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diff --git a/11527-h/11527-h.htm b/11527-h/11527-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b55bfa7 --- /dev/null +++ b/11527-h/11527-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11992 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + <title>The Worlds Greatest Books VII</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p + {text-align: justify;} + + blockquote + {text-align: justify;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 + {text-align: center;} + + hr + {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + + html>body hr + {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + + hr.full + {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full + {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + pre + {font-size: 0.7em; color: #000; background-color: #FFF;} + + .poetry + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 0%; + text-align: left;} + + .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} + + .index + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: center;} + + .figure + {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; + text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + + .date + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: right;} + + span.rightnote + {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 1%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.leftnote + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 92%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.linenum + {float:right; + text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11527 ***</div> + +<h1>THE WORLD'S</h1> <h1>GREATEST</h1> <h1>BOOKS</h1> + +<h2>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. VII</h3> <h3>FICTION</h3> + + +<h4>MCMX</h4> + +<hr /> + + + +<h2><i>Table of Contents</i></h2><br /> +<a href="#THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK">PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE</a><br /> + <a href="#Headlong_Hall">Headlong Hall</a><br /> + <a href="#Nightmare_Abbey">Nightmare Abbey</a><br +/><br /> +<a href="#JANE_PORTER">PORTER, JANE</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Scottish_Chiefs">Scottish +Chiefs</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#ALEXANDER_SERGEYEVITCH_PUSHKIN">PUSHKIN</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Captains_Daughter">The Captain's +Daughter</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#FRANCOIS_RABELAIS">RABELAIS</a><br /> + <a href="#Gargantua_and_Pantagruel">Gargantua and +Pantagruel</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#CHARLES_READE">READE, CHARLES</a><br /> + <a href="#Hard_Cash">Hard Cash</a><br /> + <a href="#It_Is_Never_Too_Late_to_Mend">Never Too +Late to Mend</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Cloister_and_the_Hearth">The Cloister +and the Hearth</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#SAMUEL_RICHARDSON">RICHARDSON, SAMUEL</a><br /> + <a href="#Pamela">Pamela</a><br /> + <a href="#Clarissa_Harlowe">Clarissa Harlowe</a><br +/> + <a href="#Sir_Charles_Grandison">Sir Charles +Grandison</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#JEAN_PAUL_FRIEDRICH_RICHTER">RICHTER, JEAN PAUL</a><br /> + <a href="#Hesperus">Hesperus</a><br /> + <a href="#Titan">Titan</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#PETER_ROSEGGER">ROSEGGER, PETER</a><br /> + <a +href="#The_Papers_of_the_Forest_Schoolmaster">Papers of the Forest +Schoolmaster</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#JEAN_JACQUES_ROUSSEAU">ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES</a><br /> + <a href="#The_New_Heloise">New Heloise</a><br /><br +/> +<a href="#BERNARDIN_DE_ST_PIERRE">SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE</a><br /> + <a href="#Paul_and_Virginia">Paul and +Virginia</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#GEORGE_SAND">SAND, GEORGE</a><br /> + <a href="#Consuelo">Consuelo</a><br /> + <a href="#Mauprat">Mauprat</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#MICHAEL_SCOTT">SCOTT, MICHAEL</a><br /> + <a href="#Tom_Cringles_Log">Tom Cringle's +Log</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#SIR_WALTER_SCOTT">SCOTT, SIR WALTER</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Antiquary">Antiquary</a><br /> + <a href="#Guy_Mannering">Guy Mannering</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Heart_of_Midlothian">Heart of +Midlothian</a><br /> + <a href="#Ivanhoe">Ivanhoe</a><br /> + <a href="#Kenilworth">Kenilworth</a><br /> + <a href="#Old_Mortality">Old Mortality</a><br /> + <a href="#Peveril_of_the_Peak">Peveril of the +Peak</a><br /> + (SCOTT: <i>Continued in Vol. VIII</i>.)<br /> + +<p>Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of +Volume XX</p> + +<hr /> + + + +<h2><a name="THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK"></a>THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Headlong_Hall"></a>Headlong Hall</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The novels of Thomas Love Peacock still find admirers among +cultured readers, but his extravagant satire and a certain bookish +awkwardness will never appeal to the great novel-reading public. The son of +a London glass merchant, Peacock was born at Weymouth on October 18, 1785. +Early in life he was engaged in some mercantile occupation, which, however, +he did not follow up for long. Then came a period of study, and he became +an excellent classical scholar. His first ambition was to become a poet, +and between 1804 and 1806 he published two slender volumes of verse, which +attracted little or no attention. Yet Peacock was a poet of considerable +merit, his best work in this direction being scattered at random throughout +his novels. In 1812 he contracted a friendship with Shelley, whose executor +he became with Lord Byron. Peacock's first novel, "Headlong Hall," appeared +in 1816, and is interesting not so much as a story pure and simple, but as +a study of the author's own temperament. His personalities are seldom real +live characters; they are, rather, mouthpieces created for the purposes of +discussion. Peacock died on January 23, 1866. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Philosophers</i></h4> + + +<p>The ambiguous light of a December morning, peeping through the windows +of the Holyhead mail, dispelled the soft visions of the four insides, who +had slept, or seemed to sleep, through the first seventy miles of the +road.</p> + +<p>A lively remark that the day was none of the finest having elicited a +repartee of "quite the contrary," the various knotty points of meteorology +were successively discussed and exhausted; and, the ice being thus broken, +in the course of conversation it appeared that all four, though perfect +strangers to each other, were actually bound to the same point, namely, +Headlong Hall, the seat of the ancient family of the Headlongs, of the vale +of Llanberris, in Carnarvonshire.</p> + +<p>The present representative of the house, Harry Headlong, Esquire, was, +like all other Welsh squires, fond of shooting, hunting, racing, drinking, +and other such innocent amusements. But, unlike other Welsh squires, he had +actually suffered books to find their way into his house; and, by dint of +lounging over them after dinner, he became seized with a violent passion to +be thought a philosopher and a man of taste, and had formed in London as +extensive an acquaintance with philosophers and dilettanti as his utmost +ambition could desire. It now became his chief wish to have them all +together in Headlong Hall, arguing over his old Port and Burgundy the +various knotty points which puzzled him. He had, therefore, sent them +invitations in due form to pass their Christmas at Headlong Hall, and four +of the chosen guests were now on their way in the four corners of the +Holyhead mail.</p> + +<p>These four persons were Mr. Foster, the optimist, who believed in the +improvement of mankind; Mr. Escot, the pessimist, who saw mankind +constantly deteriorating; Mr. Jenkison, who thought things were very well +as they were; and the Reverend Doctor Gaster, who, though neither a +philosopher nor a man of taste, had won the squire's fancy by a learned +dissertation on the art of stuffing a turkey.</p> + +<p>In the midst of an animated conversation the coach stopped, and the +coachman, opening the door, vociferated: "Breakfast, gentlemen," a sound +which so gladdened the ears of the divine, that the alacrity with which he +sprang from the vehicle distorted his ankle, and he was obliged to limp +into the inn between Mr. Escot and Mr. Jenkison, the former observing that +he ought to look for nothing but evil and, therefore, should not be +surprised at this little accident; the latter remarking that the comfort of +a good breakfast and the pain of a sprained ankle pretty exactly balanced +each other.</p> + +<p>The morning being extremely cold, the doctor contrived to be seated as +near the fire as was consistent with his other object of having a perfect +command of the table and its apparatus, which consisted not only of the +ordinary comforts of tea and toast, but of a delicious supply of new-laid +eggs and a magnificent round of beef; against which Mr. Escot immediately +pointed all the artillery of his eloquence, declaring the use of animal +food, conjointly with that of fire, to be one of the principal causes of +the present degeneracy of mankind.</p> + +<p>"The natural and original man," said he, "lived in the woods; the roots +and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment; he had few desires, +and no diseases. But, when he began to sacrifice victims on the altar of +superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the pernicious +invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury, disease, and +premature death were let loose upon the world. From that period the stature +of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution, and I have not the +least doubt that it will continue to grow <i>small by degrees, and +lamentably less</i>, till the whole race will vanish imperceptibly from the +face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"I cannot agree," said Mr. Foster, "in the consequences being so very +disastrous, though I admit that in some respects the use of animal food +retards the perfectibility of the species."</p> + +<p>"In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food," said Mr. +Jenkison, "there is much to be said on both sides. I content myself with a +mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me, +provided it be good in its kind."</p> + +<p>In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided, +though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best +interests of man.</p> + +<p>The discussion raged for some time on the question whether man was a +carnivorous or frugivorous animal.</p> + +<p>"I am no anatomist," said Mr. Jenkison, "and cannot decide where doctors +disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on that +conclusion I act."</p> + +<p>"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster; +"indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the +practise of the church in all ages shows----"</p> + +<p>"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr. +Escot.</p> + +<p>"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the reverend +doctor.</p> + +<p>The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed.</p> + +<p>"You will allow," said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion, +"that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two +hundred miles of forest with as much facility as one of these vehicles +transports you and me."</p> + +<p>"I am certain," said Mr. Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense +distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion? The wild +man is happy in one spot, and there he remains; the civilised man is +wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates himself +on being accommodated with a machine that will whirl him to another, where +he will be just as miserable as ever."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Squire and his Guests</i></h4> + + +<p>Squire Headlong, in the meanwhile, was superintending operations in four +scenes of action at the Hall--the cellar, the library, the picture-gallery, +and the dining-room-preparing for the reception of his philosophical +visitors. His myrmidon on this occasion was a little, red-nosed butler, who +waddled about the house after his master, while the latter bounced from +room to room like a cracker. Multitudes of packages had arrived by land and +water, from London, and Liverpool, and Chester, and Manchester, and various +parts of the mountains; books, wine, cheese, mathematical instruments, +turkeys, figs, soda-water, fiddles, flutes, tea, sugar, eggs, French horns, +sofas, chairs, tables, carpets, beds, fruits, looking-glasses, nuts, +drawing-books, bottled ale, pickles, and fish sauce, patent lamps, barrels +of oysters, lemons, and jars of Portugal grapes. These, arriving in +succession, and with infinite rapidity, had been deposited at random--as +the convenience of the moment dictated--sofas in the cellar, hampers of ale +in the drawing-room, and fiddles and fish-sauce in the library. The +servants unpacking all these in furious haste, and flying with them from +place to place, tumbled over one another upstairs and down. All was bustle, +uproar, and confusion; yet nothing seemed to advance, while the rage and +impetuosity of the squire continued fermenting to the highest degree of +exasperation, which he signified, from time to time, by converting some +newly-unpacked article, such as a book, a bottle, a ham, or a fiddle, into +a missile against the head of some unfortunate servant.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this scene of confusion thrice confounded, arrived the +lovely Caprioletta Headlong, the squire's sister, whom he had sent for to +do the honours of his house, beaming like light on chaos, to arrange +disorder and harmonise discord. The tempestuous spirit of her brother +became as smooth as the surface of the lake of Llanberris, and in less than +twenty-four hours after her arrival, everything was disposed in its proper +station, and the squire began to be all impatience for the appearance of +his promised guests.</p> + +<p>The first visitor was Marmaduke Milestone, Esq., a picturesque landscape +gardener of the first celebrity, who promised himself the glorious +achievement of polishing and trimming the rocks of Llanberris.</p> + +<p>A postchaise brought the Reverend Doctor Gaster, and then came the three +philosophers.</p> + +<p>The next arrival was that of Mr. Cranium and his lovely daughter, Miss +Cephalis Cranium, who flew to the arms of her dear friend Caprioletta. Miss +Cephalis blushed like a carnation at the sight of Mr. Escot, and Mr. Escot +glowed like a corn-poppy at the sight of Miss Cephalis.</p> + +<p>Mr. Escot had formerly been the received lover of Miss Cephalis, till he +incurred the indignation of her father by laughing at a very profound +dissertation which the old gentleman delivered.</p> + +<p>Next arrived a postchaise containing four insides. These personages were +two very profound critics, Mr. Gall and Mr. Treacle, and two very +multitudinous versifiers, Mr. Nightshade and Mr. McLaurel.</p> + +<p>The last arrivals were Mr. Cornelius Chromatic, the most scientific of +all amateurs of the fiddle, with his two blooming daughters, Miss Tenorina +and Miss Graziosa; Sir Patrick O'Prism, a dilettante painter of high +renown, and his maiden aunt, Miss Philomela Poppyseed, a compounder of +novels written for the express purpose of supporting every species of +superstition and prejudice; and Mr. Panscope, the chemical, botanical, +geological, astronomical, critical philosopher, who had run through the +whole circle of the sciences and understood them all equally well.</p> + +<p>Mr. Milestone was impatient to take a walk round the grounds, that he +might examine how far the system of clumping and levelling could be carried +advantageously into effect; and several of the party supporting the +proposition, with Squire Headlong and Mr. Milestone leading the van, they +commenced their perambulation.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Tower and the Skull</i></h4> + + +<p>The result of Mr. Milestone's eloquence was that he and the squire set +out again, immediately after breakfast next morning, to examine the +capabilities of the scenery. The object that most attracted Mr. Milestone's +admiration was a ruined tower on a projecting point of rock, almost totally +overgrown with ivy. This ivy, Mr. Milestone observed, required trimming and +clearing in various parts; a little pointing and polishing was necessary +for the dilapidated walls; and the whole effect would be materially +increased by a plantation of spruce fir, the present rugged and broken +ascent being first converted into a beautiful slope, which might be easily +effected by blowing up a part of the rock with gunpowder, laying on a +quantity of fine mould, and covering the whole with an elegant stratum of +turf.</p> + +<p>Squire Headlong caught with avidity at this suggestion, and as he had +always a store of gunpowder in the house, he insisted on commencing +operations immediately. Accordingly, he bounded back to the house and +speedily returned, accompanied by the little butler and half a dozen +servants and labourers with pickaxes and gunpowder, a hanging stove, and a +poker, together with a basket of cold meat and two or three bottles of +Madeira.</p> + +<p>Mr. Milestone superintended the proceedings. The rock was excavated, the +powder introduced, the apertures strongly blockaded with fragments of +stone; a long train was laid to a spot sufficiently remote from the +possibility of harm, and the squire seized the poker, and applied the end +of it to the train.</p> + +<p>At this critical moment Mr. Cranium and Mr. Panscope appeared at the top +of the tower, which, unseeing and unseen, they had ascended on the opposite +side to that where the squire and Mr. Milestone were conducting their +operations. Their sudden appearance a little dismayed the squire, who, +however, comforted himself with the reflection that the tower was perfectly +safe, and that his friends were in no probable danger but of a knock on the +head from a flying fragment of stone.</p> + +<p>The explosion took place, and the shattered rock was hurled into the air +in the midst of fire and smoke. The tower remained untouched, but the +influence of sudden fear had so violent an effect on Mr. Cranium, that he +lost his balance, and alighted in an ivy bush, which, giving way beneath +him, transferred him to a tuft of hazel at its base, which consigned him to +the boughs of an ash that had rooted itself in a fissure about halfway down +the rock, which finally transmitted him to the waters of the lake.</p> + +<p>Squire Headlong anxiously watched the tower as the smoke rolled away; +but when the shadowy curtain was withdrawn, and Mr. Panscope was +discovered, alone, in a tragical attitude, his apprehensions became +boundless, and he concluded that a flying fragment of rock had killed Mr. +Cranium.</p> + +<p>Mr. Escot arrived at the scene of the disaster just as Mr. Cranium, +utterly destitute of the art of swimming, was in imminent danger of +drowning. Mr. Escot immediately plunged in to his assistance, and brought +him alive and in safety to a shelving part of the shore. Their landing was +hailed with a shout from the delighted squire, who, shaking them both +heartily by the hand, and making ten thousand lame apologies to Mr. +Cranium, concluded by asking, in a pathetic tone, "How much water he had +swallowed?" and without waiting for his answer, filled a large tumbler with +Madeira, and insisted on his tossing it off, which was no sooner said than +done. Mr. Panscope descended the tower, which he vowed never again to +approach within a quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>The squire took care that Mr. Cranium should be seated next to him at +dinner, and plied him so hard with Madeira, to prevent him, as he said, +from taking cold, that long before the ladies sent in their summons to +coffee, the squire was under the necessity of ringing for three or four +servants to carry him to bed, observing, with a smile of great +satisfaction, that he was in a very excellent way for escaping any ill +consequences that might have resulted from his accident.</p> + +<p>The beautiful Cephalis, being thus freed from his surveillance, was +enabled, during the course of the evening, to develop to his preserver the +full extent of her gratitude.</p> + +<p>Mr. Escot passed a sleepless night, the ordinary effect of love, +according to some amatory poets, and arose with the first peep of day. He +sallied forth to enjoy the balmy breeze of morning, which any but a lover +might have thought too cool; for it was an intense frost, the sun had not +risen, and the wind was rather fresh from the north-east. But a lover is +supposed to have "a fire in his heart and a fire in his brain," and the +philosopher walked on, careless of whither he went, till he found himself +near the enclosure of a little mountain chapel. Passing through the wicket, +and peeping through the chapel window, he could not refrain from reciting a +verse in Greek aloud, to the great terror of the sexton, who was just +entering the churchyard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Escot at once decided that now was the time to get extensive and +accurate information concerning his theory of the physical deterioration of +man.</p> + +<p>"You have been sexton here," said Mr. Escot, in the language of Hamlet, +"man and boy, forty years."</p> + +<p>The sexton turned pale; the period named was so nearly the true.</p> + +<p>"During this period you have, of course, dug up many bones of the people +of ancient times. Perhaps you can show me a few."</p> + +<p>The sexton grinned a ghastly smile.</p> + +<p>"Will you take your Bible oath you don't want them to raise the devil +with?"</p> + +<p>"Willingly," said Mr. Escot. "I have an abstruse reason for the +inquiry."</p> + +<p>"Why, if you have an <i>obtuse</i> reason," said the sexton, "that +alters the case."</p> + +<p>So saying, he led the way to the bone-house, from which he began to +throw out various bones and skulls, and amongst them a skull of very +extraordinary magnitude, which he swore by St. David was the skull of +Cadwallader.</p> + +<p>"How do you know this to be his skull?" said Mr. Escot.</p> + +<p>"He was the biggest man that ever lived, and he was buried here; and +this is the biggest skull I ever found. You see now----"</p> + +<p>"Nothing could be more logical," said Mr. Escot. "My good friend, will +you allow me to take away this skull with me?"</p> + +<p>"St. Winifred bless us!" exclaimed the sexton. "Would you have me +haunted by his ghost for taking his blessed bones out of consecrated +ground? For, look you, his epitaph says:</p> + +<blockquote> +"'He that my bones shall ill bestow,<br /> +Leek in his ground shall never grow.'"<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>"But you will well bestow them in giving them to me," said Mr. Escot. "I +will have this illustrious skull bound with a silver rim and filled with +wine, for when the wine is in the brain is out."</p> + +<p>Saying these words, he put a dollar into the hand of the sexton, who +instantly stood spellbound, while Mr. Escot walked off in triumph with the +skull of Cadwallader.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Proposals</i></h4> + + +<p>The Christmas ball, when relatives and friends assembled from far and +wide, was the great entertainment given at Headlong Hall from time +immemorial, and it was on the morning after the ball that Miss Brindle-Mew +Tabitha Ap-Headlong, the squire's maiden aunt, took her nephew aside, and +told him it was time he was married if the family was not to become +extinct.</p> + +<p>"Egad!" said Squire Headlong. "That is very true. I'll marry directly. A +good opportunity to fix on someone now they are all here, and I'll pop the +question without further ceremony. I'll think of somebody presently. I +should like to be married on the same day with Caprioletta. She is going to +be married to my friend Mr. Foster, the philosopher."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the maiden aunt, "that a daughter of our ancient family +should marry a philosopher!"</p> + +<p>"It's Caprioletta's affair, not mine," said Squire Headlong. "I tell you +the matter is settled, fixed, determined, and so am I, to be married on the +same day. I don't know, now I think of it, whom I can choose better than +one of the daughters of my friend Chromatic."</p> + +<p>With that the squire flew over to Mr. Chromatic, and, with a hearty slap +on the shoulder, asked him "How he should like him for a son-in-law?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Chromatic, rubbing his shoulder, and highly delighted with the +proposal, answered, "Very much indeed"; but, proceeding to ascertain which +of his daughters had captivated the squire, the squire was unable to +satisfy his curiosity.</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mr. Chromatic, "it may be Tenorina, for I imagine +Graziosa has conceived a penchant for Sir Patrick O'Prism."</p> + +<p>"Tenorina, exactly!" said Squire Headlong; and became so impatient to +bring the matter to a conclusion that Mr. Chromatic undertook to +communicate with his daughter immediately. The young lady proved to be as +ready as the squire, and the preliminaries were arranged in little more +than five minutes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chromatic's words concerning his daughter Graziosa and Sir Patrick +O'Prism were not lost on the squire, who at once determined to have as many +companions in the scrape as possible; and who, as soon as he could tear +himself from Mrs. Headlong elect, took three flying bounds across the room +to the baronet, and said, "So, Sir Patrick, I find you and I are going to +be married?"</p> + +<p>"Are we?" said Sir Patrick. "Then sure, won't I wish you joy, and myself +too, for this is the first I have heard of it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Squire Headlong, "I have made up my mind to it, and you +must not disappoint me."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, I won't, if I can help it," said Sir Patrick. "And pray, +now, who is that I am to be turning into Lady O'Prism?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Graziosa Chromatic," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Och violet and vermilion!" said Sir Patrick; "though I never thought of +it before, I dare say she will suit me as well as another; but then you +must persuade the ould Orpheus to draw out a few notes of rather a more +magical description than those he is so fond of scraping on his crazy +violin."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, he shall," said the squire; and immediately returning to +Mr. Chromatic, concluded the negotiation for Sir Patrick as expeditiously +as he had done for himself.</p> + +<p>The squire next addressed himself to Mr. Escot: "Here are three couples +of us going to throw off together, with the Reverend Doctor Gaster for +whipper in. Now I think you cannot do better than to make the fourth with +Miss Cephalis."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" said Mr. Escot. "Nothing would be more agreeable to both of us +than such an arrangement; but the old gentleman since I first knew him has +changed like the rest of the world, very lamentably for the worse.".</p> + +<p>"I'll settle him," said Squire Headlong; and immediately posted up to +Mr. Cranium, informing him that four marriages were about to take place by +way of a merry winding up of the Christmas festivities. "In the first +place," said the squire, "my sister and Mr. Foster; in the second, Miss +Graziosa Chromatic and Sir Patrick O'Prism; in the third, Miss Tenorina +Chromatic and your humble servant; and in the fourth, to which, by the by, +your consent is wanted, your daughter----"</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Panscope," said Mr. Cranium.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Escot," said Squire Headlong. What would you have better? He +has ten thousand virtues."</p> + +<p>"So has Mr. Panscope. He has ten thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"Virtues?" said Squire Headlong.</p> + +<p>"Pounds," said Mr. Cranium.</p> + +<p>"Who fished you out of the water?" said Squire Headlong..</p> + +<p>"What is that to the purpose?" said Mr. Cranium. "The whole process of +the action was mechanical and necessary. He could no more help jumping into +the water than I could help falling into it."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the squire. "Your daughter and Mr. Escot are +necessitated to love one another."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cranium, after a profound reverie, said, "Do you think Mr. Escot +would give me that skull?"</p> + +<p>"Skull?" said Squire Headlong.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Cranium. "The skull of Cadwallader."</p> + +<p>"To be sure he will. How can you doubt it?"</p> + +<p>"I simply know," said Mr. Cranium, "that if it were once in my +possession I would not part with it for any acquisition on earth, much less +for a wife."</p> + +<p>The squire flew over to Mr. Escot. "I told you," said he, "I would +settle him; but there is a very hard condition attached to his compliance. +Nothing less than the absolute and unconditional surrender of the skull of +Cadwallader."</p> + +<p>"I resign it," said Mr. Escot.</p> + +<p>"The skull is yours," said the squire, skipping over to Mr. Cranium.</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Cranium.</p> + +<p>"The lady is yours," said the squire, skipping back to Mr. Escot.</p> + +<p>"I am the happiest man alive," said Mr. Escot, and he flew off as nimbly +as Squire Headlong himself, to impart the happy intelligence to his +beautiful Cephalis.</p> + +<p>The departure of the ball visitors then took place, and the squire did +not suffer many days to elapse before the spiritual metamorphosis of eight +into four was effected by the clerical dexterity of the Reverend Doctor +Gaster.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Nightmare_Abbey"></a>Nightmare Abbey</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Nightmare Abbey" is perhaps the most extravagant of all +Peacock's stories, and, with the exception of "Headlong Hall," it obtained +more vogue on its publication in 1818 than any of his other works. It is +eminently characteristic of its author--the eighteenth century Rabelaisian +pagan who prided himself on his antagonism towards religion, yet whose +likes and dislikes were invariably inspired by hatred of cant and +enthusiasm for progress. The hero of the story is easily distinguishable as +the poet Shelley. On the whole the characters are more life-like +presentations of humanity than those of "Headlong Hall." Simple and weak +though the plot is, the reader is carried along to the end through a +brilliant maze of wit and satire; underneath which outward show of +irresponsible fun there pervades a gloomy note of tragedy. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Mr. Glowry and His Son</i></h4> + + +<p>Nightmare Abbey, a venerable family mansion in a highly picturesque +state of semi-dilapidation, in the county of, Lincoln, had the honour to be +the seat of Christopher Glowry, Esquire, a gentleman much troubled with +those phantoms of indigestion commonly called "blue devils."</p> + +<p>Disappointed both in love and friendship, he had come to the conclusion +that there was but one good thing in the world, videlicet, a good dinner; +and remained a widower, with one only son and heir, Scythrop.</p> + +<p>This son had been sent to a public-school, where a little learning was +painfully beaten into him, and thence to the university, where it was +carefully taken out of him, and he finished his education to the high +satisfaction of the master and fellows of his college. He passed his +vacations sometimes at Nightmare Abbey, and sometimes in London, at the +house of his uncle, Mr. Hilary, a very cheerful and elastic gentleman. The +company that frequented his house was the gayest of the gay. Scythrop +danced with the ladies and drank with the gentlemen, and was pronounced by +both a very accomplished, charming fellow.</p> + +<p>Here he first saw the beautiful Miss Emily Girouette, and fell in love; +he was favourably received, but the respective fathers quarrelled about the +terms of the bargain, and the two lovers were torn asunder, weeping and +vowing eternal constancy; and in three weeks the lady was led a smiling +bride to the altar, leaving Scythrop half distracted. His father, to +comfort him, read him a commentary on Ecclesiastes, of his own composition; +it was thrown away upon Scythrop, who retired to his tower as dismal and +disconsolate as before.</p> + +<p>The tower which Scythrop inhabited stood at the south-eastern angle of +the abbey; the south-western was ruinous and full of owls; the +north-eastern contained the apartments of Mr. Glowry; the north-eastern +tower was appropriated to the servants, whom Mr. Glowry always chose by one +of two criterions--a long face or a dismal name. The main building was +divided into room of state, spacious apartments for feasting, and numerous +bedrooms for visitors, who, however, were few.</p> + +<p>Occasional visits were paid by Mr. and Mrs. Hilary, but another visitor, +much more to Mr. dowry's taste, was Mr. Flosky, a very lachrymose and +morbid gentleman, of some note in the literary world, with a very fine +sense of the grim and the tearful.</p> + +<p>But the dearest friend of Mr. Glowry, and his most welcome guest, was +Mr. Toobad, the Manichean Millenarian. The twelfth verse of the twelfth +chapter of Revelations was always in his mouth: "Woe to the inhabitants of +the earth and of the sea, for the devil is come among you, having great +wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time." He maintained that +this precise time was the point of the plenitude of the power of the Evil +Principle; he used to add that by and by he would be cast down, and a happy +order of things succeed, but never omitted to add "Not in our time," which +last words were always echoed by Mr. Glowry, in doleful response.</p> + +<p>Shortly after Scythrop's disappointment Mr. Glowry was involved in a +lawsuit, which compelled his attendance in London, and Scythrop was left +alone, to wander about, with the "Sorrows of Werter" in his hand.</p> + +<p>He now became troubled with the passion for reforming the world, and +meditated on the practicability of reviving a confederacy of regenerators. +He wrote and published a treatise in which his meanings were carefully +wrapped up in the monk's hood of transcendental technology, but filled with +hints of matters deep and dangerous, which he thought would set the whole +nation in a ferment, and awaited the result in awful expectation; some +months after he received a letter from his bookseller, informing him that +only seven copies had been sold, and concluding with a polite request for +the balance.</p> + +<p>"Seven copies!" he thought. "Seven is a mystical number, and the omen is +good. Let me find the seven purchasers, and they shall be the seven golden +candlesticks with which I shall illuminate the world."</p> + +<p>Scythrop had a certain portion of mechanical genius, and constructed +models of cells and recesses, sliding panels and secret passages, which +would have baffled the skill of the Parisian police. In his father's +absence, he smuggled a dumb carpenter into his tower, and gave reality to +one of these models. He foresaw that a great leader of regeneration would +be involved in fearful dilemmas, and determined to adopt all possible +precautions for his own preservation.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, he drank Madeira and laid deep schemes for a thorough +repair of the crazy fabric of human nature.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Marionetta</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Glowry returned with the loss of his lawsuit, and found Scythrop in +a mood most sympathetically tragic. His friends, whom we have mentioned, +availed themselves of his return to pay him a simultaneous visit, and at +the same time arrived Scythrop's friend and fellow-collegian, the Hon. Mr. +Listless, a young gentleman devoured with a gloomy and misanthropical +<i>nil curo</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Hilary brought with them an orphan niece, Miss Marionetta +Celestina O'Carroll, a blooming and accomplished young lady, who exhibited +in her own character all the diversities of an April sky. Her hair was +light brown, her eyes hazel, her features regular, and her person +surpassingly graceful. She had some coquetry, and more caprice, liking and +disliking almost in the same moment, and had not been three days in the +abbey before she threw out all the lures of her beauty and accomplishments +to make a prize of her cousin Scythrop's heart.</p> + +<p>Scythrop's romantic dreams had given him many pure anticipated +cognitions of combinations of beauty and intelligence, which, he had some +misgivings, were not realised by Marionetta, but he soon became +distractedly in love, which, when the lady perceived, she altered her +tactics and assumed coldness and reserve. Scythrop was confounded, but, +instead of falling at her feet begging explanation, he retreated to his +tower, seated himself in the president's chair of his imaginary tribunal, +summoned Marionetta with terrible formalities, frightened her out of her +wits, disclosed himself, and clasped the beautiful penitent to his +bosom.</p> + +<p>While he was acting this reverie, his study door opened, and the real +Marionetta appeared.</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake, Scythrop," said she, "what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake, indeed!" said Scythrop, "for your sake, Marionetta, +and you are my heaven! Distraction is the matter. I adore you, and your +cruelty drives me mad!" He threw himself at her feet, and breathed a +thousand vows in the most passionate language of romance.</p> + +<p>With a very arch look, she said: "I prithee, deliver thyself like a man +of the world." The levity of this quotation jarred so discordantly on the +romantic inamorato that he sprang to his feet, and beat his forehead with +his clenched fist. The young lady was terrified, and, taking his hand in +hers, said in her tenderest tone: "What would you have, Scythrop?"</p> + +<p>Scythrop was in heaven again.</p> + +<p>"What but you, Marionetta! You, for the companion of my studies, the +auxiliary of my great designs for mankind."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I should be but a poor auxiliary, Scythrop. What would you +have me do?"</p> + +<p>"Do as Rosalia does with Carlos, Marionetta. Let us each open a vein in +the other's arm, mix our blood in a bowl, and drink it as a sacrament of +love; then we shall see visions of transcendental illumination."</p> + +<p>Marionetta disengaged herself suddenly, and fled with precipitation. +Scythrop pursued her, crying, "Stop, stop Marionetta--my life, my love!" +and was gaining rapidly on her flight, when he came into sudden and violent +contact with Mr. Toobad, and they both plunged together to the foot of the +stairs, which gave the young lady time to escape and enclose herself in her +chamber.</p> + +<p>This was witnessed by Mr. Glowry, and he determined on a full +explanation. He therefore entered Scythrop Tower, and at once said:</p> + +<p>"So, sir, you are in love with your cousin."</p> + +<p>Scythrop, with as little hesitation, answered, "Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"That is candid, at least. It is very provoking, very disappointing. I +could not have supposed that you could have been infatuated with such a +dancing, laughing, singing, careless, merry hearted thing as +Marionetta--and with no fortune. Besides, sir, I have made a choice for +you. Such a lovely, serious creature, in a fine state of high +dissatisfaction with the world! Sir, I have pledged my honour to the +contract, and now, sir, what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I claim on this occasion that liberty of +action which is the co-natal prerogative of every rational being."</p> + +<p>"Liberty of action, sir! There is no such thing, and if you do not +comply with my wishes, I shall be under the necessity of disinheriting you, +though I shall do so with tears in my eyes."</p> + +<p>He immediately sought Mrs. Hilary, and communicated his views to her. +She straightway hinted to her niece, whom she loved as her own child, that +dignity and decorum required them to leave the abbey at once. Marionetta +listened in silent submission, but when Scythrop entered, and threw himself +at her feet in a paroxysm of grief, she threw her arms round his neck, and +burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Scythrop snatched from its repository his ancestor's skull, filled it +with Madeira, and presenting himself before Mr. Glowry, threatened to drink +off the contents, if he did not promise that Marionetta should not leave +the abbey without her own consent. Mr. Glowry, who took the Madeira to be +some deadly brewage, gave his promise in dismal panic. Scythrop returned to +Marionetta with a joyful heart, and drank the Maderia by the way, leaving +his father much disturbed, for he had set his heart on marrying his son to +the daughter of his friend, Mr. Toobad.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Celinda</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Toobad, too much accustomed to the intermeddling of the devil in all +his affairs to be astonished at this new trace of his cloven claw, yet +determined to outwit him, for he was sure there could be no comparison +between his daughter and Marionetta in the mind of anyone who had a proper +perception of the fact that seriousness and solemnity are the +characteristics of wisdom. Therefore he set off to meet her in London, that +he might lose no time in bringing her to Nightmare Abbey. After the first +joy of meeting was over, he told his daughter he had a husband ready for +her. The young lady replied very gravely she should take the liberty of +choosing for herself.</p> + +<p>"Have I not a fortune in my own right, sir?" said Celinda.</p> + +<p>"The more is the pity," said Mr. Toobad. "But I can find means, miss--I +can find means."</p> + +<p>They parted for the night with the expression of opposite resolutions, +and in the morning the young lady's chamber was empty, and what was become +of her, Mr. Toobad had no clue to guess. He declared that when he should +discover the fugitive, she should find "that the devil was come unto her, +having great wrath," and continued to investigate town and country, +visiting and revisiting Nightmare Abbey at intervals to consult Mr. +Glowry.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the difficulties that surrounded her, Marionetta could +not debar herself from the pleasure of tormenting her lover, whom she kept +in a continual fever, sometimes meeting him with unqualified affection, +sometimes with chilling indifference, softening him to love by eloquent +tenderness, or inflaming him to jealousy by coquetting with the Hon. Mr. +Listless. Scythrop's schemes for regenerating the world and detecting his +seven golden candlesticks went on very slowly.</p> + +<p>On retiring to his tower one day Scythrop found it pre-occupied. A +stranger, muffled to the eyes in a cloak, rose at his entrance, and looked +at him intently for a few minutes in silence, then saying, "I see by your +physiognomy you are to be trusted," dropped the cloak, and revealed to the +astonished Scythrop a female form and countenance of dazzling grace and +beauty, with long, flowing hair of raven blackness.</p> + +<p>"You are a philosopher," said the lady, "and a lover of liberty. You are +the author of a treatise called 'Philosophical Gas?'"</p> + +<p>"I am," said Scythrop, delighted at this first blossom of his +renown.</p> + +<p>She then informed him that she was under the necessity of finding a +refuge from an atrocious persecution, and had determined to apply to him +(on reading his pamphlet, and recognising a kindred mind) to find her a +retreat where she could be concealed from the indefatigable search being +made for her.</p> + +<p>Doubtless, thought Scythrop, this is one of my seven golden +candlesticks, and at once offered her the asylum of his secret apartments, +assuring her she might rely on the honour of a transcendental +eleutherarch.</p> + +<p>"I rely on myself," said the lady. "I act as I please, and let the whole +world say what it will. I am rich enough to set it at defiance. They alone +are subject to blind authority who have no reliance on their own +strength."</p> + +<p>Stella took possession of the recondite apartments. Scythrop intended to +find another asylum; but from day to day postponed his intention, and by +degrees forgot it. The young lady reminded him from day to day, till she +also forgot it.</p> + +<p>Scythrop had now as much mystery about him as any romantic +transcendentalist could desire. He had his esoterical and his exoterical +love, and could not endure the thought of losing either of them. His +father's suspicions were aroused by always finding the door locked on +visiting Scythrop's study; and one day, hearing a female voice, and, on the +door being opened, finding his son alone, he looked around and said:</p> + +<p>"Where is the lady?"</p> + +<p>Scythrop invited him to search the tower, but Mr. Glowry was not to be +deceived. Scythrop talked loudly, hoping to drown his father's voice, in +vain.</p> + +<p>"I, say, sir, when you are so shortly to be married to your cousin +Marionetta----"</p> + +<p>The bookcase opened in the middle, and the beautiful Stella appeared, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Married! Is he going to be married? The profligate!"</p> + +<p>"Really, madam," said Mr. Glowry, "I do not know what he is going to do, +or what anyone is going to do, for all this is incomprehensible."</p> + +<p>"I can explain it all," said Scythrop, "if you will have the goodness to +leave us alone."</p> + +<p>Stella threw herself into a chair and burst into a passion of tears. +Scythrop took her hand. She snatched it away, and turned her back upon him. +Scythrop continued entreating Mr. Glowry to leave them alone, but he was +obstinate, and would not go.</p> + +<p>A tap at the door, and Mr. Hilary entered. He stood a few minutes in +silent surprise, then departed in search of Marionetta.</p> + +<p>Scythrop was now in a hopeless predicament.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hilary made a hue and cry, summoning his wife and Marionetta, and +they hastened in consternation to Scythrop's apartments. Mr. Toobad saw +them, and judging from their manner that the devil had manifested his wrath +in some new shape, followed, and intercepted Stella's flight at the door by +catching her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Celinda!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Papa!" said the young lady disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"The devil is come among you!" said Mr. Toobad. "How came my daughter +here?"</p> + +<p>Marionetta, who had fainted, opened her eyes and fixed them on Celinda. +Celinda, in turn, fixed hers on Marionetta. Scythrop was equi-distant +between them, like Mahomet's coffin.</p> + +<p>"Celinda," said Mr. Toobad, "what does this mean? When I told you in +London that I had chosen a husband for you, you thought proper to run away +from him; and now, to all appearance, you have run away to him."</p> + +<p>"How, sir? Was that your choice?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely; and if he is yours, too, we shall both be of a mind, for the +first time in our lives."</p> + +<p>"He is not my choice, sir. This lady has a prior claim. I renounce +him."</p> + +<p>"And I renounce him!" said Marionetta.</p> + +<p>Scythrop knew not what to do. He therefore retreated into his +stronghold, mystery; maintained an impenetrable silence, and contented +himself with deprecating glances at each of the objects of his +idolatry.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Mr. Listless, Mr. Flosky, and other guests had been attracted +by the tumult, multitudinous questions, and answers <i>en masse</i>, +composed a <i>charivari</i>, which was only terminated by Mrs. Hilary and +Mr. Toobad retreating with the captive damsels. The whole party followed, +leaving Scythrop carefully arranged in a pensive attitude.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Scythrop's Fate</i></h4> + + +<p>He was still in this position when the butler entered to announce that +dinner was on the table. He refused food, and on being told that the party +was much reduced, everybody had gone, requested the butler to bring him a +pint of port and a pistol. He would make his exit like Werter, but finally +took Raven's advice--to dine first, and be miserable afterwards.</p> + +<p>He was sipping his Madeira, immersed in melancholy musing, when his +father entered and requested a rational solution of all this absurdity.</p> + +<p>"I will leave it in writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate +is come. The world is a stage, and my direction is exit."</p> + +<p>"Do not talk so, sir; do not talk so, Scythrop! What would you +have?"</p> + +<p>"I would have my love."</p> + +<p>"And pray, sir, who is your love?"</p> + +<p>"Celinda--Marionetta--either--both."</p> + +<p>"Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy, but it will not do in +Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And renounce Marionetta?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"But you must renounce one."</p> + +<p>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>"And you cannot have both. What is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"I must shoot myself!"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk so, Scythrop! Be rational, Scythrop! Consider, and make a +cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself on your behalf."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot +choose either, and I have no resource but a pistol."</p> + +<p>"Scythrop--Scythrop, if one of them should come to you, what then? Have +but a little patience, a week's patience, and it shall be."</p> + +<p>"A week, sir, is an age; but to oblige you, as a last act of filial +duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five +minutes past seven. At this hour next Thursday love and fate shall smile on +me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the +abbey.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>On the morning of the eventful Thursday, Scythrop ascended the turret +with a telescope and spied anxiously along the road, till Raven summoned +him to dinner at five, when he descended to his own funeral feast. He laid +his pistol between his watch and his bottle. Scythrop rang the bell. Raven +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Raven," said he, "the clock is too fast."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Raven. "If anything it is too slow----"</p> + +<p>"Villain," said Scythrop, pointing the pistol at him, "it is too +fast!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes--too fast, I meant!" said Raven, in fear.</p> + +<p>"Put back my watch!" said Scythrop.</p> + +<p>Raven, with trembling hand, was putting back the watch, when the rattle +of wheels was heard; and Scythrop, springing down the stairs three steps +together, was at the door in time to hand either of the young ladies from +the carriage; but Mrs. Glowry was alone.</p> + +<p>"I rejoice to see you!" said he. "I was fearful of being too late, for I +waited till the last moment in the hope of accomplishing my promise; but +all my endeavours have been vain, as these letters will show."</p> + +<p>The first letter ended with the words: "I shall always cherish a +grateful remembrance of Nightmare Abbey, for having been the means of +introducing me to a true transcendentalist, and shall soon have the +pleasure of subscribing myself</p> + +<p class="date">"CELINDA FLOSKY."</p> + +<p>The other, from Marionetta, wished him much happiness with Miss Toobad, +and finished with: "I shall always be happy to see you in Berkely Square, +when, to the unalterable designation of your affectionate cousin, I shall +subjoin the signature of</p> + +<p class="date">"MARIONETTA LISTLESS."</p> + +<p>Scythrop tore both the letters to atoms, and railed in good, set terms +against the fickleness of women.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, my dear Scythrop," said Mr. Glowry. "There are yet +maidens in England; and besides, the fatal time is past, for it is now +almost eight."</p> + +<p>"Then that villain Raven deceived me when he said the clock was too +fast; but I have just reflected these repeated crosses in love qualify me +to take a very advanced degree in misanthropy. There is therefore, good +hope that I may make a figure in the world."</p> + +<p>Raven appeared. Scythrop looked at him very fiercely, and said, "Bring +some Madeira!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JANE_PORTER"></a>JANE PORTER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Scottish_Chiefs"></a>The Scottish Chiefs</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Jane Porter was born at Durham in 1776, but at the age of +four she went to Edinburgh with her family, was brought up in Scotland, and +had the privilege of knowing Sir Walter Scott. Her first romance, "Thaddeus +of Warsaw," was published in 1803, soon after she had removed from +Edinburgh to London. Her next romance, "The Scottish Chiefs," did not +appear until 1810. It won an immediate popularity, which survived even the +formidable rivalry of the "Waverley Novels," and the book remained a +favourite, especially in Scotland, during most of the last century. The +story abounds in historical inaccuracies, and the characters are addicted +to conversing in the dialect of melodrama-but these blemishes did not abate +the vogue of this exciting and spirited work with the reading public. Miss +Porter remained a prominent figure in London literary society until her +death on May 24, 1850. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Lady Marion</i></h4> + + +<p>Sir William Wallace made his way swiftly along the crags and across the +river to the cliffs which overlooked the garden of Ellerslie. As he +approached he saw his newly-wedded wife, the Lady Marion, leaning over the +couch of a wounded man. She looked up, and, with a cry of joy, threw +herself into his arms. Blood dropped from his forehead upon her bosom.</p> + +<p>"O my Wallace, my Wallace!" cried she in agony.</p> + +<p>"Fear not, my love, it is a mere scratch. How is the wounded +stranger?"</p> + +<p>It was Wallace who had saved the stranger's life. That day he had been +summoned to Douglas Castle, where he had received in secret from Sir John +Monteith an iron box entrusted to him by Lord Douglas, then imprisoned in +England; he had been charged to cherish the box in strictness, and not to +suffer it to be opened until Scotland was again free. Returning with his +treasure through Lanark, he had seen a fellow countryman wounded, and in +deadly peril at the hands of a party of English. Telling two of his +attendants to carry the injured man to Ellerslie, he had beaten off the +English and slain their leader--Arthur Heselrigge, nephew of the Governor +of Lanark.</p> + +<p>"Gallant Wallace!" said the stranger, "it is Donald, Earl of Mar, who +owes you his life."</p> + +<p>"Then blest be my arm," exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a life so +precious to my country!"</p> + +<p>"Armed men are approaching!" cried Lady Marion. "Wallace, you must fly. +But oh! whither?"</p> + +<p>"Not far, my love; I must seek the recesses of the Cartlane Crags. But +the Earl of Mar--we must conceal him."</p> + +<p>They found a hiding-place for the wounded earl, and Wallace went away, +promising to be near at hand. Hardly had he gone when the door was burst +open by a band of soldiers, and Lady Wallace was confronted by the governor +of Lanark.</p> + +<p>"Woman!" cried he, "on your allegiance to King Edward, answer me--where +is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?"</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>"I can reward you richly," he went on, "if you speak the truth. Refuse, +and you die!"</p> + +<p>She stretched her hands to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself."</p> + +<p>"Speak!" cried the governor, drawing his sword. She sank to the ground. +"Kneel not to me for mercy!"</p> + +<p>"I kneel to heaven alone," she said firmly, "and may it ever preserve my +Wallace!"</p> + +<p>"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the governor, and he plunged the sword +through her heart.</p> + +<p>A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.</p> + +<p>"My friends," said Heselrigge, "I reward your services with the plunder +of Ellerslie."</p> + +<p>"Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!" exclaimed a +veteran.</p> + +<p>"Amen!" murmured all the soldiers.</p> + +<p>But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed +his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground. During +the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to Bothwell +Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were placed in +strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of Dumbarton.</p> + +<p>An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his +concealment. For long he was overpowered with agony. Then a desperate +determination arose in his mind. "The sun must not again rise upon +Heselrigge!" was his thought. He called his followers, and told them of the +deed. "From this hour," he cried, "may Scotland date her liberty, or +Wallace return no more!"</p> + +<p>"Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry.</p> + +<p>That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace's +sword was buried in the body of his wife's murderer.</p> + +<p>"So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!" shouted his men +exultantly.</p> + +<p>"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he. "Henceforth Wallace +has neither love nor resentment but for her. From now onwards I devote +myself to the winning of my country's freedom, or to death in her +cause."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Wallace the Liberator</i></h4> + + +<p>Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of +Wallace--the banner that bore the legend "God armeth the patriot," and in +which was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion's hair. The making of it had +been the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for +Wallace's prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in +her--although she had never seen him--an eager devotion to him as the man +who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country's freedom.</p> + +<p>When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St. +Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the +traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her hand +had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold upon her, +he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis and his band +were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell suddenly upon +them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was carried away by his +men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself in the presence of a +gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed her to a hermit's cell +near at hand. Without revealing his name he passed on his way, declaring +that he went to arouse a few brave spirits to arms. Brief as the interview +had been, Helen knew when it was ended that she had given her heart to the +unknown knight.</p> + +<p>As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a +fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the thud +of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.</p> + +<p>"There is an attack," cried the earl.</p> + +<p>"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered +Lady Mar.</p> + +<p>"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!" +exclaimed the earl.</p> + +<p>A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the +governor.</p> + +<p>"You shall die!" was the stern answer.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.</p> + +<p>A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his +men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading the +clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and fled.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his +scarf.</p> + +<p>"So is your mercy rewarded," muttered the grim Kirkpatrick.</p> + +<p>"So am I true to my duty," returned Wallace, "though De Valence is a +traitor to his."</p> + +<p>The Countess of Mar looked for the first time upon Wallace's +countenance. He was the enemy of her kinsmen of the house of Cummin; +unknown to her husband, she had sought to betray him to one of these +kinsmen; and now, as this beautiful woman beheld the man she had tried to +injure, a sense of shame, accompanied by a strange fascination, entered her +bosom.</p> + +<p>"How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man!" she said to +herself. "Hardly have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my very being is +lost in his!"</p> + +<p>Love mingled with ambition in her uneasy mind. Her husband was old and +wounded; his life would not be long. Wallace had the genius of a conqueror. +Might he not be proclaimed king of Scotland? She threw herself assiduously +into his company during the days that followed. At last, with tears in +eyes, she confessed her love, thinking, in her folly, that she could move +the heart of one who had consecrated himself to the service of Scotland and +the memory of Marion.</p> + +<p>"Your husband, Lady Mar," he said with gentleness, "is my friend; had I +even a heart to give to women, not one sigh should arise in it to his +dishonour. But I am deaf to women, and the voice of love sounds like the +funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me more."</p> + +<p>He rose, and ere the countess could reply, a messenger entered with news +from Ayr. Eighteen Scottish chiefs had been treacherously put to death, and +others were imprisoned and awaiting execution. Wallace and his men marched +straight to the castle of Ayr, surprised it while the English lords were +feasting within, and set it afire. Those who escaped the flames either fell +by Scottish steel, or yielded themselves prisoners.</p> + +<p>Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched +from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from a +noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded only to +starvation. Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them to march out +with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl he formed a +friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the nations to which they +belonged.</p> + +<p>Soon there came a summons to Stirling. By a dishonourable stratagem of +De Valence's, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to +Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death. Helen was +in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her. Wallace +and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De Valence +begged Wallace's mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was, obtained it. But +the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed Lord Mar on the +battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared that unless the attack +ceased the earl and his whole family would instantly die. Wallace's reply +was to bring forward De Valence, pale and trembling. "The moment Lord Mar +dies, De Valence shall instantly perish," he declared.</p> + +<p>Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De +Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border, had +reached Stirling. Next morning this great army in its pride poured across +the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down from the +hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them. It was rather +a carnage than a battle. Those who escaped the steel of Wallace's men were +thrust into the river, and land and water were burdened with English +dead.</p> + +<p>That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were +released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy's +host.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Wallace the Regent</i></h4> + + +<p>When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle, +Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes. Would the gentle knight who +rescued her be in Wallace's train? Lady Mar turned a restless glance upon +her step-daughter. "Wallace will behold these charms," she cried to +herself, "and then, where am I?"</p> + +<p>Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen +raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had saved +her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!</p> + +<p>"Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!" cried the patriot Bishop of +Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and pouring +it upon Wallace's head.</p> + +<p>Every knee was bent, and every voice cried "Long live King William!"</p> + +<p>"Rise, lords!" exclaimed Wallace. "Kneel not to me--I am but your fellow +soldier. Bruce lives; God has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch."</p> + +<p>Eagerly they sought to persuade him, but in vain. He consented to hold +the kingdom for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent, but the +crown he would not accept. He found a nation waiting on his nod--the hearts +of half a million people offered to his hand.</p> + +<p>On the night before the English prisoners were to start on their journey +southwards to be exchanged with Scottish nobles--an exchange after which, +by England's will, the war was to continue--Lady Mar, whose husband was now +governor of Stirling Castle, gave a banquet in honour of the departing +knights. The entertainment was conducted with that chivalric courtesy which +a noble conqueror always pays to the vanquished.</p> + +<p>But the spirit of Wallace was sad amid the gaiety; seeking quiet, he +wandered along a darkened passage that led to the chapel, unobserved save +by his watchful enemy De Valence--whose hatred had been intensified by the +knowledge that Helen, whose hand he had again demanded in vain, loved the +regent. He had guessed her secret, and she had guessed his--the design he +had of murdering the foe who had twice spared his life.</p> + +<p>As Wallace entered the chapel and advanced towards the altar, he saw a +woman kneeling in prayer. "Defend him, Heavenly Father!" she cried. "Guard +his unshielded breast from treachery!" It was Helen's voice.</p> + +<p>Wallace stepped from the shadow; Helen was transfixed and silent. +"Continue to offer up these prayers for me," he said gently, "and I shall +yet think, holy maid, that I have a Marion to pray for me on earth, as well +as in heaven."</p> + +<p>"They are for your life," she said in agitation, "for it is +menaced."</p> + +<p>"I will inquire by whom," answered he, "when I have first paid my duty +at this altar. Pray with me, Lady Helen, for the liberty of Scotland."</p> + +<p>As they were praying together, Helen rose with a shriek and flung her +arms around Wallace. He felt an assassin's steel in his back, and she fell +senseless on his breast. Her arm was bleeding; she had partly warded off +the blow aimed at him, and had saved his life. He took her up in his arms, +and bore her from the chapel to the hall.</p> + +<p>"Who has done this?" cried Mar, in anguish.</p> + +<p>"I know not," replied Wallace, "but I believe some villain who aimed at +my life." With a gasp he sank back unconscious on the bench.</p> + +<p>Helen was the first to recover, and while they were staunching the blood +that flowed from Wallace's wound, Lady Mar turned to her step-daughter.</p> + +<p>"Will you satisfy this anxious company," said she sneeringly, "how it +happened that you should be alone with the regent? May I ask our noble +friends to withdraw, and leave this delicate investigation to my own +family?"</p> + +<p>Wallace, recovering his senses, rose hastily.</p> + +<p>"Do not leave this place, my lords, till I explain how I came to disturb +the devotions of Lady Helen;" Straightforwardly and with dignity, he told +the story of what had happened, and the jealous Lady Mar was silenced.</p> + +<p>"But who was the assassin?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"I shall name him to Sir William Wallace alone," said Helen.</p> + +<p>But the dagger, found in the chapel, revealed the truth. The chiefs +clamoured for De Valence's death, Wallace again granted him life. Next +morning, as the cavalcade of southern knights was starting, Wallace rode up +and handed the dagger to De Valence.</p> + +<p>"The next time that you draw this dagger," said he, "let it be with a +more knightly aim than assassination."</p> + +<p>De Valence, careless of the looks of horror and contempt cast upon him +by his fellow countrymen, broke it asunder, and, throwing the fragments in +the air, said to the shivered weapon, "You shall not betray me again!"</p> + +<p>"Nor you betray our honours, Lord de Valence," said De Warenne sternly. +"As lord warden of this realm, I order you under arrest until we pass the +Scottish lines."</p> + +<p>After the exchange of prisoners had been effected, Wallace invaded the +enemy's country, and brought rich stores from the barns of Northumberland +to the starving people of desolated Scotland. The reduction followed of all +the fortresses held by the English in Northern Scotland. King Edward +himself was now advancing; but a greater peril menaced the regent than that +of the invader.</p> + +<p>Many of the nobles, headed by the Earls of Athol, Buchan, and March, +were bitterly jealous of the ascendancy of a low-born usurper--for so they +called Scotland's deliverer--and conspired to restore the sovereignty of +Edward. Their chance of treachery came when Wallace faced the English host +at Falkirk. When the battle was joined, Athol, Buchan, and all the Cummins, +crying, "Long live King Edward!" joined the English, and flung themselves +upon their fellow-countrymen. Grievous was the havoc of Scot on Scot; and +beside the English king throughout the battle stood Bruce, the rightful +monarch, aiding in the destruction of his nation's liberties.</p> + +<p>But on the night of that disastrous day, a young stranger in splendid +armour came secretly to Wallace. It was Robert Bruce, seeking to offer his +services to his country and to wipe out the stigma that his father had cast +upon his name.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Traitors</i></h4> + + +<p>None fought more fiercely than Robert Bruce in the attack made by +Wallace's men upon the English on the banks of the Carron, and the traitor, +Earl of March, fell by the young warrior's own hand. But treason, smitten +on the field of battle, was rampant at Stirling; and when Wallace returned +there, bowed with grief at the death of Lord Mar, he found the Cummin +faction--Lady Mar's kinsmen--in furious revolt against the "upstart." His +resolution was quickly made; he would not be a cause of civil strife to his +country.</p> + +<p>"Should I remain your regent," said he to the assembled people, "the +country would be involved in ruinous dissensions. I therefore quit the +regency; and I bequeath your liberty to the care of the chieftains. But +should it be again in danger, remember that, while life breathes in this +heart, the spirit of Wallace will be with you still!" With these words he +mounted his horse, and rode away, amidst the cries and tears of the +populace.</p> + +<p>Lady Mar, whose secret hopes had been stirred afresh by the death of her +husband, heard with consternation of Wallace's departure. But he went away +without a thought of her; his mission was the rescue of Helen, to which he +had pledged himself by the death-bed of Lord Mar. Helen had been kidnapped +by De Valence, and carried off by him to his castle in Guienne.</p> + +<p>Wallace disguised himself as a minstrel, and travelled to Durham, where +King Edward held his court, and where young Bruce, taken captive, was now +confined. By making himself known to the Earl of Gloucester, Wallace was +able to gain access to Bruce, whose father was now dead, and to lay his +plans before him. These were that Bruce should escape from Durham, that the +two should travel to Guienne and rescue Helen, and that they should then, +as unknown strangers, offer their services to Scotland.</p> + +<p>The plans were fulfilled. Bruce escaped, De Valence was once more +deprived of his prey--he did not suspect the identity of the two knights +until after Helen had been delivered from his clutches--and the pair fought +as Frenchmen in the wars of Scotland. To few was the truth revealed, and +only one discovered it--a knight wearing a green plume, who refused to +divulge his name until Wallace proclaimed his own on the day of +victory.</p> + +<p>But the secret could not be kept for ever, and it was Wallace himself +who cast off the disguise. At the battle of Rosslyn the day seemed lost; an +overwhelming mass of English bore down the Scots; men were turning to fly. +The fate of Wallace's country hung on an instant. Taking off his helmet, he +waved it in the air with a shout, and, having thus drawn all eyes upon him, +exclaimed: "Scots, follow William Wallace to victory!" The cry of +"Wallace!" turned the fugitives; new courage was diffused in every breast; +defeat was straightway changed into triumph.</p> + +<p>Soon after this declaration the knight of the green plume came to +Wallace, tore off the disguise of knighthood, and stood before him the bold +and unblushing Countess of Mar. It was unconquerable love, she said, that +had induced her to act thus. Wallace told her once more that his love was +buried in the grave, and entreated her to refrain from guilty passion. +Angered, she thrust a dagger at his breast; he wrenched the weapon from her +hand, and bade her go in peace.</p> + +<p>Ere sunset next evening he heard that he had been accused of treason to +Scotland, and that his accuser was the Countess of Mar.</p> + +<p>He faced the false charge, and repudiated it. But such was the hatred of +the Cummins and their supporters that it was plainly impossible for him to +serve Scotland, now that his name was known, without causing distraction in +the country's ranks. He wandered forth, alone save for his ever-faithful +follower, Edwin Ruthven, a price set upon his head by the relentless +Edward, leaving his enemies to rejoice, and his friends to despair of +Scotland's liberty.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Tragedy and Triumph</i></h4> + + +<p>As Wallace journeyed in the regions made sacred to him by Marion's +memory, he was met by Sir John Monteith, who offered to conduct him to +Newark-on-the-Clyde, where he might embark on a vessel about to sail. +Wallace gladly accepted the offer, little guessing that his old and trusted +friend Monteith was in the pay of England.</p> + +<p>As he and Edwin reposed in a barn near Newark, a force of savages from +the Irish island of Rathlin burst in upon them. Wallace, with a giant's +strength, dispersed them as they advanced. But a shout was heard from the +door. Monteith himself appeared, and an arrow pierced Edwin's heart. +Wallace threw himself on his knees beside the dying boy. They sprang upon +him, and bound him. Wallace was Edward's prisoner.</p> + +<p>As he lay in the Tower of London awaiting death, a page-boy entered +nervously, and turned pale when he cast his eyes upon him. He started; he +recognised the features of her who alone had ever shared his meditations +with Marion.</p> + +<p>"Lady Helen," he cried, "has God sent you hither to be His harbinger of +consolation?"</p> + +<p>"Will you not abhor me for this act of madness?" said Helen, in deep +agitation. "And yet, where should I live or die but at the feet of my +benefactor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Helen," exclaimed Wallace, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one; +and as one I love ye!"</p> + +<p>At that moment the Earl of Gloucester entered, and to this true friend +Wallace expressed his wish that he and Helen should be united by the sacred +rites of the church. Gloucester retired, and returned with a priest; the +pair were joined as man and wife.</p> + +<p>Two days later Wallace stood on the scaffold. The executioner approached +to throw the rope over the neck of his victim. Helen, with a cry, rushed to +his bosom. Clasping her to him, he exclaimed in a low voice: "Helen, we +shall next meet to part no more. May God preserve my country, and--" He +stopped--he fell. Gloucester bent to his friend and spoke, but all was +silent. He had died unsullied by the rope of Edward.</p> + +<p>"There," said Gloucester, in deepest grief, "there broke the noblest +heart that ever beat in the breast of man."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was the evening after Bannockburn. The English hosts were in +panic-stricken flight; Scotland at last was free. Robert Bruce, king and +conquerer, entered the Abbey of Cambuskenneth with his betrothed, Isabella, +and stood before the bier of Wallace.</p> + +<p>Helen, wan and fragile, was borne on a litter from the adjoining +nunnery. In her presence Bruce and Isabella were wedded; her trembling +hands were held over them in blessing; then she threw herself prostrate on +the coffin.</p> + +<p>At the foot of Wallace's bier stood the iron box that the dead chieftain +had so faithfully cherished. "Let this mysterious coffer be opened," said +the Abbot of Inchaffray, "to reward the deliverer of Scotland according to +its intent" Bruce unclasped the lock, and the regalia of Scotland was +discovered!</p> + +<p>"And thus Wallace crowns thee!" said the Bishop of Dunkeld, taking the +diadem from its coffer and setting it on Brace's head.</p> + +<p>But Helen lay motionless. They raised her, and looked upon a clay-cold +face. Her soul had fled.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_SERGEYEVITCH_PUSHKIN"></a>ALEXANDER SERGEYEVITCH +PUSHKIN</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Captains_Daughter"></a>The Captain's Daughter</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Alexander Sergeyevitch Pushkin was born at Moscow on June +7, 1799. He came of an ancient family, a strange ancestor being a favourite +negro ennobled by Peter the Great, who bequeathed to him a mass of curly +hair and a somewhat darker skin than usually falls to the lot of the +ordinary Russian. Early in life a daring "Ode to Liberty" brought him the +displeasure of the court, and the young poet narrowly escaped a journey to +Siberia by accepting an official post at Kishineff, in Southern Russia. But +on the accession of Tsar Nicholas in 182s, Pushkin was recalled and +appointed imperial historiographer. His death, which occurred on February +10, 1837, was the result of a duel fought with his brother-in-law. +Pushkin's career was one of almost unparallelled brilliancy. As a poet, he +still remains the greatest Russia has produced; and although his prose +works do not rise to the high standard of his verse, yet they are of no +inconsiderable merit. "The Captain's Daughter, a Russian Romance," was +written about 1831, and published under the <i>nom de plume</i> of Ivan +Byelkin. It is a story of the times of Catherine II., and is not only told +with interest and charm, but with great simplicity and reality, and with a +due sense of drama. Others of his novels are "The Pistol Shot," "The Queen +of Spades," and "The Undertaker," the last-named a grim story in a style +that has been familiarised to English readers by Edgar Allan Poe. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--I Join the Army</i></h4> + + +<p>My father, after serving in the army, had retired with the rank of +senior major. Since that time he had always lived on his estate, where he +married the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the neighbourhood. All +my brothers and sisters died young, and it was decided that I should enter +the army.</p> + +<p>When I was nearly seventeen, instead of being sent to join the guards' +regiment at Petersburg, my father told me I was going to Orenburg. "You +will learn nothing at Petersburg but to spend money and commit follies," he +said. "No, you shall smell powder and become a soldier, not an idler."</p> + +<p>It seemed horrible to me to be doomed to the dullness of a savage and +distant province, and to lose the gaiety I had been looking forward to; but +there was nothing for it but to submit.</p> + +<p>The morning arrived for my departure, the travelling carriage was at the +door, and our old servant Savélütch was in attendance to +accompany me.</p> + +<p>Two days later, when we were nearing our destination, a snowstorm +overtook us. We might have perished in the snow, for all traces of the road +were lost, but for a stranger who guided us to a small and lonely inn, +where we passed the night. In the morning, to the sorrow of +Savélütch, I insisted on giving our guide, who was but thinly +clad, one of my cloaks--a hare-skin <i>touloup</i>.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, your excellency," said the vagrant, "and may heaven reward you. +As long as I live I shall never forget your kindness."</p> + +<p>I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hare-skin <i>touloup</i>, +and on arrival at Orenburg hasted to wait on the general, an old +comrade-in-arms of my father's. The general received me kindly, examined my +commission, told me there was nothing for me to do in Orenburg, and sent me +on to Fort Bélogorsk to serve under Commander Mironoff. +Bélogorsk lay about thirty miles beyond Orenburg, on the frontier of +the Kirghiz Kaisak Steppes, and it was to this outlandish place I was +banished.</p> + +<p>I expected to see high bastions, a wall and a ditch, but there was +nothing at Bélogorsk but a little village, surrounded by a wooden +palisade. An old iron cannon was near the gateway, the streets were narrow +and crooked, and the commandant's house to which I had been driven was a +wooden erection.</p> + +<p>Vassilissa Ignorofna, the commandant's wife, received me with simple +kindness, and treated me at once as one of the family. An old army +pensioner and Palashka, the one servant, laid the cloth for dinner; while +in the square, near the house, the commandant, a tall and hale old man, +wearing a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap, was busy drilling some +twenty elderly men--all pensioners.</p> + +<p>Chvabrine, an officer who had been dismissed from the guards for +fighting a duel, and Marya, a young girl of sixteen, with a fresh, round +face, the commandant's daughter, were also at dinner.</p> + +<p>Mironoff pleaded in excuse for being late for dinner that he had been +busy drilling his little soldiers, but his wife cut him short +ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," she said, "you're only boasting; they are past service, and +you don't remember much about the drill. Far better for you to stay at home +and say your prayers." Vassilissa Ignorofna never seemed to stop talking, +and overwhelmed me with questions.</p> + +<p>In the course of a few weeks I found that she not only led her husband +completely, but also directed all military affairs, and ruled the fort as +completely as she did the household. This really suited Ivan Mironoff very +well, for he was a good-hearted, uneducated man, staunch and true, who had +been raised from the ranks, and was now grown lazy. Both husband and wife +were excellent people, and I soon became attached to them, and to the +daughter Marya, an affectionate and sensible girl.</p> + +<p>As for Chvabrine, he at first professed great friendship for me; but +being in love with Marya, who detested him, he began to hate me when he saw +a growing friendliness between Marya and myself.</p> + +<p>I was now an officer, but there was little work for me to do. There was +no drill, no mounting guard, no reviewing of troops. Sometimes Captain +Mironoff tried to drill his soldiers, but he never succeeded in making them +know the right hand from the left.</p> + +<p>All seemed peace, in spite of my quarrels with Chvabrine. Every day I +was more and more in love with Marya, and the notion that we might be +disturbed at Fort Bélogorsk by any repetition of the riots and +revolts which had taken place in the province of Orenburg the previous year +was not entertained. Danger was nearer than we had imagined. The Cossacks +and half-savage tribes of the frontier were again already in revolt.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Rebel Chief</i></h4> + + +<p>One evening early in October, 1773, Captain Mironoff called Chvabrine +and me to his house. He had received a letter from the general at Orenburg +with information that a fugitive Cossack named Pugatchéf had taken +the name of the late Czar, Peter III., and, with an army of robbers, was +rousing the country, destroying forts and committing murder and theft. The +news spread quickly, and then came a disquieting report that a neighbouring +fort some sixteen miles away had been taken by Pugatchéf, and its +officers hanged.</p> + +<p>Neither Mironoff nor Vassilissa showed any fear, and the latter declined +to leave Bélogorsk, though willing that Marya should be sent to +Orenburg for safety. An insolent proclamation from Pugatchéf, +inviting us to surrender on peril of death, and the treachery of our +Cossacks and of Chvabrine, who went over at once to the rebels, only made +the commandant and his wife more resolute.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel!" cried Vassilissa. "He has the impudence to invite us to +lay our flag at his feet, and he doesn't know we have been forty years in +the service!"</p> + +<p>It was the same when Pugatchéf was actually at our door, and the +assault had actually begun. Old Ivan Mironoff blessed his daughter, and +embraced his wife, and then faced death. There was no fight in the poor old +pensioners who made up our garrison, and both Mironoff and myself were soon +captured, bound with ropes, and led before Pugatchéf.</p> + +<p>The commandant indignantly refused to swear fidelity to the robber +chief, and was hanged there and then in the market square; an old one-eyed +lieutenant was soon swinging by his side. Then came my turn, and I gave the +same answer as my captain had done. The rope was round my neck, when +Pugatchéf shouted out "Stop!" and ordered my release. A few minutes +later, and poor old Vassilissa, who had come in search of her husband, was +lying dead in the market square, cut down by a Cossack's sword. +Pugatchéf's arrival had prevented Marya's escape to Orenburg, and +she was now lying too ill to be moved, in the house of Father Garassim, the +parish priest.</p> + +<p>Pugatchéf gave me leave to depart in safety, but before +Savélütch and I left the fort, the rebel bade me come and see +him. He laughed aloud when I presented myself.</p> + +<p>"Who would have thought," he said, "that the man who guided you to a +lodging on that night of the snowstorm was the great tzar himself? But you +shall see better things; I will load you with favours when I have recovered +my empire."</p> + +<p>Then he invited me again and again to enter his service, but I told him +I had sworn fidelity to the crown; and finally he let me go, saying: +"Either entirely punish or entirely pardon. Tell the officers at Orenburg +they may expect me in a week."</p> + +<p>It hurt me to leave Marya behind, especially as Pugatchéf had +made Chvabrine commandant of the fort, but there was no help for it. Father +Garassim and his wife bade me good-bye. "Except you, poor Marya has no +longer any protector or comforter," said the priest's wife.</p> + +<p>At Orenburg I was in safety, but the town was soon besieged, and I could +not persuade the general to sally out and attack the rebels. All through +those dreary weeks of the siege I was wondering anxiously about Marya, and +then one day when we had been driving off a party of cossacks, one of the +rebels, whom I recognised a former soldier at Bélogorsk, lingered to +give me a letter. It was from Marya, and she told me that she was now in +the house of Chvabrine, who threatened to kill her or hand her over to the +robber camp if she did not marry him, and that she had but three days left +before her fate would be sealed. Death would be easier, she said, than to +be the wife of a man like Chvabrine.</p> + +<p>I rushed off at once to the general, and implored him to give me a +battalion of soldiers, and let me march on Bélogorsk; but the +general only shook his head, and said the expedition was unreasonable.</p> + +<p>I decided to go alone and appeal to Pugatchéf, but the faithful +Savélütch insisted on accompanying me, and together we arrived +at the rebel camp.</p> + +<p>Pugatchéf received me quite cordially, and I told him the truth, +that I was in love with Marya, and that Chvabrine was persecuting her. He +flared up indignantly at Chvabrine's presumption, and declared he would +take me at once to Bélogorsk, and attend my wedding. But on our +arrival Chvabrine mentioned that Marya was the daughter of Mironoff, and +immediately the countenance of the robber chief clouded over.</p> + +<p>"Listen," I said, knowing Pugatchéf was well disposed towards me. +"Do not ask of me anything against my honour or my conscience. Let me go +with this unhappy orphan whither God shall direct, and whatever befall we +will pray every day to God to watch over you."</p> + +<p>It seemed as if Pugatchéf's fierce heart was touched. "Be it as +you wish," he answered. "Either entirely punish or entirely pardon is my +motto. Take your pretty one where you like, and may God give you love and +wisdom."</p> + +<p>A safe-conduct pass was given us, and I made up my mind to take Marya to +my parents' house. I knew my father would think it a duty and an honour to +shelter the daughter of a veteran who had died for his country. But Marya +said she would never be my wife unless my parents approved of the marriage. +We set off, and as we started I saw Chvabrine standing at the commandant's +window, with a face of dark hatred.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Arrest</i></h4> + + +<p>I parted from Marya two days later, and entrusted her to +Savélütch, who promised me to escort her faithfully to my +parents. My reason for this was that we had fallen in with a detachment of +the army, and the officer in charge persuaded me to join him, and it seemed +to me I was bound in honour to serve the tzarina.</p> + +<p>So all that winter, and right on till the spring came, we pursued the +rebels; and still Pugatchéf remained untaken; and this war with the +robbers went on to the destruction of the countryside.</p> + +<p>At last Pugatchéf was taken, and the war was at an end. A few +days later I should have been in the bosom of my family, when an unforeseen +thunderbolt struck me. I was ordered to be arrested and sent to Khasan, to +the commission of inquiry appointed to try Pugatchéf and his +accomplices.</p> + +<p>No sooner had I arrived in Khasan than I was lodged in prison, and irons +were placed on my ankles. It was a bad beginning, but I was full of hope +and courage, and believed that I could easily explain my dealings with +Pugatchéf.</p> + +<p>The next day I was summoned to appear before the commission, and asked +how long I had been in Pugatchéf's service.</p> + +<p>I replied indignantly that I had never been in his service; and then +when I was asked how it was he had spared my life and given me a +safe-conduct pass I told the story of the guide in the snowstorm and the +hair-skin <i>touloup</i>.</p> + +<p>Then came the question how was it I had left Orenburg, and gone straight +to the rebel camp?</p> + +<p>I felt I could not bring in Marya's name, and expose her as a witness to +the cross-examination of the commission, and so I stammered and became +silent.</p> + +<p>The officer of the guard then requested that I should be confronted with +my principal accuser, and Chvabrine was brought into court. A great change +had come over him. He was pale and thin, and his hair had already turned +grey. In a feeble but clear voice Chvabrine went through his story against +me; that I had been Pugatchéf's spy in Orenburg, and that after +leaving that town I had done all I could to aid the rebels. I was glad of +one thing, some spark of feeling kept him from mentioning Marya's name.</p> + +<p>I told the judges I could only repeat my former statement that I was +entirely innocent of any part in the rebellion; and then I was taken back +to prison, and underwent no further examination.</p> + +<p>Several weeks passed, and then my father was informed that the tzarina +had condescended to pardon his criminal son, and remit the capital +punishment, condemning him instead to exile for life in the heart of +Siberia.</p> + +<p>The unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He had heard of my arrest, +and both Savélütch and Marya had assured him of my complete +innocence. Now he broke out into bitter lament.</p> + +<p>"What!" he kept on saying. "What! My son mixed up in the plots of +Pugatchéf! Just God! What have I lived to see! The tzarina grants +him life, but does that make it easier for me to bear? It is not the +execution which is horrible. My ancestors have perished on the scaffold for +conscience sake; but that an officer should join with robbers and felons! +Shame on our race for ever!"</p> + +<p>In vain my mother endeavoured to comfort him by talking of the injustice +of the verdict. My father was inconsolable.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Captain's Daughter to the Rescue</i></h4> + + +<p>From the first Marya had been received with the warm-hearted hospitality +that belonged to old-fashioned country people. The opportunity of giving a +home to a poor orphan seemed to them a favour from God. In a very short +time they were sincerely attached to her, for no one could know Marya +without loving her, and both my father and my mother looked forward to the +union of their son Peter with the captain's daughter.</p> + +<p>My trial and condemnation plunged all three into misery; and Marya, +believing that I could have justified myself had I chosen, and suspecting +the motive which had kept me silent, and holding herself the sole cause of +my misfortune, determined to save me.</p> + +<p>All at once she informed my parents that she was obliged to start for +Petersburg, and begged them to give her the means to do so.</p> + +<p>"Why must you go to Petersburg?" said my mother, in distress. "You, +too--are you also going to forsake us?"</p> + +<p>Marya answered that she was going to seek help from people in high +position for the daughter of a man who had fallen a victim to his +fidelity.</p> + +<p>My father could only bow his head. "Go," he said. "I do not wish to cast +any obstacles between you and your happiness. May God grant you an honest +man, and not a convicted traitor, for husband."</p> + +<p>To my mother alone Marya confided her plans, and then, with her maid +Palashka and the faithful Savélütch--who, parted from me, +consoled himself by remembering he was serving my betrothed--set out for +the capital.</p> + +<p>Arrived at Sofia, Marya learnt that the court was at the summer palace +of Tzarskoe-Selo, and at once resolved to stop there. She was able to get a +lodging at the post-house, and the postmaster's wife, who was a regular +gossip, began to tell her all the routine of the palace, at what hour the +tzarina rose, had her coffee, and walked in the gardens.</p> + +<p>Next morning, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the imperial +gardens. She saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench near the large +lake, and went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The lady +wore a cap and a white morning gown, and a light cloak. She appeared to be +about fifty years old, and the repose and gravity of her face, and the +sweetness of her blue eyes and her smile, all attracted Marya and inspired +confidence. The lady was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"You do not belong to this place?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame. I only arrived yesterday from the country."</p> + +<p>"You came with your parents?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame, alone. I have neither father nor mother."</p> + +<p>"You are very young to travel by yourself. You have come on +business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame. I have come to present a petition to the tzarina."</p> + +<p>"You are an orphan. It is some injustice or wrong you complain of? What +is your name?"</p> + +<p>"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff, and it is for mercy I have come +to ask."</p> + +<p>"Captain Mironoff? He commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg +district?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> + +<p>The lady seemed moved.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she said, speaking even more gently, "if I meddle in your +affairs; but I am going to court. Perhaps if you explain to me what it is +you want, I may be able to help you."</p> + +<p>Marya rose and curtsied; then she took from her pocket a folded paper, +and handed it to her protectress, who read it over. Suddenly the gentleness +turned to hardness in the face of the unknown lady.</p> + +<p>"You plead for Peter Grineff!" she said coldly. "The tzarina cannot +grant him mercy. He passed over to this rebel not in ignorance, but because +he is depraved."</p> + +<p>"It is not true!" cried Marya. "Before God it is not true! I know all; I +will tell you everything. It was only on my account that he exposed himself +to the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not vindicate +himself before the judges, it was because he did not wish me to be mixed up +in the affair."</p> + +<p>And Marya went on to relate all that had taken place at +Bélogorsk.</p> + +<p>When she had finished, the lady asked her where she lodged, and told her +she would not have to wait long for an answer to the letter.</p> + +<p>Marya went back to the post-house full of hope, and presently, to the +consternation of her hostess, a lackey in the imperial livery entered and +announced that the tzarina condescended to summon to her presence the +daughter of Captain Mironoff.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" cried the postmaster's wife. "The tzarina summons you to +court! And I'm sure you don't even know how to walk in court fashion. Shall +I send for a dressmaker I know who will lend you her yellow gown with +flounces? I think I ought to take you."</p> + +<p>But the lackey explained that the tzarina wanted Marya to come alone, +and in the dress she should happen to be wearing. There was nothing for it +but to obey, and, with a beating heart, Marya got into the carriage and was +driven to the palace. Presently she was ushered into the boudoir of the +tzarina, and recognised the lady of the garden.</p> + +<p>The tzarina spoke graciously to her, telling Marya that it was a +happiness to grant her prayer.</p> + +<p>"I have had it all looked into, and I am convinced of the innocence of +your betrothed. Here is a letter for your father-in-law. Do not be uneasy +about the future. I know you are not rich, but I owe a debt to the daughter +of Captain Mironoff."</p> + +<p>Marya, all in tears, fell at the feet of the tzarina, who raised her and +kissed her forehead. The tzarina almost overwhelmed the orphan before she +dismissed her.</p> + +<p>That same day Marya hastened back to my father's house in the country, +without even having the curiosity to see the sights of Petersburg.</p> + +<p>I was released from captivity at the end of the year 1774, and, as it +happened, I was present in Moscow when Pugatchéf was executed in the +following year. The famous robber chief recognised me as I stood in the +crowd, and bade me farewell with a silent movement of his head. A few +moments later and the executioner held up the lifeless head for all the +people to look upon.</p> + +<p>Chvabrine I never saw again after the day I was confronted with him at +my trial.</p> + +<p>Soon after Pugatchéf's death, Marya and I were married from my +father's house.</p> + +<p>An autograph letter from the tzarina, Catherine II., framed and glazed, +is carefully preserved. It is addressed to the father of Peter Grineff, and +contains, with the acquittal of his son, many praises of the intelligence +and good heart of the daughter of Captain Mironoff.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="FRANCOIS_RABELAIS"></a>FRANCOIS RABELAIS</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Gargantua_and_Pantagruel"></a>Gargantua and Pantagruel</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Francois Rabelais was born at Seuillé in Touraine, +France, about 1483. Brought up in a Franciscan convent, he was made a +priest in 1520. During his monastic career he conceived a deep and lasting +contempt for monkish life, and he obtained permission from the Pope to +become a secular priest. He then studied medicine, and became a physician. +After wandering about France for many years, he was appointed parish priest +of Meudon in 1551, and he died at Paris in 1553. "The Great and Inestimable +Chronicles of the Grand and Enormous Giant Gargantua" ("Les Grandes et +Inestimables Chroniques du Grande et Enorme Géant Gargantua"), and +its sequel, "Pantagruel," appeared between 1533 and 1564. Had these +appeared during Rabelais' life, his career would probably have been shorter +than it was, for the work is, with all its humour, a very bitter satire +against both the Roman Church and the Calvinistic. Rabelais is one of the +very great French writers and humourists whose work is closely connected +with English literature. But what he borrowed from Sir Thomas More, he +generously repaid to Shakespeare, Swift, and Sterne. The famous Abbey of +Thelema is inspired by More's "Utopia"; on the other hand, Shakespeare's +praise of debt is taken from the speech of Panurge--the most humorous +character in French literature, and worthy to stand beside Falstaff. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Very Horrific Life of the Great Gargantua</i></h4> + + +<p>Grangousier was a right merry fellow in his time, and he had as great a +love as any man living in the world for neat wine and salt meat. When he +came to man's estate he married Gargamelle, daughter to the king of the +Parpaillons, a jolly wench and good looking, who died in giving birth to a +son.</p> + +<p>They had gone out with their neighbours in a hurl to Willow Grove, and +there on the thick grass they danced so gallantly that it was a heavenly +sport to see them so frolic. Then began flagons to go, gammons to trot, +goblets to fly, and glasses to rattle. "Draw, reach, fill, mix. Give it to +me--without water; so my friend. Whip me off this bowl gallantly. Bring me +some claret, a full glass running over. A truce to thirst! By my faith, +gossip, I cannot get in a drinking humour! Have you caught a cold, gammer? +Let's talk of drinking. Which was first, thirst or drinking? Thirst, for +who would have drunk without thirst in the time of innocence? I do, as I am +a sinner. I drink to prevent thirst. I drink for the thirst to come. Let's +have a song, a catch; let us sing a round. Drink for ever, and you shall +never die! When I am not drinking I am as good as dead. Drink, or I'll--The +appetite comes with eating and the thirst goes with drinking. Nature abhors +a vacuum. Swallow it down, it is wholesome medicine!"</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Gargantua was born. He did not whimper as the +other babes used to do, but with a high, sturdy, and big voice, he shouted +out, "Drink, drink, drink!" The sound was so extremely great that it rang +over two counties. I am afraid that you do not thoroughly believe in the +truth of this strange nativity. Believe it or not, I do not care. But an +honest man, a man of good sense, always believes what is told him, and what +he finds written.</p> + +<p>When the good man Grangousier, who was then merrily drinking with his +guests, heard his son roar out for drink, he said to him in French, "Que +Grand Tu As et souple le gousier!" That is to say, "How great and nimble a +throat thou hast." Hearing this, the company said that the child verily +ought to be called Gargantua, because it was the first word uttered by his +father at his birth. Which the father graciously permitted, and to calm the +child they gave him enough drink to crack his throat, and then carried him +to the font where he was christened according to the manner of good +Christians.</p> + +<p>So great was Gargantua, even when a babe of a day old, that seventeen +thousand nine hundred and thirteen cows were required to furnish him with +milk. By the ancient records to be seen in the chamber of accounts at +Montsoreau, I find that nine thousand six hundred ells of blue velvet were +used for his gown, four hundred and six ells of crimson velvet were taken +up for his shoes, which were soled with the hides of eleven hundred brown +cows; and the rest of his costume was in proportion. By the commandment of +his father, Gargantua was brought up and instructed in all convenient +discipline, and he spent his time like the other children of the +country--that is, in drinking, eating, and sleeping; in eating, sleeping, +and drinking; and in sleeping, drinking, and eating.</p> + +<p>In his youth he studied hard under a very learned man, called Master +Tubal Holofermes, and, after studying with him for five years and three +months, he learnt so much that he was able to say the alphabet backwards. +About this time, the king of Numidia sent out of the country of Africa to +Grangousier, the hugest and most enormous mare that was ever seen. She was +as large as six elephants, and of a burnt sorrel colour with dapple grey +spots; but, above all, she had a horrible tail. For it was little more or +less as great as the pillar of St. Mars, which, as you know, is eighty-six +feet in height.</p> + +<p>When Grangousier saw her, he said, "Here is the very thing to carry my +son to Paris. He shall go there and learn what the study of the young men +of France is, and in time to come he shall be a great scholar!"</p> + +<p>The next morning, after, of course, drinking, Gargantua set out on his +journey. He passed his time merrily along the highway, until he came a +little above Orleans, in which place there was a forest five-and-thirty +leagues long and seventeen wide. This forest was most horribly fertile and +abundant in gadflies and hornets, so that it was a very purgatory for asses +and horses. But Gargantua's mare handsomely avenged all the outrages +committed upon beasts of her kind. For as soon as she entered the forest, +and the hornets gave the attack, she drew out her tail and swished it +about, and swept down all the trees with as much ease as a mower cuts +grass. And since then there has been neither a forest nor a hornet's nest +in that place, for all the country was thereby reduced to pasture land.</p> + +<p>At last Gargantua came to Paris, and inquired what wine they drank +there, and what learning was to be had. Everybody in Paris looked upon him +with great admiration. For the people of this city are by nature so +sottish, idle, and good-for-nothing, that a mountebank, a pardoner come +from Rome to sell indulgences, or a fiddler in the crossways, will attract +together more of them than a good preacher of the Gospel. So troublesome +were they in pursuing Gargantua, that he was compelled to seek a +resting-place on the towers of Notre Dame. There he amused himself by +ringing the great bells, and it came into his mind that they would serve as +cowbells to hang on the neck of his mare, so he carried them off to his +lodging.</p> + +<p>At this all the people of Paris rose up in sedition. They are, as you +know, so ready to uproars and insurrections, that foreign nations wonder at +the stupidity of the kings of France at not restraining them from such +tumultuous courses, seeing the manifold inconveniences which thence arise +from day to day. Believe for a truth, that the place where the people +gathered together was called Nesle; there, after the case was proposed and +argued, they resolved to send the oldest and most able of their learned men +unto Gargantua to explain to him the great and horrible prejudice they +sustained by the want of their bells. Thereupon Gargantua put up the bells +again in their place, and in acknowledgement of his courtesy, the citizens +offered to maintain and feed his mare as long as he pleased. And they sent +her to graze in the forest of Biére, but I do not think she is there +now.</p> + +<p>For some years Gargantua studied at Paris under a wise and able master, +and grew expert in manly sports of all kinds, as well as in learning of +every sort. Then he was called upon to return to his country to take part +in a great and horrible war.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Marvellous Deeds of Friar John</i></h4> + + +<p>The war began in this way: At the time of the vintage, the shepherds of +Grangousier's country were set to guard the vines and hinder the starlings +from eating the grapes. Seeing some cake-bakers of Lerné passing +down the highway with ten or twelve loads of cakes, the shepherds +courteously asked them to sell some of their wares at the market price. The +cake-bakers, however, were in no way inclinable to the request of the +shepherds; and, what is worse, they insulted them hugely, calling them +babblers, broken-mouths, carrot-pates, tunbellies, fly-catchers, sneakbies, +joltheads, slabberdegullion druggels, and other defamatory epithets. And +when one honest shepherd came forward with the money to buy some of the +cakes, a rude cake-baker struck him a rude lash with a whip. Thereupon some +farmers and their men, who were watching their walnuts close by, ran up +with their great poles and long staves, and thrashed the cake-bakers as if +they had been green rye.</p> + +<p>When they were returned to Lerné, the cake-makers complained to +their king, Picrochole, saying that all the mischief was done by the +shepherds of Grangousier. Picrochole incontinently grew angry and furious, +and without making any further question, he had it cried throughout his +country that every man, under pain of hanging, should assemble in arms at +noon before his castle. Thereupon, without order or measure, his men took +the field, ravaging and wasting everything wherever they passed through. +All that they said to any man that cried them mercy, was: "We will teach +you to eat cakes!"</p> + +<p>Having pillaged the town of Seuillé, they went on with the +horrible tumult to an abbey. Finding it well barred and made fast, seven +companies of foot and two hundred lances broke down the walls of the close, +and began to lay waste the vineyard. The poor devils of monks did not know +to what saint to pray in their extremity, and they made processions and +said litanies against their foes. But in the abbey at that time was a +cloister-monk named Friar John of the Trenchermen, young, gallant, frisky, +lusty, nimble, quick, active, bold, resolute, tall, wide-mouthed, and +long-nosed; a fine mumbler of matins, a fair runner through masses, and a +great scourer of vigils--to put it short, a true monk, if ever there was +one since the monking world monked a monkery. This monk, hearing the noise +that the enemy made in the vineyard, went to see what they were doing, and +perceiving that they were gathering the grapes out of which next year's +drink of the abbey ought to be made, he grew mighty angry. "The devil take +me," he cried, "if they have not already chopped our vines so that we shall +have no drink for years to come! Did not St. Thomas of England die for the +goods of the church? If I died in the same cause should I not be a saint +likewise? However, I shall not die for them, but make other men to do +so."</p> + +<p>Throwing off his monk's habit, he took up a cross made out of a sour +apple-tree, which was as long as a lance, and with it he laid on lustily +upon his enemies. He scattered the brains of some, and the legs and arms of +others. He broke their necks; he had off their heads; he smashed their +bones; he caved in their ribs; he impaled them, and he transfixed them. +Believe me, it was a most horrible spectacle that ever man saw. Some died +without speaking, others spoke without dying; some died while they were +speaking, others spoke while they were dying. So great was the cry of the +wounded, that the prior and all his monks came forth, and seeing the poor +wretches hurt to death, began to confess them. But when those who had been +shriven tried to depart, Friar John felled them with a terrible blow, +saying, "These men have had confession and are repentant, so straight they +go into Paradise!"</p> + +<p>Thus by his prowess and valour were discomfited all those of the army, +under the number of thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-two, that +entered the abbey close. Gargantua, who had come from Paris to help his +father against Picrochole, heard of the marvellous feats of Friar John, and +sought his aid, and by means of it utterly defeated the enemy. What became +of Picrochole after his defeat I cannot say with certainty, but I was told +that he is now a porter at Lyons. He always inquires of all strangers on +the coming of the Cocquecigrues, for an old woman has prophesied that at +their coming he shall be re-established in his kingdom.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Abbey of Thelema</i></h4> + + +<p>Gargantua was mightily pleased with Friar John, and he wanted to make +him abbot of several abbeys in his country. But the monk said he would +never take upon him the government of monks. "Give me leave," he said, "to +found an abbey after my own fancy." The notion pleased Gargantua, who +thereupon offered him all the country of Thelema by the river of Loire. +Friar John then asked Gargantua to institute his religious order contrary +to all others. At that time they placed no women into nunneries save those +who were ugly, ill-made, foolish, humpbacked, or corrupt; nor put any men +into monasteries save those that were sickly, ill-born, simple-witted, and +a burden to their family. Therefore, it was ordained that into this abbey +of Thelema should be admitted no women that were not beautiful and of a +sweet disposition, and no men that were not handsome, well-made, and +well-conditioned. And because both men and women that are received into +religious orders are constrained to stay there all the days of their lives, +it was therefore laid down that all men and women admitted to Thelema +should have leave to depart whenever it seemed good to them. And because +monks and nuns made three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, it was +appointed that those who entered into the new order might be rich and +honourably married and live at liberty.</p> + +<p>For the building of the abbey Gargantua gave twenty-seven hundred +thousand eight hundred and thirty-one long-wooled sheep; and for the +maintenance thereof he gave an annual fee-farm rent of twenty-three hundred +and sixty-nine thousand five hundred and fourteen rose nobles. In the +building were nine thousand three hundred and thirty-two apartments, each +furnished with an inner chamber, a cabinet, a wardrobe, a chapel, and an +opening into a great hall. The abbey also contained fine great libraries +and spacious picture galleries.</p> + +<p>All the life of the Thelemites was laid out, not by laws and rules, but +according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose from their beds +when it seemed good to them; they drank, worked, ate, slept, when the wish +came upon them. No one constrained them in anything, for so had Gargantua +established it. Their rule consisted of this one clause:</p> + +<blockquote> +DO WHAT THOU WILT<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>Because men are free, well-born, well-bred, conversant in honest +company, have by nature an instinct and a spur that always prompt them to +virtuous actions and withdraw them from vice; and this they style honour. +When the time was come that any man wished to leave the abbey, he carried +with him one of the ladies who had taken him for her faithful servant, and +they were married together; and if they had formerly lived together in +Thelema in devotion and friendship, still more did they so continue in +wedlock; insomuch that they loved one another to the end of their lives, as +on the first day of their marriage.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Pantagruel and Panurge</i></h4> + + +<p>At the age of four hundred four score and forty-four years, Gargantua +had a son by his wife, Badebec, daughter of one of the kings of Utopia. And +because in the year that his son was born there was a great drought, +Gargantua gave him the name of Pantagruel; for panta in Greek is as much as +to say all, and gruel in the Arabic language has the same meaning as +thirsty. Moreover, Gargantua foresaw, in the spirit of prophesy, that +Pantagruel would one day be the ruler of the thirsty race, and that if he +lived very long he would arrive at a goodly age.</p> + +<p>Like his father, Pantagruel went to Paris to study. There his spirit +among his books was like fire among heather, so indefatigable was it and +ardent. One day as Pantagruel was taking a walk without the city he met a +man of a comely stature and elegant in all the lineaments of his body, but +most pitifully wounded, and clad in tatters and rags.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, my friend?" said Pantagruel. "What do you want, and what +is your name?" The man answered him in German, gibberish, Italian, English, +Basque, Lantern-language, Dutch, Spanish, Danish, Hebrew, Greek, Breton, +and Latin.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my friend," replied Pantagruel, when the man had come to an +end, "can you speak French?"</p> + +<p>"That I can very well, sir," he replied, "for my name is Panurge, and I +was bred and born in Touraine, which is the garden of France. I have just +come from Turkey, where I was taken prisoner, and my throat is so parched +and my stomach so empty that if you will only put a meal before me, it will +be a fine sight for you to see me walk into it."</p> + +<p>Pantagruel had conceived a great affection for the wandering scholar, +and he took him home and set a great store of food before him. Panurge ate +right on until the evening, went to bed as soon as he finished, slept till +dinner time next day, so that he only made three steps and a jump from bed +to table. Panurge was of a middle height, and had a nose like that of the +handle of a razor. He was a very gallant and proper man in his person, and +the greatest thief, drinker, roysterer, and rake in Paris. With all that, +he was the best fellow in the world, and he was always contriving some +mischief or other. Pantagruel, being pleased with him, gave him the +castellany of Salmigondin, which was yearly worth 6,789,106,789 royals of +certain rent; besides the uncertain revenue of cockchafers and snails, +amounting one year with another to the value of 2,435,768, or 2,435,769 +French crowns of Berry. Sometimes it amounted to 1,234,554,321 seraphs, +when it was a good season, and cockchafers and snails in request; but that +was not every year.</p> + +<p>The new castellan conducted himself so well and prudently than in less +than fourteen days he wasted all the revenue of his castellany for three +whole years. Yet he did not throw it away in building churches and founding +monasteries, but spent it in a thousand little banquets and joyful +festivals, keeping open house for all good fellows and pretty girls who +came that way.</p> + +<p>Pantagruel being advertised of the affair was in no wise offended. He +only took Panurge aside, and sweetly represented to him that if he +continued to live in this manner it would be difficult at any time to make +him rich.</p> + +<p>"Rich?" answered Panurge. "Have you undertaken the impossible task to +make me rich? Be prudent, like me, and borrow money beforehand, for you +never know how things will turn out."</p> + +<p>"But," said Pantagruel, "when will you be out of debt?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord forbid I should ever be out of debt," replied Panurge. "Are +you indebted to somebody? He will pray night and morning that your life may +be blessed, long and prosperous. Fearing to lose his debt, he will always +speak good of you in every company; moreover, he will continually get new +creditors for you, in the hope, that, through them, you will be able to pay +him."</p> + +<p>To this Pantagruel answering nothing. Panurge went on with his +discourse, saying: "To think that you should run full tilt at me and twit +me with my debts and creditors! In this one thing only do I esteem myself +worshipful, reverend, and formidable. I have created something out of +nothing--a line of fair and jolly creditors! Imagine how glad I am when I +see myself, every morning, surrounded by them, humble, fawning, and full of +reverence. You ask me when I will be out of debt. May the good Saint +Babolin snatch me, if I have not always held that debt was the connection +and tie between the heavens and the earth; the only bond of union of the +human race; without it the whole progeny of Adam would soon perish. A world +without debts! Everything would be in disorder. The planets, reckoning they +were not indebted to each other, would thrust themselves out of their +sphere. The sun would not lend any light to the earth. No rain would +descend on it, no wind blow there, and there would be no summer or harvest. +Faith, hope, and charity will be quite banished from such a world; and what +would happen to our bodies? The head would not lend the sight of its eyes +to guide the hands and the feet; the feet would refuse to carry the head, +and the hands would leave off working for it. Life would go out of the +body, and the chafing soul would take its flight after my money.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I shall be pleased to represent unto your fancy +another world, in which everyone lends and everyone owes. Oh, how great +will be the harmony among mankind! I lose myself in this contemplation. +There will be peace among men; love, affection, fidelity, feastings, joy, +and gladness; gold, silver, and merchandise will trot from hand to hand. +There will be no suits of law, no wars, no strife. All will be good, all +will be fair, all will be just. Believe me, it is a divine thing to lend, +and an heroic virtue to owe. Yet this is not all. We owe something to +posterity."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" said Pantagruel.</p> + +<p>"The task of creating it," said Panurge. "I have a mind to marry and get +children."</p> + +<p>"We must consult the Oracle of the Divine Bottle," exclaimed Pantagruel, +"before you enter on so dangerous an undertaking. Come, let us prepare for +the voyage."</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--The Divine Bottle</i></h4> + + +<p>Pantagruel knew that the Oracle of the Divine Bottle could only be +reached by a perilous voyage in unknown seas and strange islands. But, +undismayed by this knowledge, he fitted out a great fleet at St. Malo, and +sailed beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Lantern Land. As they were voyaging +along, beyond the desolate land of the Popefigs and the blessed island of +the Papemanes, Pantagruel heard voices in the air, and the pilot said: "Be +not afraid, my lord! We are on the confines of the frozen sea, where there +was a great fight last winter between the Arimaspians and the +Nepheliabetes. The cries of the men, the neighing of the horses, and all +the din of battle froze in the air, and now that the warm season is come, +they are melting into sound."</p> + +<p>"Look," said Pantagruel, "here are some that are not yet thawed." And he +threw on deck great handfuls of frozen words, seeming like sugar-plums of +many colours. Panurge warmed some of them in his hands, and they melted +like snow into a barbarous gibberish. Panurge prayed Pantagruel to give him +some more, but Pantagruel told him that to give words was the part of a +lover.</p> + +<p>"Sell me some, then," cried Panurge.</p> + +<p>"That is the part of a lawyer," said Pantagruel. But he threw three or +four more handfuls of them on the deck, and as they melted all the noises +of the battle rang about the ship.</p> + +<p>From this point Pantagruel sailed straight for Lantern Land, and came to +the desired island in which was the Oracle of the Bottle. On the front of +the Doric portal was engraved in fine gold the sentence: "In Wine, Truth." +The noble priestess, Bachuc, led Panurge to the fountain in the temple, +within which was placed the Divine Bottle. After he had danced round it +three Bacchic dances, she threw a magic powder into the fountain, and its +water began to boil violently and Panurge sat upon the ground and waited +for the oracle. First of all a noise like that made by bees at their birth +came from the Divine Bottle, and immediately after this was heard the word, +"Drink!"</p> + +<p>The priestess then filled some small leather vessels with this fantastic +water, and gave them to Panurge and Pantagruel, saying: "If you have +observed what is written above the temple gates, you at last know that +truth is hidden in wine. Be yourselves the expounders of your undertaking, +and now go, friends, in the protection of that intellectual sphere, the +centre of which is in all places and the circumference nowhere, which we +call God. What has become of the art of calling down from heaven, thunder +and celestial fire, once invented by the wise Prometheus? You have +certainly lost it. Your philosophers who complain that all things were +written by the ancients, and that nothing is left for them to invent, are +evidently wrong. When they shall give their labour and study to search out, +with prayer to the sovereign God (whom the Egyptians named the Hidden and +Concealed, and invoking Him by that name, besought Him to manifest and +discover Himself to them), He will grant to them, partly guided by good +Lanterns, knowledge of Himself and His creatures. For all philosophers and +ancient sages have considered two things necessary for the sure and +pleasant pursuit of the way of divine knowledge and choice of wisdom--the +goodness of God, and the company of men.</p> + +<p>"Now go, in the name of God, and may He guide you."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHARLES_READE"></a>CHARLES READE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Hard_Cash"></a>Hard Cash</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Charles Reade made his first appearance as an author +comparatively late in life. He was the son of an English squire, born at +Ipsden on June 8, 1814, and was educated for the Bar, being entered at +Lincoln's Inn in 1843. His literary career began as dramatist, and it is +significant that it was his own wish that the word "dramatist" should stand +first in the description of his works on his tombstone. His maiden effort +in stage literature, "The Ladies' Battle," was produced in 1851; but it was +not until November, 1852, with the appearance of "Masks and Faces"--the +story which he afterwards adapted into prose under the title of "Peg +Woffington"--that Reade became famous as a playwright. From 1852 until his +death, which occurred on April 11, 1884, Reade's life is mainly a catalogue +of novels and dramas. Like many of Charles Reade's works, "Hard Cash, a +Matter-of-Fact Romance," is a novel with a purpose, and was written with +the object of exposing abuses connected with the lunacy laws and the +management of private lunatic asylums. Entitled "Very Hard Cash," it first +appeared serially in the pages of "All the Year Round," then under the +editorship of Charles Dickens, and although its success in that form was by +no means extraordinary, its popularity on its publication in book form in +1863 was well deserved and emphatic. The appearance of "Hard Cash," which +is a sequel to a comparatively trivial tale, "Love me Little, Love me +Long," provoked much hostile criticism from certain medical +quarters--criticism to which Reade replied with vehemence and +characteristic vigour. His activity in the campaign against the abuses of +lunacy law did not end with the publication of this story, since he +conducted personal investigations in many individual cases of false +imprisonment under pretence of lunacy. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Dodd and Hardie Families</i></h4> + + +<p>In a snowy-villa, just outside the great commercial seaport, Barkington, +there lived, a few years ago, a happy family. A lady, middle-aged, but +still charming; two young friends of hers, and an occasional visitor.</p> + +<p>The lady was Mrs. Dodd; her periodical visitor her husband, the captain +of an East Indiaman; her friends were her son Edward, aged twenty, and her +daughter, Julia, nineteen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodd was the favourite companion and bosom friend of both her +children. They were remarkably dissimilar. Edward was comely and manly, no +more; could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it; could row all day, +and then dance all night; and could not learn his lessons to save his +life.</p> + +<p>In his sister Julia modesty, intelligence, and, above all, enthusiasm +shone, and made her an incarnate sunbeam.</p> + +<p>This one could learn her lessons with unreasonable rapidity, and Mrs. +Dodd educated her herself, from first to last; but Edward she sent to Eton, +where he made good progress--in aquatics and cricket.</p> + +<p>In spite of his solemn advice--"you know, mamma, I've got no +headpiece"--he was also sent to Oxford, and soon found he could not have +carried his wares to a better market. Advancing steadily in that line of +study towards which his genius lay, he was soon as much talked about in the +university as any man in his college, except one. Singularly enough, that +one was his townsman--much Edward's senior in standing, though not in age. +Young Alfred Hardie was doge of a studious clique, and careful to make it +understood that he was a reading man who boated and cricketed to avoid the +fatigue of lounging.</p> + +<p>To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated laurel, Edward looked up +from a distance, praised him and recorded his triumphs in all his letters; +but he, thinking nothing human worthy of reverence but intellect, was not +attracted by Edward, till at Henley he saw Julia, and lo! true life had +dawned. He passed the rest of the term in a soft ecstasy, called often on +Edward, and took a prodigious interest in him, and counted the days till he +should be for four months in the same town as his enchantress. Within a +month of his arrival in Barkington he obtained Mrs. Dodd's permission to +ask his father's consent to propose an engagement to Julia, which was +promptly refused; and inquiry, petulance, tenderness, and logic were alike +wasted on Mr. Hardie by his son in vain. He would give no reason. But Mrs. +Dodd, knowing him of old, had little doubt, and watched her daughter day +and night to find whether love or pride was the stronger, all the mother in +arms to secure her daughter's happiness. Finding this really at stake, she +explained that she knew the nature of Mr. Hardie's objections, and they +were objections that her husband, on his return, would remove. "My +darling," she said, "pray for your father's safe return, for on him, and on +him alone, your happiness depends, as mine does."</p> + +<p>Next day Mrs. Dodd walked two hours with Alfred, and his hopes revived +under her magic, as Julia's had. The wise woman quietly made terms. He was +not to come to the house except on her invitation, unless indeed he had +news of the Agra to communicate; but he might write once a week, and +enclose a few lines to Julia. On this he proceeded to call her his best, +dearest, loveliest friend--his mother. That touched her. Hitherto he had +been to her but a thing her daughter loved. Her eyes filled.</p> + +<p>"My poor, warm-hearted, motherless boy," she said, "pray for my +husband's safe return."</p> + +<p>So now two more bright eyes looked longingly seaward for the Agra, +homeward bound.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Richard Hardie's Villainy</i></h4> + + +<p>Richard Hardie was at that moment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to +decline Julia Dodd, with hard cash in five figures, for his +daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>The great banker stood, a colossus of wealth and stability to the eye, +though ready to crumble at a touch, and, indeed, self-doomed; for +bankruptcy was now his game. This was a miserable man, far more so than his +son, whose happiness he was thwarting; and of all things that gnawed him, +none was more bitter than to have borrowed £5,000 of his children's +trust money, and sunk it. His son's marriage would expose him; lawyers +would peer into trusts, etc.</p> + +<p>When his son announced his attachment to a young lady living in a +suburban villa it was a terrible blow, but if Alfred had told him hard cash +in five figures could be settled by the bride's family on the young couple, +he would have welcomed the wedding with a secret gush of joy, for he could +then have thrown himself on Alfred's generosity, and been released from +that one corroding debt.</p> + +<p>He had for months spent his days poring over the books, fabricating and +maturing a false balance-sheet. Suspecting that the cashier was watching +him, he one day handed him his dismissal, polite but peremptory, and went +on cooking his accounts with surpassing dignity. Rage supplying the place +of courage, the cashier let him know that he--poor, despised Noah +Skinner--had kept genuine books while he had been preparing false ones.</p> + +<p>He was at the mercy of his servant, and bowed his pride to flatter +Skinner, and soon saw this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. He +became his accomplice, and on this his master told him everything it was +impossible to keep from him. At this moment Captain Dodd was announced. Mr. +Hardie explained to his new ally the danger that threatened him from Miss +Julia Dodd.</p> + +<p>"And now," said he, "the women have sent the father to soften me. I +shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy."</p> + +<p>But, instead of the heartbroken father he expected, in came the gallant +sailor, with a brown cheek reddened with triumph and excitement, who held +out his hand cordially, almost shouting in a jovial voice, "Well, sir, here +I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife; what d'ye +think of that?"</p> + +<p>Hardie stared, and remained on his guard, puzzled; while David Dodd +showed his pocket-book, and in the pride of his heart, and the fever in his +blood--for there were two red spots on his cheeks all the time--told the +cold pair its adventures in a few glowing words; the Calcutta firm--the two +pirates--the hurricane--the wrecks, the land-sharks he had saved it from. +"And here it is safe, in spite of them all, and you must be good enough to +take care of it for me."</p> + +<p>He then opened the pocket-book, and Mr. Hardie ran over the notes and +bills, and said the amount was £14,010 12s. 6d.</p> + +<p>Dodd asked for a receipt, and while it was written poor Dodd's heart +overflowed.</p> + +<p>"It's my children's fortune, you see; I don't look on a sixpence of it +as mine. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her, she's a rosebud if ever +there was one; and my boy Edward, he's the honestest young chap you ever +saw; but how could they miss either good looks or good hearts, and her +children? Here's a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh and blood, but you +know how it is with us fathers; our hearts are so full of the little +darlings, out it must come. You can imagine how joyful I feel at saving +their fortune from land-sharks, and landing it safe in an honest man's +hands."</p> + +<p>Skinner gave him the receipt.</p> + +<p>"All right, little gentleman; now my heart is relieved of such a weight. +Good-bye, shake hands. God bless you! God bless you both!" And with this he +was out and making ardently for Albion Villa.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Ten minutes later the door burst open, and David Dodd stood on the +threshold, looking terrible. He seemed black and white with anger and +anxiety. Making a great effort to control his agitation, he said, "I have +changed my mind, sir; I want my money back."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hardie said faintly, "Certainly; may I ask----"</p> + +<p>"No matter," cried Dodd. "Come! My money! I must and will have it."</p> + +<p>Hardie drew himself up majestically; and Dodd said, "Well, I beg your +pardon, but I can't help it!"</p> + +<p>The banker's mind went into a whirl. It was death to part with this +money and get nothing by it. He made excuses. Dodd eyed him sternly, and +said quietly, "So you can't give me my money because your cashier has +carried it away. It is not in this room, then?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What, not in that safe there?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Hardie stoutly.</p> + +<p>"My money! My money!" cried David fiercely. "No more words. I know you +now. I <i>saw</i> you put it in that safe. You want to steal my children's +money. My money, ye pirate, or I'll strangle you!"</p> + +<p>While Hardie unlocked the safe with trembling hands, Dodd stood like a +man petrified; the next moment his teeth gnashed loudly together, and he +fell headlong on the floor in a fit. So the £14,000 remained with the +banker.</p> + +<p>Not many days after this a crowd stood in front of the old bank, looking +at the shutters, and a piece of paper announcing a suspension, only for a +month or so.</p> + +<p>Many things now came to Alfred Hardie's knowledge till he began to +shudder at his own father, and was troubled with dark, mysterious surmises, +and wandered alone, or sat brooding and dejected. Richard Hardie's anxiety +to know whether David Dodd was to live or die increased. He was now +resolved to fly to the United States with his booty, and cheat his son with +the rest. On his putting a smooth inquiry to Alfred, his face flushed with +shame or anger, and he gave a very short, obscure reply. So he invited the +doctor to dinner, and elicited the information that David's life indeed was +saved, but he was a maniac; and his sister, a sensible, resolute woman, had +signed the certificate, and he was now in a private asylum.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hardie smiled, and sipped his tea luxuriously; he would not have to +go to a foreign land after all. Who would believe a lunatic? He said, "I +presume, Alfred, you are not so far gone as to insist on propagating +insanity by a marriage with Captain Dodd's daughter now?"</p> + +<p>Alfred ground his teeth, and replied that his father should be the last +man to congratulate himself on the affliction that had fallen on that +family he aspired to enter, all the more now they had calamities for him to +share.</p> + +<p>"More fool you," put in Mr. Hardie calmly.</p> + +<p>"For I much fear you are the cause of that calamity."</p> + +<p>"I really don't know what you allude to."</p> + +<p>The son fixed his eyes on his father, and said, "The fourteen thousand +pounds, sir!"</p> + +<p>One unguarded look confirmed Alfred's suspicions; he could not bear to +go on exposing his father, and wandered out, sore perplexed and nobly +wretched, into the night.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Alfred in Confinement</i></h4> + + +<p>At last Alfred decided that justice <i>must</i> be done, and confided +his suspicions to the Dodds. Edward's good commonsense at once settled +that, as the man who married Julia would be the greatest sufferer by Hardie +senior's fraud, Hardie junior should settle his own £10,000 on her, +and marry her as soon as he came of age. Alfred joyfully agreed, privately +arranging that the money should be settled on Julia's parents, and +preparations went on apace.</p> + +<p>But on the wedding-day the bridal party waited in vain for the +bridegroom, and Edward ran to his lodgings to fetch him.</p> + +<p>He came back alone, white with wrath, hurried the insulted bride and her +mother into the carriage, and they went home as if from a funeral. Aye, and +a funeral it was; for the sweetest girl in England buried her hopes, her +laugh, her May of youth that day.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible this heartbroken trio removed to London, where Mrs. +Dodd became a dressmaker, and Edward a fireman.</p> + +<p>It was true Alfred <i>had</i> received a letter in a female hand, but it +was from a discharged servant of his father's, offering information about +the £14,000 if he would come to a house about ten miles off the next +morning. He calculated he could do so, and still be in the church in time, +and drove there with all his luggage, only to find himself shut up in a +lunatic asylum.</p> + +<p>He made a desperate resistance, but was soon overpowered and left +handcuffed, hobbled, and strapped down, more helpless than a swaddled +infant. He lay mute as death in his gloomy cell; deeper horror grew and +grew, gusts of rage swept over him, gusts of despair. What would his Julia +think? He shouted, he screamed, he prayed. He saw her, lovelier than ever, +all in white, waiting for him, with sweet concern in her peerless face. +Half-past ten struck. He struggled, he writhed, he made the very room +shake, and lacerated his flesh, but that was all. No answer, no help, no +hope.</p> + +<p>By-and-by his good wit told him his only chance was calmness; they could +not long confine him as a madman, being sane. But all his efforts to +convince his keepers that he was sane were useless; his letters seemed to +go, but he got no answers; his appeals to visiting justices were in vain. +The responsibility rested with the people who signed the certificates, and +he could not even find out who they were. After months of softening hearts +and buying consciences, he was on the point of escape, when he was moved to +another asylum. Here there was no brutality, but constant watchfulness; and +he had almost prevailed on the doctor to declare him cured when he was +again moved to a still more brutal place, if possible, than the first.</p> + +<p>One day he found himself locked in his room. This was unusual, for +though they called him a lunatic in words, they called him sane by all +their acts. He thought the commissioners must be in the house; had he known +who really was in the house he would have beaten himself to pieces against +the door.</p> + +<p>At dinner there was a new patient, very mild and silent, with a +beautiful mild brown eye like some gentle animal's. Alfred contrived to say +some kind word to him; and the newcomer handled his forelock, and announced +himself as William Thompson, adding, with simple pride, "Able seaman, just +come aboard, your honour."</p> + +<p>At night Alfred dreamed he heard Julia's sweet, mellow voice speaking to +him; and lo, it was the able seaman. He slept no more, but lay sighing.</p> + +<p>The matron told him this was David Dodd, Alfred redoubled his efforts to +escape, and at last one of the keepers consented to help him off. He was +sitting on his bed full dressed, full of hope, his money in his pocket, +waiting for his liberator. Every moment he expected to hear the key in the +door.</p> + +<p>Then came a smell of burning, and feet ran up and down. "Fire!" rang +from men's voices. Fire cracked above his head; he sprang up at the window, +and dashed his hand through it, and fell back. He sprang again, and caught +the woodwork; it gave way, and he fell back, nearly stunning himself. The +flames roared fearfully now, and David, thinking it was a tempest, shouted +appropriate orders. Alfred implored him, and got him to kneel down with +him, and prayed. He gave up all hope, and prepared to die.</p> + +<p>Crash! As if discharged from a cannon, came bursting through the window +a helmeted figure, rope in hand, and alighted erect and commanding on the +floor. All three faces came together, and Edward recognised his father and +Alfred Hardie. Edward clawed his rope to the bed, and hauled up a rope +ladder, crying, "Now, men, quick for your lives!" But poor David called +that deserting the ship, and demurred, till Alfred assured him the captain +had ordered it. He then touched his forelock to Edward, and went down the +ladder. Alfred followed.</p> + +<p>They were at once overpowered with curiosity and sympathy, and had to +shake a hundred hands.</p> + +<p>"Gently, good friends; don't part us," said Alfred.</p> + +<p>"He's the keeper," said one of the crowd, and all helped them to the +back door.</p> + +<p>Alfred ran off across country for bare life. To his horror, David +followed him, shouting cheerily, "Go ahead, messmate, I smell blue +water."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then!" cried Alfred, half mad himself; and the pair ran +furiously the livelong night. Free!</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Into Smooth Waters</i></h4> + + +<p>Exhilarated by freedom, Alfred began to nurse aspiring projects; he +would indict his own father and the doctor, and wipe off the stigma they +had cast on him. Meantime, he would cure David and restore him to his +family. They bowled along towards blue water with a perfect sense of +security. But at Folkestone, David disappeared, and Alfred, hearing as he +ran wildly all over the place that there was "another party on the same +lay"--the mad gentleman's wife--took the first train to London, dispirited +and mortified. David was in good hands, however, and Alfred had glorious +work on hand--love and justice.</p> + +<p>He at once put his affairs into a lawyer's hands, and thought of love +alone. After a violent encounter with his late keepers and a narrow escape +from capture, in the midst of Elysium with Julia, her mother returned in +despair. David had completely disappeared. Again these lovers were +separated, and again Edward's commonsense came to the rescue. Alfred went +back to Oxford to read for his first class, and Julia to her district +visiting, while the terrible delays of the law went on. Alfred had begun to +believe trial by jury would never be allowed him, and when at last, after +many postponements, the trial did come on, he was being examined in the +schools, and refused to come till his counsel had actually opened the case. +Mr. Thomas Hardie, Alfred's uncle, was the defendant, for it was proved he +had authorised Alfred's arrest.</p> + +<p>A detective had been employed to find Mr. Barkington, a little man in +Julia's district, whom the lawyers suspected might be useful; and when the +trial was half over, he led them all in great excitement to the back slums +of Westminster. Mr. Barkington, <i>alias</i> Noah Skinner, was wanted by +another client of his.</p> + +<p>The room was full of an acrid vapour, and a mummified figure sat at the +table, dead this many a day of charcoal fumes; in his hand a banker's +receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for £14,000. The lawyer was handing it +to Julia, having just found a will bequeathing all Skinner had in the world +to her, with his blessing, when a solemn voice said: "No; it is mine."</p> + +<p>A keen cry from Julia's heart, and in an instant she was clinging round +her father's neck. Edward could only get at his hand. Instinct told them +Heaven had given them back their father, mind and all.</p> + +<p>Alfred Hardie slipped out, and ran like a deer to tell Mrs. Dodd.</p> + +<p>Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd's room. No eyes ventured to +witness a scene so strange, so sacred.</p> + +<p>They all thought in their innocence that Hardie <i>v</i>. Hardie was now +at an end, with Captain Dodd ready to prove Alfred's sanity; but the lawyer +advised them not to put the captain to the agitation of the +witness-box.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thomas Hardie, the defendant, won the case for Alfred by admitting +in the witness-box that his brother Richard had declared that "if you don't +put Alfred in a madhouse, I will put you in one."</p> + +<p>The jury found for the plaintiff, Alfred Hardie, and gave the damages at +£3,000. The verdict was received with acclamation by the people, and +in the midst of this Alfred's lawyer announced that the plaintiff had just +gained his first class at Oxford.</p> + +<p>Mr. Richard Hardie restored the £14,000, and a few years later +died a monomaniac, believing himself penniless when he possessed +£60,000.</p> + +<p>Alfred married Julia, and, with the consent of his wife, took his father +to live with them. Then Alfred determined to pay in full all who had been +ruined by the bank failure, and in time the old bank was reopened with +Edward Dodd as managing partner. In the end, no creditor of Richard Hardie +was left unpaid. Alfred went in for politics and became an M.P. for +Barkington; whence to dislodge him I pity anyone who tries.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="It_Is_Never_Too_Late_to_Mend"></a>It Is Never Too Late to +Mend</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "It is Never Too Late to Mend, a Matter-of-Fact Romance," +published in 1856, is, like "Hard Cash," a story with a purpose, the object +in this instance being to illustrate the abuses of prison discipline in +England and Australia. Many of the passages describing Australian life are +exceptionally vivid and imaginative, and exhibit Charles Reade, if not in +the front rank of novelists of his day, at least occupying a high position. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--In Berkshire</i></h4> + + +<p>George Fielding, assisted by his brother William, tilled The Grove--as +nasty a little farm as any in Berkshire. It was four hundred acres, all +arable, and most of it poor, sour land. A bad bargain, and the farmer being +sober, intelligent, proud, sensitive, and unlucky, is the more to be +pitied.</p> + +<p>Susanna Merton was beautiful and good; George Fielding and she were +acknowledged lovers, but latterly old Merton had seemed cool whenever his +daughter mentioned the young man's name.</p> + +<p>William Fielding, George's brother, was in love with his brother's +sweetheart, but he never looked at her except by stealth; he knew he had no +business to love her.</p> + +<p>While George Fielding had been going steadily down-hill, till even the +bank declined to give him credit, Mr. Meadows, who had been a carter, was, +at forty years of age, a rich corn-factor and land surveyor.</p> + +<p>This John Meadows was not a common man. He had a cool head, and an iron +will; and he had the soul of business--method.</p> + +<p>Meadows was generally respected; by none more than by old Merton. In +fact, it seemed to Merton that John Meadows would make a better son-in-law +than George Fielding.</p> + +<p>The day came when a distress was issued against Fielding's farm for the +rent, and as it happened on that very day Susan and her father had come to +dinner at The Grove. Old Merton, knowing how things stood, spoke his mind +to George.</p> + +<p>"You are too much of a man, I hope, to eat a woman's bread; and if you +are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it. If Susan marries you she +will have to keep you instead of you her."</p> + +<p>"Is this from Susanna, as well as you?" said George, with a trembling +lip.</p> + +<p>"Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to."</p> + +<p>This was blow number two for George Fielding. The third stroke on that +day was the arrest of Mr. Robinson who had been staying at The Grove as a +lodger. Mr. Robinson dressed well, too well, perhaps, but somehow the +rustics wouldn't accept him for a gentleman. George had taken a great +liking to his lodger, and Mr. Robinson was equally sincere in his +friendship for Fielding. And now it turned out that the fools who had +disparaged Robinson were right, and he, George Fielding, wrong. Before his +eyes, and amidst the grins of a score of gaping yokels, Thomas Robinson, +alias Scott, a professional thief, was handcuffed and carried off to the +county gaol.</p> + +<p>This finished George. An invitation to go out to Australia with the +younger son of a neighbouring landowner, hitherto disregarded, was now +accepted.</p> + +<p>Old Merton approved the decision, and when his daughter implored him not +to let George go, he replied plainly, to both of them:</p> + +<p>"Susan! Mayhap the lad thinks me his enemy, but I'm not. My daughter +shall not marry a bankrupt farmer, but you bring home a thousand +pounds--just one thousand pounds--to show me you are not a fool, and you +shall have my daughter, and she shall have my blessing." And the old farmer +gave George his hand upon it.</p> + +<p>Meadows exulted, thinking, with George in Australia, he could secure his +own way with Susan and old Merton. He had forgotten one man; old Isaac +Levi, of whom he had made an implacable enemy, by insisting on his turning +out of the house where he lived. Meadows, having bought the house, intended +to live in it himself, and treated the prayers and entreaties of the old +Jew with contempt. Only the interference of George Fielding, on the day of +his own ruin, had saved old Levi from personal violence at the hands of +Meadows; and so while George was sinking under the blows of fortune, he had +made a friend in Isaac Levi.</p> + +<p>Before George sailed William promised that he would think no more of +Susan as a sweetheart.</p> + +<p>"She's my sister from this hour--no more, no less," he declared. "And +may the red blight fall on my arm and my heart if I or any man takes her +from you--any man! Sooner than a hundred men should take her from you while +I am here I'd die at their feet a hundred times."</p> + +<p>William kept his eye on Meadows, but Meadows soon had William in his +clutches. For John Meadows lent money upon ricks, waggons, leases, and such +things, to farmers in difficulties, employing as his agent in these +transactions a middle-aged, disreputable lawyer named Peter Crawley--a +cunning fool and a sot.</p> + +<p>First William Fielding, and then old Merton were heavy debtors to Peter +Crawley, that is to John Meadows; for Merton, a solid enough farmer, was +beguiled into rash and ruinous speculations by a friend of Meadows'.</p> + +<p>And now George Fielding is gone to Australia to make a thousand pounds +by farming and cattle-feeding, so that he may marry Susan. Susan, at home, +is often pensive and always anxious, but not despondent. Meadows is falling +deeper and deeper in love, but keeping it jealously secret; on his guard +against Isaac Levi, and on his guard against William; hoping everything +from time and accidents, and from George's incapacity to make money; and +watching with keen eye and working with subtle threads to draw everybody +into his power who could assist or thwart him in his object. William +Fielding is going down the hill, Meadows was mounting; getting the better +of his passion, and gradually substituting a brother-in-law's regard. +Within eighteen months William was happily married to another farmer's +daughter in the neighbourhood.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--In Gaol</i></h4> + + +<p>Under Governor Hawes the separate and silent system flourished in ---- +gaol, and the local justices entirely approved the system. In the view of +Hawes and the justices severe punishment of mind and body was the essential +object of a gaol.</p> + +<p>Now Tom Robinson had not been in gaol these four years, and though he +had heard much of the changes in gaol treatment, they had not yet come home +to him. When, therefore, instead of being greeted with the boisterous +acclamations of other spirits as bad as himself, he was ushered into a cell +white as driven snow, and his duties explained to him, the heavy penalty he +was under should a speck of dirt ever be discovered on the walls or floor, +Thomas looked blank and had a misgiving. To his dismay he found that the +silent cellular system was even carried out in the chapel, where each +prisoner had a sort of sentry-box to himself, and that the hour's promenade +for exercise conversation was equally impossible.</p> + +<p>The turnkeys were surly and forbidding, and the hours dragged wearily to +this active-minded prisoner. Robinson was driven to appeal to the governor +to put him on hard labour.</p> + +<p>"We'll choose the time for that," said the governor, with a knowing +smile. "You'll be worse before you are better, my man."</p> + +<p>On the tenth day Robinson tried to exchange a word with a prisoner in +chapel, and for this he was taken to the black-hole.</p> + +<p>Now Robinson was a man of rare capacity, full of talent and the courage +and energy that show in action, but not rich in the fortitude that bears +much. When they took him out of the black-hole, after six hours' +confinement, he was observed to be white as a sheet, and to tremble +violently all over.</p> + +<p>The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be +sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and +reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he +was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after that, +came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post with an +iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up from a +well.</p> + +<p>"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner," +was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it +impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the +unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.</p> + +<p>This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a +rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed in +the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar. +Weakened by fever, he succumbed sooner than the torturers had calculated +upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had not +been released.</p> + +<p>Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by +a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every +time he fainted, water was thrown over him.</p> + +<p>The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so +that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He will +break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"</p> + +<p>Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side +of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his soul +more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the vices of the +old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical effect of +solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a desperate appeal +to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but you--not one. Have pity +on us."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of +standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and +governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.</p> + +<p>Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said +to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"</p> + +<p>It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office, +and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the +punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners, and +in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official inquiry +by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane regime was +instituted in the gaol.</p> + +<p>For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but +when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the +darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity +preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn to +honesty.</p> + +<p>Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the +promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's +future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish where +Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted with Susan, +and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas Robinson goes to +Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave almost immediately. I +have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that poor Robinson with such a +companion would be as honest as the day, and a useful friend, for he is +full of resources. So I want you to do a Christian act, and write a note to +Mr. Fielding, and let this poor fellow take it to him."</p> + +<p>Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict +ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George Fielding +at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan, and his own +readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between the two +men.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Between Australia and Berkshire</i></h4> + + +<p>Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all +George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George was +in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever until +Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the letters +gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he decided Susan +must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must not return. By +this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and saw escape from +bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law, while Susan was kindly +disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of love, and was willing to +talk about Australia.</p> + +<p>Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.</p> + +<p>"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. <i>I</i> work +thus: I stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from +Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a +girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she gets +no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention his +name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan thinks +George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's distress. I ask +him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's debts and start him +afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no, perhaps, three or four +times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley, the day that John and Susan +Meadows walk out of church man and wife I put a thousand pounds into your +hand and set you up in any business you like; in any honest business, that +is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am working, this George Fielding were to +come home with money in both pockets?"</p> + +<p>"He would kick it all down in a moment."</p> + +<p>"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand +pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My very +brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a journey, +and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."</p> + +<p>"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning. To Australia."</p> + +<p>A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless +faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.</p> + +<p>To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most +villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for Fielding +and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came to George +Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of all the +robbers and assassins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in fact, not only +saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent he was elected +captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some sort of law and +order were established throughout the camp, and all thefts were heavily +punished.</p> + +<p>The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these +two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched £3,800, and when +Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found +they had already sailed for England.</p> + +<p>George Fielding went to Australia to make £1,000, and by industry, +sobriety, and cattle, he did not make £1,000; but, with the help of a +converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make +several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many wicked +devices and wicked men.</p> + +<p>Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to +keep George from coming back to Susan with £1,000, and his left hand +failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--George Fielding's Return</i></h4> + + +<p>One market day a whisper passed through Farnborough that George Fielding +had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and was +going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought the +whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.</p> + +<p>When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could +no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or +dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea of +setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long been +prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy way to +prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said, "Father, +George is dead."</p> + +<p>Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room +pale as ashes.</p> + +<p>Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had +received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of the +prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."</p> + +<p>"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank God he is alive. I will not cry for +another woman's husband."</p> + +<p>It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her +father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection, +and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried to +give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was +inaccessible.</p> + +<p>The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at +hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The following +Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the preceding +Thursday.</p> + +<p>The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson; +they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where +Meadows was taking a glass of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The +travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it +for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into +the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the room +where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found +£7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off +undetected.</p> + +<p>He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to +Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George +Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his +daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on old +Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George Fielding. I +am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan £7,000 will be put in +George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall know. I +am a sinner, but not a villain."</p> + +<p>He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said +coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."</p> + +<p>Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and +in twelve hours I will be in France!"</p> + +<p>Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition +Crawley went to France that very day.</p> + +<p>Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at +the railway-station waiting for the train.</p> + +<p>Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.</p> + +<p>"You have £7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his +ear. "Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by +you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search warrant +from the mayor."</p> + +<p>"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you +dare!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him, +but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."</p> + +<p>Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of +£7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to +the church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.</p> + +<p>The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church, +along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours, George +Fielding and Robinson came up.</p> + +<p>"Susan!" cried a well-known voice behind her. The bride turned, and +forgot everything at the sight of George's handsome, honest face, and threw +herself into his arms. George kissed the bride.</p> + +<p>"What have you done?" cried Susan. "You are false to me! You never wrote +me a letter for twelve months, and you are married to a lady in Bathurst! +Oh, George!"</p> + +<p>"Who has been telling her I have ever had a thought of any girl but +her?" said George sternly. "Here is the ring you gave me, Susan."</p> + +<p>"Miss Merton and I are to be married to-day," said Meadows.</p> + +<p>"I was there before you, Mr. Meadows, but I won't stand upon that, and I +wouldn't give a snap of the finger to have her if her will was toward +another. So please yourself, Susan, my lass; only this must end. Choose +between John Meadows and George Fielding."</p> + +<p>Susan looked up in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What choice can there be? The moment I saw your face I forgot there was +a John Meadows in the world!" With that she bolted off home.</p> + +<p>George turned to old Merton.</p> + +<p>"I crossed the seas on the faith of your promise, and I have brought +back the thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"John," said old Merton, "I must stand to my word, and I will--it is +justice."</p> + +<p>It was then that Robinson, producing his pocket-book, found they had +been robbed. Despair fell upon George. But Meadows was promptly hindered +from pursuing any advantage by the arrival of Isaac Levi, with a magistrate +and police officers. Presently Crawley was produced. The game was up. Levi +had overheard all that had passed between Meadows and Crawley. Crawley +turned upon Meadows, and the magistrate had no choice but to commit Meadows +for trial, while the notes were returned to their rightful owners.</p> + +<p>A month later George and Susan were married, and Farmer Merton's debts +paid.</p> + +<p>Robinson wisely went back to Australia, and more wisely married an +honest serving-maid. He is respected for his intelligence and good nature, +and is industrious and punctilious in business.</p> + +<p>When the assizes came on neither Robinson nor George was present to +prosecute, and their recognisances were forfeited. Meadows and Crawley were +released, and Meadows went to Australia. His mother, who hated her son's +sins, left her native land at seventy to comfort him and win him to +repentance.</p> + +<p>"Even now his heart is softening," she said to herself. "Three times he +has said to me 'That George Fielding is a better man than I am.' He will +repent; he bears no malice, he blames none but himself. It is never too +late to mend."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="The_Cloister_and_the_Hearth"></a>The Cloister and the +Hearth</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "The Cloister and the Hearth" a Tale of the Middle Ages, is +by common consent the greatest of all Charles Reade's stories. A portion of +it originally appeared in 1859 in "Once a Week," under the title of "A Good +Fight," and such was its success in this guise that it increased the +circulation of that periodical by twenty thousand. During the next two +years Reade, recognising its romantic possibilities, expanded it to its +present length. As a picture of the manners and customs of the times it is +almost unsurpassable; yet pervading the whole is the strong, clear +atmosphere of romantic drama never allowing the somewhat ample descriptions +to predominate the thrilling interest with which the story is charged. Sir +Walter Besant regarded it as the "greatest historical novel in the +language." Swinburne remarked of it that "a story better conceived, better +constructed, or better related, it would be difficult to find anywhere." +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Gerard Falls in Love</i></h4> + + +<p>It was past the middle of the fifteenth century when our tale +begins.</p> + +<p>Elias, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little town of Tergon in +Holland. He traded, wholesale and retail, in cloth and curried leather, and +the couple were well to do. Nine children were born to them; four of these +were set up in trade, one, Giles, was a dwarf, another, little Catherine, +was a cripple. Cornelis, the eldest, and Sybrandt, the youngest, lived at +home, too lazy to work, waiting for dead men's shoes.</p> + +<p>There remained young Gerard, a son apart and distinct, destined for the +Church. The monks taught him penmanship, and continued to teach him, until +one day, in the middle of a lesson, they discovered he was teaching them. +Then Gerard took to illuminating on vellum, and in this he was helped by an +old lady, Margaret Van Eyck, sister of the famous brothers Van Eyck, who +had come to end her days near Tergon. When Philip the Good, Count of +Flanders, for the encouragement of the arts, offered prizes for the best +specimens of painting on glass and illumination on vellum, Gerard decided +to compete. He sent in his specimens, and his mother furnished him with a +crown to go to Rotterdam and see the work of his competitors and the prize +distribution. Gerard would soon be a priest, she argued; it seemed hard if +he might not enjoy the world a little before separating himself from it for +life.</p> + +<p>It was on the road to Rotterdam, within a league of the city, that +Gerard found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a +comely young woman holding his hand. The old man wore a gown, and a fur +tippet, and a velvet cap--sure signs of dignity; but the gown was rusty, +and the fur old--sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in +plain russet cloth, yet snow-white lawn covered her neck.</p> + +<p>"Father, I fear you are tired," said Gerard bashfully.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man; "and faint for lack of +food."</p> + +<p>The girl whispered, "Father, a stranger--a young man!" But Gerard, with +simplicity, and as a matter of course, was already gathering sticks for a +fire. This done, he took down his wallet, and brought his tinder-box and an +iron flask his careful mother had put in.</p> + +<p>Ghysbrecht Van Swikten, the burgomaster of Tergon, an old man redolent +of wealth, came riding by while Gerard was preparing a meal of soup and +bread by the roadside. He reined in his steed and spoke uneasily: "Why, +Peter--Margaret--what mummery is this?" Then, seeing Gerard, he cast a look +of suspicion on Margaret, and rode on. The wayfarers did not know that more +than half the wealth of the burgomaster belonged to old Peter Brandt, now +dependent on Gerard for his soup; but Ghysbrecht knew it, and carried it in +his heart, a scorpion of remorse that was not penitence.</p> + +<p>From that hour Gerard was in love with Margaret, and now began a pretty +trouble. For at Rotterdam, thanks to a letter from Margaret Van Eyck, +Gerard won the favour of the Princess Marie, who, hearing that he was to be +a priest, promised him a benefice. And yet no sooner was Gerard returned +home to Tergon than he must needs go seeking Margaret, who lived alone with +her father, old Peter Brandt, at Sevenbergen. Ghysbrecht's one fear was +that if Gerard married Margaret the youth would sooner or later get to hear +about certain documents in the burgomaster's possession, documents which +established Brandt's right to lands held by the burgomaster, and which old +Peter had long forgotten.</p> + +<p>So Ghysbrecht went to Eli and Catherine and showed them a picture Gerard +had made of Margaret Brandt, and said that if Eli ordered it his son should +be locked up until he came to his senses. Henceforth there was no longer +any peace in the little house at Tergon, and at last Eli declared before +the whole family that he had ordered the burgomaster to imprison his son +Gerard in the Stadthouse rather than let him marry Margaret. Gerard turned +pale at this, and his father went on to say, "and a priest you shall be +before this year is out, willy-nilly."</p> + +<p>"Is it so?" cried Gerard. "Then hear me all. By God and St. Bavon, I +swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Since force is to +decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father. And the day I see the +burgomaster come for me I leave Tergon for ever, and Holland too, and my +father's house, where it seems I am valued only for what is to be got out +of me."</p> + +<p>And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.</p> + +<p>"There!" cried Catherine. "That comes of driving young folk too hard. +Now, heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single."</p> + +<p>Gerard went to his good friend Margaret Van Eyck, who advised him to go +to Italy, where painters were honoured like princes, and to take the girl +he loved with him. Ten golden angels she gave him besides to take him to +Rome.</p> + +<p>Gerard decided to marry Margaret Brandt at once, and a day or two later +they stood before the altar of Sevenbergen Church. But the ceremony was +never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for +Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who stopped +the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster's prison. In the +room where he was confined were very various documents, which the prisoner +got hold of.</p> + +<p>Gerard escaped from the prison, and vowing he had done with Tergon, bade +farewell to Margaret, and set off for Italy. Once across the frontier in +Germany he was safe from Ghysbrecht's malice. He also had in his keeping +the piece of parchment which gave certain lands to Peter Brandt, and which +Ghysbrecht had hitherto held.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--To Rome</i></h4> + + +<p>It is likely Gerard would never have reached Rome but for his faithful +comrade Denys, a soldier making his way home to Burgundy, whom he met early +on the road. Gerard, at first, was for going on alone, but his companion +would not be refused.</p> + +<p>"You will find me a dull companion, for my heart is very heavy," said +Gerard, yielding.</p> + +<p>"I'll cheer you, mon gars."</p> + +<p>"I think you would," said Gerard sweetly; "and sore need have I of a +kindly voice in mine ear this day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no soul is sad alongside me. I lift up their poor little hearts +with my consigne; 'Courage, tout le monde, le diable est mort.' Ha! +Ha!"</p> + +<p>"So be it, then," said Gerard. "We will go together as far as Rhine, and +God go with us both!"</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said Denys, and lifted up his cap.</p> + +<p>The pair trudged manfully on, and Denys enlivened the weary way. He +chattered about battles and sieges, and things which were new to Gerard; +and he was one of those who <i>make</i> little incidents wherever they go. +He passed nobody without addressing him. "They don't understand it, but it +wakes them up," said he. But, whenever they fell in with a monk or priest, +he pulled a long face and sought the reverend father's blessing, and +fearlessly poured out on him floods of German words in such order as not to +produce a single German sentence. He doffed his cap to every woman, high or +low, he caught sight of, and complimented her in his native tongue, well +adapted to such matters; and at each carrion crow or magpie down came his +crossbow, and he would go a furlong off the road to circumvent it; and +indeed he did shoot one old crow with laudable neatness, and carried it to +the nearest hen-roost, and there slipped in and sat it upon a nest. "The +good-wife will say, 'Alack, here is Beelzebub a hatching of my eggs.'"</p> + +<p>But the time came for parting and Denys, with a letter from Gerard to +Margaret Brandt, reached Tergon, and found Eli and Catherine and gave them +news of their son. "Many a weary league we trode together," said Denys. +"Never were truer comrades; never will be while earth shall last. First I +left my route a bit to be with him, then he his to be with me. We talked of +Sevenbergen and Tergon a thousand times, and of all in this house. We had +our troubles on the road, but battling them together made them light. I +saved his life from a bear, he mine in the Rhine; for he swims like a duck, +and I like a hod o' bricks; and we saved one another's lives at an inn in +Burgundy, where we two held a room for a good hour against seven +cut-throats, and crippled one and slew two; and your son met the stoutest +champion I ever countered, and spitted him like a sucking-pig, else I had +not been here. And at our sad parting, soldier though I be, these eyes did +rain salt, scalding tears, and so did his, poor soul. His last word to me +was: 'Go, comfort Margaret!' So here I be. Mine to him was: 'Think no more +of Rome. Make for Rhine, and down stream home.'"</p> + +<p>Margaret Brandt had removed to Rotterdam, and there was no love lost +between her and Catherine; but Gerard's letter drew them to a +reconciliation, and from that day Catherine treated Margaret as her own +daughter, and made much of Gerard's child when it was born. Eli and his son +Richart, now a wealthy merchant, decided that Gerard must be bidden return +home on the instant, for they longed to see him, and since he was married +to Margaret, it was useless for any further strife on the matter.</p> + +<p>But Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster, knew by this time that Gerard had +obtained the parchment relating to Peter Brandt's lands, and was anxious +that Gerard should not return. Cornelis and Sybrandt were also against +their brother, and willing to aid the burgomaster in any diabolical +adventure. So a letter was concocted and Margaret Van Eyck's signature +forged to it, and in this letter it was said that Margaret Brandt was +dead.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Gerard had reached Rome. The ship he sailed in was +wrecked off the coast between Naples and Rome, and here Gerard was nearly +drowned. He and a Dominican friar clung to a mast when the ship had +struck.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible situation; one moment they saw nothing, and seemed +down in a mere basin of watery hills; the next they caught glimpses of the +shore speckled bright with people, who kept throwing up their arms to +encourage them.</p> + +<p>When they had tumbled along thus a long time, suddenly the friar said +quietly: "I touched the ground."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, father," said Gerard. "We are more than a hundred yards +from shore. Prythee, leave not our faithful mast."</p> + +<p>"My son," said the friar, "you speak prudently. But know that I have +business of Holy Church on hand, and may not waste time floating, when I +can walk in her service. There, I felt it with my toes again! Thy stature +is less than mine; keep to the mast; I walk." He left the mast accordingly, +and extending his powerful arms, rushed through the water. Gerard soon +followed him. At each overpowering wave the monk stood like a tower, and, +closing his mouth, threw his head back to encounter it, then emerged and +ploughed lustily on. At last they came close to the shore, and then the +natives sent stout fishermen into the sea, holding by long spears, and so +dragged them ashore.</p> + +<p>The friar shook himself, bestowed a short paternal benediction on the +natives, and went on to Rome, without pausing.</p> + +<p>Gerard grasped every hand upon the beach. They brought him to an +enormous fire, left him to dry himself, and fetched clothes for him to +wear.</p> + +<p>Next day, towards afternoon, Gerard--twice as old as last year, thrice +as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in +self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea--reached the Eternal +City.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Cloister</i></h4> + + +<p>Gerard stayed in Rome, worked hard, and got money for his illuminations. +He put by money of all he earned, and Margaret seemed nearer and nearer. +Then came the day when the forged letter reached him. "Know that Margaret +Brandt died in these arms on Thursday night last. The last words on her +lips was 'Gerard!' She said: 'Tell him I prayed for him at my last hour, +and bid him pray for me.'" The letter was signed with Margaret Van Eyck's +signature, sure enough.</p> + +<p>Gerard staggered against the window sill and groaned when he read this. +His senses failed him; he ran furiously about the streets for hours. +Despair followed.</p> + +<p>On the second day he was raving with fever on the brain, and on his +recovery from the fever a dark cloud fell on Gerard's noble mind.</p> + +<p>His friend Fra Jerome, the same Dominican friar who had escaped from the +wreck with him, exhorted him to turn and consecrate his gifts to the +Church.</p> + +<p>"Malediction on the Church!" cried Gerard. "But for the Church I should +not lie broken here, and she lie cold in Holland." Fra Jerome left him at +this.</p> + +<p>Gerard's pure and unrivalled love for Margaret had been his polar star. +It was quenched, and he drifted on the gloomy sea of no hope. He rushed +fiercely into pleasure, and in those days, more than now, pleasure was +vice. The large sums he had put by for Margaret gave him ample means for +debauchery, and he sought for a moment's oblivion in the excitements of the +hour. "Ghysbrecht lives; Margaret dies!" he would try out. "Curse life, +curse death, and whosoever made them what they are!"</p> + +<p>His heart deteriorated along with his morals, and he no longer had +patience for his art, as the habits of pleasure grew on him.</p> + +<p>Then life itself became intolerable to Gerard, and one night, in +resolute despair, he flung himself into the river. But he was not allowed +to drown, and was carried, all unconscious, to the Dominican convent. +Gerard awoke to find Father Jerome by his bedside.</p> + +<p>"Good Father Jerome, how came I hither?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"By the hand of Heaven! You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on you +again. Think of it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now try the +Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum!"</p> + +<p>Gerard learnt that the man who had saved him from drowning was a +professional assassin.</p> + +<p>Saved from death by an assassin!</p> + +<p>Was not this the finger of Heaven--of that Heaven he had insulted, +cursed, and defied?</p> + +<p>He shuddered at his blasphemies. He tried to pray, but found he could +only utter prayers, and could not pray.</p> + +<p>"I am doomed eternally!" he cried. "Doomed, doomed!" Then rose the +voices of the choir chanting a full service. Among them was one that seemed +to hover above the others--a sweet boy's voice, full, pure, angelic.</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed back +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Ay," he sighed, "the Church is peace of mind. Till I left her bosom I +ne'er knew sorrow, nor sin."</p> + +<p>And the poor torn, worn creature wept; and soon was at the knees of a +kind old friar, confessing his every sin with sighs and groans of +penitence.</p> + +<p>And, lo! Gerard could pray now, and he prayed with all his heart.</p> + +<p>He turned with terror and aversion from the world, and begged +passionately to remain in the convent. To him, convent nurtured, it was +like a bird returning wounded, wearied, to its gentle nest.</p> + +<p>He passed his novitiate in prayer and mortification and pious reading +and meditation.</p> + +<p>And Gerard, carried from the Tiber into that convent a suicide, now +passed for a young saint within its walls.</p> + +<p>Upon a shorter probation than usual, he was admitted to priests' orders, +and soon after took the monastic vows, and became a friar of St. +Dominic.</p> + +<p>Dying to the world, the monk parted with the very name by which he had +lived in it, and so broke the last link of association with earthly +feelings. Here Gerard ended, and Brother Clement began.</p> + +<p>The zeal and accomplishments of Clement, especially his rare mastery of +language, soon transpired, and he was destined to travel and preach in +England, corresponding with the Roman centre.</p> + +<p>It was rather more than twelve months later when Clement and Jerome set +out for England. They reached Rotterdam, and here Jerome, impatient because +his companion lingered on the way, took ship alone, and advised Clement to +stop awhile and preach to his own countrymen.</p> + +<p>Clement was shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertion. He +promised to sleep at the convent and preach whenever the prior should +appoint, and then withdrew abruptly. Shipwrecked with Jerome, and saved on +the same fragment of the wreck; his pupil, and for four hundred miles his +fellow traveller in Christ; and to be shaken off like dirt, the first +opportunity. "Why, worldly hearts are no colder nor less trusty than this," +said he. "The only one that ever really loved me lies in a grave hard by at +Sevenbergen, and I will go and pray over it."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Cloister and Hearth</i></h4> + + +<p>Friar Clement, preaching in Rotterdam, saw Margaret in the church and +recognised her. Within a day or two he learnt from the sexton, who had been +in the burgomaster's service, the story of the trick that had been played +upon him by his brothers, in league with Ghysbrecht.</p> + +<p>That same night a Dominican friar, livid with rage, burst into the room +when Eli and Catherine were collected with their family round the table at +supper.</p> + +<p>Standing in front of Cornelius and Sybrandt he cursed them by name, soul +and body, in this world and the next. Then he tore a letter out of his +bosom, and flung it down before his father.</p> + +<p>"Read that, thou hard old man, that didst imprison thy son, read, and +see what monsters thou has brought into the world! The memory of my wrongs, +and hers dwell with you all for ever! I will meet you again at the +judgement day; on earth ye will never see me more!"</p> + +<p>And in a moment, as he had come, so he was gone, leaving them stiff and +cold, and white as statues, round the smoking board.</p> + +<p>Eli drove Cornelis and Sybrandt out of doors at the point of a sword +when he understood their infamy, and heavy silence reigned in his house +that night.</p> + +<p>And where was Clement?</p> + +<p>Lying at full length upon the floor of the convent church, with his lips +upon the lowest step of the altar, in an indescribable state of terror, +misery, penitence, and self-abasement; through all of which struggled +gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.</p> + +<p>Then he suddenly remembered that he had committed another sin besides +intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man. He rose instantly, and set +out to repair the omission.</p> + +<p>The house he was called to was none other than the Stadthouse, and the +dying man was his old enemy Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster.</p> + +<p>Clement trembled a little as he entered, and said in a low voice "Pax +vobiscum." Ghysbrecht did not recognise Gerard in the Dominican friar, and +promised in his sickness to make full restitution to Margaret Brandt for +the withholding of her property from her.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman, +Friar Clement disappeared.</p> + +<p>The hermit of Gouda had recently died, and Clement found his cell amidst +the rocks, and appropriated it. The news that he had been made vicar of +Gouda never reached his ears to disturb him.</p> + +<p>It was Margaret who discovered Clement's hiding-place and sought him +out, and begged him to leave the dismal hole he inhabited, and come to the +vacant vicarage.</p> + +<p>"My beloved," said he, with a strange mixture of tenderness and dogged +resolution, "I bless thee for giving me one more sight of thy sweet face, +and may God forgive thee, and bless thee, for destroying in a minute the +holy place it hath taken six months of solitude to build. I am a priest, a +monk, and though my heart break I must be firm. My poor Margaret, I seem +cruel; yet I am kind; 'tis best we part; ay, this moment."</p> + +<p>But Margaret went away, and, determined to drive Clement from his +hermitage, returned again with their child, which she left in the cell in +its owner's absence. Now, Clement was fond of children, and, thinking the +infant had been deserted by some unfortunate mother, he at once set to work +to comfort it.</p> + +<p>"Now bless thee, bless thee sweet innocent! I would not change thee for +e'en a cherub in heaven," said Clement. Soon the child was nestling in the +hermit's arms.</p> + +<p>"I ikes oo," said the little boy. "Ot is oo? Is oo a man?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, little heart, and a great sinner to boot"</p> + +<p>"I ikes great tingers. Ting one a tory."</p> + +<p>Clement chanted a child's story in a sort of recitative. The boy +listened with rapture, and presently succumbed to sleep.</p> + +<p>Clement began to rock his new treasure in his arms, and to crone over +him a little lullaby well known in Tergon, with which his own mother had +often set him off.</p> + +<p>He sighed deeply, and could not help thinking what might have been but +for a piece of paper with a lie in it.</p> + +<p>The next moment the moonlight burst into his cell, and with it, and in +it, Margaret Brandt was down at his knee with a timorous hand upon his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Gerald, you do not reject us. You cannot."</p> + +<p>The hermit stared from the child to her in throbbing amazement.</p> + +<p>"Us?" he gasped at last.</p> + +<p>Margaret was surprised in her turn.</p> + +<p>"What!" she cried. "Doth not a father know his own child? Fie, Gerard, +to pretend! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest to thine +heart."</p> + +<p>Long they sat and talked that night, and the end of it was Clement +promised to leave his cave for the manse at Gouda. But once the new vicar +was installed Margaret kept away from the parsonage. She left little Gerard +there to complete the conquest her maternal heart ascribed to him, and +contented herself with stolen meetings with her child.</p> + +<p>Then the new vicar of Gouda, his beard close shaved, and in a grey frock +and large felt hat, came to bring her to the vicarage.</p> + +<p>"My sweet Margaret!" he cried. "Why is this? Why hold you aloof from +your own good deed? We have been waiting and waiting for you every day, and +no Margaret."</p> + +<p>And Margaret went to the manse, and found Catherine, Clement's mother, +there; and next day being Sunday the two women heard the Vicar of Gouda +preach in his own church. It was crammed with persons, who came curious, +but remained. Never was Clement's gift as a preacher displayed more +powerfully. In a single sermon, which lasted two hours, and seemed to last +but twenty minutes, he declared the whole scripture.</p> + +<p>The two women in a corner sat entranced, with streaming eyes.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were by themselves, Margaret threw her arms round +Catherine's neck and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother, I am not quite a happy woman, but oh! I am a proud +one."</p> + +<p>And she vowed on her knees never by word or deed to let her love come +between this young saint and heaven.</p> + +<p>The child, who lived to become the great Erasmus, was already winning a +famous name at school, when Margaret was stricken with the plague and died. +A fortnight later and Clement left his vicarage and entered the Dominican +convent to end life as he began it. A few days later and he, too, was dead, +and the convent counted him a saint.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="SAMUEL_RICHARDSON"></a>SAMUEL RICHARDSON</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Pamela"></a>Pamela</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Samuel Richardson, the son of a joiner, was born at some +place not identified in Derbyshire, England, 1689. After serving an +apprenticeship to a stationer, he entered a printing office as compositor +and corrector of the press. In 1719 Richardson, whose career throughout was +that of the industrious apprentice, took up his freedom, and began business +as printer and stationer in Salisbury Court, London. Success attended his +venture; he soon published a newspaper, and also obtained the printing of +the journals of the House of Commons. "Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded," was +written as the result of a suggestion by two booksellers that Richardson +should compose a volume of familiar letters for illiterate country folk. It +was published towards the end of 1740, and its vogue, in an age +particularly coarse and robust, was extraordinary. Of the many who +ridiculed his performance the most noteworthy was Fielding, who produced +what Richardson and his friends regarded as the "lewd and ungenerous +engraftment of 'Joseph Andrews.'" The story has many faults, but the +portrayal of Pamela herself is accomplished with the success of a master +hand. Richardson died July 4, 1761. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Pamela to her Parents</i></h4> + + +<p>MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I have great trouble, and some comfort, to +acquaint you with. The trouble is that my good lady died of the illness I +mention'd to you, and left us all griev'd for the loss of her; for she was +a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I fear'd, that as I +was taken by her ladyship to wait upon her person, I should be quite +destitute again, and forc'd to return to you and my poor mother, who have +enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness had put me +to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my needle, and +otherwise qualify'd above my degree, it was not every family that could +have found a place that your poor Pamela was fit for. But God, whose +graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd, put it into my good lady's +heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expir'd, to recommend to +my young master all her servants, one by one; and when it came to my turn +to be recommended (for I was sobbing and crying at her pillow) she could +only say, "My dear son!" and so broke off a little; and then +recovering--"remember my poor Pamela!" and those were some of her last +words! O, how my eyes overflow! Don't wonder to see the paper so +blotted!</p> + +<p>Well, but God's will must be done, and so comes the comfort, that I +shall not be obliged to return back to be a burden to my dear parents! For +my master said, "I will take care of you all, my good maidens; and for you, +Pamela (and took me by the hand before them all), for my dear mother's sake +I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my linen." God bless +him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for a blessing upon him, +for he has given mourning and a year's wages to all my lady's servants; and +I, having no wages as yet, my lady having said she would do for me as I +deserv'd, ordered the housekeeper to give me mourning with the rest, and +gave me with his own hand four guineas and some silver, which were in my +lady's pocket when she died; and said if I was a good girl, and faithful +and diligent, he would be a friend to me, for his mother's sake. And so I +send you these four guineas for your comfort. I send them by John, our +footman, who goes your way; but he does not know what he carries; because I +seal them up in one of the little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapp'd +close in paper, that they may not chink, and be sure don't open it before +him.</p> + +<p>Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be--</p> + +<p class="date">Your dutiful Daughter.</p> + +<p>I have been scared out of my senses, for just now, as I was folding up +this letter in my lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master! Good +sirs, how I was frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom, and he, +seeing me tremble, said smiling, "To whom have you been writing, Pamela?" I +said, in my confusion, "Pray your honour, forgive me! Only to my father and +mother." "Well, then, let me see what a hand you write." He took it without +saying more, and read it quite through, and then gave it me again. He was +not angry, for he took me by the hand and said, "You are a good girl to be +kind to your aged father and mother; tho' you ought to be wary what tales +you send out of a family." And then he said, "Why, Pamela, you write a +pretty hand, and <i>spell</i> very well, too. You may look into any of my +mother's books to improve yourself, so you take care of them."</p> + +<p>But I am making another long letter, so will only add to it, that I +shall ever be your dutiful daughter.</p> + +<p class="date">PAMELA ANDREWS</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Twelve Months Later</i></h4> + + +<p>MY DEAR MOTHER,--You and my good father may wonder you have not had a +letter from me in so many weeks; but a sad, sad scene has been the occasion +of it. But yet, don't be frightened, I am honest, and I hope God, in his +goodness, will keep me so.</p> + +<p>O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor +to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his good, +dying mother! This very gentleman (yes, I <i>must</i> call him gentleman, +though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has degraded himself to +offer freedoms to his poor servant; he has now showed himself in his true +colours, and, to me, nothing appears so black and so frightful.</p> + +<p>I have not been idle; but had writ from time to time, how he, by sly, +mean degrees, exposed his wicked views, but somebody stole my letter, and I +know not what is become of it. I am watched very narrowly; and he says to +Mrs. Jervis, the housekeeper, "This girl is always scribbling; I think she +may be better employed." And yet I work very hard with my needle upon his +linen and the fine linen of the family; and am, besides, about flowering +him a waistcoat. But, oh, my heart's almost broken; for what am I likely to +have for any reward but shame and disgrace, or else ill words and hard +treatment!</p> + +<p>As I can't find my letter, I'll try to recollect it all. All went well +enough in the main, for some time. But one day he came to me as I was in +the summer-house in the little garden at work with my needle, and Mrs. +Jervis was just gone from me, and I would have gone out, but he said, +"Don't go, Pamela, I have something to say to you, and you always fly me +when I come near you, as if you were afraid of me."</p> + +<p>I was much out of countenance you may well think, and began to tremble, +and the more when he took me by the hand, for no soul was near us.</p> + +<p>"You are a little fool," he said hastily, "and know not what's good for +yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you if you are obliging, +and don't stand in your own light." And so saying, he put his arm about me +and kiss'd me.</p> + +<p>Now, you will say, all his wickedness appear'd plainly. I burst from +him, and was getting out of the summer-house, but he held me back, and shut +the door.</p> + +<p>I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, "I'll do you no +harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me."</p> + +<p>I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. "What a foolish hussy you are!" said he. +"Have I done you any harm?" "Yes, sir," said I, "the greatest harm in the +world; you have taught me to forget myself, and have lessen'd the distance +that fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself to be so free to a +poor servant. I am honest, though poor; and if you were a prince I would +not be otherwise than honest."</p> + +<p>He was angry, and said, "Who, little fool, would have you otherwise? +Cease your blubbering. I own I have undervalued myself; but it was only to +try you. If you can keep this matter secret, you'll give me the better +opinion of your prudence. And here's something," added he, putting some +gold in my hand, "to make you amends for the fright I put you in. Go, take +a walk in the garden, and don't go in till your blubbering is over."</p> + +<p>"I won't take the money, indeed, sir," said I, and so I put it upon the +bench. And as he seemed vexed and confounded at what he had done, I took +the opportunity to hurry out of the summer-house.</p> + +<p>He called to me, and said, "Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't +go in yet."</p> + +<p>O how poor and mean must those actions be, and how little they must make +the best of gentlemen look, when they put it into the power of their +inferiors to be greater than they!</p> + +<p>Pray for me, my dear father and mother; and don't be angry that I have +not yet run away from this house, so late my comfort and delight, but now +my terror and anguish. I am forc'd to break off hastily.</p> + +<p class="date">Your dutiful and honest DAUGHTER.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Pamela in Distress</i></h4> + + +<p>O my dearest Father and Mother,--Let me write and bewail my miserable +fate, though I have no hope that what I write can be convey'd to your +hands! I have now nothing to do but write and weep and fear and pray! But I +will tell you what has befallen me, and some way, perhaps, may be opened to +send the melancholy scribble to you. Alas, the unhappy Pamela may be undone +before you can know her hard lot!</p> + +<p>Last Thursday morning came, when I was to set out and return home to +you, my dearest parents. I had taken my leave of my fellow-servants +overnight, and a mournful leave it was to us all, for men, as well as women +servants, wept to part with me; and for <i>my</i> part, I was overwhelmed +with tears on the affecting instances of their love.</p> + +<p>My master was above stairs, and never ask'd to see me. False heart, he +knew that I was not to be out of his reach! Preserve me, heaven, from his +power, and from his wickedness!</p> + +<p>I look'd up when I got to the chariot, and I saw my master at the +window, and I courtsy'd three times to him very low, and pray'd for him +with my hands lifted up; for I could not speak. And he bow'd his head to +me, which made me then very glad he would take such notice of me.</p> + +<p>Robin drove so fast that I said to myself, at this rate of driving I +shall soon be with my father and mother. But, alas! by nightfall he had +driven me to a farmhouse far from home; and the farmer and his wife, he +being a tenant of Mr. B., my master, while they treated me kindly, would do +nothing to aid me in flight. And next day he drove me still further, and +when we stopped at an inn in a town strange to me, the mistress of the inn +was <i>expecting</i> me, and immediately called out for her sister, Jewkes. +Jewkes! thought I. That is the name of the housekeeper at my master's house +in Lincolnshire.</p> + +<p>Then the wicked creature appear'd, and I was frighted out of my wits. +The wretch would not trust me out of her sight, and soon I was forced to +set out with her in the chariot. Now I gave over all thoughts of +redemption.</p> + +<p>Here are strange pains, thought I, taken to ruin a poor, innocent, +helpless young female. This plot is laid too deep to be baffled, I +fear.</p> + +<p>About eight at night we enter'd the courtyard of this handsome, large, +old, lonely mansion, that looked to me then as if built for solitude and +mischief. And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the scene of my +ruin, unless God protect me, Who is all-sufficient.</p> + +<p>I was very ill at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from +dejection of spirits. Mrs. Jewkes seem'd mighty officious to welcome me, +and call'd me <i>madam</i> at every word.</p> + +<p>"Pray, Mrs. Jewkes," said I, "don't <i>madam</i> me so! I am but a +silly, poor girl, set up by the gambol of fortune for a May-game. Let us, +therefore, talk upon afoot together, and that will be a favour done me. I +am now no more than a poor desolate creature, and no better than a +prisoner."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," says she, "I understand something of the matter. You have so +great power over my master that you will soon be mistress of us all; and so +I will oblige you, if I can. And I must and will call you madam, for such +are the instructions of my master, and you may depend upon it I shall +observe my orders."</p> + +<p>"You will not, I hope," replied I, "do an unlawful or wicked thing for +any master in the world."</p> + +<p>"Look ye!" said she. "He is my master, and if he bids me do a thing that +I <i>can</i> do, I think I <i>ought</i> to do it; and let him, who has +power to command me, look to the <i>lawfulness</i> of it."</p> + +<p>"Suppose," said I, "he should resolve to ensnare a poor young creature +and ruin her, would you assist him in such wickedness? And do you not think +that to rob a person of her virtue is worse than cutting her throat?"</p> + +<p>"Why, now," said she, "how strangely you talk! Are not the two sexes +made for each other? And is it not natural for a man to love a pretty +woman?" And then the wretch fell a-laughing, and talk'd most impertinently, +and show'd me that I had nothing to expect either from her virtue or +compassion.</p> + +<p><i>I am now come to the twenty-seventh day of my imprisonment</i>. One +stratagem I have just thought of, though attended with this discouraging +circumstance that I have neither friends, nor money, nor know one step of +the way were I actually out of the house. But let bulls and bears and lions +and tigers and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful man stand in +my way, I cannot be in more danger than I now think myself in.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jewkes has received a letter. She tells me, as a secret, that she +has reason to think my master has found a way to satisfy my scruples. It is +by marrying me to his dreadful Swiss servant, Colbrand, and buying me of +him on the wedding-day for a sum of money! Was ever the like heard? She +says it will be my duty to obey my husband, and that when my master has +paid for me, and I am surrender'd up, the Swiss is to go home again, with +the money, to his former wife and children; for, she says, it is the custom +of these people to have a wife in every nation.</p> + +<p>But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing!</p> + +<p><i>Friday, the thirty-sixth day of imprisonment</i>. Mercy on me! What +will become of me? Here is my master come in his fine chariot! What shall I +do? Where shall I hide myself?</p> + +<p>He has entered and come up!</p> + +<p>He put on a stern and a haughty air. "Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful +creature, you do well, don't you, to give me all this trouble and +vexation?"</p> + +<p>I could not speak, but sobb'd and sigh'd, as if my heart would break. +"Sir," I said, "permit me to return to my parents. That is all I have to +ask."</p> + +<p>He flew into a violent passion. "Is it thus," said he, "I am to be +answered? Begone from my sight!"</p> + +<p>The next day he sent me up by Mrs. Jewkes his proposals. They were seven +in number, and included the promise of an estate of £250 a year in +Kent, to be settled on my father; and a number of suits of rich clothing +and diamond rings were to be mine if I would consent to be his +mistress.</p> + +<p>My answer was that my parents and their daughter would much rather +choose to starve in a ditch or rot in a noisome dungeon, than accept of the +fortune of a monarch upon such wicked terms.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jewkes now tells me he is exceedingly wroth, and that I must quit +the house, and may go home to my father and mother.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday night</i>. Well, my dear parents, here I am at an inn in a +little village. And Robin, the coachman, assures me he has orders to carry +me to you. O, that he may say truth and not deceive me again!</p> + +<p>"I have proofs," said my master to Mrs. Jewkes, when I left the house, +"that her virtue is all her pride. Shall I rob her of that? No, let her go, +perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves to go away virtuous, and +she shall."</p> + +<p>I think I was loth to leave the house. Can you believe it? I felt +something so strange and my heart was so heavy.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Virtue Triumphant--Pamela's Journal</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Monday Morning, eleven o'clock.</i> We are just come in here, to the +inn kept by Mr. Jewkes's relations.</p> + +<p>Just as I sat down, before setting out to pursue my journey, comes my +master's groom, all in a foam, man and horse, with a letter for me, as +follows:</p> + +<p>"I find it in vain, my Pamela, to struggle against my affection for you, +and as I flatter myself you may be brought to <i>love</i> me, I begin to +regret parting with you; but, God is my witness, from no dishonourable +motives, but the very contrary.</p> + +<p>"You cannot imagine the obligation your return will lay me under to your +goodness, and if you are the generous Pamela I imagine you to be let me see +by your compliance the further excellency of your disposition. Spare me, my +dearest girl, the confusion of following you to your father's, which I must +do if you go on--for I find I cannot live without you, and I must be--</p> + +<p class="date">"Yours, and only yours."</p> + +<p>What, my dear parents, will you say to this letter? I am resolved to +return to my master, and am sending this to you by Thomas the coachman.</p> + +<p>It was one o'clock when we reach'd my master's gate. Everybody was gone +to rest. But one of the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and open'd +the gates. I was so tired when I went to get out of the chariot that I fell +down, and two of the maids coming soon after helped me to get up +stairs.</p> + +<p>It seems my master was very ill, and had been upon the bed most of the +day; but being in a fine sleep, he heard not the chariot come in.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday Morning</i>. Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know +how my master did, and he had had a good night. She told him he must not be +surprised--that Pamela was come back. He raised himself up.</p> + +<p>"Can it be?" said he. "What, already? Ask her if she will be so good as +to make me a visit. If she will not, I will rise and attend her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jewkes came to tell me, and I went with her. As soon as he saw me, +he said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Pamela, you have made me quite well!"</p> + +<p>How kind a dispensation is sickness sometimes! He was quite easy and +pleased with me.</p> + +<p>The next day my master was so much better that he would take a turn +after breakfast in the chariot, handing me in before all the servants, as +if I had been a lady. At first setting out, he kissed me a little too +often, that he did; but he was exceedingly kind to me in his words as +well.</p> + +<p>At last, he said:</p> + +<p>"My sister, Lady Davers, threatens to renounce me, and I shall incur the +censures of the world if I act up to my present intentions. For it will be +said by everyone that Mr. B. has been drawn in by the eye, to marry his +mother's waiting maid. Not knowing, perhaps, that to her mind, to her +virtue, as well as to the beauties of her person, she owes her +well-deserved conquest; and that there is not a lady in the kingdom who +will better support the condition to which she will be raised if I should +marry her." And added he, putting his arm round me: "I pity my dear girl, +too, for her part in this censure, for here she will have to combat the +pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us. Lady Davers and +the other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with a merit superior to +them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice. Should I now marry my +Pamela, how will my girl relish all this? Will not these be cutting things +to my fair one?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," said I, "your poor servant has a much greater difficulty than +this to overcome."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" said he a little impatiently. "I will not forgive your +doubts now."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said I, "I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall +<i>support</i>, how I shall <i>deserve, your</i> goodness to me!"</p> + +<p>"Dear girl!" said he, and press'd me to his bosom. "I was afraid you +would again have given me reason to think you had doubts of my honour, and +this at a time when I was pouring out my whole soul to you, I could not so +easily have forgiven."</p> + +<p>"But, good sir," said I, "my greatest concern will be for the rude jests +you will have yourself to encounter for thus stooping beneath yourself. For +as to <i>me</i> I shall have the pride to place more than half the ill will +of the ladies to their envying my happiness."</p> + +<p>"You are very good, my dearest girl," said he. "But how will you bestow +your <i>time</i>, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No +parties of pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter +evenings?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look +into all such parts of the family management as may befit the mistress of +it to inspect. Then I will assist your housekeeper, as I used to do, in the +making of jellies, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot and candy +and preserve, for the use of the family; and to make myself all the fine +linen of it. Then, sir, if you will indulge me with your company, I will +take an airing in your chariot now and then; and I have no doubt of so +behaving as to engage you frequently to fill up some part of my time in +your instructive conversation."</p> + +<p>"Proceed, my dear girl," said he. "I love to hear you talk !"</p> + +<p>"Music, which my good lady also had me instructed in, will also fill up +some intervals if I should have any. Then, sir, you know, I love reading +and scribbling, and tho' most of the latter will be employed in the family +accounts, yet reading, in proper books, will be a pleasure to me, which I +shall be unwilling to give up for the best company in the world when I +cannot have yours."</p> + +<p>"What delight do you give me, my beloved Pamela, in this sweet foretaste +of my happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censures of the +world."</p> + +<p><i>Ten days later</i>. Your happy, thrice happy Pamela, is at last +married, my dearest parents.</p> + +<p>This morning we entered the private chapel at this house, and my master +took my hand and led me up to the altar. Mr. Peters, the good rector, gave +me away, and the curate read the service. I trembled so, I could hardly +stand.</p> + +<p>And thus the dear, once haughty, assailer of Pamela's innocence, by a +blessed turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous protector and +rewarder of it.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Clarissa_Harlowe"></a>Clarissa Harlowe</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Clarissa Harlowe," written after "Pamela," brought +Richardson a European reputation. The first four volumes of the novel +appeared in 1747, the last four in 1748, and during the next few years +translations were being executed in French and German. Like "Pamela," the +story itself is thin and simple, but the characters are drawn with a bolder +and surer touch. "No work had appeared before," says Scott, "perhaps none +has appeared since, containing so many direct appeals to the passions." Yet +opinions were singularly divided as to its merits. Dr. Johnson said that +the novel "enlarged the knowledge of human nature." </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--At Harlowe Place</i></h4> + + +<p>CLARISSA is persecuted by her family to marry Mr. Roger Solmes, but +favours Richard Lovelace, who is in love with her. That her grandfather had +left Clarissa a considerable estate accounts mainly for the hostility of +the family to Clarissa's desire for independence.</p> + +<p>Clarissa writes to her friend, Miss Howe:</p> + +<p>"<i>January</i> 15. The moment, my dear, that Mr. Lovelace's visits were +mentioned to my brother on his arrival from Scotland he expressed his +disapprobation, declaring he had ever hated him since he had known him at +college, and would never own me for a sister if I married him.</p> + +<p>"This antipathy I have heard accounted for in this manner:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lovelace was always noted for his vivacity and courage, and for the +surprising progress he made in literature, while for diligence in study he +had hardly his equal. This was his character at the university, and it +gained him many friends, while those who did not love him, feared him, by +reason of the offence his vivacity made him too ready to give, and of the +courage he showed in supporting it. My brother's haughtiness could not bear +a superiority; and those whom we fear more than love we are not far from +hating. Having less command of his passions than the other, he was evermore +the subject of his ridicule, so that they never met without quarrelling, +and everybody siding with Lovelace, my brother had an uneasy time of it, +while both continued in the same college.</p> + +<p>"Then on my brother's return he found my sister (to whom Lovelace had +previously paid some attention) ready to join him in his resentment against +the man he hated. She utterly disclaimed all manner of regard for him.</p> + +<p>"Their behaviour to him when they could not help seeing him was very +disobliging, and at last they gave such loose rein to their passion that, +instead of withdrawing when he came, they threw themselves in his way to +affront him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lovelace, you may believe, ill brooked this, but contented himself +by complaining to me, adding that, but for my sake, my brother's treatment +of him was not to be borne.</p> + +<p>"After several excesses, which Mr. Lovelace returned with a haughtiness +too much like that of the aggressor, my brother took upon himself to fill +up the doorway once when he came, as if to oppose his entrance; and, upon +his asking for me, demanded what his business was with his sister.</p> + +<p>"The other, with a challenging air, told him he would answer a gentleman +<i>any</i> question. Just then the good Dr. Lewin, the clergyman, came to +the door, and, hearing the words, interposed between, both gentlemen having +their hands upon their swords, and, telling Mr. Lovelace where I was, the +latter burst by my brother to come to me, leaving him chafing, he said, +like a hunted boar at bay.</p> + +<p>"After this, my father was pleased to hint that Mr. Lovelace's visits +should be discontinued, and I, by his command, spoke a great deal plainer; +but no absolute prohibition having been given, things went on for a while +as before, till my brother again took occasion to insult Mr. Lovelace, when +an unhappy recontre followed, in which my brother was wounded and disarmed, +and on being brought home and giving us ground to suppose he was worse hurt +than he was, and a fever ensuing, everyone flamed out, and all was laid at +my door.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lovelace sent twice a day to inquire after my brother, and on the +fourth day came in person, and received great incivilities from my two +uncles, who happened to be there.</p> + +<p>"I fainted away with terror, seeing everyone so violent; hearing his +voice swearing he could not depart without seeing me, my mamma struggling +with my papa, and my sister insulting me. When he was told how ill I was, +he departed, vowing vengeance.</p> + +<p>"He was ever a favourite with our domestics; and on this occasion they +privately reported his behaviour in such favourable terms that those +reports and my apprehensions of the consequences, induced me to 'read a +letter' he sent me that night imploring me 'to answer' it some days +after.</p> + +<p>"To this unhappy necessity is owing our correspondence; meantime I am +extremely concerned to find that I am become the public talk."</p> + +<p>"<i>February</i> 20. Alas, my dear, I have sad prospects! My brother and +sister have found another lover for me; he is encouraged by everybody. Who +do you think it is? No other than that Solmes. They are all determined too, +my mother with the rest.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, Mr. Solmes came in before we had done tea. My uncle Antony +presented him as a gentleman he had a particular friendship for. My father +said, 'Mr. Solmes is my friend, Clarissa Harlowe.' My mother looked at him, +and at me; and I at her, with eyes appealing for pity, while my brother and +sister sir'd him at every word."</p> + +<p>"<i>February</i> 24. They drive on at a furious rate. The man lives +here. Such terms, such settlements. That's the cry. I have already stood +the shock of three of this man's visits.</p> + +<p>"What my brother and sister have said of me, I cannot tell. I am in +heavy disgrace with my papa.</p> + +<p>"<i>March</i> 9. I have another letter from Mr. Lovelace, although I +have not answered his former one. He knows all that passes here, and is +excessively uneasy upon what he hears, and solicits me to engage my honour +to him never to have Mr. Solmes. I think I can safely promise him that.</p> + +<p>"I am now confined to my room; my maid has been taken away from me. In +answer to my sincere declaration, that I would gladly compound to live +single, my father said angrily that my proposal was an artifice. Nothing +but marrying Solmes should do."</p> + +<p>"<i>April</i> 5. I must keep nothing by me now; and when I write lock +myself in that I may not be surprised now they think I have no pen and +ink.</p> + +<p>"I found another letter from this diligent man, and he assures me they +are more and more determined to subdue me.</p> + +<p>"He sends me the compliments of his family, and acquaints me with their +earnest desire to see me amongst them. Vehemently does he press for my +quitting this house while it is in my power to get away, and again craves +leave to order his uncle's chariot-and-six to attend my commands at the +stile leading to the coppice adjoining to the paddock.</p> + +<p>"Settlements he again offers; Lord M. and Lady Sarah and Lady Betty to +be guarantees of his honour.</p> + +<p>"As to the disgrace a person of my character may be apprehensive of on +quitting my father's house, he observes, too truly I doubt, that the +treatment I meet with is in everybody's mouth, that all the disgrace I can +receive they have given me. He says he will oppose my being sent away to my +uncle's. He tells me my brother and sister and Mr. Solmes design to be +there to meet me; that my father and mother will not come till the ceremony +is over, and then to try to reconcile me to my odious husband.</p> + +<p>"How, my dear, am I driven!"</p> + +<p><i>April</i> 8. Whether you will blame me or not I cannot tell. I have +deposited a letter to Mr. Lovelace confirming my resolution to leave this +house on Monday next. I tell him I shall not bring any clothes than those I +have on, lest I be suspected. That it will be best to go to a private +lodging near Lady Betty Lawrance's that it may not appear to the world I +have refuged myself with his family; that he shall instantly leave me nor +come near me but by my leave, and that if I find myself in danger of being +discovered and carried back by violence, I will throw myself into the +protection of Lady Betty or Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, what a sad thing is the necessity forced upon me for all +this contrivance!"</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--In London</i></h4> + + +<p>Clarissa, after staying in lodgings at St. Albans, is persuaded by +Lovelace that she will be safer from her family in London. After refusing a +proposal for an immediate marriage, she therefore moves to London to lodge +in a house recommended as thoroughly respectable by Lovelace, but which in +reality is kept by a widow, Mrs. Sinclair, of no good repute, who is in the +pay of Lovelace.</p> + +<p>Clarissa to her friend, Miss Howe:</p> + +<p>"<i>April 26.</i> At length, my dear, I am in London. My lodgings are +neatly furnished, and though I like not the old gentlewoman, yet she seems +obliging, and her kinswomen are genteel young people.</p> + +<p>"I am exceedingly out of humour with Mr. Lovelace, and have great reason +to be so. He began by letting me know that he had been to inquire the +character of the widow. It was well enough, he said, but as she lived by +letting lodgings and had other rooms in the houses which might be taken by +the enemy, he knew no better way than to take them all, unless I would +remove to others.</p> + +<p>"It was easy to see he spoke the slighter of the widow to have a +pretence to lodge here himself, and he frankly owned that if I chose to +stay here he could not think of leaving me for six hours together. He had +prepared the widow to expect that we should be here only a few days, till +we could fix ourselves in a house suitable to our condition.</p> + +<p>"'Fix <i>ourselves</i> in a house, Mr. Lovelace?' I said. 'Pray in what +light?'</p> + +<p>"'My dearest life, hear me with patience. I am afraid I have been too +forward, for my friends in town conclude me to be married.'</p> + +<p>"'Surely, sir, you have not presumed----'</p> + +<p>"'Hear me, dearest creature. You have received with favour my addresses, +yet, by declining my fervent tender of myself you have given me +apprehension of delay. Your brother's schemes are not given up. I have +taken care to give Mrs. Sinclair a reason why two apartments are necessary +for us in our retirement.'</p> + +<p>"I raved at him. I would have flung from him, yet where could I go?</p> + +<p>"Still, he insisted upon the propriety of appearing to be married. 'But +since you dislike what I have said, let me implore you,' he added, 'to give +a sanction to it by naming an early day--would to Heaven it were +to-morrow!'</p> + +<p>"What could I say? I verily believe, had he urged me in a proper way, I +should have consented to meet him at a more sacred place than the parlour +below.</p> + +<p>"The widow now directs all her talk to me as 'Mrs. Lovelace,' and I, +with a very ill-grace, bear it."</p> + +<p>"<i>April 28.</i> Mr. Lovelace has returned already. 'My dearest life,' +said he. 'I cannot leave you for so long a time as you seem to expect I +should. Spare yourself the trouble of writing to any of your friends till +we are married. When they know we are married, your brother's plots will be +at an end, and they must all be reconciled to you. Why, then, would you +banish me from you? Why will you not give the man who has brought you into +difficulties, and who so honourably wishes to extricate you from them, the +happiness of doing so?'</p> + +<p>"But, my dear although the opportunity was so inviting, he urged not for +the <i>day</i>. Which is the <i>more extraordinary</i>, as he was so +pressing for marriage before we came to town."</p> + +<p>After some weeks, Clarissa succeeds in escaping from Mrs. Sinclair's +house and takes lodgings at Hampstead. But Lovelace finds out her refuge, +and sends two women, who pretend to be his relatives, Lady Betty and Lady +Sarah, and Clarissa is beguiled back to Mrs. Sinclair's for an interview. +Once inside the house, however, she is not allowed to leave it. Her health +is now seriously injured, and her letters home have been answered by her +father's curse.</p> + +<p>Lovelace to his friend, John Belford:</p> + +<p>"<i>June 18.</i> I went out early this morning, and returned just now, +when I was informed that my beloved, in my absence, had taken it into her +head to attempt to get away.</p> + +<p>"She tripped down, with a parcel tied up in a handkerchief, her hood on, +and was actually in the entry, when Mrs. Sinclair saw her.</p> + +<p>"'Pray, madam,' whipping between her and the street-door, 'be pleased to +let me know whither you are going?'</p> + +<p>"'Who has a right to control me?' was the word.</p> + +<p>"'I have, madam, by order of your spouse, and I desire you will be +pleased to walk up again.'</p> + +<p>"She would have spoken, but could not; and, bursting into tears, turned +back, and went to her chamber.</p> + +<p>"That she cannot fly me, that she must see me, are circumstances greatly +in my favour. What can she do but rave and exclaim?</p> + +<p>"To-night, as I was sitting with my pen in my chamber, she entered the +dining-room with such dignity in her manner as struck with me great awe, +and prepared me for the poor figure I made in the subsequent conversation. +But I will do her justice. She accosted me with an air I never saw +equalled.</p> + +<p>"'You see before you, sir, the wretch whose preference of you to all +your sex you have rewarded as it <i>deserved</i> to be rewarded. Too +evident is it that it will not be your fault, villainous man, if the loss +of my soul as well as my honour, which you have robbed me of, will not be +completed. But, tell me--for no doubt thou hast <i>some</i> scheme to +pursue,--since I am a prisoner in the vilest of houses, and have not a +friend to protect me, what thou intendest shall become of the remnant of a +life not worth keeping; tell me if there are more evils reserved for me, +and whether thou hast entered into a compact with the grand deceiver, in +the person of the horrid agent of this house, and if the ruin of my soul is +to complete the triumphs of so vile a confederacy? Say, if thou hast +courage to speak out to her whom thou hast ruined; tell me what further I +am to suffer from thy barbarity.'</p> + +<p>"I had prepared myself for raving and execrations. But such a majestic +composure--seeking me--whom yet, it is plain, by her attempt to get away, +she would have avoided seeing. How could I avoid looking like a fool, and +answering in confusion?</p> + +<p>"'I--I--I--cannot but say--must own--confess--truly sorry--upon my soul +I am--and--and--will do all--do everything--all that--all that you require +to make amends!'</p> + +<p>"'Amends, thou despicable wretch! And yet I hate thee not, base as thou +art, half as much as I hate myself, that I saw thee not sooner in thy +proper colours, that I hoped either morality, gratitude, or humanity from +one who defies moral sanction. What amends hast <i>thou</i> to propose? +What amends can such a one as thou make to a person of spirit or common +sense for the evils thou hast made me suffer?'</p> + +<p>"'As soon, madam; as soon as----'</p> + +<p>"'I know what thou wouldst tell me. But thinkest thou that marriage will +satisfy for a guilt like thine? Destitute as thou hast made me both of +friends and fortune, I too much despise the wretch who could rob himself of +his wife's honour, to endure the thoughts of thee in the light thou seemest +to hope I will accept thee. Had I been able to account for myself and your +proceedings, a whole week should not have gone over my head before I had +told you what I now tell you, that the man who has been the villain to me +you have been shall never make me his wife. All my prospects are shut in. I +give myself up for a lost creature as to this world. Hinder me not from +entering upon a life of penitence. Let me try to secure the only hope I +have left. This is all the amends I ask of you. I repeat, am I now at +liberty to dispose of myself as I please?'</p> + +<p>"Now comes the fool, the miscreant, hesitating in his broken answer. 'My +dearest love, I am quite confounded. There is no withstanding your +eloquence. If you can forgive a repentant villain, I vow by all that's +sacred--and may a thunderbolt strike me dead at your feet if I am not +sincere--that I will, by marriage, before to-morrow noon, without waiting +for anybody, do you all the justice I can. And you shall ever after direct +me as you please till you have made me more worthy of your angelic purity. +Nor will I presume so much as to touch your garment till I can call so +great a blessing lawfully mine.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, thou guileful betrayer! Hadst thou not seemed beyond the +possibility of forgiveness, I might have been induced to think of taking a +wretched chance with a man so profligate. But it would be criminal to bind +my soul in covenant to a man allied to perdition.'</p> + +<p>"'<i>Allied to perdition</i>, madam?'</p> + +<p>"But she would not hear me, and insisted upon being at her own disposal +for the remainder of her short life. She abhorred me in every light; and +more particularly in that in which I offered myself to her acceptance.</p> + +<p>"And saying this she flung from me, leaving me shocked and confounded at +her part of a conversation which she began with such severe composure, and +concluded with such sincere and unaffected indignation. Now, Jack, to be +thus hated and despised."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Death of Clarissa</i></h4> + + +<p>In the absence of Lovelace from London Clarissa manages to escape from +Mrs. Sinclair's, and takes refuge in the house of Mrs. Smith, who keeps a +glove shop in King Street, Covent Garden. Her health is now ruined beyond +recovery, and she is ready to die. Belford discovers her retreat, and +protects her from Lovelace.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mowbray, a friend, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.:</p> + +<p>"<i>June 29.</i> Dear Lovelace,--I have plaguey news to acquaint thee +with. Miss Harlowe is gone off. Here's the devil to pay. I heartily condole +with thee. But it may turn out for the best. They tell me thou wouldst have +married her had she staid. But I know thee better.</p> + +<p class="date">"Thine heartily,</p> + +<p class="date">"RICHARD MOWBRAY."</p> + +<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p> + +<p>"<i>June 29.</i> Thou hast heard the news. Bad or good I know not which +thou wilt deem it.</p> + +<p>"How strong must be her resentment of the barbarous treatment she has +received, that has made her <i>hate</i> the man she once <i>loved</i>, and +rather than marry him to expose her disgrace to the world!"</p> + +<p>Lovelace to Belford:</p> + +<p>"<i>June 30.</i> I am ruined, undone, destroyed.</p> + +<p>"If thou canst find her out, and prevail upon her to consent, I will, in +thy presence, marry her. She cannot be long concealed; I have set all +engines at work to find her out, and if I do, who will care to embroil +themselves with a man of my figure, fortune, and resolution?"</p> + +<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p> + +<p>"<i>August 31.</i> When I concluded my last, I hoped that my next +attendance upon this surprising lady would furnish me with some particulars +as agreeable as now could be hoped for from the declining way she is in; +but I think I was never more shocked in my life than on the occasion I +shall mention.</p> + +<p>"When I attended her about seven in the evening, she had hardly spoken +to me, when she started, and a blush overspread her sweet face on hearing, +as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if a large +trunk were bringing up between two people. 'Blunderers!' said she. 'They +have brought in something two hours before the time. Don't be surprised, +sir, it is all to save <i>you</i> trouble.'</p> + +<p>"Before I could speak in came Mrs. Smith. 'Oh, madam,' said she, 'what +have you done?'</p> + +<p>"' Lord have mercy upon me, madam,' cried I, 'what have you done?' For +she, stepping at the instant to the door, Mrs. Smith told me it was a +coffin. Oh, Lovelace that thou hadst been there at the moment! Thou, the +causer of all these shocking scenes! Surely thou couldst not have been less +affected than I, who have no guilt as to <i>her</i> to answer for.</p> + +<p>"With an intrepidity of a piece with the preparation, having directed +them to carry it into her bed-chamber, she returned to us. 'They were not +to have brought it till after dark,' said she. 'Pray excuse me, Mr. +Belford; and don't you be concerned, Mrs. Smith. Why should you? There is +nothing more in it than the unusualness of the thing. Why may we not be as +reasonably shocked at going to the church where are the monuments of our +ancestors, as to be moved at such a sight as this.'</p> + +<p>"How reasonable was all this. But yet we could not help being shocked at +the thoughts of the coffin thus brought in; the lovely person before our +eyes who is in all likelihood so soon to fill it."</p> + +<p>Belford to Lovelace:</p> + +<p>"<i>September 7.</i> I may as well try to write, since were I to go to +bed I should not sleep; and you may be glad to know the particulars of her +happy exit. All is now hushed and still. At four o'clock yesterday I was +sent for. Her cousin, Colonel Mordern, and Mrs. Smith were with her. She +was silent for a few minutes. Her breath grew shorter. Her sweet voice and +broken periods methinks still fill my ears, and never will be out of my +memory. 'Do you, sir,' turning her head towards me, 'tell your friend that +I forgive him, and I pray to God to forgive him. Let him know how happily I +die, and that such as my own I wish to be his last hour.'</p> + +<p>"With a smile of charming serenity overspreading her face, she +expired.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lovelace, but I can write no more."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Sir_Charles_Grandison"></a>Sir Charles Grandison</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Sir Charles Grandison, and the Honourable Miss Byron, in a +Series of Letters," published in 1753, was the third and last of Samuel +Richardson's novels. Like its predecessors, it is of enormous length (it +first appeared in seven volumes) and is written in the form of a series of +letters. The idea of the author was to "present to the public, in Sir +Charles Grandison, the example of a man acting uniformly well through a +variety of trying scenes, because all his actions are regulated by one +steady principle--a man of religion and virtue, of liveliness and spirit, +accomplished and agreeable, happy in himself and a blessing to others." +Such a portrait of "a man of true honour" provoked the highest enthusiasm +in the eighteenth century; but to-day we have little patience for the +faultless diction and exemplary conduct of Sir Charles, and, of the two, +Miss Byron, the heroine, is by far the more interesting. The +"advertisement" to the edition of 1818 proclaimed the book "the most +perfect work of its kind that ever appeared in this or any other language," +and we may accept that verdict without admiring "the kind." +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Miss Lucy Selby to Her Cousin, Miss Harriet Byron</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Ashby-Cannons, January 10.</i> Your resolution to accompany your +cousin, Mrs. Reeves, to London, has greatly alarmed your three lovers, and +two of them, at least, will let you know that it has. Such a lovely girl as +my Harriet must expect to be more accountable for her steps than one less +excellent and less attractive.</p> + +<p>Mr. Greville, in his usual resolute way, threatens to follow you to +London; and there, he says, he will watch the motions of every man who +approaches you; and, if he finds reason for it, will <i>early</i> let such +man know <i>his</i> pretensions, and the danger he may run into if he +pretend to be his competitor. But let me not do him injustice; though he +talks of a rival thus harshly, he speaks of you more highly than man ever +spoke of woman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fenwick, in less determined manner, declares that he will follow you +to town, if you stay there above <i>one</i> fortnight.</p> + +<p>The gentle Orme sighs his apprehensions, and wishes you would change +your purpose. Though hopeless, he says, it is some pleasure to him that he +can think himself in the same county with you; and, much more, that he can +tread in your footsteps to and from church every Sunday, and behold you +there. He wonders how your grandmamma, your aunt, your uncle, can spare +you. Your cousin Reeves's surely, he says, are very happy in their +influences over us all.</p> + +<p>Each of the gentlemen is afraid that by increasing the number of your +admirers, you will increase his difficulties; but what is that to them, I +asked, when they already know that you are not inclined to favour any of +the three?</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dearest Harriet. May angels protect and guide you withersoever +you go!</p> + +<p class="date">LUCY SELBY.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Miss Byron to Miss Selby</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Grosvenor Street, London, February 3.</i> We are returned from a +party at Lady Betty's. She had company with her, to whom she introduced us, +and presented me in a very advantageous character. But mutual civilities +had hardly passed when Lady Betty, having been called out, returned, +introducing as a gentleman who would be acceptable to everyone, Sir +Hargrave Pollexfen. "He is," whispered she to me, as he saluted the rest of +the company in a very gallant manner, "a young baronet of a very large +estate; the greatest part of which has lately come to him by the death of +relatives, all very rich." Let me give you a sketch of him, my Lucy.</p> + +<p>Sir Hargrave Pollexfen is handsome and genteel; pretty tall, about +twenty-eight or thirty. He has remarkably bold eyes, rather approaching to +what we would call goggling, and he gives himself airs with them, as if he +wished to have them thought rakish; perhaps as a recommendation, in his +opinion, to the ladies. With all his foibles he is said to be a man of +enterprise and courage, and young women, it seems, must take care how they +laugh with him, for he makes ungenerous constructions to the disadvantage +of a woman whom he can bring to seem pleased with his jests.</p> + +<p>The taste of the present age seems to be dress; no wonder, therefore, +that such a man as Sir Hargrave aims to excel in it. What can be +misbestowed by a man on his person who values it more than his mind? But +what a length I have run!</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4> + + +<p>We found at home, waiting for Mr. Reeves's return, Sir John Allestree, a +worthy, sensible man, of plain and unaffected manners, upwards of +fifty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reeves mentioning to him our past entertainment and company, Sir +John gave us such an account of Sir Hargrave as let me know that he is a +very dangerous and enterprising man. He says that, laughing and light as he +is in company, he is malicious, ill-natured, and designing, and sticks at +nothing to carry a point on which he has once set his heart. He has ruined, +Sir John says, three young creatures already, under vows of marriage.</p> + +<p>Could you have thought, my Lucy, that this laughing, fine-dressing man, +could have been a man of malice, and of resentment, a cruel man, yet Sir +John told two very bad stories of him.</p> + +<p>But I had no need of these stories to determine me against receiving his +addresses. What I saw of him was sufficient.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 8.</i> Sir Hargrave came before six o'clock. He +was richly dressed. He asked for my cousin Reeves, I was in my chamber, +writing.</p> + +<p>He excused himself for coming so early on the score of his +impatience.</p> + +<p>Shall I give you, from my cousins, an account of the conversation before +I went down? You know Mrs. Reeves is a nice observer.</p> + +<p>He had had, he told my cousins, a most uneasy time of it, ever since he +saw me. He never saw a woman before whom he could love as he loved me. By +his soul, he had no view but what was strictly honourable. He gloried in +the happy prospects before him, and hoped, as none of my little <i>army</i> +of admirers had met encouragement from me, that <i>he</i> might be the +happy man.</p> + +<p>"I told you, Mr. Reeves," said he, "that I will give you <i>carte +blanche</i> as to settlements. I will lay before you, or before any of Miss +Byron's friends, my rent-rolls. There never was a better conditioned +estate. She shall live in town, or in the country, as she thinks fit."</p> + +<p>On a message that tea was near ready, I went down.</p> + +<p>"Charming Miss Byron," said he, addressing me with an air of kindness +and freedom, "I hope you are all benignity and compassion." He then begged +I would hear him relate the substance of what had passed between him and +Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, referred to the declaration he had made, boasted of +his violent passion, and besought my favour with the utmost +earnestness.</p> + +<p>As I could not think of encouraging his addresses, I thought it best to +answer him without reserve.</p> + +<p>"Sir Hargrave, you may expect nothing from me but the simplest truth. I +thank you, sir, for your good opinion of me, but I cannot encourage your +addresses."</p> + +<p>"You <i>cannot</i>, madam, <i>encourage my addresses!</i>" He stood +silent a minute or two, looking upon me as if he said, "Foolish girl! Knows +she whom she refuses?" "I have been assured, madam, that your affections +are not engaged. But surely, it must be a mistake; some happy man----"</p> + +<p>"Is it," I interrupted, "a necessary consequence that the woman who +cannot receive the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen must be +engaged?"</p> + +<p>"Why, madam, as to that, I know not what to say, but a man of my +fortune----" He paused. "What, madam, can be your objection? Be so good as +to name it, that I may know whether I can be so happy as to get over +it."</p> + +<p>"We do not, we <i>cannot</i>, all like the same person. There is +<i>something</i> that attracts or disgusts us."</p> + +<p>"<i>Disgusts!</i> Madam--disgusts! Miss Byron!"</p> + +<p>"I spoke in general, sir; I dare say, nineteen women out of twenty would +think themselves favoured in the addresses of Sir Hargrave Pollexfen."</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i>, madam, are the twentieth that I must love; and be so +good as to let me know----"</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir, ask me not a reason for a <i>peculiarity</i>. You may have +more merit, perhaps, than the man I may happen to approve of better; +but--<i>shall</i> I say?--you do not--you do not hit my fancy, sir."</p> + +<p>"<i>Not hit your fancy</i>, madam! Give me leave to say" (and he +reddened with anger) "that my fortune, my descent, and my ardent affection +for you ought to avail with me. Perhaps, madam, you think me too airy a +man. You have doubts of my sincerity. You question my honour."</p> + +<p>"That, sir, would be to injure myself," and making a low courtesy, I +withdrew in haste.</p> + +<p>My sheet is ended. With a new one I will begin another letter.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Miss Byron: In Continuation</i></h4> + + +<p>Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Hargrave again called, and renewed +his addresses, making vehement professions of love, and offering me large +settlements. To all of which I answered as before; and when he insisted +upon my reasons for refusing him, I frankly told him that I had not the +opinion of his morals that I must have of those of the man to whom I gave +my hand in marriage.</p> + +<p>"Of my <i>morals</i>, madam!" (and his colour went and came). "My +<i>morals</i>, madam!" He arose from his seat and walked about the room +muttering. "You have no opinion of my morals? By heaven, madam! But I will +bear it all--yet, 'No opinion of my morals!' I cannot bear that."</p> + +<p>He then clenched his fist, and held it up to his head; and, snatching up +his hat, bowed to the ground, his face crimsoned over, and he withdrew.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reeves attended him to the door. "Not like my morals!" said he. "I +have <i>enemies</i>, Mr. Reeves. Miss Byron treats politely everybody but +me, sir. Her scorn may be repaid--would to God I could say, with scorn, Mr. +Reeves! Adieu!"</p> + +<p>And into his chariot he stept, pulling up the glasses with violence; and +rearing up his head to the top of it, as he sat swelling. And away it +drove.</p> + +<p>A fine husband for your Harriet would this half madman make! Drawn in by +his professions of love, and by £8,000 a year, I might have married +him; and when too late found myself miserable, yoked with a tyrant and +madman for the remainder of my life.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Friday, February 17</i>. No one, at present, but yourself, must see +the contents of what I am going to write.</p> + +<p>You must not be too much surprised. But how shall I tell you the news; +the dreadful news!</p> + +<p>O, my cousin Selby! We know not what has become of our dearest Miss +Byron.</p> + +<p>We were last night at the masked ball in the Hay-market.</p> + +<p>Between two and three we all agreed to go home. The dear creature was +fatigued with the notice everybody took of her. Everybody admired her.</p> + +<p>I waited on her to her chair, and saw her in it, before I attended Lady +Betty and my wife to theirs.</p> + +<p>I saw that neither the chair, nor the chairmen were those who brought +her. I asked the meaning and was told that the chairmen we had engaged had +been inveigled away to drink somewhere. She hurried into it because of her +dress, and being warm; no less than four gentlemen followed her to the very +chair.</p> + +<p>I ordered Wilson, my, cousin's servant, to bid the chairmen stop, when +they had got out of the crowd till Lady Betty's chair and mine, and my +wife's joined them.</p> + +<p>I saw her chair move, and Wilson, with his lighted flambeaux, before it, +and the four masks who followed her to the chair return into the house.</p> + +<p>When our servants could not find that her chair had stopped, we supposed +that, in the hurry, the fellow heard not my orders; and directed our +chairmen to proceed, not doubting but that we should find her got home +before us.</p> + +<p>But what was our consternation at finding her not arrived, and that Lady +Betty (to whose house we thought she might have been carried) had not +either seen or heard of her!</p> + +<p>I had half a suspicion of Sir Hargrave, as well from the character given +us of him by a friend, as because of his impolite behaviour to the dear +creature on her rejecting him; and sent to his house in Cavendish Square to +know if he were at home: and if he were, at what time he returned from the +ball.</p> + +<p>Answer was brought that he was in bed, and they supposed would not be +stirring till dinner-time; and that he returned from the ball between four +and five this morning.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>O, my dear Mr. Selby! We <i>have</i> tidings! The dear creature is +living and in honourable hands. Read the enclosed letter, directed to +me.</p> + +<p>"Sir,--Miss Byron is in safe hands. She has been cruelly treated, and +was many hours speechless. But don't frighten yourselves; her fits, though +not less frequent, are weaker and weaker. The bearer will acquaint you who +my brother is; to whom you owe the preservation and safety of the loveliest +woman in England, and he will direct you to a house where you will be +welcome, with your lady (for Miss Byron cannot be removed) to convince +yourself that all possible care is taken of her by <i>your humble +servant</i>,</p> + +<p class="date">"CHARLOTTE GRANDISON."</p> + +<p>What we learnt from the honest man who brought the letter is, briefly, +as follows:</p> + +<p>His master is Sir Charles Grandison; a gentleman who has not been long +in England.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles was going to town in his chariot and six when he met our +distressed cousin.</p> + +<p>Sir Hargrave is the villain.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles had earnest business in town, and he proceeded thither, +after he had rescued the dear creature and committed her to the care of his +sister. God forever bless him!</p> + + +<h4><i>VII.--Mr. Reeves to George Selby, Esq.: In Continuation</i></h4> + + +<p><i>February</i> 18. I am just returned from visiting my beloved cousin, +who is still weak, but is more composed than she has hitherto been, the +amiable lady, Miss Grandison tells me.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles Grandison is, indeed, a fine figure. He is the bloom of +youth. I don't know that I have ever seen a handsomer or genteeler man. +Well might his sister say that if he married he would break a score of +hearts.</p> + +<p>I will relate all he said in the first person, as nearly in his own +words as possible.</p> + +<p>"About two miles on this side Hounslow," said he, "I saw a chariot and +six driving at a great rate.</p> + +<p>"The coachman seemed inclined to dispute the way with mine. This +occasioned a few moments' stop to both. I ordered my coachman to break the +way. I don't love to stand on trifles. My horses were fresh and I had not +come far.</p> + +<p>"The curtain of the chariot we met was pulled down. I knew by the arms +it was Sir Hargrave Pollexfen's.</p> + +<p>"There was in it a gentleman who immediately pulled up the canvas.</p> + +<p>"I saw, however, before he drew it up another person wrapped up in a +man's scarlet cloak.</p> + +<p>"'For God's sake, help--help!' cried out the person. 'For God's sake, +help!'</p> + +<p>"I ordered my coachman to stop.</p> + +<p>"'Drive on!' said the gentleman, cursing his coachman. 'Drive on when I +bid you I'</p> + +<p>"'Help!' again cried she, but with a voice as if her mouth was half +stopped.</p> + +<p>"I called to my servants on horseback to stop the postilion of the other +chariot; and I bid Sir Hargrave's coachman proceed at his peril. Then I +alighted, and went round to the other side of the chariot.</p> + +<p>"Again the lady endeavoured to cry out. I saw Sir Hargrave struggle to +pull over her mouth a handkerchief, which was tied around her head. He +swore outrageously.</p> + +<p>"The moment she beheld me, she spread out both her hands--'For God's +sake!'</p> + +<p>"'Sir Hargrave Pollexfen,' said I, 'by the arms. You are engaged, I +doubt, in a very bad affair.'</p> + +<p>"'I <i>am</i> Sir Hargrave Pollexfen, and am carrying a fugitive +wife.'</p> + +<p>"'Your <i>own</i> wife, Sir Hargrave?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, by heaven!' said he. 'And she was going to elope from me at a +damned masquerade!'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, no, no, no!' said the lady.</p> + +<p>"'Let me ask the lady a question, Sir Hargrave. Are you, madam, Lady +Pollexfen?' said I.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, no, no, no!' was all she could say.</p> + +<p>"Two of my servants came about me; a third held the head of the horse on +which the postilion sat. Three of Sir Hargrave's approached on their +horses, but seemed as if afraid to come too near, and parleyed +together.</p> + +<p>"'Have an eye to those fellows,' said I. 'Some base work is on foot. +Sirrah!'--to the coachman--'proceed at your peril!'</p> + +<p>"Sir Hargrave then, with violent curses and threatenings, ordered him to +drive over everyone that opposed him.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, sir--sir,' cried the lady, 'help me, for I am in a villain's +hands! Trick'd--vilely trick'd!'</p> + +<p>"'Do you,' said I to my servants, 'cut the traces if you cannot +otherwise stop this chariot! Leave Sir Hargrave to me!'</p> + +<p>"The lady continued screaming, and crying out for help. Sir Hargrave +drew his sword, and then called upon his servants to fire at all that +opposed his progress.</p> + +<p>"'My servants, Sir Hargrave, have firearms as well as yours. They will +not dispute my orders. Don't provoke me to give the word.' Then, addressing +the lady: 'Will you, madam, put yourself into my protection?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, yes, yes, with my whole heart! Dear, good sir, protect me!'</p> + +<p>"I opened the chariot door. Sir Hargrave made a pass at me.</p> + +<p>"'Take <i>that</i> for your insolence, scoundrel!' said he.</p> + +<p>"I was aware of his thrust, and put it by; but his sword a little raked +my shoulder. My sword was in my hand, but undrawn.</p> + +<p>"The chariot door remaining open. I seized him by the collar before he +could recover himself from the pass he had made at me, and with a jerk and +a kind of twist, laid him under the hind wheel of his chariot. I wrenched +his sword from him, and snapped it, and flung the two pieces over my +head.</p> + +<p>"His coachman cried out for his master. Mine threatened <i>his</i> if he +stirred. The postilion was a boy. My servant had made him dismount before +he joined the other two. The wretches, knowing the badness of their cause, +were becoming terrified.</p> + +<p>"One of Sir Hargraves's legs, in his sprawling, had got between the +spokes of his chariot-wheel. I thought this was fortunate for preventing +farther mischief. I believe he was bruised with the fall; the jerk was +violent.</p> + +<p>"I had not drawn my sword. I hope I never shall be provoked to do it in +a private quarrel. I should not, however, have scrupled to draw it on such +an occasion as this had there been an absolute necessity for it.</p> + +<p>"The lady, though greatly terrified, had disengaged herself from the +man's cloak. I offered my hand, and your lovely cousin threw herself into +my arms, as a frighted bird pursued by a hawk has flown into the bosom of a +man passing by. She was ready to faint. She could not, I believe, have +stood. I carried the lovely creature round, and seated her in my +chariot.</p> + +<p>"'Be assured, madam,' said I, 'that you are in honourable hands. I will +convey you to my sister, who is a young lady of honour and virtue.'</p> + +<p>"I shut the chariot door. Sir Hargrave was now on his legs, supported by +his coachman; his other servants had fled.</p> + +<p>"I bid one of my servants tell him who I was. He cursed me, and +threatened vengeance.</p> + +<p>"I then stepped back to my chariot, and reassured Miss Byron, who had +sunk down at the bottom of it. What followed, I suppose, Charlotte"--bowing +to his sister--"you told Mr. Reeves?"</p> + +<p>"I can only say, my brother," said Miss Grandison, "that you have +rescued an angel of a woman, and you have made me as happy by it as +yourself."</p> + + +<h4><i>VIII.--Mr. Deane to Sir Charles Grandison</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Selby House, October</i> 3. An alliance more acceptable, were it with +a prince, could not be proposed, than that which Sir Charles Grandison, in +a manner so worthy of himself, has proposed with a family who have thought +themselves under obligation to him ever since he delivered the darling of +it from the lawless attempts of a savage libertine. I know to whom I write; +and will own that it has been <i>my</i> wish in a most particular manner. +As to the young lady, I say nothing of her, yet how shall I forbear? Oh, +sir, believe me, she will dignify your choice. Her duty and her inclination +through every relation of life were never divided.</p> + +<p>Excuse me, sir. No parent was ever more fond of his child than I have +been from her infancy of this my daughter by adoption.</p> + + +<h4><i>IX.--Miss Byron to Lady G. (Formerly Charlotte Grandison)</i></h4> + + +<p><i>October</i> 14. Sir Charles came a little after eleven. He addressed +us severally with his usual politeness, and my grandmother particularly, +with such an air of reverence as did himself credit, because of her years +and wisdom.</p> + +<p>Presently my aunt led me away to another chamber, and then went away, +but soon returned, and with her the man of men.</p> + +<p>She but turned round, and saw him take my hand, which he did with a +compliment that made me proud, and left us together.</p> + +<p>Oh, my dear, your brother looked the humble, modest lover, yet the man +of sense, of dignity, in love. I could not but be assured of his +affection.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>On one knee he dropped, and taking my passive hand between his, and +kissing it, he said:</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Byron, you are goodness itself. I approached you with +diffidence and with apprehension. May blessings attend my future life, as +my grateful heart shall acknowledge this goodness!"</p> + +<p>Again he kissed my hand, rising with dignity. I could have received his +vows on my knees, but I was motionless; yet how was I delighted to be the +cause of joy to him! Joy to your brother--to Sir Charles Grandison!</p> + +<p>He saw me greatly affected, and considerately said:</p> + +<p>"I will leave you, my dear Miss Byron, to entitle myself to the +congratulations of all our friends below. From this moment I date my +happiness!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JEAN_PAUL_FRIEDRICH_RICHTER"></a>JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH +RICHTER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Hesperus"></a>Hesperus</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, who was born at Wunsiedel, in +Bavaria, on March 21, 1763, and died on November 14, 1825, was the son of a +poor but highly accomplished schoolmaster, who early in his career became a +Lutheran pastor at Schwarzenbach, on the Saale. Young Richter entered +Leipzig University in 1780, specially to study theology, but became one of +the most eccentric and erratic of students, a veritable literary gypsy, +roaming over vast fields of literature, collating and noting immense stores +of scientific, artistic, historic, and philosophic facts. Driven to writing +for subsistence, he only won a reputation by slow degrees, but so great at +last was the esteem in which his countrymen held him that he is typically +styled "Der Einzige" ("The Unique"). The turning point proved to be the +issue of "The Invisible Lodge" ("Die Unsichtbare Loge") in 1793, a romance +founded on some of his academic experiences. Then followed a brilliant +series of works which have made Richter's name famous. Among these was +"Hesperus," published in 1794, which made him one of the most famous of +German writers. Fanciful and extravagant as the work is, and written +without any regard to the laws of composition, it is nevertheless stamped +with genius. In all Richter's stories the plot goes for nothing; it is on +the thoughts that he strikes out by the way that his fame depends. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Friendship</i></h4> + + +<p>"Victor," said Flamin, to the young Englishman, "give me this night thy +friendship for ever, and swear to me that thou wilt never disturb me in my +love to thee. Swear thou wilt never plunge me in misfortune and +despair!"</p> + +<p>The two friends were standing at midnight in the mild, sweet air of May, +alone on the watch-tower of the little watering place of St. Luna. It was +their first meeting for eight years. Flamin was the son of Chaplain Eymann, +who had retired from the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen; Victor was +the heir of Lord Horion, a noble Englishman who lived at Flachsenfingen and +directed all the affairs of the prince. The two boys had been sent in their +infancy to London and brought up together there for twelve years; then for +six years they had lived with Chaplain Eymann at St. Luna, and Victor had +naturally conceived a great affection for the old clergyman and a deep love +for his son. When, however, Victor was eighteen years of age, Lord Horion +had sent him to Göttingen to study medicine, and he had remained at +that university for eight years. Everybody wondered why a great English +nobleman should want to bring his son up as a physician; but Horion was a +politician and his ways were dark and secret. Neither Chaplain Eymann nor +the wife of that worthy pastor ever understood why his lordship should have +been so anxious that Flamin and Victor should be brought up together and +united by the closest ties of friendship; but being good, simple souls, +they accepted the favours showered upon their son without seeking to +discover if there were any reason for them. Eight years' absence had not +diminished Victor's affection for them, but the young English nobleman was +alarmed by the strange, wild passion which Flamin displayed as soon as they +were alone together.</p> + +<p>"You know I love you, Flamin, more than I love myself," he said, +clasping his friend in his arms, and leading him to a seat on the +watch-tower. "Of course, I swear never to overwhelm you in misfortune, or +desert you or hate you. What is it that brings such gloomy thoughts into +your mind?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell thee everything now, Victor!" exclaimed his friend. "I will +open all my heart to thee."</p> + +<p>At first he was too much overcome by his feelings to speak. For a long +time the two young men remained silent, gazing into the dark blue depths of +the night The Milky Way ran, like the ring of eternity, around the +immensity of space; below it glided the sharp sickle of the moon, cutting +across the brief days and the brief joys of men. But clear among the stars +shone the Twins, those ever-burning, intertwined symbols of friendship; +westward they rose, and on the right of them blazed the heart of the Lion. +The two friends had studied astronomy together, and when Victor pointed out +the happy sign in the midnight sky, Flamin began to tell him his troubles. +He, a poor clergyman's son, had fallen wildly in love with Clotilda, the +beautiful daughter of Prince January, of Flachsenfingen. She was living at +the country seat of the Lord Chamberlain Le Baut, at St. Luna; so poor +Flamin was able to see her every day. Knowing that he could neither forget +her nor win her, he was tortured by a strange, hopeless jealousy, and he +now confessed that, instead of looking forward with joy to Victor's return +to his home, he had been consumed with fear lest his brilliant, noble, +handsome friend should utterly eclipse him in the sight of his beloved +lady.</p> + +<p>"Cannot I do anything to help you?" said Victor, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Your father has immense influence over Prince January," said Flamin, +"could you beg him to get me some court position at Flachsenfingen? If only +I could make my way in the world, perhaps I might be able to hope to win at +last the hand of my lady."</p> + +<p>Victor at once promised to do all in his power; and the two friends, +newly reattached to each other, came down from the watch-tower, and, with +their arms lovingly entwined, they returned to the parsonage.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Love</i></h4> + + +<p>The next day Chamberlain Le Baut gave a garden party in honour of the +son of the great English minister.</p> + +<p>"Take good care!" said the chaplain's wife as Victor set off; "she is +very beautiful."</p> + +<p>Victor had no need to ask who "she" was.</p> + +<p>"I shall take care not to take care," he replied, with a smile.</p> + +<p>Victor was too much of a man of the world to fall in love at first +sight. But when he entered the garden, and a sweet, tall, and lovely figure +came forward to greet him from behind the foliage, he felt as if all his +blood had been driven in his face. It was Clotilda. She spoke to him, but +he listened to the melody of her voice, instead of to her words, so that he +did not understand what she was saying. Her quiet, reserved eyes, however, +brought him to his senses; but still he could not help feeling glad that, +as Flamin's friend, he had some claim upon her attention and her society. +It seemed to him as if everything that she did was done by her for the +first time in life; and he would no doubt have shown a strange +embarrassment in her company if the Lord Chamberlain and his wife and a +throng of guests had not come into the garden and surrounded him and +distracted him by their compliments. Recovering his self-possession, he +concealed his real feelings by giving full play to his faculty for +malicious and witty sayings. But though he succeeded in amusing the +company, he displeased Clotilda; for the talk fell on the topic of +women.</p> + +<p>"The thing which a girl most easily forgets," said the Lord Chamberlain, +"is how she looks; that is why she is always gazing into a mirror."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that is also the reason," said Victor, "why no woman regards +another as more beautiful than she is. The most that a woman will admit is +that her rival is younger than herself."</p> + +<p>Nothing fell upon Clotilda--and this is always found in the best of her +sex--more keenly than satire upon womankind, and though she concealed the +fact that she both endured and despised this sort of wit, she began to +distrust the lips and the heart of the young Englishman, and treated him +during this time with such cold civility, that he had to exaggerate his +wild gaiety in order to conceal the grief that he felt.</p> + +<p>But as she was walking at evening in the garden, a loose leaf blew out +of a book that she was holding, and Victor picked it up and read: "On this +earth man has only two and a half minutes--one to smile, one to sigh, and a +half a one to love; for in the midst of it he dies."</p> + +<p>"Dahore! This is a saying of Dahore!" exclaimed Victor. "Clotilda, do +you know my beloved master Dahore?" Clotilda turned towards him, her face +transfigured with a lovely radiance. Their two noble souls discovered at +last their affinity in their common love for the wise and gracious spirit +who had nourished their young souls. For some strange reason Lord Horion, +as they found out as soon as they began to converse together in a sweet and +sincere intimacy, had had them brought up by the same master; and Dahore, +an eccentric, lovable man with a profound wisdom, had made them, in both +mind and soul, comrades to each other, though he educated one in London and +the other at St. Luna.</p> + +<p>"He taught Flamin and me at the same time," said Victor, looking to see +what effect the name of his friend had on Clotilda. She smiled sweetly, but +mysteriously, when he went on to speak of his loving friendship for the son +of Chaplain Eymann.</p> + +<p>The next day he knew why her smile was so mysterious. Lord Horion +arrived from Flachsenfingen with some extraordinary news. Flamin had been +appointed a counsellor to Prince January. Never had Victor in his wildest +dreams of his friend's advancement, imagined that he would obtain at a leap +so high an important position as this. The young Englishman himself had +been sent to study at Göttingen in order that he might be qualified to +act as the prince's physician; but Flamin, without any labour, had suddenly +obtained a place of authority almost equal to that occupied by Lord +Horion.</p> + +<p>Late that evening, however, Lord Horion revealed to his son a strange +secret, in the light of which everything was explained. The Prince of +Flachsenfingen was a man of a rather weak and evil character, over whom +Horion ruled by sheer force of will. Prince January had had two children, a +boy and a girl, and the English lord had had them brought up far away from +the malicious influences of the court. In order that January might not +interfere in the education of the heir, Horion had told him that the boy +had perished in infancy in London. As a matter of fact, the child had been +brought up with Victor.</p> + +<p>"So Flamin is the heir to the throne of Flachsenfingen!" exclaimed +Victor.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Horion, "and I have trained you to guide and direct him in +the same way as I guide and direct his father. For the present, however, I +must have complete control of the matter. Swear that you will not divulge +the secret of Flamin's birth to him or to any one else, before I give you +permission."</p> + +<p>For a moment Victor hesitated. He remembered the promise that Flamin had +wrung from him on the watch-tower, and this, he was beginning to see, might +involve him in a perilous misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>"Does Clotilda know?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I revealed the secret to her when she came to St. Luna," said Horion, +"under the same conditions that I am now revealing it to you. She swore to +reveal it under no circumstances whatever, and you must do the same before +you leave this spot."</p> + +<p>So Victor took the oath with a strange mixture of misgiving and joy. As +he walked back, slowly and thoughtfully, to the chaplain's house, he at +last admitted to himself that he was deeply in love with Clotilda. Instead +of returning to England and leaving Flamin in possession of the field, as +he had resolved on doing, he was now at liberty to try and win the +beautiful, noble girl. On the other hand, Flamin would misunderstand his +actions, and this would bring both of them into great danger.</p> + +<p>The next day Victor received his appointment as physician to the Prince +of Flachsenfingen, and he was summoned to the court, together with +Clotilda. He now divined what his father's intentions were in regard to him +and the lovely young girl. Instead, however, of going with her to +Flachsenfingen, he dressed himself in poor attire and set out on an aimless +journey through Europe, without telling anyone where he was going.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Enmity</i></h4> + + +<p>Victor had a profound aversion from the wild and yet vacant kind of life +that men pursued at the court of the Prince of Flachsenfingen. He was +comforted in his separation by the thought that so long as it lasted he was +spared from disturbing the delusions of her jealous brother. But when he at +last came to Flachsenfingen, he was grieved to find that his beautiful lady +had grown pale and sorrowful. Like a sweet flower taken from the clear +fresh air of the forest and placed in a hot, closed room, she was pining in +the close, heavy atmosphere of the court, which was so crowded and yet so +lonely. At the sight of her distress, Victor forgot his promise to Flamin. +Meeting her at evening in the forest near the palace, he sank on his knees +before her in the dewy grass, and told her all his love for her, and of the +promise he had made to Flamin. Clotilda stooped and clasped his hand, and +drew him up, and he folded her to his breast.</p> + +<p>"We must part, dearest," he said, "until my father sees fit to reveal to +your brother the secret of his birth."</p> + +<p>A nightingale broke out into a passion of song as Victor gathered up his +courage to bid her farewell. The call of the nightingale was suddenly +answered by another nightingale. It kept flying as it sang, and, with its +voice muffled by the thick blossoms on the trees, it sent a languishing +melody flowing out of a dim, flowering dell a hundred paces away. The two +lovers, who dreaded and delayed to part, wandered confusedly after the +receding nightingale into the hollow of the forest; they knew not that they +were alone, for in their hearts was God. At last Clotilda recovered +herself, and as the nightingale ceased, she turned round to say good-bye. +But Victor lingered, and took both of her hands, though for very grief he +could not bear to look upon her. With tears in his eyes he murmured, +"Good-bye, my dearest. My heart is too heavy. I can say no more. Do not +sorrow, darling. Nothing can part us now--neither life nor death."</p> + +<p>Like a transfigured spirit bending down to an angel, he stooped and +touched her sweet mouth. In a gentle kiss, in which their hovering souls +only glided tremorously from afar to meet each other with fluttering wings, +he took from her yielding lips the seal of her pure love. As he did so, +there came a crashing sound from the dark trees around them.</p> + +<p>"You scoundrel!" cried Flamin, rushing down into the hollow, his eyes +gleaming in the moonlight, and his face white with anger. "Take it, take +it! I will have your blood for this!"</p> + +<p>He had two pistols in his hand, and he thrust one fiercely towards +Victor. The Englishman drew Clotilda aside, and then went up to his friend, +saying, "I have not wronged you. Believe me, Flamin, I remember the oath I +gave you, and I swear that I have been faithful to you. Only wait until I +see my father, and everything will be explained."</p> + +<p>"I want no explanation, you faithless scoundrel," shouted Flamin, "Take +it, or I will kill you where you stand."</p> + +<p>In his blind fury he was pointing the muzzle of the pistol at the +trembling form of Clotilda, and Victor snatched the weapon from him in +order to save her.</p> + +<p>"I will have blood for this--blood, blood!" Flamin kept saying, reeling +about the floor of the dell like a drunken man.</p> + +<p>"You are my brother, my brother!" cried Clotilda. "Don't you hear? You +are my brother!"</p> + +<p>She ran up to Flamin to take the pistol from him, but reeled and fell to +the ground in a swoon. Victor looked at her wildly, and thinking that she +was dead, turned upon Flamin.</p> + +<p>"If you want blood," he said sternly, "take mine."</p> + +<p>"You fire first," exclaimed Flamin.</p> + +<p>Victor lifted his pistol up into the air and shot at the top of a tree; +then he stood calm and silent waiting for Flamin to fire. His old friend +pointed the pistol straight at his heart, but hesitated; and Clotilda +recovered her senses and staggered to her feet, and threw herself before +her lover. Flamin looked at them in gloomy wonder without lowering his +pistol. He would have liked to kill them both with one shot, but the +instinct of a life-long friendship unnerved him. He hurled his pistol away, +saying, "It isn't worth troubling to kill a scoundrel like you," and then +turned and strode fiercely through the forest.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Some weeks afterwards Victor was standing on the watch-tower at St. Luna +alone, with a letter from Lord Horion in his hand. He looked down from the +height, and he was tempted to throw himself over. He had regained the +friendship of Flamin, but it seemed to him that he had now lost all hope of +winning Clotilda. For Lord Horion had explained the whole of the strange, +tortuous policy which he had used in regard to Prince January. He informed +Victor that he had introduced Flamin to the prince, and had proved to him +that the young man was his heir. "They asked me, my dear Victor," Horion +went on to say in his letter, "a question which I was surprised at your not +asking. If Flamin is the son of the prince, where is the son of Chaplain +Eymann whom I took to London to be educated with him? My dear boy, I have +no son, and you really are the child of Eymann and his good wife. This +secret I felt bound to reveal to the prince at the same time that I was +forced to reveal the secret of Flamin's birth. It was because I wished to +postpone the revelations until you were established in the prince's good +graces that I made you take the oath that you took so unwillingly."</p> + +<p>Victor felt that what the heir to a great English nobleman might aspire +to, the son of a poor country clergyman could never hope to attain. By a +strange vicissitude of fortune he now found himself in the same position as +that in which Flamin had been when they met on the watch-tower after their +long separation. His mournful meditations were suddenly interrupted by two +figures who had silently crept up the stairs of the tower. They were Flamin +and Clotilda, and each of them put an arm around Victor and led him to the +parsonage. On the way he learnt that Clotilda had known all along that he +was the son of Chaplain Eymann.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Titan"></a>Titan</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The climax of Jean Paul Richter's inspiration, and of his +obscurity, was reached in "Titan," published during 1801-3. He meant it to +be his greatest romance, and posterity has confirmed his judgement. Of all +his works, it is the most characteristic of its author. It has all the +peculiarities of his style, peculiarities that are reflected in the prose +of Thomas Carlyle, his most eminent British admirer and interpreter. The +book itself took ten years to write, and according to his correspondence, +Richter intended to call it "Anti-Titan," having in view his attacks on the +material selfishness of the age which, to gain its own ends, would move +mountains. The motive--a comparison between a man of moral grandeur and one +of grandiose immorality--came to Richter while he was engaged on +"Hesperus," a fact that explains why certain characters from the earlier +romance reappear in "Titan." </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Liana</i></h4> + + +<p>For many years Albano, the young Spanish Count Cesara, had lived within +sight of the capital city of the state of Hohenfliess; yet he had never +entered it--his mother, so his father told him, had shut it against him, +desiring that he should be reared in the Carthusian monastery of rural +life, not sullied in his youth by mingling with courtiers and men of the +world.</p> + +<p>And now the gates of Pestitz were open to him. Contemplate the heated +face of my hero, who at last is riding into the streets, built up in his +fancy of temples of the sun, where who knows but that at every long window, +on every balcony, his beloved Liana may be standing?</p> + +<p>Gaspard, Count Cesara, Knight of the Fleece, had met his son, for the +first time in Albano's memory, at Lake Maggiore, and Albano had come away +from the meeting with a feeling of chill that poisoned his heart, eager as +it was to love and be loved, and a vague, discomposing sense that in his +birth there was a mystery. But the thought of his father's coldness, all +thoughts that troubled and confused, were forgotten on his entry into +Pestitz, in the eager hope of seeing Liana, his beloved, and his friend, +her brother, Charles Roquairol; for neither his beloved nor her brother had +he ever yet in his life beheld.</p> + +<p>The love and the friendship were of the imagination, and the imagination +was begotten of the accounts given by Von Falterle, the +accomplishments-master of Albano in the village of Blümenbuhl, and of +his former pupil Liana, daughter of the Minister von Froulay. It was his +wont to paste up long altar-pieces of Liana's charms, charms which her +father had sought to enhance by means of delicate and almost meagre fare, +by shutting up his orangery, whose window he seldom lifted off from this +flower of a milder clime--until she had become a tender creature of +pastil-dust, which the gusts of fate and monsoons of climate could almost +blow to pieces. In Albano's silent heart, therefore, there was to be seen a +saintly image of Liana, the ascending Raphael's Mary, but, like the +pictures of the saints in Passion-week, hanging behind a veil.</p> + +<p>And as for her brother, the madcap Roquairol, who in his thirteenth year +had shot at himself with suicidal intent because the little Countess Linda +de Romeiro, Albano's father's ward, had turned her back upon him, could our +hero's admiration be withheld from a youth of his own age who already +possessed all the accomplishments and had tasted all the passions?</p> + +<p>When Albano entered Pestitz, eager that his dreams of love and +friendship should be realised, the aged Prince of Hohenfliess had just +departed this life, and Liana, intimate friend of the Princess Julienne, +daughter of the dead prince, was smitten with temporary blindness, due to +emotion and consequent headache. Albano first beheld her in the garden of +her father, the minister, standing in the glimmer of the moon. The blest +youth saw irradiated the young, open, still Mary's-brow, and the delicate +proportions, which, like the white attire, seemed to exalt the form. Thou +too fortunate man!--to whom the only visible goddess, Beauty, appears so +suddenly, in her omnipotence!</p> + +<p>Ah, why must a deep, cold cloud steal through this pure and lofty +heaven?</p> + +<p>The inauguration of the new prince was held--of the enfeebled Prince +Luigi--upon whose expected speedy decease the neighbouring princely house +of Haarkaar founded its hopes of acquiring the dominions of Hohenfliess. It +was on the night of an inauguration ball that Albano, having poured out his +heart to Roquairol in a letter, met his long-hoped-for friend, and sealed +their affections by declaring that he would never wed Linda de Romeiro, +whom it was thought Count Gaspard had designed for his son's bride, and for +whom Roquairol's youthful passion had not been extinguished.</p> + +<p>When Liana recovered her sight, she was sent to Blümenbuhl for +restoration of health--to the home of Albano's foster-father, the +provincial-director Wehrfritz. Thither often came Albano; thither also came +Roquairol, to bask in the wondering admiration that Rabette, Albano's +foster-sister, bestowed on him with all the fervour of her innocent rural +mind. Albano's dream was fulfilled; he loved Liana in realty as he had +loved her in imagination. Roquairol thought he loved Rabette; in truth, her +simplicity was to this experienced conqueror of feminine hearts but a new +and, for the moment, overmastering sensation.</p> + +<p>On a glorious evening Albano and Liana stood on a sloping +mountain-ridge; overhead was a heaven filled with a life-intoxicated, +tumultuous creation, as the sun-god stalked away over his evening-world. He +seized Liana's hands and pressed them wildly to his breast; flames and +tears suffused his eyes and his cheeks, and he stammered, "Liana, I love +thee!"</p> + +<p>She stepped back, and drew her white veil over her face.</p> + +<p>"Wouldst thou love the dead?" she said.</p> + +<p>He knew her meaning. Her friend Caroline, whom she had loved and who had +died, had appeared in a vision, and announced that she would die in the +next year.</p> + +<p>"The vision was not true!" cried Albano.</p> + +<p>"Caroline, answer him!" Liana folded her hands as if in prayer; then she +raised the veil, looked at him tenderly, and said, in a low tone, "I will +love thee, good Albano, if I do not make thee miserable."</p> + +<p>"I will die with thee!" said he.</p> + +<p>Charles appeared with Rabette; he, also, had spoken frantic words of +love, and Rabette clung around him compassionately, as a mother around her +child.</p> + +<p>A few more days of joyous life at Blümenbuhl, and Liana returned to +her home at Pestitz. Then for weeks Albano saw nothing of her, heard +nothing of her. Liana was in sore trouble. Her father had disapproved of +the match; what mattered much more to her, her mother also. The mother's +opposition was on the quite decisive ground that she could not endure +Albano.</p> + +<p>The Minister von Froulay had more specific reasons for his +hostility--the most specific of all being that he had designed his daughter +for one Bouverot, a disreputable court intriguer, his leaning towards +Bouverot being based on financial liabilities, and stimulated by financial +expectations. The minister's lady detested Bouverot, but in desiring +separation between Liana and Albano, she was her husband's ally. Behold, +then, Liana torn between duty towards her mother and love for Albano.</p> + +<p>Once Albano saw her, but heard no explanation. The prince was wedded to +the Princess of Haarbaar, and it was at a wedding festivity in the grounds +of the pleasure palace of Lilar that Albano looked upon his beloved. But +she was pledged for the time to tell him nothing, and she told him nothing. +The princess looked curiously at her, for Liana exactly resembled the +princess's younger sister, the philanthropic Idoine, who devoted herself to +the idyllic happiness of her peasantry in the Arcadian village that it was +her whim to rule.</p> + +<p>To the aged and saintly court chaplain, Spener, Liana at last brought +her perplexities. Here the history moves in veils. How he extorted from her +the promise to renounce her Albano for ever is a mystery watched and hidden +by the Great Sphinx of the oath she swore to him.</p> + +<p>On the next day Albano was summoned, and stood with quivering lips +before the beloved.</p> + +<p>"I am true to you--even unto death," she said; "but all is over."</p> + +<p>He looked upon her, wild, wondering.</p> + +<p>"I have resigned you," she said; "and my parents are not to blame. There +is a mystery that has constrained me--"</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" he cried. "Is it thus with external fidelity and love?" In +whirling, cruel passion he pictured his love, her coldness, his pain, her +violated oath.</p> + +<p>"I did not think thou wert so hard," she said. "Oh, it grows dark to me; +let me to my mother!"</p> + +<p>Albano gazed into the groping, timid face, and guessed all--her +blindness had returned!</p> + +<p>The mother rushed up. "May God bring you retribution for this!" cried +Albano to her. "Farewell, unhappy Liana!"</p> + +<p>For many days Albano lived without love or hope, in bitter +self-reproach; every recollection darted into him a scorpion-sting. And to +him in his agony came the tormenting news that the fickle Roquairol had +deserted Rabette. He drove the false one from his presence; sister and +brother, beloved and friend, were now utterly lost to him.</p> + +<p>At length he learned that Liana had recovered her sight, and that she +was dying. Once more, for the last time, he was admitted to her presence. +She reclined in an easy-chair, white-clad, with white, sunken cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Albano!" she said feebly, but with the old smile. "Some day +thou wilt know why I parted from thee. On this, my dying day, I tell thee +my heart has been true to thee." She handed him a sheet with a sketch she +had made with trembling hand of the noble head of Linda de Romeiro. "It is +my last wish that them shouldst love her," she said. "She is more worthy of +thee."</p> + +<p>"Ah, forgive, forgive!" sobbed Albano.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, beloved!" she said calmly, while her feeble hand pressed his. +For a while she was silent. Suddenly she said, with a low tone of gladness, +"Caroline! Here, here, Caroline! How beautiful thou art!" Liana's fingers +ceased to play; she lay peaceful and smiling, but dead.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Linda De Romeiro</i></h4> + + +<p>Albano's state for a long time was one of fever. He lay dressed in bed, +unable to walk, in a burning heat, talking wildly, and as each hour struck +on the clock, springing up to kneel down and utter the prayer, "Liana, +appear, and give me peace!" to the high, shut-up heavens.</p> + +<p>"Poor brother!" said Schoppe the librarian, his old preceptor and dear +friend. "I swear to thee thou shalt get thy peace to-day."</p> + +<p>He went to Linda de Romeiro, now in Pestitz after long wandering, and +placed his design before her. Would the Princess Idoine, Liana's likeness, +appear before Albano as a vision and give him peace? Linda consented to +plead with Idoine. But Idoine made a difficulty. It was not the unusualness +and impropriety of the thing that she dreaded, but the untruthfulness and +unworthiness of playing false with the holy name of a departed soul, and +cheating a sick man with a superficial similarity.</p> + +<p>At length Idoine gave her decision. "If a human life hangs upon this, I +must conquer my feeling."</p> + +<p>As eight o'clock struck, Albano knelt in the dusk, crying, "Peace, +peace!"</p> + +<p>Idoine trembled as she heard him; but she entered, clothed in white, the +image of the dead Liana.</p> + +<p>"Albano, have peace!" she said, in a low and faltering tone.</p> + +<p>"Liana!" he groaned, weeping.</p> + +<p>"Peace!" cried she more strongly, and vanished.</p> + +<p>"I have my peace now, good Schoppe," said Albano softly, "and now I will +sleep."</p> + +<p>Time gradually unfolded Albano's grief instead of weakening it. His life +had become a night, in which the moon is under the earth, and he could not +believe that Luna would gradually return with an increasing bow of light. +Not joys, but only actions--those remote stars of night--were now his aim. +As he travelled with his father in Italy after his recovery, the news of +the French Revolution gave an object to his eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Take here my word," he wrote to Schoppe, "that as soon as the probable +war of Gallic freedom breaks out I take my part decidedly in it, for +it."</p> + +<p>But at Ischia, Albano was dazzled by a wonder; he saw Linda de Romeiro. +When she raised her veil, beauty and brightness streamed out of a rising +sun; delicate, maidenly colours, lovely lines and sweet fullness of youth +played like a flower garland about the brow of a goddess, with soft +blossoms around the holy seriousness and mighty will on brow and lip, and +around the dark glow of the large eye.</p> + +<p>As Albano and Linda walked on the mountain Epomeo, looking upon the +coasts and promontories of that rare region, upon cities and sea, upon +Vesuvius without flame or thunder, white with sand or snow, Albano's heart +was an asbestos leaf written over and cast into the fire--burning, not +consuming; his whole former life went out, the leaf shone fiery and pure +for Linda's hand. He gazed into her face lovingly and serenely as a sun-god +in morning redness, and pressed her hands. "Give them to me for ever!" said +he earnestly.</p> + +<p>She inclined modestly her beautiful head upon his breast, but +immediately raised it again, with its large, moist eyes, and said +hurriedly, "Go now! Early to-morrow come, Albano! Adio! Adio!"</p> + +<p>Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers +returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still +bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They quarrelled, +and parted in anger.</p> + +<p>On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's +handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens of +Lilar. She went there at the appointed evening hour, although, owing to the +night-blindness from which, like many Spaniards, she often suffered, she +could not see her lover. But she kissed him, and heard his burning words of +love.</p> + +<p>But Albano had not written, and had not entered Lilar. Roquairol's old +passion for Linda was undiminished; his rage at Albano was beyond bounds. +He could mimic Albano's writing and voice; he knew of Linda's +night-blindness. On the next night, in the presence of Albano and Linda, he +slew himself with his own hand.</p> + +<p>The death of Roquairol lay like a blight between the lovers. They parted +for ever.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Idoine</i></h4> + + +<p>"War!" This word alone gave Albano peace. He made himself ready for a +journey to France, and ere he set forth he sought out the little spot of +earth, beneath a linden-tree, where reposed the gentle Liana, the friendly, +lovely angel of peace.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, with a shudder, he beheld the white form of Liana herself +leaning against the linden. He believed some dream had drawn down the airy +image from heaven, and he expected to see it pass away. It lingered, though +quiet and mute. Kneeling down, he exclaimed, "Apparition, comest thou from +God? Art thou Liana?"</p> + +<p>Quickly the white form looked round, and saw the youth. She rose slowly, +and said, "My name is Idoine. I am innocent of the cruel deception, most +unhappy youth." Then he covered his eyes, from a sudden, sharp pang at the +return of the cold, heavy reality. Thereupon he looked at her again, and +his whole being trembled at her glorified resemblance to the +departed--prouder and taller her stature, paler her complexion, more +thoughtful the maidenly brow. She could not, when he looked upon her so +silently and comparingly, repress her sympathy; she wept, and he too.</p> + +<p>"Do I, too, distress you?" said he, in the highest emotion.</p> + +<p>"I only weep," she innocently said, "that I am not Liana."</p> + +<p>"Noble princess," he replied, "this holy spot takes away all sense of +mutual strangeness. Idoine, I know that you once gave me peace, and here I +thank you."</p> + +<p>"I did it," she said, "without knowing you, and therefore could allow +myself the use of a fleeting resemblance."</p> + +<p>He looked at her sharply; everything within him loved her, and his whole +heart, opened by wounds, was unfolded to the still soul. But a stern spirit +closed it. "Unhappy one, love no one again; for a dark, destroying angel +goes with poisoned sword behind thy love."</p> + +<p>Idoine turned to go. He knelt, pressed her hand to his bosom, and only +said, "Peace, all-gracious one!" Idoine, after a few swift steps, passed +out of his sight.</p> + +<p>Albano hastened preparations for his journey; but ere the preparations +were ended, a letter was brought to him that caused him to abandon the +project altogether. It was a letter from the long-dead Princess Eleonore, +wife of the old prince who had died when Albano had first entered Pestitz. +Now, in the fullness of time, was the letter placed before Albano's eyes +and the token of the fullness of time was the death, without issue, of +Prince Luigi, and the seeming inheritance of his dominions by the House of +Haarkaar.</p> + +<p>Thus the letter began:</p> + +<p>"My son,--Hear thine own history from the mouth of thy mother; from no +other will it come to thee more acceptably.</p> + +<p>"The birth of thy brother Luigi at a late period of our married life +annihilated the hopes of succession of the house of Haarkaar. But Count +Cesara discovered proofs of some dark actions which were to cost thy poor +brother his life. 'They will surely get the better of us at last,' said thy +father.</p> + +<p>"Madame Cesara and I loved each other; we were both of romantic spirit. +She had just borne a lovely daughter, called Linda. We made the singular +contract that, if I bore a son, we would exchange; with her, my son could +grow up without incurring the danger which had always threatened thy +brother in my house.</p> + +<p>"Soon afterwards I brought forth thee and thy sister Julienne at a +birth. 'I keep' I said, to the countess, 'my daughter, thou keepest thine; +as to Albano, let the prince decide.' Thy father allowed that thou shouldst +be brought up as son of the count. The documents of thy genealogy were +thrice made out, and I, the count, and the court chaplain Spener, were put +in possession of them. The Countess Cesara went off with Linda to Valencia, +and took the name Romeiro. By this change of names all would be covered up +as it now stands.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I shall not live to be permitted openly to clasp thy son in my +arms! May it go well with thee, dearest child! God guide all our weak +expedients for the best.</p> + +<p class="date">"Thy faithful mother,</p> + +<p class="date">"ELEONORE"</p> + +<p>Albano stood for a long time speechless. Joy of life, new powers and +plans, delight in the prospect of the throne, the images of new relations, +and displeasure at the past, stormed through each other in his spirit.</p> + +<p>He went out, and in the twilight stood upon the mountains, whence he +could overlook, but with other eyes than once, the city which was to be the +circus and theatre of his powers. He belongs now to a German house, the +people around him are his kinsmen; the prefiguring ideals, which he had +once sketched to himself at the coronation of his brother, of the warm rays +wherewith a prince as a constellation can enlighten and enrich lands, were +now put into his hands for fulfilment. His pious father, still blessed by +the grandchildren of the country, pointed to him the pure sun-track of his +princely duty: only actions give life strength, only moderation gives it a +charm.</p> + +<p>He descended to Blümenbuhl. The funeral bell of the little church +of Blümenbuhl tolled for Luigi. Albano joined his sister Julienne, and +they betook themselves with Idoine and Rabette to the church. At the bright +altar was the venerable Spener; the long coffin of the brother stood before +the altar between rows of lights. Here, near such altar-lights, had once +the oppressed Liana knelt while swearing the renunciation of her love. The +whole constellation of Albano's shining past had gone down below the +horizon, and only one bright star of all the group stood glimmering still +above the earth--Idoine.</p> + +<p>After the solemn service, Idoine addressed herself to him oftener; her +sweet voice was more tender, though more tremulous; her maidenly shyness of +the resemblance to Liana seemed conquered or forgotten. Her existence had +decided itself within her, and on her virgin love, as on a spring soil by +one warm evening rain, all buds had been opened into bloom.</p> + +<p>"How many a time, Albano," said Julienne, "hast thou here, in thy +long-left youthful years, looked toward the mountains for thine own +ones--for thy hidden parents, and brothers and sisters--for thou hadst +always a good heart!"</p> + +<p>Here Idoine unconsciously looked at him with inexpressible love, and his +eyes met hers.</p> + +<p>"Idoine," said he, "I have that heart still; it is unhappy, but +unstained."</p> + +<p>Then Idoine hid herself quickly and passionately in Julienne's bosom, +and said, scarcely audibly, "Julienne, if Albano rightly knows me, then be +my sister!"</p> + +<p>"I do know thee, holy being!" said Albano, and clasped his bride to his +bosom.</p> + +<p>"Look up at the fair heaven!" cried Julienne. "The rainbow of eternal +peace blooms there, and the tempests are over, and the world's all so +bright and green. Wake up, my brother and sister!"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="PETER_ROSEGGER"></a>PETER ROSEGGER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Papers_of_the_Forest_Schoolmaster"></a>The Papers of the +Forest Schoolmaster</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> In Austrian literature the "story in dialect" is a modern +development. Its founder and most distinguished exponent is Peter +Kettenfeier Rosegger, who was born at Alpel, near Krieglach, on July 31, +1843, and who has spent his lifetime among the people of the Styrian Alps. +Mr. Rosegger first attracted attention in 1875 with a volume of short +stories, bearing the general title of "Schriften des Waldschulmeisters," or +"Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster," and since then he has written a large +number of similar tales, all more or less sentimental in tone, and all +dealing with certain aspects of peasant life. "The Papers of the Forest +Schoolmaster," which takes the form of a diary, is not only one of the most +winsome idylls that has come from Herr Rosegger's pen, but it exhibits a +delicacy of touch, a keen penetration into the mysteries of human life, and +a deep insight into nature in her various moods; and under all there is a +strong current of romance and a great sense of the poetry of +things--qualities that have made its author one of the foremost prose poets +in recent German literature. </p></blockquote> + + +<p>Mist and rain made it impossible for me to ascend the "Grey Tooth" for +some days after I had arrived at Winkelsteg, the highest village in the +remotest valley, and I was temporarily lodged in the schoolhouse, which had +been deserted since the schoolmaster, who--so I was told--had lived in this +out-of-the-way corner for fifty years, had disappeared last Christmas. The +whole next day the rain continued to beat against the window. There was +nothing to be done, and I spent my time in arranging the scattered but +numbered sheets of the vanished schoolmaster's manuscript, which I found +littered in the drawer allotted to me for my scant belongings. And then I +began to read that strange man's diary, the first page of which only bore +the words:</p> + + +<p><i>The Papers of the Forest Schoolmaster</i></p> + + +<p>So I am at last settled in this wilderness. And I will write it all +down, although I know not for whom. My father died when I was seven, and I +was taken charge of by an itinerant umbrella-maker who taught me his trade, +and on his death left me his stock of some two dozen umbrellas, which I +took to the market. A heavy shower just at midday helped me to sell them +rapidly, and I only retained one for my own protection and for that of an +elegant gentleman who, unable to secure a carriage, made me accompany him +to town to save him from getting drenched. He made me tell him all about +myself, and offered to take me as apprentice in his bookshop. He was a kind +master. When he discovered' that I was more interested in the contents of +his books than in my work he secured me admission in a college. I studied +hard, and obtained my meals at the houses of private pupils whom I +undertook to coach. My friend Henry, a clothmaker's son, had procured me a +post as teacher to Hermann, the son of the Baron von Schrankenheim. I was +treated with every consideration in his house, and became deeply attached +to my pupil's sister. Of course, the case was hopeless then; but in a few +years, when I should have passed my examinations and taken my degrees--who +knows?</p> + +<p>An indiscreet speech, which offended my teachers, made an end to all my +dreams. I was ploughed, and I resolved at once to leave the town, and to +seek my fortune in the world. I first enlisted with Andreas Hofer to fight +the French invaders, and was carried off a prisoner into France. Then only +I learnt that the Tyrolese were rebels against their own emperor, that I +had fought for a bad cause; and to atone for it I took service with the +great Napoleon's army. I was among those who escaped from the Russian +disaster, and, in my enthusiasm for Napoleon, whom I regarded as the +liberator of the peoples, fought for him against my own country. At Leipzig +I shot Henry, my best friend, whom I only recognised when in his agony he +called me by my name. Then only my eyes were opened. Failure had dogged my +every step. A hermit's life in the wilderness was all that was left for me. +This resolve I communicated to the Baron von Schrankenheim, who, after vain +attempts to dissuade me from my purpose, spoke to me of this wilderness, +his property, where I could do real good among the rough wood-cutters, +poachers, shepherds and charcoal-burners, who, cut off from the rest of the +world, eked out their existence without priest or doctor or schoolmaster. +Winkelsteg was to be my hermitage; and now I am here, a schoolmaster +without a school. I shall have to study these rough folk and gain their +confidence before I can set to work.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Forest Folk</i></h4> + + +<p>Strange trades are carried on in this wilderness. These people literally +dig their bread out of earth and stone and ant-heaps, scrape it off the +trees, distill it out of uneatable fruit. There is the root-digger, whose +booty of mountain ovens is said to go to far Turkey to be turned into +scent. He would long have given up digging, to live entirely on poaching, +but for his hope to unearth some day treasure of gold and jewels. One of +these "forest-devils" has just died. He never worked at all. His profession +was eating. He went from village to village and from fair to fair, eating +cloth and leather, nails, glass, stones, to the amazement of his audience. +He died from eating a poisonous root given him by some unknown digger--they +say it was the devil himself. His funeral oration was delivered by a pale, +bent, quiet man, known as the Solitary, of whose life nobody can give one +any information.</p> + +<p>Then there is the pitch-boiler. You can smell him from afar, and see him +glitter through the thicket. His pitch-oil is bought by the wood-cutter for +his wounds, by the charcoal-burner for his burns, by the carter for his +horse, by the brandy-distiller for his casks. It is a remedy for all +ailments. The most dangerous of all the forest-devils is the +brandy-distiller. He is better dressed than the others, has a kind word for +everybody, and plays the tempter with but too great success.</p> + +<p>Black Matthias is dying in his miserable hut. His little boy and girl +are playing around him, and his wife bids them be silent. "Let them shout," +says Matthias; "but try and keep down Lazarus' temper." On his death-bed +Matthias told me the story of his life--how he, a jolly, happy fellow, fell +into the recruiting-officers' trap, escaped from their clutches, was +betrayed by his own village people, and flogged through the line, and how +they rubbed vinegar and salt into his wounded back; how he escaped from the +battlefield and found refuge in this wilderness--a changed man, +quarrelsome, with an uncontrollable temper, which led him into many a +brawl; and how, under great provocation, he had stabbed a wood-burner at +the inn, and had been beaten within an inch of his life by the +wood-cutters. His life was now ebbing away fast, and he had good reason to +fear that his uncontrollable temper would live in his son. Hence his +exhortation to his wife. Black Matthias died a few hours after he had told +me of his sad life.</p> + +<p>And so I get to know them all, and make friends with them all, +especially with the children, and with the shepherd lad Berthold and the +poor milkmaid Aga. There was a wedding down at Heldenichlag, where they +have a parish church, and dancing and merrymaking at the inn all night. +Next morning Berthold went to the priest. He wanted to marry Aga, but the +priest told him he was too young, too poor; he could come back again in ten +years! The poor lad is left speechless and does not know how to explain +<i>why</i> he wants to be united for ever with his Aga. Sadly he leaves the +room, but out in the open air his spirit returns to him. On the second day +of the wedding feast there was no holding him. He was the wildest and +merriest of the lot. In the afternoon we all returned to Winkelsteg in the +forest.</p> + +<p class="date">1815.</p> + +<p>I know I must begin with a church. And at last I have obtained the +baron's consent. I have designed the plan myself--it must be large enough +to hold all who are in need of comfort here, and bright and cheerful, for +there is darkness enough in the forest. And the steeple must be slender +like a finger pointing heavenwards. Three bells there must be to announce +the Trinity of God in one Person, and to sing the song of faith, hope, and +love. And an organ there must be, but no pictures and gilding and show.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Autumn</i>, 1816.</p> + +<p>I have been taking a census. How very limited is their range of names. +They have no family names, and only some half dozen Christian names! This +must be altered. I must invent names for them, according to their +occupation or dwelling or character: Sepp Woodcutter, Hiesel Springhutter, +and so forth. They like their new names; only Berthold gets angry and +refuses to take a name. "A name for me? I want no name; I am nobody. The +priest won't let me marry. Call me Berthold Misery, or call me Satan!"</p> + +<p class="date"><i>May</i>, 1817.</p> + +<p>I have been ill--the result of being snowed up on the way home from a +visit to a forester who had been wounded by a poacher. The danger is over +now, but my eyes continue to suffer. The forest folk have been very good to +me, and much concerned about my progress. And now I am able to go out +again. To-day I was watching a spider in the thicket, when I saw Aga +rushing towards me. "Ah, it's you!" she cried. "You must help us. We want +to live in honour and decency. The priest won't marry us. You can ask for +our blessing." The next moment Berthold had joined her and they were +kneeling before me. And I pronounced the words which I had no right to +pronounce. I married them in the heart of the green forest.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>St. James's Day</i>, 1817.</p> + +<p>Matthias's widow is in despair. Lazarus has disappeared. In a fit of +temper he threw a stone at her, then gave a wild yell and rushed away. "It +was a <i>small</i> stone, but there is a heavy stone upon my heart," +laments the mother; "his running away is the biggest stone he could have +thrown."</p> + +<p class="date"><i>St. Catherine's Day</i>, 1817.</p> + +<p>Lazarus' sister found a letter pinned on to a stick on her father's +grave, which she often visits. It was from her brother, and told them not +to worry--he is "in the school of the Cross." And then there was another +letter to say that he was well, and thinking of them all. They answered, +imploring him to return, and fixed the note and a little cross on the tomb. +It is still there, and has never been opened.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>March</i>, 1818.</p> + +<p>Berthold is gone among the wood-cutters, and has got his hut. A little +girl was born to Aga yesterday, and I was sent for to baptise it. I am no +priest, and must not steal a name from the calendar. So I called her Forest +Lily, and baptised her with the water of the priest.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1818.</p> + +<p>The first Sunday in these forests! The church is finished, and the bells +have summoned the people from the whole neighbourhood. The priest has come +from Heldenichlag to dedicate the church, and the schoolmaster to play the +organ. But some of the folk grumble because there is no inn by the church; +and I hear that the <i>grassteiger</i> has applied for a spirit license. +This is the shadow of the church!</p> + +<p>In the evening, as I went back to the church, I saw a youth, apparently +at prayer, who took to his heels the moment he found he was discovered. I +caught him up and recognised. Lazarus! But I could not get a word out of +him. I rang the church bells, and soon the lad was surrounded by the +astonished villagers. He only murmured, "Paulus, Paulus!" and refused to +take the proffered food, though he looked half starved. I took him back to +his mother the same evening.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>December</i>, 1818.</p> + +<p>Lazarus must have been through a miraculous school. He has completely +lost his evil temper, but he refuses to speak clearly of his life during +the past year, though he mumbles of a rock-cave, a good dark man, of +penance, and of a crucifix. We have no priest. I have to look after the +church, ring the bells, play the organ, sing and conduct prayer on Sundays. +I hear bad news of Hermann, my old pupil. He is said to be leading a wild +life in the capital. I cannot believe it.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1819.</p> + +<p>And now we have a priest--as strange and mysterious as the altar +crucifix which I had taken to the church from the rock valley. On the last +day of the hay-month, when I entered the church to ring the bells, I found +"the Solitary" reading mass on the highest step of the altar. I asked for +an explanation, and he answered with a rusty voice that he would tell me +all next Saturday at a desolate place he appointed in the forest.</p> + +<p>The Solitary has told me the whole sad story of his life. He was born in +a palace, and had been rocked in a golden cradle. He had drained the cup of +pleasure to the very dregs, and then, prompted by his tutor, had joined a +religious order, taken the binding vow, and renounced his fortune to the +order. A girl, whom he had known before, implored him not to leave her and +her child in distress. It was too late--he was now penniless and +irrevocably bound. She drowned herself and haunted his dreams, even after +he had become a priest under the name of Paulus. Blind obedience was +exacted from him by his order, and when he refused to betray a king's +confession he was sent as missionary to India. After his return he became a +zealot, exacting severe penance from sinners, and through his severity +driving a man to suicide. In his remorse he, too, had sought refuge in this +wilderness, where no one knew him, and where one day he found Lazarus, took +him to his cave, and taught him to tame his quick temper. I had always +thought the first pastor at Winkelsteg should be a repentant sinner, and +not a just man. We have now our priest.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Winter</i>, 1830.</p> + +<p>For more than ten years I have neglected my diary, partly because I was +no longer alone, but had a friend and companion in "the Solitary," partly +because I was busy with the building of the schoolhouse. I have my own +ideas on education. The child is a book in which we read, and into which we +ought to write. They ought to hear of nought but the beautiful, the good, +the great. They ought to learn patriotism--not the patriotism which makes +them die, but that which makes them live for their country.</p> + +<p>Berthold has become a poacher. I have already had to intercede for him +with the gamekeeper. Then, one winter's night, Forest Lily, his daughter, +was sent out to beg some milk for the babies. Snow fell heavily, and she +did not return. For three days they searched, and finally found her huddled +up with a whole herd of deer in a snow-covered thicket of dry +branches--kept alive by the animals' warmth and the pot of milk she was +taking home. When Berthold heard that the forest animals had saved his +child, he smashed his gun against a rock, and shouted, "Never again! never +again!"</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Carnival Time</i>, 1832.</p> + +<p>In the parsonage lies a farm-hand with a broken jaw. Drink and quarrel +and fight--it is ever the same. The priest has warned them often enough. He +has called the brandy-distiller a poison-brewer, and a few days ago the +distiller came to the parsonage, armed with a heavy stick. He poured out +his complaints. The priest was spoiling his honest business. What was he to +do? He took up a threatening attitude. "So you have come at last," said +Father Paulus; "I was going to come to you. So you won't give them any more +spirits--you are a benefactor of the community! I quite agree with you. You +will prepare medicines and oils and ointments from the roots and resin? +I'll help you, and in a few years you will be a well-to-do man."</p> + +<p>The distiller was speechless. He had said nothing of the sort, but it +all seemed so reasonable to him. He grumbled a few words, stumbled across +the threshold, and threw his stick away as far as it would fly.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>March 22</i>, 1832.</p> + +<p>Our priest died to-day.</p> + +<p>I can scarcely believe it. But there is no knocking at the window as I +pass the parsonage--no friendly face smiling at me. And I can scarcely +believe that he has gone.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Ascension Day</i>, 1835.</p> + +<p>A few days ago I had a letter from my former pupil, our present master. +He was ill, tired of the world, and wanted to find peace and rest in the +mountains. He remembered his old teacher, and asked me to be his guide. I +went to meet him, and he behaved so strangely that I thought I was walking +with a madman. On the second day he seemed better. He wanted to ascend at +once the highest peak, known as the "Grey Tooth." And as we passed the dark +mountain lake, we saw a beautiful young woman bathing. She looked like a +water-nymph. But when she saw us she disappeared under the water, and did +not show herself again. Was she drowning herself from very modesty? I +pulled her out of the water, we dressed her; then fear gave her strength, +she jumped up and ran away. It was my "Forest Lily."</p> + +<p>Hermann no longer insisted on climbing the mountain. He came with me to +Winkelsteg, remained three days, made Berthold gamekeeper, and arranged +that he should forthwith marry Aga in our church. Before he left he said to +me: "She thought more of her maidenhood than of her life. I never knew +there were such women. This is a new world for me--I, too, belong to the +forest. I entrust her to you--teach her if she wants to learn, and take +care of her. And keep the secret If I can be cured, I shall return."</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Summer</i>, 1837.</p> + +<p>It has come to pass. Schrankenheim has broken through class prejudice. +Two days ago he was married to Forest Lily in our church. They have left +us, and have gone to the beautiful city of Salzburg.</p> + +<p>The years pass in loneliness and monotony. Yet they have brought a great +change. A prosperous village now surrounds the church, and orchards +surround the village. And the folk are no longer savages. How smartly they +are now dressed on Sundays! The young people have more knowledge than the +old, but too little reverence for the old. But they still smoke tobacco and +drink spirits. What can an old schoolmaster do quite by himself?</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Spring</i>, 1848.</p> + +<p>Hermann's beautiful sister, she who turned my head so many years ago, is +coming here to seek refuge from the troubles in town, where they are +building barricades. I must see that everything is made pleasant and +comfortable for her.</p> + +<p class="date"><i>June</i>, 1848.</p> + +<p>To-day she gave a dinner party, and invited the parson and the +innkeeper. And I was sent a piece of meat and a glass of wine. I gave it to +a beggar. So two beggars have received alms to-day. I hear they spoke of me +during dinner. She said I received charity from her father when I was a +poor student; then I ran away from school and returned as a vagabond. So +you know it now, Andreas Erdmann!</p> + +<p class="date"><i>Christmas Eve</i>, 1864.</p> + +<p>I have not left the forest for fifty years. If I could only see the sea. +They say on a clear day you can see it from the "Grey Tooth." +To-morrow----</p> + +<p>Here the diary broke off abruptly. The next day being bright and sunny, +I engaged a lad to guide me on the deferred ascent. It was glorious. And +whilst my eyes were searching the far distance, my companion gave a sudden +scream, and pointed--at a human head protruding from the snow. He +recognised the schoolmaster. We dug him out of the hard snow and found in +his pocket a paper on which a shaky hand had written in pencil: "Christmas +Day. At sunset I beheld the sea and lost my eyesight"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JEAN_JACQUES_ROUSSEAU"></a>JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_New_Heloise"></a>The New Heloise</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Jean Jacques Rousseau, born at Geneva on June 28, 1712, +tells the story of his own life in the "Confessions" (see LIVES AND +LETTERS, Vol. X). All his dreams of felicity having been shattered, he took +up his abode in Paris, where he made a poor living by copying music. +Hither, again, he returned after a short stay in Venice, where he acted as +secretary in the Embassy. He now secured work on the great Encyclopaedia, +and became known, in 1749, by an essay on the arts and sciences, in which +he attacked all culture as an evidence and cause of social degeneration. A +successful opera followed in 1753; and to the same year belongs his "Essay +on Inequality among Men" ("Discours sur l'inégalité parmi les Hommes"), in +which he came forward as the apostle of the state of nature, and of +anarchy. His revolutionary ideas were viewed with great displeasure by the +authorities, and he fled in 1764 to Switzerland; and in 1766, under the +auspices of David Hume, to England. Rousseau wrote "The New Heloise" ("La +Nouvelle Héloise") in 1756-7, while residing at the Hermitage at +Montmorency--an abode where, in spite of certain quarrels and emotional +episodes, he passed some of the most placid days of his life. This book, +the title of which was founded on the historic love of Abelard and Heloise +(see Vol. IX), was published in 1760. Rousseau's primary intention was to +reveal the effect of passion upon persons of simple but lofty nature, +unspoiled by the artificialities of society. The work may be described as a +novel because it cannot very well be described as anything else. It is +overwhelmingly long and diffuse; the slender stream of narrative threads +its way through a wilderness of discourses on the passions, the arts, +society, rural life, religion, suicide, natural scenery, and nearly +everything else that Rousseau was interested in--and his interests were +legion. "The New Heloise" is thoroughly characteristic of the wandering, +enthusiastic, emotional-genius of its author. Several brilliant passages in +it are ranked among the classics of French literature; and of the work as a +whole, it may be said, judicially and without praise or censure, that there +is nothing quite like it in any literature. Rousseau died near Paris, July +2, 1778. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--"The Course of True Love"</i></h4> + + +<p>TO JULIE</p> + +<p>I must escape from you, mademoiselle. I must see you no more.</p> + +<p>You know that I entered your house as tutor to yourself and your cousin, +Mademoiselle Claire, at your mother's invitation. I did not foresee the +peril; at any rate, I did not fear it. I shall not say that I am now paying +the price of my rashness, for I trust I shall never fail in the respect due +to your high birth, your beauty, and your noble character. But I confess +that you have captured my heart. How could I fail to adore the touching +union of keen sensibility and unchanging sweetness, the tender pity, all +those spiritual qualities that are worth so much more to me than personal +charms?</p> + +<p>I have lost my reason. I promise to strive to recover it. You, and you +alone, can help me. Forbid me from appearing in your presence, show this +letter if you like to your parents; drive me away. I can endure anything +from you. I am powerless to escape of my own accord.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE</p> + +<p>I must, then, reveal my secret! I have striven to resist, but I am +powerless. Everything seems to magnify my love for you; all nature seems to +be your accomplice; every effort that I make is in vain. I adore you in +spite of myself.</p> + +<p>I hope and I believe that a heart which has seemed to me to deserve the +whole attachment of mine will not belie the generosity that I expect of it; +and I hope, also that if you should prove unworthy of the devotion I feel +for you, my indignation and contempt will restore to me the reason that my +love has caused me to lose.</p> + + +<p>TO JULIE</p> + +<p>Oh, how am I to realise the torrent of delights that pours into my +heart? And how can I best reassure the alarms of a timid and loving woman? +Pure and heavenly beauty, judge more truly, I beseech you, of the nature of +your power. Believe me, if I adore your loveliness, it is because of the +spotless soul of which that loveliness is the outward token. When I cease +to love virtue, I shall cease to love you, and I shall no longer ask you to +love me.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE</p> + +<p>My friend, I feel that every day I become more attached to you; the +smallest absence from you is insupportable; and when you are not with me I +must needs write you, so that I may occupy myself with you unceasingly.</p> + +<p>My mind is troubled with news that my father has just told me. He is +expecting a visit from his old friend, M. de Wolmar; and it is to M. de +Wolmar, I suspect, that he designs that I should be married. I cannot marry +without the approval of those who gave me life; and you know what the fury +of my father would be if I were to confess my love for you--for he would +assuredly not suffer me to be united to one whom he deems my inferior in +that mere worldly rank for which I care nothing. Yet I cannot marry a man I +do not love; and you are the only man I shall ever love.</p> + +<p>It pains me that I must not reveal our secret to my dear mother, who +esteems you so highly; but would she not reveal it, from a sense of duty, +to my father? It is best that only my inseparable Cousin Claire should know +the truth.</p> + + +<p>FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE</p> + +<p>I have bad news for you, my dear cousin. First of all, your love affair +is being gossipped about; secondly, this gossip has indirectly brought your +lover into serious danger.</p> + +<p>You have met my lord Edouard Bomston, the young English noble who is now +staying at Vevay. Your lover has been on terms of such warm friendship with +him ever since they met at Sion some time ago that I could not believe they +would ever have quarrelled. Yet they quarrelled last night, and about +you.</p> + +<p>During the evening, M. d'Orbe tells me, mylord Edouard drank freely, and +began to talk about you. Your lover was displeased and silent. Mylord +Edouard, angered at his coldness, declared that he was not always cold, and +that somebody, who should be nameless, caused him to behave in a very +different manner. Your lover drew his sword instantly; mylord Edouard drew +also, but stumbled in his intoxication, and injured his leg. In spite of M. +d'Orbe's efforts to reconcile them, a meeting was arranged to take place as +soon as mylord Edouard's leg was better.</p> + +<p>You must prevent the duel somehow, for mylord Edouard is a dangerous +swordsman. Meanwhile, I am terrified lest the gossip about you should reach +your father's ears. It would be best to get your lover to go away before +any mischief comes to pass.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p> + +<p>I am told that you are about to fight the man whom I love--for it is +true that I love him--and that he will probably die by your hand. Enjoy in +advance, if you can, the pleasure of piercing the bosom of your friend, but +be sure that you will not have that of contemplating my despair. For I +swear that I shall not survive by one day the death of him who is to me as +my life's breath. Thus you will have the glory of slaying with a single +stroke two hapless lovers who have never willingly committed a fault +towards you, and who have delighted to honour you.</p> + + +<p>TO JULIE</p> + +<p>Have no fear for me, dearest Julie. Read this, and I am sure that you +will share in my feelings of gratitude and affection towards the man with +whom I have quarrelled.</p> + +<p>This morning mylord Edouard entered my room, accompanied by two +gentlemen. "I have come," he said, "to withdraw the injurious words that +intoxication led me to utter in your presence. Pardon me, and restore to me +your friendship. I am ready to endure any chastisement that you see fit to +inflict upon me."</p> + +<p>"Mylord," I replied, "I acknowledge your nobility of spirit. The words +you uttered when you were not yourself are henceforth utterly forgotten." I +embraced him, and he bade the gentlemen withdraw.</p> + +<p>When we were alone, he gave me the warmest testimonies of friendship; +and, touched by his generosity, I told him the whole story of our love. He +promised enthusiastically to do what he could to further our happiness; and +this is the nobler in him, inasmuch as he admitted that he had himself +conceived a tender admiration for you.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE</p> + +<p>Dearest, the worst has happened. My father knows of our love. He came to +me yesterday pale with fury; in his wrath he struck me. Then, suddenly, he +took me in his arms and implored my forgiveness. But I know that he will +never consent to our union; I shall never dare to mention your name in his +presence. My love for you is unalterable; our souls are linked by bonds +that time cannot dissolve. And yet--my duty to my parents! How can I do +right by wronging them? Oh, pity my distraction!</p> + +<p>It seems that mylord Edouard impulsively asked my father for his consent +to our union, telling him how deeply we loved each other, and that he would +mortally injure his daughter's happiness if he denied her wishes. My father +replied, in bitter anger, that he would never suffer his child to be united +to a man of humble birth. Mylord Edouard hotly retorted that mere +distinctions of birth were worthless when weighed in the scale with true +refinement and true virtue. They had a long and violent argument, and +parted in enmity.</p> + +<p>I must take counsel with Cousin Claire, who never suffers her reason to +be clouded with those heart-torments of which I am the unhappy victim.</p> + + +<p>FROM CLAIRE TO JULIE</p> + +<p>On learning of your distress, dear cousin, I made up my mind that your +lover must go away, for your sake and his own; I summoned M. d'Orbe and +mylord Edouard. I told M. d'Orbe that the success of his suit to me +depended on his help to you. You know that my friendship for you is greater +than any love can be. Mylord Edouard acted splendidly. He promised to endow +your lover with a third of his estate, and to take him to Paris and London, +there to win the distinction that his talents deserve.</p> + +<p>M. d'Orbe went to order a chaise, and I proceeded to your lover and told +him that it was his duty to leave at once. At first he passionately +refused, then he yielded to despair; then he begged to be allowed to see +you once more. I refused; I urged that all delays were dangerous. His agony +brought tears to my eyes, but I was firm. M. d'Orbe led him away; mylord +Edouard was waiting with the chaise, and they are now on the way to +Besançon and Paris.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Separation</i></h4> + + +<p>TO JULIE</p> + +<p>Why was I not allowed to see you before leaving? Did you fear that the +parting would kill me? Be reassured. I do not suffer--I think of you--I +think of the time when I was dear to you. Nay, you love me yet, I know it. +But why so cruelly drive me away? Say one word, and I return like the +lightning. Ah, these babblings are but flung into empty air. I shall live +and die far away from you--I have lost you for ever!</p> + + +<p>FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE</p> + +<p>Deep depression has succeeded violent grief in the mind of your lover. +But I can count upon his heart, it is a heart framed to fight and to +conquer.</p> + +<p>I have a proposition to make which I hope you will carefully consider. +In your happiness and your lover's I have a tender and inextinguishable +interest, since between you I perceive a deeper harmony than I have ever +known to exist between man and woman. Your present misfortunes are due to +my indiscretion; let me do what I can to repair the fault.</p> + +<p>I have in Yorkshire an old castle and a large estate. They are yours and +your lover's, Julie, if you will accept them. You can escape from Vevay +with the aid of my valet, when I have left there; you can join your lover, +be wedded to him, and spend the rest of your days happily in the place of +refuge I have designed for you.</p> + +<p>Reflect upon this, I beseech you. I should add that I have said nothing +of this project to your lover. The decision rests with you and you +alone.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p> + +<p>Your letter, mylord, fills me with gratitude and admiration. It would +indeed be joy for me to gain happiness under the auspices of so generous a +friend, and to procure from his kindness the contentment that fortune has +denied me.</p> + +<p>But could contentment ever be granted to me if I had the consciousness +of having pitilessly abandoned those who gave me birth? I am their only +living child; all their pleasure, all their hope is in me. Can I deliver up +their closing days to shame, regrets, and tears? No, mylord, happiness +could not be bought at such a price. I dare brave all the sorrows that +await me here; remorse I dare not brave.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE TO HER LOVER</p> + +<p>I have just returned from the wedding of Claire and M. d'Orbe. You will, +I know, share my pleasure in the happiness of our dearest friend; and such +is the worth of the friendship that joins us, that the good fortune of one +of us should be a real consolation for the sorrows of the other two.</p> + +<p>Continue to write me from Paris, but let me tell you that I am not +pleased with the bitterness of your letters--a bitterness unworthy of my +philosophic tutor of the happy bygone days at Vevay. I wish my true love to +see all things clearly, and to be the just and honest man I have always +deemed him--not a cynic who seeks a sorry comfort in misfortune by carping +at the rest of mankind.</p> + + +<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER</p> + +<p>I am about to ask of you a great sacrifice; but I know you will perceive +it to be a necessary sacrifice, and I think that your devotion to Julie's +true happiness will endure even this final test.</p> + +<p>Julie's mother has died, and Julie has tormented herself with the idea +that her love troubles have hastened her parent's end. Since then she has +had a serious illness, and is now in a depressed state both physically and +mentally. Nothing, I am convinced, can cure her save absolute oblivion of +the past, and the beginning of a new life--a married life.</p> + +<p>M. de Wolmar is here once more, and Julie's father will insist upon her +union with him. This quiet, emotionless, observant man cannot win her love, +but he can bring her peace. Will you cease from all correspondence with +her, and renounce all claim to her? Remember that Julie's whole future +depends upon your answer. Her father will force her to obey him; prove that +you are worthy of her love by removing all obstacles to her obedience.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO HER FATHER</p> + +<p>I hereby renounce all claims upon the hand of Julie d'Etange, and +acknowledge her right to dispose of herself in matrimony without consulting +her heart.</p> + + +<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO JULIE'S LOVER</p> + +<p>Julie is married. Give thanks to the heaven that has saved you both. +Respect her new estate; do not write to her, but wait to hear from her. Now +is the time when I shall learn whether you are worthy of the esteem I have +ever felt for you.</p> + + +<p>FROM MYLORD EDOUARD TO JULIE'S LOVER</p> + +<p>A squadron is fitting out at Plymouth for the tour of the globe, under +the command of my old friend George Anson. I have obtained permission for +you to accompany him. Will you go?</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE'S LOVER TO MADAME D'ORBE</p> + +<p>I am starting, dear and charming cousin, for a voyage round the +world--to seek in another hemisphere the peace that I cannot enjoy in this. +Adieu, tender and inseparable friends, may you make each other's +happiness!</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Philosophic Husband</i></h4> + + +<p>FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX (PSEUDONYM OF JULIE'S LOVER)</p> + +<p>I learn that you have returned to Europe after all these years of +travel. Although I have not as yet the pleasure of knowing you, permit me +nevertheless to address you. The wisest and dearest of women has opened her +heart to me. I believe that you are worthy of having been loved by her, and +I invite you to our home. Innocence and peace reign within it; you will +find there friendship, hospitality, esteem, and confidence.</p> + +<p class="date">WOLMAR.</p> + +<p>P.S.--Come, my friend; we wait you with eagerness. Do not grieve me by a +refusal.</p> + +<p class="date">JULIE.</p> + + +<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p> + +<p>I have seen her, mylord! She has called me her friend--her dear friend. +I am happier than ever I was in my life.</p> + +<p>Yet when I approached M. de Wolmar's house at Clarens, I was in a state +of frantic nervousness. Could I bear to see my old love in the possession +of another? Would I not be driven to despair? As the carriage neared +Clarens, I wished that it would break down. When I dismounted I awaited +Julie in mortal anxiety. She came running and calling out to me, she seized +me in her arms. All my terrors were banished, I knew no feeling but +joy.</p> + +<p>M. de Wolmar, meanwhile, was standing beside us. She turned to him, and +introduced me to him as her old friend. "If new friends have less ardour +than old ones," he said to me as he embraced me, "they will be old friends +in their turn, and will yield nothing to others." My heart was exhausted, I +received his embraces passively.</p> + +<p>When we reached the drawing-room she disappeared for a moment, and +returned--not alone. She brought her two children with her, darling little +boys, who bore on their countenances the charm and the fascination of their +mother. A thousand thoughts rushed into my mind, I could not speak; I took +them in my arms, and welcomed their innocent caresses.</p> + +<p>The children withdrew, and M. de Wolmar was called away. I was alone +with Julie. I was conscious of a painful restraint; she was seemingly at +ease, and I became gradually reassured. We talked of my travels, and of her +married life; there was no mention of our old relations.</p> + +<p>I came to realise how Julie was changed, and yet the same. She is a +matron, the happy mother of children, the happy mistress of a prosperous +household. Her old love is not extinguished; but it is subdued by domestic +peace and by her unalterable virtue--let me add, by the trust and kindness +of her elderly husband, whose unemotional goodness has been just what was +needed to soothe her passion and sorrow. I am her old and dear friend; I +can never be more. And, believe me, I am content. Occasionally, pangs of +regret tear at my heart, but they do not last long; my passion is cured, +and I can never experience another.</p> + +<p>How can I describe to you the peace and felicity that reign in this +household? M. de Wolmar is, above all things, a man of system; the life of +the establishment moves with ordered regularity from the year's beginning +to its end. But the system is not mechanical; it is founded on wide +experience of men, and governed by philosophy. In the home life of Julie +and her husband and children luxury is never permitted; even the table +delicacies are simple products of the country. But, without luxury, there +is perfect comfort and perfect confidence. I have never known a community +so thoroughly happy, and it is a deep joy to me to be admitted as a +cherished member of it.</p> + +<p>One day M. de Wolmar drew Julie and myself aside, and where do you think +he took us? To a plantation near the house, which Julie had never entered +since her marriage. It was there that she had first kissed me. She was +unwilling to enter the place, but he drew her along with him, and bade us +be seated. Then he began:</p> + +<p>"Julie, I knew the secret of your love before you revealed it to me. I +knew it before I married you. I may have been in the wrong to marry you, +knowing that your heart was elsewhere; but I loved you, and I believed I +could make you happy. Have I succeeded?"</p> + +<p>"My dear husband," said Julie, in tears, "you know you have +succeeded."</p> + +<p>"One thing only," he went on, "was necessary to prove to you that your +old passion was powerless against your virtue, and that was the presence of +your old lover. I trusted you; I believed, from my knowledge of you, that I +could trust him. I invited him here, and since then I have been quietly +watching. My high anticipations of him are justified. And as for you, +Julie, the haunting fears that your virtue would fail before the test +inflicted by the return of your lover have, once and for all, been put to +rest. Past wounds are healed. Monsieur," he added, turning to me, "you have +proved yourself worthy of our fullest confidence and our warmest +friendship."</p> + +<p>What could I answer? I could but embrace him in silence.</p> + +<p>Madame d'Orbe, now a widow, is about to come here to take permanent +charge of the household, leaving Julie to devote herself to the training of +the children.</p> + +<p>Hasten to join us, mylord; your coming is anxiously awaited. For my own +part, I shall not be content until you have looked with your own eyes upon +the peaceful delights of our life at Clarens.</p> + + +<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MYLORD EDOUARD</p> + +<p>Madame d'Orbe is now with us. We look to you to complete the party. When +you have made a long stay at Clarens, I shall be ready to join you in your +projected journey to Rome.</p> + +<p>Julie has revealed to me the one trouble of her life. Her husband is a +freethinker. Will you aid me in trying to convince him of his error, and +thus perfecting Julie's happiness?</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Veil</i></h4> + + +<p>FROM SAINT PREUX TO MADAME D'ORBE</p> + +<p>Mylord Edouard and I, after leaving you all yesterday, proceeded no +farther than Villeneuve; an accident to one of mylord's attendants delayed +us, and we spent the night there.</p> + +<p>As you know, I had parted from Julie with regret, but without violent +emotion. Yet, strangely enough, when I was alone last night the old grief +came back. I had lost her! She lived and was happy; her life was my death, +her happiness my torment! I struggled with these ideas. When I lay down, +they pursued me in my sleep.</p> + +<p>At length I started up from a hideous dream. I had seen Julie stretched +upon her death-bed. I knew it was she, although her face was covered by a +veil. I advanced to tear it off; I could not reach it. "Be calm, my +friend," she said feebly; "the veil of dread covers me, no hand can remove +it." I made another effort, and awoke.</p> + +<p>Again I slept, again I dreamt the dream. A third time I slept, a third +time it appeared to me. This was too much. I fled from my room to mylord +Edouard's.</p> + +<p>At first, he treated the dream as a jest; but, seeing my panic-stricken +earnestness, he changed his tune. "You will have a chance of recovering +your reason to-morrow," he said. Next morning we set out on our journey, as +I thought. Brooding over my dream, I never noticed that the lake was on the +left-hand of the carriage, that we were returning. When I roused myself, I +found that we were back again at Clarens!</p> + +<p>"Now, go and see her again; prove that the dream was wrong," said +Edouard.</p> + +<p>I went nervously, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself. I could hear you +and Julie talking in the garden. I was cured in an instant of my +superstitious folly; it fled from my mind. I retired without seeing her, +feeling a man again. I rejoined mylord Edouard, and drove back to +Villeneuve. We are about to resume the journey to Rome.</p> + + +<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX</p> + +<p>Why did you not come to see us, instead of merely listening to our +voices? You have transfixed the terror of your dream to me. Until your +return, I shall never look upon Julie without trembling, lest I should lose +her.</p> + +<p>M. de Wolmar has let you know his wish that you should remain +permanently with us and superintend the education of his children. I am +sure you will accept Rejoin us swiftly, then; I shall not have an easy +moment until you are amongst us once more.</p> + + +<p>FROM MADAME D'ORBE TO SAINT PREUX</p> + +<p>It has come to pass. You will never see her more! The veil! The veil! +Julie is dead!</p> + + +<p>FROM M. DE WOLMAR TO SAINT PREUX</p> + +<p>I have allowed your first hours of grief to pass in silence. I was in no +condition to give details, nor you to receive them. Now I may write, and +you may read.</p> + +<p>We were on a visit to the castle of Chillon, guests of the bailli of +Vevay. After dinner the whole party walked on the ramparts, and our +youngest son slipped and fell into the deep water. Julie plunged in after +him. Both were rescued; the child was soon brought round, but Julie's state +was critical. When she had recovered a little, she was taken back to +Clarens. The doctor told her she had but three days to live. She spent +those three days in perfect cheerfulness and tranquillity of spirit, +conversing with Madame D'Orbe, the pastor, and myself, expressing her +content that her life should end at a time when she had attained complete +happiness. On the fourth morning we found her lifeless.</p> + +<p>During the three days she wrote a letter, which I enclose. Fulfil her +last requests. There yet remains much for you to do on earth.</p> + + +<p>FROM JULIE TO SAINT PREUX</p> + +<p>All is changed, my dear friend; let us suffer the change without a +murmur. It was not well for us that we should rejoin each other.</p> + +<p>For it was an illusion that my love for you was cured; now, in the +presence of death, I know that I still love you. I avow this without shame, +for I have done my duty. My virtue is without stain, my love without +remorse.</p> + +<p>Come back to Clarens; train my children, comfort their noble father, +lead him into the light of Christian faith. Claire, like yourself, is about +to lose the half of her life; let each of you preserve the other half by a +union that in these latter days I have often wished to bring about.</p> + +<p>Adieu, sweet friend, adieu!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="BERNARDIN_DE_ST_PIERRE"></a>BERNARDIN DE ST. PIERRE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Paul_and_Virginia"></a>Paul and Virginia</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint Pierre was born at Havre +on January 19, 1737. Like many boys that are natives of seaports, he was +anxious to become a sailor; but a single voyage cured him of his desire for +a seafaring life, although not of his love for travel. For some years +afterwards he was a rolling stone, sometimes soldier and sometimes +engineer, visiting one European country after another. In 1771 he obtained +a government appointment in Mauritius, a spot which was the subject of his +first book (see TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, Vol. XIX), and which was afterwards +made the scene of "Paul and Virginia." In his "Nature Studies," 1783, he +showed an enthusiasm for nature that contrasted vividly with the +artificiality of most eighteenth-century writers; but his fame was not +established until he had set all the ladies of France weeping with his +"Paul and Virginia," perhaps the most sentimental book ever written. It was +published in 1787, and although it does not cause in modern readers the +tearful raptures that it provoked on its first appearance, its fame has +survived as the most notable work of a romantic and nature-loving +sentimentalist with remarkable powers of narration. Saint Pierre died on +January 21, 1814. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Home Among the Rocks</i></h4> + + +<p>On the eastern declivity of the mountain which rises behind Port Louis, +in the Isle of France, are still to be seen, on a spot of ground formerly +cultivated, the ruins of two little cottages. They are situated almost in +the midst of a basin formed by enormous rocks, with only one opening, from +which you may look upon Port Louis and the sea.</p> + +<p>I took pleasure in retiring to this place, where one can at once enjoy +an unbounded prospect and profound solitude. One day, as I was sitting near +the cottages, an elderly man approached me. His hair was completely white, +his aspect simple and majestic. I saluted him, and he sat down beside +me.</p> + +<p>"Can you inform me, father," I asked, "to whom these two cottages +belonged?"</p> + +<p>"My son," replied he, "these ruins were inhabited by two families, which +there found the means of true happiness. But who will deign to take an +interest in the history, however affecting, of a few obscure +individuals?"</p> + +<p>"Father," I replied, "relate to me, I beseech you, what you know of +them; and be assured that there is no man, however depraved by prejudices, +but loves to hear of the felicity which nature and virtue bestow."</p> + +<p>Upon this the old man related what follows.</p> + +<p>In the year 1735 there came to this spot a young widow named Madame de +la Tour. She was of a noble Norman family; but her husband was of obscure +birth. She had married him portionless, and against the will of her +relations, and they had journeyed here to seek their fortune. The husband +soon died, and his widow found herself destitute of every possession except +a single negro woman. She resolved to seek a subsistence by cultivating a +small plot of ground, and this was the spot that she chose.</p> + +<p>Providence had one blessing in store for Madame de la Tour--the blessing +of a friend. Inhabiting this spot was a sprightly and sensible woman of +Brittany, named Margaret. She, like madame, had suffered from the sorrows +of love; she had fled to the colonies, and had here established herself +with her baby and an old negro, whom she had purchased with a poor, +borrowed purse.</p> + +<p>When Madame de la Tour had unfolded to Margaret her former condition and +her present wants the good woman was moved with compassion; she tendered to +the stranger a shelter in her cottage and her friendship. I knew them both, +and went to offer them my assistance. The territory in the rock-basin, +amounting to about twenty acres, I divided equally between them. Margaret's +cottage was on the boundary of her own domain, and close at hand I built +another cottage for Madame de la Tour. Scarcely had I completed it when a +daughter was born to madame. She was called Virginia; the infant son of +Margaret bore the name of Paul.</p> + +<p>The two friends, so dear to each other in spite of their difference in +rank, spun cotton for a livelihood. They seldom visited Port Louis, for +fear of the contempt with which they were treated on account of the +coarseness of their dress. But if they were exposed to a little suffering +when abroad, they returned home with so much more additional satisfaction. +They found there cleanliness and freedom, blessings which they owed +entirely to their own industry, and to servants animated with zeal and +affection. As for themselves, they had but one will, one interest, one +table. They had everything in common.</p> + +<p>Their mutual love redoubled at the sight of their two children. Nothing +was to be compared with the attachment which the babes showed for each +other. If Paul complained, they brought Virginia to him; at the sight of +her he was pacified. If Virginia suffered, Paul lamented; but Virginia was +wont to conceal her pain, that her sufferings might not distress him. All +their study was to please and assist each other. They had been taught no +religion but that which instructs us to love one another; and they raised +toward heaven innocent hands and pure hearts, filled with the love of their +parents. Thus passed their early infancy, like a beautiful dawn, which +seems to promise a still more beautiful day.</p> + +<p>Madame de la Tour had moments of uneasiness during her daughter's +childhood; sometimes she used to say to me: "If I should die what would +become of Virginia, dowerless as she is?" She had an aunt in France, a +woman of quality, rich, old, and a devotee, to whom she had written at the +time of Virginia's birth. Not until 1746--eleven years later--did a reply +reach her. Her aunt told her that she merited her condition for having +married an adventurer; that the untimely death of her husband was a just +chastisement of God; that she had done well not to dishonour her country by +returning to France; and that after all she was in an excellent country, +where everybody made fortunes except the idle.</p> + +<p>She added, however, that in spite of all this she had strongly +recommended her to the governor of the island, M. de la Bourdonaye. But, +conformably to a custom too prevalent, in feigning to pity she had +calumniated her; and, consequently, madame was received by the governor +with the greatest coolness.</p> + +<p>Returning to the plantation with a bitter heart, madame read the letter +tearfully to all the family. Margaret clasped her to her arms; Virginia, +weeping, kissed her hands; Paul stamped with rage; the servants hearing the +noise, ran in to comfort her.</p> + +<p>Such marks of affection soon dissipated madame's anguish.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my children!" she cried. "Misfortune only attacks me from afar; +happiness is ever around me!"</p> + + +<h4><i>II--Nature's Children</i></h4> + + +<p>As the years went on, Paul and Virginia grew up together in purity and +contentment. Every succeeding day was to them a day of happiness. They were +strangers to the torments of envy and ambition. By living in solitude, so +far from degenerating into savages, they had become more humane. If the +scandalous history of society did not supply them with topics of discourse, +nature filled their hearts with transports of wonder and delight. They +contemplated with rapture the power of that Providence which, by aid of +their hands, had diffused amid these barren rocks abundance, beauty, and +simple and unceasing pleasures.</p> + +<p>When the weather was fine, the families went on Sundays to mass at the +church of Pamplemousses. When mass was over, they ministered to the sick or +gave comfort to the distressed. From these visits Virginia often returned +with her eyes bathed in tears, but her heart overflowing with joy, for she +had been blessed with an opportunity of doing good.</p> + +<p>Paul and Virginia had no clocks nor almanacs nor books of history or +philosophy; the periods of their lives were regulated by those of nature. +They knew the hour of the day by the shadow of the trees; the seasons by +the times when the trees bore flowers or fruits; and years by the number of +the harvests.</p> + +<p>"It is dinner-time," Virginia would say to the family; "the shadows of +the banana-trees are at their feet." Or, "Night approaches, for the +tamarinds are closing their leaves."</p> + +<p>When asked about her age and that of Paul, "My brother," she would +answer, "is the same age with the great coconut-tree of the fountain, and I +the same age with the small one. The mango-trees have yielded their fruit +twelve times, and the orange-trees have opened their blossoms twenty-four +times since I came into the world."</p> + +<p>Thus did these two children of nature advance in life; hitherto no care +had wrinkled their foreheads, no intemperance had corrupted their blood, no +unhappy passion had depraved their hearts; love, innocence, piety were +daily unfolding the beauties of their souls in graces ineffable, in their +features, their attitude, and their movements.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, in time Virginia felt herself disturbed by a strange +malady. Serenity no longer sat upon her forehead, nor smiles upon her lips. +She withdrew herself from her innocent amusements, from her sweet +occupations, and from the society of her family.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she ran up to him playfully, when all +of a sudden an unaccountable embarrassment seized her; a lively red +coloured her cheeks, and her eyes no longer dared to fix themselves on +his.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, "Why should we not marry +our children? Their passion for each other is extreme, although my son is +not sensible of it."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," answered madame; "they are too young, and too poor. But if we +send Paul to India for a short time, commerce will supply him with the +means of buying some slaves. On his return we will marry him to Virginia, +for I am certain that no one can make my daughter so happy as your son +Paul. Let us consult our neighbour about it."</p> + +<p>So they discussed the matter with me, and I approved of their plan. But +when I opened the business to Paul, I was astonished when he replied, "Why +would you have me quit my family for a visionary project of fortune? If we +wish to engage in trade, cannot we do so by carrying our superfluities to +the city, without any necessity for my rambling to India? What if any +accident should befall my family during my absence, more especially +Virginia, who even now is suffering? Ah, no! I could never make up my mind +to quit them."</p> + +<p>I durst not hint to him that Virginia was lovesick, and that the voyage +had been projected that the two might be separated until they had grown a +little older.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Virginia's Departure</i></h4> + + +<p>Just at this time a letter came to Madame de la Tour from her aunt, who +had just recovered from a dangerous illness, and whose obdurate heart had +been softened by the fear of death. She requested her niece to return to +France; or, if the state of her health prevented her from undertaking the +voyage, to send Virginia thither, on whom she intended to bestow a good +education, a place at court, and a bequest of all her possessions. The +return of her favour, she added, depended entirely on compliance with these +injunctions.</p> + +<p>The letter filled the family with utter consternation.</p> + +<p>"Can you leave us?" Margaret asked, in deep anxiety.</p> + +<p>"No," replied madame, "I will never leave you. With you I have lived, +and with you I mean to die."</p> + +<p>At these words tears of joy bedewed the cheeks of the whole household, +and the most joyous of all, although she gave the least testimony to her +pleasure, was Virginia.</p> + +<p>But next morning they were surprised to receive a visit from the +governor. He, too, had heard from madame's aunt. "Surely," he said, "you +cannot without injustice deprive your young and beautiful daughter of so +great an inheritance." Taking madame aside, he told her that a vessel was +on the point of sailing, and that a lady who was related to him would take +care of her daughter. He then placed upon the table a large bag of +piastres, which one of his slaves had brought. "This," he said, "is what +your aunt has sent to make the preparations for the voyage."</p> + +<p>After the governor had left, madame urged her daughter to go. But wealth +had no temptations for Virginia. She thought only of her family, and of her +love for Paul. "Oh, I shall never have resolution to quit you!" she +cried.</p> + +<p>But in the evening came her father confessor, sent by the governor. "My +children," said he as he entered, "there is wealth in store for you now, +thanks to Heaven. You have at length the means of gratifying your +benevolent feeling by ministering to the unhappy. We must obey the will of +Providence," he continued, turning to Virginia. "It is a sacrifice, I +grant, but it is the command of the Almighty."</p> + +<p>Virginia, with downcast eyes and trembling voice, replied, "If it is the +command of God that I should go, God's will be done." And burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>I was with the family at supper that evening. Little was eaten, and +nobody uttered a syllable.</p> + +<p>After supper Virginia rose first, and went out. Paul quickly followed +her. The rest of us went out soon afterwards, and we sat down under the +banana-trees. Paul and Virginia were not far off, and we heard every word +they said.</p> + +<p>"You are going to leave us," began Paul, "for the sake of a relation +whom you have never seen!"</p> + +<p>"Alas!" replied Virginia. "Had I been allowed to follow my own +inclinations, I should have remained here all my days. But my mother wishes +me to go. My confessor says it is the will of God that I should go."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Paul. "And do you say nothing of the attractions of wealth? +You will soon find another on whom you can bestow the name of brother among +your equals--one who has riches and high birth, which I cannot offer you. +But whither can you go to be more happy than where you are? Cruel girl! How +will our mothers bear this separation? What will become of me? Oh, since a +new destiny attracts you, since you seek fortune in far countries, let me +at least go with you! I will follow you as your slave."</p> + +<p>Paul's voice was stifled with sobs. "It is for your sake that I go!" +cried Virginia tearfully. "You have laboured daily to support us. By my +wealth I shall seek to repay the good you have done to us all. And would I +choose any brother but thee! Oh, Paul, Paul, you are far dearer to me than +a brother!"</p> + +<p>At these words he clasped her in his arms. "I shall go with her. Nothing +shall shake my resolution!" he declared, in a terrible voice.</p> + +<p>We ran towards them, and Paul turned savagely on Madame de la Tour. "Do +you act the part of a mother," he cried, "you who separate brother and +sister? Pitiless woman! May the ocean never give her back to your arms!" +His eyes sparkled; sweat ran down his countenance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my friend," cried Virginia to him in terror, "I swear by all that +could ever unite two unhappy beings that if I remain here I will only live +for you; and if I depart, I will one day return to be yours!"</p> + +<p>His head drooped; a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Come to-night to my home, my friend," I said. "We will talk this matter +over to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I cannot let her go!" cried madame, in distraction.</p> + +<p>Paul accompanied me in silence. After a restless night he arose at +daybreak, and returned to his own home.</p> + +<p>Virginia had gone! The vessel had sailed at daybreak, and she was on +board.</p> + +<p>By intricate paths Paul climbed to the summit of a rock cone, from which +a vast area of sea was visible. From here he perceived the vessel that bore +away Virginia; and here I found him in the evening, his head leaning +against the rock, his eyes fixed on the ground.</p> + +<p>When I had persuaded him to return home, he bitterly reproached madame +with having so cruelly deceived him. She told us that a breeze had sprung +up in the early morning, and that the governor himself, his officers, and +the confessor has come and carried Virginia off in spite of all their tears +and protests, the governor declaring that it was for their good that she +was thus hurried away.</p> + +<p>Paul wandered miserably among all the spots that had been Virginia's +favourites. He looked at her goats, and at the birds that came fluttering +to be fed by the hand of her who had gone. He watched the dog vainly +searching, following the scent up and down. He cherished little things that +had been hers--the last nosegay she had worn, the coconut cup out of which +she was accustomed to drink.</p> + +<p>At length he began to labour in the plantation again. He also besought +me to teach him reading and writing, so that he might correspond with +Virginia; and geography and history, that he might learn the situation and +character of the country whither she had gone.</p> + +<p>We heard a report that Virginia had reached France in safety; but for +two years we heard no other news of her.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Virginia's Return</i></h4> + + +<p>When at length a letter arrived from Virginia it appeared that she had +written several times before, but as she had received no replies, she +feared that her great-aunt had intercepted her former letters.</p> + +<p>She had been placed in a convent school, and although she lived in the +midst of riches, she had not the disposal of a single farthing. She was not +allowed to mention her mother's name, and was bidden to forget the land of +savages where she was born; but she would sooner forget herself.</p> + +<p>To Paul she sent some flower-seeds in a small purse, on which were +embroidered the letters "P" and "V" formed of hair that he knew to be +Virginia's.</p> + +<p>But reports were current that gave him great uneasiness. The people of +the vessel that had brought the letter asserted that Virginia was about to +be married to a great nobleman; some even declared that the wedding was +already over.</p> + +<p>But soon afterwards his disquietude ceased at the news that Virginia was +about to return.</p> + +<p>On the morning of December 24, 1752, Paul saw a signal indicating that a +vessel was descried at sea, and he hastened to the city. A pilot went out +to reconnoitre her according to the custom of the port; he came back in the +evening with the news that the vessel was the Saint Gerard, and that her +captain hoped to bring her to anchor off Port Louis on the following +afternoon. Virginia was on board, and sent by the pilot a letter to her +mother which Paul, after kissing it with transport, carried hurriedly to +the plantation.</p> + +<p>Virginia wrote that her great-aunt had tried to force her into marriage, +had disinherited her on her refusal, and had sent her back to the island. +Her only wish now was once more to see and embrace her dear family.</p> + +<p>Paul, in his excitement, rushed to tell me the news, although it was +late at night. As we walked together we were overtaken by a breathless +negro.</p> + +<p>"A vessel from France has just cast anchor under Amber Island," he said. +"She is firing distress guns, for the sea is very heavy."</p> + +<p>"That will be Virginia's vessel," I said. "Let us go that way to meet +her."</p> + +<p>The heat was stifling, and the flashes of lightning that illumined the +dense darkness revealed masses of thick clouds lowering over the island. In +the distance we heard the boom of the distress-gun. We quickened our pace +without saying a word, not daring to communicate our anxiety to each +other.</p> + +<p>When we reached the coast by Amber Island, we found several planters +gathered round a fire, discussing whether the vessel could enter the +channel in the morning and find safety.</p> + +<p>Soon after dawn the governor arrived with a detachment of soldiers, who +immediately fired a volley. Close at hand came the answering boom of the +ship's gun; in the dim light we could see her masts and yards, and hear the +voices of the sailors. She had passed through the channel, and was +secure--save from the hurricane.</p> + +<p>But the hurricane came. Black clouds with copper edging hung in the +zenith; seabirds made their way, screaming, to shelter in the island. Then +fearful noises as of torrents were heard from the sea; the mists of the +morning were swept away and the storm was upon us.</p> + +<p>The vessel was now in deadly peril, and ere long what we had feared took +place. The cables on her bows snapped, and she was dashed upon the rocks +half a cable's length from the shore. A cry of grief burst from every +breast.</p> + +<p>Paul was about to fling himself into the sea, when I seized him by the +arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh. let me go to her rescue," he cried, "or let me die!"</p> + +<p>I tied a rope round his waist, and he advanced toward the ship, +sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He hoped to get on board the vessel, +for the sea in its irregular movements left her almost dry. But presently +it returned with redoubled fury, and the unhappy Paul was hurled back upon +the shore, bleeding, bruised, and senseless.</p> + +<p>The ship was now going to pieces, and the despairing crew were flinging +themselves into the sea. On the stern gallery stood Virginia, stretching +out her arms towards the lover who sought to save her. When he was thrust +back she waved her hand towards us, as if bidding us an eternal +farewell.</p> + +<p>One sailor remained with her, striving to persuade her to undress and +try to swim ashore. With a dignified gesture she repelled him. Then a +prodigious mountain of water swept towards the vessel. The sailor sprang +off, and was carried ashore. Virginia vanished from our sight.</p> + +<p>We found her body on the beach of a bay near at hand, whither much of +the wreckage had been carried. Her eyes were closed, but her countenance +showed perfect calm; only the pale violet of death blended itself upon her +cheeks with the rose of modesty. One of her hands was firmly closed. I +disengaged from it, with much difficulty, a little casket; within the +casket was a portrait of Paul--a gift from him which she had promised never +to part with while she lived.</p> + +<p>Paul was taken home stretched on a palanquin. His coming brought a ray +of comfort to the unhappy mothers; the tears, which had been till then +restrained through excess of sorrow, now began to flow, and, nature being +thus relieved, all the three bereaved ones fell into a lethargic +repose.</p> + +<p>It was three weeks ere Paul was sufficiently recovered to walk. For day +after day, when his strength was restored, he wandered among the places +endeared to him by memories of Virginia. His eyes grew hollow, his colour +faded, his health gradually but visibly declined. I strove to mitigate his +feelings by giving him change of scene, by taking him to the busy inhabited +parts of the island. My efforts proving quite ineffectual, I tried to +console him by reminding him that Virginia had gained eternal +happiness.</p> + +<p>"Since death is a blessing, and Virginia is happy," he replied +mournfully, "I will die, also, that I may again be united to her."</p> + +<p>Thus, the consolation I sought to administer only aggravated his +despair.</p> + +<p>Paul died two months after his beloved Virginia, whose name was ever on +his lips to the last. Margaret survived her son only by a week, and Madame +de la Tour, who had borne all her terrible losses with a greatness of soul +beyond belief, lived but another month.</p> + +<p>By the side of Virginia, at the foot of the bamboos near the church of +Pamplemousses, Paul was laid to rest. Close at hand the two mothers were +buried. No marble is raised over their humble graves, no inscriptions +record their virtues, but in the hearts of those who loved them, they have +left a memory that time can never efface.</p> + +<p>With these words the old man, tears flowing from his eyes, arose and +went away.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="GEORGE_SAND"></a>GEORGE SAND</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Consuelo"></a>Consuelo</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The life of the great French novelist, George Sand, is as +romantic as any of the characters in her novels. She was born at Paris in +July, 1804, her real name being Armandine Lucile Aurore Dupin. At eighteen +she married the son of a colonel and baron of the empire, by name Dudevant, +but after nine years she separated from her husband, and, bent upon a +literary career, made her way to Paris. Success came quickly. Entering into +a literary partnership with her masculine friend, Jules Sandeau, the chief +fruit of their joint enterprise was "Rose et Blanche." This was followed by +her independent novel, "Indiana," a story that brought her the enthusiastic +praises of the reading public, and the warm friendship of the most +distinguished personages in French literary society. A few years later her +relations with the poet Alfred De Musset provided the matter for what is +now an historic episode. Her literary output was enormous, consisting of a +hundred or more volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of +autobiography, and six of correspondence. Yet everything that she wrote is +marked by that richness, delicacy and power of style and of thought which +constitutes her genius. "Consuelo," which appeared in 1844, is typical of +all these in its sparkling dialogue, flowing narrative, and vivid +description. George Sand died on June 7, 1876. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--In Venice</i></h4> + + +<p>Little Consuelo, at the age of fourteen, was the best of all the pupils +of the Maestro Porpora, a famous Italian composer, of the eighteenth +century.</p> + +<p>At that time in Venice a certain number of children received a musical +education at the expense of the state, and it was Porpora, the great +musician--then a soured and disappointed man--who trained the voices of the +girls. They were not equally poor, these young ladies, and among them were +the daughters of needy artists, whose wandering existence did not permit +them a long stay in Venice. Of such parentage was little Consuelo, born in +Spain, and arriving in Italy by the strange routes of Bohemians. Not that +Gonsuelo was really a gipsy. She was of good Spanish blood, and had a +calmness of mind and manner quite foreign to the wandering races. A rare +and happy temperament was hers, and, in spite of poverty and +orphanhood--for her mother, who brought her to Venice, was dead--Consuelo +worked on with Porpora, finding the labour an enjoyment, and overcoming the +difficulties of her art as if by some invisible instinct.</p> + +<p>When Consuelo was eighteen Count Zustiniani, having heard her sing in +Porpora's choir, decided she must come out as a prima donna in his theatre. +For the fame and success of this theatre Zustiniani cared more than for +anything else in the world--not that he was eager for money, but because he +was an enthusiast for music--a man of taste, an amateur, whose great +business in life was to gratify his taste. He liked to be talked about and +to have his theatre and his magnificence talked about.</p> + +<p>The success of Consuelo was assured when she appeared for the first time +in Gluck's "Ipermnestra." The debutante was at once self-possessed and +serious, receiving the applause of the audience without fear or humility. +For her art itself, and not the results of art, were the main thing, and +her inward satisfaction in her performance did not depend on the amount of +approbation manifested by the public.</p> + +<p>But Zustiniani, gratified as he was by the triumph of his new prima +donna, was not content with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also wanted +her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and ornaments he +offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was thrilled with +unknown emotions by Consuelo's singing, and his patrician soul could not +realise that this poor little pupil of Porpora's was not to be won by the +ordinary methods, which he had hitherto employed successfully in the +conquest of opera singers.</p> + +<p>Porpora saved Consuelo from the count's threatening attentions.</p> + +<p>The prima donna suddenly disappeared, and it was said she had gone to +Vienna, that she had been engaged for the emperor's theatre, and that +Porpora was also going there to conduct his new opera.</p> + +<p>Count Zustiniani was particularly embarrassed by Consuelo's flight. He +had led all Venice to believe this wonderful new singer favoured his +addresses. Some, indeed, maintained for a time that, jealous of his +treasure, the count had hidden her in one of his country houses. But when +they heard Porpora say, with a blunt openness which could never deceive, +that he had advised his pupil to go to Germany and wait for him, there was +nothing left but to try and find out the motives for this extraordinary +decision.</p> + +<p>To all inquiries addressed to him Porpora answered that no one should +ever know from him where Consuelo was to be found.</p> + +<p>In real truth, it was not only Zustiniani who had driven Consuelo away. +A youth named Anzoleto, who had grown up in Venice with Consuelo so that +the two were as brother and sister, and who lacked both heart and +constancy, made life too hard for Consuelo. Anxious to get all the +advantages of Consuelo's friendship, and to be known as her betrothed, so +that he could procure an engagement in the opera through her generous +influence, he yet made love to another singer, a former favourite of +Zustiniani's. Learning of Anzoleto's heartless unfaithfulness, and pressed +by Zustiniani, Consuelo had turned to her old master for help, and had not +been disappointed.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--In Bohemia</i></h4> + + +<p>Among the mountains which separate Bohemia from Bavaria stood an old +country house, known as the Castle of the Giant, the residence of the Lords +of Rudolstadt. A strange mystery reigned over this ancient family. Count +Christian Rudolstadt, the head of the house, a widower, his elder sister, +the Canoness Wenceslawa, a venerable lady of seventy, and Count Albert, the +only son and heir, lived alone with their retainers, never associating with +their neighbours. The count's brother, Baron Frederick Rudolstadt, with his +daughter Amelia, had for some time past taken up their abode in the Castle +of the Giants, and it was the hope of the two brothers that Albert and +Amelia would become betrothed. But the silence and gloom of the place were +hateful to Amelia, and Albert's deep melancholy and absent-mindedness were +not the tokens of a lover.</p> + +<p>Albert, in fact, had so brooded over the horrors of the old wars between +Catholic and Protestant in Bohemia, that when the fit was on him he +believed himself living and acting in those terrible times, and it was this +kind of madness in his son which made Count Christian shun all social +intercourse. Albert was now thirty, and the doctors had predicted that this +year he would either conquer the fancies which took such fierce hold on +him, or succumb entirely.</p> + +<p>One night, when the family were assembled round the hearth, the castle +bell rang, and presently a letter was brought in. It was from Porpora to +Count Christian, and the count, having read it, passed it on to Amelia.</p> + +<p>It seemed that Christian had written to Porpora, whom he had long known +and respected, to ask him to recommend him a companion for Amelia, and the +letter now arrived not only recommended Consuelo, but Consuelo herself had +brought it.</p> + +<p>The old count at once hastened with his niece to welcome Porporpina, as +the visitor was called, and the terror which the journey to the castle and +the first impressions of the gloomy place had struck upon the young singer +only melted at the warmth of Christian's praises of her old master, +Porpora.</p> + +<p>From the first the whole household treated Consuelo with every kindness, +and Amelia very soon confided in her new friend all that she knew of the +family history, explaining that her cousin Albert was certainly mad.</p> + +<p>Albert himself seemed unaware of Consuelo's presence until one day when +he heard her sing. Amelia's singing always made him uneasy and restless, +but the first time Consuelo sang--she had chosen a religious piece from +Palestrina--Albert suddenly appeared in the room, and remained motionless +till the end. Then, falling on his knees, his large eyes swimming in tears, +he exclaimed, in Spanish: "Oh, Consuelo, Consuelo! I have at last found +thee!"</p> + +<p>"Consuelo?" cried the astonished girl, replying in the same language. +"Why, señor, do you call me by that name?"</p> + +<p>"I call you Consolation, because a consolation has been promised to my +desolate life, and because you are that consolation which God at last +grants to my solitary and gloomy existence. Consuelo! If you leave me, my +life is at an end, and I will never return to earth again!" Saying this he +fell at her feet in a swoon; and the two girls, terrified, called the +servants to carry him to his room and restore him to consciousness. But +hardly had Albert been left alone before his apartment was empty, and he +had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Days passed, and the anxiety at the castle remained unrelieved. It was +not the first time Albert had disappeared, but now his absence was longer +than usual. Consuelo found out the secret of his hiding-place--a vaulted +hall at the end of a long gallery in a cave in the forest was Albert's +hermitage, and a secret passage from the moat of the castle enabled him to +pass unseen to his solitude. She traced him to the chamber in the recesses +of the cavern.</p> + +<p>Already Consuelo had discovered the two natures in Albert--the one wise, +the other mad; the one polished, tender, merciful; the other strange, +untamed and violent She saw that sympathy and firmness were both needed in +dealing with this lonely and unfortunate man--sympathy with his religious +mysticism, and firmness in urging him not to yield to the images of his +mind.</p> + +<p>That Albert was in love with her, Consuelo understood; but to his +pleadings she had but one answer:</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of love, do not speak of marriage. My past life, my +recollections, make the first impossible. The difference in our conditions +would render the second humiliating and insupportable to me. Let it be +enough that I will be your friend and your consoler, whenever you are +disposed to open your heart to me."</p> + +<p>And with this Albert, for a time, professed to be content. So determined +was he, however, to win Consuelo's heart, that he readily obeyed her +advice, and even promised never to return to his hermitage without first +asking her to accompany him.</p> + +<p>Gentle old Count Christian himself came later to plead his son's cause +with Consuelo. Amelia and her father had left the Castle of the Giants, and +Christian realised how much Consuelo had already done for the restoration +of his son's health.</p> + +<p>"You were afraid of me, dear Consuelo," said the old man. "You thought +that the old Rudolstadt, with his aristocratic prejudices, would be ashamed +to owe his son to you. But you are mistaken, and I go to bring my son to +your feet, that together we may bless you for extending his happiness."</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop, my dear lord!" said Consuelo, amazed. "I am not free. I have +an object, a vocation, a calling. I belong to the art to which I have +devoted myself since my childhood. I could only renounce all this--if--if I +loved Albert. That is what I must find out. Give me at least a few days, +that I may learn whether I have this love for him within my heart."</p> + +<p>The arrival of the worthless Anzoleto at the Castle of the Giants drove +Consuelo once more to flight. Anzoleto had enjoyed some success at Venice, +but having incurred the wrath of Zustiniani, he was escaping to Prague. +Passing through Bohemia, the fame of a beautiful singer at the castle of +the Rudolstadts came to his ears, and Anzoleto resolved to recover the old +place he had once held in Consuelo's heart. He gave himself out as +Consuelo's brother, and was at once admitted to the castle and treated +kindly. For Consuelo, the only course open now was to flee to Vienna, and +take refuge with Porpora, and this she did, leaving in the dead of night, +after writing explanations to Christian and Albert.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--In Vienna</i></h4> + + +<p>The greater part of the journey to Vienna was accomplished on foot, and +Consuelo had for her travelling companion a humble youth, whose name was +Joseph Haydn, and whose great musical genius was yet to be recognized by +the world.</p> + +<p>Many months had elapsed since Consuelo had seen her master and +benefactor, and to the joy which she experienced in pressing old Porpora in +her arms a painful feeling soon succeeded. Vexation and sorrow had +imprinted their marks on the brow of the old maestro. He looked far older, +and the fire of his countenance seemed chilled by age. The unfortunate +composer had flattered himself that he would find in Vienna fresh chances +of success and fortune; but he was received there with cold esteem, and +happier rivals were in possession of the imperial favour and the public +admiration. Being neither a flatterer nor an intriguer, Porpora's rough +frankness was no passport to influence, and his ill-humour made enemies +rather than friends. He held out no hopes to Consuelo.</p> + +<p>"There are no ears to listen, no hearts to comprehend you in this place, +my child," he said sadly. "If you wish to succeed, you would do well to +follow the master to whom they owe their skill and their fortune."</p> + +<p>But when Consuelo told him of the proposal made by Count Albert, and of +Count Christian's desire for her marriage with his son, the tyrannical old +musician at once put his foot down.</p> + +<p>"You must not think of the young count!" he said fiercely. "I positively +forbid you! Such a union is not suitable. Count Christian would never +permit you to become an artist again. I know the unconquerable pride of +these nobles, and you cannot hesitate for an instant between the career of +nobility and that of art."</p> + +<p>So resolute was Porpora that Consuelo should not be tempted from the +life he had trained her for, that he did not hesitate to destroy, unread, +her letters to the Rudolstadts, and letters from Count Christian and +Albert. He even wrote to Christian himself, declaring that Consuelo desired +nothing but the career of a public singer.</p> + +<p>But when, after many disappointments and rebuffs, Consuelo at last was +appointed to take the prima donna's place for six days at the imperial +opera house, she was frightened at the prospect of the toils and struggles +before her feverish arena of the theatre seemed to her a place of terror +and the Castle of the Giants a lost paradise, an abode of peace and +virtue.</p> + +<p>Consuelo's triumph at the opera had been indisputable. Her voice was +sweeter and richer than when she sang in Venice, and a perfect storm of +flowers fell upon the stage at the end of the performance. Amid these +perfumed gifts Consuelo saw a green branch fall at her feet, and when the +curtain was lowered for the last time she picked it up. It was a bunch of +cypress, a symbol of grief and despair.</p> + +<p>To add to her distress, she was now conscious that her love for Albert +was a reality, and no answer had come from him or from Count Christian to +the letters she had sent. Twice in the six days at the opera she had caught +a glimpse, so it seemed to her, of Count Albert, but on both occasions the +figure had melted away without a word, and unobserved by all at the +theatre.</p> + +<p>No further engagement followed at the opera, and Consuelo's thoughts +turned more and more to the Rudolstadts. If only she could hear from +Christian or his son, she would know whether she was free to devote herself +absolutely to her art. For she had made her promise to Count Christian that +she would send him word should she feel sure of being in love with Albert; +and now that word had been sent, and no reply had come.</p> + +<p>Porpora, with a promise of an engagement at the royal theatre in Berlin, +and anxious to take Consuelo with him, had confessed, in answer to her +objection to leaving Vienna before hearing from Christian, that letters had +come from the Rudolstadts, which he had destroyed.</p> + +<p>"The old count was not at all anxious to have a daughter-in-law picked +up behind the scenes," said Porpora, "and so the good Albert sets you at +liberty."</p> + +<p>Consuelo never suspected her master of this profound deceit, and, taking +the story he had invented for truth, signed an agreement to go to Berlin +for two months.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Return to Bohemia</i></h4> + + +<p>The carriage containing Porpora and Consuelo had reached the city of +Prague, and was on the bridge that spans the Moldau, when a horseman +approached and looked in at the window, gazing with a tranquil curiosity. +Porpora pushed him back, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"How dare you stare at ladies so closely."</p> + +<p>The horseman replied in Bohemian, and Consuelo, seeing his face, called +out:</p> + +<p>"Is it the Baron Frederick of Rudolstadt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is I, signora!" replied the baron, in a dejected tone. "The +brother of Christian, the uncle of Albert. And in truth, is it you +also?"</p> + +<p>The baron accompanied them to a hotel, and there explained to Consuelo +that he had received a letter from the canoness, his sister, bidding him, +at Albert's request, be on the bridge of Prague at seven o'clock that +evening.</p> + +<p>"The first carriage that passes you will stop; if the first person you +see in it can leave for the castle that same evening, Albert, perhaps, will +be saved. At least, he says it will give him a hold on eternal life. I do +not know what he means, but he has the gift of prophecy and the perception +of hidden things. The doctors have given up all hope for his life."</p> + +<p>"Is the carriage ready, sir?" Consuelo said, when the latter was +finished. "If so I am ready also, and we can set out instantly."</p> + +<p>"I shall follow you," said Porpora. "Only we must be in Berlin in a +week's time."</p> + +<p>The carriage and horses were already in the courtyard, and in a few +minutes the baron and Consuelo were on their journey to the castle of the +Rudolstadts.</p> + +<p>At the doorway of the castle they were met by the aged canoness, who, +seizing Consuelo by the arm, said:</p> + +<p>"We have not a moment to lose. Albert begins to grow impatient. He has +counted the hours and minutes till your arrival, and announced your +approach before we heard the sound of the carriage wheels. He was sure of +your coming; but, he said, if any accident detained you, it would be too +late. Signora, in the name of Heaven, do not oppose any of his wishes; +promise all he asks; pretend to love him. Albert's hours are numbered; his +life is close. All we ask of you is to soothe his sufferings." Then, as +they approached the great saloon, she added, "Take courage, signora. You +need not be afraid of surprising him, for he expects you, and has seen you +coming hours ago."</p> + +<p>The door opened and Consuelo darted forward to her lover. Albert was +seated in a large arm-chair before the fire. It was no longer a man, it was +a spectre, Consuelo saw. His face, still beautiful, was as a face of +marble. There was no smile on his lips, no ray of joy in his eyes. Consuelo +knelt before him; he looked fixedly at her, and then, giving a sign to the +canoness, she placed his arms on Consuelo's shoulders. Then she made the +young girl lay her head on Albert's breast, and the dying man whispered in +her ear: "I am happy." With another sign, he made the canoness understand +that she and his father were to kiss his betrothed.</p> + +<p>"From my very heart!" exclaimed the canoness, with emotion. The old +count who had been holding his brother's hand in one of his and Porpora's +in the other, left them to embrace Consuelo fervently.</p> + +<p>The doctor urged an immediate marriage.</p> + +<p>"I can answer positively for nothing," he said, "but I venture to think +much good may come of it. Your excellency consented to this marriage +formerly----"</p> + +<p>"I always consented to it. I never opposed it," said the count. "It was +Master Porpora who wrote to say that he would never consent, and that she +likewise had renounced all idea. Alas, it was the death-blow to my unhappy +child!"</p> + +<p>"Do not grieve," murmured Albert to Consuelo. "I have understood for +many days now that you were faithful. I know that you have endeavoured to +love me, and have succeeded. But we have been deceived, and you must +forgive your master, as I forgive him."</p> + +<p>Consuelo looked at Porpora, and the old musician reproached himself for +homicide, and burst into tears. Only Consuelo's consent was necessary, and +this was given.</p> + +<p>The marriage was hastened on. Porpora and the doctor served as +witnesses. Albert found strength to pronounce a decisive "Yes," and the +other responses in the service in a clear voice, and the family from this +felt a new hope for his recovery. Hardly had the chaplain recited the +closing prayer over the newly-married couple, before Albert arose and threw +himself into his father's arms; then, seating himself again in his +arm-chair, he pressed Consuelo to his heart, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I am saved!"</p> + +<p>"It is nature's last effort," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Albert's arms loosed their hold, and fell forward on his knees. His gaze +was riveted on Consuelo; gradually the shade crept from his forehead to his +lips, and covered his face with a snowy veil.</p> + +<p>"It is the hand of Death!" said the doctor, breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>Consuelo would take neither her husband's title nor his riches.</p> + +<p>"Stay with us, my daughter?" cried the canoness, "for you have a lofty +soul and a great heart!"</p> + +<p>But Consuelo tore herself away after the funeral, though her heart was +wrung with grief. As she crossed the drawbridge with Porpora, Consuelo did +not know that already the old count was dead, and that the Castle of the +Giants, with its riches and its sufferings, had become the property of the +Countess of Rudolstadt.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Mauprat"></a>Mauprat</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> It was while George Sand was pleading for a separation from +her husband, on the ground of incompatibility of temperament, that +"Mauprat" was written, and the powerful story, full of storm, sentiment, +and passion, bears the marks of its tumultuous birth. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Bernard Mauprat's Childhood</i></h4> + + +<p>In the district of Varenne, within a gloomy ravine, stands the ruined +castle of Roche-Mauprat. It is a place I never pass at night without some +feeling of uneasiness; and now I have just learnt its history from Bernard +Mauprat, the last of the line.</p> + +<p>Bernard Mauprat is eighty-four and no man is more represented in the +province. Passing his house with a friend who knew the old man, we ventured +to call, and were received with stately welcome. Later Mauprat told us his +story in the following words:</p> + +<p>There were formerly two branches of the Mauprat family and I belonged to +the elder. My grandfather was that Tristan de Mauprat whose crimes are +still remembered. My father was his eldest son, and on his death, which +occurred at a shooting party, the only living member of the younger branch, +the chevalier, Hubert de Mauprat, a widower with an infant daughter, begged +that he might be allowed to adopt me, promising to make me his heir. My +grandfather refused the offer, and when I was seven years old and my mother +died--poisoned some said by my grandfather--I was carried off by that +terrible man to his house at Roche-Mauprat. I only knew afterwards that my +father was the only son of Tristan's who had married and that consequently +I was the heir to the property.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible journey I made with my grandfather but more terrible +still was the life led at Roche-Mauprat by Tristan and his eight sons. +Beset by creditors, the Mauprats with a dozen peasants and poachers defied +the civil laws as they had already broken all moral laws. They formed +themselves into a body of adventurers, levying blackmail on the small farms +of the neighbourhood, intimidating the tax-collectors and at times not +hesitating from petty thefts at fairs. Masters and servants were united in +bonds of infamy. Debauchery, extortion, fraud, and cruelty were the precept +and example of my youth. All notions of justice were scoffed at, and the +civilisation, the light of education, and the philosophy of social +equality, then spreading in France and preparing the way for the convulsion +of the Revolution, found no entrance at Roche-Mauprat.</p> + +<p>The eight sons, the pride and strength of old Mauprat, all resembled him +in physical vigour, brutality of manners, and in a cunning ill-nature. They +gave themselves the airs of knights of the twelfth century. What elsewhere +was called assassination and robbery I was taught to call battle and +conquest. The frightful tortures heaped upon prisoners by my uncles gave me +a horrible uneasiness, but what kept me from admiring the savagery that +surrounded me was the ill-usage I received myself. I grew up without +conceiving any liking for vice, but a tendency to hatred was fostered. Of +virtue or simple human affection I knew nothing, and a blind and brutal +anger was nourished in my breast.</p> + +<p>As the years went by Roche-Mauprat became more and more isolated. People +left the neighbourhood to escape our violent depredations, and in +consequence we had to go farther afield for plunder. I joined in the +robberies as a soldier serves in a campaign, but on more than one occasion +I helped some unfortunate man who had been knocked down to get up and +escape.</p> + +<p>My grandfather died when I was fifteen. A year later and so threatened +were we by crown officers, private creditors and infuriated peasants, that +it was a question of either fleeing the country or bracing ourselves for a +decisive struggle, and if needs be finding a grave under the ruins of the +castle.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Meet my Cousin Edmée</i></h4> + + +<p>One night, when wind and rain beat fiercely against the old walls of the +castle and I sat at supper with my uncles, a horn was heard at the +portcullis. I had been drinking heavily, and boasting that I would make a +conquest of the first woman brought to Roche-Mauprat--for I had been +rallied on my modesty--when a second blast of the horn announced that it +was my Uncle Lawrence bringing in a prize.</p> + +<p>"If it is a woman," cried my Uncle Antony, as he went out to the +portcullis, "I swear by the soul of my father that she shall be yours, and +we'll see if your courage is equal to your conceit."</p> + +<p>When the door opened again a woman entered, and one of the Mauprats +whispered to me that the young lady had lost her way at a wolf hunt and +that Lawrence, meeting her in the forest, had promised to escort her to +Rochemaure where she had friends. Never having seen the face of one of my +uncles, and little dreaming she was near their haunt, for she had never had +a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, she was led into the castle without having the +least suspicion of the trap into which she had fallen. When I beheld this +woman, so young and so beautiful, with her expression of calm sincerity and +goodness, it seemed to me I was dreaming.</p> + +<p>My uncles withdrew, for Antony had pledged his word, and I was left +alone with the stranger. For a moment I felt more bewildered and stupefied +than pleased. With the fumes of wine in my head I could only suppose this +lady was some acquaintance of Lawrence's, and that she had been told of my +drunken boast and was willing to put my gallantry to the proof. I got up +and bolted and double-locked the door.</p> + +<p>She was sitting close to the fire, drying her wet garments, without +noticing what I had done. I made up my mind to kiss her, but no sooner had +she raised her eyes to mine than this familiarity became impossible. All I +could say, was:</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love +you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."</p> + +<p>"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat, +you? In that case learn to whom you are speaking, and change your +manners."</p> + +<p>"Really!" I said with a grin, "but let my lips meet yours, and you shall +see if I am not as nicely mannered as those uncles of mine."</p> + +<p>Her lips grew white. Her agony was manifest in every gesture. I +shuddered myself, and was in a state of great perplexity.</p> + +<p>This woman was beautiful as the day. I do not believe that there has +ever lived a woman as lovely as she. And this was the first trial of her +life.</p> + +<p>She was my young cousin, Edmée de Mauprat, daughter of M. Hubert +de Mauprat, the chevalier. She was of my age, for we were both seventeen, +and I ought to have protected her against the world at the peril of my +life.</p> + +<p>"I swear by Christ," she said, taking my hands in hers, "that I am +Edmée, your cousin, your prisoner--yes, and your friend, for I have +always felt an interest in you."</p> + +<p>Her words were cut short by the report of a gun outside; more shots were +heard and the alarm trumpet sounded.</p> + +<p>I heard my Uncle Lawrence shouting violently at the door. "Where is that +coward? Where is that wretched boy? Bernard, the mounted police are +attacking us, and you are amusing yourself by making love while our throats +are being cut. Come and help us, Bernard."</p> + +<p>"May the devil take the lot of you," I cried, "if I believe a single +word of all this."</p> + +<p>But the shots rang out louder and for half an hour the fighting was most +desperate. Our band amounted to twenty-four all told, and the enemy were +fifty soldiers in addition to a score of peasants.</p> + +<p>As soon as I learnt that we were really being attacked, I had taken my +weapons and done what I called my duty, after leaving Edmée locked +in the room.</p> + +<p>After three assaults had been repulsed there was a long lull, and I +returned to my captive. The fear lest my uncles should get possession of +Edmée made me mad. I kept on telling her I loved her and wanted her +for myself, and seeing what an animal it was she had to deal with, my +cousin made up her mind accordingly. She threw her arms round me, and let +me kiss her. "Do you love me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>From this moment the victory was hers. The wolf in me was conquered, and +the man rose in its place.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I love you! Yes, I love you!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then," she said distractedly, "let us love each other and escape +together."</p> + +<p>"Yes; let us escape," I answered. "I loathe this house, and I loathe my +uncles. I have long wanted to escape. And yet I shall only be hanged, you +know." For I knew I had as much to fear from the besiegers as from the +besieged.</p> + +<p>"They won't hang you," she rejoined with a laugh; "my betrothed is a +lieutenant-general."</p> + +<p>"Your betrothed!" I burst out in a fit of jealousy. "You are going to be +married?"</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Swear that you will not marry before I die. Swear that you will be mine +sooner than this lieutenant-general's," I cried.</p> + +<p>Edmée swore as I asked her, and she made me swear in return that +her promise should be a secret. Then I clasped her in my arms, and we +remained motionless until fresh shots announced that the fight had begun +again. Every moment of delay was dangerous now. I seized a torch, and +lifting a trap door made her descend with me to the cellar. Thence we +passed into a subterranean passage, and finally hurried forth into the +open, holding each other's hands as a sign of mutual trust. I found a horse +that had belonged to my grandfather in the forest, and this animal carried +us some miles from Roche-Mauprat, before it stumbled and threw us. +Edmée was unhurt but my ankle was badly sprained. Fortunately we +were near a lonely building called Gayeau Tower, the dwelling place of a +remarkable man called Patience, a peasant who was both a hermit and a +philosopher, and who, like Edmée, was filled with the new social +gospel of Rousseau. Between these two a warm friendship existed.</p> + +<p>"The lamb in the company of the wolf," cried Patience when he saw +us.</p> + +<p>"My friend," replied Edmée, "welcome him as you welcome me. I was +a prisoner at Roche-Mauprat, and it was he who rescued me."</p> + +<p>At that Patience took me by the arm and led me in. A few days later I +was carried to the chateau of the chevalier, M. Hubert de Mauprat, at +Sainte-Sévère, and there I learnt that Roche-Mauprat had been +taken, that five of my uncles were dead, and that two, John and Antony, had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Bernard," added the chevalier, "I owe to you the life I hold dearest in +the world. All my own life shall be devoted to giving you proofs of my +gratitude and esteem. Bernard, we are both of us victims of a vicious +family. The wrong that has been done you shall be repaired. They have +deprived you of education, but your soul has remained pure. Bernard, you +will restore the honour of your family, promise me this."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--I Go to America and Return</i></h4> + + +<p>For a long time I am sure my presence was a source of utter discomfort +to the kind and venerable chevalier, and to his daughter. I was boorish and +illiterate and Edmée was one of the most perfect women to be found +in France. She found her happiness in her own family, and the sweetest +simplicity crowned her mental powers and lofty virtues. Brute like, at that +time I saw her only with the eyes of the body, and believed I loved her +because she was beautiful. Her fiance, M. de la Marche, the +lieutenant-general, a shallow and frigid Voltairean, understood her but +little better. A day came when I could understand her--the day when M. de +la Marche could have understood her would never have come.</p> + +<p>The first step was taken on my part when I realised that I was ignorant +and savage, and I applied to the Abbé Aubert, the chaplain, whose +offices I had hitherto despised, to instruct me. I learnt quickly, and soon +vanity at my rapid progress became the bane of my life.</p> + +<p>With Edmée I was so passionately in love that jealousy would +awaken the old brutality that I thought dead, and I would gladly have +killed de la Marche in a duel. Then after an outburst remorse would +overtake me.</p> + +<p>My cousin at last told me plainly that while she would be true to her +word, and not marry anyone before me, she would not marry me, and that on +her father's death a convent should be her refuge. I knew my boorishness +was responsible for this, and resolved to leave her.</p> + +<p>Lafayette was taking out volunteers to help the United States in their +war of independence. I told him I would go with him, and crossed hastily +into Spain, whence he was going to sail to America.</p> + +<p>I left a note to my uncle, and wrote to Edmée that, as far as I +was concerned, she was free, and that, while I would not thwart a wish of +hers, it was impossible for me to witness a rival's triumph.</p> + +<p>Before we sailed came the following reply from Edmée:</p> + +<p>"You have done well, Bernard. Go where honour and love of truth call +you. Return when your mission is accomplished; you will find me neither +married nor in a convent."</p> + +<p>I cannot describe the American war. I stayed till peace was declared, +and then chafing at my long absence from France, for I was away six +years--and more in love with Edmée than ever, at last set sail and +in due time landed at Brest.</p> + +<p>I had not sent any letter to announce my coming, and when I reached the +Château of Sainte-Sévère I almost feared to cross the +threshold. Then I rushed forward and entered the drawing room. The +chevalier was asleep and did not wake. Edmée, bending over her +tapestry, did not hear my steps.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds I stood looking at her, then I fell at her feet +without being able to say a word. She uttered no cry, no exclamation of +surprise, but took my head in her two arms, and held it for sometime +pressed to her bosom. The good chevalier, who had waked with a start, +stared at us in astonishment; then he said:</p> + +<p>"Well, well! what is the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>He could not see my face, hidden as it was in Edmée's breast. She +pushed me towards him, and the old man clasped me in his feeble arms with a +burst of generous affection.</p> + +<p>Never shall I forget the welcome they gave me. An immense change had +taken place in me during those years of the war. I had learnt to bring my +instincts and desires into harmony with my affections, my reason, and I had +greatly developed my power of acquiring learning.</p> + +<p>Edmée was not surprised at my intellectual progress, but she +rejoiced at it. I had shown it in my letters, she said.</p> + +<p>My good uncle, the chevalier, now took a real liking for me, and where +formerly natural generosity and family pride had made him adopt me, a +genuine sympathy made him give me his friendship. He did not disguise from +me that his great desire, before falling into the sleep that knows no +waking, was to see me married to Edmée; and when I told him this was +the one wish of my soul, the one thought of my life, he said:</p> + +<p>"I know, I know. Everything depends on her, and I think she can no +longer have any reasons for hesitation.... At all events," he added, "I +cannot see any that she could allege at present."</p> + +<p>From these words I concluded that he himself had long been favourable to +my suit, and that any obstacle which might exist lay with Edmée. But +so much did I stand in awe of Edmée's sensitive pride and her +unspeakable goodness that I dared not ask her point-blank to decide my +fate. M. de la Marche I knew had left France, and all thought of an +engagement on his part with Edmée was at an end. In a proud struggle +to conceal the poverty of his estate, all his fortune had gone, and he had +not been long in following me to America.</p> + +<p>The chevalier insisted on my visiting my property of Roche-Mauprat. +Thanks to my uncle, great improvements had been accomplished in my absence, +and the land was being well cultivated by good tenants. I knew that I ought +not to neglect my duty, and though I had not set foot on the accursed soil +since the day I left it with Edmée, I set out and was away two +days.</p> + +<p>I stayed in the gloomy old house and the only remarkable thing about the +visit was that I had a vision of my wicked uncle John Mauprat.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--My Trial and Happiness</i></h4> + + +<p>We had gone on a hunting party one day after my return, and Edmée +and I were separated from the rest. Somehow the old unbridled passions rose +up within me and I succeeded in affronting Edmée with my fierce +speech. Then I hastened away, ashamed and fearful.</p> + +<p>I had not gone more than thirty paces when I heard the report of a gun +from the spot where I had left Edmée. I stopped, petrified with +horror, and then retraced my steps. Edmée was lying on the ground, +rigid and bathed in blood. Patience was standing by her side with his arms +crossed on his breast, and his face livid. For myself, I could not +understand what was taking place. I fancy that my brain, already bewildered +by my previous emotions, must have been paralyzed. I sat down on the ground +by Edmée's side. She had been shot in the breast in two places, and +the Abbé Aubert was endeavouring to staunch the blood with his +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Dead, dead," said Patience, "and there is the murderer! She said so as +she gave up her pure soul to God; and Patience will avenge her! It is very +hard but it must be so! It is God's will, since I alone was here to learn +the truth!"</p> + +<p>"Horrible, horrible!" exclaimed the Abbé.</p> + +<p>Edmée was carried away to the chateau, and I followed and for +several days remained in a state of prostration. When strength and +consciousness returned I learnt that she was not dead, but that everybody +believed me guilty of attempted murder. Patience himself told me the only +thing for me to do was to leave that part of the country. I swore I was +innocent and would not be saddled with the crime.</p> + +<p>Then, one evening, I saw mounted police in the courtyard.</p> + +<p>"Good!" I said, "let my destiny take its course." But before quitting +the house, perhaps forever, I wished to see Edmée again for the last +time. I walked straight to her room, and there I found the Abbé and the +doctor. I heard the latter declare that the wounds in themselves were not +mortal, and the only danger was from a violent disturbance in the +brain.</p> + +<p>I approached the bed, and took Edmée's cold and lifeless hand. I +kissed it a last time, and, without saying a single word to the others, +went and gave myself up to the police.</p> + +<p>I was immediately thrown into prison and in a few days my trial began at +the assizes. I was convicted, but through the efforts of certain friends a +revision of my sentence was granted, and I was allowed a new trial.</p> + +<p>At this trial Patience appeared and declared that, while he had believed +from what Edmée had said that I was guilty, it had come into his +head that some other Mauprat might have fired the shot. It appeared that +John Mauprat was now living in the neighbourhood, as a penitent Trappist +monk, and he had been seen in company with another monk who was not to be +found since the attack on Edmée. "So I put myself on the track of +this wandering monk," Patience concluded, "and I have discovered who he is. +He is the would-be murderer of Edmée de Mauprat, and his name is +Antony Mauprat."</p> + +<p>It then turned out that Antony's plot was to kill Edmée, get me +hanged for the murder, and then, when the chevalier was dead, claim the +estates. John Mauprat knew of his brother's intentions but denied all +complicity and was eventually sent back to his monastery. Antony was +subsequently convicted and broken on the wheel.</p> + +<p>But before I was finally acquitted Edmée herself gave evidence +for me. She was still far from well but answered clearly all the irritating +and maddening questions that were put to her. When she said to the +president of the court, "Everything which to you seems inexplicable in my +conduct finds its justification in one word: I love him!" I could not help +crying out, "Let them take me to the scaffold now; I am king of all the +earth."</p> + +<p>But as I have said, it was proved that Antony Mauprat was the criminal; +and no sooner was I acquitted and set at liberty, with my character +completely cleared, than I hastened to Edmée.</p> + +<p>I arrived in time to witness my great-uncle's last moments. He +recognised me, clasped me to his breast, blessed me at the same time as +Edmée, and put my hand into his daughter's.</p> + +<p>After we had paid the last tribute of affection to our noble and +excellent relative, we left the province for sometime and paid a visit to +Switzerland, Patience and the Abbé Aubert bearing us company.</p> + +<p>At the end of Edmée's mourning we returned. This was the time +that had been fixed for our marriage, which was duly celebrated in the +village chapel.</p> + +<p>The years of happiness with my wife beggar description. She was the only +woman I ever loved, and though she has now been dead ten years I feel her +loss as keenly as on the first day, and seek only to make myself worthy of +rejoining her in a better world after I have completed my probation +here.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="MICHAEL_SCOTT"></a>MICHAEL SCOTT</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Tom_Cringles_Log"></a>Tom Cringle's Log</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Michael Scott was a merchant who turned an unquestioned +literary faculty to excellent account. Born at Cowlairs, near Glasgow, +Scotland, Oct. 30, 1789, at the age of seventeen Scott was sent to Jamaica +to manage a small estate of his father's, and a few years later entered +business at Kingstown. Both of these occupations necessitated frequent +journeys, by land and by sea, and the experiences gained thereby form the +basis of "Tom Cringle's Log." The story appeared anonymously at +intermittent intervals in "Blackwood's Magazine" (1829-33), being published +in book form in 1834. Its authorship was attributed, among others, to +Captain Marryatt, and so successfully did Scott himself conceal his +identity with it that the secret was not known until after his death, which +occurred at Glasgow on November 7, 1835. Of its kind, "Tom Cringle's Log" +is a veritable masterpiece. Humour and pathos and gorgeous descriptions are +woven into a thrilling narrative. Scott wrote many other things beside "Tom +Cringle," but only one story, "The Cruise of the Midge" (1836), is in any +way comparable with his first and most famous romance. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Quenching of the Torch</i></h4> + + +<p>The evening was closing in dark and rainy, with every appearance of a +gale from the westward, and the red and level rays of the setting sun +flashed on the black hull and tall spars of his Britannic Majesty's sloop +Torch. At the distance of a mile or more lay a long, warlike-looking craft, +rolling heavily and silently in the trough of the sea.</p> + +<p>A flash was seen; the shot fell short, but close to us, evidently thrown +from a heavy cannon.</p> + +<p>Mr. Splinter, the first lieutenant, jumped from the gun he stood on, and +dived into the cabin to make his report.</p> + +<p>Captain Deadeye was a staid, wall-eyed veteran, with his coat of a +regular Rodney cut, broad skirts, long waist, and stand-up collar, over +which dangled either a queue, or marlinspike with a tuft of oakum at the +end of it--it would have puzzled old Nick to say which. His lower spars +were cased in tight unmentionables of what had once been white kerseymere, +and long boots, the coal-scuttle tops of which served as scuppers to carry +off the drainings from his coat-flaps in bad weather; he was, in fact, the +"last of the sea-monsters," but, like all his tribe, as brave as steel, +and, when put to it, as alert as a cat.</p> + +<p>He no sooner heard Splinter's report, than he sprang up the ladder.</p> + +<p>"Clear away the larboard guns!" I absolutely jumped off the deck with +astonishment--who could have spoken it? The enemy was a heavy American +frigate, and it appeared such downright madness to show fight under the +very muzzles of her guns, half a broadside from which was sufficient to +sink us. It was the captain, however, and there was nothing for it but to +obey.</p> + +<p>"Now, men, mind your aim; our only chance is to wing him." The men--with +cutlasses buckled round their waists, and many with nothing but their +trousers on--instinctively cheered. Blaze went our cannonades and long gun +in succession, and down came the fore-topsail; the head of the topmast had +been shot away. "That will do; now knock off, my boys, and let us run for +it. Make all sail."</p> + +<p>Jonathan was for an instant paralysed by our impudence; but he yawed and +let drive his whole broadside; and fearfully did it transmogrify us. Half +an hour before we were as gay a little sloop as ever floated, with a crew +of 120 as fine fellows as ever manned a British man-of-war. The iron-shower +sped--ten of the 120 never saw the sun rise again; 17 more were wounded, +three mortally; our hull and rigging were regularly cut to pieces.</p> + +<p>But we had the start, crippled and be-devilled though we were; and as +the night fell, we contrived to lose sight of our large friend, and pursue +our voyage to Jamaica.</p> + +<p>A week later, and the hurricane fell upon us. Our chainplates, strong +fastenings, and clenched bolts, drew like pliant wires, shrouds and stays +were torn away, and our masts and spars were blown clean out of the ship +into the sea. Had we shown a shred of the strongest sail in the vessel, it +would have been blown out of the bolt-rope in an instant. With four men at +the wheel, one watch at the pumps, and the other clearing the wreck, we had +to get her before the wind.</p> + +<p>Our spirits were soon dashed, when the old carpenter, one of the coolest +and bravest men in the ship, rose through the forehatch pale as a ghost, +with his white hairs streaming out in the wind. He did not speak to any of +us, but clambered aft, towards the capstan, to which the captain had lashed +himself.</p> + +<p>"The water is rushing in forward like a mill-stream, sir; she is fast +settling down by the head."</p> + +<p>The brig, was, indeed, rapidly losing her buoyancy.</p> + +<p>"Stand by, to heave the guns overboard."</p> + +<p>Too late, too late! Oh, God, that cry! I was stunned and drowning, a +chaos of wreck was beneath me and around me and above me, and blue, +agonised, gasping faces and struggling arms, and colourless clutching +hands, and despairing yells for help, where help was impossible; when I +felt a sharp bite on the neck, and breathed again. My Newfoundland dog, +Sneezer, had snatched at me, and dragged me out of the eddy of the sinking +vessel.</p> + +<p>For life, dear life, nearly suffocated, amidst the hissing spray, we +reached the cutter, the dog and his helpless master.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For three miserable days I had been exposed, half naked and bareheaded, +in an open boat, without water, or food, or shade. The third fierce West +Indian noon was long passed, and once more the dry, burning sun sank in the +west, like a red hot shield of iron. I glared on the noble dog as he lay at +the bottom of the boat, and would have torn at his throat with my teeth, +not for food, but that I might drink his hot blood; but as he turned his +dull, gray, glazing eye on me, the pulses of my heart stopped, and I fell +senseless.</p> + +<p>When my recollection returned, I was stretched on some fresh plantain +leaves, in a low, smoky hut, with my faithful dog lying beside me, whining +and licking my hands and face. Underneath the joists, that bound the +rafters of the roof together, lay a corpse, wrapped in a boatsail, on which +was clumsily written with charcoal, "The body of John Deadeye, Esq., late +commander of his Britannic Majesty's sloop Torch."</p> + +<p>There was a fire on the floor, at which Lieutenant Splinter, in his +shirt and trousers, drenched, unshorn, and death-like, was roasting a joint +of meat, whilst a dwarfish Indian sat opposite to him fanning the flame +with a palm-leaf. I had been nourished during my delirium; for the +fierceness of my sufferings were assuaged, and I was comparatively strong. +I anxiously inquired of the lieutenant the fate of our shipmates.</p> + +<p>"All gone down in the old Torch; and had it not been for the launch and +our four-footed friend there, I should not have been here to have told it. +All that the sharks have left of the captain and five seamen came ashore +last night. I have buried the poor fellows on the beach where they lay, as +well as I could, with an oar-blade for a shovel, and the <i>bronze +ornament</i> there," pointing to the Indian, "for an assistant."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Perils on Land</i></h4> + + +<p>I was awakened by the low growling and short bark of the dog. The night +was far spent, and the amber rays of the yet unrisen sun were shooting up +in the east.</p> + +<p>"That's a musket shot," said the lieutenant. The Indian crept to the +door, and placed his open palms behind his ears. The distant wail of a +bugle was heard, then three or four dropping shots again, in rapid +succession. Mr. Splinter stooped to go forth, but the Indian caught him by +the leg, uttering the single word "Espanoles" (Spaniards).</p> + +<p>On the instant a young Indian woman, with a shrieking infant in her +arms, rushed to the door. There was a blue gunshot wound in her neck, and +her features were sharpened as if in the agony of death. Another shot, and +the child's small, shrill cry blended with the mother's death shriek; +falling backwards the two rolled over the brow of the hill out of sight. +The ball had pierced the heart of the parent through the body of her +offspring. By this time a party of Spanish soldiers had surrounded the hut, +one of whom, kneeling before the low door, pointed his musket into it. The +Indian, who had seen his wife and child shot down before his face, fired +his rifle and the man fell dead.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen musket balls were now fired at random through the wattles +of the hut, while the lieutenant, who spoke Spanish well, sung out lustily +that we were English officers who had been shipwrecked.</p> + +<p>"Pirates!" growled the officer of the party. "Pirates leagued with +Indian bravos; fire the hut, soldiers, and burn the scoundrels!"</p> + +<p>There was no time to be lost; Mr. Splinter made a vigorous attempt to +get out, in which I seconded him with all the strength that remained to me, +but they beat us back again with the butts of their muskets.</p> + +<p>"Where are your commissions, your uniforms, if you be British officers?" +We had neither, and our fate appeared inevitable.</p> + +<p>The doorway was filled with brushwood, fire was set to the hut, and we +heard the crackling of the palm thatch, while thick, stifling white smoke +burst in upon us through the roof.</p> + +<p>"Lend a hand, Tom, now or never." We laid our shoulders to the end wall, +and heaved at it with all our might; when we were nearly at our last gasp +it gave way, and we rushed headlong into the middle of the party, followed +by Sneezer, with his shaggy coat, full of clots of tar, blazing like a +torch. He unceremoniously seized, <i>par le queue</i>, the soldier who had +throttled me, setting fire to the skirts of his coat, and blowing up his +cartridge-box. I believe, under Providence, that the ludicrousness of this +attack saved us from being bayoneted on the spot. It gave time for Mr. +Splinter to recover his breath, when, being a powerful man, he shook off +the two soldiers who had seized him, and dashed into the burning hut again. +I thought he was mad, especially when I saw him return with his clothes and +hair on fire, dragging out the body of the captain. He unfolded the sail it +was wrapped up in, and pointing to the remains of the naval uniform in +which the mutilated corpse was dressed, he said sternly to the officer, "We +are in your power, and you may murder us if you will; but <i>that</i> was +my captain four days ago, and you see at least <i>he</i> was a British +officer--satisfy yourself."</p> + +<p>The person he addressed, a handsome young Spaniard, shuddered at the +horrible spectacle.</p> + +<p>When he saw the crown and anchor, and his Majesty's cipher on the +appointments of the dead officer, he became convinced of our quality, and +changed his tone.</p> + +<p>"'Tis true, he is an Englishman. But, gentlemen, were there not three +persons in the hut?"</p> + +<p>There were, indeed, and the Indian perished in the flames, making no +attempt to escape.</p> + +<p>The officer, who belonged to the army investing Carthagena, now treated +us with great civility; he heard our story, and desired his men to assist +us in burying the remains of our late commander.</p> + +<p>We stayed that night with the captain of the outpost, who received us +very civilly at a temporary guard-house, and apologised for the discomfort +under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that +was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut, +where we found a rough deal coffin, lying on the very bench that was to be +our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world, saying, +"It was only one of his people who had died that morning of yellow +fever."</p> + +<p>"Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we +have had of it, Tom!"</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Piccaroon</i></h4> + + +<p>From the Spanish headquarters at Torrecilla we were allowed to go to the +village of Turbaco, a few miles distant from the city for change of +air.</p> + +<p>"Why, Peter," said Mr. Splinter, addressing a negro who sat mending his +jacket in one of the enclosures near the water gate of the arsenal, "don't +you know me?"</p> + +<p>"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely. "Have not de +honour of your acquaintance, sir."</p> + +<p>"Confound you, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can +scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would +think?"</p> + +<p>The name so startled the poor fellow, that in his hurry to unlace his +legs, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized and toppled down on his +nose.</p> + +<p>"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough! And who is de piccaniny hofficer? Oh! I +see, Massa Tom Cringle! Where have you dropped from, gentlemen? Where is de +old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to him Britannic +Majesty's squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at +Port Royal."</p> + +<p>"She will never give you that trouble again, my boy--foundered--all +hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."</p> + +<p>"Werry sorry, Massa 'Plinter, werry sorry. What? de black cook's-mate +and all? But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and I +will take a turn wid you. Proper dat British hofficers in distress should +assist one anoder--we shall consult togeder. How can I serve you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a passage to Port Royal, it would +be serving us most essentially. Here we have been for more than a month, +without a single vessel belonging to the station having looked in; our +money is running short, and in another six weeks we shall not have a shot +left in the locker."</p> + +<p>The negro looked steadfastly at us, and then carefully around before he +answered.</p> + +<p>"You see, Massa 'Plinter, I am desirable to serve you; it is good for me +at present to make some friend wid the hofficer of de squadron, being as +how dat I am absent widout leave. If you will promise dat you will stand my +friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de east end +of Jamaica; and I will go wid you, too, for company. But you must promise +dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel, nor of her crew, than dey +are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe."</p> + +<p>Mr. Splinter agreed and presently Peter Mangrove went off in a canoe to a +large, shallow vessel, to reappear with another blackamoor, of as ungainly +an exterior as could well be imagined.</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir, are you the master of that vessel?" said the lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I am the mate; and I learn you are desirous of a passage to +Jamaica." This was spoken with a broad Scotch accent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we do," said I, in very great astonishment; "but we will not sail +with the devil; and who ever saw a negro Scotchman before?"</p> + +<p>The fellow laughed. "I am black, as you see; so were my father and +mother before me. But I was born in the good town of Glasgow, +notwithstanding; and many a voyage I have made as cabin-boy and cook with +worthy old Jock Hunter. But here comes our captain. Captain Vanderbosh, +here are two shipwrecked British officers who wish to be put ashore in +Jamaica; will you take them, and what will you charge for their +passage?"</p> + +<p>The man he spoke to was a sun-burnt, iron-visaged veteran.</p> + +<p>"Vy for von hundred thaler I will land dem safe in de bay."</p> + +<p>The bargain was ratified, and that same evening we set sail. When off +the San Domingo Gate two boats full of men joined us, and our crew was +strengthened by about forty as ugly Christians, of all ages and countries, +as I ever set eyes on. From the moment they came on board Captain +Vanderbosh sank into the petty officer, and the Scottish negro took the +command, evincing great coolness, energy, and skill.</p> + +<p>When night had fallen the captain made out a sail to windward. +Immediately every inch of canvas was close furled, every light carefully +extinguished, a hundred and twenty men with cutlasses at quarters, and the +ship under bare poles. The strange sail could be seen through the +night-glasses; she now burned a blue light--without doubt an old +fellow-cruiser of ours, the Spark.</p> + +<p>"She is from Santa Martha with a freight of specie, I know," said +Williamson. "I will try a brush with her."</p> + +<p>"I know the craft," Splinter struck in, "a heavy vessel of her class, +and you may depend on hard knocks and small profit if you do take her; +while, if she takes you----"</p> + +<p>"I'll be hanged if she does," said Williamson, and he grinned at the +conceit; "or, rather, I will blow the schooner up with my own hand before I +strike; better that than have one's bones bleached in chains on a quay at +Port Royal. But you cannot control us, gentlemen; so get down below, and +take Peter Mangrove with you. I would not willingly see those come to harm +who have trusted me."</p> + +<p>However, there was no shot flying as yet, and we stayed on deck. All +sail was once more made, and presently the cutter saw us, tacked, and stood +towards us. Her commander hailed: "Ho, the brigantine, ahoy! What schooner +is that?"</p> + +<p>"Spanish schooner, Caridad," sung out Williamson.</p> + +<p>"Heave-to, and send your boat on board."</p> + +<p>"We have none that will swim, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well, bring to, and I will send mine."</p> + +<p>We heard the splash of the jolly-boat touching the water; then the +measured stroke of the oars, and a voice calling out, "Give way, my +lads."</p> + +<p>The character of the vessel we were on board of was now evident; and the +bitter reflection that we were, as it were, chained to the stake on board +of a pirate, on the eve of a fierce contest with one of our own cruisers, +was aggravated by the consideration that a whole boat's crew would be +sacrificed before a shot was fired.</p> + +<p>The officer in the boat had no sooner sprung on board than he was caught +by two strong hands, gagged, and thrown down the main hatchway.</p> + +<p>"Heave," cried a voice, "and with a will!" and four cold 32-pound shot +were hove at once into the boat alongside, which, crashing through her +bottom, swamped her in a moment, precipitating the miserable crew into the +boiling sea. Their shrieks rang in my ears as they clung to the oars and +some loose planks of the boat.</p> + +<p>"Bring up the officer, and take out the gag," said Williamson.</p> + +<p>Poor Malcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to +the gangway, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor, +clapping a pistol to his head, bade him, as he feared instant death, hail +the cutter for another boat.</p> + +<p>The young midshipman turned his pale mild countenance upwards as he said +firmly, "Never!" The miscreant fired, and he fell dead.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" The whole broadside was poured in, and we could hear the shot +rattle and tear along the cutter's deck, and the shrieks and groans of the +wounded.</p> + +<p>We now ranged alongside, and close action commenced; never do I expect +to see such an infernal scene again. Up to this moment all had been +coolness and order on board the pirate; but when the yards locked, the crew +broke loose from all control--they ceased to be men--they were demons, for +they threw their own dead and wounded indiscriminately down the hatchways, +to get clear of them. They had stripped themselves almost naked; and +although they fought with the most desperate courage, yelling and cursing, +each in his own tongue, yet their very numbers, pent up in a small vessel, +were against them. Amidst the fire and smoke we could see that the deck had +become a very shamble; and unless they soon carried the cutter by boarding, +it was clear that the coolness and discipline of the service must prevail. +The pirates seemed aware of this themselves, for they now made a desperate +attempt at boarding, led on by the black captain. While the rush forward +was being made, by a sudden impulse, Splinter and I, followed by Peter, +scrambled from our shelter, and in our haste jumped down, knocking over the +man at the wheel.</p> + +<p>There was no time to be lost; if any of the crew came aft we were dead +men; so we tumbled down through the cabin skylight, and stowed ourselves +away in the side berths. The noise on deck soon ceased--the cannon were +again plied--gradually the fire slackened, and we could hear that the +pirate had scraped clear and escaped. Some time after this, the lieutenant +commanding the cutter came down. We both knew him well, and he received us +cordially.</p> + +<p>In a week we were landed at Port Royal.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I was a midshipman when I began my log, but before I finally left the +West Indies I was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to the +Lotus Leaf, under orders for England.</p> + +<p>Before I set sail, however, I was married to my cousin Mary in Jamaica; +and when we got to Old England, where the Lotus Leaf was paid off, I +settled for a time on shore, the happiest, etc., until some years +afterwards, when the wee Cringles began to tumble home so fast that I had +to cut and run, and once more betake myself to the salt sea.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT"></a>SIR WALTER SCOTT</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Antiquary"></a>The Antiquary</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh on August 15, 1771. +As a child he was feeble and sickly, and very early he was smitten with +lameness which remained with him through life, although he matured into a +man of robust health. He was educated for the law, which he began to +practise in 1792. Although he had fair success in his profession, he soon +began to occupy his leisure time with literature, and his first work was +published in 1796. The first of the "Waverley" series made its appearance +anonymously in 1814. As the series progressed, it became known that Walter +Scott was the author of the famous novels, and he became the idol of the +hour. In 1820 a baronetcy was bestowed upon him. Six years later he joined +an old friend in the establishment of a large printing and publishing +business in Edinburgh, but the venture was not successful, and Scott soon +found himself a bankrupt. Here his manhood and proud integrity were most +nobly shown. With stern and unfaltering resolution, he set himself to the +task of paying his debts from the profits of his pen. Within a space of two +years he realised for his creditors the amazing sum of nearly forty +thousand pounds, but the limits of endurance had been reached, and in 1830 +he was smitten down with paralysis, from which he never thoroughly rallied. +He died at Abbotsford on September 31, 1832. As a lyrist Scott especially +excelled, and as a novelist he takes rank among the foremost. Although many +of his works are lax and careless in structure, yet if a final test in +greatness in the field of novel writing be the power to vitalise character, +very few writers can be held to surpass Sir Walter Scott. According to +Basil Hall, "The Antiquary" was Scott's own favourite romance. It was +published in May, 1816, the third of the Waverley Novels, and in it the +author intended to illustrate the manners of Scotland during the last ten +years of the eighteenth century. "I have been more solicitous," he writes, +"to describe manners minutely, than to arrange in any case an artificial +and combined narrative, and have but to regret that I felt myself unable to +unite these two requisites of a good novel." Scott took considerable pains +to point out that old Edie Ochiltree, the wandering mendicant with his blue +gown, was by no means to be confounded with the utterly degraded class of +beings who now practise that wandering trade. Although "The Antiquary" was +not so well received on its first appearance as "Waverley" or "Guy +Mannering," it soon rose to equal, and with some readers, superior +popularity. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Travelling Companions</i></h4> + + +<p>It was early on a fine summer's day, near the end of the eighteenth +century, when a young man of genteel appearance, journeying towards the +north-east of Scotland, provided himself with a ticket in one of those +public carriages which travel between Edinburgh and the Queensferry, at +which place there is a passage-boat for crossing the Firth of Forth.</p> + +<p>The young gentleman was soon joined by a companion, a good-looking man +of the age of sixty, perhaps older, but his hale complexion and firm step +announced that years had not impaired his strength of health. This senior +traveller, Mr. Jonathan Oldenbuck (by popular contraction Oldbuck), of +Monkbarns, was the owner of a small property in the neighbourhood of a +thriving seaport town on the north-eastern coast of Scotland, which we +shall denominate Fairport. His tastes were antiquarian, his wishes very +moderate. The burghers of the town regarded him with a sort of envy, as one +who affected to divide himself from their rank in society, and whose +studies and pleasures seemed to them alike incomprehensible. Some habits of +hasty irritation he had contracted, partly from an early disappointment in +love, but yet more by the obsequious attention paid to him by his maiden +sister and his orphan niece.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oldbuck, finding his fellow-traveller an interested and intelligent +auditor, plunged at once into a sea of discussion concerning urns, vases, +and Roman camps, and when they reached Queensferry, and stopped for dinner +at the inn, he at once made some advances towards ascertaining the name, +destination, and quality of his young companion.</p> + +<p>His name, the young gentleman said, was Lovel. His father was a north of +England gentleman. He was at present travelling to Fairport, and if he +found the place agreeable, might perhaps remain there for some weeks.</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Lovel's excursion solely for pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps on business with some of the commercial people of +Fairport?"</p> + +<p>"It was partly on business, but had no reference to commerce."</p> + +<p>Here he paused, and Mr. Oldbuck, having pushed his inquiries as far as +good manners permitted, was obliged to change the conversation.</p> + +<p>The mutual satisfaction which they found in each other's society induced +Mr. Oldbuck to propose, and Lovel willingly to accept, a scheme for +travelling together to the end of their journey. A postchaise having been +engaged, they arrived at Fairport about two o'clock on the following +day.</p> + +<p>Lovel probably expected that his travelling companion would have invited +him to dinner on his arrival; but his consciousness of a want of ready +preparation for unexpected guests prevented Oldbuck from paying him that +attention. He only begged to see him as early as he could make it +convenient to call in a forenoon, and recommended him to a widow who had +apartments to let.</p> + +<p>A few days later, when his baggage had arrived from Edinburgh, Mr. Lovel +went forth to pay his respects at Monkbarns, and received a cordial welcome +from Mr. Oldbuck. They parted the best of friends, but the antiquary was +still at a loss to know what this well-informed young man, without friends, +connections, or employment, could have to do as a resident at Fairport. +Neither port wine nor whist had apparently any charms for him. A +coffee-room was his detestation, and he had as few sympathies with the +tea-table. There was never a Master Lovel of whom so little positive was +known, but nobody knew any harm of him.</p> + +<p>"A decent, sensible lad," said the Laird of Monkbarns to himself, when +these particulars of Lovel had been reported to him. "He scorns to enter +into the fooleries and nonsense of these idiot people at Fairport. I must +do something for him--I must give him a dinner, and I will write to Sir +Arthur to come to Monkbarns to meet him. I must consult my womankind."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, such consultation having been held, the following letter +was sent to Sir Arthur Wardour, of Knockwinnock Castle:</p> + +<p>"Dear Sir Arthur,--On Tuesday, the 17th inst, I hold a symposium at +Monkbarns, and pray you to assist thereat, at four o'clock precisely. If my +fair enemy, Miss Isabel, can and will honour us by accompanying you, my +womankind will be but too proud. I have a young acquaintance to make known +to you, who is touched with some stain of a better spirit than belong to +these giddy-paced times, reveres his elders, and has a pretty notion of the +classics. And as such a youth must have a natural contempt for the people +about Fairport, I wish to show him some rational as well as worshipful +society. I am, dear Sir Arthur, etc., etc."</p> + +<p>In reply to this, at her father's request, Miss Wardour intimated, "her +own and Sir Arthur's compliments, and that they would have the honour of +waiting upon Mr. Oldbuck. Miss Wardour takes this opportunity to renew her +hostility with Mr. Oldbuck, on account of his long absence from +Knockwinnock, where his visits give so much pleasure."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Treacherous Sands</i></h4> + + +<p>Sir Arthur and his daughter had set out, on leaving Monkbarns, to return +to Knockwinnock by the turnpike road; but when they discerned Lovel a +little before them Miss Wardour immediately proposed to her father that +they should take another direction, and walk home by the sands.</p> + +<p>Sir Arthur acquiesced willingly, and the two left the high road, and +soon attained the side of the ocean. The tide was by no means so far out as +they had computed; but this gave them no alarm; there was seldom ten days +in the year when it approached so near the cliffs as not to leave a dry +passage.</p> + +<p>As they advanced together in silence a sudden change of weather made +Miss Wardour draw close to her father. As the sun sank the wind rose, and +the mass of waters began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink in +deeper furrows. Presently, through the drizzling rain, they saw a figure +coming towards them, whom Sir Arthur recognised as the old blue-gowned +beggar, Edie Ochiltree.</p> + +<p>"Turn back! Turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant. "The tide is running on +Halket-head, like the Fall of Fyers! We will maybe get back by Ness Point +yet. The Lord help us--it's our only chance! We can but try."</p> + +<p>The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and +smooth footing which they had hitherto had on the sand must be exchanged +for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and in some places +even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have been utterly impossible +for Sir Arthur Wardour or his daughter to have found their way along these +shelves without the guidance and encouragement of the beggar, who had been +there before in high tides, though never, he acknowledged, "in sae awsome a +night as this."</p> + +<p>It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm mingled with +the shrieks of the sea-fowl. Each minute the raging tide gained ground +perceptibly. The three still struggled forward; but at length they paused +upon the highest ledge of rock to which they could attain, for it seemed +that any farther attempt to advance could only serve to anticipate their +fate.</p> + +<p>The fearful pause gave Isabella Wardour time to collect the powers of a +mind naturally strong and courageous.</p> + +<p>"Must we yield life," she said, "without a struggle? Is there no path, +however dreadful, by which we could climb the crag?"</p> + +<p>"I was a bold cragsman," said Ochiltree, "once in my life; but it's lang +syne, and nae mortal could speel them without a rope. But there was a path +here ance--His name be praised!" he ejaculated suddenly, "there's ane +coming down the crag e'en now! there's ane coming down the crag e'en now!" +Then, exalting his voice, he halloo'd out to the daring adventurer such +instructions as his former practice forced upon his mind.</p> + +<p>The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung him down the +end of the rope, which he secured around Miss Wardour. Then, availing +himself of the rope, which was made fast at the other end, Ochiltree began +to ascent the face of the crag, and after one or two perilous escapes, was +safe on the broad flat stone beside our friend Lovel. Their joint strength +was able to raise Isabella to the place of safety which they had attained, +and the next thing was to raise Sir Arthur beyond the reach of the +billows.</p> + +<p>The prospect of passing a tempestuous night upon a precipitous piece of +rock, where the spray of the billows flew high enough to drench them, +filled old Ochiltree with apprehension for Miss Wardour.</p> + +<p>"I'll climb up the cliff again," said Lovel, "and call for more +assistance."</p> + +<p>"If ye gang, I'll gang too," said the bedesman.</p> + +<p>"Hark! hark!" said Lovel. "Did I not hear a halloo?"</p> + +<p>The unmistakable shout of human voices from above was soon augmented, +and the gleam of torches appeared.</p> + +<p>On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled. +Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with unwonted +desperation to the very brink of the crag. Some fishermen had brought with +them the mast of a boat, and this was soon sunk in the ground and +sufficiently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a rope stretched +along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore +crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair down to the flat +shelf on which the sufferers had roosted.</p> + +<p>Lovel bound Miss Wardour to the back and arms of the chair, while +Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet.</p> + +<p>"What are ye doing wi' my bairn? She shall not be separated from me! +Isabel, stay with me, I command you!"</p> + +<p>"Farewell, my father!" murmured Isabella; "farewell, my--my friends!" +and, shutting her eyes, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who +were above.</p> + +<p>A loud shout announced the success of the experiment. The chair was +again lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it; and after Sir Arthur had +been landed safe and sound, old Ochiltree was brought up; finally Lovel was +safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff. As he recovered from a sort +of half-swoon, occasioned by the giddiness of the ascent, he cast his eyes +eagerly around. The object for which they sought was already in the act of +vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the +path which her father had taken. She had lingered till she saw the last of +their company rescued from danger, but Lovel was not aware that she had +expressed in his fate even this degree of interest.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Duel</i></h4> + + +<p>Some few weeks after the perilous escape from the tide, Sir Arthur +invited Mr. Lovel and the Monkbarns family to join him on a visit to the +ruins of a certain priory in the neighbourhood. Lovel at once accepted, and +Mr. Oldbuck decided that there would be room for his niece in a postchaise. +This niece, Mary M'Intyre, like her brother Hector, was an orphan. They +were the offspring of a sister of Monkbarns, who had married one Captain +M'Intyre, a Highlander. Both parents being dead, the son and daughter were +left to the charge of Mr. Oldbuck. The nephew was now a captain in the +army, the niece had her home at Monkbarns.</p> + +<p>All went happily at Sir Arthur's party at the ruins, until the +unexpected arrival of Hector M'Intyre. This newcomer, a handsome young man +about five-and-twenty, had ridden to Monkbarns, and learning his uncle's +absence had come straight on to join the company. On his introduction to +Lovel the young soldier bowed with more reserve than cordiality, and Lovel +was equally frigid and haughty in return.</p> + +<p>Miss Wardour's obvious determination not to allow Captain M'Intyre an +opportunity for private conversation with her drove Hector to speak to his +sister.</p> + +<p>"Pray who is this Mr. Lovel, whom our old uncle has at once placed so +high in his good graces?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean how Mr. Lovel comes to visit at Monkbarns you must ask my +uncle; and you must know that Mr. Lovel rendered Miss Wardour and him a +service of the most important kind."</p> + +<p>"What! that romantic story is true, then? And does the valorous knight +aspire to the hand of the young lady whom he redeemed from peril? I did +think that she was uncommonly dry to me as we walked together."</p> + +<p>"Dear Hector," said his sister, "do not continue to nourish any +affection for Miss Wardour. Your perseverance is hopeless. Above all, do +not let this violent temper of yours lead you to lose the favour of our +uncle, who has hitherto been all that is kind and paternal to us."</p> + +<p>Captain M'Intyre promised to behave civilly, and returned to the +company.</p> + +<p>On Lovel mentioning, in the course of conversation, that he was an +officer in a certain regiment, M'Intyre could not refrain from declaring +that he knew the officers of that regiment, and had never heard of the name +of Lovel.</p> + +<p>Lovel blushed deeply, and taking a letter out of an envelope, handed it +to M'Intyre. The latter acknowledged the handwriting of General Sir ----, +but remarked that the address was missing.</p> + +<p>"The address, Captain M'Intyre," answered Lovel, "shall be at your +service whenever you choose to inquire after it."</p> + +<p>"I certainly shall not fail to do so," rejoined Hector.</p> + +<p>The party broke up, Lovel returned to Fairport, and early next morning +was waited upon by a military friend of Captain M'Intyre. Upon Lovel +declining to give his name the captain insisted on his fighting, and that +very evening the duel was arranged to take place in a valley close by the +ruins of St. Ruth.</p> + +<p>Captain M'Intyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but did not +draw blood. That of Lovel was more true, and M'Intyre reeled and fell.</p> + +<p>The grasp of old Ochiltree, who had appeared on the scene, roused Lovel +to movement, and leaving M'Intyre to the care of a surgeon, he followed the +bedesman into the recesses of the wood, in order to get away by boat the +following morning.</p> + +<p>Amid the secret passages of the ruins, well known to Ochiltree, Lovel +was to pass the night; but all rest was impossible by the discovery of two +human figures, one of whom Lovel made out to be a German named +Donsterswivel, a swindling impostor who promised discoveries of gold to Sir +Arthur Wardour, gold buried in the ruins, and only to be unearthed by magic +and considerable expenditure of ready money.</p> + +<p>"That other ane," whispered Edie, "maun be, according to a' likelihood, +Sir Arthur Wardour. I ken naebody but himself wad come here at this time +wi' that German blackguard."</p> + +<p>Donsterswivel, with much talk of planetary influences, and spirits, and +"suffumigation," presently set fire to a little pile of chips, and when the +flame was at the highest flung in a handful of perfumes, which produced a +strong and pungent odour.</p> + +<p>A violent explosion of sneezing, which the mendicant was unable to +suppress, accompanied by a grunting, half-smothered cough, confounded the +two treasure-seekers.</p> + +<p>"I was begun to think," said the terrified German, "that this would be +bestermost done in de daylight; we was bestermost to go away just now."</p> + +<p>"You juggling villain!" said the baronet; "this is some legerdemain +trick of yours to get off from the performance of your promise, as you have +so often done before. You shall show me that treasure, or confess yourself +a knave."</p> + +<p>Here Edie, who began to enter into the humour of the scene, uttered an +extraordinary howl. Donsterswivel flung himself on his knees. "Dear Sir +Arthur, let us go, or let me go!"</p> + +<p>"No, you cheating scoundrel!" said the knight, unsheathing his sword. "I +will see this treasure before you leave this place, or, by heaven, I'll run +this sword through you though all the spirits of the dead should rise +around us!"</p> + +<p>"For de lofe of heaven, be patient, mine honoured patron; do not speak +about de spirits--it makes dem angry."</p> + +<p>Donsterswivel at length proceeded to a corner of the building where lay +a flat stone upon the ground. With great trepidation he removed the stone, +threw out a shovelful or two of earth, and produced a small case or casket. +This was at once opened by the baronet, and appeared to be filled with +coin.</p> + +<p>"This is being indeed in good luck," said Sir Arthur; "and if you think +it omens proportional success upon a larger venture, I will hazard the +necessary advance."</p> + +<p>But the German's guilty conscience and superstitious fears made him +anxious to escape, and accordingly he hurried Sir Arthur from the spot.</p> + +<p>"Saw onybody e'er the like o' that!" said Edie to Lovel.</p> + +<p>"His faith in the fellow is entirely restored," said Lovel, "by this +deception, which he had arranged beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay; trust him for that. He wants to wile him out o' his last +guinea, and then escape to his own country, the land-louper."</p> + +<p>But thanks to old Edie's efforts, Donsterswivel was checked in his +scheme for the plunder of Sir Arthur Wardour.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Secret is Disclosed</i></h4> + + +<p>Captain M'Intyre's wound turned out to be not so dangerous as was at +first suspected, and after some six weeks' nursing at Monkbarns, the +hot-tempered soldier was once more in full health.</p> + +<p>It was during those weeks that the Antiquary met after an interval of +more than twenty years, the Earl of Glenallan, a neighbouring laird. Lord +Glenallan and Mr. Oldbuck had both loved the same lady, Eveline Neville, +and against the commands of the old countess, his mother, Glenallan had +married Miss Neville. Driven by the false taunts of the countess to +believe, as her husband did, the marriage invalid, the unhappy Eveline had +thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea, and the child born to her had +been kept in concealment in England by her brother, Geraldin Neville. The +countess died, and an old fish woman, once the countess's confidential +maid, when dying, demanded to see Lord Glenallan, and on her death-bed told +him the truth, and that his child was living.</p> + +<p>The scare of a French invasion brought Lord Glenallan, with Mr. Oldbuck, +and Sir Arthur Wardour, to Fairport, and to his uncle's surprise and +satisfaction, Captain M'Intyre acted as military adviser to the volunteers +with remarkable presence of mind, giving instructions calmly and +wisely.</p> + +<p>The arrival of an officer from headquarters was eagerly expected in +Fairport, and at length a cry among the people announced "There's the brave +Major Neville come at last!" A postchaise and four drove into the square, +amidst the huzzas of the volunteers and inhabitants, and what was the +surprise of all present, but most especially that of the Antiquary, when +the handsome uniform and military cap disclosed the person and features of +the pacific Lovel! A warm embrace was necessary to assure him that his eyes +were doing him justice. Sir Arthur was no less surprised to recognise his +son, Captain Wardour, as Major Neville's companion.</p> + +<p>The first words of the young officers were a positive assurance to all +present that their efforts were unnecessary, that what was merely an +accidental bonfire had been taken for a beacon.</p> + +<p>The Antiquary found his arm pressed by Lord Glenallan, who dragged him +aside. "For God's sake, who is that young gentleman who is so strikingly +like----"</p> + +<p>"Like the unfortunate Eveline," interrupted Oldbuck. "I felt my heart +warm to him from the first. Formerly I would have called him Lovel, but now +he turns out to be Major Neville."</p> + +<p>"Whom my brother brought up as his natural son--whom he made his +heir--the child of my Eveline!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Oldbuck at once determined to make further investigation, and +returned to Major Neville, who was now arranging for the dispersion of the +force which had been assembled.</p> + +<p>"Pray, Major Neville, leave this business for a moment to Captain +Wardour and to Hector, with whom, I hope, you are thoroughly +reconciled"--Neville laughed, and shook hands with Hector across the +table--"and grant me a moment's audience."</p> + +<p>"You have every claim on me," said Neville, "for having passed myself +upon you under a false name. But I am so unfortunate as to have no better +right to the name of Neville, than that of Lovel."</p> + +<p>"I believe I know more of your birth than you do yourself, and to +convince you of it, you were educated and known as a natural son of +Geraldin Neville, of Neville's-burg, in Yorkshire."</p> + +<p>"I did believe Mr. Geraldin Neville was my father, but during the war in +French Flanders, I found in a convent near where we were quartered, a woman +who spoke good English--a Spaniard. She discovered who I was, and made +herself known to me as the person who had charge of me in my infancy, and +intimated that Mr. Geraldin Neville was not my father. The convent was +burned by the enemy, and several nuns perished, among others this woman. I +wrote to Mr. Neville, and on my return implored him to complete the +disclosure. He refused, and, on my importunity, indignantly upbraided me +with the favours he had already conferred. We parted in mutual displeasure. +I renounced the name of Neville, and assumed that of Lovel. It was at this +time, when residing with a friend in the north of England, that I became +acquainted with Miss Wardour, and was romantic enough to follow her to +Scotland. When I was at Fairport, I received news of Mr. Neville's death. +He had made me his heir, but the possession of considerable wealth did not +prevent me from remembering Sir Arthur's strong prejudices against +illegitimacy. Then came my quarrel with Captain M'Intyre, and my compelled +departure from Fairport."</p> + +<p>"Well, Major Neville, you must, I believe, exchange both of your aliases +for the style and title of the Honourable William Geraldin, commonly called +Lord Geraldin."</p> + +<p>The Antiquary then went through the strange and melancholy circumstances +concerning his mother's death. "And now, my dear sir," said he, in +conclusion, "let me have the pleasure of introducing a son to a +father."</p> + +<p>We will not attempt to describe such a meeting. The proof on all sides +was found to be complete, for Mr. Neville had left a distinct account of +the whole transaction with his confidential steward in a small packet, +which was not to be opened until the death of the old countess.</p> + +<p>In the evening of that day, the yeomanry and volunteers of Glenallan +drank prosperity to their young master; and a month afterwards, Lord +Glenallan was married to Miss Wardour.</p> + +<p>Hector is rising rapidly in the army, and rises proportionally high in +his uncle's favour.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Guy_Mannering"></a>Guy Mannering</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Guy Mannering, or, the Astrologer," the second of the +Waverley series, represents the labour of six weeks. Although the novel was +completed in so short a period, neither story--if one or two instances of +evidences of haste is ignored--nor characterisation has suffered. For the +main theme Scott was indebted to an old legend of the horoscope of a +new-born infant. In common with nearly all his tales, several of the +characters in "Guy Mannering" were founded on real persons; Meg Merrilies +was the prototype of a gipsy named Jennie Gordon, and many of the personal +features of Dominie Sampson were obtained from a clergyman who once acted +as tutor at Abbotsford. The hero was at once recognised by Hogg, the +Ettrick shepherd, as a portrait of Scott himself. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Astrologer</i></h4> + + +<p>It was in the month of November, 17--, when a young English gentleman, +who had just left the University of Oxford, being benighted while +sightseeing in Dumfriesshire, sought shelter at Ellangowan, on the very +night the heir was born. Our hero, Guy Mannering, entering into the simple +humour of Mr. Bertram, his host, agreed to calculate the infant's horoscope +by the stars, having in early youth studied with an old clergyman who had a +firm belief in astrology.</p> + +<p>Mannering had once before tried a similar piece of foolery, at the +instance of the young lady to whom he was betrothed, and now found that the +result of the scheme in both cases presaged misfortune in the same year to +the infant as to her. To the baby, three periods would be particularly +hazardous--his fifth, his tenth, his twenty-first year.</p> + +<p>He mentally relinquished his art for ever, and to prevent the child +being supposed to be the object of evil prediction, he gave the paper into +Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep it for five years with the +seal unbroken, after which period he left him at liberty, trusting that the +first fatal year being safely overpast, no credit would be paid to its +farther contents.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bertram was able to work again, her first employment was to +make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity; and though her fingers +itched to break the seal, she had the firmness to enclose it in two slips +of parchment, and put it in the bag aforesaid, and hang it round the neck +of the infant.</p> + +<p>It was again in the month of November, more than twenty years after the +above incident, that a loud rapping was heard at the door of the Gordon +Arms at Kippletringan.</p> + +<p>"I wish, madam," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, where several +neighbours were assembled, "you would give me leave to warm myself here, +for the night is very cold."</p> + +<p>His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in +his favour. The landlady installed her guest comfortably by the fireside, +and offered what refreshment her house afforded.</p> + +<p>"A cup of tea, ma'am, if you will favour me." Mrs. MacCandlish bustled +about, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace, explaining that she +had a very nice parlour, and everything agreeable for gentlefolks; but it +was bespoke to-night for a gentleman and his daughter, that were going to +leave this part of the country.</p> + +<p>The sound of wheels was now heard, and the postilion entered. "No, they +canna' come at no rate, the laird's sae ill."</p> + +<p>"But God help them," said the landlady. "The morn's the term--the very +last day they can bide in the house--a' things to be roupit."</p> + +<p>"Weel, I tell you, Mr. Bertram canna be moved."</p> + +<p>"What Mr. Bertram?" said the stranger. "Not Mr. Bertram of Ellangowan, I +hope?"</p> + +<p>"Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye've come at a +time when he's sair bested."</p> + +<p>"I have been abroad for many years. Is his health so much deranged?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, and his affairs an' a'. The creditors have entered into possession +o' the estate, and it's for sale. And some that made the maist o' him, +they're sairest on him now. I've a sma' matter due mysell, but I'd rather +have lost it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and him just +dying."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but," said the parish clerk, "Factor Glossin wants to get rid of +the auld laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the heir-male should cast +up; for if there's an heir-male, they canna sell the estate for auld +Ellangowan's debt."</p> + +<p>"He had a son born a good many years ago," said the stranger. "He is +dead, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Dead! I'se warrant him dead lang syne. He hasna' been heard o' these +twenty years."</p> + +<p>"I wat weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady. "It's no abune +seventeen in this very month. It made an unco noise ower a' this country. +The bairn disappeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy came by his end. +He was a daft dog! Oh, an' he could ha' handen' off the smugglers! Ye see, +sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton Bay, and Frank Kennedy, he +behoved to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick's lugger. He was a daring +cheild, and fought his ship till she blew up like peelings of ingans."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, "what is all this to +him?"</p> + +<p>"Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' the supervisor, and it was +generally thought he went on board the vessel with him."</p> + +<p>"No, no; you're clean out there, Luckie! The young laird was stown awa' +by a randy gipsy woman they ca'd Meg Merrilies," said the deacon.</p> + +<p>But the presenter would not have this version, and told a tale of how an +astrologer, an ancient man, had appeared at the time of the heir's birth, +and told the laird that the Evil One would have power over the knave bairn, +and he charged him that the bairn should be brought up in the ways of +piety, and should aye hae a godly minister at his elbow; and the aged man +vanished away, and so they engaged Dominie Sampson to be with him morn and +night. But even that godly minister had failed to protect the child, who +was last seen being carried off by Frank Kennedy on his horse to see a +king's ship chase a smuggler. The excise-man's body was found at the foot +of the crags at Warroch Point, but no one knew what had become of the +child.</p> + +<p>A smart servant entered with a note for the stranger, saying, "The +family at Ellangowan are in great distress, sir, and unable to receive any +visits."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said his master. "And now, madam, if you will have the +goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour----"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," said Mrs. MacCandlish, and hastened to light the +way.</p> + +<p>"And wha' may your master be, friend?"</p> + +<p>"What! That's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East +Indies."</p> + +<p>"What, him we read of in the papers?"</p> + +<p>"Lord safe us!" said the landlady. "I must go and see what he would have +for supper--that I should set him down here."</p> + +<p>When the landlady re-entered, Colonel Mannering asked her if Mr. Bertram +lost his son in his fifth year.</p> + +<p>"O ay, sir, there's nae doubt of that; though there are many idle +clashes about the way and manner. And the news being rashly told to the +leddy cost her her life that saym night; and the laird never throve from +that day, was just careless of everything. Though when Miss Lucy grew up +she tried to keep order. But what could she do, poor thing? So now they're +out of house and hauld."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Vanbeest Brown's Reappearance</i></h4> + + +<p>Early next morning, Mannering took the road to Ellangowan. He had no +need to inquire the way; people of all descriptions streamed to the sale +from all quarters.</p> + +<p>When the old towers of the ruin rose upon his view, thoughts thronged +upon the mind of the traveller. How changed his feelings since he lost +sight of them so many years before! Then life and love were new, and all +the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in affection, +sated with fame, goaded by bitter and repentant recollections, his best +hope was to find a retirement in which to nurse the melancholy which was to +accompany him to his grave. About a year before, in India, he had returned +from a distant expedition to find a young cadet named Brown established as +the habitual attendant on his wife and daughter, an arrangement which +displeased him greatly, owing to the suggestions of another cadet, though +no objection could be made to the youth's character or manners. Brown made +some efforts to overcome his colonel's prejudice, but feeling himself +repulsed, and with scorn, desisted, and continued his attentions in +defiance. At last some trifle occurred which occasioned high words and a +challenge. They met on the frontiers of the settlement, and Brown fell at +the first shot. A horde of Looties, a species of banditti, poured in upon +them, and Colonel Mannering and his second escaped with some difficulty. +His wife's death shortly after, and his daughter's severe illness, made him +throw up his command and come home. She was now staying with some old +friends in Westmoreland, almost restored to her wonted health and +gaiety.</p> + +<p>When Colonel Mannering reached the house he found his old acquaintance +paralysed, helpless, waiting for the postchaise to take him away. +Mannering's evident emotion at once attained him the confidence of Lucy +Bertram. The laird showed no signs of recognising Mannering; but when the +man, Gilbert Glossin, who had brought him to this pass, had the effrontery +to make his appearance, he started up, violently reproaching him, sank into +his chair again, and died almost without a groan.</p> + +<p>A torrent of sympathy now poured forth, the sale was postponed, and +Mannering decided on making a short tour till it should take place, but he +was called back to Westmoreland, and, owing to the delay of his messenger, +the estate passed into the hands of Glossin. Lucy and Dominie Sampson, who +would not be separated from his pupil, found a temporary home in the house +of Mr. MacMorlan, the sheriff-substitute, a good friend of the family.</p> + +<p>Colonel Mannering lost no time in hiring for a season a large and +comfortable mansion not far from Ellangowan, having some hopes of +ultimately buying that estate. Besides a sincere desire to serve the +distressed, he saw the advantage his daughter Julia might receive from the +company of Lucy Bertram, whose prudence and good sense might be relied on, +and therefore induced her to become the visitor of a season, and the +dominie thereupon required no pressing to accept the office of librarian. +The household was soon settled in its new quarters, and the young ladies +followed their studies and amusements together.</p> + +<p>Society was quickly formed, most of the families in the neighbourhood +visited Colonel Mannering, and Charles Hazlewood soon held a distinguished +place in his favour and was a frequent visitor, his parents quite +forgetting their old fear of his boyish attachment to penniless Lucy +Bertram in the thought that the beautiful Miss Mannering, of high family, +with a great fortune, was a prize worth looking after. They did not know +that the colonel's journey to Westmoreland was in consequence of a letter +from his friend there expressing uneasiness about serenades from the lake +beside the house. However, he had returned without making any discovery or +any advance in his daughter's confidence, who might have told him that +Brown still lived, had not her natural good sense and feeling been warped +by the folly of a misjudging, romantic mother, who had called her husband a +tyrant until she feared him as such.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Vanbeest Brown had escaped from captivity and attained the rank of +captain after Mannering left India, and his regiment having been recalled +home, was determined to persevere in his addresses to Julia while she left +him a ray of hope, believing that the injuries he had received from her +father might dispense with his using much ceremony towards him.</p> + +<p>So, soon after the Mannerings' settlement in Scotland, he was staying in +the inn at Kippletringan; and, as the landlady said, "a' the hoose was +ta'en wi' him, he was such a frank, pleasant young man." There had been a +good deal of trouble with the smugglers of late, and one day Brown met the +young ladies with Charles Hazlewood. Julia's alarm at his appearance misled +that young man, and he spoke roughly to Brown, even threatening him with +his gun. In the confusion the gun went off, wounding Hazlewood.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Glossin's Villainy</i></h4> + + +<p>Gilbert Glossin, Esq., now Laird of Ellangowan, and justice of the +peace, saw an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the country gentry, +and exerted himself to discover the person by whom young Charles Hazlewood +had been wounded. So it was with great pleasure he heard his servants +announce that MacGuffog, the thief-taker, had a man waiting his honour, +handcuffed and fettered.</p> + +<p>The worthy judge and the captive looked at each other steadily. At +length Glossin said:</p> + +<p>"So, captain, this is you? You've been a stranger on these coasts for +some years."</p> + +<p>"Stranger!" replied the other. "Strange enough, I should think, for hold +me der teyvil, if I have ever been here before."</p> + +<p>Glossin took a pair of pistols, and loaded them.</p> + +<p>"You may retire," said he to his clerk, "and carry the people with you, +but wait within call." Then: "You are Dirk Hatteraick, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Tousand teyvils! And if you know that, why ask me?"</p> + +<p>"Captain, bullying won't do. You'll hardly get out of this country +without accounting for a little accident at Warroch Point a few years +ago."</p> + +<p>Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight.</p> + +<p>"For my part," continued Glossin. "I have no wish to be hard on an old +acquaintance, but I must send you off to Edinburgh this very day."</p> + +<p>"Poz donner! you would not do that?" said the prisoner. "Why, you had +the matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen!"</p> + +<p>"It was an affair in the way of business," said Glossin, "and I have +retired from business for some time."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but I have a notion I could make you go steady about, and try the +old course again," said Dirk Hatteraick. "I had something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Of the boy?" said Glossin eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yaw, mynheer," replied the captain coolly.</p> + +<p>"He does not live, does he?"</p> + +<p>"As lifelich as you or me," said Hatteraick.</p> + +<p>"Good God! But in India?" exclaimed Glossin.</p> + +<p>"No, tousand teyvils, here--on this dirty coast of yours!" rejoined the +prisoner.</p> + +<p>"But, Hatteraick, this--that is, if it be true, will ruin us both, for +he cannot but remember."</p> + +<p>"I tell you," said the seaman, "it will ruin none but you, for I am done +up already, and if I must strap for it, all shall out."</p> + +<p>Glossin paused--the sweat broke upon his brow; while the hard-featured +miscreant sat opposite coolly rolling his tobacco in his cheek.</p> + +<p>"It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, "absolute ruin, if the heir +should reappear--and then what might be the consequences of conniving with +these men?"</p> + +<p>"Hark you, Hatteraick, I can't set you at liberty, but I can put you +where you can set yourself at liberty. I always like to assist an old +friend."</p> + +<p>So he gave him a file.</p> + +<p>"There's a friend for you, and you know the way to the sea, and you must +remain snug at the point of Warroch till I see you."</p> + +<p>"The point of Warroch?" Hatteraick's countenance fell. "What--in the +cave? I would rather it was anywhere else. They say he walks. But donner +and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead!"</p> + +<p>The justice dismissed the party to keep guard for the night in the old +castle with a large allowance of food and liquor, with the full hope and +belief that they would spend the night neither in watching nor prayer. Next +morning great was the alarm when the escape of the prisoner was discovered. +When the officers had been sent off in all directions (except the right +one), Glossin went to Hatteraick in the cave. A light soon broke upon his +confusion of ideas. This missing heir was Vanbeest Brown who had wounded +young Hazlewood. He hastily explained to Dick Hatteraick that his goods +which had been seized were lying in the Custom-house at Portanferry, and +there to the Bridewell beside it be would send this younker, when he had +caught him; would take care that the soldiers were dispersed, and he, Dick +Hatteraick, could land with his crew, receive his own goods, and carry the +younker Brown back to Flushing.</p> + +<p>"Ay, carry him to Flushing," said the captain, "or to America, or--to +Jericho?"</p> + +<p>"Psha! Wherever you have a mind."</p> + +<p>"Ay, or pitch him overboard?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I advise no violence."</p> + +<p>"Nein, nein! You leave that to me Sturm-wetter; I know you of old. But, +hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, to be the better for this?"</p> + +<p>Glossin made him understand it would not be safe for either of them if +young Ellangowan settled in the country, and their plans were soon +arranged. None of the old crew were alive but the gipsy who had sent the +news of Brown's whereabouts and identity.</p> + +<p>Brown, or, as we may now call him, Harry Bertram, had retreated into +England, but now, hearing that Hazlewood's wound was trifling, returned and +landed at Ellangowan Bay; he approached the castle, unconscious as the most +absolute stranger, where his ancestors had exercised all but regal +dominion.</p> + +<p>Confused memories thronged his mind, and he paused by a curious +coincidence on nearly the same spot on which his father had died, just as +Glossin came up the bank with an architect, to whom he was talking of +alterations; Bertram turned short round upon him, and said:</p> + +<p>"Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?"</p> + +<p>He was so exactly like his father in his best days that Glossin thought +the grave had given up its dead. He staggered back, but instantly +recovered, and whispered a few words in the ear of his companion, who +immediately went towards the house, while Glossin talked civilly to +Bertram. By the next evening he was safely locked up in the Bridewell at +Portanferry, until Sir Charles Hazlewood, the injured youth's father, to +whom Glossin had conducted him, could make inquiries as to the truth of his +story.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Bertram's Restoration</i></h4> + + +<p>Bertram, unable to sleep, gazing out of the window of his prison, saw a +long boat making for the quay. About twenty men landed and disappeared, and +soon a miscellaneous crowd came back, some carrying torches, some bearing +packages and barrels, and a red glare illuminated land and sea, and shone +full on them, as with ferocious activity they loaded their boats. A fierce +attack was made on the prison gates; they were soon forced, and three or +four smugglers hurried to Bertram's apartment. "Der teyvil," said the +leader, "here's our mark!" And two of them seized on Bertram, and one +whispered, "Make no resistance till you are in the street."</p> + +<p>They dragged him along, and in the confusion outside the gang got +separated. A noise as of a body of horse advancing seemed to add to the +disturbance, the press became furiously agitated, shots were fired, and the +glittering swords of dragoons began to appear. Now came the warning +whisper: "Shake off that fellow, and follow me!"</p> + +<p>Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly, easily burst from the other +man's grasp, and dived through a narrow lane after his guide, at the end of +which stood a postchaise with four horses.</p> + +<p>"Get into it," said the guide. "You will soon be in a place of +safety."</p> + +<p>They were driven at a rapid rate through the dark lanes, and suddenly +stopped at the door of a large house. Brown, dizzied by the sudden glare of +light, almost unconsciously entered the open door, and confronted Colonel +Mannering; interpreting his fixed and motionless astonishment into +displeasure at his intrusion, hastened to say it was involuntary.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brown, I believe?" said Colonel Mannering.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the young man modestly but firmly. "The same you knew +in India, and who ventures to hope that you would favour him with your +attestation to his character as a gentleman and man of honour."</p> + +<p>At this critical moment appeared Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer who had +conducted the inquiry as to the disappearance of Harry Bertram, who +happened to be staying with Colonel Mannering, and he instantly saw the +likeness to the late laird.</p> + +<p>Bertram was as much confounded at the appearance of those to whom he so +unexpectedly presented himself as they were at the sight of him. Mr. +Pleydell alone was in his element, and at once took upon himself the whole +explanation. His catechism had not proceeded far before Dominie Sampson +rose hastily, with trembling hands and streaming eyes, and called +aloud:</p> + +<p>"Harry Bertram, look at me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bertram, starting from his seat--"yes, that was my name, and +that is my kind old master."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When they parted for the night Colonel Mannering walked up to Bertram, +gave him joy of his prospects, and hoped unkindness would be forgotten +between them. It was he who had sent the postchaise to Portanferry in +consequence of a letter he had received from Meg Merrilies; it was she who +had sent back the soldiers so opportunely, and through her the next day +Dirk Hatteraick was captured; but, unhappily, she was killed by that +ruffian at the moment of the fulfilment of her hopes for the family of +Ellangowan.</p> + +<p>Glossin also met the fate he deserved at the hands of Hatteraick, who +had claims to no virtue but fidelity to his shipowners.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mr. Pleydell carried through his law business successfully, and we leave +him and the colonel examining plans for a new house for Julia and Bertram +on the estate of Ellangowan. Another house on the estate was to be repaired +for the other young couple, Lucy and Hazlewood, and called Mount +Hazlewood.</p> + +<p>"And see," said the colonel, "here's the plan of my bungalow, with all +convenience for being separate and sulky when I please."</p> + +<p>"And you will repair the tower for the nocturnal contemplation of the +heavenly bodies. Bravo, colonel!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, my dear Pleydell! Here ends the astrologer."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="The_Heart_of_Midlothian"></a>The Heart of Midlothian</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> John Ruskin coupled "Rob Roy" and "The Heart of Midlothian" +as the best of all the "Waverley Novels." The latter, constituting the +second series in the "Tales of My Landlord," was published in 1818, and was +composed during a period of recurrent fits of intense bodily pain. The +romance gets its name from Midlothian, or Middle Lothian, an Edinburgh +prison which in days gone by used to mark the centre of the district of +Lothian, between the Tweed and the Forth, now the County of Edinburgh. +According to Scott himself, the story of the heroism of Jeannie Deans was +founded on fact. Her prototype was one Helen Walker, the daughter of a +small Dumfriesshire farmer, who in order to get the Duke of Argyle to +intercede to save her sister's life got up a petition and actually walked +to London barefoot to present it to his grace. Helen Walker died in 1791, +and on the tombstone of this unassuming heroine is an inscription by Scott +himself. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--In the Tolbooth</i></h4> + + +<p>In former times England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of +justice were conducted in solemn procession; and in Edinburgh, a large +oblong square, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same purpose. This +place was crowded to suffocation on the day when John Porteous, captain of +the City Guard, was to be hanged, sentenced to death for firing on the +crowd on the occasion of the execution of a popular smuggler.</p> + +<p>The grim appearance of the populace conveyed the impression of men who +had come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. When the news that +Porteous was respited for six weeks was announced, a roar of rage and +mortification arose, but speedily subsided into stifled mutterings as the +people slowly dispersed.</p> + +<p>That night the mob broke into the Tolbooth, the prison, commonly called +the Heart of Midlothian, dragged the wretched Porteous from the chimney in +which he had concealed himself, and carried him off to the Grassmarket, +where, as the leader of the rioters, a tall man dressed in woman's clothes +said he had spilled the blood of so many innocents.</p> + +<p>"Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker. "Let him make his peace +with God, if he can; we will not kill both soul and body."</p> + +<p>A young minister named Butler, whom the rioters had met and compelled to +come with them, was brought to the prisoner's side, to prepare him for +instant death. With a generous disregard of his own safety, Butler besought +the crowd to consider what they did. But in vain. The unhappy man was +forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity, and Butler, separated from +him by the press, and unnoticed by those who had hitherto kept him +prisoner, escaped the last horror, and fled from the fatal spot.</p> + +<p>His first purpose was instantly to take the road homewards, but other +fears and cares, connected with news he had that day heard, induced him to +linger till daybreak.</p> + +<p>Reuben Butler was the grandson of a trooper in Monk's army, and had been +brought up by a grandmother, a widow, a cotter who struggled with poverty +and the hard and sterile soil on the land of the Laird of Dumbiedikes. She +was helped by the advice of another tenant, David Deans, a staunch +Presbyterian, and Jeannie, his little daughter, and Reuben herded together +the handful of sheep and the two or three cows, and went together to the +school; where Reuben, as much superior to Jeannie Deans in acuteness of +intellect as inferior to her in firmness of constitution, was able to +requite in full the kindness and countenance with which, in other +circumstances, she used to regard him.</p> + +<p>While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the university the knowledge +necessary for a clergyman, David Deans, by shrewdness and skill, gained a +footing in the world and the possession of some wealth. He had married +again, and another daughter had been born to him. But now his wife was +dead, and he had left his old home, and become a dairy farmer about half a +mile from Edinburgh, and the unceasing industry and activity of Jeannie was +exerted in making the most of the produce of their cows.</p> + +<p>Effie, his youngest daughter, under the tend guileless purity of +thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of person. The +news that this girl was in prison on suspicion of the murder of her child +was what kept Reuben Butler lingering on the hills outside Edinburgh, until +a fitting time should arrive to wait upon Jeannie and her father. Effie +denied all guilt of infanticide; but she had concealed the birth of a +child, and the child had disappeared, so that by the law she was judged +guilty.</p> + +<p>His limbs exhausted with fatigue, Butler dragged himself up to St. +Leonard's crags, and presented himself at the door of Deans' habitation, +with feelings much akin to the miserable fears of its inhabitants.</p> + +<p>"Come in," answered the low, sweet-toned voice he loved best to hear, as +he tapped at the door. The old man was seated by the fire with his +well-worn pocket Bible in his hands, and turned his face away as Butler +entered and clasped the extended hand which had supported his orphan +infancy, wept over it, and in vain endeavoured to say more than "God +comfort you! God comfort you!"</p> + +<p>"He will--He doth, my friend," said Deans. "He doth now, and He will yet +more in His own gude time. I have been ower proud of my sufferings in a +gude cause, Reuben, and now I am to be tried with those whilk will turn my +pride and glory into a reproach and a hissing."</p> + +<p>Butler had too much humanity to do anything but encourage the good old +man as he reckoned up with conscious pride the constancy of his testimony +and his sufferings, but seized the opportunity as soon as possible of some +private conversation with Jeannie. He gave her the message he had received +from a stranger he had met an hour or two before, to the effect that she +must meet him that night alone at Muschat's cairn at moonrise.</p> + +<p>"Tell him," said Jeannie hastily, "I will certainly come"; and to all +Butler's entreaties and expostulations would give no explanation. They were +recalled--"ben the house," to use the language of the country--by the loud +tones of David Deans, and found the poor old man half frantic between grief +and zealous ire against proposals to employ a lawyer on Effie's behalf, +they being, all, in his opinion, carnal, crafty self-seekers.</p> + +<p>But when the poor old man, fatigued with the arguments and presence of +his guests, retired to his sleeping apartment, the Laird of Dumbiedikes +said he would employ his own man of business, and Butler set off instantly +to see Effie herself, and try to get her to give him the information that +she had refused to everyone.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Jeannie," said he. "Take no <i>rash steps</i> till you hear +from me."</p> + +<p>Butler was at once recognised by the turnkey when he presented himself +at the Tolbooth, and detained as having been connected with the riots the +night before. One of the prisoners had recognised Robertson, the leader of +the rioters, and seen him trying to persuade Effie Deans to escape and to +save himself from the gallows, being a well-known thief and prison-breaker, +gave information, hoping, as he candidly said, to obtain the post of gaoler +himself.</p> + +<p>It became obvious that the father of Effie's child and the slayer of +Porteous were one and the same person, and on hearing from Butler, who had +no reason to conceal his movements, of the stranger he had met on the hill, +the procurator fiscal, otherwise the superintendent of police, with a +strong body-guard, interrupted Jeannie's meeting with the stranger that +night; but he had made her understand that her sister's life was in her +hands before, hearing men approaching, he plunged into the darkness and was +lost to sight.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Effie's Trial</i></h4> + + +<p>Soon afterwards, Ratcliffe, the prisoner who had recognised Robertson, +received a full pardon, and becoming gaoler, was repeatedly applied to, to +procure an interview between the sisters; but the magistrates had given +strict orders to the contrary, hoping that they might, by keeping them +apart, obtain some information respecting the fugitive. But Jeannie knew +nothing of Robertson, except having met him that night by appointment to +give her some advice respecting her sister's concern, the which, she said, +was betwixt God and her conscience. And Effie was equally silent. In vain +they offered, even a free pardon, if she would confess what she knew of her +lover.</p> + +<p>At length the day was fixed for Effie's trial, and on the preceding +evening Jeannie was allowed to see her sister. Even the hard-hearted +turnkey could not witness the scene without a touch of human sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeannie could utter. "Ye are +very ill."</p> + +<p>"O, what wad I gie to be ten times waur, Jeannie!" was the reply. "O +that I were lying dead at my mother's side!"</p> + +<p>"Hout, lassie!" said Ratcliffe. "Dinna be sae dooms downhearted as a' +that. There's mony a tod hunted that's no killed. They are weel aff has +such a counsel and agent as ye have; ane's aye sure of fair play."</p> + +<p>But the mourners had become unconscious of his presence. "O Effie," said +her elder sister, "how could you conceal your situation from me? O woman, +had I deserved this at your hand? Had ye but spoke ae word----"</p> + +<p>"What gude wad that hae dune?" said the prisoner. "Na, na, Jeannie; a' +was ower whan once I forgot what I promised when I turned down the leaf of +my Bible. See, the Book aye opens at the place itsell. O see, Jeannie, what +a fearfu' Scripture!"</p> + +<p>"O if ye had spoken ae word again!" sobbed Jeannie. "If I were free to +swear that ye had said but ae word of how it stude wi' you, they couldna +hae touched your life this day!"</p> + +<p>"Could they na?" said Effie, with something like awakened interest. +"Wha' tauld ye that, Jeannie?"</p> + +<p>"It was ane that kenned what he was saying weel eneugh," said +Jeannie.</p> + +<p>"Hout!" said Ratcliffe. "What signifies keeping the poor lassie in a +swither? I'se uphand it's been Robertson that learned ye that +doctrine."</p> + +<p>"Was it him?" cried Effie. "Was it him, indeed? O I see it was him, poor +lad! And I was thinking his heart was as hard as the nether millstane, and +him in sic danger on his ain part. Poor George! O, Jeannie, tell me every +word he said, and if he was sorry for poor Effie!"</p> + +<p>"What needs I tell ye onything about 't?" said Jeannie. "Ye may be sure +he had ower muckle about onybody beside."</p> + +<p>"That's no' true, Jeannie, though a saint had said it," replied Effie. +"But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he put his life in venture to save +mine." And looking at Ratcliffe, checked herself and was silent.</p> + +<p>"I fancy," said he, "the lassie thinks naebody has een but hersell. +Didna I see Gentle Geordie trying to get other folk out of the Tolbooth +forbye Jock Porteous? Ye needna look sae amazed. I ken mair things than +that, maybe."</p> + +<p>"O my God, my God!" said she, throwing herself on her knees before him. +"D'ye ken where they hae putten my bairn? O my bairn, my bairn! Tell me wha +has taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't!"</p> + +<p>As his answer destroyed the wild hope that had suddenly dawned upon her, +the unhappy prisoner fell on the floor in a strong convulsion fit.</p> + +<p>Jeannie instantly applied herself to her sister's relief, and Ratcliffe +had even the delicacy to withdraw to the other end of the room to render +his official attendance as little intrusive as possible; while Jeannie +commenced her narrative of all that had passed between her and Robertson. +After a long pause:</p> + +<p>"And he wanted you to say something to you folks that wad save my young +life?" said Effie.</p> + +<p>"He wanted," said Jeannie, "that I shuld be mansworn!"</p> + +<p>"And you tauld him," said Effie, "that ye wadna hear o' coming between +me and death, and me no aughteen year auld yet?"</p> + +<p>"I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, feeling the +injustice of the reproach and compassion for the state of mind which +dictated it.</p> + +<p>"Maybe no, sister," said Effie. "But ye are angry because I love +Robertson. Sure am I, if it had stude wi' him as it stands wi' you----"</p> + +<p>"O if it stude wi' me to save ye wi' the risk of <i>my</i> life!" said +Jeannie.</p> + +<p>"Ay, lass," said her sister, "that's lightly said, but no sae lightly +credited frae ane that winna ware a word for me; and if it be a wrang word, +ye'll hae time enough to repent o' 't."</p> + +<p>"But that word is a grievous sin."</p> + +<p>"Well, weel, Jeannie, never speak mair o' 't," said the prisoner. "It's +as weel as it is. And gude-day, sister. Ye keep Mr. Ratcliffe waiting on. +Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, before----"</p> + +<p>"And are we to part in this way," said Jeannie, "and you in sic deadly +peril? O, Effie, look but up and say what ye wad hae me do, and I could +find it in my heart amaist to say I wad do 't."</p> + +<p>"No, Jeannie," said her sister, with an effort. "I'm better minded now. +God knows, in my sober mind, I wadna' wuss any living creature to do a +wrang thing to save my life!"</p> + +<p>But when Jeannie was called to give her evidence next day, Effie, her +whole expression altered to imploring, almost ecstatic earnestness of +entreaty, exclaimed, in a tone that went through all hearts:</p> + +<p>"O Jeannie, Jeannie, save me, save me!"</p> + +<p>Jeannie suddenly extended her hand to her sister, who covered it with +kisses and bathed it with tears; while Jeannie wept bitterly.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the judge himself could subdue his own emotion +and administer the oath: "The truth to tell, and no truth to conceal, in +the name of God, and as the witness should answer to God at the great Day +of Judgement." Jeannie, educated in devout reverence for the name of the +Deity, was awed, but at the same time elevated above all considerations +save those to which she could, with a clear conscience, call him to +witness. Therefore, though she turned deadly pale, and though the counsel +took every means to make it easy for her to bear false witness, she replied +to his question as to what Effie had said when questioned as to what ailed +her, "Alack! alack! she never breathed a word to me about it."</p> + +<p>A deep groan passed through the court, and the unfortunate father fell +forward, senseless. The secret hope to which he had clung had now +dissolved. The prisoner with impotent passion, strove with her guard. "Let +me gang to my father! He is dead! I hae killed him!" she repeated in +frenzied tones.</p> + +<p>Even in that moment of agony Jeannie did not lose that superiority that +a deep and firm mind assures to its possessor. She stooped, and began +assiduously to chafe her father's temples.</p> + +<p>The judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave directions that they +should be removed and carefully attended. The prisoner pursued them with +her eyes, and when they were no longer visible, seemed to find courage in +her despair.</p> + +<p>"The bitterness of 't is now past," she said. "My lords, if it is your +pleasure to gang on wi' this matter, the weariest day will have its end at +last."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Jeannie's Pilgrimage</i></h4> + + +<p>David Deans and his eldest daughter found in the house of a cousin the +nearest place of friendly refuge. When he recovered from his long swoon, he +was too feeble to speak when their hostess came in.</p> + +<p>"Is all over?" said Jeannie, with lips pale as ashes. "And is there no +hope for her?"</p> + +<p>"Nane, or next to nane," said her cousin, Mrs. Saddletree; but added +that the foreman of the jury had wished her to get the king's mercy, and +"nae ma about it."</p> + +<p>"But can the king gie her mercy?" said Jeannie.</p> + +<p>"I well he wot he can, when he likes," said her cousin and gave +instances, finishing with Porteous.</p> + +<p>"Porteous," said Jeannie, "very true. I forgot a' that I culd mind +maist. Fare ye well, Mrs. Saddletree. May ye never want a friend in the +hour o' distress."</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Saddletree's protests she replied there was much to be done and +little time to do it in; then, kneeling by her father's bed, begged his +blessing. Instinctively the old man murmured a prayer, and his daughter +saying, "He has blessed mine errand; it is borne in on my mind that I shall +prosper," left the room. Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and shook her +head. "I wish she binna roving, poor thing. There's something queer about +a' thae Deanes. I dinna like folk to be sae muckle better than ither folk; +seldom comes gude o't."</p> + +<p>But she took good care of "the honest auld man," until he was able to go +to his own home.</p> + +<p>Effie was roused from her state of stupefied horror by the entrance of +Jeannie who, rushing into the cell, threw her arms round her neck.</p> + +<p>"What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie, "when you +have killed me? Killed me, when a word from your mouth would have saved +me."</p> + +<p>"You shall not die," said Jeannie, with enthusiastic firmness. "Say what +you like o' me, only promise, for I doubt your proud heart, that you winna' +harm yourself? I will go to London and beg your pardon from the king and +queen. They <i>shall</i> pardon you, and they will win a thousand hearts by +it!"</p> + +<p>She soon tore herself from her sister's arms and left the cell. +Ratcliffe followed her, so impressed was he by her "spunk," he advised her +as to her proceedings, to find a friend to speak for her to the king--the +Duke of Argyle, if possible--and wrote her a line or two on a dirty piece +of paper, which would be useful if she fell among thieves. Jeannie then +hastened home to St. Leonard's Crags, and gave full instructions to her +usual assistant, concerning the management of domestic affairs and +arrangements for her father's comfort in her absence. She got a loan of +money from the Laird of Dumbiedikes, and set off without losing a moment on +her walk to London. On her way she stopped to bid adieu to her old friend +Reuben Butler, whom she had expected to see at the court yesterday. She +knew, of course, that he was still under some degree of restraint--he had +been obliged to find bail not to quit his usual residence, in case he were +wanted as a witness--but she had hoped he would have found means to be with +his old friend on such a day.</p> + +<p>She found him quite seriously ill, as she had feared, but yet most +unwilling to let her go on this errand alone; she must give him a husband's +right to protect her. But she, pointing out the fact that he was scarcely +able to stand, said this was no time to speak of marrying or giving in +marriage, asked him if his grandfather had not done some good to the +forebear of MacCallumore. It was so, and Reuben gave her the papers to +prove it, and a letter to the Duke of Argyle; and she, begging him to do +what he could for her father and sister, left the room hastily.</p> + +<p>With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeannie Deans, +travelling at the rate of twenty miles and more a day, traversed the +southern part of Scotland, where her bare feet attracted no attention. She +had to conform to the national extravagance in England, and confessed +afterwards "that besides the wastrife, it was lang or she could walk as +comfortably with the shoes as without them"; but found the people very +hospitable on the whole, and sometimes got a cast in a waggon.</p> + +<p>At last London was reached, and an audience obtained with the Duke of +Argyie. His Grace's heart warmed to the tartan when Jeannie appeared before +him in the dress of a Scottish maiden of her class. His grandfather's +letter, too, was a strong injunction to assist Stephen Butler, his friends +or family, and he exerted himself to such good purpose, that he brought her +into the presence of the queen to plead her cause for herself. Her majesty +smiled at Jeannie's awestruck manner and broad Northern accent, and +listened kindly, but said:</p> + +<p>"If the king were to pardon your sister, it would in all probability do +her little good, for I suppose the people of Edinburgh would hang her out +of spite." But Jeannie said: "She was confident that baith town and country +would rejoice to see his majesty taking compassion on a poor unfriended +creature." The queen was not convinced of the propriety of showing any +marked favour to Edinburgh so soon--"the whole nation must be in a league +to screen the murderers of Porteous"--but Jeannie pleaded her sister's +cause with a pathos at once simple and solemn, and her majesty ended by +giving her a housewife case to remind her of her interview with Queen +Caroline, and promised her warm intercession with the king.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Argyie came to Jeannie's cousin's, where she was staying, in +a few days to say that a pardon had been dispatched to Effie Deans, on +condition of her banishing herself forth of Scotland for fourteen years--a +qualification which greatly grieved the affectionate disposition of her +sister.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--In After Years</i></h4> + + +<p>When Jeannie set out from London on her homeward journey, it was not to +travel on foot, but in the Duke of Argyle's carriage, and the end of the +journey was not Edinburgh, but the isle of Roseneath, in the Firth of +Clyde. When the landing-place was reached, it was in the arms of her father +that Jeannie was received.</p> + +<p>It was too wonderful to be believed--but the form was indisputable. +Douce David Deans himself, in his best light-blue Sunday coat, with broad +metal buttons, and waistcoat and breeches of the same.</p> + +<p>"Jeannie--my ain Jeannie--my best--my maist dutiful bairn! The Lord of +Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy of thee! Thou hast redeemed +our captivity, brought back the honour of our house!"</p> + +<p>These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no +melting mood.</p> + +<p>"And Effie--and Effie, dear father?" was Jeannie's eager question.</p> + +<p>"You will never see her mair, my bairn," answered Deans, in solemn +tones.</p> + +<p>"She is dead! It has come ower late!" exclaimed Jeannie, wringing her +hands.</p> + +<p>"No, Jeannie, she lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from earthly +restraint. But she has left her auld father, that has wept and prayed for +her. She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled for her like a +mother. She has made a moonlight flitting of it."</p> + +<p>"And wi' that man--that fearfu' man?" said Jeannie.</p> + +<p>"It is ower truly spoken," said Deans. "But never, Jeannie never more +let her name be spoken between you and me."</p> + +<p>The next surprise for Jeannie Deans was the appearance of Reuben Butler, +who had been appointed by the Duke of Argyle to the kirk of Knocktarlitie, +at Roseneath; and within a reasonable time after the new minister had been +comfortably settled in his living, the banns were called, and long wooing +of Reuben and Jeannie was ended by their union in the holy bands of +matrimony.</p> + +<p>Effie, married to Robertson, whose real name was Staunton, paid a +furtive visit to her sister, and many years later, when her husband was no +longer a desperate outlaw, but Sir George Staunton, and beyond anxiety of +recognition, the two sisters corresponded freely, and Lady Staunton even +came to stay with Mrs. Butler, after old Deans was dead.</p> + +<p>A famous woman in society was Lady Staunton, but she was childless, for +the child of her shame, carried off by gypsies, she saw no more.</p> + +<p>Jeannie and Reuben, happy in each other, in the prosperity of their +family, and the love and honour of all by gypsies, she saw no more.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Ivanhoe"></a>Ivanhoe</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Ivanhoe," in common with "The Legend of Montrose" and "The +Bride of Lammermoor," was written, or rather dictated to amanuenses, during +a period of great physical suffering; "through fits of suffering," says one +of Scott's biographers, "so great that he could not suppress cries of +agony." "Ivanhoe" made its appearance towards the end of 1819. Although the +book lacks much of that vivid portraiture that distinguishes Scott's other +novels, the intense vigour of the narrative, and the striking presentation +of mediaeval life, more than atone for the former lapse. From the first, +"Ivanhoe" has been singularly successful, and it is, and has been, more +popular among English readers than any of the so-called "Scottish novels." +According to Sir Leslie Stephen, it was Scott's culminating success in the +book-selling sense. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Hall of Cedric the Saxon</i></h4> + + +<p>In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric +the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for +the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his swineherd +Gurth. "They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords," he +exclaimed. "But I will be avenged. Haply they think me old, but they shall +find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, Wilfred, +Wilfred!" he went on in a lower tone, "couldst thou have ruled thine +unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the +solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full sweep +of the tempest!"</p> + +<p>From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the +blast of a horn.</p> + +<p>"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon, hastily. "See what tidings that +horn tells us of."</p> + +<p>Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced "that the Prior +Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander of +the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality +and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament to be held +not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche."</p> + +<p>"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality +of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have +chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress their +insolence."</p> + +<p>The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded +by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing +torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by their +attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing the +sandals and broad hat of the palmer.</p> + +<p>No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than +the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said +aloud--"Forbear!--Place for the Lady Rowena." A side door at the upper end +of the hall now opened, and Cedric's ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of rare +beauty and lofty character, entered. All stood up to receive her, and, as +she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, the Knight +Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena draw with +dignity the veil around her face.</p> + +<p>Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena +seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the +haughty Templar's eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the +company.</p> + +<p>"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill +another to the Abbot. To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or +language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the +champions of the Cross!"</p> + +<p>"To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge +I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?" said +Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.</p> + +<p>"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena, +"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the +Temple?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, lady," replied de Bois-Guilbert, "the English monarch did, +indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those +whose breasts have been the bulwark of that blessed land."</p> + +<p>"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, and all turned towards the spot from +whence the declaration came. "I say that the English chivalry were second +to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I saw it when King +Richard himself and five of his knights held a tournament after the taking +of Sir John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. On that day each +knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three antagonists. Seven +of these assailants were Knights of the Temple--and Sir Brian de +Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you."</p> + +<p>A bitter smile of rage darkened the countenance of the Templar. At +Cedric's request the Pilgrim told out the names of the English knights, +only pausing at the sixth to say--"he was a young knight--his name dwells +not in my memory."</p> + +<p>"Sir Palmer," said the Templar, scornfully, "I will myself tell the name +of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my +falling--it was the Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six that +for his years had more renown in arms. Yet this I will say, and +loudly--that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's +tournament, the challenge of St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I +now am, would give him every advantage of weapons and abide the +result."</p> + +<p>"Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your +antagonist near you. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his +surety that he meet you. And for pledge I proffer this reliquary," taking a +small ivory box from his bosom, "containing a portion of the true cross, +brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."</p> + +<p>The Templar took from his neck a gold chain, which he flung on the +board, saying, "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge, and that of this nameless +vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe comes within the four +seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, +which, if he answers not, I will proclaim him as a coward on the walls of +every Temple Court in Europe."</p> + +<p>"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "my voice +shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised on behalf of the absent +Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge, and I +would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight the meeting +he desires."</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I +myself, justly offended as I am, would yet gage my honour for the honour of +Ivanhoe."</p> + +<p>The grace-cup was shortly after served round, and the guests marshalled +to their sleeping apartment.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Disinherited Knight</i></h4> + + +<p>The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby, +attracted universal attention, as champions of the first renown were to +take the field in the presence of Prince John himself.</p> + +<p>The laws of the tournament, proclaimed by the heralds, were briefly:</p> + +<p>First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.</p> + +<p>Secondly, the general tournament in which all knights present might take +part; and being divided into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it out +manfully, until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the +combat.</p> + +<p>The challengers, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were all Normans, and +Cedric saw, with keen feeling of dissatisfaction, the advantage they +gained. No less than four parties of knights had gone down before the +challengers, and Prince John began to talk about adjudging the prize to +Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and +foiled a third.</p> + +<p>But a new champion had entered the lists. His suit of armour was of +steel, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the +roots, with the Spanish word <i>Desdichado</i>, signifying Disinherited. To +the astonishment of all present he struck with the sharp end of his spear +the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. Amazed at his +presumption was the redoubted knight, whom he had thus defied to mortal +combat.</p> + +<p>"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "that you +peril your life so frankly?"</p> + +<p>"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited +Knight.</p> + +<p>"Then look your last upon the sun," said Bois-Guilbert; "for this night +thou shalt sleep in paradise."</p> + +<p>The champions closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a +thunderbolt. The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist's shield, +and struck it so fair that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited +Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion addressed his +lance to his antagonist's helmet, and hit the Norman on the visor, where +his lance's point kept hold of the bars. The girths of the Templar's saddle +burst, and saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a cloud of +dust.</p> + +<p>To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the +Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, he drew his +sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited Knight +sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the +field, however, intervened, for the laws of the tournament did not permit +this species of encounter, and Bois-Guilbert returned to his tent in an +agony of rage and despair.</p> + +<p>The Disinherited Knight then sounded a defiance to each of the +challengers, and the four Normans each in his turn retired discomfited.</p> + +<p>The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the +Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited +Knight.</p> + +<p>To Prince John's annoyance the champion declined either to raise his +visor or to attend the evening banquet, pleading fatigue and the necessity +of preparing for the morrow. As victor it was his privilege to name the +lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, was to preside over the next +day's festival; and Prince John, having placed upon his lance a coronet of +green satin, the Disinherited Knight rode slowly around the lists and +paused beneath the balcony where Cedric and the Lady Rowena were placed. +Then he deposited the coronet at the feet of the fair Rowena, while the +populace shouted "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of +Love and of Beauty!"</p> + +<p>On the following morning the general tournament was proclaimed, and +about fifty knights were ready upon each side, the Disinherited Knight +leading one body, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert the other.</p> + +<p>Prince John escorted Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his own, +while the fairest ladies present crowded after her to obtain places as near +as possible to their temporary sovereign.</p> + +<p>It was not until the field became thin by the numbers on either side who +had yielded themselves vanquished that the Templar and the Disinherited +Knight at length encountered hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal +animosity and rivalry of honour could inspire. Bois-Guilbert, however, was +soon joined by two more knights, the gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, and the +ponderous Athelstane, who, though a Saxon, had enlisted under the +Norman--to Cedric's disgust. The masterly horsemanship of the Disinherited +Knight enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his three +antagonists, but it was evident that he must at last be overpowered.</p> + +<p>An unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day. Among the ranks +of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, who bore on his +shield no device of any kind, and who, beyond beating off with seeming ease +those who attacked him, evinced little interest in the combat.</p> + +<p>On discovering the leader of his party so hard beset, this knight threw +aside his apathy and came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, exclaiming +in trumpet tones, "<i>Desdichado</i>, to the rescue!" It was high time; +for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar, +Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the +blow could descend, the Black Knight dealt a blow on the head--and +Front-de-Boeuf rolled to the ground, both horse and man equally stunned. +The Black Knight then turned upon Athelstane, wrenched from the hand of the +bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and bestowed him such a blow +on the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having +achieved this double feat he retired calmly to the extremity of the lists, +leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. +This was no longer matter of so much difficulty. The Templar's horse had +bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight's +charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, and his antagonist, +springing from horseback, waved his fatal sword over the Templar's head, +and commanded him to yield. But Prince John saved him that mortification by +putting an end to the conflict.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Knight of the +Black Armour having disappeared, the Disinherited Knight was named the +champion of the day, and was conducted to the foot of that throne of honour +which was occupied by Lady Rowena. His helmet having been removed, by order +of the marshals, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt features of a young man of +twenty-five were seen, and no sooner had Rowena beheld him than she uttered +a faint shriek. Trembling with the violence of sudden emotion, she placed +upon the drooping head of the victor the splendid chaplet which was the +destined reward of the day.</p> + +<p>The Knight stooped his head, and then, sinking down, lay prostrate at +the feet of his lovely sovereign.</p> + +<p>There was general consternation. Cedric, struck mute by the sudden +appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward. The marshals hastened +to undo Ivanhoe's armour, and finding that the head of a lance had +penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side, he was +quickly removed from the lists.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Burning of Torquilstone</i></h4> + + +<p>Cedric, Rowena, and Athelstane, returning home with their retinue from +Ashby, were waylaid by Bois-Guilbert and his followers, and boldly carried +off as prisoners to Torquilstone, Front-de-Boeuf's castle. In those lawless +times these Norman nobles trusted thus to obtain a good ransom for Cedric +and Athelstane, and to win Rowena for a bride. Ivanhoe, who, enfeebled by +his wound, lay concealed in a litter, unknown to his father, was also +taken.</p> + +<p>But Gurth rallied the Saxon outlaws and yeomen of the neighbourhood to +the rescue, the Black Knight of the tournament led the attacking party, and +in spite of a ferocious defence Torquilstone was stormed. The Black Knight +bore the wounded Ivanhoe in his arms from the burning castle, Rowena was +saved by Cedric and Gurth, just as she had abandoned all hopes of life.</p> + +<p>One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from +window and shot hole. But, in other parts, the great thickness of the walls +resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man still +triumphed. The besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber +to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which animated them +against the soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison +resisted to the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none received it.</p> + +<p>The courtyard of the castle was soon the last scene of the contest. Here +sat the fierce Templar mounted on horseback, with a remnant of the +defenders, who fought with the utmost valour. Athelstane who, on the flight +of the guard, had made his way into the ante-room and thence into the +court, snatched a mace from the pavement, and rushed on the Templar's band +striking in quick succession to the right and left: he was soon within two +yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.</p> + +<p>But Athelstane was without armour, and a silken bonnet keeps out no +steel blade. So trenchant was the Templar's weapon that it levelled the +ill-fated Saxon to the earth.</p> + +<p>Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of +Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow +me!" the Templar pushed across the drawbridge, and then galloped off with +his followers.</p> + +<p>And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to +the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed +down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from the +courtyard.</p> + +<p>When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard, +"Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to +our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be made just +partition among our own bands, together with our allies in this great deed +of vengeance."</p> + +<p>Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to +accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."</p> + +<p>"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that +speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put +even thy generosity to the test."</p> + +<p>"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my +fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the noble Athelstane +is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the funeral rites I +shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh--which will be open to all who +choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."</p> + +<p>Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade God +speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Ivanhoe's Wedding</i></h4> + + +<p>At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the +Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had muffled his face in his mantle, +entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric--by common consent the chief of +the distinguished Saxon families present.</p> + +<p>"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we +last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you, +to grant me a boon."</p> + +<p>"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad +moment----"</p> + +<p>"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is +brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble +Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."</p> + +<p>"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour +of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will +admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black +Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to my +boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive to +thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."</p> + +<p>"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's +feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of +Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a +Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena +must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost of +Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to his +memory were it otherwise."</p> + +<p>Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane, +arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and +like something arisen from the dead!</p> + +<p>"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal, +speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"</p> + +<p>"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected +breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed on +bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's sword, +stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me flatlings, being +averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow. Others, of both +sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so that I never recovered +my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an open one, by good +luck--placed before the altar in church. But that villain Abbot has kept me +a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on the top of this castle of +Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be king in my own domains, and +nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a wiser man than I +descended."</p> + +<p>"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric--"you do not intend to desert her?"</p> + +<p>"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares +not for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove +better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--nay, blush not, +kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than a +country thane,--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and a +thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou wilt needs +laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, or, rather, lend +it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here, cousin Wilfred of +Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure--Hey! our cousin Wilfred hath +vanished!"</p> + +<p>Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.</p> + +<p>Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian +de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and +spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand +Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a +sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to +champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.</p> + +<p>Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by +the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own contending +passions.</p> + +<p>Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to +Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena and +Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon gave his +consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred of +Ivanhoe.</p> + +<p>The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the noble Minster +of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born Normans, +as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the lower orders, +marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and harmony betwixt the +two races.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Kenilworth"></a>Kenilworth</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Scott's success in portraying the character of Mary Stuart +in "The Abbot" fired him with the desire of doing likewise with her great +rival Elizabeth; and although history has modified his picture of the +English Queen, the portrait still remains a vivid and in many respects a +faithful likeness. In his preface to the first edition of "Kenilworth," +which was published in January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation +of Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore may be +pardoned for looking at his subject with certain prejudices. Another source +of inspiration that led him to write the romance was the old ballad of +"Cumnor Hall," in which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott's genius for +depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages, of +visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in "Kenilworth" as +in none other of his works. In common also with all his historical novels, +"Kenilworth" bears witness to its author's passion for historical truth. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--At Cumnor</i></h4> + + +<p>The village of Cumnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in +the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles +Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of every +description.</p> + +<p>A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance +of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated in +different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some conversing.</p> + +<p>The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew, +Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying +his sister's son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he heartily +invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his nephew's +return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and so forth, +and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael Lambourne, they soon +passed the limits of temperance, as was evident from the bursts of laughter +with which his inquiries after old acquaintances were answered. Giles +Gosling made some sort of apology to a solitary guest who had sat apart for +their license; they would be to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and +so forth, though to-night they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed +on him to join them.</p> + +<p>Most of Michael's old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but +one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good +Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He now +dwelt at Cumnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do with +anybody in Cumnor, not entirely from pride; it was said there was a fair +lady in the case.</p> + +<p>Here Tressilian, the guest, who had sat apart, intervened in the +conversation, and was informed that Foster had a beautiful lady closely +mewed up at Cumnor Place, and would scarcely let her look upon the light of +day.</p> + +<p>Michael Lambourne at once wagered that he would force Tony Foster to +introduce him to his fair guest, and Tressilian asked permission to +accompany him, to mark the skill end valour with which he should conduct +himself, and, in spite of the host's warnings, the next morning they set +off together to Anthony Foster's dwelling.</p> + +<p>Michael Lambourne soon let Tressilian know that he suspected other +motives than simple curiosity had led him, a gentleman of birth and +breeding, into the company of such a scant-of-grace as himself, and owned +that he expected both pleasure and profit from his visit.</p> + +<p>They found the gate open, and passed up an avenue overshadowed by old +trees, untrimmed for many years. Everything was in a dilapidated condition. +After some delay, they were introduced into a stone-paved parlour, where +they had to wait some time before the present master of the mansion made +his appearance. He looked to Tressilian for an explanation of this visit, +so true was Lambourne's observation that the superior air of breeding and +dignity shone through the disguise of an inferior dress. But it was Michael +who replied to him, with the easy familiarity of an old friend, and though +Foster at first made it obvious that he had no wish to renew the +acquaintance, in a few minutes he requested him to follow him to another +apartment, and the two worthies left the room, leaving Tressilian +alone.</p> + +<p>His dark eyes followed them with a glance of contempt, some of which was +for himself for having stooped for a moment to be their familiar companion. +A slight noise interrupted his reverie. He looked round, and in the +beautiful and richly attired female who entered he recognised the object of +his search. His first impulse urged him to conceal his face in the cloak, +but the young lady (she was not above eighteen years old) ran joyfully +towards him, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully:</p> + +<p>"Nay, my sweet friend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not +to my bower to play the masquer."</p> + +<p>"Alas, Amy," said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy voice. Then, as +she turned pale as death, he added: "Amy, fear me not."</p> + +<p>"Why should I fear you?" said the lady; "or wherefore have you intruded +yourself into my dwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"</p> + +<p>"Your dwelling, Amy?" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison your dwelling? +A prison, guarded by the most sordid of men, but not a greater wretch than +his employer?"</p> + +<p>"This house is mine," said Amy, "mine while I choose to inhabit it. If +it is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"</p> + +<p>"Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father, +who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannot exert +in person."</p> + +<p>"Tressilian," said the lady, "I cannot--I must not--I dare not leave +this place! Go back to my father. Tell him I will obtain leave to see him +within twelve hours from hence. Tell him I am well--I am happy. Go, carry +him the news. I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is, when I +obtain permission."</p> + +<p>"Permission? Permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps on +his death-bed?" repeated Tressilian impatiently. "And permission from whom? +Amy, in the name of thy broken-hearted father, I command thee to follow +me!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose of +laying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and uttered a +scream which brought into the apartment Lambourne and Foster.</p> + +<p>"Madam, fare you well!" said Tressilian. "What life lingers in your +father's bosom will leave him at the news I have to tell."</p> + +<p>He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room:</p> + +<p>"Tressilian, be not rash. Say no scandal of me."</p> + +<p>Tressilian pursued the first path through the wild and overgrown park in +which the mansion of Foster was situated. At the postern, a cavalier, +muffled in his riding cloak, entered, and stood at once within four yards +of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed, in tons of resentment +and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other, "Tressilian!"</p> + +<p>"What takes you here?" said Tressilian. "Are you come to triumph over +the innocence you have destroyed? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"</p> + +<p>Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only replied:</p> + +<p>"Thou art mad, Tressilian! I own appearances are against me, but by +every oath Mistress Amy Robsart hath no injury from me!"</p> + +<p>Tressilian forced him to draw, and Varney received a fall so sudden and +violent that his sword flew several paces from his hand. Lambourne came up +just in time to save the life of Varney, and Tressilian perceived it was +madness to press the quarrel further against such odds.</p> + +<p>"Varney, we shall meet where there are none to come betwixt us!"</p> + +<p>So saying, he turned round, and departed through the postern door.</p> + +<p>Varney, left alone, gave vent to his meditations in broken words. "She +loves me not--I would it were as true that I loved not her! But she must +not leave this retreat until I am assured on what terms we are to stand. My +lord's interest--and so far it is mine own, for if he sinks I fall in his +train--demands concealment of this obscure marriage."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Earl and the Countess</i></h4> + + +<p>At first, when the Earl of Leicester paid frequent visits to Cumnor, the +Countess was reconciled to the solitude to which she was condemned. But +when these visits became rarer and more rare, the brief letters of excuse +did not keep out discontent and suspicion from the splendid apartments +which love had once fitted up for beauty. Her answers to Leicester conveyed +these feelings too bluntly, and pressed more naturally than prudently that +she might be relieved from the obscure and secluded residence, by the +Earl's acknowledgement of their marriage.</p> + +<p>"I have made her Countess," Leicester said to his henchman Varney; +"surely she might wait till it consisted with my pleasure that she should +put on the coronet?"</p> + +<p>The Countess Amy viewed the subject in directly an opposite light.</p> + +<p>"What signifies," she said, "that I have rank and honour in reality, if +I am to live an obscure prisoner, without either society or observance, and +suffering in my character, as one of dubious or disgraced reputation?"</p> + +<p>Leicester, high in Elizabeth's favour, dared not avow his marriage, and +Varney was always at hand to paint the full and utter disgrace that would +overwhelm him at the Court were the marriage known, and to spur his +ambition to avoid the ruin of his fortunes.</p> + +<p>Varney even prompted Leicester to invite the Countess to pass as +Varney's wife, lest Elizabeth's jealousy should be aroused, and this +suggestion and the knowledge that Varney desired her for himself (for he +made no secret of his passion), drove the Countess to escape from Cumnor +and to seek her husband at Kenilworth, Janet Foster, her faithful +attendant, at first suggested that the Countess should return home to her +father, Sir Hugh Robsart, at Lidcote Hall, in Devonshire.</p> + +<p>"No, Janet," said the lady mournfully; "I left Lidcote Hall while my +heart was light and my name was honourable, and I will not return thither +till my lord's public acknowledgement of our marriage restore me to my +native home with all the rank and honour which he has bestowed on me. I +will go to Kenilworth, girl. I will see these revels--these princely +revels--the preparation for which makes the land ring from side to side. +Methinks, when the Queen of England feasts within my husband's halls, the +Countess of Leicester should be no unbeseeming guest."</p> + +<p>"Dearest madam," said the maiden, "have you forgotten that the noble +Earl has given such strict charges to keep your marriage secret, that he +may preserve his Court favour? And can you think that your sudden +appearance at his castle, at such a juncture, and in such a presence, will +be acceptable to him?"</p> + +<p>"I will appeal to my husband alone, Janet. I will be protected by him +alone. I will see him, and receive from his own lips the directions for my +future conduct. Do not argue against my resolution. And to own the truth, I +am resolved to know my fate at once, and from my husband's own mouth; and +to seek him at Kenilworth is the surest way to attain my purpose."</p> + +<p>"May the blessing of God wend with you, madam," said Janet, kissing her +mistress's hand.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--At Kenilworth</i></h4> + + +<p>With pomp and magnificence, Leicester entertained the Queen at the +Castle of Kenilworth. Of the Countess he saw nothing for some days, and +Varney let it be thought that the unhappy lady who had made her way into +the castle was his wife, while Amy, mindful of the alarm which Leicester +had expressed at the Queen's knowing aught of their union, kept out of the +way of her sovereign.</p> + +<p>Then, on one memorable morning, when a hunt had been arranged, Leicester +escorted the Queen to the castle garden, with another chase in view. +Without premeditation, but urged on by vanity and ambition, his importunity +became the language of love itself.</p> + +<p>"No, Dudley," said Elizabeth, yet with broken accents. "No, I must be +the mother of my people. Urge it no more, Leicester. Were I, as others, +free to seek my own happiness, then indeed--but it cannot be. It is +madness, and must not be repeated. Leave me. Go, but go not far from hence; +and meantime let no one intrude on my privacy."</p> + +<p>The Queen turned into a grotto in which her hapless, and yet but too +successful, rival lay concealed, and presently became aware of a female +figure beside an alabaster column.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate countess dropped on her knee before the queen, and +looked up in the queen's face with such a mixed agony of fear and +supplication, that Elizabeth was considerably affected.</p> + +<p>"What may this mean?" she said. "Stand up, damsel, what wouldst thou +have with us?"</p> + +<p>"Your protection, madam," faltered the unfortunate countess. "I +request--I implore--your gracious protection--against--against one +Varney!"</p> + +<p>"What, Varney--Sir Richard Varney--the servant of Lord Leicester? What +are you to him, or he to you?"</p> + +<p>"I was his prisoner, and I broke forth to--to--"</p> + +<p>Amy hastily endeavoured to recall what were best to say which might save +her from Varney without endangering her husband.</p> + +<p>"To throw thyself on my protection, doubtless," said Elizabeth. "Thou +art Amy, daughter of Sir Hugh Robsart. I must wring the story from thee by +inches. Thou didst leave thine old and honoured father, cheat Master +Tressilian of thy love, and marry this same Varney."</p> + +<p>Amy sprung on her feet, and interrupted the queen eagerly with: "No, +madam, no! As there is a God above us, I am not the wife of that +contemptible slave--of that most deliberate villain! I am not the wife of +Varney! I would rather be the bride of Destruction!"</p> + +<p>The queen, startled by Amy's vehemence, replied: "Why, God, ha' mercy, +woman! Tell me, for I <i>will</i> know, whose wife, or whose paramour, art +thou? Speak out, and be speedy. Thou wert better dally with a lioness than +with Elizabeth!"</p> + +<p>Urged to this extremity, Amy at length uttered in despair: "The Earl of +Leicester knows it all!"</p> + +<p>"The Earl of Leicester!" said Elizabeth, in astonishment. "The Earl of +Leicester! Come with me instantly!"</p> + +<p>As Amy shrunk back with terror, Elizabeth seized on her arm, and dragged +the terrified countess to where Leicester stood--the centre of a splendid +group of lords and ladies.</p> + +<p>"Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!" cried the queen.</p> + +<p>Amy, thinking her husband in danger from the rage of an offended +Sovereign, instantly forgot her own wrongs, and throwing herself before the +queen, exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam--he is guiltless; no one can lay +aught to the charge of noble Leicester!"</p> + +<p>"Why, minion," answered the queen, "didst not thou thyself say that the +Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history?"</p> + +<p>At that moment Varney rushed into the presence, with every mark of +disorder.</p> + +<p>"What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Varney could only prostrate himself before her feet, exclaiming: +"Pardon, my Liege, pardon! Or let your justice avenge itself on me; but +spare my noble, my generous, my innocent patron and master!"</p> + +<p>Amy started up at the sight of the man she deemed most odious so near +her, and besought the queen to save her from "that most shameless villain!" +"I shall go mad if I look longer on him."</p> + +<p>"Beshrew me, but I think thou art distraught already," answered the +queen. Then she bade Lord Hunsdon, a blunt, warm-hearted old noble, "Look +to this poor distressed young woman, and let her be safely bestowed, till +we require her to be forthcoming."</p> + +<p>"By our Lady," said Hunsdon, taking in his strong arms the swooning form +of Amy, "she is a lovely child! And though a rough nurse, your Grace hath +given her a kind one. She is safe with me as one of my own ladybirds of +daughters."</p> + +<p>So saying he carried her off, and the queen followed him with her eye, +and then turned angrily to Varney, for Leicester stared gloomily on the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Speak, Sir Richard, and explain these riddles."</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty's piercing eye," said Varney, "has already detected the +cruel malady of my beloved lady. It is the nature of persons in her +disorder, so please your Grace, to be ever most inveterate in their spleen +against those whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest and dearest. +May your Grace then be pleased to command my unfortunate wife to be +delivered into the custody of my friends?"</p> + +<p>Leicester partly started, but making a stronger effort, he subdued his +emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, that her own physician should +report on the lady's health.</p> + +<p>That night Leicester sought the countess in her apartment, and would +have avowed his marriage to the queen, but for Varney's influence. Finding +all other argument vain, Varney finally urged that the countess was in love +with Tressilian, and mentioned that he had seen him at Cumnor. Leicester +allowed his mind to be poisoned, and was silent when, on the Queen's +physician declaring Lady Varney to be sullen and the victim of fancies, +Elizabeth answered, "Nay, then away with her all speed. Let Varney care for +her with fitting humanity, but let them rid the castle of her +forthwith."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Death of the Countess</i></h4> + + +<p>Armed with the authority of Leicester's signet-ring Varney induced the +countess to leave Kenilworth for Cumnor, declaring that the earl had +ordered it for his own safety. But no sooner was the lady gone than +Leicester repented of the consent Varney had wrested from him. An interview +with Tressilian and the recovery of a letter written by Amy at Cumnor +revealed all Varney's villainy. Too late he acknowledged his marriage to +the queen, and when the fury of Elizabeth's anger had somewhat subsided, +she ordered Tressilian and Sir Walter Raleigh to repair at once to Cumnor, +bring the countess to Kenilworth, and secure the body of Richard Varney, +dead or alive.</p> + +<p>But Varney's fell purpose had already decided that the countess must be +got rid of. A part of the wooden gallery immediately outside her door was +really a trap-door, and beneath it was an abyss dark as pitch. This +trap-door remained secure in appearance even when the supports were +withdrawn beneath it.</p> + +<p>"Were the lady to attempt an escape over it," said Varney, to his +accomplice Foster, who held the house by Varney's favour, "her weight would +carry her down."</p> + +<p>"A mouse's weight would do it," Foster answered.</p> + +<p>"Why, then, she die in attempting her escape, and what could you or I +help it? Let us, to bed; we will adjust our project to-morrow."</p> + +<p>On the next day, when evening approached, Varney summoned Foster to the +execution of their plan. Foster himself, as if anxious to see that the +countess suffered no want of accommodations, visited her place of +confinement. He was so much staggered at her mildness and patience, that he +could not help earnestly recommending to her not to cross the threshold on +any account until Lord Leicester should come. Amy promised that she would +resign herself to her fate, and Foster returned to his hardened companion +with his conscience half-eased of the perilous load that weighed on it. "I +have warned her," he said; "surely in vain is the snare set in the sight of +any bird!"</p> + +<p>He left the countess's door unsecured on the outside, and, under the eye +of Varney, withdrew the supports which sustained the falling trap, which, +therefore, kept its level position merely by a slight adhesion. They +withdrew to wait the issue on the ground floor adjoining; but they waited +long in vain.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is resolved," said Foster, "to await her husband's +return."</p> + +<p>"True! Most true!" said Varney, rushing out; "I had not thought of that +before."</p> + +<p>In less than two minutes, Foster, who remained behind, heard the tread +of a horse in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar to that which was +the earl's usual signal. The instant after the door to the countess's +chamber opened, and in the same moment the trap-door gave way. There was a +rushing sound--a heavy fall--a faint groan, and all was over.</p> + +<p>At the same instant Varney called in at the window, "Is the bird caught? +Is the deed done?"</p> + +<p>"O God, forgive us!" replied Foster.</p> + +<p>"Why, thou fool," said Varney, "thy toil is ended, and thy reward +secure. Look down into the vault--what seest thou?"</p> + +<p>"I see only a heap of clothes, like a snowdrift," said Foster. "O God, +she moves her arm!"</p> + +<p>"Hurl something down on her."</p> + +<p>"Varney, thou art an incarnate fiend!" replied Foster. "There needs +nothing more--she is gone!"</p> + +<p>"So pass our troubles," said Varney; "I dreamed not I could have +mimicked the earl's call so well."</p> + +<p>While they were at this consultation Tressilian and Raleigh broke in +upon them. Foster fled at their entrance, and escaped all search. He +perished miserably in a secret passage, behind an iron door, forgetting the +key of the spring-clock, and years later his skeleton was discovered.</p> + +<p>But Varney was taken on the spot. He made very little mystery either of +the crime or of its motives--alleging that there was sufficient against him +to deprive him of Leicester's confidence, and to destroy all his towering +plans of ambition. "I was not born," he said, "to drag on the remainder of +life a degraded outcast; nor will I so die that my fate shall make a +holiday to the vulgar herd."</p> + +<p>That night he swallowed a small quantity of strong poison, which he +carried about his person, and next morning was found dead in his cell.</p> + +<p>The news of the countess's dreadful fate put a sudden stop to the +pleasures of Kenilworth. Leicester retired from court, and for a +considerable time abandoned himself to his remorse. But as Varney in his +last declaration had been studious to spare the character of his patron, +the earl was the object rather of compassion than resentment. The queen at +length recalled him to court; he was once more distinguished as a statesman +and favourite; and the rest of his career is well known to history. But +there was something retributive in his death, for it is believed he died by +swallowing a draught of poison, designed by him for another person.</p> + +<p>Tressilian at length embarked with his friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, for +the Virginia expedition, and young in years, but old in grief, died before +his day in that foreign land.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Old_Mortality"></a>Old Mortality</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Old Mortality" and the "Black Dwarf" were published +together as the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord" on December 1, +1816. The first is certainly one of the best of Scott's historical +romances. It was the fourth of the "Waverley Novels," and the authorship +was still unavowed; though Mr. Murray, the publisher, at once declared it +"must be written either by Walter Scott or the Devil." On the other hand, +there were critics who did not believe the book was Sir Walter's because it +lacked his "tedious descriptions." Some said openly it was the work of +several hands. The study of the fierce, fanatical Covenanters in "Old +Mortality" is done not only with all the author's literary genius, but a +wonderful fidelity to historical truth; and while the accuracy of the +portrait of Claverhouse--"Bonny Dundee"--will always be disputed, no lover +of romance will question its brilliant charm. The immediate popularity of +"Old Mortality" was less than many of the "Waverley Novels," only two +editions, amounting to 4,000 copies, being sold in six weeks. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Tillietudlem Castle</i></h4> + + +<p>"Most readers," says the manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "must have +witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of the +village school. The buoyant spirit of childhood may then be seen to +explode, as it were, in shout and song and frolic; but there is one +individual who partakes of the relief, whose feelings are not so obvious, +or so apt to receive sympathy--the teacher himself."</p> + +<p>The reader may form some conception of the relief which a solitary walk, +on a fine summer evening, affords to the head which has ached, and the +nerves which have been shattered for so many hours in plying the irksome +task of public instruction.</p> + +<p>To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy +life; and it was in one of them that I met, for the first time, the +religious itinerant known in various parts of Scotland by the title of "Old +Mortality." He was busily engaged in deepening with his chisel the letters +of the inscription upon the monument of the slaughtered +Presbyterians--those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and sufferings +were his favourite theme.</p> + +<p>For nearly thirty years this pious enthusiast visited annually the +graves of those who suffered for the cause during the reigns of the last +two Stuarts, most numerous in the districts of Ayr, Galloway, and Dumfries. +To talk of their exploits was the delight, as to repair their monuments was +the business of his life.</p> + +<p>My readers will understand that in embodying into one narrative many of +the anecdotes I derived from Old Mortality, I have endeavoured to correct +and verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition afforded by +the representatives of either party. Peace to their memory!</p> + +<blockquote> +"Implacable resentment was their crime,<br /> +And grievous has the expiation been."<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>Under the reign of the last Stuarts, frequent musters of the people, +both for military exercise and for sports and pastimes, were appointed by +authority, and the Sheriff of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of a wild +district, on the day our narrative commences, May 5, 1679.</p> + +<p>The lord-lieutenant of the country alone, who was of ducal rank, +pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, but near it might be +seen the erect form of Lady Margaret Bellenden on her sober palfrey, and +her granddaughter; the fair-haired Edith appeared beside her aged relative +like Spring, close to Winter.</p> + +<p>Many civilities passed between her ladyship and the representatives of +sundry ancient royal families, and not a young man of rank passed by them +in the course of the muster, but carried himself more erect in the saddle +and displayed his horsemanship to the best advantage in the eyes of Miss +Edith Bellenden.</p> + +<p>When the military evolutions were over, a loud shout announced that the +competitors were about to step forth for the shooting of the popinjay--the +figure of a bird suspended to a pole. When a slender young man, dressed +with great simplicity, yet with an air of elegance, his dark-green cloak +thrown back over his shoulder, approached the station with his fusee in his +hand, there was a murmur among the spectators.</p> + +<p>"Ewhow, sirs, to see his father's son at the like o' thae fearless +follies!" said some of the more rigid, but the generality were content to +wish success to the son of a deceased Presbyterian leader. Their wishes +were gratified. The green adventurer made the first palpable hit of the +day, and two only of those who followed succeeded--the first, a young man +of low rank, who kept his face muffled in a grey cloak; and the second, a +gallant young cavalier, remarkably handsome, who had been in close +attendance on Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden.</p> + +<p>But the applause, even of those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale, +were at the third trial transferred to his triumphant rival, who was led by +four of the duke's friends to his presence, passing in front of Lady +Margaret and her granddaughter. The captain of the popinjay (as the victor +was called) and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the latter +returned the low inclination he made, even to the saddlebow, in passing +her.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.</p> + +<p>"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and--elsewhere, +occasionally," stammered Edith.</p> + +<p>"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark +is the nephew of old Milnwood."</p> + +<p>"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a +regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said a +gentleman beside Lady Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Ay, and before that, who fought for the Covenanters, both at Marston +Moor and Philipshaugh," said Lady Margaret, sighing. "His son ought to +dispense with intruding himself into the company of those to whom his name +must bring unpleasing recollections."</p> + +<p>"You forget, my dear lady, he comes here to discharge suit and service +in name for his uncle. He is an old miser, and although probably against +the grain, sends the young gentleman to save pecuniary pains and penalties. +The youngster is, I suppose, happy enough to escape for the day from the +dullness of the old home at Milnwood."</p> + +<p>The company now dispersed, excepting such as, having tried their +dexterity at the popinjay, were, by ancient custom, obliged to partake of a +grace-cup with their captain, who, though he spared the cup himself, took +care it should go round with due celerity among the rest.</p> + +<p>On leaving the alehouse, a stranger observed to Morton that he was +riding towards Milnwood, and asked for the advantage of his company.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Morton, though there was a gloomy and relentless +severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled, and they rode off +together.</p> + +<p>They had not long left, when Cornet Grahame, a kinsman of Claverhouse, +entered with the news that the Archbishop of St. Andrews had been murdered +by a body of the rebel Whigs.</p> + +<p>He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who +had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual +commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing of +Burley's terrible deed.</p> + +<p>"Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The +murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Henry Morton's Escape</i></h4> + + +<p>The dragoons soon arrived at Milnwood, and carried off Henry Morton +prisoner for having given a night's shelter to Balfour of Burley, an old +military comrade of his father's. Morton acknowledged he had done this, but +refused to give any other information. Hitherto he had meddled with no +party in the state. They decided to bring him before Colonel Grahame of +Claverhouse, who was expected next day at the Castle of Tillietudlem, the +residence of Lady Margaret Bellenden.</p> + +<p>Although Henry Morton had prevailed upon the sergeant to let him be +muffled up in one of the soldier's cloaks, Miss Edith Bellenden found it +impossible to withdraw her eyes from him, and her waiting maid soon +discovered his identity, and found means for the lovers (for such they +were) to meet in secret in the room where the prisoner was confined.</p> + +<p>"You are lost, you are lost, if you are to plead your cause with +Claverhouse!" sighed Edith. "The primate was his intimate friend and early +patron. 'No excuse, no subterfuge,' he wrote to my grandmother, 'shall save +either those connected with the deed, or such as have given them +countenance and shelter.'"</p> + +<p>They were interrupted by the guard, and Morton, assuming a firmness he +was far from feeling, whispered, "Farewell, Edith; leave me to my fate; it +cannot be beyond endurance, since you are interested in it. Good night, +good night! Do not remain here till you are discovered."</p> + +<p>"Everyone has his taste, to be sure," said the sentinel; "but, d---- me +if I would vex so sweet a girl for all the Whigs that ever swore a +covenant!"</p> + +<p>After breakfast next day, Major Bellenden, Edith's grand-uncle, to whom +she had written, approached Claverhouse, to plead for the life of the son +of his old friend, but she heard the reply.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be, Major Bellenden; lenity in his case is altogether beyond +the bounds of my commission. And here comes Evandale with news, as I think. +What tidings do you bring us, Evandale?" addressing the young lord, who now +entered in complete uniform but with dress disordered, and boots +bespattered.</p> + +<p>"Unpleasant news, sir," was the reply. "A large body of Whigs are in +arms among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion."</p> + +<p>Claverhouse immediately bid them sound to horse, saying, "There are +rogues enough in the country to make the rebels five times their strength, +if they are not checked at once."</p> + +<p>"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they expect a +strong body of the indulged Presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, the +son of the famous old Roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" said the major hastily, and begged that Henry Morton might +at once be heard himself. Evandale drew near to Miss Bellenden, and +addressed her in a manner, expressing a feeling much deeper and more +agitating than was conveyed in his phrases.</p> + +<p>"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, "and then +Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interrupt your conversation--but then we must +mount. Why do you not bring up your prisoner? And hark ye, let two files +load their carbines."</p> + +<p>Edith broke through the restraint that had hitherto kept her silent, and +entreated Lord Evandale to use his interest with his colonel, becoming +bolder and more urgent as the soldiers entered with the prisoner, whom they +had just informed that Lady Margaret's niece was interceding for his life +with Lord Evandale, to whom she was about to be married.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate prisoner heard enough, as he passed behind Edith's seat, +of the broken expressions which passed between her and Lord Evandale, to +confirm all that the soldiers had told him.</p> + +<p>That moment made a singular and instantaneous change in his character. +Desperate himself, he determined to support the rights of his country, +insulted in his person. So he declined to answer any questions, and assured +Claverhouse that there were yet Scotsmen who could assert the liberties of +Scotland.</p> + +<p>"Make you peace then, with Heaven, in five minutes space. Bothwell, lead +him down to the courtyard, and draw up your party!"</p> + +<p>A silence of horror fell on all but the speaker at these words. Edith +sprang up, but her strength gave way, and she would have fallen had she not +been caught by her attendant.</p> + +<p>Evandale at once addressed Claverhouse, and calling him aside reminded +him of services rendered by his family in an affair of the privy +council.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear Evandale," answered Claverhouse; "I am not a man who +forgets such debts. How can I evince my gratitude?"</p> + +<p>"I will hold the debt cancelled," said Lord Evandale, "if you will spare +this young man's life."</p> + +<p>"Evandale," replied Claverhouse in great surprise, "you are +mad--absolutely mad. You see him? He is tottering on the verge between time +and eternity; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only heart that +keeps its usual time. Look at him well. If that man should ever come to +head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for."</p> + +<p>He then said aloud, "Young man, your life is for the present safe, owing +to the interference of your friends." So Morton was hurried down to the +courtyard, where three other prisoners remained under an escort of +dragoons; soon they were all pressing forward to overtake the main body, as +it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in less than two +hours. It was obvious, when they did so that there were old soldiers with +the rebels from the choice of the ground, and the order of battle in which +they waited the assault. Cornet Grahame was sent with a flag of truce to +offer a free pardon to all but the murderers of the archbishop if they +would disperse themselves. On his persisting in addressing the people +themselves in spite of the warning of their spokesman, Balfour of Burley, +whom he recognised. "Then the Lord grant grace to thy soul--amen!" said +Burley, and fired, and Cornet Grahame dropped from his horse, mortally +wounded.</p> + +<p>"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.</p> + +<p>"My duty," said Balfour firmly. "Is it not written 'Thou shalt be +zealous even to slaying?' Let those who dare now venture to talk of truce +or pardon!"</p> + +<p>Claverhouse saw his nephew fall; with a glance of indescribable emotion +he looked at Evandale. "I will avenge him, or die," exclaimed Evandale, and +rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of the +deceased cornet, each striving to be first in revenge. They soon fell into +confusion in the broken ground. In vain Claverhouse shouted, "Halt! halt! +This rashness will undo us." The enemy set upon them with the utmost fury, +crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines! Down with the Dagon and +all his adherents!" Though the young nobleman fought like a lion, he was +forced to retreat, and soon Claverhouse was compelled to follow his troops +in their flight; as he passed Henry Morton and the other prisoners just +released from their bonds, Evandale's horse was shot, and Morton rushed +forward just in time to prevent his being killed by Balfour himself in hot +pursuit.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Presbyterian Insurgents</i></h4> + + +<p>John Balfour of Burley, a man of some fortune and good family, a soldier +from his youth upwards, aspired to place himself at the head of the +Presbyterian forces then in arms against the English government. On this +account he was particularly anxious to secure the accession of young Henry +Morton to the cause of the insurgents, for the memory of Morton's father +was esteemed among the Presbyterians, and few persons of decent quality had +so far joined the rising.</p> + +<p>Morton, on his side, was willing to join in any insurrection which +promised freedom to the country though he abhorred the murder of Sharpe, +and the tenets of the wilder set of Cameronians, by whom the seeds of +disunion were already thickly sown in the ill-fated party.</p> + +<p>At the nomination of the council of the Presbyterian army Morton was +sent with the main body to march against Glasgow, while Burley, with a +chosen body of five hundred men, remained behind to blockade the castle of +Tillietudlem. A command to surrender had been scorned with indignation by +Major Bellenden and Lord Evandale.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later a pause in the hostilities enabled Morton, anxious for +the fate of Tillietudlem, to return to Burley's camp, where he learnt that +Evandale had been taken prisoner, and was to be hanged at daybreak unless +the castle surrendered.</p> + +<p>Burley sullenly yielded his prisoner into Morton's hands, and Evandale, +released on parole by the man whose life he had previously saved, undertook +to set out for Edinburgh, with a list of the grievances of the insurgents. +A mutiny within the castle drove Major Bellenden to evacuate Tillietudlem; +the ladies acquiesced in the decision, and when the scarlet and blue +colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the keep of Tillietudlem, the +cavalcade led by the major was on the road towards Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>Lord Evandale's good word saved Morton a second time when Claverhouse +routed the Presbyterian army at Bothwell Bridge. Morton was taken prisoner, +but his life was spared, and at Leith he was put on board a vessel bound +for Rotterdam with letters of recommendation to the Prince of Orange.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Henry Morton Returns in Time</i></h4> + + +<p>By the prudent tolerance of King William Scotland narrowly escaped the +horrors of a protracted civil war. The triumphant Whigs re-established +Presbytery as the national religion, and only the extreme sect of +Cameronians on the one side, and the Highlanders, who were for the deposed +Stuart king, on the other, disturbed the peace of the land. Balfour of +Burley refused to sheathe his sword, and Evandale followed his old +commander Claverhouse (now Viscount Dundee) in joining the rebel Jacobites. +Major Bellenden was dead.</p> + +<p>No news had ever come of Henry Morton, and it was believed with good +reason he was lost when the vessel in which he sailed went down with crew +and passengers. But Morton was already back in Scotland, in the service of +King William.</p> + +<p>In the belief of her Morton's death, Edith Bellenden had become +betrothed to Lord Evandale, though she postponed marriage, and her prayers +went out to him that he would refrain from joining Claverhouse, when he +came to bid her farewell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my lord, remain!" said Edith. "Do not rush on death and ruin! +Remain to be our prop and stay, and hope everything from time."</p> + +<p>"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale. "I know you cannot love +me, that your heart is dead or absent. But were it otherwise, the die is +now cast."</p> + +<p>As he spoke thus an old servant rushed in to say a party of horse headed +by one Basil Olifant, a rascal who was anxious to take Evandale for the +sake of reward, had beset the outlets of the house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" cried Edith, in an agony of terror.</p> + +<p>"I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the +villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he backed +by a regiment. And now, farewell, Edith!"</p> + +<p>He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then rushed out and +mounted his horse, and with his servants rode composedly down the +avenue.</p> + +<p>As soon as Lord Evandale appeared, Olifant's party spread themselves a +little, as if preparing to enclose him. Their leader stood fast, supported +by three men, two of whom were dragoons, the third in dress and appearance +a countryman, all well-armed. Whoever had before seen the strong figure, +stern features, and resolved manner of the third attendant could have no +difficulty in recognising Balfour of Burley.</p> + +<p>"Follow me," said Lord Evandale to his servants, "and if we are forcibly +opposed, do as I do."</p> + +<p>He advanced at a hand gallop; Olifant called out, "Shoot the traitor!" +and four carbines were fired upon the unfortunate nobleman. He reeled in +the saddle, and fell from his horse mortally wounded. His servants fired +and Basil Olifant and a dragoon were stretched lifeless on the ground.</p> + +<p>Burley, whose blood was up, exclaimed, "Down with the Midianites!" and +advanced, sword in hand. At this instant the clatter of horses' hoofs was +heard, and a party of horse appeared on the fatal field. They were foreign +dragoons led by a Dutch commander, accompanied by Morton and a civil +magistrate.</p> + +<p>Only the belief that Evandale was to marry Edith had kept Morton +hitherto from revealing his return.</p> + +<p>A hasty call to surrender, in the name of God and King William, was +obeyed by all except Burley, who turned his horse and attempted to escape. +Pursued by soldiers he made for the river, but was shot in the middle of +the stream, and felt himself dangerously wounded. He returned towards the +bank he had left, waving his hand as if in token of surrender. The troopers +ceased firing, and as he approached a dragoon laid hands on him. Burley, in +requital, grasped his throat, and both came headlong into the river, and +were swept down the stream. They were twice seen to rise, the trooper +trying to swim, and Burley clinging to him in a manner that showed his +desire that both should perish. Their corpses were taken out about a +quarter of a mile down the river.</p> + +<p>While the soul of this stern enthusiast flitted to its account, that of +the brave and generous Lord Evandale was also released. Morton had flung +himself from his horse, to render his dying friend all the aid in his +power. Evandale knew him, for he pressed his hand, and intimated by signs +his wish to be conveyed to the house. This was done with all the care +possible, and the clamorous grief of the lamenting household was far +exceeded in intensity by the silent agony of Edith. Unconscious even of the +presence of Morton, she was not aware that fate, who was removing one +faithful lover, had restored another as if from the grave, until Lord +Evandale taking their hands in his, united them together, raised his face +as if to pray for a blessing on them, and sunk back and expired in the next +moment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The marriage of Morton and Miss Bellenden was delayed for several months +on account of Lord Evandale's death. Lady Margaret was prevailed on to +countenance Morton, who now stood high in the reputation of the world, and +Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy. So Lady Margaret +put her prejudice aside, for Morton's being an old Covenanter stuck sorely +with her for some time, and consoled herself with the recollection that his +most sacred majesty Charles the Second had once observed to her that +marriage went by destiny.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Peveril_of_the_Peak"></a>Peveril of the Peak</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> "Peveril of the Peak," the longest of all the Waverley +novels, was published in 1823. For the main idea of the tale Sir Walter was +indebted to some papers found by his younger brother, Thomas Scott, in the +Isle of Man. These papers gave the story of William Christian, who took the +side of the Roundheads against the high-spirited Countess of Derby, and was +subsequently tried and executed, according to the laws of the island, by +that lady, for having dethroned his august mistress and imprisoned her and +her family. "Peveril" is one of the most complicated, in respect of +characters and incidents, of Scott's works. The canvas is crowded with +personages, good, bad, and indifferent, yet all full of vitality and +responding to the actual forces which their creator set in motion. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Cavalier and Roundhead</i></h4> + + +<p>In Charles the Second's time, the representative of an ancient family in +the county of Derbyshire, long distinguished by the proud title of Peverils +of the Peak, was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man with the attributes of an +old-fashioned country gentleman.</p> + +<p>When the civil wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak raised a regiment for +the king, and performed his part with sufficient gallantry for several +rough years. He witnessed also the final defeat at Worcester, where, for +the second time, he was made prisoner, and being regarded as an obstinate +malignant, was in great danger of execution. But Sir Geoffrey's life was +preserved by the interest of a friend, who possessed influence in the +councils of Cromwell. This was a Major Bridgenorth, a gentleman of middling +quality, who had inherited from his father a considerable sum of money, and +to whom Sir Geoffrey was under pecuniary obligations.</p> + +<p>Moultrassie Hall, the residence of Mr. Bridgenorth, was but two miles +distant from Martindale Castle, the ancient seat of the Peverils; and +while, as Bridgenorth was a decided Roundhead, all friendly communication +which had grown up betwixt Sir Geoffrey and his neighbour was abruptly +broken asunder at the outbreak of hostilities, on the trial and execution +of Charles I., Bridgenorth was so shocked, fearing the domination of the +military, that his politics on many points became those of the Peverils, +and he favoured the return of Charles II.</p> + +<p>Another bond of intimacy, stronger than the same political opinions, now +united the families of the castle and the hall.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of the year 1658 Major Bridgenorth--who had lost +successively a family of six young children--was childless; ere it ended, +he had a daughter, but her birth was purchased by the death of an +affectionate wife. The same voice which told Bridgenorth that he was a +father of a living child--it was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril--told +him that he was no longer a husband.</p> + +<p>Lady Peveril placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had +cost him so dear, and conjured him to remember that his Alice was not yet +dead, since she survived in the helpless child.</p> + +<p>"Take her away--take her away!" said the unhappy man. "Let me not look +on her! It is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade."</p> + +<p>"I will take the child for a season," said Lady Peveril, "since the +sight of her is so painful to you; and the little Alice shall share the +nursery of our Julian until it shall be pleasure, and not pain, for you to +look on her."</p> + +<p>"That hour will never come," said the unhappy father; "she will follow +the rest--God's will be done! Lady, I thank you--I trust her to your +care."</p> + +<p>It is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the duties of a +mother to the little orphan, and the puny infant gradually improved in +strength and in loveliness.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey was naturally fond of children, and so much compassionated +the sorrows of his neighbour, that morning after morning he made +Moultrassie Hall the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single +word of kindness as he passed. "How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth?" +the knight would say, halting his horse by the latticed window. "I just +looked in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian is +well, and little Alice is well, and all are well at Martindale Castle."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Sir Geoffrey; my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was +generally Bridgenorth's only answer.</p> + +<p>The voice of Peveril suddenly assumed a new and different tone in the +month of April, 1660. He rushed into the apartment of the astonished major +with his eyes sparkling and called out, "Up, up, neighbour! No time now to +mope in the chimney-corner! Where is your buff coat and broadsword, man? +Take the true side once in your life, and mend past mistakes. Monk has +declared at London--for the king. Fairfax is up in Yorkshire--for the king, +for the king, man! I have a letter from Fairfax to secure Derby and +Chesterfield with all the men I can make. All are friends now, and you and +I, good neighbour, will charge abreast as good neighbours should!" The +sturdy cavalier's heart became too full, and exclaiming, "Did ever I think +to live to see this happy day!" he wept, to his own surprise as much as to +that of Bridgenorth.</p> + +<p>The neighbours were both at Chesterfield when news arrived that the king +had landed in England, and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose of +waiting upon his majesty, while the major desired nothing better than to +find all well at Martindale on his return.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, on the subsequent morning, Bridgenorth went to Martindale +Castle, and gave Lady Peveril the welcome assurances of her husband's +safety.</p> + +<p>"May Almighty God be praised!" said the Lady Peveril. The door of the +apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely children entered. The eldest, +Julian Peveril, a fine boy betwixt four and five years old, led in his hand +a little girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered along.</p> + +<p>Bridgenorth cast a hasty glance upon his daughter, and then caught her +in his arms and pressed her to his heart. The child, though at first +alarmed at the vehemence of his caresses, presently smiled in reply to +them.</p> + +<p>"Julian must lose his playfellow now, I suppose?" said Lady Peveril. +"But the hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often."</p> + +<p>"God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," said Major +Bridgenorth hastily; "it has been the grave of her race. The air of the low +grounds suited them not. I will seek for her some other place of +abode."</p> + +<p>"Major Bridgenorth," answered the lady, "if she goes not to her father's +house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a pledge of +her safety and my own skill; and since you are afraid of the damp of the +low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently to visit her."</p> + +<p>This was a proposal which went to the heart of Major Bridgenorth. He +expressed his grateful duty to Lady Peveril, and having solemnly blessed +his little girl, took his departure for Moultrassie Hall.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Separation</i></h4> + + +<p>The friendly relations between the inhabitants of Martindale and +Moultrassie came to an end with the common rejoicing over the restoration +of Charles II.</p> + +<p>The Countess of Derby, queen in the Isle of Man, whose husband had +perished for the crown, took refuge at the castle, fleeing from a warrant +for her arrest, and told her story to Lady Peveril in the presence of Major +Bridgenorth.</p> + +<p>The countess had kept the royal standard flying in Man until her vassal, +William Christian, turned against her. Then for seven years she had endured +strict captivity, until the tide turned, and she was once more in +possession of the sovereignty of the island. "I was no sooner placed in +possession of my rightful power," said the countess, "than I ordered the +dempster to hold a high court of justice upon the traitor Christian, +according to all the formalities of the isle. He was fully convicted of his +crime, and without delay was shot to death by a file of musketeers."</p> + +<p>At hearing this, Bridgenorth clasped his hands together and groaned +bitterly. "O Christian--worthy, well worthy of the name thou didst bear! My +friend, my brother--the brother of my blessed wife Alice, art thou, then, +cruelly murdered!"</p> + +<p>Then, drawing himself up with resolution, he demanded the arrest of the +countess.</p> + +<p>This Lady Peveril would not permit, and Bridgenorth left the castle. The +arrival of Sir Geoffrey from London with news that the council had sent a +herald with the king's warrant for the Countess of Derby's arrest, made +flight to the Isle of Man imperative. Bridgenorth, with a number of the old +Roundheads, attempted to prevent the escape, but were beaten off by Sir +Geoffrey and his men, and the countess embarked safely for her son's +hereditary dominions, until the accusation against her for breach of the +royal indemnity by the execution of Christian could be brought to some +compromise.</p> + +<p>Before leaving Martindale, the countess called Julian to her, and +kissing his forehead said: "When I am safely established and have my +present affairs arranged, you must let me have this little Julian of yours +some time hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and the +playfellow of the little Derby."</p> + +<p>Five years passed.</p> + +<p>Major Bridgenorth left his seat of Moultrassie Hall in the care of his +old housekeeper and departed to no one knew whither, having in company with +him his daughter, Alice, and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, the child's early nurse +at the castle.</p> + +<p>Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son, +Julian, who was sent as had been long intended for the purpose of sharing +the education of the young Earl of Derby. The plan seemed to be in every +respect successful, and when, from time to time, Julian visited the house +of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him improved in +person and in manner. In process of time he became a gallant and +accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the Continent with the +young earl.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Island Lovers</i></h4> + + +<p>Julian, leaving the earl to go on a sailing voyage, assumed the dress of +one who means to amuse himself with angling. Then, mounted upon a Manx +pony, he rode briskly over the country, and halted at one of the mountain +streams, and followed along the bank until he reached a house where once a +fastness had stood, called the Black Fort.</p> + +<p>He received no answer to his knocks, and impatience getting the upper +hand, Julian opened the door, and passed through the hall into a summer +parlour.</p> + +<p>"How now--how is this?" said a woman's voice. "You here, Master Peveril, +in spite of all the warnings you have had!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril. "I am here once more, against +every prohibition. Where is Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Where you will never see her, Master Julian--you may satisfy yourself +of that," answered Mistress Deborah. "For if Dame Christian should learn +that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you we +should soon be obliged to find other quarters."</p> + +<p>"Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Julian. "Consider, +was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make +yourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with my +fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alice had +been my little playfellow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dame Deborah; "but I did not bid you fall in love with us, +though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to Alice or myself. +Why, there is the knight your father, and my lady your mother; and there is +her father that is half crazy with his religion, and her aunt that wears +eternal black grogram for that unlucky Colonel Christian; and there is the +Countess of Derby that would serve us all with the same sauce if we were +thinking of anything that would displease her. Though I may indeed have +said your estates were born to be united, and sure enough they might be +were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth."</p> + +<p>The good nature of Dame Debbitch could not, however, resist the appeal +of Julian, and she left the apartment and ran upstairs.</p> + +<p>The visits of Julian to the Black Fort had hitherto been only +occasional, but his affections were fixed, and his ardent character had +already declared his love. To-day, on her entrance to the room, Alice +reproached him for again coming there against her earnest request. "It were +better that we should part for a long time," she said softly, "and for +heaven's sake let it be as soon as possible--perhaps it is even now too +late to prevent some unpleasant accident. Spare yourself, Julian--spare +me--and in mercy to us both depart, and return not again till you can be +more reasonable."</p> + +<p>"Reasonable?" replied Julian. "Did you not say that if our parents could +be brought to consent to our union, you would no longer oppose my +suit?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, "you ought not +to press me thus. It is ungenerous, it is cruel. You dared not to mention +the subject to your own father--how should you venture to mention it to +mine?"</p> + +<p>"Major Bridgenorth," replied Julian, "by my mother's account, is an +estimable man. I will remind him that to my mother's care he owes the +dearest treasure and comfort of his life. Let me but know where to find +him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause with +him."</p> + +<p>"Do not attempt it," said Alice. "He is already a man of sorrows. +Besides, I could not tell you if I would where he is now to be found. My +letters reach him from time to time by means of my Aunt Christian, but of +his address I am entirely ignorant."</p> + +<p>"Then, by heaven," answered Julian, "I will watch his arrival in this +island, and he shall answer me on the subject of my suit."</p> + +<p>"Then demand that answer now," said a voice, as the door opened, "for +here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." As he spoke, he entered the apartment with +slow and sedate step, and eyed alternately his daughter and Julian Peveril +with a penetrating glance.</p> + +<p>Bidding his daughter learn to rule her passions and retire to her +chamber, Bridgenorth turned to Julian and told him he had long known of +this attachment, and went on to point out calmly the differences which made +the union seem impossible. "But heaven hath at times opened a door where +man beholds no means of issue," continued Bridgenorth. "Julian, your mother +is, after the fashion of the world, one of the best and one of the wisest +of women, with a mind as pure as the original frailty of our vile nature +will permit. Of your father I say nothing--he is what the times and +examples of others have made him. I have power over him, which ere now he +might have felt, but there is one within his chambers who might have +suffered in his suffering. Enough, however, of this, for to-day this is thy +habitation."</p> + +<p>So saying, he stretched out his thin, bony hand and grasped that of +Julian Peveril.</p> + +<p>Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from +which he fears to awake, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and with +uncertainty, Julian found himself seated between Alice Bridgenorth and her +father--the being he most loved on earth and the person whom he had ever +considered as the great obstacle to their intercourse.</p> + +<p>It was evening when he departed. "You have not, after all," said +Bridgenorth, bidding Julian farewell, "told me the cause of your coming +hither. Will you find no words to ask of me the great boon which you seek? +Nay, reply not to me now, but go, and peace be with you."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Popish Plot</i></h4> + + +<p>Julian Peveril set out for London when the fictitious "popish plot" of +Titus Oates had set England "stark staring mad," promising the countess +that he would apprise her should any danger menace the Earl of Derby or +herself. He had learnt that Bridgenorth was on the island with secret and +severe orders, and that the countess in return was issuing warrants on her +own authority for the apprehension of Bridgenorth, and before leaving he +obtained one more interview with Alice, who was alive to the dangers on all +sides.</p> + +<p>"Break off all intercourse with our family," said Alice. "Return to your +parents--or, what will be much safer, visit the Continent, and abide till +God sends better days to England, for these are black with many a storm. +Placed as we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our parents and +friends, we must part on this spot, and at this hour, never to meet +again."</p> + +<p>"No, by heaven!" said Peveril, venturing to throw his arm around her; +"we part not, Alice. If I am to leave my native land you shall be my +companion in my exile. Fear not for my parents; they love me, and they will +soon learn to love, in Alice, the only being on earth who could have +rendered their son happy. And for your own father, when state and church +intrigues allow him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not think your +happiness is cared for when you are my wife? What could his pride desire +better for you than the establishment which will one day be mine?"</p> + +<p>"It cannot--it cannot be," said Alice, faltering. "Think what I, the +cause of all, should feel when your father frowns, your mother weeps, your +noble friends stand aloof, and you--even you--shall have made the painful +discovery that you have incurred the resentment of all to satisfy a boyish +passion. Farewell, then, Julian; but first take the solemn advice which I +impart to you: shun my father--you cannot walk in his paths; leave this +island, which will soon be agitated by strange incidents; while you stay be +on your guard, distrust everything----"</p> + +<p>Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek. Once more her father +stood unexpectedly before them.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Alice," he said solemnly to his daughter, "for the hints +you have thrown out; and now retire, and let me complete the conference +which you have commenced."</p> + +<p>"I go, sir," said Alice. "Julian, to you my last words are: Farewell and +caution!"</p> + +<p>She turned from them, and was seen no more.</p> + +<p>Bridgenorth turned to Peveril. "You are willing to lead my only child +into exile from her native country, to give her a claim to the kindness and +protection from your family, which you know will be disregarded, on +condition I consent to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient to +have matched that of your ancestors when they had most reason to boast of +their wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet, so little +do I value the goods of this world, that it might not be utterly beyond thy +power to reconcile me to the match which you have proposed."</p> + +<p>"Show me but the means, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, "and you shall +see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your +conditions."</p> + +<p>"This is a critical period," cried the major; "it becomes the duty of +all men to step forward. You, Julian Peveril, yourself know the secret but +rapid strides which Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry within our +Protestant land."</p> + +<p>"I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church of +England," said Peveril. "I have seen popery too closely to be friendly to +its tenets."</p> + +<p>"Enough," said Bridgenorth, "that I find thee not as yet enlightened +with the purer doctrine, but willing to uplift thy testimony against the +errors and arts of the Church of Rome. At present thy prejudices occupy thy +mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scripture. But, +remember, thou wilt soon be called upon to justify what thou hast said, and +I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the prey shall be +rent from the mighty."</p> + +<p>"You have spoken to me in riddles, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril; +"and I have asked for no explanation. But we do not part in anger?"</p> + +<p>"Not in anger, my son," answered Bridgenorth, "but in love and strong +affection. I accept not thy suit, neither do I reject it; only he that +would be my son must first show himself the true and loving child of his +oppressed and deluded country. Farewell; thou shalt hear of me sooner than +thou thinkest for."</p> + +<p>He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, leaving him with confused +impressions of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Surprised to find himself so +far in the good graces of Alice's father, he could not help suspecting that +Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, that he should adopt +some line of conduct inconsistent with the principles of his education.</p> + +<p>Arrived in England, Julian first hastened to Martindale, only to find +the castle in the hands of officers of the House of Commons and his mother +and Sir Geoffrey prisoners on suspicion of conspiring in the popish plot, +and about to be escorted to London by a strong guard. On their departure +the property of the castle was taken possession of by an attorney in the +name of Major Bridgenorth, a large creditor of the unfortunate knight.</p> + +<p>Julian himself was soon seized and put to trial with his father. But the +fury of the people had, however, now begun to pass away, and men's minds +were beginning to cool. The character of the witnesses was more closely +sifted--their testimonies did not in all cases tally. Chief Justice +Scroggs, sagacious in the signs of the times, saw that court favour, and +probably popular opinion also, were about to declare against the witnesses +and in favour of the accused.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey and. Julian were both declared "not guilty" of the +monstrous and absurd charges brought against them and the accusation +against Lady Peveril was dropped.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the Peverils, father and son, escaped to Lady Peveril's +lodgings, and the first rapturous meeting over, than Alice Bridgenorth was +presented by Julian's mother as the pretended daughter of an old cavalier, +and Sir Geoffrey embraced her warmly. Julian, to whom his mother whispered +that Alice was there by her father's authority, was as one enchanted, when +a gentleman arrived from Whitehall bidding Sir Geoffrey and his son +instantly attend upon the king's presence.</p> + +<p>The Countess of Derby had come openly to court, braving all danger, when +she heard of the arrest of the Peverils, resolved to save their lives. From +the king's own lips she heard of the acquittal, and Charles II., for the +moment anxious to reward the fidelity of his old follower, invited them +forthwith to Whitehall.</p> + +<p>Sir Geoffrey, with every feeling of his early life afloat in his memory, +threw himself on his knees before the king, and Charles said, with feeling, +"My good Sir Geoffrey, you have had some hard measure; we owe you amends, +and will find time to pay our debt."</p> + +<p>Later in the evening the Countess of Derby, who had had much private +conversation with Julian, said, "Your majesty, there is a certain Major +Bridgenorth, who designs, as we are informed, to leave England for ever. By +dint of the law he hath acquired strong possession over the domains of +Peveril, which he desires to restore to the ancient owners with much fair +land besides, conditionally that our young Julian will receive them as the +dowry of his only child."</p> + +<p>"By my faith!" said the king, "she must be a foul-mouthed wench if +Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on such fair conditions."</p> + +<p>"They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the countess; +"but the stout old knight likes not the roundheaded alliance."</p> + +<p>"Our royal word shall put that to rights," said the king. "Sir Geoffrey +Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at our command that he will +refuse our recommendation when it comes to make amends for all losses."</p> + +<p>The king did not speak without being fully aware of the ascendancy which +he possessed over the spirit of the old Tory; and within four weeks +afterwards the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie were ringing for the union +of the two families, and the beacon-light of the castle blazed high over +hill and dale.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11527 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |