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diff --git a/old/32692-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/32692-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e53145b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/32692-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,18840 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Day's Ride, by Charles James Lever. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Day's Ride, by Charles James Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Day's Ride + A Life's Romance + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: W. Cubitt Cooke + +Release Date: June 4, 2010 [EBook #32692] +Last Updated: February 28, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY'S RIDE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +A DAY'S RIDE +</h1> +<h2> +A LIFE'S ROMANCE +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +By Charles James Lever. +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +With Illustrations By W. Cubitt Cooke. +</h3> +<h4> +BOSTON: <br /><br /> LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. <br /><br /> 1904. +</h4> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/nor0012.jpg" width="559" alt="nor0012" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A DAY'S RIDE</b> </a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> I PREPARE TO SEEK +ADVENTURES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> BLONDEL +AND I SET OUT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> TRUTH +NOT ALWAYS IN WINE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> PLEASANT +REFLECTIONS ON AWAKING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. +</a> THE ROSARY AT INISTIOGE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> MY SELF-EXAMINATION +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> FATHER +DYKE'S LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> IMAGINATION +STIMULATED BY BRANDY AND WATER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> +CHAPTER IX. </a> HIS INTEREST IN A LADY FELLOW-TRAVELLER +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE +PERILS OF MY JOURNEY TO OSTEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> +CHAPTER XI. </a> A JEALOUS HUSBAND <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE DUCHY OF +HESSE-KALBBRATONSTADT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. +</a> I CALL AT THE BRITISH LEGATION <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> SHAMEFUL NEGLECT OF A +PUBLIC SERVANT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> I +LECTURE THE AMBASSADOR'S SISTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> +CHAPTER XVI. </a> UNPLEASANT TURN TO AN AGREEABLE CONVERSE +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> MRS. +KEATS MOVES MY INDIGNATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER +XVIII. </a> AN IMPATIENT SUMMONS <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> MRS. KEATS'S +MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. +</a> THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> +CHAPTER XXI. </a> HOW I PLAY THE PRINCE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> INCIDENTS OF THE +SECOND DAY'S JOURNEY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. +</a> JEALOUSY UNSUPPORTED BY COURAGE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> MY CANDOR AS AN +AUTOBIOGRAPHER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> I +MAINTAIN A DIGNIFIED RESERVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER +XXVI. </a> VATERCHEN AND TINTEFLECK <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> I ATTEMPT TO +OVERTHROW SOCIAL PREJUDICES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER +XXVIII. </a> RESULTS OF THE EXPERIMENT <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> ON FOOT AND IN LOW +COMPANY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> VATERCHEN'S +NARRATIVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> A +GENIUS FOR CARICATURE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. +</a> I RELIEVE MYSELF OF MY PURSE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> MY ELOQUENCE +BEFORE THE CONSTANCE MAGISTRATES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> +CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> A SUMPTUOUS DINNER AND AN EMPTY POCKET +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> HART +CROFTON'S COMMISSION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. +</a> FURTHER INTERCOURSE WITH HARPAR <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> MY EXPLOSION AT +THE TABLE D'HÔTE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. + </a> THE DUEL WITH PRINCE MAX <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> ON THE EDGE OF A +TORRENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> I +AM DRAGGED AS A PRISONER TO FELDKIRCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> +CHAPTER XLI. </a> THE ACT OF ACCUSATION <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> A GLIMPSE OF AN OLD +FRIEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> I +AM CONFINED IN THE AMBRAS SCHLOSS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0044"> +CHAPTER XLIV. </a> A VISIT FROM THE HON. GREY BULLER <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> MY CANDID AVOWAL +TO KATE HERBERT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a> CAPTAIN +ROGERS STANDS MY FRIEND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER +XLVII. </a> MY DUELLING AMBITION AGAIN DISAPPOINTED <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a> FINAL +ADVENTURES AND SETTLEMENT <br /><br /> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<h1> +A DAY'S RIDE: +</h1> +<h2> +A LIFE'S ROMANCE. +</h2> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. I PREPARE TO SEEK ADVENTURES +</h2> +<p> +It has been said that any man, no matter how small and insignificant the +post he may have filled in life, who will faithfully record the events in +which he has borne a share, even though incapable of himself deriving +profit from the lessons he has learned, may still be of use to others,—sometimes +a guide, sometimes a warning. I hope this is true. I like to think it so, +for I like to think that even I,—A. S. P.,—if I cannot adorn a +tale, may at least point a moral. +</p> +<p> +Certain families are remarkable for the way in which peculiar gifts have +been transmitted for ages. Some have been great in arms, some in letters, +some in statecraft, displaying in successive generations the same high +qualities which had won their first renown. In an humble fashion, I may +lay claim to belong to this category. My ancestors have been apothecaries +for one hundred and forty-odd years. Joseph Potts, “drug and condiment +man,” lived in the reign of Queen Anne, at Lower Liffey Street, No. 87; +and to be remembered passingly, has the name of Mr. Addison amongst his +clients,—the illustrious writer having, as it would appear, a +peculiar fondness for “Pott's linature,” whatever that may have been; for +the secret died out with my distinguished forefather. There was Michael +Joseph Potts, “licensed for chemicals,” in Mary's Abbey, about thirty +years later; and so we come on to Paul Potts and Son, and then to +Launcelot Peter Potts, “Pharmaceutical Chemist to his Excellency and the +Irish Court,” the father of him who now bespeaks your indulgence. +</p> +<p> +My father's great misfortune in life was the ambition to rise above the +class his family had adorned for ages. He had, as he averred, a soul above +senna, and a destiny higher than black drop. He had heard of a tailor's +apprentice becoming a great general. He had himself seen a wig-maker +elevated to the woolsack; and he kept continually repeating, “Mine is the +only walk in life that leads to no high rewards. What matters it whether +my mixtures be addressed to the refined organization of rank, or the <i>dura +ilia rasorum?</i>—I shall live and die an apothecary. From every +class are men selected for honors save mine; and though it should rain +baronetcies, the bloody hand would never fall to the lot of a compounding +chemist.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you intend to make of Algernon Sydney, Mr. Potts?” would say one +of his neighbors. “Bring him up to your own business? A first-rate +connection to start with in life.” + </p> +<p> +“My own business, sir? I'd rather see him a chimneysweep.” + </p> +<p> +“But, after all, Mr. Potts, being so to say, at the head of your +profession—” + </p> +<p> +“It is not a profession, sir. It is not even a trade. High science and +skill have long since left our insulted and outraged ranks; we are mere +commission agents for the sale of patent quackeries. What respect has the +world any longer for the great phials of ruby, and emerald, and marine +blue, which, at nightfall, were once the magical emblems of our mysteries, +seen afar through the dim mists of lowering atmospheres, or throwing their +lurid glare upon the passers-by? What man, now, would have the courage to +adorn his surgery—I suppose you would prefer I should call it a +'shop'—with skeleton-fishes, snakes, or a stuffed alligator? Who, in +this age of chemical infidelity, would surmount his door with the ancient +symbols of our art,—the golden pestle and mortar? Why, sir, I'd as +soon go forth to apply leeches on a herald's tabard, or a suit of Milan +mail. And what have they done, sir?” he would ask, with a roused +indignation,—“what have they done by their reforms? In invading the +mystery of medicine, they have ruined its prestige. The precious drops you +once regarded as the essence of an elixir vitæ, and whose efficacy lay in +your faith, are now so much strychnine, or creosote, which you take with +fear and think over with foreboding.” + </p> +<p> +I suppose it can only be ascribed to that perversity which seems a great +element in human nature, that, exactly in the direct ratio of my father's +dislike to his profession was <i>my</i> fondness for it. I used to take +every opportunity of stealing into the laboratory, watching intently all +the curious proceedings that went on there, learning the names and +properties of the various ingredients, the gases, the minerals, the salts, +the essences; and although, as may be imagined, science took, in these +narrow regions, none of her loftiest flights, they were to me the most +marvellous and high-soaring efforts of human intelligence. I was just at +that period of life—the first opening of adolescence—when +fiction and adventure have the strongest bold upon our nature, my mind +filled with the marvels of Eastern romance, and imbued with a sentiment, +strong as any conviction, that I was destined to a remarkable life. I +passed days in dreamland,—what I should do in this or that +emergency; how rescue myself from such a peril; how profit by such a +stroke of fortune; by what arts resist the machinations of this adversary; +how conciliate the kind favor of that. In the wonderful tales that I read, +frequent mention was made of alchemy and its marvels; now the search was +for some secret of endless wealth; now, it was for undying youth or +undecay-ing beauty; while in other stories I read of men who had learned +how to read the thoughts, trace the motives, and ultimately sway the +hearts of their fellow-men, till life became to them a mere field for the +exercise of their every will and caprice, throwing happiness and misery +about them as the humor inclined. The strange life of the laboratory +fitted itself exactly to this phase of my mind. +</p> +<p> +The wonders it displayed, the endless combinations and transformations it +effected, were as marvellous as any that imaginative fiction could devise; +but even these were nothing compared to the mysterious influence of the +place itself upon my nervous system, particularly when I found myself +there alone. In the tales with which my head was filled, many of them the +wild fancies of Grimm, Hoffman, or Musæus, nothing was more common than to +read how some eager student of the black art, deep in the mystery of +forbidden knowledge, had, by some chance combination, by some mere +accidental admixture of this ingredient with that, suddenly arrived at the +great secret, that terrible mystery which for centuries and centuries had +evaded human search. How often have I watched the fluid as it boiled and +bubbled in the retort, till I thought the air globules, as they came to +the surface, observed a certain rhythm and order. Were these, words? Were +they symbols of some hidden virtue in the liquid? Were there intelligences +to whom these could speak, and thus reveal a wondrous history? And then, +again, with what an intense eagerness have I gazed on the lurid smoke that +arose from some smelting mass, now fancying that the vapor was about to +assume form and substance, and bow imagining that it lingered lazily, as +though waiting for some cabalistic word of mine to give it life and being? +How heartily did I censure the folly that had ranked alchemy amongst the +absurdities of human invention! Why, rather, had not its facts been +treasured and its discoveries recorded, so that in some future age a great +intelligence arising might classify and arrange them, showing at least +what were practicable and what were only evasive. Alchemists were, +certainly, men of pure lives, self-denying and humble. They made their art +no stepping-stone to worldly advancement or success; they sought no favor +from princes, nor any popularity from the people; but, retired and +estranged from all the pleasures of the world, followed their one pursuit, +unnoticed and unfriended. How cruel, therefore, to drag them forth from +their lonely cells, and expose them to the gaping crowd as devil +worshippers! How inhuman to denounce men whose only crimes were lives of +solitude and study! The last words of Peter von Vordt, burned for a +wizard, at Haarlem, in 1306, were, “Had they left this poor head a little +longer on my shoulders, it would have done more for human happiness than +all this bonfire!” + </p> +<p> +How rash and presumptuous is it, besides, to set down any fixed limits to +man's knowledge! Is not every age an advance upon its predecessors, and +are not the commonest acts of our present civilization perfect miracles as +compared with the usages of our ancestors? But why do I linger on this +theme, which I only introduced to illustrate the temper of my boyish days? +As I grew older, books of chivalry and romance took possession of my mind, +and my passion grew for lives of adventure. Of all kinds of existence, +none seemed to me so enviable as that of those men who, regarding life as +a vast ocean, hoisted sail, and set forth, not knowing nor caring whither, +but trusting to their own manly spirit for extrication out of whatever +difficulties might beset them. What a narrow thing, after all, was our +modern civilization, with all its forms and conventionalities, with its +gradations of rank and its orders! How hopeless for the adventurous spirit +to war with the stern discipline of an age that marshalled men in ranks +like soldiers, and told that each could only rise by successive steps! How +often have I wondered was there any more of adventure left in life? Were +there incidents in store for him who, in the true spirit of an adventurer, +should go in search of them? As for the newer worlds of Australia and +America, they did not possess for me much charm. No great association +linked them with the past; no echo came out of them of that heroic time of +feudalism, so peopled with heart-stirring characters. The life of the bush +or the prairie had its incidents, but they were vulgar and commonplace; +and worse, the associates and companions of them were more vulgar still. +Hunting down Pawnees or buffaloes was as mean and ignoble a travesty of +feudal adventure as was the gold diggings at Bendigo of the learned labors +of the alchemist. The perils were unexciting, the rewards prosaic and +commonplace. No. I felt that Europe—in some remote regions—and +the East—in certain less visited tracts—must be the scenes +best suited to my hopes. With considerable labor I could spell my way +through a German romance, and I saw, in the stories of Fouqué, and even of +Goethe, that there still survived in the mind of Germany many of the +features which gave the color-ing to a feudal period. There was, at least, +a dreamy indifference to the present, a careless abandonment to what the +hour might bring forth, so long as the dreamer was left to follow out his +fancies in all their mysticism, that lifted men out of the vulgarities of +this work-o'-day world; and I longed to see a society where learning +consented to live upon the humblest pittance, and beauty dwelt unflattered +in obscurity. +</p> +<p> +I was now entering upon manhood; and my father—having, with that +ambition so natural to an Irish parent who aspires highly for his only +son, destined me for the bar—made me a student of Trinity College, +Dublin. +</p> +<p> +What a shock to all the romance of my life were the scenes into which I +now was thrown! With hundreds of companions to choose from, I found not +one congenial to me. The reading men, too deeply bent upon winning honors, +would not waste a thought upon what could not advance their chances of +success. The idle, only eager to get through their career undetected in +their ignorance, passed lives of wild excess or stupid extravagance. +</p> +<p> +What was I to do amongst such associates? What I did do,—avoid them, +shun them, live in utter estrangement from all their haunts, their ways, +and themselves. If the proud man who has achieved success in life +encounters immense difficulties when, separating himself from his fellows, +he acknowledges no companionship, nor admits any to his confidence, it may +be imagined what must be the situation of one who adopts this isolation +without any claim to superiority whatever. As can easily be supposed, I +was the butt of my fellow students, the subject of many sarcasms and +practical jokes. The whole of my Freshman year was a martyrdom. I had no +peace, was rhymed on by poetasters, caricatured by draughtsmen, till the +name of Potts became proverbial for all that was eccentric, ridiculous, +and absurd. +</p> +<p> +Curran has said, “One can't draw an indictment against a nation;” in the +same spirit did I discover “one cannot fight his whole division.” For a +while I believe I experienced a sort of heroism in my solitary state; I +felt the spirit of a Coriolanus in my heart, and muttered, “I banish <i>you! +</i>” but this self-supplied esteem did not last long, and I fell into a +settled melancholy. The horrible truth was gradually forcing its way +slowly, clearly, through the mists of my mind, that there might be +something in all this sarcasm, and I can remember to this hour, the day—ay, +and the very place—wherein the questions flashed across me: Is my +hair as limp, my nose as long, my back as arched, my eyes as green as they +have pictured them? Do I drawl so fearfully in my speech? Do I drag my +heavy feet along so ungracefully? Good heavens! have they possibly a grain +of fact to sustain all this fiction against me? +</p> +<p> +And if so,—horrible thought,—am I the stuff to go forth and +seek adventures? Oh, the ineffable bitterness of this reflection! I +remember it in all its anguish, and even now, after years of such +experience as have befallen few men, I can recall the pain it cost me. +While I was yet in the paroxysm of that sorrow, which assured me that I +was not made for doughty deeds, nor to captivate some fair princess, I +chanced to fall upon a little German volume entitled “Wald Wandelungen und +Abentheure,” von Heinrich Stebbe. Forest rambles and adventures, and of a +student, too! for so Herr Stebbe announces himself, in a short +introduction to the reader. I am not going into any account of his book. +It is in Voss's Leipzig Catalogue, and not unworthy of perusal by those +who are sufficiently imbued with Germanism to accept the changeful moods +of a mystical mind, with all its visionary glimpses of light and shade, +its doubts, fears, hopes, and fancies, in lieu of real incidents and +actual events. Of adventures, properly speaking, he had none. The people +he met, the scenes in which he bore his part, were as commonplace as need +be. The whole narrative never soared above that bread and butter life—Butter-brod +Leben—which Germany accepts as romance; but, meanwhile, the reflex +of whatever passed around him in the narrator's own mind was amusing; so +ingeniously did he contrive to interweave the imaginary with the actual, +throwing over the most ordinary pictures of life a sort of hazy +indistinctness,—meet atmosphere for mystical creation. +</p> +<p> +If I did not always sympathize with him in his brain-wrought wanderings, I +never ceased to take pleasure in his description of scenery, and the +heartfelt delight he experienced in Journeying through a world so +beautiful and so varied. There was also a little woodcut frontispiece +which took my fancy much, representing him as he stood leaning on his +horse's mane, gazing rapturously on the Elbe, from one of the cliffs off +the Saxon Switzerland. How peaceful he looked, with his long hair waving +gracefully on his neck, and his large soft eyes turned on the scene +beneath him I His clasped hands, as they lay on the horse's mane, imparted +a sort of repose, too, that seemed to say, “I could linger here ever so +long.” Nor was the horse itself without a significance in the picture; he +was a long-maned, long-tailed, patient-looking beast, well befitting an +enthusiast, who doubtless took but little heed of how he went or where. If +his lazy eye denoted lethargy, his broad feet and short legs vouched for +his sure-footedness. +</p> +<p> +Why should not I follow Stebbe's example? Surely there was nothing too +exalted or extravagant in his plan of life. It was simply to see the world +as it was, with the aid of such combinations as a fertile fancy could +contribute; not to distort events, but to arrange them, Just as the +landscape painter in the license of his craft moves that massive rock more +to the foreground, and throws that stone pine a little further to the left +of his canvas. There was, indeed, nothing to prevent my trying the +experiment Ireland was not less rich in picturesque scenery than Germany, +and if she boasted no such mighty stream as the Elbe, the banks of the +Blackwater and the Nore were still full of woodland beauty; and, then, +there was lake scenery unrivalled throughout Europe. +</p> +<p> +I turned to Stebbe's narrative for details of his outfit. His horse be +bought at Nordheim for two hundred and forty gulden,—about ten +pounds; his saddle and knapsack cost him a little more than forty +shillings; with his map, guide-book, compass, and some little extras, all +were comprised within twenty pounds sterling,—surely not too costly +an equipage for one who was adventuring on a sea wide as the world itself. +</p> +<p> +As <i>my</i> trial was a mere experiment, to be essayed on the most +limited scale, I resolved not to buy, but only hire a horse, taking him by +the day, so that if any change of mind or purpose supervened I should not +find myself in any embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +A fond uncle had just left me a legacy of a hundred pounds, which, +besides, was the season of the long vacation; thus did everything combine +to favor the easy execution of a plan which I determined forthwith to put +into practice. +</p> +<p> +“Something quiet and easy to ride, sir, you said?” repeated Mr. Dycer +after me, as I entered his great establishment for the sale and hire of +horses. “Show the gentleman four hundred and twelve.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Heaven forbid!” I exclaimed, in ignorance; “such a number would only +confuse me.” + </p> +<p> +“You mistake me, sir,” blandly interposed the dealer; “I meant the horse +that stands at that number. Lead him out, Tim. He 's gentle as a lamb, +sir, and, if you find he suits you, can be had for a song,—I mean a +ten pound note.” + </p> +<p> +“Has he a long mane and tail?” I asked, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“The longest tail and the fullest mane I ever saw. But here he comes.” And +with the word, there advanced towards us, at a sort of easy amble, a +small-sized cream-colored horse, with white mane and tail. Knowing nothing +of horseflesh, I was fain to content myself with such observations as +other studies might supply me with; and so I closely examined his head, +which was largely developed in the frontal region, with moral qualities +fairly displayed. He had memory large, and individuality strong; nor was +wit, if it exist in the race, deficient Over the orbital region the +depressions were deep enough to contain my closed fist, and when I +remarked upon them to the groom, he said, “'T is his teeth will tell you +the rayson of that;” a remark which I suspect was a sarcasm upon my +general ignorance. +</p> +<p> +I liked the creature's eye. It was soft, mild, and contemplative; and +although not remarkable for brilliancy, possessed a subdued lustre that +promised well for temper and disposition. +</p> +<p> +“Ten shillings a day,—make it three half-crowns by the week, sir. +You 'll never hit upon the like of him again,” said the dealer, hurriedly, +as he passed me, on his other avocations. +</p> +<p> +“Better not lose him, sir; he's well known at Batty's, and they 'll have +him in the circus again if they see him. Wish you saw him with his +fore-legs on a table, ringing the bell for his breakfast.*' +</p> +<p> +“I'll take him by the week, though, probably, a day or two will be all I +shall need.” + </p> +<p> +“Four hundred and twelve for Mr. Potts,” Dycer screamed out. “Shoes +removed, and to be ready in the morning.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. BLONDEL AND I SET OUT +</h2> +<p> +I had heard and read frequently of the exhilarating sensations of horse +exercise. My fellow-students were full of stories of the hunting-field and +the race-course. Wherever, indeed, a horse figured in a narrative, there +was an almost certainty of meeting some incident to stir the blood and +warm up enthusiasm. Even the passing glimpses one caught of +sporting-prints in shop-windows were suggestive of the pleasure imparted +by a noble and chivalrous pastime. I never closed my eyes all night, +revolving such thoughts in my head. I had so worked up my enthusiasm that +I felt like one who is about to cross the frontier of some new land where +people, language, ways, and habits are all unknown to him. “By this hour +to-morrow night,” thought I, “I shall be in the land of strangers, who +have never seen, nor so much as heard of me. There will invade no +traditions of the scoffs and jibes I have so long endured; none will have +received the disparaging estimate of my abilities, which my class-fellows +love to propagate; I shall simply be the traveller who arrived at sundown +mounted on a cream-colored palfrey,—a stranger, sad-looking, but +gentle, withal, of courteous address, blandly demanding lodging for the +night. 'Look to my horse, ostler,' shall I say, as I enter the +honeysuckle-covered porch of the inn. 'Blondel'—I will call him +Blondel—'is accustomed to kindly usage.'” With what quiet dignity, +the repose of a conscious position, do I follow the landlord as he shows +me to my room. It is humble, but neat and orderly. I am contented. I tell +him so. I am sated and wearied of luxury; sick of a gilded and glittering +existence. I am in search of repose and solitude. I order my tea; and, if +I ask the name of the village, I take care to show by my inattention that +I have not heard the answer, nor do I care for it. +</p> +<p> +Now I should like to hear how they are canvassing me in the bar, and what +they think of me in the stable. I am, doubtless, a peer, or a peer's +eldest son. I am a great writer, the wondrous poet of the day; or the +pre-Raphaelite artist; or I am a youth heart-broken by infidelity in love; +or, mayhap, a dreadful criminal. I liked this last the best, the interest +was so intense; not to say that there is, to men who are not +constitutionally courageous, a strong pleasure in being able to excite +terror in others. +</p> +<p> +But I hear a horse's feet on the silent street. I look out Day is just +breaking. Tim is holding Blondel at the door. My hour of adventure has +struck, and noiselessly descending the stairs, I issue forth. +</p> +<p> +“He is a trifle tender on the fore-feet, your honor,” said Tim, as I +mounted; “but when you get him off the stones on a nice piece of soft +road, he 'll go like a four-year-old.” + </p> +<p> +“But he <i>is</i> young, Tim, isn't he?” I asked, as I tendered him my +half-crown. +</p> +<p> +“Well, not to tell your honor a lie, he is not,” said Tim, with the energy +of a man whose veracity had cost him little less than a spasm. +</p> +<p> +“How old would you call him, then?” I asked, in that affected ease that +seemed to say, “Not that it matters to me if he were Methuselah.” + </p> +<p> +“I could n't come to his age exactly, your honor,” he replied, “but I +remember seeing him fifteen years ago, dancing a hornpipe, more by token +for his own benefit; it was at Cooke's Circus, in Abbey Street, and there +wasn't a hair's difference between him now and then, except, perhaps, that +he had a star on the forehead, where you just see the mark a little darker +now.” + </p> +<p> +“But that is a star, plain enough,” said I, half vexed. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it is, and it is not,” muttered Tim, doggedly, for he was not quite +satisfied with my right to disagree with him. +</p> +<p> +“He's gentle, at all events?” I said, more confidently. +</p> +<p> +“He's a lamb!” replied Tim. “If you were to see the way he lets the Turks +run over his back, when he's wounded in Timour the Tartar, you wouldn't +believe he was a livin' baste.” + </p> +<p> +“Poor fellow!” said I, caressing him. He turned his mild eye upon me, and +we were friends from that hour. +</p> +<p> +What a glorious morning it was, as I gained the outskirts of the city, and +entered one of those shady alleys that lead to the foot of the Dublin +mountains! The birds were opening their morning hymn, and the earth, still +fresh from the night dew, sent up a thousand delicious perfumes. The road +on either side was one succession of handsome villas or ornamental +cottages, whose grounds were laid out in the perfection of landscape +gardening. There were but few persons to be seen at that early hour, and +in the smokeless chimneys and closed shutters I could read that all slept,—slept +in that luxurious hour when Nature unveils, and seems to revel in the +sense of unregarded loveliness. “Ah, Potts,” said I, “thou hast chosen the +wiser part; thou wilt see the world after thine own guise, and not as +others see it.” Has my reader not often noticed that in a picture-gallery +the slightest change of place, a move to the left or right, a chance +approach or retreat, suffices to make what seemed a hazy confusion of +color and gloss a rich and beautiful picture? So is it in the actual +world, and just as much depends on the point from which objects are +viewed. Do not be discouraged, then, by the dark aspects of events. It may +be that by the slightest move to this side or to that, some unlooked-for +sunlight shall slant down and light up all the scene. Thus musing, I +gained a little grassy strip that ran along the roadside, and, gently +touching Blonde! with my heel, he broke out into a delightful canter. The +motion, so easy and swimming, made it a perfect ecstasy to sit there +floating at will through the thin air, with a moving panorama of wood, +water, and mountain around me. +</p> +<p> +Emerging at length from the thickly wooded plain, I began the ascent of +the Three Rock Mountain, and, in my slackened speed, had full time to gaze +upon the bay beneath me, broken with many a promontory, backed by the +broad bluff of Howth, and the more distant Lambay. No, it is <i>not</i> +finer than Naples. I did not say it was; but, seeing it as I then saw it, +I thought it could not be surpassed. Indeed, I went further, and defied +Naples in this fashion:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Though no volcano's lurid light +Over thy bine sea steals along, +Nor Pescator beguiles the night +With cadence of his simple song; + +“Though none of dark Calabria's daughters +With tinkling lute thy echoes wake, +Mingling their voices with the waters, +As 'neath the prow the ripples break; + +“Although no cliffs with myrtle crown'd, +Reflected in thy tide, are seen, +Nor olives, bending to the ground, +Relieve the laurel's darker green; + +“Yet—yet—” + </pre> +<p> +Ah, there was the difficulty,—I had begun with the plaintiff, and I +really had n't a word to say for the defendant; and so, voting comparisons +odious, I set forward on my journey. +</p> +<p> +As I rode into Enniskerry to breakfast, I had the satisfaction of +overhearing some very flattering comments upon Blondel, which rather +consoled me for some less laudatory remarks upon my own horsemanship. By +the way, can there possibly be a more ignorant sarcasm than to say a man +rides like a tailor? Why, of all trades, who so constantly sits +straddle-legged as a tailor? and yet he is especial mark of this +impertinence. +</p> +<p> +I pushed briskly on after breakfast, and soon found myself in the deep +shady woods that lead to the Dargle. I hurried through the picturesque +demesne, associated as it was with a thousand little vulgar incidents of +city junketings, and rode on for the Glen of the Downs. Blondel and I had +now established a most admirable understanding with each other. It was a +sort of reciprocity by which I bound myself never to control <i>him</i>, +he in turn consenting not to unseat <i>me</i>. He gave the initiative to +the system, by setting off at his pleasant little rocking canter whenever +he chanced upon a bit of favorable ground, and invariably pulled up when +the road was stony or uneven; thus showing me that he was a beast with +what Lord Brougham would call “a wise discretion.” In like manner he would +halt to pluck any stray ears of wild oats that grew along the hedge sides, +and occasionally slake his thirst at convenient streamlets. If I +dismounted to walk at his side, he moved along unheld, his head almost +touching my elbow, and his plaintive blue eye mildly beaming on me with an +expression that almost spoke,—nay, it did speak. I 'm sure I felt +it, as though I could swear to it, whispering, “Yes, Potts, two more +friendless creatures than ourselves are not easy to find. The world wants +not either of us; not that we abuse it, despise it, or treat it +ungenerously,—rather the reverse, we incline favorably towards it, +and would, occasion serving, befriend it; but we are not, so to say, 'of +it.' There may be, here and there, a man or a horse that would understand +or appreciate us, but they stand alone,—they are not belonging to +classes. They are, like ourselves, exceptional.” If his expression said +this much, there was much unspoken melancholy in his sad glance, also, +which seemed to say, “What a deal of sorrow could I reveal if I might!—what +injuries, what wrong, what cruel misconceptions of my nature and +disposition, what mistaken notions of my character and intentions! What +pretentious stupidity, too, have I seen preferred before me,—creatures +with, mayhap, a glossier coat or a more silky forelock—” “Ah, +Blondel, take courage,—men are just as ungenerous, just as erring!” + “Not that I have not had my triumphs, too,” he seemed to say, as, cocking +his ears, and ambling with a more elevated toss of the head, his tail +would describe an arch like a waterfall; “no salmon-colored silk stockings +danced sarabands on <i>my</i> back; I was always ridden in the Haute École +by Monsieur l'Etrier himself, the stately gentleman in jackboots and +long-waisted dress-coat, whose five minutes no persuasive bravos could +ever prolong.” I thought—nay, I was certain at times—that I +could read in his thoughtful face the painful sorrows of one who had +outlived popular favor, and who had survived to see himself supplanted and +dethroned. +</p> +<p> +There are no two destinies which chime in so well together as that of him +who is beaten down by sheer distrust of himself, and that of the man who +has seen better days. Although the one be just entering on life, while the +other is going out of it, if they meet on the threshold, they stop to form +a friendship. Now, though Blondel was not a man, he supplied to my +friendlessness the place of one. +</p> +<p> +The sun was near its setting, as I rode down the little hill into the +village of Ashford, a picturesque little spot in the midst of mountains, +and with a bright clear stream bounding through it, as fearlessly as +though in all the liberty of open country. I tried to make my entrance +what stage people call effective. I threw myself, albeit a little jaded, +into an attitude of easy indifference, slouched my hat to one side, and +suffered the sprig of laburnum, with which I had adorned it, to droop in +graceful guise over one shoulder. The villagers stared; some saluted me; +and taken, perhaps, by the cool acquiescence of my manner, as I returned +the courtesy, seemed well disposed to believe me of some note. +</p> +<p> +I rode into the little stable-yard of the “Lamb” and dismounted. I gave up +my horse, and walked into the inn. I don't know how others feel it,—I +greatly doubt if they will have the honesty to tell,—but for myself, +I confess that I never entered an inn or an hotel without a most +uncomfortable conflict within: a struggle made up of two very antagonistic +impulses,—the wish to seem something important, and a lively terror +lest the pretence should turn out to be costly. Thus swayed by opposing +motives, I sought a compromise by assuming that I was incog.; for the +present a nobody, to be treated without any marked attention, and to whom +the acme of respect would be a seeming indifference. +</p> +<p> +“What is your village called?” I said, carelessly, to the waiter, as he +laid the cloth. +</p> +<p> +“Ashford, your honor. 'T is down in all the books,” answered the waiter. +</p> +<p> +“Is it noted for anything, or is there anything remarkable in the +neighborhood?” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, there is, sir, and plenty. There's Glenmalure and the Devil's +Glen; and there's Mr. Snow Malone's place, that everybody goes to see: and +there's the fishing of Doyle's river,—trout, eight, nine, maybe +twelve, pounds' weight; and there's Mr. Reeve's cottage—a Swiss +cottage belike—at Kinmacreedy; but, to be sure, there must be an +order for that!” + </p> +<p> +“I never take much trouble,” I said indolently. “Who have you got in the +house at present?” + </p> +<p> +“There's young Lord Keldrum, sir, and two more with him, for the fishing; +and the next room to you here, there's Father Dyke, from Inistioge, and +he's going, by the same token, to dine with the Lord to-day.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't mention to his Lordship that I am here,” said I, hastily. “I desire +to be quite unknown down here.” The waiter promised obedience, without +vouchsafing any misgivings as to the possibility of his disclosing what he +did not know. +</p> +<p> +To his question as to my dinner, I carelessly said, as if I were in a +West-end club, “Never mind soup,—a little fish,—a cutlet and a +partridge. Or order it yourself,—I am indifferent.” The waiter had +scarcely left the room when I was startled by the sound of voices so close +to me as to seem at my side. They came from a little wooden balcony to the +adjoining room, which, by its pretentious bow-window, I recognized to be +the state apartment of the inn, and now in the possession of Lord Keldrum +and his party. They were talking away in that gay, rattling, discursive +fashion very young men do amongst each other, and discussed fishing-flies, +the neighboring gentlemen's seats, and the landlady's niece. +</p> +<p> +“By the way, Kel,” cried one, “it was in your visit to the bar that you +met your priest, was n't it?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; I offered him a cigar, and we began to chat together, and so I asked +him to dine with us to-day.” + </p> +<p> +“And he refused?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; but he has since changed his mind, and sent a message to say he 'll +be with us at eight”. +</p> +<p> +“I should like to see your father's face, Kel, when he heard of your +entertaining the Reverend Father Dyke at dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I suppose he would say it was carrying conciliation a little too +far; but as the adage says, <i>À la guerre</i>—” + </p> +<p> +At this juncture, another burst in amongst them, calling out, “You 'd +never guess who 's just arrived here, in strict incog., and having bribed +Mike, the waiter, to silence. Burgoyne!” + </p> +<p> +“Not Jack Burgoyne?” + </p> +<p> +“Jack himself. I had the portrait so correctly drawn by the waiter, that +there's no mistaking him; the long hair, green complexion, sheepish look, +all perfect. He came on a hack, a little cream-colored pad he got at +Dycer's, and fancies he's quite unknown.” + </p> +<p> +“What <i>can</i> he be up to now?” + </p> +<p> +“I think I have it,” said his Lordship. “Courtenay has got two +three-year-olds down here at his uncle's, one of them under heavy +engagements for the spring meetings. Master Jack has taken a run down to +have a look at them.” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove, Kel, you 're right! he's always wide awake, and that stupid +leaden-eyed look he has, has done him good service in the world.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, old Oxley, shall we dash in and unearth him? Or shall we let him +fancy that we know nothing of his being here at all?” + </p> +<p> +“What does Hammond say?” + </p> +<p> +“I'd say, leave him to himself,” replied a deep voice; “you can't go and +see him without asking him to dinner; and he 'll walk into us after, do +what we will.” + </p> +<p> +“Not, surely, if we don't play,” said Oxley. +</p> +<p> +“Would n't he, though? Why, he 'd screw a bet out of a bishop.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd do with him as Tomkinson did,” said his Lordship; “he had him down +at his lodge in Scotland, and bet him fifty pounds that he could n't pass +a week without a wager. Jack booked the bet and won it, and Tomkinson +franked the company.” + </p> +<p> +“What an artful villain my counterpart must be!” I said. I stared in the +glass to see if I could discover the sheepish-ness they laid such stress +on. I was pale, to be sure, and my hair a light brown, but so was +Shelley's; indeed, there was a wild, but soft expression in my eyes that +resembled his, and I could recognize many things in our natures that +seemed to correspond. It was the poetic dreaminess, the lofty +abstractedness from all the petty cares of every-day life which vulgar +people set down as simplicity; and thus,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“The soaring thoughts that reached the stare, +Seemed ignorance to them.” + </pre> +<p> +As I uttered the consolatory lines, I felt two hands firmly pressed over +my eyes, while a friendly voice called out, “Found out, old fellow! run +fairly to earth!” “Ask him if he knows you,” whispered another, but in a +voice I could catch. +</p> +<p> +“Who am I, Jack?” cried the first speaker. +</p> +<p> +“Situated as I now am,” I replied, “I am unable to pronounce; but of one +thing I am assured,—I am certain I am not called Jack.” + </p> +<p> +The slow and measured intonation of my voice seemed to electrify them, for +my captor relinquished his hold and fell back, while the two others, after +a few seconds of blank surprise, burst into a roar of laughter; a +sentiment which the other could not refrain from, while he struggled to +mutter some words of apology. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps I can explain your mistake,” I said blandly; “I am supposed to be +extremely like the Prince of Salms Hökinshauven—” + </p> +<p> +“No, no!” burst in Lord Keldrum, whose voice I recognized, “we never saw +the Prince. The blunder of the waiter led us into this embarrassment; we +fancied you were—” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Burgoyne,” I chimed in. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly,—Jack Burgoyne; but you're not a bit like him.” + </p> +<p> +“Strange, then; but I'm constantly mistaken for him; and when in London, I +'m actually persecuted by people calling out, 'When did you come up, +Jack?' 'Where do you hang out?' 'How long do you stay?' 'Dine with me +to-day—to-morrow—Saturday?' and so on; and although, as I have +remarked, these are only so many embarrassments for me, they all show how +popular must be my prototype.” I had purposely made this speech of mine a +little long, for I saw by the disconcerted looks of the party that they +did not see how to wind up “the situation,” and, like all awkward men, I +grew garrulous where I ought to have been silent. While I rambled on, Lord +Keldrum exchanged a word or two with one of his friends; and as I +finished, he turned towards me, and, with an air of much courtesy, said,— +</p> +<p> +“We owe you every apology for this intrusion, and hope you will pardon it; +there is, however, but one way in which we can certainly feel assured that +we have your forgiveness,—that is, by your joining us. I see that +your dinner is in preparation, so pray let me countermand it, and say that +you are our guest.” + </p> +<p> +“Lord Keldrum,” said one of the party, presenting the speaker; “my name is +Hammond, and this is Captain Oxley, Coldstream Guards.” + </p> +<p> +I saw that this move required an exchange of ratifications, and so I +bowed, and said, “Algernon Sydney Potts.” + </p> +<p> +“There are Staffordshire Pottses?” + </p> +<p> +“No relation,” I said stiffly. It was Hammond who made the remark, and +with a sneering manner that I could not abide. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Mr. Potts, it is agreed,” said Lord Keldrum, with his peculiar +urbanity, “we shall see you at eight No dressing. You'll find us in this +fishing-costume you see now.” + </p> +<p> +I trust my reader, who has dined out any day he pleased and in any society +he has liked these years past, will forgive me if I do not enter into any +detailed account of my reasons for accepting this invitation. Enough if I +freely own that to me, A. S. Potts, such an unexpected honor was about the +same surprise as if I had been announced governor of a colony, or bishop +in a new settlement. +</p> +<p> +“At eight sharp, Mr. Potts.” + </p> +<p> +“The next door down the passage.” + </p> +<p> +“Just as you are, remember!” were the three parting admonitions with which +they left me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. TRUTH NOT ALWAYS IN WINE +</h2> +<p> +Who has not experienced the charm of the first time in his life, when +totally removed from all the accidents of his station, the circumstance of +his fortune, and his other belongings, he has taken his place amongst +perfect strangers, and been estimated by the claims of his own +individuality? Is it not this which gives the almost ecstasy of our first +tour,—our first journey? There are none to say, “Who is this Potts +that gives himself these airs?” “What pretension has he to say this, or +order that?” “What would old Peter say if he saw his son to-day?” with all +the other “What has the world come tos?” and “What are we to see nexts?” I +say it is with a glorious sense of independence that one sees himself +emancipated from all these restraints, and recognizes his freedom to be +that which nature has made him. +</p> +<p> +As I sat on Lord Keldrum's left,—Father Dyke was on his right,—was +I in any real quality other than I ever am? Was my nature different, my +voice, my manner, my social tone, as I received all the bland attentions +of my courteous host? And yet, in my heart of hearts, I felt that if it +were known to that polite company I was the son of Peter Potts, +'pothecary, all my conversational courage would have failed me. I would +not have dared to assert fifty things I now declared, nor vouched for a +hundred that I as assuredly guaranteed. If I had had to carry about me +traditions of the shop in Mary's Abbey, the laboratory, and the rest of +it, how could I have had the nerve to discuss any of the topics on which I +now pronounced so authoritatively? And yet, these were all accidents of my +existence,—no more me than was the color of <i>his</i> whiskers mine +who vaccinated me for cow-pock. The man Potts was himself through all; he +was neither compounded of senna and salts, nor amalgamated with +sarsaparilla and the acids; but by the cruel laws of a harsh +conventionality it was decreed otherwise, and the trade of the father +descends to the son in every estimate of all he does and says and thinks. +The converse of the proposition I was now to feel in the success I +obtained in this company. I was as the Germans would say, “Der Herr Potts +selbst, nicht nach seinen Begebenheiten”—the man Potts, not the +creature of his belongings. +</p> +<p> +The man thus freed from his “antecedents,” and owning no “relatives,” + feels like one to whom a great, a most unlimited, credit has been opened, +in matter of opinion. Not reduced to fashion his sentiments by some +supposed standard becoming his station, he roams at will over the broad +prairie of life, enough if he can show cause why he says this or thinks +that, without having to defend himself for his parentage, and the place he +was born in. Little wonder if, with such a sum to my credit, I drew +largely on it; little wonder if I were dogmatical and demonstrative; +little wonder if, when my reason grew wearied with facts, I reposed on my +imagination in fiction. +</p> +<p> +Be it remembered, however, that I only became what I have set down here +after an excellent dinner, a considerable quantity of champagne, and no +small share of claret, strong-bodied enough to please the priest. From the +moment we sat down to table, I conceived for him a sort of distrust. He +was painfully polite and civil; he had a soft, slippery, Clare accent; but +there was a malicious twinkle in his eye that showed he was by nature +satirical. Perhaps because we were more reading men than the others that +it was we soon found ourselves pitted against each other in argument, and +this not upon one, but upon every possible topic that turned up. Hammond, +I found, also stood by the priest; Oxley was <i>my</i> backer; and his +Lordship played umpire. Dyke was a shrewd, sarcastic dog in his way, but +he had no chance with me. How mercilessly I treated his church!—he +pushed me to it,—what an <i>exposé</i> did I make of the Pope and +his government, with all their extortions and cruelties! how ruthlessly I +showed them up as the sworn enemies of all freedom and enlightenment! The +priest never got angry. He was too cunning for that, and he even laughed +at some of my anecdotes, of which I related a great many. +</p> +<p> +“Don't be so hard on him, Potts,” whispered my Lord, as the day wore on; +“he 's not one of us, you know!” + </p> +<p> +This speech put me into a flutter of delight. It was not alone that he +called me Potts, but there was also an acceptance of me as one of hier own +set. We were, in fact, henceforth <i>nous autres</i>. Enchanting +recognition, never to be forgotten! +</p> +<p> +“But what would you do with us?” said Dyke, mildly remonstrating against +some severe measures we of the landed interest might be yet driven to +resort to. +</p> +<p> +“I don't know,—that is to say,—I have not made up my mind +whether it were better to make a clearance of you altogether, or to bribe +you.” + </p> +<p> +“Bribe us by all means, then!” said he, with a most serious earnestness. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! but could we rely upon you?” I asked. +</p> +<p> +“That would greatly depend upon the price.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll not haggle about terms, nor I 'm sure would Keldrum,” said I, +nodding over to his Lordship. +</p> +<p> +“You are only just to me, in that,” said he, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“That's all fine talking for you fellows who had the luck to be first on +the list, but what are poor devils like Oxley and myself to do?” said +Hammond. “Taxation comes down to second sons.” + </p> +<p> +“And the 'Times' says that's all right,” added Oxley. +</p> +<p> +“And I say it's all wrong; and I say more,” I broke in: “I say that of all +the tyrannies of Europe, I know of none like that newspaper. Why, sir, +whose station, I would ask, nowadays, can exempt him from its impertinent +criticisms? Can Keldrum say—can I say—that to-morrow or next +day we shall not be arraigned for this, that, or t'other? I choose, for +instance, to manage my estate,—the property that has been in my +family for centuries,—the acres that have descended to us by grants +as old as Magna Charta. I desire, for reasons that seem sufficient to +myself, to convert arable into grass land. I say to one of my tenant +farmers—it's Hedgeworth—no matter, I shall not mention names, +but I say to him—” + </p> +<p> +“I know the man,” broke in the priest; “you mean Hedgeworth Davis, of +Mount Davis.” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, I do not,” said I, angrily, for I resented this attempt to run +me to earth. +</p> +<p> +“Hedgeworth! Hedgeworth! It ain't that fellow that was in the Rifles; the +2d battalion, is it?” said Ozley. +</p> +<p> +“I repeat,” said I, “that I will mention no names.” + </p> +<p> +“My mother had some relatives Hedgeworths, they were from Herefordshire. +How odd, Potts, if we should turn out to be connections! You said that +these people were related to you.” + </p> +<p> +“I hope,” I said angrily, “that I am not bound to give the birth, +parentage, and education of every man whose name I may mention in +conversation. At least, I would protest that I have not prepared myself +for such a demand upon my memory.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not, Potts. It would be a test no man could submit to,” said +his Lordship. +</p> +<p> +“That Hedgeworth, who was in the Rifles, exceeded all the fellows I ever +met in drawing the long bow. There was no country he had not been in, no +army he had not served with; he was related to every celebrated man in +Europe; and, after all, it turned out that his father was an attorney at +Market Harborough, and sub-agent to one of our fellows who had some +property there.” This was said by Hammond, who directed the speech +entirely to me. +</p> +<p> +“Confound the Hedgeworths, all together,” Ozley broke in. “They have +carried us miles away from what we were talking of.” + </p> +<p> +This was a sentiment that met my heartiest concurrence, and I nodded in +friendly recognition to the speaker, and drank off my glass to his health. +</p> +<p> +“Who can give us a song? I 'll back his reverence here to be a vocalist,” + cried Hammond. And sure enough, Dyke sang one of the national melodies +with great feeling and taste. Ozley followed with something in less +perfect taste, and we all grew very jolly. Then there came a broiled bone +and some devilled kidneys, and a warm brew which Hammond himself +concocted,—a most insidious liquor, which had a strong odor of +lemons, and was compounded, at the same time, of little else than rum and +sugar. +</p> +<p> +There is an adage that says “in vino Veritas,” which I shrewdly suspect to +be a great fallacy; at least, as regards my own case, I know it to be +totally inapplicable. I am in my sober hours—and I am proud to say +that the exceptions from such are of the rarest—one of the most +veracious of mortals; indeed, in my frank sincerity, I have often given +offence to those who like a courteous hypocrisy better than an ungraceful +truth. Whenever by any chance it has been my ill-fortune to transgress +these limits, there is no bound to my imagination. There is nothing too +extravagant or too vainglorious for me to say of myself. All the strange +incidents of romance that I have read, all the travellers' stories, +newspaper accidents, adventures by sea and land, wonderful coincidences, +unexpected turns of fortune, I adapt to myself, and coolly relate them as +personal experiences. Listeners have afterwards told me that I possess an +amount of consistence, a verisimilitude in these narratives perfectly +marvellous, and only to be accounted for by supposing that I myself must, +for the time being, be the dupe of my own imagination. Indeed, I am sure +such must be the true explanation of this curious fact. How, in any other +mode, explain the rash wagers, absurd and impossible engagements I have +contracted in such moments, backing myself to leap twenty-three feet on +the level sward; to dive in six fathoms water, and fetch up Heaven knows +what of shells and marine curiosities from the bottom; to ride the most +unmanageable of horses; and, single-handed and unarmed, to fight the +fiercest bulldog in England? Then, as to intellectual feats, what have I +not engaged to perform? Sums of mental arithmetic; whole newspapers +committed to memory after one reading; verse compositions, on any theme, +in ten languages; and once a written contract to compose a whole opera, +with all the scores, within twenty-four hours. To a nature thus strangely +constituted, wine was a perfect magic wand, transforming a poor, weak, +distrustful modest man into a hero; and yet, even with such temptations, +my excesses were extremely rare and unfrequent. Are there many, I would +ask, that could resist the passport to such a dreamland, with only the +penalty of a headache the next morning? Some one would, perhaps, suggest +that these were enjoyments to pay forfeit on. Well, so they were; but I +must not anticipate. And now to my tale. +</p> +<p> +To Hammond's brew there succeeded one by Oxley, made after an American +receipt, and certainly both fragrant and insinuating; and then came a +concoction made by the priest, which he called “Father Hosey's pride.” It +was made in a bowl, and drunk out of lemon-rinds, ingeniously fitted into +the wine-glasses. I remember no other particulars about it, though I can +call to mind much of the conversation that preceded it. How I gave a long +historical account of my family, that we came originally from Corsica, the +name Potts being a corruption of Pozzo, and that we were of the same stock +as the celebrated diplomatist Pozzo di Borgo. Our unclaimed estates in the +island were of fabulous value, but in asserting my right to them I should +accept thirteen mortal duels, the arrears of a hundred and odd years +un-scored off, in anticipation of which I had at one time taken lessons +from Angelo, in fencing, which led to the celebrated challenge they might +have read in “Galignani,” where I offered to meet any swordsman in Europe +for ten thousand Napoleons, giving choice of the weapon to my adversary. +With a tear to the memory of the poor French colonel that I killed at +Sedan, I turned the conversation. Being in France, I incidentally +mentioned some anecdotes of military life, and bow I had invented the +rifle called after Minié's name, and, in a moment of good nature, given +that excellent fellow my secret. +</p> +<p> +“I will say,” said I, “that Minié has shown more gratitude than some +others nearer home, but we 'll talk of rifled cannon another time.” + </p> +<p> +In an episode about bear-shooting, I mentioned the Emperor of Russia, poor +dear Nicholas, and told how we had once exchanged horses,—mine being +more strong-boned, and a weight-carrier; his a light Caucasian mare of +purest breed, “the dam of that creature you may see below in the stable +now,” said I, carelessly. “'Come and see me one of these days, Potts,' +said he, in parting; 'come and pass a week with me at Constantinople.' +This was the first intimation he had ever given of his project against +Turkey; and when I told it to the Duke of Wellington, his remark was a +muttered 'Strange fellow, Potts,—knows everything!' though he made +no reply to me at the time.” + </p> +<p> +It was somewhere about this period that the priest began with what struck +me as an attempt to outdo me as a storyteller, an effort I should have +treated with the most contemptuous indifference but for the amount of +attention bestowed on him by the others. Nor was this all, but actually I +perceived that a kind of rivalry was attempted to be established, so that +we were pitted directly against each other. Amongst the other +self-delusions of such moments was the profound conviction I entertained +that I was master of all games of skill and address, superior to Major A. +at whist, and able to give Staunton a pawn and the move at chess. The +priest was just as vainglorious. “He'd like to see the man who 'd play him +a game of 'spoiled five'”—whatever that was—“or drafts; ay, +or, though it was not his pride, a bit of backgammon.” + </p> +<p> +“Done, for fifty pounds; double on the gammon!” cried I. +</p> +<p> +“Fifty fiddlesticks!” cried he; “where would you or I find as many +shillings?” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean, sir?” said I, angrily. “Am I to suppose that you doubt +my competence to risk such a comtemptible sum, or is it to your own +inability alone you would testify?” + </p> +<p> +A very acrimonious dispute followed, of which I have no clear +recollection. I only remember how Hammond was out-and out for the priest, +and Oxley too tipsy to take <i>my</i> part with any efficiency. At last—Row +arranged I can't say—peace was restored, and the next thing I can +recall was listening to Father Dyke giving a long, and of course a most +fabulous, history of a ring that he wore on his second finger. It was +given by the Pretender, he said, to his uncle, the celebrated Carmelite +monk, Lawrence O'Kelly, who for years bad followed the young prince's +fortunes. It was an onyx, with the letters C. E. S. engraved on it. +Keldrum took an immense fancy to it; he protested that everything that +attached to that unhappy family possessed in his eyes an uncommon +interest. “If you have a fancy to take up Potto's wager,” said he, +laughingly, “I'll give you fifty pounds for your signet ring.” + </p> +<p> +The priest demurred; Hammond interposed; then there was more discussion, +now warm, now jocose. Oxley tried to suggest something, which we all +laughed at. Keldrum placed the backgammon board meanwhile; but I can give +no clear account of what ensued, though I remember that the terms of our +wager were committed to writing by Hammond, and signed by Father D. and +myself, and in the conditions there figured a certain ring, guaranteed to +have belonged to and been worn by his Royal Highness Charles Edward, and a +cream-colored horse, equally guaranteed as the produce of a Caucasian mare +presented by the late Emperor Nicholas to the present owner. The document +was witnessed by all three, Oxley's name written in two letters, and a +flourish. After that, I played, and lost! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. PLEASANT REFLECTIONS ON AWAKING. +</h2> +<p> +I can recall to this very hour the sensations of headache and misery with +which I awoke the morning after this debauch. Backing pain it was, with a +sort of tremulous beating all through the brain, as though a small engine +had been set to work there, and that piston and boiler and connecting-rod +were all banging, fizzing, and vibrating amid my fevered senses. I was, +besides, much puzzled to know where I was, and how I had come there. +Controversial divinity, genealogy, horse-racing, the peerage, and “double +sixes” were dancing a wild cotillon through my brain; and although a +waiter more than once cautiously obtruded his head into the room, to see +if I were asleep, and as guardedly withdrew it again, I never had energy +to speak to him, but lay passive and still, waiting till my mind might +clear, and the cloud-fog that obscured my faculties might be wafted away. +</p> +<p> +At last—it was towards evening—the man, possibly becoming +alarmed at my protracted lethargy, moved somewhat briskly through the +room, and with that amount of noise that showed he meant to arouse me, +disturbed chairs and fire-irons indiscriminately. +</p> +<p> +“Is it late or early?” asked I, faintly. +</p> +<p> +“Tis near five, sir, and a beautiful evening,” said he, drawing nigh, with +the air of one disposed for colloquy. +</p> +<p> +I did n't exactly like to ask where I was, and tried to ascertain the fact +by a little circumlocution. “I suppose,” said I, yawning, “for all that is +to be done in a place like this, when up, one might just as well stay +abed, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“T is the snuggest place, anyhow,” said he, with that peculiar disposition +to agree with you so characteristic in an Irish waiter. +</p> +<p> +“No society?” sighed I. +</p> +<p> +“No, indeed, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“No theatre?” + </p> +<p> +“Devil a one, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“No sport?” + </p> +<p> +“Yesterday was the last of the season, sir; and signs on it, his Lordship +and the other gentleman was off immediately after breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +“You mean Lord—Lord—” A mist was clearing slowly away, but I +could not yet see clearly. +</p> +<p> +“Lord Keldrum, sir; a real gentleman every inch of him.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! yes, to be sure,—a very old friend of mine,” muttered I. “And +so he's gone, is he?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; and the last word he said was about your honor.” + </p> +<p> +“About me,—what was it?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, indeed, sir,” replied the waiter, with a hesitating and confused +manner, “I did n't rightly understand it; but as well as I could catch the +words, it was something about hoping your honor had more of that wonderful +breed of horses the Emperor of Roosia gave you.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! I understand,” said I, stopping him abruptly. “By the way, how +is Blondel—that is, my horse—this morning?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, he looked fresh and hearty, when he went off this morning at +daybreak—” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” cried I, jumping up in my bed. “Went off? where to?” + </p> +<p> +“With Father Dyke on his back; and a neater hand he could n't wish over +him. 'Tim,' says he, to the ostler, as he mounted, 'there's a +five-shilling piece for you, for hansel, for I won this baste last night, +and you must drink my health and wish me luck with him.'” + </p> +<p> +I heard no more, but, sinking back into the bed, I covered my face with my +hands, overcome with shame and misery. All the mists that had blurred my +faculties had now been swept clean away, and the whole history of the +previous evening was revealed before me. My stupid folly, my absurd +boastfulness, my egregious story-telling,—not to call it worse,—were +all there; but, shall I acknowledge it? what pained me not less poignantly +was the fact that I ventured to stake the horse I had merely hired, and +actually lost him at the play-table. +</p> +<p> +As soon as I rallied from this state of self-accusation, I set to work to +think how I should manage to repossess myself of my beast, my loss of +which might be converted into a felony. To follow the priest and ransom +Blondel was my first care. Father Dyke would most probably not exact an +unreasonable price; he, of course, never believed one word of my +nonsensical narrative about Schamyl and the Caucasus, and he 'd not +revenge upon Potts sober the follies of Potts tipsy. It is true my purse +was a very slender one, but Blondel, to any one unacquainted with his +pedigree, could not be a costly animal; fifteen pounds—twenty, +certainly—ought to buy what the priest would call “every hair on his +tail.” + </p> +<p> +It was now too late in the evening to proceed to execute the measures I +had resolved on, and so I determined to lie still and ponder over them. +Dismissing the waiter, with an order to bring me a cup of tea about eight +o'clock, I resumed my cogitations. They were not pleasant ones: Potts a +byword for the most outrageous and incoherent balderdash and untruth; +Potts in the “Hue and Cry;” Potts in the dock; Potts in the pillory; Potts +paragraphed in “Punch;” portrait of Potts, price one penny!—these +were only a few of the forms in which the descendant of the famous +Corsican family of Pozzo di Borgo now presented himself to my imagination. +</p> +<p> +The courts and quadrangles of Old Trinity ringing with laughter, the +coarse exaggerations of tasteless scoffers, the jokes and sneers of +stupidity, malice, and all uncharitableness, rang in my ears as if I heard +them. All possible and impossible versions of the incident passed in +review before me: my father, driven distracted by impertinent inquiries, +cutting me off with a shilling, and then dying of mortification and +chagrin; rewards offered for my apprehension; descriptions, not in any way +flatteries, of my personal appearance; paragraphs of local papers hinting +that the notorious Potts was supposed to have been seen in our +neighborhood yesterday, with sly suggestions about looking after +stable-doors, &c. I could bear it no longer. I jumped up, and rang the +bell violently. +</p> +<p> +“You know this Father Dyke, waiter? In what part of the country does he +live?” + </p> +<p> +“He's parish priest of Inistioge,” said he; “the snuggest place in the +whole county.” + </p> +<p> +“How far from this may it be?” + </p> +<p> +“It's a matter of five-and-forty miles; and by the same token, he said he +'d not draw bridle till he got home to-night, for there was a fair at +Grague to-morrow, and if he was n't pleased with the baste he 'd sell him +there.” + </p> +<p> +I groaned deeply; for here was a new complication, entirely unlooked for. +“You can't possibly mean,” gasped I out, “that a respectable clergyman +would expose for sale a horse lent to him casually by a friend?” for the +thought struck me that this protest of mine should be thus early on +record. +</p> +<p> +The waiter scratched his head and looked confused. Whether another version +of the event possessed him, or that my question staggered his convictions, +I am unable to say; but he made no reply. “It is true,” continued I, in +the same strain, “that I met his reverence last night for the first time. +My friend Lord Keldrum made us acquainted; but seeing him received at my +noble friend's board, I naturally felt, and said to myself, 'The man +Keldrum admits to his table is the equal of any one.' Could anything be +more reasonable than that?” + </p> +<p> +“No, indeed, sir; nothing,” said the waiter, obsequiously. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then,” resumed I, “some day or other it may chance that you will be +called on to remember and recall this conversation between us; if so, it +will be important that you should have a clear and distinct memory of the +fact that when I awoke in the morning, and asked for my horse, the answer +you made me was—What was the answer you made me?” + </p> +<p> +“The answer I med was this,” said the fellow, sturdily, and with an +effrontery I can never forget,—“the answer I med was, that the man +that won him took him away.” + </p> +<p> +“You're an insolent scoundrel,” cried I, boiling over with passion, “and +if you don't ask pardon for this outrage on your knees, I 'll include you +in the indictment for conspiracy.” + </p> +<p> +So far from proceeding to the penitential act I proposed, the fellow +grinned from ear to ear, and left the room. It was a long time before I +could recover my wonted calm and composure. That this rascal's evidence +would be fatal to me if the question ever came to trial, was as clear as +noonday; not less clear was it that he knew this himself. +</p> +<p> +“I must go back at once to town,” thought I. “I will surrender myself to +the law. If a compromise be impossible, I will perish at the stake.” + </p> +<p> +I forgot there was no stake; but there was wool-carding, and +oakum-picking, and wheel-treading, and oyster-shell pounding, and other +small plays of this nature, infinitely more degrading to humanity than all +the cruelties of our barbarous ancestors. +</p> +<p> +Now, in no record of lives of adventure had I met any account of such +trials as these. The Silvio Pellicos of Pentonville are yet unwritten +martyrs. Prison discipline would vulgarize the grandest epic that ever was +conceived “Anything rather than this,” said I, aloud. “Proscribed, +outlawed, hunted down, but never, gray-coated and hair-clipped, shall a +Potts be sentenced to the 'crank,' or black-holed as refractory!—Bring +me my bill,” cried I, in a voice of indignant anger. “I will go forth into +the world of darkness and tempest; I will meet the storm and the +hurricane; better all the conflict of the elements than man's—than +man's—” I was n't exactly sure what; but there was no need of the +word, for a gust of wind had just flattened my umbrella in my face as I +issued forth, and left me breathless, as the door closed behind me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V. THE ROSARY AT INISTIOGE +</h2> +<p> +As I walked onward against the swooping wind and the plashing rain, I felt +a sort of heroic ardor in the notion of breasting the adverse waves of +life so boldly. It is not every fellow could do this,—throw his +knapsack on his shoulder, seize his stick, and set out in storm and +blackness. No, Potts, my man; for downright inflexibility of purpose, for +bold and resolute action, you need yield to none! It was, indeed, an awful +night; the thunder rolled and crashed with scarce an interval of +cessation; forked lightning tore across the sky in every direction; while +the wind swept through the deep glen, smashing branches and uplifting +large trees like mere shrubs. I was soon completely drenched, and my +soaked clothes hung around with the weight of lead; my spirits, however, +sustained me, and I toiled along, occasionally in a sort of wild bravado, +giving a cheer as the thunder rolled close above my head, and trying to +sing, as though my heart were as gay and my spirits as light as in an hour +of happiest abandonment. +</p> +<p> +Jean Paul has somewhere the theory that our Good Genius is attached to us +from our birth by a film fine as gossamer, and which few of us escape +rupturing in the first years of youth, thus throwing ourselves at once +without chart or pilot upon the broad ocean of life. He, however, more +happily constituted, who feels the guidance of his guardian spirit, +recognizes the benefits of its care, and the admonitions of its wisdom,—<i>he</i> +is destined to great things. Such men discover new worlds beyond the seas, +carry conquest over millions, found dynasties, and build up empires; they +whom the world regard as demigods having simply the wisdom of being led by +fortune, and not severing the slender thread that unites them to their +destiny. Was I, Potts, in this glorious category? Had the lesson of the +great moralist been such a warning to me that I had preserved the filmy +link unbroken? I really began to think so; a certain impulse, a whispering +voice within, that said, “Go on!” On, ever onward! seemed to be the +accents of that Fate which had great things in store for me, and would +eventually make me illustrious. +</p> +<p> +No illusions of your own, Potts, no phantasmagoria of your own poor heated +fancy, must wile you away from the great and noble part destined for you. +No weakness, no faint-heartedness, no shrinking from toil, nor even peril. +Work hard to know thoroughly for what Fate intends you; read your +credentials well, and then go to your post unflinchingly. Revolving this +theory of mine, I walked ever on. It opened a wide field, and my +imagination disported in it, as might a wild mustang over some vast +prairie. The more I thought over it, the more did it seem to me the real +embodiment of that superstition which extends to every land and every +family of men. We are Lucky when, submitting to our Good Genius, we suffer +ourselves to be led along unhesitatingly; we are Unlucky when, breaking +our frail bonds, we encounter life unguided and unaided. +</p> +<p> +What a docile, obedient, and believing pupil did I pledge myself to be! +Fate should see that she had no refractory nor rebellious spirit in me, no +self-indulgent voluptuary, seeking only the sunny side of existence, but a +nature ready to confront the rugged conflict of life, and to meet its +hardships, if such were my allotted path. +</p> +<p> +I applied the circumstances in which I then found myself to my theory, and +met no difficulty in the adaptation. Blondel was to perform a great part +in my future. Blondel was a symbol selected by fate to indicate a certain +direction. Blondel was a lamp by which I could find my way in the dark +paths of the world. With Blondel, my Good Genius would walk beside me, or +occasionally get up on the crupper, but never leave me or desert me. In +the high excitement of my mind, I felt no sense of bodily fatigue, but +walked on, drenched to the skin, alternately shivering with cold or +burning with all the intensity of fever. In this state was it that I +entered the little inn of Ovoco soon after daybreak, and stood dripping in +the bar, a sad spectacle of exhaustion and excitement My first question +was, “Has Blondel been here?” and before they could reply, I went on with +all the rapidity of delirium to assure them that deception of me would be +fruitless; that Fate and I understood each other thoroughly, travelled +together on the best of terms, never disagreed about anything, but, by a +mutual system of give and take, hit it off like brothers. I talked for an +hour in this strain; and then my poor faculties, long struggling and sore +pushed, gave way completely, and I fell into brain fever. +</p> +<p> +I chanced upon kind and good-hearted folk, who nursed me with care and +watched me with interest; but my illness was a severe one, and it was only +in the sixth week that I could be about again, a poor, weak, emaciated +creature, with failing limbs and shattered nerves. There is an +indescribable sense of weariness in the mind after fever, just as if the +brain had been enormously over-taxed and exerted, and that in the pursuit +of all the wild and fleeting fancies of delirium it had travelled over +miles and miles of space. To the depressing influence of this sensation is +added the difficulty of disentangling the capricious illusions of the +sick-bed from the actual facts of life; and in this maze of confusion my +first days of convalescence were passed. Blondel was my great puzzle. Was +he a reality, or a mere creature of imagination? Had I really ridden him +as a horse, or only as an idea? Was he a quadruped with mane and tail, or +an allegory invented to typify destiny? I cannot say what hours of painful +brain labor this inquiry cost me, and what intense research into myself. +Strange enough, too, though I came out of the investigation convinced of +his existence, I arrived at the conclusion that he was a “horse and +something more.” Not that I am able to explain myself more fully on that +head, though, if I were writing this portion of my memoirs in German, I +suspect I could convey enough of my meaning to give a bad headache to any +one indulgent enough to follow me. +</p> +<p> +I set out once more upon my pilgrimage on a fine day of June, my steps +directed to the village of Inistioge, where Father Dyke resided. I was too +weak for much exertion, and it was only after five days of the road I +reached at nightfall the little glen in which the village stood. The moon +was up, streaking the wide market-places with long lines of yellow light +between the rows of tall elm-trees, and tipping with silvery sheen the +bright eddies of the beautiful river that rolled beside it. Over the +granite cliffs that margined the stream, laurel, and arbutus, and wild +holly clustered in wild luxuriance, backed higher up again, by tall +pine-trees, whose leafy summits stood out against the sky; and lastly, +deep within a waving meadow, stood an old ruined abbey, whose traceried +window was now softly touched by the moonlight All was still and silent, +except the rush of the rapid river, as I sat down upon a stone bench to +enjoy the scene and luxuriate in its tranquil serenity. I had not believed +Ireland contained such a spot, for there was all the trim neatness and +careful propriety of an English village, with that luxuriance of verdure +and wild beauty so eminently Irish. How was it that I had never heard of +it before? Were others aware of it, or was the discovery strictly my own? +Or can it possibly be that all this picturesque loveliness is but the +effect of a mellow moon? While I thus questioned myself, I heard the sound +of a quick footstep rapidly approaching, and soon afterwards the pleasant +tone of a rich voice humming an opera air. I arose, and saw a tall, +athletic-looking figure, with rod and fishing-basket, approaching me. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask you, sir,” said I, addressing him, “if this village contains an +inn?” + </p> +<p> +“There is, or rather there was, a sort of inn here,” said he, removing his +cigar as he spoke; “but the place is so little visited that I fancy the +landlord found it would not answer, and so it is closed at this moment.” + </p> +<p> +“But do visitors—tourists—never pass this way?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, and a few salmon-fishers, like myself, come occasionally in the +season; but then we dispose ourselves in little lodgings, here and there, +some of us with the farmers, one or two of us with the priest.” + </p> +<p> +“Father Dyke?” broke I in. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; you know him, perhaps?” + </p> +<p> +“I have heard of him, and met him, indeed,” added I, after a pause. “Where +may his house be?” + </p> +<p> +“The prettiest spot in the whole glen. If you 'd like to see it in this +picturesque moonlight, come along with me.” + </p> +<p> +I accepted the invitation at once, and we walked on together. The easy, +half-careless tone of the stranger, the loose, lounging stride of his +walk, and a certain something in his mellow voice, seemed to indicate one +of those natures which, so to say, take the world well,—temperaments +that reveal themselves almost immediately. He talked away about fishing as +he went, and appeared to take a deep interest in the sport, not heeding +much the ignorance I betrayed on the subject, nor my ignoble confession +that I had never adventured upon anything higher than a worm and a quill. +</p> +<p> +“I'm sure,” said he, laughingly, “Tom Dyke never encouraged you in such +sporting-tackle, glorious fly-fisher as he is.” + </p> +<p> +“You forget, perhaps,” replied I, “that I scarcely have any acquaintance +with him. We met once only at a dinnerparty.” + </p> +<p> +“He's a pleasant fellow,” resumed he; “devilish wideawake, one must say; +up to most things in this same world of ours.” + </p> +<p> +“That much my own brief experience of him can confirm,” said I, dryly, for +the remark rather jarred upon my feelings. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said he, as though following out his own train of thought “Old Tom +is not a bird to be snared with coarse lines. The man must be an early +riser that catches him napping.” + </p> +<p> +I cannot describe how this irritated me. It sounded like so much direct +sarcasm upon my weakness and want of acuteness. +</p> +<p> +“There's the 'Rosary;' that's his cottage,” said he, taking my arm, while +he pointed upward to a little jutting promontory of rock over the river, +surmounted by a little thatched cottage almost embowered in roses and +honeysuckles. So completely did it occupy the narrow limits of ground, +that the windows projected actually over the stream, and the creeping +plants that twined through the little balconies hung in tangled masses +over the water. “Search where you will through the Scottish and Cumberland +scenery, I defy you to match that,” said my companion; “not to say that +you can hook a four-pound fish from that little balcony on any summer +evening while you smoke your cigar.” + </p> +<p> +“It is a lovely spot, indeed,” said I, inhaling with ecstasy the delicious +perfume which in the calm night air seemed to linger in the atmosphere. +</p> +<p> +“He tells me,” continued my companion,—“and I take his word for it, +for I am no florist,—that there are seventy varieties of the rose on +and around that cottage. I can answer for it that you can't open a window +without a great mass of flowers coming in showers over you. I told him, +frankly, that if I were his tenant for longer than the fishing-season, I +'d clear half of them away.” + </p> +<p> +“You live there, then?” asked I, timidly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I rent the cottage, all but two rooms, which he wished to keep for +himself, but which he now writes me word may be let, for this month and +the next, if a tenant offer. Would you like them?” asked he, abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Of all things—that is—I think so—I should like to see +them first!” muttered I, half startled by the suddenness of the question. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing easier,” said he, opening a little wicket as he spoke, and +beginning to ascend a flight of narrow steps cut in the solid rock. “This +is a path of my designing,” continued he; “the regular approach is on the +other side; but this saves fully half a mile of road, though it be a +little steep.” + </p> +<p> +As I followed him up the ascent, I proposed to myself a variety of +questions, such as, where and how I was to procure accommodation for the +night, and in what manner to obtain something to eat, of which I stood +much in need? and I had gained a little flower-garden at the rear of the +cottage before I had resolved any of these difficult points. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are,” said he, drawing a long breath. “You can't see much of the +view at this hour; but to-morrow, when you stand on this spot, and look +down that reach of the river, with Mont Alto in the background, you 'll +tell me if you know anything finer!” + </p> +<p> +“Is that Edward?” cried a soft voice; and at the same instant a young girl +came hastily out of the cottage, and, throwing her arms around my +companion, exclaimed, “How you have alarmed me! What could possibly have +kept you out so late?” + </p> +<p> +“A broad-shouldered fish, a fellow weighing twelve pounds at the very +least, and who, after nigh three hours' playing, got among the rocks and +smashed my tackle.” + </p> +<p> +“And you lost him?” + </p> +<p> +“That did I, and some twenty yards of gut, and the top splice of my best +rod, and my temper, besides. But I 'm forgetting; Mary, here is a +gentleman who will, I hope, not refuse to join us at supper.—My +sister.” + </p> +<p> +By the manner of presentation, it was clear that he expected to hear my +name, and so I interposed, “Mr. Potts,—Algernon Sydney Potts.” + </p> +<p> +The young lady courtesied slightly, muttered something like a repetition +of the invitation, and led the way into the cottage. +</p> +<p> +My astonishment was great at the “interior” now before me; for though all +the arrangements bespoke habits of comfort and even luxury, there was a +studious observance of cottage style in everything; the bookshelves, the +tables, the very pianoforte, being all made of white unvarnished wood. And +I now perceived that the young lady herself, with a charming coquetry, had +assumed something of the costume of the Oberland, and wore her bodice +laced in front, and covered with silver embroidery both tasteful and +becoming. +</p> +<p> +“My name is Crofton,” said my host, as he disengaged himself of his basket +and tackle; “we are almost as much strangers here as yourself. I came here +for the fishing, and mean to take myself off when it 's over.” + </p> +<p> +“I hope not, Edward,” broke in the girl, who was now, with the assistance +of a servant-woman, preparing the table for supper; “I hope you 'll stay +till we see the autumn tints on those trees.” + </p> +<p> +“My sister is just as great an enthusiast about sketching as I am for +salmon-fishing,” said he, laughingly; “and for my own part, I like scenery +and landscape very well, but think them marvellously heightened by +something like sport. Are you an angler?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “I know nothing of the gentle craft” + </p> +<p> +“Fond of shooting, perhaps? Some men think the two sports incompatible.” + </p> +<p> +“I am as inexpert with the gun as the rod,” said I, diffidently. +</p> +<p> +I perceived that the sister gave a sly look under her long eyelashes +towards me; but what its meaning, I could not well discover. Was it +depreciation of a man who avowed himself unacquainted with the sports of +the field, or was it a quiet recognition of claims more worthy of regard? +At all events, I perceived that she had very soft, gentle-looking gray +eyes, a very fair skin, and a profusion of beautiful brown hair. I had not +thought her pretty at first I now saw that she was extremely pretty, and +her figure, though slightly given to fulness, the perfection of grace. +</p> +<p> +Hungry, almost famished as I was, with a fast of twelve hours, I felt no +impatience so long as she moved about in preparation for the meal. How she +disposed the little table equipage, the careful solicitude with which she +arranged the fruit and the flowers,—not always satisfied with her +first dispositions, but changing them for something different,—all +interested me vastly, and when at last we were summoned to table, I +actually felt sorry and disappointed. +</p> +<p> +Was it really so delicious, was the cookery so exquisite? I own frankly +that I am not a trustworthy witness; but if my oath could be taken, I am +willing to swear that I believe there never were such salmon-steaks, such +a pigeon-pie, and such a damson-tart served to mortals as these. My +enthusiasm, I suspect, must have betrayed itself in some outward +manifestation, for I remember Crofton laughingly having remarked,— +</p> +<p> +“You will turn my sister's head, Mr. Potts, by such flatteries; all the +more, since her cookery is self-taught.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't believe him, Mr. Potts; I have studied all the great masters of the +art, and you shall have an omelette to-morrow for breakfast, Brillat +Savarin himself would not despise.” + </p> +<p> +I blushed at the offer of an hospitality so neatly and delicately +insinuated, and had really no words to acknowledge it, nor was my +confusion unfavorably judged by my hosts. Crofton marked it quickly, and +said,— +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Potts, and I 'll teach you to hook a trout afterwards. Meanwhile +let us have a glass of Sauterne together; we drink it out of green +glasses, to cheat ourselves into the fancy that it's Rhenish.” + </p> +<p> +“'Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsere Reben,'” said I, quoting the +students' song. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, have you been in Germany?” cried she, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Alas! no,” said I. “I have never travelled.” I thought she looked +disappointed as I said this. Indeed, I already wished it unsaid; but her +brother broke in with,— +</p> +<p> +“We are regular vagabonds, Mr. Potts. My sister and myself have had a +restless paroxysm for the last three years of life; and what with seeking +cool spots for the summer and hot climates for winter, we are scarcely +ever off the road.” + </p> +<p> +“Like the gentleman, I suppose, who ate oysters for appetite, but carried +his system so far as to induce indigestion.” My joke failed; nobody +laughed, and I was overwhelmed with confusion, which I was fain to bury in +my strawberries and cream. +</p> +<p> +“Let us have a little music, Mary,” said Crofton. “Do you play or sing, +Mr. Potts?” + </p> +<p> +“Neither. I do nothing,” cried I, in despair. “As Sydney Smith says, 'I +know something about the Romans,' but, for any gift or grace which could +adorn society, or make time pass more pleasantly, I am an utter bankrupt.” + </p> +<p> +The young girl had, while I was speaking, taken her place at the +pianoforte, and was half listlessly suffering her hands to fall in chords +over the instrument. +</p> +<p> +“Come out upon this terrace, here,” cried Crofton to me, “and we 'll have +our cigar. What I call a regular luxury after a hard day is to lounge out +here in the cool night air, and enjoy one's weed while listening to Spohr +or Beethoven.” + </p> +<p> +It was really delightful. The bright stars were all reflected in the calm +river down below, and a thousand odors floated softly on the air as we sat +there. +</p> +<p> +Are there not in every man's experience short periods in which he seemed +to have lived longer than during whole years of life? They tell us there +are certain conditions of the atmosphere, inappreciable as to the +qualities, which seem to ripen wines, imparting to young fresh vintages +all the mellow richness of age, all the depth of flavor, all the velvety +softness of time. May there not possibly be influences which similarly +affect our natures? May there not be seasons in which changes as great as +these are wrought within us? I firmly believe it, and as firmly that such +a period was that in which I sat on the balcony over the Nore, listening +to Mary Crofton as she sang, but just as often lost to every sound, and +deep in a heaven of blended enjoyments, of which no one ingredient was in +the ascendant. Starry sky, rippling river, murmuring night winds, perfumed +air, floating music, all mingling as do the odors of an incense, and, like +an incense, filling the brain with a delicious intoxication. +</p> +<p> +Hour after hour must have passed with me in this half-conscious ecstasy, +for Crofton at last said,— +</p> +<p> +“There, where you see that pinkish tint through the gray, that's the sign +of breaking day, and the signal for bedtime. Shall I show you your room?” + </p> +<p> +“How I wish this could last forever!” cried I, rapturously; and then, half +ashamed of my warmth, I stammered out a good-night, and retired. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. MY SELF-EXAMINATION. +</h2> +<p> +Our life at the Rosary—for it was <i>our</i> life now of which I +have to speak—was one of unbroken enjoyment. On fine days we fished; +that is, Crofton did, and I loitered along some river's bank till I found +a quiet spot to plant my rod, and stretch myself on the grass, now +reading, of tender dreaming, such glorious dreams as only come in the +leafy shading of summer time, to a mind enraptured with all around it The +lovely scenery and the perfect solitude of the spot ministered well to my +fanciful mood, and left me free to weave the most glittering web of +incident for my future. So utterly was all the past blotted from my memory +that I recalled nothing of existence more remote than my first evening at +the cottage. If for a parting instant a thought of bygones would obtrude, +I hastened to escape from it as from a gloomy reminiscence. I turned away +as would a dreamer who dreaded to awaken out of some delicious vision, and +who would not face the dull aspect of reality. Three weeks thus glided by +of such happiness as I can scarcely yet recall without emotion! The +Croftons had come to treat me like a brother; they spoke of family events +in all freedom before me; talked of the most confidential things in my +presence, and discussed their future plans and their means as freely in my +hearing as though I had been kith and kin with them. I learned that they +were orphans, educated and brought up by a rich, eccentric uncle, who +lived in a sort of costly reclusion in one of the Cumberland dales; +Edward, who had served in the army, and been wounded in an Indian +campaign, had given up the service in a fit of impatience of being passed +over in promotion. +</p> +<p> +His uncle resented the rash step by withdrawing the liberal allowance he +had usually made him, and they quarrelled. Mary Crofton, espousing her +brother's side, quitted her guardian's roof to join his; and thus had they +rambled about the world for two or three years, on means scanty enough, +but still sufficient to provide for those who neither sought to enter +society nor partake of its pleasures. +</p> +<p> +As I advanced in the intimacy, I became depository of the secrets of each. +Edward's was the sorrow he felt for having involved his sister in his own +ruin, and been the means of separating her from one so well able and so +willing to befriend her. Hers was the more bitter thought that their +narrow means should prejudice her brother's chances of recovery, for his +chest had shown symptoms of dangerous disease requiring all that climate +and consummate care might do to overcome. Preyed on incessantly by this +reflection, unable to banish it, equally unable to resist its force, he +took the first and only step she had ever adventured without his +knowledge, and had written to her uncle a long letter of explanations and +entreaty. +</p> +<p> +I saw the letter, and read it carefully. It was all that sisterly love and +affection could dictate, accompanied by a sense of dignity, that if her +appeal should be unsuccessful, no slight should be passed upon her +brother, who was unaware of the step thus taken. To express this +sufficiently, she was driven to the acknowledgment that Edward would never +have himself stooped to the appeal; and so careful was she of his honor in +this respect, that she repeated—with what appeared to me unnecessary +insistence—that the request should be regarded as hers, and hers +only. In fact, this was the uppermost sentiment in the whole epistle. I +ventured to say as much, and endeavored to induce her to moderate in some +degree the amount of this pretension; but she resisted firmly and +decidedly. Now, I have recorded this circumstance here,—less for +itself than to mention how by its means this little controversy led to a +great intimacy between us,—inducing us, while defending our separate +views, to discuss each other's motives, and even characters, with the +widest freedom. I called her enthusiast, and in return she styled me +worldly and calculating; and, indeed, I tried to seem so, and fortified my +opinions by prudential maxims and severe reflections I should have been +sorely indisposed to adopt in my own case. I believe she saw all this. I +am sure she read me aright, and perceived that I was arguing against my +own convictions. At all events, day after day went over, and no answer +came to the letter. I used to go each morning to the post in the village +to inquire, but always returned with the same disheartening tidings, +“Nothing to-day!” + </p> +<p> +One of these mornings it was, that I was returning disconsolately from the +village, Crofton, whom I believed at the time miles away on the mountains, +overtook me. He came up from behind, and, passing his arm within mine, +walked on some minutes without speaking. I saw plainly there was something +on his mind, and I half dreaded lest he might have discovered his sister's +secret and have disapproved of my share in it. +</p> +<p> +“Algy,” said he, calling me by my Christian name, which he very rarely +did, “I have something to say to you. Can I be quite certain that you 'll +take my frankness in good part?” + </p> +<p> +“You can,” I said, with a great effort to seem calm and assured. +</p> +<p> +“You give me your word upon it?” + </p> +<p> +“I do,” said I, trying to appear bold; “and my hand be witness of it” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” he resumed, drawing a long breath, “here it is. I have remarked +that for above a week back you have never waited for the postboy's return +to the cottage, but always have come down to the village yourself.” + </p> +<p> +I nodded assent, but said nothing. +</p> +<p> +“I have remarked, besides,” said he, “that when told at the office there +was no letter for you, you came away sad-looking and fretted, scarcely +spoke for some time, and seemed altogether downcast and depressed.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't deny it,” I said calmly. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” continued he, “some old experiences, of mine have taught me that +this sort of anxiety has generally but one source, with fellows of <i>our</i> +age, and which simply means that the remittance we have counted upon as +certain has been, from some cause or other, delayed. Is n't that the +truth?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I, joyfully, for I was greatly relieved by his words; “no, on +my honor, nothing of the kind.” + </p> +<p> +“I may not have hit the thing exactly,” said he, hurriedly, “but I 'll be +sworn it is a money matter; and if a couple of hundred pounds be of the +least service—” + </p> +<p> +“My dear, kind-hearted fellow,” I broke in, “I can't endure this longer: +it is no question of money; it is nothing that affects my means, though I +half wish it were, to show you how cheerfully I could owe you my escape +from a difficulty,—not, indeed, that I need another tie to bind me +to you—” But I could say no more, for my eyes were swimming over, +and my lips trembling. +</p> +<p> +“Then,” cried he, “I have only to ask pardon for thus obtruding upon your +confidence.” + </p> +<p> +I was too full of emotion to do more than squeeze his hand affectionately, +and thus we walked along, side by side, neither uttering a word. At last, +and as it were with an effort, by a bold transition, to carry our thoughts +into another and very different channel, he said: “Here's a letter from +old Dyke, our landlord. The worthy father has been enjoying himself in a +tour of English watering-places, and has now started for a few weeks up +the Rhine. His account of his holiday, as he calls it, is amusing; nor +less so is the financial accident to which he owes the excursion. Take it, +and read it,” he added, giving me the epistle. “If the style be the man, +his reverence is not difficult to decipher.” + </p> +<p> +I bestowed little attention on this speech, uttered, as I perceived, +rather from the impulse of starting a new topic than anything else, and, +taking the letter half mechanically, I thrust it in my pocket. One or two +efforts we made at conversation were equally failures, and it was a relief +to me when Crofton, suddenly remembering some night-lines be had laid in a +mountain lake a few miles off, hastily shook my hand, and said, “Good-bye +till dinner-time.” + </p> +<p> +When I reached the cottage, instead of entering I strolled into the +garden, and sought out a little summer-house of sweet-brier and +honeysuckle, on the edge of the river. Some strange, vague impression was +on me, that I needed time and place to commune with myself and be alone; +that a large unsettled account lay between me and my conscience, which +could not be longer deferred; but of what nature, how originating, and how +tending, I know nothing whatever. +</p> +<p> +I resolved to submit myself to a searching examination, to ascertain what +I might about myself. In my favorite German authors I had frequently read +that men's failures in life were chiefly owing to neglect of this habit of +self-investigation; that though we calculate well the dangers and +difficulties of an enterprise, we omit the more important estimate of what +may be our capacity to effect an object, what are our resources, wherein +our deficiencies. +</p> +<p> +“Now for it,” I thought, as I entered the little arbor,—“now for it, +Potts; kiss the book, and tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” + </p> +<p> +As I said this, I took off my hat and bowed respectfully around to the +members of an imaginary court. “My name,” said I, in a clear and +respectful voice, “is Algernon Sydney Potts. If I be pushed to the avowal, +I am sorry it <i>is</i> Potts. Algernon Sydney do a deal, but they can't +do everything,—not to say that captious folk see a certain bathos in +the collocation with my surname. Can a man hope to make such a name +illustrious? Can be aspire to the notion of a time when people will allude +to the great Potts, the celebrated Potts, the immortal Potts?” I grew very +red, I felt my cheek on fire as I uttered this, and I suddenly bethought +me of Mr. Pitt, and I said aloud, “And, if Pitt, why not Potts?” That was +a most healing recollection. I revelled in it for a long time. “How true +is it,” I continued, “that the halo of greatness illumines all within its +circle, and the man is merged in the grandeur of his achievements. The men +who start in life with high sounding designations have but to fill a +foregone pledge,—to pay the bill that fortune has endorsed. Not so +was our case, Pitt. To us is it to lay every foundation stone of our +future greatness. There was nothing in <i>your</i> surname to foretell you +would be a Minister of State at one-and-thirty,—there is no letter +of <i>mine</i> to indicate what I shall be. But what is it that I am to +be? Is it Poet, Philosopher, Politician, Soldier, or Discoverer? Am I to +be great in Art, or illustrious in Letters? Is there to be an ice tract of +Behring's Straits called Potts's Point, or a planet styled Pottsium Sidus? +And when centuries have rolled over, will historians have their difficulty +about the first Potts, and what his opinions were on this subject or +that?” + </p> +<p> +Then came a low soft sound of half-suppressed laughter, and then the +rustle of a muslin dress hastily brushing through the trees. I rushed out +from my retreat, and hurried down the walk. No one to be seen,—not a +soul; not a sound, either, to be heard. +</p> +<p> +“No use hiding, Mary,” I called out, “I saw you all the time; my mock +confession was got up merely to amuse you. Come out boldly and laugh as +long as you will.” No answer. This refusal amazed me. It was like a +disbelief in my assertion. “Come, come!” I cried, “you can't pretend to +think I was serious in all this vainglorious nonsense. Come, Mary, and let +us enjoy the laugh at it together. If you don't, I shall be angry. I'll +take it ill,—very ill.” + </p> +<p> +Still no reply. Could I, then, have been deceived? Was it a mere delusion? +But no; I heard the low laugh, and the rustle of the dress, and the quick +tread upon the gravel, too plainly for any mistake, and so I returned to +the cottage in chagrin and ill-temper. As I passed the open windows' of +the little drawing-room I saw Mary seated at her work, with, as was her +custom, an open book on a little table beside her. Absorbed as she was, +she did not lift her head, nor notice my approach till I entered the room. +</p> +<p> +“You have no letter for me?” she cried, in a voice of sorrowful meaning. +</p> +<p> +“None,” said I scrutinizing her closely, and sorely puzzled what to make +of her calm deportment. “Have you been out in the garden this morning?” I +asked, abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said she, frankly. +</p> +<p> +“Not quitted the house at all?” + </p> +<p> +“No. Why do you ask?” cried she, in some surprise. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll tell you,” I said, sitting down at her side, and speaking in a low +and confidential tone; “a strange thing has just happened to me.” And with +that I narrated the incident, glossing over, as best I might, the +absurdity of my soliloquizing, and the nature of the self-examination I +was engaged in. Without waiting for me to finish, she broke in suddenly +with a low laugh, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“It must have been Rose.” + </p> +<p> +“And who is Rose?” I asked half sternly. +</p> +<p> +“A cousin of ours, a mere school-girl, who has just arrived. She came by +the mail this morning, when you were out. But here she is, coming up the +walk. Just step behind that screen, and you shall have your revenge. I'll +make her tell everything.” + </p> +<p> +I had barely time to conceal myself, when, with a merry laugh, a fresh, +girlish voice called out, “I 've seen him! I have seen him, Mary! I was +sitting on the rock beside the river, when he came into the summer-house, +and, fancying himself alone and unseen, proceeded to make his confession +to himself.” + </p> +<p> +“His confession! What do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“I don't exactly know whether that be the proper name for it, but it was a +sort of self-examination, not very painful, certainly, inasmuch as it was +rather flattering than otherwise.” + </p> +<p> +“I really cannot understand you, Rose.” + </p> +<p> +“I'm not surprised,” said she, laughing again. “It was some time before I +could satisfy myself that he was not talking to somebody else, or reading +ont of a book; and when, peeping through the leaves, I perceived he was +quite alone, I almost screamed out with laughing.” + </p> +<p> +“But why, child? What was the absurdity that amused you?” + </p> +<p> +“Fancy the creature. I need not describe him, Molly. You know him well, +with his great staring light-green eyes, and his wild yellow hair. Imagine +his walking madly to and fro, tossing his long arms about in uncouth +gestures, while he asked himself seriously whether he would n't be +Shakspeare, or Milton, or Michael Angelo, or Nelson. Fancy his gravely +inquiring of himself what remarkable qualities predominated in his nature: +was he more of a sculptor, or a politician, or had fate destined him to +discover new worlds, or to conquer the old ones? If I had n't been +actually listening to the creature, and occasionally looking at him, too, +I 'd have doubted my senses. Oh dear! shall I ever forget the earnest +absurdity of his manner as he said something about the 'immortal Potts'?” + </p> +<p> +The reminiscence was too much for her, for she threw herself on a sofa and +laughed immoderately. As for me, unable to endure more, and fearful that +Mary might finish by discovering me, I stole from the room, and rushed out +into the wood. +</p> +<p> +What is it that renders ridicule more insupportable than vituperation? Why +is the violence of passion itself more easy to endure than the sting of +sarcastic satire? What weak spot in our nature does this peculiar passion +assail? And, again, why are all the noble aspirations of high-hearted +enthusiasm, the grand self-reliance of daring minds, ever to be made the +theme of such scoffings? Have the scorners never read of Wolfe, of Murat, +or of Nelson? Has not a more familiar instance reached them of one who +foretold to an unwilling senate the time when they would hang in +expectancy on his words, and treasure them as wisdom? Cruel, +narrow-minded, and unjust world, with whom nothing succeeds except +success! +</p> +<p> +The man who contracts a debt is never called cheat till his inability to +discharge it has been proven clearly and beyond a doubt; but he who enters +into an engagement with his own heart to gain a certain prize, or reach a +certain goal, is made a mockery and a sneer by all whose own humble +faculties represent such striving as impossible. From thoughts like these +I went on to speculate whether I should ever be able, in the zenith of my +great success, to forgive those captious and disparaging critics who had +once endeavored to damp my ardor and bar my career. I own I found it +exceedingly difficult to be generous, and in particular to that young minx +of sixteen who had dared to make a jest of my pretensions. +</p> +<p> +I wandered along thus for hours. Many a grassy path of even sward led +through the forest, and, taking one of those which skirted the stream, I +strolled along, unconscious alike of time and place. Out of the purely +personal interests which occupied my mind sprang others, and I bethought +me with a grim satisfaction of the severe lesson Mary must have, ere this, +read Rose upon her presumption and her flippancy, telling her, in stern +accents, how behind that screen the man was standing she had dared to make +the subject of her laughter. Oh, how she blushes! what flush of crimson +shame spreads over her face, her temples, and her neck; what large tears +overflow her lids, and fall along her cheeks! I actually pity her +suffering, and am pained at her grief. +</p> +<p> +“Spare her, dear Mary!” I cry out; “after all, she is but a child. Why +blame her that she cannot measure greatness, as philosophers measure +mountains, by the shadow?” + </p> +<p> +Egotism, in every one of its moods and tenses, must have a strong +fascination. I walked on for many a mile while thus thinking, without the +slightest sense of weariness, or any want of food. The morning glided +over, and the hot noon was passed, and the day was sobering down into the +more solemn tints of coming evening, and I still loitered, or lay in the +tall grass deep in my musings. +</p> +<p> +In taking my handkerchief from my pocket, I accidentally drew forth the +priest's letter, and in a sort of half-indolent curiosity, proceeded to +read it. The hand was cramped and rugged, the writing that of a man to +whom the manual part of correspondence is a heavy burden, and who +consequently incurs such labor as rarely as is possible. The composition +had all the charm of ease, and was as unstudied as need be; the writer +being evidently one who cared little for the graces of style, satisfied to +discuss his subject in the familiar terms of his ordinary conversation. +</p> +<p> +Although I did not mean to impose more than an extract from it on my +reader, I must reserve even that much for my next chapter. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. FATHER DYKE'S LETTER. +</h2> +<p> +Father Dyke was one of those characters which Ireland alone produces,—a +sporting priest. In France, Spain, or Italy, the type is unknown. Time +was, when the <i>abbé</i>, elegant, witty, and well-bred, was a great +element of polished life; when his brilliant conversation and his +insidious address threw all the charm of culture over a society which was +only rescued from coarseness by the marvellous dexterity of such +intellectual gladiators. They have passed away, like many other things +brilliant and striking: the gilded coach, the red-heeled slipper, and the +supper of the regency; the powdered marquise, for a smile of whose dimpled +mouth the deadly rapier has flashed in the moonlight; the perfumed beauty, +for one of whose glances a poet would have racked his brain to render +worthily in verse; the gilded <i>salon</i> where, in a sort of incense, +all the homage of genius was offered up before the altar of loveliness,—gone +are they all! <i>Au fond</i>, the world is pretty much the same, although +we drive to a club dinner in a one-horse brougham; and if we meet the <i>curé</i> +of St. Roch, we find him to be rather a morose middle-aged man with a +taste for truffles, and a talent for silence. It is not as the successor +of the witty <i>abbé</i> that I adduce the sporting priest, but simply as +a variety of the ecclesiastical character which, doubtless, a very few +more years will have consigned to the realm of history. He, too, will be a +bygone! Father Tom, as he was popularly called, never needing any more +definite designation, was <i>tam Marte quam Mercurio</i>, as much poacher +as priest, and made his sporting acquirements subservient to the demands +of an admirable table. The thickest salmon, the curdiest trout, the +fattest partridge, and the most tender woodcock smoked on his board, and, +rumor said, cooked with a delicacy that more pretentious houses could not +rival. In the great world nothing is more common than to see some favored +individual permitted to do things which, by common voice, are proclaimed +impracticable or improper. With a sort of prescriptive right to outrage +the ordinances of society, such people accept no law but their own +inclination, and seem to declare that they are altogether exempt from the +restraints that bind other men. In a small way, and an humble sphere, +Father Tom enjoyed this privilege, and there was not in his whole county +to be found one man churlish or ungenerous enough to dispute it; and thus +was he suffered to throw his line, snap his gun, or unleash his dog in +precincts where many with higher claims had been refused permission. +</p> +<p> +It was not alone that he enjoyed the invigorating pleasure of field sports +in practice, but he delighted in everything which bore any relationship to +them. There was not a column of “Bell's Life” in which he had not his +sympathy,—the pigeon match, the pedestrian, the Yankee trotter, the +champion for the silver sculls at Chelsea, the dog “Billy,” were all +subjects of interest to him. Never did the most inveterate blue-stocking +more delight in the occasion of meeting a great celebrity of letters, than +did he when chance threw him in the way of the jock who rode the winner at +the Oaks, or the “Game Chicken” who punished the “Croydon Pet” in the +prize ring. But now for the letter, which will as fully reveal the man as +any mere description. It was a narrative of races he had attended, and +rowing-matches he had witnessed, with little episodes of hawking, +badger-drawing, and cock-fighting intermixed. +</p> +<p> +“I came down here—Brighton—to swim for a wager of +five-and-twenty sovereigns against a Major Blayse, of the Third Light +Dragoon Guards; we made the match after mess at Aldershot, when neither of +us was anything to speak of too sober; but as we were backed strongly,—he +rather the favorite,—there was no way of drawing the bet. I beat him +after a hard struggle; we were two hours and forty minutes in the water, +and netted about sixty pounds besides. We dined with the depot in the +evening, and I won a ten-pound note on a question of whether there ought +to be saffron in the American drink called 'greased lightning;' but this +was not the only piece of luck that attended me, as you shall hear. As I +was taking my morning canter on the Downs, I perceived that a stranger—a +jockey-like fellow, not quite a gentleman but near it—seemed to keep +me in view; now riding past, now behind me, and always bestowing his whole +attention on my nag. Of course, I showed the beast off to the best, and +handled him skilfully. I thought to myself, he likes the pony; he 'll be +for making me an offer for him. I was right. I had just seated myself at +breakfast, when the stranger sent his card, with a request to speak to me. +He was a foreigner, but spoke very correct English, and his object was to +learn if I would sell my horse. It is needless to say that I refused at +once. The animal suited me, and I was one of those people who find it +excessively difficult to be mounted to their satisfaction. I needed +temper, training, action, gentleness, beauty, high courage, and perfect +steadiness, and a number of such-like seeming incongruities. He looked a +little impatient at all this; he seemed to say, 'I know all this kind of +nonsense; I have heard shiploads of such gammon before. Be frank and say +what's the figure; how much do you want for him?' He looked this, I say, +but he never uttered a word, and at last I asked him,— +</p> +<p> +“'Are you a dealer?' +</p> +<p> +“'Well,' said he, with an arch smile, 'something in that line.' +</p> +<p> +“'I thought so,' said I. 'The pony is a rare good one.' +</p> +<p> +“He nodded assent. +</p> +<p> +“'He can jump a bar of his own height?' +</p> +<p> +“Another nod. +</p> +<p> +“'And he's as fresh on his legs—' +</p> +<p> +“'As if he were not twenty-six years old,' he broke in. +</p> +<p> +“'Twenty-six fiddle-sticks! Look at his mouth; he has an eight-year-old +mouth.' +</p> +<p> +“'I know it,' said he, dryly; 'and so he had fourteen years ago. Will you +take fifty sovereigns for him?' he added, drawing out a handful of gold +from his pocket. +</p> +<p> +“'No,' said I, firmly; 'nor sixty, nor seventy, nor eighty!' +</p> +<p> +“'I am sorry to have intruded upon you,' said he, rising, 'and I beg you +to excuse me. The simple fact is, that I am one who gains his living by +horses, and it is only possible for me to exist by the generosity of those +who deal with me.' +</p> +<p> +“This appeal was a home thrust, and I said, 'What can you afford to give?' +</p> +<p> +“'All I have here,' said he, producing a handful of gold, and spreading it +on the table. +</p> +<p> +“We set to counting, and there were sixty-seven sovereigns in the mass. I +swept off the money into the palm of my hand, and said, 'The beast is +yours.' +</p> +<p> +“He drew a long breath, as if to relieve his heart of a load of care, and +said, 'Men of <i>my</i> stamp, and who lead such lives as I do, are rarely +superstitious.' +</p> +<p> +“'Very true,' said I, with a nod of encouragement for him to go on. +</p> +<p> +“'Well,' said he, resuming, 'I never thought for a moment that any +possibility could have made me so. If ever there was a man that laughed at +lucky and unlucky days, despised omens, sneered at warnings, and scorned +at predictions, I was he; and yet I have lived to be the most credulous +and the most superstitious of men. It is now fourteen years and +twenty-seven days—I remember the time to an hour—since I sold +that pony to the Prince Ernest von Saxen-hausen, and since that day I +never had luck. So long as I owned him all went well with me. I ought to +tell you that I am the chief of a company of equestrians, and one corps, +known as Klam's Kunst-Reiters, was the most celebrated on the Continent In +three years I made three hundred thousand guilders, and if the devil had +not induced me to sell “Schatzchen”—that was his name—I should +be this day as rich as Heman Rothschild! From the hour he walked out of +the circus our calamities began. I lost my wife by fever at Wiesbaden, the +most perfect high-school horsewoman in Europe; my son, of twenty years of +age, fell, and dislocated his neck; the year after, at Vienna, my daughter +Gretchen was blinded riding through a fiery hoop at Homburg; and four +years later, all the company died of yellow fever at the Havannah, leaving +me utterly beggared and ruined. Now these, you would say, though great +misfortunes, are all in the course of common events. But what will you say +when, on the eve of each of them, Schatzchen appeared to me in a dream, +performing some well-known feat or other, and bringing down, as he ever +did, thunders of applause; and never did he so appear without a disaster +coming after. I struggled hard before I suffered this notion to influence +me. It was years before I even mentioned it to any one; and I used for a +while to make a jest of it in the circus, saying, “Take care of yourselves +tonight, for I saw Schatzchen.” Of course they were not the stuff to be +deterred by such warnings, but they became so at last. That they did, and +were so terrified, so thoroughly terrified, that the day after one of my +visions not a single member of the troupe would venture on a hazardous +feat of any kind; and if we performed at all, it was only some commonplace +exercises, with few risks, and no daring exploits whatever. Worn out with +evil fortune, crushed and almost broken-hearted, I struggled on for years, +secretly determining, if ever I should chance upon him, to buy back +Schatzchen with my last penny in the world. Indeed, there were moments in +which such was the intense excitement of my mind, I could have committed a +dreadful crime to regain possession of him. We were on the eve of +embarking for Ostend the other night, when I saw you riding on the Downs, +and I came ashore at once to track you out, for I knew him, though fully +half a mile away. None of my comrades could guess what detained me, nor +understand why I asked each of them in turn to lend me whatever money he +could spare. It was in this way I made up the little purse you see. It was +thus provided that I dared to present myself to-day before you.” + </p> +<p> +“As he gave me this narrative, his manner grew more eager and excited, and +I could not help feeling that his mind, from the long-continued pressure +of one thought, had received a serious shock. It was exactly one of those +cases which physicians describe as leaving the intellect unimpaired, while +some one faculty is under the thraldom of a dominant and all-pervading +impression. I saw this more palpably, when, having declined to accept more +than his original offer of fifty pounds, I replaced the remainder in his +hand, he evinced scarcely any gratitude for my liberality, so totally was +he engrossed by the idea that the horse was now his own, and that Fortune +would no longer have any pretext for using him so severely as before. +</p> +<p> +“'I don't know,—I cannot know,' said he, 'if fortune means to deal +more kindly by me than heretofore, but I feel a sort of confidence in the +future now; I have a kind of trustful courage as to what may come, that +tells me no disaster will deter me, no mishap cast me down.' +</p> +<p> +“These were his words as he arose to take his leave. Of his meeting with +the pony I am afraid to trust myself to speak. It was such an overflow of +affection as one might witness from a long absent brother on being once +again restored to his own. I cannot say that the beast knew him, nor would +I go so far as to assert that he did not, for certainly some of his old +instincts seemed gradually to revive within him on hearing certain words; +and when ordered to take a respectful farewell of me, the pony planted a +foreleg on each of his master's shoulders, and, taking off his hat with +his teeth, bowed twice or thrice in the most deferential fashion. I wished +them both every success in life, and we parted. As I took my evening's +stroll on the pier, I saw them embark for Ostend, the pony sheeted most +carefully, and every imaginable precaution taken to insure him against +cold. The man himself was poorly clad, and indifferently provided against +the accidents of the voyage. He appeared to feel that the disparity +required a word of apology, for he said, in a whisper: 'It 'll soon +furnish me with a warm cloak; it 'll not leave me long in difficulties!' I +assure you, my dear Crofton, there was something contagious in the poor +fellow's superstition, for, as he sailed away, the thought lay heavily on +my heart, 'What if I, too, should have parted with my good luck in life? +How if I have bartered my fortune for a few pieces of money?' The longer I +dwelt on this theme, the more forcibly did it strike me. My original +possession of the animal was accomplished in a way that aided the +illusion. It was thus I won him on a hit of backgammon!” + </p> +<p> +As I read thus far, the paper dropped from my hands, my head reeled, and +in a faint dreamy state, as if drugged by some strong narcotic, I sank, I +know not how long, unconscious. The first thing which met my eyes on +awakening, was the line, “I won him on a hit of backgammon!” The whole +story was at once before me. It was of Blondel I was reading! Blondel was +the beast whose influence had swayed one man's destiny. So long as he +owned him, the world went well and happily with him; all prospered and +succeeded. It was a charm like the old lamp of Aladdin. And this was the +treasure I had lost. So far from imputing an ignorant superstition to the +German, I concurred in every speculation, every theory of his invention. +The man had evidently discovered one of those curious problems in what we +rashly call the doctrine of chances. It was not the animal himself that +secured good fortune, it was that, in his “circumstances,” what Strauff +calls “die amringende Bege-benheiten” of his lot, this creature was sure +to call forth efforts and develop resources in his possessor, of which, +without his aid, he would have gone all through life unconscious. +</p> +<p> +The vulgar notion that our lives are the sport of accident,—the +minute too early or too late, the calm that detained us, the snow-storm +that blocked the road, the chance meeting with this or that man, which we +lay such stress on,—what are they in reality but trivial incidents +without force or effect, save that they impel to action? They call out +certain qualities in our nature by which our whole characters become +modified. Your horse balks at a fence, and throws you over his head; the +fall is not a very grave one, and you are scarcely hurt; you have fallen +into a turnip-field, and the honest fellow, who is hoeing away near, comes +kindly to your aid, and, in good Samaritan fashion, bathes your temples +and restores you. When you leave him at last, you go forth with a kindlier +notion of human nature; you recognize the tie “that makes the whole world +kin,” and you seem to think that hard toil hardens not the heart, nor a +life of labor shuts out generous sympathies,—the lesson is a life +one. But suppose that in your fall you alight on a bed of choice tulips, +you descend in the midst of a rich parterre of starry anemones, and that +your first conscious struggles are met with words of anger and reproach; +instead of sorrow for your suffering, you hear sarcasms on your +horsemanship, and insults on your riding,—no sympathy, no kindness, +no generous anxiety for your safety, but all that irritate and offend,—more +thought, in fact, for the petals of a flower than for the ligaments of +your knee,—then, too, is the lesson a life one, and its fruits will +be bitter memories for many a year. The events of our existence are in +reality nothing, save in our treatment of them. By Blondel, I recognized +one of those suggestive influences which mould fate by moulding +temperament. The deep reflecting German saw this: it was clear <i>he</i> +knew that in that animal was typified all that his life might become. Why +should not I contest the prize with him? Blondel was charged with another +destiny as well as his. +</p> +<p> +I turned once more to the letter, but I could not bear to read it; so many +were the impertinent allusions to myself, my manner, my appearance, and my +conversation. Still more insulting were the speculations as to what class +or condition I belonged to. “He puzzled us completely,” wrote the priest, +“for while unmistakably vulgar in many things, there were certain +indications of reading and education about him that refuted the notion of +his being what Keldrum thought,—an escaped counter-jumper! The +Guardsman insisted he was a valet; my own impression was, the fellow had +kept a small circulating library, and gone mad with the three-volume +novels. At all events, I have given him a lesson which, whether profitable +or not to <i>him</i>, has turned out tolerably well for <i>me</i>, If ever +you chance to hear of him,—his name was Podder or Pedder, I think,—pray +let me know, for my curiosity is still unslaked about him.” He thence went +off to a sort of descriptive catalogue of my signs and tokens, so +positively insulting that I cannot recall it; the whole winding up: “Add +to all these an immense pomposity of tone, with a lisp, and a Dublin +accent, and you can scarcely mistake him.” Need I say, benevolent reader, +that fouler calumnies were never uttered, nor more unfounded slanders ever +pronounced? +</p> +<p> +It is not in this age of photography that a man need defend his +appearance. By the aid of sun and collodion, I may, perhaps, one day +convince you that I am not so devoid of personal graces as this +foul-mouthed priest would persuade you. I am, possibly, in this pledge, +exceeding the exact limits which this publication may enable me to +sustain. I may be contracting an engagement which cannot be, consistent +with its principles, fulfilled. If so, I must be your artist; but I swear +to you, that I shall not flatter. Potto, painted by himself, shall be a +true portrait. Meanwhile I have time to look out for my canvas, and you +will be patient enough to wait till it be filled. +</p> +<p> +Again to this confounded letter:— +</p> +<p> +“There is another reason” (wrote Dyke ) “why I should like to-chance upon +this fellow.” (“This fellow” meant me.) “I used to fancy myself unequalled +in the imaginative department of conversation, by the vulgar called lying. +Here, I own, with some shame, he was my match. A more fearless, +determined, go-ahead liar, I never met. Now, as one who deems himself no +small proficient in the art, I would really like to meet him once more. We +could approach each other like the augurs of old, and agree to be candid +and free-spoken together, exchanging our ideas on this great topic, and +frankly communicating any secret knowledge each might deem that he +possessed. I'd go a hundred miles to pass an evening with him alone, to +hear from his own lips the sort of early training and discipline his mind +went through,—who were his first instructors, what his original +inducements. Of one thing I feel certain: a man thus constituted has only +to put the curb upon his faculty to be most successful in life, his perils +will all lie in the exuberance of his resources; let him simply bend +himself to believe in some of the impositions he would force upon others. +Let him give his delusions the force acquired by convictions, and there is +no limit to what he may become. Be on the lookout, therefore, for him, as +a great psychological phenomenon, the man who outlied +</p> +<p> +“Your sincerely attached friend, +</p> +<p> +“Thomas Darcy Dyke. +</p> +<p> +“P. S. I have just remembered his name. It was Potts; the villain said +from the Pozzo di Borgo family. I 'm sure with this hint you can't fail to +run him to earth; and I entreat of you spare no pains to do it.” + </p> +<p> +There followed here some more impertinent personalities as clews to my +discovery, which my indulgent reader will graciously excuse me if I do not +stop to record; enough to say they were as unfounded as they were +scurrilous. +</p> +<p> +Another and very different train of thought, however, soon banished these +considerations. This letter had been given me by Crofton, who had already +read it; he had perused all this insolent narrative about me before +handing it to me, and doubtless, in so doing, had no other intention than +to convey, in the briefest and most emphatic way to me, that I was found +out. It was simply saying, in the shortest possible space, “Thou art the +man!” Oh, the ineffable shame and misery of that thought! Oh, the +bitterness of feeling! How my character should now be viewed and my future +discussed! “Only think, Mary,” I fancied I heard him say,—“only +think who our friend should turn out to be,—this same Potts: the +fellow that vanquished Father Dyke in story-telling, and outlied the +priest! And here we have been lavishing kindness and attentions upon one +who, after all, is little better than a swindler, sailing under false +colors and fictitious credentials; for who can now credit one syllable +about his having written those verses he read for us, or composed that +tale of which he told us the opening? What a lesson in future about +extending confidence to utter strangers! What caution and reserve should +it not teach us! How guarded should we be not to suffer ourselves to be +fascinated by the captivations of manner and the insinuating charms of +address! If Potts had been less prepossessing in appearance, less gifted +and agreeable,—if, instead of being a consummate man of the world, +with the breeding of a courtier and the knowledge of a scholar, he had +been a pedantic puppy with a lisp and a Dublin accent—” Oh, ignominy +and disgrace! these were the very words of the priest in describing me, +which came so aptly to my memory, and I grew actually sick with shame as I +recalled them. I next became angry. Was this conduct of Crofton's delicate +or considerate? Was it becoming in one who had treated me as his friend +thus abruptly to conclude our intimacy by an insult? Handing me such a +letter was saying, “There's a portrait; can you say any one it resembles?” + How much more generous had he said, “Tell me all about this wager of yours +with Father Dyke; I want to hear <i>your</i> account of it, for old Tom is +not the most veracious of mortals, nor the most mealy-mouthed of +commentators. Just give me <i>your</i> version of the incident, Potts, and +I am satisfied it will be the true one.” That's what he might, that's what +he ought to have said. I can swear it is what I, Potts, would have done by +<i>him</i>, or by any other stranger whose graceful manners and pleasing +qualities had won my esteem and conciliated my regard. I 'd have said, +“Potts, I have seen enough of life to know how unjust it is to measure men +by one and the same standard. The ardent, impassioned nature cannot be +ranked with the cold and calculating spirit The imaginative man has the +same necessity for the development of his creative faculty as the strongly +muscular man of bodily exercise. He must blow off the steam of his +invention, or the boiler will not contain it. You and Le Sage and +Alexandre Dumas are a category. You are not the Clerks of a Census +Commission, or Masters in Equity. You are the chartered libertines of +fiction. Shake out your reefs, and go free,—free as the winds that +waft you!” + </p> +<p> +To all these reflections came the last one. “I must be up and doing, and +that speedily! I will recover Blondel, if I devote my life to the task. I +will regain him, let the cost be what it may. Mounted upon that creature, +I will ride up to the Rosary; the time shall be evening; a sun just sunk +behind the horizon shall have left in the upper atmosphere a golden and +rosy light, which shall tip his mane with a softened lustre, and shed over +my own features a rich Titian-like tint. 'I come,' will I say, 'to +vindicate the fair fame of one who once owned your affection. It is Potts, +the man of impulse, the child of enthusiasm, who now presents himself +before you. Poor, if you like to call him so, in worldly craft or skill, +poor in its possessions, but rich, boundlessly rich, in the stores of an +ideal wealth. Blondel and I are the embodiment of this idea. These fancies +you have stigmatized as lies are but the pilot balloons by which great +minds calculate the currents in that upper air they are about to soar +in.'” + </p> +<p> +And, last of all, there was a sophistry that possessed a great charm for +my mind, in this wise: to enable a man, humble as myself, to reach that +station in which a career of adventure should open before him, some ground +must be won, some position gained. That I assume to be something that I am +not, is simply to say that I trade upon credit. If my future transactions +be all honorable and trustworthy,—if by a fiction, only known to my +own heart, I acquire that eminence from which I can distribute benefits to +hundreds,—who is to stigmatize me as a fraudulent trader? +</p> +<p> +Is it not a well-known fact, that many of those now acknowledged as the +wealthiest of men, might, at some time or other of their lives, have been +declared insolvent had the real state of their affairs been known? The +world, however, had given them its confidence, and time did the rest. Let +the same world be but as generous towards <i>me!</i> The day will come,—I +say it confidently and boldly,—the day will come when I can “show my +books,” and “point to my balance-sheet.” When Archimedes asked for a base +on which to rest his lever, he merely uttered the great truth, that some +one fixed point is essential to the success of a motive power. +</p> +<p> +It is by our use or abuse of opportunity we are either good or bad men. +The physician is not less conversant with noxious drags than the poisoner; +the difference lies in the fact that the one employs his skill to +alleviate suffering, the other to work out evil and destruction. If I, +therefore, but make some feigned station in life the groundwork from which +I can become the benefactor of my fellowmen, I shall be good and +blameless. My heart tells me how well and how fairly I mean by the world: +I would succor the weak, console the afflicted, and lift up the oppressed; +and if to carry out grand and glorious conceptions of this kind all that +be needed is a certain self-delusion which may extend its influence to +others, “Go in,” I say, “Potts; be all that your fancy suggests,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dives, honoratus, pulcher, rex deniqne regain, +</pre> +<p> +—Be rich, honored and fair, a prince or a begum,—but, above +all, never distrust your destiny, or doubt your star.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. IMAGINATION STIMULATED BY BRANDY AND WATER. +</h2> +<p> +So absorbed was I in the reflections of which my last chapter is the +record, that I utterly forgot how time was speeding, and perceived at +last, to my great surprise, that I had strayed miles away from the Rosary, +and that evening was already near. The spires and roofs of a town were +distant about a mile at a bend of the river, and for this I now made, +determined on no account to turn back, for how could I ever again face +those who had read the terrible narrative of the priest's letter, and +before whom I could only present myself as a cheat and impostor? +</p> +<p> +“No,” thought I, “my destiny points onward,—and to Blondel; nothing +shall turn me from my path.” Less than an hour's walking brought me to the +town, of which I had but time to learn the name,—New Ross. I left it +in a small steamer for Waterford, a little vessel in correspondence with +the mail packet for Milford, and which I learned would sail that evening +at nine. +</p> +<p> +The same night saw me seated on the deck, bound for England. On the deck, +I say, for I had need to husband my resources, and travel with every +imaginable economy, not only because my resources were small in +themselves, but that, having left all that I possessed of clothes and +baggage at the Rosary, I should be obliged to acquire a complete outfit on +reaching England. +</p> +<p> +It was a calm night, with a starry sky and a tranquil sea; and, when the +cabin passengers had gone down to their berths, the captain did not oppose +my stealing “aft” to the quarter-deck, where I could separate myself from +the somewhat riotous company of the harvest laborers that thronged the +forepart of the vessel. He saw, with that instinct a sailor is eminently +gifted with, that I was not of that class by which I was surrounded, and +with a ready courtesy he admitted me to the privilege of isolation. +</p> +<p> +“You are going to enlist, I 'll be bound,” said he, as he passed me in his +short deck walk. “Ain't I right?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “I'm going to seek my fortune.” + </p> +<p> +“Seek your fortune!” he repeated, with a slighting sort of laugh. “One +used to read about fellows doing that in story books when a child, but +it's rather strange to hear of it nowadays.” + </p> +<p> +“And may I presume to ask why should it be more strange now than formerly? +Is not the world pretty much what it used to be? Is not the drama of life +the same stock piece our forefathers played ages ago? Are not the actors +and the actresses made up of the precise materials their ancestors were? +Can you tell me of a new sentiment, a new emotion, or even a new crime? +Why, therefore, should there be a seeming incongruity in reviving any +feature of the past?” + </p> +<p> +“Just because it won't do, my good friend,” said he, bluntly. “If the law +catches a fellow lounging about the world in these times, it takes him up +for a vagabond.” + </p> +<p> +“And what can be finer, grander, or freer than a vagabond?” I cried, with +enthusiasm. “Who, I would ask you, sees life with such philosophy? Who +views the wiles, the snares, the petty conflicts of the world with such a +reflective calm as his? Caring little for personal indulgence, not +solicitous for self-gratification, he has both the spirit and the leisure +for observation. Diogenes was the type of the vagabond, and see how +successive ages have acknowledged his wisdom.” + </p> +<p> +“If I had lived in <i>his</i> day, I'd have set him picking oakum, for all +that!” he replied. +</p> +<p> +“And probably, too, would have sent the 'blind old bard to the crank,'” + said I. +</p> +<p> +“I'm not quite sure of whom you are talking,” said he; “but if he was a +good ballad-singer, I'd not be hard on him.” + </p> +<p> +“O! Menin aeide Thea Peleiadeo Achilleos!” spouted I out, in rapture. +</p> +<p> +“That ain't high Dutch,” asked he, “is it?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I, proudly. “It is ancient Greek,—the godlike tongue of +an immortal race.” + </p> +<p> +“Immortal rascals!” he broke in. “I was in the fruit trade up in the +Levant there, and such scoundrels as these Greek fellows I never met in my +life.” + </p> +<p> +“By what and whom made so?” I exclaimed eagerly. “Can you point to a +people in the world who have so long resisted the barbarizing influence of +a base oppression? Was there ever a nation so imbued with high +civilization as to be enabled for centuries of slavery to preserve the +traditions of its greatness? Have we the record of any race but this, who +could rise from the slough of degradation to the dignity of a people?” + </p> +<p> +“You 've been a play-actor, I take it?” asked he, dryly. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, never!” replied I, with some indignation. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, in the Methody line? You've done a stroke of preaching, I 'll +be sworn.” + </p> +<p> +“You would be perjured in that case, sir,” I rejoined, as haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“At all events, an auctioneer,” said he, fairly puzzled in his +speculations. +</p> +<p> +“Equally mistaken there,” said I, calmly; “bred in the midst of abundance, +nurtured in affluence, and educated with all the solicitous care that a +fond parent could bestow—” + </p> +<p> +“Gammon!” said he, bluntly. “You are one of the swell mob in distress!” + </p> +<p> +“Is this like distress?” said I, drawing forth my purse in which were +seventy-five sovereigns, and handing it to him. “Count over that, and say +how just and how generous are your suspicions.” + </p> +<p> +He gravely took the purse from me, and, stooping down to the binnacle +light, counted over the money, scrutinizing carefully the pieces as he +went. +</p> +<p> +“And who is to say this isn't 'swag'?” said he, as he closed the purse. +</p> +<p> +“The easiest answer to that,” said I, “is, would it be likely for a thief +to show his booty, not merely to a stranger, but to a stranger who +suspected him?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, that is something, I confess,” said he, slowly. +</p> +<p> +“It ought to be more,—it ought to be everything. If distrust were +not a debasing sentiment, obstructing the impulses of generosity, and even +invading the precincts of justice, you would see far more reason to +confide in than to disbelieve me.” + </p> +<p> +“I 've been done pretty often afore now,” he muttered, half to himself. +</p> +<p> +“What a fallacy that is!” cried I, contemptuously. “Was not the pittance +that some crafty impostor wrung from your compassion well repaid to you in +the noble self-consciousness of your generosity? Did not your venison on +that day taste better when you thought of his pork chop? Had not your +Burgundy gained flavor by the memory of the glass of beer that was warming +the half-chilled heart in his breast? Oh, the narrow mockery of fancying +that we are not better by being deceived!” + </p> +<p> +“How long is it since you had your head shaved?” he asked dryly. +</p> +<p> +“I have never been the inmate of an asylum for lunatics,” said I, divining +and answering the impertinent insinuation. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I own you are a rum un,” said he, half musingly. +</p> +<p> +“I accept even this humble tribute to my originality,” said I, with a sort +of proud defiance. “I am well aware how <i>he</i> must be regarded who +dares to assert his own individuality.” + </p> +<p> +“I'd be very curious to know,” said he, after a pause of several minutes, +“how a fellow of your stamp sets to work about gaining his livelihood? +What's his first step? how does he go about it?” + </p> +<p> +I gave no other answer than a smile of scornful meaning. +</p> +<p> +“I meant nothing offensive,” resumed he, “but I really have a strong +desire to be enlightened on this point.” + </p> +<p> +“You are doubtless impressed with the notion,” said I, boldly, “that men +possessed of some distinct craft or especial profession are alone needed +by the world of their fellows. That one must be doctor or lawyer or baker +or shoemaker, to gain his living, as if life had no other wants than to be +clothed and fed and physicked and litigated. As if humanity had not its +thousand emotional moods, its wayward impulses, its trials and +temptations, all of them more needing guidance, support, direction, and +counsel, than the sickest patient needs a physician. It is on this world +that I throw myself; I devote myself to guide infancy, to console age, to +succor the orphan, and support the widow,—morally, I mean.” + </p> +<p> +“I begin to suspect you are a most artful vagabond,” said he half angrily. +</p> +<p> +“I have long since reconciled myself to the thought of an unjust +appreciation,” said I. “It is the consolation dull men accept when +confronted with those of original genius. You can't help confessing that +all your distrust of me has grown out of the superiority of my powers, and +the humble figure you have presented in comparison with me.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you rank modesty amongst these same powers?” he asked slyly. +</p> +<p> +“Modesty I reject,” said I, “as being a conventional form of hypocrisy.” + </p> +<p> +“Come down below,” said he, “and take a glass of brandy and water. It 's +growing chilly here, and we shall be the better of something to cheer us.” + </p> +<p> +Seated in his comfortable little cabin, and with a goodly array of liquors +before me to choose from, I really felt a self-confidence in the fact +that, if I were not something out of the common, I could not then be +there. “There must be in my nature,” thought I, “that element which begets +success, or I could not always find myself in situations so palpably +beyond the accidents of my condition.” + </p> +<p> +My host was courtesy itself; no sooner was I his guest than he adopted +towards me a manner of perfect politeness. No more allusions to my +precarious mode of life, never once a reference to my adventurous future. +Indeed, with an almost artful exercise of good breeding, he turned the +conversation towards himself, and gave me a sketch of his own life. +</p> +<p> +It was not in any respects a remarkable one; though it had its share of +those mishaps and misfortunes which every sailor must have confronted. He +was wrecked in the Pacific, and robbed in the Havannah; had his crew +desert him at San Francisco, and was boarded by Riff pirates, and sold in +Barbary just as every other blue jacket used to be; and I listened to the +story, only marvelling what a dreary sameness pervades all these +narratives. Why, for one trait of the truthful to prove his tale, I could +have invented fifty. There were no little touches of sentiment or feeling, +no relieving lights of human emotion, in his story. I never felt, as I +listened, any wish that he should be saved from shipwreck, baffle his +persecutors, or escape his captors; and I thought to myself, “This fellow +has certainly got no narrative gusto.” Now for <i>my</i> turn: we had each +of us partaken freely of the good liquor before us. The Captain in his +quality of talker, I in my capacity of listener, had filled and refilled +several times. There was not anything like inebriety, but there was that +amount of exultation, a stage higher than mere excitement, which prompts +men, at least men of temperaments like mine, not to suffer themselves to +occupy rear rank positions, but at any cost to become foreground and +prominent figures. +</p> +<p> +“You have heard of the M'Gillicuddys, I suppose?” asked I. He nodded, and +I went on. “You see, then, at this moment before you, the last of the +race. I mean, of course, of the elder branch, for there are swarms of the +others, well to do and prosperous also, and with fine estated properties. +I 'll not weary you with family history. I 'll not refer to that remote +time when my ancestors wore the crown, and ruled the fair kingdom of +Kerry. In the Annals of the Four Masters, and also in the Chronicles of +Thealbogh O'Faudlemh, you 'll find a detailed account of our house. I 'll +simply narrate for you the immediate incident which has made me what you +see me,—an outcast and a beggar. +</p> +<p> +“My father was the tried and trusted friend of that noble-hearted but +mistaken man, Lord Edward Fitzgerald. The famous attempt of the year +'eight was concerted between them; and all the causes of its failure, +secret as they are and forever must be, are known to him who now addresses +you. I dare not trust myself to talk of these times or things, lest I +should by accident let drop what might prove strictly confidential. I will +but recount one incident, and that a personal one, of the period. On the +night of Lord Edward's capture, my father, who had invited a friend—deep +himself in the conspiracy—to dine with him, met his guest on the +steps of his hall door. Mr. Hammond—this was his name—was pale +and horror-struck, and could scarcely speak, as my father shook his hand. +'Do you know what has happened, Mac?' said he to my father. 'Lord Edward +is taken, Major Sirr and his party have tracked him to his hiding-place; +they have got hold of all our papers, and we are lost By this time +to-morrow every man of us will be within the walls of Newgate.' +</p> +<p> +“'Don't look so gloomily, Tom,' said my father. 'Lord Edward will escape +them yet; he's not a bird to be snared so easily; and, after all, we shall +find means to slip our cables too. Come in, and enjoy your sirloin and a +good glass of port, and you'll view the world more pleasantly.' With a +little encouragement of this sort he cheered him up, and the dinner passed +off agreeably enough; but still my father could see that his friend was by +no means at his ease, and at every time the door opened he would start +with a degree of surprise that augured anxiety of some coming event. From +these and other signs of uneasiness in his manner, my father drew his own +conclusions, and with a quick intelligence of look communicated his +suspicions to my mother, who was herself a keen and shrewd observer. +</p> +<p> +“'Do you think, Matty,' said he, as they sat over their wine, that I could +find a bottle of the old green seal if I was to look for it in the cellar? +It has been upwards of forty years there, and I never touch it save on +especial occasions; but an old friend like Hammond deserves such a treat.' +</p> +<p> +“My father fancied that Hammond grew paler as he thus alluded to their old +friendship, and he gave my mother a rapid glance of his sharp eye, and, +taking the cellar key, he left the room. Immediately outside the door, he +hastened to the stable, and saddled and bridled a horse, and, slipping +quietly out, he rode for the sea-coast, near the Skerries. It was sixteen +miles from Dublin, but he did the distance within the hour. And well was +it for him that he employed such speed! With a liberal offer of money and +the gold watch he wore, he secured a small fishing-smack to convey him +over to France, for which he sailed immediately. I have said it was well +that he employed such speed; for, after waiting with suppressed impatience +for my father's return from the cellar, Hammond expressed to my mother his +fears lest my father might have been taken ill. She tried to quiet his +apprehensions, but the very calmness of her manner served only to increase +them. 'I can bear this no longer,' cried he, at last, rising, in much +excitement, from his chair; 'I must see what has become of him!' At the +same moment the door was suddenly flung open, and an officer of police, in +full uniform, presented himself. 'He has got away, sir,' said he, +addressing Hammond; 'the stable-door is open, and one of the horses +missing.' +</p> +<p> +“My mother, from whom I heard the story, had only time to utter a 'Thank +God!' before she fainted. On recovering her senses, she found herself +alone in the room. The traitor Hammond and the police had left her without +even calling the servants to her aid.” + </p> +<p> +“And your father,—what became of him?” asked the skipper, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“He arrived in Paris in sorry plight enough; but, fortunately, Clarke, +whose influence with the Emperor was unbounded, was a distant connection +of our family. By his intervention my father obtained an interview with +his Majesty, who was greatly struck by the adventurous spirit and daring +character of the man; not the less so because he had the courage to +disabuse the Emperor of many notions and impressions he had conceived +about the readiness of Ireland to accept French assistance. +</p> +<p> +“Though my father would much have preferred taking service in the army, +the Emperor, who had strong prejudices against men becoming soldiers who +had not served in every grade from the ranks upwards, opposed this +intention, and employed him in a civil capacity. In fact, to his +management were intrusted some of the most delicate and difficult secret +negotiations; and he gained a high name for acuteness and honorable +dealing. In recognition of his services, his name was inscribed in the +Grand Livre for a considerable pension; but at the fall of the dynasty, +this, with hundreds of others equally meritorious, was annulled; and my +father, worn out with age and disappointment together, sank at last, and +died at Dinant, where my mother was buried but a few years previously. +Meanwhile he was tried and found guilty of high treason in Ireland, and +all his lands and other property forfeited to the Crown. My present +journey was simply a pilgrimage to see the old possessions that once +belonged to our race. It was my father's last wish that I should visit the +ancient home of our family, and stand upon the hills that once +acknowledged us as their ruler. He never desired that I should remain a +French subject; a lingering love for his own country mingled in his heart +with a certain resentment towards France, who had certainly treated him +with ingratitude; and almost his last words to me were, 'Distrust the +Gaul.' When I told you awhile back that I was nurtured in affluence, it +was so to all appearance; for my father had spent every shilling of +his-capital on my education, and I was under the firm conviction that I +was born to a very great fortune. You may judge the terrible revulsion of +my feelings when I learned that I had to face the world almost, if not +actually, a beggar. +</p> +<p> +“I could easily have attached myself as a hanger-on of some of my +well-to-do relations. Indeed, I will say for them, that they showed the +kindest disposition to befriend me; but the position of a dependant would +have destroyed every chance of happiness for me, and so I resolved that I +would fearlessly throw myself upon the broad ocean of life, and trust that +some sea current or favoring wind would bear me at last into a harbor of +safety.” + </p> +<p> +“What can you do?” asked the skipper, curtly. +</p> +<p> +“Everything, and nothing! I have, so to say, the 'sentiment' of all things +in my heart, but am not capable of executing one of them. With the most +correct ear, I know not a note of music; and though I could not cook you a +chop, I have the most excellent appreciation of a well-dressed dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, laughing, “I must confess I don't suspect these to be +exactly the sort of gifts to benefit your fellow-man.” + </p> +<p> +“And yet,” said I, “it is exactly to individuals of this stamp that the +world accords its prizes. The impresario that provides the opera could not +sing nor dance. The general who directs the campaign might be sorely +puzzled how to clean his musket or pipeclay his belt. The great minister +who imposes a tax might be totally unequal to the duty of applying its +provisions. Ask him to gauge a hogshead of spirits, for instance. <i>My</i> +position is like <i>theirs</i>. I tell you, once more, the world wants men +of wide conceptions and far-ranging ideas,—men who look to great +results and grand combinations.” + </p> +<p> +“But, to be practical, how do you mean to breakfast to-morrow morning?” + </p> +<p> +“At a moderate cost, but comfortably: tea, rolls, two eggs, and a +rumpsteak with fried potatoes.” + </p> +<p> +“What's your name?” said he, taking out his note-book. “I mustn't forget +you when I hear of you next.” + </p> +<p> +“For the present, I call myself Potts,—Mr. Potts, if you please.” + </p> +<p> +“Write it here yourself,” said he, handing me the pencil. And I wrote in a +bold, vigorous hand, “Algernon Sydney-Potts,” with the date. +</p> +<p> +“Preserve that autograph, Captain,” said I; “it is in no-spirit of vanity +I say it, but the day will come you 'll refuse a ten-pound note for it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I'd take a trifle less just now,” said he, smiling. +</p> +<p> +He sat for some time gravely contemplating the writing, and at length, in +a sort of half soliloquy, said, “Bob would like him,—he would suit +Bob.” Then, lifting his head, he addressed me: “I have a brother in +command of one of the P. and O. steamers,—just the fellow for <i>you</i>. +He has got ideas pretty much like your own about success in life, and +won't be persuaded that he isn't the first seaman in the English navy; or +that he hasn't a plan to send Cherbourg and its breakwater sky-high, at +twenty-four hours' warning.” + </p> +<p> +“An enthusiast,—a visionary, I have no doubt,” said I, +contemptuously. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I think you might be more merciful in your judgment of a man of +your own stamp,” retorted he, laughing. “At all events, it would be as +good as a play to see you together. If you should chance to be at Malta, +or Marseilles, when the <i>Clarence</i> touches there, just ask for +Captain Rogers; tell him you know me, that will be enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Why not give me a line of introduction to him?” said I, with an easy +indifference. “These things serve to clear away the awkwardness of a +self-presentation.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't care if I do,” said he, taking a sheet of paper, and beginning +'Dear Bob,'—after which he paused and deliberated, muttering the +words 'Dear Bob' three or four times over below his breath. +</p> +<p> +“'Dear Bob,'” said I aloud, in the tone of one dictating to an amanuensis,—“'This +brief note will be handed to you by a very valued friend of mine, Algernon +Sydney Potts, a man so completely after your own heart that I feel a +downright satisfaction in bringing you together.'” + </p> +<p> +“Well, that ain't so bad,” said he, as he uttered the last words which +fell from his pen—“'in bringing you together.'” + </p> +<p> +“Go on,” said I dictatorially, and continued: “'Thrown by a mere accident +myself into his society, I was so struck by his attainments, the +originality of his views, and the wide extent of his knowledge of life——' +Have you <i>that</i> down?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said he, in some confusion; “I am only at 'entertainments.'” + </p> +<p> +“I said 'attainments,' sir,” said I rebukingly, and then repeating the +passage word for word, till he had written it—“'that I conceived for +him a regard and an esteem rarely accorded to others than our oldest +friends.' One word more: 'Potts, from certain circumstances, which I +cannot here enter upon, may appear to you in some temporary inconvenience +as regards money——'” + </p> +<p> +Here the captain stopped, and gave me a most significant look: it was at +once an appreciation and an expression of drollery. +</p> +<p> +“Go on,” said I dryly. “'If so,'” resumed I, “'be guardedly cautious +neither to notice his embarrassment nor allude to it; above all, take +especial care that you make no offer to remove the inconvenience, for he +is one of those whose sensibilities are so fine, and whose sentiments sa +fastidious, that he could never recover, in his own esteem, the dignity +compromised by such an incident.'” + </p> +<p> +“Very neatly turned,” said he, as he re-read the passage. “I think that's +quite enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Ample. You have nothing more to do than sign your name to it.” + </p> +<p> +He did this, with a verificatory flourish at foot, folded and sealed the +letter, and handed it to me, saying— +</p> +<p> +“If it weren't for the handwriting, Bob would never believe all that fine +stuff came from <i>me</i>; but you 'll tell him it was after three glasses +of brandy-and-water that I dashed it off—that will explain +everything.” + </p> +<p> +I promised faithfully to make the required explanation, and then proceeded +to make some inquiries about this brother Bob, whose nature was in such a +close affinity with my own. I could learn, however, but little beyond the +muttered acknowledgment that Bob was a “queer 'un,” and that there was +never his equal for “falling upon good-luck, and spending it after,” a +description which, when applied to my own conscience, told an amount of +truth that was actually painful. +</p> +<p> +“There's no saying,” said I, as I pocketed the letter, “if this epistle +should ever reach your brother's hand, my course in life is too wayward +and uncertain for me to say in what corner of the earth fate may find me; +but if we <i>are</i> to meet, you shall hear of it. Rogers”—I said, +“this you extended to me, at a time that, to all seeming, I needed such +attentions—at a time, I say, when none but myself could know how +independently I stood as regarded means; and of one thing be assured, +Rogers, he whose caprice it now is to call himself Potts, is your friend, +your fast friend, for life.” + </p> +<p> +He wrung my hand cordially—perhaps it was the easiest way for an +honest sailor, as he was, to acknowledge the patronising tone of my speech—but +I could plainly see that he was sorely puzzled by the situation, and +possibly very well pleased that there was no third party to be a spectator +of it. +</p> +<p> +“Throw yourself there on that sofa,” said he, “and take a sleep.” And with +that piece of counsel he left me, and went up on deck. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. HIS INTEREST IN A LADY FELLOW-TRAVELLER. +</h2> +<p> +Next mornings are terrible things, whether one awakes to the thought of +some awful run of ill-luck at play, or with the racking headache of new +port or a very “fruity” Burgundy. They are dreadful, too, when they bring +memories—vague and indistinct, perhaps—of some serious +altercations, passionate words exchanged, and expressions of defiance +reciprocated; but, as a measure of self-reproach and humiliation, I know +not any distress can compare with the sensation of awaking to the +consciousness that our cups have so ministered to imagination that we have +given a mythical narrative of ourself and our belongings, and have built +up a card edifice of greatness that must tumble with the first touch of +truth. +</p> +<p> +It was a sincere satisfaction to me that I saw nothing of the skipper on +that “next morning.” He was so occupied with all the details of getting +into port, that I escaped his notice, and contrived to land unremarked. +Little scraps of my last night's biography would obtrude themselves upon +me, mixed up strangely with incidents of that same skipper's life, so that +I was actually puzzled at moments to remember whether “he” was not the +descendant of the famous rebel friend of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and <i>I</i> +it was who was sold in the public square at Tunis. +</p> +<p> +These dissolving views of an evening before are very difficult problems,—not +to <i>you</i>, most valued reader, whose conscience is not burglariously +assaulted by a riotous imagination, but to the poor weak Potts-like +organizations, the men who never énjoy a real sensation, or taste a real +pleasure, save on the hypothesis of a mock situation. +</p> +<p> +I sat at my breakfast in the “Goat” meditating these things. The grand +problem to resolve was this: Is it better to live a life of dull incidents +and commonplace events in one's own actual sphere, or, creating, by force +of imagination, an ideal status, to soar into a region of higher +conceptions and more pictorial situations? What could existence in the +first case offer me? A wearisome beaten path, with nothing to interest, +nothing to stimulate me. On the other side lay glorious regions of lovely +scenery, peopled with figures the most graceful and attractive. I was at +once the associate of the wise, the witty, and the agreeable, with wealth +at my command, and great prizes within my reach. Illusions all! to be +sure; but what are not illusions,—if by that word you take mere +account of permanence? What is it in this world that we love to believe +real is not illusionary,—the question of duration being the only +difference? Is not beauty perishable? Is not wit soon exhausted? What +becomes of the proudest physical strength after middle life is reached? +What of eloquence when the voice fails or loses its facility of +inflection? +</p> +<p> +All these considerations, however convincing to myself, were not equally +satisfactory as regarded others; and so I sat down to write a letter to +Crofton, explaining the reasons of my sudden departure, and enclosing him +Father Dyke's epistle, which I had carried away with me. I began this +letter with the most firm resolve to be truthful and accurate. I wrote +down, not only the date, but the day. “'Goat,' Milford,” followed, and +then, “My dear Crofton,—It would ill become one who has partaken of +your generous hospitality, and who, from an unknown stranger, was admitted +to the privilege of your intimacy, to quit the roof beneath which the +happiest hours of his life were passed without expressing the deep shame +and sorrow such a step has cost him, while he bespeaks your indulgence to +hear the reason.” This was my first sentence, and it gave me uncommon +trouble. I desired to be dignified, yet grateful, proud in my humility, +grieved over an abrupt departure, but sustained by a manly confidence in +the strength of my own motives. If I read it over once, I read it twenty +times; now deeming it too diffuse, now fearing lest I had compressed my +meaning too narrowly. Might it not be better to open thus: “Strike, but +hear me, dear Crofton, or, before condemning the unhappy creature whose +abject cry for mercy may seem but to increase the presumption of his +guilt, and in whose faltering accents may appear the signs of a stricken +conscience, read over, dear friend, the entire of this letter, weigh well +the difficulties and dangers of him who wrote it, and say, is he not +rather a subject for pity than rebuke? Is not this more a case for a +tearful forgiveness than for chastisement and reproach?” + </p> +<p> +Like most men who have little habit of composition, my difficulties +increased with every new attempt, and I became bewildered and puzzled what +to choose. It was vitally important that the first lines of my letter +should secure the favorable opinion of the reader; by one unhappy word, +one ill-selected expression, a whole case might be prejudiced. I imagined +Crofton angrily throwing the epistle from him with an impatient “Stuff and +nonsense! a practised hum-bugger!” or, worse again, calling out, “Listen +to this, Mary. Is not Master Potts a cool hand? Is not this brazening it +out with a vengeance?” Such a thought was agony to me; the very essence of +my theory about life was to secure the esteem and regard of others. I +yearned after the good opinion of my fellow-men, and there was no amount +of falsehood I would not incur to obtain it. No, come what would of it, +the Croftons must not think ill of me. They must not only believe me +guiltless of ingratitude, but some one whose gratitude was worth having. +It will elevate them in their own esteem if they suppose that the pebble +they picked up in the highway turned out to be a ruby. It will open their +hearts to fresh impulses of generosity; they will not say to each other, +“Let us be more careful another time; let us be guarded against showing +attention to mere strangers; remember how we were taken in by that fellow +Potts; what a specious rascal he was,—how plausible, how +insinuating!” but rather, “We can afford to be confiding, our experiences +have taught us trustfulness. Poor Potts is a lesson that may inspire a +hopeful belief in others.” How little benefit can any one in his own +individual capacity confer upon the world, but what a large measure of +good may be distributed by the way he influences others. Thus, for +instance, by one well-sustained delusion of mine, I inspire a fund of +virtues which, in my merely truthful character, I could never pretend to +originate. “Yes,” thought I, “the Croftons shall continue to esteem me; +Potts shall be a beacon to guide, not a sunken rock to wreck them.” + </p> +<p> +Thus resolving, I sat down to inform them that on my return from a stroll, +I was met by a man bearing a telegram, informing me of the dying condition +of my father's only brother, my sole relative on earth; that, yielding +only to the impulse of my affection, and not thinking of preparation, I +started on board of a steamer for Waterford, and thence for Milford, on my +way to Brighton. I vaguely hinted at great expectations, and so on, and +then, approaching the difficult problem of Father Dyke's letter, I said, +“I enclose you the priest's letter, which amused me much. With all his +shrewdness, the worthy churchman never suspected how completely my friend +Keldrum and myself had humbugged him, nor did he discover that our little +dinner and the episode that followed it were the subjects of a wager +between ourselves. His marvellous cunning was thus for once at fault, as I +shall explain to you more fully when we meet, and prove to you that, upon +this occasion at least, he was not deceiver, but dupe!” I begged to have a +line from him to the “Crown Hotel, Brighton,” and concluded. +</p> +<p> +With this act, I felt I had done with the past, and now addressed myself +to the future. I purchased a few cheap necessaries for the road, as few +and as cheap as was well possible. I said to myself, Fortune shall lift +you from the very dust of the high-road, Potts; not one advantageous +adjunct shall aid your elevation! +</p> +<p> +The train by which I was to leave did not start till noon, and to while +away time I took up a number of the “Times,” which the “Goat” appeared to +receive at third or fourth hand. My eye fell upon that memorable second +column, in which I read the following:— +</p> +<p> +“Left his home in Dublin on the 8th ult, and not since been heard of, a +young gentleman, aged about twenty-two years, five feet nine and a quarter +in height, slightly formed, and rather stooped in the shoulders; features +pale and melancholy; eyes grayish, inclining to hazel; hair light brown, +and worn long behind. He had on at his departure—” + </p> +<p> +I turned impatiently to the foot of the advertisement, and found that to +any one giving such information as might lead to his discovery was +promised a liberal reward, on application to Messrs. Potts and Co., +compounding chemists and apothecaries, Mary's Abbey. I actually grew sick +with anger as I read this. To what end was it that I built up a glorious +edifice of imaginative architecture, if by one miserable touch of coarse +fact it would crumble into clay? To what purpose did I intrigue with +Fortune to grant me a special destiny, if I were thus to be classed with +runaway traders or strayed terriers? I believe in my heart I could better +have borne all the terrors of a charge of felony than the lowering, +debasing, humiliating condition of being advertised for on a reward. +</p> +<p> +I had long since determined to be free as regarded the ties of country. I +now resolved to be equally so with respect to those of family. I will be +Potts no longer. I will call myself for the future—let me see—what +shall it be, that will not involve a continued exercise of memory, and the +troublesome task of unmarking my linen? I was forgetting in this that I +had none, all my wearables being left behind at the Rosary. Something with +an initial P was requisite; and after much canvassing, I fixed on +Pottinger. If by an unhappy chance I should meet one who remembered me as +Potts, I reserved the right of mildly correcting him by saying, +“Pottinger, Pottinger! the name Potts was given me when at Eton for +shortness.” They tell us that amongst the days of our exultation in life, +few can compare with that in which we exchange a jacket for a tailed coat. +The spring from the tadpole to the full-grown frog, the emancipation from +boyhood into adolescence, is certainly very fascinating. Let me assure my +reader that the bound from a monosyllabic name to a high-sounding epithet +of three syllables is almost as enchanting as this assumption of the <i>toga +virilis</i>. I had often felt the terrible brevity of Potts; I had shrunk +from answering the question, “What name, sir?” from the indescribable +shame of saying “Potts;” but Pottinger could be uttered slowly and with +dignity. One could repose on the initial syllable, as if to say, “Mark +well what I am saying; this is a name to be remembered.” With that, there +must have been great and distinguished Pottingers, rich men, men of +influence and acres; from these I could at leisure select a parentage. +</p> +<p> +“Do you go by the twelve-fifteen train, sir?” asked the waiter, breaking +in upon these meditations. “You have no time to lose, sir.” + </p> +<p> +With a start, I saw it was already past twelve; so I paid my bill with all +speed, and, taking my knapsack in my hand, hurried away to the train. +There was considerable confusion as I arrived, a crush of cabs, watermen, +and porters blocked the way, and the two currents of an arriving and +departing train struggled against and confronted each other. Amongst those +who, like myself, were bent on entering the station-house, was a young +lady in deep mourning, whose frail proportions and delicate figure gave no +prospect of resisting the shock and conflict before her. Seeing her so +destitute of all protection, I espoused her cause, and after a valorous +effort and much buffeting, I fought her way for her to the ticket-window, +but only in time to hear the odious crash of a great bell, the bang of a +glass door, and the cry of a policeman on duty, “No more tickets, +gentlemen; the train is starting.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! what shall I do?” cried she, in an accent of intense agony, +inadvertently addressing the words to myself: “What shall I do?” + </p> +<p> +“There 's another train to start at three-forty,” said I, consolingly. “I +hope that waiting will be no inconvenience to you. It is a slow one, to be +sure, stops everywhere, and only arrives in town at two o'clock in the +morning.” + </p> +<p> +I heard her sob,—I distinctly heard her sob behind her thick black +veil as I said this; and to offer what amount of comfort I could, I added, +“I, too, am disappointed, and obliged to await the next departure; and if +I can be of the least service in any way—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, no, sir! I am very grateful to you, but there is nothing—I mean—there +is no help for it!” And here her voice dropped to a mere whisper. +</p> +<p> +“I sincerely trust,” said I, in an accent of great deference and sympathy, +“that the delay may not be the cause of grave inconvenience to you; and +although a perfect stranger, if any assistance I can offer—” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; there is really nothing I could ask from your kindness.” It was +in turning back to bid good-bye a second time to my mother—Here her +agitation seemed to choke her, for she turned away and said no more. +</p> +<p> +“Shall I fetch a cab for you?” I asked. “Would you like to go back till +the next train starts?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, by no means, sir! We live three miles from Milford; and, besides, I +could not bear—” Here again she broke down, but added, after a +pause, “It is the first time I have been away from home!” + </p> +<p> +With a little gentle force I succeeded in inducing her to enter the +refreshment-room of the station, but she would take nothing; and after +some attempts to engage her in conversation to while away the dreary time, +I perceived that it would be a more true politeness not to obtrude upon +her sorrow; and so I lighted my cigar, and proceeded to walk up and down +the long terrace of the station. Three trunks, or rather two and a +hat-box, kept my knapsack company on the side of the tramway; and on these +I read, inscribed in a large band, “Miss K. Herbert, per steamer 'Ardent,' +Ostend.” I started. Was it not in that direction my own steps were turned? +Was not Blondel in Belgium, and was it not in search of him that I was +bent? “Oh, Fate!” I cried, “what subtle device of thine is this? What wily +artifice art thou now engaged in? Is this a snare, or is it an aid? Hast +thou any secret purpose in this rencontre? for with thee there are no +chances, no accidents in thy vicissitudes; all is prepared and fitted, +like a piece of door carpentry.” And then I fell into weaving a story for +the young lady. She was an orphan. Her father, the curate of the little +parish she lived in, had just died, leaving herself and her mother in +direst distress. She was leaving home,—the happy home of her +childhood (I saw it all before me,—cottage, and garden, and little +lawn, with its one cow and two sheep, and the small green wicket beside +the road), and she was leaving all these to become a governess to an +upstart, mill-owning, vulgar family at Brussels. Poor thing! how my heart +bled for her! What a life of misery lay before her,—what trials of +temper and of pride! The odious children—I know they are odious—will +torture her to the quick; and Mrs. Treddles, or whatever her detestable +name is, will lead her a terrible life from jealousy; and she 'll have to +bear everything, and cry over it in secret, remembering the once happy +time in that honeysuckled porch, where poor papa used to read Wordsworth +for them. +</p> +<p> +What a world of sorrow on every side; and how easily might it be made +otherwise! What gigantic efforts are we forever making for something which +we never live to enjoy I Striving to be freer, greater, better governed, +and more lightly taxed, and all the while forgetting that the real secret +is to be on better terms with each other,—more generous, more +forgiving, less apt to take offence or bear malice. Of mere material +goods, there is far more than we need. The table would accommodate more +than double the guests, could we only agree to sit down in orderly +fashion; but here we have one occupying three chairs, while another +crouches on the floor, and some even prefer smashing the furniture to +letting some more humbly born take a place near them. I wish they would +listen to me on this theme. I wish, instead of all this social science +humbug and art-union balderdash, they would hearken to the voice of a +plain man, saying, Are you not members of one family,—the +individuals of one household? Is it not clear to you, if you extend the +kindly affections you now reserve for the narrow circle wherein you live +to the wider area of mankind, that, while diffusing countless blessings to +others, you will yourself become better, more charitable, more +kind-hearted, wider in reach of thought, more catholic in philanthropy? I +can imagine such a world, and feel it to be a Paradise,—a world with +no social distinctions, no inequalities of condition, and, consequently, +no insolent pride of station, nor any degrading subserviency of demeanor, +no rivalries, no jealousies,—love and benevolence everywhere. In +such a sphere the calm equanimity of mind by which great things are +accomplished, would in itself constitute a perfect heaven. No impatience +of temper, no passing irritation— +</p> +<p> +“Where the———are you driving to, sir?” cried I, as a +fellow with a brass-bound trunk in a hand-barrow came smash against my +shin. +</p> +<p> +“Don't you see, sir, the train is just starting?” said he, hastening on; +and I now perceived that such was the case, and that I had barely time to +rush down to the pay-office and secure my ticket. +</p> +<p> +“What class, sir?” cried the clerk. +</p> +<p> +“Which has she taken?” said I, forgetting all save the current of my own +thoughts. +</p> +<p> +“First or second, sir?” repeated he, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“Either, or both,” replied I, in confusion; and he flung me back some +change and a blue card, closing the little shutter with a bang that +announced the end of all colloquy. +</p> +<p> +“Get in, sir!” + </p> +<p> +“Which carriage?” + </p> +<p> +“Get in, sir!” + </p> +<p> +“Second-class? Here you are!” called out an official, as he thrust me +almost rudely into a vile mob of travellers. +</p> +<p> +The bell rang out, and two snorts and a scream followed, then a heave and +a jerk, and away we went As soon as I had time to look around me, I saw +that my companions were all persons of an humble order of the middle +class,—the small shopkeepers and traders, probably, of the locality +we were leaving. Their easy recognition of each other, and the natural way +their conversation took up local matters, soon satisfied me of this fact, +and reconciled me to fall back upon my own thoughts for occupation and +amusement This was with me the usual prelude to a sleep, to which I was +quietly composing myself soon after. The droppings of the conversation +around me, however, prevented this; for the talk had taken a discussional +tone, and the differences of opinion were numerous. The question debated +was, Whether a certain Sir Samuel Somebody was a great rogue, or only +unfortunate? The reasons for either opinion were well put and defended, +showing that the company, like most others of that class in life in +England, had cultivated their faculties of judgment and investigation by +the habit of attending trials or reading reports of them in newspapers. +</p> +<p> +After the discussion on his morality, came the question, Was he alive or +dead? +</p> +<p> +“Sir Samuel never shot himself, sir,” said a short pluffy man with an +asthma. “I 've known him for years, and I can say he was not a man to do +such an act.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, the Ostrich and the United Brethren offices are both of your +opinion,” said another; “they 'll not pay the policy on his life.” + </p> +<p> +“The law only recognizes death on production of the body,” sagely observed +a man in shabby black, with a satin neckcloth, and whom I afterwards +perceived was regarded as a legal authority. +</p> +<p> +“What's to be done, then, if a man be drowned at sea, or burned to a +cinder in a lime-kiln?” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, or by what they call spontaneous combustion, that does n't leave a +shred of you?” cried three objectors in turn. +</p> +<p> +“The law provides for these emergencies with its usual wisdom, gentlemen. +Where death may not be actually proven it can be often inferred.” + </p> +<p> +“But who says that Sir Samuel is dead?” broke in the asthmatic man, +evidently impatient at the didactic tone of the attorney. “All we know of +the matter is a letter of his own signing, that when these lines are read +I shall be no more. Now, is that sufficient evidence of death to induce an +insurance company to hand over some eight or ten thousand pounds to his +family?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe you might say thirty thousand, sir,” suggested a mild voice +from the corner. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind,” interposed another; “the really heavy policies on +his life were held by an old Cumberland baronet, Sir Elkanah Crofton, who +first established Whalley in the iron trade. I 've heard it from my father +fifty times, when a child, that Sam Whalley entered Milford in a fustian +jacket, with all his traps in a handkerchief.” + </p> +<p> +At the mention of Sir Elkanah Crofton, my attention was quickly excited; +this was the uncle of my friends at the Rosary, and I was at once curious +to hear more of him. +</p> +<p> +“Fustian jacket or not, he had a good head on his shoulders,” remarked +one. +</p> +<p> +“And luck, sir; luck, which is better than any head,” sighed the meek man, +sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +“I deny that, deny it totally,” broke in he of the asthma. “If Sam Whalley +hadn't been a man of first-rate order, he never could have made that +concern what it was,—the first foundry in Wales.” + </p> +<p> +“And what is it now, and where is he?” asked the attorney, triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +“At rest, I hope,” murmured the sad man. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it, sir,” said the wheezing voice, in a tone of confidence; +“take <i>my</i> word for it, he 's alive and hearty, somewhere or other, +ay, and we 'll hear of him one of these days: he 'll be smelting metals in +Africa, or cutting a canal through the Isthmus of Heaven knows what, or +prime minister of one of those rajahs in India. He's a clever dog, and he +knows it too. I saw what he thought of himself the day old Sir Elkanah +came down to Fairbridge.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure, you were there that morning,” said the attorney; “tell us +about that meeting.” + </p> +<p> +“It's soon told,” resumed the other. “When Sir Elkanah Crofton arrived at +the house, we were all in the garden. Sir Samuel had taken me there to see +some tulips, which he said were the finest in Europe, except some at the +Hague. Maybe it was that the old baronet was vexed at seeing nobody come +to meet him, or that something else had crossed him, but as he entered the +garden I saw he was sorely out of temper. +</p> +<p> +“'How d'ye do, Sir Elkanah?' said Whalley to him, coming up pleasantly. +'We scarcely expected you before dinner-time. My wife and my daughters,' +said he, introducing them; but the other only removed his hat +ceremoniously, without ever noticing them in the least. +</p> +<p> +“'I hope you had a pleasant journey, Sir Elkanah?' said Whalley, after a +pause, while, with a short jerk of his head, he made signs to the ladies +to leave them. +</p> +<p> +“'I trust I am not the means of breaking up a family party?' said the +other, half sarcastically. 'Is Mrs. Whalley—' +</p> +<p> +“'Lady Whalley, with your good permission, sir,' said Samuel, stiffly. +</p> +<p> +“'Of course; how stupid of me! I should remember you had been knighted. +And, indeed, the thought was full upon me as I came along, for I scarcely +suppose that if higher ambitions had not possessed you, I should find the +farm buildings and the outhouse in the state of ruin I see them.' +</p> +<p> +“'They are better by ten thousand pounds than the day on which I first saw +them; and I say it in the presence of this honest townsman here, my +neighbor,'—meaning <i>me</i>,—'that both <i>you</i> and they +were very creaky concerns when I took you in hand.' +</p> +<p> +“I thought the old Baronet was going to have a fit at these words, and he +caught hold of my arm and swayed backwards and forwards all the time, his +face purple with passion. +</p> +<p> +“'Who made you, sir? who made you?' cried he, at last, with a voice +trembling with rage. +</p> +<p> +“'The same hand that made ns all,' said the other, calmly. 'The same wise +Providence that, for his own ends, creates drones as well as bees, and +makes rickety old baronets as well as men of brains and industry.' +</p> +<p> +“'You shall rue this insolence; it shall cost you dearly, by Heaven!' +cried out the old man, as he gripped me tighter. 'You are a witness, sir, +to the way I have been insulted. I 'll foreclose your mortgage—I 'll +call in every shilling I have advanced—I 'll sell the house over +your head—' +</p> +<p> +“'Ay! but the head without a roof over it will hold itself higher than +your own, old man. The good faculties and good health God has given me are +worth all your title-deeds twice told. If I walk out of this town as poor +as the day I came into it, I 'll go with the calm certainty that I can +earn my bread,—a process that would be very difficult for <i>you</i> +when you could not lend out money on interest.' +</p> +<p> +“'Give me your arm, sir, back to the town,' said the old Baronet to me; I +feel myself too ill to go all alone.' +</p> +<p> +“'Get him to step into the house and take something,' whispered Whalley in +my ear, as he turned away and left us. But I was afraid to propose it; +indeed, if I had, I believe the old man would have had a fit on the spot, +for he trembled from head to foot, and drew long sighs, as if recovering +out of a faint. +</p> +<p> +“'Is there an inn near this,' asked he, where I can stop? and have you a +doctor here?' +</p> +<p> +“'You can have both, Sir Elkanah,' said I. +</p> +<p> +“'You know me, then?—you know who I am?' said he, hastily, as I +called him by his name. +</p> +<p> +“'That I do, sir, and I hold my place under you; my name is Shore.' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, I remember,' said he, vaguely, as he moved away. When we came to +the gate on the road he turned around full and looked at the house, +overgrown with that rich red creeper that was so much admired. 'Mark my +words, my good man,' said he,—mark them well, and as sure as I live, +I 'll not leave one stone on another of that dwelling there.'” + </p> +<p> +“He was promising more than he could perform,” said the attorney. +</p> +<p> +“I don't know that,” sighed the meek man; “there's very little that money +can't do in this life.” + </p> +<p> +“And what has become of Whalley's widow,—if she be a widow?” asked +one. +</p> +<p> +“She's in a poor way. She's up at the village yonder, and, with the help +of one of her girls, she's trying to keep a children's school.” + </p> +<p> +“Lady Whalley's school?'” exclaimed one, in half sarcasm. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but she has taken her maiden name again since this disaster, and +calls herself Mrs. Herbert.” + </p> +<p> +“Has she more than one daughter, sir?” I asked of the last speaker. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, there are two girls; the younger one, they tell me, is going, or +gone abroad, to take some situation or other,—a teacher, or a +governess.” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir,” said the pluffy man, “Miss Kate has gone as companion to an old +widow lady at Brussels,—Mrs. Keats. I saw the letter that arranged +the terms,—a trifle less per annum than her mother gave to her +maid.” + </p> +<p> +“Poor girl!” sighed the sad man. “It 's a dreary way to begin life!” + </p> +<p> +I nodded assentingly to him, and with a smile of gratitude for his +sympathy. Indeed, the sentiment had linked me to him, and made me wish to +be beside him. The conversation now grew discursive, on the score of all +the difficulties that beset women when reduced to make efforts for their +own support; and though the speakers were men well able to understand and +pronounce upon the knotty problem, the subject did not possess interest +enough to turn my mind from the details I had just been hearing. The name +of Miss Herbert on the trunks showed me now who was the young lady I had +met, and I reproached myself bitterly with having separated from her, and +thus forfeited the occasion of befriending her on her journey. We were to +sup somewhere about eleven, and I resolved that I would do my utmost to +discover her, if in the train; and I occupied myself now with imagining +numerous pretexts for presuming to offer my services on her behalf. She +will readily comprehend the disinterested character of my attentions. She +will see that I come in no spirit of levity, but moved by a true sympathy +and the respectful sentiment of one touched by her sorrows. I can fancy +her coy diffidence giving way before the deferential homage of my manner; +and in this I really believe I have some tact. I was not sorry to pursue +this theme undisturbed by the presence of my fellow-travellers, who had +now got out at a station, leaving me all alone to meditate and devise +imaginary conversations with Miss Herbert. I rehearsed to myself the words +by which to address her, my bow, my gesture, my faint smile, a blending of +melancholy with kindliness, my whole air a union of the deference of the +stranger with something almost fraternal. These pleasant musings were now +rudely routed by the return of my fellow-travellers, who came hurrying +back to their places at the banging summons of a great bell. +</p> +<p> +“Everything cold, as usual. It is a perfect disgrace how the public are +treated on this line!” cried one. +</p> +<p> +“I never think of anything but a biscuit and a glass of ale, and they +charged me elevenpence halfpenny for that.” + </p> +<p> +“The directors ought to look to this. I saw those ham-sandwiches when I +came down here last Tuesday week.” + </p> +<p> +“And though the time-table gives us fifteen minutes, I can swear, for I +laid my watch on the table, that we only got nine and a half.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I supped heartily off that spiced round.” + </p> +<p> +“Supped, supped I Did you say you had supped here, sir?” asked I, in +anxiety. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; that last station was Trentham. They give us nothing more now +till we reach town.” + </p> +<p> +I lay back with a faint sigh, and, from that moment, took no note of time +till the guard cried “London!” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X. THE PERILS OF MY JOURNEY TO OSTEND. +</h2> +<p> +“Young lady in deep mourning, sir,—crape shawl and bonnet, sir,” + said the official, in answer to my question, aided by a shilling fee; “the +same as asked where was the station for the Dover Line.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; that must be she.” + </p> +<p> +“Got into a cab, sir, and drove off straight for the Sou'Eastern.” + </p> +<p> +“She was quite alone?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite, sir; but she seems used to travelling,—got her traps +together in no time, and was off in a jiffy.” + </p> +<p> +“Stupid dog!” thought I; “with every advantage position and accident can +confer, how little this fellow reads of character! In this poor, forlorn, +heart-weary orphan, he only sees something like a commercial traveller!” + </p> +<p> +“Any luggage, sir? Is this yours?” said he, pointing to a woolsack. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I, haughtily; “my servants have gone forward with my luggage. I +have nothing but a knapsack.” And with an air of dignity I flung it into a +hansom, and ordered the driver to set me down at the South-Eastern. +Although using every exertion, the train had just started when I arrived, +and a second time was I obliged to wait some hours at a station. Resolving +to free myself from all the captivations of that tendency to day-dreaming,—that +fatal habit of suffering my fancy to direct my steps, as though in pursuit +of some settled purpose,—I calmly asked myself whither I was going—and +for what? Before I had begun the examination, I deemed myself a most +candid, truth-observing, frank witness, and now I discovered that I was +casuistical and “dodgy” as an Old Bailey lawyer. I was haughty and +indignant at being so catechised. My conscience, on the shallow pretext of +being greatly interested about me, was simply prying and inquisitive. +Conscience is all very well when one desires to appeal to it, and refer +some distinct motive or action to its appreciation; but it is scarcely +fair, and certainly not dignified, for conscience to go about seeking for +little accusations of this kind or that. What liberty of action is there, +besides, to a man who carries a “detective” with him wherever he goes? And +lastly, conscience has the intolerable habit of obtruding its opinion upon +details, and will not wait to judge by results. Now, when I have won the +race, come in first, amid the enthusiastic cheers of thousands, I don't +care to be asked, however privately, whether I did not practise some +little bit of rather unfair jockeyship. I never could rightly get over my +dislike to the friend who would take this liberty with me; and this is +exactly the part conscience plays, and with an insufferable air of +superiority, too, as though to say, “None of your shuffling with me, +Potts! That will do all mighty well with the outer world, but <i>I</i> am +not to be humbugged. You never devised a scheme in your life that I was +not by at the cookery, and saw how you mixed the ingredients and stirred +the pot! No, no, old fellow, all your little secret rogueries will avail +you nothing here!” + </p> +<p> +Had these words been actually addressed to me by a living individual, I +could not have heard them more plainly than now they fell upon my ear, +uttered, besides, in a tone of cutting, sarcastic derision. “I will stand +this no longer!” cried I, springing up from my seat and flinging my cigar +angrily away. “I 'm certain no man ever accomplished any high and great +destiny in life who suffered himself to be bullied in this wise; such +irritating, pestering impertinence would destroy the temper of a saint, +and break down the courage and damp the ardor of the boldest. Could great +measures of statecraft be carried out—could battles be won—could +new continents be discovered, if at every strait and every emergency one +was to be interrupted by a low voice, whispering, 'Is this <i>all</i> +right? Are there no flaws here? You live in a world of frailties, Potts. +You are playing at a round game, where every one cheats a little, and +where the Drogueries are never remembered against him who wins. Bear that +in your mind, and keep your cards “up.”'” + </p> +<p> +When I was about to take my ticket, a dictum of the great moralist struck +my mind: “Desultory reading has slain its thousands and tens of +thousands;” and if desultory reading, why not infinitely more so desultory +acquaintance? Surely, our readings do not impress us as powerfully as the +actual intercourse of life. It must be so. It is in this daily conflict +with our fellow-men that we are moulded and fashioned; and the danger is, +to commingle and confuse the impressions made upon our hearts, to cross +the writing on our natures so often that nothing remains legible! “I will +guard against this peril,” thought I. “I will concentrate my intentions +and travel alone.” I slipped a crown into a guard's hand, and whispered, +“Put no one in here if you can help it” As I jogged along, all by myself, +I could not help feeling that one of the highest privileges of wealth must +be to be able always to buy solitude,—to be in a position to say, +“None shall invade me. The world must contrive to go round without a kick +from <i>me</i>. I am a self-contained and self-suffering creature.” If I +were Rothschild, I 'd revel in this sentiment; it places one so +immeasurably above that busy ant-hill where one sees the creatures +hurrying, hastening, and fagging “till their hearts are broken.” One feels +himself a superior intelligence,—a being above the wants and cares +of the work-a-day world around him. +</p> +<p> +“Any room here?” cried a merry voice, breaking in upon my musing; and at +the same instant a young fellow, in a gray travelling-suit and a +wideawake, flung a dressing-bag and a wrapper carelessly into the +carriage, and so recklessly as to come tumbling over me. He never thought +of apology, however, but continued his remarks to the guard, who was +evidently endeavoring to induce him to take a place elsewhere. “No, no!” + cried the young man; “I'm all right here, and the cove with the yellow +hair won't object to my smoking.” + </p> +<p> +I heard these words as I sat in the corner, and I need scarcely say how +grossly the impertinence offended me. That the privacy I had paid for +should be invaded was bad enough, but that my companion should begin +acquaintance with an insult was worse again; and so I determined on no +account, nor upon any pretext, would I hold intercourse with him, but +maintain a perfect silence and reserve so long as our journey lasted. +</p> +<p> +There was an insufferable jauntiness and self-satisfaction in every +movement of the new arrival, even to the reckless way he pitched into the +carriage three small white canvas bags, carefully sealed and docketed; the +address—which! read—being, “To H.M.'s Minister and Envoy at———, +by the Hon. Grey Buller, Attaché, &c” So, then, this was one of the +Young Guard of Diplomacy, one of those sucking Talleyrands, which form the +hope of the Foreign Office and the terror of middle-class English abroad. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mind smoking?” asked he, abruptly, as he scraped his lucifer match +against the roof of the carriage, showing, by the promptitude of his +action, how little he cared for my reply. +</p> +<p> +“I never smoke, sir, except in the carriages reserved for smokers,” was my +rebukeful answer. +</p> +<p> +“And I always do,” said he, in a very easy tone. +</p> +<p> +Not condescending to notice this rude rejoinder, I drew forth my +newspaper, and tried to occupy myself with its contents. +</p> +<p> +“Anything new?” asked he, abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Not that I am aware, sir. I was about to consult the paper.” + </p> +<p> +“What paper is it?” + </p> +<p> +“It is the 'Banner,' sir,—at your service,” said I, with a sort of +sarcasm. +</p> +<p> +“Rascally print; a vile, low, radical, mill-owning organ. Pitch it away!” + </p> +<p> +“Certainly not, sir. Being for <i>me</i> and <i>my</i> edification, I will +beg to exercise my own judgment as to how I deal with it.” + </p> +<p> +“It's deuced low, that's what it is, and that's exactly the fault of all +our daily papers. Their tone is vulgar; they reflect nothing of the +opinions one hears in society. Don't you agree with me?” + </p> +<p> +I gave a sort of muttering dissent, and he broke in quickly,—“Perhaps +not; it's just as likely <i>you</i> would not think them low, but take <i>my</i> +word for it, <i>I'm</i> right.” + </p> +<p> +I shook my head negatively, without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Well, now,” cried he, “let us put the thing to the test Read out one of +those leaders. I don't care which, or on what subject Read it out, and I +pledge myself to show you at least one vulgarism, one flagrant outrage on +good breeding, in every third sentence.” + </p> +<p> +“I protest, sir,” said I, haughtily, “I shall do no such thing. I have +come here neither to read aloud nor take up the defence of the public +press.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, look out!” cried he; “you 'll smash something in that bag you 're +kicking there. If I don't mistake, it's Bohemian glass. No, no; all +right,” said he, examining the number, “it's only Yarmouth bloaters.” + </p> +<p> +“I imagined these contained despatches, sir,” said I, with a look of what +he ought to have understood as withering scorn. +</p> +<p> +“You did, did you?” cried he, with a quick laugh. “Well, I 'll bet you a +sovereign I make a better guess about <i>your</i> pack than you 've done +about <i>mine</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“Done, sir; I take you,” said I, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Well; you 're in cutlery, or hardware, or lace goods, or ribbons, or +alpaca cloth, or drugs, ain't you?” + </p> +<p> +“I am not, sir,” was my stern reply. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bagman?” + </p> +<p> +“Not a bagman, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you 're an usher in a commercial academy, or 'our own +correspondent,' or a telegraph clerk?” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm none of these, sir. And I now beg to remind you, that instead of one +guess, you have made about a dozen.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you 've won, there's no denying it,” said he, taking a sovereign +from his waistcoat-pocket and handing it to me. “It's deuced odd how I +should be mistaken. I 'd have sworn you were a bagman!” But for the +impertinence of these last words I should have declined to accept his lost +bet, but I took it now as a sort of vindication of my wounded feelings. +“Now it's all over and ended,” said he, calmly, “what are you? I don't ask +out of any impertinent curiosity, but that I hate being foiled in a thing +of this kind. What are you?” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll tell you what I am, sir,” said I, indignantly, for now I was +outraged beyond endurance,—“I 'll tell you, sir, what I am, and what +I feel myself,—one singularly unlucky in a travelling-companion.” + </p> +<p> +“Bet you a five-pound note you're not,” broke he in. “Give you six to five +on it, in anything you like.” + </p> +<p> +“It would be a wager almost impossible to decide, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind. Let us leave it to the first pretty woman we see at +the station, the guard of the train, the fellow in the pay-office, the +stoker if you like.” + </p> +<p> +“I must own, sir, that you express a very confident opinion of your case.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you bet?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, certainly not” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, shut up, and say no more about it. If a man won't back his +opinion, the less he says the better.” + </p> +<p> +I lay back in my place at this, determined that no provocation should +induce me to exchange another word with him. Apparently, he had not made a +like resolve, for he went on: “It's all bosh about appearances being +deceptive, and so forth. They say 'not all gold that glitters;' my notion +is that with a fellow who really knows life, no disguise that was ever +invented will be successful: the way a man wears his hair,”—here he +looked at mine,—“the sort of gloves he has, if there be anything +peculiar in his waistcoat, and, above all, his boots. I don't believe the +devil was ever more revealed in his hoof than a snob by his shoes.” A most +condemnatory glance at my extremities accompanied this speech. +</p> +<p> +“Must I endure this sort of persecution all the way to Dover?” was the +question I asked of my misery. +</p> +<p> +“Look out, you're on fire!” said he, with a dry laugh. And sure enough, a +spark from his cigarette had fallen on my trousers, and burned a round +hole in them. +</p> +<p> +“Really, sir,” cried I, in passionate warmth, “your conduct becomes +intolerable.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if I knew you preferred being singed, I'd have said-nothing about +it. What's this station here? Where's your 'Bradshaw'?” + </p> +<p> +“I have got no 'Bradshaw,' sir,” said I, with dignity. +</p> +<p> +“No 'Bradshaw '! A bagman without 'Bradshaw'! Oh, I forgot, you ain't a +bagman. Why are we stopping here? Something smashed, I suspect. Eh! what! +isn't that she? Yes, it is! Open the door!—let me out, I say! +Confound the lock!—let me out!” While he uttered these words, in an +accent of the wildest impatience, I had but time to see a lady, in deep +mourning, pass on to a carriage in front, just as, with a preliminary +snort, the train shook, then backed, and at last set out on its thundering +course again. “Such a stunning fine girl!” said he, as he lighted a fresh +cigar; “saw her just as we started, and thought I 'd run her to earth in +this carriage. Precious mistake I made, eh, was n't it? All in black—deep +black—and quite alone!” + </p> +<p> +I had to turn towards the window not to let him perceive how his words +agitated me, for I felt certain it was Miss Herbert he was describing, and +I felt a sort of revulsion to think of the poor girl being subjected to +the impertinence of this intolerable puppy. +</p> +<p> +“Too much style about her for a governess; and yet, somehow, she was n't, +so to say—you know what I mean—she was n't altogether <i>that</i>; +looked frightened, and people of real class never look frightened.” + </p> +<p> +“The daughter of a clergyman, probably,” said I, with a tone of such +reproof as I hoped must check all levity. +</p> +<p> +“Or a flash maid! some of them, nowadays, are wonderful swells; they 've +got an art of dressing and making-up that is really surprising.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no experience of the order, sir,” said I, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Well, so I should say. <i>Your</i> beat is in the haberdashery or hosiery +line, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Has it not yet occurred to you, sir,” asked I, sternly, “that an +acquaintanceship brief as ours should exclude personalities, not to say—” + I wanted to add “impertinences;” but his gray eyes were turned full on me, +with an expression so peculiar that I faltered, and could not get the word +out. +</p> +<p> +“Well, go on,—out with it: not to say what?” said he, calmly. +</p> +<p> +I turned my shoulder towards him, and nestled down into my place. +</p> +<p> +“There's a thing, now,” said he, in a tone of the coolest reflection,—“there's +a thing, now, that I never could understand, and I have never met the man +to explain it. Our nation, as a nation, is just as plucky as the French,—no +one disputes it; and yet take a Frenchman of <i>your</i> class,—the +<i>commis-voyageur</i>, or anything that way,—and you 'll just find +him as prompt on the point of honor as the best noble in the land. He +never utters an insolent speech without being ready to back it.” + </p> +<p> +I felt as if I were choking, but I never uttered a word. +</p> +<p> +“I remember meeting one of those fellows—traveller for some house in +the wine trade—at Avignon. It was at <i>table d'hote</i>, and I said +something slighting about Communism, and he replied, '<i>Monsieur, je suis +Fouriériste</i>, and you insult me.' Thereupon he sent me his card by the +waiter,—'Paul Déloge, for the house of Gougon, <i>père et fils</i>.' +I tore it, and threw it away, saying, 'I never drink Bordeaux wines.' +'What do you say to a glass of Hermitage, then?' said he, and flung the +contents of his own in my face. Wasn't that very ready? <i>I</i> call it +as neat a thing as could be.” + </p> +<p> +“And you bore that outrage,” said I, in triumphant delight; “you submitted +to a flagrant insult like that at a public table?” + </p> +<p> +“I don't know what you call 'bearing it,'” said he; “the thing was done, +and I had only to wipe my face with my napkin.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing more?” said I, sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“We went out, afterwards, if you mean <i>that</i>,” said he, quietly, “and +he ran me through here.” As he spoke, he proceeded, in leisurely fashion, +to unbutton the wrist of his shirt, and, baring his arm midway, showed me +a pinkish cicatrice of considerable extent. “It went, the doctor said, +within a hair's-breadth of the artery.” + </p> +<p> +I made no comment upon this story. From the moment I heard it, I felt as +though I was travelling with the late Mr. Palmer, of Rugeley. I was as it +were in the company of one who never would have scrupled to dispose of me, +at any moment and in any way that his fancy suggested. My code respecting +the duel was to regard it as the last, the very last, appeal in the direst +emergency of dishonor. The men who regarded it as the settlement of slight +differences, I deemed assassins. They were no more safe associates for +peaceful citizens than a wolf was a meet companion for a flock of South +Downs. The more I ruminated on this theme, the more indignant grew my +resentment, and the question assumed the shape of asking, “Is the great +mass of mankind to be hectored and bullied by some half-dozen scoundrels +with skill at the small sword?” Little knew I that in the ardor of my +indignation I had uttered these words aloud,—spoken them with an +earnest vehemence, looking my fellow-traveller full in the face, and +frowning. +</p> +<p> +“Scoundrel is strong, eh?” said he, slowly; “<i>very</i> strong!” + </p> +<p> +“Who spoke of a scoundrel?” asked I, in terror, for his confounded calm, +cold manner made my very blood run chilled. +</p> +<p> +“Scoundrel is exactly the sort of word,” added he, deliberately, “that +once uttered can only be expiated in one way. You do not give me the +impression of a very bright individual, but certainly you can understand +so much.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed a dignified assent; my heart was in my mouth as I did it, and I +could not, to save my life, have uttered a word. My predicament was highly +perilous; and all incurred by what?—that passion for adventure that +had led me forth out of a position of easy obscurity into a world of +strife, conflict, and difficulty. Why had I not stayed at home? What +foolish infatuation had ever suggested to me the Quixotism of these +wanderings? Blondel had done it all. Were it not for Blondel, I had never +met Father Dyke, talked myself into a stupid wager, lost what was not my +own; in fact, every disaster sprang out of the one before it, just as twig +adheres to branch and branch to trunk. Shall I make a clean breast of it, +and tell my companion my whole story? Shall I explain to him that at heart +I am a creature of the kindliest impulses and most generous sympathies, +that I overflow with good intentions towards my fellows, and that the +problem I am engaged to solve is how shall I dispense most happiness? Will +he comprehend me? Has he a nature to appreciate an organization so fine +and subtle as mine? Will he understand that the fairy who endows us with +our gifts at birth is reckoned to be munificent when she withholds only +one high quality, and with me that one was courage? I mean the coarse, +vulgar, combative sort of courage that makes men prizefighters and +bargees; for as to the grander species of courage, I imagine it to be my +distinguishing feature. +</p> +<p> +The question is, will he give me a patient hearing, for my theory requires +nice handling, and some delicacy in the developing? He may cut me short in +his bluff, abrupt way, and say, “Out with it, old fellow, you want to +sneak out of this quarrel.” What am I to reply? I shall rejoin: “Sir, let +us first inquire if it be a quarrel. From the time of Atrides down to the +Crimean war, there has not been one instance of a conflict that did not +originate in misconceptions, and has not been prolonged by delusions! Let +us take the Peloponnesian war.” A short grunt beside me here cut short my +argumentation. He was fast, sound asleep, and snoring loudly. My thoughts +at once suggested escape. Could I but get away, I fancied I could find +space in the world, never again to see myself his neighbor. +</p> +<p> +The train was whirling along between deep chalk cuttings, and at a furious +pace; to leap out was certain death. But was not the same fate reserved +for me if I remained? At last I heard the crank-crank of the break! We +were nearing a station; the earth walls at either side receded; the view +opened; a spire of a church, trees, houses appeared; and, our speed +diminishing, we came bumping, throbbing, and snorting into a little trim +garden-like spot, that at the moment seemed to me a paradise. +</p> +<p> +I beckoned to the guard to let me out,—to do it noiselessly I +slipped a shilling into his band. I grasped my knapsack and my wrapper, +and stole furtively away. Oh, the happiness of that moment as the door +closed without awakening him! +</p> +<p> +“Anywhere—any carriage—what class you please,” muttered I. +“There, yonder,” broke I in, hastily,—“where that lady in mourning +has just got in.” + </p> +<p> +“All full there, sir,” replied the man; “step in here.”: And away we went. +</p> +<p> +My compartment contained but one passenger; he wore a gold band round his +oil-skin cap, and seemed the captain of a mail steamer, or Admiralty +agent; he merely glanced at me as I came in, and went on reading his +newspaper. +</p> +<p> +“Going north, I suppose?” said he, bluntly, after a pause of some time. +“Going to Germany?” + </p> +<p> +“No” said I, rather astonished at his giving me this destination. “I 'm +for Brussels.” + </p> +<p> +“We shall have a rough night of it, outside; glass is falling suddenly, +and the wind has chopped round to the southward and eastward!” + </p> +<p> +“I'm sorry for it,” said I. “I'm but an indifferent sailor.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I 'll tell you what to do: just turn into my cabin, you 'll have it +all to yourself; lie down flat on your back the moment you get aboard; +tell the steward to give you a strong glass of brandy-and-water—the +captain's brandy say, for it is rare old stuff, and a perfect cordial, and +my name ain't Slidders if you don't sleep all the way across.” + </p> +<p> +I really had no words for such unexpected generosity; how was I to believe +my ears at such a kind proposal of a perfect stranger? Was it anything in +my appearance that could have marked me out as an object for these +attentions? “I don't know how to thank you enough,” said I, in confusion; +“and when I think that we meet now for the first time—” + </p> +<p> +“What does that signify?” said he, in the same short way. “I 've met +pretty nigh all of you by this time. I 've been a matter of eleven years +on this station!” + </p> +<p> +“Met pretty nigh all of us!” What does that mean? Who and what are we? He +can't mean the Pottses, for I 'm the first who ever travelled even thus +far! But I was not given leisure to follow up the inquiry, for he went on +to say how in all that time of eleven years he had never seen threatenings +of a worse night than that before us. +</p> +<p> +“Then why venture out?” asked I, timidly. +</p> +<p> +“They must have the bags over there; that's the reason,” said he, curtly: +“besides, who's to say when he won't meet dirty weather at sea,—one +takes rough and smooth in this life, eh?” + </p> +<p> +The observation was not remarkable for originality, but I liked it. I like +the reflective turn, no matter how beaten the path it may select for its +exercise. +</p> +<p> +“It's a short trip,—some five or six hours at most,” said he; “but +it's wonderful what ugly weather one sees in it. It's always so in these +narrow seas.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, concurringly, “these petty channels, like the small events +of our life, are often the sources of our greatest perils.” + </p> +<p> +He gave a little short grunt: it might have been assent, and it might +possibly have been a rough protest against further moralizing; at all +events, he resumed his paper, and read away without speaking. I had time +to examine him well, now, at my leisure, and there was nothing in his face +that could give me any clew to the generous nature of his offer to me. No, +he was a hard-featured, weather-beaten, rather stern sort of man, verging +on fifty seven or eight. He looked neither impulsive nor confiding, and +there was in the shape of his mouth, and the curve of the lines around it, +that peremptory and almost cruel decision that marks the sea-captain. +“Well,” thought I, “I must seek the explanation of the riddle elsewhere. +The secret sympathy that moved him must have its root in <i>me</i>; and, +after all, history has never told that the dolphins who were charmed by +Orpheus were peculiar dolphins, with any special fondness for music, or an +ear for melody; they were ordinary creatures of the deep,—fish, so +to say, taken <i>ex-medio acervo</i> of delphinity. The marvel of their +captivation lay in the spell of the enchanter. It was the thrilling touch +of <i>his</i> fingers, the tasteful elegance of <i>his</i> style, the +voluptuous inthralment of the sounds <i>he</i> awakened, that worked the +miracle. This man of the sea has, therefore, been struck by something in +my air, bearing, or address; one of those mysterious sympathies which are +the hidden motives that guide half our lives, had drawn him to me, and he +said to himself, 'I like that man. I have met more pretentious people, I +have seen persons who desire to dominate and impose more than he, but +there is that about him that somehow appeals to the instincts of my +nature, and I can say I feel myself his friend already.'” + </p> +<p> +As I worked at my little theory, with all the ingenuity I knew how to +employ on such occasions, I perceived that he had put up his newspaper, +and was gathering together, in old traveller fashion, the odds and ends of +his baggage. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are,” said he, as we glided into the station, “and in capital +time too. Don't trouble yourself about your traps. My steward will be here +presently, and take all your things down to the packet along with my own. +Our steam is up; so lose no time in getting aboard.” + </p> +<p> +I had never less inclination to play the loiterer. The odious <i>attaché</i> +was still in my neighborhood, and until I had got clear out of his reach I +felt anything but security. <i>He</i>, I remembered, was for Calais, so +that, by taking the Ostend boat, I was at once separating myself from his +detestable companionship. I not only, therefore, accepted the captain's +offer to leave all my effects to the charge of the steward; but no sooner +had the train stopped, than I sprang out, hastened through the thronged +station, and made at all my speed for the harbor. +</p> +<p> +Is it to increase the impediments to quitting one's country, and, by +interposing difficulties, to give the exile additional occasion to think +twice about expatriating himself, that the way from the railroad to the +dock at Dover is made so circuitous and almost impossible to discover? Are +these obstacles invented in the spirit of those official details which +make banns on the church-door, and a delay of three weeks precede a +marriage, as though to say, Halt, impetuous youth, and bethink you whither +you are going? Are these amongst the wise precautions of a truly paternal +rule? If so, they must occasionally even transcend the original intention, +for when I reached the pier, the packet had already begun to move, and it +was only by a vigorous leap that I gained the paddle-box, and thus +scrambled on board. +</p> +<p> +“Like every one of you,” growled out my weather-beaten friend; “always +within an ace of being left behind.” + </p> +<p> +“Every one of us!” muttered I. “What can he have known of the Potts +family, that he dares to describe us thus characteristically? And who ever +presumed to call us loiterers or sluggards?” + </p> +<p> +“Step down below, as I told you,” whispered he. “It's a dirty night, and +we shall have bucketing weather outside.” And with this friendly hint I at +once complied, and stole down the ladder. “Show that gentleman into my +stateroom, steward,” called he out from above. “Mix him something warm, +and look after him.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, ay, sir,” was the brisk reply, as the bustling man of brandy and +basins threw open a small door, and ushered me into a little den, with a +mingled odor of tar, Stilton, and wet mackintoshes. “All to yourself here, +sir,” said he, and vanished. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. A JEALOUS HUSBAND. +</h2> +<p> +I take it for granted that all special “charities” have had their origin +in some specific suffering. At least, I can aver that my first thought on +landing at Ostend was, “Why has no great philanthropist thought of +establishing such an institution as a Refuge for the Sea-sick?” I declare +this publicly, that if I ever become rich,—a consummation which, +looking to the general gentleness of my instincts, the wide benevolence of +my nature, and the kindliness of my temperament, mankind might well +rejoice at,—if, I repeat, I ever become rich, one of the first uses +of my affluence will be to endow such an establishment. I will place it in +some one of our popular ports, say Southampton. Surrounded with all the +charms of inland scenery, rich in every rustic association, the patient +shall never be reminded of the scene of his late sufferings. A velvety +turf to stroll on, with a leafy shade above his-head, the mellow lowing of +cattle in his ears, and the fragrant odors of meadow-sweet and hawthorn +around, I would recall the sufferer from the dread memories of the +slippery deck, the sea-washed stairs, or the sleepy state-room. For the +rattle of cordage, and the hoarse trumpet of the skipper, I would +substitute the song of the thrush or the blackbird; and, instead of the +thrice odious steward and his basin, I would have trim maidens of pleasing +aspect to serve him with syllabubs. I will not go on to say the hundred +device» I would employ to cheat memory out of a gloomy record, for I +treasure the hope that I may yet live to carry out my theory, and have a +copyright in my invention. +</p> +<p> +It was with sentiments deeply tinctured by the above that I tottered, +rather than walked, towards the “Hôtel Royal.” It was a bright moonlight +night, and, as if in mockery of the weather outside, as still and calm as +might be. Many a picturesque effect of light and shade met me as I went: +quaint old gables flaring in a strong flood of moonlight, showed outlines +the strangest and oddest; twinkling lamps shone out of tall, dark-sided, +old houses, from which strains of music came plaintively enough in the +night air; the sounds of a prolonged revel rose loudly out of that +deep-pillared chateau-like building in the Place, and in the quiet alley +adjoining, I could catch the low song of a mother as she tried to sing her +baby to sleep. It was all human in every touch and strain of it And did I +not drink it in with rapture? Was it not in a transport of gratitude that +I thanked Fortune for once again restoring me to land? “O Earth, Earth!” + says the Greek poet, “how art thou interwoven with that nature that first +came from thee!” Thus musing, I reached the inn, where, though the hour +was a late one, the household was all active and astir. +</p> +<p> +“Many passengers arrived, waiter?” said I, in the easy, careless voice of +one who would not own to sea-sickness. +</p> +<p> +“Very few, sir; the severe weather has deterred several from venturing +across.” + </p> +<p> +“Any ladies?” + </p> +<p> +“Only one, sir; and, poor thing! she seems to have suffered fearfully. She +had to be carried from the boat, and when she tried to walk upstairs, she +almost fainted. There might have been some agitation, however, in that, +for she expected some one to have met her here; and when she heard that he +had not arrived, she was completely overcome.” + </p> +<p> +“Very sad, indeed,” said I, examining the <i>carte</i> for supper. +</p> +<p> +“Oh yes, sir; and being in deep mourning, too, and a stranger away for the +first time from her country.” + </p> +<p> +I started, and felt my heart bounding against my side. +</p> +<p> +“What was it you said about deep mourning, and being young and beautiful?” + asked I, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Only the mourning, sir,—it was only the mourning I mentioned; for +she kept her veil close down, and would not suffer her face to be seen.” + </p> +<p> +“Bashful as beautiful! modest as she is fair!” muttered I. “Do you happen +to know whither she is going?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; her luggage is marked 'Brussels.'” + </p> +<p> +“It is she! It is herself!” cried I, in rapture, as I turned away, lest +the fellow should notice my emotion. “When does she leave this?” + </p> +<p> +“She seems doubtful, sir; she told the landlady that she is going to +reside at Brussels; but never having been abroad before, she is naturally +timid about travelling even so far alone.” + </p> +<p> +“Gentle creature! why should she be exposed to such hazards? Bring me some +of this fricandeau with chiccory, waiter, and a pint of Beaune; fried +potatoes too.—Would that I could tell her to fear nothing!” thought +I. “Would that I could just whisper, 'Potts is here; Potts watches over +you; Potts will be that friend, that brother, that should have come to +meet you! Sleep soundly, and with a head at ease. You are neither +friendless nor forsaken!'” I feel I must be naturally a creature of +benevolent instincts; for I am never so truly happy as when engaged in a +work of kindness. Let me but suggest to myself a labor of charity, some +occasion to sorrow with the afflicted, to rally the weak-hearted, and to +succor the wretched, and I am infinitely more delighted than by all the +blandishment of what is called “society.” Men have their allotted parts in +life, just as certain fruits are meet for certain climates. Mine was the +grand comforting line. Nature meant me for a consoler. I have none of +those impulsive temperaments which make what are called jolly fellows. I +have no taste for those excesses which go by the name of conviviality. I +can, it is true, be witty, anecdotic, and agreeable; I can spice +conversation with epigram, and illustrate argument by apt example; but my +forte is tenderness. +</p> +<p> +“Is not this veal a little tough, waiter?” said I, in gentle remonstrance. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur is right,” said he, bowing; “but if a morsel of cold pheasant +would be acceptable—mademoiselle, the lady in mourning, has just +taken a wing of it—” + </p> +<p> +“Bring it directly.—Oh, ecstasy of ecstasies! We are then, as it +were, supping together—served from the same dish!—May I have +the honor?” said I, filling ont a glass of wine and bowing respectfully +And with an air of deep devotion across the table. The pheasant was +exquisite, and I ate with an epicurean enjoyment. I called for another +pint of Beaune too. It was an occasion for some indulgence, and I could +not deny myself. No sooner had the waiter left me alone, than I burst into +an expansive acknowledgment of my happiness. “Yes, Potts,” said I, “you +are richer in that temperament of yours than if you owned half California. +That boundless wealth of good intentions is a well no pumping can exhaust. +Go on doing imaginary good forever. You are never the poorer for all the +orphans you support, all the distresses you relieve. You rescue the +mariner from shipwreck without wetting your feet. You charge at the head +of a squadron without the peril of a scratch. All blessed be the gift +which can do these things!” + </p> +<p> +You call these delusions; but is it a delusion to be a king, to deliver a +people from slavery, to carry succor to a drowning crew? I have done all +of these; that is, I have gone through every changeful mood of hope and +fear that accompanies these actions, sipping my glass of Beaune between +whiles. +</p> +<p> +When I found myself in my bedroom I had no inclination for sleep; I was in +a mood of enjoyment too elevated for mere repose. It was so delightful to +be no longer at sea, to feel rescued from the miseries of the rocking ship +and the reeking cabin, that I would not lose the rapture of +forgetful-ness. I was in the mood for great things, too, if I only knew +what they were to be. “Ah!” thought I, suddenly, “I will write to <i>her</i>. +She shall know that she is not the friendless and forsaken creature that +she deems herself; she shall hear that, though separated from home, +friends, and country, there is one near to watch over and protect her, and +that Potts devotes himself to her service.” I opened my desk, and in all +the impatience of my ardor began:— +</p> +<p> +“'Dear Madam,'—Quere: Ought I to say 'dear'? 'We are not acquainted, +and can I presume upon the formula that implies acquaintanceship? No. I +must omit 'dear;' and then 'madam' looks fearfully stern and rigid, +particularly when addressed to a young unmarried lady; she is certainly +not 'madam' yet, surely. I can't begin 'miss,' What a language is ours? +How cruelly fatal to all the tenderer emotions is a dialect so +matter-of-fact and formal! +</p> +<p> +“If I could only start with 'Gentilissima Signora,' how I could get on! +What an impulse would the words lend me! What 'way on me' would they +impart for what was to follow! In our cast-metal tongue there is nothing +for it but the third person: 'The undersigned has the honor,' &c., +&c. This is chilling—it is positively repulsive. Let me see, +will this do?— +</p> +<p> +“'The gentleman who was fortunate enough to render you some trivial +service at the Milford station two days ago, having accidentally learned +that you are here and unprovided with a protector, in all humility offers +himself to afford you every aid and counsel in his power. No stranger to +the touching interest of your life, deeply sensible of the delicacy that +should surround your steps, if you deign to accept his devoted services, +he will endeavor to prove himself, by every sentiment of respect, your +most faithful, most humble, and most grateful servant +</p> +<p> +“'P. S. His name is Potts.' +</p> +<p> +“Yes, all will do but the confounded postscript. What a terrible bathos,—'His +name is Potts'! What if I say, 'One word of reply is requested, addressed +to Algernon Sydney Pottinger, at this hotel'?” + </p> +<p> +I made a great many copies of this document, always changing something as +I went. I felt the importance of every word, and fastidiously pondered +over each expression I employed. The bright sun of morning broke in at +last upon my labors and found me still at my desk, still composing. All +done, I lay down and slept soundly. +</p> +<p> +“Is she gone, waiter?” said I, as he entered my room with hot water. “Is +she gone?” + </p> +<p> +“Who, sir?” asked he, in some astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“The lady in black, who came over in the last mail-packet from Dover; the +young lady in deep mourning, who arrived all alone.” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir. She has sent all round the hotels this morning to inquire after +some one who was to have met her here, but, apparently, without success.” + </p> +<p> +“Give her this; place it in her own hand, and, as you are leaving the +room, say, in a gentle voice: 'Is there an answer, mademoiselle?' You +understand?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I believe I do,” said he, significantly, as he slyly pocketed the +half-Napoleon fee I had tendered for his acceptance. +</p> +<p> +Now the fellow had thrown into his countenance—a painfully astute +and cunning face it was—one of those expressive looks which actually +made me shudder. It seemed to say, “This is a conspiracy, and we are both +in it.” + </p> +<p> +“You are not for a moment to suppose,” said I, hurriedly, “that there is +one syllable in that letter which could compromise me, or wound the +delicacy of the most susceptible.” + </p> +<p> +“I am convinced that monsieur has written it with most consummate skill,” + said he, with a supercilious grin, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +How I detest the familiarity of a foreign waiter! The fellows cannot +respond to the most ordinary question without an affectation of showing +off their immense acuteness and knowledge of life. It is their eternal +boast how they read people, and with what an instinctive subtlety they can +decipher all the various characters that pass before them. Now this +impertinent lackey, who is to say what has he not imputed to me? Utterly +incapable as such a creature must necessarily be of the higher and nobler +motives that sway men of my order, he will doubtless have ascribed to me +the most base and degenerate motives. +</p> +<p> +I was wrong in speaking one word to the fellow. I might have said, “Take +that note to Number Fourteen, and ask if there be an answer;” or, better +still, if I had never written at all, but merely sent in my card to ask if +the lady would vouchsafe to accord me an audience of a few minutes. Yes, +such would have been the discreet course; and then I might have trusted to +my manner, my tact, and a certain something in my general bearing, to have +brought the matter to a successful issue. While I thus meditated, the +waiter re-entered the room, and, cautiously closing the door, approached +me with an ostentatious pretence of secrecy and mystery. +</p> +<p> +“I have given her the letter,” said he, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Speak up!” said I, severely; “what answer has the lady given?” + </p> +<p> +“I think you 'll get the answer presently,” said he, with a sort of grin +that actually thrilled through me. +</p> +<p> +“You may leave the room,” said I, with dignity, for I saw how the fellow +was actually revelling in the enjoyment of my confusion. +</p> +<p> +“They were reading it over together for the third time when I came away,” + said he, with a most peculiar look. +</p> +<p> +“Whom do you mean? Who are they that you speak of?” + </p> +<p> +“The gentleman that she was expecting. He came by the 9.40 train from +Brussels. Just in time for your note.” As the wretch uttered these words, +a violent ringing of bells resounded along the corridor, and he rushed out +without waiting for more. +</p> +<p> +I turned in haste to my note-book; various copies of my letter were there, +and I was eager to recall the expressions I had employed in addressing +her. Good heavens! what had I really written? Here were scraps of all +sorts of absurdity; poetry, too! verses to the “Fair Victim of a Recent +War,” with a number of rhymes for the last word, such as “low,” “snow,” + “mow,” &c.,—all evidences of composition under difficulty. +</p> +<p> +While I turned over these rough copies, the door opened, and a large, +red-faced, stern-looking man, in a suit of red-brown tweed, and with a +heavy stick in his hand, entered; he closed the door leisurely after him, +and I half thought that I saw him also turn the key in the lock. He +advanced towards me with a deliberate step, and, in a voice measured as +his gait, said,— +</p> +<p> +“I am Mr. Jopplyn, sir,—I am Mr. Christopher Jopplyn.” + </p> +<p> +“I am charmed to hear it, sir,” said I, in some confusion, for, without +the vaguest conception of wherefore, I suspected lowering weather ahead. +</p> +<p> +“May I offer you a chair, Mr. Jopplyn? Won't you be seated? We are going +to have a lovely day, I fancy,—a great change after yesterday.” + </p> +<p> +“Your name, sir,” said he, in the same solemnity as before,—“your +name I apprehend to be Porringer?” + </p> +<p> +“Pottinger, if you permit me; Pottinger, not Porringer.” + </p> +<p> +“It shall be as you say, sir; I am indifferent what you call yourself.” He +heaved something that sounded like a hoarse sigh, and proceeded: “I have +come to settle a small account that stands between us. Is that document +your writing?” As he said this, he drew, rather theatrically, from his +breast-pocket the letter I had just written, and extended it towards me. +“I ask, sir,—and I mean you to understand that I will suffer no +prevarication,—is that document in your writing?” + </p> +<p> +I trembled all over as I took it, and for an instant I determined to +disavow it; but in the same brief space I bethought me that my denial +would be in vain. I then tried to look boldly, and brazen it out; I +fancied to laugh it off as a mere pleasantry, and, failing in courage for +each of these, I essayed, as a last resource, the argumentative and +discussions! line, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“If you will favor me with an indulgent hearing for a few minutes, Mr. +Jopplyn, I trust to explain to your complete satisfaction the +circumstances of that epistle.” + </p> +<p> +“Take five, sir,—five,” said he, laying a ponderous silver watch on +the table as he spoke, and pointing to the minute-hand. +</p> +<p> +“Really, sir,” said I, stung by the peremptory and dictatorial tone he +assumed, “I have yet to learn that intercourse between gentlemen is to be +regulated by clockwork, not to say that I have to inquire by what right +you ask me for this explanation.” + </p> +<p> +“One minute gone,” said he, solemnly. +</p> +<p> +“I don't care if there were fifty,” said I, passionately. “I disclaim all +pretension of a perfect stranger to obtrude himself upon me, and by the +mere assumption of a pompous manner and an imposing air, to inquire into +my private affairs.” + </p> +<p> +“There are two!” said he, with the same solemnity. +</p> +<p> +“Who is Mr. Jopplyn,—what is he to me?” cried I, in increased +excitement, “that he presents himself in my apartment like a commissary of +police? Do you imagine, sir, because I am a young man, that this—this—impertinence +“—Lord, what a gulp it cost me!—“is to pass unpunished? Do you +fancy that a red beard and a heavy walking-cane are to strike terror into +me? You may think, perhaps, that I am unarmed—” + </p> +<p> +“Three!” said he, with a bang of his stick on the floor that made me +actually jump with the stick. +</p> +<p> +“Leave the room, sir,” said I; “it is my pleasure to be alone,—the +apartment is mine,—I am the proprietor here. A very little sense of +delicacy, a very small amount of good breeding, might show you, that when +a gentleman declines to receive company, when he shows himself indisposed +to the society of strangers—” + </p> +<p> +“One minute more, now,” said he, in a low growl; while he proceeded to +button up his coat to the neck, and make preparation for some coming +event. +</p> +<p> +My heart was in my mouth; I gave a glance at the window; it was the third +story, and a leap out would have been fatal. What would I not have given +for one of those weapons I had so proudly proclaimed myself possessed of! +There was not even a poker in the room. I made a spring at the bell-rope, +and before he could interpose, gave one pull that, though it brought down +the cord, resounded through the whole house. +</p> +<p> +“Time is up, Porringer,” said he, slowly, as he replaced the watch in his +pocket, and grasped his murderous-looking cane. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/nor0132.jpg" alt="nor0132" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +There was a large table in the room, and I intrenched myself at once +behind this, armed with a light cane chair, while I screamed murder in +every language I could command. Failing to reach me across the table, my +assailant tried to dodge me by false starts, now at this side, now at +that. Though a large fleshy man, he was not inactive, and it required all +my quickness to escape him. These manoeuvres being unsuccessful, he very +quickly placed a chair beside the table and mounted upon it. I now hurled +my chair at him; he warded off the blow and rushed on; with one spring I +bounded under the table, reappearing at the opposite side just as he had +reached mine. These tactics we now pursued for several minutes, when my +enemy suddenly changed his attack, and, descending from the table, he +turned it on edge; the effort required strength. I seized the moment and +reached the door; I tore it open in some fashion, gained the stairs, the +court, the streets, and ran ever onward with the wildness of one possessed +with no time for thought, nor any knowledge to guide; I turned left and +right, choosing only the narrowest lanes that presented themselves, and at +last came to a dead halt at an open drawbridge, where a crowd stood +waiting to pass. +</p> +<p> +“How is this? What's all the hurry for? Where are you running this +fashion?” cried a well-known voice. I turned, and saw the skipper of the +packet. +</p> +<p> +“Are you armed? Can you defend me?” cried I, in terror; “or shall I leap +in and swim for it?” + </p> +<p> +“I'll stand by you. Don't be afraid, man,” said he, drawing my arm within +his; “no one shall harm you. Were they robbers?” + </p> +<p> +“No, worse,—assassins!” said I, gulping, for I was heartily ashamed +of my terror, and determined to show “cause why” in the plural. +</p> +<p> +“Come in here, and have a glass of something,” said he, turning into a +little cabaret, with whose penetralia he seemed not unfamiliar. “You 're +all safe here,” said he, as he closed the door of a little room. “Let's +hear all about it, though I half guess the story already.” + </p> +<p> +I had no difficulty in perceiving, from my companion's manner, that he +believed some sudden shock had shaken my faculties, and that my intellects +were for the time deranged; nor was it very easy for me to assume +sufficient calm to disabuse him of his error, and assert my own perfect +coherency. “You have been out for a lark,” said he, laughingly. “I see it +all. You have been at one of those tea-gardens and got into a row with +some stout Fleming. All the young English go through that sort of thing. +Ain't I right?” + </p> +<p> +“Never more mistaken in your life, Captain. My conduct since I landed +would not discredit a canon of St. Paul's. In fact, all my habits, my +tastes, my instincts, are averse to every sort of junketing. I am +essentially retiring, sensitive, And, if you will, over-fastidious in my +choice of associates. My story is simply this.” My reader will readily +excuse my repeating what is already known to him. It is enough if I say +that the captain, although anything rather than mirthful, held his hand +several times over his face, and once laughed out loudly and boisterously. +</p> +<p> +“You don't say it was Christy Jopplyn, do you?” said he, at last. “You +don't tell me it was Jopplyn?” + </p> +<p> +“The fellow called himself Jopplyn, but I know nothing of him beyond +that.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, he's mad jealous about that wife of his; that little woman with the +corkscrew curls, and the scorbutic face, that came over with us. Oh! you +did not see her aboard, you went below at once, I remember; but there was, +she, in her black ugly, and her old crape shawl—” + </p> +<p> +“In mourning?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes. Always in mourning. She never wears anything else, though Christy +goes about in colors, and not particular as to the tint, either.” + </p> +<p> +There came a cold perspiration over me as I heard these words, and +perceived that my proffer of devotion had been addressed to a married +woman, and the wife of the “most jealous man in Europe.” + </p> +<p> +“And who is this Jopplyn?” asked I, haughtily, and in all the proud +confidence of my present security. +</p> +<p> +“He's a railway contractor,—a shrewd sort of fellow, with plenty of +money, and a good head on his shoulders; sensible on every point except +his Jealousy.” + </p> +<p> +“The man must be an idiot,” said I, indignantly, “to rush indiscriminately +about the world with accusations of this kind. Who wants to supplant him? +Who seeks to rob him of the affections of his wife?” + </p> +<p> +“That's all very well and very specious,” said he, gravely; “but if men +will deliberately set themselves down at a writing-table, hammering their +brains for fine sentiments, and toiling to find grand expressions for +their passion, it does not require that a husband should be as jealous as +Christy Jopplyn to take it badly. I don't think I'm a rash or a hasty man, +but I know what I 'd do in such a circumstance.” + </p> +<p> +“And pray, what would <i>you</i> do?” said I, half impertinently. +</p> +<p> +“I 'd just say,4 Look here, young gent, is this balderdash here your hand? +Well, now, eat your words. Yes, eat them. I mean what I say. Eat up that +letter, seal and all, or, by my oath, I 'll break every bone in your +skin!'” + </p> +<p> +“It is exactly what I intend,” cried a voice, hoarse with passion; and +Jopplyn himself sprang into the room, and dashed at me. +</p> +<p> +The skipper was a most powerful man, but it required all his strength, and +not very gingerly exercised either, to hold off my enraged adversary. +“Will you be quiet, Christy?” cried he, holding him by the throat “Will +you just be quiet for one instant, or must I knock you down?” + </p> +<p> +“Do! do! by all means,” muttered I; for I thought if he were once on the +ground, I could finish him off with a large pewter measure that stood on +the table. +</p> +<p> +With a rough shake the skipper had at last convinced the other that +resistance was useless, and induced him to consent to a parley. +</p> +<p> +“Let him only tell you” said he, “what he has told me, Christy.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't strike, but hear me,” cried I; and safe in my stockade behind the +skipper, I recounted my mistake. +</p> +<p> +“And <i>you</i> believe all this?” asked Jopplyn of the skipper, when I +had finished. +</p> +<p> +“Believe it,—I should think I do! I have known him since he was a +child that high, and I 'll answer for his good conduct and behavior.” + </p> +<p> +Heaven bless you for that bail bond, though endorsed in a lie, honest +ship-captain! and I only hope I may live to requite you for it. +</p> +<p> +Jopplyn was appeased; but it was the suppressed wrath of a brown bear +rather than the vanquished anger of a man. He had booked himself for +something cruel, and he was miserable to be balked. Nor was I myself—I +shame to own it—an emblem of perfect forgiveness. I know nothing +harder than for a constitutionally timid man of weak proportions to +forgive the bullying superiority of brute force. It is about the greatest +trial human forgiveness can be subjected to; so that when Jopplyn, in a +vulgar spirit of reconciliation, proposed that we should go and dine with +him that day, I declined the invitation with a frigid politeness. +</p> +<p> +“I wish I could persuade you to change your plans,” said he, “and let Mrs. +J. and myself see you at six.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe I can answer for him that it is impossible,” broke in the +skipper; while he added in a whisper, “They never <i>can</i> afford any +delay; they have to put on the steam at high pressure from one end of +Europe to t' other.” + </p> +<p> +What could he possibly mean by imputing such haste to my movements, and +who were “they” with whom he thus associated me? I would have given worlds +to ask, but the presence of Jopplyn prevented me, and so I could simply +assent with a sort of foolish laugh, and a muttered “Very true,—quite +correct.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, how you manage to be here now, I can scarcely imagine,” continued +the skipper. “The last of yours that went through this took a roll of +bread and a cold chicken with him into the train, rather than halt to eat +his supper,—but I conclude <i>you</i> know best.” + </p> +<p> +What confounded mystification was passing through his marine intellects I +could not fathom. To what guild or brotherhood of impetuous travellers had +he ascribed me? Why should I not “take mine ease in mine inn”? All this +was very tantalizing and irritating, and pleading a pressing engagement, I +took leave of them both, and returned to the hotel. +</p> +<p> +I was in need of rest and a little composure. The incident of the morning +had jarred my nerves and disconcerted me much. But a few hours ago, and +life had seemed to me like a flowery meadow, through which, without path +or track, one might ramble at will; now it rather presented the aspect of +a vulgar kitchen-garden, fenced in, and divided, and partitioned off, with +only a few very stony alleys to walk in. “This boasted civilization of +ours,” exclaimed I, “what is it but snobbery? Our class distinctions, our +artificial intercourses, our hypocritical professions, our deference for +externals,—are they not the flimsiest pretences that ever were +fashioned? Why has no man the courage to make short work of these, and see +the world as it really is? Why has not some one gone forth, the apostle of +frankness and plain speaking, the same to prince as to peasant? What I +would like would be a ramble through the less visited parts of Europe,—countries +in which civilization slants in just as the rays of a setting sun steal +into a forest at evening. I would buy me a horse. Oh, Blonde.” thought I, +suddenly, “am I not in search of you? Is it not in the hope to recover you +that I am here; and, with you for my companion, am I not content to roam +the world, taking each incident of the way with the calm of one who asks +little of his fellow-man save a kind word as he passes, and a God-speed as +he goes?” I knew perfectly that, with any other beast for my “mount,” I +could not view the scene of life with the same bland composure. A horse +that started, that tripped, that shied, reared, kicked, craned his neck, +or even shook himself, as certain of these beasts do, would have kept me +in a paroxysm of anxiety and uneasiness, the least adapted of all modes +for thoughtfulness and reflection. Like an ill-assorted union, it would +have given no time save for squabble and recrimination. But Blondel almost +seemed to understand my mission, and lent himself to its accomplishment. +There was none of the obtrusive selfishness of an ordinary horse in his +ways. He neither asked you to remark the glossiness of his skin, nor the +graceful curve of his neck; he did not passage nor curvet Superior to the +petty arts by which vulgar natures present themselves to notice, he felt +that destiny had given him a duty, and he did it. +</p> +<p> +Thus thinking, I returned once more to the spirit which had first sent me +forth to ramble, to wander through the world, spectator, not actor; to be +with my fellow-men in sympathy, but not in action; to sorrow and rejoice +as they did, but, if possible, to understand life as a drama, in which, so +long as I was the mere audience, I could never be painfully afflicted or +seriously injured by the catastrophe: a wonderful philosophy, but of +which, up to the present, I could not boast any pre-eminent success. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. THE DUCHY OF HESSE-KALBBRATONSTADT +</h2> +<p> +I grew impatient to leave Ostend; every association connected with the +place was unpleasant. I hope I am not unjust in my estimate of it I +sincerely desire to be neither unjust to men nor cities, but I thought it +vulgar and commonplace. I know it is hard for a watering-place to be +otherwise; there is something essentially low in the green-baize and +bathing-house existence,—in that semi-nude sociality, begun on the +sands and carried out into deep water, which I cannot abide. I abhor, +besides, a lounging population in fancy toilets, a procession of donkeys +in scarlet trappings, elderly gentlemen with pocket-telescopes, and fierce +old ladies with camp-stools. The worn-out debauchees come to recruit for +another season of turtle and whitebait; the half-faded victims of twenty +polkas per night, the tiresome politician, pale from a long session, all +fiercely bent on fresh diet and sea-breezes, are perfect antipathies to +me, and I would rather seek companionship in a Tyrol village than amidst +these wounded and missing of a London season. With all this I wanted to +get away from the vicinity of the Jopplyns,—they were positively +odious to me. Is not the man who holds in his keeping one scrap of your +handwriting which displays you in a light of absurdity, far more your +enemy than the holder of your protested bill? I own I think so. Debt is a +very human weakness; like disease, it attacks the best and the noblest +amongst us. You' may pity the fellow that cannot meet that acceptance, you +may be sorry for the anxiety it occasions him, the fruitless running here +and there, the protestations, promises, and even lies he goes through, but +no sense of ludicrous scorn mingles with your compassion, none of that +contemptuous laughter with which you read a copy of absurd verses or a +maudlin love-letter. +</p> +<p> +Imagine the difference of tone in him who says: “That's an old bill of +poor Potto's; he 'll never pay it now, and I 'm sure I 'll never ask him.” + Or, “Just read those lines; would you believe that any creature out of Ham +well could descend to such miserable drivel as that? It was one Potts who +wrote it.” + </p> +<p> +I wonder, could I obtain my manuscript from Jopplyn before I started. What +pretext could I adduce for the request? While I thus pondered, I packed up +my few wearables in my knapsack and prepared for the road. They were, +indeed, a very scanty supply, and painfully suggested to my mind the +estimate that waiters and hotel-porters must form of their owner. “Cruel +world,” muttered I, “whose maxim is, 'By their outsides shall ye judge +them.' Had I arrived here with a travelling-carriage and a 'fourgon,' what +respect and deference had awaited me,—how courteous the landlord, +how obliging the head-waiter! Twenty attentions which could not be charged +for in the bill had been shown me; and even had I, in superb dignity, +declined to descend from my carriage while the post-horses were being +harnessed, a levee of respectful flunkeys would have awaited my orders. I +have no doubt but there must be something very intoxicating in all this +homage. The smoke of the hecatombs must have affected Jove as a sort of +chloroform, or else he would never have sat there sniffing them for +centuries. Are you ever destined to experience these sensations, Potts? Is +there a time coming when anxious ears will strain to catch your words, and +eyes watch eagerly for your slightest gestures? If such an era should ever +come, it will be a great one for the masses of mankind, and an evil one +for snobbery. Such a lesson as I will read the world on humility in high +places, such an example will I give of one elevated, but uncorrupted by +fortune.” + </p> +<p> +“Let the carriage come to the door,” said I, closing my eyes, as I sunk +into my chair in revery. “Tell my people to prepare the entire of the +'Hôtel de Belle Vue' for my arrival, and my own cook to preside in the +kitchen.” + </p> +<p> +“Is this to go by the omnibus?” said the waiter, suddenly, on entering my +room in haste. He pointed to my humble knapsack. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, in deep confusion,—“yes, that's my luggage,—at +least, all that I have here at this moment. Where is the bill? Very +moderate, indeed,” muttered I, in a tone of approval. “I will take care to +recommend your house; attendance prompt, and the wines excellent.” + </p> +<p> +“Monsieur is complimentary,” said the fellow, with a grin; “he only +experimented upon a 'small Beaune' at one-twenty the bottle.” + </p> +<p> +I scowled at him, and he shrank again. +</p> +<p> +“And this <i>objet</i> is also monsieur's,” said he, taking up a small +white canvas bag which was enclosed in my railroad wrapper. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” cried I, taking it up. I almost fell back as I saw that it +was one of the despatch-bags of the Foreign Office, which in my hasty +departure from the Dover train I had accidentally carried off with me. +There it was, addressed to “Sir Shalley Doubleton, H.M.'s Envoy and +Minister at Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt, by the Hon. Grey Buller, Attaché,” + &c. +</p> +<p> +Here was not alone what might be construed into a theft, but what it was +well possible, might comprise one of the gravest offences against the law: +it might be high treason itself! Who would ever credit my story, coupled +as it was with the fact of my secret escape from the carriage; my +precipitate entrance into the first place I could find, not to speak of +the privacy I observed by not mixing with the passengers in the mail +packet, by keeping myself estranged from all observation in the captain's +cabin? Here, too, was the secret of the skipper's politeness to me: he saw +the bag, and believed me to be a Foreign Office messenger, and this was +his meaning, as he said, “I can answer for him, he can't delay much here.” + Yes; this was the entire mystification by which I obtained his favor, his +politeness, and his protection. What was to be done in this exigency? Had +the waiter not seen the bag, and with the instincts of his craft calmly +perused the address on it, I believe—nay, I am quite convinced—I +should have burned it and its contents on the spot. The thought of his +evidence against me in the event of a discovery, however, entirely routed +this notion, and, after a brief consideration I resolved to convey the bag +to its destination, and trump up the most plausible explanation I could of +the way it came into my possession. His Excellency, I reasoned, will +doubtless be too delighted to receive his despatches to inquire very +minutely as to the means by which they were recovered, nor is it quite +impossible that he may feel bound to mark my zeal for the public service +by some token of recognition. This was a pleasant turn to give to my +thoughts, and I took it with all the avidity of my peculiar temperament. +“Yes,” thought I, “it is just out of trivial incidents like this a man's +fortune is made in life. For one man who mounts to greatness by the great +entrance and the state staircase, ten thousand slip in by <i>la petite +Porte</i>. It is, in fact, only by these chances that obscure genius +obtains acknowledgment How, for example, should this great diplomatist +know Potts if some accident should not throw them together? Raleigh flung +his laced jacket in a puddle, and for his reward he got a proud Queen's +favor. A village apothecary had the good fortune to be visiting the state +apartments at the Pavilion when George the Fourth was seized with a fit; +he bled him, brought him back to consciousness, and made him laugh by his +genial and quaint humor. The king took a fancy to him, named him his +physician, and made his fortune. I have often heard it remarked by men who +have seen much of life, that nobody, not one, goes through the world +without two or three such opportunities presenting themselves. The +careless, the indolent, the unobservant, and the idle, either fail to +remark, or are too slow to profit by them. The sharp fellows, on the +contrary, see in such incidents all that they need to lead them to +success. Into which of these categories you are to enter, Potts, let this +incident decide.” + </p> +<p> +Having by a reference to my John Murray ascertained the whereabouts of the +capital of Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt, I took my place at once on the rail for +Cologne, reading myself up on its beauty and its belongings as I went +There is, however, such a dreary sameness in these small Ducal states, +that I am ashamed to say how little I gleaned of anything distinctive in +the case before me. The reigning sovereign was, of course, married to a +Grand Duchess of Russia, and he lived at a country-seat called Ludwig's +Lust, or Carl's Lust, as it might be, “took little interest in politics,”—how +should he?—and “passed much of his time in mechanical pursuits, in +which he had attained considerable proficiency;” in other words, he was a +middle-aged gentleman, fond of his pipe, and with a taste for carpentry. +Some sort of connection with our own royal family had been the pretext for +having a resident minister at his court, though what he was to do when he +was there seemed not so easy to say. Even John, glorious John, was puzzled +how to make a respectable half-page out of his capital, though there was a +dome in the Byzantine style, with an altarpiece by Peter von Grys, the +angels in the corner being added afterwards by Hans Lûders; and there was +a Hof Theatre, and an excellent inn, the “Schwein,” by Kramm, where the +sausages of home manufacture were highly recommendable, no less than a +table wine of the host's vineyard, called “Magenschmerzer,” and which, +Murray adds, would doubtless, if known, find many admirers in England; and +lastly, but far from leastly, there was a Music Garten, where popular +pieces were performed very finely by an excellent German band, and to +which promenade all the fashion of the capital nightly resorted. +</p> +<p> +I give you all these details, respected reader, just as I got them in my +“Northern Germany,” and not intending to obtrude any further description +of my own upon you; for who, I would ask, could amplify upon his Handbook? +What remains to be noted after John has taken the inventory? Has he +forgotten a nail or a saint's shin-bone? With him for a guide, a man may +feel that he has done his Em-ope conscientiously; and though it be hard to +treasure up all the hard names of poets, painters, priests, and warriors, +it is not worse than botany, and about as profitable. +</p> +<p> +For the same reason that I have given above, I spare my reader all the +circumstances of my journey, my difficulties about carriage, my +embarrassments about steamboats and cab fares, which were all of the order +that Brown and Jones have experienced, are experiencing, and will continue +to experience, till the arrival of that millenary period when we shall all +converse in any tongue we please. +</p> +<p> +It was at nightfall that I drove into Kalbbratonstadt, my postilion +announcing my advent at the gates, and all the way to the Platz where the +inn stood, by a volley of whip-crackings which might have announced a +Grand-Duke or a prima donna. Some casements were hastily opened, as we +rumbled along, and the guests of a <i>café</i> issued hurriedly into the +street to watch us; but these demonstrations over, I gained the “Schwein” + without further notice, and descended. +</p> +<p> +Herr Krainm looked suspiciously at the small amount of luggage of the +traveller who arrived by “extra post,” but, like an honest German, he was +not one to form rash judgments, and so he showed me to a comfortable +apartment, and took my orders for supper in all respectfulness. He waited +upon me also at my meal, and gave me opportunity for conversation. While I +ate my Carbonade mit Kartoffel-Salad, therefore, I learned that, being +already nine o'clock, it was far too late an hour to present myself at the +English Embassy,—for so he designated our minister's residence; +that, at this advanced period of the night there were but few citizens out +of their beds: the Ducal candle was always extinguished at half-past +eight, and only roisterers and revellers kept it up much later. My first +surprise over, I owned I liked all this. It smacked of that simple +patriarchal existence I had so long yearned after. Let the learned explain +it, but there is, I assert, something in the early hours of a people that +guarantee habits of simplicity, thrift, and order. It is all very well to +say that people can be as wicked at eight in the evening as at two or +three in the morning; that crime cares little for the clock, nor does vice +respect the chronometer; but does experience confirm this, and are not the +small hours notorious for the smallest moralities? The Grand-Duke, who is +fast asleep at nine, is scarcely disturbed by dreams of cruelties to his +people. The police minister, who takes his bedroom candle at the same +hour, is seldom harassed by devising new schemes of torture for his +victims. I suffered my host to talk largely of his town and its people; +and probably such a listener rarely presented himself, for he certainly +improved the occasion. He assured me, with a gravity that vouched for the +conviction, that the capital, though by no means so dear as London or +Paris, contained much, if not all, these more pretentions cities could +boast. There was a court, a theatre, a promenade, a public fountain, and a +new jail, one of the largest in all Germany. Jenny Lind had once sung at +the opera on her way to Vienna; and to prove how they sympathized in every +respect with greater centres of population, when the cholera raged at +Berlin, they, too, lost about four hundred of their townsfolk. Lastly, he +mentioned, and this boastfully, that though neither wanting organs of +public opinion, nor men of adequate ability to guide them, the +Kalbbratoners had never mixed themselves up in politics, but proudly +maintained that calm and dignified attitude which Europe would one day +appreciate; that is, if she ever arrived at the crowning knowledge of the +benefit of letting her differences be decided by some impartial umpire. +</p> +<p> +More than once, as I heard him, I muttered to myself, “Potts, this is the +very spot you have sought for; here is all the tranquil simplicity of the +village, with the elevated culture of a great city. Here are sages and +philosophers clad in homespun, Beauty herself in linsey-woolsey. Here +there are no vulgar rivalries of riches, no contests in fine clothes, no +opposing armies of yellow plush. Men are great by their faculties, not in +their flunkeys. How elevated must be the tone of their thoughts, the style +of their conversation! and what a lucky accident it was that led you to +that goal to which all your wishes and hopes have been converging!—For +how much can a man live—a single gentleman like myself—here in +your city?” asked I of my host. +</p> +<p> +He sat down at this, and, filling himself a large goblet of my wine,—the +last in the bottle,—he prepared for a lengthy <i>séance</i>. +</p> +<p> +“First of all,” said he, “how would he wish to live? Would he desire to +mingle in our best circles, equal to any in Europe, to know Herr von +Krugwitz, and the Gnadige Frau von Steinhaltz?” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” thought I, “these be fair ambitions.” And I said, “Yes, both of +them.” + </p> +<p> +“And to be on the list of the court dinners? There are two yearly, one at +Easter, the other on his Highness's birthday, whom may Providence long +protect!” + </p> +<p> +To this also might he aspire. +</p> +<p> +“And to have a stall at the Grand Opera, and a carriage to return visits—twice +in carnival time—and to live in a handsome quarter, and dine every +day at our <i>table d'hote</i> here with General von Beulwitz and the Hof +rath von Schlaff-richter? A life like this is costly, and would scarcely +be comprised under two thousand florins a year.” + </p> +<p> +How my heart bounded at the notion of refinement, culture, elevated minds, +and polished habits; “science,” indeed, and the “musical glasses,” all for +one hundred and sixty pounds per annum. +</p> +<p> +“It is not improbable that you will see me your guest for many a day to +come,” said I, as I ordered another bottle, and of a more generous +vintage, to honor the occasion. +</p> +<p> +My host offered no opposition to my convivial projects; nay, he aided them +by saying,— +</p> +<p> +“If you have really an appreciation for something super-excellent in wine, +and wish to taste what Freiligrath calls 'der Deutschen Nectar,' I 'll go +and fetch you a bottle.” + </p> +<p> +“Bring it by all means,” said I. And away he went on his mission. +</p> +<p> +“Providence blessed me with two hands,” said he, as he re-entered the +room, “and I have brought two flasks of Lieb Herzentbaler.” + </p> +<p> +There is something very artistic in the way your picture-dealer, having +brushed away the dust from a Mieris or a Gerard Dow, places the work in a +favorite light before you, and then stands to watch the effect on your +countenance. So, too, will your man of rare manuscripts and illuminated +missals offer to your notice some illegible treasure of the fourth +century; but these are nothing to the mysterious solemnity of him who, +uncorking a bottle of rare wine, waits to note the varying sensations of +your first enjoyment down to your perfect ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +I tried to perform my part of the piece with credit: I looked long at the +amber-colored liquor in the glass; I sniffed it and smiled approvingly; +the host smiled too, and said, “Ja!” Not another syllable did he utter, +but how expressive was that “Ja!” “Ja!” meant, “You are right, Potts, it +is the veritable wine of 1764, bottled for the Herzog Ludwig's marriage; +every drop of it is priceless. Mark the odor, how it perfumes the air +around us; regard the color—the golden hair of Venus can alone rival +it; see how the oily globules cling to the glass!” “Ja!” meant all this, +and more. +</p> +<p> +As I drank off my glass, I was sorely puzzled by the precise expression in +which to couch my approval; but he supplied it and said, “Is it not +Gôttlich?” and I said it <i>was</i> Gôttlich; and while we finished the +two bottles, this solitary phrase sufficed for converse between us, +“Gôttlich!” being uttered by each as he drained his glass, and “Gôttlich!” + being re-echoed by his companion. +</p> +<p> +There is great wisdom in reducing our admiration to a word; giving, as it +were, a cognate number to our estimate of anything. Wherever we amplify, +we usually blunder: we employ epithets that disagree, or, in even less +questionable taste, soar into extravagances that are absurd. Besides, our +moods of highest enjoyment are not such as dispose to talkativeness; the +ecstasy that is most enthralling is self-contained. Who, on looking at a +glorious landscape, does not feel the insufferable bathos of the +descriptive enthusiast beside him? How grateful would he own himself if he +would be satisfied with one word for his admiration! And if one needs this +calm repose, this unbroken peace, for the enjoyment of scenery, equally is +it applicable to our appreciation of a curious wine. I have no +recollection that any further conversation passed between us, but I have +never ceased, and most probably never shall cease, to have a perfect +memory of the pleasant ramble of my thoughts as I sat there sipping, +sipping. I pondered long over a plan of settling down in this place for +life, by what means I could realize. sufficient to live in that elevated +sphere the host spoke of. If Potts père—I mean my father—were +to learn that I were received in the highest circles, admitted to all that +was most socially exclusive, would he be induced to make an adequate +provision for me? He was an ambitious and a worldly man; would he see in +these beginnings of mine the seeds of future greatness? Fathers, I well +knew, are splendidly generous to their successful children, and “the poor +they send empty away.” It is so pleasant to aid him who does not need +assistance, and such a hopeless task to be always saving him who <i>will</i> +be drowned. +</p> +<p> +My first care, therefore, should be to impress upon my parent the +appropriateness of his contributing his share to what already was an +accomplished success. “Wishing, as the French say, to make you a part in +my triumph, dear father, I write these lines.” How I picture him to my +mind's eye as he reads this, running frantically about to his neighbors, +and saying, “I have got a letter from Algy,—strange boy,—but +as I always foresaw, with great stuff in him, very remarkable abilities. +See what he has done,—struck out a perfect line of his own in life; +just the sort of thing genius alone can do. He went off from this one' +morning by way of a day's excursion, never returned,—never wrote. +All my efforts to trace him were in vain. I advertised, and offered +rewards, did everything, without success; and now, after all this long +interval, comes a letter by this morning's post to tell me that he is +well, happy, and prosperous. He is settled, it appears, in a German +capital with a hard name, a charming spot, with every accessory of +enjoyment in it: men of the highest culture, and women of most graceful +and attractive manner; as he himself writes, 'the elegance of a Parisian +<i>salon</i> added to the wisdom of the professor's cabinet.' Here is Algy +living with all that is highest in rank and most distinguished in station; +the favored guest of the Prince, the bosom friend of the English minister; +his advice sought for, his counsel asked in every difficulty; trusted in +the most important state offices, and taken into the most secret counsels +of the duchy. Though the requirements of his station make heavy demands +upon his means, very little help from me will enable him to maintain a +position which a few years more will have consolidated into a rank +recognized throughout Europe.” Would the flintiest of fathers, would the +most primitive rock-hearted of parents, resist an appeal like this? It is +no hand to rescue from the waves is sought, but a little finger to help to +affluence. “Of course you 'll do it, Potts, and do it liberally; the boy +is a credit to you. He will place your name where you never dreamed to see +it. What do you mean to settle on him? Above all things, no stinginess; +don't disgust him.” + </p> +<p> +I hear these and such-like on every hand; even the most close-fisted and +miserly of our acquaintances will be generous of their friend's money; and +I think I hear the sage remarks with which they season advice with +touching allusions to that well-known ship that was lost for want of a +small outlay in tar. “Come down handsomely, Potts,” says a resolute man, +who has sworn never to pay a sixpence of his son's debts. “What better use +can we make of our hoardings than to render our young people happy?” I +don't like the man who says this, but I like his sentiments; and I am much +pleased when he goes on to remark that “there is no such good investment +as what establishes a successful son. Be proud of the boy, Potts, and +thank your stars that he had a soul above senna, and a spirit above sal +volatile!” + </p> +<p> +As I invent all this play of dialogue for myself, and picture the speakers +before me, I come at last to a small peevish little fellow named Lynch, a +merchant tailor, who lived next door to us, and enjoyed much of my +father's confidence. “So they tell me you have heard from that runaway of +yours, Potts. Is it true? What face does he put upon his disgraceful +conduct? What became of the livery-stable-keeper's horse? Did he sell him, +or ride him to death? A bad business if he should ever come back again, +which, of course, he's too wise for. And where is he now, and what is he +at?” + </p> +<p> +“You may read this letter, Mr. Lynch,” replies my father; “he is one who +can speak for himself.” And Lynch reads and sniggers, and reads again. I +see him as plainly as if he were but a yard from me. “I never heard of +this ducal capital before,” he begins, “but I suppose it's like the rest +of them,—little obscure dens of pretentious poverty, plenty of +ceremony, and very little to eat. How did he find it out? What brought him +there?” + </p> +<p> +“You have this letter before you, sir,” says my parent, proudly. “Algernon +Sydney is, I imagine, quite competent to explain what relates to his own +affairs.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, perfectly, perfectly; only that I can't really make out how he first +came to this place, nor what it is that he does there now that he's in +it.” + </p> +<p> +My father hastily snatches the letter from his hands, and runs his eye +rapidly along to catch the passage which shall confute the objector and +cover him with shame and confusion. He cannot find it at once. “It is +this. No, it is on this side. Very strange, very singular indeed; but as +Algernon must have told me—” Alas! no, father, he has not told you, +and for the simple reason that he does not know it himself. For though I +mentioned with becoming pride the prominent stations Irishmen now hold in +most of the great states of Europe, and pointed to O'Donnel in Spain, +MacMahon in France, and the Field-Marshal Nugent in Austria, I utterly +forgot to designate the high post occupied by Potts in the Duchy of +Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt. To determine what this should be was now of +imminent importance, and I gave myself up to the solution with a degree of +intentness and an amount of concentration that set me off sound asleep. +</p> +<p> +Yes, benevolent reader, I will confess it, questions of a complicated +character have always affected me, as the inside of a letter seems to have +struck Tony Lumkin,—“all buzz.” I start with the most loyal desire +to be acute and penetrating; I set myself to my task with as honest a +disposition to do my best as ever man did; I say, “Now, Potts, no +self-indulgence, no skulking; here is a knotty problem, here is a case for +your best faculties in their sharpest exercise;” and if any one come in +upon me about ten minutes after this resolve, he will see a man who could +beat Sancho Panza in sleeping! +</p> +<p> +Of course this tendency has often cost me dearly; I have missed +appointments, forgotten assignations, lost friends through it. My +character, too, has suffered, many deeming me insupportably indolent, a +sluggard quite unfit for any active employment. Others, more mercifully +hinting at some “cerebral cause,” have done me equal damage; but there +happily is an obverse on the medal, and to this somnolency do I ascribe +much of the gentleness and all the romance of my nature. It is your sleepy +man is ever benevolent, he loves ease and quiet for others as for himself. +What he cultivates is the tranquil mood that leads to slumber, and the +calm that sustains it. The very operations of the mind in sleep are +broken, incoherent, undelineated,—just like the waking occupations +of an idle man; they are thoughts that cost so little to manufacture, that +he can afford to be lavish of them. And now—Good-night! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. I CALL AT THE BRITISH LEGATION. +</h2> +<p> +Breakfast over, I took a walk through the town. Though in a measure +prepared for a scene of unbustling quietude and tranquillity, I must own +that the air of repose around, far surpassed all I had imagined. The +streets through which I sauntered were grass-grown and untrodden; the +shops were but half open; not an equipage, nor even a horseman was to be +seen. In the Platz, where a sort of fruit-market was held, a few vendors +of grapes, peaches, and melons sat under large crimson umbrellas, but +there seemed few purchasers, except a passing schoolboy, carefully +scanning the temptations in which he was about to invest his kreutzer. +</p> +<p> +The most remarkable feature of the place, however, and it is one which, +through a certain significance, has always held its place in my memory, +was that, go where one would, the palace of the Grand-Duke was sure to +finish the view at one extremity of the street. In fact, every alley +converged to this one centre, and the royal residence stood like the +governor's chamber in a panopticon jail. There did my mind for many a day +picture him sitting like a huge spider watching the incautious insects +that permeated his web. I imagined him fat, indolent, and apathetic, but +yet, with a jailer's instincts, ever mindful of every stir and movement of +the prisoners below. With a very ordinary telescope he must be master of +everything that went on, and the humblest incident could not escape his +notice. Was it the consciousness of this surveillance that made every one +keep the house? Was it the feeling that the “Gross Herzogliche” eye never +left them, that prevented men being abroad in the streets and about their +affairs as in other places? I half suspected this, and set to work +imagining a state of society thus scanned and scrutinized. But that the +general aspect of the town so palpably proclaimed the absence of all trade +and industry, I might have compared the whole to a glass hive; but they +were all drones that dwelt there, there was not one “busy bee” in the +whole of them. +</p> +<p> +When I rambled thus carelessly along, I came in front of a sort of garden +fenced from the street by an iron railing. The laurel and arbutus, and +even the oleander, were there, gracefully blending a varied foliage, and +contrasting in their luxuriant liberty so pleasantly with the dull +uniformity outside. Finding a gate wide open, I strolled in, and gave +myself up to the delicious enjoyment of the spot. As I was deliberating +whether this was a public garden or not, I found myself before a long, +low, villa-like building, with a colonnade in front. Over the entrance was +a large shield, which on nearer approach I recognized to contain the arms +of England. This, therefore, was the legation, the residence of our +minister, Sir Shalley Doubleton. I felt a very British pride and +satisfaction to see our representative lodged so splendidly. With all the +taxpayer's sentiment in my heart, I rejoiced to think that he who +personated the nation should, in all his belongings, typify the wealth, +the style, and the grandeur of England, and in the ardor of this +enthusiasm, I hastened back to the inn for the despatch-bag. +</p> +<p> +Armed with this, and a card, I soon presented myself at the door. On the +card I had written, “Mr. Pottinger presents his respectful compliments, +and requests his Excellency will favor him with an audience of a few +minutes for an explanation.” + </p> +<p> +I had made up my mind to state that my servant, in removing my smaller +luggage from the train, had accidentally carried off this Foreign Office +bag, which, though at considerable inconvenience, I had travelled much out +of my way to restore in person. I had practised this explanation as I +dressed in the morning, I had twice rehearsed it to an orange-tree in the +garden, before which I had bowed till my back ached, and I fancied myself +perfect in my part. It would, I confess, have been a great relief to me to +have had only the slightest knowledge of the great personage before whom I +was about to present myself, to have known was he short or tall, young or +old, solemn or easy-mannered, had he a loud voice and an imperious tone, +or was he of the soft and silky order of his craft. I'd have willingly +entertained his “gentleman” at a moderate repast for some information on +these points, but there was no time for the inquiry, and so I rang boldly +at the bell. The door opened of itself at the summons, and I found myself +in a large hall with a plaster cast of the Laocoon, and nothing else. I +tried several of the doors on either side, but they were all locked. A +very handsome and spacious stair of white marble led up from the middle of +the hall; but I hesitated about venturing to ascend this, and once more +repaired to the bell outside, and repeated my summons. The loud clang +re-echoed through the arched hall, the open door gave a responsive shake, +and that was all. No one came; everything was still as before. I was +rather chagrined at this. The personal inconvenience was less offensive +than the feeling how foreigners would comment on such want of propriety, +what censures they would pass on such an ill-arranged household. I rang +again, this time with an energy that made the door strike some of the +plaster from the wall, and, with a noise like cannon, “What the hangman”—I +am translating—“is all this?” cried a voice thick with passion; and, +on looking up, I saw a rather elderly man, with a quantity of curly yellow +hair, frowning savagely on me from the balcony over the stair. He made no +sign of coming down, but gazed sternly at me from his eminence. +</p> +<p> +“Can I see his Excellency, the Minister?” said I, with dignity. +</p> +<p> +“Not if you stop down there, not if you continue to ring the bell like an +alarm for fire, not if you won't take the trouble to come upstairs.” + </p> +<p> +I slowly began the ascent at these words, pondering what sort of a master +such a man must needs have. As I gained the top, I found myself in front +of a very short, very fat man, dressed in a suit of striped gingham, like +an over-plethoric zebra, and wheezing painfully, in part from asthma, in +part from agitation. He began again,— +</p> +<p> +“What the hangman do you mean by such a row? Have you no manners, no +education? Where were you brought up that you enter a dwelling-house like +a city in storm?” + </p> +<p> +“Who is this insolent creature that dares to address me in this wise? What +ignorant menial can have so far forgotten my rank and his insignificance?” + </p> +<p> +“I'll tell you all that presently,” said he; “there 's his Excellency's +bell.” And he bustled away, as fast as his unwieldy size would permit, to +his master's room. +</p> +<p> +I was outraged and indignant There was I, Potts,—no, Pottinger,—Algernon +Sydney Pottinger,—on my way to Italy and Greece, turning from my +direct road to consign with safety a despatch-bag which many a less +conscientious man would have chucked out of his carriage window and +forgotten; there I stood to be insulted by a miserable stone-polishing, +floor-scrubbing, carpet-twigging Haus-knecht? Was this to be borne? Was it +to be endured? Was a man of station, family, and attainments to be the +object of such indignity? +</p> +<p> +Just as I had uttered this speech aloud, a very gentle voice addressed me, +saying,— +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps I can assist you? Will you be good enough to say what you want?” + </p> +<p> +I started suddenly, looked up, and whom should I see before me but that +Miss Herbert, the beautiful girl in deep mourning that I had met at +Milford, and who now, in the same pale loveliness, turned on me a look of +kind and gentle meaning. +</p> +<p> +“Do you remember me?” said I, eagerly. “Do you remember the traveller—a +pale young man, with a Glengarry cap and a plaid overcoat—who met +you at Milford?” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly,” said she, with a slight twitch about the mouth like a +struggle against a smile. “Will you allow me to repay you now for your +politeness then? Do you wish to see his Excellency?” + </p> +<p> +I 'm not very sure what it was I replied, but I know well what was passing +through my head. If my thoughts could have spoken, it would have been in +this wise,— +</p> +<p> +“Angel of loveliness, I don't care a brass farthing for his Excellency. It +is not a matter of the slightest moment to me if I never set eyes on him. +Let me but speak to you, tell you the deep impression you have made upon +my heart; how, in my ardor to serve you, I have already been involved in +an altercation that might have cost me my life; how I still treasure up +the few minutes I passed beside you as the Elysian dream of all my life—” + </p> +<p> +“I am certain, sir,” broke she in while I spoke, I repeat, I know not +what,—“I am certain, sir, that you never came here to mention all +this to his Excellency.” + </p> +<p> +There was a severe gravity in the way that she said these words that +recalled me to myself, but not to any consciousness of what I had been +saying; and so, in my utter discomfiture, I blundered out something about +the lost despatches and the cause of my coming. +</p> +<p> +“If you 'll wait a moment here,” said she, opening a door into a neatly +furnished room, “his Excellency shall hear of your wish to see him.” And +before I could answer, she was gone. +</p> +<p> +I was now alone, but in what wild perplexity and anxiety! How came she +here? What could be the meaning of her presence in this place? The +Minister was an unmarried man, so much my host had told me. How then +reconcile this fact with the presence of one who had left England but a +few days ago, as some said, to be a governess or a companion? Oh, the +agony of my doubts, the terrible agony of my dire misgivings! What a world +of iniquity do we live in, what vice and corruption are ever around us! It +was but a year or two ago, I remember, that the “Times” newspaper had +exposed the nefarious schemes of a wretch who had deliberately invented a +plan to entrap those most unprotected of all females. The adventures of +this villain had become part of the police literature of Europe. Young and +attractive creatures, induced to come abroad by promises of the most +seductive kind, had been robbed by this man of all they possessed, and +deserted here and there throughout the Continent. I was so horror-stricken +by the terrors my mind had so suddenly conjured up, that I could not +acquire the calm and coolness requisite for a process of reasoning. My +over-active imagination, as usual, went off with me, clearing obstacles +with a sweeping stride, and steeplechasing through fact as though it were +only a gallop over grass land. +</p> +<p> +“Poor girl, well might you look confused and overwhelmed at meeting me! +well might the flush of shame have spread over your neck and shoulders, +and well might you have hurried away from the presence of one who had +known you in the days of your happy innocence!” I am not sure that I did +n't imagine I had been her playfellow in childhood, and that we had been +brought up from infancy together. My mind then addressed itself to the +practical question, What was to be done? Was I to turn my head away while +this iniquity was being enacted? was I to go on my way, forgetting the +seeds of that misery whose terrible fruits must one day be a shame and an +open ignominy? or was I to arraign this man, great and exalted as he was, +and say to him, “Is it thus you represent before the eyes of the foreigner +the virtues of that England we boast to be the model of all morality? Is +it thus you illustrate the habits of your order? Do you dare to profane +what, by the fiction of diplomacy, is called the soil of your country, by +a life that you dare not pursue at home? The Parliament shall hear of it; +the 'Times' shall ring with it; that magnificent institution, the common +sense of England, long sick of what is called secret diplomacy, shall +learn at last to what uses are applied the wiles and snares of this +deceitful craft, its extraordinary and its private missions, its hurried +messengers with their bags of corruption—” + </p> +<p> +I was well “into my work,” and was going along slappingly, when a very +trim footman, in a nankeen jacket, said,— +</p> +<p> +“If you will come this way, sir, his Excellency will see you.” + </p> +<p> +He led me through three or four <i>salons</i> handsomely furnished and +ornamented with pictures, the most conspicuous of which, in each room, was +a life-sized portrait of the same gentleman, though in a different +costume,—now in the Windsor uniform, now as a Guardsman, and, +lastly, in the full dress of the diplomatic order. I had but time to guess +that this must be his Excellency, when the servant announced me and +retired. +</p> +<p> +It is in deep shame that I own that the aspect of the princely apartments, +the silence, the implied awe of the footman's subdued words as he spoke, +had so routed all my intentions about calling his Excellency to account +that I stood in his presence timid and abashed. It is an ignoble +confession wrung out of the very heart of my snobbery, that no sooner did +I find myself before that thin, pale, gray-headed man, who in a light silk +dressing-gown and slippers sat writing away, than I gave up my brief, and +inwardly resigned my place as a counsel for injured innocence. +</p> +<p> +He never raised his head as I entered, but continued his occupation +without noticing me, muttering below his breath the words as they fell +from his pen. “Take a seat,” said he, curtly, at last. Perceiving now that +he was fully aware of my presence, I sat down without reply. “This bag is +late, Mr. Paynter,” said he, blandly, as he laid down his pen and looked +me in the face. +</p> +<p> +“Your Excellency will permit me, <i>in limine</i>, to observe that my name +is not Paynter.” + </p> +<p> +“Possibly, sir,” said he, haughtily; “but you are evidently before me for +the first time, or you would know that, like my great colleague and +friend, Prince Metternich, I have made it a rule through life never to +burden my memory with whatever can be spared it, and of these are the +patronymics of all subordinate people; for this reason, sir, and to this +end, every cook in my establishment answers to the name of Honoré, my +valet is always Pierre, my coach-. man Jacob, my groom is Charles, and all +foreign messengers I call Paynter. The original of that appellation is, I +fancy, superannuated or dead, but he lives in some twenty successors who +carry canvas reticules as well as he.” + </p> +<p> +“The method may be convenient, sir, but it is scarcely complimentary,” + said I, stiffly. +</p> +<p> +“Very convenient,” said he, complacently. “All consuls I address as Mr. +Sloper. You can't fail to perceive how it saves time, and I rather think +that in the end they like it themselves. When did you leave town?” + </p> +<p> +“I left on Saturday last. I arrived at Dover by the express train, and it +was there that the incident befell me by which I have now the honor to +stand before your Excellency.” + </p> +<p> +Instead of bestowing the slightest attention on this exordium of mine, he +had resumed his pen and was writing away glibly as before. “Nothing new +stirring, when you left?” said he, carelessly. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing, sir. But to resume my narrative of explanation—” + </p> +<p> +“Come to dinner, Paynter; we dine at six,” said he, rising hastily; and, +opening a glass door into a conservatory, walked away, leaving me in a +mingled state of shame, anger, humiliation, and, I will state, of +ludicrous embarrassment, which I have no words to express. +</p> +<p> +“Dinner! No,” exclaimed I, “if the alternative were a hard crust and a +glass of spring water I not if I were to fast till this time to-morrow! +Dine with a man who will not condescend to acknowledge even my identity, +who will not deign to call me by my name, but only consents to regard me +as a pebble on the seashore, a blade of grass in a wide meadow! Dine with +him, to be addressed as Mr. Paynter, and to see Pierre, and Jacob, and the +rest of them looking on me as one of themselves! By what prescriptive +right does this man dare to insult those who, for aught he can tell, are +more than his equals in ability? Does the accident—and what other +can it be than accident?—of his station confer this privilege? How +would he look if one were to retort with his own impertinence? What, for +instance, if I were to say, 'I always call small diplomatists Bluebottles! +You 'll not be offended if, just for memory's sake, I address you as +Bluebottle,—Mr. Bluebottle, of course'?” + </p> +<p> +I was in ecstasies at this thought. It seemed to vindicate all my insulted +personality, all my outraged and injured identity. “Yes,” said I, “I will +dine with him; six o'clock shall see me punctual to the minute, and +determined to avenge the whole insulted family of the Paynters. I defy him +to assert that the provocation came not from <i>his</i> side. I dare him +to show cause why I should be the butt of his humor, any more than he of +<i>mine</i>, I will be prepared to make use of his own exact words in +repelling my impertinence, and say, 'Sir, you have exactly embodied <i>my</i> +meaning; you have to the letter expressed what this morning I felt on +being called Mr. Paynter; you have, besides this, had the opportunity of +experiencing the sort of pain such an impertinence inflicts, and you are +now in a position to guide you as to how far you will persist in it for +the future.'” + </p> +<p> +I actually revelled in the thought of this reprisal, and longed for the +moment to come in which, indolently thrown back in my chair, I should say, +“Bluebottle, pass the Madeira,” with some comment on the advantage all the +Bluebottles have in getting their wine duty free. Then, with what +sarcastic irony I should condole with him over his wearisome, dull career, +eternally writing home platitudes for blue-books, making Grotius into bad +grammar, and vamping up old Puffendorf for popular reading. “Ain't you +sick of it all, B. B.?” I should say, familiarly; “is not the unreality of +the whole thing offensive? Don't you feel that a despatch is a sort of +formula in which Madrid might be inserted for Moscow, and what was said of +Naples might be predicated for Norway?” I disputed a long time with myself +at what precise period of the entertainment I should unmask my battery and +open fire. Should it be in the drawing-room, before dinner? Should it be +immediately after the soup, with the first glass of sherry? Ought I to +wait till the dessert, and that time when a sort of easy intimacy had been +established which might be supposed to prompt candor and frankness? Would +it not be in better taste to defer it till the servants had left the room? +To expose him to his household seemed scarcely fair. +</p> +<p> +These were all knotty points, and I revolved them long and carefully, as I +came back to my hotel, through the same silent street. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. SHAMEFUL NEGLECT OF A PUBLIC SERVANT. +</h2> +<p> +“Don't keep a place for me at the <i>table d'hôte</i> to-day, Kramm,” said +I, in an easy carelessness; “I dine with his Excellency. I could n't well +get off the first day, but tomorrow I promise you to pronounce upon your +good cheer.” + </p> +<p> +I suppose I am not the first man who has derived consequence from the +invitation it had cost him misery to accept. How many in this world of +snobbery have felt that the one sole recompense for long nights of <i>ennui</i> +was the fact that their names figured amongst the distinguished guests in +the next day's “Post”? +</p> +<p> +“It is not a grand dinner to-day, is it?” asked Kramm. +</p> +<p> +“No, no, merely a family party; we are very old chums, and have much to +talk over.” + </p> +<p> +“You will then go in plain black, and with nothing but your +'decorations.'” + </p> +<p> +“I will wear none,” said I, “none; not even a ribbon.” And I turned away +to hide the shame and mortification his suggestion had provoked. +</p> +<p> +Punctually at six o'clock I arrived at the legation; four powdered footmen +were in the hall, and a decent-looking personage in black preceded me up +the stairs, and opened the double doors into the drawing-room, without, +however, announcing me, or paying the slightest attention to my mention of +“Mr. Pottinger.” + </p> +<p> +Laying down his newspaper as I entered, his Excellency came forward with +his hand out, and though it was the least imaginable touch, and his bow +was grandly ceremonious, his smile was courteous and his manner bland. +</p> +<p> +“Charmed to find you know the merit of punctuality,” said he. “To the +untravelled English, six means seven, or even later. You may serve dinner, +Robins. Strange weather we are having,” continued he, turning to me; +“cold, raw, and uncongenial.” + </p> +<p> +We talked “barometer” till, the door opening, the <i>maître d'hôtel</i> +announced, “His Excellency is served;” a rather unpolite mode, I thought, +of ignoring his company, and which was even more strongly impressed by the +fact that he walked in first, leaving me to follow. +</p> +<p> +At the table a third “cover” was just being speedily removed as we +entered, a fact that smote at my heart like a blow. The dinner began, and +went on with little said; a faint question from the Minister as to what +the dish contained and a whispered reply constituted most of the talk, and +an occasional cold recommendation to me to try this or that <i>entrée</i>. +It was admirable in all its details, the cookery exquisite, the wines +delicious, but there was an oppression in the solemnity of it all that +made me sigh repeatedly. Had the butler been serving a high mass, his +motions at the sideboard could scarcely have been more reverential. +</p> +<p> +“If you don't object to the open air, we 'll take our coffee on the +terrace,” said his Excellency; and we soon found ourselves on a most +charming elevation, surrounded on three sides with orange-trees, the +fourth opening a magnificent view over a fine landscape with the Taunus +mountains in the distance. +</p> +<p> +“I can offer you, at least, a good cigar,” said the Minister, as he +selected with great care two from a number on a silver plateau before him. +“These, I think, you will find recommendable; they are grown for myself at +Cuba, and prepared after a receipt only known to one family.” + </p> +<p> +In all this there was a dignified civility, not at all like the +impertinent freedom of his manner in the morning. He never, besides, +addressed me as Mr. Paynter; in fact, he did not advert to a name at all, +not giving me the slightest pretext for that reprisal I had come so +charged with; and, as to opening the campaign myself, I 'd as soon have +commenced acquaintance with a tiger by a pull at his tail. We were now +alone; the servants had retired, and there we sat, silently smoking our +cigars in apparent ease, but one of us, at least, in a frame of mind the +very opposite to tranquillity. +</p> +<p> +What a rush and conflict of thought was in my head! Why had not <i>she</i> +dined with us? Was her position such as that the presence of a stranger +became an embarrassment? Good heaven! was I to suppose this, that, and the +other? What was there in this man that so imposed on me, that when I +wanted to speak I only could sigh, and that I felt his presence like some +overpowering spell? It was that calm, self-contained, quiet manner—cold +rather than austere, courteous without cordiality—that chilled me to +the very marrow of my bones. Lecture <i>him</i> on the private moralities +of his life! ask <i>him</i> to render me an account of his actions! +address <i>him</i> as Bluebottle!— +</p> +<p> +“With such tobacco as that, one can drink Bordeaux,” said he. “Help +yourself.” + </p> +<p> +And I did help myself,—freely, repeatedly. I drank for courage, as a +man might drink from thirst or fever, or for strength in a moment of +fainting debility. The wine was exquisite, and my heart beat more +forcibly, and I felt it. +</p> +<p> +I cannot follow very connectedly the course of events; I neither know how +the conversation glided into politics, nor what I said on that subject. As +to the steps by which I succeeded in obtaining his Excellency's +confidence, I know as little as a man does of the precise moment in which +he is wet through in a Scotch mist. I have a dim memory of talking in a +very dictatorial voice, and continually referring to my “entrance into +public life,” with reference to what Peel “said,” and what the Duke “told +me.” + </p> +<p> +“What's the use of writing home?” said his Excellency, in a desponding +voice. “For the last five years I have called attention to what is going +on here; nobody minds, nobody heeds it. Open any blue-book you like, and +will you find one solitary despatch from Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt?” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot call one to mind.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course you can't. Would you believe it, when the Zeringer party went +out, and the Schlaffdorfers came in, I was rebuked—actually rebuked—for +sending off a special messenger with the news? And then came out a +despatch in cipher, which being interpreted contained this stupid +doggerel:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“'Strange that men difference should be +Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee.' +</pre> +<p> +“I ask, sir, is it thus the affairs of a great country can be carried on? +The efforts of Russia here are incessant: a certain personage—I will +mention no names—loves caviare, he likes it fresh, there is a +special <i>estaffette</i> established to bring it! I learned, by the most +insidious researches, his fondness for English cheese; I lost no time in +putting the fact before the cabinet I represented, that while timid men +looked tremblingly towards France, the thoughtful politician saw the peril +of Hesse-Kalbbratonstadt I urged them to lose no time: 'The Grand-Duchess +has immense influence; countermine her,' said I,—'countermine her +with a Stilton;' and, would you believe it, sir, they have not so much as +sent out a Cheddar! What will the people of England say one of these days +when they learn, as learn they shall, that at this mission here I am +alone; that I have neither secretary nor <i>attaché</i>, paid or unpaid; +that since the Crimean War the whole weight of the legation has been +thrown upon me: nor is this all; but that a systematic course of treachery—I +can't call it lies—has been adopted to entrap me, if such were +possible? My despatches are unreplied to, my questions all unanswered. I +stand here with the peace of Europe in my hands, and none to counsel nor +advise me. What will you say, sir, to the very last despatch I have +received from Downing Street? It runs thus:— +</p> +<p> +“'I am instructed by his Lordship to inform you, that he views with +indifference your statement of the internal condition of the grand-duchy, +but is much struck by your charge for sealing-wax. +</p> +<p> +“'I have, sir, &c.' +</p> +<p> +“This is no longer to be endured. A public servant who has filled some of +the most responsible of official stations,—I was eleven years at +Tragotà, in the Argentine Republic; I was a <i>chargé</i> at Oohululoo for +eight months, the only European who ever survived an autumn there; they +then sent me special to Cabanhoe to negotiate the Salt-sprat treaty; after +that—” + </p> +<p> +Here my senses grew muddy; the gray dim light, the soft influences of a +good dinner and a sufficiency of wine, the drowsy tenor of the Minister's +voice, all conspired, and I slept as soundly as if in my bed. My next +conscious moment was as his Excellency moved his chair back, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“I think a cup of tea would be pleasant; let us come into the +drawing-room.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. I LECTURE THE AMBASSADOR'S SISTER +</h2> +<p> +On entering the drawing-room, his Excellency presented me to an elderly +lady, very thin, and very wrinkled, who received me with a cold dignity, +and then went on with her crochet-work. I could not catch her name, nor, +indeed, was I thinking of it; my whole mind was bent upon the question, +Who could she be? For what object was she there? All my terrible doubts of +the morning now rushed forcibly back to my memory, and I felt that never +had I detested a human being with the hate I experienced for her. The +pretentious stiffness of her manner, the haughty self-possession she wore, +were positive outrages; and as I looked at her, I felt myself muttering, +“Don't imagine that your heavy black moiré, or your rich falls of lace, +impose upon <i>me</i>. Never fancy that this mock austerity deceives one +who reads human nature as he reads large print. I know, and I abhor you, +old woman! That a man should be to the other sex as a wolf to the fold, +the sad experience of daily life too often teaches; but that a woman +should be false to woman, that all the gentle instincts we love to think +feminine, should be debased to treachery and degraded into snares for +betrayal,—this is an offence that cries aloud to Heaven! +</p> +<p> +“No more tea,—none!” cried I, with an energy that nearly made the +footman let the tray fall, and so far startled the old lady that she +dropped her knitting with a faint cry. As for his Excellency, he had +covered his face with the “Globe,” and, I believe, was fast asleep. +</p> +<p> +I looked about for my hat to take my leave, when a sudden thought struck +me. “I will stay. I will sit down beside this old creature, and, for once +at least in her miserable life, she shall hear from the lips of a man a +language that is not that of the debauchee. Who knows what effect one +honest word of a true-hearted man may not work? I will try, at all +events,” said I, and approached her. She did not, as I expected, make room +for me on the sofa beside her, and I was, therefore, obliged to take a +chair in front. This was so far awkward that it looked formal; it gave +somewhat the character of accusation to my position, and I decided to +obviate the difficulty by assuming a light, easy, cheerful manner at +first, as though I suspected nothing. +</p> +<p> +“It's a pleasant little capital, this Kalbbratonstadt,” said I, as I lay +back in my chair. +</p> +<p> +“Is it?” said she, dryly, without looking up from her work. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I mean,” said I, “it seems to have its reasonable share of +resources. They have their theatre, and their music garden, and their +promenades, and their drives to—to—” + </p> +<p> +“You'll find all the names set down there,” said she, handing me a copy of +Murray's “Handbook” that lay beside her. +</p> +<p> +“I care less for names than facts, madam,” said I, angrily, for her retort +had stung me, and routed all my previous intention of a smooth approach to +the fortress. “I am one of those unfashionable people who never think the +better of vice because it wears French gloves, and goes perfumed with Ess +bouquet.” + </p> +<p> +She took off her spectacles, wiped them, looked at me, and went on with +her work without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“If I appear abrupt, madam,” said I, “in this opening, it is because the +opportunity I now enjoy may never occur again, and may be of the briefest +even now. We meet by what many would call an accident,—one of those +incidents which the thoughtless call chance directed my steps to this +place; let me hope that that which seemed a hazard may bear all the fruits +of maturest combination, and that the weak words of one frail even as +yourself may not be heard by you in vain. Let me, therefore, ask you one +question,—only one,—and give me an honest answer to it.” + </p> +<p> +“You are a very singular person,” said she, “and seem to have strangely +forgotten the very simple circumstance that we meet for the first time +now.” + </p> +<p> +“I know it, I feel it; and that it may also be for the last and only time +is my reason for this appeal to you. There are persons who, seeing you +here, would treat you with a mock deference, address you with a +counterfeit respect, and go their ways; who would say to their selfish +hearts, 'It is no concern of mine; why should it trouble me?' But I am not +one of these. I carry a conscience in my breast; a conscience that holds +its daily court, and will even to-morrow ask me, 'Have you been truthful, +have you been faithful? When the occasion served to warn a fellow-creature +of the shoal before him, did you cry out, “Take soundings! you are in +shallow water,” or did you with slippery phrases gloss over the peril, +because it involved no danger to yourself?'” + </p> +<p> +“Would that same conscience be kind enough to suggest that your present +conduct is an impertinence, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“So it might, madam; just as the pilot is impertinent when he cries out, +'Hard, port! breakers ahead!'” + </p> +<p> +“I am therefore to infer, sir,” said she, with a calm dignity, “that my +approach to a secret danger—of which I can have no knowledge—is +a sufficient excuse for the employment of language on your part, that, +under a less urgent plea, had been offensive?” + </p> +<p> +“You are,” said I, boldly. +</p> +<p> +“Speak out, then, sir, and declare what it is.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, madam, if the warning find no echo within, my words are useless. I +have said I would ask you a question.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, do so.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you answer it frankly? Will you give it all the weight and influence +it should bear, and reply to it with that truthful spirit that conceals +nothing?” + </p> +<p> +“What is your question, sir? You had better be speedy with it, for I don't +much trust to my continued patience.” + </p> +<p> +I arose at this, and, passing behind the back of my chair, leaned my arms +on the upper rail, so as to confront her directly; and then, in the voice +of an accusing angel, I said, “Old woman, do you know where you are +going?” + </p> +<p> +“I protest, sir,” said she, rising, with an indignation I shall not forget—“I +protest, sir, you make me actually doubt if I know where I am!” + </p> +<p> +“Then let me tell you, madam,” said I, with the voice of one determined to +strike terror into her heart—“let me tell you; and may my words have +the power to awaken you, even now, to the dreadful consequences of what +you are about!” + </p> +<p> +“Shalley! Shalley!” cried she in amazement, “is this gentleman deranged, +or is it but the passing effect of your conviviality?” And with this she +swept out of the room, leaving me there alone, for I now perceived—what +seemed also to have escaped her—that the Minister had slipped +quietly away some time before, and was doubtless at that same moment in +the profoundest of slumbers. +</p> +<p> +I took my departure at once. There was no leave-taking to delay me, and I +left the house in a mood little according with the spirit of one who had +partaken of its hospitalities; I am constrained to admit I was the very +reverse of satisfied with myself. It was cowardly and mean of me to wreak +my anger on that old woman, and not upon him who was the really great +offender. He it was I should have arraigned; and with the employment of a +little artifice and some tact, how terrible I might have made even my +jesting levity! how sarcastic my sneers at fashionable vice! Affecting +utter ignorance about his life and habits, I could have incidentally +thrown out little episodes of all the men who have wrecked their fortunes +by abandoned habits. I would have pointed to this man who made a brilliant +opening in the House, and that who had acquired such celebrity at the Bar; +I would have shown the rising statesman tarnished, the future chief +justice disqualified; I would have said, “Let no man, however modest his +character or unfrequented his locality, imagine that the world takes no +note of his conduct; in every class he is judged by his peers, and you and +I, Doubleton, will as assuredly be arraigned before the bar of society as +the pickpocket will be charged before the beak!” + </p> +<p> +I continued to revolve these and such like thoughts throughout the entire +night. The wine I had drunk fevered and excited me, and added to that +disturbed state which my own self-accusings provoked. Doubts, too, flitted +across my mind whether I ought not to have maintained a perfect silence +towards the others, and reserved all my eloquence for the poor girl +herself. I imagined myself taking her hand between both mine, while, with +averted head, she sobbed as if her heart would break, and, saying, “Be +comforted, poor stricken deer! be comforted; I know all. One who is far +from perfect himself, sorrows with and compassionates you; he will be your +friend, your adviser, your protector. I will restore you to that home you +quitted in innocence. I will bring you back to that honeysuckled porch +where your pure heart expanded in home affections.” Nothing shall equal +the refined delicacy of my manner; that mingled reserve and kindness—a +sort of cross between a half-brother and a canon of St. Paul's—shall +win her over to repentance, and then to peace. How I fancied myself at +intervals of time visiting that cottage, going, as the gardener watches +some cherished plant, to gaze on the growing strength I had nurtured, and +enjoy the luxury of seeing the once drooping flower expanding into fresh +loveliness and perfume. “Yes, Potts, this would form one of those episodes +you have so often longed to realize.” And then I went on to fancy a long +heroic struggle between my love and that sentiment of respect for worldly +opinion which is dear to every man, the years of conflict wearing me down +in health, but exalting me immensely in every moral consideration. Let the +hour of crowning victory at last come, I should take her to my bosom and +say, “There is rest for thee here!” + </p> +<p> +“His Excellency begs that you will call at the legation, as early as you +can, this morning,” said a waiter, entering with the breakfast tray; and I +now perceived that I had never gone to bed, or closed my eyes during the +night. +</p> +<p> +“How did this message come?” I asked. +</p> +<p> +“By the chasseur of his Excellency.” + </p> +<p> +“And how addressed?” + </p> +<p> +“'To the gentleman who dined yesterday at the legation. '” + </p> +<p> +I asked these questions to ascertain how far he persisted in the +impertinence of giving me a name that was not mine, and I was glad to find +that on this occasion no transgression had occurred. +</p> +<p> +I hesitated considerably about going to him. Was I to accept that slippery +morality that says, “I see no more than I please in the man I dine with,” + or was I to go boldly on and denounce this offender to himself? What if he +were to say, “Potts, let us play fair; put your own cards on the table, +and let us see are you always on the square? Who is your father? how does +he live? Why have you left home, and how? What of that horse you have—” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, not stolen—on my honor, not stolen!” “Well, ain't it ugly? +Is n't the story one that any relating might, without even a spice of +malevolence, make marvellously disagreeable? Is the tale such as you 'd +wish to herald you into any society you desired to mix with?” It was in +this high, easy, and truly companionable style that conscience kept me +company, while I ate two eggs and a plate of buttered toast “After all,” + thought I, “might it not prove a great mistake not to wait on him? How if, +in our talk over politics last night, I may have dropped some remarkable +expression, a keen appreciation of some statesman, an extraordinary +prediction of some coming crisis? Maybe it is to question me more fully +about my 'views' of the state of Europe.” Now I am rather given to “views +of the state of Europe.” I like that game of patience, formed by shuffling +up all the governments of the Continent, and then seeing who is to have +the most “tricks,” who's to win all the kings, and who the knaves. “Yes,” + thought I, “this is what he is at. These diplomatic people are +consummately clever at pumping; their great skill consists in extracting +information from others and adapting it to their own uses. Their social +condition confers the great advantage of intercourse with whatever is +remarkable for station, influence, and ability; and I think I hear his +Excellency muttering to himself, 'remarkable man that—large views—great +reach of thought—wish I could see more of him; must try what polite +attentions may accomplish.' Well,” said I, with a half sigh, “it is the +old story, <i>Sic vos non vobis</i>; and I suppose it is one of the curses +on Irishmen that, from Edmund Burke to Potto, they should be doomed to +cram others. I will go. What signifies it to <i>me?</i> I am none the +poorer in dispensing my knowledge than is the nightingale in discoursing +her sweet music to the night air, and flooding the groves with waves of +melody: like <i>her</i>, I give of an affluence that never fails me.” And +so I set out for the legation. +</p> +<p> +As I walked along through the garden, a trimly-dressed French maid passed +me, turned, and repassed, with a look that had a certain significance. “It +was monsieur dined here yesterday?” said she, interrogatively; and as I +smiled assent, she handed me a very small sealed note, and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +It bore no address but the word “Mr.———;” a strange, not +very ceremonious direction. “But, poor girl!” thought I, “she knows me not +as Potts, but as Protector. I am not the individual, but the +representative of that wide-spread benevolence that succors the weak and +consoles the afflicted. I wonder has she been touched by my devotion? has +she imagined—oh, that she would!—that I have followed her +hither, that I have sworn a vow to rescue and to save her? Or is this note +the cry of a sorrow-struck spirit, saying, 'Come to my aid ere I perish +'?” + </p> +<p> +My fingers trembled as I broke the seal; I had to wipe a tear from my eye +ere I could begin to read. My agitation was great; it was soon to be +greater. The note contained very few words; they were these:— +</p> +<p> +“Sir,—I have not communicated to my brother, Sir Shafley Doubleton, +any circumstance of your unaccountable conduct yesterday evening. I hope +that my reserve will be appreciated by you, and +</p> +<p> +“I am, your faithful servant, +</p> +<p> +“'Martha Keats.” + </p> +<p> +I did not faint, but I sat down on the grass, sick and faint, and I felt +the great drops of cold perspiration burst out over my forehead and +temples. “So,” muttered I, “the venerable person I have been lecturing is +his Excellency's own sister! My exhortations to a changed life have been +addressed to a lady doubtless as rigid in morals as austere in manners.” + Though I could recall none of the words I employed, I remembered but too +well the lesson I intended to convey, and I shuddered with disgust at my +own conduct. Many a time have I heard severest censure on the preacher who +has from the pulpit scattered words of doubtful application to the sinners +beneath; but here was I making a direct and most odious attack upon the +life and habits of a lady of immaculate behavior! Oh, it was too—too +bad! A whole year of sackcloth and ashes would not be penance for such +iniquity. How could she have forgiven it? What consummate charity enabled +her to pardon an offence so gross and so gratuitous? Or is it that she +foresaw consequences so grave, in the event of disclosure, that she +dreaded to provoke them? What might not an angry brother, in such a case, +be warranted in doing? Would the world call any vengeance exorbitant? I +studied her last phrase over and over, “I hope my reserve will be +appreciated by you.” This may mean, “I reserve the charge,—I hold it +over you as a bail bond for the future; diverge ever so little from the +straight road, and I will say, 'Potts, stand forward and listen to your +indictment.' She may have some terrible task in view for me, some perilous +achievement, which I cannot now refuse. This old woman may be to me as was +the Old Man of the Sea to Sinbad. I may be fated to carry her forever on +my back, and the dread of her be a living nightmare to me.” “At such a +price, existence has no value,” said I, in despair. “Worse even than the +bondage is the feeling that I am no longer, to my own heart, the great +creature I love to think myself. Instead of Potts the generous, the +high-spirited, the confiding, the self-denying, I am Potts the timorous, +the terror-stricken, and the slave.” + </p> +<p> +Out of my long and painful musings on the subject, I bethought me of a +course to take. I would go to her and say:— +</p> +<p> +“Listen to this parable. I remember once, when a member of the +phrenological club, a stupid jest was played off upon the society by some +one presenting us with the cast of a well-known murderer's skull, and +asking for our interpretations of its development. We gave them with every +care and deliberation: we pointed out the fatal protuberances of crime, +and indicated the depressions, which showed the absence of all prudential +restraints; we demonstrated all the evidences of badness that were there, +and proved that, with such a head, a man must have thought killing no +murder. The rejoinder to our politeness was a small box that arrived by +the mail, labelled, 'the original of the cast forwarded on the 14th.' We +opened it, and found a pumpkin! The foolish jester fancied that he had +cast an indelible stain upon phrenology, quite forgetting the fact that +his pumpkin had personated a skull which, had it ever existed, would have +presented the characteristics we gave it.” I would say, “Now, madam, make +the application, and say, do you not rather commend than condemn? are you +not more ready to applaud than upbraid me?” + </p> +<p> +Second thoughts rather deterred me from this plan; the figurative line is +often dangerous with elderly people. It is just as likely she would +mistake the whole force of my illustration, and bluntly say, “I 'd beg to +remark, sir, I am not a pumpkin!” + </p> +<p> +“No; I will not adventure on this path. There is no need that I should +ever meet her again, or, if I should, we may meet as utter strangers.” + This resolve made, I arose boldly, and walked on towards the house. +</p> +<p> +His Excellency, I learned, was at home, and had been for some time +expecting me. I found him in his morning room, in the same costume and +same occupation as on the day before. +</p> +<p> +“There's the 'Times,'” said he, as I entered; “I shall be ready for you +presently;” and worked away without lifting his head. +</p> +<p> +Affecting to read, I set myself to regard him with attention. Vast piles +of papers lay around him on every side; the whole table, and even the +floor at his feet, was littered with them. “Would,” thought I,—“would +that these writers for the Radical press, these scurrilous penny-a-liners +who inveigh against a bloated and pampered aristocracy, could just witness +the daily life of labor of one of these spoiled children of Fortune. Here +is this man, doubtless reared in ease and affluence, and see him, how he +toils away, from sundown to dawn, unravelling the schemes, tracing the +wiles, and exposing the snares of these crafty foreigners. Hark! he is +muttering over the subtle sentence he has just written: 'I am much grieved +about Maria's little girl, but I hope she will escape being marked by the +malady.'” A groan that broke from me here startled him, and he looked up. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! yes, by the way, I want you, Paynter.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not Paynter, your Excellency, my name is—” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, you have your own name for your own peculiar set; but don't +interrupt. I have a special service for you, and will put it in the +'extraordinaires.' I have taken a little villa on the Lake of Como for my +sister, but, from the pressure of political events, I am not able to +accompany her there. She is a very timid traveller, and cannot possibly go +alone. You 'll take charge of her, therefore, Paynter,—there, don't +be fussy,—you 'll take charge of her and a young lady who is with +her, and you 'll see them housed and established there. I suppose she will +prefer to travel slowly, some thirty miles or so a day, post horses +always, and strictly avoiding railroads; but you can talk it over together +yourselves. There was a Bobus to have come out—” + </p> +<p> +“A Bobus!” + </p> +<p> +“I mean a doctor,—I call every doctor, Bobus,—but something +has detained him, or, indeed, I believe he was drowned; at all events, +he's not come, and you 'll have to learn how to measure out ether and drop +morphine; the 'companion' will help you. And keep an account of your +expenses, Paynter,—your own expenses for F. O.,—and don't let +her fall sick at any out-of-the-way place, which she has rather a knack of +doing; and, above all, don't telegraph on any account. Come and dine,—six.” + </p> +<p> +“If you will excuse me at dinner, I shall be obliged. I have a sort of +half engagement.” + </p> +<p> +“Come in about nine, then,” said he, “for she'd like to talk over some +matters. Look out for a carriage, too; I don't fancy giving mine if you +can get another. One of those great roomy German things with a cabriolet +front, for Miss—I forget her name—would prefer a place +outside. Kramm, the landlord, can help you to search for one; and let it +be dusted and aired and fumigated and the drag examined and the axles +greased,—in a word, have your brains about you, Paynter. Good-bye.” + Exit as before. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. UNPLEASANT TURN TO AN AGREEABLE CONVERSE. +</h2> +<p> +There is no denying it, I have led a life of far more than ordinary +happiness. The white squares in the checker of my existence have certainly +equalled the black ones, and it is not every man can say as much. I +suspect I owe a great share of this enjoyment to temperament, to a +disposition not so much remarkable for opposing difficulties as for +deriving all the possible pleasure from any fortunate conjuncture. This +gift I know I possess. I am not one of those strong natures which, by +their intrinsic force, are ever impressing their own image on the society +they live in. I am a weak, frail, yielding creature, but my very pliancy +has given me many a partnership in emotions which, with a more rugged +temperament, I had not partaken of. When one has wept over a friend's +misfortunes and awakes to the consciousness that no ill has befallen +himself, he feels as some great millionnaire might feel who has bestowed a +thousand pounds in charity and yet knows he is never the poorer. With the +proud consciousness of this fresh title to men's admiration, he has the +secret satisfaction of knowing that he will go clothed in purple as +before, and fare to-day as sumptuously as yesterday. Do you, most generous +of readers, call this selfishness? It is the very reverse. It is the grand +culminating point of human sympathy. +</p> +<p> +I have a great deal more to say about myself. It is a theme I am really +fond of, but I am not exactly sure that you are like-minded, or that this +is the fittest place for it. I return to events. +</p> +<p> +It was on a bright, breezy morning of the early autumn that a heavy old +German travelling-carriage,—a wagon!—rattled over the uneven +pavement of Kalbbratonstadt, and soon gaining one of the long forest +alleys, rolled noiselessly over the smooth sward. Within sat an elderly +lady with a due allowance of air-cushions, toy-terriers, and guide-books; +in the rumble were a man and a maid; and in the cabriolet in front were a +pale but placid girl, with large gray eyes and long lashes, and he who now +writes these lines beside her. They who had only known me a few months +back as a freshman of Trinity would not have recognized me now, as I sat +with a long-peaked travelling-cap, a courier's belt and bag at my side, +and the opening promise of a small furry moustache on my upper lip; not to +say that I had got up a sort of supercilious air of contemptuous pity for +the foreigner, which I had observed to be much in favor with the English +abroad. It cost me dear to do this, and nothing but the consciousness that +it was one of the requirements of my station could have made me assume it, +for in my heart of hearts, I revelled in enjoyment of all around me. I +liked the soft breezy balmy air, the mellow beech wood, the grassy turf +overgrown with violets, the wild notes of the frightened wood-pigeon, the +very tramp-tramp of the massive horses, with their scarlet tassels and +their jingling bells; all pleased and interested me. Not to speak of her, +who, at my side, felt a very child's delight at every novelty of the way. +</p> +<p> +“What would I have said to any one who, only a fortnight ago, had promised +me such happiness as this?” said I to my companion, as we drove along, +while the light branches rustled pleasantly over the roof of the carriage, +darkening the shade around us, or occasionally deluging us with the leaves +as we passed. +</p> +<p> +“And are you then so very happy?” asked she, with a pleasant smile. +</p> +<p> +“Can you doubt it? or rather is it that, as the emotion does not extend to +yourself, you <i>do</i> doubt it?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, as for me,” cried she, joyfully, “it is very different. I have never +travelled till now—seen nothing, actually nothing. The veriest +commonplaces of the road, the peasants' costumes, their wayside cottages, +the little shrines they kneel at, are all objects of picturesque interest +to me, and I am ready to exclaim at each moment, 'Oh! why cannot we stop +here? shall we ever see anything so beautiful again as this?'” + </p> +<p> +“And hearing you talk thus, you can ask me am I so very happy!” said I, +reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +“What I meant was, is it not stupid to have no companion of your own turn +of mind, none with whom you could talk, without condescending to a tone +beneath you, just as certain stories are reduced to words of one syllable +for little children?” + </p> +<p> +“Mademoiselle is given to sarcasm, I see,” said I, half peevishly. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind,” said she, blushing slightly. “It was in perfect +good faith. I wished you a more suitable companion. Indeed, after what I +had heard from his Excellency about you, I was terrified at the thought of +my own insufficiency.” + </p> +<p> +“And pray what <i>did</i> he say of me?” asked I, in a flutter of delight. +</p> +<p> +“Are you very fond of flattery?” + </p> +<p> +“Immensely!” + </p> +<p> +“Is it not possible that praise of you could be so exaggerated as to make +you feel ashamed?” + </p> +<p> +“I should say, perfectly impossible; that is, to a mind regulated as mine, +over-elation could never happen. Tell me, therefore, what he said?” + </p> +<p> +“I can't remember one-half of it; he remarked how few men in the career—I +conclude he meant diplomacy—could compare with you; that you had +such just views about the state of Europe, such an accurate appreciation +of publie men. I can't say how many opportunities you mustn't have had, +and what valuable uses you have not put them to. In a word, I felt that I +was about to travel with a great statesman and a consummate man of the +world, and was-terrified accordingly.” + </p> +<p> +“And now that the delusion is dispelled, how do you feel?” + </p> +<p> +“But is it dispelled? Am I not shocked with my own temerity in daring to +talk thus lightly with one so learned?” + </p> +<p> +“If so,” said I, “you conceal your embarrassment wonderfully.” + </p> +<p> +And then we both laughed; but I am not quite sure it was at the same joke. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know where you are going?” said I, taking out a travelling-map as +a means of diverting our conversation into some higher channel. +</p> +<p> +“Not in the least” + </p> +<p> +“Nor care?” + </p> +<p> +“Nor care.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I must say, it is a most independent frame of mind. Perhaps you +could extend this fine philosophy, and add, 'Nor with whom!'” + </p> +<p> +I was not at all conscious of what an impertinence I had uttered till it +was out; nor, indeed, even then, till I remarked that her cheek had become +scarlet, and her eyes double as dark as their wont. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said she, “there is one condition for which I should certainly +stipulate,—not to travel with any one who could needlessly offend +me.” + </p> +<p> +I could have cried with shame; I could have held my hand in the flame of a +fire to expiate my rude speech. And so I told her; while I assured her at +the same time, with marvellous consistency, that it was not rude at all; +that it was entirely misconception on her part; that <i>nous autres +diplomates</i>—Heaven forgive me the lying assumption!—had a +way of saying little smartnesses that don't mean much; that we often made +our coin ring on the table, though it turned out bad money when it came to +be looked at; that Talleyrand did it, and Walewsky did it, and I did it,—we +all did it! +</p> +<p> +Now, there was one most unlucky feature in all this. It was only a few +minutes before this passage occurred, that I said to myself, “Potts, here +is one whose frank, fresh, generous nature claims all your respect and +devotion. No nonsense of your being this, that, and t'other here. Be +truthful and be honest; neither pretend to be man of fortune nor man of +fashion; own fairly to her by what chance you adventured upon this strange +life; tell her, in a word, you are the son of Potts,—Potts the +'pothecary,—and neither a hero nor a plenipotentiary!” + </p> +<p> +I have no doubt, most amiable of readers, that nothing can seem possibly +more easy than to have done all this. You deem it the natural and ordinary +course; just as, foi instance, a merchant in good credit and repute would +feel no repugnance to calling all his creditors together to inspect his +books, and see that, though apparently solvent, he was, in truth, utterly +bankrupt. And yet there is some difficulty in doing this. Does not the law +of England expressly declare that no man need criminate himself? Who +accuses you, then, Potts? And then I bethought me of the worthy old +alderman, who, on learning that “Robinson Crusoe” was a fiction, +exclaimed, “It may be so; but I have lost the greatest pleasure of my life +in hearing it.” What a profound philosophy was there in that simple +avowal! With what illusions are we not cheered on through life! how unreal +the joys that delight and the triumphs that elate us; for we are all +hypochondriacs, and are as often cured with bread pills as with bold +remedies. “Yes,” thought I, “this young girl is happy in the thought that +her companion is a person of rank, station, and influence; she feels a +sort of self-elation in being associated with one endowed with all worldly +advantages. Shall I rob her of this illusion? Shall I rudely deprive her +of what imparts a charm to her existence, and gives a sort of romantic +interest to her daily life? Harsh and needless would be the cruelty!” + </p> +<p> +While I thus argued with myself, she had opened her guide-book, and was +eagerly reading away about the road we were travelling. “We are to halt at +Bömerstein, are we not?” asked she. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “we rest there for the night. It is one of those little +villages of which a German writer has given us a striking picture.” + </p> +<p> +“Auerstadt,” broke she in. +</p> +<p> +“So you have read him? You read German?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, tolerably; that is, well enough for Schiller and Uhland, but not +well enough for Jean Paul and Goethe.” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind; trust me for a guide; you shall now venture upon both.” + </p> +<p> +“But how will you be able to give up time valuable as yours to such +teachings? Would it be fair of me, besides, to steal hours that ought to +be devoted to your country?” + </p> +<p> +Though I had not the slightest imaginable ground to suspect any secret +sarcasm in this speech, my guilty conscience made me feel it as a perfect +torture. “She knows me,” thought I, “and this sneer at my pretended +importance is intended to overwhelm me.” + </p> +<p> +“As to my country's claims,” said I, haughtily, “I make light of them. All +that I have seen of life only shows the shallowness of what is called the +public service. I am resolved to leave it, and forever.” + </p> +<p> +“And for what?” + </p> +<p> +“A life of retirement,—obscurity if you will.” + </p> +<p> +“It is what I should do if I were a man.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes. I have often reflected over the delight I have felt in walking +through some man's demesne, revelling in the enjoyment of its leafy +solitude, its dreary shade, its sunlit vistas, and I have thought, 'If all +these things, not one of which are mine, can bring such pleasure to my +heart, why should I not adopt the same philosophy in life, and be +satisfied with enjoying without possessing? A very humble lot would +suffice for one, nothing but great success could achieve the other.'” + </p> +<p> +“What becomes, then, of that great stimulus to good they call labor?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I should labor, too. I 'd work at whatever I was equal to. I 'd sew, +and knit, and till my garden, and be as useful as possible.” + </p> +<p> +“And I would write,” said I, enthusiastically, as though I were plotting +out my share in this garden of Eden. “I would write all sorts of things: +reviews, and histories, and stories, and short poems, and, last of all, +the 'Confessions of Algernon Sydney Potts.'” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, what a shocking title! How could such names have met together? That +shocking epithet Potts would vulgarize it all!” + </p> +<p> +“I really cannot agree with you,” said I, angrily. “Without,” said she, +“you meant it for a sort of quiz; and that Potts was to be a creature of +absurdity and folly, a pretender and a snob.” + </p> +<p> +I felt as if I was choking with passion; but I tried to laugh, and say, +“Yes, of course.” + </p> +<p> +“That would be good fun enough,” went she on. “I 'd like, if I could, to +contribute to that. You should invent the situations, and leave me +occasionally to supply the reflective part.” + </p> +<p> +“It would be charming; quite delightful.” + </p> +<p> +“Shall we do it, then-? Let us try it, by all means. We might begin by +imagining Potts in search of this, that, or t'other,—love, +happiness, solitude, climate, scenery, anything, in short. Let us fancy +him on a journey, try and personate him; that would be the real way. Do +you, for instance, be Potts, and I 'll be his sister Susan. It will be the +best fun in the world, as we go along, to see everything, note everything, +and discuss everything Potts-wise.” + </p> +<p> +“It would be too ridiculous, too absurd,” said I, sick with anger. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit; we are travelling with our old grandmother, we are making the +tour of Europe, and keeping our journal. Every evening we compare notes of +what we have seen. Pray do so; I 'm quite wild to try it.” + </p> +<p> +“Really,” said I, gravely, “it is a sort of trifling I should find it very +difficult to descend to. I see no reason, besides, to associate the name +of Potts with what you are pleased to call snobbery!” + </p> +<p> +“Could you help it? Could you, with all the best will in the world, make +Potts a man of distinction? Would n't he, in spite of you, be low, vulgar, +inquisitive, and obtrusive? Wouldn't you find him thrusting himself +forward, twenty times a day, into positions he had no right to? Would n't +the creature be a butt and a dupe—” + </p> +<p> +“Shall I own,” burst I in, “that it gives me no exalted idea of your +taste, if I find that you select for ridicule a person on the mere showing +that his name is a monosyllable? And, once for all, I repudiate all share +in the scheme, and beg that I may not hear more of it.” + </p> +<p> +I turned away as I said this. She resumed her book, and we spoke no more +to each other till we reached our halting-place for the night. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. MRS. KEATS MOVES MY INDIGNATION +</h2> +<p> +I am forced to the confession, Mrs. Keats was not what is popularly called +an agreeable old lady. She spoke seldom, she smiled never, and she had a +way of looking at you, a sort of cold astonishment, seeming to say, “How +is this? explain yourself,” that kept me in a perpetual terror. +</p> +<p> +My morning's tiff with Miss Herbert had neither been condoned nor expiated +when we sat down to dinner, as stiff a party of three as can well be +imagined; scarcely a word was interchanged as we ate. +</p> +<p> +“If you drink wine, sir, pray order it,” said Mrs. Keats to me, in a voice +that might have suited an invitation to prussic acid. +</p> +<p> +“This little wine of the country is very pleasant, madam,” said I, +courteously, “and I can even venture to recommend it.” + </p> +<p> +“Not to me, sir. I drink water.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps Miss Herbert will allow me?” + </p> +<p> +“Excuse me; I also drink water.” + </p> +<p> +After a very dreary and painful pause, I dared to express a faint hope +that Mrs. Keats had not been fatigued by the day's Journey. +</p> +<p> +She looked at me for a second or two before replying, and then said: “I am +really not aware, sir, that I have manifested any such signs of weariness +as would warrant your inquiry. If I should have, however—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I beg you will pardon me, madam,” broke I in, apologetically; “my +question was not meant for more than a mere ordinary politeness, a +matter-of-course expression of my solicitude.” + </p> +<p> +“It will save us both some trouble in future, sir, if I re-mark that I am +no friend to matter-of-course civilities, and never reply to them.” + </p> +<p> +I felt as though my head and face had been passed across the open door of +a blast furnace. I was in a perfect flame, and dared not raise my eye from +my plate. +</p> +<p> +“The waiter is asking if you will take coffee, sir,” said the inexorable +old lady to me, as I sat almost stunned and stupid. +</p> +<p> +“Yes—with brandy—a full glass of brandy in it,” cried I, in +the half-despair of one who knew not how to rally himself. +</p> +<p> +“I think we may retire, Miss H.,” said Mrs. Keats, rising with a severe +dignity that seemed to say, “We are not bound to assist at an orgy.” And +with a stern stare and a defiant little bow she moved towards the door. I +was so awestruck that I never moved from my place, but stood resting my +hand on my chair, till she said, “Do you mean to open the door, sir, or am +I to do it for myself?” + </p> +<p> +I sprang forward at once, and flung it wide, my face all scarlet with +shame. +</p> +<p> +She passed out, and Miss Herbert followed her. Her dress, however, +catching in the doorway, she turned back to extricate it; I seized the +moment to stoop down and say, “Do let me see you for one moment this +evening,—only one moment.” + </p> +<p> +She shook her head in silent negative, and went away. +</p> +<p> +I sat down at the table, and filled myself a large goblet of wine; I drank +it off, and replenished it It was only this morning, a few brief hours +ago, and I would not have changed fortunes with the Emperor of France. +Life seemed to open before me like some beautiful alley in a garden, with +a glorious vista in the distance. I would not have bartered the place in +that cabriolet for the proudest throne in Europe. <i>She</i> was there +beside me, listening in rapt attention, as I discoursed voyages, travels, +memoirs, poetry, and personal adventures. With every changeful expression +of lovely sympathy did she follow me through all. I was a hero to us both, +myself as much captivated as she was; and now the brief drama was over, +the lights were put out, and the theatre closed! How had I destroyed this +golden delusion,—why had I quarrelled with her, and for what? For a +certain Potts, a creature who, in reality, had no existence; “For who is +Potts?” said I. “Potts is no more a substance than Caleb Williams or +Peregrine Pickle; Potts is the lay figure that the artist dresses in any +costume he requires—a Rachero to-day, a Railway Director to-morrow. +What an absurdity in the importance we lend to mere names! Here, for +instance, I take the label off the port, and I hang it round the neck of +the claret decanter: have I changed the quality of the vintage? have I +brought Bordeaux to the meridian of Oporto? Not a bit of it And yet a man +is to be more the victim of an accident than a bottle of wine, and his +intrinsic qualities—strength, flavor, and richness—are not to +be tested, but simply implied from the label round his neck! How +narrow-minded, after all, of her, who ought to have known better! It is +thus, however, we educate our women; this is part and parcel of the false +system by which we fancy we make them companionable. The North American +Indians are far in advance of us in all this: they assign them their +proper places and fitting duties; they feel that, in this life of ours, +order and happiness depend on the due distribution of burdens, and the +Snapping Alligator never feels his squaw more truly his helpmate than when +she is skinning eels for his dinner.” + </p> +<p> +How I hated that old woman; I don't think I ever detested a human creature +so much as that I have often speculated as to whether venomous reptiles +have any gratification imparted to them when they inflict a poisonous +wound. Is the mosquito the happier for having stung one's nose? And, in +the same spirit, I should like to know, do the disagreeable people of this +world sleep the better from the consciousness of having offended us? Is +there that great ennobling sense of a mission fulfilled for every cheek +they set on fire and every heart they depress? and do they quench hope and +extinguish ambition with the same zeal that the Sun or the Phoenix put out +a fire? +</p> +<p> +“'If you drink wine, sir, pray order it,'” said I, mimicking her imperious +tone. “Yes, madam, I do drink wine, and I mean to order it, and liberally. +I travel at the expense of that noble old paymaster who only wags his tail +the more, the more he has to pay—the British Lion. I go down in the +extraordinaires. I 'm on what is called a special service. 'Keep an +account of your expenses, Paynter!' Confound his insolence, he would say +'Paynter.' By the way, I have never looked how he calls me in my passport. +I 'm curious to see if I be Paynter there.” I had left the bag containing +this and my money in my room, and I rang the bell, and told the waiter to +fetch it. +</p> +<p> +The passport set forth in due terms all the dignities, honors, and +decorations of the great man who granted it, and who bespoke for the +little man who travelled by it all aid and assistance possible, and to let +him pass freely, &c. “Mr. Ponto,—British subject.” “Ponto, What +an outrage! This comes of a man making his <i>maître d'hôtel</i> his +secretary. That stupid French flunkey has converted me into a water-dog. +This may explain a good deal of the old lady's rudeness; how could she be +expected to be even ordinarily civil to a man called Ponto? She 'd say at +once, 'His father was an Italian, and, of course, a courier, or a valet; +or he was a foundling, and called after a favorite spaniel.' Ill rectify +this without loss of time. If she has not the tact to discover the man of +education and breeding by the qualities he displays in intercourse, she +shall be brought to admit them by the demands of his self-respect.” + </p> +<p> +I opened my writing-desk and wrote just two lines,—a polite request +for a few moments of interview, signed “A. S. Pottinger.” I wrote the name +in a fine text hand, as though to say, “No more blunders, madam, this is +large as print.” + </p> +<p> +“Take this to your mistress, François,” said I to the courier. +</p> +<p> +“Gone to bed, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Gone to bed! why, it's only eight o'clock.” + </p> +<p> +A shrug and a smile were all he replied. +</p> +<p> +“And Miss Herbert,—can I speak to <i>her?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“Fear not, sir; she went to her room, and told Clementina not to disturb +her.” + </p> +<p> +“It is of consequence, however, that I should see her. I want to make +arrangements for to-morrow,—the hour we are to start—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! but we are to stop here over to-morrow; I thought monsieur knew +that,” said the fellow, with the insolent grin of a menial at knowing more +than his betters. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to be sure we are,” said I, laughingly, and affecting to have +suddenly remembered it. “I forgot all about it, François; you are quite +right. Take a glass of wine, Francois,—or take the bottle with you, +that's better.” And I handed him a flask of Hocheimer of eight florins, +right glad to get rid of his presence and escape further scrutiny from his +prying glances. +</p> +<p> +How relieved I felt when the fellow closed the door after him and left me +to “blow off the steam” of my indignation all alone! And was I not +indignant? Only to fancy this insolent old woman giving her orders without +so much as condescending to communicate with me! I am left to learn her +whim by a mere accident, or not learn it at all, and exhibit myself ready +to depart at the inn door, and then hear, for the first time, that I may +unpack again. +</p> +<p> +This was unquestionably a studied rudeness, and demanded an equally +studied reprisal. She means to discredit my station, and disparage my +influence; how shall I reply to her? A vast variety of expedients offered +themselves to my mind: I could go off, leaving a fearful letter behind me,—a +document that would cut her to the very soul with the sarcastic bitterness +of its tone; but could I leave without a reconciliation with Miss Herbert,—without +the fond hope of our meeting as friends. I meant a great deal more, though +I would n't trust myself to say so. Besides, were I to go away, there were +financial considerations to be entertained. I could not, of course, carry +off that crimson bag with its gold and silver contents, and yet it was +very hard to tear myself from such a treasure. +</p> +<p> +I say it under correction, for I have never been rich, and, consequently, +never in the position to assert it positively; but I declare my firm +conviction to be that no man has ever tasted the unbounded pleasures of a +careless liberality on a Journey, who has not travelled at some other +person's expense. Be as wealthy as you like, let your portmanteau be +stuffed full of circular notes, and there will be present at moments of +payment the thought, “If I do not allow myself to be cheated here, I shall +have all the more to squander there.” But, drawing from the bag of +another, no such mean reflection obtrudes. You might as well defraud your +lungs of a long inspiration out of the fear of taking more than your share +of the atmosphere. There is enough, and will be enough there when you are +dust and ashes. +</p> +<p> +In fact, if I had on one side the “three courses” of the great statesman, +I had on the other full thirty reasons against each, and, therefore, I +resolved to suspend action and do nothing. And let me here passingly +remark that, much as we hear every day about the merits of promptitude and +quick-wittedness, in nine cases out of ten in life, I 'd rather “give the +move than take it.” The waiting policy is a rare one; it is the secret of +success in love, and of victory in an equity court And so I determined I +'d wait and see what should come of it. I appealed to myself thus: “Potts, +you are eminently a man of the world, one who accepts life as it is, with +all its crosses and untoward incidents; who knows well that he must play +bad cards even oftener than good ones. No impatience, therefore, no +rashness; give at least twenty-four hours' thought to any important +decision, and let a night's sleep intervene between your first conception +of a plan and its adoption.” Oh, if the people who are fretting themselves +about what is to happen this day ten years, would only remember what a +long time it is,—that is, counting by the number of events that will +occur between this and to-morrow,—not to say what incidents are +happening at the antipodes that will yet bring joy or sorrow to their +hearts,—they would keep more of their sympathies for present use, +and perhaps be the happier for doing so. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. AN IMPATIENT SUMMONS. +</h2> +<p> +I am about to make a very original observation. I hope its truth may equal +its originality. It is, that the man who has never had a sister is, at his +first entrance into life, far more the slave of feminine captivations than +he who has been brought up in a “house full of girls.” “Oh, for shame, Mr. +Potts! Is this the gallantry we have heard so much of? Is this the spirit +of that chivalrous devotion you have been incessantly impressing upon us?” + Wait a moment, fair creature; give me one half-minute for an explanation. +He who has not had sisters has had no experiences of the behind-scene life +of the female world; he has never heard one syllable about the plans and +schemes and devices by which hearts are snared. He fancies Mary stuck that +moss-rose in her hair in a moment of childish caprice; that Kate ran after +her little sister and showed the prettiest of ankles in doing it, out of +the irrepressible gayety of her buoyant spirits. In a word, he is one who +only sees the play when the house is fully lighted, and all the actors in +their grand costume; he has never witnessed a rehearsal, and has not the +very vaguest suspicion of a prompter. +</p> +<p> +To him, therefore, who has only experienced the rough companionship of +brothers—or worse still, has lived entirely alone—the first +acquaintanceship with the young-lady world is such a fascination as no +words can describe. The gentle look, the graceful gestures, the silvery +voices, all the play and action of natures so infinitely more refined than +any he has ever witnessed, are inexpressibly captivating. It is not alone +the occupations of their hours, light, graceful, and picturesque as they +are, but all their topics, their thoughts, seem to soar out of the +commonplace world he has lived in, and rise to ideal realms of poetry and +beauty. I say it advisedly: I do not know of anything so truly Elysian in +life as our first—our very first—experiences of this kind. +</p> +<p> +Werther's passion for Charlotte received a powerful impulse from watching +her as she cut bread-and-butter for the children. There are vulgar natures +who will smile at this; who cannot enter into the intense far-sightedness +of that poetic conception; that could in one trait of simplicity embody a +whole lifetime with its ennobling duties, its cheerful sacrifices, its +gracefully borne cares. Let him, therefore, who could sneer at Werther, +scoff at Potts, as he owns that he never felt his heart so powerfully +drawn to Kate Herbert as when he watched her making tea for breakfast. +Dressed in a muslin that represented mourning, her rich hair plainly +enclosed in a net, with a noiseless motion, she glided about, an ideal of +gentle sadness, more fascinating than I can tell. If she bore any +unpleasant memory of our little difference, she did not show it; her +manner was calm and even kind. She felt, perhaps, that some compensation +was due to me for the rudeness of that old woman, and was not unwilling to +make it. +</p> +<p> +“You know we are to rest here to-day?” said she, as she busied herself at +the table. +</p> +<p> +“I heard it by a mere chance, and from the courier,” said I, peevishly. “I +am not quite certain in what capacity Mrs. Keats condescends to regard me, +that I am treated with such scant courtesy. Probably you would be kind +enough to ascertain this point for me?” + </p> +<p> +“I shall assuredly not ask,” said she, with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“I certainly promised her brother—I could not do less for a +colleague, not to say something more—that I 'd see this old lady +safe over the Alps. They are looking out for me anxiously enough at +Constantinople all this while; in fact, I suspect there will be a nice +confusion there through my delay, and I 'd not be a bit surprised if they +begin to believe that stupid story in the 'Nord.' I suppose you saw it?” + </p> +<p> +“No. What is it about?” + </p> +<p> +“It is about your humble servant, Miss Herbert, and hints that he has +received one hundred parses from the sheiks of the Lebanon not to reach +the Golden Horn before they have made their peace with the Grand Vizier.” + </p> +<p> +“And is of course untrue?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, every word of it is a falsehood; but there are <i>gobemouches</i> +will believe anything. Mark my words, and see if this allegation be not +heard in the House of Commons, and some Tower Hamlets member start up to +ask if the Foreign Secretary will lay on the table copies of the +instructions given to a certain person, and supposed to be credentials of +a nature to supersede the functions of our ambassador at the Porte. In +confidence, between ourselves, Miss Herbert, so they are! I am intrusted +with full powers about the Hatti Homayoun, as the world shall see in good +time.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you take your tea strong?” asked she; and there was something so odd +and so inopportune in the question, that I felt it as a sort of covert +sneer; but when I looked up and beheld that pale and gentle face turned +towards me, I banished the base suspicion, and forgetting all my +enthusiasm, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Yes, dearest; strong as brandy!” + </p> +<p> +She tried to look grave, perhaps angry; but in spite of herself, she burst +out a-laughing. +</p> +<p> +“I perceive, sir,” said she, “that Mrs. Keats was quite correct when she +said that you appear to have moments in which you are unaware of what you +say.” + </p> +<p> +Before I could rally to reply, she had poured out a cup of tea for Mrs. +Keats, and left the room to carry it to her. +</p> +<p> +“'Moments in which I am unaware of what I say,'—'incoherent +intervals' Forbes Winslow would call them: in plain English, I am mad. Old +woman, have you dared to cast such an aspersion on me, and to disparage +me, too, in the quarter where I am striving to achieve success? For her +opinion of me I am less than indifferent; for her Judgment of my capacity, +my morals, my manners, I am as careless as I well can be of anything; but +these become serious disparagements when they reach the ears of one whose +heart I would make my own. I will insist on an explanation—no, but +an apology—for this. She shall declare that she used these words in +some non-natural sense,—that I am the sanest of mortals: she shall +give it under her hand and seal: 'I, the undersigned, having in a moment +of rash and impatient Judgment imputed to the bearer of this document, +Algernon Sydney Potts,'—no, Pottinger—ha, there is a +difficulty! If I be Pottinger, I can never re-become Potts; if Potts, I am +lost,—or rather, Miss Herbert is lost to me forever. What a dire +embarrassment! Not to mention that in the passport I was Ponto!” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. Keats desired me to beg you will step up to her room after +breakfast, and bring your account-books with you.” This was said by Miss +Herbert as she entered and took her place at the table. +</p> +<p> +“What has the old woman got in her head?” said I, angrily. “I have no +account-books,—I never had such in my life. When I travel alone, I +say to my courier, 'Diomede'—he is a Greek—'Diomede, pay;' and +he pays. When Diomede is not with me, I ask, 'How much?' and I give it.” + </p> +<p> +“It certainly simplifies travel,” said she, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“It does more, Miss Herbert: it accomplishes the end of travel. Your +doctor says, 'Go abroad,—take a holiday—turn your back on +Downing Street, and bid farewell to cabinet councils.' Where is the +benefit of such a course, I ask, if you are to pass the vacation cursing +customhouse officers, bullying landlords, and browbeating waiters? I say +always, 'Give me a bad dinner if you must, but do not derange my +digestion; rather a damp bed than thorns in the pillow.'” + </p> +<p> +“I am to say that you will see her, however,” said she, with that +matter-of-fact adhesiveness to the question that never would permit her to +join in my digressions. +</p> +<p> +“Then I go under protest, Miss Herbert,—under protest, and, as the +lawyers say, without prejudice,—that is, I go as a private +gentleman, irresponsible and independent. Tell her this, and say, I know +nothing of figures: arithmetic may suit the Board of Trade; in the Foreign +Department we ignore it You may add, too, if you like, that from what you +have seen of me, I am of a haughty disposition, easily offended, and very +vindictive,—very!” + </p> +<p> +“But I really don't think this,” said she, with a bewitching smile. +</p> +<p> +“Not to <i>you</i> de—” I was nearly in it again: “not to <i>you</i>,” + said I, stammering and blushing till I felt on fire. I suspect that she +saw all the peril of the moment, for she left the room hurriedly, on the +pretext of asking Mrs. Keats to take more tea. +</p> +<p> +“She is sensible of your devotion, Potts; but is she touched by it? Has +she said to herself, 'That man is my fate, my destiny,—it is no use +resisting him; dark and mysterious as he is, I am drawn towards him by an +inscrutable sympathy'—or is she still struggling in the toils, +muttering to her heart to be still, and to wait? Flutter away, gentle +creature,” said I, compassionately, “but raffle not your lovely plumage +too roughly; the bars of your cage are not the less impassable that they +are invisible. You <i>shall</i> love me, and you <i>shall</i> be mine!” + </p> +<p> +To these rapturous fancies there now succeeded the far less captivating +thought of Mrs. Keats, and an approaching interview. Can any reader +explain why it is, that one sits in quiet admiration of some old woman by +Teniers or Holbein, and never experiences any chagrin or impatience at +trials which, if only represented in life, would be positively odious? Why +is it that art transcends nature, and that ugliness in canvas is more +endurable than ugliness in the flesh? Now, for my own part, I'd rather +have faced a whole gallery of the Dutch school, from Van Eyck to Verbagen, +than have confronted that one old lady who sat awaiting me in No. 12. +</p> +<p> +Twice as I sat at my breakfast did François put in his head, look at me, +and retire without a word. “What is the matter? What do you mean?” cried +I, impatiently, at the third intrusion. +</p> +<p> +“It is madam that wishes to know when monsieur will be at leisure to go +upstairs to her.” + </p> +<p> +I almost bounded on my chair with passion. How was I, I would ask, to +maintain any portion of that dignity with which I ought to surround myself +if exposed to such demands as this? This absurd old woman would tear off +every illusion in which I draped myself. What availed all the romance a +rich fancy could conjure up, when that wicked old enchantress called me to +her presence, and in a voice of thunder said, “Strip off these +masqueradings, Potts, I know the whole story.” “Ay, but,” thought I, “she +cannot do so; of me and my antecedents she knows positively nothing.” + “Halt there!” interposes Conscience; “it is quite enough to pronounce the +coin base, without being able to say at what mint it was fabricated. She +knows you, Potts, she knows you.” + </p> +<p> +There is one great evil in castle-building, and I have thought very long +and anxiously, and I must own fruitlessly, over how to meet it: it is that +one never can get a lease of the ground to build on. One is always like an +Irish cottier, a tenant at will, likely to be turned out at a moment's +notice, and dispossessed without pity or compassion. The same language +applies to each: “You know well, my good fellow, you had no right to be +there; pack up and be off!” It's no use saying that it was a bit of waste +land unfenced and untilled; that, until you took it in hand, it was +overgrown with nettles and duckweed; that you dispossessed no one, and +such like. The answer is still the same, “Where's your title? Where's your +lease?” + </p> +<p> +Now, I am curious to hear what injury I was inflicting on that old woman +at No. 12 by any self-deceptions of mine? Could the most exaggerated +estimate I might form of myself, my present, or my future, in any degree +affect <i>her?</i> Who constituted her a sort of ambulatory conscience, to +call people's hearts to account at a moment's notice? It may be seen by +the tone of these reflections, that I was fully impressed with the belief +through some channel, or by some clew, Mrs. Keats knew all my history, and +intended to use her knowledge tyrannically over me. +</p> +<p> +Oh that I could only retaliate! Oh that I had only the veriest fragment of +her past life, out of which to construct her whole story! Just as out of a +mastodon's molar, Cuvier used to build up the whole monster, never +omitting a rib, nor forgetting a vertebra! How I should like to say to +her, and with a most significant sigh, “I knew poor Keats well!” Could I +not make even these simple words convey a world of accusation, blended +with sorrow and regret? +</p> +<p> +François again, and on the same errand. “Say I am coming; that I have only +finished a hasty breakfast, and that I am coming this instant,” cried I. +Nor was it very easy for me to repress the more impatient expressions +which struggled for utterance, particularly as I saw, or fancied I saw, +the fellow pass his hand over his mouth to hide a grin at my expense. +</p> +<p> +“Is Miss Herbert upstairs?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, she is in the garden.” + </p> +<p> +This was so far pleasant. I dreaded the thought of her presence at this +interview, and I felt that punishment within the precincts of the jail was +less terrible than on the drop before the populace; and with this +consoling reflection I mounted the stairs. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX. MRS. KEATS'S MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION +</h2> +<p> +I knocked twice before I heard the permission to enter; but scarcely had I +closed the door behind me, than the old lady advanced, and, courtesying to +me with a manner of most reverential politeness, said, “When you learn, +sir, that my conduct has been dictated in the interest of your safety, you +will, I am sure, graciously pardon many apparent rudenesses in my manner +towards you, and only see in them my zeal to serve you.” + </p> +<p> +I could only bow to a speech not one syllable of which was in the least +intelligible to me. She conducted me courteously to a seat, and only took +her own after I was seated. +</p> +<p> +“I feel, sir,” said she, “that there will be no end to our embarrassments +if I do not go straight to my object and say at once that I know you. I +tell you frankly, sir, that my brother did not betray your secret. The +instincts of his calling—to <i>him</i> second nature—were +stronger than fraternal love, and all he said to me was, 'Martha, I have +found a gentleman who is going south, and who, without inconvenience, can +see you safely as far as Como.' I implicitly accepted his words, and +agreed to set out immediately. I suspected nothing,—I knew nothing. +It was only before going down to dinner that the paragraph in the +'Courrier du Dimanche' met my eye, and as I read it, I thought I should +have fainted. My first determination was not to appear at dinner. I felt +that something or other in my manner would betray my knowledge of your +secret. My next was to go down and behave with more than usual sharpness. +You may have remarked that I was very abrupt, almost, shall I say, rude?” + </p> +<p> +I tried to enter a dissent at this, but did not succeed so happily as I +meant; but she resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“At any cost, however, sir, I determined that I alone should be the +depositary of your confidence. Miss Herbert is to me a comparative +stranger; she is, besides, very young; she would be in no wise a suitable +person to intrust with such a secret, and so I said, I will pretend +illness, and remain here for a day; I will make some pretext of +dissatisfaction about the expense of the journey; I will affect to have +had some passing difference, and he can thus leave us ere he be +discovered. Not that I desire this, sir, far from it; this is the +brightest episode in a long life. I never imagined that I should have +enjoyed such an honor; but I have only to think of your safety, and if an +old woman, unobservant and unremarking as myself, could penetrate your +disguise, why not others more keen-sighted and inquisitive? Don't you +agree with me?” + </p> +<p> +“There is much force in what you say, madam,” said I; with dignity, “and +your words touch me profoundly.” I thought this a happy expression, for it +conveyed a sort of grand condescension that seemed to hit off the +occasion. +</p> +<p> +“You would never guess how I recognized you, sir,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“Never, madam.” I could have given my oath to this, if required. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said she, with a bland smile, “it was from the resemblance to your +mother!” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; you are far more like her, than your father, and you are scarcely so +tall as he was.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps not, madam.” + </p> +<p> +“But you have his manner, sir, the graceful and captivating dignity that +distinguished all your house; this would betray you to the eyes of all who +have enjoyed the high privilege of knowing your family.” + </p> +<p> +The allusion to our house showed that we were royalties, and I laid my +hand on my heart, and bowed as a prince ought, blandly but haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, sir,” said she, with a deep sigh, “your present enterprise fills me +with apprehension. Are you not afraid, yourself, of the consequences?” + </p> +<p> +I sighed, too; and if the truth were to be told, I was very much afraid. +</p> +<p> +“But, of course, you are acting under advice, and with the counsel of +those well able to guide you.” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot say I am, madam; I am free to tell you that every step I am now +taking is self-suggested.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, then, let me implore you to pause, sir,” said she, falling on her +knees before me; “let me thus entreat of you not to go further in a path +so full of danger.” + </p> +<p> +“Shall I confess, madam,” said I, proudly, “that I do not <i>see</i> these +dangers you speak of?” + </p> +<p> +I thought that on this hint she would talk out, and I might be able to +pierce the veil of the mystery, and discover who I was; for though very +like my mother, and shorter than my father, I was sorely puzzled about my +parentage; but she only went off into generalities about the state of the +Continent and the condition of Europe generally. I saw now that my best +chance of ascertaining something about myself was to obtain from her the +newspaper that first suggested her discovery of me, and I said half +carelessly, “Let me see the paragraph which struck you in the 'Courrier.'” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, sir, you must excuse me, these ignoble writers have little delicacy +in alluding to the misfortunes of the great; they seem to revenge the +littleness of their own station on every such occasion.” + </p> +<p> +“You can well imagine, madam, how time has accustomed me to such petty +insults: show me the paper.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray let me refuse you, sir; I would not, however blamelessly, be +associated in your mind with what might offend you.” + </p> +<p> +Again I protested that I was used to such attacks, that I knew all about +the wretched hireling creatures who wrote them, and that instead of +offending, they positively amused me,—actually made me laugh. +</p> +<p> +Thus urged, she proceeded to search for the newspaper, and only after some +minutes was it that she remembered Miss Herbert had taken it away to read +in the garden. She proposed to send the servant to fetch it, but this I +would not permit, pretending at last to concur in her own previously +expressed contempt for the paragraph,—but secretly promising myself +to go in search of it the moment I should be at liberty,—and once +more she resumed the theme of my rashness, and my dangers, and all the +troubles I might possibly bring upon my family, and the grief I might +occasion my grandmother. +</p> +<p> +Now, as there are few men upon whom the ties of family and kindred imposed +less rigid bonds, I was rather provoked at being reminded of obligations +to my grandmother, and was almost driven to declare that she weighed for +very little in the balance of my plans and motives. The old lady, however, +rescued me from the indiscretion by a fervent entreaty that I would at +least ask a certain person what he thought of my present step. +</p> +<p> +“Will you do this?” said she, with tears in her eyes. “Will you do it +now?” + </p> +<p> +I promised her faithfully. +</p> +<p> +“Will you do it here, sir, at this table, and let me have the proudest +memory in my life to recall the incident.” + </p> +<p> +“I should like an hour or two for reflection,” said I, pushed very hard by +this insistence of hers, for I was sorely puzzled whom I was to write to. +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” said she, still tearfully, “is it not the habit of hesitating, sir, +has cost your house so dearly?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I, “we have been always accounted prompt in action and true to +our engagements.” + </p> +<p> +Heaven forgive me! but in this vainglorious speech I was alluding to the +motto of the Potts crest,—“Vigilanti-bus omnia fausta;” or, as some +one rendered it, “Potts answers to the night-bell.” + </p> +<p> +She smiled faintly at my remark. I wonder how she would have looked had +she read the thought that suggested it. +</p> +<p> +“But you <i>will</i> write to him, sir?” said she, once more. +</p> +<p> +I laid my hand over what anatomists call the region of the heart, and +tried to look like Charles Edward in the prints. Meanwhile my patience was +beginning to fail me, and I felt that if the mystification were to last +much longer, I should infallibly lose my presence of mind. Fortunately, +the old lady was so full of her theme that she only asked to be let talk +away without interruption, with many an allusion to the dear Count and the +adored Duchess, and a fervent hope that I might be ultimately reconciled +to them both,—a wish which I had tact enough to perceive required +the most guarded reserve on my part. +</p> +<p> +“I know I am indiscreet, sir,” said she, at last; “but you must pardon one +whose zeal outruns her reason.” + </p> +<p> +And I bowed grandly, as I might have done in extending mercy to some +captive taken in battle. +</p> +<p> +“There is but one favor more, sir, I have to beg.” + </p> +<p> +“Speak it, madam. As the courtier remarked, if it be possible it <i>is</i> +done, if impossible it <i>shall</i> be done.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, it is that you will not leave us till you hear from—” + She hesitated as if afraid to say the name, and then added, “the Rue St. +Georges. Will you give me this pledge?” + </p> +<p> +Now, though this would have been, all things considered, an arrangement +very like to have lasted my life, I could not help hesitating ere I +assented, not to say that our dear friend of the Rue St Georges, whoever +he was, might possibly not concur in all the delusions indispensable to my +happiness. I therefore demurred,—that is, in legal acceptance, I +deferred assent,—as though to say, “We'll see.” + </p> +<p> +“At all events, sir, you 'll accompany us to Como?” + </p> +<p> +“You have my pledge to that, madam.” + </p> +<p> +“And meanwhile, sir, you agree with me that it is better I should continue +to behave towards you with a cold and distant reserve.” + </p> +<p> +“Unquestionably.” + </p> +<p> +“Barely meeting, seldom or never conversing.” + </p> +<p> +“I should say never, madam; making, in fact, any communication you may +desire to reach me through the intervention of that young person,—I +forget her name.” + </p> +<p> +“Miss Herbert, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly; and who appears gentle and unobtrusive.” + </p> +<p> +“She is a gentlewoman by birth, sir,” said the old lady, tetchily. +</p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of it, madam, or she would not be found in association +with you.” + </p> +<p> +She courtesied deeply at the compliment, and I bowed as low, and, backing +and bowing, I gained the door, dying with eagerness, to make my escape. +</p> +<p> +“Will you pardon me, sir, if, after all the agitation of this meeting, I +may not feel equal to appear at dinner to-day?” + </p> +<p> +“You will charge that young person to give news of your health, however,” + said I, insinuating that I expected to see Miss Herbert. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly, sir; and if it should be your pleasure that she should dine +with you, to preserve appearances—” + </p> +<p> +“You are right, madam; your remark is full of wisdom. I shall expect to +meet her.” And again I bowed low, and ere she recovered from another +reverential courtesy I had closed the door behind me, and was half-way +downstairs. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX. THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED +</h2> +<p> +As between the man who achieves greatness and him who has greatness thrust +upon him there lies a whole world of space, so is there an immense +interval between one who is the object of his own delusions and him who +forms the subject of delusion to others. +</p> +<p> +My reader may have already noticed that nothing was easier for me than to +lend myself to the idle current of my fancy. Most men who build “castles +in Spain,” as the old adage calls them, do so purely to astonish their +friends. <i>I</i> indulged in these architectural extravagances in a very +different spirit. I built my castle to live in it; from foundation to +roof-tree, I planned every detail of it to suit my own taste, and all my +study was to make it as habitable and comfortable as I could. Ay, and +what's more, live in it I did, though very often the tenure was a brief +one; sometimes while breaking my egg at breakfast, sometimes as I drew on +my gloves to walk out, and yet no terror of a short lease ever deterred me +from finishing the edifice in the most expensive manner. I gilded my +architraves and frescoed my ceilings as though all were to endure for +centuries; and laid out the gardens and disposed the parterres as though I +were to walk in them in my extreme old age. This faculty of lending myself +to an illusion by no means adhered to me where the deception was supplied +by another; from the moment I entered one of <i>their</i> castles, I felt +myself in a strange house. I continually forgot where the stairs were, +what this gallery opened on, where that corridor led to. No use was it to +say, “You are at home here. You are at your own fireside.” I knew and I +felt that I was not. +</p> +<p> +By this declaration I mean my reader to understand that, while ready for +any exigency of a story devised by myself, I was perfectly miserable at +playing a part written for me by a friend; nor was this feeling diminished +by the thought that I really did not know the person I was believed to +represent; nor had I the very vaguest clew to his antecedents or +belongings. +</p> +<p> +As I set out in search of Miss Herbert, these were the reflections I +revolved, occasionally asking myself, “Is the old lady at all touched in +the upper story? Is there not something private-asylumish in these +wanderings?” But still, apart from this special instance, she was a marvel +of acuteness and good sense. I found Miss Herbert in a little arbor at her +work; the newspaper on the bench beside her. +</p> +<p> +“So,” said she, without looking up, “you have been making a long visit +upstairs. You found Mrs. Keats very agreeable, or you were so yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Is there anything wrong hereabouts?” said I, touching my forehead with my +finger. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing whatever.” + </p> +<p> +“No fancies, no delusions about certain people?” + </p> +<p> +“None whatever.” + </p> +<p> +“None of the family suspected of anything odd or eccentric?” + </p> +<p> +“Not that I have ever heard of. Why do you ask?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, it was a mere fancy, perhaps, on my part; but her manner to-day +struck me as occasionally strange,—almost flighty.” + </p> +<p> +“And on what subject?” + </p> +<p> +“I am scarcely at liberty to say that; in fact, I am not at all free to +divulge it,” said I, mysteriously, and somewhat gratified to remark that I +had excited a most intense curiosity on her part to learn the subject of +our interview. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, pray do not make any imprudent revelations to me,” said she, +pettishly; “which, apart from the indiscretion, would have the singular +demerit of affording me not the slightest pleasure. I am not afflicted +with the malady of curiosity.” + </p> +<p> +“What a blessing to you! Now, I am the most inquisitive of mankind. I feel +that if I were a clerk in a bank, I 'd spend the day prying into every +one's account, and learning the exact state of his balance-sheet. If I +were employed in the post-office, no terror of the law could restrain me +from reading the letters. Tell me that any one has a secret in his heart, +and I feel I could cut him open to get at it!” + </p> +<p> +“I don't think you are giving a flattering picture of yourself in all +this,” said she, peevishly. +</p> +<p> +“I am aware of that, Miss Herbert; but I am also one of those who do not +trade upon qualities they have no pretension to.” + </p> +<p> +She flushed a deep crimson at this, and after a moment said,— +</p> +<p> +“Has it not occurred to you, sir, that people who seldom meet except to +exchange ungracious remarks would show more judgment by avoiding each +other's society?” + </p> +<p> +Oh, how my heart thrilled at this pettish speech! In Hans Gruter's +“Courtship,” he says, “I knew she loved me, for we never met without a +quarrel.” “I have thought of that, too, Miss Herbert,” said I, “but there +are outward observances to be kept up, conventionalities to be respected.” + </p> +<p> +“None of which, however, require that you should come out and sit here +while I am at my work,” said she, with suppressed passion. +</p> +<p> +“I came out here to search for the newspaper,” said I, taking it up, and +stretching myself on the grassy sward to read at leisure. +</p> +<p> +She arose at once, and, gathering all the articles of her work into a +basket, walked away. +</p> +<p> +“Don't let me hunt you away, Miss Herbert,” said I, indolently; “anywhere +else will suit me just as well. Pray don't go.” But without vouchsafing to +utter a word, or even turn her head, she continued her way towards the +house. +</p> +<p> +“The morning she slapped my face,” says Hans, “filled the measure of my +bliss, for I then saw she could not control her feelings for me.” This +passage recurred to me as I lay there, and I hugged myself in the thought +that such a moment of delight might yet be mine. The profound German +explains this sentiment well. “With women,” says he, “love is like the +idol worship of an Indian tribe; at the moment their hearts are bursting +with devotion, they like to cut and wound and maltreat their god. With <i>them</i>, +this is the ecstasy of their passion.” + </p> +<p> +I now saw that the girl was in love with me, and that she did not know it +herself. I take it that the sensations of a man who suddenly discovers +that the pretty girl he has been admiring is captivated by his attentions, +are very like what a head clerk may feel at being sent for by the house, +and informed that he is now one of the firm! This may seem a commercial +formula to employ, but it will serve to show my meaning; and as I lay +there on that velvet turf, what a delicious vision spread itself around +me! At one moment we were rich, travelling in splendor through Europe, +amassing art-treasures wherever we went and despoiling all the great +galleries of their richest gems. I was the associate of all that was +distinguished in literature and science, and my wife the chosen friend of +queens and princesses. How unaffected we were, how unspoiled by fortune! +Approachable by all, our graceful benevolence seemed to elevate its object +and make of the recipient the benefactor. What a world of bliss this vile +dross men call gold can scatter! “There—there, good people,” said I, +blandly, waving my hand, “no illuminations, no bonfires; your happy faces +are the brightest of all welcomes.” Then we were suddenly poor,—out +of caprice, just to see how we should like it,—and living in a +little cottage under Snowden, and I was writing, Heaven knows what, for +the periodicals, and my wife rocking a little urchin in a cradle, whom we +constantly awoke by kissing, each pretending that it was all the other's +fault, till we ratified a peace in the same fashion. Then I remembered the +night, never to be forgotten, when I received my appointment as something +in the antipodes, and we went up to town to thank the great man who +bestowed it, and he asked us to dinner, and he was, I fancied, more than +polite to my wife, and I sulked about it when we got home, and she petted +and caressed me, and we were better friends than ever, and I swore I would +not accept the Minister's bounty, and we set off back again to our cottage +in Wales, and there we were when I came to myself once more. +</p> +<p> +It is always pleasant—at least, I have ever felt it so, on awaking +from a dream or a revery—to know that one has borne himself well in +some imaginary crisis of difficulty and peril. I like to think that I was +in no hurry to get into the longboat. I am glad I gave poor Dick that last +fifty-pound note,—my last in the world,—and I rejoice to +remember that I did not run away from that grizzly bear, but sent the +four-pound ball right into the very middle of his forehead. You feel in +all these that the metal of your nature has been tested, and come out pure +gold; at all events, <i>I</i> did, and was very happy thereat. It was not +till after some little time that I could get myself clear out of +dreamland, and back to the actual world of small debts and difficulties, +and then I bethought me of the newspaper which lay unread beside me. +</p> +<p> +I began it now, resolved to examine it from end to end, till I discovered +the passage that alluded to me. It was so far pleasant reading, that it +was novel and original. A very able leader set forth that nothing could +equal the blessings of the Pope's rule at Rome,—no people were so +happy, so prosperous, or so contented,—that all the granaries were +full, and all the jails empty, and the only persons of small incomes in +the state were the cardinals, and that they were too heavenly-minded to +care for it. After this, there came some touching anecdotes of that good +man the late King of Naples. And then there was a letter from Frohsdorf, +with fifteen francs enclosed to the inhabitants of a village submerged by +an inundation. There were pleasant little paragraphs, too, about England, +and all the money she was spending to propagate infidelity and spread the +slave-trade,—the two great and especial objects of her policy,—after +which came insults to France and injustice to Ireland. The general tone of +the print was war with every one but some twenty or thirty old ladies and +gentlemen living in exile somewhere in Bohemia. Now, none of these things +touched <i>me</i>, and I was growing very weary of my search when I +lighted upon the following:— +</p> +<p> +“We are informed, on authority that we cannot question, that the young C. +de P. is now making the tour of Germany alone and in disguise, his object +being to ascertain for himself how the various relatives of his house, on +the maternal side, would feel affected by any movement in France to renew +his pretensions. Strange, undignified, and ill advised as such a step must +seem, there is nothing in it at all repulsive to the well-known traditions +of the younger branch. Our informant himself met the P. at Mayence, and +speedily recognized him, from the marked resemblance he bears to the late +Duchess, his mother; he addressed him at once by his title, but was met by +the cold assurance that he was mistaken, and that a casual similarity in +features bad already led others into the same error. The General—for +our informant is an old and honored soldier of France—confessed he +was astounded at the <i>aplomb</i> and self-possession displayed by so +young a man; and although their conversation lasted for nearly an hour, +and ranged over a wide field, the C. never for an instant exposed himself +to a detection, nor offered the slightest clew to his real rank and +station. Indeed, he affected to be English by birth, which his great +facility in the language enabled him to do. When he quitted Mayence, it +was for Central Germany.” + </p> +<p> +Here was the whole mystery revealed, and I was no less a person than a +royal prince,—very like my mother, but neither so tall nor robust as +my distinguished father! “Oh, Potts! in all the wildest ravings of your +most florid moments you never arrived at this!” + </p> +<p> +A very strange thrill went through me as I finished this paragraph. It +came this wise. There is, in one of Hoffman's tales, the story of a man +who, in a compact with the Fiend, acquired the power of personating +whomsoever he pleased, but who, sated at last with the enjoyment of this +privilege, and eager for a new sensation, determined he would try whether +the part of the Devil himself might not be amusing. Apparently +Mephistopheles won't stand joking, for he resented the liberty by +depriving the transgressor of his identity forever, and made him become +each instant whatever character occurred to the mind of him he talked to. +</p> +<p> +Though the parallel scarcely applied, the very thought of it sent an +aguish thrill through me,—a terror so great and acute that it was +very long before I could turn the medal round and read it on the reverse. +There, indeed, was matter for vainglory! “It was but t'other day,” thought +I, “and Lord Keldrum and his friends fancied I was their intimate +acquaintance, Jack Burgoyne; and though they soon found out the mistake, +the error led to an invitation to dinner, a delightful evening, and, alas! +that I should own, a variety of consequences, some of which proved less +delightful. Now, however, Fortune is in a more amiable mood; she will have +it that I resemble a prince. It is a project which I neither aid nor abet; +but I am not childish enough to refuse the <i>rôle</i> any more than I +should spoil the Christmas revelries of a country-house by declining a +part in a tableau or in private theatricals. I say, in the one case as in +the other, 'Here is Potts! make of him what you will. Never is he happier +than by affording pleasure to his friends.' To what end, I would ask, +should I rob that old lady upstairs at No. 12, evidently a widow, and with +not too many enjoyments to solace her old age,—why should I rob her +of what she herself called the proudest episode in her life? Are not, as +the moralists tell us, all our joys fleeting? Why, then, object to this +one that it may only last for a few days? Let us suppose it only to endure +throughout our journey, and the poor old soul will be so happy, never +caring for the fatignes of the road, never fretting about the inn-keepers* +charges, but delighted to know that his Royal Highness enjoys himself, and +sits over his bottle of Chambertin every evening in the garden, apparently +as devoid of care as though he were a bagman.” + </p> +<p> +I cannot say how it may be with others, but, for myself, I have always +experienced an immense sense of relief, actual repose, whenever I +personated somebody else; I felt as though I had left the man Potts at +home to rest and refresh himself, and took an airing as another gentleman; +just as I might have spared my own paletot by putting on a friend's coat +in a thunderstorm. Now I <i>did</i> wish for a little repose, I felt it +would be good for me. As to the special part allotted me, I took it just +as an obliging actor plays Hamlet or the Cock to convenience the manager. +Mrs. Keats likes it, and, I repeat, I do not object to it. +</p> +<p> +It was evident that the old lady was not going to communicate her secret +to her companion, and this was a great source of satisfaction to me. +Whatever delusions I threw around Miss Herbert I intended should be +lasting. The traits in which I would invest myself to <i>her</i> eyes, my +personal prowess, coolness in danger, skill in all manly exercises, +together with a large range of general gifts and acquirements, I meant to +accompany me through all time; and I am a sufficient believer in magnetism +to feel assured that by imposing upon <i>her</i> I should go no small part +of the road to deceiving myself, and that the first step in any gift is to +suppose you are eminently suited to it, is a well-known and readily +acknowledged maxim. Women grow pretty from looking in the glass; why +should not men grow brave from constantly contemplating their own courage? +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Potts, be a Prince, and see how it will agree with you!” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXI. HOW I PLAY THE PRINCE. +</h2> +<p> +Mrs. Keats came down, and our dinner that day was somewhat formal. I don't +think any of ns felt quite at ease, and, for my own part, it was a relief +to me when the old lady asked my leave to retire after her coffee. “If you +should feel lonely, sir, and if Miss Herbert's company would prove +agreeable—” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, languidly, “that young person will find me in the garden.” + And therewith I gave my orders for a small table under a great +weeping-ash, and the usual accompaniment of my after-dinner hours, a cool +flask of Chambertin. I had time to drink more than two-thirds of my +Burgundy before Miss Herbert appeared. It was not that the hour hung +heavily on me, or that I was not in a mood of considerable enjoyment, but +somehow I was beginning to feel chafed and impatient at her long delay. +Could she possibly have remonstrated against the impropriety of being left +alone with a young man? Had she heard, by any mischance, that impertinent +phrase by which I designated her? Had Mrs. Keats herself resented the cool +style of my permission by a counter-order? “I wish I knew what detains +her!” cried I to myself, just as I heard her step on the gravel, and then +saw her coming, in very leisurely fashion, up the walk. +</p> +<p> +Determined to display an indifference the equal of her own, I waited till +she was almost close; and then, rising languidly, I offered her a chair +with a superb air of Brummelism, while I listlessly said, “Won't you take +a seat?” + </p> +<p> +It was growing duskish, but I fancied I saw a smile on her lip as she sat +down. +</p> +<p> +“May I offer you a glass of wine or a cigar?” said I, carelessly. +</p> +<p> +“Neither, thank you,” said she, with gravity. +</p> +<p> +“Almost all women of fashion smoke nowadays,” I resumed. “The Empress of +the French smokes this sort of thing here; and the Queen of Bavaria smokes +and chews.” + </p> +<p> +She seemed rebuked at this, and said nothing. +</p> +<p> +“As for myself,” said I, “I am nothing without tobacco,—positively +nothing. I remember one night,—it was the fourth sitting of the +Congress at Paris, that Sardinian fellow, you know his name, came to me +and said,— +</p> +<p> +“'There's that confounded question of the Danubian Provinces coming on +to-morrow, and Gortschakoff is the only one who knows anything about it. +Where are we to get at anything like information?' +</p> +<p> +“'When do you want it, Count?' said I. +</p> +<p> +“'To-morrow, by eleven at latest There must be, at least, a couple of +hours to study it before the Congress meets.' +</p> +<p> +“'Tell them to bring in ten candles, fifty cigars, and two quires of +foolscap,' said I, 'and let no one pass this door till I ring.' At ten +minutes to eleven next morning he had in his hands that memoir which Lord +C. said embodied the prophetic wisdom of Edmund Burke with the practical +statesmanship of the great Commoner. Perhaps you have read it?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Your tastes do not probably incline to affairs of state. If so, only +suggest what you 'd like to talk on. I am indifferently skilled in most +subjects. Are you for the poets? I am ready, from Dante to the Biglow +Papers. Shall it be arts? I know the whole thing from Memmling and his +long-nosed saints, to Leech and the Punctuate. Make it antiquities, +agriculture, trade, dress, the drama, conchology, or cock-fighting,— +I'm your man; so go in; and don't be afraid that you 'll disconcert me.” + </p> +<p> +“I assure you, sir, that my fears would attach far more naturally to my +own insufficiency.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” said I, after a pause, “there's something in that Macaulay used to +be afraid of me. Whenever Mrs. Montagu Stanhope asked him to one of her +Wednesday dinners, he always declined if I was to be there. You don't seem +surprised at that?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir,” said she, in the same quiet, grave fashion. +</p> +<p> +“What's the reason, young lady,” said I, somewhat sternly, “that you +persist in saying 'sir' on every occasion that you address me? The ease of +that intercourse that should subsist between us is marred by this +Americanism. The pleasant interchange of thought loses the charming +feature of equality. How is this?” + </p> +<p> +“I am not at liberty to say, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“You are not at liberty to say, young lady?” said I, severely. “You tell +me distinctly that your manner towards me is based upon a something which +you must not reveal?” + </p> +<p> +“I am sure, sir, you have too much generosity to press me on a subject of +which I cannot, or ought not to speak.” + </p> +<p> +That fatal Burgundy had got into my brains, while the princely delusion +was uppermost; and if I had been submitted to the thumbscrew now, I would +have died one of the Orleans family. +</p> +<p> +“Mademoiselle,” said I, grandly, “I have been fortunately, or +unfortunately, brought up in a class that never tolerates contradiction. +When we ask, we feel that we order.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, sir, if you but knew the difficulty I am in—” + </p> +<p> +“Take courage, my dear creature,” said I, blending condescension with +something warmer. “You will at least be reposing your confidence where it +will be worthily bestowed.” + </p> +<p> +“But I have promised—not exactly promised; but Mrs. Keats enjoined +me imperatively not to betray what she revealed to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Gracious Powers!” cried I, “she has not surely communicated my secret,—she +has not told you who I am?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir, I assure you most solemnly that she has not; but being annoyed +by what she remarked as the freedom of my manner towards you at dinner, +the readiness with which I replied to your remarks, and what she deemed +the want of deference I displayed for them, she took me to task this +evening, and, without intending it, even before she knew, dropped certain +expressions which showed me that you were one of the very highest in rank, +though it was your pleasure to travel for the moment in this obscurity and +disguise.” + </p> +<p> +She quickly perceived the indiscretion she had committed, and said, “Now, +Miss Herbert, that an accident has put you in possession of certain +circumstances, which I had neither the will nor the right to reveal, will +you do me the inestimable favor to employ this knowledge in such a way as +may not compromise me?' I told her, of course, that I would; and having +remarked how she occasionally—inadvertently, perhaps—used +'sir' in addressing you, I deemed the imitation a safe one, while it as +constantly acted as a sort of monitor over myself to repress any relapse +into familiarity.” + </p> +<p> +“I am very sorry for all this,” said I, taking her hand in mine, and +employing my most insinuating of manners towards her. “As it is more than +doubtful that I shall ever resume the station that once pertained to me; +as, in fact, it may be my fortune to occupy for the rest of life an humble +and lowly condition, my ambition would have been to draw towards me in +that modest station such sympathies and affections as might attach to one +so circumstanced. My plan was to assume an obscure name, seek out some +unfrequented spot, and there, with the love of one—one only—solve +the great problem, whether happiness is not as much the denizen of the +thatched cottage as of the gilded palace. The first requirement of my +scheme was that my secret should be in my own keeping. One can steel his +own heart against vain regrets and longings; but one cannot secure himself +against the influence of those sympathies which come from without, the +unwise promptings of zealous followers, the hopes and wishes of those who +read your submission as mere apathy.” + </p> +<p> +I paused and sighed; she sighed, too, and there was a silence between us. +</p> +<p> +“Must she not feel very happy and very proud,” thought I, “to be sitting +there on the same bench with a prince, her hand in his, and he pouring out +all his confidence in her ear? I cannot fancy a situation more full of +interest.” + </p> +<p> +“After all, sir,” said she, calmly, “remember that Mrs. I Keats alone +knows your secret. <i>I</i> have not the vaguest suspicion of it.” + </p> +<p> +“And yet,” said I, tenderly, “it is to <i>you</i> I would confide it; it +is in <i>your</i> keeping I would wish to leave it; it is from <i>you</i> +I would ask counsel as to my future.” + </p> +<p> +“Surely, sir, it is not to such inexperience as mine you would address +yourself in a difficulty?” + </p> +<p> +“The plan I would carry out demands none of that crafty argument called +'knowing the world.' All that acquaintance with the byplay of life, its +conventionalities and exactions, would be sadly out of place in an Alpine +village, or a Tyrolese Dorf, where I mean to pitch my tent. Do you not +think that your interest might be persuaded to track me so far?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, sir, I shall never cease to follow your steps with the deepest +anxiety.” + </p> +<p> +“Would it not be possible for me to secure a lease of that sympathy?” + </p> +<p> +“Can you tell me what o'clock it is, sir?” said she, very gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, rather put out by so sudden a diversion; “it is a few +minutes after nine.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray excuse my leaving you, sir, but Mrs. Keats takes her tea at nine, +and will expect me.” + </p> +<p> +And, with a very respectful courtesy, she withdrew, before I could recover +my astonishment at this abrupt departure. +</p> +<p> +“I trust that my Royal Highness said nothing indiscreet,” muttered I to +myself; “though, upon my life, this hasty exit would seem to imply it.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXII. INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND DAY'S JOURNEY. +</h2> +<p> +We continued our journey the next morning, but it was not without +considerable difficulty that I succeeded in maintaining my former place in +the cabriolet. That stupid old woman fancied that princes were born to be +bored, and suggested accordingly that I should travel inside with her, +leaving the macaw and the toy terriers to keep company with Miss Herbert. +It was only by insisting on an outside place as a measure of health that I +at last prevailed, telling her that Dr. Corvisart was peremptory on two +points regarding me. “Let him,” said he, “have abundance of fresh air, and +never be without some young companion.” + </p> +<p> +And so we were again in our little leathern tent, high up in the fresh +breezy atmosphere, above dusty roads, and with a glorious view over that +lovely country that forms the approach to the Black Forest. The road was +hilly, and the carriage-way a heavy one; but we had six horses, who +trotted along briskly, shaking their merry bells, and flourishing their +scarlet tassels, while the postilions cracked their whips or broke out +into occasional bugle performances, principally intended to announce to +the passing peasants that we were very great folk, and well able to pay +for all the noise we required. +</p> +<p> +I was not ashamed to confess my enjoyment in thus whirling along at some +ten miles the hour, remembering how that great sage Dr. Johnson had +confessed to a like pleasure, and, animated by the inspiriting air and the +lovely landscape, could not help asking Miss Herbert if she did not feel +it “very jolly.” + </p> +<p> +She assented with a sort of constrained courtesy that by no means +responded to the warmth of my own sensations, and I felt vexed and chafed +accordingly. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps you prefer travelling inside?” said I, with some pique. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps you dislike travelling altogether?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps—” But I checked myself, and with a somewhat stiff air, I +said, “Would you like a book?” + </p> +<p> +“If it would not be rude to read, sir, while you—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, not at all, never mind me, I have more than enough to think of. Here +are some things by Dumas, and Paul Féval, and some guide-book trash.” And +with that I handed her several volumes, and sank back into my corner in +sulky isolation. +</p> +<p> +Here was a change! Ten minutes ago all Nature smiled on me; from the lark +in the high heavens to the chirping grasshopper in the tall maize-field, +it was one song of joy and gladness. The very clouds as they swept past +threw new and varied light over the scene, as though to show fresh effects +of beauty on the landscape,—the streams went by in circling eddies, +like smiles upon a lovely face,—and now all was sad and +crape-covered! “What has wrought this dreary change?” thought I; “is it +possible that the cold looks of a young woman, good-looking, I grant, but +no regular downright beauty after all, can have altered the aspect of the +whole world to you? Are you so poor a creature in yourself, Potts, so +beggared in your own resources, so barren in all the appliances of thought +and reflection, that if your companion, whoever she or he may be, sulk, +you must needs reflect the humor? Are you nothing but the mirror that +displays what is placed before it?” + </p> +<p> +I set myself deliberately to scan the profile beside me; her black veil, +drawn down on the side furthest from me, formed a sort of background, +which displayed her pale features more distinctly. All about the brow and +orbit was beautifully regular, but the mouth was, I fancied, severe; there +was a slight retraction of the upper lip that seemed to imply +over-firmness, and then the chin was deeply indented,—“a sign,” + Lavater says, “of those who have a will of their own.” “Potts,” thought I, +“she 'd rule you,—that's a nature would speedily master yours. I +don't think there's any softness either, any of that yielding gentleness +there, that makes the poetry of womanhood; besides, I suspect she's +worldly,—those sharply cut nostrils are very worldly! She is, in +fact,”—and here I unconsciously uttered my thoughts aloud,—“she +is, in fact, one to say, 'Potts, how much have you got a-year? Let us have +it in figures.'” + </p> +<p> +“So you are still ruminating over the life of that interesting creature,” + said she, laying down her book to laugh; “and shall I confess, I lay awake +half the night, inventing incidents and imagining situations for him.” + </p> +<p> +“For whom?” said I, innocently. +</p> +<p> +“For Potts, of course. I cannot get him out of my head such as I first +fancied he might be, and I see now, by your unconscious allusion to him, +that he has his place in your imagination also.” + </p> +<p> +“You mistake, Miss Herbert,—at least you very much misapprehend my +conception of that character. The Potts family has a high historic +tradition. Sir Constantine Potts was cup-bearer to Henry H., and I really +see no reason why ridicule should attach to one who may be, most probably, +his descendant.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm very sorry, sir, if I should have dared to differ with you; but when +I heard the name first, and in connection with two such names as Algernon +Sydney, and when I thought by what strange accident did they ever meet in +the one person—” + </p> +<p> +“You are very young, Miss Herbert, and therefore not removed from the +category of the teachable,” said I, with a grand didactic look. “Let me +guard you, therefore, against the levity of chance inferences. What would +you say if a person named Potts were to make the offer of his hand? I +mean, if he were a man in all respects acceptable, a gentleman captivating +in manner and address, agreeable in person, graceful and accomplished,—what +would you reply to his advances?” + </p> +<p> +“Really, sir, I am shocked to think of the humble opinion I may be +conveying of my sense and judgment, but I'm afraid I should tell him it is +impossible I could ever permit myself to be called Mrs. Potts.” + </p> +<p> +“But, in Heaven's name, why?—I ask you why?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, sir! don't be angry with me; it surely does not deserve such a +penalty; at the worst, it is a mere caprice on my part.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not angry, young lady, I am simply provoked; I am annoyed to think +that a prejudice so unworthy of you should exercise such a control over +your judgment.” + </p> +<p> +“I am quite ashamed, sir, to have been the occasion of so much displeasure +to you. I hope and trust you will ascribe it to my ignorance of life and +the world.” + </p> +<p> +“If you are dissatisfied with yourself, Miss Herbert, I have no more to +say,” said I, taking up a book, and pretending to read, while I felt such +a disgust with myself that if I had n't been strapped up with a leather +apron up to my chin, I think I should have thrown myself headlong down and +let the wheel pass over me. “What is it, Potts, that is corrupting and +destroying the naturally fine and noble nature you are certainly endowed +with? Is it this confounded elevation to princely rank? If you were not a +Royal Highness, would you have dared to utter such cruelties as these? +Would you, in your most savage of moods, have presumed to make that pale +cheek paler, and forced a tear-drop into that liquid eye? I always used to +think that the greatest effort of a man was to keep him on a level with +those born above him. I now find it is far harder to stoop than to stand +on tiptoe. Such a pain in the back comes of always bending, and it is so +difficult to do it gracefully!” + </p> +<p> +I was positively dying to be what the French call <i>bon prince</i>, and +yet I didn't know how to set about it. I could not take off one of my +decorations,—a cross or a ribbon,—for I had none; nor give it, +because she, being a woman, could n't wear it. I could n't make her one of +the court ladies, for there was no court; and yet it was clear something +should be done, if one only knew what it was. “I suppose now,” said I to +myself, “a real R. H. would see his way here at once; the right thing to +do, the exact expression to use would occur as naturally to his mind as +all this embarrassment presents itself to mine. 'Whenever your head cannot +guide you,' says a Spanish proverb, 'ask your heart;' and so I did, and my +heart spoke thus: 'Tell her, Potts, who you are, and what; say to her, +“Listen, young lady, to the words of truth from one who could tell you far +more glibly, far more freely, and far more willingly, a whole bushel of +lies. It will sit light on his heart that he deceive the old lady inside, +but <i>you</i> he cannot, will not deceive. Do not deem the sacrifice a +light one; it cost St. George far less to go out dragon-hunting than it +costs me to slay this small monster who ever prompts me to feats of +fancy."'” + </p> +<p> +“I am very sorry to be troublesome, sir, but as we change horses here, I +will ask you to assist me to alight; the weather looks very threatening, +and some drops of rain have already fallen.” + </p> +<p> +These words roused me from my revery to action, and I got down, not very +dexterously either, for I slipped, and made the postilion laugh, and then +I helped her, who accomplished the descent so neatly, so gracefully, +showing the least portion of such an ankle, and accidentally giving me +such a squeeze of the hand! The next moment she was lost to me, the +clanking steps were drawn up, the harsh door banged to, and I was alone,—all +alone in the world. +</p> +<p> +Like a sulky eagle, sick of the world, I climbed up to my eyry. I no +longer wished for sunshine or scenery; nay, I was glad to see the postboys +put on their overcoats and prepare for a regular down-pour. I liked to +think there are some worse off than even Potts. In half an hour <i>they</i> +will be drenched to the skin, and I 'll not feel a drop of it! +</p> +<p> +The little glass slide at my back was now withdrawn, and Miss Herbert's +pale, sweet face appeared at it. She was saying that Mrs. Keats urgently +entreated I would come inside, that she was so uneasy at my being exposed +to such a storm. +</p> +<p> +I refused, and was about to enter into an account of my ascent of Mont +Blanc, when the slide was closed and my listener lost to me. +</p> +<p> +“Is it possible, Potts,” said I, “that she has detected this turn of yours +for the imaginative line, and that she will not encourage it, even +tacitly? Has she said, 'There is a young man of genius, gifted +marvellously with the richest qualities, and yet such is the exuberance of +his fancy that he is positively its slave. Not content to let him walk the +earth like other men, she attaches wings to him and carries him off into +the upper air. I will endeavor, however hard the task, to clip his +feathers and bring him back to the common haunts of men'? Try it, fair +enchantress, try it!” + </p> +<p> +The rain was now coming down in torrents, and with such swooping gusts of +wind that I was forced to fasten the leather curtain in front of me, and +sit in utter darkness, denied even the passing pleasure of seeing the +drenched postboys bobbing up and down on the wet saddles. I grew moody and +sad. Every Blue Devil of my acquaintance came to pay his visit to me, and +brought a few more of his private friends. I bethought me that I was +hourly travelling away further and further from my home; that all this +long road must surely be retraced one day or other, though not in a +carriage and post, but probably in a one-horse cart, with a mounted +gendarme on either side of it, and a string to my two wrists in their +bridle hands. I thought of that vulgar herd of mankind so ready to weep +over a romance, and yet send the man who acts one to a penal settlement. I +thought how I should be described as the artful knave, the accomplished +swindler. As if I was the first man who ever took an exaggerated estimate +of his own merits! Go into the House of Commons, visit the National +Gallery, dine at a bar or a military mess, frequent, in one word, any of +the haunts of men, and with what <i>pièces pour servir à l'histoire</i> of +self-deception will you come back loaded! +</p> +<p> +The sliding window at my back was again drawn aside, and I heard Miss +Herbert's voice,— +</p> +<p> +“If I am not giving you too much trouble, sir, would you kindly see if I +have not dropped a bracelet—a small jet bracelet—in the <i>coupé?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm in the dark here, but I'll do my best to find it.” + </p> +<p> +“We are very nearly so, too,” said she; “and Mrs. Keats is fast asleep, +quite unmindful of the thunder.” + </p> +<p> +With some struggling I managed to get down on my knees, and was soon +engaged in a very vigorous search. To aid me, I lighted a lucifer match, +and by its flickering glare I saw right in front of me that beautiful pale +face, enclosed as it were in a frame by the little window. She blushed at +the fixedness of my gaze, for I utterly forgot myself in my admiration, +and stared as though at a picture. My match went out, and I lit another. +Alas! there she was still, and I could not force myself to turn away, but +gazed on in rapture. +</p> +<p> +“I'm sorry to give you this trouble, sir,” said she, in some confusion. +“Pray never mind it. It will doubtless be found this evening when we +arrive.” + </p> +<p> +Another lucifer, and now I pretended to be in most eager pursuit; but +somehow my eyes would look up and rest upon her sweet countenance. +</p> +<p> +“A diamond bracelet, you said?” muttered I, not knowing what I was saying. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, mere jet, and of no value whatever, save to myself. I am really +distressed at all the inconvenience I have occasioned you. I entreat you +to think no more of it.” + </p> +<p> +My match was out, and I had not another. “Was ever a man robbed of such +ecstasy for a mere pennyworth of stick and a little sulphur? O Fortune! is +not this downright cruelty?” + </p> +<p> +As I mumbled my complaints, I searched away with an honest zeal, patting +the cushions all over, and poking away into most inscrutable pockets and +recesses, while she, in a most beseeching tone, apologized for her request +and besought me to forget it. +</p> +<p> +“Found! found!” cried I, in true delight, as I chanced upon the treasure +at my feet. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, sir, you have made me so happy, and I am so much obliged, and so +grateful to you!” + </p> +<p> +“Not another word, I beseech you,” whispered I; “you are actually turning +my head with ecstasy. Give me your hand, let me clasp it on your arm, and +I am repaid.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you kindly pass it to me, sir, through the window?” said she, +timidly. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” cried I, in anguish, “your gratitude has been very fleeting.” + </p> +<p> +She muttered something I could not catch, but I heard the rustle of her +sleeve against the window-frame, and dark as it was, pitch dark, I knew +her hand was close to me. Opening the bracelet, I passed it round her +wrist as reverently as though it were the arm of a Queen of Spain, one +touch of whom is high treason. I trembled so, that it was some seconds +before I could make the clasp meet. This done, I felt she was withdrawing +her hand, when, with something like that headlong impulse by which men set +their lives on one chance, I seized the fingers in my grasp, and implanted +two rapturous kisses on them. She snatched her hand hastily away, closed +the window with a sharp bang, and I was alone once more in my darkness, +but in such a flutter of blissful delight that even the last reproving +gesture could scarcely pain me. It mattered little to me that day that the +lightning felled a great pine and threw it across the road, that the +torrents were so swollen that we only could pass them with crowds of +peasants around the carriage with ropes and poles to secure it, that four +oxen were harnessed in front of our leaders to enable us to meet the +hurricane, or that the postboys were paid treble their usual fare for all +their perils to life and limb. I cared for none of these, Enough for me +that, on this day, I can say with Schiller, +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Ich habe genossen das irdische Gluck, +Ich habe gelebt and geliebt!” + </pre> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIII. JEALOUSY UNSUPPORTED BY COURAGE +</h2> +<p> +We arrived at a small inn on the bordera of the Titi-see at nightfall; and +though the rain continued to come down unceasingly, and huge masses of +cloud hung half-way down the mountain, I could see that the spot was +highly picturesque and romantic. Before I could descend from my lofty +eminence, so strapped and buttoned and buckled up was I, the ladies had +time to get out and reach their rooms. When I asked to be shown mine, the +landlord, in a very free-and-easy tone, told me that there was nothing for +me but a double-bedded room, which I must share with another traveller. I +scouted this proposition at once with a degree of force, and, indeed, of +violence, that I fancied must prove irresistible; but the stupid German, +armed with native impassiveness, simply said, “Take it or leave it, it's +nothing to me,” and left me to look after his business. I stormed and +fumed. I asked the chambermaid if she knew who I was, and sent for the +Hausknecht to tell him that all Europe should ring with this indignity. I +more than hinted that the landlord had sealed his own doom, and that his +miserable cabaret had seen its last days of prosperity. +</p> +<p> +I asked next, where was the Jew pedler? I felt certain he was a fellow +with pencil-cases and pipe-beads, who owned the other half of the +territory. Could he not be bought up? He would surely sleep in the +cow-house, if it were too wet to go up a tree! +</p> +<p> +François came to inform me that he was out fishing; that he fished all +day, and only came home after dark; his man had told him so much. +</p> +<p> +“His man? Why, has he a servant?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“He's not exactly like a servant, sir; but a sort of peasant with a green +jacket and a tall hat and leather gaiters, like a Tyrolese.” + </p> +<p> +“Strolling actors, I 'll be sworn,” mattered I; “fellows taking a week's +holiday on their way to a new engagement How long have they been here?” + </p> +<p> +“Came on Monday last in the diligence, and are to remain till the +twentieth; two florins a day they give for everything.” + </p> +<p> +“What nation are they?” + </p> +<p> +“Germans, sir, regular Germans; never a pipe ont of their mouths, master +and man. I learned all this from his servant, for they have put up a bed +for me in his room.” + </p> +<p> +A sudden thought now struck me: “Why should not François give up his bed +to this stranger, and occupy the one in my room?” This arrangement would +suit <i>me</i> better, and it ought to be all the same to Hamlet or +Groetz, or whatever he was. “Just lounge about the door, François,” said +I, “till he comes back; and when you see him, open the thing to him, +civilly, of course; and if a crown piece, or even two, will help the +negotiation, slip it slyly into his hand. You understand?” + </p> +<p> +François winked like a man who had corrupted customhouse officers in his +time, and even bribed bigger functionaries at a pinch. +</p> +<p> +“If he's in trade, you know, François, just hint that if he sends in his +pack in the course of the evening, the ladies might possibly take a fancy +to something.” + </p> +<p> +Another wink. +</p> +<p> +“And throw out—vaguely, of course, very vaguely—that we are +swells, but in strict <i>incog.</i>” + </p> +<p> +A great scoundrel was François; he was a Swiss, and could cheat any one, +and, like a regular rogue, never happier than when you gave him a mission +of deceit or duplicity. In a word, when I gave him his instructions, I +regarded the negotiation as though it were completed, and now addressed +myself to the task of looking after our supper, which, with national +obstinacy, the landlord declared could not be ready before nine o'clock. +As usual, Mrs. Keats had gone to bed immediately on arriving; but when +sending me a “good-night” by her maid, she added, “that whenever supper +was served, Miss Herbert would come down.” + </p> +<p> +We had no sitting-room save the common room of the inn, a long, +low-ceilinged, dreary chamber, with a huge green-tile stove in one corner, +and down the centre a great oak table, which might have served about forty +guests. At one end of this three covers were laid for us, the napkins +enclosed in bone circlets, and the salt in great leaden receptacles, like +big ink-bottles; a very ancient brass lamp giving its dim radiance over +all. It was wearisome to sit down on the straight-backed wooden chairs, +and not less irksome to walk on the gritty, sanded floor, and so I lounged +in one of the windows, and watched the rain. As I looked, I saw the figure +of a man with a fishing-basket and rod on his shoulder approaching the +house. I guessed at once it was our stranger, and, opening the window a +few inches, I listened to hear the dialogue between him and François. The +window was enclosed in the same porch as the door, so that I could hear a +good deal of what passed. François accosted him familiarly, questioned him +as to his sport, and the size of the fish he had taken. I could not hear +the reply, but I remarked that the stranger emptied his basket, and was +despatching the contents in different directions: some were for the curé, +and some for the postmaster, some for the brigadier of the gendarmerie, +and one large trout for the miller's daughter. +</p> +<p> +“A good-looking wench, I'll be sworn,” said François, as he heard the +message delivered. +</p> +<p> +Again the stranger said something, and I thought, from the tone, angrily, +and François responded; and then I saw them walk apart for a few seconds, +during which François seemed to have all the talk to himself,—a good +omen, as it appeared to me, of success, and a sure warranty that the +treaty was signed. Francois, however, did not come to report progress, and +so I closed the window and sat down. +</p> +<p> +“So you have got company to-night, Master Ludwig,” said the stranger, as +he entered, followed by the host, who speedily seemed to whisper that one +of the arrivals was then before him. The stranger bowed stiffly but +courteously to me, which I returned not less haughtily; and I now saw that +he was a man about thirty-five, but much freckled, with a light-brown +beard and moustache. On the whole, a good-looking fellow, with a very +upright carriage, and something of a cavalry soldier in the swing of his +gait. +</p> +<p> +“Would you like it at once, Herr Graf?” said the host, obsequiously. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he 's a count, is he?” said I, with a sneer to myself. “These +countships go a short way with <i>me</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“You had better consult your other guests; <i>I</i> am ready when <i>they</i> +are,” said the stranger. +</p> +<p> +Now, though the speech was polite and even considerate, I lost sight of +the courtesy in thinking that it implied we were about to sup in common, +and that the third cover was meant for him. +</p> +<p> +“I say, landlord,” said I, “you don't intend to tell me that you have no +private sitting-room, but that ladies of condition must needs come down +and sup here with”—I was going to say, “Heaven knows who;” but I +halted, and said—“with the general company.” + </p> +<p> +“That, or nothing!” was the sturdy response. “The guests in this house eat +here, or don't eat at all; eh, Herr Graf?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, so far as my experience goes, I can corroborate you,” said the +stranger, laughing; “though, you may remember, I have often counselled you +to make some change.” + </p> +<p> +“That you have; but I don't want to be better than my father and my +grandfather; and the Archduke Charles stopped here in <i>their</i> time, +and never quarrelled with his treatment.” + </p> +<p> +I told the landlord to apprise the young lady whenever supper was ready, +and I walked to a distant part of the room and sat down. +</p> +<p> +In about two minutes after, Miss Herbert appeared, and the supper was +served at once. I had not met her since the incident of the bracelet, and +I was shocked to see how cold she was in her manner, and how resolute in +repelling the most harmless familiarity towards her. +</p> +<p> +I wanted to explain to her that it was through no fault of mine we were to +have the company of that odious stranger, that it was one of the +disagreeables of these wayside hostels, and to be borne with patience, and +that though he was a stage-player, or a sergeant of dragoons, he was +reasonably well-bred and quiet I did contrive to mumble out some of this +explanation; but, instead of attending to it, I saw her eyes following the +stranger, who had just draped a large riding-cloak over a clothes-horse +behind her chair, to serve as a screen. Thanks are all very well, but I 'm +by no means certain that gratitude requires such a sweet glance as that, +not to mention that I saw the expression in her eyes for the first time. +</p> +<p> +I thought the soup would choke me. I almost hoped it might. Othello was a +mild case of jealousy compared to me, and I felt that strangling would not +half glut my vengeance. And how they talked!—he complimenting her on +her accent, and she telling him how her first governess was a Hanoverian +from Celle, where they are all such purists. There was nothing they did +not discuss in those detestable gutturals, and as glibly as if it bad been +a language meet for human lips. I could not eat a mouthful, but I drank +and watched them. The fellow was not long in betraying himself: he was +soon deep in the drama. He knew every play of Schiller by heart, and +quoted the Wallenstein, the Bobbers, Don Carlos, and Maria Stuart at will; +so, too, was he familiar with Goethe and Leasing. He had all the swinging +intonation of the boards, and declaimed so very professionally that, as he +concluded a passage, I cried out, without knowing it,— +</p> +<p> +“Take that for your benefit,—it's the best you have given yet.” + </p> +<p> +Oh, Lord, how they laughed! She covered up her face and smothered it; but +he lay back, and, holding the table with both hands, he positively shouted +and screamed aloud. I would have given ten years of life for the courage +to have thrown my glass of wine in his face; but it was no use. Nature had +been a niggard to me in that quarter, and I had to sit and hear it,—exactly +so, sit and hear it,—while they made twenty attempts to recover +their gravity and behave like ladies and gentlemen, and when, no sooner +would they look towards me, than off they were again as bad as before. +</p> +<p> +I revolved a dozen cutting sarcasms, all beginning with, “Whenever I feel +assured that you have sufficiently regained the customary calm of good +society;” but the dessert was served ere I could complete the sentence, +and now they were deep in the lyric poets, Uhland, and Körner, and +Freiligrath, and the rest of them. As I listened to their enthusiasm, I +wondered why people never went into raptures over a cold in the head. But +it was not to end here: there was an old harpsichord in the room, and this +he opened and set to work on in that fearful two-handed fashion your +German alone understands. The poor old crippled instrument shook on its +three legs, while the fourth fell clean off, and the loose wires jangled +and jarred like knives in a tray; but he only sang the louder, and her +ecstasies grew all the greater too. +</p> +<p> +Heaven reward you, dear old Mrs. Keats, when you sent word down that you +could n't sleep a wink, and begging them to “send that noisy band +something and let them go away;” and then Miss Herbert wished him a sweet +goodnight, and he accompanied her to the door, and then there was more +good-night, and I believe I had a short fit; but when I came to myself, he +was sitting smoking his cigar opposite me. +</p> +<p> +“You are no relative, no connection of the young lady who has just left +the room?” said he to me with a grave manner, so significant of something +under it that I replied hastily, “None,—none whatever.” + </p> +<p> +“Was that servant who spoke to me in the porch, as I came in this evening, +yours?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes.” This I said more boldly, as I suspected he was coming to the +question François had opened. +</p> +<p> +“He mentioned to me,” said he, slowly, and puffing his cigar at easy +intervals, “that you desire your servant should sleep in the same room +with you. I am always happy to meet the wishes of courteous +fellow-travellers, and so I have ordered my servant to give you <i>his</i> +bed; he will sleep upstairs in what was intended for <i>you</i>. +Good-night.” And with an insolent nod he lounged out of the room and left +me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIV. MY CANDOR AS AN AUTOBIOGRAPHER. +</h2> +<p> +My reader is sufficiently acquainted with me by this time to know that +there is one quality in me on which he can always count with safety,—my +candor! There may be braver men and more ingenious men; there may be, I +will not dispute it, persons more gifted with oratorical powers, better +linguists, better mathematicians, and with higher acquirements in art; but +I take my stand upon candor, and say, there never lived the man, ancient +or modern, who presented a more open and undisguised section of himself +than I have done, am doing, and hope to do to the end. And what, I would +ask you, is the reason why we have hitherto made so little progress in +that greatest of all sciences,—the knowledge of human nature? Is it +not because we are always engaged in speculating on what goes on in the +hearts of others, guessing, as it were, what people are doing next door, +instead of honestly recording what takes place in their own house? +</p> +<p> +You think this same candor is a small quality. Well, show me one +thoroughly honest autobiography. Of all the men who have written their own +memoirs, it is fair to presume that some may have lacked personal courage, +some been deficient in truthfulness, some forgetful of early friendships, +and so on. Yet where will you find me one, I only ask one, who declares, +“I was a coward, I never could speak truth, I was by nature ungrateful”? +</p> +<p> +Now, it would be exactly through such confessions as these our knowledge +of humanity would be advanced. The ship that makes her voyage without the +loss of a spar or a rope, teaches little; but there is a whole world of +information in the log of the vessel with a great hole in her, all her +masts carried away, the captain invariably drunk, and the crew mutinous; +then we hear of energy and daring and ready-wittedness, marvellous +resource, and indomitable perseverance; then we come to estimate a variety +of qualities that are only evoked by danger. Just as some gallant skipper +might say, “I saw that we couldn't weather the point, and so I dropped +anchor in thirty fathoms, and determined to trust all to my cables;” or, +“I perceived that we were settling down, so I crowded all sail on, +resolved to beach her.” In the same spirit I would like to read in some +personal memoir, “Knowing that I could not rely on my courage; feeling +that if pressed hard, I should certainly have told a lie—” Oh, if we +only could get honesty like this! If some great statesman, some grand +foreground figure of his age would sit down to give his trials as they +really occurred, we should learn more of life from one such volume than we +glean from all the mock memoirs we have been reading for centuries! +</p> +<p> +It is the special pleading of these records that makes them so valueless; +the writer always is bent on making out his case. It is the eternal +representation of that spectacle said to be so pleasing to the gods,—the +good man struggling with adversity. But what we want to see is the weak +man, the frail man, the man who has to fight adversity with an old rusty +musket and a flint lock, instead of an Enfield rifle, loading at the +breech! +</p> +<p> +I 'd not give a rush to see Blondin cross the Falls of Niagara on a +tight-rope; but I'd cross the Atlantic to see, «ay, the Lord Mayor or the +Master of the Rolls try it. +</p> +<p> +Now, much-respected reader, do not for a moment suppose that I have, even +in my most vainglorious raptures, ever imagined that I was here in these +records supplying the void I have pointed out. Remember that I have +expressly told you such confessions, to be valuable, ought to come from a +great man. Painful as the avowal is, I am not a great man! Elements of +greatness I have in me, it is true; but there are wants, deficiencies, +small little details, many of them,—rivets and bolts, as it were,—without +which the machinery can't work; and I know this, and I feel it. +</p> +<p> +This digression has all grown out of my unwillingness to mention what +mention I must,—that I passed my night at the little inn on the +table where we supped. I had not courage to assert the right to my bed in +the Count's room; and so I wrapped myself in my cloak, and with my +carpetbag for a pillow, tried to sleep. It was no use; the most elastic +spring-mattress and a down cushion would have failed that night to lull +me! I was outraged beyond endurance: <i>she</i> had slighted, <i>he</i> +had insulted me! Such a provocation as he gave me could have but one +expiation. He could not, by any pretext, refuse me satisfaction. But was I +as ready to ask it? Was it so very certain that I would insist upon this +reparation? He was certain to wound, he might kill me! I believe I cried +over that thought. To be cut off in the bud of one's youth, in the very +spring-time of one's enjoyment,—I could not say of one's utility,—to +go down unnoticed to the grave, never appreciated, never understood, with +vulgar and mistaken judgments upon one's character and motives! I thought +my heart would burst with the affliction of such a picture, and I said, +“No, Potts, live; and reply to such would-be slanderers by the exercise of +the qualities of your great nature.” Numberless beautiful little episodes +came thronging to my memory of good men, men whose personal gallantry had +won them a world-wide renown, refusing to fight a duel. “We are to storm +the citadel to-morrow, Colonel,” said one; “let us see which of us will be +first up the breach.” How I loved that fellow for his speech; and I +tortured my mind how, as there was no citadel to be carried by assault, I +could apply its wisdom to my own case. What if I were to say, “Count, the +world is before us,—a world full of trials and troubles. With the +common fortune of humanity, we are certain each of us to have our share. +What if we meet on this spot, say ten years hence, and see who has best +acquitted himself in the conflict?” I wonder what he would say. The +Germans are a strange, imaginative, dreamy sort of folk. Is it not likely +that he would be struck by a notion so undeniably original? Is it not +probable that he would seize my hand with rapture, and say, “Ja! I agree”? +Still, it is possible that he might not; he might be one of those vulgar +matter-of-fact creatures who will regard nothing through the tinted glass +of fancy; he might ridicule the project, and tell it at breakfast as a +joke. I felt almost smothered as this notion crossed me. +</p> +<p> +I next bethought me of the privileges of my rank. Could I, as an R. H., +accept the vulgar hazards of a personal encounter? Would not such conduct +be derogatory in one to whom great destinies might one day be committed? +Not that I lent myself, be it remarked, to the delusion of being a prince; +but that I felt, if the line of conduct would be objectionable to men in +my rank and condition, it inevitably followed that it must be bad. What I +could neither do as the descendant of St. Louis, or the son of Peter +Potts, must needs be wrong. These were the grievous meditations of that +long, long night; and though I arose from the hard table, weary and with +aching bones, I blessed the pinkish-gray light that ushered in the day. I +had scarcely completed a very rapid toilet, when François came with a +message from Mrs. Keats, “hoping I had rested well, and begging to know at +what hour it was my pleasure to continue the journey.” There was an +evident astonishment in the fellow's face at the embassy with which he was +charged; and though he delivered the message with reasonable propriety, +there was a certain something in his look that said, “What delusion is +this you have thrown around the old lady?” + </p> +<p> +“Say that I am ready, François; that I am even impatient to be off, and +the sooner we start the better.” + </p> +<p> +This I uttered with all my heart; for I was eager to get away before the +odious German should be stirring, and could not subdue my anxiety to avoid +meeting him again. There was every reason to expect that we should get off +unnoticed, and I hastened out myself to order the horses and stimulate the +postilions to greater activity. This was no labor of love, I promise you! +The sluggardly inertness of that people passes all belief; entreaties, +objurgations, curses, even bribes could not move them. They never admitted +such a possibility as haste, and stumped about in their wooden shoes or +iron-bound boots, searching for articles of horse-gear under bundles of +hay or stacks of firewood, as though it was the very first time in their +lives that post-horses had ever been required in that locality. “Make a +great people out of such materials as these!” muttered I; “what rubbish to +imagine it! How, with such intolerable apathy, are they to be moved? Where +everything proceeds at the same regulated slowness, how can justice ever +overtake crime? When can truth come up with falsehood? Whichever starts +first here, must inevitably win.” To urge the creatures on by example, I +assisted with my own hands to put on the harness; not, I will own, with +much advantage to speed, for I put the collar on upside down, and, in +revenge for the indignity, the beast planted one of his feet upon me, and +almost drove the cock of his shoe through my instep. Almost mad with pain +and passion, I limped away into the garden, and sat down in a damp +summer-house. A sleepless night, a lazy ostler, and a bruised foot are, +after all, not stunning calamities; but there are moments when our jarred +nerves jangle at the slightest touch, and even the most trivial +inconveniences grow to the size of afflictions. +</p> +<p> +“We began to fear you were lost, sir,” said François, breaking in upon my +gloomy revery I cannot say how long after. “The horses have been at the +door this half-hour, and all the house searching after you.” + </p> +<p> +I did not deign a reply, but followed him, as he led me by a short path to +the house. Mrs. Keats and Miss Herbert had taken their places inside the +carriage, and, to my ineffable disgust, there was the German chatting with +them at the door, and actually presenting a bouquet the landlord had just +culled for her. Unable to confront the fellow with that contemptuous +indifference which I knew with a little time and preparation I could +summon to my aid, I scaled up to my leathern attic and let down the +blinds. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean,” said I, through a small slit in my curtain,—“do you +mean to sit smoking there all day? Will you never drive on?” And now, with +a crash of bolts and a jarring of cordage, like what announced the launch +of a small ship, the heavy conveniency lurched, surged, and, after two or +three convulsive bounds, lumbered along, and we started on our day's +journey. As we bumped along, I remembered that I had never wished the +ladies a “good-morning,” nor addressed them in any way; so completely had +my selfish preoccupation immersed me in my own annoyances, that I actually +forgot the commonest attentions of every-day life. I was pained by this +rudeness on my part, and waited with impatience for our first change of +horses to repair my omission. Before, however, we had gone a couple of +miles, the little window at my back was opened, and I heard the old lady's +voice, asking if I had ever chanced upon a more comfortable country inn or +with better beds. +</p> +<p> +“Not bad,—not bad,” said I, peevishly. “I had such a mass of letters +to write that I got little sleep. In fact, I scarcely could say I took any +rest.” + </p> +<p> +While the old lady expressed her regretful condolences at this, I saw that +Miss Herbert pinched her lips together as if to avoid a laugh, and the +bitter thought crossed me, “She knows it all!” + </p> +<p> +“I am easily put out, besides,” said I. “That is, at certain times I am +easily irritated, and a vulgar German fellow who supped with us last night +so ruffled my temper that I assure you he continued to go through my head +till morning.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, don't call him vulgar!” broke in Miss Herbert; “surely there could be +nothing more quiet or unpretending than his manners.” + </p> +<p> +“If I were to hunt for an epithet for a month,” retorted I, “a more +suitable one would never occur to me. The fellow was evidently an actor of +some kind,—perhaps a rope-dancer.” + </p> +<p> +She burst in with an exclamation; but at the same time Mrs. Keats +interposed, and though her words were perfectly inaudible to me, I had no +difficulty in gathering their import, and saw that “the young person” was +undergoing a pretty smart lecture for her presumption in daring to differ +in opinion with my Royal Highness. I suppose it was very ignoble of me, +but I was delighted at it. I was right glad that the old woman +administered that sharp castigation, and I burned even with impatience to +throw in a shell myself and increase the discomfiture. Mrs. Keats finished +her gallop at last, and I took up the running. +</p> +<p> +“You were fortunate, madam,” said I, “in the indisposition that confined +you to your room, and which rescued you from the underbred presumption of +this man's manners. I have travelled much, I have mixed largely, I may +say, with every rank and condition, and in every country of Europe, so +that I am not pronouncing the opinion of one totally inadequate to form a +judgment—” + </p> +<p> +“Certainly not, sir. Listen to that, young lady,” muttered she, in a sort +of under growl. +</p> +<p> +“In fact,” resumed I, “it is one of my especial amusements to observe and +note the forms of civilization implied by mere conventional habits. If, +from circumstances not necessary to particularize, certain advantages have +favored this pursuit—” + </p> +<p> +When I had reached thus far in my very pompous preface, the clatter of a +horse coming up at full speed arrested my attention, and at the very +moment the German himself, the identical subject of our talk, dashed up to +the carriage window, and with a few polite words handed in a small volume +to Miss Herbert, which it seems he had promised to give her, but could not +accomplish before, in consequence of the abrupt haste of our departure. +The explanation did not occupy an entire minute, and he was gone and out +of sight at once. And now the little window was closed, and I could +distinctly hear that Mrs. Keats was engaged in one of those salutary +exercises by which age communicates its experiences to youth. I wished I +could have opened a little chink to listen to it, but I could not do so +undetected, so I had to console myself by imagining all the shrewd and +disagreeable remarks she must have made. Morals has its rhubarb as well as +medicine, wholesome, doubtless, when down, but marvellously nauseous and +very hard to swallow, and I felt that the young person was getting a full +dose; indeed, I could catch two very significant words, which came and +came again in the allocution, and the very utterance of which added to +their sharpness,—“levity,” “encouragement.” There they were again! +</p> +<p> +“Lay it on, old lady,” muttered I; “your precepts are sound; never was +there a case more meet for their application. Never mind a little pain, +either,—one must touch the quick to make the cautery effectual. She +will be all the better for the lesson, and she has well earned it!” Oh, +Potts! Potts! was this not very hard-hearted and ungenerous? Why should +the sorrow of that young creature have been a pleasure to you? Is it +possible that the mean sentiment of revenge has had any share in this? Are +you angry with her that she liked that man's conversation, and turned to +<i>him</i> in preference to <i>you?</i> You surely cannot be actuated by a +motive so base as this? Is it for herself, for her own advantage, her +preservation, that you are thinking all this time? Of course it is. And +there, now, I think I hear her sob. Yes, she is crying; the old lady has +really come to the quick, and I believe is not going to stop there. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” thought I, “old ladies are an excellent invention; none of these +cutting severities could be done but for them. And they have a patient +persistence in this surgery quite wonderful, for when they have flayed the +patient all over, they sprinkle on salt as carefully as a pastry-cook +frosting a plum-cake.” + </p> +<p> +At last, I did begin to wish it was over. She surely must have addressed +herself to every phase of the question in an hour and a half; and yet I +could hear her still grinding, grinding on, as though the efficacy of her +precepts, like a homoeopathic remedy, were to be increased by trituration. +Fortunately, we had to halt for fresh horses; and so I got down to chat +with them at the carriage-door, and interrupt the lecture. Little was I +prepared for the reddened eyes and quivering lips of that poor girl, as +she drank off the glass of water she begged me to fetch her, but still +less for the few words she contrived to whisper in my ear as I took the +glass from her hands. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you have made me miserable enough <i>now</i>.” + </p> +<p> +And with this the window was banged to, and away we went. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXV. I MAINTAIN A DIGNIFIED RESERVE. +</h2> +<p> +I was so hurt by the last words of Miss Herbert to me, that I maintained +throughout the entire day what I meant to be a “dignified reserve,” but +what I half suspect bore stronger resemblance to a deep sulk. My station +had its privileges, and I resolved to take the benefit of them. I dined +alone. Yes, on that day I did fall back upon the eminence of my condition, +and proudly intimated that I desired solitude. I was delighted to see the +dismay this declaration caused. Old Mrs. Keats was speechless with terror. +I was looking at her through a chink in the door when Miss Herbert gave my +message, and I thought she would have fainted. +</p> +<p> +“What were his precise words? Give them to me exactly as he uttered them,” + said she, tremulously, “for there are persons whose intimations are half +commands.” + </p> +<p> +“I can scarcely repeat them, madam,” said the other, “but their purport +was, that we were not to expect him at dinner, that he had ordered it to +be served in his own room and at his own hour.” + </p> +<p> +“And this is very probably all your doing,” said the old lady, with +indignation. “Unaccustomed to any levity of behavior, brought up in a rank +where familiarities are never practised, he has been shocked by your +conduct with that stranger. Yes, Miss Herbert, I say shocked, because, +however harmless in intention, such freedoms are utterly unknown in—in +certain circles.” + </p> +<p> +“I am sure, madam,” replied she, with a certain amount of spirit, “that +you are laboring under a very grave misapprehension. There was no +familiarity, no freedom. We talked as I imagine people usually talk when +they sit at the same table. Mr.—I scarcely know his name—” + </p> +<p> +“Nor is it necessary,” said the old woman, tartly; “though, if you had, +probably this unfortunate incident might not have occurred. Sit down +there, however, and write a few lines in my name, hoping that his +indisposition may be very slight, and begging to know if he desire to +remain here to-morrow and take some repose.” + </p> +<p> +I waited till I saw Miss Herbert open her writing-desk, and then I +hastened off to my room to reflect over my answer to her note. Now that +the suggestion was made to me, I was pleased with the notion of passing an +entire day where we were. The place was Schaffhausen,—the famous +fall of the Rhine,—not very much as a cataract, but picturesque +withal; pleasant chestnut woods to ramble about, and a nice old inn in a +wild old wilderness of a garden that sloped down to the very river. +</p> +<p> +Strange perversity is it not; but how naturally one likes everything to +have some feature or other out of keeping with its intrinsic purport! An +inn like an old <i>chateau</i>, a chief-justice that could ride a +steeple-chase, a bishop that sings Moore's melodies, have an immense +attraction for me. They seem all, as it were, to say, “Don't fancy life is +a mere four-roomed house with a door in the middle. Don't imagine that all +is humdrum and routine and regular. Notwithstanding his wig and stern +black eyebrows, there is a touch of romance in that old Chancellor's heart +that you could n't beat out of it with his great mace; and his Grace the +Primate there has not forgotten what made the poetry of his life in days +before he ever dreamed of charges or triennial visitations.” + </p> +<p> +By these reflections I mean to convey that I am very fond of an inn that +does not look like an inn, but resembles a faded old country-house, or a +deserted convent, or a disabled mill. This Schaffhausen Gasthaus looked +like all three. It was the sort of place one might come to in a long +vacation, to live simply and to go early to bed, take monotony as a tonic, +and fancying unbroken quiet to be better than quinine. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” thought I, “if it had not been for that confounded German, what a +paradise might not this have been to me! Down there in that garden, with +the din of the waterfall around us, walking under the old cherry-trees, +brushing our way through tangled sweetbriers, and arbutus, and laburnum, +what delicious nonsense might I not have poured into her ear! Ay! and not +unwillingly had she heard it. That something within that never deceives, +that little crimson heart within the rose of conscience, tells me that she +liked me, that she was attracted by what, if it were not for shame, I +would call the irresistible attractions of my nature; and now this +creature of braten and beetroot has spoiled all, jarred the instrument and +unstrung the chords that might have yielded me such sweet music.” + </p> +<p> +In thinking over the inadequacy of all human institutions, I have often +been struck by the fact that while the law gives the weak man a certain +measure of protection against the superior physical strength of the +powerful ruffian in the street, it affords none against the assaults of +the intellectual bully at a dinner-party. <i>He</i> may maltreat you at +his pleasure, batter you with his arguments, kick you with inferences, and +knock you down with conclusions, and no help for it all! +</p> +<p> +“Ah, here comes François with the note.” I wrote one line in pencil for +answer: “am sensibly touched by your consideration, and will pass +to-morrow here.” I signed this with a P., which might mean Prince, Potts, +or Pottinger. My reply despatched, I began to think how I could improve +the opportunity. “I will bring her to book,” thought I; “I will have an +explanation.” I always loved that sort of thing,—there is an almost +certainty of emotion; now emotion begets tears; tears, tenderness; +tenderness, consolation; and when you reach consolation, you are, so to +say, a tenant in possession; your title may be disputable, your lease +invalid, still you are there, on the property, and it will take time at +least to turn you out. “After all,” thought I, “that rude German has but +troubled the water for a moment, the pure well of her affections will by +this time have regained its calm still surface, and I shall see my image +there as before.” + </p> +<p> +My meditations were interrupted, perhaps not unpleasantly. It was the +waiter with my dinner. I am not unsocial—I am eminently the reverse—I +may say, like most men who feel themselves conversationally gifted, I like +company, I see that my gifts have in such gatherings their natural +ascendancy,—and yet, with all this, I have always felt that to dine +splendidly, all alone, was a very grand thing. Mind, I don't say it is +pleasant or jolly or social, but simply that it is grand to see all that +table equipage of crystal and silver spread out for <i>you</i> alone; to +know that the business of that gorgeous candelabrum is to light <i>you</i>; +that the two decorous men in black—archdeacons they might be, from +the quiet dignity of their manners—are there to wait upon <i>you</i>; +that the whole sacrifice, from the caviare to the cheese, was a hecatomb +to <i>your</i> greatness. I repeat, these are all grand and imposing +considerations, and there have been times when I have enjoyed these <i>Lucullus +cum Lucullo</i> festivals more than convivial assemblages. This day was +one of these: I lingered over my dinner in delightful dalliance. I partook +of nearly every dish, but, with a supreme refinement, ate little of any, +as though to imply, “I am accustomed to a very different <i>cuisine</i> +from this; it is not thus that I fare habitually.” And yet I was blandly +forgiving, accepting even such humble efforts to please as if they had +been successes. The Cliquot was good, and I drank no other wine, though +various flasks with tempting titles stood around me. +</p> +<p> +Dinner over and coffee served, I asked the waiter what resources the place +possessed in the way of amusement. He looked blank and even distressed at +my question: he had all his life imagined that the Falls sufficed for +everything; he had seen the tide of travel halt there to view them for +years. Since he was a boy, he had never ceased to witness the yearly +recurring round of tourists who came to see, and sketch, and scribble +about them, and so he faintly muttered out a remonstrance,— +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur has not yet visited the Falls.” + </p> +<p> +“The Falls! why, I see them from this, and if I open the window I am +stunned with their uproar.” + </p> +<p> +I was really sorry at the pain my hasty speech gave him, for he looked +suddenly faint and ill, and after a moment gasped out,— +</p> +<p> +“But monsieur is surely not going away without a visit to the cataract? +The guide-books give two hours as the very shortest time to see it +effectually.” + </p> +<p> +“I only gave ten minutes to Niagara, my good friend,” said I, “and would +not have spared even that, but that I wanted to hold a sprained ankle +under the fall.” + </p> +<p> +He staggered, and had to hold a chair to support himself. +</p> +<p> +“There is, besides, the Laufen Schloss—” + </p> +<p> +“As to castles,” broke I in, “I have no need to leave my own to see all +that mediaeval architecture can boast. No, no,” sighed I out, “if I am to +have new sensations, they must come through some other channel than sight. +Have you no theatre?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir. None.” + </p> +<p> +“No concert-rooms, no music-garden?” + </p> +<p> +“None, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Not even a circus?” said I, peevishly. +</p> +<p> +“There was, sir, but it was not attended. The strangers all come to see +the Falls.” + </p> +<p> +“Confound the Falls! And what became of the circus?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, they made a bad business of it; got into debt on all sides, for +oil, and forage, and printing placards, and so on, and then they beat a +sudden retreat one night, and slipped off, all but two, and, indeed, they +were about the best of the company; but somehow they lost their way in the +forest, and instead of coming up with their companions, found themselves +at daybreak at the outside of the town.” + </p> +<p> +“And these two unlucky ones, what were they?” + </p> +<p> +“One was the chief clown, sir, a German, and the other was a little girl, +a Moor they call her; but the cleverest creature to ride or throw +somersaults through hoops of the whole of them.” + </p> +<p> +“And how do they live now?” + </p> +<p> +“Very hardly, I believe, sir; and but for Tintefleck,—that's what +they call her,—they might starve; but she goes about with her guitar +through the <i>cafés</i> of an evening, and as she has a sweet voice, she +picks up a few batzen. But the maire, I hear, won't permit this any +longer, and says that as they have no passport or papers of any kind, they +must be sent over the frontier as vagabonds.” + </p> +<p> +“Let that maire be brought before me,” said I, with a haughty indignation. +“Let me tell him in a few brief words what I think of his heartless +cruelty—But no, I was forgetting,—I am here <i>incog</i>. Be +careful, my good man, that you do not mention what I have so inadvertently +dropped; remember that I am nobody here; I am Number Five and nothing +more. Send the unfortunate creatures, however, here, and let me +interrogate them. They can be easily found, I suppose?” + </p> +<p> +“In a moment, sir. They were in the Platz just when I served the +pheasant.” + </p> +<p> +“What name does the man bear?” + </p> +<p> +“I never heard a name for him. Amongst the company he was called +Vaterchen, as he was the oldest of them all; and, indeed, they seemed all +very fond of him.” + </p> +<p> +“Let Vaterchen and Tintefleck, then, come hither. And bring fresh glasses, +waiter.” + </p> +<p> +And I spoke as might an Eastern despot giving his orders for a “nautch;” + and then, waving my hand, motioned the messenger away. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVI. VATERCHEN AND TINTEFLECK +</h2> +<p> +Had Fortune decreed that I should be rich, I believe I would have been the +most popular of men. There is such a natural kindness of disposition in +me, blended with the most refined sense of discrimination. I love humanity +in the aggregate, and, at the same time, with a rare delicacy of +sentiment, I can follow through all the tortuous windings of the heart, +and actually sympathize in emotions that I never experienced. No rank is +too exalted, no lot too humble, for the exercise of my benevolence. I have +sat in my arm-chair with a beating, throbbing heart, as I imagined the +troubles of a king, and I have drunk my Bordeaux with tears of gratitude +as I fancied myself a peasant with only water to slake his thirst. To a +man of highly organized temperament, the privations themselves are not +necessary to eliminate the feeling they would suggest. Coarser natures +would require starvation to produce the sense of hunger, nakedness to +cause that of cold, and so on; the gifted can be in rags, while enclosed +in a wadded dressing-gown; they can go supperless to bed after a meal of +oysters and toasted cheese; they can, if they will, be fatally wounded as +they sit over their wine, or cast away after shipwreck with their feet on +the fender. Great privileges all these; happy is he who has them, happy +are they amidst whom he tries to spread the blessings of his inheritance! +</p> +<p> +Amid the many admirable traits which I recognize in myself,—and of +which I speak not boastfully, but gratefully, being accidents of my nature +as far removed from my own agency as the color of my eyes or the shape of +my nose,—of these, I say, I know of none more striking than such as +fit me to be a patron. I am graceful as a lover, touching as a friend, but +I am really great as a protector. +</p> +<p> +Revelling in such sentiments as these, I stood at my window, looking at +the effect of moonlight on the Falls. It seemed to me as though in the +grand spectacle before my eyes I beheld a sort of illustration of my own +nature, wherein generous emotions could come gushing, foaming, and +falling, and yet the source be never exhausted, the flood ever at full. I +ought parenthetically to observe that the champagne was excellent, and +that I had drunk the third glass of the second bottle to the health of the +widow Cliquot herself. Thus standing and musing, I was startled by a noise +behind me, and, turning round, I saw one of the smallest of men in a +little red Greek jacket and short yellow breeches, carefully engaged in +spreading a small piece of carpet on the floor, a strip like a very +diminutive hearth-rug. This done, he gave a little wild exclamation of +“Ho!” and cut a somersault in the air, alighting on the flat of his back, +which he announced by a like cry of “Ha!” He was up again, however, in an +instant, and repeated the performance three times. He was about, as I +judged by the arrangement of certain chairs, to proceed to other exercises +equally diverting, when I stopped him by asking who he was. +</p> +<p> +“Your Excellency,” said he, drawing himself up to his full height of, say, +four feet, “I am Vaterchen!” + </p> +<p> +Every one knows what provoking things are certain chance resemblances, how +disturbing to the right current of thought, how subverting to the free +exercise of reason. Now, this creature before me, in his deeply indented +temples, high narrow forehead, aquiline nose, and resolute chin, was +marvellously like a certain great field-marshal with whose features, +notwithstanding the portraits of him, we are all familiar. It was not of +the least use to me that I knew he was not the illustrious general, but +simply a mountebank. There were the stern traits, haughty and defiant; and +do what I would, the thought of the great man would clash with the capers +of the little one. Owing to this impression, it was impossible for me to +address him without a certain sense of deference and respect. +</p> +<p> +“Will you not be seated?” said I, offering him a chair and taking one +myself. He accepted with all the quiet ease of good breeding, and smiled +courteously as I filled a glass and passed it towards him. +</p> +<p> +I pressed my hand across my eyes for a few moments while I reflected, and +I muttered to myself,— +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Potts, if instead of a tumbler this had really been the hero, what an +evening might this be! Lives there that man in Europe so capable of +feeling in all its intensity the glorious privilege of such a meeting? +Who, like you, would listen to the wisdom distilling from those lips? Who +would treasure up every trait of voice, accent, and manner, remembering, +not alone every anecdote, but every expression? Who, like you, could have +gracefully led the conversation so as to range over the whole wide ocean +of that great life, taking in battles and sieges and storm ings and +congresses, and scenes of all that is most varied and exciting in +existence? Would not the record of one such night, drawn by you, have been +worth all the cold compilations and bleak biographies that ever were +written? You would have presented him as he sat there in front of you.” I +opened my eyes to paint from the model, and there was the little dog, with +his legs straight up on each side of his head and forming a sort of gothic +arch over his face. The wretch had done the feat to amuse me, and I almost +fainted with horror as I saw it. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down, sir,” said I, in a voice of stern command. “You little know the +misery you have caused me.” + </p> +<p> +I refilled his glass, and closed my eyes once more. In my old +pharmaceutical experiences I had often made bread pills, and remembered +well how, almost invariably, they had been deemed successful. What relief +from pain to the agonized sufferer had they not given! What slumber to the +sleepless! What appetite, what vigor, what excitement! Why should not the +same treatment apply to morals as to medicine? Why, with faith to aid one, +cannot he induce every wished-for mood of mind and thought? The lay figure +to support the drapery suffices for the artist, the Venus herself is in +his brain. Now, if that little fellow there would neither cut capers nor +speak, I ask no more of him. Let him sit firmly as he does now, staring me +boldly in the face that way. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “lay your hand on the arm of your chair, so, and let the +other be clenched thus.” And so I placed him. “Never utter a word, but nod +to me at rare intervals.” + </p> +<p> +He has since acknowledged that he believed me to be deranged; but as I +seemed a harmless case, and he could rely on his activity for escape, he +made no objection to my directions, the less, too, that he enjoyed his +wine immensely, and was at liberty to drink as he pleased. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” thought I, “one glance, only one, to see that he poses properly.” + </p> +<p> +All right; nothing could be better. His face was turned slightly to one +side, giving what the painters call action to the head, and he was perfect +I now resigned myself to the working of the spell, and already I felt its +influence over me. Where and with what was I to begin? Numberless +questions thronged to my mind. I wanted to know a thousand disputed +things, and fully as many that were only disputed by myself. I felt that +as such another opportunity would assuredly never present itself twice in +my life, that the really great use of the occasion would be to make every +inquiry subsidiary to my own case,—to make all my investigations +what the Germans would call “Potts-wise.” My intensest anxiety was then to +ascertain if, like myself, his Grace started in life with very grand +aspirations. +</p> +<p> +“Did you feel, for instance, when playing practical jokes on the maids of +honor in Dublin, some sixty-odd years ago, that you were only, in sportive +vein, throwing off so much light ballast to make room for the weightier +material that was to steady you in the storm-tossed sea before you? Have +you experienced the almost necessity of these little expansions of +eccentricity as I have? Was there always in your heart, as a young man, as +there is now in mine, a profound contempt for the opinions of your +contemporaries? Did you continually find yourself repeating, '<i>Respice +finem!</i> Mark where I shall be yet'?” There was another investigation +which touched me still more closely, but it was long before I could +approach it I saw all the difficulty and delicacy of the inquiry; but, +with that same recklessness of consequences which would make me catch at a +queen by the back hair if I was drowning, I clutched at this discovery +now, and, although trembling at my boldness, asked, “Was your Grace ever +afraid? I know the impertinence of the question, but if you only guessed +how it concerns me, you 'd forgive it. Nature has made me many things, but +not courageous. Nothing on earth could induce me to risk life; the more I +reason about it, the greater grows my repugnance. Now, I would like to +hear, is this what anatomists call congenital? Am I likely to grow out of +it? Shall I ever be a dare-devil, intrepid, fire-eating sort of creature? +How will the change come over me? Shall I feel it coming? Will it come +from within, or through external agencies? And when it has arrived, what +shall I become? Am I destined to drive the Zouaves into the sea by a +bayonet charge of the North Cork Rifles, or shall I only be great in +council, and take weekly trips in the 'Fairy' to Cowes? I 'd like to know +this, and begin a course of preparation for my position, as I once knew of +a militia captain who hardened himself for a campaign by sleeping every +night with his head on the window-stool.” + </p> +<p> +As I opened my eyes, I saw the stern features in front of me. I thought +the words, “I was never afraid, sir!” rang through my brain till they +filled every ventricle with their din. +</p> +<p> +“Not at Assaye?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Not at the Douro?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Not at Torres Vedras?” + </p> +<p> +“I tell you again, no, sir!” + </p> +<p> +Whether I uttered this last with any uncommon degree of vehemence or not, +I so frightened Vaterchen that he cut a somersault clean over the chair, +and stood grinning at me through the rails at the back of it I motioned to +him to be reseated, while, passing my hand across my brow, I waved away +the bright illusions that beset me, and, with a heavy sigh, re-entered the +dull world of reality. +</p> +<p> +“You are a clown,” said I, meditatively. “What is a clown?” + </p> +<p> +He did not answer me in words, but, placing his hands on his knees, stared +at me steadfastly, and then, having fixed my attention, his face performed +a series of the most fearful contortions I ever beheld. With one horrible +spasm he made his mouth appear to stretch from ear to ear; with another, +his nose wagged from side to side; with a third, his eyebrows went up and +down alternately, giving the different sides of his face two directly +antagonistic expressions. I was shocked and horrified, and called to him +to desist. +</p> +<p> +“And yet,” thought I, “there are natures who can delight in these, and see +in them matter for mirth and laughter!” + </p> +<p> +“Old man,” said I, gravely, “has it ever occurred to you that in this +horrible commixture of expression, wherein grief wars with Joy and sadness +with levity, you are like one who, with a noble instrument before him, +should, instead of sweet sounds of harmony, produce wild, unearthly +discords, the jangling bursts of fiend-like voices?” + </p> +<p> +“The Tintefleck can play indifferently well, your Excellency,” said he, +humbly. “I never had any skill that way myself.” + </p> +<p> +Oh, what a <i>crassa natura</i> was here! What a triple wall of dulness +surrounds such dark intelligences! +</p> +<p> +“And where is the Tintefleck? Why is she not here?” asked I, anxious to +remove the discussion to a ground of more equality. +</p> +<p> +“She is without, your Excellency. She did not dare to present herself till +your Excellency had desired, and is waiting in the corridor.” + </p> +<p> +“Let her come in,” said I, grandly; and I drew my chair to a distant +corner of the room so as to give them a wider area to appear in, while I +could, at the same time, assume that attitude of splendid ease and +graceful protection I have seen a prince accomplish on the stage at the +moment the ballet is about to begin. The door opened, and Vaterchen +entered, leading Tintefleck by the hand. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVII. I ATTEMPT TO OVERTHROW SOCIAL PREJUDICES +</h2> +<p> +I was quite right,—Tintefleck's <i>entrée</i> was quite dramatic. +She tripped into the room with a short step, nor arrested her ran till she +came close to me, when, with a deep courtesy, she bent down very low, and +then, with a single spring backward, retreated almost to the door again. +She was very pretty,—dark enough to be a Moor, but with a rich +brilliancy of skin never seen amongst that race, for she was a Calabrian; +and as she stood there with her arms crossed before her, and one leg +firmly advanced, and with the foot—a very pretty foot—well +planted, she was like—all the Italian peasants one has seen in the +National Gallery for years back. There was the same look, half shy; the +same elevation of sentiment in the brow, and the same coarseness of the +mouth; plenty of energy, enough and to spare of daring; but no timidity, +no gentleness. +</p> +<p> +“What is she saying?” asked I of the old man, as I overheard a whisper +pass between them. “Tell me what she has just said to you.” + </p> +<p> +“It is nothing, your Excellency,—she is a fool.” + </p> +<p> +“That she may be, but I insist on hearing what it was she said.” + </p> +<p> +He seemed embarrassed and ashamed, and, instead of replying to me, turned +to address some words of reproach to the girl. +</p> +<p> +“I am waiting for your answer,” said I, peremptorily. +</p> +<p> +“It is the saucy way she has gotten, your Excellency, all from +over-flattery; and now that she sees that there is no audience here, none +but your Excellency, she is impatient to be off again. She'll never do +anything for us on the night of a thin house.” + </p> +<p> +“Is this the truth, Tintefleck?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +With a wild volubility, of which I could not gather a word, but every +accent of which indicated passion, if not anger, she poured out something +to the other, and then turned as if to leave the room. He interposed +quickly, and spoke to her, at first angrily, but at last in a soothing and +entreating tone, which seemed gradually to calm her. +</p> +<p> +“There is more in this than you have told, Vaterchen,” said I. “Let me +know at once why she is impatient to get away.” + </p> +<p> +“I would leave it to herself to tell your Excellency,” said he, with much +confusion, “but that you could not understand her mountain dialect. The +fact is,” added he, after a great struggle with himself,—“the fact +is, she is offended at your calling her 'Tintefleck.' She is satisfied to +be so named amongst ourselves, where we all have similar nicknames; but +that you, a great personage, high and rich and titled, should do so, +wounds her deeply. Had you said—” + </p> +<p> +Here he whispered me in my ear, and, almost inadvertently, I repeated +after him, “Catinka.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Si, si</i>, Catinka,” said she, while her eyes sparkled with an +expression of wildest delight, and at the same instant she bounded forward +and kissed my hand twice over. +</p> +<p> +I was glad to have made my peace, and, placing a chair for her at the +table, I filled out a glass of wine and presented it. She only shook her +head in dissent, and pushed it away. +</p> +<p> +“She has odd ways in everything,” said the old man; “she never eats but +bread and water. It is her notion that if she were to taste other food she +'d lose her gift of fortune-telling.” + </p> +<p> +“So, then, she reads destiny too?” said I, in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +Before I could inquire further, she swept her hands across the strings of +her guitar, and broke out into a little peasant song. It was very +monotonous, but pleasing. Of course, I knew nothing of the words nor the +meaning, but it seemed as though one thought kept ever and anon recurring +in the melody, and would continue to rise to the surface, like the +air-bubbles in a well. Satisfied, apparently, by the evidences of my +approval, she had no sooner finished than she began another. This was +somewhat more pretentious, and, from what I could gather, represented a +parting scene between a lover and his mistress. There was, at least, a +certain action in the song which intimated this. The fervent earnestness +of the lover, his entreaties, his prayers, and at last his threatenings, +were all given with effect, and there was actually good acting in the +stolid defiance she opposed to all; she rejected his vows, refused his +pledges, scorned his menaces; but when he had gone and left her, when she +saw herself alone and desolate, then came out a gush of the most +passionate sorrow, all the pent-up misery of a heart that seemed to burst +with its weight of agony. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/nor0252.jpg" alt="nor0252" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +If I was in a measure entranced while she was singing, such was the +tension of my nerves as I listened, that I was heartily glad when it was +over. As for her, she seemed so overcome by the emotion she had parodied, +that she bent her head down, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed +twice or thrice convulsively. +</p> +<p> +I turned towards Vaterchen to ask him some question, I forget what, but +the little fellow had made such good use of the decanter beside him, while +the music went on, that his cheeks were a bright crimson, and his little +round eyes shone like coals of fire. +</p> +<p> +“This young creature should never have fallen amongst such as you!” said +I, indignantly; “she has feeling and tenderness,—the powers of +expression she wields all evidence a great and gifted nature. She has, so +to say, noble qualities.' +</p> +<p> +“Noble, indeed!” croaked out the little wretch, with a voice hoarse from +the strong Burgundy. +</p> +<p> +“She might, with proper culture, adorn a very different sphere,” said I, +angrily. “Many have climbed the ladder of life with humbler pretensions.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, and stand on one leg on top of it, playing the tambourine all the +time,” hiccuped he, in reply. +</p> +<p> +I did not fancy the way he carried out my figure, but went on with my +reflections,— +</p> +<p> +“Some, but they are few, achieve greatness at a bound—” + </p> +<p> +“That's what she does,” broke he in. “Twelve hoops and a drum behind them, +at one spring; she comes through like a flying-fish.” + </p> +<p> +I don't know what angry rejoinder was on my lips to this speech, when +there came a tap at my door. I arose at once and opened it. It was +Francois, with a polite message from Mrs. Keats, to say how happy it would +make her “if I felt well enough to join her and Miss Herbert at tea.” For +a second or two I knew not what to reply. That I was “well enough,” + François was sure to report, and in my flushed condition I was, perhaps, +the picture of an exaggerated state of convalescence; so, after a moment's +hesitation, I muttered out a blundering excuse, on the plea of having a +couple of friends with me, “who had chanced to be just passing through the +town on their way to Italy.” + </p> +<p> +I did not think Francois had time to report my answer, when I heard him +again at the door. It was, with his mistress's compliments, to say, she +“would be charmed if I would induce my friends to accompany me.” + </p> +<p> +I had to hold my hand on my side with laughter as I heard this message, so +absurd was the proposition, and so ridiculous seemed the notion of it. +This, I say, was the first impression made upon my mind; and then, almost +as suddenly, there came another and very different one. “What is the +mission you have embraced, Potts?” asked I of myself. “If it have a but or +an object, is it not to overthrow the mean and unjust prejudices, the +miserable class distinctions, that separate the rich from the poor, the +great from the humble, the gifted from the ignorant? Have you ever +proposed to yourself a nobler conquest than over that vulgar tyranny by +which prosperity lords it over humble fortune? Have you imagined a higher +triumph than to make the man of purple and fine linen feel happy in the +companionship of him in smock-frock and high-lows? Could you ask for a +happier occasion to open the campaign than this? Mrs. Keats is an +admirable representative of her class; she has all the rigid prejudices of +her condition; her sympathies may rise, but they never fall; she can feel +for the sorrows of the well-born, she has no concern for vulgar +afflictions. How admirable the opportunity to show her that grace and +genius and beauty are of all ranks! And Miss Herbert, too, what a test it +will be of <i>her!</i> If she really have greatness of soul, if there be +in her nature a spirit that rises above petty conventionalities and +miserable ceremonials, she will take this young creature to her heart like +a sister. I think I see them with arms entwined,—two lovely flowers +on one stalk,—the dark crimson rose and the pale hyacinth! Oh, +Potts! this would be a nobler victory to achieve than to rend battalions +with grape, or ride down squadrons with the crash of cavalry.”—“I +will come, Francois,” said I. “Tell Mrs. Keats that she may expect us +immediately.” I took especial care in my dialogue to keep this prying +fellow outside the room, and to interpose in every attempt that he made to +obtain a peep within. In this I perfectly succeeded, and dismissed him, +without his being able to report any one circumstance about my two +travelling friends. +</p> +<p> +My next task was to inform them of my intentions on their behalf; nor was +this so easy as might be imagined, for Vaterchen had indulged very freely +with the wine, and all the mountains of Calabria lay between myself and +Tinte-fleck. With a great exercise of ingenuity, and more of patience, I +did at last succeed in making known to the old fellow that a lady of the +highest station and her friend were curious to see them. He only caught my +meaning after some time; but when he had surmounted the difficulty, as +though to show mc how thoroughly he understood the request, and how nicely +he appreciated its object, he began a series of face contortions of the +most dreadful kind, being a sort of programme of what he intended to +exhibit to the distinguished company. I repressed this firmly, severely. I +explained that an artist in all the relations of private life should be +ever the gentleman; that the habits of the stage were no more necessary to +carry into the world than the costume. I dilated upon the fact that John +Kemble had been deemed fitting company by the first gentleman of Europe; +and that if his manner could have exposed him to a criticism, it was in, +perhaps, a slight tendency to an over-reserve, a cold and almost stern +dignity. I 'm not sure Vaterchen followed me completely, nor understood +the anecdotes I introduced about Edmund Bean and Lord Byron; but I now +addressed myself pictorially to Tintefleck,—pictorially, I say, for +words were hopeless. I signified that a <i>très grande dame</i> was about +to receive her. I arose, with my skirts expanded in both hands, made a +reverent courtesy, throwing my head well back, looking every inch a +duchess. But, alas for my powers of representation! she burst into a +hearty laugh, and had at last to lay her head on Vaterchen's shoulder out +of pure exhaustion. +</p> +<p> +“Explain to her what I have told you, sir, and do not sit grinning at me +there, like a baboon,” said I, in a severe voice. +</p> +<p> +I cannot say how he acquitted himself, but I could gather that a very +lively altercation ensued, and it seemed to me as though she resolutely +refused to subject herself to any further ordeals of what academicians +call a “private view.” No; she was ready for the ring and the sawdust, and +the drolleries of the men with chalk on their faces, but she would not +accept high life on any terms. By degrees, and by arguments of his own +ingenious devising, however, he did succeed, and at last she arose with a +bound, and cried out, “Eccomi!” + </p> +<p> +“Remember,” said I to Vaterchen, as we left the room, “I am doing that +which few would have the courage to dare. It will depend upon the dignity +of your conduct, the grace of your manners, the well-bred ease of your +address, to make me feel proud of my intrepidity, or, sad and painful +possibility, retire covered with ineffable shame and discomfiture. Do you +comprehend me?” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly,” said he, standing erect, and giving even in his attitude a +sort of bail bond for future dignity. “Lead on!” + </p> +<p> +This was more familiar than he had been yet; but I ascribed it to the +tension of nerves strung to a high purpose, and rendering him thus +inaccessible to other thoughts than of the enterprise before him. +</p> +<p> +As I neared the door of Mrs. Keats's apartment, I hesitated as to how I +should enter. Ought I to precede my friends, and present them as they +followed? Or would it seem more easy and more assured if I were to give my +arm to Tintefleck, leaving Vaterchen to bring up the rear? After much +deliberation, this appeared to be the better course, seeming to take for +granted that, although some peculiarities of costume might ask for +explanation later on, I was about to present a very eligible and charming +addition to the company. +</p> +<p> +I am scarcely able to say whether I was or was not reassured by the mode +in which she accepted the offer of my arm. At first, the proposition +appeared unintelligible, and she looked at me with one of those wide-eyed +stares, as though to say, “What new gymnastic is this? What <i>tour de +force</i>, of which I never heard before?” and then, with a sort of jerk, +she threw my arm up in the air and made a pirouette under it, of some +half-dozen whirls. +</p> +<p> +Half reprovingly I shook my head, and offered her my hand. This she +understood at once. She recognized such a mode of approach as legitimate +and proper, and with an artistic shake of her drapery with the other hand, +and a confident smile, she signified she was ready to go “on.” + </p> +<p> +I was once on a time thrown over a horse's head into a slate quarry; a +very considerable drop it was, and nearly fatal. On another occasion I was +carried in a small boat over the fall of a salmon weir, and hurried along +in the flood for almost three hundred yards. Each of these was a situation +of excitement and peril, and with considerable confusion as the +consequence; and yet I could deliberately recount you every passing phase +of my terror, from my first fright down to my complete unconsciousness, +with such small traits as would guarantee truthfulness; while, of the +scene upon which I now adventured, I preserve nothing beyond the vaguest +and most unconnected memory. +</p> +<p> +I remember my advance into the middle of the room. I have a recollection +of a large tea-urn, and beyond it a lady in a turban; another in long +ringlets there was. The urn made a noise like a small steamer, and there +was a confusion of voices—about what, I cannot tell—that +increased the uproar, and we were all standing up and all talking +together; and there was what seemed an angry discussion, and then the +large turban and the ringlets swept haughtily past me. The turban said, +“This is too much, sir!” and ringlets added, “Far too much, sir!” and as +they reached the door, there was Vaterchen on his head, with a branch of +candles between his feet to light them out, and Tintefleck, screaming with +laughter, threw herself into an arm-chair, and clapped a most riotous +applause. +</p> +<p> +I stood a moment almost transfixed, then dashed out of the room, hurried +upstairs to my chamber, bolted the door, drew a great clothes-press +against it for further security, and then threw myself upon my bed in one +of those paroxysms of mad confusion, in which a man cannot say whether he +is on the verge of inevitable ruin, or has just been rescued from a +dreadful fate. I would not, if even I could, recount all that I suffered +that night There was not a scene of open shame and disgrace that I did not +picture to myself as incurring. I was everywhere in the stocks or the +pillory. I wore a wooden placard on my breast, inscribed, “Potts the +Impostor.” I was running at top speed before hooting and yelling crowds. I +was standing with a circle of protecting policemen amidst a mob eager to +tear me to pieces. I was sitting on a hard stool while my hair was being +cropped <i>à la</i> Pentonville, and a gray suit lay ready for me when it +was done. But enough of such a dreary record. I believe I cried myself to +sleep at last, and so soundly, too, that it was very late in the afternoon +ere I awoke. It was the sight of the barricade I had erected at my door +gave me a clew to the past, and again I buried my face in my hands, and +wept bitterly. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVIII. RESULTS OF THE EXPERIMENT +</h2> +<p> +I could not hear the loud and repeated knockings which were made at my +door, as at first waiters, and then the landlord himself, endeavored to +gain admittance. At length a ladder was placed at the window, and a +courageous individual, duly armed, appeared at my casement and summoned me +to surrender. With what unspeakable relief did I learn that it was not to +apprehend or arrest me that all these measures were taken: they were +simply the promptings of a graceful benevolence; a sort of rumored +intimation having got about, that I had taken prussic acid, or was being +done to death by charcoal. Imagine a prisoner in a condemned cell suddenly +awakened, and hearing that the crowd around him consisted not of the +ordinary, the sheriff, Mr. Calcraft and Co., but a deputation of +respectable citizens come to offer the representation of their borough or +a piece of plate, and then you can have a mild conception of the pleasant +revulsion of my feelings. I thanked my public in a short but appropriate +address. I assured them, although there was a popular prejudice about +doing this sort of thing in November in England, that it was deemed quite +unreasonable at other times, and that really, in these days of domestic +arsenic and conjugal strychnine, nothing but an unreasonable impatience +would make a man self-destructive,—suicide arguing that as a man was +really so utterly valueless, it was worth nobody's while to get rid of +him. My explanation over, I ordered breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Why not dinner?” said the waiter. “It is close on four o'clock.” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “the ladies will expect me at dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“The ladies are near Constance by this, or else the roads are worse than +we thought them.” + </p> +<p> +“Near Constance! Do you mean to say they have gone?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, at daybreak; or, indeed, I might say before daybreak.” + </p> +<p> +“Gone! actually gone!” was all that I could utter. +</p> +<p> +“They never went to bed last night, sir; the old lady was taken very ill +after tea, and all the house running here and there for doctors and +remedies, and the young lady, though she bore up so well, they tell me she +fainted when she was alone in her own room. In fact, it was a piece of +confusion and trouble until they started, and we may say, none of us had a +moment's peace till we saw them off.” + </p> +<p> +“And how came it that I was never called?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe, sir, but I'm not sure, the landlord tried to awake you. At all +events, he has a note for you now, for I saw the old lady place it in his +hand.” + </p> +<p> +“Fetch it at once,” said I; and when he left the room, I threw some water +over my face, and tried to rally all my faculties to meet the occasion. +</p> +<p> +When the waiter reappeared with the note, I bade him leave it on the +table; I could not venture to read it while he was in the room. At length +he went away, and I opened it. These were the contents:— +</p> +<p> +“Sir,—When a person of your rank abuses the privilege of his +station, it is supposed that he means to rebuke. Although innocent of any +cause for your displeasure, I have preferred to withdraw myself from your +notice than incur the chance of so severe a reprimand a second time. +</p> +<p> +“I am, sir, with unfeigned sorrow and humility, your most devoted follower +and servant, +</p> +<p> +“Martha Keats. +</p> +<p> +“To the—de——” + </p> +<p> +This was the whole of it; not a great deal as correspondence, but matter +enough for much thought and much misery. After a long and painful review +of my conduct, one startling fact stood prominently forward, which was, +that I had done something which, had it been the act of a royal prince, +would yet have been unpardonable, but which, if known to emanate from one +such as myself, would have been a downright outrage. +</p> +<p> +I went into the whole case, as a man who detests figures might have gone +into a long and complicated account; and just as he would skip small sums, +and pay little heed to fractions, I aimed at arriving at some grand solid +balance for or against myself. +</p> +<p> +I felt, that if asked to produce my books, they might run this wise: +Potts, on the credit side, a philanthropist, self-denying, generous, and +trustful; one eager to do good, thinking no evil of his neighbor, hopeful +of everybody, anxious to establish that brotherhood amongst men which, +however varied the station, could and ought to subsist, and which needs +but the connecting link of one sympathetic existence to establish. On the +other side, Potts, I grieve to say, appeared that which Ferdinand Mendez +Pinto was said to be. +</p> +<p> +When I had rallied a bit from the stunning effect of this disagreeable +“total,” I began to wish that I had somebody to argue the matter out with +me. The way I would put my case would be thus: “Has not—from the +time of Martius Curtius down to the late Mr. Sadlier, of banking celebrity—the +sacrifice of one man for the benefit of his fellows, been recognized as +the noblest exposition of heroism? Now, although it is much to give up +life for the advantage of others, it is far more to surrender one's +identity, to abandon that grand capital Ego! which gives a man his +self-esteem and suggests his self-preservation. And who, I would ask, does +this so thoroughly as the man who everlastingly palms himself upon the +world for that which he is not? According to the greatest happiness +principle, this man may be a real boon to humanity. He feeds this one with +hope, the other with flattery; he bestows courage on the weak, confidence +on the wavering. The rich man can give of his abundance, but it is out of +his very poverty this poor fellow has to bestow all. Like the spider, he +has to weave his web from his own vitals, and like the same spider he may +be swept away by some pretentious affectation of propriety.” + </p> +<p> +While I thus argued, the waiter came in to serve dinner. It looked all +appetizing and nice; but I could not touch a morsel. I was sick at heart; +Kate Herbert's last look as she quitted the room was ever before me. Those +dark gray eyes—which you stupid folk will go on calling blue—have +a sort of reproachful power in them very remarkable. They don't flash out +in anger like black eyes, or sparkle in fierceness like hazel; but they +emit a sort of steady, fixed, concentrated light, that seems to imply that +they have looked thoroughly into you, and come back very sad and very +sorry for the inquiry. I thought of the happy days I had passed beside +her; I recalled her low and gentle voice, her sweet half-sad smile, and +her playful laugh, and I said, “Have I lost all these forever, and how? +What stupid folly possessed me last evening? How could I have been so +idiotic as not to see that I was committing the rankest of all enormities? +How should I, in my insignificance, dare to assail the barriers and +defences which civilization has established, and guards amongst its best +prerogatives? Was this old buffoon, was this piece of tawdry fringe and +spangles, a fitting company for that fair and gentle girl? How +artistically false, too, was the position I had taken! Interweaving into +my ideal life these coarse realities, was the same sort of outrage as +shocks one in some of the Venetian churches, where a lovely Madonna, the +work of a great hand, may be seen bedizened and disfigured with precious +stones over her drapery. In this was I violating the whole poetry of my +existence. These figures were as much out of keeping as would be a couple +of Ostade's Boors in a grand Scripture piece by Domenichino. +</p> +<p> +“And yet, Potts,” thought I, “they were <i>really</i> living creatures. +They had hearts for Joy and sorrow and hope, and the rest of it. They were +pilgrims travelling the selfsame road as you were. They were not +illusions, but flesh and blood folk, that would shiver when cold, and die +of hunger if starved. Were they not, then, as such, of more account than +all your mere imaginings? Would not the least of their daily miseries +outweigh a whole bushel of fancied sorrow? And is it not a poor +selfishness on your part, when you deem some airy conception of your brain +of more account than that poor old man and that dark-eyed girl? Last of +all, are they hot, in all their ragged finery, more 'really true men' than +you yourself, Potts, living in a maze of delusions? They only act when the +sawdust is raked and the lamps are lighted; but you are <i>en scène</i> +from dawn to dark, and only lay down one motley to don another. Is not +this wretched? Is it not ignoble? In all these changes of character, how +much of the real man will be left behind? Will there be one morsel of +honest flesh, when all the lacquer of paint is washed off? And was it—oh, +was it for this you first adventured out on the wide ocean of life?” + </p> +<p> +I passed the evening and a great part of the night in such self-accusings, +and then I addressed myself to action. I bethought me of my future, and +with whom and where and how it might be passed. The bag of money intrusted +to me by the Minister to pay the charges of the road was banging where I +had placed it,—on the curtain-holder. I opened it, and found a +hundred and forty gold Napoleons, and some ten or twelve pounds in silver. +I next set to count over my own especial hoard; it was a fraction under a +thousand francs! Forty pounds was truly a very small sum wherewith to +confront a world to which I brought not any art, or trade, or means of +livelihood; I say forty, because I had not the shadow of a pretext for +touching the other sum, and I resolved at once to transmit it to the +owner. Now, what could be done with so humble a capital? I had heard of a +great general who once pawned a valuable sword—a sword of honor it +was—wherewith to buy a horse, and, so mounted, he went forth over +the Alps, and conquered a kingdom. The story had no moral for me, for +somehow I did not feel as though I were the stuff that conquers kingdoms, +and yet there must surely be a vast number of men in life with about the +same sort of faculties, merits, and demerits as I have. There must be a +numerous Potts family in every land, well-meaning, right-intentioned, +worthless creatures, who, out of a supposed willingness to do anything, +always end in doing nothing. Such people, it must be inferred, live upon +what are called their wits, or, in other words, trade upon the daily +accidents of life, and the use to which they can turn the traits of those +they meet with. +</p> +<p> +I was resolved not to descend to this; no, I bad deter-. mined to say +adieu to all masquerading, and be simply Potts, the druggist's son, one +who had once dreamed of great ambitions, but had taken the wrong road to +them. I would from this hour be an honest, truth-speaking, simple-hearted +creature. What the world might henceforth accord me of its sympathy should +be tendered on honest grounds; nay, more, in the spirit of those devotees +who inspire themselves with piety by privations, I resolved on a course of +self-mortification, I would not rest till I had made my former self +expiate all the vainglorious wantonness of the past, and * pay in severe +penance for every transgression I had committed. I began boldly with my +reformation. I sat down and wrote thus:— +</p> +<p> +To Mr. Dycer, Stephen's-Green, Dublin. +</p> +<p> +“The gentleman who took away a dun pony from your livery stables in the +month of May last, and who, from certain circumstances, has not been able +to restore the animal, sends herewith twenty pounds as his probable value. +If Mr. D. conscientiously considers the sum insufficient, the sender will +at some future time, he hopes, make good the difference.” + </p> +<p> +Doubtless my esteemed reader will say at this place, “The fellow could n't +do less; he need not vaunt himself on a commonplace act of honesty, which, +after all, might have been suggested by certain fears of future +consequences. His indiscretion amounted to horse-stealing, and +horsestealing is a felony.” + </p> +<p> +All true, every word of it, most upright of Judges: I was simply doing +what I ought, or rather what I ought long since to have done. But now, let +me ask, is this, after all, the invariable course in life, and is there no +merit in doing what one ought when every temptation points to the other +direction? and lastly, is it nothing to do what a man ought, when the +doing costs exactly the half of all he has in the world? +</p> +<p> +Now, if I were, instead of being Potts, a certain great writer that we all +know and delight in, I would improve the occasion here by asking my reader +does he always himself do the right thing? I would say to him, perhaps +with all haste to anticipate his answer, “Of course you do. You never +pinch your children, or kick your wife out of bed; you are a model father +and a churchwarden; but I am only a poor apothecary's son brought up in +precepts of thrift and the Dublin Pharmacopoeia;” and I own to you, when I +placed the half of my twenty-pound crisp clean bank note inside of that +letter, I felt I was figuratively cutting myself in two. But I did it +“like a man,” if that be a proper phrase for an act which I thought +godlike. And oh, take my word for it, when a sacrifice has n't cost you a +coach-load of regrets and a shopful of hesitations about making it, it is +of little worth. There's a wide difference between the gift of a sheep +from an Australian farmer, or the present of a child's pet lamb, even +though the sheep be twice the size of the lamb. +</p> +<p> +I gave myself no small praise for what I had done, much figurative patting +on the back, and a vast deal of that very ambiguous consolation which +beggars in Catholic countries bestow in change for alms, by assurance that +it will be remembered to you in purgatory. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” thought I, “the occasion is n't very far off, for my purgatory +begins to-morrow.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIX. ON FOOT AND IN LOW COMPANY +</h2> +<p> +I was in a tourist locality, and easily provided myself with a light +equipment for the road, resolved at once to take the footpath in life and +“seek my fortune.” I use these words simply as the expression of the utter +uncertainty which prevailed as to whither I should go, and what do when I +got there. +</p> +<p> +If there be few more joyous things in life than to start off on foot with +three or four choice companions, to ramble through some fine country rich +in scenery, varied in character and interesting in story, there are few +more lonely sensations than to set out by oneself, not very decided what +way to take, and with very little money to take it. +</p> +<p> +One of the most grievous features of small means is, certainly, the almost +exclusive occupation it gives the mind as to every, even the most trivial, +incident that involves cost. Instead of dining on fish and fowl and fruit, +you feel eating so many groschen and kreutzers. You are not drinking wine, +your beverage is a solution of copper batzen in vinegar!' When you poke +the fire, every spark that flies up the chimney' is a baiocco! You come at +last to suspect that the sun won't warm you for nothing, and that the very +breeze that cooled your brow is only waiting round the corner to ask “for +something for himself.” + </p> +<p> +When the rich man lives sparingly, the conscious power of the wealth he +might employ if he pleased, sustains him. The poor fellow has no such +consolation to fall back on; the closer his coat is examined, the more +threadbare will it appear. If it were simply that he dressed humbly and +fared coarsely, it might be borne well, but it is the hourly depreciation +that poverty is exposed to, makes its true grievance. “An ill-looking”—this +means, generally, ill-dressed—“an ill-looking fellow had been seen +about the premises at night-fall,” says the police report “A very +suspicious character had asked for a bed; his wardrobe was in a 'spotted +handkerchief.' The waiter remembers that a fellow, much travel-stained and +weary, stopped at the door that evening and asked if there was any cheap +house of entertainment in the village.” Heaven help the poor wayfarer if +any one has been robbed, any house broken into, any rick set fire to, +while he passed through that locality. There is no need of a crowd of +witnesses to convict him, since every bend in his hat, every tear in his +coat, and every rent in his shoes are evidence against him. +</p> +<p> +If I thought over these things in sorrow and humiliation, it was in a very +proud spirit that I called to mind how, on that same morning, I deposited +the bag with all the money in Messrs. Haber's bank, saw the contents duly +counted over, replaced and sealed up, and then addressed to Her Majesty's +Minister at Kalbbratonstadt, taking a receipt for the same. “This was only +just common honesty,” says the reader. Oh, if there is an absurd +collocation of words, it is that! Common honesty! why, there is nothing in +this world so perfectly, so totally uncommon! Never, I beseech you, +undervalue the waiter who restores the ring you dropped in the +coffee-room; nor hold him cheaply who gives back the umbrella you left in +the cab. These seem such easy things to do, but they are not easy. Men are +more or less Cornish wreckers in life, and very apt to regard the lost +article as treasure-trove. I have said all this to you, amiable reader, +that you may know what it cost me, on that same morning, not to be a +rogue, and not to enrich myself with the goods of another. +</p> +<p> +I underwent a very long and searching self-examination to ascertain why it +was I had not appropriated that bag,—an offence which, legally +speaking, would only amount to a breach of trust. I said, “Is it that you +had no need of the money, Potts? Did you feel that your own means were +ample enough? Was it that your philosophy had made you regard gold as mere +dross, and then think that the load was a burden? Or, taking higher +ground, had you recalled the first teachings of your venerable parent, +that good man and careful apothecary, who had given you your first +perceptions of right and wrong?” I fear that I was obliged to say No, in +turn, to each of these queries. I would have been very glad to be right, +proud to have been a philosopher, overjoyed to feel myself swayed by moral +motives, but I could not palm the imposition on my conscience, and had +honestly to own that the real reason of my conduct was—I was in +love! There was the whole of it! +</p> +<p> +There was an old sultan once so impressed with an ill notion of the sex, +that whenever a tale of misfortune or disgrace reached him, his only +inquiry as to the source of the evil was, Who was she? Now, my experiences +of life have travelled in another direction, and whenever I read of some +noble piece of heroism or some daring act of self-devotion, I don't ask +whether he got the Bath or the Victoria Cross, if he were made a governor +here or a vice-governor there, but who was She that prompted this glorious +deed? I 'd like to know all about <i>her</i>: the color of her eyes, her +hair; was she slender or plump; was she fiery or gentle; was it an old +attachment or an acute attack coming after a paroxysm at first sight? +</p> +<p> +If I were the great chief of some great public department where all my +subordinates were obliged to give heavy security for their honesty, I +would neither ask for bail bonds or sureties, but I'd say, “Have you got a +wife, or a sweetheart? Either will do. Let me look at her. If she be +worthy an honest man's love, I am satisfied; mount your high stool and +write away.” + </p> +<p> +Oh, how I longed to stand aright in that dear girl's eyes, that she should +see me worthy of her! Had she yielded to all my wayward notions and +rambling opinions, giving way either in careless indolence or out of +inability to dispute them, she had never made the deep impression on my +heart. It was because she had bravely asserted her own independence, never +conceding where unconvinced, never yielding where unvanquished, that I +loved her. What a stupid revery was that of mine when I fancied her one of +those strong-minded, determined women,—a thickly shod, +umbrella-carrying female, who can travel alone and pass her trunk through +a custom-house. No, she was delicate, timid, and gentle; there was no +over-confidence in her, nor the slightest pretension. Rule me? Not a bit +of it. Guide, direct, support, confirm, sustain me; elevate my sentiments, +cheer me on my road in life, making all evil odious in my eyes, and the +good to seem better! +</p> +<p> +I verily believe, with such a woman, an humble condition m life offers +more chances of happiness than a state of wealth and splendor. If the best +prizes of life are to be picked up around a man's fireside, moderate +means, conducing as they do to a home life, would point more certainly to +these than all the splendor of grand receptions. If I were, say, a village +doctor, a schoolmaster; if I were able to eke out subsistence in some +occupation, whose pursuit might place me sufficiently favorably in her +eyes. I don't like grocery, for instance, or even “dry goods,” but +something—it's no fault of mine if the English language be cramped +and limited, and that I must employ the odious word “genteel,” but it +conveys, in a fashion, all that I aim at. +</p> +<p> +I began to think how this was to be done. I might return to my own +country, go back to Dublin, and become Potts and Son,—at least son! +A very horrid thought and very hard to adopt. +</p> +<p> +I might take a German degree in physic, and become an English doctor, say +at Baden, Ems, Geneva, or some other resort of my countrymen on the +Continent. I might give lectures, I scarcely well knew on what, still less +to whom; or I could start as Professor Potts, and instruct foreigners in +Shakspeare. There were at least “three courses” open to me; and to +consider them the better, I filled my pipe, and strolled off the high-road +into a shady copse of fine beech-trees, at the foot of one of which, and +close to a clear little rivulet, I threw myself at full length, and thus, +like Tityrus, enjoyed the leafy shade, making my meerschaum do duty for +the shepherd's reed. +</p> +<p> +I had not been long thus, when I heard the footsteps of some persons on +the road, and shortly after, the sound discontinuing, I judged that they +must have crossed into the sward beneath the wood. As I listened I +detected voices, and the next moment two figures emerged from the cover +and stood before me: they were Vaterchen and Tintefleck. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down,” said I, pointing to each in turn to take a place at either +side of me. They had, it is true, been the cause of the great calamity of +my life, but in no sense was the fault theirs, and I wished to show that I +was generous and open-minded. Vaterchen acceded to my repeated invitation +with a courteous humility, and seated himself at a little distance off; +but Tintefleck threw herself on the grass, and with such a careless <i>abandon</i> +that her hair escaped from the net that held it, and fell in great wavy +masses across my feet. +</p> +<p> +“Ay,” thought I, as I looked at the graceful outlines of her finely shaped +figure, “here is the Amaryllis come to complete the tableau; only I would +wish fewer spangles, and a little more simplicity.” + </p> +<p> +I saw that it was necessary to reassure Vaterchen as to my perfect sanity +by some explanation as to my strange mode of travelling, and told him +briefly, “that it was a caprice common enough with my countrymen to assume +the knapsack, and take the road on foot; that we fancied in this wise we +obtained a nearer view of life, and at least gained companionship with +many from whom the accident of station might exclude us.” I said this with +an artful delicacy, meant to imply that I was pointing at a very great and +valuable privilege of pedestrianism. +</p> +<p> +He smiled with a sad, a very sad expression on his features, “But in what +wise, highly honored sir?”—he addressed me always as Hoch Geehrter +Herr,—“could you promise to yourself advantage from such +associations as these? I cannot believe you would condescend to know us +simply to carry away in memory the little traits that must needs +distinguish such lives as ours. I would not insult my respect for you by +supposing that you come amongst us to note the absurd contrast between our +real wretchedness and our mock gayety; and yet what else is there to gain? +What can the poor mountebank teach you beyond this?” + </p> +<p> +“Much,” said I, with fervor, as I grasped his hand, and shook it heartily; +“much, if you only gave me this one lesson that I now listen to, and I +learn that a man's heart can beat as truthfully under motley as under the +embroidered coat of a minister. The man who speaks as you do, can teach me +much.” + </p> +<p> +He gave a short but heavy sigh, and turned away his head. He arose after a +few minutes, and, going gently across the grass, spread his handkerchief +over the head and face of the girl, who had at once fallen into a deep +sleep. +</p> +<p> +“Poor thing,” muttered he, “it is well she <i>can</i> sleep! She has eaten +nothing to-day!” + </p> +<p> +“But, surely,” said I, “there is some village, or some wayside inn near +this—” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, there is the 'Eckstein,' a little public about two miles further; +but we did n't care to reach it before nightfall. It is so painful to pass +many hours in a place and never call for anything; one is ill-looked on, +and uncomfortable from it; and as we have only what would pay for our +supper and lodging, we thought we 'd wear away the noon in the forest +here, and arrive at the inn by close of day.” + </p> +<p> +“Let me be your travelling-companion for to-day,” said I, “and let us push +forward and have our dinner together. Tes, yes, there is far less of +condescension in the offer than you suspect. I am neither great nor milor, +I am one of a class like your own, Vaterchen, and what I do for you today +some one else will as probably do for me to-morrow.” + </p> +<p> +Say what I could, the old man would persist in believing that this was +only another of those eccentricities for which Englishmen are famed; and +though, with the tact of a native good breeding, he showed no persistence +in opposition, I saw plainly enough that he was unconvinced by all my +arguments. +</p> +<p> +While the girl slept, I asked him how he chanced upon the choice of his +present mode of life, since there were many things in his tone and manner +that struck me as strangely unlike what I should have ascribed to his +order. +</p> +<p> +“It is a very short story,” said he; “five minutes will tell it, otherwise +I might scruple to impose on your patience. It was thus I became what you +see me.” + </p> +<p> +Short as the narrative was, I must keep it for another page. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXX. VATERCHEN'S NARRATIVE. +</h2> +<h3> +I give the old man's story, as nearly as I can, the way he told it +</h3> +<p> +“There is a little village on the Lago di Guarda, called Caprini. My +family had lived there for some generations. We had a little wine-shop, +and though not a very pretentious one, it was the best in the place, and +much frequented by the inhabitants. My father was in considerable repute +while he lived; he was twice named Syndic of Caprini, and I myself once +held that dignity. You may not know, perhaps, that the office is one +filled at the choice of the townsfolk, and not nominated by the +Government. Still the crown has its influence in the selection, and likes +well to see one of its own partisans in power, and, when a popular +candidate does succeed against their will, the Government officials take +good care to make his berth as uncomfortable as they can. These are small +questions of politics to ask you to follow, but they were our great ones; +and we were as ardent and excited and eager about the choice of our little +local Governor as though he wielded real power in a great state. +</p> +<p> +“When I obtained the syndicate, my great ambition was to tread in the +footsteps of my father, old Gustave Gamerra, who had left behind him a +great name as the assertor of popular rights, and who had never bated the +very least privilege that pertained to his native village. I did my best—not +very discreetly, perhaps—for my own sake, but I held my head high +against all imperial and royal officials, and I taught them to feel that +there was at least one popular institution in the land that no exercise of +tyranny could assail. I was over-zealous about all our rights. I raked up +out of old archives traces of privileges that we once possessed and had +never formally surrendered; I discovered concessions that had been made to +as of which we had never reaped the profit; and I was, so to say, ever at +war with the authorities, who were frank enough to say that when my two +years of office expired they meant to give me some wholesome lessons about +obedience. +</p> +<p> +“They were as good as their word. I had no sooner descended to a private +station than I was made to feel all the severities of their displeasure. +They took away my license to sell salt and tobacco, and thereby fully one +half of my little income; they tried to withdraw my privilege to sell +wine, but this came from the municipality, and they could not touch it. +Upon information that they had suborned, they twice visited my house to +search for seditious papers, and, finally, they made me such a mark of +their enmity that the timid of the townsfolk were afraid to be seen with +me, and gradually dropped my acquaintance. This preyed upon me most of +all. I was all my life of a social habit; I delighted to gather my friends +around me, or to go and visit them, and to find myself, as I was growing +old, growing friendless too, was a great blow. +</p> +<p> +“I was a widower, and had none but an only daughter.” + </p> +<p> +When he had reached thus far, his voice failed him, and, after an effort +or two, he could not continue, and turned away his head and buried it in +his hands. Full ten minutes elapsed before he resumed, which he did with a +hard, firm tone, as though resolved not to be conquered by his emotion. +</p> +<p> +“The cholera was dreadfully severe all through the Italian Tyrol; it swept +from Venice to Milan, and never missed even the mountain villages, far +away up the Alps. In our little hamlet we lost one hundred and eighteen +souls, and my Gretchen was one of them. +</p> +<p> +“We had all grown to be very hard-hearted to each other; misfortune was at +each man's door, and he had no heart to spare for a neighbor's grief; and +yet such was the sorrow for her, that they came, in all this suffering and +desolation, to try and comfort and keep me up, and though it was a time +when all such cares were forgotten, the young people went and laid fresh +flowers over her grave every morning. Well, that was very kind of them, +and made me weep heartily; and, in weeping, my heart softened, and I got +to feel that God knew what was best for all of us, and that, may-bap, he +had taken her away to spare her greater sorrow hereafter, and left me to +learn that I should pray to go to her. She had only been in the earth +eight days, and I was sitting alone in my solitary house, for I could not +bear to open the shop, and began to think that I *d never have the courage +to do so again, but would go away and try some other place and some other +means of livelihood,—it was while thinking thus, a sharp, loud knock +came to the door, and I arose rather angrily, to answer it. +</p> +<p> +“It was a sergeant of an infantry regiment, whose detachment was on march +for Peschiera; there were troubles down there, and the Government had to +send off three regiments in all haste from Vienna to suppress them. The +sergeant was a Bohemian, and his regiment the Kinsky. He was a rough, +coarse fellow, very full of his authority, despising all villagers, and +holding Italians in especial contempt. He came to order me to prepare +rations and room for six soldiers, who were to arrive that evening. I +answered, boldly, that I would not I had served the office of syndic in +the town, and was thus forever exempt from the 'billet,' and I led him +into my little sitting-room, and showed him my 'brevet,' framed and +glazed, over the chimney. He laughed heartily at my little remonstrance, +coolly turned the 'brevet' with its face to the wall, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“'If you don't want twelve of us instead of six, you 'll keep your tongue +quiet, and give us a stoup of your best wine.' +</p> +<p> +“I did not wait to answer him, but seized my hat and hurried away to the +Platz Commandant. He was an old enemy of mine, but I could not help it; +his was the only authority I could appeal to, and he was bound to do me +justice. When I reached the bureau, it was so crowded with soldiers and +townsfolk, some seeking for billets, some insisting on their claim to be +free, that I could not get past the door, and, after an hour's waiting, I +was fain to give up the attempt, and turned back home again, determined to +make my statement in writing, which, after all, might have been the most +fitting. +</p> +<p> +“I found my doors wide open when I got there, and my shop crowded with +soldiers, who, either seated on the counter or squatting on their +knapsacks, had helped themselves freely to my wine, even to raising the +top of an old cask, and drinking it in large cups from the barrel, which +they handed liberally to their comrades as they passed. +</p> +<p> +“My heart was too full to care much for the loss, though the insult +pressed me sorely, and, pushing my way through, I gained the inner room to +find it crowded like the shop. All was in disorder and confusion. The old +musket my father had carried for many a year, and which had hung over the +chimney as an heirloom, lay smashed in fragments on the floor; some wanton +fellow had run his bayonet through my 'brevet' as syndic, and hung it up +in derision as a banner; and one—he was a corporal—had taken +down the wreath of white roses that lay on Gretchen's coffin till it was +laid in the earth, and placed it on his head. When I «aw this, my senses +left me; I gave a wild shriek, and dashed both my hands in his face. I +tried to strangle him; I would have torn him with my teeth had they not +dragged me off and dashed me on the ground, where they trampled on me, and +beat me, and then carried me away to prison. +</p> +<p> +“I was four days in prison before I was brought up to be examined. I did +not know whether it had been four or forty, for my senses had left me and +I was mad; perhaps it was the cold dark cell and the silence restored me, +but I came out calm and collected. I remembered everything to the smallest +incident. +</p> +<p> +“The soldiers were heard first; they agreed in everything, and their story +had all the air of truth about it They owned they had taken my wine, but +said that the regiment was ready and willing to pay for it so soon as I +came back, and that all the rest they had done were only the usual follies +of troops on a march. I began by claiming my exemption as a syndic, but +was stopped at once by being told that my claim had never been submitted +to the authorities, and that in my outrage on the imperial force I had +forfeited all consideration on that score. My offence was easily proven. I +did not deny it, and I was lectured for nigh an hour on the enormity of my +crime, and then sentenced to pay a fine of a thousand zwanzigers to the +Emperor, and to receive four-and-twenty blows with the stick. 'It should +have been eight-and-forty but for my age,' he said. +</p> +<p> +“On the same stool where I sat to hear my sentence was a circus man, +waiting the Platz Commandant's leave to give some representation in the +village. I knew him from his dress, but had never spoken to him nor he to +me; just, however, as the Commandant had delivered the words of my +condemnation, he turned to look at me,—mayhap to see how I bore up +under my misfortune. I saw his glance, and I did my best to sustain it. I +wanted to bear myself manfully throughout, and not to let any one know my +heart was broken, which I felt it was. The struggle was, perhaps, more +than I was able for, and, while the tears gushed out and ran down my +cheeks, I buret out laughing, and laughed away fit after fit, making the +most terrible faces all the while; so outrageously droll were my +convulsions, that every one around laughed too, and there was the whole +court screaming madly with the same impulse, and unable to control it. +</p> +<p> +“'Take the fool away!' cried the Commandant, at last, 'and bring him to +reason with a hazel rod.' And they carried me off, and I was flogged. +</p> +<p> +“It was about a week after I was down near Commachio. I don't know how I +got there, but I was in rags, and had no money, and the circus people came +past and saw me. 'There's the old fellow that nearly killed us with his +droll face,' said the chief. 'I 'll give you two zwanzigers a day, my man, +if you 'll only give us a few grins like that every evening. Is it a +bargain?' +</p> +<p> +“I laughed. I could not keep now from laughing at everything, and the +bargain was made, and I was a clown from that hour. They taught me a few +easy tricks to help me in my trade, but it is my face that they care for,—none +can see it unmoved.” + </p> +<p> +He turned on me as he spoke with a fearful contortion of countenance, but, +moved by his story, and full only of what I had been listening to, I +turned away and shed tears. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said he, meditatively, “many a happy heart is kindled at the fire +that is consuming another. As for myself, both joy and sorrow are dead +within me. I am without hope, and, stranger still, without fear.” + </p> +<p> +“But you are not without benevolence,” said I, as I looked towards the +sleeping girl. +</p> +<p> +“She was so like Gretchen,” said he; and he bent down his head and sobbed +bitterly. +</p> +<p> +I would have asked him some questions about her if I dared, but I felt so +rebuked by the sorrow of the old man, that my curiosity seemed almost +unfeeling. +</p> +<p> +“She came amongst us a mere child,” said he, “and speedily attached +herself to me. I contrived to learn enough v of her dialect to understand +and talk to her, and at last she began to regard me as a father, and even +called me such. It was a long time before I could bear this. Every time I +heard the word my grief would burst out afresh; but what won't time do? I +have come to like it now.” + </p> +<p> +“And is she good and gentle and affectionate?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“She is far too good and true-hearted to be in such company as ours. Would +that some rich person,—it should be a lady,—kind and gentle +and compassionate, could see her and take her away from such associates, +and this life of shame, ere it be too late! If I have a sorrow left me +now, it is for her.” + </p> +<p> +I was silent; for though the wish only seemed fair and natural enough on +his part, I could not help thinking how improbable such an incident would +prove. +</p> +<p> +“She would repay it all,” said he. “If ever there was a nature rich in +great gifts, it is hers. She can learn whatever she will, and for a word +of kindness she would hold her hand in the fire for you. Hush!” whispered +he, “she is stirring. What is it, darling?” said he, creeping close to +her, as she lay, throwing her arms wildly open, but not removing the +handkerchief from her face. +</p> +<p> +She muttered something hurriedly, and then burst into a laugh so joyous +and so catching, it was impossible to refrain from joining in it. +</p> +<p> +She threw back the kerchief at once and started to her knees, gazing +steadfastly, almost sternly, at me. I saw that the old man comprehended +the inquiry of her glance, and as quickly whispered a few words in her +ear. She listened till he had done, and then, springing towards me, she +caught my hand and kissed it. +</p> +<p> +I suspect he must have rebuked the ardor of her movement, for she hung her +head despondingly, and turned away from us both. +</p> +<p> +“Now for the road once more,” said Vaterchen, “for if we stay much longer +here, we shall have the forest flies, which are always worse towards +evening.” + </p> +<p> +It was not without great difficulty I could prevent his carrying my +knapsack for me, and even the girl herself would gladly have borne some of +my load. At last, however, we set forth, Tintefleck lightening the way +with a merry can-zonette that had the time of a quickstep. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXI. A GENIUS FOR CARICATURE +</h2> +<p> +What a pleasant little dinner we had that day! It was laid out in a little +summer-house of the inn-garden. All overgrown with a fine old fig-tree, +through whose leaves the summer wind played deliciously, while a tiny +rivulet rippled close by, and served to cool our “Achten-thaler,”—an +amount of luxury that made Tintefleck quite wild with laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Is it cold enough?” she asked archly, in her peasant dialect, each time +the old man laid down his glass. +</p> +<p> +As I came gradually to pick up the occasional meaning of her words,—a +process which her expressive pantomime greatly aided,—I was struck +by the marvellous acuteness of a mind so totally without culture, and I +could not help asking Vaterchen why he had never attempted to instruct +her. +</p> +<p> +“What can I do?” said he, despondently; “there are no books in the only +language she knows, and the only language she will condescend to speak. +She can understand Italian, and I have read stories for her, and sonnets, +too, out of Leopardi; but though she will listen in all eagerness till +they are finished, no sooner over than she breaks out into some wild +Calabrian song, and asks me is it not worth all the fine things I have +been giving her, thrice told.” + </p> +<p> +“Could you not teach her to write?” + </p> +<p> +“I tried that. I bought a slate, and I made a bargain with her that she +should have a scarlet knot for her hair when she could ask me for it in +written words. Well, all seemed to go on prosperously for a time; we had +got through half the alphabet very successfully, till we came to the +letter H. This made her laugh immediately, it was so like a scaffold we +had in the circus for certain exercises; and no sooner had I marked down +the letter, than she snatched the pencil from me, and drew the figure of a +man on each bar of the letter. From that hour forth, as though her wayward +humor had been only imprisoned, she burst forth into every imaginable +absurdity at our lessons. Every ridiculous event of our daily life she +drew, and with a rapidity almost incredible. I was not very apt, as you +may imagine, in acquiring the few accomplishments they thought to give me, +and she caricatured me under all my difficulties.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Si, si,</i>” broke she in at this; for, with a wonderful acuteness, +she could trace something of a speaker's meaning where every word was +unknown to her. As she spoke, she arose, and fled down the garden at top +speed. +</p> +<p> +“Why has she gone? Is she displeased at your telling me all these things +about her?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“Scarcely that; she loves to be noticed. Nothing really seems to pain her +so much as when she is passed over unremarked. When such an event would +occur in the circus, I have seen her sob through her sleep all the night +after. I half suspect now she is piqued at the little notice you have +bestowed upon her. All the better if it be so.” + </p> +<p> +“But here she comes again.” + </p> +<p> +With the same speed she now came back to us, holding her slate over her +head, and showing that she rightly interpreted what the old man had said +of her. +</p> +<p> +“Now for my turn!” said Vaterchen, with a smile. “She is never weary of +drawing me in every absurd and impossible posture.” + </p> +<p> +“What is it to be, Tintefleck?” asked he. “How am I to figure this time?” + </p> +<p> +She shook her head without replying, and, making a sign that she was not +to be questioned or interrupted, she nestled down at the foot of the +fig-tree, and began to draw. +</p> +<p> +The old man now drew near me, and proceeded to give me further details of +her strange temper and ways. I could mark that throughout all he said a +tone of intense anxiety and care prevailed, and that he felt her +disposition was exactly that which exposed her to the greatest perils for +her future. There was a young artist who used to follow her through all +the South Tyrol, affecting to be madly in love with her, but of whose +sincerity and honor Vaterchen professed to have great misgivings. He gave +her lessons in drawing, and, what was less to be liked, he made several +studies of herself. “The artless way,” said the old man, “she would come +and repeat to me all his raptures about her, was at first a sort of +comfort to me. I felt reassured by her confidence, and also by the little +impression his praises seemed to make, but I saw later on that I was +mistaken. She grew each day more covetous of these flatteries, and it was +no longer laughingly, but in earnest seriousness, she would tell me that +the 'Fornarina' in some gallery had not such eyes as hers, and that some +great statue that all the world admired was far inferior to her in shape. +If I had dared to rebuke her vanity, or to ridicule her pretensions, all +my influence would have been gone forever. She would have left us, gone +who knows whither, and been lost, so that I had nothing for it but to seem +to credit all she said and yet hold the matter lightly, and I said beauty +had no value except when associated with rank and station. If queens and +princesses be handsome, they are more fitted to adorn this high estate, +but for humble folk it is as great a mockery as these tinsel gems we wear +in the circus. +</p> +<p> +“'Max says not,' said she to me one evening, after one of my usual +lectures. 'Max says, there are queens would give their coronets to have my +hair; ay, or even one of the dimples in my cheek.' +</p> +<p> +“'Max is a villain,' said I, before I could control my words. +</p> +<p> +“'Max is a <i>vero signor!</i>' said she, haughtily, 'and not like one of +us; and more, too, I 'll go and tell him what you have called him.' She +bounded away from me at this, and I saw her no more till nightfall. +</p> +<p> +“'What has happened to you, poor child!' said I, as I saw her lying on the +floor of her room, her forehead bleeding, and her dress all draggled and +torn. She would not speak to me for a long while, but by much entreating +and caressing I won upon her to tell me what had befallen her. She had +gone to the top of the 'Glucksburg,' and thrown herself down. It was a +fearful height, and only was she saved by being caught by the brambles and +tangled foliage of the cliff; and all this for 'one harsh word of mine,' +she said. But I knew better; the struggle was deeper in her heart than she +was aware of, and Max had gone suddenly away, and we saw no more of him.” + </p> +<p> +“Did she grieve after him?” + </p> +<p> +“I scarcely can say she did. She fretted, but I think it was for her own +loneliness, and the want of that daily flattery she had grown so fond of. +She became overbearing, and even insolent, too, with all her equals, and +though for many a day she had been the spoiled child of the troop, many +began to weary of her waywardness. I don't know how all this might have +turned out, when, just as suddenly, she changed and became everything that +she used to be.” + </p> +<p> +When the old man had got thus far, the girl arose, and without saying a +word, laid the slate before us. Vaterchen, not very quick-sighted, could +not at once understand the picture, but I caught it at once, and laughed +immoderately. She had taken the scene where I had presented Vaterchen and +herself to the ladies at the tea-table, and with an intense humor, +sketched all the varying emotions of the incident.' The offended dignity +of the old lady, the surprise and mortification of Miss Herbert, and my +own unconscious pretension as I pointed to the “friends” who accompanied +me, were drawn with the spirit of high caricature. Nor did she spare +Vaterchen or herself; they were drawn, perhaps, with a more exaggerated +satire than all the rest. +</p> +<p> +The old man no sooner comprehended the subject than he drew his hand +across it, and turned to her with words of anger and reproach. I meant, of +course, to interfere in her behalf, but it was needless; she fled, +laughing, into the garden, and before many minutes were over, we heard her +merry voice, with the tinkle of a guitar to assist it. +</p> +<p> +“There it is,” said Vaterchen, moodily. “What are you to do with a +temperament like that?” + </p> +<p> +That was a question I was in no wise prepared to answer. Tintefleck's +temperament seemed to be the very converse of my own. I was over eager to +plan out everything in life; <i>she</i> appeared to be just as impulsively +bent on risking all. +</p> +<p> +<i>My</i> head was always calculating eventualities; <i>hers</i>, it +struck me, never worried itself about difficulties till in the midst of +them. Now, Jean Paul tells us that when a man detects any exaggerated bias +in his character, instead of endeavoring, by daily watching, to correct +it, he will be far more successful if he ally himself with some one of a +diametrically opposite humor. If he be rash, for instance, let him seek +companionship with the sluggish. If his tendency bear to over-imagination, +let him frequent the society of realists. Why, therefore, should not I and +Tintefleck be mutually beneficial? Take the two different kinds of wood in +a bow: one will supply resistance, the other flexibility. It was a +pleasant notion, and I resolved to test it. +</p> +<p> +“Vaterchen,” said I, “call me to-morrow, when you get ready for the road. +I will keep you company as far as Constance.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, sir,” said he, with a sigh, “you will be well weary of us before half +the journey is over; but you shall be obeyed.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXII. I RELIEVE MYSELF OF MY PURSE +</h2> +<p> +Next morning, just as day was breaking, we set out on foot on our road to +Constance. There was a pinkish-gray streak of light on the horizon, sure +sign of a fine day, and the bright stars twinkled still in the clear +half-sombre sky, and all was calm and noiseless,—nothing to be heard +but the tramp of our own feet on the hard causeway. +</p> +<p> +With the cowardly caution of one who feels the water with his foot before +he springs in to swim, I was glad that I made my first experiences of +companionship with these humble friends while it was yet dark and none +could see us. The old leaven of snobbery was unsubdued in my heart, and, +as I turned to look at poor Vaterchen and then at the tinsel finery of +Catinka, I bethought me of the little consideration the world extends to +such as these and their belongings. “Vagabonds all!” would say some rich +banker, as he rolled by in his massive travelling-carriage, creaking with +imperials and jingling with bells. “Vagabonds all!” would mutter the Jew +pedler, as he looked down from the <i>banquette</i> of the diligence. How +slight is the sympathy of the realist for the poor creature whose +life-labor is to please! How prone to regard him as useless, or, even +worse, forgetting the while how a wiser than he has made many things in +this beautiful world of ours that they should merely minister to +enjoyment, gladden the eye and ear, and make our pilgrimage less weary! +Where would be the crimson jay, where the scarlet bustard, where the +gorgeous peacock with the nosegay on his tail, where the rose and the +honeysuckle and the purple foxglove mingling with the wild thorn in our +hedgerows, if the universe were of <i>their</i> creation, and this great +globe but one big workshop? You never insist that the daisy and the +daffodil should be pot-herbs; and why are there not to be wild flowers in +humanity as well as in the fields? Is it not a great pride to you who live +under a bell-glass, nurtured and cared for, and with your name attached to +a cleft-stick at your side,—is it not a great pride to know that you +are not like one of us poor dog-roses? Be satisfied, then, with that +glory; we only ask to live! Shame on me for that “only”! As if there could +be anything more delightful than life. Life, with all its capacities for +love and friendship and heroism and self-devotion, for generous actions +and noble aspirations! Life to feel life, to know that we are in a sphere +specially constructed for the exercise of our senses and the play of our +faculties, free to choose the road we would take, and with a glorious +reward if our choice be the right one! +</p> +<p> +“'Vagabonds!' Yes,” thought I, “there was once on a time such a vagabond, +and he strolled along from village to village, making of his flute a +livelihood,—a poor performer, too, he tells us he was, but he could +touch the hearts of these simple villagers with his tones as he could move +the hearts of thousands more learned than they with his marvellous pathos; +and this vagabond was called Oliver Goldsmith.” I have no words to say the +ecstasy this thought gave me. Many a proud traveller doubtless swept past +the poor wayfarer as he went, dusty and footsore, and who was, +nevertheless, journeying onward to a great immortality; to be a name +remembered with blessings by generations when the haughty man that scorned +him was forgotten forever. “And so now,” thought I, “some splendid Russian +or some Saxon Croesus will crash by and not be conscious that the thin and +weary-looking youth, with the girl's bundle on his stick and the red +umbrella under his arm, that this is Potts! Ay, sir, you fancy that to be +threadbare and footsore is to be vulgar-minded and ignoble, and you never +so much as suspect that the heart inside that poor plaid waistcoat is +throbbing with ambitions high as a Kaiser's, and that the brain within +that battered Jim Crow is the realm of thoughts profound as Bacon's, and +high-soaring as Milton's.” + </p> +<p> +If I make my reader a sharer in these musings of mine, it is because they +occupied me for some miles of the way. Vaterchen was not talkative, and +loved to smoke on uninterruptedly. I fancy that, in his way, he was as +great a dreamer as myself. Catinka would have talked incessantly if any +one had listened, or could understand her. As it was, she recited legends +and sang songs for herself, as happy as ever a blackbird was to listen to +his own melody; and though I paid no especial attention to her music, +still the sounds floated through all my thoughts, bathing them with a +soothing flood; just as the air we breathe is often loaded with a sweet +and perfumed breath ere we know it. On the whole, we journeyed along very +pleasantly; and what between the fresh morning air, the brisk exercise, +and the novelty of the situation, I felt in a train of spirits that made +me delighted with everything. “This, after all,” thought I, “is more like +the original plan I sketched out for myself. This is the true mode to see +life and the world. The student of nature never begins his studies with +the more complicated organizations; he sets out with what is simplest in +structure, and least intricate in function; he begins with the extreme +link of the chain; so, too, I start with the investigation of those whose +lives of petty cares and small ambitions must render them easy of +appreciation. This poor Mollusca Vaterchen, for instance,—to see is +to know him; and the girl, how absurd to connect such a guileless child of +nature as that with those stereotyped notions of feminine craft and +subtlety!” I then went on to imagine some future biographer of mine +engaged on this portion of my life, puzzled for materials, puzzled still +more to catch the clew to my meaning in it “At this time,” will he say, +“Potts, by one of those strange caprices which often were the mainspring +of his actions, resolved to lead a gypsy life. His ardent love of nature, +his heartfelt enjoyment of scenery, and, more than even these, a certain +breadth and generosity of character, disposed him to sympathize with those +who have few to pity and fewer to succor them. With these wild children of +the roadside he lived for months, joyfully sharing the burdens they +carried, and taking his part in their privations. It was here he first met +Catinka.” I stopped at this sentence, and I slowly repeated to myself, “It +was here he first met Catinka!” “What will he have next to record?” + thought I. “Is Potts now to claim sympathy as the victim of a passion that +regarded not station, nor class, nor fortune; that despised the cold +conventionalities of a selfish world, and asked only a heart for a heart? +Is he to be remembered as the faithful believer in his own theory,—Love, +above all? Are we to hear of him clasping rapturously to his bosom the +poor forlorn girl?” So intensely were my feelings engaged in my +speculations, that, at this critical pass, I threw my arms around +Catinka's neck, and kissed her. A rebuke, not very cruel, not in the least +angry or peevish, brought me quickly to myself; and as Vaterchen was +fortunately in front and saw nothing of what passed, I speedily made my +peace. I do not know how it happened, but in that same peace-making I had +passed my arm round her waist, and there it remained,—an army of +occupation after the treaty was signed,—and we went along, side by +side, very amicably, very happily. +</p> +<p> +We are often told that a small competence—the just enough to live on—is +the bane of all enterprise; that men thus placed are removed from the +stimulus of necessity, and yet not lifted into the higher atmosphere of +ambitions. Exactly in the same way do I believe that equality is the grave +of love. The passion thrives on difficulty, and requires sacrifice. You +must bid defiance to mankind in your choice, or you are a mere +fortune-hunter. Show the world the blushing peasant-girl you have made +your wife, and say, “Yes, I have had courage to do this.” Or else strive +for a princess,—a Russian princess. Better, far better, however, the +humble-hearted child of nature and the fields, the simple, trusting, +confiding girl, who, regarding her lover as a sort of demi-god, would, +while she clung to him— +</p> +<p> +“You press me so hard!” murmured Catinka, half rebukingly, but with a sort +of pouting expression that became her marvellously. +</p> +<p> +“I was thinking of something that interested me, dearest,” said I; but I +'m not sure that I made my meaning very clear to her, and yet there was a +roguish look in her black eye that puzzled me greatly. I began to like +her, or, if you prefer the phrase, to fall in love with her. I knew it—I +felt it just the way that a man who has once had the ague never mistakes +when he is going to have a return of the fever. In the same way exactly, +did I recognize all the premonitory symptoms,—the giddiness, the +shivering, increased action of the heart—Halt, Potts! and reflect a +bit; are you describing love, or a tertian? +</p> +<p> +How will the biographer conduct himself here? Whether will he have to say, +“Potts resisted manfully this fatal attachment; had he yielded to the +seductions of this early passion, it is more than probable we would never +have seen him this, that, and t' other, nor would the world have been +enriched with—Heaven knows what;” or shall he record, “Potts loved +her, loved her as only such a nature as his ever loves! He felt keenly +that, in a mere worldly point of view, he must sacrifice; but it was +exactly in that love and that sacrifice was born the poet, the wondrous +child of song, who has given us the most glorious lyrics of our language. +He had the manliness to share his fortune with this poor girl. * It was,' +he tells us of himself, in one of those little touching passages in his +diary, which place him immeasurably above the mock sentimentality of Jean +Jacques,—'it was on the road to Constance, of a bright and breezy +summer morning, that I told her of my love. We were walking along, our +arms around each other, as might two happy, guileless children. I was very +young in what is called the world, but I had a boundless confidence in +myself; my theory was, “If I be strengthened by the deep devotion of one +loving heart, I have no fears of failure.”' Beautiful words, and worthy of +all memory! And then he goes on: 'I drew her gently over to a grassy bench +on the roadside, and, taking my purse from my pocket, poured out before +her its humble contents, in all something less than twenty sovereigns, but +to her eyes a very Pactolus of wealth.'” + </p> +<p> +“What if I were to try this experiment?” thought I; “what if I were, so to +say, to anticipate my own biography?” The notion pleased me much. There +was something novel in it, too. It was making the experiment in the <i>carpore +vili</i> of accident, to see what might come of it. +</p> +<p> +“Come here, Catinka,” said I, pointing to a moss-covered rock at the +roadside, with a little well at its base,—“come here, and let me +have a drink of this nice clear water.” + </p> +<p> +She assented with a smile and a nod, detaching at the same time a little +cup from the flask she wore at her side, in <i>vivandière</i> fashion. +“And we 'll fill my flask too,” said she, showing that it was empty. With +a sort of childish glee she now knelt beside the stream, and washed the +cup. What is it, I wonder, that gives the charm to running water, and +imparts a sort of glad feeling to its contemplation? Is it that its +ceaseless flow suggests that “forever” which contrasts so powerfully with +all short-lived pleasures? I cannot tell, but I was still musing over the +difficulty, when, having twice offered me the cup without my noticing it, +she at last raised it to my lips. And I drank,—oh, what a draught it +was! so clear, so cold, so pure; and all the time my eyes were resting on +hers, looking, as it were, into another well, the deepest and most +unfathomable of all. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down here beside me on this stone, Catinka, and help me to count +these pieces of money; they have got so mingled together that I scarcely +know what is left me.” She seemed delighted with the project, and sat down +at once; and I, throwing myself at her feet, poured the contents of my +purse into her lap. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Madonna mia!</i>” was all she could utter as she beheld the gold. +Aladdin in the cave never felt a more overwhelming rapture than did she at +sight of these immense riches. “But where did it come from?” cried she, +wildly. “Have you got mines of gold and silver? Have you got gems, too,—rubies +and pearls? Oh, say if there be pearls; I love them so? And are you really +a great prince, the son of a king; and are you wandering the world this +way to seek adventures, or in search, mayhap, of that lovely princess you +are in love with?” With wildest impetuosity she asked these and a hundred +other questions, for it was only now and then that I could trace her +meaning, which expressive pantomime did much to explain. +</p> +<p> +I tried to convince her that what she deemed a treasure was a mere +pittance, which a week or two would exhaust; that I was no prince, nor had +I a kingly father; “and last of all,” said I, “I am not in pursuit of a +princess. But I 'll tell you what I am in search of, Catinka,—one +trusting, faithful, loving heart; one that will so unite itself to mine as +to have no joys or sorrows or cares but mine; one content to go wherever I +go, live however I live, and no matter what my faults may be, or how +meanly others think of me, will ever regard me with eyes of love and +devotion.” + </p> +<p> +I had held her hand while I uttered this, gazing up into her eyes with +ecstasy, for I saw how their liquid depth appeared to move as though about +to overflow, when at last she spoke, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“And there are no pearls!” + </p> +<p> +“Poor child!” thought I, “she cannot understand one word I have been +saying. Listen to me, Catinka,” said I, with a slow utterance. “Would you +give me your heart for all this treasure?” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Si, si!</i>” cried she, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“And love me always,—forever?” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Si</i>,” said she, again; but I fancied with less of energy than +before. +</p> +<p> +“And when it was spent and gone, and nothing remaining of it, what would +you do?” + </p> +<p> +“Send you to gather more, <i>mio caro</i>,” said she, pressing my hand to +her lips, as though in earnest of the blandishments she would bestow upon +me. +</p> +<p> +Now, I cannot affect to say that all this was very reassuring. This poor +simple child of the mountains showed a spirit as sordid and as calculating +as though she were baptized in May Fair. It was a terrible shock to me to +see this; a dire overthrow to a very fine edifice that I was just putting +the roof on! “Would Kate Herbert have made me such a speech?” thought I. +“Would she have declared herself so venal and so worldly?—and why +not? May it not be, perhaps, simply that a mere question of good-breeding, +the usages of a polite world, might have made all the difference, and that +she would have felt what poor Catinka felt and owned to? If this were +true, the advantages were all on the side of sincerity. With honesty as +the basis, what may not one build up of character? Where there is candor +there are at least no disappointments. This poor simple child, untutored +in the wiles of a scheming world, where all is false, unreal, and +deceptive, has the courage to say that her heart can be bought. She is +ready in her innocence, too, to sell it, just as the Indians sell a great +territory for a few glass beads or bright buttons. And why should not I +make the acquisition in the very spirit of a new settler? It was I +discovered this lone island of the sea; it was I first landed on this +unknown shore; why not claim a sovereignty so cheaply established?” I put +the question arithmetically before me: Given, a young girl, totally new to +life and its seductions, deeply impressed with the value of wealth, to +find the measure of venality in a well-brought-up young lady, educated at +Clapham, and finished at Boulogne-sur-Mer. I expressed it thus: D-y=T+a?, +or an unknown quantity. +</p> +<p> +“What strange marks are you drawing there?” cried she, as I made these +figures on the slate. +</p> +<p> +“A caprice,” said I, in some confusion. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said she; “I know better. It was a charm. Tell truth,—it was a +charm.” + </p> +<p> +“A charm, dearest; but for what?” + </p> +<p> +“<i>I</i> know,” said she, shaking her head and laughing, with a sort of +wicked drollery. +</p> +<p> +“<i>You</i> know! Impossible, child.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” she said with great gravity, while she swept her hand, across the +slate and erased all the figures. “Yes <i>I</i> know, and I 'll not permit +it.” + </p> +<p> +“But what, in Heaven's name, is trotting through your head, Catinka? You +have not the vaguest idea of what those signs meant.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” she said, even more solemnly than before. “I know it all. You mean +to steal away my heart in spite of me, and you are going to do it with a +charm.” + </p> +<p> +“And what success shall I have, Catinka?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, do not ask me,” said she, in a tone of touching misery. “I feel it +very sore here.” And she pressed her hand to her side. “Ah me,” sighed +she, “if there were only pearls!” + </p> +<p> +The ecstasy her first few words gave me was terribly routed by this vile +conclusion, and I started abruptly, and in an angry voice, said, “Let us +go on; Vaterchen will fear we are lost.” + </p> +<p> +“And all this gold; what shall I do with it?” cried she. +</p> +<p> +“What you will. Throw it into the well if you like,” said I, angrily; for +in good sooth I was out of temper with her and myself and all mankind. +</p> +<p> +“Nay,” said she, mildly, “it is yours; but I will carry it for you if it +weary you.” + </p> +<p> +I might have felt rebuked by the submissive gentleness of her words; +indeed, I know not how it was that they did not so move me, and I walked +on in front of her, heedless of her entreaties that I should wait till she +came up beside me. +</p> +<p> +When she did join me, she wanted to talk immensely. She had all manner of +questions to ask about where my treasure came from; how often I went back +there to replenish it; was I quite sure that it could never, never be +exhausted, and such-like? But I was in no gracious mood for such +inquiries, and, telling her that I wished to follow my own thoughts +without interruption, I walked along in silence. +</p> +<p> +I cannot tell the weight I felt at my heart I am not speaking +figuratively. No; it was exactly as though a great mass of heavy metal +filled my chest, forced out my ribs, and pressed down my diaphragm; and +though I held my hands to my sides with all my force, the pressure still +remained. +</p> +<p> +“What a bitter mockery it is,” thought I, “if the only false thing in all +the world should be the human heart! There are diamonds that will resist +fire, gold that will stand the crucible; but the moment you come to man +and his affections, all is hollow and illusory!” + </p> +<p> +Why do we give the name worldliness to traits of selfish advancement and +sordid gain, when a young creature like this, estranged from all the +commerce of mankind, who knows nothing of that bargain-and-barter system +which we call civilization, reared and nurtured like a young fawn in her +native woods, should, as though by a very instinct of corruption, have a +heart as venal as any hackneyed beauty of three London seasons? +</p> +<p> +Let no man tell me now, that it is our vicious system of female training, +our false social organization, our spurious morality, laxity of family +ties, and the rest of it. I am firmly persuaded that a young squaw of the +Choctaws has as many anxieties about her <i>parti</i> as any belle of +Belgravia, even though the settlements be only paid in sharks' teeth and +human toupees. +</p> +<p> +And what an absurdity is our whole code on this subject! A man is actually +expected to court, solicit, and even worship the object that he is after +all called upon to pay for. You do not smirk at the salmon in your +fishmonger's window, or ogle the lamb at your butcher's; you go in boldly +and say, “How much the pound?” If you sighed outside for a week, you 'd +get it never the cheaper. Why not then make an honest market of what is so +salable? What a saving of time to know that the splendid creature yonder, +with the queenly air, can only be had at ten thousand a year, but that the +spicy article with the black ringlets will go for two! Instead of all the +heart-burnings and blank disappointments we see now, we should have a +practical, contented generation; and in the same spirit that a man of +moderate fortune turns away from the seductions of turtle and whitebait, +while he orders home his mutton chop, he would avert his gaze from beauty, +and fix his affections on the dumpy woman that can be “got a bargain.” + </p> +<p> +Why did not the poet say, Venality, thy name is Woman? It would suit the +prosody about as well, and the purpose better. The Turks are our masters +in all this; they are centuries—whole centuries in advance of us. +How I wish some Babbage would make a calculation of the hours, weeks, +years, centuries of time, are lost in what is called love-making! Time, we +are told, is money; and here, at once, is the fund to pay off our national +debt. Take the “time that's lost in wooing” by a nation, say of +twenty-eight or thirty millions, and at the cheapest rate of labor—take +the prison rate if you like—and see if I be not right. Let the +population who now heave sighs pound oyster-shells, let those who pick +quarrels pick oakum, and we need no income-tax! +</p> +<p> +“I'll not sing any more,” broke in Catinka. “I don't think you have been +listening to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Listening to you!” said I, contemptuously; “certainly not. When I want a +siren, I take a pit ticket and go to the opera; seven-and-sixpence is the +price of Circe, and dear at the money.” With this rude rebuff I waved her +off, and walked along once more alone. +</p> +<p> +At a sudden bend in the road we found Vaterchen seated under a tree +waiting for us, and evidently not a little uneasy at our long absence. +</p> +<p> +“What is this?” said he, angrily, to Catinka. “Why have you remained so +long behind?” + </p> +<p> +“We sat down to rest at a well,” said she, “and then he took out a great +bag of money to count, and there was so much in it, so many pieces of +bright gold, that one could not help turning them over and over, and +gazing at them.” + </p> +<p> +“And worshipping them too, girl!” cried he, indignantly, while he turned +on me a look of sorrow and reproach. I returned his stare haughtily, and +he arose and drew me to one side. +</p> +<p> +“Am I, then, once more mistaken in my judgment of men? Have <i>you</i>, +too, duped me?” said he, in a voice that shook with agitation. “Was it for +this you offered us the solace of your companionship? Was it for this you +condescended to journey with us, and deigned to be our host and +entertainer?” + </p> +<p> +The appeal came at an evil moment: a vile, contemptible scepticism was at +work within me. The rasp and file of doubt were eating away at my heart, +and I deemed “all men liars.” + </p> +<p> +“And is it to me—Potts—you address such words as these, you +consummate old humbug? What is there about me that denotes dupe or fool?” + </p> +<p> +The old man shook his head, and made a gesture to imply he had not +understood me; and now I remembered that I had uttered this rude speech in +English, and not in German. With the memory of this fact came also the +consciousness of its cruel meaning. What if I should have wronged him? +What if the poor old fellow be honest and upright? What if he be really +striving to keep this girl in the path of virtue? I came close to him, and +fixed my eyes steadfastly on his face. He looked at me fearlessly, as an +honest man might look. He never tried to turn away, nor did he make the +slightest effort to evade me. He seemed to understand all the import of my +scrutiny, for he said, at last,— +</p> +<p> +“Well, are you satisfied?” + </p> +<p> +“I am, Vaterchen,” said I, “fully satisfied. Let us be friends.” And I +took his hand and shook it heartily. +</p> +<p> +“You think me honest?” asked he. +</p> +<p> +“I do think so.” + </p> +<p> +“And I am not more honest than she is. No,” said he, resolutely, +“Tintefleck is true-hearted.” + </p> +<p> +“What of <i>me?</i>” cried she, coming up and leaning her arm on the old +man's shoulder,—“what of <i>me?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“I have said that you are honest, and would not deceive!” + </p> +<p> +“Not <i>you</i>, Vaterchen,—not <i>you</i>,” said she, kissing him. +And then, as she turned away, she gave me a look so full of meaning, and +so strange, withal, that if I were to speak for an hour I could not +explain it. It seemed to mean sorrow and reproach and wounded pride, with +a dash of pity, and above all and everything, defiance; ay, that was its +chief character, and I believe I winced under it. +</p> +<p> +“Let us step out briskly,” said Vaterchen. “Constance is a good eleven +miles off yet.” + </p> +<p> +“He looks tired already,” said she, with a glance at me. +</p> +<p> +“I? I'm as fresh as when I started,” said I. And I made an effort to +appear brisk and lively, which only ended in making them laugh heartily. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIII. MY ELOQUENCE BEFORE THE CONSTANCE MAGISTRATES. +</h2> +<p> +Respectable reader, there is no use in asking you if you have ever been in +the Hotel of the “Balance,” at Constance. Of course you have not. It is +neither recorded in the book of John, nor otherwise known to fame. It is +an obscure hostel, only visited by the very humblest wayfarers, and such +poor offshoots of wretchedness as are fain to sleep on a truckle-bed and +sup meanly. Vaterchen, however, spoke of it in generous terms. There was a +certain oniony soup he had tasted there years ago whose flavor had not yet +left his memory. He had seen, besides, the most delicious <i>schweine +fleiseh</i> hanging down from the kitchen rafters, and it had been +revealed to him in a dream that a solvent traveller might have rashers on +demand. +</p> +<p> +Poor fellow! I had not the vaguest idea of the eloquence he possessed till +he came to talk on these matters. From modest and distrustful, he grew +assured and confident; his hesitation of speech was replaced by a fluent +utterance and a rich vocabulary; and he repeatedly declared that though +the exterior was unprepossessing, and the surface generally homely, there +were substantial comforts obtainable which far surpassed the resources of +more pretentious houses. “You are served on pewter, it is true,” said he; +“but pewter is a rare material to impart relish to a savory mess.” Though +we should dine in the kitchen, he gave me to understand that even in this +there were advantages, and that the polite guest of the <i>salon</i> never +knew what it was to taste that rich odor of the “roast,” or that fragrant +incense that steamed up from the luscious stew, and which were to cookery +what bouquet was to wine. +</p> +<p> +“I will not say that, honored sir,” continued he, “to you, in the mixed +company which frequent such humble hearths there would be matter of +interest and amusement; but, to a man like myself, these chance +companionships are delightful. Here all are stragglers, all adventurers. +Not a man that deposits his pack in the corner and draws in his chair to +the circle but is a wanderer and a pilgrim of one sort or other.” He drew +me an amusing picture of one of these groups, wherein, even without +telling his story, each gave such insight into his life and travels as to +present a sort of drama. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was that my companion had drawn too freely on his imagination, +or that we had fallen on an unfortunate moment, I cannot say; but, though +we found the company at the “Balance” numerous and varied, there was none +of the sociality I looked for, still less of that generous warmth and good +greeting which he assured me was the courtesy of such places. The men were +chiefly carriers, with their mule-teams and heavy wagons, bound for the +Bavarian Tyrol. There was a sprinkling of Jew pedlers, on their way to the +Vorarlberg; a deserter from the Austrian army, trying to get back to Hesse +Cassel; and an Italian image carrier, with a green parrot and a +well-filled purse, going back to finish his days at Lucca. +</p> +<p> +Now none of these were elements of a very exalted or exclusive rank; they +were each and all of them taken from the very base of the social pyramid; +and yet, would it be believed that they regarded our entrance amongst them +as an act of rare impudence! +</p> +<p> +A more polished company might have been satisfied with averted heads or +cold looks; these were less equivocal. One called out to the landlord to +know if he expected any gypsies; another, affecting to treat us as +solicitors for their patronage, said he had no “batzen” to bestow on +buffoonery; a third suggested we should get up our theatricals under the +cart-shed outside, and beat the drum when we were ready; and the deserter, +a poor weak-looking, mangy wretch with a ragged fatigue-jacket and broken +boots, put his arm round Catinka's waist, to draw her on his knee, for the +which she dealt him such a slap on the face as fairly sent him on the +floor, in which ignoble position. +</p> +<p> +Vaterchen kicked him again and again. In an instant all were upon us. +Carters, pedlers, and image men assailed us furiously. I suppose I beat +somebody; I know that several beat <i>me</i>. The impression left upon me +when all was over was of a sort of human kaleidoscope, where the people +turned every way without ceasing. Now we seemed all on our feet, now on +our heads, now on the floor, now in the air, Vaterchen flying about like a +demon, while Tinte-, fleck stood in a corner, with a gleaming stiletto in +hand, saying something in Calabrian, which sounded like an invitation to +come and be killed. +</p> +<p> +The police came at last; and, after a noisy scene of accusation and +denial, the weight of evidence went against us, and we were marched off to +prison, poor old Vaterchen crying like a child, for all the disgrace and +misery he had brought on his benefactor: and while he kissed my hand, +swearing that a whole life's devotion would not be enough to recompense me +for what he had been the means of inflicting on me, Catinka took it more +easily, her chief regret apparently being, that nobody came near enough to +give her a chance with her knife, which she assured us she wielded with a +notable skill, and could, with a jerk, send flying through a door, like a +javelin, at full six paces' distance; nor, indeed, was it without +considerable persuasion she could be induced to restore it to its sheath, +which truth obliges me to own was inside her garter. Our prison, an old +tower adjoining the lake, had been once the dungeon of. John Huss, and the +torture chamber, as it was still called, continued to be used for mild +transgressors, such as we were. A small bribe induced the jailer's wife to +take poor Tintefleck for the night into her own quarters, and Vaterchen +and I were sole possessors of the gloomy old hall, which opened by a +balcony, railed like a sort of cage, over the lake. +</p> +<p> +If the torture chamber had been denuded of its flesh pincers and +thumb-screws, and the other ingenious devices of human cruelty, I am bound +to own that its traditions as a place of suffering had not died out, as +the fleas left nothing to be desired on the score of misery. Whether it +was that they had been pinched by a long fast, or that we were more +tender, cutaneously, than the aborigines, I know not, but I can safely +aver that I never passed such a night, and sincerely trust that I may +never pass such another. Though the air from the lake was cold and chilly, +we preferred to crouch on the balcony to remaining within the walls; but +even here our persecutors followed us. +</p> +<p> +Vaterchen slept through it all; an occasional convulsive jerk would show, +at times, when one of the enemy had chanced upon some nervous fibre; but, +on the whole, he bore up like one used to such martyrdom, and able to +brave it. As for me, when morning broke, I looked like a strong case of +confluent smallpox, with the addition that my heavy eyelids nearly closed +over my eyes, and my lips swelled out like a Kaffir's. How that young +minx, Catinka, laughed at me. All the old man's signs, warnings, menaces, +were in vain; she screamed aloud with laughter, and never ceased, even as +we were led into the tribunal and before the dread presence of the judge. +</p> +<p> +The judgment-seat was not imposing. It was a long, low, ill-lighted +chamber, with a sort of raised counter at one end, behind which sat three +elderly men, dressed like master sweeps,—that is, of the old days of +climbing-boys. The prisoners were confined in a thing like a fold, and +there leaned against one end of the same pen as ourselves, a square-built, +thick-set man of about eight-and-forty, or fifty, dressed in a suit of +coarse drab, and whom, notwithstanding an immense red beard and moustache, +a clear blue eye and broad brow proclaimed to be English. He was being +interrogated as we entered, but from his total ignorance of German the +examination was not proceeding very glibly. +</p> +<p> +“You 're an Englishman, ain't you?” cried he, as I came in. “You can speak +High Dutch, perhaps?” + </p> +<p> +“I can speak German well enough to be intelligible, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“All right,” said he, in the same free-and-easy tone. “Will you explain to +those old beggars there that they 're making fools of themselves. Here's +how it is. My passport was made out for two; for Thomas Harpar, that's me, +and Sam Bigges. Now, because Sam Rigges ain't here, they tell me I can't +be suffered to proceed. Ain't that stupid? Did you ever hear the like of +that for downright absurdity before?” + </p> +<p> +“But where is he?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I don't mind telling you, because you 're a countryman; but I don't +like blackening an Englishman to one of those confounded foreigners. +Rigges has run.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean by 'run'?” + </p> +<p> +“I mean, cut his stick; gone clean away; and what's worse, too, carried +off a stout bag of dollars with him that we had for our journey.” + </p> +<p> +“Whither were you going?” + </p> +<p> +“That's neither here nor there, and don't concern you in any respect What +you 've to do is, explain to the old cove yonder,—the fellow in the +middle is the worst of them,—tell him it's all right, that I 'm +Harpar, and that the other ain't here; or, look here, I 'll tell you +what's better, do you be Rigges, and it's all right.” + </p> +<p> +I demurred flatly to this suggestion, but undertook to plead his cause on +its true merits. +</p> +<p> +“And who are you, sir, that presume to play the advocate here?” said the +judge, haughtily. “I fancied that you stood there to answer a charge +against yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“That matter may be very easily disposed of, sir,” said I, as proudly; +“and you will be very fortunate if you succeed as readily in explaining +your own illegal arrest of me to the higher court of your country.” + </p> +<p> +With the eloquence which we are told essentially belongs to truth, I +narrated how I had witnessed, as a mere passing traveller, the outrageous +insult offered to these poor wanderers as they entered the inn. With the +warm enthusiasm of one inspired by a good cause, I painted the whole +incident with really scarcely a touch of embellishment, reserving the only +decorative portion to a description of myself, whom I mentioned as an +agent of the British government, especially employed on a peculiar +service, the confirmation of which I proudly established by my passport +setting forth that I was a certain “Ponto, Chargé des Dépêches.” + </p> +<p> +Now if there be one feature of continental life fixed and immutable, it is +this: that wherever the German language be spoken, the reverence for a +government functionary is supreme. If you can only show on documentary +evidence that you are grandson of the man who made the broom that swept +out a government office, it is enough. You are from that hour regarded as +one of the younger children of Bureaucracy. You are under the protection +of the state, and though you be but the smallest rivet in the machinery, +there is no saying what mischief might not ensue if you were either lost +or mislaid. +</p> +<p> +I saw in an instant the dread impression I had created, and I said, in a +voice of careless insolence, “Go on, I beg of you; send me back to prison; +chain me; perhaps you would like to torture me? The government I represent +is especially slow in vindicating the rights of its injured officials. It +has a European reputation for long-suffering, patience, and forbearance. +Yes, Englishmen can be impaled, burned, flayed alive, disembowelled. By +all means, avail yourselves of your bland privileges; have me led out +instantly to the scaffold, unless you prefer to have me broken on the +wheel!” + </p> +<p> +“Will nobody stop him!” cried the president, almost choking with wrath. +</p> +<p> +“Stop me; I suspect not, sir. It is upon these declarations of mine, made +thus openly, that my country will found that demand for reparation which +will one day cost you so dearly. Lead on, I am ready for the block.” And +as I said this, I untied my cravat, and appeared to prepare for the +headsman. +</p> +<p> +“If he will not cease, the court shall be dissolved,” called out the +judge. +</p> +<p> +“Never, sir. Never, so long as I live, shall I surrender the glorious +privileges of that freedom by which I assert my birthright as a Briton.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you are as impudent a chap as ever I listened to,” muttered my +countryman at my side. +</p> +<p> +“The prisoners are dismissed, the court is adjourned,” said the president, +rising; and amidst a very disorderly crowd, not certainly enthusiastic in +our favor, we were all hurried into the street. +</p> +<p> +“Come along down here,” said Mr. Harpar. “I 'm in a very tidy sort of +place they call the 'Golden Pig.' Come along, and bring the vagabonds, and +let's have breakfast together.” + </p> +<p> +I was hurt at the speech; but as my companions could not understand its +coarseness, I accepted the invitation, and we followed him. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I ain't seen <i>your</i> like for many a day,” said Harpar, as we +went along. “If you 'd have said the half of that to one of our 'Beaks,' I +think I know where you 'd be. But you seem to understand the fellows well. +Mayhap you have lived much abroad?” + </p> +<p> +“A great deal. I am a sort of citizen of the world,” said I, with a jaunty +easiness. +</p> +<p> +“For a citizen of the world you appear to have strange tastes in your +companionship. How did you come to forgather with these creatures?” + </p> +<p> +I tried the timeworn cant about seeing life in all its gradations,—exploring +the cabin as well as visiting the palace, and so on; but there was a +rugged sort of incredulity in his manner that checked me, and I could not +muster the glib rudeness which usually stood by me on such occasions. +</p> +<p> +“You 're not a man of fortune,” said he, dryly, as I finished; “one sees +that plainly enough. You 're a fellow that should be earning his bread +somehow; and the question is,—Is this the kind of life that you +ought to be leading? What humbug it is to talk about knowing the world and +such-like. The thing is, to know a trade, to understand some art, to be +able to produce something, to manufacture something, to convert something +to a useful purpose. When you 've done that, the knowledge of men will +come later on, never be afraid of that. It's a school that we never miss +one single day of our lives. But here we are; this is the 'Pig.' Now, what +will you have for breakfast? Ask the vagabonds, too, and tell them there's +a wide choice here; they have everything you can mention in this little +inn.” + </p> +<p> +An excellent breakfast was soon spread out before us, and though my humble +companions did it the most ample justice, I sat there, thoughtful and +almost sad. The words of that stranger rang in my ears like a reproach and +a warning. I knew how truly he had said that I was not a man of fortune, +and it grieved me sorely to think how easily he saw it. In my heart of +hearts I knew it was the delusion I loved best To appear to the world at +large an eccentric man of good means, free to do what he liked and go +where he would, was the highest enjoyment I had ever prepared for myself; +and yet here was a coarse, commonplace sort of man,—at least, his +manners were unpolished and his tone underbred,—and he saw through +it all at once. +</p> +<p> +I took the first opportunity to slip away unobserved from the company, and +retired to the little garden of the inn, to commune with myself and be +alone. But ere I had been many minutes there, Harpar joined me. He came up +smoking his cigar, with the lounging, lazy air of a man at perfect +leisure, and, consequently, quite free to be as disagreeable as he +pleased. +</p> +<p> +“You went off without eating your breakfast,” said he, bluntly. “I saw how +it was. You did n't like <i>my</i> freedom with you. You fancied that I +ought to have taken all that nonsense of yours about your rank and your +way of life for gospel; or, at least, that I ought to have pretended to do +so. That ain't my way. I hate humbug.” + </p> +<p> +It was not very easy to reply good humoredly to such a speech as this. +Indeed, I saw no particular reason to treat this man's freedom with any +indulgence, and drawing myself haughtily up, I prepared a very dry but +caustic rejoinder. +</p> +<p> +“When I have learned two points,” said I, “on which you can inform me, I +may be better able to answer what you have said. The first is: By what +possible right do you take to task a person that you never met in your +life till now? and, secondly, What benefit on earth could it be to me to +impose upon a man from whom I neither want nor expect anything?” + </p> +<p> +“Easily met, both,” said he, quickly. “I'm a practical sort of fellow, who +never wastes time on useless materials; that's for your first proposition. +Number two: you're a dreamer, and you hate being awakened.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir,” said I, stiffly, “to a gentleman so remarkable for +perspicuity, and who reads character at sight, ordinary intercourse must +be wearisome. Will you excuse me if I take my leave of you here?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, make no ceremony about it; go or stay, Just as you like. I +never cross any man's humor.” + </p> +<p> +I muttered something that sounded like a dissent to that doctrine, and he +quickly added, “I mean, further than speaking my mind, that 's all; +nothing more. If you had been a man of fair means, and for a frolic +thought it might be good fun to consort for a few days with rapscallions +of a travelling circus, all one could say was, it was n't very good taste; +but being, evidently, a fellow of another stamp, a young man who ought to +be in his father's shop or his uncle's counting-house, following some +honest craft or calling,—for <i>you</i>, I say, it was downright +ruin.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, with an accent of intense scorn. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” continued he, seriously, “downright ruin, There's a poison in the +lazy, good-for-nothing life of these devils, that never leaves a man's +blood. I 've a notion that it would n't hurt a man's nature so much were +he to consort with housebreakers; there's, at least, something real about +these fellows.” + </p> +<p> +“You talk, doubtless, with knowledge, sir,” said I, glad to say something +that might offend him. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” said he, seriously, and not taking the smallest account of the +impertinent allusion. “I know that if a man has n't a fixed calling, but +is always turning his hand to this, that, and t' other, he will very soon +cease to have any character whatsoever; he 'll just become as shifty in +his nature as in his business. I 've seen scores of fellows wrecked on +that rock, and I had n't looked at you twice till I saw you were one of +them.” + </p> +<p> +“I must say, sir,” said I, summoning to my aid what I felt to be a most +cutting sarcasm of manner,—“I must say, sir, that, considering how +short has been the acquaintance which has subsisted between us, it would +be extremely difficult for me to show how gratefully I feel the interest +you have taken in me.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I 'm not so sure of that,” said he, thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, then, how?” + </p> +<p> +“Are you sure, first of all, that you wish to show this gratitude you +speak of?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, sir, can you possibly doubt it?” + </p> +<p> +“I don't want to doubt it, I want to profit by it.” + </p> +<p> +I made a bland bow that might mean anything, but did not speak. +</p> +<p> +“Here's the way of it,” said he, boldly. “Rigges has run off with all my +loose cash, and though there 's money waiting for me at certain places, I +shall find it very difficult to reach them. I have come down here on foot +from Wild-bad, and I can make my way in the same fashion, to Marseilles or +Genoa; but then comes the difficulty, and I shall need about ten pounds to +get to Malta. Could you lend me ten pounds?” + </p> +<p> +“Really, sir,” said I, coolly, “I am amazed at the innocence with which +you can make such a demand on the man whom you have, only a few minutes +back, so acutely depicted as an adventurer.” + </p> +<p> +“It was for that very reason I thought of applying to you. Had you been a +young fellow of a certain fortune, you 'd naturally have been a stranger +to the accidents which now and then leave men penniless in out-of-the-way +places, and it is just as likely that the first thought in your head would +be, 'Oh, he's a swindler. Why has n't he his letters of credit or his +circular notes?' But, being exactly what I take you for, the chances are, +you 'll say: 'What has befallen <i>him</i> to-day may chance to <i>me</i> +to-morrow. Who can tell the day and the hour some mishap may not overtake +him? and so I 'll just help him through it.'” + </p> +<p> +“And that was your calculation?” + </p> +<p> +“That was my calculation.” + </p> +<p> +“How sorry I feel to wound the marvellous gift you seem to possess of +interpreting character. I am really shocked to think that for this time, +at least, your acuteness is at fault.” + </p> +<p> +“Which means that you 'll not do it.” + </p> +<p> +I smiled a benign assent. +</p> +<p> +He looked at me for a minute or more with a sort of blank incredulity, and +then, crossing his arms on his breast, moved slowly down the walk without +speaking. +</p> +<p> +I cannot say how I detested this man; he had offended me in the very +sorest part of all my nature; he had wounded the nicest susceptibility I +possessed; of the pleasant fancies wherewith I loved to clothe myself he +would not leave me enough to cover my nakedness; and yet, now that I had +resented his cool impertinence, I hated myself far more than I hated him. +Dignity and sarcasm, forsooth! What a fine opportunity to display them, +truly! The man might be rude and underbred; he <i>was</i> rude and +underbred! and was that any justification for <i>my</i> conduct towards +him? Why had I not had the candor to say, “Here 's all I possess in the +world; you see yourself that I cannot lend you ten pounds.” How I wished I +had said that, and how I wished, even more ardently still, that I had +never met him, never interchanged speech with him! +</p> +<p> +“And why is it that I am offended with him,—simply because he has +discovered that I am Potts?” Now, these reflections were all the more +bitter, since it was only twenty-four hours before that I had resolved to +throw off delusion either of myself or others; that I would take my place +in the ranks, and fight out my battle of life a mere soldier. For this it +was that I made companionship with Vaterehen, walking the high road with +that poor old man of motley, and actually speculating—in a sort of +artistic way—whether I should not make love to Tintefleck! And if I +were sincere in all this, how should I feel wounded by the honest candor +of that plain-spoken fellow. He wanted a favor at my hands, he owned this; +and yet, instead of approaching me with flattery, he at once assails the +very stronghold of my self-esteem, and says, “No humbug, Potts; at least +none with <i>me!</i>” He opens acquaintance with me on that masonic +principle by which the brotherhood of Poverty is maintained throughout all +lands and all peoples, and whose great maxim is, “He who lends to the poor +man borrows from the ragged man.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll go after him at once,” said I, aloud. “I 'll have more talk with +him. I 'm much mistaken if there's not good stuff in that rugged nature.” + </p> +<p> +When I entered the little inn, I found Vaterehen fast asleep; he had +finished off every flask on the table, and lay breathing stertorously, and +giving a long-drawn whistle in his snore, that smacked almost of apoplexy. +Tintefleck was singing to her guitar before a select audience of the inn +servants, and Harpar was gone! +</p> +<p> +I gave the girl a glance of rebuke and displeasure. I aroused the old man +with a kick, and imperiously demanded my bill. +</p> +<p> +“The bill has been paid by the other stranger,” said the landlord; “he has +settled everything, and left a <i>trinkgeld</i> for the servants, so that +you have nothing to pay.” + </p> +<p> +I could have almost cried with spite as I heard these words. It would have +been a rare solace to my feelings if I could have put that man down for a +rogue, and then been able to say to myself, how cleverly I had escaped the +snares of a swindler. But to know now that he was not only honest but +liberal, and to think, besides, that I had been his guest,—eaten of +his salt,—it was more than I well could endure. +</p> +<p> +“Which way did he take?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“Round the head of the lake for Lindao. I told him that the steamer would +take him there to-morrow for a trifle, but he would not wait.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah me!” sighed Vaterchen, but half awake, and with one eye still closed, +“and we are going to St. Gallen.” + </p> +<p> +“Who said so?” cried I, imperiously. “We are going to Lindao; at least, if +I be the person who gives orders here. Follow!” And as I spoke I marched +proudly on, while a slip-shod, shuffling noise of feet, and a low, +half-smothered sob told me that they were coming after me. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIV. A SUMPTUOUS DINNER AND AN EMPTY POCKET +</h2> +<p> +Mr poor companions had but a sorry time of it on that morning. I was in a +fearful temper, and made no effort to control it. The little romance of my +meeting with these creatures was beginning to scale off, and, there +beneath, lay the vulgar metal of their natures exposed to view. As for old +Vaterchen, shuffling along in his tattered shoes, half-stupid with wine +and shame together, I could n't bear to look at him; while Tintefleck, +although at the outset abashed by my rebukeful tone and cold manner, had +now rallied, and seemed well disposed to assert her own against all +comers. Yes, there' was a palpable air of defiance about her, even to the +way that she sang as she went along; every thrill and cadence seemed to +say, “I 'm doing this to amuse myself; never imagine that I care whether +you are pleased or not.” Indeed, she left me no means of avoiding this +conclusion, since at every time that I turned on her a look of anger or +displeasure, her reply was to sing the louder. +</p> +<p> +“And it was only yesterday,” thought I, “and I dreamed that I could be in +love with this creature,—dreamed that I could replace Kate Herbert's +image in my heart with that coarse travesty of woman's gentleness. Why, I +might as well hope to make a gentleman of old Vaterchen, and present him +to the world as a man of station and eminence.” + </p> +<p> +What an insane hope was this! As well might I shiver a fragment from a +stone on the road-side, and think to give it value by having it set as a +ring. The caprice of keeping them company for a day might be pardonable. +It was the whim of one who is, above all, a student of mankind. But why +continue the companionship? A little more of such intimacy, and who is to +say what I may not imbibe of their habits and their natures; and Potts, +the man of sentiment, the child of impulse, romance, and poetry, become a +slave of the “Ring,” a saltimbanque! Now, though I could implicitly rely +upon the rigidity of my joints to prevent the possibility of my ever +displaying any feats of agility, I could yet picture myself in a +long-tailed blue coat and jack-boots walking round and round in the +sawdust circle, with four or five other creatures of the same sort, and +who have no consciousness of any function till they are made the butt of +some extempore drollery by the clown. +</p> +<p> +The creative temperament has this great disadvantage, that one cannot +always build castles, but must occasionally construct hovels, and +sometimes even dungeons and jails; and here was I now, with a large +contract order for this species of edifice, and certainly £ set to work +with a will. The impatience of my mind communicated itself to my gait, and +I walked along at a tremendous rate. +</p> +<p> +“I can scarcely keep up with you at this pace,” said Tintefleck; “and see, +we have left poor Vaterchen a long way behind.” + </p> +<p> +I made some rude answer,—I know not what,—and told her to come +on. +</p> +<p> +“I will not leave him,” said she, coming to a halt, and standing in a +composed and firm attitude before me. +</p> +<p> +“Then I will,” said I, angrily. “Farewell!” And waving my hand in a +careless adieu, I walked briskly onward, not even turning a look on her as +I went. I think, I'm almost certain, I heard a heavy sob close behind me, +but I would not look round for worlds. I was in one of those moods—all +weak men know them well—when a harsh or an ungracious act appears +something very daring and courageous. The very pain my conduct gave +myself, persuaded me that it must be heroic, just as a devotee is +satisfied after a severe self-castigation. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, Potts,” said I, “you are doing the right thing here. A little more +of such association as this, and you would be little better than +themselves. Besides, and above all, you ought to be 'real.' Now, these are +not real any more than the tinsel gems and tinfoil splendors they wear on +their tunics.” It broke on me, too, like a sudden light, that to be the +fictitious Potts, the many-sided, many-tinted,—what a German would +call “der mitviele-farben bedeckte Potts,”—I ought to be immensely +rich, all my changes of character requiring great resources and unlimited +“properties” as stage folk call them; whereas, “der echte wahrhaf-tige +Mann Potts” might be as poor as Lazarus. Indeed, the poorer the more real, +since more natural. +</p> +<p> +While I thus speculated, I caught sight of a man scaling one of the +precipitous paths by which the winding road was shortened for +foot-travellers; a second glance showed me that this was Harpar, who, with +a heavy knapsack, was toiling along. I made a great effort to come up with +him, but when I reached the high road, he was still a long distance in +front of me. I could not, if there had been any one to question me, say +why I wished to overtake him. It was a sort of chase suggested simply by +the object in front; a rare type, if we but knew it, of one half the +pursuits we follow throughout life. +</p> +<p> +As I mounted the last of these bypaths which led to the crest of the +mountain, I felt certain that, with a lighter equipment, I should come up +with him; but scarcely had I gained the top, than I saw him striding away +vigorously on the road fully a mile away beneath me. “He shall not beat +me,” said I; and I increased my speed. It was all in vain. I could not do +it; and when I drew nigh Lindau at last, very weary and footsore, the sun +was just sinking on the western shore of the lake. +</p> +<p> +“Which is the best inn here?” asked I of a shopkeeper who was lounging +carelessly at his door. +</p> +<p> +“Yonder,” said he, “where you see that post-carriage turning into.” + </p> +<p> +“To-night,” said I, “I will be guilty of an extravagance. I will treat +myself to a good supper, and an honest glass of wine.” And on these +hospitable thoughts intent I unslung my knapsack, and, throwing as much of +distinction as I could into my manner, strolled into the public room. +</p> +<p> +So busied was the household in attending to the travellers who arrived +“extra post,” that none condescended to notice me, till at last, as the +tumult subsided, a venerable old waiter approached me, and said, in a half +friendly, half rebukeful tone, “It is at the 'Swan' you ought to be, my +friend, the next turning but two to the left hand, and you 'll see the +blue lantern over the gateway.” + </p> +<p> +“I mean to remain where I am,” said I, imperiously, “and to remember your +impertinence when I am about to pay my bill. Bring me the <i>carte</i>.” + </p> +<p> +I was overjoyed to see the confusion and shame of the old fellow. He saw +at once the grievous error he had committed, and was so overwhelmed that +he could not reply. Meanwhile, with all the painstaking accuracy of a +practised <i>gourmand</i>, I was making a careful note of what I wished +for supper. +</p> +<p> +“Are you not ashamed,” said I, rebukefully, “to have <i>ortolans</i> here, +when you know in your heart they are swallows?” + </p> +<p> +He was so abject that he could only give a melancholy smile, as though to +say, “Be merciful, and spare us!” + </p> +<p> +“Bohemian pheasant, too,—come, come, this is too bad! Be frank and +confess; how often has that one speckled tail done duty on a capon of your +own raising?” + </p> +<p> +“Gracious Herr!” muttered he, “do not crush us altogether.” + </p> +<p> +I don't think that he said this in actual words, but his terrified eyes +and his shaking cheeks declared it. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said I, encouragingly, “it will not hurt us to make a +sparing meal occasionally; with the venison and steak, the fried salmon, +the duck with olives, and the apricot tart, we will satisfy appetite, and +persuade ourselves, if we can, that we have fared luxuriously.” + </p> +<p> +“And the wine, sir?” asked he. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, there we <i>are</i> difficult. No little Baden vintage, no small wine +of the Bergstrasse, can impose upon us! Lieb-frauen-milch, or, if you can +guarantee it, Marcobrunner will do; but, mind, no substitutes!” + </p> +<p> +He laid his hand over his heart and bowed low; and, as he moved away, I +said to myself, “What a mesmerism there must be in real money, since, even +with the mockery of it, I have made that creature a bond slave.” Brief as +was the interval in preparing my meal, it was enough to allow me a very +considerable share of reflection, and I found that, do what I would, a +certain voice within would whisper, “Where are your fine resolutions now, +Potts? Is this the life of reality that you had promised yourself? Are you +not at the old work again? Are you not masquerading it once more? Don't +you know well enough that all this pretension of yours is bad money, and +that at the first ring of it on the counter you will be found out?” + </p> +<p> +“This you may rely on, gracious sir,” said the waiter, as he laid a bottle +on the table beside me with a careful hand. “It is the orange seal;” and +he then added, in a whisper, “taken from the Margrave's cellar in the +revolution of '93, and every flask of it worth a province.” + </p> +<p> +“We shall see—we shall see,” said I, haughtily; “serve the soup!” + </p> +<p> +If I had been Belshazzar, I believe I should have eaten very heartily, and +drunk my wine with a great relish, notwithstanding that drawn sword. I +don't know how it is, but if I can only see the smallest bit of <i>terra +firma</i> between myself and the edge of a precipice, I feel as though I +had a whole vast prairie to range over. For the life of me I cannot +realize anything that may, or may not, befall me remotely. “Blue are the +hills far off,” says the adage; and on the converse of the maxim do I +aver, that faint are all dangers that are distant. An immediate peril +overwhelms me; but I could look forward to a shipwreck this day fortnight +with a fortitude truly heroic. +</p> +<p> +“This is a nice old half-forgotten sort of place,” thought I, “a kind of +vulgar Venice, water-washed, and muddy, and dreary, and do-nothing. I 'll +stay here for a week or so; I 'll give myself up to the drowsy <i>genius +loci</i>; I'll Germanize to the top of my bent; who is to say what +metaphysical melancholy, dashed with a strange diabolic humor, may not +come of constantly feeding on this heavy cookery, and eternally listening +to their gurgling gutturals? I may come out a Wieland or a Herder, with a +sprinkling of Henri Heine! Yes,” said I, “this is the true way to approach +life; first of all develop your own faculties, and then mark how in their +exercise you influence your fellow-men. Above all, however, cultivate your +individuality, respect this the greatest of all the unities.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Ja, gnädiger Herr</i>,” said the old waiter, as he tried to step away +from my grasp, for, without knowing it, I had laid hold of him by the +wrist while I addressed to him this speech. Desirous to re-establish my +character for sanity, somewhat compromised by this incident, I said: +</p> +<p> +“Have you a money-changer in these parts? If so, let me have some silver +for this English gold.” I put my hand in my pocket for my purse; not +finding it, I tried another and another. I ransacked them all over again, +patted myself, shook my coat, looked into my hat, and then, with a sudden +flash of memory, I bethought me that I had left it with Catinka, and was +actually without one sou in the world! I sat down, pale and almost +fainting, and my arms fell powerless at my sides. +</p> +<p> +“I have lost my purse!” gasped I out, at length. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said the old man, but with a tone of such palpable scorn that it +actually sickened me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, with all that force which is the peculiar prerogative of +truth; “and in it all the money I possessed.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of it,” rejoined he, in the same dry tone as before. +</p> +<p> +“You have no doubt of what, old man? Or what do you mean by the +supercilious quietness with which you assent to my misfortune? Send the +landlord to me.” + </p> +<p> +“I will do more! I will send the police,” said he, as he shuffled out of +the room. +</p> +<p> +I have met scores of men on my way through life who would not have felt +the slightest embarrassment in such a situation as mine, fellows so +accustomed to shipwreck, that the cry of “Breakers ahead!” or “Man the +boats,” would have occasioned neither excitement nor trepidation. What +stuff they are made of instead of nerves, muscles, and arteries, I cannot +imagine, since, when the question is self-preservation, how can it +possibly be more imminent than when not alone your animal existence is +jeopardized, but the dearer and more precious life of fame and character +is in peril? +</p> +<p> +For a moment I thought that though this besotted old fool of a waiter +might suspect my probity the more clear-sighted intelligence of the +landlord would at once recognize my honest nature, and with the confidence +of a noble conviction say, “Don't tell me that the man yonder is a knave. +I read him very differently. Tell me your story, sir.” And then I would +tell it. It is not improbable that my speculation might have been verified +had it not been that it was a landlady and not a landlord who swayed the +destinies of the inn. Oh, what a wise invention of our ancestors was the +Salique law! How justly they appreciated the unbridled rashness of the +female nature in command! How well they understood the one-idea'd +impetuosity with which they rush to wrong conclusions! +</p> +<p> +Until I listened to the Frau von Wintner, I imagined the German language +somewhat weak in the matter of epithets. She undeceived me on this head, +showing resources of abusive import that would have done credit to a +Homeric hero. Having given me full ten minutes of a strong vocabulary, she +then turned on the waiter, scornfully asking him if, at his time of life, +he ought to have let himself be imposed upon by so palpable and undeniable +a swindler as myself? She clearly showed that there was no extenuation of +his fault, that rogue and vagabond had been written on my face, and +inscribed in my manner; not to mention that I had followed the well-beaten +track of all my fraternity in fraud, and ordered everything the most +costly the house could command. In fact, so strenuously did she urge this +point, and so eager did she seem about enforcing a belief in her +statement, that I almost began to suspect she might suggest an anatomical +examination of me to sustain her case. Had she been even less eloquent, +the audience would still have been with her, for it is a curious but +unquestionable fact that in all little visited localities the stranger is +ungraciously regarded and ill looked on. +</p> +<p> +Whenever I attempted to interpose a word in my defence, I was overborne at +once. Indeed, public opinion was so decidedly against me, that I felt very +happy in thinking Lynch law was not a Teutonic institution. The room was +now filled with retainers of the inn, strangers, town-folk, and police, +and, to judge by the violence of their gestures and the loud tones of +their voices, one would have pronounced me a criminal of the worst sort. +</p> +<p> +“But what is it that he has done? What's his offence?” I heard a voice say +from the crowd, and I fancied his accent was that of a foreigner. A +perfect inundation of vituperative accusation, however, now poured in, and +I could gather no more. The turmoil and uproar rose and fell, and fell and +rose again, till at last, my patience utterly exhausted, I burst out into +a very violent attack on the uncivilized habits of a people who could thus +conduct themselves to a man totally unconvicted of any offence. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, don't give way to passion; don't let temper get the better of +you,” said a fat, citizen-like man beside me. “The stranger there has just +paid for what you have had, and all is settled.” + </p> +<p> +I thought I should have fainted as I heard these words. Indeed, until that +instant, I had never brought home to my own mind the utter destitution of +my state; but now, there. I stood, realizing to myself the condition of +one of those we read of in our newspapers as having received five +shillings from the poor-box, while D 490 is deputed to “make inquiries +after him at his lodgings,” and learn particulars of his life and habits. +I could have borne being sent to prison. I could have endured any amount +of severity, so long as I revolted against its injustice; but the sense of +being an object of actual charity crushed me utterly, and I could nearly +have cried with vexation. +</p> +<p> +By degrees the crowd thinned off, and I found myself sit-, ting alone +beside the table where I had dined, with the hateful old waiter, as though +standing sentinel over me. +</p> +<p> +“Who is this person,” asked I, haughtily, “who, with an indelicate +generosity, has presumed to interfere with the concerns of a stranger?” + </p> +<p> +“The gracious nobleman who paid for your dinner is now eating his own at +No. 8,” said the old monster with a grin. +</p> +<p> +“I will call upon him when he has dined,” said I, transfixing the wretch +with a look so stern, as to make rejoinder impossible; and then, throwing +my plaid wrapper and my knapsack on a table near, I strolled out into the +street. +</p> +<p> +Lindau is a picturesque old place, as it stands rising, as it were, out of +the very waters of the Lake of Constance, and the great mountain of the +Sentis, with its peak of six thousand feet high, is a fine object in the +distance; while the gorge of the Upper Rhine offers many a grand effect of +Alpine scenery, not the less striking when looked at with a setting sun, +which made the foreground more massive and the hill tops golden; and yet I +carried that in my heart which made the whole picture as dark and dreary +as Poussin's Deluge. It was all very beautiful. There, was the snow-white +summit, reflected in the still water of the lake; there, the rich wood, +browned with autumn, and now tinted with a golden glory, richer again; +there were the white-sailed boats, asleep on the calm surface, streaked +with the variegated light of the clouds above, and it was peaceful as it +was picturesque. But do what I could, I could not enjoy it, and all +because I had lost my purse, just as if certain fragments of a yellow +metal the more or the less, ought to obscure eyesight, lull the sense of +hearing, and make a man's whole existence miserable. “And after all,” + thought I, “Catinka will be here this evening, or to-morrow at furthest. +Vater-chen was tired, and could not come on. It was <i>I</i> who left +them; I, in my impatience and ill-humor. The old man doubtless knew +nothing of the purse confided to the girl, nor is it at all needful that +he should. They will certainly follow me, and why, for the mere +inconvenience of an hour or two, should I persist in seeing the whole +world so crape-covered and sad-looking? Surely this is not the philosophy +my knowledge of life has taught me. I ought to know and feel that these +daily accidents are but stones on the road one travels. They may, +perchance, wound the foot or damage the shoe, but they rarely delay the +journey, if the traveller be not faint-hearted and craven. I will treat +the whole incident in a higher spirit. I will wait for their coming in +that tranquil and assured condition of mind which is the ripe fruit of a +real insight into mankind. Pitt said, after long years of experience, that +there was more of good than of bad in human nature. Let it be the remark +of some future biographer that Potts agreed with him.” + </p> +<p> +When I got back to the inn, I was somewhat puzzled what to do. It would +have been impossible with any success to have resumed my former tone of +command, and for the life of me I could not bring myself down to anything +like entreaty. While I thus stood, uncertain how to act, the old waiter +approached me, almost courteously, and said my room was ready for me when +I wished it. +</p> +<p> +“I will first of all wait upon the traveller in No. 8,” said L +</p> +<p> +“He has retired for the night,” was the answer. “He seems in very delicate +health, and the fatigue of the journey has overcome him.” + </p> +<p> +“To-morrow will do, then,” said I easily; and not venturing upon an +inquiry as to the means by which my room was at my disposal, I took my +candle and mounted the stairs. +</p> +<p> +As I lay down in my bed, I resolved I would take a calm survey of my past +life: what I had done, what I had failed to do, what were the guiding +principles which directed me, and whither they were likely to bear me. But +scarcely had I administered to myself the preliminary oath to tell nothing +but the truth, than I fell off sound asleep. +</p> +<p> +My first waking thought the next morning was to inquire if two persons had +arrived in search of me—an elderly man and a young woman. I +described them. None such had been seen. “They will have sought shelter in +some of the humbler inns,” thought I; “I'll up and look after them.” I +searched the town from end to end; I visited the meanest halting-places of +the wayfarer; I inquired at the police bureaus—at the gate—but +none had arrived who bore any resemblance to those I asked after. I was +vexed—only vexed at first—but gradually I found myself growing +distrustful. The suspicion that the ice is not strong enough for your +weight, and then, close upon that, the shock of fear that strikes you when +the loud crash of a fracture breaks on the ear, are mere symbols of what +one suffers at the first glimmering of a betrayal. I repelled the thought +with indignation; but certain thoughts there are which, when turned out, +stand like sturdy duns at the gate, and will not be sent away. This was +one of them. It followed me wherever I went, importunately begging for a +hearing, and menacing me with sad consequences if I were obdurate enough +to listen. “You are a simpleton, Potts, a weak, foolish, erring creature! +and you select as the objects of your confidence those whose lives of +accident present exactly as the most irresistible of all temptations to +them—the Dupe! How they must have laughed—how they must yet be +laughing at you! How that old drunken fox will chuckle over your +simplicity, and the minx Tintefleck indulge herself in caricatures of your +figure and face! I wonder how much of truth there was in that old fellow's +story? Was he ever the syndic of his village, or was the whole narrative a +mere fiction like—like—” I covered my face with my hands in +shame as I muttered out, “like one of your own, Potts?” + </p> +<p> +I was very miserable, for I could no longer stand proudly forward as the +prosecutor, but was obliged to steal ignominiously into the dock and take +my place beside the other prisoners. What became of all my honest +indignation as I bethought me, that I, of all men, could never arraign the +counterfeit and the sham? +</p> +<p> +“Let them go, then,” cried I, “and prosper if they can; I will never +pursue them. I will even try and remember what pleased and interested me +in their fortunes, and, if it may be, forget that they have carried away +my little all of wealth.” + </p> +<p> +A loud tramping of post-horses, and the cracking of whips, drew me to the +window, and I saw beneath in the court-yard, a handsome travelling +britschka getting ready for the road. Oh, how suggestive is a well +cushioned calèche, with its many appliances of ease and luxury, its trim +imperials, its scattered litter of wrappers and guide-books,—all +little episodes of those who are to journey in it! +</p> +<p> +“Who are the happy souls about to travel thus enjoy-ably?” thought I, as I +saw the waiter and the courier discussing the most convenient spot to +deposit a small hamper with eatables for the road; and then I heard the +landlady's voice call out: +</p> +<p> +“Take up the bill to No. 8.” + </p> +<p> +So, then, this was No. 8 who was fast getting ready to depart,—No. 8 +who had interposed in my favor the evening before, and towards whom a +night's rest and some reflection had modified my feelings and changed my +sentiments very remarkably. +</p> +<p> +“Will you ask the gentleman at No. 8 if I may be permitted to speak with +him?” said I to the man who took in the bill. +</p> +<p> +“He 'll scarcely see you now,—he's just going off.” + </p> +<p> +“Give the message as I speak it,” said I; and he disappeared. +</p> +<p> +There was a long interval before he issued forth again, and when he did so +he was flurried and excited. Some overcharges had been taken off and some +bad money in change to be replaced by honest coin, and it was evident that +various little well-intended rogueries had not achieved their usual +success. +</p> +<p> +“Go in, you 'll find him there,” said the waiter, insolently, as he went +down to have the bill rectified. +</p> +<p> +I knocked, a full round voice cried, “Come in!” and I entered. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXV. HART CROFTON'S COMMISSION +</h2> +<p> +“Well, what next? Have you bethought you of anything more to charge me +with?” cried a large full man, whose angry look and manner showed how he +resented these cheatings. +</p> +<p> +I staggered back sick and faint, for the individual before me was Crofton, +my kind host of long ago in Ireland, and from whose hospitable roof I had +taken such an unceremonious departure. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you?” cried he, again. “I had hoped to have paid everything and +everybody. Who are you?” + </p> +<p> +Wishing to retire unrecognized, I stammered out something very +unintelligibly indeed about my gratitude, and my hope for a pleasant +journey to him, retreating all the while towards the door. +</p> +<p> +“It's all very well to wish the traveller a pleasant journey,” said he, +“but you innkeepers ought to bear in mind that no man's journey is +rendered more agreeable by roguery. This house is somewhat dearer than the +'Clarendon' in London, or the 'Hôtel du Rhin' at Paris. Now, there might +be, perhaps, some pretext to make a man pay smartly who travels post, and +has two or three servants with him, but what excuse can you make for +charging some poor devil of a foot traveller, taking his humble meal in +the common room, and, naturally enough, of the commonest fare, for making +him pay eight florins—eight florins and some kreutzers—for his +dinner? Why, our dinner here for two people was handsomely paid at six +florins a head, and yet you bring in a bill of eight florins against that +poor wretch.” + </p> +<p> +I saw now that, what between the blinding effects of his indignation, and +certain changes which time and the road had worked in my appearance, it +was more than probable I should escape undetected, and so I affected to +busy myself with some articles of his luggage that lay scattered about the +room until I could manage to slip away. +</p> +<p> +“Touch nothing, my good fellow!” cried he, angrily; “send my own people +here for these things. Let my courier come here—or my valet!” + </p> +<p> +This was too good an opportunity to be thrown away, and I made at once for +the door; but at the same instant it was opened, and Mary Crofton stood +before me. One glance showed me that I was discovered; and there I stood, +speechless with shame and confusion. Rallying, however, after a moment, I +whispered, “Don't betray me,” and tried to pass out Instead of minding my +entreaty, she set her back to the door, and laughingly cried out to her +brother,— +</p> +<p> +“Don't you know whom we have got here?” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” exclaimed he. +</p> +<p> +“Cannot you recognize an old friend, notwithstanding all his efforts to +cut us?” + </p> +<p> +“Why—what—surely it can't be—it's not possible—eh?” + And by this time he had wheeled me round to the strong light of the +window, and then, with a loud burst, he cried out, “Potts, by all that's +ragged! Potts himself! Why, old fellow, what could you mean by wanting to +escape us?” and he wrung my hand with a cordial shake that at once brought +the blood back to my heart, while his sister completed my happiness by +saying,— +</p> +<p> +“If you only knew all the schemes we have planned to catch you, you would +certainly not have tried to avoid us.” + </p> +<p> +I made an effort to say something,—anything, in short,—but not +a word would come. If I was overjoyed at the warmth of their greeting, I +was no less overwhelmed with shame; and there I stood, looking very +pitiably from one to the other, and almost wishing that I might faint +outright and so finish my misery. +</p> +<p> +With a woman's fine tact, Mary Crofton seemed to read the meaning of my +suffering, and, whispering one word in her brother's ear, she slipped away +and left us alone together. +</p> +<p> +“Come,” said he, good-naturedly, as he drew his arm inside of mine, and +led me up and down the room, “tell me all about it. How have you come +here? What are you doing?” + </p> +<p> +I have not the faintest recollection of what I said. I know that I +endeavored to take up my story from the day I had last seen him, but it +must have proved a very strange and bungling narrative, from the questions +which he was forced occasionally to put, in order to follow me out. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, at last, “I will own to you that, after your abrupt +departure, I was sorely puzzled what to make of you, and I might have +remained longer in the same state of doubt, when a chance visit that I +made to Dublin led me to Dycer's, and there, by a mere accident, I heard +of you,—heard who you were, and where your father lived. I went at +once and called upon him, my object being to learn if he had any tidings +of you, and where you then were. I found him no better informed than +myself. He showed me a few lines you had written on the morning you had +left home, stating that you would probably be absent some days, and might +be even weeks, but that since that date nothing had been heard of you. He +seemed vexed and displeased, but not uneasy or apprehensive about your +absence, and the same tone I observed in your college tutor, Dr. Tobin. He +said, 'Potts will come back, sir, one of these days, and not a whit wiser +than he went. His self-esteem is to his capacity in the reduplicate ratio +of the inverse proportion of his ability, and he will be always a fool.' I +wrote to various friends of ours travelling about the world, but none had +met with you; and at last, when about to come abroad myself, I called +again on your father, and found him just re-married.” + </p> +<p> +“Re-married!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes! he was lonely, he said, and wanted companionship, and so on; and all +I could obtain from him was a note for a hundred pounds, and a promise +that, if you came back within the year, you should share the business of +his shop with him.” + </p> +<p> +“Never! never!” said I. “Potts maybe the fool they deem him, but there are +instincts and promptings in his secret heart that they know nothing of. I +will never go back. Go on.” + </p> +<p> +“I now come to my own story. I left Ireland a day or two after and came to +England, where business detained me some weeks. My uncle had died and left +me his heir,—not, indeed, so rich as I had expected, but very well +off for a man who had passed his life on very moderate means. There were a +few legacies to be paid, and one which he especially intrusted to me by a +secret paper, in the hope that, by delicate and judicious management, I +might be able to persuade the person in whose interest it was bequeathed +to accept. It was, indeed, a task of no common difficulty, the legatee +being the widow of a man who had, by my uncle's cruelty, been driven to +destroy himself. It is a long story, which I cannot now enter upon; enough +that I say it had been a trial of strength between two very vindictive +unyielding men which should crush the other, and my uncle, being the +richer,—and not from any other reason,—conquered. +</p> +<p> +“The victory was a very barren one. It imbittered every hour of his life +after, and the only reparation in his power, he attempted on his +death-bed, which was to settle an annuity on the family of the man he had +ruined. I found out at once where they lived, and set about effecting this +delicate charge. I will not linger over my failure; but it was complete. +The family was in actual distress, but nothing would induce them to listen +to the project of assistance; and, in fact, their indignation compelled me +to retire from the attempt in despair. My sister did her utmost in the +cause, but equally in vain, and we prepared to leave the place, much +depressed and cast down by our failure. It was on the last evening of our +stay at the inn of the little village, a townsman of the place, whom I had +employed to aid my attempt by his personal influence with the family, +asked to see me and speak with me in private. +</p> +<p> +“He appeared to labor under considerable agitation, and opened our +interview by bespeaking my secrecy as to what he was about to communicate. +It was to this purport: A friend of his own, engaged in the Baltic trade, +had just declared to him that he had seen W., the person I allude to, +alive and well, walking on the quay at Riga, that he traced him to his +lodging; but, on inquiring for him the next day, he was not to be found, +and it was then ascertained that he had left the city. W. was, it would +seem, a man easily recognized, and the other declared that there could not +be the slightest doubt of his identity. The question was a grave one how +to act, since the assurance company with which his life was insured were +actually engaged in discussing the propriety of some compromise by paying +to the family a moiety of the policy, and a variety of points arose out of +this contingency; for while it would have been a great cruelty to have +conveyed hopes to the family that might by possibility not be realized, +yet, on the other hand, to have induced them to adopt a course on the +hypothesis of his death when they believed him still living, was almost as +bad. +</p> +<p> +“I thought for a long while over the matter, and with my sister's counsel +to aid me, I determined that we should come abroad and seek out this man, +trusting that, if we found him, we could induce him to accept of the +legacy which his family rejected. We obtained every clew we could think of +to his detection. A perfect description of him, in voice, look, and +manner; a copy of his portrait, and a specimen of his handwriting; and +then we bethought ourselves of interesting you in the search. You were +rambling about the world in that idle and desultory way in which any sort +of a pursuit might be a boon,—as often in the by-paths as on the +high-roads; you might chance to hit off this discovery in some remote +spot, or, at all events, find some clew to it. In a word, we grew to +believe that, with you to aid us, we should get to the bottom of this +mystery; and now that by a lucky chance we have met you, our hopes are all +the stronger.” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll think it strange,” said I, “but I already know something of this +story; the man you allude to was Sir Samuel Whalley.” + </p> +<p> +“How on earth have you guessed that?” + </p> +<p> +“I came by the knowledge on a railroad journey, where my fellow-passengers +talked over the event, and I subsequently travelled with Sir Samuel's +daughter, who came abroad to fill the station of a companion to an elderly +lady. She called herself Miss Herbert.” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly! The widow resumed her family name after W.'s suicide,—if +it were a suicide.” + </p> +<p> +“How singular to think that you should have chanced upon this link of the +chain! And do you know her?” + </p> +<p> +“Intimately; we were fellow-travellers for some days.” + </p> +<p> +“And where is she now?” + </p> +<p> +“She is, at this moment, at a villa on the Lake of Como, living with a +Mrs. Keats, the sister of her Majesty's Envoy at Kalbbratonstadt.” + </p> +<p> +“You are marvellously accurate in this narrative, Potts,” said he, +laughing; “the impression made on you by this young lady can scarcely have +been a transient one.” + </p> +<p> +I suppose I grew very red,—I felt that I was much confused by this +remark,—and I turned away to conceal my emotion. Crofton was too +delicate to take any advantage of my distress, and merely added,— +</p> +<p> +“From having known her, you will naturally devote yourself with more ardor +to serve her. May we then count upon your assistance in our project?” + </p> +<p> +“That you may,” said I. “From this hour I devote myself to it.” + </p> +<p> +Crofton at once proposed that I should order my luggage to be placed on +his carriage, and start off with them; but I firmly opposed this plan. +First of all, I had no luggage, and had no fancy to confess as much; +secondly, I resolved to give at least one day for Vaterchen's arrival,—I'd +have given a month rather than come down to the dreary thought of his +being a knave, and Tintefleck a cheat! In fact, I felt that if I were to +begin any new project in life with so slack an experience, that every step +I took would be marked with distrust, and tarnished with suspicion. I +therefore pretended to Crofton that I had given rendezvous to a friend at +Lindau, and could not leave without waiting for him. I am not very sure +that he believed me, but he was most careful in not dropping a word that +might show incredulity; and once more we addressed ourselves to the grand +project before us. +</p> +<p> +“Come in, Mary!” cried he, suddenly rising from his chair, and going to +meet her. “Come in, and help us by your good counsel.” + </p> +<p> +It was not possible to receive me with more kindness than she showed. Had +I been some old friend who came to meet them there by appointment, her +manner could not have been more courteous nor more easy; and when she +learned from her brother how warmly I had associated myself in this plan, +she gave me one of her pleasantest smiles, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“I was not mistaken in you.” + </p> +<p> +With a great map of Europe before us on the table, we proceeded to plan a +future line of operations. We agreed to take certain places, each of us, +and to meet at certain others, to compare notes and report progress. We +scarcely permitted ourselves to feel any great confidence of success, but +we all concurred in the notion that some lucky hazard might do for us more +than all our best-devised schemes could accomplish; and, at last, it was +settled that, while they took Southern Germany and the Tyrol, I should +ramble about through Savoy and Upper Italy, and our meeting-place be in +Italy. The great railway centres, where Englishmen of every class and +gradation were much employed, offered the best prospect of meeting with +the object of our search, and these were precisely the sort of places such +a man would be certain to resort to. +</p> +<p> +Our discussion lasted so long that the Croftons put off their journey till +the following day, and we dined all together very happily, never wearied +of talking over the plan before us, and each speculating as to what share +of acute-ness he could contribute to the common stock of investigation. It +was when Crofton left the room to search for the portrait of Whalley, that +Mary sat down at my side, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“I have been thinking for some time over a project in which you can aid me +greatly. My brother tells me that you are known to Miss Herbert. Now I +want to write to her; I want to tell her that there is one who, belonging +to a family from which hers has suffered heavily, desires to expiate so +far, maybe, the great wrong, and, if she will permit it, to be her friend. +While I can in a letter explain what I feel on this score, I am well aware +how much aid it would afford me to have the personal corroboration of one +who could say, 'She who writes this is not altogether unworthy of your +affection; do not reject the offer she makes you, or, at least, reflect +and think oyer it before you refuse it' Will you help me so far?” + </p> +<p> +My heart bounded with delight as I first listened to her plan; it was only +a moment before that I remembered how difficult, if not impossible, it +would be for me to approach Miss Herbert once more. How or in what +character could I seek her? To appear before her in any feigned part would +be, under the circumstances, ignoble and unworthy, and yet was I, out of +any merely personal consideration, any regard for the poor creature Potts, +to forego the interests, mayhap the whole happiness, of one so +immeasurably better and worthier? Would not any amount of shame and +exposure to myself be a cheap price for even a small quantity of benefit +bestowed on <i>her!</i> What signified it that I was poor and ragged—unknown, +unrecognized—if <i>she</i> were to be the gainer? Would not, in +fact, the very sacrifice of self in the affair be ennobling and elevating +to me, and would I not stand better in my own esteem for this one honest +act, than I had ever done after any mock success or imaginary victory? +</p> +<p> +“I think I can guess why you hesitate,” cried she; “you fear that I will +say something indiscreet,—something that would compromise you with +Miss Herbert,—but you need not dread that; and, at all events, you +shall read my letter.” + </p> +<p> +“Far from it,” said I; “my hesitation had a very different source. I was +solely thinking whether, if you were aware of how I stood in my relations +to Miss Herbert, you would have selected me as your advocate; and though +it may pain me to make a full confession, you shall hear everything.” + </p> +<p> +With this I told her all,—all, from my first hour of meeting her at +the railway station, to my last parting with her at Schaffhausen. I tried +to make my narrative as grave and commonplace as might be, but, do what I +would, the figure in which I was forced to present myself, overcame all +her attempts at seriousness, and she laughed immoderately. If it had not +been for this burst of merriment on her part, it is more than probable I +might have brought down my history to the very moment of telling, and +narrated every detail of my journey with Vaterchen and Tintefieck. I was, +however, warned by these circumstances, and concluded in time to save +myself from this new ridicule. +</p> +<p> +“From all that you have told me here,” said she, “I only see one thing,—which +is, that you are deeply in love with this young lady.” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “I was so once, I am not so any longer. My passion has +fallen into the chronic stage, and I feel myself her friend,—only +her friend.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, for the purpose I have in mind, this is all the better I want you, +as I said, to place my letter in her hands, and, so far as possible, +enforce its arguments,—that is, try and persuade her that to reject +our offers on her behalf is to throw upon us a share of the great wrong +our uncle worked, and make us, as it were, participators in the evil he +did them. As for myself,” said she, boldly, “all the happiness that I +might have derived from ample means is dashed with remembering what misery +it has been attended with to that poor family. If you urge that one theme +forcibly, you can scarcely fail with her.” + </p> +<p> +“And what are your intentions with regard to her?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“They will take any shape she pleases. My brother would either enable her +to return home, and, by persuading her mother to accept an annuity, live +happily under her own roof; or she might, if the spirit of independence +fires her,—she might yet use her influence over her mother and +sister to regard our proposals more favorably; or she might come and live +with us, and this I would prefer to all; but you must read my letter, and +more than once too. You must possess yourself of all its details, and, if +there be anything to which you object, there will be time enough still to +change it.” + </p> +<p> +“Here he is,—here is the portrait of our lost sheep,” said Crofton, +now entering with a miniature in his hand. It represented a bluff, bold, +almost insolently bold man in full civic robes, the face not improbably +catching an additional expression of vulgar pride from the fact that the +likeness was taken in that culminating hour of greatness when he first +took the chair as chief magistrate of his town. +</p> +<p> +“Not an over-pleasant sort of fellow to deal with, I should say,” remarked +Crofton. “There are some stern lines here about the corners of the eyes, +and certain very suspicious-looking indentations next the mouth.” + </p> +<p> +“His eye has no forgiveness in it,” said his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Well, one thing is clear enough, he ought to be easily recognized; that +broad forehead, and those wide-spread nostrils and deeply divided chin, +are very striking marks to guide one. I cannot give you this,” said +Crofton to me, “but I 'll take care to send you an accurate copy of it at +the first favorable moment; meanwhile, make yourself master of its +details, and try if you cannot carry the resemblance in your memory.” + </p> +<p> +“Disabuse yourself, too,” said she, laughing, “of all this accessorial +grandeur, and bear in mind that you 'll not find him dressed in ermine, or +surrounded with a collar and badge. Not very like his daughter, I 'm +sure,” whispered she in my ear, as I continued to gaze steadfastly at the +portrait. “Can you trace any likeness?” + </p> +<p> +“Not the very faintest; she is beautiful,” said I, “and her whole +expression is gentleness and delicacy.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, certainly,” said Crofton, shutting up the miniature, “these are not +the distinguishing traits of our friend here, whom I should call a +hard-natured, stern, obstinate fellow, with great self-reliance, and no +great trust of others.” + </p> +<p> +“I was just thinking,” said I, “that were I to come up with such a man as +this, what chance would my poor, frail, yielding temperament have, in +influencing the rugged granite of his nature? He 'd terrify me at once.” + </p> +<p> +“Not when your object was a good and generous one,” said Miss Crofton. +“You might well enough be afraid to confront such a man as this if your +aim was to overreach and deceive him; but bear in mind the fable of the +man who had the courage to take the thorn out of the lion's paw. The +operation, we are told, was a painful one, and there might have been an +instant in which the patient felt disposed to eat his doctor; but, with +all these perils, strong in a good purpose, the surgeon persevered, and by +his skill and his courage made the king of the beasts his fast friend for +life. The lesson is worth remembering.” + </p> +<p> +I was still pondering over this apophthegm, when Crofton aroused me by +pushing across the table a great heap of gold. “This is all yours, Potts,” + said he; “and remember that as you are now my agent, travelling for the +house of Crofton and Co., that you journey at my cost.” + </p> +<p> +Of course I would not listen to this proposal, and, although urged by Miss +Crofton with all a woman's tact and delicacy, I persisted so firmly in my +refusal, that they were obliged to yield. I now had a hundred pounds all +my own; and though the sum be not a very splendid one, I remember some +French writer—I 'm not sure it is not Jules Janin—saying, “Any +man who can put his hand into his pocket and find five Napoleons there, is +rich;” and he certainly supports his theory with considerable sophistry +and cleverness, mainly depending on the assumption that any of the +reasonable daily necessities of life, even in a luxurious point of view, +are attainable with such means. Now, although a hundred pounds would not +very long supply resources for such a life, yet, as I am not a Frenchman, +nor living in Paris, still less had I habits or tastes of a costly kind, I +might very well eke out three months pleasantly on this sum, and in these +three months what might not happen? In a “hundred days” the great Napoleon +crushed the whole might of the Austrian empire, and secured an emperor's +daughter for his bride; and in another “hundred days” he made the tour of +France, from Cannes to Rochefort, and lost an empire by the way! Wonderful +things might then be compassed within three months. +</p> +<p> +“What are you saying about three months, Potts?” asked Crofton, for +unwittingly I had uttered these words aloud. +</p> +<p> +“I was observing,” said I, “that in three months from this day, we should +arrange to meet somewhere. Where shall we say?” + </p> +<p> +“Geneva is very central; shall we name Geneva?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, on no account Let our rendezvous be in Italy Let us say Rome.” + </p> +<p> +“Rome be it, then,” cried Crofton. “Now for another point: let us have a +wager as to who first discovers the object of our search. I 'll bet you +twenty Napoleons, Potts, to ten,—for as we are two to one, so should +the wager be.” + </p> +<p> +“I take you,” cried I, entering into his humor, “and I feel as certain of +success as if I had your money in my hands.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you have another wager with <i>me?</i>” whispered Mary Crofton, as +she came behind my chair. “It is, that you 'll not persuade Miss Herbert +to wear this ring for <i>my</i> sake.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll bet my life on it,” said I, taking the opal ring she drew from her +finger, as she spoke; “I'm in that mood of confidence now, I feel there is +nothing I could not promise.” + </p> +<p> +“If so, then, Potts, let me have the benefit of this fortunate interval, +and ask you to promise me one thing, which is, not to change your mind +more than twice a day; don't be angry with me, but hear me out. You are a +good-hearted fellow, and have excellent intentions; I don't think I know +one less really selfish, but, at the same time, you are so fickle of +purpose, so undecided in action, that I 'd not be the least astonished to +hear, when we asked for you to-morrow at breakfast time, that you had +started for a tour in Norway, or on a voyage to the Southern Pacific.” + </p> +<p> +“And is this your judgment of me also, Miss Crofton?” said I, rising from +my seat. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, Mr. Potts. I would only suspect you of going off into the Tyrol, +or the Styrian Alps, and forgetting all about us, amidst the glaciers and +the cataracts.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish you a good-night, and a better opinion of your humble servant,” + said I, bowing. +</p> +<p> +“Don't go, Potts—wait a minute—come back. I have something to +tell you.” + </p> +<p> +I closed the door behind me, and hastened off, not, however, perfectly +clear whether I was the injured man, or one who had just achieved a great +outrage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVI. FURTHER INTERCOURSE WITH HARPAR +</h2> +<p> +I am obliged to acknowledge that I was vainglorious enough to accept a +seat in the Crofton carriage on the morning of their departure, and +accompany them for a mile or so of the way,—even at the price of +returning on foot,—just that I might show myself to the landlady and +that odious old waiter in a position of eminence, and make them do a +bitter penance for the insults they had heaped on an illustrious stranger. +It was a poor and paltry triumph, and over very contemptible adversaries, +but I could not refuse it to myself. Crofton, too, contributed largely to +the success of my little scheme, by insisting that I should take the place +beside his sister, while he sat with his back to the horses; and though I +refused at first, I acceded at last, with the bland compliance of a man +who feels himself once more in his accustomed station. +</p> +<p> +As throughout this true history I have candidly revealed the inmost traits +of my nature—well knowing the while how deteriorating such innate +anatomy must prove—I have ever felt that he who has small claims to +interest by the events of his life, can make some compensation to the +world by an honest exposure of his motives, his weaknesses, and his +struggles. Now, my present confession is made in this spirit, and is not +absolutely without its moral, for, as the adage tells us, “Look after the +pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves;” so would I say, Guard +yourself carefully against petty vices. You and I, most esteemed reader, +are—I trust fervently—little likely to be arraigned on a +capital charge. I hope sincerely that transportable felonies, and even +misdemeanors, may not picture among the accidents of our life; such-like +are the pounds that take care of themselves, but the “small pence” which +require looking after, are little envies and jealousies and rancors, petty +snobberies of display, small exhibitions of our being better than this man +or greater than that; these, I repeat to you, accumulate on a man's nature +just the way barnacles fasten on a ship's bottom,—from mere time, +and it is wonderful what damage can come of such paltry obstacles. +</p> +<p> +I very much doubt if a Roman conqueror regarded the chained captive who +followed his chariot with a more supreme pride than I bestowed upon that +miserable old waiter who now bowed himself to the ground before me, and +when I ordered my dinner for four o'clock, and said that probably I might +have a friend to dine with me, his humiliation was complete. +</p> +<p> +“I wish I knew the secret of your staying here,” said Mary Crofton, as we +drove along; “why will you not tell it?” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps it might prove indiscreet, Mary; our friend Potts may have become +a <i>mauvais sujet</i> since we have seen him last?” + </p> +<p> +I wrapped myself in a mysterious silence, and only smiled. +</p> +<p> +“Lindau, of all places, to stop at!” resumed she, pettishly. “There is +nothing remarkable in the scenery, no art treasures, nothing socially +agreeable; what can it possibly be that detains you in such a place?” + </p> +<p> +“My dear Mary,” said Crofton, “you are, without knowing it, violating a +hallowed principle; you are no less than leading into temptation. Look at +poor Potts there, and you will see that, while he knows in his inmost +heart the secret which detains him here is some passing and insignificant +circumstance unworthy of mention, you have, by imparting to it a certain +importance, suggested to his mind the necessity of a story; give him now +but five minutes to collect himself, and I'll engage that he will 'come +out' with a romantic incident that would never have seen the light but for +a woman's curiosity.” + </p> +<p> +“Good heavens!” thought I, “can this be a true interpretation of my +character? Am I the weak and impressionable creature this would bespeak +me?” I must have blushed deeply at my own reflection, for Crofton quickly +added,— +</p> +<p> +“Don't get angry with me, Potts, any more than you would with a friend who +'d say, 'Take care how you pass over that bridge, I know it is rotten and +must give way.'” + </p> +<p> +“Let me answer you,” said I, courageously, for I was acutely hurt to be +thus arraigned before another. “It is more than likely that you, with your +active habits and stirring notions of life, would lean very heavily on him +who, neither wanting riches nor honors, would adopt some simple sort of +dreamy existence, and think that the green alleys of the beech wood, or +the little path beside the river, pleasanter sauntering than the gilded +antechamber of a palace; and just as likely is it that you would take him +roundly to task about wasted opportunities, misapplied talents, and +stigmatize as inglorious indolence what might as possibly be called a +contented humility. Now, I would ask you, why should one man be the +measure of another? The load you could carry with ease might serve to +crush me, and yet there may be some light burdens that would suit <i>my</i> +strength, and in bearing which I might taste a sense of duty grateful as +your own.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no patience with you,” began Crofton, warmly; but his sister +stopped him with an imploring look, and then, turning to me, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Edward fancies that every one can be as energetic and active as himself, +and occasionally forgets what you have just so well remarked as to the +relative capacities of different people.” + </p> +<p> +“I want him to do something, to be something besides a dreamer!” burst he +in, almost angrily. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then,” said I, “you shall see me begin this moment, tor I will get +down here and walk briskly back to the town.” I called to the postilions +to pull up at the same time, and in spite of remonstrances, entreaties,—almost +beseeching from Mary Crofton,—I persisted in my resolve, and bade +them farewell. +</p> +<p> +Crofton was so much hurt that he could scarcely speak, and when he gave me +his hand it was in the coldest of manners. +</p> +<p> +“But you 'll keep our rendezvous, won't you!” said Mary; “we shall meet at +Rome.” + </p> +<p> +“I really wonder, Mary, how you can force our acquaintanceship where it is +so palpably declined. Good-bye,—farewell,” said he to me. +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye,” said I, with a gulp that almost choked me; and away drove the +carriage, leaving me standing in the train of dust it had raised. Every +crack of the postboys' whips gave me a shock as though I had felt the +thong on my own shoulders; and, at last, as sweeping round a turn of the +road the carriage disappeared from view, such was the sense of utter +desolation that came over me, that I sat down on a stone by the wayside, +overwhelmed. I do not know if I ever felt such an utter sense of +destitution as at that moment. “What a wealth of friends must a man +possess,” thought I, “who can afford to squander them in this fashion! How +could I have repelled the counsels that kindness alone could have +prompted? Surely Crofton must know far more of life than I did?” From this +I went on to inquire why it was that the world showed itself so +unforgiving to idleness in men of small fortune, since, if no burden to +the community, they ought to be as free as their richer brethren. It was a +puzzling theme, and though I revolved it long, I made but little of it; +the only solution that occurred to me was, that the idleness of the humble +man is not relieved by the splendors and luxuries which surround a rich +man's leisure, and that the world resents the pretensions of ease +unassociated with riches. In what a profound philosophy was it, then, that +Diogenes rolled his tub about the streets! There was a mock purpose about +it, that must have flattered his fellow-citizens. I feel assured that a +great deal of the butterfly-hunting and beetle-gathering that we see +around us is done in this spirit They are a set of idle folk anxious to +indulge their indolence without reproach. +</p> +<p> +Thus pondering and musing, I strolled back to the town. So still and +silent was it, so free from all movement of traffic or business, that I +was actually in the very centre of it without knowing it. There were +streets without passengers, and shops without customers, and even <i>cafés</i> +without guests, and I wondered within myself why people should thus +congregate to do nothing, and I rambled on from street to alley, and from +alley to lane, never chancing upon one who had anything in hand. At last I +gained the side of the lake, along which a little quay ran for some +distance, ending in a sort of terraced walk, now grass-grown and +neglected. There were at least the charms of fresh air and scenery here, +though the worthy citizen seemed to hold them cheaply, and I rambled along +to the end, where, by a broad flight of steps, the terrace communicated +with the lake; a spot, doubtless, where, once on a time, the burghers took +the water and went out a-pleasuring with fat fraus and fräuleins. I had +reached the end, and was about to turn back again, when I caught sight of +a man, seated on one of the lower steps, employed in watching two little +toy ships which he had just launched. Now, this seemed to me the very +climax of indolence, and I sat myself down on the parapet to observe him. +His proceedings were indeed of the strangest, for as there was no wind to +fill the sails and his vessels lay still and becalmed, he appeared to have +bethought him of another mode to impart interest to him. He weighted one +of them with little stones till he brought her gunwale level with the +water, and then pressing her gently with his hand, he made her sink slowly +down to the bottom. I 'm not quite certain whether I laughed outright, or +that some exclamation escaped me as I looked, but some noise I must +unquestionably have made, for he started and turned up his head, and I saw +Harpar the Englishman whom I had met the day before at Constance. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you 're not much the wiser after all,” said he, gruffly, and +without even saluting me. +</p> +<p> +There was in the words, and fierce expression of his face, something that +made me suspect him of insanity, and I would willingly have retired +without reply had he not risen and approached me. +</p> +<p> +“Eh,” repeated he, with a sneer, “ain't I right? You can make nothing of +it?” + </p> +<p> +“I really don't understand you!” said I. “I came down here by the merest +accident, and never was more astonished than to see you.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, of course; I am well used to that sort of thing,” went he on in the +same tone of scoff. “I 've had some experience of these kinds of accidents +before; but, as I said, it's no use, you 're not within one thousand miles +of it, no, nor any man in Europe.” + </p> +<p> +It was quite clear to me now that he <i>was</i> mad, and my only care was +to get speedily rid of him. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm not surprised,” said I, with an assumed ease,—“I'm not +surprised at your having taken to so simple an amusement, for really in a +place so dull as this any mode of passing the time would be welcome.” + </p> +<p> +“Simple enough when you know it,” said he, with a peculiar look. +</p> +<p> +“You arrived last night, I suppose?” said I, eager to get conversation +into some pleasanter channel. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I got here very late. I had the misfortune to sprain my ankle, and +this detained me a long time on the way, and may keep me for a couple of +days more.” + </p> +<p> +I learned where he was stopping in the town, and seeing with what pain and +difficulty he moved, I offered him my aid to assist him on his way. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I 'll not refuse your help,” said he, dryly; “but Just go along +yonder, about five-and-twenty or thirty yards, and I'll join you. You +understand me, I suppose?” + </p> +<p> +Now, I really did not understand him, except to believe him perfectly +insane, and suggest to me the notion of profiting by his lameness to make +my escape with all speed. I conclude some generous promptings opposed this +course, for I obeyed his injunctions to the very letter, and waited till +he came up to me. He did so very slowly, and evidently in much suffering, +assisted by a stick in one hand, while he carried his two little boats in +the other. +</p> +<p> +“Shall I take charge of these for you?” said I, offering to carry them. +</p> +<p> +“No, don't trouble yourself,” said he in the same rude tone. “Nobody +touches these but myself.” + </p> +<p> +I now gave him my arm, and we moved slowly along. +</p> +<p> +“What has become of the vagabonds? Are they here with you?” asked he, +abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“I parted with them yesterday,” said I, shortly, and not wishing to enter +into further explanations. +</p> +<p> +“And you did wisely,” rejoined he, with a serious air. “Even when these +sort of creatures have nothing very bad about them, they are bad company, +out of the haphazard chance way they gain a livelihood. If you reduce life +to a game, you must yourself become a gambler. Now, there's one feature of +that sort of existence intolerable to an honest man; it is, that to win +himself, some one else must lose. Do you understand me?” + </p> +<p> +“I do, and am much struck by what you say.” + </p> +<p> +“In that case,” said he, with a nudge of his elbow against my side,—“in +that case you might as well have not come down to watch <i>me?</i>—eh?” + </p> +<p> +I protested stoutly against this mistake, but I could plainly perceive +with very little success. +</p> +<p> +“Let it be, let it be,” said he, with a shake of the head. “As I said +before, if you saw the thing done before your eyes you 'd make nothing of +it. I 'm not afraid of you, or all the men in Europe! There now, there's a +challenge to the whole of ye! Sit down every man of ye, with the problem +before ye, and see what you 'll make of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah,” thought I, “this is madness. Here is a poor monomaniac led away into +the land of wild thoughts and fancies by one dominating caprice; who knows +whether out of the realm of this delusion he may not be a man acute and +sensible.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no,” muttered he, half aloud; “there are, maybe, half a million of +men this moment manufacturing steam-engines; but it took one head, just +one head, to set them all working, and if it was n't for old Watt, the +world at this day would n't be five miles in advance of what it was a +century back. I see,” added he, after a moment, “you don't take much +interest in these sort of things. <i>Your</i> line of parts is the walking +gentleman, eh? Well, bear in mind it don't pay; no, sir, it don't pay! +Here, this is my way; my lodging is down this lane. I'll not ask you to +come further; thank you for your help, and good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +“Let us not part here; come up to the inn and dine with me,” said I, +affecting his own blunt and abrupt manner. +</p> +<p> +“Why should <i>I</i> dine with <i>you?</i>” asked he, roughly. +</p> +<p> +“I can't exactly say,” stammered I, “except out of good-fellowship, just +as, for instance, I accepted your invitation t' other morning to +breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, yes, to be sure, so you did. Well, I 'll come. We shall be all alone, +I suppose?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite alone.” + </p> +<p> +“All right, for I have no coat but this one;” and he looked down at the +coarse sleeve as he spoke, with a strange and sad smile, and then waving +his band in token of farewell, he said, “I 'll join you in half an hour,” + and disappeared up the lane. +</p> +<p> +I have already owned that I did not like this man; he had a certain short +abrupt way that repelled me at every moment. When he differed in opinion +with me, he was not satisfied to record his dissent, but he must set about +demolishing my conviction, and this sort of intolerance pervaded all he +said. There was, too, that business-like practical tone about him that +jars fearfully on the sensitive fibre of the idler's nature. +</p> +<p> +It was exactly in proportion as his society was distasteful to me, that I +felt a species of pride in associating with him, as though to say, “I am +not one of those who must be fawned on and flattered. I am of a healthier +and manlier stamp; I can afford to hear my judgments arraigned, and my +opinions opposed.” And in this humor I ascended the stairs of the hotel, +and entered the room where our table was already laid out. +</p> +<p> +To compensate, as far as they could, for the rude reception of the day +before, they had given me now the “grand apartment” of the inn, which, by +a long balcony, looked over the lake, and that fine mountain range that +leads to the Splugen pass. A beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers ornamented +the centre of the small dinner-table, tastily decked with Bohemian glass, +and napkins with lace borders. I rather liked this little display of +elegance. It was a sort of ally on my side against the utilitarian +plainness of my guest. As I walked up and down the room, awaiting his +arrival, I could not help a sigh, and a very deep one too, over the +thought of what had been my enjoyment that moment if my guest had been one +of a different temperament,—a man willing to take me on my own +showing, and ready to accept any version I should like to give of myself. +How gracefully, how charmingly I could have played the host to such a man! +What vigor would it have imparted to my imagination, what brilliancy to my +fancy! With what a princely grace might I have dispensed my hospitalities, +as though such occasions were the daily habit of my life; whereas a dinner +with Harpar would be nothing more or less than an airing with a “Slave in +the chariot,”—a perpetual reminder, like the face of a poor +relation, that my lot was cast in an humble sphere, and it was no use +trying to disguise it. +</p> +<p> +“What's all this for?” said Harpar's harsh voice, as he entered the room. +“Why did n't you order our mutton-chop below stairs in the common room, +and not a banquet in this fashion? You must be well aware I could n't do +this sort of thing by <i>you</i>. Why, then, have you attempted it with <i>me?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“I have always thought it was a host's prerogative,” said I, meekly, “to +be the arbiter of his own entertainment.” + </p> +<p> +“So it might where he is the arbiter of his purse; but you know well +enough neither you nor I have any pretension to these costly ways, and +they have this disadvantage, that they make all intercourse stilted and +unnatural. If you and I had to sit down to table, dressed in court suits, +with wigs and bags, ain't it likely we'd be easy and cordial together? +Well, this is precisely the same.” + </p> +<p> +“I am really sorry,” said I, with a forced appearance of courtesy, “to +have incurred so severe a lesson, but you must allow me this one +trangression before I begin to profit by it.” And so saying, I rang the +bell and ordered dinner. +</p> +<p> +Harpar made no reply, but walked the room, with his hands deep in his +pockets, humming a tune to himself as he went. +</p> +<p> +At last we sat down to table; everything was excellent and admirably +served, but we ate on in silence, not a syllable exchanged between us. As +the dessert appeared, I tried to open conversation. I affected to seem +easy and unconcerned, but the cold half-stern look of my companion +repelled all attempts, and I sat very sad and much discouraged, sipping my +wine. +</p> +<p> +“May I order some brandy-and-water? I like it better than these French +wines,” asked he, abruptly; and as I arose to ring for it, he added, “and +you 'll not object to me having a pipe of strong Cavendish?” And therewith +he produced a leather bag and a very much smoked meerschaum, short and +ungainly as his own figure. As he thrust his hand into the pouch, a small +boat, about the size of a lady's thimble, rolled out from amidst the +tobacco; he quickly took it and placed it in his waistcoat pocket,—the +act being done with a sort of hurry that with a man of less +self-possession might have perhaps evinced confusion. +</p> +<p> +“You fancy you 've seen something, don't you?” said he, with a defiant +laugh. “I 'd wager a five-pound note, if I had one, that you think at this +moment you have made a great discovery. Well, there it is, make much of +it!” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, he produced the little boat, and laid it down before me. I +own that this speech and the act convinced me that he was insane; I was +aware that intense suspectfulness is the great characteristic of madness, +and everything tended to show that he was deranged. +</p> +<p> +Rather to conceal what was passing in my own mind than out of curiosity, I +took up the little toy to examine it. It was beautifully made, and +finished with a most perfect neatness; the only thing I could not +understand being four small holes on each side of the keel, fastened by +four little plugs. +</p> +<p> +“What are these for?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“Can't you guess?” said he, laughingly. +</p> +<p> +“No; I have never seen such before.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, musingly, “perhaps they <i>are</i> puzzling,—I +suppose they are. But mayhap, too, if I thought you 'd guess the meaning, +I 'd not have been so ready to show it to you.” And with this he replaced +the boat in his pocket and smoked away. “You ain't a genius, my worthy +friend, that's a fact,” said he, sententiously. +</p> +<p> +“I opine that the same judgment might be passed upon a great many?” said +I, testily. +</p> +<p> +“No,” continued he, following on his own thoughts without heeding my +remark, “<i>you 'll</i> not set the Thames a-fire.” + </p> +<p> +“Is that the best test of a man's ability?” asked I, sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“You're the sort of fellow that ought to be—let us see now what you +ought to be,—yes, you 're just the stamp of man for an apothecary.” + </p> +<p> +“You are so charming in your frankness,” said I, “that you almost tempt me +to imitate you.” + </p> +<p> +“And why not? Sure we oughtn't to talk to each other like two devils in +waiting. Out with what you have to say!” + </p> +<p> +“I was just thinking,” said I,—“led to it by that speculative turn +of yours,—I was just thinking in what station <i>your</i> abilities +would have pre-eminently distinguished you.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, have you hit it?” + </p> +<p> +“I'm not quite certain,” said I, trying to screw up my courage for an +impertinence, “but I half suspect that in our great national works—our +lines of railroad, for instance—there must be a strong infusion of +men with tastes and habits resembling yours.” + </p> +<p> +“You mean the navvies?” broke he in. “You 're right, I was a navvy once; I +turned the first spadeful of earth on the Coppleston Junction, and, seeing +what a good thing might be made of it, I suggested task-work to my +comrades, and we netted from four-and-six to five shillings a day each. In +eight months after, I was made an inspector; so that you see strong sinews +can be good allies to a strong head and a stout will.” + </p> +<p> +I do not believe that the most angry rebuke, the most sarcastic rejoinder, +could have covered me with a tenth part of the shame and confusion that +did these few words. I'd have given worlds, if I had them, to make a due +reparation for my rudeness, but I knew not how to accomplish it I looked +into his face to read if I might hit upon some trait by which his nature +could be approached; but I might as well have gazed at a line of railroad +to guess the sort of town that it led to. The stern, rugged, bold +countenance seemed to imply little else than daring and determination, and +I could not but wonder how I had ever dared to take a liberty with one of +his stamp. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said I, at last, and wishing to lead him back to his story, “and +after being made inspector—” + </p> +<p> +“You can speak German well,” said he, totally inattentive to my question; +“just ask one of these people when there will be any conveyance from this +to Ragatz.” + </p> +<p> +“Ragatz, of all places!” exclaimed I. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; they tell me it's good for the rheumatics, and I have got some old +shoulder pains I 'd like to shake off before winter. And then this sprain, +too; I foresee I shall not be able to walk much for some days to come.” + </p> +<p> +“Ragatz is on my road; I am about to cross the Splugen into Italy; I'll +bear you company so far, if you have no objection.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, it may not seem civil to say it, but I have an objection,” said he, +rising from the table. “When I've got weighty things on my mind, I 've a +bad habit of talking of them to myself aloud. I can't help it, and so I +keep strictly alone till my plans are all fixed and settled; after that, +there's no danger of my revealing them to any one. There now, you have my +reason, and you 'll not dispute that it's a good one.” + </p> +<p> +“You may not be too distrustful of yourself,” said I, laughing, “but, +assuredly, you are far too flattering in your estimate of <i>my</i> +acuteness.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll not risk it,” said he, bluntly, as he sought for his hat. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment,” said I. “You told me at Constance that you were in want +of money; at the time I was not exactly in funds myself. Yesterday, +however, I received a remittance; and if ten or twenty pounds be of any +service, they are heartily at your disposal.” + </p> +<p> +He looked at me fixedly, almost sternly, for a minute or two, and then +said,— +</p> +<p> +“Is this true, or is it that you have changed your mind about me?” + </p> +<p> +“True,” said I,—“strictly true.” + </p> +<p> +“Will this loan—I mean it to be a loan—inconvenience you +much?” + </p> +<p> +“No, no; I make you the offer freely.” + </p> +<p> +“I take it, then. Let me have ten pounds; and write down there an address +where I am to remit it some day or other, though I can't say when.” + </p> +<p> +“There may be some difficulty about that,” said I. “Stay. I mean to be at +Rome some time in the winter; send it to me there.” + </p> +<p> +“To what banker?” + </p> +<p> +“I have no banker; I never had a banker. There's my name, and let the +post-office be the address.” + </p> +<p> +“Whichever way you 're bent on going, you 're not on the road to be a rich +man,” said Harpar, as he deposited my gold in his leather purse; “but I +hope you 'll not lose by me. Good-bye.” He gave me his hand, not very +warmly or cordially, either, and was gone ere I well knew it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVII. MY EXPLOSION AT THE TABLE D'HÔTE +</h2> +<p> +I went the next morning to take leave of Harpar before starting, but +found, to my astonishment, that he was already off! He had, I learned, +hired a small carriage to convey him to Bregenz, and had set out before +daybreak. I do not know why this should have annoyed me, but it did so, +and set me a-thinking over the people whom Echstein in his “Erfahrungen,” + says, are born to be dupes. “There is,” says he, “a race of men who are +'eingeborne Narren,'—'native numskulls,' one might say,—who +muddy the streams of true benevolence by indiscriminating acts of +kindness, and who, by always aiding the wrongdoer, make themselves +accomplices of vice.” Could it be that I was in this barren category? +Harpar had told me, the evening before, that he would not leave Lindau +till his sprain was better, and now he was off, just as if, having no +further occasion for me, he was glad to be rid of my companionship—just +as if—I was beginning again to start another conjecture, when I +bethought me that there is not a more deceptive formula in the whole +cyclopaedia of delusion than that which opens with these same words, “just +as if.” Rely upon it, amiable reader, that whenever you find yourself +driven to explain a motive, trace a cause, or reconcile a discrepancy, by +“just as if,” the chances are about seven to three you are wrong. If I was +not in the bustle of paying my bill and strapping on my knapsack, I 'd +convince you on this head; but, as the morning is a bright but mellow one +of early autumn, and my path lies along the placid lake, waveless and +still, with many a tinted tree reflected in its fair mirror, let us not +think of knaves and rogues, but rather dwell on the pleasanter thought of +all the good and grateful things which daily befall us in this same life +of ours. I am full certain that almost all of us enter upon what is called +the world in too combative a spirit We are too fond of dragon slaying, and +rather than be disappointed of our sport, we 'd fall foul of a pet lamb, +for want of a tiger. Call it self-delusion, credulity, what you will, it +is a faith that makes life very livable, and, without it, +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“We feel a light has left the world, +A nameless sort of treasure, +As though one pluck'd the crimson heart +From out the rose of pleasure. + +I could forgive the fate that made +Me poor and young to-morrow, +To hare again the soul that played +So tenderly in sorrow, + +So buoyantly in happiness. +Ay, I would brook deceiving, +And even the deceiver bless, +Just to go on believing!” + </pre> +<p> +“Still,” thought I, “one ought to maintain self-respect; one should not +willingly make himself a dupe.” And then I began to wish that Vaterchen +had come up, and that Tinte-fleck was rushing towards me with tears in her +eyes, and my money-bag in her hands. I wanted to forget them. I tried in a +hundred ways to prevent them crossing my memory; but though there is a +most artful system of artificial “mnemonics” invented by some one, the +Lethal art has met no explorer, and no man has ever yet found out the way +to shut the door against bygones. I believe it is scarcely more than five +miles to Bregenz from Lindau, and yet I was almost as many hours on the +road. I sat down, perhaps twenty times, lost in revery; indeed, I'm not +very sure that I did n't take a sound sleep under a spreading willow, so +that, when I reached the inn, the company was just going in to dinner at +the <i>table d'hôte</i>. Simple and unpretentious as that board was, the +company that graced it was certainly distinguished, being no less than the +Austrian field-marshal in command of the district, and the officers of his +staff. To English notions, it seemed very strange to see a nobleman of the +highest rank, in the proudest state of Europe, seated at a dinner-table +open to all comers, at a fraction less than one shilling a head, and where +some of the government officials of the place daily came. +</p> +<p> +It was not without a certain sense of shame that I found myself in the +long low chamber, in which about twenty officers were assembled, whose +uniforms were all glittering with stars, medals, and crosses; in fact, to +a weak-minded civilian like myself, they gave the impression of a group of +heroes fresh come from all the triumphant glories of a campaign. Between +the staff, which occupied one end of the long table, and the few townsfolk +who sat at the other, there intervened a sort of frontier territory +uninhabited; and it was here that the waiter located me,—an object +of observation and remark to each. Resolving to learn how I was treated by +my critics, I addressed the waiter in the very worst French, and protested +my utter ignorance of German. I had promised myself much amusement from +this expedient, but was doomed to a severe disappointment,—the +officers coolly setting me down for a servant, while the townspeople +pronounced me a pedler; and when these judgments had been recorded, +instead of entering upon a psychological examination of my nature, +temperament, and individuality, they never noticed me any more. I felt +hurt at this, more, indeed, for their sakes than my own, since I bethought +me of the false impression that is current of this people throughout +Europe, where they have the reputation of philosophers deeply engaged in +researches into character, minute anatomists of human thought and man's +affections; “and yet,” muttered I, “they can sit at table with one of the +most remarkable of men, and be as ignorant of all about him as the +husbandman who toils at his daily labor is of the mineral treasures that +lie buried down beneath him.” + </p> +<p> +“I will read them a lesson,” thought I. “They shall see that in the humble +guise of foot-traveller it may be the pleasure of men of rank and station +to journey.” The townsfolk, when the dessert made its appearance, rose to +take their departure, each before he left the room making a profound +obeisance to the general, and then another but less lowly act of homage to +the staff, showing by this that strangers were expected to withdraw, while +the military guests sat over their wine. Indeed, a very significant look +from the last person who left the room conveyed to me the etiquette of the +place. I was delighted at this,—it was the very opportunity I longed +for; and so, with a clink of my knife against my wine-glass, the +substitute for a bell in use amongst humble hostels, I summoned the +waiter, and asked for his list of wines. I saw that my act had created +some astonishment amongst the others, but it excited nothing more, and now +they had all lighted their pipes, and sat smoking away quite regardless of +my presence. I had ordered a flask of Steinberger at four florins, and +given most special directions that my glass should have a “roped rim,” and +be of a tender green tint, but not too deep to spoil the color of the +wine. +</p> +<p> +My admonitions were given aloud, and in a tone of command; but I perceived +that they failed to create any impression upon my moustached neighbors. I +might have ordered nectar or hypocras, for all that they seemed to care +about me. I raked up in memory all the impertinent and insolent things +Henri Heine had ever said of Austria; I bethought me how they tyrannized +in the various provinces of their scattered empire, and how they were +hated by Hun, Slavac, and Italian; I revelled in those slashing leading +articles that used to show up the great but bankrupt bully, and I only +wished I was “own correspondent” to something at home to give my +impressions of “Austria and her military system.” + </p> +<p> +Little as you think of that pale sad-looking stranger, who sits sipping +his wine in solitude at the foot of the table, he is about to transmit +yourselves and your country to a remote posterity. “Ay!” muttered I, “to +be remembered when the Danube will be a choked-up rivulet, and the park of +Schônbrunn a prairie for the buffalo.” I am not exactly aware how or why +these changes were to have occurred, but Lord Macaulay's New Zealander +might have originated them. +</p> +<p> +While I thus mused and brooded, the tramp of four horses came clattering +down the street, and soon after swept into the arched doorway of the inn +with a rolling and thunderous sound. +</p> +<p> +“Here he comes; here he is at last! said a young officer, who had rushed +in haste to the window; and at the announcement a very palpable sentiment +of satisfaction seemed to spread itself through the company, even to the +grim old field-marshal, who took his pipe from his mouth to say,— +</p> +<p> +“He is in time,—he saves 'arrest!'” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, a tall man in uniform entered the room, and walking with +military step till he came in front of the General, said, in a loud but +respectful voice,— +</p> +<p> +“I have the honor to report myself as returned to duty.” + </p> +<p> +The General replied something I could not catch, and then shook him warmly +by the hand, making room for him to sit down next him. +</p> +<p> +“How far did your Royal Highness go? Not to Coire?” said the General. +</p> +<p> +“Far beyond it, sir,” said the other. “I went the whole way to the +Splügen, and if it were not for the terror of your displeasure, I 'd have +crossed the mountain and gone on to Chiavenna.” + </p> +<p> +The fact that I was listening to the narrative of a royal personage was +not the only bond of fascination to me, for somehow the tone of the +speaker's voice sounded familiarly to my ears, and I could have sworn I +had heard it before. As he was at the same side of the table with myself, +I could not see him; but while he continued to talk, the impression grew +each moment more strong that I must have met him previously. +</p> +<p> +I could gather—it was easy enough to do so—from the animated +looks of the party, and the repeated bursts of laughter that followed his +sallies, that the newly arrived officer was a wit and authority amongst +his comrades. His elevated rank, too, may have contributed to this +popularity. Must I own that he appeared in the character that to me is +particularly offensive? He was a “narrator.” That vulgar adage of “two of +a trade” has a far wider acceptance when applied to the operations of +intellect than when addressed to the work of men's hands. To see this +jealousy at its height, you must look for it amongst men of letters, +artists, actors, or, better still, those social performers who are the +bright spirits of dinner-parties,—the charming men of society. All +the animosities of political or religious hate are mild compared to the +detestation this rivalry engenders; and now, though the audience was a +foreign one, which I could have no pretension to amuse, I conceived the +most bitter dislike for the man who had engaged their attention. +</p> +<p> +I do not know how it may be with others, but to myself there has always +been this difficulty in a foreign language, that until I have accustomed +myself to the tone of voice and the manner of a speaker, I can rarely +follow him without occasional lapses. Now, on the present occasion, the +narrator., though speaking distinctly, and with a good accent, had a very +rapid utterance, and it was not till I had familiarized my ear with his +manner that I could gather his words correctly. Nor was my difficulty +lessened by the fact that, as he pretended to be witty and epigrammatic, +frequent bursts of laughter broke from his audience and obscured his +speech. He was, as it appeared, giving an account of a fishing excursion +he had just taken to one of the small mountain lakes near Poppenheim, and +it was clear enough he was one who always could eke an adventure out of +even the most ordinary incident of daily life. +</p> +<p> +This fishing story had really nothing in it, though he strove to make out +fifty points of interest or striking situations out of the veriest +commonplace. At last, however, I saw that, like a practised story-teller, +he was hoarding up his great incident for the finish. +</p> +<p> +“As I have told you,” said he, “I engaged the entire of the little inn for +myself; there were but five rooms in it altogether, and though I did not +need more than two, I took the rest, that I might be alone and unmolested. +Well, it was on my second evening there, as I sat smoking my pipe at the +door, and looking over my tackle for the morrow, there came up the glen +the strange sound of wheels, and, to my astonishment, a +travelling-carriage soon appeared, with four horses driven in hand; and as +I saw in a moment, it was a <i>lohnkutscher</i> who had taken the wrong +turning after leaving Ragatz, and mistaken the road, for the highway +ceases about two miles above Poppenheim, and dwindles down to a mere +mule-path. Leaving my host to explain the mistake to the travellers, I +hastily re-entered the house, just as the carriage drove up. The +explanation seemed a very prolix one, for when I looked out of the window, +half an hour afterwards, there were the horses still standing at the door, +and the driver, with a large branch of alder, whipping away the flies from +them, while the host continued to hold his place at the carriage door. At +last he entered my room, and said that the travellers, two foreign ladies,—he +thought them Russians,—had taken the wrong road, but that the elder, +what between fatigue and fear, was so overcome that she could not proceed +further, and entreated that they might be afforded any accommodation—mere +shelter for the night—rather than retrace their road to Ragatz. +</p> +<p> +“'Well,' said I, carelessly, 'let them have the rooms on the other side of +the hall; so that they only stop for one night, the intrusion will not +signify.' Not a very gracious reply, perhaps, but I did not want to be +gracious. The fact was, as the old lady got out, I saw something like an +elephant's leg, in a fur boot, that quite decided me on not making +acquaintance with the travellers, and I was rash enough to imagine they +must be both, alike. Indeed, I was do resolute in maintaining my solitude +undisturbed, that I told my host on no account whatever to make me any +communication from the strangers, nor on any pretext to let me feel that +they were lodged under the same roof with myself. Perhaps, if the next day +had been one to follow my usual sport, I should have forgotten all about +them, but it was one of such rain as made it perfectly impossible to leave +the house. I doubt if I ever saw rain like it. It came down in sheets, +like water splashed out of buckets, flattening the small trees to the +earth, and beating down all the light foliage into the muddy soil beneath; +meanwhile the air shook with the noise of the swollen torrents, and all +the mountain-streams crashed and thundered away, like great cataracts. +Rain can really become grand at such moments, and no more resembling a +mere shower than the cry of a single brawler in the streets is like the +roar of a mighty multitude. It was so fine that I determined I would go +down to a little wooden bridge over the river, whence I could see the +stream as it came down, tumbling and splashing, from a cleft in the +mountain. I soon dressed myself in all my best waterproofs,—hat, +cape, boots, and all,—and set out Until I was fully embarked on my +expedition, I had no notion of the severity of the storm, and it was with +considerable difficulty I could make bead against the wind and rain +together, while the slippery ground made walking an actual labor. +</p> +<p> +“At last I reached the river; but of the bridge, the only trace was a +single beam, which, deeply buried in the bank at one extremity, rose and +fell in the surging flood, like the arm of a drowning swimmer. The stream +had completely filled the channel, and swept along, with fragments of +timber, and even furniture, in its muddy tide; farm produce, and +implements too, came floating by, showing what destruction had been +effected higher up the river. As I stood gazing on the current, I saw, at +a little distance from me, a man, standing motionless beside the river, +and apparently lost in thought,—so, at least, he seemed; for though +not at all clad in a way to resist the storm, he remained there, wet and +soaked through, totally regardless of the weather. On inquiring at the +inn, I learned that this was the <i>lohnkutscher</i>—the <i>vetturino</i>—of +the travellers, and who, in attempting to ascertain if the stream were +fordable, had lost one of his best horses, and barely escaped being +carried away himself. Until that, I had forgotten all about the strangers, +who, it now appeared, were close prisoners like myself. While the host was +yet speaking, the <i>lohnkutscher</i> came up, and in a tone of equality, +that showed me he thought I was in his own line of business, asked if I +would sell him one of my nags then in the stable. +</p> +<p> +“Not caring to disabuse him of his error regarding my rank, I did not +refuse him so flatly as I might, and he pressed the negotiation very +warmly in consequence. At last, to get rid of him, I declared that I would +not break up my team, and retired into the house. I was not many minutes +in my room, when a courier came, with a polite message from his mistress, +to beg I would speak with her. I went at once, and found an old lady,—she +was English, as her French bespoke,—very well mannered and well +bred, who apologized for troubling me; but having heard from her <i>vetturino</i> +that my horses were disengaged, and that I might, if not disposed to sell +one of them, hire out the entire team, to take their carriage as far as +Andeer—By the time she got thus far, I perceived that she, too, +mistook me for a <i>lohnkutscher</i>. It just struck me what good fun it +would be to carry on the joke. To be sure, the lady herself presented no +inducement to the enterprise; and as I thus balanced the case, there came +into the room one of the prettiest girls I ever saw. She never turned a +look towards where I was standing, nor deigned to notice me at all, but +passed out of the room as rapidly as she entered; still, I remembered that +I had already seen her before, and passed a delightful evening in her +company at a little inn in the Black Forest.” + </p> +<p> +When the narrator had got thus far in his story, I leaned forward to catch +a full view of him, and saw, to my surprise, and, I own, to my misery, +that he was the German count we had met at the Titi-See. So overwhelming +was this discovery to me, that I heard nothing for many minutes after. All +of that wretched scene between us on the last evening at the inn came full +to my memory, and I bethought me of lying the whole night on the hard +table, fevered with rage and terror alternately. If it were not that his +narrative regarded Miss Herbert now, I would have skulked out of the room, +and out of the inn, and out of the town itself, never again to come under +the insolent stare of those wicked gray eyes; but in that name there was a +fascination,—not to say that a sense of jealousy burned at my heart +like a furnace. +</p> +<p> +The turmoil of my thought lost me a great deal of his story, and might +have lost me more, had not the hearty laughter of his comrades recalled me +once again to attention. +</p> +<p> +He was describing how, as a <i>vetturino</i>, he drove their carriage with +his own spanking gray horses to Coire, and thence to Andeer. He had +bargained, it seemed, that Miss Herbert should travel outside in the +cabriolet, but she failed to keep her pledge, so that they only met at +stray moments during the journey. It was in one of these she said +laughingly to him,— +</p> +<p> +“'Nothing would surprise me less than to learn, some fine morning, that +you were a prince in disguise, or a great count of the empire, at least. +It was only the other day we were honored with the incognito presence of a +royal personage; I do not exactly know who, but Mrs. Keats could tell you. +He left us abruptly at Schaffbausen.' +</p> +<p> +“'You can't mean the creature,' said I, 'that I saw in your company at the +Titi-See?' +</p> +<p> +“'The same,' said she, rather angrily. +</p> +<p> +“'Why, he is a saltimbanque; I saw him the morning I came through +Constance, with some others of his troop dragged before the maire for +causing a disturbance in a cabaret; one of the most consummate impostors, +they told me, in Europe.'” + </p> +<p> +“An infamous falsehood, and a base liar the man who says it!” cried I, +springing to my legs, and standing revealed before the company in an +attitude of haughty defiance. “I am the person you have dared to defame. I +have never assumed to be a prince, and as little am I a rope-dancer. I am +an English gentleman, travelling for his pleasure, and I hurl back every +word you have said of me with contempt and defiance.” + </p> +<p> +Before I had finished this insolent speech, some half-dozen swords were +drawn and brandished in the air, very eager, as it seemed, to cut me to +pieces, and the Count himself required all the united strength of the +party to save me from his hands. At last I was pushed, hustled, and +dragged out of the room to another smaller one on the same floor, and, the +key being turned on me, left to my very happy reflections. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE DUEL WITH PRINCE MAX. +</h2> +<p> +I had no writing-materials, but I had just composed a long letter to the +“Times” on “the outrageous treatment and false imprisonment of a British +subject in Austria,” when my door was opened by a thin, lank-jawed, +fierce-eyed man in uniform, who announced himself as the Rittmeister von +Mahony, of the Keyser Hussars. +</p> +<p> +“A countryman—an Irishman,” said I, eagerly, clasping his hand with +warmth. +</p> +<p> +“That is to say, two generations back,” replied he; “my grandfather +Terence was a lieutenant in Trenck's Horse, but since that none of us have +ever been out of Austria.” + </p> +<p> +If these tidings fell coldly on my heart, just beginning to glow with the +ardor of home and country, I soon saw that it takes more than two +generations to wash out the Irishman from a man's nature. The honest +Rittmeister, with scarcely a word of English in his vocabulary, was as +hearty a countryman as if he had never journeyed out of the land of Bog. +</p> +<p> +He had beard “all about it,” he said, by way of arresting the eloquent +indignation that filled me; and he added, “And the more fool myself to +notice the matter;” asking me, quaintly, if I had never heard of our +native maxim that says, “One man ought never to fall upon forty.” “Well,” + said he, with a sigh, “what's done can't be undone; and let us see what's +to come next? I see you are a gentleman, and the worse luck yours.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean by that?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“Just this: you'll have to fight; and if you were a 'Gemeiner'—a +plebeian—you'd get off.” + </p> +<p> +I turned away to the window to wipe a tear out of my eye; it had come +there without my knowing it, and, as I did so, I devoted myself to the +death of a hero. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “<i>she</i> is in this incident—she has her part in +this scene of my life's drama, and I will not disgrace her presence. I +will die like a man of honor rather than that her name should be +disparaged.” + </p> +<p> +He went on to tell me of my opponent, who was brother to a reigning +sovereign, and himself a royal highness,—Prince Max of Swabia. “He +was not,” he added, “by any means a bad fellow, though not reputed to be +perfectly sane on certain topics.” However, as his eccentricities were +very harmless ones, merely offshoots of an exaggerated personal vanity, it +was supposed that some active service, and a little more intercourse with +the world, would cure him. “Not,” added he, “that one can say he has shown +many signs of amendment up to this, for he never makes an excursion of +half-a-dozen days from home without coming back filled with the resistless +passion of some young queen or archduchess for him. As he forgets these as +fast as he imagines them, there is usually nothing to lament on the +subject. Now you are in possession of all that you need know about <i>him</i>. +Tell me something of yourself; and first, have you served?” + </p> +<p> +“Never.” + </p> +<p> +“Was your father a soldier, or your grandfather?” + </p> +<p> +“Neither.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you any connections on the mother's side in the army?” + </p> +<p> +“I am not aware of one.” + </p> +<p> +He gave a short, hasty cough, and walked the room twice with his hands +clasped at his back, and then, coming straight in front of me, said, “And +your name? What's your name?” + </p> +<p> +“Potts! Potts!” said I, with a firm energy. +</p> +<p> +“Potztausend!” cried he, with a grim laugh: “what a strange name!” + </p> +<p> +“I said Potts, Herr Rittmeister, and not Potztausend,” rejoined I, +haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“And I heard you,” said he; “it was involuntarily on my part to add the +termination. And who are the Pottses? Are they noble?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind,—respectable middle-class folk; some in trade, +some clerks in mercantile houses, some holding small government +employments, one, perhaps the chief of the family, an eminent apothecary!” + </p> +<p> +As if I had uttered the most irresistible joke, at this word he held his +hands over his face and shook with laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Heilge Joseph!” cried he, at last, “this is too good! The Prince Max +going out with an apothecary's nephew, or, maybe, his son!” + </p> +<p> +“His son upon this occasion,” said I, gravely. +</p> +<p> +He, did not reply for some minutes, and then, leaning over the back of a +chair, and regarding me very fixedly, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“You have only to say who you are, and what your belongings, and nothing +will come of this affair. In fact, what with your little knowledge of +German, your imperfect comprehension of what the Prince said, and your own +station in life, I'll engage to arrange everything and get you off clear!” + </p> +<p> +“In a word,” said I, “I am to plead in <i>forma, inferioris</i>,—isn't +that it?” + </p> +<p> +“Just so,” said he, puffing out a long cloud from his pipe. +</p> +<p> +“I 'd rather die first!” cried I, with an energy that actually startled +him. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, after a pause, “I think it is very probable that will +come of it; but, if it be your choice, I have nothing to say.” + </p> +<p> +“Go back, Herr Rittmeister,” cried I, “and arrange the meeting for the +very earliest moment.” + </p> +<p> +I said this with a strong purpose, for I felt if the event were to come +off at once I could behave well. +</p> +<p> +“As you are resolved on this course,” said he, “do not make any such +confidences to others as you have made to me; nothing about those Pottses +in haberdashery and dry goods, but just simply you are the high and +well-born Potts of Pottsheim. Not a word more.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed an assent, but so anxious was he to impress this upon me that he +went over it all once more. +</p> +<p> +“As it will be for me to receive the Prince's message, the choice of +weapons will be yours. What are you most expert with? I mean, after the +pistol?” said he, grinning. +</p> +<p> +“I am about equally skilled in all. Rapier, pistol, or sabre are all alike +to me.” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Der Teufel!</i>” cried he: “I was not counting upon this; and as the +sabre is the Prince's weakest arm, we 'll select it.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed again, and more blandly. +</p> +<p> +“There is but one thing more,” said he, turning about just as he was +leaving the room. “Don't forget that in this case the gross provocation +came from <i>you</i> and, therefore, be satisfied with self-defence, or, +at most, a mere flesh wound. Remember that the Prince is a near connection +of the Royal Family of England, and it would be irreparable ruin to you +were he to fall by your hand.” And with this he went out. +</p> +<p> +Now, had he gravely bound me over not to strangle the lions in the Tower, +it could not have appeared more ridiculous to me than this injunction, and +if there had been in my heart the smallest fund of humor, I could have +laughed at it; but, Heaven knows, none of my impulses took a mirthful turn +at that moment, and there never was invented the drollery that could wring +a smile from me. +</p> +<p> +I was sitting in a sort of stupor—I know not how long—when the +door opened, and the Rittmeister's head peered in. +</p> +<p> +“To-morrow morning at five!” cried he. “I will fetch you half an hour +before.” The door closed, and he was off. +</p> +<p> +It was now a few minutes past eight o'clock, and there were, therefore, +something short of nine hours of life left to me. I have heard that Victor +Hugo is an amiable and kindly disposed man, and I feel assured, if he ever +could have known the tortures he would have inflicted, he would never have +designed the terrible record entitled “Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamné.” I +conclude it was designed as a sort of appeal against death punishments. I +doubt much of its efficacy in altering legislation, while I feel assured, +that if ever it fall in the way of one whose hours are numbered, it must +add indescribably to his misery. +</p> +<p> +When, how, or by whom my supper was served, I never knew. I can only +remember that a very sleepy waiter roused me out of a half-drowsy revery +about midnight, by asking if he were to remove the dishes, or let them +remain till morning. I bade him leave them, and me also, and when the door +was closed I sat down to my meal. It was cold and unappetizing. I would +have deemed it unwholesome, too, but I remembered that the poor stomach it +was destined for would never be called on to digest it, and that for once +I might transgress without the fear of dyspepsia. My case was precisely +that of the purseless traveller, who, we are told, can sing before the +robber, just as if want ever suggested melody, or that being poor was a +reason for song. So with me any excess was open to me just because it was +impossible! +</p> +<p> +“Still,” thought I, “great criminals—and surely I am not as bad as +they—eat very heartily.” And so I cut the tough fowl vigorously in +two, and placed half of it on my plate. I filled myself out a whole goblet +of wine, and drank it off. I repeated this, and felt better. I fell to now +with a will, and really made an excellent supper. There were some potted +sardines that I secretly resolved to have for my breakfast, when the +sudden thought flashed across me that I was never to breakfast any more. I +verily believe that I tasted in that one instant a whole life long of +agony and bitterness. +</p> +<p> +There was in my friendless, lone condition, my youth, the mild and gentle +traits of my nature, and my guileless simplicity, just that combination of +circumstances which would make my fate peculiarly pathetic, and I imagined +my countrymen standing beside the gravestone and muttering “Poor Potts!” + till I felt my heart almost bursting with sorrow over myself. +</p> +<p> +“Cut off at three-and-twenty!” sobbed I; “in the very opening bud of his +promise!” + </p> +<p> +“Misfortune is a pebble with many facets,” says the Chinese adage, “and +wise is he who turns it around till he find the smooth one.” + </p> +<p> +“Is there such here?” thought I. “And where can it be?” With all my +ingenuity I could not discover it, when at last there crossed my mind how +the event would figure in the daily papers, and be handed down to remote +posterity. I imagined the combat itself described in the language almost +of a lion-hunt “Potts, who had never till that moment had a sword in his +hand,—Potts, though at this time severely wounded, and bleeding +profusely, nothing dismayed by the ferocious attack of his opponent,—Potts +maintained his guard with all the coolness of a consummate swordsman.” How +I wished my life might be spared just to let me write the narrative of the +combat I would like, besides, to show the world how generously I could +treat an adversary, with what delicacy I could respect his motives, and +how nobly deal even with his injustice. +</p> +<p> +“Was that two o'clock?” said I, starting up, while the humming sound of +the gong bell filled the room. “Is it possible that but three hours now +stand between me and—” I gave a shudder that made me feel as if I +was standing in a fearful thorough draught, and actually looked up to see +if the window were not open; but no, it was closed, the night calm, and +the sky full of stars. “Oh!” exclaimed I, “if there are Pottses up amongst +you yonder, I hope destiny may deal more kindly by them than down here. I +trust that in those glorious regions a higher and purer intelligence +prevails, and, above all things, that duelling is proclaimed the greatest +of crimes.” Remnant of barbarism! it is worse ten thousand times; it is +the whole suit, costume, and investure of an uncivilized age. “Poor +Potts!” said I; “you went out upon your life-voyage with very generous +intentions towards posterity. I wonder how it will treat <i>you?</i> Will +it vindicate your memory, uphold your fame, and dignify your motives? Will +it be said in history, 'Amongst the memorable events of the period was the +duel between the Prince Max of Swabia and an Irish gentleman named Potts. +To understand fully the circumstance of this remarkable conflict, it is +necessary to premise that Potts was not what is vulgarly called +constitutionally brave; but he was more. He was—'? Ah! there was the +puzzle. How was that miserable biographer ever to arrive at the secret of +an organization fine and subtle as mine? If I could but leave it on record—if +I could but transmit to the ages that will come after me the invaluable +key to the mystery of my being—a few days would suffice—a week +certainly would do it—and why should I not have time given me for +this? I will certainly propose this to the Rittmeister when he comes. +There can be little doubt but he will see the matter with my own eyes.” + </p> +<p> +As if I had summoned him by enchantment, there he stood at the door, +wrapped in his great white cavalry cloak, and looking gigantic and ominous +together. +</p> +<p> +“There is no carriage-road,” said he, “to the place we are going, and I +have come thus early that we may stroll along leisurely, and enjoy the +fresh air of the morning.” + </p> +<p> +Until that moment I had never believed how heartless human nature could +be! To talk of enjoyment, to recall the world and its pleasures, in any +way, to one situated like I, was a bold and scarcely credible cruelty; but +the words did me good service; they armed me with a sardonic contempt for +life and mankind; and so I protested that I was charmed with the project, +and out we set. +</p> +<p> +My companion was not talkative; he was a quiet, almost depressed man, who +had led a very monotonous existence, with little society among his +comrades; so that he did not offer me the occasion I sought for, of saying +saucy and sneering things of the world at large. Indeed, the first +observation he made was, that we were in a locality that ought to be +interesting to Irishmen, since an ancient shrine of St. Patrick marked the +spot of the convent to which we were approaching. No remark could have +been more ill-timed! to look back into the past, one ought to have some +vista of the future. Who can sympathize with bygones when he is counting +the minutes that are to make him one of them? +</p> +<p> +What a bore that old Rittmeister was with his antiquities, and how I hated +him as he said, “If your time was not so limited I 'd have taken you over +to St. Gallen to inspect the manuscripts.” I felt choking as he uttered +these words. How was my time so limited? I did not dare to ask. Was he +barbarous enough to mean that if I had another day to live I might have +passed it pleasantly in turning over musty missals in a monastery? +</p> +<p> +At last we came to a halt in a little grove of pines, and he said, “Have +you any address to give me of friends or relatives, or have you any +peculiar directions on any subject?” + </p> +<p> +“You made a remark last night, Herr Rittmeister,” said I, “which did not +at the moment produce the profound impression upon me that subsequent +reflection has enforced. You said that if his Royal Highness were fully +aware that his antagonist was the son of a practising chemist and +apothecary—” + </p> +<p> +“That I could have, put off this event; true enough, but when you refused +that alternative, and insisted on satisfaction, I myself, as your +countryman, gave the guarantee for your rank, which nothing now will make +me retract Understand me well,—nothing will make me retract.” + </p> +<p> +“You are pleased to be precipitate,” said I, with an attempt to sneer; “my +remark had but one object, and that was my personal disinclination to +obtain a meeting under a false pretext.” + </p> +<p> +“Make your mind easy on that score. It will be all precisely the same in +about an hour hence.” + </p> +<p> +I nearly fainted as I heard this; it seemed as though a cold stream of +water ran through my spine and paralyzed the very marrow inside. +</p> +<p> +“You have your choice of weapons,” said he, curtly; “which are you best +at?” + </p> +<p> +I was going to say the “javelin,” but I was ashamed; and yet should a man +sacrifice life for a false modesty? While I reasoned thus, he pointed to a +group of officers close to the garden wall of the convent, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“They are all waiting yonder; let us hasten on.” + </p> +<p> +If I had been mortally wounded, and was dragging my feeble limbs along to +rest them forever on some particular spot, I might have, probably, +effected my progress as easily as I now did. The slightest inequality of +ground tripped me, and I stumbled at every step. +</p> +<p> +“You are cold,” said my companion, “and probably unused to early rising,—taste +this.” + </p> +<p> +He gave me his brandy-flask, and I finished it off at a draught. Blessings +be on the man who invented alcohol! +</p> +<p> +All the ethics that ever were written cannot work the same miracle in a +man's nature as a glass of whiskey. Talk of all the wonders of chemistry, +and what are they to the simple fact that twopennyworth of cognac can +convert a coward into a hero? +</p> +<p> +I was not quite sure that my antagonist had not resorted to a similar sort +of aid, for he seemed as light-hearted and as jolly as though he was out +for a picnic. There was a jauntiness, too, in the way he took out his +cigar, and scraped his lucifer-match on a beech-tree, that quite struck +me, and I should like to have imitated it if I could. +</p> +<p> +“If it's the same to you, take the sabre, it's his weakest weapon,” + whispered the Rittmeister in my ear; and I agreed. And now there was a +sort of commotion about the choice of the ground and the places, in which +my friend seemed to stand by me most manfully. Then there followed a +general measurement of swords, and a fierce comparison of weapons. I don't +know how many were not thrust into my hand, one saying, “Take this, it is +well balanced in the wrist; or if you like a heavy guard, here's your +arm!” + </p> +<p> +“To me, it is a matter of perfect indifference,” said I, jauntily. “All +weapons are alike.” + </p> +<p> +“He will attack fiercely, and the moment the word is given,” whispered the +Rittmeister, “so be on your guard; keep your hilt full before you, or he +'ll slice off your nose before you are aware of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Be not so sure of that till you have seen my sword play,” said I, +fiercely; and my heart swelled with a fierce sentiment that must have been +courage, for I never remember to have felt the like before. I know I was +brave at that moment, for if, by one word, I could have averted the +combat, I would not have uttered it. +</p> +<p> +“To your places,” cried the umpire, “and on your guard! Are you ready?” + </p> +<p> +“Ready!” re-echoed I, wildly, while I gave a mad flourish of my weapon +round my head that threw the whole company into a roar of laughter; and, +at the same instant, two figures, screaming fearfully, rushed from the +beech copse, and, bursting their way through the crowd, fell upon me with +the most frantic embraces, amidst the louder laughter of the others. O +shame and ineffable disgrace! O misery never to be forgotten! It was +Vaterchen who now grasped my knees, and Tintefleck who clung round my neck +and kissed me repeatedly. From the time of the Laocoon, no one ever +struggled to free himself as I did, but all in vain; my efforts, impeded +by the sword, lest I might unwillingly wound them, were all fruitless, and +we rolled upon the ground inextricably commingled and struggling. +</p> +<p> +“Was I right?” cried the Prince. “Was I right in calling this fellow a +saltimbanque? See him now with his comrades around him, and say if I was +mistaken.” + </p> +<p> +“How is this?” whispered the Rittmeister. “Have you dared to deceive <i>me?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“I have deceived no one,” said I, trying to rise; and I poured forth a +torrent of not very coherent eloquence, as the mirth of my audience seemed +to imply; but, fortunately, Vaterchen had now obtained a hearing, and was +detailing in very fluent language the nature of the relations between us. +Poor old fellow, in his boundless gratitude I seemed more than human; and +his praises actually shamed me to hear them. How I had first met them, he +recounted in the strain of one assisted by the gods in classic times; his +description made me a sort of Jove coming down on a rosy cloud to succor +suffering humanity; and then came in Tintefleck with her broken words, +marvellously aided by “action,” as she poured forth the heap of gold upon +the grass, and said it was all mine! +</p> +<p> +Wonderful metal, to be sure, for enforcing conviction on the mind of man; +there is a sincerity about it far more impressive than any vocal +persuasion. The very clink of it implies that the real and the positive +are in question, not the imaginary and the delusive. “This is all his!” + cried she, pointing to the treasure with the air of one showing Aladdin's +cave; and though her speech was not very intelligible, Vaterchen's +“vulgate” ran underneath and explained the text. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you will forgive me. I trust you will be satisfied with my +apologies, made thus openly,” said the Prince, in the most courteous of +manners. “One who can behave with such magnanimity can scarcely be wanting +in another species of generosity.” And ere I could well reply, I found +myself shaking hands with every one, and every one with me; nor was the +least pleasurable part of this recognition the satisfaction displayed by +the Rittmeister at the good issue of this event. I had great difficulty in +resisting their resolution to carry me back with them to Bregenz. +Innumerable were the plans and projects devised for my entertainment. +Field sports, sham fights, rifle-shooting, all were displayed attractively +before me; and it was clear that, if I accepted their invitations, I +should be treated like the most favored guest. But I was firm in my +refusal; and, pleading a pretended necessity to be at a particular place +by a particular day, I started once more, taking the road with the +“vagabonds,” who now seemed bound to me by an indissoluble bond; at least, +so Vaterchen assured me by the most emphatic of declarations, and that, do +with him what I might, he was my slave till death. +</p> +<p> +“Who is ever completely happy?” says the sage; and with too good reason is +the doubt expressed. Here, one might suppose, was a situation abounding +with the most pleasurable incidents. To have escaped a duel, and come out +with honor and credit from the issue; to have re-found not only my missing +money, but to have my suspicions relieved as to those whose honest name +was dear to me, and whose discredit would have darkened many a bright hope +of life,—these were no small successes; and yet—I shame to own +it—my delight in them was dashed by an incident so small and +insignificant that I have scarce courage to recall it. Here it is, +however: While I was taking a kindly farewell of my military friends, +hand-shaking and protesting interminable friendships, I saw, or thought I +saw, the Prince, with even a more affectionate warmth, making his adieus +to Tintefleck! If he had not his arm actually round her waist, there was +certainly a white leather cavalry glove curiously attached to her side, +and one of her cheeks was deeper colored than the other, and her bearing +and manner seemed confused so that she answered, when spoken to, at +cross-purposes. +</p> +<p> +“How did you come by this brooch, Tintefleck? I never saw it before.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, is it not pretty? It is a violet; and these leaves, though green, are +all gold.” + </p> +<p> +“Answer me, girl! who gave it thee?” said I, in the voice of Othello. +</p> +<p> +“Must I tell?” murmured she, sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +“On the spot,—confess it!” + </p> +<p> +“It was one who bade me keep it till he should bring me a prettier one.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not care for what he said, or what you promised. I want his name.'* +</p> +<p> +“And that I was never to forget him till then,—never.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you say this to irritate and offend me, or do you prevaricate out of +shame?” said, I angrily. +</p> +<p> +“Shame!” repeated she, haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, shame or fear.” + </p> +<p> +“Or fear! Fear of what, or of whom?” + </p> +<p> +“You are very daring to ask me. And now, for the last time, Tintefleck,—for +the last time, I say, who gave you this?” + </p> +<p> +As I said these words we had just reached the borders of a little rivulet, +over which we were to cross by stepping-stones. Vaterchen was, as usual, +some distance behind, and now calling to us to wait for him. She turned at +his cry, and answered him, but made no reply to me. +</p> +<p> +This continued defiance of me overcame my temper altogether, sorely pushed +as it was by a stupid jealousy, and, seizing her wrist with a strong +grasp, I said, in a slow, measured tone, “I insist upon your answer to my +question, or—” + </p> +<p> +“Or what?” + </p> +<p> +“That we part here, and forever.” + </p> +<p> +“With all my heart. Only remember one thing,” said she, in a low, +whispering voice: “you left me once before,—you quitted me, in a +moment of temper, just as you threaten it now. Go, if you will, or if you +must; but let this be our last meeting and last parting.” + </p> +<p> +“It is as such I mean it,—good-bye!” I sprang on the stepping-stone +as I spoke, and at the same instant a glittering object splashed into the +stream close to me. I saw it, just as one might see the lustre of a +trout's back as it rose to a fly. I don't know what demon sat where my +heart ought to have been, but I pressed my hat over my eyes, and went on +without turning my head. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIX. ON THE EDGE OF A TORRENT +</h2> +<p> +Very conflicting and very mixed were my feelings, as I set forth alone. I +had come well, very well, out of a trying emergency. I was neither driven +to pretend I was something other than myself, with grand surroundings, and +illustrious belongings, nor had I masqueraded under a feigned name and a +false history; but as Potts, son of Potts the apothecary, I had carried my +head high and borne myself creditably. +</p> +<p> +<i>Magna est Veritas</i>, indeed! I am not so sure of the <i>prævalebit +semper</i>, but, assuredly, where it does succeed, the success is +wonderful. +</p> +<p> +Heaven knows into what tortuous entanglements might my passion for the +“imaginative”—I liked this name for it—have led me, had I +given way to one of my usual temptations. In more than one of my flights +have I found myself carried up into a region, and have had to sustain an +atmosphere very unsuited to my respiration, and now, with the mere +prudence of walking on the <i>terra firma</i>, and treading the common +highway of life, I found I had reached my goal safely and speedily. +Flowers do not assume to be shrubs, nor shrubs affect to be forest trees; +the limestone and granite never pretend that they are porphyry and onyx. +Nature is real, and why should man alone be untruthful and unreal? If I +liked these reflections, and tried to lose myself in them, it was in the +hope of shutting out others less gratifying; but, do what I would, there, +before me, arose the image of Catinka, as she stood at the edge of the +rivulet, that stream which seemed to cut me off from one portion of my +life, and make the past irrevocably gone forever. +</p> +<p> +I am certain I was quite right in parting with that girl. Any respectable +man, a father of a family, would have applauded me for severing this +dangerous connection. What could come of such association except +unhappiness? “Potts,” would the biographer say,—“Potts saw, with the +unerring instinct of his quick perception, that this young creature would +one day or other have laid at his feet the burnt-offering of her heart, +and then, what could he have done? If Potts had been less endowed with +genius, or less armed in honesty, he had not anticipated this peril, or, +foreseeing, bad undervalued it. But he both saw and feared it. How very +differently had a libertine reasoned out this situation!” And then I +thought how wicked I might have been,—a monster of crime and +atrocity. Every one knows the sensation of lying snugly a-bed on a stormy +night, and, as the rain plashes and the wind howls, drawing more closely +around him the coverlet, and the selfish satisfaction of his own comfort, +heightened by all the possible hardships of others outside. In the same +benevolent spirit, but not by any means so reprehensible, is it pleasant +to imagine oneself a great criminal, standing in the dock, to be stared at +by a horror-struck public, photographed, shaved, prison costumed, +exhorted, sentenced, and tien, just as the last hammer has driven the last +nail into the scaffold, and the great bell has tolled out, to find that +you are sitting by your wood fire, with your curtain drawn, your uncut +volume beside you, and your peculiar weakness, be it tea, or +sherry-cobbler, at your elbow. I constantly take a “rise” out of myself in +this fashion, and rarely a week goes over that I have not either poisoned +a sister or had a shot at the Queen. It is a sort of intellectual Russian +bath, in which the luxury consists in the exaggerated alternative between +being scalded first and rolled in the snow afterwards. It was in this +figurative snow I was now disporting myself, pleasantly and refreshingly, +and yet remorse, like a sturdy dun, stood at my gate, and refused to go +away. +</p> +<p> +Had I, indeed, treated her harshly,—had I rejected the offer of her +young and innocent heart? Very puzzling and embarrassing question this, +and especially to a man who had nothing of the coxcomb in his nature, none +of that prompting of self-love that would suggest a vain reply. I felt +that it was very natural <i>she</i> should have been struck by the +attractive features of my character, but I felt this without a particle of +conceit. I even experienced a sense of sorrow as I thought over it, just +as a conscientious siren might have regretted that nature had endowed her +with such a charming voice; and this duty—for it was a duty—discharged, +I bethought me of my own future. I had a mission, which was to see Kate +Herbert and give her Miss Crofton's letter. In doing so, I must needs +throw off all disguises and mockeries, and be Potts, the very creature she +sneered at, the man whose mere name was enough to suggest a vulgar life +and a snob's nature! No matter what misery it may give, I will do it +manfully. <i>She</i> may never appreciate—the world at large may +never appreciate—what noble motives were hidden beneath these +assumed natures, mere costumes as they were, to impart more vigor and +persuasiveness to sentiments which, uttered in the undress of Potts, would +have carried no convictions with them. Play Macbeth in a paletot, perform +Othello in “pegtops,” and see what effect you will produce! Well, my +pretended station and rank were the mere gauds and properties that gave +force to my opinions. And now to relinquish these, and be the actor, in +the garish light of the noonday, and a shabby-genteel coat and hat! “I +will do it,” muttered I,—“I will do it, but the suffering will be +intense!” When the prisoner sentenced to a long captivity is no more +addressed by his name, but simply called No. 18, or 43, it is said that +the shock seems to kill the sense of identity with him, and that nothing +more tends to that stolid air of indifference, that hopeless inactivity of +feature, so characteristic of a prison life; in the very same way am I +affected when limited to my Potts nature, and condemned to confine myself +within the narrow bounds of that one small identity. From what Prince Max +has said at the <i>table d'hôte</i> at Bregenz, it was clear that Mrs. +Keats had already learned I was not the young prince of the House of +Orleans; but, in being disabused of one error, she seemed to have fallen +into another; and it behoved me to explain that I was not a rope-dancer or +a mountebank. “She, too, shall know me in my Potts nature,” said I; “she +also shall recognize me in the 'majesty of myself.'” I was not very sure +of what that was, but found it in Hegel. +</p> +<p> +And when I have completed this task, I will throw myself like a waif upon +the waters of life. I will be that which the moment or the event shall +make me,—neither trammelled by the past nor awed by the future. I +will take the world as the drama of a day. Were men to do this, what +breadth and generosity would it impart to them! It is in self-seeking and +advancement that we narrow our faculties and imprison our natures. A man +fancies he owns a palace and a demesne, but it is the palace that owns <i>him</i>, +obliges him to maintain a certain state, live in a certain style, +surrounded with certain observances, not one of which may be, perhaps, +native to him. It is the poor man, who comes to visit and gaze on his +splendors, who really enjoys them; <i>he</i> sees them without one +detracting influence,—not to say that in <i>his</i> heart are no +corroding jealousies of some other rich man, who has a finer Claude, or a +grander Rubens. Instead, besides, of owning one palace and one garden, it +is the universe he owns: the vast savannah is his race-ground; Niagara his +own private cascade. My heart bounded with these buoyant fancies, and I +stepped out briskly on my road. Now that I had made this vow of poverty to +myself, I felt very light-hearted and gay. So long as a man is struggling +for place and pre-eminence in life, how can he be generous, how even +gracious? “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ox,” says the commandment, +but surely it must have been your neighbor's before it was yours, and if +you have striven for it, it is likely that you have coveted it. Now, I +will covet nothing,—positively nothing,—and I will see if in +this noble spirit there will not be a reward proportionately ample and +splendid. +</p> +<p> +My road led through that wild and somewhat dreary valley by which the +Upper Rhine descends, fed by many an Alpine stream and torrent, to reach +the fertile plains of Germany. It was a desolate expanse of shingle, with +here and there little patches of oak scrub, or, at rare intervals, small +enclosures of tillage, though how tilled, or for whom, it was hard to say, +since not a trace of inhabitant could be seen, far or wide. Deep fissures, +the course of many a mountain stream, cut the road at places, and through +these the foot traveller had to pass on stepping-stones; while wheel +carriages, descending into the chaos of rocks and stones, fared even +worse, and incurred serious peril to spring and axle in the passage. On +the mountain-sides, indeed, some chalets were to be seen, very high up, +and scarcely accessible, but ever surrounded with little tracts of greener +verdure and more varied foliage. From these heights, too, I could hear the +melodious ring of the bells worn by the cattle,—sure signs of +peasant comfort. “Might not a man find a life of simple cares and few +sorrows, up yonder?” asked I, as I gazed upward. While I continued to +look, the great floating clouds that soared on the mountain-top began to +mass and to mingle together, thickening and darkening at every moment, and +then, as though overweighted, slowly to descend, shutting out chalet and +shady copse and crag, as they fell, on their way to the plain beneath. It +was a grievous change from the bright picture a few moments back, and not +the less disheartening, that the heavily charged mist now melted into +rain, that soon fell in torrents. With not a rock nor a shrub to shelter +under, I had nothing for it but to trudge onward to the nearest village, +wherever that might be. How speedily the slightest touch of the real will +chase away the fictitious and imaginary! No more dreams nor fancies now, +as wet and soaked I plodded on, my knapsack seeming double its true +weight, and my stick appearing to take root each time it struck the +ground. The fog, too, was so dense that I was forced to feel my way as I +went. The dull roar of the Rhine was the only sound for a long time; but +this, at length, became broken by the crashing noise of timber carried +down by the torrents, and the louder din of the torrents themselves as +they came tumbling down the mountain. I would have retraced my steps to +Bregenz, but that I knew the places I had passed dryshod in the morning +would by this time have become impassable rivers. My situation was a +dreary one, and not without peril, since there was no saying when or where +a mountain cataract might not burst its way down the cliffs and sweep +clean across the road towards the Rhine. +</p> +<p> +Had there been one spot to offer shelter, even the poorest and meanest, I +would gladly have taken it, and made up my mind to await better weather; +but there was not a bank, nor even a bush to cower under, and I was forced +to trudge on. It seemed to me, at last, that I must have been walking many +hours; but having no watch, and being surrounded with impenetrable fog, I +could make no guess of the time, when, at length, a louder and deeper +sound appeared to fill the air, and make the very mist vibrate with its +din. The surging sound of a great volume of water, sweeping along through +rocks and fallen trees, apprised me that I was nearing a torrent; while +the road itself, covered with some inches of water, showed that the stream +had already risen above its embankments. There was real danger in this; +light carriages—the great lumbering diligence itself—had been +known to be carried away by these suddenly swollen streams, and I began +seriously to fear disaster. Wading cautiously onward, I reached what I +judged to be the edge of the torrent, and felt with my stick that the +water was here borne madly onward, and at considerable depth. Though +through the fog I could make out the opposite bank, and see that the +stream was not a wide one, I plainly perceived that the current was far +too powerful for me to breast without assistance, and that no single +passenger could attempt it with safety. I may have stood half an hour +thus, with the muddy stream surging over my ankles, for I was stunned and +stupefied by the danger, when I thought I saw through the mist two +gigantic figures looming through the fog, on the opposite bank. When and +how they had come there, I knew not, if they were indeed there, and if +these figures were not mere spectres of my imagination. It was not till +having closed my eyes, and opening them again, I beheld the same objects, +that I could fully assure myself of their reality. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XL. I AM DRAGGED AS A PRISONER TO FELDKIRCH +</h2> +<p> +The two great figures I had seen looming through the fog while standing in +the stream, I at last made out to be two horsemen, who seemed in search of +some safe and fordable part of the stream to cross over. Their apparent +caution was a lesson by which I determined to profit, and I stood a +patient observer of their proceedings. At times I could catch their +voices, but without distinguishing what they said, and suddenly I heard a +plunge, and saw that one had dashed boldly into the flood, and was quickly +followed by the other. If the stream did not reach to their knees, as they +sat, it was yet so powerful that it tested all the strength of the horses +and all the skill of the riders to stem it; and as the water splashed and +surged, and as the animals plunged and struggled, I scarcely knew whether +they were fated to reach the bank, or be carried down in the current. As +they gained about the middle of the stream, I saw that they were mounted +gendarmes, heavy men with heavy equipments, favorable enough to stem the +tide, but hopelessly incapable to save themselves if overturned. “Go back,—hold +in,—go back! the water is far deeper here!” I cried out at the top +of my voice; but either not hearing, or not heeding my warning, on they +came, and, as I spoke, one plunged forward and went headlong down under +the water, but, rising immediately, his horse struck boldly out, and, +after a few struggles, gained the bank. The other, more fortunate, had +headed up the stream, and reached the shore without difficulty. +</p> +<p> +With the natural prompting of a man towards those who had just overcome a +great peril, I hastened to say how glad I felt at their safety, and from +what intense fear their landing had rescued me; when one, a corporal, as +his cuff bespoke, muttered a coarse exclamation of impatience, and +something like a malediction on the service that exposed men to such +hazards, and at the same instant the other dashed boldly up the bank, and +with a bound placed his horse at my side, as though to cut off my retreat. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you?” cried the corporal to me, in a stern voice. +</p> +<p> +“A traveller,” said I, trying to look majestic and indignant. +</p> +<p> +“So I see; and of what nation?” + </p> +<p> +“Of that nation which no man insults with impunity.” + </p> +<p> +“Russia?” + </p> +<p> +“No; certainly not,—England.” + </p> +<p> +“Whence from last?” + </p> +<p> +“From Bregenz.” + </p> +<p> +“And from Constance by Lindau?” asked he quickly, as he read from a slip +of paper he had Just drawn from his belt. +</p> +<p> +I assented, but not without certain misgivings, as I saw so much was known +as to my movements. +</p> +<p> +“Now for your passport. Let me see it,” said the corporal again. “Just +so,” said he, folding it up. “Travelling on foot, and marked 'suspected.'” + </p> +<p> +Though he muttered these words to his companion, I perceived that he cared +very little for my having overheard them. +</p> +<p> +“Suspected of what, or by whom?” asked I, angrily. +</p> +<p> +Instead of paying any attention to my question, the two men now conversed +together in a low tone and confidentially. +</p> +<p> +“Come,” said I, with an assumed boldness, “if you have quite done with +that passport of mine, give it to me, and let me pursue my journey.” + </p> +<p> +So eager were they in their own converse, that this speech, too, was +unheeded; and now, grown rasher by impunity and impatience, I stepped +stoutly forward, and attempted to take the passport from the soldier's +hand. +</p> +<p> +“Sturm und Gewitter!” swore out the fellow, while he struck me sharply on +the wrist, “do you mean to try force with us?” And the other drew his +sabre, and, flourishing it over his head, held the point of it within a +few inches of my chest. +</p> +<p> +I cannot imagine whence came the courage that now filled my heart, for I +know I am not naturally brave, but I felt for an instant that I could have +stormed a breach; and, with an insulting laugh, I said, “Oh, of course, +cut me down. I am unarmed and defenceless. It is an admirable opportunity +for the display of Austrian chivalry.” + </p> +<p> +“Bey'm Henker! It's very hard not to slice off his ear,” said the soldier, +seeming to ask leave for this act of valor. +</p> +<p> +“Get out your cords,” said the corporal; “we 're losing too much time +here.” + </p> +<p> +“Am I a prisoner, then?” asked I, in some trepidation. +</p> +<p> +“L suspect you are, and likely to be for some time to come,” was the gruff +answer. +</p> +<p> +“On what charge—what is alleged against me?” cried I, passionately. +</p> +<p> +“What has sent many a better-looking fellow to Spielberg,” was the haughty +rejoinder. +</p> +<p> +“If I <i>am</i> your prisoner,” said I, haughtily,—“and I warn you +at once of your peril in daring to arrest a British subject travelling +peacefully—You are not going to tie my hands! You are not going to +treat me as a felon?” I screamed out these words in a voice of wildest +passion, as the soldier, who had dismounted for the purpose, was now +proceeding to tie my wrists together with a stout cord, and in a manner +that displayed very little concern for the pain he occasioned me. +</p> +<p> +As escape was totally out of the question, I threw myself upon the last +resource of the injured. I fell back upon eloquence. I really wish I could +remember even faintly the outline of my discourse; for though not by any +means a fluent German, the indignation that makes men poets converted me +into a greater master of prose, and I told them a vast number of curious, +but not complimentary, traits of the land they belonged to. I gave, too, a +rapid historical sketch of their campaigns against the French, showing how +they were always beaten, the only novelty being whether they ran away or +capitulated. I reminded them that the victory over <i>me</i> would resound +through Europe, being the only successful achievement of their arms for +the last half-century. I expressed a fervent hope that the corporal would +be decorated with the “Maria Theresa,” and his companion obtain the “valor +medal,” for what they had done. Pensions, I hinted, were difficult in the +present state of their finances, but rank and honor certainly ought to +await them. I don't know at what exact period of my peroration it was that +I was literally “pulled up,” each of the horsemen holding a line fastened +to my wrists, and giving me a drag forward that nearly carried me off my +feet, and flat on my face. I stumbled, but recovered myself; and now saw +that, bound as I was, with a gendarme on each side of me, it required all +the activity I could muster, to keep my legs. +</p> +<p> +Another whispered conversation here took place across me, and I thought I +heard the words Bregenz and Feldkirch interchanged, giving me to surmise +that they were discussing to which place they should repair. My faint hope +of returning to the former town was, however, soon extinguished, as the +corporal, turning to me, said, “Our orders are to bring you alive to +headquarters. We 'll do our best; but if, in crossing these torrents, you +prefer to be drowned, it's no fault of ours.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you mean by that,” cried I, “that I am to be dragged through the water +in this fashion?” + </p> +<p> +“I mean that you are to come along as best you may.” + </p> +<p> +“It is all worthy of you, quite worthy!” screamed I, in a voice of wildest +rage. “You reserve all your bravery for those who cannot resist you,—and +you are right, for they are your only successes. The Turks beat you”—here +they chucked me close up, and dashed into the stream. “The Prussians beat +you!” I was now up to my waist in water. “The Swiss beat you!” Down I went +over head and ears. “The French always—thrashed you”—down +again—“at Ulm—Auster—litz—Aspern”—nearly +suffocated, I yelled out, “Wagrara!”—and down I went, never to know +any further consciousness till I felt myself lying on the soaked and muddy +road, and heard a gruff voice saying, “Come along—we don't intend to +pass the night here!” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLI. THE ACT OF ACCUSATION +</h2> +<p> +Benumbed, bedraggled, and bewildered, I entered Feldkirch late at night, +my wrists cut with the cords, my clothes torn by frequent falls, my limbs +aching with bruises, and my wet rags chafing my skin. No wonder was it +that I was at once consigned from the charge of a jailer to the care of a +doctor, and ere the day broke I was in a raging fever. +</p> +<p> +I would not, if I could, preserve any memory of that grievous interval. +Happily for me, no clear traces remain on my mind,—pangs of +suffering are so mingled with little details of the locality, faces, +words, ludicrous images of a wandering intellect, long hours of silent +brooding, sound of church bells, and such other tokens as cross the lives +of busy men in the daily walk of life, all came and went within my brain, +and still I lay there in fever. +</p> +<p> +In my first return of consciousness, I perceived I was the sole occupant +of a long arched gallery, with a number of beds arranged along each side +of it. In their uniform simplicity, and the severe air of the few articles +of furniture, my old experiences at once recalled the hospital; not that I +arrived at this conclusion without much labor and a considerable mental +effort. It was a short journey, to be sure, but I was walking with +sprained ankles. It was, however, a great joy and a great triumph to me to +accomplish even this much. It was the recognition to myself that I was +once more on the road to health, and again to feel the sympathies that +make a brotherhood of this life of ours; and so happy was I with the +prospect, that when I went to sleep at night my last thought was of the +pleasure that morning would bring me. And I was not disappointed; the next +day, and the next, and several more that followed, were all passed in a +calm and tranquil enjoyment Looking back upon this period, I have often +been disposed to imagine that when we lie in the convalescence that +follows some severe illness, with no demands upon our bodily strength, no +call made upon our muscular energies, the very activity of digestion not +evoked, as our nourishment is of the simplest and lightest, our brain must +of necessity exercise its functions more freely, untrammelled by passing +cares or the worries incident to daily life, and that at such times our +intellect has probably a more uncontested action than at any other period +of our existence. I do not want to pursue my theory, or endeavor to +sustain it; my reader has here enough to induce him to join his experience +to my own, or reject the notion altogether. +</p> +<p> +I lay thus, not impatiently, for above a fortnight. I regained strength +very slowly; the least effort or exertion was sure to overcome me. But I +wished for none; and as I lay there, gazing for whole days long at a great +coat-of-arms over the end of the gallery, where a huge double-headed eagle +seemed to me screaming in the agony of strangulation, but yet never to be +choked outright, I revelled in many a strange rambling as to the fate of +the land of which it was the emblem and the shield. Doubtless some remnant +of my passionate assault on Austria lingered in my brain, and gave this +turn to its operations. +</p> +<p> +My nurse was one of that sisterhood whose charities call down many a +blessing on the Church that organizes their benevolences. She was what is +called a <i>graue Schwester</i>; and of a truth she seemed the incarnation +of grayness. It was not her dress alone, but her face and hands, her +noiseless gait, her undemonstrative stare, her half-husky whisper, and her +monotonous ways, had all a sort of pervading grayness that enveloped her, +just as a cloud mist wraps a landscape. There was, besides, a kind of +fog-like indistinctness in her few and muttered words that made a fitting +atmosphere of drowsy uniformity for the sick-room. +</p> +<p> +Her first care, on my recovery, was to supply me with a number of little +religious books,—lives of saints and martyrs, accounts of miracles, +and narratives of holy pilgrimages,—and I devoured them with all the +zest of a devotee. They seemed to supply the very excitement my mind +craved for, and the good soul little suspected how much more she was +ministering to a love for the marvellous than to a spirit of piety. In the +“Flowers of St. Francis,” for instance, I found an adventure-seeker after +my own heart To be sure, his search was after sinners in need of a helping +hand to rescue them; but as his contests with Satan were described as +stand-up encounters, with very hard knocks on each side, they were just as +exciting combats to read of, as any I had ever perused in stories of +chivalry. +</p> +<p> +Mistaking my zest for these readings for something far more praiseworthy, +“the gray sister” enjoined me very seriously to turn from the evil +advisers I had formerly consorted with, and frequent the society of +better-minded and wiser men. Out of these counsels, dark and dim at first, +but gradually growing clearer, I learned that I was regarded as a member +of some terrible secret society, banded together for the direst and +blackest of objects; the subversion of thrones, overthrow of dynasties, +and assassination of sovereigns being all labors of love to us. She had a +full catalogue of my colleagues, from Sand, who killed Kotzebue, to +Orsini, and seemed thoroughly persuaded that I was a very advanced member +of the order. It was only after a long time, and with great address on my +part, that I obtained these revelations from her, and she owned that +nothing but witnessing how the holy studies had influenced me would ever +have induced her to make these avowals. As my convalescence progressed, +and I was able to sit up for an hour or so in the day, she told me that I +might very soon expect a visit from the Staats Procurator, a kind of +district attorney-general, to examine me. So little able was I to carry my +mind back to the bygone events of my life, that I heard this as a sort of +vague hope that the inquiry would strike out some clew by which I could +connect myself with the past, for I was sorely puzzled to learn what and +who I had been before I came there. Was I a prosecutor or was I a +prisoner? Never was a knotty point more patiently investigated, but, alas! +most hopelessly. The intense interest of the inquiry, however, served +totally to withdraw me from my previous readings, and “the gray sister” + was shocked to see the mark in my book remain for days long unchanged. She +took courage at length to address me on the subject, and even went so far +as to ask if Satan himself had not taken occasional opportunity of her +absence to come and sit beside my bed? I eagerly caught at the suggestion, +and said it was as she suspected: that he never gave me a moment's peace, +now torturing me with menaces, now asking for explanations, how this could +be reconciled with that, and why such a thing should not have prevented +such another? +</p> +<p> +Instead of expressing any astonishment at my confession, she appeared to +regard it as one of the most ordinary incidents, and referred me to my +books, and especially to St Francis, to see that these were usual and +every-day snares in use. She went further, and in her zeal actually showed +a sort of contempt for the Evil One in his intellectual capacity that +startled me; showing how St Jude always got the better of him, and that he +was a mere child when opposed by the craft of St. Anthony of Pavia. +</p> +<p> +“It is the truth,” said she, “always conquers him. Whenever, by any +chance, he can catch you concealing or evading, trying to make out reasons +that are inconsistent, or affecting intentions that you had not, then he +is your master.” + </p> +<p> +There was such an air of matter-of fact about all she said, that when—our +first conversation on this theme over—she left the room, a cold +sweat broke over me at the thought that my next visitor would be the +“Lebendige Satan” himself. +</p> +<p> +It had come to this: that I had furnished my own mind with such a subject +of terror that I could not endure to be alone, and lay there trembling at +every noise, and shrinking at every shadow that crossed the floor. Many +and many times, as the dupe of my own deceivings, did I find myself +talking aloud in self-defence, averring that I wanted to be good and +honest and faithful, and that whenever I lapsed from the right path, it +was in moments of erring reason, sure to be followed after by sincere +repentance. +</p> +<p> +It was after an access of this kind “the gray sister” found me one +morning, bathed in cold perspiration, my eyes fixed, my lips livid, and my +fingers fast knotted together. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” said she, “he has given you a severe turn of it to-day. What was +the temptation?” + </p> +<p> +For a long while I refused to answer; I was weak as well as irritable, and +I desired peace; but she persisted, and pressed hard to know what subject +we had been discussing together. +</p> +<p> +“I'll tell you, then,” said I, fiercely, for a sudden thought, prompted +perhaps by a sense of anger, flashed across me: “he has just told me that +you are his sister.” + </p> +<p> +She screamed out wildly, and rushing to the end of the gallery, threw +herself at the foot of a little altar. +</p> +<p> +Satisfied with my vengeance, I lay back, and said no more. I may have +dropped into a half-slumber afterwards, for I remember nothing till, just +as evening began to fall, one of the servants came up and placed a table +and two chairs beside my bed, with writing-materials and a large book, and +shortly after, two men dressed in black, and with square black caps on +their heads, took their places at the table, and conversed together in low +whispers. Resolving to treat them with a show of complete indifference, I +turned away and pretended to go to sleep. +</p> +<p> +“The Herr Staats Procurator Schlassel has come to read the act of +accusation,” said the shorter man, who seemed a subordinate; “take care +that you pay proper respect to the law and the authorities.” + </p> +<p> +“Let him read away,” said I, with a wave of my hand; “I will listen.” + </p> +<p> +In a low, sing-song, dreary tone, he began to recite the titles and +dignities of the Emperor. I listened for a while; but as he got down to +the Banat and Herzégovine, sleep overcame me, and I dozed away, waking up +to hear him detailing what seemed his own greatness, how he was “Ober” + this, and “Unter” that, till I fairly lost myself in the maze of his +description. Judging from the monotonous, business-like persistence of his +manner, that he had a long road before him, I wrapped myself comfortably +in the bedclothes, closed my eyes, and soon slept. +</p> +<p> +There were two candles burning on the table when I next opened my eyes, +and my friend the procurator was reading away as before. I tried to +interest myself for a second or two; I rubbed my eyes, and endeavored to +be wakeful; but I could not, and was fast settling down into my former +state, when certain words struck on my ear and aroused me: +</p> +<p> +“The well-born Herr von Rigges further denounces the prisoner Harpar—” + </p> +<p> +“Read that again,” cried I, aloud, “for I cannot clearly follow what you +say.” + </p> +<p> +“'The well-born Herr von Rigges, '” repeated he, “'further denounces the +prisoner Harpar as one of a sect banded together for the darkest purposes +of revolution!'” + </p> +<p> +“Forgive my importunity, Herr Procurator,” said I, in my most insinuating +tone, “but in compassion for the weakness of faculties sorely tried by +fever, will you tell me who is Rigges?” + </p> +<p> +“Who is Rigges? Is that your question?” said he, slowly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; that was my question.” + </p> +<p> +He turned over several pages of his voluminous report, and proceeded to +search for the passage he wanted. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is,” said he, at last; and he read out: “'The so-called Rigges, +being a well-born and not-the-less-from-a-mercantile-object-engaging +pursuit highly-placed and much-honored subject of her Majesty the Queen of +England, of the age of forty-two years and eight months, unmarried, and +professing the Protestant religion.' Is that sufficient?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite so; and now, will you, with equal urbanity, inform me who is +Harpar?” + </p> +<p> +“Who is Harpar? Who is Harpar? You surely do not ask me that?” + </p> +<p> +“I do; such is my question.” + </p> +<p> +“I must confess that you surprise me. You ask me for information about +yourself!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed! So that I am Harpar?” + </p> +<p> +“You can, of course, deny it We are in a measure prepared for that. The +proofs of your identity will be, however, forthcoming; not to add that it +will be difficult to disprove the offence.” + </p> +<p> +“Ha, the offence! I 'm really curious about that. What is the offence with +which I am charged?” + </p> +<p> +“What I have been reading these two hours. What I have recited with all +the clearness, brevity, and perspicuity that characterize our imperial and +royal legislation, making our code at once the envy and admiration of all +Europe.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm sure of that But what have I done?” + </p> +<p> +“With what for a dulness-charged and much-beclouded intellect are you +afflicted,” cried he, “not to have followed the greatly-by- +circumstances-corroborated, and in-various-ways-by-proofs-brought-home +narrative that I have already read out.” + </p> +<p> +“I have not heard one word of it!” + </p> +<p> +“What a deplorable and all-the-more-therefore-hopeless intelligence is +yours! I will begin it once more.” And with a heavy sigh he turned over +the first pages of his manuscript. +</p> +<p> +“Nay, Herr Procurator,” interposed I, hastily. “I have the less claim to +exact this sacrifice on your part, that even when you have rendered it, it +will be all fruitless and unprofitable. I am just recovering from a severe +illness. I am, as you have very acutely remarked, a man of very narrow and +limited faculties in my best of moments, and I am now still lower in the +scale of intelligence. Were you to read that lucid document till we were +both gray-headed, it would leave me just as uninformed as to imputed crime +as I now am.” + </p> +<p> +“I perceive,” said he, gravely. Then, turning to his clerk, he bade him +write down, “'And the so-called Harpar, having duly heard and with +decorously-lent attention listened to the foregoing act, did thereupon +enter his plea of mental incapacity and derangement.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, Herr Procurator, I would simply record that, however open to follow +some plain narrative, the forms and subtleties of a legal document only +bewilder me.” + </p> +<p> +“What for an ingeniously-worded and with-artifice-cunningly-conceived +excuse have we here?” exclaimed he, indignantly. “Is it from England, with +her seventeen hundred and odd volumes of an incomplete code, that the +Imperial and Royal Government is to learn legislation? You are charged +with offences that are known to every state of civilization: highway +assault and molestation; attack with arms and deadly implements, +stimulated by base and long heretofore and with-bitterness-imagined plans +of vengeance on your countryman and former associate, the so-named Rigges. +From him, too, proceeds the information as to your political character, +and the ever-to-be deplored and only-with-blood-expiated error of +republicanism by which you are actuated. This brief, but +not-the-less-on-that-account lucid exposition, it is my duty first to read +out, and then leave with you. With all your from-a-wrong- +impulse-proceeding and a-spirit-of-opposition-suggested objections, I have +no wish nor duty to meddle. The benign and ever paternal rule under which +we live gives even to the most-with-accusation-surrounded, and +with-strong-presumption-implicated prisoner, every facility of defence. +Having read and matured this indictment, you will, after a week, make +choice of an advocate.” + </p> +<p> +“Am I to be confronted with my accuser?” + </p> +<p> +“I sincerely hope that the indecent spectacle of insulting attack and +offensive rejoinder thus suggested is unknown to the administration of our +law.” + </p> +<p> +“How, then, can you be certain that I am the man he accuses of having +molested him?” + </p> +<p> +“You are not here to assail, nor I to defend, the with-ages-consolidated +and by-much-tact-accumulated wisdom of our Imperial and Royal Code.” + </p> +<p> +“Might he not say, when he saw me, 'I never set eyes on this man before'?” + </p> +<p> +He turned again to his clerk, and dictated something of which I could but +catch the concluding words, “And thereby imputing perjury to the so-called +Rigges.” + </p> +<p> +It was all I could do to repress an outburst of anger at this +unjustifiable system of inference, but I did restrain myself, and merely +said, “I impute nothing, Herr Procurator; I simply suggest a possible +case, that everything suffered by Rigges was inflicted by some other than +I.” + </p> +<p> +“If you had accomplices, name them,” said he, solemnly. +</p> +<p> +This overcame all my prudent resolves. I was nowise prepared for such a +perversity of misconception, and, losing all patience and all respect for +his authority, I burst out into a most intemperate attack on Austria, her +code, her system, her ignorant indifference to all European enlightenment, +her bigoted adherence to forms either unmeaning or pernicious, winding up +all with a pleasant prediction that in a few short years the world would +have seen the last of this stolid and unteachable empire. +</p> +<p> +Instead of deigning a reply, he merely bent down to the table, and I saw +by the movement of his lips, and the rapid course of the clerk's pen, that +my statement was being reduced to writing. +</p> +<p> +“When you have completed that,” said I, gravely, “I have some further +observations to record.” + </p> +<p> +“In a moment,—in a moment,” patiently responded the procurator; “we +have only got to 'the besotted stupidity of her pretentious officials.'” + </p> +<p> +The calm quietude of his manner, as he said this, threw me into a fit of +laughter which lasted several minutes. +</p> +<p> +“There, there,” said I, “that will do; I will keep the remainder of my +remarks for another time and place.” + </p> +<p> +“'Reserving to himself,'” dictated he, “'the right of uttering still more +bitter and untruthful comments on a future occasion.'” And the clerk wrote +the words as he spoke them. +</p> +<p> +“You will sign this here,” said he, presenting me with the pen. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind, Herr Procurator. I will not lend myself to any, even +the most ordinary, form of your stupid system.” + </p> +<p> +“'And refuses to sign the foregoing,'” dictated he, in the same unmoved +voice. This done, he arose, and proceeded to draw on his gloves. “The act +of allegation I now commit to your hands,” said he, calmly, “and you will +have a week to reflect upon the course you desire to adopt.” + </p> +<p> +“One question before you go: Is the person called Rigges here at this +moment, and can I see him?” + </p> +<p> +He consulted for a few seconds with his subordinate, and then replied, +“These questions we are of opinion are irrelevant to the defence, and need +not be answered.” + </p> +<p> +“I only ask you, as a favor, Herr Procurator,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“The law recognizes no favors, nor accepts courtesies.” + </p> +<p> +“Does it also reject common sense?—is it deaf to all intelligence?—is +it indifferent to every appeal to reason?—is it dead to—” + </p> +<p> +But he would not wait for more, and having saluted me thrice profoundly, +retired from the gallery and left me alone with my indignation. +</p> +<p> +The great pile of paper still lay on the table next me, and in my anger I +hurled it from me to the middle of the room, venting I know not what +passionate wrath at the same time on everything German. “This the land of +primitive simplicity and patriarchal virtues, forsooth! This the country +of elevated tastes and generous instincts! Why, it is all Bureau and +Barrack!” I went on for a long time in this strain, and I felt the better +for it. The operative surgeons tell us that no men recover so certainly or +so speedily after great operations as the fellows who scream out and make +a terrible uproar. It is your patient, self-controlling creature who sinks +under the suffering he will not confess; and I am confident that it is a +wise practice to blow off the steam of one's indignation, and say all the +most bitter things one can think of in moments of disappointment, and, so +to say, prepare the chambers of your mind for the reception of better +company. +</p> +<p> +After a while I got up, gathered the papers together, and prepared to read +them. Legal amplifications and circumlocutions are of all lands and +peoples; but for the triumph of this diffusiveness commend me to the +Germans. To such an extent was this the case, that I reached the eighth +page of the precious paper before I got finally out of the titular +description of the vice-governor in whose district the event was laid. +Armed, however, with heroic resolution, I persevered, and read on through +the entire night,—I will not say without occasional refreshers in +the shape of short naps; but the day was already breaking when I turned +over the last page, and read the concluding little blessing on the +Emperor, under whose benign reign all the good was encouraged, all evil +punished, and the Hoch-gelehrter—Hoch wohl-geborner Herr der +Hofrath, Ober Procurators-fiscal-Secretar, charged with the due execution +of the present decree. +</p> +<p> +In the language of <i>précis</i> writing, the event might be stated thus: +“A certain Englishman named Rigges, travelling by post, arrived at the +torrent of Dornbirn a short time before noon, and while waiting there for +the arrival of some peasants to accompany his carriage through the stream, +was joined by a foot-traveller, by whom he was speedily recognized. +Whatever the nature of the relations previously subsisting between them,—and +it may be presumed they were not of the most amiable,—no sooner had +they exchanged glances than they engaged in deadly conflict. Rigges was +well armed; the stranger had no weapon whatever, but was a man of +surpassing strength, for he tore the door of the carriage from its hinges, +and dragged Rigges out upon the road before the other could offer any +resistance. The postilion, who had gone to summon the peasants, was +speedily recalled by the report of firearms; three shots were fired in +rapid succession, and when he reached the spot it was to see two men +struggling violently in the torrent, the stranger dragging Rigges with all +his might towards the middle of the stream, and the other screaming wildly +for succor. The conflict was a terrible one, for the foot-traveller seemed +determined on self-destruction, if he could only involve the other in his +own fate. At last Rigges' strength gave way, and the other threw himself +upon him, and they both went down beneath the water. +</p> +<p> +“The stranger emerged in an instant, but one of the peasants on the bank +struck him a violent blow with his ash pole, and he fell back into the +stream. Meanwhile the others had rescued Rigges, who lay panting, but +unconscious, on the ground. They were yet ministering to his recovery, +when they heard a wild shout of derisive triumph, and now saw that the +other, though carried away by the torrent, had gained a small shingly bank +in the middle of the Rhine, and was waving his hat in mockery of them. +They were too much occupied with the care of the wounded man, however, to +bestow more attention on him. One of Rigges' arms was badly fractured, and +his jaw also broken, while he complained still more of the pain of some +internal injuries; so severe, indeed, were his sufferings, that he had to +be carried on a litter to Feldkirch. His first care on arriving was to +denounce the assailant, whose name he gave as Harpar, declaring him to be +a most notorious member of a 'Rouge' society, and one whose capture was an +object of European interest. In fact, Rigges went so far as to pretend +that he had himself perilled life in the attempt to secure him. +</p> +<p> +“Detachments of mounted gendarmes were immediately sent off in pursuit, +the order being to arrest any foot-traveller whose suspicious appearance +might challenge scrutiny.” + </p> +<p> +It is needless to say how much I appeared to fulfil the signs they sought +for, not to add that the intemperance of my language, when captured, was +in itself sufficient to establish a grave charge against me. It is true, +there was in the act of allegation a lengthened description of me, with +which my own appearance but ill corresponded. I was described as of middle +age, of a strong frame and muscular habit, and with an expression that +denoted energy and fierceness. How much of that vigor must they imagine +had been washed away by the torrent, to leave me the poor helpless-looking +thing I now appeared! +</p> +<p> +I know it is a very weak confession,—I feel as I make it how +damaging to my character is the acknowledgment, and how seriously I +compromise myself in my reader's estimation; but I cannot help owning that +I felt very proud to be thought so wicked, to be classed with those +Brutuses of modern history, who were scattering explosive shells like +bonbons, and throwing grenades broadcast like “confetti” in a carnival. I +fancied how that miserable Staats Procurator must have trembled in his +inmost heart as he sat there in close proximity with such an infuriate +desperado as I was. I hoped that every look, every gesture, every word of +mine, struck terror into his abject soul. It must also unquestionably do +them good, these besotted, self-satisfied, narrow-minded Germans, to learn +how an Englishman, a born Briton, regards their miserable system of +government, and that poor and meagre phantasm they call their +“civilization.” Well, they have had their opportunity now, and I hope they +will make much of it. +</p> +<p> +As I pondered over the late incident, as recorded in the allegation, I +remembered the name of Rigges as that of the man Harpar mentioned as +having “run” or escaped with their joint finances, and had very little +difficulty in filling up the probable circumstances of their rencontre. It +was easy to see how Rigges, travelling “extra-post,” with all the +appearance of wealth and station, could impute to the poor wayfarer any +criminality he pleased. Cunningly enough, too, he had hit upon the precise +imputation which was sure to enlist Austrian sympathies in the pursuit, +and calling him a “Socialist and a Rouge” was almost sealing his fate at +once. How glad I felt that the poor fellow had escaped, even though it +cost me all the penalty of personating him; yes, I really was generous +enough for that sentiment, though I perceive that my reader smiles +incredulously as I declare it. “No, no,” mutters he, “the arrant snob must +not try to impose upon us in that fashion. He was trembling to the very +marrow of his bones, and nothing was further from his thoughts than +self-sacrifice or devotion.” I know your opinion of me takes this lively +shape; I feel it, and I shrink under it; but I know, besides, that I owe +all this depreciating estimate of me to nothing so much as my own +frankness and candor. If my reader, therefore, scruples to accord me the +merit of the generosity that I lay claim to, let him revel in the +depreciating confession that I am about to make. I knew that when it was +discovered I was not Harpar, I must instantly be set at liberty. I felt +this, and could, therefore, be at any moment the arbiter of my own +freedom. To do this, of course, would set in motion a search after the +real delinquent, and I determined I would keep my secret till he had ample +time to get away. When I had satisfied myself that all pursuit of him must +be hopeless, I would declare myself to be Potts, and proudly demand my +liberation. +</p> +<p> +My convalescence made now such progress that I was able to walk about the +gallery, and indeed occasionally to stroll out upon a long terrace which +flanked the entire building, and gaze upon a garden, beyond which again I +could see the town of Feldkirch and the open Platz in which the weekly +market was held. By the recurrence of these—they always fell upon a +Saturday—was I enabled to mark time, and I now reckoned that three +weeks had gone over since the day of the Herr Procurator's visit, and yet +I had heard nothing more of him, nor of the accusation against me. I was +seriously thinking whether my wisest plan might not be to take French +leave and walk off, when my jailer came one morning to announce that I was +to be transferred to Innspruck, where, in due course, my trial would take +place. +</p> +<p> +“What if I refuse to go?” said I; “what if I demand my liberation here on +the spot?” + </p> +<p> +“I don't imagine that you 'd delay your journey much by that, my good +friend,” said he; “the Imperial and Royal Government takes little heed of +foolish remonstrances.” + </p> +<p> +“What if the Imperial and Royal Government, in the plenitude of its +sagacity, should be in the wrong? What if I be not the person who is +accused of this crime? What if the real man be now at liberty? What if the +accuser himself will declare, when he sees me, that he never met me +before, nor so much as heard of me?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, all that may happen; I won't say it is impossible, but it cannot +occur here, for the Herr von Rigges has already set off for Innspruck, and +you are to follow him to-morrow.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLII. A GLIMPSE OF AN OLD FRIEND +</h2> +<p> +If there be anything in our English habits upon which no difference of +opinion can exist, it is our proneness to extend to a foreigner a degree +of sympathy and an amount of interest that'we obstinately deny to our own +people. The English artist struggling all but hopelessly against the +town's indifference has but to displace the consonants or multiply the +vowels of his name to be a fashion with it and a success. Strange and +incomprehensible tendency in a nation so overwhelmingly impressed with a +sense of its own vast superiority! But so it is. Mr. Brady may sing to +empty benches, while il Signor Bradini would “bring down the house.” What +set me thinking over this was, that though Silvio Pellico was a stock +theme for English pity and compassion, I very much doubted if a single +tear would fall for the misfortunes of Potts. And yet there was a +marvellous similarity in our suffering. In each case was the Austrian the +jailer; in each case was the victim a creature of tender mould and gentle +nature. +</p> +<p> +I travelled in a sort of covered cart, with a mounted gendarme at either +side of me. Indeed, the one faintly alleviating circumstance of my +captivity was the sight of those two heavily equipped giants, armed to the +teeth, who were supposed to be essential to my safe conduct. It was such +an acknowledgment of what they had to apprehend from my well-known prowess +and daring, so palpable a confession that every precaution was necessary +against the bold intrepidity of a man of my stamp! At times, I almost +wished they had put chains upon me. I thought how well it would read in my +Memoirs; how I was heavily “manacled,”—a great word that,—“orders +being given to the escort to shoot me if I showed the slightest intention +to escape.” It was an intense pleasure to me to imagine myself a sort of +Nana Sahib, and whenever we halted at some wayside public, and the idle +loungers would draw aside the canvas covering and stare in at me, I did my +utmost to call up an expression of ogre-like ferocity and wildness, and it +was with a thrill of ecstasy I saw a little child clasp its mother by the +neck, and scream out to come away as it beheld me. +</p> +<p> +On the second night of our Journey we halted at a little village at the +foot of the Arlberg, called Steuben, where, in default of a regular +prison, they lodged me in an old tower, the lower part of which was used +for a stable. It stood in the very centre of the town, and from its narrow +and barred windows I could catch glimpses of the little world that moved +about in happy freedom beneath me. I could see the Marktplatz, from which +the booths were now being taken down, and could mark that preparations for +some approaching ceremony were going on, but of what nature I could not +guess. A large place was neatly swept out, and at last strewn with +sawdust,—signs unerring of some exhibition of legerdemain or +conjuring, of which the Tyrolese are warm admirers. The arrangements were +somewhat more portentous than are usually observed in open-air +representations, for I saw seats prepared for the dignitaries of the +village, and an evident design to mark the entertainment as under the most +distinguished protection. The crowd—now considerable—observed +all the decorous bearing of citizens in presence of their authorities. +</p> +<p> +I nestled myself snugly in the deep recess of the window to watch the +proceedings, nor had I long to wait; some half-dozen gayly dressed +individuals having now pierced their way through the throng, and commenced +those peculiar gambols which bespeak backbones of gristle and legs of +pasteboard. It is a class of performance I enjoy vastly. The two fellows +who lap over each other like the links of a chain, and the creature who +rolls himself about like a ball, and the licensed freedoms of that man of +the world—the clown—never weary me, and I believe I laugh at +them with all the more zest that I have so often laughed at them before. +It was plain, after a while, that a more brilliant part of the spectacle +was yet to come, for a large bluff-looking man, in cocked-hat and +jack-boots, now entered the ring and indignantly ejected the clowns by +sundry admonitions with a lash-whip, which I perceived were not merely +make-believes. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, here he comes! here he is!” was now uttered in accents of eager +interest, and an avenue was quickly made through the crowd for the new +performer. There was delay after this; and though doubtless the crowd +below could satisfy their curiosity, I was so highly perched and so +straitened in my embrasure that I had to wait, with what patience I might, +the new arrival. I was deep in my guesses what sort of “artist” he might +prove, when I saw the head of a horse peering over the shoulders of the +audience, and then the entire figure of the quadruped as he emerged into +the circle, all sheeted and shrouded from gaze. With one dexterous sweep +the groom removed all the clothing, and there stood before me my own lost +treasure,—Blondel himself! I would have known him among ten +thousand. He was thinner, perhaps, certainly thinner, but in all other +respects the same; his silky mane and his long tassel of a tail hung just +as gracefully as of yore, and, as he ambled round, he moved his head with +a courteous inclination, as though to acknowledge the plaudits he met +with. +</p> +<p> +There was in his air the dignity that said, “I am one who has seen better +days. It was not always thus with me. Applaud if you must, and if you +will; but remember that I accept your plaudits with reserve, perhaps even +with reluctance.” Poor fellow, my heart bled for him! I felt as though I +saw a cathedral canon cutting somersaults, and all this while, by some +strange inconsistency, I had not a sympathy to bestow on the human actors +in the scene. “As for them,” thought I, “they have accepted this +degradation of their own free will. If they had not shirked honest labor, +they need never have been clowns or pantaloons; but Blondel—Blondel, +whom fate had stamped as the palfrey of some high-born maiden, or, at +least, the favorite steed of one who would know how to lavish care on an +object of such perfection—Blondel, who had borne himself so proudly +in high places, and who, even in his declining fortunes, had been the +friend and fellow-traveller of—yes, why should I shame to say it? +Posterity will speak of Potts without the detracting malice and envious +rancor of contemporaries; and when, in some future age, a great +philanthropist or statesman should claim the credit of some marvellous +discovery, some wondrous secret by which humanity may be bettered, a +learned critic will tell the world how this great invention was evidently +known to Potts, how at such a line or such a page we shall find that Potts +knew it all.” + </p> +<p> +The wild cheering of the crowd beneath cut short these speculations, and +now I saw Blondel cantering gayly round the circle, with a handkerchief in +his mouth. If in sportive levity it chanced to fall, he would instantly +wheel about and seize it, and then, whisking his tail and shaking his long +forelock, resume his course again. It was fine, too, to mark the haughty +indifference he manifested towards that whip-cracking monster who stood in +the centre, and affected to direct his motions. Not alone did he reject +his suggestions, but in a spirit of round defiance did he canter up behind +him, and alight with his forelegs on the fellow's-shoulders. I am not sure +whether the spectators regarded the tableau as I did, but to <i>me</i> it +seemed an allegorical representation of man and his master. +</p> +<p> +The hard breathing of a person close behind me now made me turn my head, +and I saw the jailer, who had come with my supper. A thought flashed +suddenly across me. “Go down to those mountebanks, and ask if they will +sell that cream-colored pony,” said I. “Bargain as though you wanted him +for yourself; he is old and of little value, and you may, perhaps, secure +him for eighty or ninety florins; and if so, you shall have ten more for +your pains. It is a caprice of mine, nothing more, but help me to gratify +it.” + </p> +<p> +He heard me with evident astonishment, and then gravely asked if I had +forgotten the circumstance that I was a prisoner, and likely to remain so +for some time. +</p> +<p> +“Do as I bade you,” said I, “and leave the result to me. There, lose no +more time about it, for I see the performance is drawing to a close.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, nay,” said he; “the best of all is yet to come. The pretty Moorish +girl has not yet appeared. Ha! here she is.” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, he crept up into the window beside me, not less eager for the +spectacle than myself. A vigorous cheer, and a loud clapping of hands +below announced that the favorite was in sight long before she was visible +to our eyes. +</p> +<p> +“What can she do?” asked I, peevishly, perhaps, for I was provoked how +completely she had eclipsed poor Blondel in public favor. “What can she +do? Is she a rope-dancer, or does she ride in the games of the ring?” + </p> +<p> +“There, there! Look at her; yonder she goes! and there's the young Prince—they +call him a Prince, at least—who follows her everywhere.” + </p> +<p> +I could not but smile at the poor jailer's simplicity, and would willingly +have explained to him that we have outlived the age of Cinderella. Indeed, +I had half turned towards him with this object, when a perfect roar of the +crowd beneath me drew off my attention from him to what was going on +below. I soon saw what it was that entranced the public: it was the young +girl, who now, standing on Blondel's back, was careering round the circle +at full speed. It is an exercise in which neither the horse nor the rider +is seen to advantage; the heavy monotonous tramp of the beast, cramped by +the narrow limits, becomes a stilty, wooden gallop. The rider, too, more +careful of her balance than intent upon graceful action, restricts herself +to a few, and by no means picturesque attitudes. With all this, the girl +now before me seemed herself so intensely to enter into the enjoyment of +the scene, that all her gestures sprang out of a sort of irrepressible +delight. Far from unsteadying her foot, or limiting her action, the speed +of the horse appeared to assist the changeful bendings of her graceful +figure, as now, dropping on one knee, she would lean over to caress him, +or now, standing erect, with folded arms and leg advanced, appeared to +dare him to displace her. Faultlessly graceful as she was, there was that +in her own evident enjoyment that imparted a strange delight to the +beholder, and gave to the spectacle the sort of magnetism by which +pleasure finds its way from heart to heart throughout a multitude. At +least, I suppose this must have been so, for in the joyous cheering of +that crowd there was a ring of wild delight far different from mere +applause. +</p> +<p> +At last, poor Blondel, blown and wearied, turned abruptly into the middle +of the ring, and with panting sides and shaking tail came to a dead halt. +The girl, with a graceful slide seated herself on his back and patted him +playfully. And to me this was by far the most graceful movement of the +whole. +</p> +<p> +It was really a picture! and so natural and so easy withal, that one +forgot all about her spangles and tinsel, the golden fillet of her hair, +and the tawdry fringe of her sandals; and, what was even harder still, +heard not the hoarse-mouthed enthusiasm that greeted her. At length, a +tall man, well-dressed and of striking appearance, pushed his way into the +ring, and politely presented her with a bouquet, at which piece of +courtesy the audience, noways jealous, again redoubled their applause. She +now looked round her with an air of triumphant pleasure, and while, with a +playful gesture, she flung back the ringlets on her neck, she lifted her +face full to my view, and it was Tinte-fleck! With all my might I cried +out, “Catinka! Catinka!” I know not why, but the impulse never waited to +argue the question. Though I screamed my loudest, the great height at +which I was placed, and the humming din of the crowd, totally drowned my +words. Again and again I tried it, but to no purpose. There she sat, +slowly making the round of the circus, while the stranger walked at her +side, to all seeming conversing as though no busy and prying multitude +stood watching and observing them. Wearied with my failure to attract +notice, I turned to address the jailer; but he had already gone, and I was +alone. I next endeavored by a signal to call attention to me, and, at +last, saw how two or three of the crowd had observed my waving a +handkerchief, and were pointing it out to others. Doubtless they wondered +how a poor captive could care for the pleasant follies of a life of whose +commonest joys he was to be no sharer, and still greater was their +astonishment as I flung forth a piece of money,—a gold Napoleon, it +was,—which they speedily caught up and gave to Catinka. How I +watched her as she took it and showed it to the stranger! He, by his +gesture, seemed angry, and made a motion as though asking her to throw it +away; and then there seemed some discussion between them, and his +petulance increased; and she, too, grew passionate, and, leaping from the +horse, strode haughtily across the circus and disappeared. And then arose +a tumult and confusion, the mob shouting madly for the Moorish girl to +come back, and many much disposed to avenge her absence on the stranger. +As for him, he pushed the mob haughtily aside and went his way; and though +for a while the crowd continued to vent its expressions of displeasure and +disappointment, the performance soon concluded, and all went their several +roads homeward; and when I looked out upon the empty Platz, over which the +dusky shadows of the old houses were now stealing to mingle together, and +instead of the scene of bustle and excitement saw a few lingering +townsfolk moody and purposeless, T asked myself if the whole incidents +were not a vision mind-drawn and invented. There was not one single clew +by which I could trace it to reality. +</p> +<p> +More than once in my life had my dreamy temperament played me such pranks; +and, strangely too, even when I had assured myself of the deception, there +would yet linger in my mind thoughts and impressions strong enough to +influence my actions, just as we often see that our disbelief in a +scandalous story is not sufficient to disabuse us of a certain power it +wields over us. +</p> +<p> +Oh, what a long and dreary night was that, harassed with doubts, and worn +out with speculations! My mind had been much weakened by my fever, and +whenever I followed a train of thought too long, confusion was sure to +ensue. The terror of this chaotic condition, where all people and lands +and ideas and incidents jostle against each other in mad turmoil, can only +be estimated by one who has felt it. Like the awful rush of sensations of +him who is sliding down some steep descent to a tremendous precipice, one +feels the gradual approach of that dreamy condition where reason is lost, +and the mind a mere waif upon the waters. +</p> +<p> +“Here 's your breakfast,” said the jailer, as he stopped the course of my +revery. “And the Brigadier hopes you 'll be speedy with it, for you must +reach Maltz by nightfall.” + </p> +<p> +“Tell me,” said I, eagerly, “was there a circus company here yesterday +evening? Did they exhibit on the Platz there?” + </p> +<p> +“You are a deep one, you are!” muttered he, sulkily to himself, and left +the cell. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIII. I AM CONFINED IN THE AMBRAS SCHLOSS +</h2> +<p> +I bore up admirably on my journey. I felt I was doing a very heroic thing. +By my personation of Harpar, I was securing that poor fellow's escape, and +giving him ample time to get over the Austrian frontier, and many a mile +away from the beaks of the Double Eagle. I had read of such things in +history, and I resolved I would not derogate from the proudest records of +such self-devotion. Had I but remembered how long my illness had lasted, I +might have easily seen that Harpar could by this time have arrived at +Calcutta; but, unfortunately for me, I had no gauge of time whatever, and +completely forgot the long interval of my fever. +</p> +<p> +On reaching Innspruck, I was sent on to an old château some ten miles +away, called the Ambras Schloss, and being consigned to the charge of a +retired artillery officer there, they seemed to have totally forgotten all +about me. I lived with my old jailer just as if I were his friend: we +worked together in the garden, pruned, and raked, and hoed, and weeded; we +smoked and fished, and mended our nets on wet days, and read, living +exactly as might any two people in a remote out-of-the-world spot. +</p> +<p> +There is a sort of armory at the Ambras, chiefly of old Tyrolese weapons +of an early period,—maces and halberds, and double-handed swords, +and such-like,—and one of our pastimes was arranging and settling +and cataloguing them, for which, in the ancient records of the Schloss, +there was ample material. This was an occupation that amused me vastly, +and I took to it with great zeal, and with such success that old Hirsch, +the jailer, at last consigned the whole to my charge, along with the task +of exhibiting the collection to strangers,—a source from which the +honest veteran derived the better part of his means of life. +</p> +<p> +At first, I scarcely liked my function as showman, but, like all my other +experiences in life, habit sufficed to reconcile me, and I took to the +occupation as though I had been born to it If now and then some rude or +vulgar traveller would ruffle my temper by some illiterate remark or +stupid question, I was well repaid by intercourse with a different stamp. +They were to me such peeps at the world as a monk might have from the +windows of his cloister, tempting, perhaps, but always blended with the +sense of the security that encompassed him, and defended him from the +cares of existence. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the consciousness that I could assert my innocence and procure my +freedom at any moment, for the first few months reconciled me to this +strange life; but certainly, after a while, I ceased to care for any other +existence, and never troubled my head either about past or future. I had, +in fact, arrived at the great monastic elevation, in which a man, ceasing +to be human, reaches the dignity of a vegetable. +</p> +<p> +I had begun, as I have said, by an act of heroism, in accepting all the +penalties of another, and, long after I ceased to revert to this +sacrifice, the impulse it had once given still continued to move me. If +Hirsch never alluded to my imputed crime to me, I was equally reserved +towards him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLIV. A VISIT FROM THE HON. GREY BULLER +</h2> +<p> +From time to time, a couple of grave, judicial-looking men would arrive +and pass the forenoon at the Ambras Schloss, in reading out certain +documents to me. I never paid much attention to them, but my ear at +moments would catch the strangest possible allegations as to my exalted +political opinions, the dangerous associates I was bound up with, and the +secret societies I belonged to. I heard once, too, and by mere accident, +how at Steuben I had asked the jailer to procure me a horse, and thrown +gold in handfuls from the windows of my prison, to bribe the townsfolk to +my rescue, and I laughed to myself to think what a deal of pleading and +proof it would take to rebut all these allegations, and how little likely +it was I would ever engage in such a conflict. +</p> +<p> +By long dwelling on the thought of my noble devotion, and how it would +read when I was dead and gone, I had extinguished within my heart all +desire for other distinction, speculating only on what strange and +ingenious theories men would spin for the secret clew to my motives. +“True,” they would say, “Potts never cared for Harpar. He was not a man to +whom Potts would have attached himself under any circumstances; they were, +as individuals, totally unlike and unsympathetic. How, then, explain this +extraordinary act of self-sacrifice? Was he prompted by the hope that the +iniquities of the Austrian police system would receive their death-blow +from his story, and that the mound that covered him in the churchyard +would be the altar of Liberty to thousands? Or was Potts one of those +enthusiastic creatures only too eager to carry the load of some other +pilgrim in life?” + </p> +<p> +While I used thus to reason and speculate, I little knew that I had become +a sort of European notoriety. Some Englishwoman, however, some vagrant +tourist, had put me in her book as the half-witted creature who showed the +coins and curiosities at Ambras, and mentioned how, for I know not how +many years, I was never heard to utter a syllable except on questions of +old armor and antiquities. In consequence I was always asked for by my +travelling countrymen, and my peculiarities treated with all that playful +good taste for which tourists are famous. I remember one day having +refused to perform the showman to a British family. I had a headache, or +was sulky, or a fit of rebellion had got hold of me, but I sauntered out +into the grounds and would not see them. In my walk through a close alley +of laurels, I chanced to overhear the stranger conversing with Hirsch, and +making myself the subject of his inquiries; and, as I listened, I heard +Hirsch say that one entire room of the château was devoted to the papers +and documents in my case, and that probably it would occupy a quick reader +about twelve months to peruse them. He added, that as I made no +application for a trial myself, nor any of my friends showed an +inclination to bestir themselves about me, the Government would very +probably leave me to live and die where I was. Thereupon the Briton broke +out into a worthy fit of indignant eloquence. He denounced the Hapsburgs +and praised the Habeas Corpus; he raved of the power of England, our +press, our public opinion, our new frigates. He said he would make Europe +ring with the case. It was as bad, it was worse than Caspar Hauser's, for +he was an idiot outright, and <i>I</i> appeared to have the enjoyment of +certain faculties. He said it should appear in the “Times,” and be +mentioned in the House; and as I listened, the strangest glow ran through +me, a mild and pleasurable enthusiasm, to think that all the might, +majesty, and power of Great Britain was about to interest itself in behalf +of Potts! +</p> +<p> +The Briton kept his word; the time, too, favored him. It was a moment when +wandering Englishmen were exhuming grievances throughout every land of +Europe; and while one had discovered some case of religious intolerance in +Norway, another beat him out of the field with the coldblooded atrocities +of Naples. My Englishman chanced to be an M.P., and therefore he asked, +“in his place,” if the Foreign Secretary had any information to afford the +House with respect to the case of the man called Harper, or Harpar, he was +not certain which, and who had been confined for upwards of ten months in +a dungeon in Austria, on allegations of which the accused knew nothing +whatever, and attested by witnesses with whom he had never been +confronted. +</p> +<p> +In the absence of his chief, the Under-Secretary rose to assure the right +honorable gentleman that the case was one which had for a considerable +time engaged the attention of the department he belonged to, and that the +most unremitting exertions of her Majesty's envoy at Vienna were now being +devoted to obtain the fullest information as to the charges imputed to +Harpar, and he hoped in a few days to be able to lay the result of his +inquiry on the table of the House. +</p> +<p> +It was in about a week after this that Hirsch came to tell me that a +member of her Majesty's legation at Vienna had arrived to investigate my +case, and interrogate me in person. I am half ashamed to say how vain +gloriously I thought of the importance thus lent me. I felt, somehow, as +though the nation missed me. Waiting patiently, as it might be, for my +return, and yet no tidings coming, they said, “What has become of Potts?” + It was clearly a case upon which they would not admit of any mystification +or deceit. “No secret tribunals, no hole-and-corner commitments with us! +Where is he? Produce him. Say, with what is he charged?” I was going to be +the man of the day. I knew it, I felt it; I saw a great tableau of my life +unrolling itself before me. Potts, the young enthusiast after virtue,—hopeful, +affectionate, confiding, giving his young heart to that fair-haired girl +as freely as he would have bestowed a moss-rose; and she, making light of +the gift, and with a woman's coquetry, torturing him by a jealous levity +till he resented the wrong, and tore himself away. And then, Catinka,—how +I tried the gold of my nature in that crucible, and would not fall in love +with her before I had made her worthy of my love; and when I had failed in +that, how I had turned from love to friendship, and offered myself the +victim for a man I never cared about. No matter; the world will know me at +last. Men will recognize the grand stuff that I am made of. If +commentators spend years in exploring the recondite passages of great +writers, and making out beauties where there were only obscurities, why +should not all the dark parts of my nature come out as favorably, and some +flattering interpreter say, “Potts was for a long time misconceived; few +men were more wrongfully judged by their contemporaries. It was to a mere +accident, after all, we owe it that we are now enabled to render him the +justice so long denied him. His was one of those remarkable natures in +which it is difficult to say whether humility or self-confidence +predominated”? +</p> +<p> +Then I thought of the national excitement to discover the missing Potts; +just as if I had been a lost Arctic voyager. Expeditions sent out to track +me; all the thousand speculations as to whether I had gone this way or +that; where and from whom the latest tidings of me could be traced; the +heroic offers of new discoverers to seek me living, or, sad alternative, +restore to the country that mourned me the <i>reliquiæ Pottsi</i>, I +always grew tender in my moods of self-compassion, and I felt my eyes +swimming now in pity for my fate; and let me add in this place my protest +against the vulgar error which stigmatizes as selfishness the mere fact of +a man's susceptibility. How, I would simply ask, can he feel for others +who has no sense of sympathy with his own suffering nature? If the well of +human kindness be dried up within him, how can he give to the parched +throats the refreshing waters of compassion? +</p> +<p> +Deal with the fact how you may, I was very sorry for myself, and seriously +doubted if as sincere a mourner would bewail me when I was gone. +</p> +<p> +If a little time had been given me, I would have endeavored to get up my +snug little chamber somewhat more like a prison cell; I would have +substituted some straw for my comfortable bed, and gracefully draped a few +chains upon the walls and some stray torture implements out of the Armory; +but the envoy came like a “thief in the night,” and was already on the +stairs when he was announced. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! this is his den, is it?” cried he from without, as he slowly ascended +the stairs. “Egad! he hasn't much to complain of in the matter of a +lodging. I only wish our fellows were as well off at Vienna.” And with +these words there entered into my room a tall young fellow, with a light +brown moustache, dressed in a loose travelling suit, and with the lounging +air of a man sauntering into a <i>café</i>. He did not remove his hat as +he came in, or take the cigar from his mouth; the latter circumstance +imparting a certain confusion to his speech that made him occasionally +scarce intelligible. Only deigning to bestow a passing look on me, he +moved towards the window, and looked out on the grand panorama of the +Tyrol Alps, as they enclose the valley of Innspruck. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he to himself, “all this ain't so bad for a dungeon.” + </p> +<p> +The tone startled me. I looked again at him, I rallied myself to an effort +of memory, and at once recalled the young fellow I had met on the +South-Western line and from whom I had accidentally carried away the +despatch-bag. To my beard, and my long imprisonment, I trusted for not +being recognized, and I sat patiently awaiting my examination. +</p> +<p> +“An Englishman, I suppose?” asked he, turning hastily round. “And of +English parents?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” was my reply, for I determined on brevity wherever possible. +</p> +<p> +“What brought you into this scrape?—I mean, why did you come here at +all?” + </p> +<p> +“I was travelling.” + </p> +<p> +“Travelling? Stuff and nonsense! Why should fellows like you travel? +What's your rank in life?” + </p> +<p> +“A gentleman.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah! but whose gentleman, my worthy friend? Ain't you a flunkey? There, +it's out! I say, have you got a match to light my cigar? Thanks,—all +right. Look here, now,—don't let us be beating about the bush all +the day,—I believe this government is just as sick of you as you are +of them. You 've been here two months, ain't it so?” + </p> +<p> +“Ten months and upwards.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, ten months. And you want to get away?” + </p> +<p> +I made no answer; indeed, his free-and-easy manner so disconcerted me that +I could not speak, and he went on,— +</p> +<p> +“I suspect they have n't got much against you, or that they don't care +about it; and, besides, they are civil to us just now. At all events, it +can be done,—you understand?—it can be done.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said I, half superciliously. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” resumed he, “I think so; not but you'd have managed better in +leaving the thing to <i>us</i>, That stupid notion you all have of writing +letters to newspapers and getting some troublesome fellow to ask questions +in the House, that's what spoils everything! How can <i>we</i> negotiate +when the whole story is in the 'Times' or the 'Daily News'?” + </p> +<p> +“I opine, sir, that you are ascribing to me an activity and energy I have +no claim to.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if you did n't write those letters, somebody else did. I don't care +a rush for the difference. You see, here's how the matter stands. This Mr. +Brigges, or Rigges, has gone off, and does n't care to prosecute, and all +his allegations against you fall to the ground. Well, these people fancy +they could carry on the thing themselves, you understand; we think not. +They say they have got a strong case; perhaps they have; but we ask, +'What's the use of it? Sending the poor beggar to Spielberg won't save +you, will it?' And so we put it to them this way: 'Draw stakes, let him +off, and both can cry quits.' There, give me another light Isn't that the +common-sense view of it?” + </p> +<p> +“I scarcely dare to say that I understand you aright.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I can guess why. I have had dealings with fellows of your sort +before. You don't fancy my not alluding to compensation, eh? You want to +hear about the money part of the matter?” + </p> +<p> +And he laughed aloud; but whether at <i>my</i> mercenary spirit or <i>his +own</i> shrewdness in detecting it, I do not really know. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I'm afraid,” continued he, “you'll be disappointed there. These +Austrians are hard up; besides, they never do pay. It's against their +system, and so we never ask them.” + </p> +<p> +“Would it be too much, sir, to ask why I have been imprisoned?” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps not; but a great deal too much for me to tell you. The confounded +papers would fill a cart, and that's the reason I say, cut your stick, my +man, and get away.” Again he turned to the window, and, looking out, +asked, “Any shooting about here? There ought to be cocks in that wood +yonder?” and without caring for reply, went on, “After all, you know what +bosh it is to talk about chains and dungeons, and bread-and-water, and the +rest of it. You 've been living in clover here. That old fellow below +tells me that you dine with him every day; that you might have gone into +Innspruck, to the theatre if you liked it—I 'll swear there are +snipes in that low land next the river.—Think it over, Rigges, think +it over.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not Rigges.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I forgot! you 're the other fellow. Well, think it over, Harpar.” + </p> +<p> +“My name is not Harpar, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“What do I care for a stray vowel or two? Maybe you call yourself Harpar, +or Harper? It's all the same to <i>us</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“It is not the question of a vowel or two, sir; and I desire you to remark +it is the graver one of a mistaken identity!” I said this with a +high-sounding importance that I thought must astound him; but his light +and frivolous nature was impervious to rebuke. +</p> +<p> +“<i>We</i> have nothing to say to that,” replied he, carelessly. “You may +be Noakes or Styles. I believe they are the names of any fellows who are +supposed by courtesy to have no name at all, and it's all alike to <i>us</i>. +What I have to observe to you is this: nobody cares very much whether you +are detained here or not; nobody wants to detain you. Just reflect, +therefore, if it's not the best thing you can do to slope off, and make no +more fuss about it?” + </p> +<p> +“Once for all, sir,” said I, still more impressively, “I am not the person +against whom this charge is made. The authorities have all along mistaken +me for another.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what if they have? Does it signify one kreutzer? We have had +trouble enough about the matter already, and do not embroil us any +further.” + </p> +<p> +“May I ask, sir, just for information, who are the '<i>we</i>' you have so +frequently alluded to?” + </p> +<p> +Had I asked him in what division of the globe he understood us then to be +conversing, he would not have regarded me with a look of more blank +astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Who are we?” repeated he. “Did you ask who are we?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, that was what I made bold to ask.” + </p> +<p> +“Cool, certainly; what might be called uncommon cool. To what line of life +were you brought up to, my worthy gent? I have rather a curiosity about +your antecedents.” + </p> +<p> +“That same curiosity cost you a trifle once before,” said I, no longer +able to control myself, and dying to repay his impertinence. “I remember, +once upon a time, meeting you on a railroad, and you were so eager to +exhibit the skill with which you could read a man's calling, that you bet +me a sovereign you would guess mine. You did so, and lost.” + </p> +<p> +“You can't be—no, it's impossible. Are you really the goggle-eyed +fellow that walked off with the bag for Kalbbratonstadt?” + </p> +<p> +“I did, by mistake, carry away a bag on that occasion, and so +punctiliously did I repay my error that I travelled the whole journey to +convey those despatches to their destination.” + </p> +<p> +“I know all about it,” said he, in a frank, gay manner. “Doubleton told me +the whole story. You dined with him and pretended you were I don't +remember whom, and then you took old Mamma Keats off to Como and made her +believe you were Louis Philippe, and you made fierce love to your pretty +companion, who was fool enough to like you. By Jove! what a rig you must +have run! We have all laughed over it a score of times.” + </p> +<p> +“If I knew who 'we' were, I am certain I should feel flattered by any +amusement I afforded them, notwithstanding how much more they are indebted +to fiction than fact regarding me. I never assumed to be Louis Philippe, +nor affected to be any person of distinction. A flighty old lady was +foolish enough to imagine me a prince of the Orleans family—” + </p> +<p> +“You,—a prince! Oh, this is too absurd!” + </p> +<p> +“I confess, sir, I cannot see the matter in this light. I presume the +mistake to be one by no means difficult to have occurred. Mrs. Keats has +seen a deal of life and the world—” + </p> +<p> +“Not so much as you fancy,” broke he in. “She was a long time in that +private asylum up at Brompton, and then down in Staffordshire; altogether, +she must have passed five-and-twenty or thirty years in a rather +restricted circle.” + </p> +<p> +“Mad! Was she mad?” + </p> +<p> +“Not what one would call mad, but queer. They were all queer. Hargrave, +the second brother, was the fellow that made that shindy in the Mauritius, +and our friend Shalley isn't a conjuror. And <i>we</i> thought you were +larking the old lady, I assure you we did.” + </p> +<p> +“'We' were once more mistaken, then,” said I, sneer-ingly. +</p> +<p> +“We all said, too, at the time, that Doubleton had been 'let in.' He gave +you a good round sum for expenses on the road, did n't he, and you sent it +all back to him.” + </p> +<p> +“Every shilling of it” + </p> +<p> +“So he told us, and that was what puzzled us more than all the rest. Why +did you give up the money?” + </p> +<p> +“Simply, sir, because it was not mine.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, to be sure, I know that; but I mean, what suggested the +restitution?” + </p> +<p> +“Really, sir, your question leads me to suppose that the 'we' so often +referred to are not eminently remarkable for integrity.” + </p> +<p> +“Like their neighbors, I take it,—neither better nor worse. But +won't you tell why you gave up the tin?” + </p> +<p> +“I should be hopeless of any attempt to explain my motives, sir; so pray +excuse me.” + </p> +<p> +“You were right, at all events,” said he, not heeding the sarcasm of my +manner. “There 's no chance for the knaves, now, with the telegraph +system. As it was, there were orders flying through Europe to arrest +Pottinger,—I—can't forget the name. We used to have it every +day in the Chancellerie: Pottinger, five feet nine, weak-looking and +vulgar, low forehead, light hair and eyes, slight lisp, talks German +fluently, but ill. I have copied that portrait of you twenty, ay, thirty +times.” + </p> +<p> +“And yet, sir, neither the name nor the description apply. I am no more +Pottinger than I am ignoble-looking and vulgar.” + </p> +<p> +“What's the name, then?—not Harpar, nor Pottinger? But who cares a +rush for the name of fellows like you? You change them just as you do the +color of your coat.” + </p> +<p> +“May I take the liberty of asking, sir, just for information, as you said +awhile ago, how you would take it were I to make as free with you as you +have been pleased to do with <i>me?</i> To give a mock inventory of your +external characteristics, and a false name to yourself?” + </p> +<p> +“Laugh, probably, if I were amused; throw you out of the window if you +offended me.” + </p> +<p> +“The very thing I 'd do with you this moment, if I was strong enough,” + said I, resolutely. And he flung himself into a chair, and laughed as I +did not believe he could laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” cried he, at last, “as this room is about fifty feet or so from +the ground, it's as well as it is. But now let us wind up this affair. You +want to get away from this, I suppose; and as nobody wants to detain you, +the thing is easy enough. You need n't make a fuss about compensation, for +they 'll not give a kreutzer, and you 'd better not write a book about it, +because 'we' don't stand fellows who write books; so just take a friend's +advice, and go off without military honors of any kind.” + </p> +<p> +“I neither acknowledge the friendship nor accept the advice, sir. The +motives which induced me to suffer imprisonment for another are quite +sufficient to raise me above any desire to make a profit of it.” + </p> +<p> +“I think I understand you,” said he, with a cunning expression in his +half-closed eyes. “You go in for being a 'character.' Haven't I hit it? +You want to be thought a strange, eccentric sort of fellow. Now there was +a time the world had a taste for that kind of thing. Romeo Coates, and +Brummel, and that Irish fellow that walked to Jerusalem, and half-a-dozen +others, used to amuse the town in those days, but it's all as much bygone +now as starched neckcloths and Hessian boots. Ours is an age of paletots +and easy manners, and you are trying to revive what our grandfathers +discarded and got rid of. It won't do, Pottinger; it will not.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not Pottinger; my name is Algernon Sydney Potts.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah! there's the mischief all out at last. What could come of such a +collocation of names but a life of incongruity and absurdity! You owe all +your griefs to your godfathers, Potts. If they 'd have called you Peter, +you 'd have been a well-conducted poor creature. Well, I'm to give you a +passport. Where do you wish to go?” + </p> +<p> +“I wish, first of all, to go to Como.” + </p> +<p> +“I think I know why. But you're on a wrong cast there. They have left that +long since.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, and for what place?” + </p> +<p> +“They 've gone to pass the winter at Malta. Mamma Keats required a dry, +warm climate, and you 'll find them at a little country-house about a mile +from Valetta; the Jasmines, I think it's called. I have a brother +quartered in the island, and he tells me he has seen them, but they won't +receive visits, nor go out anywhere. But, of course, a Royal Highness is +always sure of a welcome. Prince Potts is an 'Open, sesame!' wherever he +goes.” + </p> +<p> +“What atrocious tobacco this is of yours, Buller!” said I, taking a cigar +from his case as it lay on the table. “I suppose that you small fry of +diplomacy cannot get things in duty free, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Try this cheroot; you 'll find it better,” said he, opening a secret +pocket in the case. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing to boast of,” said I, puffing away, while he continued to fill up +the blanks in my passport. +</p> +<p> +“Would you like an introduction to my brother? He's on the Government +staff there, and knows every one. He's a jolly sort of fellow, besides, +and you 'll get on well together.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't care if I do,” said I, carelessly; “though, as a rule, your +red-coat is very bad style,—flippant without smartness, and familiar +without ease.” + </p> +<p> +“Severe, Potts, but not altogether unjust; but you 'll find George above +the average of his class, and I think you 'll like him.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't let him ask me to his mess,” said I, with an insolent drawl. +“That's an amount of boredom I could not submit to. Caution him to make no +blunder of that kind.” + </p> +<p> +He looked up at me with a strange twinkle in his eyes, which I could not +interpret He was either in intense enjoyment of my smartness, or Heaven +knows what other sentiment then moved him. At all events, I was in ecstasy +at the success of my newly discovered vein, and walked the room, humming a +tune, as he wrote the letter that was to present me to his brother. +</p> +<p> +“Why had I never hit upon this plan before?” thought I. “How was it that +it had not occurred that the maxim of homoeopathy is equally true in +morals as in medicine, and that <i>similia similibus curantur!</i> So long +as I was meek, humble, and submissive, Buller's impertinent presumption +only increased at every moment With every fresh concession of mine he +continued to encroach, and now that I had adopted his own strategy, and +attacked, he fell back at once.” I was proud, very proud of my discovery. +It is a new contribution to that knowledge of life which, notwithstanding +all my disasters, I believed to be essentially my gift. +</p> +<p> +At last he finished his note, folded, sealed, and directed it,—“The +Hon. George Buller, A.D.C., Government House, Malta, favored by Algernon +Sydney Potts, Esq.” + </p> +<p> +“Is n't that all right?” asked he, pointing to my name. “I was within an +ace of writing Hampden-Russell too.” And he laughed at his own very meagre +jest. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you have merely made this an introduction?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing more; but why so?” + </p> +<p> +“Because it's just as likely that I never present it! I am the slave of +the humor I find myself in, and I rarely do anything that costs me the +slightest effort.” I said this with a close and, indeed, a servile +imitation of Charles Matthews in “Used Up;” but it was a grand success, +and Buller was palpably vanquished. +</p> +<p> +“Well, for George's sake, I hope your mood may be the favorable one. Is +there anything more I can do for you? Can you think of nothing wherein I +may be serviceable?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing. Stay, I rather think our people at home might with propriety +show my old friend Hirsch here some mark of attention for his conduct +towards me. I don't know whether they give a C.B. for that sort of thing, +but a sum,—a handsome sum,—something to mark the service, and +the man to whom it was rendered. Don't you think 'we' could manage that?” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll see what can be done. I don't despair of success.” + </p> +<p> +“As for your share in the affair, Buller, I 'll take care that it shall be +mentioned in the proper quarter. If I <i>have</i> a characteristic,—my +friends say I have many,—but if I have one, it is that I never +forget the most trifling service of the humblest of those who have aided +me. You are young, and have your way to make in life. Go back, therefore, +and carry with you the reflection that Potts is your friend.” + </p> +<p> +I saw he was affected at this, for he covered his face with his +handkerchief and turned away, and for some seconds his shoulders moved +convulsively. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, with a struggle to become humble, “there are richer men, +there are men more influential by family ties and connections, there are +men who occupy a more conspicuous position before the public eye, there +are men who exercise a wider sway in the world of politics and party; but +this I will say, that there is not one—no, not one—individual +in the British dominions who, when you come to consider either the +difficulties he has overcome, the strength of the prejudices he has +conquered, the totally unassisted and unaided struggle he has had to +maintain against not alone the errors, for errors are human, but still +worse, the ungenerous misconceptions, the—I will go further, and +call them the wilful misrepresentations of those who, from education and +rank and condition, might be naturally supposed—indeed, confidently +affirmed to be—to be—” + </p> +<p> +“I am certain of it!” cried he, grasping my hand, and rescuing me from a +situation very like smothering,—“I am certain of it!” And with a +hurried salutation, for his feelings were evidently overcoming him, he +burst away, and descended the stairs five steps at a time; and although I +was sorry he had not waited till I finished my peroration, I was really +glad that the act had ended and the curtain fallen. +</p> +<p> +“What a deal of bad money passes current in this world,” said I, as I was +alone; “and what a damper it is upon honest industry to think how easy it +is to eke out life with a forgery!” + </p> +<p> +“What do you say to a dinner with me at the 'Swan' in Innspruck, Potts?” + cried out Boiler, from the courtyard. +</p> +<p> +“Excuse me, I mean to eat my last cutlet here, with my old Jailer. It will +be an event for the poor fellow as long as he lives. Good-bye, and a safe +journey to you.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLV. MY CANDID AVOWAL TO KATE HERBERT +</h2> +<p> +I was now bound for the first port in the Mediterranean from which I could +take ship for Malta; and the better to carry out my purpose, I resolved +never to make acquaintance with any one, or be seduced by any +companionship, till I had seen Miss Herbert, and given her the message I +was charged with. This time, at least, I would be a faithful envoy; at +least, as faithful as a man might be who had gone to sleep over his +credentials for a twelvemonth. And so I reached Malta, and took my place +by diligence over the Stelvio down to Lecco, never trusting myself with +even the very briefest intercourse with my fellow-travellers, and +suffering them to indulge in the humblest estimate of me, morally and +intellectually,—all that I might be true to my object and firm to my +fixed purpose. For the first time in my life I tried to present myself in +an unfavorable aspect, and I was astonished to find the experiment by no +means unpleasing, the reason being, probably, that it was an eminent +success. I began to see how the surly people are such acute philosophers +in life, and what a deal of selfish gratification they must derive from +their uncurbed ill-humor. I reached Genoa in time to catch a steamer for +Malta. It was crowded, and with what, in another mood, I might have called +pleasant people; but I held myself estranged and aloof from all. I could +mark many an impertinent allusion to my cold and distant manner, and could +see that a young sub on his way to Join was even witty at the expense of +my retiring disposition. The creature, Groves he was called, used to try +to “trot me out,” as he phrased it; but I maintained both my resolve and +my temper, and gave him no triumph. +</p> +<p> +I was almost sorry on the morning we dropped anchor in the harbor. The +sense of doing something, anything, with a firm persistence, had given me +cheerfulness and courage. However, I had now a task of some nicety before +me, and addressed myself at once to its discharge. At the hotel I learned +that the cottage inhabited by Mrs. Keats was in a small nook of one of the +bays, and only an easy walk from the town; and so I despatched a messenger +at once with Miss Crofton's note to Miss Herbert, enclosed in a short one +from myself, to know if she would permit me to wait upon her, with +reference to the matter in the letter. I spoke of myself in the third +person and as the bearer of the letter. +</p> +<p> +While I was turning over the letters and papers in my writing-desk, +awaiting her reply, I came upon Buller's note to his brother, and, without +any precise idea why, I sent it by a servant to the Government House, with +my card. It was completely without a purpose that I did so, and if my +reader has not experienced moments of the like “inconsequence,” I should +totally break down in attempting to account for their meaning. +</p> +<p> +Miss Herbert's reply came back promptly. She requested that the writer of +the note she had just read would favor her with a visit at his earliest +convenience. +</p> +<p> +I set forth immediately. What a strange and thrilling sensation it is when +we take up some long-dropped link in life, go back to some broken thread +of our existence, and try to attach it to the present! We feel young again +in the bygone, and yet far older even than our real age in the thought of +the changes time has wrought upon us in the meanwhile. A week or so before +I had looked with impatience for this meeting, and now I grew very +faint-hearted as the moment drew nigh. The only way I could summon courage +for the occasion was by thinking that in the mission intrusted to me <i>I</i> +was actually nothing. There were incidents and events not one of which +touched me, and I should pass away off the scene when our interview was +over, and be no more remembered by her. +</p> +<p> +It was evident that the communication had engaged her attention to some +extent by the promptitude of her message to me; and with this thought I +crossed the little lawn, and rang the bell at the door. +</p> +<p> +“The gentleman expected by Miss Herbert, sir?” asked a smart English maid. +“Come this way, sir. She will see you in a few minutes.” + </p> +<p> +I had fully ten minutes to inspect the details of a pretty little +drawing-room, one of those little female temples where scattered drawings +and books and music, and, above all, the delicious odor of fresh flowers, +all harmonize together, and set you a-thinking how easily life could glide +by with such appliances were they only set in motion by the touch of the +enchantress herself. The door opened at last, but it was the maid; she +came to say that Mrs. Keats was very poorly that day, and Miss Herbert +could not leave her at that moment; and if it were not perfectly +convenient to the gentleman to wait, she begged to know when it would suit +him to call again? +</p> +<p> +“As for me,” said I, “I have come to Malta solely on this matter; pray say +that I will wait as long as she wishes. I am completely at her orders.” + </p> +<p> +I strolled out after this through one of the windows that opened on the +lawn, and, gaining the seaside, I sat down upon a rock to bide her coming. +I might have sat about half an hour thus, when I heard a rapid step +approaching, and I had just time to arise when Miss Herbert stood before +me. She started back, and grew pale, very pale, as she recognized me, and +for fully a minute there we both stood, unable to speak a word. +</p> +<p> +“Am I to understand, sir,” said she, at last, “that you are the bearer of +this letter?” And she held it open towards me. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, with a great effort at collectedness. “I have much to ask +your forgiveness for. It is fully a year since I was charged to place that +in your hands, but one mischance after another has befallen me; not to own +that in my own purposeless mode of life I have had no enemy worse than my +fate.” + </p> +<p> +“I have heard something of your fondness for adventure,” said she, with a +strange smile that blended a sort of pity with a gentle irony. “After we +parted company at Schaffhausen, I believe you travelled for some time on +foot? We heard, at least, that you took a fancy to explore a mode of life +few persons have penetrated, or, at least, few of your rank and +condition.” + </p> +<p> +“May I ask, what do you believe that rank and condition to be, Miss +Herbert?” asked I, firmly. +</p> +<p> +She blushed deeply at this; perhaps I was too abrupt in the way I spoke, +and I hastened to add,— +</p> +<p> +“When I offered to be the bearer of the letter you have just read, I was +moved by another wish than merely to render you some service. I wanted to +tell you, once for all, that if I lived for a while in a fiction land of +my own invention, with day-dreams and fancies, and hopes and ambitions all +unreal, I have come to pay the due penalty of my deceit, and confess that +nothing can be more humble than I am in birth, station, or fortune,—my +father an apothecary, my name Potts, my means a very few pounds in the +world; and yet, with all that avowal, I feel prouder now that I have made +it, than ever I did in the false assumption of some condition I had no +claim to.” + </p> +<p> +She held out her hand to me with such a significant air of approval, and +smiled so good-naturedly, that I could not help pressing it to my lips, +and kissing it rapturously. +</p> +<p> +Taking a seat at my side, and with a voice meant to recall me to a quiet +and business-like demeanor, she asked me to read over Miss Crofton's +letter. I told her that I knew every line of it by heart, and, more still, +I knew the whole story to which it related. It was a topic that required +the nicest delicacy to touch on, but with a frankness that charmed me, she +said,— +</p> +<p> +“You have had the candor to tell me freely your story; let me imitate you, +and reveal mine. +</p> +<p> +“You know who we are, and whence we have sprung; that my father was a +simple laborer on a line of railroad, and by dint of zeal and +intelligence, and an energy that would not be balked or impeded, that he +raised himself to station and affluence. You have heard of his connection +with Sir Elkanah Crofton, and how unfortunately it was broken off; but you +cannot know the rest,—that is, you cannot know what we alone know, +and what is not so much as suspected by others; and of this I can scarcely +dare to speak, since it is essentially the secret of my family.” + </p> +<p> +I guessed at once to what she alluded; her troubled manner, her swimming +eyes, and her quivering voice, all betraying that she referred to the +mystery of her father's fate; while I doubted within myself whether it +were right and fitting for me to acknowledge that I knew the secret soucre +of her anxiety, she relieved me from my embarrassment by continuing thus,— +</p> +<p> +“Your kind and generous friends have not suffered themselves to be +discouraged by defeat. They have again and again renewed their proposals +to my mother, only varying the mode, in the hope that by some stratagem +they might overcome her reasons for refusal. Now, though this rejection, +so persistent as it is, may seem ungracious, it is not without a fitting +and substantial cause.” + </p> +<p> +Again she faltered, and grew confused, and now I saw how she struggled +between a natural reserve and an impulse to confide the soitow that +oppressed her to one who might befriend her. +</p> +<p> +“You may speak freely to me,” said I, at last. “I am not ignorant of the +mystery you hint at. Crofton has told me what many surmise and some freely +believe in.” + </p> +<p> +“But we know it,—know it for a certainty,” cried she, clasping my +hand in her eagerness. “It is no longer a surmise or a suspicion. It is a +certainty,—a fact! Two letters in his handwriting have reached my +mother,—one from St. Louis, in America, where he had gone first; the +second from an Alpine village, where he was laid up in sickness. He had +had a terrible encounter with a man who had done him some gross wrong, and +he was wounded in the shoulder; after which he had to cross the Rhine, +wading or swimming, and travel many miles ere he could find shelter. When +he wrote, however, he was rapidly recovering, and as quickly regaining all +his old courage and daring.” + </p> +<p> +“And from that time forward have you had no tidings of him?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing but a check on a Russian banker in London to pay to my mother's +order a sum of money,—a considerable one, too; and although she +hoped to gain some clew to him through this, she could not succeed, nor +have we now any trace of him whatever. I ought to mention,” said she, as +if catching up a forgotten thread in her narrative, “that in his last +letter he enjoined my mother not to receive any payment from the assurance +company, nor enter into any compromise with them; and, above all, to live +in the hope that we should meet again and be happy.” + </p> +<p> +“And are you still ignorant of where he now is?” + </p> +<p> +“We only know that a cousin of mine, an officer of engineers at Aden, +heard of an Englishman being engaged by the Shah of Persia to report on +certain silver mines at Kashan, and from all he could learn, the +description would apply to him. My cousin had obtained leave of absence +expressly to trace him, and promised in his last letter to bring me +himself any tidings he might procure here to Malta. Indeed, when I learned +that a stranger had asked to see me, I was full sure it was my cousin +Harry.” + </p> +<p> +Was it that her eyes grew darker in color as this name escaped, her was it +that a certain tremor shook her voice, or was it the anxiety of my own +jealous humor that made me wretched as I heard of that cousin Harry, now +mentioned for the first time? +</p> +<p> +“What reparation can I make you for so blank a disappointment?” said I, +with a sad, half-bitter tone. +</p> +<p> +“Be the same kind friend that he would have proved himself if it had been +his fortune to have come first,” said she; and though she spoke calmly, +she blushed deeply! “Here,” said she, hurriedly, taking a small printed +paragraph from a letter, and eagerly, as it seemed, trying to recover her +former manner,—“here is a slip I have cut out of the 'Levant +Herald.' I found it about two months since. It ran thus: 'The person who +had contracted for the works at Pera, and who now turns out to be an +Englishman, is reported to have had a violent altercation yesterday with +Musted Pasha, in consequence of which he has thrown up his contract, and +demanded his passport for Russia. It is rumored here that the Russian +ambassador is no stranger to this rupture.' Vague as this is, I feel +persuaded that he is the person alluded to, and that it is from +Constantinople we must trace him.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” cried I, “I am ready. I will set out at once.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! can I believe you will do us this great service?” cried she, with +swimming eyes and clasped hands. +</p> +<p> +“This time you will find me faithful,” said I, gravely. “He who has said +and done so many foolish things as I have, must, by one good action, give +bail for his future character.” + </p> +<p> +“You are a true friend, and you have all my confidence.” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. Keats's compliments, miss,” said the maid at this moment, “and hopes +the gentleman will stay to dinner with you, though she cannot come down +herself.” + </p> +<p> +“She imagines you are my cousin, whom she is aware I have been expecting,” + said Miss Herbert, in a whisper, and evidently appearing uncertain how to +act. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” said I, with an anguish I could not repress, “would that I could +change my lot with his!” + </p> +<p> +“Very well, Mary,” said Miss Herbert; “thank your mistress from me, and +say the gentleman accepts her invitation with pleasure. Is it too much +presumption on my part, sir, to say so?” said she, with a low whisper, +while a half-malicious twinkle lit up her eyes, and I could not speak with +happiness. +</p> +<p> +Determined, however, to give an earnest of my zeal in her cause, I +declared I would at once return to the town, and learn when the first +packet sailed for Constantinople. The dinner hour was seven, so that I had +fully five hours yet to make my inquiries ere we met at table. I wondered +at myself how business-like and practical I had become; but a strong +impulse now impelled me, and seemed to add a sort of strength to my whole +nature. +</p> +<p> +“As Cousin Harry is the mirror of punctuality, and you now represent him, +Mr. Potts,” said she, shaking my hand, “pray remember not to be later than +seven.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVI. CAPTAIN ROGERS STANDS MY FRIEND +</h2> +<p> +“Constantinople, Odessa, and the Levant.—The 'Cyclops,' five hundred +horse-power, to sail on Wednesday morning, at eight o'clock. For freight +or passage apply to Captain Robert B. Rogers.” + </p> +<p> +This announcement, which I found amidst a great many others in a frame +over the fireplace in the coffee-room, struck me forcibly, first of all, +because, not belonging to the regular mail-packets, it suggested a cheap +passage; and, secondly, it promised an early departure, and the vessel was +to sail on the very next morning, an amount of promptitude that I felt +would gratify Miss Herbert. +</p> +<p> +Now, although I had been living for a considerable time back at the cost +of the Imperial House of Hapsburg, my resources for such an expedition as +was opening before me were of the most slender kind. I made a careful +examination of all my worldly wealth, and it amounted to the sum of +forty-three pounds some odd shillings. On <i>terra firma</i> I could, of +course, economize to any extent. With self-denial and resolution I could +live on very little. Life in the East, I had often heard, was singularly +cheap and inexpensive. All I had read of Oriental habits in the “Arabian +Nights” and “Tales of the Genii,” assured me that with a few dates and a +watermelon a man dined fully as well as need be; and the delicious warmth +of the climate rendered shelter a complete superfluity. Before forming +anything like a correct budget, I must ascertain what would be the cost of +my passage to Constantinople, and so I rang for the waiter to direct me to +the address of the advertiser. +</p> +<p> +“That's the captain yonder, sir,” whispered the waiter; and he pointed to +a stout, weather-beaten man, who, with his hands in the pockets of his +pilot-coat, was standing in front of the fire, smoking a cigar. +</p> +<p> +Although I had never seen him before, the features reminded me of some one +I had met with, and suddenly I bethought me of the skipper with whom I had +sailed from Ireland for Milford, and who had given me a letter for his +brother “Bob,”—the very Robert Rogers now before me. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know this handwriting, Captain?” said I, draw-, ing the letter +from my pocket-book. +</p> +<p> +“That's my brother Joe's,” said he, not offering to take the letter from +my hand, or removing the cigar from his mouth, but talking with all the +unconcern in life. “That's Joe's own scrawl, and there ain't a worse from +this to himself.” + </p> +<p> +“The letter is for you,” said I, rather offended at his coolness. +</p> +<p> +“So I see. Stick it up there, over the chimney; Joe has never anything to +say that won't keep.” + </p> +<p> +“It is a letter of introduction, sir,” said I, still more haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“And what if it be? Won't that keep? Who is it to introduce?” + </p> +<p> +“The humble individual before you, Captain Rogers.” + </p> +<p> +“So, that's it!” said he, slowly. “Well, read it out for me; for, to tell +you the truth, there's no harder navigation to me than one of Joe's +scrawls.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe I can master it,” said I, opening and reading what originally +had been composed and drawn up by myself. When I came to “Algernon Sydney +Potts, a man so completely after your own heart,” he drew his cigar from +his mouth, and, laying his hand on my shoulder, turned me slowly around +till the light fell full upon me. +</p> +<p> +“No, Joseph,” said he, deliberately, “not a bit of it, my boy. This ain't +my sort of chap at all!” + </p> +<p> +I almost choked with anger, but somehow there was such an apparent +earnestness in the man, and such a total absence of all wish to offend, +that I read on to the end. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, as I concluded, “he used n't to be so wordy as that. I +wonder what came over him. Mayhap he was n't well.” + </p> +<p> +What a comment on a style that might have adorned the Correct Letter +Writer! +</p> +<p> +“He was, on the contrary, in the enjoyment of perfect health, sir,” said +I, tartly. +</p> +<p> +“All I can pick out of it is, I ain't to offer you any money; and as there +is n't any direction easier to follow, nor pleasanter to obey, here's my +hand!” And he wrung mine with a grip that would have flattened a chain +cable. +</p> +<p> +“What's your line, here? You ain't sodgering, are you?” + </p> +<p> +“No; I 'm travelling, for pleasure, for information, for pastime, as one +might say.” + </p> +<p> +“In the general do-nothing and careless line of business? That ain't mine. +No, by jingo! I don't eat my fish without matching, ay, and salting them +too, I ain't ashamed to say. I 'm captain, supercargo, and pilot of my own +craft; take every lunar that is taken aboard. I 've writ every line that +ever is writ in the log-book, and I vaccinated every man and boy aboard +for the natural small-pox with these fingers and this tool that you see +here!” And he produced an old and very rusty instrument of veterinary +surgery from his vest-pocket, where it lay with copper money, tobacco +quids, and lucifer matches. +</p> +<p> +I quickly remembered the character for inordinate boast-fulness his +brother had given me, and of which he thus, without any provocation on my +part, afforded me a slight specimen. Now, perhaps, at this stage of my +narrative, I might never have alluded to him at all, if it were not for +the opportunity it gives me of recording how nobly and how resolutely I +resisted what may be called the most trying temptation of human nature. An +inveterate dram-drinker has been known to turn away from the proffered +glass; an incurable gambler has been seen to decline the invitation to +“cut in;” dignitaries of the church have begged off being made bishops; +but is there any mention in history of an anecdote-monger suffering +himself to be patiently vanquished, and retiring from the field without +firing off at least an “incident that occurred to himself”? If ever a man +was sorely tried, <i>I</i> was. Here was this coarsely minded vulgar dog, +with nothing pictorial or imaginative in his nature, heaping story upon +story of his own feats and achievements, in which not one solitary +situation ever suggested an interest or awakened an anxiety; and I, who +could have shot my tigers, crippled my leopards, hamstrung my lionesses, +rescued men from drowning, and women from fire,—with little life +touches to thrill the heart and force tears from the eyes of a +stock-broker,—I, I say, had to stand there and listen in silence! +Watching a creature banging away at a target that he never hit, with an +old flint musket, while you held in your hand a short Enfield that would +have driven the ball through the bull's eye, is nothing to this; and to +tell the truth, it nearly choked me. Twice I had to cough down the words, +“Now let me mention a personal fact.” But I did succeed, and I am proud to +say I only grew very red in the face, and felt that singing noise in the +ears and general state of muddle that forebodes a fit. But I rallied, and +said in a voice, slow from the dignity of a self-conquest,— +</p> +<p> +“Can you take me as a passenger to Constantinople?” + </p> +<p> +“To Constantinople? Ay, to the Persian Gulf, to Point de Galle, to Cochin +China, to Ross River; don't think to puzzle me with navigation, my lad.” + </p> +<p> +“Are there many other passengers?” + </p> +<p> +“I could have five hundred, if I 'd take 'em! Put Bob Rogers on a placard, +and see what'll happen. If I said, 'I 'm a-going to sea on a plank +to-morrow,' there's men would rather come along with me than go in the +'Queen' or the 'Hannibal.' I don't say they 're right, mind ye; but I +won't say they's wrong, neither.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, why did n't I meet this wretch when I was a child? Why didn't my +father find a Helot like this, to tell lies before me, and frighten me +with their horrid ugliness?” This was the thought that flashed through me +as I listened. I felt, besides, that such stupid, purposeless inventions +corrupted and blunted the taste for graceful narrative, just in the same +way that an undeserving recipient of charity offends the pleasure of real +benevolence. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask, Captain Rogers, what is the fare?” said I, with a bland +courtesy. +</p> +<p> +“That depends upon the man, sir. If you was Ramsam Can-tanker-abad, I'd +say five hundred gold pagodas. If you was a Cockney stripling, with a +fresh-water face, and a spunyarn whisker, I 'd call it a matter of seven +or eight pound.” + </p> +<p> +“And you sail at eight?” + </p> +<p> +“To the minute. When Bob Rogers says eight o'clock, the first turn of the +paddles will be the first stroke of the hour.” + </p> +<p> +“Then book me, pray, for a berth; and, for surety's sake, I'll go aboard +to-night!” + </p> +<p> +“Meet me, then, here, at ten o'clock, and I 'll take you off in my gig, an +honor to be proud on, my lad; but as Joe's friend, I'll do it.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed my acknowledgments and went off, neither delighted with my new +acquaintance, nor myself for the patience I had shown him. After all, I +had secured an early passage, and was thus able to show Kate Herbert that +I was not going to let the grass grow under my feet this time, and that +she might reckon on my zeal to serve her in future. As I retraced my road +to the cottage, I forgot all about Captain Rogers, and only thought of +Kate, and the interests that were hers. It was next to a certainty that +her father was yet alive; but how to find him in a strange land, with a +feigned name, and most probably with every aid and appliance to complete +his disguisement! It was, doubtless, a noble enterprise to devote oneself +for such as she was, but not very hopeful withal; and then I went over +various plans for my future guidance: what I should do if I fell sick? +what if my money failed me? what if I were waylaid by Arabs, or carried +away to some fearful region in the mountains, and made to feed a pet +alligator or a domestic boa-constrictor? I hoped sincerely that I was +overestimating my possible perils, but it was wise to give a large margin +to the unknown; and so I did not curb-myself in the least. +</p> +<p> +As I entered the grounds, the night was falling, and I could see that the +lamps were already lighted in the drawing-room. What surprised me, +however, was to see a very smart groom, well mounted, and leading another +horse up and down before the door. There was, evidently, a visitor within, +and I felt indisposed to enter till he had gone away. My curiosity, +however, prompted me to ask the groom the name of his master, and he +replied, “The Honorable Captain Buller.” + </p> +<p> +The very essence of all jealousy is that it is unreasoning. It is well +known that husbands—that much-believing and much-belied class—always +suspect every one but the right man; and now, without the faintest clew to +a suspicion, I grew actually sick with jealousy! +</p> +<p> +Nor was it altogether blamable in me, for as I looked through the +uncurtained window, I could see the Captain, a fine-looking, rather +tigerish sort of fellow, standing with his back to the fireplace, while he +talked to Miss Herbert, who sat some distance off at a work-table. There +was in his air that amount of jaunty ease and self-possession that said, +“I 'm at home here; in this fortress I hold the chief command.” There was +about him, too, the tone of an assumed superiority, which, when displayed +by a man towards a woman, takes the most offensive of all possible +aspects. +</p> +<p> +As he talked, he moved at last towards a window, and, opening it, held out +his hand to feel if it were raining. +</p> +<p> +“I hope,” cried he, “you'll not send me back with a refusal; her Ladyship +counts upon you as the chief ornament of her ball.” + </p> +<p> +“We never do go to balls, sir,” was the dry response. +</p> +<p> +“But make this occasion the exception. If you only knew how lamentably we +are off for pretty people, you 'd pity us. Such garrison wives and +daughters are unknown to the oldest inhabitant of the island. Surely Mrs. +Keats will be quite well by Wednesday, and she 'll not be so cruel as to +deny you to us for this once.” + </p> +<p> +“I can but repeat my excuses,—I never go out.” + </p> +<p> +“If you say so, I think I'll abandon all share in the enterprise. It was a +point of honor with me to persuade you; in fact, I pledged myself to +succeed, and if you really persist in a refusal, I 'II just pitch all +these notes in the fire, and go off yachting till the whole thing is +over.” And with this he drew forth a mass of notes from his sabretache, +and proceeded to con over the addresses: “'Mrs. Hilyard,' 'Mr. Barnes,' +'Mr. Clintosh,' 'Lady Bladgen.' Oh, Lady Blagden! Why, it would be worth +while coming only to see her and Sir John; and here are the Crosbys too; +and what have we here! Oh! this is a note from Grey. You don't know my +brother Grey,—he 'd amuse you immensely. Just listen to this, by way +of a letter of introduction:— +</p> +<p> +“'Dear George,—Cherish the cove that will hand you this note as the +most sublime snob I have ever met in all my home and foreign experiences. +In a large garrison like yours, you can have no difficulty in finding +fellows to give him a field-day. I commit him, therefore, to your worthy +keeping, to dine him, draw him forth, and pitch him out of the window when +you've done with him. No harm if it is from the topmost story of the +highest barrack in Malta. His name is Potts,—seriously and +truthfully Potts. Birth, parentage, and belongings all unknown to +</p> +<p> +“'Yours ever,' +</p> +<p> +“'Grey Buller.'” + </p> +<p> +“You are unfortunate, sir, in confiding your correspondence to me,” said +Kate, rising from her seat, “for that gentleman is a friend—a +sincere and valued friend—of my own, and you could scarcely have +found a more certain way to offend me than to speak of him slightingly.” + </p> +<p> +“You can't mean that you know him—ever met him?” + </p> +<p> +“I know him and respect him, and I will not listen to one word to his +disparagement. Nay, more, sir, I will feel myself at liberty, if I think +it fitting, to tell Mr. Potts the honorable mode in which your brother has +discharged the task of an introduction, its good faith, and gentlemanlike +feeling.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray, let us have him at the mess first. Don't spoil our sport till we +have at least one evening out of him.” + </p> +<p> +But she did not wait for him to finish his speech, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +It is but fair to own he took his reverses with great coolness; he +tightened his sword-belt, set his cap on his head before the glass, +stroked down his moustache, and then, lighting a cigar, swaggered off to +the door with the lounging swing of his order. +</p> +<p> +As for myself, I hastened back to the town, and with such speed that I +traversed the mile in something like thirteen minutes. I had no very clear +or collected plan of action, but I resolved to ask Captain Rogers to be my +friend, and see me through this conjuncture. He had just dined as I +entered the coffee-room, and consented to have his brandy-and-water +removed to my bedroom while I opened my business with him. +</p> +<p> +I will not, at this eleventh hour of revelations, inflict upon my reader +the details, but simply be satisfied to state that I found the skipper far +more practical than I looked for. He evidently, besides, had a taste for +these sort of adventures, and prided himself on his conduct of them. “Go +back now, and eat your dinner comfortably with your friends; leave +everything to me, and I promise you one thing,—the 'Cyclops' shall +not get full steam up till we have settled this small transaction.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVII. MY DUELLING AMBITION AGAIN DISAPPOINTED +</h2> +<p> +Though I was a few minutes late for dinner, Miss Herbert did not chide me +for delay. She was charming in her reception of me; nor was the +fascination diminished to me by feeling with what generous warmth she had +defended and upheld me. +</p> +<p> +There is a marvellous charm in the being defended by one you love, and of +whose kind feeling towards you you had never dared to assure yourself till +the very moment that confirmed it. I don't know if I ever felt in such +spirits in my life. Not that I was gay or light-hearted so much as happy,—happy +in the sense of a self-esteem I had not known till then. And what a spirit +of cordial familiarity was there now between us! She spoke to me of her +daily life, its habits and even of its trials; not complain-ingly nor +fretfully,—far from it,—but in a way to imply that these were +the burdens meted out to all, and that none should arrogantly imagine he +was to escape the lot of his fellows. And then we talked of the Croftons, +of whom she was curious to hear details,—their ages, appearance, +manner, and so on; lastly, how I came to know them, and thus imperceptibly +led me to tell of myself and of my story. I am sure that we each of us had +enough of care upon our hearts, and yet none would have ever guessed it to +have seen how joyously and merrily we laughed over some of the incidents +of my checkered career. She bantered me, too, on the feeble and wayward +impulses by which I had suffered myself to be moved, and gravely asked me, +had I accomplished any single one of all the objects I had set before my +mind in starting. +</p> +<p> +Far more earnestly, however, did we discuss the future. She heard with joy +that I had already secured a passage for Constantinople, and declared that +she could not dismiss from her mind the impression that I was destined to +aid their return to happiness and prosperity. I liked the notion, too, of +there being a fate in our first meeting; a fate in that acquaintanceship +with the Croftons, which gave the occasion to seek her out again; and, +last of all, if it might be so, a fate in the influence I was to exercise +over their fortunes. I was so absorbed in these pleasant themes that I, +with as little of the lion in my heart as any man breathing, never once +thought of the quarrel and its impending consequences. How my heart beat +as her soft breath fanned me while she spoke! As she was telling me when +and from whence I was to write to her, the servant came to say that a +gentleman outside begged to see Mr. Potts. I hurried to the hail. +</p> +<p> +“Not come to disturb you, Potts,” said the skipper, in a brisk tone; “only +thought it best to make your mind easy. It's all right.” + </p> +<p> +“A thousand thanks, Captain,” said I, warmly. “I knew when the negotiation +was in your hands it would be so.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; his friend, a Major Colesby, boggled a bit at first Could n't see +the thing in the light I put it. Asked very often 'who were you?' asked, +too, 'who I was?' Good that! it made me laugh. Rather late in the day, I +take it, to ask who Bob Rogers is! But in the end, as I said, it all comes +right, quite right.” + </p> +<p> +“And his apology was full, ample, and explicit? Was it in writing, Rogers? +I 'd like it in writing.” + </p> +<p> +“Like what in writing.” + </p> +<p> +“His apology, or explanation, or whatever you like to call it.” + </p> +<p> +“Who ever spoke of such a thing? Who so much as dreamed of it? Haven't I +told you the affair is all right? and what does all right mean, eh?—what +does it mean?” + </p> +<p> +“I know what it ought to mean,” said I, angrily. +</p> +<p> +“So do I, and so do most men in this island, sir. It means twelve paces +under the Battery wall, fire together, and as many shots as the aggrieved +asks for. That's all right, isn't it?” + </p> +<p> +“In one sense it is so,” said I, with a mock composure. +</p> +<p> +“Well, that's the only sense I ever meant to consider it by. Go back now +to your tea, or your sugar-and-water, or whatever it is; and when you come +home to-night, step into my room, and we'll have a cosey chat and a cigar. +There 's one or two trifling things that I don't understand in this +affair, and I put my own explanation on them, and maybe it ain't the right +one. Not that it signifies <i>now</i>, you perceive, because you are here +to the fore, and can set them right. But as by this time to-morrow you +might be where—I won't mention'—we may as well put them +straight this evening.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll beat you up, depend upon it,” said I, affecting a slap-dash style. +“I can't tell you how glad I am to have fallen into your hands, Rogers. +You suit me exactly.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, it's more than I expected when I saw you first, and I kept saying +to myself, 'Whatever could have persuaded Joe to send me a creature like +that?' To tell you the truth, I thought you were in the cheap funeral +line.” + </p> +<p> +“Droll dog!” said I, while my fingers were writhing and twisting with +passion. +</p> +<p> +“Not that it's fair to take a fellow by his looks. I'm aware of that, +Potts. But go back to the parlor; that's the second time the maid has come +out to see what keeps you. Go back, and enjoy yourself; maybe you won't +have so pleasant an opportunity soon again.” + </p> +<p> +This was the parting speech of the wretch as he buttoned the collar of his +coat, and with a short nod bade me goodbye, and left me. +</p> +<p> +“Why did you not ask your friend to take a cup of tea with us?'” said +Kate, as I re-entered the drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! it was the skipper, a rough sort of creature, not exactly made for +drawing-room life; besides, he only came to ask me a question.” + </p> +<p> +“I hope it was not a very unpleasant one, for you look pale and anxious.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind; a mere formal matter about my baggage.” + </p> +<p> +It was no use; from that moment, I was the most miserable of mankind. What +availed it to speculate any longer on the future? How could I interest +myself in what years might bring forth? Hours, and a very few of them, +were all that were left to me. Poor girl! how tenderly she tried to divert +my sorrow! She, most probably, ascribed it to the prospect of our speedy +separation; and with delicacy and tact, she tried to trace out some faint +outlines of what painters call “extreme distance,”—a sort of future +where all the skies would be rose-colored and all the mountains blue. I am +sure, if a choice had been given me at that instant, I would rather have +been a courageous man than the greatest genius in the universe. I knew +better what was before. At last it came to ten o'clock, and I arose to say +good-bye. I found it very hard not to fall upon her neck and say, “Don't +be angry with poor Potts; this is his last as it is his first embrace.” + </p> +<p> +“Wear that ring for me and for my sake,” said she, giving me one from her +finger; “don't refuse me,—it has no value save what you may attach +to it from having been mine.” + </p> +<p> +Oh dear! what a gulp it cost me not to say, “I 'll never take it off while +I live,” and then add, “which will be about eight hours and a half more.” + </p> +<p> +When I got into the open air, I ran as if a pack of wolves were in pursuit +of me. I cannot say why; but the rapid motion served to warm my blood, so +that when I reached the hotel, I felt more assured and more resolute. +</p> +<p> +Rogers was asleep, and so soundly that I had to pull the pillow from +beneath his head before I could awaken him; and when I had accomplished +the feat, either the remote effect of his brandy-and-water or his +drowsiness had so obscured his faculties, that all he could mumble out +was, “Hit him where he can't be spliced,—hit him where they can't +splice him!” I tried for a long time to recall him to sense and +intelligence, but I got nothing from him save the one inestimable precept; +and so I went to my room, and, throwing myself on my bed in my cloak, +prepared for a night of gloomy retrospect and gloomier anticipation; but, +odd enough, I was asleep the moment I lay down. +</p> +<p> +“Get up, old fellow,” cried Rogers, shaking me violently, just as the dawn +was breaking; “we 're lucky if we can get aboard before they catch us.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” said I. “What's happened?” + </p> +<p> +“The Governor has got wind of our shindy, and put all the red-coats in +arrest, and ordered the police to nab us too.” + </p> +<p> +“Bless him! bless him!” muttered I. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, so say I. He be blessed!” cried he, catching up my words. “But let us +make off through the garden; my gig is down in the offing, and they 'll +pull in when they hear my whistle. Ain't it provoking,—ain't it +enough to make a man swear?” + </p> +<p> +“I have no words for what I feel, Rogers,” said I, bustling about to +collect my stray articles through the room. “If I ever chance upon that +Governor—he has only five years of it—I believe—” + </p> +<p> +“Come along! I see the boat coming round the point yonder.” And with this +we slipped noiselessly down the stairs, down the street, and gained the +Jetty. +</p> +<p> +“Steam up?” asked the skipper, as he jumped into the gig. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, ay, sir; and we're short on the anchor too.” In less than half an +hour we were under weigh, and I don't think I ever admired a land prospect +receding from view with more intense delight than I did that, my last +glimpse of Malta. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XLVIII. FINAL ADVENTURES AND SETTLEMENT +</h2> +<p> +Our voyage had nothing remarkable to record; we reached Constantinople in +due course, and during the few days the “Cyclops” remained, I had abundant +time to discover that there was no trace of any one resembling him I +sought for. By the advice of Rogers, I accompanied him to Odessa. There, +too, I was not more fortunate; and though I instituted the most +persevering inquiries, all I could learn was that some Americans were +employed by the Russian Government in raising the frigates sunk at +Sebastopol, and that it was not impossible an Englishman, such as I +described, might have met an engagement amongst them. At all events, one +of the coasting craft was already at Odessa, and I went on board of her to +make my inquiry. I learned from the mate, who was a German, that they had +come over on rather a strange errand, which was to convey a corps of +circus people to Balaklava. The American contractor at that place, being +in want of some amusement, had arranged with these people to give some +weeks' performances there, but that, from an incident that had just +occurred, the project had failed. This was no less than the elopement of +the chief dancer, a young girl of great beauty, with a young prince of +Bavaria. It was rumored that he had married her, but my informant gave +little credence to this version, and averred that he had bought, not only +herself, but a favorite Old Arab horse she rode, for thirty thousand +piastres. I asked eagerly where the others of the corps were to be found, +and heard they had crossed over to Simoom, all broken up and disjointed, +the chief clown having died of grief after the girl's flight. +</p> +<p> +If I heard this tale rudely narrated, and not always with the sort of +comment that went with my sympathies, I sorrowed sincerely over it, for I +guessed upon whom these events had fallen, and recognized poor old +Vaterchen and the dark-eyed Tintefleck. +</p> +<p> +“You 've fallen into the black melancholies these some days back,” said +Rogers to me. “Rouse up, and take a cruise with me. I 'm going over to +Balaklava with these steam-boilers, and then to Sinope, and so back to the +Bosphorus. Come aboard to-night, it will do you good.” + </p> +<p> +I took his counsel, and at noon next day we dropped anchor at Balaklava. +We had scarcely passed our “health papers,” when a boat came out with a +message to inquire if we had a doctor on board who could speak English, +for the American contractor had fallen from one of the scaffolds that +morning, and was lying dreadfully injured up at Sebastopol, but unable to +explain himself to the Russian surgeons. I was not without some small +skill in medicine; and, besides, out of common humanity, I felt it my duty +to set out, and at about sunset I reached Sebastopol. +</p> +<p> +Being supposed to be a physician of great skill and eminence, I was +treated by all the persons about with much deference, and, after very few +minutes' delay, introduced into the room where the sick man lay. He had +ordered that when an English doctor could be found, they were to leave +them perfectly alone together; so that, as I entered, the door was closed +immediately, and I found myself alone by the bedside of the sufferer. The +curtain was closely drawn across the windows, and it was already dusk, so +that all I could discover was the figure of a man, who lay breathing very +heavily, and with the irregular action that implies great pain. +</p> +<p> +“Are you English?” said he, in a strong, full voice. “Well, feel that +pulse, and tell me if it means sinking; I suspect it does.” + </p> +<p> +I took his hand and laid my finger on the artery. It was beating +furiously,—far too fast to count, but not weakly nor faintly. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said I; “this is fever, but not debility.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't want subtleties,” rejoined he, roughly. “I want to know am I +dying? Draw the curtain there, open the window full, and have a look at +me.” + </p> +<p> +I did as he bade me, and returned to the bedside. It was all I could do +not to cry out with astonishment; for, though terribly disfigured by his +wounds, his eyes actually covered by the torn scalp that hung over them, I +saw that it was Harpar lay before me, his large reddish beard now matted +and clotted with blood. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what's the verdict?” cried he, sternly; “don't keep me in +suspense.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not perceive any grave symptoms so far—” + </p> +<p> +“No cant, my good friend, no cant! It's out of place just now. Be honest, +and say what is it to be,—live or die?” + </p> +<p> +“So far as I can judge, I say, live.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, set about the repairs at once. Ask for what you want,—they +'ll bring it.” + </p> +<p> +Deeming it better not to occasion any shock whatever to a man in his +state, I forbore declaring who I was, and set about my office with what +skill I could. +</p> +<p> +With the aid of a Russian surgeon, who spoke German well, I managed to +dress the wounds and bandage the fractured arm, during which the patient +never spoke once, nor, indeed, seemed to be at all concerned in what was +going on. +</p> +<p> +“You can stay here, I hope,” said he to me, when all was finished. “At +least, you 'll see me through the worst of it I can afford to pay, and pay +well.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll stay,” said I, imitating his own laconic way; and no more was said. +</p> +<p> +Now, though it was not my intention to pass myself off for a physician, or +derive any, even the smallest advantage from the assumption of such a +character, I saw that, remote as the poor sufferer was from his friends +and country, and totally destitute of even companionship, it would have +been cruel to desert him until he was sufficiently recovered to be left +with servants. +</p> +<p> +From his calm composure, and the self-control he was able to exercise, I +had formed a far too favorable opinion of his case. When I saw him first +the inflammatory symptoms had not yet set in; so that at my next visit I +found him in a high fever, raving wildly. In his wanderings he imagined +himself ever directing some gigantic enterprise, with hundreds of men at +his command, whose efforts he was cheering or chiding alternately. The +indomitable will of a most resolute nature was displayed in all he said; +and though his bodily sufferings must have been intense, he only alluded +to them to show how little power they had to arrest his activity. His +ever-recurring cry was, “It can be done, men! It can be done! See that we +do it!” + </p> +<p> +I own that, even though stretched on a sick-bed and raving madly, this +man's unquenchable energy impressed me greatly; and I often fancied to +myself what must have been the resources of such a bold spirit in sad +contrast to a nature pliant and yielding like mine. To the violence of the +first access, there soon succeeded the far more dangerous state of low +fever, through which I never left him. Care and incessant watching could +alone save him, and I devoted myself to the last with the resolve to make +this effort the first of a new and changed existence. +</p> +<p> +Day and night in the sick-room, I lost appetite and strength, while an +unceasing care preyed upon me and deprived me even of rest. The very +vacillations of the sick man's malady had affected my nerves, rendering me +overanxious, so that just as he had passed the great crisis of the malady, +I was stricken down with it myself. +</p> +<p> +My first day of convalescence, after seven weeks of fever, found me +sitting at a little window that looked upon the sea, or rather the harbor +of Sebastopol, where two frigates and some smaller vessels were at anchor. +A group of lighters and such unpicturesque craft occupied another part of +the scene, engaged, as it seemed, in operations for raising other vessels. +It was in gazing for a long while at these, and guessing their occupation, +that I learned to trace out the past, and why and how I had come to be +sitting there. Every morning the German servant who tended me through my +illness used to bring me the “Herr Baron's” compliments to know how I was, +and now he came to say that as the “Herr Baron” was able to walk so far, +he begged that he might be permitted to come and pay me a visit I was +aware of the Russian custom of giving titles to all who served the +Government in positions of high trust, and was therefore not astonished +when the announcement of the “Herr Baron” was followed by the entrance of +Harpar, who, sadly reduced, and leaning on a crutch, made his way slowly +to where I sat. I attempted to rise to receive him, but he cried out, half +sternly,—“Sit still! we are neither of us in good trim for +ceremony.” + </p> +<p> +He motioned to the servants to leave us alone; then laying his wasted hand +in mine, for we were each too weak to' grasp the other, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“I know all about it It was you saved my life, and risked your own to do +it.” + </p> +<p> +I muttered out some unmeaning words—I know not well what—about +duty and the like. +</p> +<p> +“I don't care a brass button for the motive. You stood to me like a man.” + As he said this, he looked hard at me, and, shading the light with his +hand, peered into my face. “Have n't we met before this? Is not your name +Potts?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, and you're Harpar.” + </p> +<p> +He reddened, but so slightly that but for the previous paleness of his +sickly cheek it would not have been noticeable. +</p> +<p> +“I have often thought about <i>you</i>.” said he, musingly. “This is not +the only service you have done me; the first was at Lindau,—mayhap +you have forgotten it. You lent me two hundred florins, and, if I 'm not +much mistaken, when you were far from being rich yourself.” + </p> +<p> +He leaned his head on his hand, and seemed to have fallen into a musing +fit. +</p> +<p> +“And, after all,” said I, “of the best turn I ever did you, you have never +heard in your life, and, what is more, might never hear, if not from +myself. Do you remember an altercation on the road to Feldkirch, with a +man called Rigges?” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure I do; he smashed the small-bone of this arm for me; but I gave +worse than I got. They never could find that bullet I sent into his side, +and he died of it at Palermo. But what share in this did you bear?” + </p> +<p> +“Not the worst nor the best; but I was imprisoned for a twelvemonth in +your place.” + </p> +<p> +“Imprisoned for <i>me?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; they assumed that I was Harpar, and as I took no steps to undeceive +them, there I remained till they seemed to have forgotten all about me.” + </p> +<p> +Harpar questioned me closely and keenly as to the reasons that prompted +this act of mine,—an act all the more remarkable, as, to use his own +words, “We were men who had no friendship for each other, actually +strangers; and,” added he, significantly, “the sort of fellows who, +somehow, do not usually 'hit it off' together. You a man of leisure, with +your own dreamy mode of life; I, a hard worker, who could not enjoy +idleness; and in this sense, far more likely to hold each other cheaply +than otherwise.” + </p> +<p> +I attempted to account for this piece of devotion as best I might, but not +very successfully, since I was only endeavoring to explain what I really +did not well understand myself. Nor could a vague desire to do something +generous, merely because it <i>was</i> generous, satisfy the practical +intelligence of him who heard me. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, at last, “all that machinery you have described is so new +and strange to me, I can tell nothing as to how it ought to work; but I'm +as grateful to you as a man can be for a service which he could not have +rendered <i>himself</i>, nor has the slightest notion of what could have +prompted <i>you</i> to do. Now, let me hear by what chance you came here?” + </p> +<p> +“You must listen to a long story to learn that,” said I; and as he +declared that he had nothing more pressing to do with his time, I began, +almost as I have begun with my reader. On my first mention of Crofton, he +asked me to repeat the name; and when I spoke of meeting Miss Herbert at +the Milford station, he slightly moved his chair, as if to avoid the +strong light from the window; but from that moment till I finished, he +never interrupted me by a word, nor interposed a question. +</p> +<p> +“And it was she gave you that old seal-ring I see on your finger?” said +he, at last. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I. “How came you to guess that?” + </p> +<p> +“Because <i>I</i> gave it to her the day she was sixteen! I am her +father.” + </p> +<p> +I drew a long breath, and could only clutch his arm with astonishment, +without being able to speak. +</p> +<p> +“It's all well-known in England, now. Everybody has been paid in full, my +creditors have met in a body, and signed a request to me to come back and +recommence business. They have done more; they have bought up the lease of +the Foundry, and sent it out to me. Ay, and old Elkanah's mortgage, too, +is redeemed, and I don't owe a shilling.” + </p> +<p> +“You must have worked hard to accomplish all this?” + </p> +<p> +“Pretty hard, no doubt. You remember those little boats with the holes in +'em at Lindau. <i>They</i> did the business for me. I was fool enough at +that time to imagine that you had got a clew to my discovery, and were +after me to pick up all the details. I ought to have known better! It was +easy enough to see that <i>you</i> could have no head for anything with a +'tough bone' in it. Light, thoughtless creatures of <i>your</i> kind are +never dangerous anywhere!” + </p> +<p> +I was not quite sure whether I was expected to return thanks for this +speech in my favor, and therefore only made some very unintelligible +mutterings. +</p> +<p> +“There's only one liner now to be raised, and all the guns are already out +of her, but I can return to-morrow. I am free; my contract is completed; +and the 'Ignatief' sloop-of-war is at my orders at Balaklava to convey me +to any port I please in Europe.” + </p> +<p> +He said this so boastfully and so vaingloriously that I really felt Potts +in his humility was not the smaller man of the two. Nor, perhaps, was my +irritation the less, at seeing how little surprise our singular meeting +had caused him, and how much he regarded all I had done in his behalf as +being ordinary and commonplace services. But, perhaps, the <i>coup de +grace</i> of my misery came as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Though I forwarded that ten-pound note you lent me to Rome, perhaps you +'ll like to have it now. If you need any more, say so.” + </p> +<p> +My heart was in my mouth, and I felt that I 'd have died of starvation +rather than accept the humblest benefit at his hands. +</p> +<p> +“Very well,” said he to my refusal; “all the better that you 've no need +of cash, for, to tell the truth, Potts, you 're not much of a doctor, nor +are you very remarkable as a man of genius; and it is a kind thing of +Providence when such fellows as you are born with even a 'pewter spoon' in +their mouths.” + </p> +<p> +I nearly choked, but I said nothing. +</p> +<p> +“If you 'd like me to land you anywhere in the Levant, or down towards the +Spanish coast, only tell me.” + </p> +<p> +“No, nothing of the kind. I 'm going north; I 'm going to Moscow, to +Tobolsk; I 'm going to Persia and Astrakhan,” said I, in wildest +confusion. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can give you a capital travelling-cloak—it's one of those +buntas they make in the Banat, and you 'll need it, for they have +fearfully severe cold in those countries.” + </p> +<p> +With this, and not waiting my resolute refusal, he rose, hobbled out of +the room, and I—ay, there's no concealing it—burst out +a-crying! +</p> +<p> +Weak and sick as I was, I procured an “araba” that night, and, without one +word of adieu, set out for Krim. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +It was about two years after this—my father had died in the +interval, leaving me a small but sufficient fortune to live on, and I had +just arrived in Paris, after a long desultory ramble through the east of +Europe—I was standing, one morning early in one of the small alleys +of the Champs Élysées, watching with half-listless curiosity the various +grooms as they passed to exercise their horses in the Bois de Boulogne. +Group after group passed me of those magnificent animals in which Paris is +now more than the rival of London, and at length I was struck by the +appearance of a very smartly dressed groom, who led along beside him a +small-sized horse, completely sheeted and shrouded from view. Believing +that this must prove some creature of rare beauty, an Arab of purest +descent, I followed them as they went, and at last overtook them. +</p> +<p> +The groom was English, and by my offer of a cigar, somewhat better than +the one he was smoking, he was very willing to satisfy my curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose he has Arab blood in him,” said he, half contemptuously; “but +he's forty years old now if he's a day. What they keep him for I don't +know, but they make as much work about him as if he was a Christian; and +as for myself, I have nothing else to do than walk him twice a day to his +exercise, and take care that his oats are well bruised and mixed with +linseed, for he hasn't a tooth left.” + </p> +<p> +“I suppose his master is some very rich man, who can afford himself a +caprice like this.” + </p> +<p> +“For the matter of money, he has enough of it. He is the Prince Ernest +Maximilian of Wurtemberg, and, except the Emperor, has the best stable in +all Paris. But I don't think that <i>he</i> cares much for the old horse; +it's the <i>Princess</i> likes him, and she constantly drives out to the +wood here, and when we come to a quiet spot, where there are no strangers, +she makes me take off all the body-clothes and the hood, and she 'll get +out of the carriage and pat him. And he knows her, that he does! and lifts +up that old leg of his when she comes towards him, and tries to whinny +too. But here she comes now, and it won't do if I 'm seen talking to you; +so just drop behind, sir, and never notice me.” + </p> +<p> +I crossed the road, and had but reached the opposite pathway, when a +carriage stopped, and the old horse drew up beside it. After a word or +two, the groom took off the hood, and there was Blondel! But my amazement +was lost in the greater shock that the Princess, whose jewelled hand held +out the sugar to him, was no other than Catinka! +</p> +<p> +I cannot say with what motive I was impelled,—perhaps the action was +too quick for either,—but I drew nigh to the carriage, and, raising +my hat respectfully, asked if her highness would deign to remember an old +acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +“I am unfortunate enough, sir, not to be able to recall you,” said she, in +the most perfect Parisian French. +</p> +<p> +“My name you may have forgotten, madam, but scarcely so either our first +meeting at Schaffhausen, or our last at Bregenz.” + </p> +<p> +“These are all riddles to me, sir; and I am sure you are too well bred to +persist in an error after you have recognized it to be such.” With a cold +smile and a haughty bow, she motioned the coachman to drive on, and I saw +her no more. +</p> +<p> +Stung to the very quick, but yet not without a misgiving that I might be +possibly mistaken, I hurried to the police department, where the list of +strangers was preserved. By sending in my card I was admitted to see one +of the chiefs of the department, who politely informed me that the +princess was totally unknown as to family, and not included in the Gotha +Almanack. +</p> +<p> +“May I ask,” said he, as I prepared to retire, “if this letter here—it +has been with us for more than a year—is for your address? It came +with an enclosure covering any possible expense in reaching your address, +and has lain here ever since.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, “my name is Algernon Sydney Potts.” + </p> +<p> +Strange are the changes and vicissitudes of life! Just as I stood there, +shocked and overwhelmed with one trait of cold ingratitude, I found a +letter from Kate (she who was once Kate Herbert), telling me how they had +sent messengers after me through Europe, and begging, if these lines +should ever reach me, to come to them in Wales. “My father loves you, my +mother longs to know you, and none can be more eager to thank you than +your friend Kate Whalley.” + </p> +<p> +I set off for England that night—I left for Wales the next morning—and +I have never quitted it since that day. +</p> +<p> +THE END. <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Day's Ride, by Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY'S RIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 32692-h.htm or 32692-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/6/9/32692/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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