moved forwards where +the nearest light presented itself; and having crossed a common field, they +came to a meadow where they seemed to be at a very little distance from the +light, when, to their grief, they arrived at the banks of a river. Adams +declared he could swim, but Joseph answered, if they walked along its banks +they might be certain of soon finding a bridge, especially as, by the +number of lights, they might be assured a parish was near.</p> + +<p>"That's true, indeed," said Adams. "I did not think of that."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Joseph's advice being taken, they passed over two meadows, +and came to a little orchard which led them to a house. Fanny begged of +Joseph to knock at the door, assuring him she was so weary that she could +hardly stand on her feet; and the door being immediately opened, a plain +kind of man appeared at it. Adams acquainted him that they had a young +woman with them, who was so tired with her journey that he should be much +obliged to him if he would suffer her to come in and rest herself.</p> + +<p>The man, who saw Fanny by the light of the candle which he held in his +hand, perceiving her innocent and modest look, and having no apprehensions +from the civil behaviour of Adams, presently answered that the young woman +was very welcome to rest herself in his house, and so were her company. He +then ushered them into a very decent room, where his wife was sitting at a +table; she immediately rose up, and assisted them in setting forth chairs, +and desired them to sit down.</p> + +<p>They now sat cheerfully round the fire till the master of the house, +having surveyed his guests, and conceiving that the cassock which appeared +under Adams's greatcoat, and the shabby livery of Joseph Andrews, did not +well suit the familiarity between them, began to entertain some suspicions +not much to their advantage. Addressing himself, therefore, to Adams, he +said he perceived he was a clergyman by his dress, and supposed that honest +man was his footman.</p> + +<p>"Sir," answered Adams, "I am a clergyman, at your service; but as to +that young man, whom you have rightly termed honest, he is at present in +nobody's service; he never lived in any other family than that of Lady +Booby, from whence he was discharged; I assure you, for no crime."</p> + +<p>The modest behaviour of Joseph, with the character which Adams gave of +him, entirely cured a jealousy which had lately been in the gentleman's +mind that Fanny was the daughter of some person of fashion and that Joseph +had run away with her, and Adams was concerned in the plot. Having had a +full account from Adams of Joseph's history he became enamoured of his +guests, drank their healths with great cheerfulness; and, at the parson's +request, told something of his own life.</p> + +<p>"Sir," says Adams, at the conclusion of the history, "fortune has, I +think, paid you all her debts in this sweet retirement."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied the gentleman, whose name was Wilson, "I have the best of +wives and three pretty children; but within three years of my arrival here +I lost my eldest son. If he had died I could have borne the loss with +patience; but, alas, he was stolen away from my door by some wicked +travelling people, whom they call gypsies; nor could I ever, with the most +diligent search, recover him. Poor child, he had the sweetest look! The +exact picture of his mother!" Mr. Wilson went on to say that he should know +his son amongst ten thousand, for he had a mark on his breast of a +strawberry.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Joseph Finds his Father</i></h4> + + +<p>Our travellers, having well refreshed themselves at Mr. Wilson's house, +renewed their journey next morning with great alacrity, and two days later +reached the parish they were seeking.</p> + +<p>The people flocked about Parson Adams like children round a parent; and +the parson, on his side, shook every one by the hand. Nor did Joseph and +Fanny want a hearty welcome from all who saw them. Adams carried his +fellow-travellers home to his house, where he insisted on their partaking +whatever his wife could provide, and on the very next Sunday he published, +for the first time, the banns of marriage between Joseph Andrews and Fanny +Goodwill.</p> + +<p>Lady Booby, who was now at her country seat again, was furious when she +heard in church these banns called, and at once sent for Mr. Adams, and +rated him soundly.</p> + +<p>"It is my orders that you publish these banns no more, and if you dare, +I will recommend it to your master, the rector, to discard you from his +service," says my lady. "The fellow Andrews is a vagabond, and shall not +settle here and bring a nest of beggars into the parish."</p> + +<p>"Madam," answered Adams, "I know not what your ladyship means by the +terms 'master' and 'service.' I am in the service of a Master who will +never discard me for doing my duty; and if the rector thinks proper to turn +me from my cure, God will provide me, I hope, another."</p> + +<p>The malice of Lady Booby did not stop at this; she endeavoured to get +Joseph and Fanny convicted on a trumped-up charge of trespass. In this base +wickedness she was defeated by her nephew, young Squire Booby, who had +married the virtuous Pamela, Joseph's sister; and at once stopped the +proceedings. More than that, he carried off Andrews to Lady Booby's, and on +his arrival, said, "Madam, as I have married a virtuous and worthy woman, I +am resolved to own her relations, and show them all respect; I shall think +myself, therefore, infinitely obliged to all mine who will do the same. It +is true her brother has been your servant, but he has now become my +brother."</p> + +<p>Lady Booby answered that she would be pleased to entertain Joseph +Andrews; but when the squire went on to speak of Fanny, his aunt put her +foot down resolutely against her civility to the young woman.</p> + +<p>And now both Pamela and her husband were inclined to urge Joseph to +break off the engagement with Fanny, but the young man would not give way, +and in this he was supported by Mr. Adams.</p> + +<p>The arrival of a peddler in the parish, who had shown some civility to +Adams and Andrews when they were travelling on the road, threatened the +marriage prospect much more dangerously for a time.</p> + +<p>According to the pedaler, who was a man of some education and birth, +Fanny had been stolen away from her home when an infant, and sold for three +guineas to Sir Thomas Booby; the name of her family was Andrews, and they +had a daughter of a very strange name, Pamela. This story he had received +from a dying woman when he had been a drummer in an Irish regiment.</p> + +<p>The only thing now to be done was to send for old Mr. Andrews and his +wife; and, in the meantime, the pedal was bidden to Booby Hall to tell the +whole story again. All who heard him were well satisfied of the truth, +except Pamela, who imagined as neither of her parents had ever mentioned +such an incident to her, it must be false; and except Lady Booby, who +suspected the falsehood of the story from her ardent desire that it should +be true; and Joseph, who feared its truth, from his earnest wishes that it +might prove false.</p> + +<p>On the following morning news came of the arrival of old Mr. Andrews and +his wife. Mr. Andrews assured Mr. Booby that he had never lost a daughter +by gypsies, nor ever had any other children than Joseph and Pamela. But old +Mrs. Andrews, running to Fanny, embraced her, crying out, "She is--she is +my child!"</p> + +<p>The company were all amazed at this disagreement, until the old woman +explained the mystery. During her husband's absence at Gibraltar, when he +was a sergeant in the army, a party of gypsies had stolen the little girl +who had been born to him, and left a small male child in her place. So she +had brought up the boy as her own.</p> + +<p>"Well," says Gaffer Andrews, "you have proved, I think, very plainly, +that this girl does not belong to us; I hope you are certain the boy is +ours."</p> + +<p>Then it turned out that Joseph had a strawberry mark on his left breast, +and this made the peddler, who knew all about Mr. Wilson's loss, satisfied +that Joseph was no other than Mr. Wilson's son.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Wilson had to be sent for, who, on his arrival, no sooner saw the +mark than he cried out with tears of joy, "I have discovered my son!"</p> + +<p>The banns having been duly called, there was now nothing to prevent the +wedding, which, having taken place, Joseph and his wife settled down in Mr. +Wilson's parish, Mr. Booby having given Fanny a fortune of £2,000. He +also presented Mr. Adams with a living of £130 a year.</p> + + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="fielding4">Tom Jones</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling," described in the +dedication as the "labour of some years of my life," appeared in six +volumes, on February 28, 1749, a short time after Fielding's appointment as +justice of peace for Westminster. Though its broad humour and coarseness of +expression are perhaps hard to bear in these times, it is by common consent +Fielding's masterpiece, and by way of being one of the greatest novels in +the language. For experience of life, observation of character, and sheer +humanity, it is certainly an outstanding specimen of the English novel and +manners. Like others of his books, "Tom Jones" was written during a period +of great mental strain. Ever haunted by poverty, Fielding acknowledges his +debt to his old schoolfellow Lyttelton, to whom he owed his "existence +during the composition of the book." The story was popular from the first. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Mr. Allworthy Makes a Discovery</i></h4> + + +<p>In that part of the country which is commonly called Somersetshire there +lately lived a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be +called the favourite of both nature and fortune. From the former of these +he derived an agreeable person, a sound constitution, a solid +understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter he was decreed to the +inheritance of one of the largest estates in the country.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one +sister, for whom he had a very tender affection. This lady, Miss Bridget +Allworthy, now somewhat past the age of thirty, was of that species of +women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London on some +very particular business, and having returned to his house very late in the +evening, retired, much fatigued, to his chamber. Here, after he had spent +some minutes on his knees--a custom which he never broke through on any +account--he was preparing to step into bed, when, upon opening the clothes, +to his great surprise, he beheld an infant wrapped up in some coarse linen, +in a sweet and profound sleep, between his sheets. He stood for some time +lost in astonishment at this sight; but soon began to be touched with +sentiments of compassion for the little wretch before him. He then rang his +bell, and ordered an elderly woman-servant to rise immediately and come to +him.</p> + +<p>The consternation of Mrs. Deborah Wilkins at the finding of the little +infant was rather greater than her master's had been; nor could she refrain +from crying out, with great horror, "My good sir, what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy answered she must take care of the child that evening, and +in the morning he would give orders to provide it a nurse.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," says she, "and I hope your worship will send out your +warrant to take up the hussy its mother. Indeed, such wicked sluts cannot +be too severely punished for laying their sins at honest men's doors; and +though your worship knows your own innocence, yet the world is censorious, +and if your worship should provide for the child it may make the people +after to believe. If I might be so bold as to give my advice, I would have +it put in a basket, and sent out and laid at the churchwarden's door. It is +a good night, only a little rainy and windy, and if it was well wrapped up +and put in a warm basket, it is two to one but it lives till it is found in +the morning. But if it should not, we have discharged our duty in taking +care of it; and it is, perhaps, better for such creatures to die in a state +of innocence than to grow up and imitate their mothers."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Allworthy had now got one of his fingers into the infant's hand, +which, by its gentle pressure, seeming to implore his assistance, certainly +outpleaded the eloquence of Mrs. Deborah. Mr. Allworthy gave positive +orders for the child to be taken away and provided with pap and other +things against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper clothes should be +procured for it early in the morning, and that it should be brought to +himself as soon as he was stirring.</p> + +<p>Such was the respect Mrs. Wilkins bore her master, under whom she +enjoyed a most excellent place, that her scruples gave way to his +peremptory commands, and, declaring the child was a sweet little infant, +she walked off with it to her own chamber.</p> + +<p>Allworthy betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which a heart that +hungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughly satisfied.</p> + +<p>In the morning Mr. Allworthy told his sister he had a present for her, +and, when Mrs. Wilkins produced the little infant, told her the whole story +of its appearance.</p> + +<p>Miss Bridget took the good-natured side of the question, intimated some +compassion for the helpless little creature, and commended her brother's +charity in what he had done. The good lady subsequently gave orders for +providing all necessaries for the child, and her orders were indeed so +liberal that had it been a child of her own she could not have exceeded +them.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Foundling Achieves Manhood</i></h4> + + +<p>Miss Bridget having been asked in marriage by one Captain Blifil, a +half-pay officer, and the nuptials duly celebrated, Mrs. Blifil was in +course of time delivered of a fine boy.</p> + +<p>Though the birth of an heir to his beloved sister was a circumstance of +great joy to Mr. Allworthy, yet it did not alienate his affections from the +little foundling to whom he had been godfather, and had given his own name +of Thomas; the surname of Jones being added because it was believed that +was the mother's name.</p> + +<p>He told his sister, if she pleased, the newborn infant should be bred up +together with little Tommy, to which she consented, for she had truly a +great complaisance for her brother.</p> + +<p>The captain, however, could not so easily bring himself to bear what he +condemned as a fault in Mr. Allworthy; for his meditations being chiefly +employed on Mr. Allworthy's fortune, and on his hopes of succession, he +looked on all the instances of his brother-in-law's generosity as +diminutions of his own wealth.</p> + +<p>But one day, while the captain was exulting in the happiness which would +accrue to him by Mr. Allworthy's death, he himself died of apoplexy.</p> + +<p>So the two boys grew up together under the care of Mr. Allworthy and +Mrs. Blifil, and by the time he was fourteen Tom Jones--who, according to +universal opinion, was certainly born to be hanged--had been already +convicted of three robberies--<i>viz</i>., of robbing an orchard, of +stealing a duck out of a farmer's yard, and of picking Master Blifil's +pocket of a ball.</p> + +<p>The vices of this young man were, moreover, heightened by the +disadvantageous light in which they appeared when opposed to the virtues of +Master Blifil, his companion. He was, indeed, a lad of remarkable +disposition--sober, discreet, and pious beyond his age; and many expressed +their wonder that Mr. Allworthy should suffer such a lad as Tom Jones to be +educated with his nephew lest the morals of the latter should be corrupted +by his example.</p> + +<p>To say the truth, the whole duck, and great part of the apples, were +converted to the use of Tom's friend, the gamekeeper, and his family; +though, as Jones alone was discovered, the poor lad bore not only the whole +smart, but the whole blame.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy had committed the instruction of the two boys to a learned +divine, the Reverend Mr. Thwackum, who resided in the house; but though Mr. +Allworthy had given him frequent orders to make no difference between the +lads, yet was Thwackum altogether as kind and gentle to Master Blifil as he +was harsh, nay, even barbarous, to the other. In truth, Blifil had greatly +gained his master's affections; partly by the profound respect he always +showed his person, but much more by the decent reverence with which he +received his doctrine, for he had got by heart, and frequently repeated, +his phrases, and maintained all his master's religious principles, with a +zeal which was surprising in one so young.</p> + +<p>Tom Jones, on the other hand, was not only deficient in outward tokens +of respect, often forgetting to pull off his cap at his master's approach, +but was altogether unmindful both of his master's precepts and example.</p> + +<p>At the, age of twenty, however, Tom, for his love of hunting, had become +a great favourite with Mr. Allworthy's neighbour, Squire Western; and +Sophia, Mr. Western's only child, lost her heart irretrievably to him +before she suspected it was in danger. On his side, Tom was truly sensible +of the great worth of Sophia. He liked her person extremely, no less +admired her accomplishments, and tenderly loved her goodness. In reality, +as he had never once entertained any thoughts of possessing her, nor had +ever given the least voluntary indulgence to his inclinations, he had a +much stronger passion for her than he himself was acquainted with.</p> + +<p>An accident occurred on the hunting-field in saving Sophia from her too +mettlesome horse kept Jones a prisoner for some time in Mr. Western's +house, and during those weeks he not only found that he loved Sophia with +an unbounded passion, but he plainly saw the tender sentiments she had for +him; yet could not this assurance lessen his despair of obtaining the +consent of her father, nor the horrors which attended his pursuit of her by +any base or treacherous method.</p> + +<p>Hence, at the approach of the young lady, he grew pale; and, if this was +sudden, started. If his eyes accidentally met hers, the blood rushed into +his cheeks, and his countenance became all over scarlet. If he touched her, +his hand, nay, his whole frame, trembled.</p> + +<p>All these symptoms escaped the notice of the squire, but not so of +Sophia. She soon perceived these agitations of mind in Jones, and was at no +loss to discover the cause; for, indeed, she recognised it in her own +breast. In a word, she was in love with him to distraction. It was not long +before Jones was able to attend her to the harpsichord, where she would +kindly condescend for hours together to charm him with the most delicious +music.</p> + +<p>The news that Mr. Allworthy was dangerously ill (for a servant had +brought word that he was dying) broke off Tom's stay at Mr. Western's, and +drove all the thoughts of love out of his head. He hurried instantly into +the chariot which was sent for him, and ordered the coachman to drive with +all imaginable haste; nor did the idea of Sophia once occur to him on the +way.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Tom Jones Falls into Disgrace</i></h4> + + +<p>On the night when the physician announced that Mr. Allworthy was out of +danger Jones was thrown into such immoderate excess of rapture by the news +that he might be truly said to be drunk with joy--an intoxication which +greatly forwards the effects of wine; and as he was very free, too, with +the bottle, on this occasion he became very soon literally drunk.</p> + +<p>Jones had naturally violent animal spirits, and Thwackum, resenting his +speeches, only the doctor's interposition prevented wrath kindling. After +which, Jones gave loose to mirth, sang two or three amorous songs, and fell +into every frantic disorder which unbridled joy is apt to inspire; but so +far was he from any disposition to quarrel that he was ten times +better-humoured, if possible, than when he was sober.</p> + +<p>Blifil, whose mother had died during her brother's illness, was highly +offended at a behaviour which was so inconsistent with the sober and +prudent reserve of his own temper. The recent death of his mother, he +declared, made such conduct very indecent.</p> + +<p>"It would become them better," he said, "to express the exultations of +their hearts at Mr. Allworthy's recovery in thanksgiving, than in +drunkenness and riot."</p> + +<p>Wine had not so totally overpowered Jones as to prevent him recollecting +Blifil's loss the moment it was mentioned. He at once offered to shake Mr. +Blifil by the hand, and begged his pardon, saying his excessive joy for Mr. +Allworthy's recovery had driven every other thought out of his mind.</p> + +<p>Blifil scornfully rejected his hand, and with an insulting illusion to +the misfortune of Jones's birth provoked the latter to blows. The scuffle +which ensued might have produced mischief had it not been for the +interference of Thwackum and the physician.</p> + +<p>Blifil, however, only waited for an opportunity to be revenged on Jones, +and the occasion was soon forthcoming when Mr. Allworthy was fully +recovered from his illness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Western had found out that his daughter was in love with Tom Jones, +and at once decided that she should marry Blifil, to whom Sophia professed +great abhorrence.</p> + +<p>As for Blifil, the success of Jones was much more grievous to him than +the loss of Sophia, whose estate, indeed, was dearer to him than her +person.</p> + +<p>Mr. Western swore that his daughter shouldn't have a ha'penny, nor the +twentieth part of a brass farthing, if she married Jones; and Blifil, with +many sighs, professed to his uncle that he could not bear the thought of +Sophia being ruined by her preference for Jones.</p> + +<p>"This lady, I am sure, will be undone in every sense; for, besides the +loss of most part of her own fortune, she will be married to a beggar. Nay, +that is a trifle; for I know him to be one of the worst men in the +world."</p> + +<p>"How?" said Mr. All worthy. "I command you to tell me what you +mean."</p> + +<p>"You know, sir," said Blifil, "I never disobeyed you. In the very day of +your utmost danger, when myself and all the family were in tears, he filled +the house with riot and debauchery. He drank, and sang, and roared; and +when I gave him a gentle hint of the indecency of his actions, he fell into +a violent passion, swore many oaths, called me rascal, and struck me. I am +sure I have forgiven him that long ago. I wish I could so easily forget his +ingratitude to the best of benefactors."</p> + +<p>Thwackum was now sent for, and corroborated every circumstance which the +other had deposed.</p> + +<p>Poor Jones was too full of grief at the thought that Western had +discovered the whole affair between him and Sophia to make any adequate +defence. He could not deny the charge of drunkenness, and out of modesty +sunk everything that related particularly to himself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy answered that he was now resolved to banish him from his +sight for ever. "Your audacious attempt to steal away a young lady calls +upon me to justify my own character in punishing you. And there is no part +of your character which I resent more than your ill-treatment of that good +young man (meaning Blifil), who hath behaved with so much tenderness and +honour towards you."</p> + +<p>A flood of tears now gushed from the eyes of Jones, and every faculty of +speech and motion seemed to have deserted him. It was some time before he +was able to obey Allworthy's peremptory commands of departing, which he at +length did, having first kissed his hands with a passion difficult to be +affected, and as difficult to be described.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy, however, did not permit him to leave the house penniless, +but presented him with a note for £500. He then commanded him to go +immediately, and told Jones that his clothes, and everything else, should +be sent to him whithersoever he should order them.</p> + +<p>Jones had hardly set out, which he did with feelings of agony and +despair, before Sophia Western decided that only in flight could she be +saved from marriage with the detested Blifil.</p> + +<p>Mr. Western, in spite of tremendous love for his daughter, thought her +inclinations of as little consequence as Blifil himself conceived them to +be; and Mr. Allworthy, who said "he would on no account be accessory to +forcing a young lady into a marriage contrary to her own will," was +satisfied by his nephew's disingenuous statement that the young lady's +behaviour to him was full as forward as he wished it.</p> + +<p>Sophia, having appointed her maid to meet her at a certain place not far +from the house, exactly at the ghostly and dreadful hour of twelve, began +to prepare for her own departure.</p> + +<p>But first she was obliged to give a painful audience to her father, and +he treated her in so violent and outrageous a manner that he frightened her +into an affected compliance with his will, which so highly pleased the good +squire that he at once changed his frowns into smiles, and his menaces into +promises.</p> + +<p>He vowed his whole soul was wrapped in hers, that her consent had made +him the happiest of mankind.</p> + +<p>He then gave her a large bank-bill to dispose of in any trinkets she +pleased, and kissed and embraced her in the fondest manner.</p> + +<p>Sophia reverenced her father piously and loved him passionately, but the +thoughts of her beloved Jones quickly destroyed all the regretful +promptings of filial love.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Tom Jones's Restoration</i></h4> + + +<p>After many adventures on the road Mr. Jones reached London; and as he +had often heard Mr. Allworthy mention the gentlewoman at whose house in +Bond Street he used to lodge when he was in town, he sought the house, and +was soon provided with a room there on the second floor. Mrs. Miller, the +person who let these lodgings, was the widow of a clergyman, and Mr. +Allworthy had settled an annuity of £50 a year on her, "in +consideration of always having her first floor when he was in town."</p> + +<p>Tom Jones's fortunes were now very soon at the lowest. Having been +forced into a quarrel in the streets with an acquaintance named +Fitzpatrick, and having wounded him with his sword, a number of fellows +rushed in and carried Jones off to the civil magistrate, who, being +informed that the wound appeared to be mortal, straightway committed the +prisoner to the Gatehouse.</p> + +<p>Sophia Western was also in London at the house of her aunt; and soon +afterwards Mr. Western, Mr. Allworthy, and Blifil all reached the city.</p> + +<p>It was just at this time that Mr. Allworthy, consenting to his nephew +once more offering himself to Sophia, came with Blifil to his accustomed +lodgings in Bond Street. Mrs. Miller, to whom Jones had showed many +kindnesses, at once put in a good word for the unfortunate young man; and, +on Blifil exulting over the manslaughter Jones was alleged to have +committed, declared that the wounded man, whoever he was, was in fault. +This, indeed, was shortly afterwards corroborated by Fitzpatrick himself, +who acknowledged his mistake.</p> + +<p>But it was not till Mr. Allworthy discovered that Blifil had been +arranging with a lawyer to get the men who had arrested Jones to bear false +witness, and learnt further that Tom Jones was his sister Bridget's child, +and that on her death-bed Mrs. Blifil's message to her brother confessing +the fact had been suppressed by her son, that his old feelings of affection +for Tom Jones returned. Before setting out to visit Jones in the prison Mr. +Allworthy called on Sophia to inform her that he regretted Blifil had ever +been encouraged to give her annoyance, and that Mr. Jones was his nephew +and his heir.</p> + +<p>Men over-violent in their dispositions are, for the most part, as +changeable in them. No sooner was Western informed of Mr. Allworthy's +intention to make Jones his heir than he joined heartily with the uncle in +every commendation of the nephew, and became as eager for his daughter's +marriage with Jones as he had before been to couple her to Blifil.</p> + +<p>Fitzpatrick being recovered of his wound, and admitting the aggression, +Jones was released from custody and returned to his lodgings to meet Mr. +Allworthy.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than this +meeting between the uncle and nephew. Allworthy received Jones into his +arms. "O my child!" he cried, "how have I been to blame! How have I injured +you! What amends can I ever make you for those unkind suspicions which +I have entertained, and for all the sufferings they have occasioned +you?"</p> + +<p>"Am I not now made amends?" cried Jones. "Would not my sufferings, had +they been ten times greater, have been now richly repaid?"</p> + +<p>Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Western, who +could no longer be kept away even by the authority of Allworthy himself. +Western immediately went up to Jones, crying out, "My old friend Tom, I am +glad to see thee, with all my heart. All past must be forgotten. Come along +with me; I'll carry thee to thy mistress this moment."</p> + +<p>Here Allworthy interposed; and the squire was obliged to consent to +delay introducing Jones to Sophia till the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Blifil, now thoroughly exposed in his treachery, was at first sullen and +silent, balancing in his mind whether he should yet deny all; but finding +at last the evidence too strong against him, betook himself to confession, +and was now as remarkably mean as he had been before remarkably wicked. Mr. +Allworthy subsequently settled £200 a year upon him, to which Jones +hath privately added a third. Upon this income Blifil lives in one of the +northern counties. He is also lately turned Methodist, in hopes of marrying +a very rich widow of that sect. Sophia would not at first permit any +promise of an immediate engagement with Jones because of certain stories of +his inconstancy, but Mr. Western refused to hear of any delay.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow or next day?" says Western, bursting into the room where +Sophia and Jones were alone.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir," says she, "I have no such intention."</p> + +<p>"But I can tell thee," replied he, "why hast not; only because thou dost +love to be disobedient, and to plague and vex thy father. When I forbid +her, then it was all nothing but sighing and whining, and languishing and +writing; now I am for thee--(this to Jones)--she is against thee. All the +spirit of contrary, that's all. She is above being guided and governed by +her father, that is the whole truth on't. It is only to disoblige and +contradict me."</p> + +<p>"What would my papa have me do?" cries Sophia.</p> + +<p>"What would I ha' thee do?" says he, "why gee un thy hand this +moment."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Sophia, "I will obey you. There is my hand, Mr. +Jones."</p> + +<p>"Well, and will you consent to ha' un to-morrow morning?" says +Western.</p> + +<p>"I will be obedient to you, sir," cries she.</p> + +<p>"Why, then, to-morrow morning be the day," cries he.</p> + +<p>"Why, then, to-morrow morning shall be the day, papa, since you will +have it so," said Sophia. Jones then fell upon his knees and kissed her +hand in an agony of joy, while Western began to caper and dance about the +room, presently crying out, "Where the devil is Allworthy?" He then sallied +out in quest of him, and very opportunely left the lovers to enjoy a few +tender minutes alone.</p> + +<p>But he soon returned with Allworthy, saying, "If you won't believe me, +you may ask her yourself. Hast not gin thy consent, Sophy, to be married +to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Such are your commands, sir," cries Sophia, "and I dare not be guilty +of disobedience."</p> + +<p>"I hope there is not the least constraint," cries Allworthy.</p> + +<p>"Why, there," cried Western, "you may bid her unsay all again if you +will. Dost repent heartily of thy promise, dost not, Sophy?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, papa," cried she. "I do not repent, nor do I believe I ever +shall, of any promise in favour of Mr. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Then, nephew," cries Allworthy, "I felicitate you most heartily, for I +think you are the happiest of men."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allworthy, Mr. Western, and Mrs. Miller were the only persons +present at the wedding, and within two days of that event Mr. Jones and +Sophia attended Mr. Western and Mr. Allworthy into the country.</p> + +<p>There is not a neighbour or a servant, who doth not most gratefully +bless the day when Mr. Jones was married to Sophia.</p> + + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="flammarion">CAMILLE FLAMMARION</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="flammarion1">Urania</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Camille Flammarion is one of the most remarkable of modern +French scientists. Born on February 25, 1842, he was apprenticed at an +early age to an engraver, but, attracted by astronomy, he studied so well +that, when a lad of sixteen, he was admitted as a pupil to the Paris +Observatory. There is no doubt that the great French mathematician, Le +Verrier, regarded Flammarion with a certain disdain as more of a poet than +an astronomer; but he soon vindicated, by several important discoveries, +his title to be regarded as a man of science. "Urania," which appeared in +1889, is an excellent example of his ability as a thinker, and of his charm +as a writer. The work is hardly a novel, though it is far more popular than +many books of fiction. It is really an essay in philosophy dealing with the +question of the immortality of the soul; and it has an especial interest +for English readers owing to the fact that much in it that seems to be pure +fantasy is based on researches undertaken by the British Society for +Psychical Research. The plot and the characters are of secondary +importance; they are only used for the purpose of illustrating certain +ideas. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Muse of Astronomy</i></h4> + + +<p>I was seventeen years old when I fell in love with Urania. Was she a +fair, young, blue-eyed daughter of Eve? No; she was an exquisite statue of +the Muse of Astronomy, chiselled by Pradier in the days of the Empire. She +stood on the mantelpiece in the study of the famous mathematician, Le +Verrier, who directed the Paris Observatory, where I was working. At four +o'clock in the afternoon my illustrious chief used to depart, and I would +then steal into his room and sit down before Urania and dream of lovelier +worlds than ours, hidden in the infinite spaces of the starry sky. +Sometimes my friend and companion in studies, Georges Spero, would come and +sit beside me; and, inspired by the immortal beauty of Urania, we would let +our young and ardent imaginations play over the glories and wonders of the +heavens.</p> + +<p>"You will be too late for Jupiter," said Le Verrier, entering +unexpectedly one evening, and catching me in an attitude of adoration +before Urania. "I am afraid you are more of a poet than an astronomer."</p> + +<p>The great man of science himself certainly did not love beauty as much +as he loved wisdom, for the next day he sold the lovely image of Urania in +order to buy an old Chinese astronomical clock. I was almost heartbroken +when I entered his room and found that Urania had disappeared. With her had +gone the vivifying power of imagination which had transmuted the abstruse +calculations on which I was engaged into glimpses of heavenly visions of +infinite life. With what wild joy then did I see, when I returned home, +Urania shining in all her loveliness on my own mantelpiece. Knowing my love +for the beautiful figure of the muse, Georges Spero had bought it back from +the watchmaker to whom Le Verrier had sent it, and placed it in my room as +a gift.</p> + +<p>It was an extraordinary mark of friendship, for Georges loved Urania +even more passionately than I did. To him she was the personification of +everything in life that lifted man above the level of the brute.</p> + +<p>Possessing a nobler and finer intellect than mine, he had thrown himself +into the study of the problems of the soul with a fury of passion and a +concentration of thought that almost killed him. Are our souls immortal, or +do they perish with our bodies? This was the question that tormented him to +madness. One night I found him sitting in his room in the Place du +Panthéon with a glass of poison in his hand.</p> + +<p>"This is the quickest road to the knowledge I want," he said, with a +smile. "I shall soon know if the soul is immortal."</p> + +<p>He had been dissecting a skull; and by his side was a microscope with +which he had been studying the grey matter of the brain. Convinced at last +of the uncertainty of the positive sciences, he had fallen into violent +despair. But Urania was at hand to comfort him, and his mind became calmer +and clearer when we ceased to talk about earthly things, and ascended into +high regions of philosophic speculation over which the muse of heaven +presides.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Camille," he exclaimed, "the Uranian way is the best. It is only by +studying the heavens that we shall be able to understand this little earth +of ours, and the part we play in it. Look at the midnight sky, streaming +with the light of infinite suns, and filled with an unending procession of +worlds in which the spirit of life clothes itself in an unimaginable +variety of forms. This clot of dust on which we live will grow cold, and +break and scatter in the abysses of space. But it is not our home; we are +only passengers, and when our journey here is done, fairer mansions are +waiting for us in the depths of the sky. If I die before you, I will return +and convince you of this truth."</p> + +<p>Returning to the study of astronomy, Spero built up a system of +philosophy which made him, at the age of twenty-five, one of the most +famous men in France.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Love and Death</i></h4> + + +<p>By way of relief from his severer work, Georges Spero resolved to go to +Norway and study the wild and beautiful phenomena of the Aurora Borealis, +and I went with him. One morning, as we were standing on a mountain looking +at a magnificent sunrise, I saw a girl climbing a neighbouring peak. She +did not perceive us; but when she reached the summit the image of Spero was +thrown on a cloud in front of her, by one of those curious plays of +sunlight and mist which sometimes occur in hazy, mountainous regions. His +fine, austere features and graceful figure were enlarged into a vast, +god-like apparition, with a halo of bright colours shining like a glory +around his head, and a fainter circle of rainbow hues framing his whole +form. It was the first anthelia that the lovely girl had seen, and it +filled her with wonder and awe.</p> + +<p>Theirs was a strange courtship--Spero's and Iclea's. The lovely young +Norwegian lady had recently lost her mother, and being, like many of the +cultivated women of Northern Europe, somewhat dubious of the dogmas of +religion, she had found death a terrible mystery when it was thus brought +sharply home to her. She was wandering in the dreadful labyrinth of modern +doubt, vainly seeking to forget her trouble in the excitements of +mountaineering, when she saw the unearthly apparition of the young French +philosopher. A study of his works heightened the feeling of awe with which +she already regarded him. At first there was no room for love in the +passionate desire after knowledge which drew her to him. She was merely a +disciple sitting at the feet of the great master. Accompanied by her +father, she continued her studies under him when he returned to Paris, and +for three months they were bound together wholly by intellectual interest. +For several hours every day they studied side by side, and much of Iclea's +time was spent in translating papers in foreign languages, bearing on +subjects in which Georges was interested. One morning he arrived earlier +than usual, his eyes shining with joy.</p> + +<p>"I have settled the problem," he cried, leaning against the mantelpiece. +"At least," he added, with his usual modesty, "I have settled it to my own +satisfaction."</p> + +<p>Striding up and down the room, he rapidly sketched out a system of +philosophy in which the ultimate truths of modern science were transformed +into the bases of religion. Iclea listened to him in silence as he went on +to explain the spiritual forces still dormant in the human soul.</p> + +<p>"We are still in our spiritual infancy," he said. "It is scarcely four +thousand years since mankind began to manifest its higher powers. Our +greatest conquests over nature are all of recent date, and they are the +work of a few noble souls who have erected themselves above the animal +conditions of life. The reign of brute force is over, and I am certain that +as soon as we learn to exercise the powers of our soul we shall acquire +transcendental faculties that will enable us to transport ourselves from +one world to another."</p> + +<p>"That, too, is my belief," said Iclea.</p> + +<p>Georges bent over her and gazed into her eyes of heavenly blue through +which her very soul was speaking. There was a strange silence, and then +their lips met.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For some months I lost sight of my two friends. In the ecstasy of their +love they forgot for a while the problems of philosophy which had brought +them together. The joys of intellectual communion were submerged and almost +lost in the new, strange feeling which crowned and glorified their lives. +Hand in hand the lovers wandered about Paris, which had now become to them +a city in fairyland. Meeting them one evening on the banks of the Seine, I +learned that they were returning to Norway with Iclea's father, and that +they were to be married at Christiania on the anniversary of the mysterious +apparition on the mountain which had brought them together. Georges was +about to resume his interrupted studies of the Aurora Borealis, which he +wished to trace to its source by means of a balloon ascent, and Iclea +intended to accompany him in his voyage through the air.</p> + +<p>To my great regret I was unable to go with them to Norway, as my duties +as an astronomer kept me in Paris. I anxiously awaited that extraordinary +agitation of the magnetic needle which announces the existence of an Aurora +Borealis in Northern Europe. When at last the magnetic perturbation +occurred in the observatory, I rejoiced to think that Spero and his bride +were floating high, feasting their eyes on the most gorgeous of +spectacles.</p> + +<p>But suddenly an indefinable feeling of uneasiness came over me, which +grew into a dreadful presentiment of disaster. Long before the telegram +arrived from Christiania I knew what had happened. Georges and Iclea were +dead!</p> + +<p>Every reader of the newspapers next morning knew as much as I did. An +escape of gas which could not be stopped sent the balloon hurtling to the +earth. Spero threw everything movable out of the car in a vain attempt to +lighten it and break the force of the descent. The balloon still kept +falling; then Iclea, with a wild courage born of love, saved Georges' life +by leaping out of the car. Relieved of her weight, the balloon rose up, but +Spero had now no wish to live. He jumped out with a wild cry, and his body +crashed on the edge of the lake into which Iclea had fallen. There the +mortal remains of the two lovers now lie, covered by a single stone. But +where were their souls?</p> + +<p>One night Georges Spero remembered his promise to me, and returned to +earth.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--A Soul from Mars</i></h4> + + +<p>Sitting alone on the top of the ancient castle of Montlhéry, I +was conducting an experiment in optics by means of electrical +communications with two assistants at Paris and Juvisy. I was trying to +find out if the rays of different colours in the spectrum travel at the +same rate. It was just on midnight before I brought the experiment to a +successful conclusion. As I covered up my instruments, some one said, "You +would not have brought that off, Camille, if it had not been for me. I gave +you the idea of comparing the violet vibrations with the red."</p> + +<p>I turned round with a cry of fear. Georges Spero was sitting in the +moonlight on the parapet, looking at me with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid of me, Camille?" he said.</p> + +<p>"You, Georges! You!" I stammered. "Is it really you? Keep still, and let +me touch you."</p> + +<p>I put my hands on his face, and stroked his hair, and felt his body. I +could no longer doubt that I had him before me in the actual flesh, but he +read my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Camille," he said. "My real body is asleep on +Mars."</p> + +<p>"So you still live?" I exclaimed. "You have solved the great problem. +And Iclea?"</p> + +<p>"Let us sit here and talk," he replied. "There are many things I want to +tell you."</p> + +<p>My fears had vanished, and I sat by my beloved friend.</p> + +<p>"It seemed to me," said Georges, "that my fall from the balloon knocked +me senseless. When I came to, I was lying in the darkness with the ripple +of lake-water breaking on my ear. What amazed me was a strange sense of +lightness that made me feel I could rise up and float away if I wanted to. +Thinking this was a disorder of the mind, I did not attempt to move, but +watched with wondering eyes the sky above me. It was lighted by two strange +moons. When the day broke, and showed around me a world of unimaginable +splendour, I knew the meaning of the two moons and of my strange feeling of +lightness. I was a disembodied spirit that had been transported to +Mars.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Camille, that the soul is able to choose its mortal +covering? This is, at least, the case on Mars. For some time I wandered +about in an invisible form, studying the conditions of life there. Animal +strength, I found, counted for nothing. The Martians are an aerial race, +with exquisite senses, which respond in a way unknown on earth to spiritual +influences. Do you remember I read your thoughts when we first met, and +answered them before you spoke? That is one of the Martians' gifts. Finding +that these wonderful faculties were better developed in the women of Mars +than in the men, I chose the feminine form for my reincarnation."</p> + +<p>"And Iclea?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Iclea," said Spero, "was re-born in a masculine shape. It was partly +because of the mystic attraction that I felt for her that I chose the other +form. Neither of us remembered our earthly existence, but a vague yet deep +sentiment of our spiritual relationship made me seek her out and unite +myself to her. It was your beloved muse Uriana," he added, "who revealed +the ties that bound us in our former lives.</p> + +<p>"Owing to their superior faculties, the Martians have carried every +science to a perfection undreamt of on this earth. In astronomical +observations, for instance, they employ a system of telephotography. For +thousands of years their instruments have been photographing, on an +unending roll of paper, the wild spectacle of terrestrial life.</p> + +<p>"One day, as Iclea and I were examining recent photographs, we saw a +picture of Paris during the Great Exhibition. Seizing a microscope, we +looked at the figures, and recognised ourselves among them. Strange +memories stirred within us, and we stared at each other in silent +amazement. Suddenly I remembered the sacred words I learnt at my mother's +knee. Yes, there were many mansions in our Father's house! The +blood-stained planet from which we had escaped was neither the cradle nor +the grave of His children.</p> + +<p>"Then we wept as we thought of the cruelty, ignorance, misery, and +grossness of existence on earth. It was, dear Camille, with no joy that I +recollected the promise I had made to you. But, you see, I have carried it +out. I wish to convince you, and, through you, all the rest of mankind, +that the soul is immortal, and that the earth is only a temporary stage of +existence in a spiritual progress in which the whole universe is +included."</p> + +<p>"But how is it possible for you, Georges," I interrupted, "to appear to +me in the body you wore on earth?"</p> + +<p>"All this," said Spero, touching his body, "is an illusion. Do you not +recollect my saying that only invisible things are real? You do not see me +with your eyes, or feel me with your hands, as you think you do. The +impression which you have of my presence is born of the influence which my +mind is exerting in an invisible way on your mind. Can't you understand? It +is a kind of hypnotism. At the present moment, as I have said, I am lying +asleep on Mars, but my spirit is in direct communication with yours. The +form you see sitting beside you on this parapet is only an illusion of your +senses. My soul is speaking to your soul."</p> + +<p>"But could you not," I said, "give me some description of life on +Mars?"</p> + +<p>"A dream," he replied, "would be more vivid than a mere description, +though it would only be a shadow of the reality. For since you have not, my +dear friend, our exquisite faculties of knowledge, your mind could not +clearly mirror our life. Hark! Iclea is awake, and calling me. I cannot +stay any longer. Shut your eyes, and I will send you a dream."</p> + +<p>I turned to say good-bye, but Spero had vanished. A deep drowsiness fell +upon me, and just as I got off the parapet and found a safer position I +fell asleep.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Eternal Progress</i></h4> + + +<p>I was sitting under a strange tree covered with gigantic red flowers. In +the sky above me were two moons that shed a dim brightness on the lovely +and fantastic scenery. A multitude of radiant shapes fluttered and darted +through the air. They were Martians--exquisite, aerial, and divinely +beautiful figures glowing with luminous tints. Airy gondolas, which seemed +to be fashioned from phosphorescent flowers, passed above my head, and one +of them floated down to the tree under which I was lying. In it were Iclea +and Georges, but etherealised beyond the reach of human imagination.</p> + +<p>They took me in their flying chariot as day was breaking, and we +coursed, with a strange silent interchange of thoughts, over the +orange-coloured land of Mars. I could not understand everything which was +communicated to me, now by Iclea and now by Georges; but I perceived that +all manual labour on the planet was done by means of machines directed by +animals whose intelligence was on a level with my own. The Martians +themselves lived only for the things of the mind; they had twelve senses +instead of five, and their bodies, in which electricity played the part +that blood does in our systems, were so finely and yet so strongly +organised that they possessed an extraordinary power over the forces of +nature. Everything on their world, seas, mountains and rivers were like +their wonderful canals, works of art and science. Nature was completely +plastic in their hands. There was no poverty and no crime. Deriving their +food from the air which they breathe, the Martians were liberated from +material cares and immersed in the joys of intellectual pursuits.</p> + +<p>"You now see, Camille," said Spero, resorting at last to language which +I could clearly understand, "that life on Mars has developed as peacefully +and nobly as it began. There is no break between our vegetable kingdom and +our animal kingdom. We are nourished, like your plants, trees, and herbs, +by the air which we breathe. Ten million years ago your world was also a +scene of innocence and tranquil felicity. The land was overgrown with a +wildly beautiful vegetation that fed on the gentle winds of heaven, and +primitive forms of animal life had spread from the depths of the sea along +the shallow shores, and were there learning to extract from the air a +nourishment similar to that which they obtained from the water. But by a +woeful chance, one of your primitive animals--a deaf, blind, sexless clot +of jelly--then had its body pierced by a drop of sea-water thicker than +usual, and it found that this way of feeding was quicker than simple +respiration. Such was the origin of the first digestive tube, which has +exercised so baleful an influence on the course of terrestrial life, and +turned the earth into a vast slaughterhouse."</p> + +<p>"Is there no hope for us?" I said.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied; "the earth is a shipwrecked planet. None of the higher +organisms there will ever rise to our level. How can they alter the +structure of their bodies, and empty their veins of blood, and fill them +with the subtle electricity which serves us as a life force? And the +grossness of their blood-fed senses! How can all the fine powers of the +immortal soul ever develop along with such degraded instruments of +knowledge?"</p> + +<p>"But even if our earth is a shipwrecked planet," I exclaimed, "there is +at least some means of escaping from it. You and Iclea, for +instance----"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is a way of escape," said Spero, "the Uranian way. By +soaring aloft into the serene region of spiritual ideas, a terrestrial soul +can still free itself from its animality. Some save themselves by their +high moral qualities, others are purified and uplifted by their imagination +and intellect. Virtue and science are the wings that enable earth-born +spirits to mount the skies. The destiny of a soul is determined by its +works and aspirations. Lovers of knowledge sojourn awhile on Mars, which is +only the first stage in the eternal progress. Spirits animated by divine +feelings rise at once into high regions of starry splendour. The Uranian +way is open to all, and the day will arrive when every inhabitant of your +wild, dark planet will recognise that he, too, is a citizen of heaven. Then +Urania will at last inspire and direct him, and point out the path by which +he can ascend from the blood-stained earth to the fairer mansions prepared +for him in the skies."</p> + +<p>As he was speaking our aerial chariot floated down to a fairy palace by +the shore of an enchanted sea. I alighted; and a radiant, flower-like +maiden, who was standing by the portal, unfolded her rainbow wings and +shadowed me with them, and murmured, "Do you wish to return to earth?"</p> + +<p>"No," I cried, running up to clasp her in my arms.</p> + +<p>I awoke with a sudden shock. I was lying on the top of the tower of +Montlhéry; the sun was rising, and the vast circle of country below +me shone clear and distinct in the morning light.</p> + +<p>"Was it a dream?" I said to myself. "Surely not. The earth is not the +only home of life in the universe. Urania, the celestial muse, is now +unfolding before our astonished eyes the panoramas of infinity, and we know +at last that we are not the children of the earth, but citizens of the +heavens."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="fouque">DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="fouque1">Undine</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Friedrich Heinrich Karl Fouqué, Baron de la Motte, was +born at Brandenburg, in Prussia, Feb. 12, 1777, and died in Berlin January +23, 1843. The mixed nationality indicated by his name is accounted for by +his descent from a French Huguenot family. He served as a Prussian +cavalryman in the two campaigns against Napoleon of 1792 and 1813, but +during the long interval between devoted himself actively to intellectual +culture and literary pursuits. He began his career as an author by +translating the "Numancia" of Cervantes, but his admiration of the ancient +Norse sagas and the old German legends led him into the composition of +exquisitely beautiful and tender, though exceedingly fantastic, romances +which speedily gained immense popularity. In these productions fairy and +magical elements predominate. His masterpiece is "Undine," published in +1814, the other best-known works being "Sintram," "Aslauga's Knight," and +"The Two Captains." In all Fouqué's stories the marks of genius +appear in his brilliant imagination and pure and fascinating diction. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Water Sprite</i></h4> + + +<p>About a century ago an aged fisherman sat mending his nets by his +cottage door, in front of a lovely lake. Behind his dwelling stretched a +sombre forest, reputed to be haunted by goblin creatures. Through this +gloomy solitude the pious old fisherman frequently passed, religiously +dispelling all terrors by singing hymns as he went with his fish to a town +near the border of the forest.</p> + +<p>One evening he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and presently +appeared a knight riding on a splendid steed, and clad in resplendent +armour. The stranger stopped, and besought shelter for the night, and the +good old fisherman accorded him a most cheery welcome, taking him into the +cottage, where sat his aged wife by a scanty fire. Soon the three were +freely conversing. The knight told of his travels and revealed that he was +Sir Huldbrand of Ringstetten, where he had a castle by the Rhine.</p> + +<p>A splash against the window surprising the guest he was informed by his +host, with some little show of vexation, that little tricks were often +played by a foster-child of the old couple, named Undine, a girl of +eighteen.</p> + +<p>The door flew open, and a lovely girl glided, laughing, into the room. +Without the slightest token of shyness she gazed at the knight for a few +moments, then asked why he had come to the poor cottage.</p> + +<p>"Have you come through the wild forest?"</p> + +<p>He confessed that he had, and she instantly demanded a recital of his +adventures. With a slight shudder at his own recollections of the strange +creatures he had encountered, Huldbrand consented, but a reproof from the +fisherman at her obtrusiveness angered Undine. The girl sprang up and +rushed forth into the night, exclaiming, "Sleep alone in your smoky old +hut!"</p> + +<p>In great alarm, the fisherman and Huldbrand rose to follow the girl, but +she had vanished in the darkness. Remarking that she had acted so before, +the old fisherman invited Huldbrand to sit by the fire and talk awhile, and +began to relate how Undine had come to live with them.</p> + +<p>The couple had lost their only child, a wonderfully beautiful little +girl. At the age of three, when sitting in her mother's lap at the edge of +the lake, she seemed to be attracted by some lovely apparition in the +water, for, suddenly stretching out her hands and laughing, she had in a +moment sprung into the lake. No trace of the child could ever be found. But +the same evening a lovely little girl, three or four years old, with water +streaming from her golden tresses, suddenly entered the cottage, smiling +sweetly at the fisherman and his wife. They hastily undressed the little +stranger and put her to bed. She uttered not a word, but simply smiled. In +the morning she talked a little, confusedly telling how she had been in a +boat on the lake with her mother, and had fallen in, and could recollect +nothing more. She could say nothing as to who she was or whence she came. +But she talked often of golden castles and crystal domes.</p> + +<p>While the fisherman was talking thus to the knight, he was suddenly +interrupted by the noise of rushing water. Floods seemed to be bursting +forth, and he and his guest, going hastily to the door, saw by the +moonlight that the brook which issued from the forest was surging in a wild +torrent over its margin, while a roaring wind was lashing the lake. In +great alarm both shouted, "Undine! Undine!" But there was no response, and +the two ran off in different directions in search of the fugitive.</p> + +<p>It was Huldbrand who discovered the girl. Clambering down some rocks at +the edge of the stream, thinking Undine might have fallen there, he was +hailed by the sweet voice of the girl herself.</p> + +<p>"Venture not," she cried. "The old man of the stream is full of +tricks."</p> + +<p>Looking across at a tiny isle in the stream, the knight saw her nestling +in the grass, smiling, and in an instant he had crossed.</p> + +<p>"The fisherman is distressed at your absence," said he. "Let us go +back."</p> + +<p>Looking at him with her beautiful blue eyes, the girl replied. "If you +think so, well; whatever you think is right to me."</p> + +<p>Taking Undine in his arms, Huldbrand bore her over the stream to the +cottage, where she was received with joy. Dawn was breaking, and breakfast +was prepared under the trees. Undine flung herself on the grass at +Huldbrand's feet, and at her renewed request the knight told the story of +his forest adventures.</p> + +<p>"It is now about eight days since I rode into the city on the other side +of the forest to join in a great tournament. In one of the intervals +between the jousts I noticed a lovely lady among the spectators. I learned +that she was Bertalda, foster-daughter of a great duke, and each evening I +became her partner in the dances.</p> + +<p>"This Bertalda was a wayward girl, and each day pleased me less and +less; but I continued in her company, and asked her jestingly to give me a +glove. She said she would do so if I would explore alone the haunted +forest. As an honourable knight I could not decline the challenge, and +yesterday I set out on the enterprise. Before I had penetrated very far +within the glades, I saw what looked like a bear in the branches of an oak; +but the creature, in a harsh, human voice, growled that it was getting +branches with which to roast me at night. My horse was scared at this, and +other grim apparitions, but at last I emerged from the forest, and saw the +lake and this cottage."</p> + +<p>When he had finished, the fisherman spoke of the best way by which the +visitor could return to the city; but, with sly laughter, Undine declared +that the knight could not depart, for if he attempted now to cross the +deluged wood, he would be overwhelmed.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--"I Have No Soul!"</i></h4> + + +<p>Huldbrand, detained at the cottage by the increasing overflow of the +stream, enjoyed the most perfect satisfaction with his sojourn.</p> + +<p>The old folks with pleasure regarded the two young people as being +betrothed, and Huldbrand assumed that he was accepted by the girl, whom he +had come to look upon as not being in reality one of this poor household, +but one of some illustrious family, and when, one evening, an aged priest +appeared at the cottage, driven in by the storm, Huldbrand addressed to him +a request that he should on the spot at once unite him and the maiden, as +they were pledged to each other. A discussion arose, but matters were at +length settled, and the old wife produced two consecrated tapers. Lighting +these, the priest, with brief, solemn ceremony, celebrated the +nuptials.</p> + +<p>Undine had been quiet and grave during these proceedings, but a singular +change took place in her demeanour as soon as the rite had been performed. +She began at intervals to indulge in wild freaks, teasing the priest, and +indulging in a variety of silly tricks. At length the priest gently +expostulated with Undine, exhorting her so to attune her soul that it might +always be in concord with that of her husband.</p> + +<p>Her reply amazed the listeners, for she said, "If one has no soul, as I +have none, what is there to harmonise?" Then she burst into a fit of +passionate weeping, to the consternation of all the little company. As she +again and again wept, the priest, fearing that she was possessed by some +evil spirit, sought to exorcise it. The priest turned to the bridegroom +with the assurance that he could discover nothing evil in the bride, +mysterious though her behaviour was, and he commended him to be loving and +true to her.</p> + +<p>The next morning Undine, when she and her husband made their appearance, +responded gracefully to the paternal greeting of the priest, beseeching his +pardon for her folly of the previous evening, and begging him to pray for +the good of her soul. Through the whole day Undine behaved angelically. She +was kind, quiet, and gentle. At eventide she led her husband out to the +edge of the stream, which, to the wonder of Huldbrand, had subsided into +gentle, rippling waves.</p> + +<p>She whispered, "Carry me across to that little isle, and we will decide +there."</p> + +<p>Wondering, he carried her across, and, laying her on the turf, listened +as she began.</p> + +<p>"My loved one, know that there are strange beings which, though seeming +almost mortals, are rarely visible to human eyes--salamanders in the +flames, gnomes down in the earth, spirits in the air. And in the water are +myriads of spirits dwelling in crystal domes, in the coral-trees, and in +the lovely shells. These are far more beautiful than the fairest of human +beings, and sometimes a fisherman has seen a tender mermaid, and has +listened to her song. Such wonderful creatures are called Undines, and one +of these you see now before you!</p> + +<p>"We should be far superior to other beings--for we consider ourselves +human--but for one defect. We have no souls, and nothing remains of us +after this mortal life is over. Yet every being aspires to rise higher, and +so my father, who is a great water prince in the Mediterranean Sea, desired +that his only daughter should become possessed of a soul. But this can only +come to pass with loving union with one of your race. Now, O my dearly +beloved, I have to thank you that I am gifted with a soul, and it will be +due to you should all my life be made wretched. For what will become of me +if you forsake me? If you would do so, do it now! Then I will plunge into +the stream--which is my uncle--and as he brought me here, so will he take +me back to my parents, a loving, suffering woman with a soul."</p> + +<p>Undine would have said yet more, but Huldbrand, astonishing though the +recital was, with tears and kisses vowed he would never leave his lovely +wife; and with her leaning in loving trustfulness on his arm, they returned +to the hut.</p> + +<p>The next day, at Undine's strange urgency, farewell was said with bitter +tears and lamentations.</p> + +<p>Undine was placed on the beautiful horse, and Huldbrand and the priest +walked on either side as the three passed through the solemn glades of the +wood. A fourth soon joined them. He was dressed in a white robe, like that +of the priest, and presently attempted to speak to Undine. But she shrank +from him, declaring she wished to have nothing to do with him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" cried the stranger, with a laugh. "What kind of a marriage is +this you have made, that you must not speak to your relative? Do you not +know I am your uncle Kühleborn, who brought you to this region, and that I +am here to protect you from goblins and sprites? So let me quietly +accompany you."</p> + +<p>"We are near the end of the forest, and shall not need you further," was +her rejoinder. But he grinned at her so frightfully that she shrieked for +help, and the knight aimed at his head a blow from his sword. Instantly +Kühleborn was transformed into a gushing waterfall, foaming over them from +a rock near by and drenching all three.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--"Woe! Woe!"</i></h4> + + +<p>The sudden disappearance of the young knight had caused a sensation in +the city, for the duke and duchess, and the friends and servants of +Huldbrand, feared he had perished in the forest during the terrible tempest +When he suddenly reappeared, all rejoiced except Bertalda, who was +profoundly vexed at seeing with him a beautiful bride. She so far +reconciled herself to the conditions that a warm friendship sprang up +between Undine and herself.</p> + +<p>It was agreed that Bertalda should accompany the wedded pair to +Ringstetten, and with the consent of the noble foster-parents of Bertalda +the three appointed a day for departure. One beautiful evening, as they +walked about the market-place round the great fountain, suddenly a tall man +emerged from among the people and stopped in front of Undine. He quickly +whispered something in her ear, and though at first she seemed vexed at the +intrusion, presently she clapped her hands and laughed joyously. Then the +stranger mysteriously vanished, and seemed to disappear in the +fountain.</p> + +<p>Huldbrand had suspected that he had seen the man before, and now felt +assured that he was Kühleborn. Undine admitted the fact, and said that her +uncle had told her a secret, which she was to reveal on the third day +afterwards, which would be the anniversary of Bertalda's nameday.</p> + +<p>The anniversary came, and strange incidents happened. After the banquet +given by the duke and duchess, Undine suddenly gave a signal, and from +among the retainers at the door came forth the old fisherman and his wife, +and Undine declared that in these Bertalda saw her real parents. The proud +maiden instantly flew into a violent rage, weeping passionately, and +utterly refused to acknowledge the old couple as her father and mother. She +declared that Undine was an enchantress and a witch, sustaining intercourse +with evil spirits.</p> + +<p>Undine, with great dignity, indignantly denied the accusation, while +Bertalda's violent conduct created a feeling of disgust in the minds of all +in the assembly. The matter was settled in a simple manner, for the duke +commanded Bertalda to withdraw to a private apartment with the duchess and +the two old folks from the hut, that an investigation might be made. It was +soon over, for the noble lady was able presently to inform the company that +Undine's story was absolutely true. The guests silently departed, and +Undine sank sobbing into her husband's arms.</p> + +<p>Next day Bertalda, humbled by these events, sought pardon of Undine for +her evil behaviour, and was instantly welcomed with loving assurances of +forgiveness, moreover, she was cordially invited to go with the pair to +Ringstetten.</p> + +<p>"We will share all things there as sisters," said Undine.</p> + +<p>The three journeyed to the distant castle, and took up their abode +together. Soon Kühleborn appeared on the scene, but Undine at once repulsed +him. Next, when her husband was one day hunting, she ordered the great well +in the courtyard to be covered with a big stone, on which she cut some +curious characters.</p> + +<p>Bertalda waywardly complained that this proceeding deprived her of water +that was good for her complexion, but Undine privately explained to +Huldbrand that she had caused the servants to seal up this spring because +only by that way of access could her uncle Kühleborn come to disturb their +peace.</p> + +<p>As time passed on, Huldbrand gradually cooled toward his wife and turned +affectionately towards Bertalda. Undine bore patiently and silently the +sorrow thus inflicted on her. But when her husband was impatient and angry +she would plead with him never to speak to her in accents of unkindness +when they happened to be on the water, for the water spirits had her +completely in their power on their element, and would seek to protect her, +and even seize her and take her down for ever to dwell in the crystal +castles of the deep.</p> + +<p>After some estrangements, Undine and Bertalda had again become loving +friends, and Huldbrand's affection for his wife had revived with its old +and welcome warmth, while the attachment between him and Bertalda seemed +forgotten.</p> + +<p>One day the three were enjoying a delightful excursion on the glorious +Danube. Bertalda had taken off a beautiful coral necklace which Huldbrand +had given her. She leaned over and drew the coral beads across the surface, +enjoying the glitter thus caused, when suddenly a great hand from beneath +seized the necklace and snatched it down. The maiden's scream of terror was +answered by mocking laughter from the water.</p> + +<p>In an outburst of passion, Huldbrand started up and poured forth curses +on the river and its denizens, whether spirits or sirens. With tears in her +eyes, Undine besought him softly not to scold her there, and she took from +her neck a beautiful necklace and offered it to Bertalda as a +compensation.</p> + +<p>But the angry knight snatched it away, and hurled it into the river, +exclaiming, "Are you still connected with them? In the name of all the +witches, remain among them with your presents, and leave us mortals in +peace, you sorceress!"</p> + +<p>Bitterly weeping and crying, "Woe! Woe!" she vanished over the side of +the vessel. Her last words were, "Remain true! Woe! Woe!" Huldbrand lay +swooning on the deck, and little waves seemed to be sobbing on the surface +of the Danube, "Woe! Woe! Remain true!"</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The White Stranger</i></h4> + + +<p>For a time deep sorrow fell on the lord of Ringstetten and Bertalda. +They lived long in the castle quietly, often weeping for Undine, tenderly +cherishing her memory. Undine often visited Huldbrand in his dreams, +caressing him and weeping silently so that his cheeks were wet when he +awoke. But these visions grew less frequent, and the knight's grief +diminished by degrees. At length he and Bertalda were married, but it was +in spite of a grave warning from Father Heilmann, who declared that Undine +had appeared to him in visions, beseeching him to warn Huldbrand and +Bertalda to leave each other. They were too infatuated to heed the +admonition, and a priest from a neighbouring monastery promised to perform +the ceremony in a few days.</p> + +<p>Meantime, when lying between sleeping and waking, the knight seemed +fanned by the wings of a swan, and, as he fell asleep, seemed borne along +on the wings of swans which sang their sweetest music. All at once he +seemed to be hovering over the Mediterranean Sea. Its waters were so +crystalline that he could see through them to the bottom, and there, under +a crystal arch, sat Undine, weeping bitterly. She seemed not to perceive +him. Kühleborn approached her, and told her that Huldbrand was to be wedded +again, and that it would be her duty, from which nothing could release her, +to end his life.</p> + +<p>"That I cannot do," said she. "I have sealed up the fountain against my +race."</p> + +<p>Huldbrand felt as if he were soaring back again over the sea, and at +length he seemed to reach his castle. He awoke on his couch, but he could +not bring himself to break off the arrangements that had been made.</p> + +<p>The marriage feast at Ringstetten was not as bright and happy as such +occasions usually are, for a veil of gloom seemed to rest over the company. +Even the bride affected a happy and thoughtless demeanour which she did not +really feel. The company dispersed early, Bertalda retiring with her +maidens, and Huldbrand with his attendants.</p> + +<p>In her apartment Bertalda, with a sigh, noticed how freckled was her +neck, and a remark she made to her maidens as she gazed in the mirror +excited the eager attention of one of them. She heard her fair mistress +say, "Oh, that I had a flask of the purifying water from the closed +fountain!" Presently the officious waiting-woman was seen leading men to +the fountain. With levers they quickly lifted the stone, for some +mysterious force within seemed to aid them.</p> + +<p>Then from the fountain solemnly rose a white column of water. It was +presently perceived that it was a pale female figure, veiled in white. She +was weeping bitterly as she walked slowly to the building, while Bertalda +and her attendants, pale with terror, watched from the window. The figure +passed on, and at the door of Huldbrand's room, where the knight was partly +undressed, was heard a gentle tap. The white figure slowly entered. It was +Undine, who softly said, "They have opened the spring, and now I am here +and you must die." Said the knight, "It must be so! But let me die in your +embrace."</p> + +<p>"Most gladly, my loved one," said she, throwing back her veil and +disclosing her face divinely smiling. Imprinting on his lips a sacred kiss, +Undine clasped the knight in her arms, weeping as if she would weep her +very soul away. Huldbrand fell softly back on the pillows of his couch, a +corpse.</p> + +<p>At the funeral of Huldbrand the veiled figure appeared when the +procession formed a circle round the grave. All knelt in mute devotion at a +signal from Father Heilmann. When they rose again the white stranger had +vanished, and on the spot where she had knelt a silvery little fountain +gushed forth, which almost encircled the grave and then ran on till it +reached a lake near by. And to this day the inhabitants cherish the +tradition that thus the poor rejected Undine still lovingly embraces her +husband.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="gaboriau">ÉMILE GABORIAU</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="gaboriau1">"File No. 113"</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Émile Gaboriau, one of the best-known exponents of the +"police story," was born at Saujon, in France, on November 9, 1833. He +began life in a lawyer's office, became a volunteer in a cavalry regiment, +and, later, secretary to Paul Feval, the novelist and dramatist. In the +meantime, Gaboriau had contributed a number of sketches dealing with +military and fashionable life to various minor Parisian journals, but it +was not until 1866, with the publication of "L'Affaire Lerouge," that he +suddenly sprang into fame. From that time until his death, on September 28, +1873, story after story appeared rapidly from his pen. "File No. 113" ("Le +Dossier 113") was published in 1867, and was the first of a remarkable +series of detective tales introducing the figure of Lecoq. "File No. 113" +is perhaps the most characteristic specimen of his work, exhibiting as it +does a careful study of the Paris police system, and a thorough +acquaintance with all phases of criminal life. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Robbery and a Clue</i></h4> + + +<p>The first mention of the celebrated robbery which took place at M. +Fauvel's bank in Paris--the <i>dossier</i> of the case is numbered 113 in +the police files--appeared in the evening papers, February 28, 1866.</p> + +<p>On the previous day a certain Count Louis de Clameran sent word to M. +Fauvel that he wished to withdraw the following morning at ten o'clock the +sum of £12,000 which had been deposited in the bank by his brother, +an ironmaster from the south of France who had recently died.</p> + +<p>M. Fauvel made it a rule never to keep any large sums of money on the +premises, but to deposit all such amounts in the keeping of the Bank of +France. As this sum, however, had to be paid the first thing in the +morning, the chief cashier, M. Prosper Bertomy, thought he was justified in +obtaining the amount from the Bank of France on the evening of the 27th, +and in locking it up in the bank safe against the morning.</p> + +<p>The safe was a formidable-looking affair constructed entirely of wrought +iron of treble thickness. An ingenious device regulated its opening. On the +massive door were five movable steel buttons engraved with the letters of +the alphabet. Before the key could be inserted in the lock, these buttons +had to be manipulated in the same order in which they had been used when +the safe was last shut. The buttons were arranged so that the letters on +them formed some word, which was changed from time to time. This word was +known only to M. Fauvel and his cashier, each of whom possessed a key of +the safe.</p> + +<p>As soon as the bank opened on the morning of February 28, the count put +in an appearance, and Prosper Bertomy went to the safe to obtain the money. +When, a second later, he reappeared, his face was ashy pale, and his steps +tottered as he walked. The £12,000 had disappeared from within the +safe. What made the affair all the more mysterious was that the safe was +locked just as the cashier had left it the night before.</p> + +<p>The room in which the safe was situated communicated with the bank by +another room in which every night a tried servant of the establishment +slept. By a second door admittance was obtained to the private apartments +of M. and Madame Fauvel and their niece Madeline.</p> + +<p>As soon as M. Fauvel had heard the startling news, he first obtained the +necessary money from the Bank of France, settled the business with the +count, and then turned his attention to the elucidation of the robbery. He +summoned the cashier to his presence.</p> + +<p>Bertomy was a young man of thirty to whom M. Fauvel had shown great +kindness, advancing his interests wherever possible until, though very +young for the position, he was his most important and most confidential +employee. Besides the paternal affection with which the bank manager +regarded his cashier, another tie tended to make their relations all the +stronger and more personal. Bertomy loved M. Fauvel's niece Madeline, and +though a curious estrangement had sprung up between them during the +previous nine or ten months, the banker always regarded their marriage as +practically arranged.</p> + +<p>The interview between the two men was a curious one. To each it appeared +that the other must be the thief. They alone had the keys of the safe; they +alone knew the magic word which could open the massive door. The banker +urged Bertomy to confess, promising him forgiveness; the other haughtily +rejected the suggestion, and hinted that his employer had converted the +£12,000 to his own use. In the end M. Fauvel lost his temper, sent +for the police, and before twenty-four hours were up, Prosper Bertomy, who +but the day before had held one of the most important and envied positions +in the financial world of Paris, was charged before a magistrate as being a +common thief.</p> + +<p>Investigation of the case was at first entrusted to a detective named +Fanferlot, nicknamed by his comrades the "Squirrel." Fanferlot's +examination of the premises resulted in little. All he discovered was a +scratch upon the door of the safe, but certain words that passed between M. +Fauvel and his niece, which seemed to indicate that the former was secretly +opposed to the marriage of Madeline with Bertomy, caused him to jump to the +conclusion that the banker had robbed his own safe in order to bring +disgrace upon his cashier. He connived, however, at the arrest of Bertomy, +hoping that later on he might obtain great kudos for himself by unmasking +the banker. What might have been the result of his improper and unofficial +methods will never be known, but in all probability great inconvenience +would have been caused to a number of innocent persons and the whole course +of justice thwarted had it not been for the intervention of the great and +famous M. Lecoq.</p> + +<p>M. Lecoq's interest in the bank robbery case was largely a personal one. +Even detectives have hearts, and M. Lecoq had loved with heart and soul a +charming young girl named Nina Gipsy. Under the name of Caldas in one of +his innumerable disguises, he had wooed her for many months. When he +thought at last that he had won her affections, she had fled to the +protection of no less a person than Prosper Bertomy himself. The cashier +cared nothing for her, but embittered by an estrangement that had sprung up +between Madeline and himself, he had sought forgetfulness in her society. +Bertomy's arrest gave Lecoq an opportunity for a noble revenge. He +determined to prove to the woman he loved his superiority over his rival by +saving the cashier from disgrace.</p> + +<p>Though the case looked black against Bertomy, for it was shown that he +was heavily in debt, and living far beyond his means, Lecoq was satisfied +that he had not committed the crime. When Fanferlot, hopelessly befogged, +called for his advice at his house in the Rue Montmartre, the great +detective deigned to explain the preliminary data and the deductions from +the data he had made.</p> + +<p>The scratch on the safe door, slight and minute as it was, was his +starting-point. How had it been made? He had found by experiment that it +was impossible to make such a scratch upon the varnish without the exercise +of considerable force. It was clear, therefore, that the scratch by the +keyhole could not have been made by the thief in his trembling anxiety to +get the business he had undertaken accomplished. But why was such force +used?</p> + +<p>For a long time Lecoq puzzled over this problem. Then, with Fanferlot, +he tried an experiment. In his room was an iron box varnished like the +safe. Taking the key of this box from his pocket, he ordered Fanferlot to +seize his arm just as he put it near the lock. The key slipped, pulled away +from the lock, and sliding along the surface of the door, left upon it a +diagonal scratch, almost an exact reproduction of the one on the safe.</p> + +<p>From this simple experiment Lecoq deduced that two people were present +when the safe was robbed; one wanted to take the money, the other wanted to +prevent it being taken. This was the basis of the case which he set out to +draw up against some person or persons unknown. He argued, with his usual +clear logic, that neither Fauvel nor Bertomy could have robbed the safe. +Both of them had keys; both of them knew the secret word and could have +robbed the safe whenever they pleased. Therefore, neither of them would +have committed the theft in the presence of somebody else.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Mysterious Journey</i></h4> + + +<p>Lecoq's first steps after establishing these preliminary deductions was +to secure the release of Bertomy on the grounds of insufficient +evidence.</p> + +<p>On the very morning of his release, Bertomy had received a mysterious +letter composed of printed words cut out letter by letter from a book and +pasted on paper.</p> + +<p>"My dear Prosper," so the epistle ran, "a friend who knows the horror of +your situation sends you this help. There is one heart at least which feels +for you. Leave France; you are yourself. The future is before you. Go, and +may this money be of use."</p> + +<p>Enclosed with this note were banknotes for £400. Lecoq, disguised +as a M. Verduret, a country merchant, a friend of Bertomy's father, secured +this epistle and studied it carefully. His knowledge of the various types +used by the printers in Paris showed him that the letters had been taken +from a book printed by a well-known firm who published volumes of devotion. +The correctness of this conclusion was established by the discovery on the +back of one of the small cuttings the word "Deus." The words had been cut +from a Catholic prayer-book. To find that prayer-book was his next +business.</p> + +<p>In another disguise he sought out Nina Gipsy, and, by asking her +assistance to clear Prosper, induced her to take up the position of +lady's-maid in the Fauvel family, for it was there, he conceived, the +mutilated book of devotion would be found. Again his wonderful instinct +proved right. In a few days Nina brought him the very book--a prayer-book, +belonging to Madeline, which had been given her by Bertomy.</p> + +<p>Why had Madeline sent the cashier this elaborately disguised letter? Why +had she wished him to leave France, confident as she was, so she told him, +of his innocence?</p> + +<p>To find an answer to these important queries, Lecoq closely questioned +Bertomy. He learnt that the night before the robbery the cashier had dined +with his friend Raoul de Lagors, the wealthy, dissolute young nephew of M. +Fauvel's wife. This Lagors was the friend of Count Louis de Clameran, whose +demand for the £12,000 left him by his dead brother had resulted in +the discovery of the mysterious robbery.</p> + +<p>Bertomy had nothing but the highest praise for Lagors, but, on the other +hand, spoke most disparagingly of the count. The count, it appeared, had +proposed for the hand of Madeline, and had pressed his suit with great +determination. And Madeline--and this was what provided a new problem for +Lecoq's consideration--had tacitly accepted his attention.</p> + +<p>Through Nina, Lecoq had arranged a meeting between Bertomy and Madeline, +and satisfied himself that the girl was whole-heartedly and devotedly +attached to her uncle's cashier. Then why was she favouring the suit of the +count? Lecoq at once made it his business to inquire into the count's +past.</p> + +<p>He was the second son of an old and noble family. His elder brother, +Gaston, having to fly the country in consequence of causing the death of +several men, he had inherited the property. A life of dissolute pleasures +had soon exhausted his patrimony and he was reduced to living by his wits. +Some weeks before the robbery, he had discovered that his brother Gaston +was alive and was living on a large estate in the south of France, which he +had purchased with the wealth he had accumulated in business. Six weeks +after the two brothers met again, the elder died and the younger inherited +his vast fortune.</p> + +<p>Raoul de Lagors was the next character in the drama whose past the +detective made it his business to expose. Lagors, it has been said, was the +nephew of Madame Fauvel. To his surprise, Lecoq discovered, by inquiries in +her native place, that the banker's wife had never had any brothers or +sisters. Lagors, therefore, was not her nephew.</p> + +<p>Fanferlot, acting on instructions, had kept a strict watch on the +movements of Madeline, and by this means Lecoq received timely warning of a +mysterious excursion which the girl made one night. He followed her to a +lonely house on the outskirts of the city. When she had gained admittance, +the appearance of a light in one of the windows on the first floor seemed +to indicate the room to which she had been taken. By the aid of a ladder, +Lecoq was able to watch what was going on within through the shutters.</p> + +<p>He saw Madeline standing opposite Lagors, evidently, from her attitude, +pleading with him. For some time he listened to her, with a cynical smile +upon his face, but after an hour he seemed to decide, with evident +reluctance, to comply with her request. Going to a cabinet, he took out a +bundle of pawn tickets and flung them on the table. Hastily going through +the collection, she selected three, and concealing them in her dress, left +the house.</p> + +<p>By following her to a pawnshop, Lecoq discovered that she had redeemed +certain valuable articles of jewelry belonging to Madame Fauvel. Lecoq +knew, through Nina Gipsy, who still filled the part of lady's-maid in the +Fauvel family, that M. Fauvel had insisted on his wife accompanying him on +the following evening to a great fancy-dress ball which was to be given by +one of the wealthiest families in the capital. Obviously, then, the jewelry +that Madeline had redeemed was required by Madame Fauvel for the occasion. +Why had she pawned it for Lagors?</p> + +<p>A theory had half formed itself in Lecoq's brain. He determined to prove +its truth. Disguised as a clown, he attended the fancy-dress ball, and in +the character of a mountebank collected a group of ladies and gentlemen +around him while he related with the inimitable skill of a buffoon a +romantic narrative. To most of the people present it was simply an amusing +story, but to the count and Lagors and Madame Fauvel, who were among the +listeners, it seemed something much more, for Lecoq dressed out his theory +of the robbery in the trappings of romance. Just as he reached the climax +of the story there was a cry, and Madame Fauvel almost fell fainting on the +floor. The count and Lagors rushed up furiously to Lecoq.</p> + +<p>"Master Clown," said Lagors, "your tongue is too long."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, my pretty boy," retorted Lecoq, "perhaps it is. But it is, I +can assure you, not so long as my arm."</p> + +<p>"Who are you, M. le Clown?" the count exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Lecoq, "the best friend your brother Gaston had. I was +his counsellor. I am the confidant of his last wishes."</p> + +<p>Though the solution of the problem seemed so tantalisingly near, there +were still some threads in the tangle which required sorting out before +Lecoq could say that the case was complete. Among other matters he inquired +of Bertomy the word which had been used to lock the safe on, the night of +the robbery. The word had been "gipsy." Bertomy was confident that he had +not mentioned it to anybody, but Nina Gipsy was able to throw light on this +part of the problem. She recollected a chance remark of Bertomy's while +sitting at dinner with herself and Lagors on the night of the robbery. She +had reproached Bertomy with neglecting her.</p> + +<p>"It's too bad for you to reproach me," cried the cashier, "for it is +your name which at this very moment guards the safe of M. Fauvel."</p> + +<p>Lagors, therefore, had known the password. What did this new discovery +imply? How did it fit in with the rest of the data which Lecoq had so +brilliantly collected?</p> + +<p>After his custom, he marshalled once more in his mind all the facts at +his disposal, but they were like so many loose links in a chain. They +required the connecting link to make the chain complete. To find that link +Lecoq spent a month in visiting the old home of the De Clamerans, the +estate formerly occupied by Gaston de Clameron, who had died a few days +before the robbery, and also in a trip to England. When he returned to +Paris, <i>dossier</i> No. 113 was complete.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Dossier</i></h4> + + +<p>In her extreme youth, Madame Fauvel had been secretly loved by Gaston de +Clameron. It was a result of certain contemptuous words spoken of the girl +he loved that Gaston had committed those deeds which had compelled him to +fly the country. Shortly after his flight, the girl, finding that she was +about to give birth to a child, imparted the secret to her mother. Fearing +a scandal, the mother, accompanied by a faithful nurse, took her daughter +over to England. There, near London, a child was born, who was immediately +handed over to some simple country people to adopt. The unhappy girl +returned to France, and shortly after married M. Fauvel, the banker.</p> + +<p>Years after, the Count Louis de Clameron, who had inherited and ruined +the estates of which his brother Gaston had been deprived, discovered this +secret from the nurse, and finding on inquiries in London that the child +had died, persuaded a young ne'er-do-well Englishman to play the +<i>rôle</i> of his brother's son. He secretly introduced him to +Madame Fauvel, and through this means obtained what money he required from +the unhappy woman, who feared the discovery of her past secret by her +husband. The situation was complicated by the count falling in love with +Madeline and the sudden appearance of Gaston de Clameron, who was thought +to be dead.</p> + +<p>The count poisoned his brother, and then, finding that Madeline refused +to give up Bertomy, determined to accomplish the cashier's ruin, and at the +same time obtain an amount of money large enough to buy off his +fellow-conspirator Lagors. Lagors, having learnt by chance the password +that guarded the safe, was sent to Madame Fauvel late at night with a +request for money.</p> + +<p>At this time Madame Fauvel was at the end of her resources. Lagors +suggested taking the money from the safe. Tom between a desire to help her +supposed son and the risk of discovery, she at last consented. Taking M. +Fauvel's key, they descended silently to the safe-room. At the last moment, +just as the key was in the lock, Madame Fauvel attempted to deter Lagors +from his purpose. In the struggle that scratch was made on the door which +formed the basis of Lecoq's inquiries and enabled the great detective to +unravel the mystery.</p> + +<p>Madeline, who all the while half guessed at the truth, and perceived +without being told that Madame Fauvel was at the mercy of the count, had +been prepared to sacrifice her future happiness in order to prevent the +scandal being made public.</p> + +<p>M. Lecoq, armed with these facts, sought out Lagors. He arrived only in +time to prevent a tragedy. Warned by an anonymous letter that his wife had +pawned her diamonds for the benefit of Lagors, the banker came upon them +when they were together in Lagor's rooms. Imagining the young man was his +wife's lover, the banker drew a revolver and fired four times. Fortunately, +none of the shots took effect, and before he could fire again Lecoq had +rushed into the room and torn the weapon from his grasp. It was the moment +of the great detective's triumph. With the dramatic skill of which he was a +master, he laid bare the whole story and disclosed the true identity of +Raoul Lagors. Before he left he compelled Lagors to refund the +£12,000 he had stolen, and in order to avoid a scandal allowed the +young man to go free. Then, that nothing should be wanting to his triumph, +he obtained the consent of the banker to Bertomy's marriage with +Madeline.</p> + +<p>Hurrying from the banker's house, Lecoq hastened to effect the arrest of +the count. He arrived too late. Realising that he was hopelessly in the +toils, the count was bereft of his senses and become a hopeless maniac.</p> + +<p>Four days later M. Lecoq, the official M. Lecoq, awaited the arrival of +Nina Gipsy and Prosper Bertomy. They declared that they had come to meet M. +Verduret, who had saved Prosper Bertomy. The detective retired, promising +to summon the man they had come to see. A quarter of an hour later M. +Verduret entered the room. Facing them, he told them how a friend of his +named Caldas had fallen in love with a girl, and how that girl had been won +from him by a man who cared nothing for her.</p> + +<p>"Caldas determined to revenge himself in his own way. It was his hand +that saved the man on the very verge of disgrace. I see you know that you, +Nina, are the woman, and you, Prosper, the man; while Caldas is...."</p> + +<p>With a quick gesture he removed his wig and whiskers, and the true Lecoq +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Caldas!" cried Nina.</p> + +<p>"No, not Caldas, not Verduret, but Lecoq, the detective."</p> + +<p>After the moments of amazement had passed, Lecoq turned to leave the +room, but Nina barred the way.</p> + +<p>"Caldas," she cried, "have you not punished me enough? Caldas...."</p> + +<p>Prosper went from the office alone.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="galt">JOHN GALT</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="galt1">Annals of the Parish</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +John Gait, poet, dramatist, historian, and novelist, was born +at Irvine, Ayrshire, Scotland, on May 2, 1779. He was trained for a +commercial career in the Greenock Custom House, and in the office of a +merchant in that seaport. Removing to London, Gait engaged in business and +afterwards travelled extensively to forward mercantile enterprises in all +the countries bordering on the Mediterranean and the Near East, where he +repeatedly met Lord Byron. His first work of fiction was a Sicilian story, +published in 1816, but it was not until 1820 that he found his true +literary expression, when the "Ayrshire Legatees" appeared in "Blackwood's +Magazine." The success of this tale was so great that Gait finished the +"Annals of the Parish; or the Chronicle of Dalmailing, during the Ministry +of the Rev. Micah Balwhidder," which he had really begun in 1813, and they +were published in 1821. The "Annals" contain a lively and humorous picture +of Scottish character, manners, and feeling during the era described. In +the latter part of his life Gait wrote several novels, a life of Byron, an +autobiography, and his "Literary Life and Miscellanies." He died on April +11, 1838. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--The Placing of Mr. Balwhidder</i></h4> + + +<p>The year A.D. 1760 was remarkable for three things in the parish of +Dalmailing. First and foremost, there was my placing, then the coming of +Mrs. Malcolm with her five children to settle among us, and next my +marriage with my own cousin, Miss Betty Lanshaw. The placing was a great +affair, for I was put in by the patron, and the people knew nothing of me +whatsoever. They were really mad and vicious, insomuch that there was +obliged to be a guard of soldiers to protect the presbytery. Dirt was flung +upon us as we passed, and the finger of scorn held out to me. But I endured +it with a resigned spirit, compassionating their wilfulness and +blindness.</p> + +<p>The kirk door was nailed up and we were obligated to go in by the +window, making the Lord's house like an inn on a fair-day with their +grievous yelly hooing. Thomas Thorl, the weaver, a pious zealot, got up at +the time of the induction and protested, and said, "Verily, verily, I say +unto you, he that entereth not by the door of the sheepfold, but climbeth +up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber."</p> + +<p>When the laying on of the hands upon me was adoing, Mr. Given, minister +of Lugton, a jocose man, who could not get near, stretched out his staff +and touched my head, saying, to the great diversion of the rest, "This will +do well enough--timber to timber."</p> + +<p>After the ceremony we went to the manse, and there had an excellent +dinner. Although my people received me in this unruly manner, I was +resolved to cultivate civility among them; and next morning I began a round +of visitations. But, oh! it was a steep brae to climb. The doors in some +places were barred against me; in others the bairns ran crying to their +mothers, "Here's the feckless Mess-John." But Thomas Thorl received me +kindly, and said that this early visitation was a symptom of grace, and +that not to condemn me without trial he and some neighbours would be at the +kirk at the next Lord's day, so that I would not have to preach just to the +bare walls and the laird's family.</p> + +<p>As to Mrs. Malcolm, she was the widow of a Clyde shipmaster that was +lost at sea with his vessel. A genty body, she never changed her widow's +weeds, and span frae morning tae nicht to keep her bairns and herself. When +her daughter Effie was ill, I called on her in a sympathising way, and +offered her some assistance frae the Session, but she refused help out of +the poor's-box, as it might be hereafter cast up to her bairns.</p> + +<p>It was in the year 1761 that the great smuggling trade corrupted the +west coast. Tea was going like chaff, and brandy like well-water. There was +nothing minded but the riding of cadgers by day and excisemen by night, and +battles between the smugglers and the king's men, both by sea and land; +continual drunkenness and debauchery, and our Session had an awful time +o't.</p> + +<p>I did all that was in my power to keep my people from the contagion. I +preached sixteen times from the text, "Render to Caesar the things that are +Caesar's." I visited, exhorted, warned, and prophesied, but the evil got in +among us. The third year of my ministry was long held in remembrance. The +small-pox came in among the poor bits o' weans of the parish, and the +smashing it made among them was woeful. When the pestilence was raging, I +preached a sermon about Rachel weeping for her children, which Thomas +Thorl, a great judge of good preaching, said, "was a monument of divinity +whilk searched the heart of many a parent that day"--a thing I was well +pleased to hear, and was minded to make him an elder the next vacancy. But, +worthy man, it was not permitted him to arrive at that honour; for that +fall it pleased Him that alone can give and take to pluck him from this +life.</p> + +<p>In this year Charlie Malcolm, Mrs. Malcolm's eldest son, was sent to sea +in a tobacco-trader that sailed between Port Glasgow and Virginia. +Tea-drinking was beginning to spread more openly, in so much that by the +advice of the first Mrs. Balwhidder, Mrs. Malcolm took in tea to sell to +eke out something to the small profits of her wheel. I lost some of my +dislike to the tea after that, and we had it for breakfast at the manse as +well as in the afternoon. But what I thought most of it for was that it did +no harm to the head of the drinkers, which was not always the case with the +possets in fashion before, when I remember decent ladies coming home with +red faces from a posset-masking. So I refrained from preaching against tea +henceforth, but I never lifted the weight of my displeasure from off the +smuggling trade, until it was utterly put down by the strong hand of +government.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Minister's Second Marriage</i></h4> + + +<p>A memorable year, both in public and private, was 1763. The king granted +peace to the French. Lady Macadam, widow of General Macadam, who lived in +her jointure-house, took Kate Malcolm to live with her as companion, and +she took pleasure in teaching Kate all her accomplishments and how to +behave herself like a lady. The lint-mill on Lugton Water was burned to the +ground, with not a little of the year's crop of lint in our parish. The +first Mrs. Balwhidder lost upwards of twelve stone, which was intended for +sarking to ourselves and sheets and napery. A great loss indeed it was, and +the vexation thereof had a visible effect on her health, which from the +spring had been in a dwining way. But for it, I think she might have +wrestled through the winter. However, it was ordered otherwise, and she was +removed from mine to Abraham's bosom on Christmas Day, and buried on +Hogmanay, for it was thought uncanny to have a dead corpse in the house on +the New Year's Day.</p> + +<p>Just by way of diversion in my heavy sorrow, I got a well-shapen +headstone made for her; but a headstone without a epitaph being no better +than a body without the breath of life in't, I made a poesy for the +monument, not in the Latin tongue, which Mrs. Balwhidder, worthy woman as +she was, did not understand, but in sedate language, which was greatly +thought of at the time. My servant lassies, having no eye of a mistress +over them, wasted everything at such a rate that, long before the end of +the year, the year's stipend was all spent, and I did not know what to do. +At lang and length I sent for Mr. Auld, a douce and discreet elder, and +told him how I was situated. He advised me, for my own sake, to look out +for another wife, as soon as decency would allow.</p> + +<p>In the following spring I placed my affections, with due consideration, +on Miss Lizzy Kibbock, the well-brought-up daughter of Mr. Joseph Kibbock, +of the Gorbyholm, farmer; and we were married on the 29th day of April, on +account of the dread we had of being married in May, for it is said, "Of +the marriages in May, the bairns die of a decay." The second Mrs. +Balwhidder had a genius for management, and started a dairy, and set the +servant lassies to spin wool for making blankets and lint for sheets and +napery. She sent the butter on market days to Irville, her cheese and +huxtry to Glasgow. We were just coining money, in so much that, after the +first year, we had the whole tot of stipend to put into the bank.</p> + +<p>The opening of coal-pits in Douray Moor brought great prosperity to the +parish, but the coal-carts cut up the roads, especially the Vennel, a +narrow and crooked street in the clachan. Lord Eglesham came down from +London in the spring of 1767 to see the new lands he had bought in our +parish. His coach couped in the Vennel, and his lordship was thrown head +foremost into the mud. He swore like a trooper, and said he would get an +act of parliament to put down the nuisance. His lordship came to the manse, +and, being in a woeful plight, he got the loan of my best suit of clothes. +This made him wonderful jocose both with Mrs. Balwhidder and me, for he was +a portly man, and I but a thin body, and it was really droll to see his +lordship clad in my garments. Out of this accident grew a sort of +neighbourliness between Lord Eglesham and me.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--A Runaway Match</i></h4> + + +<p>About Christmas, Lady Macadam's son, having been perfected in the art of +war at a school in France, had, with the help of his mother's friends and +his father's fame, got a stand of colours in the Royal Scots Regiment. He +came to show himself in his regimentals to his lady mother, and during the +visit he fell in love and entered into correspondence with Kate Malcolm. A +while after, her ladyship's flunkey came to the manse and begged me to go +to her. So I went; and there she was, with gum-flowers on her head, sitting +on a settee, for she was lame, and in her hand she held a letter.</p> + +<p>"Sir," she said, as I came into the room, "I want you to go instantly to +your clerk," meaning Mr. Lorimore, the schoolmaster, "and tell him I will +give him a couple of hundred pounds to marry Miss Malcolm without +delay."</p> + +<p>"Softly, my lady; you must first tell me the meaning of all this haste +of kindness," said I, in my calm, methodical manner. At which she began to +sob, and bewail her ruin and the dishonour of her family. I was confounded, +but at length it came out that she had accidentally opened a letter that +had come from London for Kate, that she had read it, by which she came to +know that Kate and her darling son were trysted, and that this was not the +first love-letter which had passed between them. Mr. Lorimore promptly +declined her ladyship's proposal, as he was engaged to be married to his +present worthy helpmate. Although her ladyship was so overcome with +passion, she would not part with Kate, nor allow her to quit the house.</p> + +<p>Three years later the young Laird Macadam, being ordered with his +regiment for America, got leave from the king to come and see his lady +mother before his departure. But it was not to see her only. He arrived at +a late hour unwarned, lest his mother would send Kate out of the way; but +no sooner did her ladyship behold his face than she kindled upon both him +and Kate, and ordered them out of her sight and house. The young folk had +discretion. Kate went home to her mother, and the laird came to the manse +and begged us to take him in.</p> + +<p>He asked me to perform the ceremony, as he was resolved to marry Kate. +We stepped over to Mrs. Malcolm's house, where we found the saintly woman +with Kate and Erne and Willie, preparing to read their Bible for the night. +After speaking to Mrs. Malcolm for a time, she consented to the marriage. +It was sanctified by me before we left Mrs. Malcolm's, the young couple +setting off in the laird's chaise to Glasgow, and authorising me to break +the matter to Lady Macadam. I was spared this performance, for the servants +jealoused what had been done, and told her ladyship. When I entered the +room she was like a mad woman in Bedlam. She sent her coachman on horseback +to overtake them, which he did at Kilmarnock, and they returned in the +morning, when her ladyship was as cagey and meikle taken up with them as if +they had gotten her full consent and privilege from the first. Captain +Macadam afterwards bought a house at the Braehead, and gave it, with a +judicious income, to Mrs. Malcolm, telling her it was not becoming that she +should any longer be dependent upon her own industry. For this the young +man got a name like a sweet odour in all the country-side.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that Charlie Malcolm went a-sailing in a +tobacco-trader to America. When his ship was lying in the harbour of +Virginia, a press-gang, that was in need of men for the Avenger, +man-of-war, came on board and pressed poor Charles. I wrote to Lord +Eglesham anent the matter, and his lordship's brother being connected with +the Admiralty, the captain of the man-of-war was instructed to make a +midshipman of Charles. This was done, and Mrs. Malcolm heard from time to +time from her son, saying that he had found a friend in the captain, that +was just a father to him.</p> + +<p>In the latter end of 1776, the man-of-war, with Charles Malcolm in her, +came to the Tail of the Bank at Greenock, and Charles got leave from his +captain to come and see his mother. He brought with him Mr. Howard, another +midshipman, the son of a great Parliament man in London. They were dressed +in their fine gold-laced garbs. When Charles had seen his mother and his +sister, Effie, he came with his friend to see me at the manse, and got Mrs. +Balwhidder to ask his friend to sleep there. In short, we had a ploy the +whole two days they stayed with us, Lady Macadam made for them at a ball, +and it was a delight to see how old and young of all degrees made much of +Charles.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Years of Lamentation</i></h4> + + +<p>I was named in the year 1779 for the General Assembly, and Mrs. +Balwhidder, by her continual thrift, having made our purse able to stand a +shake against the wind, we resolved to go into Edinburgh in a creditable +manner. We put up at Widow M'Vicar's, a relation to my first wife, a gawsy, +furthy woman, taking great pleasure in hospitality. In short, everybody in +Edinburgh was in a manner wearisome kind.</p> + +<p>I was delighted and surprised to find Lord Eglesham at the levee, and he +introduced me to his grace the Commissioner, who required me to preach +before him. Fain would I have eschewed the honour that was thus thrust upon +me; but both my wife and Mrs. M'Vicar were just lifted out of themselves at +the thought. After the sermon the Commissioner complimented me on my +apostolic earnestness, and Mrs. M'Vicar said I had surprised everybody; but +I was fearful there was something of jocularity at the bottom of all +this.</p> + +<p>The year 1781 was one of dolour and tribulation, for Lord Eglesham was +shot dead by a poaching exciseman, and Lady Macadam died of paralysis; but +the year after was one of greater lamentation. Three brave young fellows +belonging to the clachan, who had gone as soldiers in America, were killed +in battle with the rebels, for which there was great grief. Shortly after +this the news came of a victory over the French fleet, and by the same post +I got a letter from Mr. Howard, the midshipman, telling me that poor +Charles had been mortally wounded in the action, and had afterwards died of +his wounds.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Malcolm heard the news of the victory through the steeple bell +being set a-ringing, and she came over to the manse in great anxiety. When +I saw her I could not speak, but looked at her in pity, and, the tears +fleeing into my eyes, she guessed what had happened. After giving a deep +and sore sigh, she inquired, "How did he behave? I hope well, for he was +aye a gallant laddie!" And then she wept very bitterly. I gave her the +letter, which she begged me to give to her to keep, saying, "It's all that +I have left now of my pretty boy; but it is mair precious to me than the +wealth of the Indies!"</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Death of the Second Mrs. Balwhidder</i></h4> + + +<p>Some time after this a Mr. Cayenne, a man of crusty temper but good +heart, and his family, American loyalists, settled among us. In the year +1788, a proposal came from Glasgow to build a cotton mill on the banks of +the Brawl burn, a rapid stream which ran through the parish. Mr. Cayenne +took a part in the profit or loss of the concern, and the cotton mill and a +new town was built, and the whole called Cayenneville. Weavers of muslin +were brought to the mill, and women to teach the lassie bairns in our old +clachan tambouring instead of hand-spinning.</p> + +<p>Prosperity of fortune is like the golden hue of the evening cloud that +delighteth the spirit and passeth away. In the month of February 1796, my +second wife was gathered to the Lord. Her death was to me a great sorrow, +for she was a most excellent wife, industrious to a degree. With her I had +grown richer than any other minister in the presbytery.</p> + +<p>I laid her by the side of my first love, Betty Lanshaw, and I inscribed +her name upon the same headstone. Time had drained my poetical vein, and I +have not yet been able to indite an epithet on her merits and virtues, for +she had an eminent share of both. Above all, she was the mother of my +children. She was not long deposited in her place of rest until things fell +into amazing confusion, and I saw it would be necessary, as soon as decency +would allow, for me to take another wife, both for a helpmate, and to tend +me in my approaching infirmities.</p> + +<p>I saw it would not do for me to look out for an overly young woman, nor +yet would it do for one of my way to take an elderly maiden, ladies of that +sort being liable to possess strong-set particularities. I therefore +resolved that my choice should lie among widows of a discreet age, and I +fixed my purpose on Mrs. Nugent, the relict of a professor in the +University of Glasgow, both because she was a well-bred woman without any +children, and because she was held in great estimation as a lady of +Christian principle. And so we were married as soon as a twelve-month and a +day had passed from the death of the second Mrs. Balwhidder; and neither of +us have had occasion to rue the bargain.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--The Last Sermon</i></h4> + + +<p>Two things made 1799 a memorable year; the marriage of my daughter Janet +with the Rev. Dr. Kittleword of Swappington, a match in every way +commendable; and the death of Mrs. Malcolm. If ever there was a saint on +earth she was surely one. She bore adversity with an honest pride; she +toiled in the day of penury and affliction with thankfulness for her little +earnings.</p> + +<p>The year 1803 saw tempestuous times. Bonaparte gathered his host fornent +the English coast, and the government at London were in terror of their +lives for an invasion. All in the country saw that there was danger, and I +was not backward in sounding the trumpet to battle. I delivered on Lord's +Day a religious and political exhortation on the present posture of public +affairs before a vast congregation of all ranks. The week following there +were meetings of weavers and others, and volunteers were enrolled in +defence of king and country.</p> + +<p>In the course of the next four or five years many changes took place in +the parish. The weavers and cotton-mill folk and seceders from my own kirk +built a meeting-house in Cayenneville, where there had been for a while +great suffering on account of the failure of the cotton-mill company. In +the year 1809 the elders came in a body to the manse, and said that, seeing +that I was now growing old, they thought they could not testify their +respect for me in a better manner than by agreeing to get me a helper; and +the next year several young ministers spared me from the necessity of +preaching.</p> + +<p>When it was known that I was to preach my last sermon on the last +sabbath of 1810, everyone, including the seceders to the meeting-house, +made it a point to be in the parish kirk, or to stand in the crowd that +made a lane of reverence for me to pass from the kirk door to the back-yett +of the manse. It was a moving discourse, and there were few dry eyes in the +kirk that day; for my bidding them farewell was as when of old among the +heathen an idol was taken away by the hand of the enemy. Shortly after, a +deputation of the seceders, with their minister at their head, came to me +and presented a server of silver in token of their esteem of my blameless +life, and the charity I had practised towards the poor.</p> + +<p>I am thankful that I have been spared with a sound mind to write this +book to the end, having really no more to say, saving only to wish a +blessing on all people from on high, where I soon hope to be, and to meet +there all the old and long-departed sheep of my flock, especially the first +and second Mrs. Balwhidders.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="gaskell">ELIZABETH CLEGHORN GASKELL</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="gaskell1">Cranford</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Mrs. Gaskell, whose maiden name was Elizabeth C. Stevenson, +was born in Chelsea, London, Sept. 29, 1810. She married a Unitarian +clergyman in Manchester. Her first literary work was published anonymously, +and met with a storm of mingled approval and disapproval. Charles Dickens +invited her to contribute to his "Household Words," and it was in the pages +of that famous periodical, at intervals between December 13, 1851, and May +21, 1853, that her charming sketches of social life in a little country +town first appeared. In June, 1853, they were grouped together under the +title of "Cranford," meeting with wide approval, and have long taken rank +as one of the accepted English classics. The town which figures here as +Cranford is understood to have been Knutsford, in Cheshire, which still +retains something of that old-world feeling and restfulness which Mrs. +Gaskell embodied in the pages of her most engaging book. "Cranford" is +probably the direct progenitor of many latter-day books of the class to +which the word "idyll" has been somewhat loosely applied. Its charm and +freshness are unfading; it remains unique and unrivalled as a sympathetic +and kindly humorous description of English provincial life. Mrs. Gaskell +died in November, 1865. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Our Society</i></h4> + + +<p>On the first visit I paid to Cranford, after I had left it as a +residence, I was astonished to find a man had settled there--a Captain +Brown. In my time Cranford was in possession of the Amazons. If a married +couple came to settle there, somehow the man always disappeared. Either he +was fairly frightened to death by being the only man at the evening +parties, or he was accounted for by being with his regiment, his ship, or +closely connected in business all the week in the great neighbouring +commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on the railroad.</p> + +<p>I was naturally interested to learn what opinions Captain Brown had +managed to win for himself in Cranford. So, with all the delicacy which the +subject demanded, I made inquiries of my hostess, Miss Jenkyns. I was +surprised to learn that Captain Brown not only was respected, but had even +gained an extraordinary place of authority among the Cranford ladies. Of +course, he had been forced to overcome great difficulties.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the ladies of Cranford had moaned over the invasion +of their territories by a man and a gentleman. Then Captain Brown had +started badly, very badly, by openly referring to his poverty. If he had +whispered it to an intimate friend, the doors and windows being previously +closed, his vulgarity--a tremendous word in Cranford--might have been +forgiven. But he had published his poverty in the public street, in a loud +military voice, alleging it as a reason for not taking a particular +house.</p> + +<p>In Cranford, too, where it was tacitly agreed to ignore that anyone with +whom we associated on terms of equality could ever be prevented by poverty +from doing anything they wished. Where, if we walked to and from a party, +it was because the night was <i>so</i> fine or the air <i>so</i> +refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were so expensive.</p> + +<p>So the poor captain had been sent to Coventry. The ladies of Cranford +had frozen him out, until the day when the cow, an Alderney cow, had broken +the ice.</p> + +<p>It happened like this. Miss Betsy Barker had an Alderney cow, which she +looked upon as a daughter. You could not pay the regulation short quarter +of an hour's call--to stay longer was a breach of manners--without being +told of the wonderful milk or wonderful intelligence of this animal. The +whole town knew and kindly regarded Miss Betsy Barker's Alderney.</p> + +<p>One day the cow fell into a lime-pit, and Cranford grieved over the +spectacle of the poor beast being drawn out, having lost most of her hair, +and looking naked, cold and miserable, in a bare skin. Miss Betsy Barker +absolutely cried with sorrow and dismay, and was about to prepare a bath of +oil for the sufferer, when Captain Brown called out: "Get her a flannel +waistcoat and flannel drawers, ma'am, if you wish to keep her alive. But my +advice is, 'kill the poor creature at once.'" Miss Betsy Barker dried her +eyes, and in a few hours the whole town turned out to see the Alderney +meekly going to her pasture, clad in dark-gray flannel. Do you ever see +cows dressed in gray flannel in London?</p> + +<p>On that day was born the respect of the Cranford ladies for Captain +Brown.</p> + +<p>Soon after my arrival in Cranford, Miss Jenkyns gave a party in my +honour, and recalling the old days when we had almost persuaded ourselves +that to be a man was to be "vulgar," I was curious to see what the ladies +would do with Captain Brown.</p> + +<p>The preparations were much as usual. Card-tables, with green baize tops, +were set out by daylight, and towards four, when the evening closed in, we +all stood dressed in our best, each with a candle-lighter in our hand, +ready to dart at the candles as soon as the first knock came. The china was +delicate egg-shell; the old-fashioned silver glittered with polishing; but +the eatables were of the slightest description. While the trays were yet on +the table, Captain Brown arrived with his two daughters, Miss Brown and +Miss Jessie, the former with a sickly, pained, and careworn expression; the +latter with a pretty, round, dimpled face, and the look of a child which +will remain with her should she live to be a hundred.</p> + +<p>I could see that the captain was a favourite with all the ladies +present. Ruffled brows were smoothed and sharp voices hushed at his +approach. He immediately and quietly assumed the man's place in the room; +attended to everyone's wants, lessened the pretty maidservant's labour by +waiting on empty cups and bread-and-butterless ladies; and yet did it all +in so easy and dignified a manner, and so much as if it were a matter of +course for the strong to attend to the weak, that he was a true man +throughout.</p> + +<p>The party passed off very well in spite of one or two little hitches. +One was Miss Jessie Brown's unguarded admission--<i>à propos</i> of +Shetland wool--that she had an uncle, her mother's brother, who was a +shopkeeper in Edinburgh. Miss Jenkyns tried to drown this confession by a +terrible cough, for the honourable Mrs. Jamieson was sitting at the +card-table nearest Miss Jessie, and what would she say or think if she +found out she was in the same room with a shopkeeper's niece!</p> + +<p>Then there was a slight breeze between Miss Jenkyns and Captain Brown +over the relative merits of Dr. Johnson and the author of "Pickwick +Papers"--then being published in parts--as writers of light and agreeable +fiction. Captain Brown read an account of the "Swarry" which Sam Weller +gave at Bath. Some of us laughed very heartily. <i>I</i> did not dare, +because I was staying in the house. At the conclusion Miss Jenkyns said to +me, with mild dignity, "Fetch me 'Rasselas,' my dear, out of the +book-room."</p> + +<p>After delivering one of the conversations between Rasselas and Imlac in +a majestic, high-pitched voice, Miss Jenkyns said, "I imagine I am now +justified in my preference for Dr. Johnson over your Mr. Boz as a writer of +fiction."</p> + +<p>The captain said nothing, merely screwed his lips up and drummed on the +table; but when Miss Jenkyns returned later to the charge and recommended +the doctor's style to Captain Brown's favourite, the captain replied, "I +should be very sorry for him to exchange his style for any such pompous +writing."</p> + +<p>Miss Jenkyns felt this as a personal affront in a way of which the +captain had not dreamed. How could he know that she and her friends looked +upon epistolary writing as their forte, and that when in a letter they +"seized the half-hour just previous to post-time to assure" their friends +of this and that, they were using the doctor as a model?</p> + +<p>As it was Miss Jenkyns refused to be mollified by Captain Brown's +efforts later to beguile her into conversation on some more pleasing +subject. She was inexorable.</p> + +<p>Captain Brown endeavoured to make peace after this memorable dispute by +a present to Miss Jenkyns of a wooden fire-shovel (his own making), having +heard her say how much the grating of an iron one annoyed her. She received +the present with cool gratitude and thanked him formally. When he was gone +she bade me put it in the lumber-room, feeling probably that no present +from a man who preferred Mr. Boz to Dr. Johnson could be less jarring than +an iron fire-shovel.</p> + +<p>Such was the state of affairs at the time when I left Cranford and went +to Drumble. I had, however, several correspondents who kept me <i>au +fait</i> as to the proceedings of the inhabitants of the dear little +town.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Captain</i></h4> + + +<p>My next visit to Cranford was in the summer. There had been neither +births, deaths, nor marriages since I was there last. Everybody lived in +the same house, and wore pretty near the same well-preserved, old-fashioned +clothes. The greatest event was that the Misses Jenkyns had purchased a new +carpet for the drawing-room. Oh, the busy work Miss Matty and I had in +chasing the sunbeams as they fell in an afternoon right down on this carpet +through the blindless windows! We spread our newspapers over the places and +sat down to our book or our work; and, lo! in a quarter of an hour the sun +had moved and was blazing away in a fresh spot; and down again we went on +our knees to alter the position of the newspapers. One whole morning, too, +we spent in cutting out and stitching together pieces of newspapers so as +to form little paths to every chair, lest the shoes of visitors should +defile the purity of the carpet. Do you make paper paths for every guest to +walk upon in London?</p> + +<p>The literary dispute between Captain Brown and Miss Jenkyns continued. +She had formed a habit of talking <i>at</i> him. And he retaliated by +drumming his fingers, which action Miss Jenkyns felt and resented as +disparaging to Dr. Johnson.</p> + +<p>The poor captain! I noticed on this visit that he looked older and more +worn, and his clothes were very threadbare. But he seemed as bright and +cheerful as ever, unless he was asked about his daughter's health.</p> + +<p>One afternoon we perceived little groups in the street, all listening +with faces aghast to some tale or other. It was some time before Miss +Jenkyns took the undignified step of sending Jenny out to inquire.</p> + +<p>Jenny came back with a white face of terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Miss Jenkyns, ma'am! Captain Brown is killed by them +nasty cruel railroads." And she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"How, where--where? Good God! Jenny, don't waste time in crying, but +tell us something."</p> + +<p>Miss Matty rushed out into the street, and presently an affrighted +carter appeared in the drawing-room and told the story.</p> + +<p>"'Tis true, mum, I seed it myself. The captain was a-readin' some book, +waitin' for the down train, when a lass as gave its sister the slip came +toddling across the line. He looked up sudden, see'd the child, darted on +the line, cotched it up, and his foot slipped and the train came over him +in no time. The child's safe. Poor captain would be glad of that, mum, +wouldn't he? God bless him!"</p> + +<p>The great rough carter turned away to hide his tears. I turned to Miss +Jenkyns. She looked very ill, as though she were going to faint, and signed +to me to open a window.</p> + +<p>"Matilda, bring me my bonnet. I must go to those girls. God pardon me if +ever I have spoken contemptuously to the captain."</p> + +<p>Miss Brown did not long survive her father. Her last words were a prayer +for forgiveness for her selfishness in allowing her sister Jessie to +sacrifice herself for her all her life.</p> + +<p>But Miss Jessie was not long left alone. Miss Jenkyns insisted she +should come and stay with her, and would not hear of her going out into the +world to earn her living as a saleswoman. "Some people have no idea of +their rank as a captain's daughter," she related indignantly, and stumped +out of the room. Presently she came back with a strange look on her +face.</p> + +<p>"I have been much startled--no, I've not been startled--don't mind me, +my dear Miss Jessie, only surprised--in fact, I've had a caller whom you +once knew, my dear Miss Jessie."</p> + +<p>Miss Jessie went very white, then flushed scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Is it?--it is not----" stammered out Miss Jessie, and got no +farther.</p> + +<p>"This is his card," said Miss Jenkyns, and went through a series of +winks and odd faces at me, and formed a long sentence with her lips, of +which I could not understand a word.</p> + +<p>Major Gordon was shown upstairs.</p> + +<p>While downstairs Miss Jenkyns told me what the major had told her. How +he had served in the same regiment as Captain Brown and had fallen in love +with Miss Jessie, then a sweet-looking, blooming girl of eighteen; how she +had refused him, though obviously not indifferent to him; how he had +discovered the obstacle to be the fell disease which had stricken her +sister, whom there was no one to nurse and comfort but herself; how he had +believed her cold and had left in anger; and finally how he had read of the +death of Captain Brown in a foreign newspaper.</p> + +<p>Just then Miss Matty burst into the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Deborah," she said, "there's a gentleman sitting in the +drawing-room with his arm round Miss Jessie's waist!"</p> + +<p>"The most proper place for his arm to be in. Go, Matilda, and mind your +own business."</p> + +<p>Poor Miss Matty! This was a shock, coming from her decorous sister.</p> + +<p>Thus happiness, and with it some of her early bloom, returned to Miss +Jessie, and as Mrs. Gordon her dimples were not out of place.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Poor Peter</i></h4> + + +<p>My visits to Cranford continued for many years, and did not cease even +after the death of Miss Jenkyns.</p> + +<p>Miss Matty became my new hostess. At first I rather dreaded the changed +aspect of things. Miss Matty, too, began to cry as soon as she saw me. She +was evidently nervous from having anticipated my visit. I comforted her as +well as I could, and I found the best consolation I could give was the +honest praise that came from my heart as I spoke of the deceased.</p> + +<p>Miss Matty made me her confidante in many matters, and one evening she +sent Martha to go for eggs at a farm at the other end of the town and told +me the story of her brother.</p> + +<p>"Poor Peter! The sole honour he brought from Shrewsbury was the +reputation of being captain of the school in the art of practical joking. +He even thought that the people of Cranford might be hoaxed. 'Hoaxing' is +not a pretty word, my dear, and I hope you won't tell your father I used +it, for I should not like him to think I was not choice in my language, +after living with such a woman as Deborah. I don't know how it slipped out +of my mouth, except it was that I was thinking of poor Peter, and it was +always his expression.</p> + +<p>"One day my father had gone to see some sick people in the village. +Deborah, too, was away from home for a fortnight or so. I don't know what +possessed poor Peter, but he went to her room and dressed himself in her +old gown and shawl and bonnet. And he made the pillow into a little--you +are sure you locked the door, my dear?--into--into a little baby with white +long clothes. And he went and walked up and down in the Filbert Walk--just +half hidden by the rails and half seen; and he cuddled the pillow just like +a baby and talked to it all the nonsense people do. Oh, dear, and my father +came stepping stately up the street, as he always did, and pushing past the +crowd saw--I don't know what he saw--but old Clare said his face went +grey-white with anger. He seized hold of poor Peter, tore the clothes off +his back--bonnet, shawl, gown, and all--threw them among the crowd, and +before all the people lifted up his cane and flogged Peter.</p> + +<p>"My dear, that boy's trick on that sunny day, when all promised so well, +broke my mother's heart and changed my father for life. Old Clare said +Peter looked as white as my father and stood still as a statue to be +flogged.</p> + +<p>"'Have you done enough, sir?' he asked hoarsely, when my father stopped. +Then Peter bowed grandly to the people outside the railing and walked +slowly home. He went straight to his mother, looking as haughty as any man, +and not like a boy.</p> + +<p>"'Mother,' he said, 'I am come to say "God bless you for ever."'</p> + +<p>"He would say no more, and by the time my mother had found out what had +happened from my father, and had gone to her boy's room to comfort him, he +had gone, and did not come back. That spring day was the last time he ever +saw his mother's face. He wrote a passionate entreaty to her to come and +see him before his ship left the Mersey for the war, but the letter was +delayed, and when she arrived it was too late. It killed my mother. And +think, my dear, the day after her death--for she did not live a +twelve-month after Peter left--came a parcel from India from her poor boy. +It was a large, soft white India shawl. Just what my mother would have +liked.</p> + +<p>"We took it to my father in the hopes it would rouse him, for he had sat +with her hand in his all night long. At first he took no notice of it. Then +suddenly he got up and spoke. 'She shall be buried in it,' he said. 'Peter +shall have that comfort; and she would have liked it.'"</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Peter ever come home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, once. He came home a lieutenant. And he and my father were such +friends. My father was so proud to show him to all the neighbours. He never +walked out without Peter's arm to lean on. And then Peter went to sea +again, and by-and-by my father died, blessing us both and thanking Deborah +for all she had been to him. And our circumstances were changed, and from a +big rectory with three servants we had come down to a small house with a +servant-of-all-work. But, as Deborah used to say, we have always lived +genteelly, even if circumstances have compelled us to simplicity. Poor +Deborah!"</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Peter?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there was some great war in India, and we have never heard of Peter +since then. I believe he is dead myself. Sometimes when I sit by myself and +the house is quiet, I think I hear his step coming up the street, and my +heart begins to flutter and beat; but the sound goes, and Peter never comes +back."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Friends in Need</i></h4> + + +<p>The years rolled on. I spent my time between Drumble and Cranford. I was +thankful that I happened to be staying with Miss Matty when the Town and +County Bank failed, which had such a disastrous effect on her little +fortune.</p> + +<p>It was an example to me, and I fancy it might be to many others, to see +how immediately Miss Matty set about the retrenchment she knew to be right +under her altered circumstances. I did the little I could. Some months back +a conjuror had given a performance in the Cranford Assembly Rooms. By a +strange set of circumstances the identity of Signor Brunoni was revealed. +He was plain Samuel Brown, who had fallen out of his cart and had to be +attended by our doctor. I went to visit the patient and his wife, and +learned that she had been India. She told me a long story about being +befriended, after a perilous journey, by a kind Englishman who lived right +in the midst of the natives. It was his name which astonished me. Agra +Jenkyns.</p> + +<p>Could Agra Jenkyns be the long lost Peter? I resolved to say nothing to +Miss Matty, but got the address from the signor (as we still called him +from habit), spelt by sound, and very queer it looked, and posted a letter +to him.</p> + +<p>All sorts of plans were discussed for Miss Matty's future. I thought of +all the things by which a woman, past middle age, and with the education +common to ladies fifty years ago, could earn or add to a living without +materially losing caste; but at length I put even this last clause on one +side, and wondered what in the world Miss Matty could do. Even teaching was +out of the question, for, reckoning over her accomplishments, I had to come +down to reading, writing, and arithmetic--and in reading the chapter every +morning she always coughed before coming to long words.</p> + +<p>I was still in a quandary the next morning, when I received a letter +from Miss Pole, so mysteriously wrapped up and with so many seals on it to +secure secrecy that I had to tear the paper before I could unfold it.</p> + +<p>It summoned me to go to Miss Pole at 11 a.m., the a.m. twice dashed +under as if I were likely to come at eleven at night, when all Cranford was +usually abed and asleep by ten. I went and found Miss Pole dressed in +solemn array, though there were only Mrs. Forrester, crying quietly and +sadly, and Mrs. FitzAdam present. Miss Pole was armed with a card, on which +I imagine she had written some notes.</p> + +<p>"Miss Smith," she began, when I entered (I was familiarly known to all +Cranford as Mary, but this was a state occasion), "I have conversed in +private with these ladies on the misfortune which has happened to our +friend, and one and all have agreed that while we have a superfluity, it is +not only a duty but a pleasure--a true pleasure, Mary!"--her voice was +rather choked just here, and she had to wipe her spectacles before she +could go on--"to give what we can to assist her--Miss Matilda Jenkyns. Only +in consideration of the feelings of delicate independence existing in the +mind of every refined female"--I was sure she had got back to the card--"we +wish to contribute our mites in a secret and concealed manner, so as not to +hurt the feelings I have referred to."</p> + +<p>Well, the upshot of this solemn meeting was that each of those dear old +ladies wrote down the sum she could afford annually, signed the paper and +sealed it mysteriously, and I was commissioned to get my father to +administer the fund in such a manner that Miss Jenkyns should imagine the +money came from her own improved investments.</p> + +<p>As I was going, Mrs. Forrester took me aside, and in the manner of one +confessing a great crime the poor old lady told me how very, very little +she had to live on--a confession she was brought to make from a dread lest +we should think that the small contribution named in her paper bore any +proportion to her love and regard for Miss Mary. And yet that sum which she +so eagerly relinquished was, in truth, more than a twentieth part of what +she had to live on. And when the whole income does not nearly amount to a +hundred pounds, to give up a twentieth of it will necessitate many careful +economies and many pieces of self-denial--small and insignificant in the +world's account, but bearing a different value in another account book that +I have heard of.</p> + +<p>The upshot of it all was that dear Miss Matty was comfortably installed +in her own house, and added to her slender income by selling tea! This last +was my idea, and it was a proud moment for me when it realized. The small +dining-room was converted into a shop, without any of its degrading +characteristics, a table formed the counter, one window was retained +unaltered and the other changed into a glass door, and there she was. Tea +was certainly a happy commodity, as it was neither greasy nor sticky, +grease and stickiness being two of the qualities which Miss Matty could not +endure. Moreover, as Miss Matty said, one good thing about it was that men +did not buy it, and it was of men particularly she was afraid. They had +such sharp, loud ways with them, and did up accounts and counted their +change so quickly.</p> + +<p>Very little remains to be told. The approval of the Honourable Mrs. +Jamieson set the seal upon the successful career of Miss Matty as a +purveyor of tea. Thus did she escape even the shadow of "vulgarity."</p> + +<p>One afternoon I was sitting in the shop parlour with Miss Matty, when we +saw a gentleman go slowly past the window and then stand opposite to the +door, as if looking out for the name which we had so carefully hidden. His +clothes had an out-of-the-way foreign cut, and it flashed across me it was +the Agra himself! He entered.</p> + +<p>Miss Matty looked at him, and something of tender relaxation in his face +struck home to her heart. She said: "It is--oh, sir, can you be Peter?" and +trembled from head to foot. In a moment he had her in his arms, sobbing the +tearless cries of old age.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="gaskell2">Mary Barton</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +"Mary Barton," although not Mrs. Gaskell's first attempt at +authorship, was her first literary success; and although her later writings +revealed a gain in skill, subtlety and humour, none of them equalled "Mary +Barton" in dramatic intensity and fervent sincerity. This passionate tale +of the sorrows of the Manchester poor, given to the world anonymously in +the year 1848, was greeted with a storm of mingled approval and +disapproval. It was praised by Carlyle and Landor, but some critics +attacked it fiercely as a slander on the Manchester manufacturers, and +there were admirers who complained that it was too heartrending. The +controversy has long since died down, but the book holds a permanent place +in literature as a vivid revelation of a dark and painful phase of English +life in the middle of the last century. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Rich and Poor</i></h4> + +<p>"Mary," said John Barton to his daughter, "what's come o'er thee and Jem +Wilson? You were great friends at one time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, folk say he is going to be married to Molly Gibson," answered Mary, +as indifferently as she could.</p> + +<p>"Thou'st played thy cards badly, then," replied her father in a surly +tone. "At one time he were much fonder o' thee than thou deservedst."</p> + +<p>"That's as people think," said Mary pertly, for she remembered that the +very morning before, when on her way to her dressmaking work, she had met +Mr. Harry Carson, who had sighed, and sworn and protested all manner of +tender vows. Mr. Harry Carson was the son and the idol of old Mr. Carson, +the wealthy mill-owner. Jem Wilson, her old playmate, and the son of her +father's, closest friend, although he had earned a position of trust at the +foundry where he worked, was but a mechanic after all! Mary was ambitious; +she knew that she had beauty; she believed that when young Mr. Carson +declared he meant to marry her he spoke the truth.</p> + +<p>It so happened that Jem, after much anxious thought, had determined that +day to "put his fortune to the touch." Just after John Barton had gone out, +Jem appeared at the door, looking more awkward and abashed than he had ever +done before.</p> + +<p>He thought he had better begin at once.</p> + +<p>"Mary, it's no new story I'm going to speak about. Since we were boy and +girl I ha' loved you above father and mother and all. And now, Mary, I'm +foreman at the works, and I've a home to offer you, and a heart as true as +ever man had to love you and cherish you. Darling, say that you'll be +mine."</p> + +<p>Mary could not speak at once.</p> + +<p>"Mary, they say, silence gives consent," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"No, not with me! I can never be your wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary, think awhile!" he urged.</p> + +<p>"Jem, it cannot be," she said calmly, although she trembled from head to +foot. "Once for all, I will never marry you."</p> + +<p>"And this is the end!" he cried passionately. "Mary, you'll hear, maybe, +of me as a drunkard, and maybe as a thief, and maybe as a murderer. +Remember! it's your cruelty that will have made me what I feel I shall +become."</p> + +<p>He rushed out of the house.</p> + +<p>When he had gone, Mary lay half across the dresser, her head hidden in +her hands, and her body shaken with violent sobs. For these few minutes had +unveiled her heart to her; it had convinced her that she loved Jem above +all persons or things. What were the wealth and prosperity that Mr. Harry +Carson might bring to her now that she had suddenly discovered the +passionate secret of her soul?</p> + +<p>Her first duty, she saw, was to reject the advances of her rich lover. +She avoided him as far as possible, and slighted him when he forced his +presence upon her. And how was she to redress the wrong she had done to Jem +in denying him her heart? She took counsel with her friend, Margaret Legh. +When Mary had first known Margaret and her grandfather, Job Legh--an old +man who belonged to the class of Manchester workmen who are warm and +devoted followers of science, a man whose home was like a wizard's +dwelling, filled with impaled insects and books and instruments--Margaret +had a secret fear of blindness. The fear had since been realised, but she +remained the quiet, sensible, tender-hearted girl she had been before her +great deprivation. She opposed Mary's notion of writing a letter to +Jem.</p> + +<p>"You must just wait and be patient," she advised; "being patient is the +hardest work we have to do through life, I take it. Waiting is far more +difficult than doing; but it's one of God's lessons we must learn, one way +or another."</p> + +<p>So Mary waited. But Jem took his disappointment as final, and her hopes +of seeing him were always baffled.</p> + +<p>John Barton, on the night of Jem's proposal, had gone to his union. The +members of the union were all desperate men, ready for anything; made ready +by want. Barton himself was out of work. He had seen much of the bitterness +of poverty in Manchester; now he was feeling the pinch of it himself.</p> + +<p>Ever since the death of his wife, whose end had been hastened by the +sudden and complete disappearance of her darling sister Esther, the wan +colourlessness of his face had been intensified; his stern enthusiasm, once +latent, had become visible; his heart, tenderer than ever towards the +victims of the misery around him, grew harder towards the employers, whom +he believed to be the cause of that misery. Trade grew worse, but there was +no sign that the masters were suffering; they still had their carriages and +their comforts; the woe in these terrible years 1839, 1840, and 1841 seemed +to fall wholly upon the poor. It is impossible even faintly to picture the +state of distress which prevailed in Manchester at that time. Whole +families went through a gradual starvation; John Barton saw them starve, +saw fathers and mothers and children die of low, putrid fever in foetid +cellars, and cursed the rich men who never extended a helping hand to the +sufferers.</p> + +<p>"Working folk won't be ground to the dust much longer," he declared. +"We'n ha' had as much to bear as human nature can bear."</p> + +<p>Fiercer grew he, and more sullen. Darker and darker were the schemes he +brooded over in his desolate home, or discussed with others at the meetings +of the union. Even Mary did not escape his ill-temper. Once he struck her. +And yet Mary was the one being on earth he devotedly loved. What would he +have thought had he known that his daughter had listened to the voice of an +employer's son? But he did not know.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Rivals</i></h4> + + +<p>One night, as Jem was leaving the foundry, a woman laid her hand upon +his arm. A momentary glance at the faded finery she wore told him the class +to which she belonged, and he made an effort to pass on. But she grasped +him firmly.</p> + +<p>"You must listen to me, Jem Wilson," she said, "for Mary Barton's +sake."</p> + +<p>"And who can you be to know Mary Barton?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember Esther, Mary's aunt?"</p> + +<p>'"Yes, I mind her well." He looked into her face. "Why, Esther! Where +have ye been this many a year?"</p> + +<p>She answered with fierce earnestness, "Where have I been? What have I +been doing? Can you not guess? See after Mary, and take care she does not +become like me. As she is loving now, so did I love once--one above me, +far."</p> + +<p>Jem cut her short with his hoarse, stern inquiry, "Who is this spark +that Mary loves?"</p> + +<p>"It's old Carson's son." Then, after a pause, she continued, "Oh, Jem, I +charge you with the care of her! Her father won't listen to me." She cried +a little at the recollection of John Barton's harsh words when she had +timidly tried to approach him. "It would be better for her to die than to +live to lead such a life as I do!"</p> + +<p>"It would be better," said Jem, as if thinking aloud. Then he went on. +"Esther, you may trust to my doing all I can for Mary. And now, listen. +Come home with me. Come to my mother."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Jem!" she replied. "But it is too late now--too +late!"</p> + +<p>She rapidly turned away. Jem felt that the great thing was to reach home +and solitude. His heart was filled with jealous anguish. Mary loved +another! She was lost to him for evermore. A frenzied longing for blood +entered his mind as he brooded that night over his loss. But at last the +thought of duty brought peace to his soul. If Carson loved Mary, Carson +must marry her. It was Jem's part to speak straightforwardly to Carson, to +be unto Mary as a brother.</p> + +<p>Four days later his opportunity came. He met Carson in an unfrequented +lane.</p> + +<p>"May I speak a word wi' you, sir?" said Jem respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my good man," replied Harry Carson.</p> + +<p>"I think, sir, you're keeping company wi' Mary Barton?"</p> + +<p>"Mary Barton! Ay, that is her name. An arrant flirt the little hussy is, +but very pretty."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you in plain words," said Jem, angered, "what I have got to +say to you. I'm an old friend of Mary's and her father's, and I want to +know if you mean fair by Mary or not."</p> + +<p>"You will have the kindness to leave us to ourselves," answered Carson +contemptuously. "No one shall interfere between my little girl and me. Get +out of my way! Won't you? Then I'll make you!"</p> + +<p>He raised his cane, and smote the mechanic on his face. An instant +afterwards he lay stretched in the muddy road, Jem standing over him, +panting with rage. Just then a policeman, who had been watching them +unobserved, interfered with expostulations and warnings.</p> + +<p>"If you dare to injure her," shouted Jem, as he was dragged away, "I +will wait you where no policeman can step in between. And God shall judge +between us two!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The mill-workers had struck against low wages. Five haggard, +earnest-looking men had presented the workpeople's demands to the assembled +mill-owners, and the demands had been rejected. None had been fiercer in +opposing the delegates, none more bitter in mockery of their rags and +leanness, than the son of old Mr. Carson.</p> + +<p>That evening, starved, irritated, despairing men gathered to hear the +delegates tell of their failure.</p> + +<p>"It's the masters as has wrought this woe," said John Barton in a low +voice. "It's the masters as should pay for it. Set me to serve out the +masters, and see if there's aught I'll stick at!"</p> + +<p>Deeper and darker grew the import of the speeches as the men stood +hoarsely muttering their meaning out with set teeth and livid looks. After +a fierce and terrible oath had been sworn, a number of pieces of paper, one +of them marked, were shuffled in a hat. The gas was extinguished; each drew +a paper. The gas was re-lighted. Each examined his paper, with a +countenance as immovable as he could make it. Then they went every one his +own way.</p> + +<p>He who had drawn the marked paper had drawn the lot of the assassin. And +no one, save God and his own conscience, knew who was the appointed +murderer.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Murder</i></h4> + + +<p>Two nights later, Barton was to leave for Glasgow, whither he was to +travel as delegate to entreat assistance for the strikers. "What could be +the matter with him?" thought Mary. He was so restless; he seemed so +fierce, too.</p> + +<p>Presently he rose, and in a short, cold manner bade her farewell. She +stood at the door, looking after him, her eyes blinded with tears. He was +so strange, so cold, so hard. Suddenly he came back, and took her in his +arms.</p> + +<p>"God in heaven bless thee, Mary!"</p> + +<p>She threw her arms round his neck. He kissed her, unlaced her soft, +twining arms, and set off on his errand.</p> + +<p>When Mary reached the dressmaker's next morning, she noticed that the +girls stopped talking. They eyed her! then they began to whisper. At last +one of them asked her if she had heard the news.</p> + +<p>"No! What news?" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Have you not heard that young Mr. Carson was murdered last night?"</p> + +<p>Mary could not speak, but no one who looked at her pale and +terror-stricken face could have doubted that she had not heard before of +the fearful occurrence.</p> + +<p>She felt throughout the day as if the haunting horror were a nightmare +from which awakening would relieve her. Everybody was full of the one +subject.</p> + +<p>In the evening she went to Mrs. Wilson's, hoping that at last she might +see Jem. But here a new and terrible shock awaited her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson turned fiercely upon her.</p> + +<p>"And is it thee that dares set foot in this house, after what has come +to pass? Dost thou know where my son is, all through thee?"</p> + +<p>"No," quivered out poor Mary.</p> + +<p>"He's lying in prison, waiting to take his trial for murdering young Mr. +Carson."</p> + +<p>So, indeed, it was. At the inquest the policeman who had witnessed the +quarrel between the rivals testified to the threats uttered by Jem; and the +gun used by the murderer, and thrown away by him in his haste to escape, +had been proved to be Jem's property.</p> + +<p>Jem an assassin, and because of her! In the agony of that night Mary saw +the gallows standing black against the burning light which dazzled her shut +eyes, press on them as she would. She thought she was going mad; then +Heaven blessed her unawares, and she sank to sleep.</p> + +<p>She was awakened by the coming of a visitor. It was her long-lost, +unrecognised aunt Esther, who had come to her niece bringing her a little +piece of paper compressed into a round shape. It was the paper that had +served as wadding for the murderer's gun. Esther had picked it up while +wandering in curiosity about the scene of the murder. There was writing on +the paper, and she had brought it to Mary, fearing that if it fell into the +hands of the police it would provide more evidence against Jem.</p> + +<p>The paper told Mary everything. It had belonged to John Barton. Jem was +innocent, and her own father was the murderer! Jem must be saved, and she +must do it; for was she not the sole repository of the terrible secret? And +how could she prove Jem's innocence without admitting her father's +guilt?</p> + +<p>When she could think calmly, she realised that she must discover where +Jem had been on the Thursday night when the murder had been committed. +Tremblingly she went to Mrs. Wilson, and learnt what she wanted to know. +Jem had walked towards Liverpool with his cousin Will, a sailor who had +spent all his money in Manchester, and could not afford railway-fare. +Will's ship was to sail on Tuesday, and on Tuesday Jem was to be tried at +the Liverpool assizes.</p> + +<p>Job Legh engaged a lawyer to defend Jem, and Mary prepared to go to +Liverpool to find the one man whose evidence could save her lover. Ere she +left, a policeman brought her a bit of parchment. Her heart misgave her as +she took it; she guessed its purport. It was a summons to bear witness +against Jem Wilson at the assizes.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.---"Not Guilty</i>"</h4> + + +<p>Arrived at Liverpool on Monday, after the bewilderment of a railway +journey--the first she had ever made--Mary found her way to the little +court, not far from the docks, were Jem's sailor cousin lodged.</p> + +<p>"Is Will Wilson here?" she asked the landlady.</p> + +<p>"No, he is not," replied the woman, curtly.</p> + +<p>"Tell me--where he is?" asked Mary, sickening.</p> + +<p>"He's gone this very morning, my poor dear," answered the landlady, +relenting at the sight of Mary's obvious distress. "He's sailed, my +dear--sailed in the John Cropper this very blessed morning!"</p> + +<p>Mary staggered into the house, stricken into hopelessness. Yet hope was +not dead. The landlady's son told her that the John Cropper would be +waiting for high-water to cross the sandbanks at the river's mouth, and +that there was a chance that a sailing-boat might overtake the vessel.</p> + +<p>Mary hurried down to the docks, spent every penny she had in hiring a +boat, and presently was tossing on the water for the first time in her +life, alone with two rough men.</p> + +<p>The boatmen hailed the John Cropper just as the crew were heaving +anchor, and told their errand. The captain refused with a dreadful oath to +stop his ship for anyone, whoever swung for it. But Will Wilson, standing +at the stern, shouted through his hands, "So help me God, Mary Barton, I'll +come back in the pilot-boat time enough to save his life!"</p> + +<p>As the ship receded in the distance, Mary asked anxiously when the +pilot-boat would be back. The boatmen did not know; it might be twelve +hours, it might be two days. A chance yet remained, but she could no longer +hope. When she reached the landing-place, faint and penniless, one of the +boatmen took her to his home, and there she sat sleeplessly awaiting the +dawn of the day of trial.</p> + +<p>When she entered the witness-box next day, the whole court reeled before +her, save two figures only--that of the judge and that of the prisoner. Jem +sat silent--he had held his peace ever since his arrest--with his face +bowed on his hands.</p> + +<p>Mary answered a few questions with a sort of wonder at the reality of +the terrible circumstances in which she was placed.</p> + +<p>"And pray, may I ask, which was the favoured lover?" went on the +barrister.</p> + +<p>A look of indignation for an instant contracted Mary's brow. She was +aware that Jem had raised his head and was gazing at her. Turning towards +the judge, she said steadily, "Perhaps I liked Mr. Harry Carson once; but I +loved James Wilson beyond what tongue can tell. When he asked me to marry +him, I was very hard in my answer; but he'd not been gone out of my sight +above a minute before I knew I loved him--far above my life."</p> + +<p>After these words the prisoner's head was no longer bowed. He stood +erect and firm, with self-respect in his attitude; yet he seemed lost in +thought.</p> + +<p>But Will Wilson did not come, and the evidence against Jem grew stronger +and stronger. Mary was flushed and anxious, muttering to herself in a wild, +restless manner. Job Legh heard her repeat again and again, "I must not go +mad; I must not!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she threw up her arms and shrieked aloud: "Oh, Jem! Jem! You're +saved! and I am mad!" and was carried out of court stiff and convulsed. And +as they bore her off, a sailor forced his way over rails and seats, through +turnkeys and policemen. Will Wilson had come in time.</p> + +<p>He told his tale clearly and distinctly; the efforts of the prosecution +to shake him were useless. "Not guilty" was the verdict that thrilled +through the breathless court. One man sank back in his seat in sickening +despair. The vengeance that old Mr. Carson had longed to compass for the +murder of his beloved boy was thwarted; he had been cheated of the desire +that now ruled his life--the desire of blood for blood.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--"Forgive Us Our Trespasses</i>"</h4> + + +<p>For many days Mary hovered between life and death, and it was long ere +she could make the journey back to Manchester under the tender care of the +man who now knew she loved him. Not until she had recovered did he tell her +that he had lost his situation at the foundry--the men refused to work +under one who had been tried for murder--and that he was looking for work +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he asked, "art thou much bound to Manchester? Would it grieve +thee sore to quit the old smoke-jack?"</p> + +<p>"With thee?" was her quiet response.</p> + +<p>"I've heard fine things of Canada. Thou knowest where Canada is, +Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Not rightly--but with thee, Jem"--her voice sank to a +whisper--"anywhere." Then, after a pause, she added, "But father!"</p> + +<p>John Barton was smitten, helpless, very near to death. His face was sunk +and worn--like a skull, with yet a suffering expression that skulls have +not! Crime and all had been forgotten by his daughter when she saw him; +fondly did she serve him in every way that heart could devise.</p> + +<p>Jem had known from the first that Barton was the murderer of Harry +Carson. Several days before the murder Barton had borrowed Jem's gun, and +Jem had seen the truth at the moment of his arrest. When Mary came to tell +him that her father wished to speak to him, Jem could not guess what was +before him, and did not try to guess.</p> + +<p>When they entered the room, Mary saw all at a glance. Her father stood +holding on to a chair as if for support. Behind him sat Job Legh, +listening; before him stood the stern figure of Mr. Carson.</p> + +<p>"Don't dare to think that I shall be merciful; you shall be +hanged--hanged--man!" said Mr. Carson, with slow, emphasis.</p> + +<p>"I've had far, far worse misery than hanging!" cried Barton. "Sir, one +word! My hairs are grey with suffering."</p> + +<p>"And have I had no suffering?" interrupted Mr. Carson. "Is not my boy +gone--killed--out of my sight for ever? He was my sunshine, and now it is +night! Oh, my God! comfort me, comfort me!" cried the old man aloud.</p> + +<p>Barton lay across the table broken-hearted. "God knows I didn't know +what I was doing," he whispered. "Oh, sir," he said wildly, "say you +forgive me?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us," +said Job solemnly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carson took his hands from his face.</p> + +<p>"Let my trespasses be unforgiven, so that I may have vengeance for my +son's murder."</p> + +<p>John Barton lay on the ground as one dead.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Carson had left the house, he leant against a railing to steady +himself, for he was dizzy with agitation. He looked up to the calm, +majestic depths of the heavens, and by-and-by the last words he had spoken +returned upon him, as if they were being echoed through all that infinite +space in tones of unutterable sorrow. He went homewards; not to the +police-office. All night long, the archangel combated with the demon in his +soul.</p> + +<p>All night long, others watched by the bed of death. As morning dawned, +Barton grew worse; his breathing seemed almost stopped. Jem had gone to the +druggist's, and Mary cried out for assistance to raise her father.</p> + +<p>A step, which was not Jem's, came up the stairs. Mr. Carson stood in the +doorway. He raised up the powerless frame, and the departing soul looked +out of the eyes with gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Pray for us!" cried Mary, sinking on her knees.</p> + +<p>"God be merciful to us sinners," was Mr. Carson's prayer. "Forgive us +our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us."</p> + +<p>And when the words were said, John Barton lay a corpse in Mr. Carson's +arms.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At the door of a long, low wooden house stands Mary, watching the return +of her husband from his work.</p> + +<p>Her baby boy, in his grandmother's arms, sees him come with a crow of +delight.</p> + +<p>"English letters!" cries Jem. "Guess the good news!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, tell me!" says Mary.</p> + +<p>"Margaret has recovered her sight. She and Will are to be married, and +he's bringing her out here to Canada; and Job Legh talks of coming, +too--not to see you, Mary, but to try and pick up a few specimens of +Canadian insects."</p> + +<p>"Dear Job Legh!" said Mary, softly.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="godwin">WILLIAM GODWIN</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="godwin1">Caleb Williams</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +William Godwin, the son of a dissenting parson, was a man of +remarkable gifts and the father of the poet Shelley's second wife, Mary +Wollstonecraft Shelley (see Vol. VII). Born at Wisbeach, England, March 3, +1756, he served for five years, 1778-83, as a Nonconformist minister, and +then going to London, joined the leading Whig circle of the day, and turned +his attention to political writings. His "Political Justice," though little +read to-day, had a great number of readers and considerable influence a +hundred years ago. "Things as They Are, or the Adventures of Caleb +Williams," published in 1794, has a philosophical significance, suggested +by the falseness of the common code of morality, which is apt to be +overlooked by many readers in the strong interest of the tale. It is one of +the few books of that period which may still be said to live. It is quite +the best of his novels. "It raised Godwin's reputation to a pinnacle," +according to contemporary criticism, though some of his other novels, +notably "Fleetwood," have been preferred for their descriptive writing. He +was an exceedingly industrious writer; essays, biography, political +philosophy, and history all coming from his pen; but in spite of this and +of his many distinguished friendships, Godwin was always in difficulties, +which he bore with the becoming grace of a philosopher. He died on April 7, +1836. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Mr. Falkland's Secret</i></h4> + + +<p>My life has for several years been a theatre of calamity. My fairest +prospects have been blasted. My enemy has shown himself inaccessible to +entreaties and untired in persecution. I was born of humble parents, in a +remote county of England. Their occupations were such as usually fall to +the lot of peasants, and they had no portion to give me. I was taught the +rudiments of no science, except reading, writing, and arithmetic. But I had +an inquisitive mind, and neglected no means of information from +conversation or books.</p> + +<p>The residence of my parents was within the manor of Ferdinando Falkland, +a country squire of considerable opulence. At an early age I attracted the +favourable notice of Mr. Collins, this gentleman's steward, who used to +call in occasionally at my father's.</p> + +<p>In the summer of the year----, Mr. Falkland visited his estate in our +county after an absence of several months. This was a period of misfortune +to me. I was then eighteen years of age. My father lay dead in our cottage, +and I had lost my mother some years before. In this forlorn situation I +received a message from the squire, ordering me to repair to the manor +house.</p> + +<p>My reception was as gracious and encouraging as I could possibly desire. +Mr. Falkland questioned me respecting my learning, and my conceptions of +men and things, and listened to my answers with condescension and +approbation. He then informed me that he was in want of a secretary, and +that if I approved of the employment he would take me into his house.</p> + +<p>I felt highly flattered by the proposal, and found my employment--which +included the duties of librarian as well as those of a secretary--easy and +agreeable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Falkland's mode of living was in the utmost degree recluse and +solitary. His features were scarcely ever relaxed in a smile, and the +distemper which afflicted him with incessant gloom had its paroxysms. None +of the domestics, except myself and Mr. Collins approached Mr. Falkland but +at stated seasons and then only for a very short interval.</p> + +<p>Once after I had seen my patron in a strange fit of intolerable anguish, +I could not help confiding in Mr. Collins that I feared Mr. Falkland had +some secret trouble, and in answer to my communication Mr. Collins told me +the story of Tyrrel's murder.</p> + +<p>Barnabas Tyrrel had been a neighbouring squire insupportably brutish and +arrogant, tyrannical to his inferiors, and insolent to his equals. From the +first he hated Falkland, whose dignity and courtesy were a constant rebuke +to the other's boorish ill-humours, and rejected with scorn all proposals +for civil intercourse.</p> + +<p>The crisis came when Tyrrel, who had been expelled from the rural +assembly which met every week at the market-town, forced his way in. He was +intoxicated, and at once attacked Falkland, knocking him down, and then +kicking his prostrate enemy before anyone had time to interfere.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Falkland disgrace was worse than death. This complication of +ignominy, base, humiliating, and public, stung him to the very soul, and +filled his mind with horror and uproar. One other event closed that +memorable evening. Mr. Tyrrel was found dead in the street, having been +murdered a few yards from the assembly-house.</p> + +<p>From that day Falkland was a changed man. His cheerfulness and +tranquillity gave way to gloomy and unsociable melancholy, and, filled with +the ideas of chivalry, the humiliating and dishonourable situation in which +he had been placed could never be forgotten. To add to his misfortunes, it +was presently whispered that he was no other than the murderer of his +antagonist, and even the magistrates at length decided that the matter must +be investigated, and requested Falkland to appear before them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Falkland attended, and easily convinced the magistrates of his +innocence, pointing out that his one desire was to have called out the man +who had insulted him so horribly, and to have fought him to the death. He +was not only acquitted, but a public demonstration of sympathy was arranged +at once to show the esteem in which he was held.</p> + +<p>A few weeks, and the real murderer was discovered. This was a man named +Hawkins, who, with his son, had been reduced from an honest livelihood to +beggary and ruin by Tyrrel. On circumstantial evidence, Hawkins and his son +were condemned and executed.</p> + +<p>This was the story Mr. Collins told me in order that I might understand +Mr. Falkland's unhappy state. In reality it only added to my +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Was it possible, after all, that Mr. Falkland should be the murderer? It +was but a passing thought, and yet what was the meaning of Mr. Falkland's +agonies of mind? I could not accept Mr. Collins's view that Mr. Falkland +was so much the slave and fool of honour that the shame of Tyrrel's savage +assault alone had driven him to this melancholy and solitude, and compelled +the violent outbursts of passion.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--I Learn the Secret</i></h4> + + +<p>My suspicions would not be set at rest. No spark of malignity was +harboured in my soul. I reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland, but I +had a mistaken curiosity to find out the truth of Tyrrel's murder. Often it +seemed that Mr. Falkland was about to speak to me, but the movement always +ended in silence.</p> + +<p>At last one day he sent for me to his room, and after making me swear +never to disclose his confidence, and warning me that he had observed my +suspicions, told me that he was the murderer of Tyrrel and the assassin of +the two Hawkins.</p> + +<p>"This it is to be a gentleman, a man of honour!" Falkland went on, in +extreme distress. "My virtue, my honesty, my everlasting peace of mind, all +sacrificed that I may preserve my good name. And I am as much the fool of +fame as ever. Though I be the blackest of villains, I will leave behind me +a spotless and illustrious name. Why is it that I am compelled to this +confidence? From the love of fame. I had no alternative but to make you my +confidant or my victim, and perhaps my next murder would not have been so +fortunate. I do not want to shed more blood. It is better to trust you with +the whole truth, under every seal of secrecy, than to live in perpetual +fear of your penetration. But look what you have done with your foolishly +inquisitive humour. You shall continue in my service, and I will benefit +you in respect of fortune; but I shall always hate you. If ever an +unguarded word escape from your lips, you may expect to pay for it with +your death, or worse. By everything that is sacred, preserve your +faith!"</p> + +<p>Such was the secret I had been so desirous to know.</p> + +<p>"It is a wretched prospect," I said to myself, "that he holds up to me. +But I will never become an informer. I will never injure my patron; and +therefore he will not be my enemy."</p> + +<p>It was no long time after this that Mr. Forester--Mr. Falkland's +half-brother--came to stay in the house while his own residence was being +got ready for him, and there being little in common between the two, Mr. +Forester being of a peculiarly sociable disposition, our visitor chose to +make me his companion. No sooner was this growing intimacy observed than +Mr. Falkland warned me that it was not agreeable to him, and that he would +not have it.</p> + +<p>"Young man, take warning!" he said to me one day when we were alone. +"You little suspect the extent of my power. You might as well think of +escaping from the power of the omnipresent God as from mine."</p> + +<p>My whole soul now revolted against the treatment I endured, and yet I +could not utter a word. I resolved to quit Mr. Falkland's service, and when +Mr. Forester had retired to his own house, I wrote a letter to Mr. Falkland +to that effect.</p> + +<p>"You shall never quit it with your life," was his reply. "If you attempt +it, you shall never cease to rue your folly as long as you exist. Do not +imagine I am afraid of you! I wear an armour against which all your weapons +are impotent. Do you not know, miserable wretch, that I have sworn to +preserve my reputation, whatever it cost? I have dug a pit for you, and +whichever way you move it is ready to swallow you."</p> + +<p>This speech was the dictate of frenzy, and it created in me a similar +frenzy. It determined me to do the very thing against which I was thus +solemnly warned, and fly from my patron's house.</p> + +<p>No sooner, however, had I set off, and travelled some miles, than a +horseman overtook me, and handed me a letter from Mr. Forester. I opened +the letter, and read as follows:</p> + +<p>"Williams:--My brother Falkland has sent the bearer in pursuit of you. +He expects that, if found, you will return with him. I expect it, too. If +you are a villain and a rascal, you will perhaps endeavour to fly; if your +conscience tells you you are innocent, you will, out of all doubt, come +back. If you come, I pledge myself that if you clear your reputation, you +shall not only be free to go wherever you please, but shall receive every +assistance in my power to give.</p> + +<p>"Valentine Forester."</p> + +<p>To a mind like mine, such a letter was enough to draw me from one end of +the earth to the other. I could not recall anything out of which the shadow +of a criminal accusation could be extorted, and I returned with willingness +and impatience. I knew the stern inflexibility of Mr. Falkland's mind, but +I also knew his virtuous and magnanimous principles. I could not believe my +innocence could be confounded with guilt.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--My Persecutions and Sufferings</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Falkland accused me of having stolen money and jewels from him, and +when my boxes, which I had left behind, were opened, a watch and certain +jewels were found in one of them.</p> + +<p>My amazement yielded to indignation and horror. I protested my innocence +I declared that Mr. Falkland knew I was innocent, and that while I was +wholly unable to account for the articles found in my possession, I firmly +believed that their being there was of Mr. Falkland's contrivance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Falkland now expressed his willingness to proceed no further against +me, and, since I had been brought to public shame, to let me depart +wherever I pleased. I was unworthy of his resentment, he said, and he could +afford to smile at my malice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Forester, however, said this was impossible, and, as a magistrate, +he thereupon committed me to prison to await my trial. Not one of the +servants who had been present at my examination expressed any compassion +for me. The robbery appeared to them atrocious, and they were indignant at +my recrimination on their excellent master.</p> + +<p>When I had been about a month in prison the assizes were held, but my +case was not brought forward, and I was suffered to stand over six months +longer.</p> + +<p>I noticed a change in my jailer's behaviour at this time. He offered to +make better provision for my comfort, and as I had no doubt he was +instigated by Mr. Falkland, I answered that he might tell his employer I +would accept no favours from a man that held a halter about my neck. Then +the idea of an escape occurred to me, and as I had some proficiency in +carpentry, I decided to obtain tools by proposing to make some chairs for +the jailer. My offer was accepted, and I gradually accumulated tools of +various sorts--gimlets, chisels, etc.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the night, my plans being now thoroughly digested, I +set about making my escape. I had to get the first door from its hinges, +and though this was attended with considerable difficulty, I was +successful. The second door being fastened on the inside, all I had to do +was to push back the bolts and unscrew the box of the lock.</p> + +<p>Thus far I had proceeded with the happiest success; but close on the +other side there was a kennel with a large mastiff dog, of which I had not +the smallest previous knowledge. However, I managed to soothe the animal, +and go to the wall. Before I had gained half the ascent, a voice at the +garden door cried out, "Halloa! Who is there?" At this the dog began to +bark violently, and a second man came out. Alarmed at my situation, I +descended on the other side too quickly, and in my fall nearly dislocated +my ankle.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the two warders came through a door in the wall, of +which I had not been aware, and were at the place where I had descended, in +no time. The pain in my ankle was so intense that I could scarcely stand, +and I suffered myself to be retaken.</p> + +<p>The condition in which I was now placed was totally different from that +which had preceded this attempt. I was chained all day in my dungeon, my +manual labors were at an end, my cell was searched every night, and every +kind of tool carefully kept from me.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, an active mind, which has once been forced into any +particular train, can scarcely give it up as hopeless. One day I chanced to +observe a nail trodden into the mud floor at no great distance from me. I +seized upon this new treasure, and found that I could unlock with it the +padlock that fastened me to the staple in the floor. By this means I had +the pitiful consolation of being able to range, without constraint, the +miserable coop in which I was confined. It became my constant practice to +liberate myself at night; but security breeds negligence. One morning I +overslept myself, and the turnkey, to his surprise, found me +disengaged.</p> + +<p>Again my apartment was changed. I was now put in the strong-room, an +underground dungeon, and handcuffs were added to my fetters.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that Thomas, Mr. Falkland's footman, and an old +acquaintance of mine, visited me. He was of the better order of servants, +and my condition shocked him. He returned again in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Well, Master Williams," he said, "you have been very wicked, to be +sure, and I thought it would have done me good to see you hanged. I know I +am doing wrong; but if they hang me, too, I cannot help it. For Christ's +sake, get out of this place; I cannot bear the thought of it."</p> + +<p>With that, he slipped into my hand a chisel, a file, and a saw. I +received the implements with great joy, and thrust them into my bosom.</p> + +<p>I waited for bright moonlight; it was necessary that I should work in +the night, and between nine and seven.</p> + +<p>It was ten o'clock when I first took off my handcuffs. I then filed +through my fetters, and next performed the same service to the three iron +bars that secured my window. All this was the work of more than two hours. +But, even with the bars removed, the space was by no means wide enough to +admit the passing of my body. Therefore, I had to loosen the brickwork, and +this I did partly with the chisel, and partly with one of the iron bars. +When the space was sufficient for my purpose, I crept through the opening +and stepped upon a shed outside.</p> + +<p>The prison wall, which now had to be scaled, was of considerable height, +and there was no resource for me but that of making a breach in its lower +part. For six hours I worked at this with incredible labour, and at last I +had made a passage. But the day was breaking, and in ten minutes' time the +keepers would probably enter my apartment and see the devastation I had +left.</p> + +<p>I decided to avoid the town as much as possible, and depended upon the +open country for protection; and so I passed along the lane beyond the +wall.</p> + +<p>I was free of my prison, but I was destitute, and had not a shilling in +the world.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Doom of Falkland</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Falkland's implacable animosity pursued me beyond the prison. A +hundred guineas was at once offered for my recapture, and though I evaded +arrest for some months, a man named Gines, who had at one time been a +member of a gang of robbers, undertook to lay hold of me, and tracked me to +my place of hiding in London. By this time the hawkers were actually +selling papers in the streets containing "The most Wonderful and Surprising +History and Miraculous Adventures of Caleb Williams," for a halfpenny, and +I had the temerity to purchase one. In this I was informed how I, Caleb +Williams, "first robbed, and then brought false accusations against my +master"; how I attempted at divers times to break out of prison, and at +last succeeded "in the most wonderful and incredible manner"; and how I had +travelled the kingdom in disguise, and was now lying concealed in London, +with a hundred guineas reward for my discovery.</p> + +<p>It seemed then that there was no end to my persecution, and I thought of +death as my only release. That very night the landlord of my humble +lodgings brought Gines to the house, and gave me up to the authorities.</p> + +<p>And now the result of all my labour to get out of prison and evade my +pursuers had brought me back to my starting-place! Never was a human +creature so hunted by enemies. What hope was there they would ever cease +their persecution.</p> + +<p>My long-cherished reverence for Mr. Falkland was changed to something +like abhorrence. I determined to bring the real criminal to justice.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, when I was taken before the magistrates at Bow Street, I +declared that Mr. Falkland was a murderer, and that I was entirely +innocent.</p> + +<p>But the magistrates simply told me they had nothing to do with such +statements, and that I seemed a most impudent rascal to trump up such +things against my master.</p> + +<p>I was conducted back to the very prison from which I had escaped, and my +situation seemed more irremediable than ever. How great, therefore, was my +astonishment, at the assizes when my case was called, to find neither Mr. +Falkland, nor Mr. Forester, nor any individual to appear against me. I, who +had come to the bar with the sentence of death already ringing in my ears, +to be told I was free to go whithersoever I pleased!</p> + +<p>I was not, however, yet free of Mr. Falkland. I was kidnapped by Gines +and an accomplice, and carried to an inn, and here Mr. Falkland commanded +me to sign a paper declaring that the charge I had alleged against him at +Bow Street was false, malicious, and groundless. On my refusal, he told me +that he would exercise a power that should grind me to atoms.</p> + +<p>The impression of that memorable meeting on my understanding is +indelible. The deathlike weakness and decay of Mr. Falkland, his misery and +rage, his haggard, emaciated, and fleshless visage, are still before +me.</p> + +<p>There was to be no peace or happiness for me. Wherever I went, sooner or +later, Gines found me, and any new acquaintances turned from me with +loathing after they had read the handbills containing my "Wonderful and +Surprising History." This man followed me from place to place, blasting my +reputation.</p> + +<p>I now formed my resolution and carried it into execution. At all costs I +would free myself from this overpowering tyranny.</p> + +<p>I set out for the chief town of the county in which Mr. Falkland lived, +and there laid a formal charge of murder before the principal +magistrate.</p> + +<p>After an interval of three days, I met Mr. Falkland in the presence of +the magistrate. It was now the appearance of a ghost before me. He was +brought in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed by +the journey he had just taken.</p> + +<p>Until that moment my breast was steeled to pity; it was now too late to +draw back.</p> + +<p>I told my story plainly, declared the nobility of Mr. Falkland's +character, and admitted that my own proceedings now seemed to me a dreadful +mistake.</p> + +<p>When I had finished, Mr. Falkland rose from his seat, and, to my +infinite astonishment, threw himself into my arms.</p> + +<p>"Williams," said he, "you have conquered. All that I most ardently +desired is for ever frustrated. I have spent a life of the basest cruelty +to cover one act of momentary passion. And now"--turning to the +magistrate--"do with me as you please. I am prepared to suffer all the +vengeance of the law."</p> + +<p>He survived this dreadful scene but three days, and I feel, and always +shall feel, that I have been his murderer. I began these memoirs to +vindicate my character. I have now no character that I wish to +vindicate.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="goethe">JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="goethe1">The Sorrows of Young Werther</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the greatest of German poets, and +one of the most highly gifted men of the eighteenth century, was born in +1749 at Frankfort-on-the-Main. He received his early education from his +father, who was an imperial councillor, and in the year 1765 he went to the +University of Leipzig. Goethe's first great work was "Goetz von +Berlichingen" (see Vol. XVII). which was translated into English by Sir +Walter Scott. "The Sorrows of Young Werther" ("Die Leiden des jungen +Werthers") was begun in 1772, when Goethe was twenty-three years old, and +was published anonymously two years later. It immediately created an +immense sensation, made a round of the world, and was everywhere either +enthusiastically praised or severely condemned. It became the fashion of +young men to dress themselves in blue coats and yellow breeches in +imitation of the hero, and many of them were moved to follow Werther's +example as the simplest way of settling their love affairs. Nevertheless, +"Werther" formed the real basis of Goethe's fame. It was the first +revelation to the world of the genius, which, a quarter of a century later, +was to give it "Faust" (Vol. XVI). The story is frankly sentimental, but as +such it is easily the best of the sentimental novels of the eighteenth +century. When, many years later, Goethe was invited to an audience with +Napoleon, the emperor volunteered the information that he had read +"Werther" through six times. Goethe died in March, 1832, in his +eighty-fourth year. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--"I Have Found an Angel"</i></h4> + + +<p><i>May 4</i>. What a strange thing is the heart of man. To leave my +dearest friend, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me, and I in +return will promise that I will no longer worry myself over every petty +stab of fortune. Poor Leonora! And yet I was not to blame. Was I in fault +that, while I was pleasantly entertained by the charms of her sister, her +feeble heart conceived a passion for me? And yet I am not wholly blameless. +Did I not encourage her emotion? Did I not--but what is man that he dares +so to accuse himself? Beyond doubt, the sufferings of mankind would be far +less did they but endure the present with equanimity, instead of raking up +the past for memories of sorrow.</p> + +<p>A wonderful calm has come over me; I am alone, and feel that a spot like +this was created for the happiness of souls like mine. You ask if you shall +send me books; I pray you spare me. My heart craves for no excitement; I +need strains to soothe me, and I find them to perfection in my Homer.</p> + +<p><i>May 17</i>. I have formed many acquaintances, but as yet have found +no friends. If you inquire what sort of people are here, I answer "the same +as everywhere." The human race is a monotonous affair. The majority labours +nearly all its time for mere subsistence, and is then so distressed to have +a small portion of freedom still unemployed that it exerts even greater +efforts to get rid of it.</p> + +<p>I have just become acquainted with a very worthy person, the district +judge. They tell me how charming it is to see him in the midst of his +family of nine. His eldest daughter is much spoken of. He has invited me to +go and see him.</p> + +<p><i>June 16</i>. Why do I not write to you? You should have guessed that +I was pre-occupied; that, in a word, that I have made a friend who has won +my heart. I have found--I know not what. An angel? Nonsense! Everyone so +describes his mistress. And yet I cannot tell you how perfect she is, or +why so perfect. Between ourselves, I have been three times on the point of +throwing down my pen, ordering my horse, and riding out. And yet this +morning I determined not to ride to-day; and I keep running to the window +to see how high the sun is.</p> + +<p>I could not restrain myself; go to her I must. I have just returned, +Wilhelm, and while I eat my supper I will write to you. I had already made +the acquaintance of her aunt, the judge's sister, and with her I was going +to accompany Charlotte to a ball given by some young people in the +neighbourhood. While we were on our way to fetch her, my companion was loud +in her praises of her niece's beauty and charm. "Take care, however," she +added, "that you do not lose your heart." "Why?" I asked. "Because she is +already betrothed to a most excellent man."</p> + +<p>As the door opened, I saw before me the most charming sight that I have +ever beheld. Six children, of various ages, were running about the hall and +surrounding a lady of medium height, with a lovely figure, dressed in a +robe of simple white, trimmed with pink ribbons. She held a loaf of brown +bread, and was cutting slices for the little ones all round. She apologised +for not being quite ready, explaining that household duties had made her +forget the children's supper, which they always preferred to take from her. +I uttered some unmeaning compliment, but my whole soul was absorbed by her +air, her voice, her manner. You who know me can imagine how I gazed upon +her rich, dark eyes; how my soul gloated over her warm lips and fresh +glowing cheeks.</p> + +<p>Never did I dance more lightly; I felt myself more than mortal, holding +this loveliest of creatures in my arms, flying with her as rapidly as the +wind, till I lost sight of every other object. And, oh, Wilhelm, I vowed at +that moment that no maiden whom I loved should ever waltz with another than +myself, if I went to perdition for it.</p> + +<p>Returning from the ball, there was a most magnificent sunrise. Our +companions were asleep. Charlotte asked me if I did not wish to sleep too, +and begged me not to stand on ceremony. Looking deep into her eyes, I +answered, "As long as those eyes remain open, there is no fear for mine." +We continued awake until we reached her door. I left her, asking her +permission to call in the course of the day. She consented, and I went +Since then, sun, moon, and stars may pursue their course; I know not +whether it is day or night; the whole world is nothing to me.</p> + +<p><i>June 21</i>. My days are as happy as those reserved by God for His +elect, and whatever be my fate hereafter, I can never say that I have not +tasted joy--the purest joy of life. Little did I think when I selected this +spot for my home that all heaven lay within half a league of it.</p> + +<p>How childish is man. To be disturbed about a mere look. We had been to +Walheim, but during our walk I thought I saw in Charlotte's eyes--I am a +fool, but forgive me. You should see her eyes. However, to be brief, as the +ladies were preparing to drive away I watched her eyes; they wandered from +one to another, but they did not alight on me--on me who saw nothing but +her. She noticed me not. The carriage drove off, and my eyes filled with +tears. Suddenly I saw Charlotte's bonnet leaning out of the window, and she +turned to look back--was it at me? I know not, and in uncertainty is my +consolation. Perhaps she turned to look at me. Perhaps. Good-night. What a +child I am!</p> + +<p><i>July 10</i>. Someone asked me the other day how I like her. How I +<i>like</i> her! What sort of creature must he be who merely likes +Charlotte? Whose entire being were not absolutely filled with her? Like +her! One might as well ask if I like Ossian.</p> + +<p><i>July 13</i>. No, I am not deceived. In her dark eyes I read a real +interest in me. Yes, I feel it, and I believe my own heart which tells +me--dare I say it?--that she loves me. How the idea exalts me in my own +eyes. And as you can understand my feelings, I may say to you, how I honour +myself because she loves me.</p> + +<p>I do not know a man able to take my place in her heart; yet when she +speaks of Albert with so much warmth and affection, I feel like a soldier +who has been stripped of all his honours. Sometimes when we are talking, in +the eagerness of conversation she comes closer to me, and her balmy breath +reaches my lips, I feel that I could sink into the earth for very joy. And +yet, Wilhelm, if I know myself, and should ever dare--you understand +me--No, no; my heart is not so corrupt; it is weak, but is not that a +degree of corruption?</p> + +<p>She is to me a sacred being; how her simplest song enchants me. +Sometimes, when I am ready to commit suicide, she sings some favourite air, +and instantly the gloom and madness are dispersed.</p> + +<p><i>July 24</i>. Yes, dear Charlotte. I will arrange everything. Only +give me more commissions; the more the better. One thing, however, I must +request you--use no more writing-sand with the letters you send me! Today, +I raised your letter to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Bereft of Comfort</i></h4> + + +<p><i>July 30</i>. Albert is arrived, and I must take my departure. Were he +the best of men, and I absolutely beneath him, I could not endure to see +him in possession of my perfect being. Enough! her betrothed is here. A +fine fellow, whom I cannot help liking. And he is so considerate; he has +not given Charlotte one kiss in my presence. Heaven reward him for it. He +is free from ill-humour, which you know is the fault I detest most. I do +not ask whether he may not now and then tease her with some little +jealousies, as I know that in his place I should not be entirely free from +such feelings.</p> + +<p><i>August 8</i>. I am amazed to see from my diary, which I have somewhat +neglected of late, how deliberately I have entangled myself, step by step. +But even though I see the result plainly, I have no thought of acting with +any greater prudence. And yet I feel that if only I knew where to go, I +would abandon everything and fly from this place.</p> + +<p>And yet I feel that, if I were not a fool, I could enjoy life here most +delightfully. Admitted into this charming family, loved by the father as a +son, by his children as a second father, and by Charlotte! Furthermore, +Albert welcomes me with the heartiest affection, and loves me, next to +Charlotte, more than all the world.</p> + +<p><i>August 21</i>. In vain do I stretch out my arms towards her when I +wake in the morning. In vain do I seek for her when some innocent dream has +happily deceived me, and placed me near her in the fields when I have +seized her hand and covered it with kisses. Tears flow from my oppressed +heart; and, bereft of all comfort, I weep over my future woes.</p> + +<p><i>August 28</i>. This is my birthday, and early in the morning I +received a packet from Albert. I found within one of the pink ribbons which +Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her, and which I had often +asked her to give me. With it were two volumes of Wetstein's Homer, a book +I had often wished for. How well they understood those little attentions of +friendship, so superior to costly presents, unhappy being that I am. Why do +I thus deceive myself? What is to be the outcome of all this wild, aimless, +endless passion? I cannot pray except to her. Oh, Wilhelm, the hermit's +cell, his sackcloth and girdle of thorns, would be luxury and indulgence +compared with what I have to suffer.</p> + +<p><i>October 20</i>. I have taken the plunge, and following your repeated +advice, I have taken a post with the ambassador. We arrived here yesterday. +If he were less peevish and morose all would be well. As it is, he +occasions me continual annoyance; he is the most punctilious blockhead in +the world. He does everything step by step, with the paltry fussiness of an +old woman; and he is a man whom it is impossible to please, because he is +never pleased with himself.</p> + +<p><i>January 20</i>. I have but one being here to interest me, my dear +Charlotte--a Miss B----. She resembles you, if indeed anyone can possibly +resemble you. "Ah," you will say, "he has learnt to pay fine compliments." +And this is partly true; I have been very agreeable lately, as it was not +in my power to be otherwise. But I must tell you of Miss B----. She has +abundance of soul, which flashes from her deep blue eyes. Her rank is a +torment to her, and satisfies no single desire of her heart. She knows you, +my dear Charlotte, as I have told her all about you, and renders homage to +your merits; but her homage is not exacted, but voluntary--she loves you, +and delights to hear you made the subject of conversation. Adieu! Is Albert +with you, and what is he to you? Forgive the question.</p> + +<p><i>February 20</i>. I thank you, Albert, for having deceived me. I +waited for the news that your wedding-day was fixed, and I meant on that +day to remove Charlotte's picture from the wall, and bury it with some old +papers that I wish destroyed. You are now united, and the picture remains. +Well, let it remain. Why should it not?</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--"I Can Remain No Longer"</i></h4> + + +<p><i>June 11</i>. Say what you will, I can remain here no longer. Why +should I remain? The prince is as gracious to me as anyone could be, and +yet I am not at my ease. There is, indeed, nothing in common between us; he +is a man of understanding, but quite of the ordinary kind. His conversation +gives me no more amusement than I should derive from an ordinary +well-written book. Whither am I going? I think it would be better for me to +visit the mines in----. But I am only deluding myself thus. You know that I +only want to be near my dear Charlotte once more. I smile at the suggestion +of my heart, but I obey its dictates.</p> + +<p><i>July 29</i>. Dear Wilhelm, my whole frame feels convulsed when I see +Albert put his arms round that slender waist. Oh, the very thought of +folding that dearest of heaven's creatures in one's arms.</p> + +<p>And--shall I avow it? Why should I not?--she would have been happier +with me than with him. Albert is not the man to satisfy the wishes of such +a heart. He wants a certain sensibility; he wants--in short, their hearts +do not beat in unison. But, Wilhelm, he loves her with his whole heart, and +what does not such a love deserve?</p> + +<p><i>September 5</i>. Charlotte had written a letter to her husband in the +country, where he was detained on business. It began: "My dearest love, +return as soon as possible. I await you with a thousand raptures!"</p> + +<p>A friend who arrived brought word that he could not return immediately. +Her letter fell into my hands. I read it, and smiled. She asked the reason. +"What a heavenly treasure is imagination," I exclaimed. "I fancied for a +moment that this was written to me." She paused, and seemed displeased. I +was silent.</p> + +<p><i>October 10</i>. Only to gaze into her dark eyes is to me a source of +happiness. And what grieves me is that Albert does not seem so happy as +he--as I--as he hoped to be--as I should have been--if--. I am no friend to +these pauses, but here I cannot express myself otherwise; and probably I am +explicit enough.</p> + +<p><i>October 19</i>. Alas the void--the fearful void which I feel in my +bosom! Sometimes I think, if I could only once press her to my heart, this +dreadful void would be filled.</p> + +<p><i>October 30</i>. A hundred times I have been on the point of embracing +her. Heavens! what a torment it is to see so much loveliness passing and +repassing before us, and yet not dare to touch it. And to touch is the most +natural of human instincts. Do not children touch everything that they +see?</p> + +<p><i>November 8</i>. Charlotte reproves me for my excesses with so much +tenderness and goodness. I have lately drunk more wine than usual. "Don't +do it," she said; "think of Charlotte." "Think of you," I answered; "can +such advice be necessary? Do I not ever think of you?" She immediately +changed the subject to prevent me pursuing it further. My dear friend, my +energies are all prostrated; she can do with me what she pleases. +Yesterday, when I took leave, she seized me by the hand, and said, "Adieu, +dear Werther!" It was the first time she had ever called me "dear." I have +repeated it a hundred times.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--"I am Resolved to Die"</i></h4> + + +<p><i>November 24</i>. She is sensible of my sufferings. This morning her +look pierced my soul. I found her alone; she was silent, and only gazed +steadfastly at me. Oh, who can express my emotions? I was quite overcome, +and bending down, pronounced this vow to myself, "Beautiful lips, which +angels guard, never will I seek to profane your purity with a kiss." And +yet, oh, I wish--But, alas, my heart is darkened by doubt and indecision. +Could I but taste felicity, and then die to expiate the sin. What sin?</p> + +<p><i>December 21</i>. I am lost. My senses are bewildered, my recollection +is confused, my eyes are bathed in tears. I am ill, and yet am well. I wish +for nothing; I have no desires; it were better I were gone. I saw Charlotte +to-day; she was busy preparing some little gifts for her brothers and +sisters, to be given to them on Christmas Day. "You shall have a gift too," +she said, "if you behave well." "And what do you call behaving well?" I +asked. "What should I do; what can I do?" "Thursday night," she answered, +"is Christmas Eve; the children are all to be here, and my father too; +there is a present for each of them. Do you come likewise, but do not come +before that time!"</p> + +<p>I started. She must have seen my emotion, for she continued, hastily "I +desire that you will not. It must be so; I ask it of you as a favour, for +my own peace and tranquillity. We cannot go on in this manner any longer!" +It were idle to attempt to describe my emotions I was as if paralysed; it +was as if the sun had suddenly gone out. When I recollected myself, +Charlotte was trying to speak on some indifferent topic. "No, Charlotte," I +explained, "I understand you perfectly. I will never see you again!"</p> + +<p><i>December 22</i>. It is all over, Charlotte; I am resolved to die. I +make this declaration deliberately and coolly, without any romantic +passion, on the morning of the day when I am to see you for the last time. +At the moment that you read these lines the cold grave will hold the +remains of that restless and unhappy being who, in his last moments of +existence, knew no pleasure so great as that of conversing with you.</p> + +<p>When I tore myself from you yesterday my senses were in tumult and +disorder. I could scarcely reach my room. A thousand ideas floated through +my mind. At last one fixed, final thought took possession of my heart. It +was to die. Oh, beloved Charlotte, this heart, excited by rage and fury, +has often conceived the horrid idea of murdering your +husband--you--myself.</p> + +<p>What do they mean by saying that Albert is your husband? He may be so +for this world, and in this world it is a sin to love you--to wish to tear +you from his embrace. Yes, it is a crime, and I suffer the punishment--but +I have enjoyed the full delight of my sin. I have inhaled a balm that has +revived my soul; from this hour you are mine; yes, Charlotte, you are mine. +I do not dream, I do not rave. Drawing nearer to the grave my perceptions +become clearer. We shall exist; we shall see each other again.</p> + +<p>I wish to be buried in the dress I wear at present; it has been made +sacred by your touch. How warmly I have loved you, Charlotte. Since the +first hour I saw you, how impossible have I found it to leave you. This +ribbon must be buried with me; it was a present from you on my birthday. +How confused it all appears. Little did I think then that I should journey +on this road. But peace, I pray you, peace.</p> + +<p>Both my pistols are loaded. The clock strikes twelve. I say Amen. +Charlotte! Charlotte! Farewell! Farewell!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="goethe2">Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Goethe's prestige was enormously increased by the publication +in 1796 of "Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship" ("Wilhelm Meisters +Lehrjahre"). Representing the fruit of twenty years' labour, it was, like +"Faust," written in fragments during the ripest period of his intellectual +activity. The story of "Wilhelm Meister" is by no means exciting, but, as a +gallery of portraits and repository of wise observation, it is more +characteristic of the genius of its author than any other of his prose +works. It is more mellow than "Werther," and the action moves slower. +Incident follows incident in a leisurely fashion. The keen psychological +analysis in the story is assumed to have been derived from Goethe's own +experience. "Wilhelm Meister" was dramatised and produced at Leipzig a few +years ago, but with no marked success. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--On the Road</i></h4> + + +<p>The moment was now at hand to which poor Mariana had been looking +forward as to the last of her life. Wilhelm Meister, the man she loved, was +departing on a long journey in connection with his father's business; a +disagreeable lover was threatening to come.</p> + +<p>"I am miserable," she exclaimed, "miserable for life! I love him, and he +loves me; yet I see that we must part, and know not how I shall survive it. +Wilhelm is poor, and can do nothing for me--"</p> + +<p>Darkness had scarcely come on when Wilhelm glided forth to her house; he +carried with him a letter in which he entreated her to marry him forthwith, +saying that he would abandon his father's business, and earn his living on +the stage, to which he had always been strongly drawn. This he could do +with certainty, as he was well acquainted with Serlo, manager of a theatre +in a town at some distance.</p> + +<p>His plan was to leave the letter with her, and return a little later for +her answer. The vehemence of his emotion at first prevented him from +noticing that she did not greet him with her wonted heartiness; she +complained of a headache, and would not hear of his coming back later that +evening. Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to urge her, but he felt that +this was not the moment for delivering his letter. He retained it, +therefore, and, in a tumult of insatiable love, as he tore himself away +from her he snatched one of her neckerchiefs, and, after pressing it madly +to his lips, crushed it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>His whole being was in a ferment of excitement as he walked aimlessly +about the streets. Midnight found him again in the neighbourhood of +Mariana's house; consciousness of the fact brought him to himself. He went +slowly away, set himself for home, and constantly turned round again; at +last, with an effort, he constrained himself, and actually departed. At the +corner of the street, looking back yet once more, he imagined that he saw +Mariana's door open, and a dark figure issue from it. He was too distant to +see clearly, and in a moment the appearance was lost in the night.</p> + +<p>On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion from his mind +by the most sufficient reasons. To soothe his heart, and put the last seal +on his returning belief, ere he disrobed for the night, he took her +kerchief from his pocket. The rustle of a letter which fell from it took +the kerchief from his lips; he lifted it, and read a passionate letter from +another man, railing at her for her coldness on the preceding night, making +an appointment for that same night, and breathing a spirit of intimate +familiarity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A violent fever, with its train of consequences, besides the unwearied +attentions of his family, were so many fresh occupations for his mind, and +formed a kind of painful entertainment. On his recovery, he determined to +abandon for ever his former leaning towards the stage, and to apply himself +with greater diligence to business, and, to the great contentment of his +father, no one was now more diligent in the counting-house. For a long time +he continued to show exemplary attention to his duties, and was then +thought sufficiently master of his business to be sent on a long expedition +on behalf of the firm.</p> + +<p>The first part of his business successfully accomplished, Wilhelm found +himself at a little mountain town called Hochdorf. A troupe of actors had +got stranded there, their exchequer empty, their properties seized as +security for debts. Wilhelm recognised among them an old man whom he +recollected as having seen on the stage with Mariana. After some +hesitation, he hazarded a question concerning her. "Do not speak to me of +that baggage!" cried the old man. "I am ashamed that I felt such a +friendship for her. Yet, had you known the girl better, you would excuse +me. I loved her as my own daughter; indeed, I had formed a resolution to +take the creature into my own house, and save her from the hands of that +old crone Barbara, her confidante; but my wife died, and so the project +came to nothing. At the end of our stay in your native town, I noticed a +visible sadness about her. I questioned her, but she evaded me. At last we +set out on our journey. She travelled in the same coach with me, and I soon +observed what she could not deny, that she was about to become a mother. In +a short time the manager made the same discovery; he paid her off at once +and left her behind at the village inn."</p> + +<p>Wilhelm's old wounds were all torn open afresh by the old man's story; +the thought that perhaps Mariana was not wholly unworthy of his love was +again brought to life. Nay, even the bitter accusations brought against her +could not lower her in his estimation; for he, as well as she, was guilty +in all her aberrations. He saw her as a frail, ill-succoured mother, +wandering helplessly about the world.</p> + +<p>The old longing for the stage came back to him with redoubled force; he +determined to give it vent, for a time at least, and to this end he +advanced to Melina, the manager of the actors, a sum of money sufficient to +redeem their properties, and accompanied the troupe until such time as it +should be repaid.</p> + +<p>A profitable engagement soon came their way. A wealthy count, who +happened to pass through the town, required their services to entertain the +prince, whom he was shortly expecting as a guest. For several weeks they +stayed at his castle, and when, on the prince's departure, their engagement +came to an end, they were all weightier in purse than they had been for +many a long day. Melina was now in hopes to get established with his +company in a thriving town at some distance. To get there it was necessary +to take a considerable journey by unfrequented roads.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, conveyances were hired, and a start was made. Towards +evening, they began to pitch their camp in the midst of a beech wood; all +were busily engaged about the task allotted to each--the women to prepare +the evening meal, the men to attend to everything necessary for their +comfort for the night. All at once, a shot went off; immediately another; +the party flew asunder in terror. Next moment armed men were to be seen +pressing forward to the spot where the coaches, packed with luggage, +stood.</p> + +<p>The men all rushed at the intruders. Wilhelm fired his pistol at one who +was already on the top of the coach cutting the cords of the packages. The +scoundrel fell, but several of his friends rushed to his aid; our hero +fell, stunned by a shot-wound and by a sword-stroke that almost penetrated +to his brain.</p> + +<p>When he recovered his senses, it was to find himself deserted by all his +companions except two of the girls. His head was lying in Phillina's lap, +while Mignon, the child whom he had rescued from a brutal circus master who +was ill-treating her, was vainly trying to staunch his wounds with her +hair. For some time they continued in this position, no one returning to +their aid. At last, they heard a troop of horses coming up the road; a +young lady emerged on horseback, accompanied by some cavaliers. Wilhelm +fixed his eye on the soft, calm, sympathising features of the stranger; he +thought he had never seen aught nobler or more lovely. In a few moments one +of the party stepped to the side of our hero. He held in his hand some +surgeon's instruments and bandages, with which he hastily attended to his +wounds. The lady asked several questions, and then, turning to the old +gentleman, said, "Dear uncle, may I be generous at your expense?" taking +off the coat that she was wearing as she spoke, and laying it softly above +him. As he tried to open his mouth to stammer out some words of gratitude +to the beautiful Amazon, the impression of her presence worked so strongly +on his senses that all at once it seemed to him that her head was encircled +with rays, and a glancing light seemed by degrees to spread itself all over +her form. At this moment the surgeon gave him a sharper twinge; he lost +consciousness; and on returning to himself the horsemen and coaches, the +fair one and her attendants, had vanished like a dream.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Message from the Dead</i></h4> + + +<p>Wilhelm's wounds were slow to heal, and it was long before he was able +to move about freely again. When he fully recovered he went to his old +friend, Serlo, and obtained a position in his company, both for himself, +and also for many of his companions in misfortune.</p> + +<p>With Serlo he remained for a considerable period, until an untoward +event led to his leaving him. Aurelia, Serlo's sister, had long entertained +an affection for a nobleman, whom she knew by the name of Lothario; though +at one time much attached to her, his affection had cooled off, and for a +long time now he had not had any communication with her. Heartbroken at +this treatment, though still devotedly attached to him, she gradually pined +away, and complete neglect of her health finally brought her to her +death-bed. Before she died, however, she wrote a letter of farewell to him, +which she entrusted to Wilhelm to deliver as soon after her death as +possible.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the castle where the baron lived, he found his lordship +unable to give him any attention that day, as he was engaged to fight a +duel, and was busy settling up his affairs in preparation. Wilhelm was +requested to remain until a more convenient season. On the following +morning, while the company were seated at breakfast, the baron was brought +back in a carriage, seriously wounded.</p> + +<p>As the surgeon came out from attending him, the band hanging from his +pouch caught Wilhelm's eye; he fancied that he knew it. He was convinced +that he beheld the very pouch of the surgeon who had dressed his wounds in +the forest, and the hope, so long deferred, of again finding his lovely +Amazon struck like a flame through his soul.</p> + +<p>The abbé entered from Lothario's chamber, and said to Wilhelm, +"The baron bids me ask you to remain here to share his hospitality, and, in +the present circumstances, to contribute to his solacement."</p> + +<p>From this hour our friend was treated in the house as if he belonged to +it.</p> + +<p>"We have a kindness to ask of you," said Jarno, the baron's confidential +companion, to Wilhelm one morning. "The violent, unreasonable love and +passionateness of the Lady Lydia only hinder the baron's recovery. She must +be removed by some means. His wound requires rest and calmness; you see how +she tortures him with her tempestuous anxieties, her ungovernable terrors, +her never-drying tears. Enough! Our doctor expressly requires that she +should quit us for a while; we have persuaded her to pay a visit to a lady, +an old friend of hers; it will be your task to escort her, as you can best +be spared."</p> + +<p>"I willingly undertake the charge," said Wilhelm, "though it is easy to +foresee the pain I shall have to suffer from the tears, the despair, of +Lydia."</p> + +<p>"And for this no small reward awaits you," said Jarno. "Fraulein +Theresa, with whom you will get acquainted, is a lady such as you will +rarely see. Indeed, were it not for an unfortunate passage between her +mother and the baron, she would long since have been married to his +lordship."</p> + +<p>When they returned from their visit, Lothario was in the way of full +recovery. He was now for the first time able to talk with Wilhelm about the +sad cause that had brought him to the castle. "You may, however, well +forgive me," he said, with a smile, "that I forsook Aurelia for Theresa; +with the one I could expect a calm and cheerful life, with the other not a +happy hour."</p> + +<p>"I confess," said Wilhelm, "that in coming hither I had no small anger +in my heart against you, that I proposed to censure with severity your +conduct towards Aurelia. But, at the grave in which the hapless mother +sleeps, let me ask you why you acknowledge not the child--a son in whom any +father might rejoice and whom you appear entirely to overlook. With your +tender nature, how can you altogether cast away the instinct of a +parent?"</p> + +<p>"Of whom do you speak?" said Lothario. "I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"Of whom but your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely child to whose good +fortune there is nothing wanting but that a tender father should +acknowledge and receive him."</p> + +<p>"You mistake, my friend," said Lothario; "Aurelia never had a son. I +know of no child, or I would gladly acknowledge it. But did she ever give +you to believe that the boy was hers--was mine?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her expressly on the +subject, but we took it so, and I never for a moment doubted it."</p> + +<p>"I can give you a clue to this perplexity," interposed Jarno. "An old +woman, whom Wilhelm must have noticed, gave Aurelia the child, telling her +that it was yours. She accepted it eagerly, hoping to alleviate her sorrows +by its presence; and, in truth, it gave her many a comfortable hour."</p> + +<p>This discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm. He thought of the beautiful +child Felix with the liveliest apprehension, and expressed his wish to +remove him from the state in which he was.</p> + +<p>"We can soon arrange that," said Lothario. "I think you ought yourself +to take charge of him; what in us the women leave uncultivated, children +cultivate when we retain them near us."</p> + +<p>It was agreed to lose no time in putting this plan into execution, and +Wilhelm departed forthwith to fetch the child.</p> + +<p>Passing through the house, he found Aurelia's old serving-maid, whom he +had never seen at close quarters before, employed in sewing. Felix and +Mignon were sitting by her on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Art thou the person," he demanded earnestly, "from whom Aurelia +received this child?"</p> + +<p>She looked up, and turned her face to him; he saw her in full light, and +started back in terror. It was old Barbara!</p> + +<p>"Where is Mariana?" cried he.</p> + +<p>"Far from here."</p> + +<p>"And Felix?"</p> + +<p>"Is the son of that unhappy and too tender-hearted girl. Here are +Mariana's last words," she added, handing him a letter.</p> + +<p>"She is dead?" cried he.</p> + +<p>"Dead," said the old woman.</p> + +<p>A bitter grief took hold of Wilhelm; he could scarcely read the words +that Barbara placed before him.</p> + +<p>"If this should reach thee, then lament thine ill-starred friend. The +boy, whose birth I survived but a few days, is thine. I die faithful to +thee, much as appearances may be against me; with thee I lost everything +that bound me to life. This will be my only comfort, that though I cannot +call myself blameless, towards thee I am free from blame."</p> + +<p>Wilhelm was stupified by this news. He removed the children from +Barbara's care, and took them both back with him to Lothario's castle. +Felix he kept with him, while Mignon, who was not in the best of health, +was sent by the baron to the house of his sister, at some distance.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Wilhelm's Apprenticeship</i></h4> + + +<p>One evening Jarno said to Wilhelm, "We can now consider you as one of +ourselves with such security that it were unjust not to introduce you +deeper into our mysteries. You shall see what a curious little world is at +your very hand, and how well you are known in it." He led our friend +through certain unknown chambers and galleries of the castle to a door, +strongly framed with iron. Jarno knocked; the door opened a little, so as +to admit one person. Jarno introduced our friend, but did not follow +him.</p> + +<p>Within was complete darkness. A voice cried "Enter"; he pressed forward +and found that only tapestry was hemming him in. Raising this, he entered. +Within, he found a man, who said, in a tone of dignity, "To guard from +error is not the instructor's duty, but to lead the erring pupil; nay, let +him quaff his error in deep, satiating draughts; he who only tastes his +error will long dwell with it; he who drains it to the dregs will, if he be +not crazy, find it out."</p> + +<p>A curtain closed before the figure, whom Wilhelm vaguely recollected as +having seen at some time previously; possibly on the night when he had +parted from Mariana. Then the curtain opened again; another figure +advanced, "Learn to know the men who may be trusted," he said, and again +the curtain closed. "Dispute not with us," cried a voice; "thou art saved, +thou art on the way to the goal. None of thy follies wilt thou repent; none +wilt thou wish to repeat."</p> + +<p>The curtain opened; the abbé came into view. "Come hither," he +cried to his marvelling friend. Wilhelm mounted the steps. On the table lay +a little roll.</p> + +<p>"Here is your indenture," said the abbé. "Take it to heart; it is +of weighty import." Wilhelm opened it, and read:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +"<i>INDENTURE</i>.<br/> + "<i>Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient. To +act is easy, to think is hard, to act according to our thought is troublesome. +It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist needs it all. Who knows +it half, speaks much, and is always wrong; who knows it all, speaks seldom, and +is inclined to act. No one knows what he is doing while he acts aright; but of +wrong-doing we are always conscious. The instruction which the true artist +gives us opens the mind, for where words fail him, deeds speak. The true +scholar learns from the known to unfold the unknown, and approaches more and +more to being a master</i>----" +</p> + +<p>"Enough," cried the abbé; "the rest in due time. Now look round +you among these cases." With astonishment Wilhelm found, among others, +"<i>Lothario's Apprenticeship," "Jarno's Apprenticeship</i>," and his own +"<i>Apprenticeship</i>" placed there. "May I hope to look into these +rolls?"</p> + +<p>"In this chamber nothing is now hid from you."</p> + +<p>Wilhelm heard a noise behind him, and saw a child's face peeping through +the tapestry at the end of the room. It was Felix. His father rushed +towards him, took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel it," cried he. "Thou art mine. For what a gift of Heaven +have I to thank my friends! How comest thou, my child, at this important +moment?"</p> + +<p>"Ask not," said the abbé. "Hail, young man! Thy apprenticeship is +done; nature has pronounced thee free."</p> + +<p>After sorrow, often and in vain repeated, for the loss of Mariana, +Wilhelm felt that he must find a mother for the boy; and also, that he +could not find one equal to Theresa. With this gifted lady he was now +thoroughly acquainted. Such a spouse and helpmate seemed the only one to +trust to in such circumstances. Her affection for Lothario did not make him +hesitate; she looked on herself as free; she had even spoken of marrying, +with indifference, indeed, but as a matter understood.</p> + +<p>Before Theresa's answer came to hand, Lothario sent for our friend. "My +sister Natalia bids me beg of you to go to her as soon as possible. Poor +Mignon seems to be getting steadily worse, and it is thought that your +presence might allay the malady." Wilhelm agreed, and proceeded on the +journey.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Heart Against Reason</i></h4> + + +<p>Behind a light screen, which threw a shadow on her, sat a young lady, +reading; she rose and came to him. It was the Amazon! Unable to restrain +himself, he fell on his knee and cried "It is she!" He seized her hand, and +kissed it with unbounded rapture.</p> + +<p>A day or two later, the following letter from Theresa was handed to +Wilhelm.</p> + +<p>"I am yours, as I am, and as you know me. I call you mine, as you are, +and as I know you. As it is no passion, but trust and inclination for each +other, that leads us together, we run less risk than thousands of others. +You will forgive me, will you not, if I still think often and kindly of my +former friend; in return, I will press Felix to my heart, as if I were his +mother. Adieu, dear friend! Theresa clasps you to her breast with hope and +joy."</p> + +<p>Natalia wrote a letter to her brother; she invited Wilhelm to add a word +or two. They were just about to seal it, when Jarno unexpectedly came +in.</p> + +<p>"I am come," he said, "to give you very curious and pleasing tidings +about Theresa; now guess."</p> + +<p>"We are more skilful than you think," said Natalia, smiling. "Before you +asked, we had the answer down in black and white," handing him as she spoke +the letter she had just written. Jarno read the sheet hastily. "What shall +I say?" cried he. "Surprise against surprise! I came to tell you that +Theresa is not the daughter of her reputed mother. There is no obstacle to +her marriage with Lothario: <i>I came to ask you to prepare her for +it</i>."</p> + +<p>"And what," said Lothario, taking Wilhelm by the hand, "what if your +alliance with my sister were the secret article on which depended my +alliance with Theresa? These amends the noble maiden has appointed for you; +she has vowed that we two pairs should appear together at the altar. 'His +reason has made choice of me,' she said; 'his heart demands Natalia: my +reason shall assist his heart.'"</p> + +<p>Lothario embraced his friend, and led him to Natalia, who, with Theresa, +came to meet them. "To my mind, thou resemblest Saul, the son of Kish, who +went out to seek his father's asses, and found a kingdom."</p> + +<p>"I know not the worth of a kingdom," said Wilhelm, "but I know that I +have attained a happiness undeserved, which I would not change for anything +in life."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="goldsmith">OLIVER GOLDSMITH</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="goldsmith1">The Vicar of Wakefield</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Oliver Goldsmith, the most versatile and perhaps the most +unstable of eighteenth century men of letters, was born in Ireland on +November 10, 1728. At Trinity College, Dublin, he revealed three +characteristics that clung to him throughout his career--high spirits, +conversational brilliance, and inability to keep money in his pocket. After +a spell of "philosophic vagabondage" on the Continent, he settled in London +in 1756, earned money in various ways, and spent it all. "The Vicar of +Wakefield," perhaps the greatest of all Goldsmith's works, was published on +March 27, 1766, after Dr. Johnson had raised £60 for him on the +manuscript of it. The liveliness and grace of Goldsmith's style were never +more plainly manifested than in this delightful story; and its faults--it +contains many coincidences and improbabilities--are far more than atoned +for by the masterly portrait of the simple, manly, generous, and wholly +lovable vicar who is the central figure of the story. "It has," says +Mitford, "the truth of Richardson, without his minuteness, and the humour +of Fielding, without his grossness; if it yields to LeSage in the +diversified variety of his views of life, it far excels him in the +description of domestic virtues and the pleasing moral of the tale." +Goldsmith died on April 4, 1774. (See also Vol. XVII.) +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Family Portraits</i></h4> + + +<p>I was ever of opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a +large family did more service than he who continued single and only talked +of population. From this motive, I chose my wife, as she did her +wedding-gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would +wear well. There was nothing that could make us angry with the world or +each other. We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues to undergo; all our +adventures were by the fireside, and all our migrations from the blue bed +to the brown.</p> + +<p>My children, as they were educated without softness, so they were at +once well-formed and healthy; my four sons hardy and active, my two +daughters beautiful and blooming. Olivia, the elder daughter, was open, +sprightly, and commanding; Sophia's features were not so striking at first, +but often did more certain execution, for they were soft, modest, and +alluring.</p> + +<p>The profits of my living I made over to the orphans and widows of the +clergy of our diocese; for, having a sufficient fortune of my own, I was +careless of temporalities, and felt a secret pleasure in doing my duty +without reward.</p> + +<p>My eldest son, George, just upon leaving college, fixed his affections +upon Miss Arabella Wilmot, the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman, who +was in circumstances to give her a large fortune. Mr. Wilmot was not averse +to the match, but after the day for the nuptials had been fixed, I engaged +in a dispute with him which threatened to interrupt our intended alliance. +I have always maintained that it is unlawful for a priest of the Church of +England, after the death of his first wife, to take a second; and I showed +Mr. Wilmot a tract which I had written in defence of this principle. It was +not till too late I discovered that he was violently attached to the +contrary opinion, and with good reason; for he was at that time actually +courting a fourth wife.</p> + +<p>While the controversy was hottest, a relation, with a face of concern, +called me out.</p> + +<p>"The merchant in town," he said, "in whose hands your money was lodged +has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankruptcy. Your fortune is now almost +nothing."</p> + +<p>It would be useless to describe the sensations of my family when I +divulged the news. Near a fortnight had passed before I attempted to +restrain their affliction; for premature consolation is but the remembrance +of sorrow. During this interval I determined to send my eldest son to +London, and I accepted a small cure of fifteen pounds a year in a distant +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>The first day's journey brought us within thirty miles of our future +retreat, and we put up at an obscure inn in a village by the way. At the +inn was a gentleman who, the landlord told me, had been so liberal in his +charity that he had no money left to pay his reckoning. I could not avoid +expressing my concern at seeing a gentleman in such circumstances, and +offered the stranger my purse. "I take it with all my heart, sir," replied +he, "and am glad that my late oversight has shown me that there are still +some men like you." The stranger's conversation was so pleasing and +instructive that we were rejoiced to hear that he was going the same way as +ourselves.</p> + +<p>The next morning we all set forward together. Mr. Burchell and I +lightened the fatigues of the road with philosophical disputes, and he also +informed me to whom the different seats belonged that lay in our view.</p> + +<p>"That, Dr. Primrose," he said to me, pointing to a very magnificent +house, "belongs to Mr. Thornhill, a young gentleman who enjoys a large +fortune, though entirely dependent upon the will of his uncle, Sir William +Thornhill."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried I, "is my young landlord, then, the nephew of one who is +represented as a man of consummate benevolence?"</p> + +<p>At this point we were alarmed by the cries of my family, and I perceived +my youngest daughter in the midst of a rapid stream, and struggling with +the torrent; she must have certainly perished had not my companion +instantly plunged in to her relief. Her gratitude may be more readily +imagined than described; she thanked her deliverer more with looks than +words. Soon afterwards Mr. Burchell took leave of us, and we pursued our +journey to the place of our retreat.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Squire</i></h4> + + +<p>At a small distance from our habitation was a seat overshaded by a hedge +of hawthorn and honeysuckle. Here, when the weather was fine, and our +labour soon finished, we usually sat together to enjoy an extensive +landscape in the calm of the evening. On an afternoon about the beginning +of autumn, when I had drawn out my family to the seat, dogs and horsemen +swept past us with great swiftness. After them a young gentleman, of a more +genteel appearance than the rest, came forward, and, instead of pursuing +the chase, stopped short, and approached us with a careless, superior air. +He let us know that his name was Thornhill, and that he was the owner of +the estate that lay around us. As his address, though confident, was easy, +we soon became more familiar; and the whole family seemed earnest to please +him.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone, my wife gave the opinion that it was a most +fortunate hit, and hoped again to see the day in which we might hold up our +heads with the best of them.</p> + +<p>"For my part," cried Olivia, "I don't like him, he is so extremely +impudent and familiar." I interpreted this speech by contrary, and found +that Olivia secretly admired him.</p> + +<p>"To confess the truth," said I, "he has not prepossessed me in his +favour. I had heard that he was particularly remarkable for faithlessness +to the fair sex."</p> + +<p>A few days afterwards we entertained our young landlord at dinner, and +it may be easily supposed what provisions were exhausted to make an +appearance. As he directed his looks and conversation to Olivia, it was no +longer doubted but that she was the object that induced him to be our +visitor; and my wife exulted in her daughter's victory as if it were her +own.</p> + +<p>On one evening Mr. Thornhill came with two young ladies, richly dressed, +whom he introduced as women of very great distinction and fashion from +town. The two ladies threw my girls quite into the shade, for they would +talk of nothing but high life and high-lived company. 'Tis true, they once +or twice mortified us sensibly by slipping out an oath; their finery, +however, threw a veil over any grossness in their conversation.</p> + +<p>I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon +temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded. The +distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened that pride which I had +laid asleep, but not removed. When the two ladies of quality showed a +willingness to take our girls to town with them as companions, my wife was +overjoyed at our good fortune. But Mr. Burchell, who had at first been a +welcome guest at our house, but had become less welcome since we had been +favoured with the company of persons of superior station, dissuaded her +with great ardour, and so angered her that she ended by asking him to stay +away.</p> + +<p>Returning home one day, I found my wife and girls all in tears, Mr. +Thornhill having been there to inform them that their journey to town was +entirely over. The two ladies, having heard reports of us from some +malicious person, were that day set out for London. We were not long in +finding who it was that had been so base as to asperse the character of a +family so harmless as ours. One of our boys found a letter-case which we +knew to belong to Mr. Burchell. Within it was a sealed note, superscribed, +"The copy of a letter to be sent to the two ladies at Thornhill Castle." At +the joint solicitation of the family, I opened it, and read as follows:</p> + +<p>"Ladies,--I am informed that you have some intention of bringing two +young ladies to town, whom I have some knowledge of, under the character of +companions. As I would neither have simplicity imposed upon nor virtue +contaminated, I must offer it as my opinion that the impropriety of such a +step will be attended with dangerous consequences. Take therefore, the +admonition of a friend, and seriously reflect on the consequences of +introducing infamy and vice into retreats where peace and innocence have +hitherto resided."</p> + +<p>Our doubts were now at an end. It appeared to me one of the vilest +instances of unprovoked ingratitude I had ever met with. As we set +ruminating upon schemes of vengeance, Mr. Burchell himself entered and sat +down.</p> + +<p>"Do you know this, sir--this pocket-book?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance.</p> + +<p>"And do you know this letter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it was I that wrote that letter."</p> + +<p>"And how could you so basely presume to write this letter?"</p> + +<p>"And how came you," replied he, with looks of unparalleled effrontery, +"so basely to presume to open this letter?"</p> + +<p>I could scarcely govern my passion. "Ungrateful wretch!" I cried. +"Begone, and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness!"</p> + +<p>So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a smile, +and left us astonished at the serenity of his assurance.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Elopement</i></h4> + + +<p>The visits of Mr. Thornhill now became more frequent and longer; but all +the schemes of Olivia and her mother to bring him to a declaration came to +nothing. And although Olivia considered his fine sentiments as instances of +the most exalted passion, it seemed to me plain that they had more of love +than matrimony in them.</p> + +<p>One evening as I sat by the fireside, thanking Heaven for tranquillity, +health, and competence, and thinking myself happier than the greatest +monarch upon earth, I noticed that Olivia was absent.</p> + +<p>"Where is my darling Olivia?" I asked. Just as I spoke, my boy Dick came +running in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, papa, she is gone from us; she is gone from us for ever!"</p> + +<p>"Gone, child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is gone off with two gentlemen in a postchaise, and one of +them kissed her. And she cried very much, but he persuaded her, and she +went into the chaise."</p> + +<p>"Now, then," cried I, "may Heaven's everlasting fury light upon him and +his! Thus to rob me of my child! Bring me my pistols; I'll pursue the +traitor. Old as I am, he shall find I can sting him yet--the perfidious +villain!"</p> + +<p>My poor wife caught me in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir," said my son Moses, "your rage is too violent."</p> + +<p>"I did not curse him, child, did I?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, you did."</p> + +<p>"Then may Heaven forgive me and him. But it is not--it is not a small +distress that can wring tears from these old eyes. My child--to undo my +darling! May confusion seize--Heaven forgive me! What am I about to say? +Had she but died! My son, bring hither my Bible and my staff. I will pursue +her; and though I cannot save her from shame, I may prevent the continuance +of her iniquity."</p> + +<p>My suspicions fell entirely upon our young landlord, whose character for +such intrigues was but too well known. I therefore directed my steps +towards Thornhill Castle. He soon appeared, with the most open, familiar +air, and seemed perfectly amazed at my daughter's elopement, protesting +upon his honour that he was quite a stranger to it. A man, however, averred +that my daughter and Mr. Burchell had been seen driving very fast towards +the Wells, about thirty miles distant.</p> + +<p>I walked towards the Wells with earnestness, and on entering the town I +was met by a person on horseback, whom I remembered to have seen at the +squire's, and he assured me that if I followed them to the races, which +were but thirty miles further, I might depend upon overtaking them.</p> + +<p>Early the next day I walked forward to the races, but saw nothing of my +daughter or of Mr. Burchell.</p> + +<p>The agitations of my mind, and the fatigues I had undergone, now threw +me into a fever. I retired to a little ale-house by the roadside, and here +I languished for nearly three weeks.</p> + +<p>The night coming on as I was twenty miles from home on my return +journey, I put up at a little public-house, and asked for the landlord's +company over a pint of wine. I could hear the landlady upstairs bitterly +reproaching a lodger who could not pay.</p> + +<p>"Out, I say," she cried; "pack out this moment!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear madame," replied the stranger, "pity a poor, abandoned +creature for one night and death will soon do the rest!"</p> + +<p>I instantly knew the voice of my poor ruined child, Olivia, and flew to +her rescue.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, anyway welcome, my dearest lost one, to your poor old father's +bosom!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my own dear"--for minutes she could say no more--"my own dearest, +good papa! You can't forgive me--I know you cannot!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child, from my heart I do forgive thee." After we had talked +ourselves into some tranquillity, I said, "It surprises me how a person of +Mr. Burchell's seeming honour could be guilty of such deliberate +baseness."</p> + +<p>"My dear papa," returned my daughter, "you labour under a strange +mistake. It is Mr. Thornhill who has ruined me; who employed the two +ladies, as he called them, but who, in fact, were abandoned women of the +town, to decoy us up to London. Their artifices would certainly have +succeeded but for Mr. Burchell's letter, who directed those reproaches at +them which we all applied to ourselves."</p> + +<p>"You amaze me, my dear!" cried I. "But tell me, what temptation was it +that could thus obliterate your virtue?"</p> + +<p>"He offered me marriage," replied she. "We were indeed married secretly +by a popish priest, whose name I was sworn to conceal."</p> + +<p>"What!" interrupted I. "And were you indeed married?"</p> + +<p>"Alas!" she said, "he has been married already by the same priest to six +or eight wives more, whom, like me, he has deceived and abandoned."</p> + +<p>"Have patience, my child," cried I, "and I hope things will yet be +better. To-morrow I'll carry you home to your mother. Poor woman, this has +gone to her heart; but she loves you still, Olivia, and will forget +it."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Fresh Calamities</i></h4> + + +<p>It was late the next night when I approached my own home. I had left +Olivia at an inn five miles away, intending to prepare my family for her +reception. To my amazement, I saw the house bursting out into a blaze of +fire, and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud convulsive +outcry, which alarmed my son, and all my family ran out, wild with +apprehension. Our neighbours came running to our assistance; but the flames +had taken too strong a hold to be extinguished, and all the neighbours +could do was to stand spectators of the calamity. They brought us clothes +and furnished one of our outhouses with kitchen utensils; so that by +daylight we had another, though a wretched, dwelling to retire to.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this affliction our poor lost one returned to us. "Ah, +madam," cried her mother, "this is but a poor place to come to after so +much finery! I can afford but little entertainment to persons who have kept +company only with persons of distinction; but I hope Heaven will forgive +you."</p> + +<p>The unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable to weep or to +reply.</p> + +<p>"I entreat, woman," I said to my wife, with severity in my voice and +manner, "that my words may be now marked once for all. I have here brought +you back a poor deluded wanderer--her return to duty demands the revival of +our tenderness. The real hardships of life are now coming fast upon us; let +us not increase them by dissensions among each other. The kindness of +Heaven is promised to the penitent, and let ours be directed by the +example."</p> + +<p>My daughter's grief, however, seemed formed for continuing, and her +wretchedness was increased by the news that Mr. Thornhill was going to be +married to the rich Miss Wilmot, who had formerly been betrothed to my +eldest son.</p> + +<p>On a morning of peculiar warmth for the season, when we were +breakfasting out of doors, Mr. Thornhill drove up in his chariot, alighted, +and inquired after my health with his usual air of familiarity.</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only serves to aggravate your +baseness."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," returned he, "I cannot understand what this means!"</p> + +<p>"Go!" cried I. "Thou art a poor, pitiful wretch, and every way a liar; +but your meanness secures you from my anger!"</p> + +<p>"I find," he said, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in a harsher +manner than I intended. My steward talks of driving for the rent, and it is +certain he knows his duty. Yet, still, I could wish to serve you, and even +to have you and your daughter present at my marriage."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "as to your marriage with any but my +daughter, that I never will consent to! And though your friendship could +raise me to a throne, or your resentment sink me to the grave, yet would I +despise both."</p> + +<p>"Depend upon it," returned he, "you shall feel the effects of this +insolence," and departed abruptly.</p> + +<p>On the very next morning his steward came to demand my annual rent, +which, by reason of the accidents already related, I was unable to pay. On +the following day two officers of justice took me to the county gaol.</p> + +<p>There is no situation, however wretched it seems, but has some sort of +comfort attending it; and I found mine in the help and kindness of a +fellow-prisoner, Mr. Jenkinson by name, who was awaiting trial for several +acts of cheating and roguery. I myself, indeed, had been one of his +victims.</p> + +<p>The fortune of my family, who were lodged in the town, was wholly and +distressingly adverse. Olivia was ill, and longed for me to make my +submission to Mr. Thornhill by approving his marriage with Miss Wilmot. +When I had been confined a fortnight, Mr. Jenkinson brought me dreadful +news--Olivia was dead! And while yet my grief was fresh upon me my wife +came weeping to tell me that Sophia had been seized by ruffians and carried +off.</p> + +<p>The sum of my miseries, thought, I, is now made up; nor is it in the +power of anything on earth to give me another pang. Yet another awaited me. +My eldest son, George, to whom I had written, went to Thornhill Castle to +punish our betrayer; he was attacked by the coward's servants, injured one +of them, and was brought into the very prison where I was confined.</p> + +<p>The enemy of my family had now triumphed completely. My only hope was in +a letter I had written to Sir William Thornhill, telling him of the +misdeeds of his nephew. I was by this time myself extremely ill. I sought +to break from my heart all ties that bound it to earth, and to fit myself +for eternity.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--The Rescue</i></h4> + + +<p>On parting from my unhappy son, who was removed to a stronger cell, I +laid me down in bed, when Mr. Jenkinson, entering, informed me that there +was news of my daughter. He had scarcely delivered his message when my +dearest girl entered with Mr. Burchell.</p> + +<p>"Here, papa," she cried, "here is the brave man to whom I owe my +delivery; to this gentleman's intrepidity--"</p> + +<p>A kiss from Mr. Burchell interrupted what she was going to add.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Burchell," said I, "you were ever our friend. We have long +discovered our errors with regard to you, and repented our ingratitude. And +now, as you have delivered my girl, if you think her a recompense, she is +yours."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose, sir," he replied, "you are apprised of my incapacity to +support her as she deserves?"</p> + +<p>"I know no man," I returned, "so worthy to deserve her as you."</p> + +<p>Without the least reply to my offer, he ordered from the next inn the +best dinner that could be provided. While we were at dinner, the gaoler +brought a message from Mr. Thornhill, desiring permission to appear before +his uncle in order to vindicate his innocence and honour. The poor, +harmless Mr. Burchell, then, was in reality the celebrated Sir William +Thornhill!</p> + +<p>Mr. Thornhill entered with a smile, and was going to embrace his +uncle.</p> + +<p>"No fawning, sir, at present," cried the baronet. "The only way to my +heart is by the road of honour; but here I only see complicated instances +of falsehood, cowardice, and oppression."</p> + +<p>At this moment Jenkinson and the gaoler's two servants entered, hauling +in a tall man very genteelly dressed. As soon as Mr. Thornhill perceived +the prisoner and Mr. Jenkinson, he seemed to shrink backward with terror, +for this was the man whom he had put upon the carrying off of Sophia.</p> + +<p>"Heavens," cried Sir William, "what a viper have I been fostering in my +bosom!"</p> + +<p>"As Mr. Thornhill and I have been old fellow-sporters," said Jenkinson, +"I have a friendship for him; and I hope he will show a proper return of +friendship to his own honest Jenkinson, who brings him a wife."</p> + +<p>So saying, he went off and left us.</p> + +<p>"I am surprised," said the baronet, "what he can intend by this?"</p> + +<p>"When we reflect," I replied, "on the various schemes--Amazement! Do I +see my lost daughter? It is--it is my Olivia!"</p> + +<p>"As for you, squire," said Jenkinson, "this young lady is your lawful +wedded wife. Here is the licence to prove it. He commissioned me, +gentlemen," he continued, "to procure him a false licence and a false +priest in order to deceive this young lady. What did I do, but went and got +a true licence and a true priest. To my shame, I confess it, my only design +was to keep the licence and let the squire know that I could prove it upon +him whenever I wanted money."</p> + +<p>"How could you," I cried, "add to my miseries by the story of her +death?"</p> + +<p>"That," replied Jenkinson, "is easily answered. I thought the only +probable means of freeing you from prison was by submitting to the squire, +and consenting to his marriage with the other young lady. But this you had +vowed never to grant while your daughter was living, so I had to join with +your wife in persuading you that she was dead."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thornhill's assurance had now entirely forsaken him. He fell on his +knees before his uncle, and implored compassion.</p> + +<p>"Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude," said the baronet, "deserve no +compassion; but a bare competence shall be supplied thee, and thy wife +shall possess a third part of that fortune which once was thine." Then, +turning to Sophia, he caught her to his breast with ardour. "I have +sought," he cried, "for a woman who, a stranger to my fortune, could think +I had merit as a man. How great must be my rapture to have made a conquest +over such sense and such heavenly beauty!"</p> + +<p>On the next day Sophia was wedded to Sir William Thornhill; and my son +George, now freed from justice, as the person supposed to be wounded by him +was detected to be an impostor, led Miss Wilmot to the altar. As soon as I +had awakened that morning, I had heard that my merchant had been arrested +at Antwerp, and that my fortune had been restored to me.</p> + +<p>It may not be improper to observe, with respect to Mr. Thornhill, that +he now resides as companion at a relation's house. My eldest daughter has +told me that when he reforms she may be brought to relent.</p> + +<p>I had now nothing on this side of the grave to wish for. All my cares +were over. It only remained that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed +my submission in adversity.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="goncourt">EDMOND AND JULES DE GONCOURT</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="goncourt1">Renée Mauperin</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +Edmond de Goncourt, born at Nancy on May 26, 1822, and his +brother Jules, born in Paris on December 17, 1830, were primarily artists, +who, while wandering over France, knapsack on back, discovered that their +note-books also made them writers. In 1850 they entered upon a literary +partnership which only finished with the death of the younger brother on +June 20, 1870. Their earliest literary endeavours consisted of a series of +historical studies dealing with the France of the second half of the +eighteenth century. It was not until 1860, with the publication of their +first novel, "Les Hommes de Lettres," that they discovered their true bent +lay in fiction. "Renée Mauperin," which is, perhaps, the best known +of their books, was published in 1864. As a psychological analysis of +contemporaneous youth, it is probably without its equal in French fiction. +"The plot of the story," wrote Edmond de Goncourt, "is secondary. The +authors have rather preferred to paint the modern young woman as she is: +the product of the artistic and masculine system of education in force +during the last thirty years. We have also attempted to portray the modern +young college man influenced by the republican ideas of the time since +Louis Philippe." Edmond de Goncourt died on July 16, 1896. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--A Wayward Girl</i></h4> + + +<p>"Yes, I love riding and hunting. I never miss a meet. The wind blowing +through one's hair, the hounds, the horns, the trees flying past you--it is +intoxicating! In those moments I feel brave. Life has few other pleasures +for a well-brought-up girl like me. Everything is shocking! I dance, yes +... but do you think I am allowed to talk to my partner? Yes, no, no, +yes--that's all! That's proper. And I am allowed to read if the books and +articles are proper. I paint in oils, and that shocks my family; a young +lady must not go beyond copying roses in water-colours. Isn't the current +strong here?"</p> + +<p>Renée Mauperin and young Reverchon, her parent's guest, were +swimming in the Seine.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful!" exclaimed the girl, as she noticed the evening sun +gilding the river and the banks where country and suburb merged into each +other.</p> + +<p>"You are an artist by nature, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Ouf!" she exclaimed with a comic intonation.</p> + +<p>A boat approached.</p> + +<p>"Well, Renée, how is the water?" asked one of the rowers.</p> + +<p>"Splendid, thanks, Denoisel," she replied, as she mounted the steps +lowered for her.</p> + +<p>"I was almost getting nervous for you. And Reverchon? Ah, there he +is!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Renée was the youngest daughter of a distinguished Napoleonic +officer, who, at the time of the revolution of 1830, was elected deputy, +and fought with all his ardour for the Liberal cause, but who subsequently, +at the urging of his wife, a tyrannical conventional member of the +<i>bourgeois</i>, retired from the world of politics and established a +sugar refinery, so as to be able to provide suitably for his three +children.</p> + +<p>The first two, a boy born in 1826 and a daughter in 1827, were a +disappointment to the old soldier. They were too reasonable, too "grown-up" +before they were children, but in Renée, who was born after an +interval of eight years, M. Mauperin found ample consolation. His heart +revelled in her pranks and merry laughter, and she grew up the pet of her +father, whose affection she returned with all her heart. She was now +twenty; her brother Henri, serious, studious, plodding and determined to +make a career, was a lawyer, and had made some reputation by his articles +on statistical subjects; and Henriette, her elder sister, had found a +husband in M. Davarande, whose wealth and position allowed her to devote +herself to the life of empty amusement, divided mainly between long rounds +of calls, the opera, and the Bois, which filled the days of the moneyed +Paris <i>bourgeoisie</i> of that time.</p> + +<p>Madame Mauperin, delighted with Henriette's match, was anxious to find +an equally suitable partner for Renée; but the high-spirited girl +had a will of her own, and seemed to take almost a pleasure in crossing her +mother's transparent matrimonial schemes. Quite a number of eligible young +men had been introduced to the house at La Briche--and had left it without +having furthered their suit. Reverchon had now been invited with similar +intentions, and Renée was no more amenable than before. While her +mother filled the young man's ears with praise of her accomplishments, the +wayward girl, with her charming ingenuous talk, did her best to demonstrate +her lack of those negative conventional virtues that were expected from a +well-educated French girl in those days. She made Madame Mauperin turn +first crimson, then pale, when she finally proceeded to cut Denoisel's hair +in the drawing-room after dinner.</p> + +<p>Denoisel was the son of Mauperin's bosom friend, who had fought by his +side in many battles, and who on his death-bed had made him his son's +guardian. Mauperin became more than a guardian to the boy--he became his +father. When Henri and Henriette were born, it seemed to Denoisel that he +had been given a brother and sister; but he adored the baby Renée, +and he alone succeeded in making her listen and obey.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," said Henri to Denoisel as they travelled back to Paris, "my +sister's follies are harmless enough; but to-night ... before that fellow +... I am sure the marriage will fall through. And such an excellent +match!"</p> + +<p>"You think so? I began to fear for her. And that's why I lent myself to +her prank. He is too hopelessly commonplace--a tailor's dummy! He would +never have understood her. Your sister ought to marry a man of intelligence +and character."</p> + +<p>And Madame Mauperin, as she prepared for bed, lectured her husband upon +acceding to all his favourite's whims.</p> + +<p>"Another marriage missed! Henri spoke to me this evening. He is sure +Reverchon will not have her."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he is the tenth! Renée will get an awful reputation. She +will see when she is thirty ... and you too." Then, after a pause, "And now +about your son. He is twenty-nine now. He, at any rate, has no objection to +marriage. Have you ever thought of finding him a suitable wife?"</p> + +<p>She continued to talk and to grumble until Mauperin fell asleep.</p> + +<p>"Henri is reasonable enough, but he is a young man, and you know the +danger. It's driving me mad! What do you think of trying Madame +Rosiéres?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Madame Mauperin resigned herself to silence, and +turned to find the sleep which only came with morning.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Plots and Plays</i></h4> + + +<p>Next morning Madame Mauperin proceeded to Paris, and drove to her son's +apartments in the Rue Taitbout. She found him at work. After some beating +about the bush she approached the object of her visit.</p> + +<p>"I fear," she began, "that you must have some reason for ..."</p> + +<p>"For not marrying, isn't it? My dear mother, you need not worry. I know +that wealth is needed for a successful career, and that the best and most +honourable way to obtain it is a good marriage. And I am determined to make +a career. I shall get married soon enough... and better, perhaps, than you +think."</p> + +<p>At La Briche, meanwhile, M. Mauperin vainly tried to be stern with his +pet.</p> + +<p>"I have done it purposely," she said.</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I love you better than that young gentleman who was in no way +sympathetic to me. You are ungrateful."</p> + +<p>"But listen, my dear child! Fathers are egotists, and would prefer to +keep their children. But I am old, and I should not like to part without +seeing you married, a mother, with affections that will replace mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is wicked! Never, never!" she exclaimed; "let me cry alone for +a minute." And she left the room hurriedly.</p> + +<p>When she returned after a while, she found Denoisel in the room.</p> + +<p>"You have been out? And where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want to know, I have been to church to pray that I may die +before father. I knelt before a statue of the Virgin. And, you may laugh, +but it seemed to me that she nodded at my request. And it made me quite +happy."</p> + +<p>The conversation drifted to gayer topics, and the two soon fell into +their wonted tone of banter. "Tell me, Renée," said Denoisel, "have +you never felt, I won't say love, but some sentiment for anybody?"</p> + +<p>"Never. That sort of thing only occurs when the heart is empty. But when +it is defended by the affection one feels for a father--as a child I felt +perhaps the beginning of that emotion of which one reads in novels. And do +you know for whom?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"For you. Oh, only for a moment. I soon loved you differently for having +corrected the spoilt child of its faults, for having directed my attention +to noble and beautiful things. And I resolved to repay you by true +friendship."</p> + +<p>M. Mauperin entered the room, and interrupted the confidences.</p> + +<p>A few days later, Renée having set her mind upon playing in +private theatricals, a discussion arose about the filling of the second +lady's part in the play that had been chosen. One by one the names +suggested were dismissed, until Henri said, "Why not ask Mlle. Bourjot? +They are just staying at Sannois."</p> + +<p>"Noémi?" replied Renée. "I'd love it. But she, was so cold +towards me last winter. I don't know why."</p> + +<p>"She will have £12,000 a year," interrupted Denoisel, "and her +mother knows that you have a brother. And they are not a little proud of +their money."</p> + +<p>Twelve thousand a year! Madame Mauperin thought of her son's future, and +supported his suggestion. It was decided that they would call on the +Bourjots on Saturday.</p> + +<p>To Sannois they went as arranged on the Saturday. They were received +with effusion, and had to put up for an hour or so with the unbearable +arrogance of their hosts' display of wealth. Renée's warm advances +to the playmate of her childhood were received by Noémi with +coolness, not to say reluctance, but the request that Noémi should +take part in the theatricals met with her mother's approval, the shy girl's +objections--nervousness, lack of talent, and so forth--being overruled by +Madame Bourjot. Before the two families parted it was arranged that +Noémi should be taken by her governess to attend the rehearsals at +the Mauperins' house.</p> + +<p>Renée's whole-hearted friendliness and sparkling humour soon +overcame Noémi's reserve, and under Denoisel's direction the amateur +actors made rapid progress. Madame Bourjot herself came to one of the +rehearsals, and, after the first compliments, expressed her surprise that +Henri, the principal actor, was absent. "Oh, he has a wonderful memory," +said his proud mother; "two rehearsals will set him right."</p> + +<p>At last the great day arrived. A stage had been arranged in the large +drawing-room, which was filled to its utmost capacity, the ladies being +seated in the long rows of chairs, the men standing behind and overflowing +through open doors into the adjoining rooms. The play chosen was "The +Caprice." Henri, who revealed rare talent, took the part of the husband; +Noémi of the neglected wife. The curtain fell upon enthusiastic +applause, and Madame Bourjot, who had feared that her daughter would be a +fiasco, was delighted with her success. Amid the hum of voices she heard +the lady sitting next to her say to her neighbour, "His sister, I know ... +but for the part he is not sufficiently in love with her ... and too much +with his wife. Did you notice?" she continued, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>In the second piece Henri appeared as Pierrot, Renée as the +forsaken wife, and Noémi as the beloved. Henri played with real +passion. From time to time his eyes seemed to search for Madame Bourjot's. +Her neighbour felt her leaning against her shoulder. The curtain fell. +Madame Bourjot swayed, and fell back in a faint.</p> + +<p>She was carried to the garden.</p> + +<p>"Leave me now," she said, "I am all right now; it was the heat. I only +want a little air ... Let M. Henri stay with me."</p> + +<p>They were left alone.</p> + +<p>"You love her?" said Madame Bourjot, clutching Henri's arm. "I know +all.... Have you nothing to say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I have struggled for a year. I will not excuse myself. I owe +you the truth. I love your daughter, it is true."</p> + +<p>Finally, Madame Bourjot rose and walked towards the house. Henri +followed.</p> + +<p>"I count upon never seeing you again, sir," she said, without looking +round. With a mighty effort she regained her composure, and walked back to +the house on Henri's arm.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Stint to Death by his Sister</i></h4> + + +<p>It was Madame Bourjot herself who insisted upon seeing Henri again, and, +since he did not answer her letter, she went to his apartments. The +interview was painful, but she gave her consent to Henri's marriage with +Noémi, and undertook to overcome M. Bourjot's possible objections, +on condition that Henri should humour her husband's vanity by adopting a +title--an easy matter enough. The Mauperins had a farm called Villacourt. +Mauperin de Villacourt would do very well. Henri promised to see what he +could do.</p> + +<p>Madame Bourjot and her daughter called on the Mauperins next day. The +two girls were asked to leave their mothers to their talk, and to take a +walk in the garden.</p> + +<p>"A secret!" said Renée, as soon as they were alone. "Can you +guess it? I can--my brother. ... But you are crying. What is it, my darling +Noémi?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know!" her friend sobbed. "I cannot--if you only +knew----Save me! If I could only die!"</p> + +<p>"Die! But why?"</p> + +<p>"Because your brother is----" She stopped in horror at what she was +about to say, then whispered the rest of her sentence into her ear, and hid +her face on her friend's bosom.</p> + +<p>"You lie!" Renée pushed her back.</p> + +<p>"I?" Renée did not reply, but looked sadly and gently into +Noémi's eyes.</p> + +<p>Renée doubted no longer. She was silent for a moment; she felt +almost the duties of a mother towards this child.</p> + +<p>In the evening Henri was surprised to find his sister waiting in his +room. She approached the subject of his impending marriage, and implored +him, by his love for her, not to give up his name, and to break off the +match.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad? Enough of this!"</p> + +<p>Renée fixed her eyes upon her brother.</p> + +<p>"Noémi has told me--everything!"</p> + +<p>Her cheeks flushed, Henri turned deathly pale.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, with a shaky voice, "you interfere in things which +do not concern you. A young girl--" Then seizing her hand, he pointed +towards the door, and said, "Go!"</p> + +<p>Renée was ill for a week, and Henri, knowing the cause, did his +best to alleviate her suffering. Still, a coldness remained between them. +He understood that she had forgiven the brother, but not the man. One day +she accompanied Henri to town and went with him to the Record Office, where +he had to make some inquiries about the legality of adopting his own name. +While he was questioning the keeper, she overheard two clerks discuss her +brother and his claim. "He thinks the Villacourt family is extinct. But he +is misinformed, although they have gone down in the world. In fact, I know +the heir to the title--a M. Boisjorand with whom I once had a fight when we +were boys. They lived in the forest of the Croix-du-Soldat, near St. +Mihiel, at La Motte-Noire." Renée fixed these names in her mind.</p> + +<p>"I have got all I want," said Henri, gaily coming towards her. And they +went out together.</p> + +<p>The Bourjots were giving a great ball to celebrate the public +announcement of the engagement of their daughter to M. Mauperin de +Villacourt.</p> + +<p>"You are enjoying yourself," said Renée to Noémi.</p> + +<p>"I have never danced so much, it is true." And Noémi took her arm +and drew her into a small salon. "No, never." She kissed her. "Oh, what it +is to be happy! She loves him no longer. I am sure of it--I can see it; I +feel it."</p> + +<p>"And you love him now?"</p> + +<p>Noémi closed her mouth by pressing her lips upon Renée's. +A young man came to claim Noémi for the dance, and Denoisel +requested the same favour from Renée.</p> + +<p>Denoisel was with Henri Mauperin. They were smoking and talking +peacefully, when the door was thrust open, and a man forced his way in, +pushing aside the valet who wanted to prevent him from entering.</p> + +<p>"M. Mauperin de Villacourt?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"That is my name," said Henri, rising.</p> + +<p>"Good. My name is Boisjorand de Villacourt," retorted the stranger, +striking him so violently on the cheek that his face was immediately +covered with blood. Henri conquered his first impulse to throw himself upon +the intruder, and said calmly, "You find that there is one Villacourt too +many--so do I. Leave your card with my servant. I shall send to you +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>It was from a marked number of the "Moniteur," which the impoverished +heir of the glorious name of De Villacourt found on his return from a two +years' sojourn in Africa, that M. Boisjorand had learned that Henri had +taken from him this name, which was all that had come down to him from his +famous ancestors. He immediately proceeded to Paris and sought legal +advice, but found that his poverty rendered legal action impossible. After +his interview with the solicitor, he went straight to Henri's apartment to +obtain the only satisfaction that was in his power.</p> + +<p>Denoisel and another friend of Henri's arranged with Boisjorand's +seconds next morning the details of the meeting. Henri, who was an +excellent shot, had insisted on pistols at thirty-five paces, each +combatant to have the right to advance ten steps. The duel was to take +place at four o'clock the same afternoon near the ponds of Ville +d'Avray.</p> + +<p>Neither of the two adversaries showed a trace of nervousness. The signal +was given, M. De Villacourt advanced five steps, Henri remaining +stationary. At the sixth step Henri fired, and his opponent fell. Henri +hurried towards him.</p> + +<p>"Back to your place," shouted the wounded man. On his hands and knees he +crawled forward to the limit of his advance leaving a trail of blood in the +snow. Then he took careful aim--and Henri fell with arms extended and his +face towards the ground.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Broken Wanderers</i></h4> + + +<p>To Denoisel fell the painful duty of informing Mauperin of his son's +death. The old man's grief was heartbreaking. When Denoisel was admitted to +Renée, he found her sitting on a footstool, sobbing, with her +handkerchief pressed to her mouth.</p> + +<p>"Renée," he said, taking her hands, "he has been killed--that man +should never have known. He did not read, he saw nobody, he lived like a +wolf--he was not a subscriber to the 'Moniteur.' Some enemy must have sent +him that paper."</p> + +<p>Renée had risen; she moved her lips; she wanted to scream "It was +I!" Then, suddenly pressing her hand against her heart, she fell senseless +on the floor.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Renée did not seem to recover from her illness. Denoisel saw her +daily, but a certain coldness had set in between them--he thought that +Renée held him responsible for not having prevented the duel, while +Renée vaguely feared that Denoisel had guessed her secret. He +started upon a long journey.</p> + +<p>In those days of illness and anxiety the hearts of father and daughter +seemed to come together more closely even than before. The heartbroken old +man saw his beloved child wasting away. He called in the best specialist +from Paris, who did not exactly give up all hope, but did not conceal that +Renée's life was in danger. The poor girl, who could not bear to +witness her father's misery, put on a gay air, assuring him again and again +that she was recovering. Indeed, when, at her urging, the family removed to +the country house where she had spent her childhood, there was a real and +marked improvement, and for a while the roses seemed to return to her pale +cheeks.</p> + +<p>But she soon fell back into her listless state. Thus she lingered on for +several months, always cheering her father and speaking of her happy +future, always fading away until she became a mere shadow of her former +bright and healthy self. Only to Denoisel, when after a long absence he +returned from the Pyrenees, she opened her heart. To him she confessed that +she knew her days were counted.</p> + +<p>Those who travel far afield have perhaps met in foreign towns or among +the ruins of dead places--now in Russia, now in Egypt--two aged people, a +man and a woman, who seem to march along without looking and without +seeing. They are the Mauperins--father and mother.</p> + +<p>They have sold everything and have gone. Thus they wander from land to +land, from hotel to hotel. They wander, trying to lose their grief in the +fatigue of the road, dragging their weary life to all the corners of the +globe.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="grant">JAMES GRANT</a></h2> + + +<h3><a name="grant1">Bothwell</a></h3> + +<p class="letter"> +The author of "Bothwell," and many other romantic tales, was a +Scotsman by birth, parentage, and perfervid sentiment. He was born at +Edinburgh on August 1, 1822. His father was a distinguished Highland +officer; by his mother he was related to his illustrious literary exemplar, +Sir Walter Scott. He was only twenty-three years of age when "The Romance +of War" made him one of the most famous authors of his day. Other tales +quickly followed, including, in 1853, "Bothwell, or The Days of Mary Queen +of Scots," and it seemed as if readers could not have too much of the +lively adventure and vigorous historical portraiture to which Grant +unfailingly treated them. Altogether he wrote more than fifty novels, many +of them involving considerable research. Grant outlived his popularity; the +public sought new writers, and when he died, on May 5, 1887, he was +penniless. For fertility of incident, rapid change of scene, and skilful +intermingling of historical with imaginary people and events, "Bothwell" is +not surpassed by any of the romances that came from its author's fertile +pen. +</p> + +<h4><i>I.--Anna of Bergen</i></h4> + + +<p>Erick Rosenkrantz, Governor of Aggerhuis, in Norway, and castellan of +Bergen, stood in the hall of his castle to welcome noble guests. It was a +bleak and stormy day in September of 1565. Ill, indeed, would it have fared +with the newcomers had not Konrad of the Salzberg, the young captain of the +crossbowmen of Bergen, ventured forth on the raging sea at the peril of his +life, and piloted their vessel into safety.</p> + +<p>The first of these was a tall and handsome man, about thirty years old, +with a peculiar, dare-devil expression in his deep, dark eye, richly +attired, and wearing a long sword and Scottish dagger. His companion, who +deferentially remained a few paces behind, was a man of gigantic stature, +swarthy and dark in complexion, with fierce and restless eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sir Erick," began the chamberlain, "allow me to introduce Sir James +Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, a noble peer, ambassador from Mary Queen of +Scots to his Danish majesty."</p> + +<p>"We thank you for your gracious hospitality, fair sir," said Bothwell, +with a profound courtesy; then, turning to Konrad, "And now, brave youth, +by whose valour we have been saved, let me thank <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>He warmly shook Konrad's hand, while the youth tried to catch the eye of +Anna, the governor's fair-haired and lovely niece. But Anna was too +intently regarding the strangers.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Bothwell perceived her; his colour heightened, his eyes +sparkled.</p> + +<p>"Anna--Lady Anna," he exclaimed, "art <i>thou</i> here? When we parted +at the palace of King Frederick, I feared it was to meet no more."</p> + +<p>"Thou seest, my lord," she replied gaily, "that fate never meant to +separate us altogether."</p> + +<p>It was Bothwell who sat by Anna's side at the banquet, not Konrad, her +lover from childhood. Konrad was displaced and slighted; he left the hall +with a heart full of jealous and bitter thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Dost thou not see the hand of fate in this meeting with Anna?" said +Bothwell, when retiring, to his gigantic companion, Black Hob of Ormiston, +the most merciless and ferocious of border barons.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Hob; "I perceive only the finger of mischief!"</p> + +<p>"I own to thee," replied the earl, "that all my old passion is revived +in full force. My whole heart and soul are hers," he went on +passionately.</p> + +<p>"Remember your solemn plight to the Lady Jane Gordon. If that be broken, +our doleful case will be worse than ever." For Bothwell was no ambassador, +but an exile; and his real mission to King Frederick was in pursuit of a +design to hand over the northern Scottish isles to Denmark, and become +viceroy of them.</p> + +<p>"Hob, be not insolent," retorted Bothwell. "I love her a thousand times +more than Huntly's sickly sister."</p> + +<p>It was always thus with this reckless noble--the passion of the moment +was ever too strong for past pledges and future policy. While waiting at +Bergen for the ship to be repaired, he wooed Anna with all the skill of an +accomplished man of pleasure.</p> + +<p>Anna's heart was ready to be won, and it was not long ere Bothwell, +having gained her love, asked Governor Rosenkrantz for her hand. To his +mortification, he was refused. Anna, said the governor, had long been +pledged to Konrad.</p> + +<p>But Konrad, meanwhile, was in despair. Anna no longer smiled upon him; +he was lightly cast aside to make way for a more favoured lover. One +evening he was missing. A day and a night passed, and Konrad was nowhere to +be seen. Search for him was useless--he had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Two letters were brought to Bothwell by a king's messenger. One was from +King Frederick, commanding him to desist from his mock embassy, and +instantly leave the Danish seas; the other, from the Earl of Huntly, told +him that his enemies in Scotland were banished, and his forfeiture +reversed.</p> + +<p>Bothwell's thoughts instantly turned to Anna. He knew that she would not +accompany him unless he married her, and policy now more than ever required +that he should keep his troth to the sister of his friend, the Earl of +Huntly. Then there occurred to him the sinister thought of a mock +marriage.</p> + +<p>His actions were quick, and his persuasions, to the love-sick Anna, +irresistible. That evening the two were wedded by a crazy hermit who dwelt +among the rocks of the fjord, and Anna, without a word of farewell to her +kin, left her native land, it might be for ever.</p> + +<p>A stormy voyage brought the ship to Westeray, in Shetland. Bothwell +escorted Anna to the castle of Noltland; and as she landed at the pier, a +young man sprang forward and helped her across the plank. She felt +agitated, she knew not why; she looked at the man's face, but it was +concealed. It was Konrad. He had fallen over a cliff, had been carried out +to sea on a plank, had been picked up by a ship which had carried him to +Shetland, and had taken service with the castellan of Noltland. The +unexpected sight of Anna brought back his emotions to their starting-point, +and recalled the poignancy of the hour in which he had realised that he had +lost her.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Bothwell Castle</i></h4> + + +<p>"I have resolved!" exclaimed the earl, on the morning after their +arrival at Noltland. "I would be worse than mad to forego the prospect of +power by marring my union with the sister of Huntly."</p> + +<p>"Cock and pie! now thou speakest like a man of mettle!" growled Hob.</p> + +<p>"Anna is not my first love," mused the earl. "Have I not felt how feeble +have been my sentiments for Anna, for Jane of Huntly, for all who have +succeeded her whom I met in France long ago?"</p> + +<p>"Then thou wilt sail----"</p> + +<p>"Yes, like Æneas, leaving my Dido behind me."</p> + +<p>With a pretence of the love he felt no longer, Bothwell bade Anna +farewell, and left her to doubts which, as the months went on and his +promise to return was not fulfilled, gradually rose to despair.</p> + +<p>During the decline of a spring evening, as Anna wandered dejectedly on +the battlements, Konrad stood before her for the first time since her +arrival at Noltland.</p> + +<p>"Konrad," she faltered, "thou here!"</p> + +<p>"Anna--dear Anna!" exclaimed the unhappy young man. "I have tidings to +tell thee. The false lord of Bothwell hath been espoused to the sister of +Huntly!"</p> + +<p>"And I--" gasped Anna.</p> + +<p>"Thou art a captive for life in this island castle!"</p> + +<p>Anna would have fallen backwards had Konrad not sprung to her +assistance.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said, in a low voice. "If thou wouldst escape, an hour will +set thee free."</p> + +<p>"Yes, land me once in Scotland, and I will make my way to Bothwell."</p> + +<p>That night Anna was on a Norwegian vessel bound for Glasgow, and Konrad +was with her. She could not, he knew, be his bride, but he could at least +protect and cherish her, and strive to redress the wrongs she had +suffered.</p> + +<p>A storm was gathering above the lovely valley of the Clyde one June +evening as two strangers--a man and a woman--plodded wearily towards +Bothwell Castle. The woman became wholly exhausted; the man laid her gently +down in shelter among the ruins of Blantyre Priory, and went on his errand +alone. The storm had now burst, and the river was rising rapidly; but +Konrad--for it was he--plunged into the raging waters, and strove to swim +across. The current was too strong for him; he clung to an ash tree that +projected over the stream, and was nearly exhausted when a man on the bank +flung down his mantle and poniard, plunged in, and dragged him to the +shore.</p> + +<p>Konrad, almost senseless, was carried within the castle. When he had +revived and was dressed in dry garments, he was brought before his +rescuer--it was Bothwell himself.</p> + +<p>"I thank thee," said Konrad proudly, "for saving my life."</p> + +<p>"Thou didst save mine. We are now equal," replied the earl.</p> + +<p>"'Tis well! I would not be <i>thy</i> debtor for all the silver in the +mines of Bergen! Lord of Bothwell, I tell thee in thine own hall that thou +art a dishonoured villain!"</p> + +<p>"Thou art stark mad!" cried the earl. Then he went on, "Konrad, I have +wronged thee deeply. In my youth I loved one who neglected me as cruelly as +thou hast been neglected, and since then a mischievous spirit of vengeance, +as it were, has led me to make women my playthings, to be won and thrown +aside. I love thy spirit, Konrad. If I could be thy friend----"</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Konrad. "I come not for friendship, but for justice to +Anna! Hast thou not wedded another after thine espousal of her?"</p> + +<p>"Dost thou deem the mock blessing of yon mad hermit a spousal rite?" +exclaimed the earl, laughing.</p> + +<p>Konrad repressed his passion.</p> + +<p>"I go to push my fortune with your turbulent border chiefs; and if, in +the strife that will soon convulse this land, thou meetest Konrad of +Salzberg, look well to thyself!"</p> + +<p>"Go thy way, and God be with thee!" replied the earl. "Thou art the +first who hath bent a dark brow on a lord of Bothwell under his own +roof-tree."</p> + +<p>Konrad returned to Anna, and in the ruined priory told her how Bothwell +was false to her. Anna's grief was dreadful to behold.</p> + +<p>"Anna," said Konrad, after a pause, "Scotland hath a queen whose +goodness of heart is revered in every land save her own."</p> + +<p>"True; and at her feet will I pour forth my sorrow and my tears +together."</p> + +<p>So the two traversed the thickets around the priory, and reached the +broad highway, which was to lead them at length to Edinburgh.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Mary Queen of Scots</i></h4> + + +<p>But it was long ere Anna looked upon the face of the queen. At the Red +Lion Inn in Edinburgh her beauty struck the eye of the Earl of Morton, the +factious, proud, and ferocious associate of Moray in all the dark intrigues +of that craftiest of Scottish statesmen. Morton promised that Anna should +be entrusted to a lady of fair repute, and soon presented to the queen. +Konrad trusted him, little knowing that the repute of Dame Alison Craig, +Anna's new guardian, was anything but fair, and set forth for the +Border.</p> + +<p>It was to Sir John Elliot of Park that he offered the service of his +sword, for it was against this turbulent borderer, who had just raided +Northumberland, and threatened the peace of the two kingdoms, that Bothwell +was advancing with the army of Queen Mary. Now garrisoning some solitary +peel-tower, now hiding in some unfathomed cavern, now issuing with uplifted +lance from the haggs of some deep moss, Konrad engaged with ardour in every +desperate foray, and his daring made him the idol of the wild spirits +around him. In every deed of arms one thought was in his mind--to come +within a lance-length of Bothwell.</p> + +<p>Long and fierce was the struggle, but it ended as a fight so unequal was +bound to end. John of Park was slain, refusing with his dying breath to +surrender, and Konrad was carried, a half-senseless captive to Bothwell's +castle of Hermitage. Even then the earl spared his life. He lay in a +hideous den, in pitch darkness and dead silence broken only by the splash +of drops of fetid water that fell from the slimy arch of the vault.</p> + +<p>No token reached him of what was happening above; and an event happened +there that had vast influence on Bothwell's future. Across the hills to +Hermitage rode the Queen of Scots herself. The sight of her stirred in +Bothwell's heart an emotion he had never wholly conquered, for she, Mary +herself, was his first love of the bygone days in France. He had begun to +realise that he loved her still; he knew the coldness of her relations with +the dissolute and unfaithful Darnley, her husband; now she had come to +Hermitage.</p> + +<p>"Jesu Maria!" cried the queen, as Bothwell, with beating heart, paused +in the conversation. "Have you lost your tongue?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, madame--my heart."</p> + +<p>"That is very serious; but search for another."</p> + +<p>"I want no other," replied the earl, in a trembling voice, "but +<i>thine</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Lord Bothwell," she said, with a hauteur that froze her admirer, "thou +art in a dream."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, I pray you--"</p> + +<p>"I do pardon thee," replied the queen, with a calm smile; but added, +significantly, "I think 'tis time I was riding from Hermitage."</p> + +<p>So ended the famous visit to Hermitage, which was interpreted throughout +Scotland as a token of Mary's love for her favourite earl.</p> + +<p>Konrad, a month afterwards, was sent to Edinburgh and confined in the +old tower of Holyrood, awaiting trial as a Border outlaw. Bothwell himself +soon followed, and celebrated his return by a wild revel in company with +Hob of Ormiston and other choice spirits.</p> + +<p>As the revellers wandered through the narrow streets at midnight, +seeking a quarrel, they passed the house of Dame Alison Craig.</p> + +<p>"My page tells me," said Bothwell, "there is a famous foreign beauty +concealed there. Ho! within!"</p> + +<p>A stoup of water, poured on them from an upper window, was the answer. +They broke open the door, and forced the shrieking dame to lead them to the +apartment where the foreign beauty was hidden.</p> + +<p>"Death and confusion!" muttered the earl when he saw who was within.</p> + +<p>"Cock and pie!" said Ormiston. "We have started the wrong game."</p> + +<p>Hastily they thrust back their companions. But Anna had recognised him. +When Morton had made advances towards her, she had repulsed him scornfully, +telling him she was the Countess of Bothwell. Morton had seized on this +opportunity of injuring a man he hated, and resolved to bring Anna before +the queen. Bothwell now knew the danger before him, and prepared for +it.</p> + +<p>Next day, as the queen sat with her grim lords in council, Morton led in +Anna.</p> + +<p>"I have the pleasure," said he, "to present a lady who accuseth the Earl +of Bothwell of wedding and ignobly deserting her."</p> + +<p>"'Tis false, Lord Earl!" cried Bothwell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, madam, hear my story, and condemn me not unheard," pleaded +Anna.</p> + +<p>"Let her speak for herself," said Mary.</p> + +<p>Thus encouraged, Anna, in moving accents, told her story.</p> + +<p>"A meloncholy tale, in sooth," said Mary; "but what proof is there?"</p> + +<p>"Your majesty," said Bothwell, "this is the invention of some unknown +enemy"--he glanced at Morton--"to deprive me of your royal favour. Let this +frantic damsel be removed to a Danish vessel now at Leith, and conveyed to +her home."</p> + +<p>"Well, so be it!" replied the facile queen.</p> + +<p>Anna drew herself up to her full height.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Bothwell," she cried. "In that dark time of ruin and regret +that is coming upon thee, remember Anna!"</p> + +<p>And as she spoke they hurried her away.</p> + +<p>Bothwell henceforth was more than ever in the queen's favour. Only the +life of Darnley intervened between him and the goal of his love and +ambition; and the sinister promptings of Ormiston suggested that even that +obstacle was not irremovable.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Kirk of Field</i></h4> + + +<p>On a dark winter night a conference of nobles was held at Whittinghame. +Mary had been asked to divorce her husband, and had proudly and indignantly +refused. Only one way remained. A solemn bond was drawn up among the +assembled nobles, and the bond sealed the fate of Darnley. It was not +without doubt and shrinking that Bothwell saw whither his schemes were +leading him, but he would not, he could not, turn back.</p> + +<p>It was at Ormiston's suggestion that Konrad was employed as an +unconscious tool in the affair. Ormiston hinted that with a little +adroitness the whole blame might be laid on the unhappy prisoner. Konrad +accordingly, on the night when the deed was to be done, was awakened from a +reverie in his cell at Holyrood by the entry of a tall, masked figure.</p> + +<p>"If thou wouldst attain liberty, follow me!" said Ormiston, for it was +he.</p> + +<p>He put a sword in Konrad's hand. Konrad as he grasped the weapon, felt +his spirits rise again, and he followed.</p> + +<p>Presently they came to a group of masked men, and silently the party +went through a private door in the city walls. Their destination, though +Konrad knew it not, was the lonely house of the Kirk of Field, where +Darnley was lying slowly recovering from small-pox--an illness through +which the queen, forgetting her wrongs at his hands, had tenderly nursed +him.</p> + +<p>Konrad, arrived at the house, helped to unload a horse of heavy packages +which he conjectured to contain plunder; but it was gunpowder that he +unwittingly handled.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a piercing cry came from above. A moment later the startled +Konrad perceived Bothwell, his mask awry, his eyes glazed and haggard.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast done well!" said Ormiston grimly.</p> + +<p>"Well! My God!" groaned the earl.</p> + +<p>"Away while I fire the train!" shouted Ormiston.</p> + +<p>Like a fiery serpent the train glowed along the ground. Then, red and +lurid in the shadowy night, there flashed a volume of dazzling light; then +came a roar as if the earth was splitting.</p> + +<p>Konrad fled in bewildered terror, and wandered about the outskirts of +the city until, in a little ruined chapel on the verge of a moor, he lay +down exhausted and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>In the morning he was awakened by a rough grasp on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"We have meshed one of the knaves at least," said a stern voice. Konrad +found himself amidst knights and men-at-arms, and he was led back to the +city.</p> + +<p>The citizens were in arms, furious at the outrage of the night before. +The appearance of a suspected murderer aroused their passion to the utmost; +Konrad's escort was overpowered and thrust aside. "Awa' wi' him to the +Papist's pillar!" cried a voice. Down they went with him to the North Loch, +and tied him there to an oaken stake about five feet deep in the water--a +spot where many a luckless Catholic had perished. The mob retired, and +Konrad was left alone, helpless, and to die.</p> + +<p>Bothwell sat by the fire in his apartments at Holyrood, with knit brows +and muttering lips; the word he muttered was, "Murderer." The shriek of the +man whose death-blow he had struck still echoed in his ears.</p> + +<p>Presently there entered the room one of his followers, Hepburn of +Bolton.</p> + +<p>"The Norwegian hath been bound to the Papist's pillar," said he; "and by +this time he must be dead, for it rains heavily, and the loch fills +fast."</p> + +<p>"One other life!" said the earl gloomily. "By heaven, Bolton! if I can +save him--come!"</p> + +<p>In the darkness and the rain, with the water rising around him, Konrad +waited for death. A sound of oars roused him from the stupefaction into +which he had fallen. "Here, here! His head is above water still," said a +voice. The bonds were cut, Konrad was dragged into the boat and taken to +land, and offered a draught that revived him.</p> + +<p>"Here we part," said the voice. "Give him dry garments, and take him to +the Norwegian vessel, and bid him cross my path no more!"</p> + +<p>"Who art thou?" asked Konrad feebly.</p> + +<p>"Thy greatest enemy, James, Earl of Bothwell!"</p> + +<p>Slowly Konrad mounted the horse that had been brought for him, and with +difficulty he rode; but the morning saw him on board a vessel of Bergen, in +the hands of countrymen and friends.</p> + +<p>Bothwell was tried for the murder of Darnley, and triumphantly +acquitted. He procured the secret assent of the nobles to his marriage with +Mary; he divorced the Countess Jane; one more vigorous action, and the goal +would be attained.</p> + +<p>On an April day, as Mary rode along the Stirling road towards Edinburgh, +her way was barred by a thousand armed horsemen in close array; and +Bothwell, riding up, requested that she should accompany him to his castle +of Dunbar. It was useless to resist. Once in the castle, Bothwell offered +her his hand, and was proudly refused.</p> + +<p>"Lord Earl," cried Mary, "thou mayest tremble when I leave Dunbar!"</p> + +<p>"Madame," he replied, "thou shalt never leave Dunbar but as the bride of +Bothwell!"</p> + +<p>In May, Mary and Bothwell were married. A month later Bothwell fled +before the wrath of an outraged nation, never to see Mary again; and within +a week of their parting he roamed a pirate on the northern seas.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Nemesis</i></h4> + + +<p>A large Danish war vessel approached the port of Bergen, with prisoners +to hand over to the castellan--the new castellan, for old Erick Rosenkrantz +was dead. Chief of the captives was Bothwell, nonchalant but melancholy, +pale, and more thoughtful than formerly; still, in pleasure and in sorrow, +was he haunted by the shriek of the dying Darnley.</p> + +<p>Near him stood one who was not a captive, but a returning wanderer. +Konrad had again crossed the path of the earl; his vessel, long detained in +port, and afterwards delayed by storms, had been captured by the Scottish +pirate ship, and he had been rescued from this new misfortune by the great +Norwegian war vessel.</p> + +<p>The prisoners were escorted to the hall of the castle, and Bothwell +assumed his most defiant look. The arras that concealed the daïs was +withdrawn, and Bothwell looked upon the face of the hereditary castellan of +Bergen, Anna Rosenkrantz!</p> + +<p>On seeing the earl, she turned pale as death. The earl recovered +instantly from his surprise, and bowed smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, madam," said he, "we foresaw not this meeting!"</p> + +<p>"Dost thou know," replied Anna firmly, "that thy life and liberty are in +my power?"</p> + +<p>"I am assured," he answered, "that they could not be in safer +keeping."</p> + +<p>"Regicide and betrayer," return Anna, with flashing eyes, "from this +hour thou shalt have meted out to thee the stern measures thou hast so +ruthlessly dealt to others. This man," she went on, turning to the captain +of the war ship, "is the king's prisoner; away with him to the Castle of +Kiobenhafen--be under sail before sunset!"</p> + +<p>Red-bearded Danish bowmen crowded round the earl, who thus passed away +to the wretched captivity that ended only with his death, ten years +afterwards.</p> + +<p>Konrad, unnoticed and uncared for, stood alone in the hall where he had +once been so welcome a guest. He had no intention of remaining in a place +where all was so changed; but ere he turned to leave it for ever he paused +a moment irresolutely. Once more the arras was withdrawn, and Anna stood +before him.</p> + +<p>"I heard thou wert here, Konrad," she said, with a blushing cheek. +"Wouldst thou go without one word to me?"</p> + +<p>She seated herself in the recess of a window. "I have long wished," she +faltered, "to see thee once more. I have now seen the worth and faith of +thy heart when contrasted with mine own, and I blush for my weakness--my +wickedness--my folly. Thou mayest deem this unwomanly--indelicate; but in +love we are equal, and why may not one make reparation as the other?"</p> + +<p>"Anna," said Konrad, in a choking voice, "though my heart be soured and +saddened, my first sentiment for thee hath never altered. For all thou hast +made me endure I forgive thee, and I pray that thou mayest be happy. +Anna--dearest Anna--I am going far away, for I have doomed myself to exile, +but I still regard thee as a sister--as a friend. All is forgotten and +forgiven. And now, farewell!"</p> + +<p>He felt the hand of Anna in his; another moment, and she sank upon his +breast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Konrad," she whispered, "if my heart is still prized by thee, it is +thine, as in the days of our first love."</p> + +<p>And, borne away by his passion, the forgiving Konrad pressed the woman +he loved closer and closer to his breast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10921 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |