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diff --git a/old/35145-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/35145-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f8e0cc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/35145-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,3763 @@ +<?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> + Paul Gosslett's Confessions in Love, Law, and the Civil Service, by + Charles James Lever + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; 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 Paul Gosslett's Confessions in Love, Law, +and The Civil Service, 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: Paul Gosslett's Confessions in Love, Law, and The Civil Service + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Release Date: February 2, 2011 [EBook #35145] +Last Updated: February 28, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL GOSSLETT'S CONFESSIONS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +PAUL GOSSLETT'S CONFESSIONS IN LOVE, LAW, AND THE CIVIL SERVICE +</h1> +<h2> +By Charles James Lever +</h2> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h3> +Boston: Little, Brown, And Company. +</h3> +<h3> +1906. +</h3> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<h2> +Contents +</h2> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> MY FIRST MISSION UNDER F. O. </a> +</p> +<br /> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CONFESSION THE SECOND. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. +“IN DOUBT” </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. +THE REV. DAN DUDGEON. </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. +THE RUNAWAY. </a> +</p> +<br /> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> CONFESSION THE LAST. </a> +</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +MY FIRST MISSION UNDER F. O. +</h2> +<p> +I was walking very sadly across the Green Park one day, my hat pressed +over my eyes, not looking to right or left, but sauntering slowly along, +depressed and heavy-hearted, when I felt a friendly arm slip softly within +my own, while a friendly voice said,—“I think I have got something +to suit you, for a few months at least. Don't you know Italian?” + </p> +<p> +“In a fashion, I may say I do. I can read the small poets, and chat a +little. I'll not say much more about my knowledge.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite enough for what I mean. Now tell me another thing. You 're not a +very timid fellow, I know. Have you any objection to going amongst the +brigands in Calabria,—on a friendly mission, of course,—where +it will be their interest to treat you well?” + </p> +<p> +“Explain yourself a little more freely. What is it I should have to do?” + </p> +<p> +“Here's the whole affair; the son of a wealthy baronet, a Wiltshire M.P., +has been captured and carried off by these rascals. They demand a heavy +sum for his ransom, and give a very short time for the payment. Sir +Joseph, the youth's father, is very ill, and in such a condition as would +make any appeal to him highly dangerous; the doctors declare, in fact, it +would be fatal; and Lady Mary S. has come up to town, in a state bordering +on distraction, to consult Lord Scatterdale, the Foreign Secretary, who is +a personal friend of her husband. The result is that his Lordship lias +decided to pay the money at once; and the only question is now to find the +man to take it out, and treat with these scoundrels.” + </p> +<p> +“That ought not to be a very difficult matter, one would say; there are +scores of fellows with pluck for such a mission.” + </p> +<p> +“So there are, if pluck were the only requisite; but something more is +needed. If Sir Joseph should not like to acknowledge the debt,—if, +on his recovery, he should come to think that the thing might have been +better managed, less cost incurred, and so on,—the Government will +feel embarrassed; they can't well quarrel with an old supporter; they +can't well stick the thing in the estimates; so that, to cover the outlay +in some decent fashion, they must give it a public-service look before +they can put it into the Extraordinaries; and so Lord S. has hit upon this +scheme. You are aware that a great question is now disputed between the +Bourbonists of Naples and the party of New Italy,—whether brigandage +means highway robbery, or is the outburst of national enthusiasm in favor +of the old dynasty. The friends of King Bomba, of course, call it a 'La +Vendée;' the others laugh at this, and say that the whole affair is simply +assassination and robbery, and totally destitute of any political +coloring. Who knows on which side the truth lies, or whether some portion +of truth does not attach to each of these versions? Now, there are, as you +said awhile ago, scores of fellows who would have pluck enough to treat +with the brigands; but there are not so many who could be trusted to +report of them,—to give a clear and detailed account of what he saw +of them,—of their organization, their sentiments, their ambitions, +and their political views, if they have any. You are just the man to do +this. You have that knack of observation and that readiness with your pen +which are needed. In fact, you seem to me the very fellow to do this +creditably.” + </p> +<p> +“Has Lord S. any distinct leanings in the matter?” asked I. “Does he +incline to regard these men as political adherents, or as assassins, <i>purs +et simples?</i>” + </p> +<p> +“I see what you mean,” said my friend, pinching my arm. “You want to know +the tone of your employer before you enter his service. You would like to +be sure of the tints that would please him.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps so. I won't go so far as to say it would frame my report, but it +might serve to tinge it. Now, do you know his proclivities, as Jonathan +would call them?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe they are completely with the Italian view of the matter. I +mean, he will not recognize anything political in these scoundrels.” + </p> +<p> +“I thought as much. Now as to the appointment. Do you think you could +obtain it for me?” + </p> +<p> +“You are ready to take it, then?” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly.” + </p> +<p> +“And ready to start at once?” + </p> +<p> +“To-night.” + </p> +<p> +“Come back with me now, and I will inquire if Lord S. will see us. He +spoke to me yesterday evening on the matter, and somehow your name did not +occur to me, and I certainly recommended another man,—Hitchins of +the 'Daily News;' but I am sure he will not have sent for him yet, and +that we shall be in good time.” + </p> +<p> +As we walked back towards Downing Street, my friend talked on incessantly +about the advantages I might derive from doing this thing creditably. They +were sure to make a Blue Book out of my report, and who knows if my name +would not be mentioned in the House? At all events, the newspapers would +have it; and the Government would be obliged,—they could n't help +giving me something. “You'll have proved yourself a man of capacity,” said +he, “and that's enough. S. does like smart fellows under him, he is so +quick himself; sees a thing with half an eye, and reads a man just as he +reads a book.” He rattled along in this fashion, alternately praising the +great man, and assuring me that I was exactly the sort of fellow to suit +him. “He 'll not burden you with instructions, but what he tells you will +be quite sufficient; he is all clearness, conciseness, and accuracy. +There's only one caution I have to give you,—don't ask him a +question, follow closely all he says, and never ask him to explain +anything that puzzles you. To suppose that he has not expressed himself +clearly is a dire offence, mind that; and now, here we are. Crosby, is my +Lord upstairs?” asked he of the porter; and receiving a bland nod in +reply, he led the way to the Minister's cabinet. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll ask to see him first myself,” whispered he, as he sent in his card. +</p> +<p> +Now, though my friend was an M.P., and a stanch supporter of the party, he +manifested a considerable amount of anxiety and uneasiness when waiting +for the noble secretary's reply. It came at last. +</p> +<p> +“Can't possibly see you now, sir. Will meet you at the House at five +o'clock.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you kindly tell his Lordship I have brought with me the gentleman I +spoke to him about yesterday evening? He will know for what.” + </p> +<p> +The private secretary retired sullenly, and soon returned to say, “The +gentleman may come in; my Lord will speak to him.” + </p> +<p> +The next moment I found myself standing in a comfortably furnished room, +in front of a large writing-table, at which an elderly man with a small +head, scantily covered with gray hair, was writing. He did not cease his +occupation as I entered, nor notice me in any manner as I approached, but +went on repeating to himself certain words as he wrote them; and at last, +laying down his pen, said aloud, with a faint chuckle, “and your +Excellency may digest it how you can.” + </p> +<p> +I gave a very slight cough. He looked up, stared at me, arose, and, +walking to the fire, stood with his back to it for a couple of seconds +without speaking. I could see that he had some difficulty in dismissing +the topic which had just occupied him, and was only arriving at me by very +slow stages and heavy roads. +</p> +<p> +“Eh!” said he, at last; “you are the man of the paper. Not the 'Times '—but +the—the—what's it?” + </p> +<p> +“No, my Lord. I'm the other man,” said I, quietly. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, you 're the other man.” And as he spoke, he hung his head, and seemed +hopelessly lost in thought. “Have you seen Mr. Hammil?” asked he. +</p> +<p> +“No, my Lord.” + </p> +<p> +“You must see Mr. Hammil. Till you see Mr. Hammil, you need n't come to +me.” + </p> +<p> +“Very well, my Lord,” said I, moving towards the door. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment. You know Italy well, I am told. Do you know Cavour?” + </p> +<p> +“No, my Lord,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! They say he over-eats; have you heard that?” + </p> +<p> +“I can't say that I have, my Lord; but my acquaintance with Italy and with +Italians is very slight, indeed.” + </p> +<p> +“Why did they recommend you, then, for this affair? I told Gresson that I +wanted a man who could have ready access to their public men, who knew +Balbi, Gino Capponi, Ricasoli, and the rest of them. Now, sir, how is it +possible, without intimacy with these men and their opinions, that you +could write such leading articles as I suggested in, their papers? How +could you ever get admission to the columns of the 'Opinione' and the +'Perseveranza,' eh? Answer me that.” + </p> +<p> +“I am afraid, my Lord, there is some grave misunderstanding here. I never +dreamed of proposing myself for such a difficult task. I came here on a +totally different mission. It was to take your Lordship's orders about the +ransom and rescue of a young Englishman who has been captured by the +brigands in Southern Italy—” + </p> +<p> +“That scamp, St. John. A very different business, indeed. Why, sir, they +value him at one thousand pounds, and I 'll venture to assert that his +friends—if that be the name of the people who know him—would +call him a dear bargain at twenty. I'm certain his own father would say +so; but, poor fellow, he is very ill, and can't talk on this or any other +matter just now. Lady Mary, however, insists on his release, and we must +see what can be done. You know the habits and ways of these rascals,—these +brigands,—don't you?” + </p> +<p> +“No, my Lord; nothing whatever about them.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, in Heaven's name, sir, what do you know?” + </p> +<p> +“Very little about anything, my Lord, I must confess; but as I am sorely +pushed to find a livelihood, and don't fancy being a burden to my friends, +I told Mr. Gresson, this morning, that I was quite ready to undertake the +mission if I should be intrusted with it; and that, so far as bail or +security went, my uncle Rankin, of Rankin and Bates, would unquestionably +afford it.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, this is very different, indeed,” said he, ponderingly, and with a +look of compassionate interest I had not thought his face capable of. +“Gone too fast, perhaps; have been hit hard at Doncaster or Goodwood?” + </p> +<p> +“No, my Lord; I never betted. I started with a few thousand pounds and +lost them in a speculation.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, well. I have no right to enter into these things. Go and see Mr. +Temple, the financial clerk. Take this to him, and see what he says to +you. If he is satisfied, come down to the House to-night. But stay! You +ought to start this evening, oughtn't you?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe, my Lord, the time is very short. They require the money to be +paid by the twelfth.” + </p> +<p> +“Or they'll cut his ears off, I suppose,” said he, laughing. “Well, he's +an ugly dog already; not that cropping will improve him. Here, take this +to Temple, and arrange the matter between you.” + </p> +<p> +And he hurriedly wrote half a dozen lines, which he enclosed and +addressed, and then returning to his seat, said, “<i>Bonne chance!</i> I +wish you success and a pleasant journey.” + </p> +<p> +I will not dwell upon the much longer and more commonplace interview that +followed. Mr. Temple knew all about me,—knew my uncle, and knew the +whole story of my misfortunes. He was not, however, the less cautious in +every step he took; and as the sum to be intrusted to me was so large, he +filled in a short bail-bond, and, while I sat with him, despatched it by +one of his clerks to Lombard Street, for my uncle's signature. This came +in due time; and, furnished with instructions how to draw on the +Paymaster-General, some current directions how to proceed till I presented +myself at the Legation at Naples, and a sum sufficient for the travelling +expenses, I left London that night for Calais, and began my journey. If I +was very anxious to acquit myself creditably in this my first employment +in the public service, and to exhibit an amount of zeal, tact, and +discretion that might recommend me for future employment, I was still not +indifferent to the delights of a journey paid for at the Queen's expense, +and which exacted from me none of those petty economies which mar the +perfect enjoyment of travelling. +</p> +<p> +If I suffer myself to dwell on this part of my history, I shall be ruined, +for I shall never get on; and you will, besides, inevitably—and as +unjustly as inevitably—set me down for a snob. +</p> +<p> +I arrived at Naples at last. It was just as the day was closing in, but +there was still light enough to see the glorious bay and the outline of +Vesuvius in the background. I was, however, too full of my mission now to +suffer my thoughts to wander to the picturesque, and so I made straight +for the Legation. +</p> +<p> +I had been told that I should receive my last instructions from H.M.'s +Minister, and it was a certain Sir James Magruber that then held that +office at Naples. I know so very little of people in his peculiar walk, +that I can only hope he may not be a fair sample of his order; for he was +the roughest, the rudest, and most uncourteous gentleman it has ever been +my fortune to meet. +</p> +<p> +He was dressing for dinner when I sent up my card, and at once ordered +that I should be shown up to his room. +</p> +<p> +“Where's your bag?” cried he, roughly, as I entered. +</p> +<p> +Conceiving that this referred to my personal luggage, and was meant as the +preliminary to inviting me to put up at his house, I said that I had left +my “traps” at the hotel, and, with his permission, would install myself +there for the few hours of my stay. +</p> +<p> +“Confound your 'traps,' as you call them,” said he. “I meant your +despatches,—the bag from F. O. Ain't you the messenger?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; I am not the messenger,” said I, haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“And what the devil do you mean, then, by sending me your card, and asking +to see me at once?” + </p> +<p> +“Because my business is peremptory, sir,” said I, boldly, and proceeded at +once to explain who I was and what I had come for. “To-morrow will be the +tenth, sir,” said I, “and I ought to be at Rocco d'Anco by the morning of +the twelfth, at farthest.” + </p> +<p> +He was brushing his hair all the time I was speaking, and I don't think +that he heard above half of what I said. +</p> +<p> +“And do you mean to tell me they are such infernal fools at F.O. that they +'re going to pay one thousand pounds sterling to liberate this scamp St. +John?” + </p> +<p> +“I think, sir, you will find that I have been sent out with this object” + </p> +<p> +“Why, it's downright insanity! It is a thousand pities they had n't caught +the fellow years ago. Are you aware that there's scarcely a crime in the +statute-book he has not committed? I'd not say murder wasn't amongst them. +Why, sir, he cheated me,—me,—the man who now speaks to you,—at +billiards. He greased my cue, sir. It was proved,—proved beyond the +shadow of a doubt. The fellow called it a practical joke, but he forgot I +had five ducats on the game; and he had the barefaced insolence to amuse +Naples by a representation of me as I sided my ball, and knocked the +marker down afterwards, thinking it was his fault. He was attached, this +St. John was, to my mission here at the time; but I wrote home to demand—not +to ask, but demand—his recall. His father's vote was, however, of +consequence to the Government, and they refused me. Yes, sir, they refused +me; they told me to give him a leave of absence if I did not like to see +him at the Legation; and I gave it, sir. And, thank Heaven, the fellow +went into Calabria, and fell into the hands of the brigands,—too +good company for him, I 'm certain. I 'll be shot if he could n't corrupt +them; and now you 're come out here to pay a ransom for a fellow that any +other country but England would send to the galleys.” + </p> +<p> +“Has he done nothing worse, sir,” asked I, timidly, “than this stupid +practical joke?” + </p> +<p> +“What, sir, have you the face to put this question to me,—to H.M.'s +Minister at this court,—the subject of this knavish buffoonery? Am I +a fit subject for a fraud,—a—a freedom, sir? Is it to a house +which displays the royal arms over the entrance-door men come to play +blackleg or clown? Where have you lived, with whom have you lived, what +pursuit in life have you followed, that you should be sunk in such utter +ignorance of all the habits of life and civilization?” + </p> +<p> +I replied that I was a gentleman, I trusted as well educated, and I knew +as well-born, as himself. +</p> +<p> +He sprang to the bell as I said this, and rang on till the room was +crowded with servants, who came rushing in under the belief that it was a +fire-alarm. +</p> +<p> +“Take him away,—put him out—Giacomo,—Hippo-lyte,—Francis!” + screamed he. “See that he's out of the house this instant. Send Mr. +Carlyon here. Let the police be called, and order gendarmes if he +resists.” + </p> +<p> +While he was thus frothing and foaming, I took my hat, and, passing +quietly through the ranks of his household, descended the stairs, and +proceeded into the street. +</p> +<p> +I reached the “Vittoria” in no bland humor. I must own that I was flurried +and irritated in no common degree. I was too much excited to be able, +clearly, to decide how far the insult I had received required explanation +and apology, or if it had passed the limits in which apology is still +possible. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps, thought I, if I call him out, he 'll hand me over to the police; +perhaps he 'll have me sent over the frontier. Who knows what may be the +limit to a minister's power? While I was thus speculating and canvassing +with myself, a card was presented to me by the waiter,—“Mr. +Sponnington, Attaché, H.M.'s Legation, Naples,”—and as suddenly the +owner of it entered the room. +</p> +<p> +He was a fair-faced, blue-eyed young man, very shortsighted, with a faint +lisp and an effeminate air. He bowed slightly as he came forward, and +said, “You 're Mr. Goss-lett, ain't you?” And not waiting for any reply, +he sat down and opened a roll of papers on the table. “Here are your +instructions. You are to follow them when you can, you know, and diverge +from them whenever you must. That is, do whatever you like, and take the +consequences. Sir James won't see you again. He says you insulted him; but +he says that of almost every one. The cook insults him when the soup is +too salt, and I insulted him last week by writing with pale ink. But you +'d have done better if you 'd got on well with him. He writes home,—do +you understand?—he writes home.” + </p> +<p> +“So do most people,” I said dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! but not the way he does. He writes home and has a fellow +black-listed. Two crosses against you sends you to Greece, and three is +ruin! Three means the United States.” + </p> +<p> +“I assure you, sir, that as regards myself, your chief's good opinion or +good word are matters of supreme indifference.” + </p> +<p> +Had I uttered an outrageous blasphemy, he could not have looked at me with +greater horror. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said he, at last, “there it is; read it over. Bolton will cash +your bills, and give you gold. You must have gold; they 'll not take +anything else. I don't believe there is much more to say.” + </p> +<p> +“Were you acquainted with Mr. St. John?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“I should think I was. Rodney St John and I joined together.” + </p> +<p> +“And what sort of a fellow is he? Is he such a scamp as his chief +describes?” + </p> +<p> +“He's fast, if you mean that; but we 're all fast.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said I, measuring him with a look, and thinking to compute the +amount of his colleague's iniquity. +</p> +<p> +“But he's not worse than Stormont, or Mosely, or myself; only he's louder +than we are. He must always be doing something no other fellow ever +thought of. Don't you know the kind of thing I mean? He wants to be +original. Bad style that, very. That 's the way he got into this scrape. +He made a bet he 'd go up to Rocco d'Anco, and pass a week with Stoppa, +the brigand,—the cruellest dog in Calabria. He didn't say when he'd +come back again, though; and there he is still, and Stoppa sent one of his +fellows to drop a letter into the Legation, demanding twenty-five thousand +francs for his release, or saying that his ears, nose, &c, will be +sent on by instalments during the month. Ugly, ain't it?” + </p> +<p> +“I trust I shall be in time to save him. I suspect he's a good fellow.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, I suppose he is,” said he, with an air of uneasiness; “only I 'd not +go up there, where you 're going, for a trifle, I tell you that.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps not,” said I, quietly. +</p> +<p> +“For,” resumed he, “when Stoppa sees that you're a nobody, and not worth a +ransom, he 'd as soon shoot you as look at you.” And this thought seemed +to amuse him so much that he laughed at it as he quitted the room and +descended the stairs, and I even heard him cackling over it in the street. +</p> +<p> +Before I went to bed that night I studied the map of Calabria thoroughly, +and saw that by taking the diligence to Atri the next day I should reach +Valdenone by about four o'clock, from which a guide could conduct me to +Rocco d'Anco,—a mountain walk of about sixteen miles,—a feat +which my pedestrian habits made me fully equal to. If the young attache's +attempt to terrorize over me was not a perfect success, I am free to own +that my enterprise appeared to me a more daring exploit than I had +believed it when I thought of it in Piccadilly. It was not merely that I +was nearer to the peril, but everything conspired to make me more sensible +to the danger. The very map, where a large tract was marked “little +known,” suggested a terror of its own; and I fell asleep, at last, to +dream of every wild incident of brigand life I had seen in pictures or +witnessed on the stage. +</p> +<p> +As that bland young gentleman so candidly told me, “I was a nobody,” and, +consequently, of no interest to any one. Who would think of sending out an +express messenger to ransom Paul Gosslett? At all events, I could console +myself with the thought that if the world would give little for me, it +would grieve even less; and with this not very cheering consolation I +mounted to the banquette of the diligence, and started. +</p> +<p> +After passing through a long, straggling suburb, not remarkable for +anything but its squalor and poverty, we reached the seashore, and +continued to skirt the bay for miles. I had no conception of anything so +beautiful as the great sheet of blue water seen in the freshness of a +glorious sunrise, with the white-sailed lateener skimming silently along, +and reflected, as if in a mirror, on the unruffled surface. There was a +peaceful beauty in all around, that was a positive enchantment, and the +rich odors of the orange and the verbena filled the air almost to a sense +of delicious stupefaction. Over and over did I say to myself, “Why cannot +this delicious dream be prolonged for a lifetime? If existence could but +perpetuate such a scene as this, let me travel along the shore of such a +sea, overshadowed by the citron and the vine,—I ask for no more.” + The courier or conductor was my only companion,—an old soldier of +the first empire, who had fought on the Beresina and in Spain,—a +rough old sabreur, not to be appeased by my best cigars and my +brandy-flask into a good word for the English. He hated them formerly, and +he hated them still. There might be, he was willing to believe, one or two +of the nation that were not cani; but he had n't met them himself, nor did +he know any one who had. I relished his savagery, and somehow never felt +in the slightest degree baffled or amazed by his rudeness. I asked him if +he had heard of that unlucky countryman of mine who had been captured by +the brigands, and he said that he had heard that Stoppa meant to roast him +alive; for that Stoppa did n't like the English,—a rather strong +mode of expressing a national antipathy, but one, on the whole, he did not +entirely disapprove of. +</p> +<p> +“Stoppa, however,” said I, assuming as a fact what I meant for a question,—“Stoppa +is a man of his word. If he offered to take a ransom, he'll keep his +promise?” + </p> +<p> +“That he will, if the money is paid down in zecchin gold. He 'll take +nothing else. He 'll give up the man; but I 'd not fancy being the fellow +who brought the ransom if there was a light piece in the mass.” + </p> +<p> +“He 'd surely respect the messenger who carried the money?” + </p> +<p> +“Just as much as I respect that old mare who won't come up to her collar;” + and he snatched the whip, as he spoke, from the driver, and laid a heavy +lash over the sluggish beast's loins. “Look here,” said he to me, as we +parted company at Corallo, “you 're not bad,—for an Englishman, at +least,—-and I 'd rather you did n't come to trouble. Don't you get +any further into these mountains than St. Andrea, and don't stay, even +there, too long. Don't go in Stoppa's way; for if you have money, he 'll +cut your throat for it, and if you have n't, he 'll smash your skull for +being without it. I 'll be on the way back to Naples on Saturday; and if +you'll take a friend's advice, you'll be beside me.” + </p> +<p> +I was not sorry to get away from my old grumbling companion; but his words +of warning went with me in the long evening's drive up to St. Andrea, a +wild mountain road, over which I jogged in a very uncomfortable +barroccino. +</p> +<p> +Was I really rushing into such peril as he described? And if so, why so? I +could scarcely affect to believe that any motives of humanity moved me; +still less, any sense of personal regard or attachment. I had never known—not +even seen—Mr. St. John. In what I had heard of him there was nothing +that interested me. It was true that I expected to be rewarded for my +services; but if there was actual danger in what I was about to do, what +recompense would be sufficient? And was it likely that this consideration +would weigh heavily on the minds of those who employed me? Then, again, +this narrative, or report, or whatever it was, how was I to find the +material for it? Was it to be imagined that I was to familiarize myself +with brigand life by living amongst these rascals, so as to be able to +make a Blue Book about them? Was it believed that I could go to them, like +a census commissioner, and ask their names and ages, how long they had +been in their present line of life, and how they throve on it? I'll not +harass myself more about them, thought I, at last. I 'll describe my +brigand as I find him. The fellow who comes to meet me for the money shall +be the class. “Ex pede Herculem” shall serve one here, and I have no doubt +I shall be as accurate as the others who contribute to this sort of +literature. +</p> +<p> +I arrived at St. Andrea as the Angelus was ringing, and saw that pretty +sight of a whole village on their knees at evening prayer, which would +have been prettier had not the devotees been impressed with the most +rascally countenances I ever beheld. +</p> +<p> +From St. Andrea to Rocco was a walk of seventeen miles, but I was not +sorry to exchange the wearisome barroccino I had been jolting in for the +last six hours, for my feet; and after a light meal of bread and onions, +washed down with a very muddy imitation of vinegar, I set forth with a +guide for my destination. There was not much companionship in my +conductor, who spoke a patois totally unintelligible to me, and who could +only comprehend by signs. His own pantomime, however, conveyed to me that +we were approaching the brigand region, and certain significant gestures +about his throat and heart intimated to me that sudden death was no +unusual casualty in these parts. An occasional rude cross erected on the +roadside, or a painted memorial on the face of a rock, would also attest +some bygone disaster, at the sight of which he invariably knelt and +uttered a prayer, on rising from which he seemed to me, each time, but +half decided whether he would accompany me farther. +</p> +<p> +At last, after a four hours' hard walk, we gained the crest of a mountain +ridge, from which the descent seemed nearly precipitous, and here my +companion showed me, by the faint moonlight, a small heap of stones, in +the midst of which a stake was placed upright; he muttered some words in a +very low tone, and held up eight fingers, possibly to convey that eight +people had been murdered or buried in that place. Whatever the idea, one +thing was certain,—he would go no farther. He pointed to the zigzag +path I was to follow, and stretched out his hand to show me, as I +supposed, where Rocco lay, and then unslinging from his shoulder the light +carpet-bag he had hitherto carried for me, he held out his palm for +payment. +</p> +<p> +I resolutely refused, however, to accept his resignation, and ordered him, +by a gesture, to resume his load and march on; but the fellow shook his +head doggedly, and pointed with one finger to the open palm of the other +hand. The gesture was defiant and insolent; and as we were man to man, I +felt it would be an ignominy to submit to him, so I again showed signs of +refusal, and pointed to the bag. At this he drew a long thin-bladed knife +from his garter; but, as quickly, I pulled out a revolver from my +breast-pocket. The fellow's sharp ear caught the click of the lock, and, +with a spring, he darted over the low parapet and disappeared. I never saw +him more. +</p> +<p> +A cold sweat broke over me as I took up my burden and resumed my way. +There was but one path, so that I could not hesitate as to the road; but I +own that I began that descent with a heart-sinking and a terror that I +have no words to convey. That the fellow would spring out upon me at some +turn of the way seemed so certain that at each sharp angle I halted and +drew breath for the struggle I thought was coming. My progress was thus +much retarded, and my fatigue greatly increased. The day broke at last, +but found me still plodding on in a dense pine-wood which clothed the +lower sides of the mountain. In addition to my carpet-bag I had the heavy +belt in which the gold pieces were secured, and the weight of which became +almost insupportable. +</p> +<p> +What inconceivable folly had ever involved me in such an adventure? How +could I have been so weak as to accept such a mission? Here was I, more +than a thousand miles away from home, alone, on foot in the midst of a +mountain tract, the chosen resort of the worst assassins of Europe, and, +as if to insure my ruin, with a large sum in gold on my person. What could +my friend have meant by proposing the enterprise to me? Did he imagine the +mountain-paths of the Basilicata were like Pall Mall? or did he,—and +this seemed more likely,—did he deem that the man who had so little +to live for must, necessarily, care less for life? If I must enter the +public service, thought I, at the peril of my neck, better to turn to some +other means of living. Then I grew sardonic and malicious, declaring to +myself how like a rich man it was to offer such an employment to a poor +man, as though, when existence had so little to charm, one could not hold +to it with any eagerness. The people, muttered I, who throw these things +to us so contemptuously are careful enough of themselves. You never find +one of them risk his life, no, nor even peril his health, in any +enterprise. +</p> +<p> +As the sun shone out and lit up a magnificent landscape beneath me, where, +in the midst of a wooded plain, a beautiful lake lay stretched out, dotted +over with little islands, I grew in better humor with myself and with the +world at large. It was certainly very lovely. The snow-peaks of the +Abruzzi could be seen, here and there, topping the clouds, which floated +lightly up from the low-lying lands of the valley. Often and often had I +walked miles and miles to see a scene not fit to be compared with this. If +I had only brought my colors with me, what a bit of landscape I might have +carried away! The pencil could do nothing where so much depended on tint +and glow. A thin line of blue smoke rose above the trees near the lake, +and this I guessed to proceed from the village of Rocco d'Anco. I plucked +up my courage at the sight, and again set forth, weary and footsore, it is +true, but in a cheerier, heartier spirit than before. +</p> +<p> +Four hours' walking, occasionally halting for a little rest, brought me to +Rocco, a village of about twenty houses, straggling up the side of a +vine-clad hill, the crest of which was occupied by a church. The +population were all seated at their doors, it being some festa, and were, +I am bound to admit, about as ill-favored a set as one would wish to see. +In the aspect of the men, and, indeed, still more in that of the women, +one could at once recognize the place as a brigand resort. There were, in +the midst of all the signs of squalor and poverty, rich scarfs and costly +shawls to be seen; while some of the very poorest wore gold chains round +their necks, and carried handsomely ornamented pistols and daggers at +their waist-belts. I may as well mention here, not to let these worthy +people be longer under a severe aspersion than needful, that they were not +themselves brigands, but simply the friends and partisans of the gangs, +who sold them the different spoils of which they had divested the +travellers. The village was, in fact, little else than the receptacle of +stolen goods until opportunity offered to sell them elsewhere. I had been +directed to put up at a little inn kept by an ex-friar who went by the +name of Fra Bartolo, and I soon found the place a very pleasant contrast, +in its neatness and comfort, to the dirt and wretchedness around it. The +Frate, too, was a fine, jovial, hearty-looking fellow, with far more the +air of a Sussex farmer in his appearance than a Calabrian peasant. He set +me at ease at once by saying that, of course, I came for the fishing, and +added that the lake was in prime order and the fish plenty. This was said +with such palpable roguery that I saw it was meant for the bystanders, and +knew, at once, he had been prepared for my arrival and expected me. I was, +however, more in need of rest and refreshment than of conversation, and, +after a hearty but hurried meal, I turned in and fell off to sleep as I +had never slept before. Twice or thrice I had a faint consciousness that +attempts were made to awaken me, and once, that a candle was held close to +my eyes; but these were very confused and indistinct sensations, and my +stupor soon conquered them. +</p> +<p> +“That 's pretty well for a nap. Just nine hours of it,” said the Frate, as +he jogged my shoulder, and insisted on arousing me. +</p> +<p> +“I was so tired,” said I, stretching myself, and half turning to the wall +for another bout. +</p> +<p> +“No, no; you mustn't go to sleep again,” said he, bending over me. “He's +come;” and he made a gesture with his thumb towards an adjoining room. +“He's been there above an hour.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you mean—” + </p> +<p> +“Hush!” he said cautiously. “We name no names here. Get up and see him; he +never likes loitering down in these places. One can't be sure of everybody +in this world.” And here he threw up his eyes, and seemed for a moment +overwhelmed at the thought of human frailty and corruption. +</p> +<p> +“He is expecting me, then?” said I. +</p> +<p> +“Very impatiently, sir. He wanted to arouse you when he arrived, and he +has been twice in here to see if you were really asleep.” + </p> +<p> +Something like a thrill ran through me to think that, as I lay there, this +brigand, this man of crimes and bloodshed,—for, of course, he was +such—had stood by my bedside, and bent over me. The Frate, however, +urging me to activity, left me no time for these reflections, and I arose +quickly, and followed him. I was eager to know what manner of man it was +to whom I was about to make my approach; but I was hurried along a +passage, and half pushed into a room, and the door closed behind me, +before I had time for a word. +</p> +<p> +On a low settle-bed, just in front of me, as I entered, a man lay, smoking +a short meerschaum, whose dress and get up, bating some signs of wear and +ill-usage, would have made the fortune of a small theatre. His tall hat +was wreathed with white roses, from the midst of which a tall feather, +spray-like and light, stood up straight. His jacket of bright green, +thrown open wide, displayed a scarlet waistcoat perfectly loaded with gold +braiding. Leather breeches, ending above the knee, showed the great +massive limb beneath to full advantage; while the laced stocking that came +up to the calf served, on one side, as belt for a stiletto whose handle +was entirely incrusted with precious stones. “You are a good sleeper, +Signor Inglese,” said he, in a pleasant, richly toned voice, “and I feel +sorry to have disturbed you.” This speech was delivered with all the ease +and courtesy of a man accustomed to the world. “You may imagine, however, +that I cannot well delay in places like this. Rocco, I believe, is very +friendly to me; but where there are three hundred people there may easily +be three traitors.” + </p> +<p> +I assented, and added that from what Fra Bartolo had told me, neither he +nor his had much to fear in those parts. +</p> +<p> +“I believe so, too,” added he, caressing his immense mustache, which came +down far below his chin on either side. “We have, between us, the best +bond of all true friendship,—we need each other. You have brought +the ransom in gold, I hope?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; in gold of the English mint, too.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd rather have our own. The zecchin has less alloy than your coin, and +as what we take generally goes into the crucible, the distinction is of +value.” + </p> +<p> +“If I had only known—” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind. It is too late, now, to think of it. Let us conclude the +matter, for I wish to be away by daybreak.” + </p> +<p> +I unfastened my waist-belt, and, opening a secret spring, poured forth a +mass of bright sovereigns on the table. +</p> +<p> +“I have such perfect reliance in your honor, signor,” said I, “that I make +no conditions, I ask no questions. That you will at once release my +countryman, I do not doubt for an instant.” + </p> +<p> +“He is already at liberty,” said he, as he continued to pile the coin in +little heaps of ten each. “Every step you took since you arrived at Naples +was known to me. I knew the moment you came, the hotel you stopped at, the +visit you paid to your minister, the two hours passed in the Bank, your +departure in the diligence; and the rascal you engaged for a guide came +straight to me after he left you. My police, <i>signor mio</i>, is +somewhat better organized than Count Cavour's,” said he, with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +The mention of the Count's name reminded me at once to sound him on +politics, and see if he, and others like him, in reality interested +themselves as partisans on either side. +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” said he, “we liked the old dynasty better than the present +people. A splendid court and a brilliant capital attracted strangers from +all quarters of Europe. Strangers visited Capri, Amalfi, Paestum; they +went here and there and everywhere. And they paid for their pleasures like +gentlemen. The officials, too, of those days were men with bowels, who +knew every one must live. What have we now? Piedmontese dogs, who are not +Italians; who speak no known tongue, and who have no other worship than +the house of Savoy.” + </p> +<p> +“Might I venture to ask,” said I, obsequiously, “how is it that I find a +man of your acquirements and ability in such a position as this?” + </p> +<p> +“Because I like this life better than that of an 'Impiegato' with five +hundred ducats a year! Perhaps I don't follow it all from choice. Perhaps +I have my days of regrets, and such like. But for that, are you yourself +so rightly fitted in life—I ask at random—that you feel you +are doing the exact thing that suits you? Can you say, as you rise of a +morning, 'I was cut out for this kind of existence,—I am exactly +where I ought to be'?” + </p> +<p> +I shook my head in negative, and for some seconds nothing was said on +either side. +</p> +<p> +“The score is all right,” said he, at last. “Do you know,”—here he +gave a very peculiar smile; indeed, his face, so far as I could see, +beneath the shadow of his hat and his bushy beard, actually assumed an +expression of intense drollery,—“do you know, I begin to think we +have made a bad bargain here!” + </p> +<p> +“How so?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“I begin to suspect,” said he, “that our prisoner was worth a much heavier +ransom, and that his friends would willingly have paid four times this sum +for him.” + </p> +<p> +“You are entirely mistaken there,” said I. “It is the astonishment of +every one that he has been ransomed at all. He is a good-for-nothing +spendthrift fellow, whom most families would be heartily glad to be rid +of; and so far from being worth a thousand pounds, I believe nine out of +ten parents would n't have paid as many shillings for him.” + </p> +<p> +“We all liked him,” said he. “We found him pleasant company; and he fell +into all our ways like one of ourselves.” + </p> +<p> +“A scamp was sure to do that easier than an honest man,” said I, +forgetting, in my eagerness, how rude my speech was. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps there is truth in what you say, sir,” said he, haughtily. +“Communities like ours scarcely invite men of unblemished morals, and +therefore I do not ask you to return with me.” + </p> +<p> +He arose as he spoke, and swept the coin into a bag which he wore at his +side. Still, thought I, he might tell me something more about these +brigands. Are they partisans of the Bourbons, or are they mere highwaymen? +Here is a man fully equal to the discussion of such a question. Shall I +ask him to decide the matter? +</p> +<p> +“I see,” said he, laughing, as I propounded my mystery; “you want to make +a book about us. But our people don't understand that sort of curiosity; +they distrust, and they occasionally resent it. Stay a week or ten days +where you are. Fra Bartolo will feed you better than we should, and cram +you with brigand stories better still. You 'll find it far pleasanter, and +your readers will think so too. Addio;” and he touched his hat in a +half-haughty way, and strolled out. I sat down for an instant to recover +myself, when the quick clatter of a horse's feet aroused me, and he was +gone. +</p> +<p> +There was no doubt of it; he was a very remarkable man,—one who in +happier circumstances might have made a figure in life, and achieved a +conspicuous position. Who was he; whence came he? The Frate could tell me +all these things. As the robber said, he could cram me admirably. I +arranged at once to stay a week there. My week was prolonged to a +fortnight, and I was well into the third week ere I shook his great hand +and said good-bye. +</p> +<p> +During all this I wrote, I may say, from morning till night. At one time +it was my Blue Book; at another I took a spell at stories of robber life. +I wrote short poems,—songs of the brigands I called them. In fact, I +dished up my highwayman in a score of ways, and found him good in all. The +portmanteau which I had brought out full of gold I now carried back more +closely packed with MSS. I hurried to England, only stopping once to call +at the Legation, and learn that Mr. St. John had returned to his post, and +was then hard at work in the Chancellerie. When I arrived in London, my +report was ready; but as the ministry had fallen the week before, I was +obliged to rewrite it, every word. Lord Muddlemore had succeeded my +patron, Lord Scatterdale; and as he was a strong Tory, the brigands must +be Bourbons for him; and they were so. I had lived amongst them for +months, and had eaten of their raw lamb and drunk of their fiery wine, and +pledged toasts to the health of Francesco, and “Morte” to everybody else. +What splendid fellows I made them! Every chief was a La Rochejaquelin; and +as for the little bit of robbery they did now and then, it was only to pay +for masses for their souls when they were shot by the Bersaglieri. My Blue +Book was printed, quoted by the “Times,” cited in the House; I was called +“the intrepid and intelligent witness” by Disraeli; and I was the rage. +Dinners fell in showers over me, and invitations to country-houses came by +every post. Almost worn out by these flatteries, I was resolving on a +course of abstinence, when a most pressing invitation came to a country +gathering where Mr. St. John was to be of the party. I had never met him, +and, indeed, was rather irritated at the ingratitude he had displayed in +never once acknowledging, even by a few lines, the great service I had +rendered him. Still I was curious to see a man whose figure occupied so +important a place in my life's tableau. +</p> +<p> +I went; but St. John had not arrived,—he was detained by important +affairs in town, and feared he should not be able to keep his promise. For +myself, perhaps, it was all the better. I had the whole field my own, and +discoursed brigandage without the fear of a contradiction. +</p> +<p> +A favorite representation with me was my first night at Rocco. I used to +give it with considerable success. I described the village and the Frate, +and then went on to my first sight of the renowned chief himself; for, of +course, I never hesitated to call in Stoppa, any more than to impart to +his conversation a much higher and wider reach than it actually had any +claim to. +</p> +<p> +My “Stoppa” was pronounced admirable. I lounged, smoked, gesticulated, and +declaimed him to perfection. I made him something between William Tell and +the Corsican brothers; and nervous people would n't have seen him, I ween, +for worlds. +</p> +<p> +On the occasion that I speak of, the company was a large one, and I outdid +myself in my pains to succeed. I even brought down with me the identical +portmanteau, and actually appeared in the veritable hat and coat of the +original adventure. +</p> +<p> +My audience was an excellent one; they laughed where I was droll, and +positively shrieked where I became pathetic. I had sent round little +water-colors of the scenery, and was now proceeding to describe the inn of +the Frate, and my first arrival there. +</p> +<p> +“I will not affect to declare,” said I, “that it was altogether without +some sense of anxiety—I might even say fear—that I approached +the room where this man of crime and bloodshed awaited me. Stoppa! a name +that brought terror wherever it was uttered, the word that called the +soldiers to arms from the bivouac, and silenced the babe as it sobbed on +its mother's breast. I entered the room, however, boldly, and, advancing +to the bed where he lay, said in a careless tone, 'Capitano,'—they +like the title,—'Capitano, how goes it?'” + </p> +<p> +Just as I uttered the words, a heavy hand fell on my shoulder! I turned, +and there, there at my side, stood Stoppa himself, dressed exactly as I +saw him at Rocco. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was the terrible look of the fellow, or some unknown sense of +fear that his presence revived, or whether it was a terror lest my senses +were deceiving me, and that a wandering brain alone had conjured up the +image, I cannot say; but I fainted, and was carried senseless and +unconscious to my room. A doctor was sent for, and said something about +“meningitis.” “I had overworked my brain, overstrained my faculties, and +so forth;” with rest and repose, however, I should get over the attack. I +had a sharp attack, but in about a week was able to get up again. As all +were enjoined to avoid strictly any reference to the topic which it was +believed had led to my seizure, and as I myself did not venture to +approach it, days passed over with me in a half-dreamy state, my mind +continually dwelling on the late incident, and striving to find out some +explanation of it. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. St. John, sir, wishes to pay you a visit,” said the servant one +morning, as I had just finished my breakfast; and as the man retired, St. +John entered the room. +</p> +<p> +“I am sorry I gave you such a start the other evening,” he began. But I +could not suffer him to proceed; for, clutching him by the arm, I cried +out, “For Heaven's sake, don't trifle with a brain so distracted as mine, +but tell me at once, are you—” + </p> +<p> +“Of course I am,” said he, laughing. “You don't fancy, do you, that you +are the only man with a gift for humbug?” + </p> +<p> +“And it was to you I paid the ransom?” gasped I out. +</p> +<p> +“Who had a better right to it, old fellow? Tell me that,” said he, as he +drew forth a cigar and lighted it. “You see, the matter was thus: I had +lost very heavily at 'Baccarat' at the club; and having already overdrawn +my allowance, I was sorely put to. My chief had no great affection for me, +and had intimated to the banker that, if I wanted an advance, it would be +as well to refuse me. In a word, I found every earth stopped, and was +driven to my wits' end. I thought I 'd turn brigand,—indeed, if the +occasion had offered, perhaps I should,—and then I thought I 'd get +myself captured by the brigands. No man could complain of a fellow being a +defaulter if he had been carried off by robbers. With this intention I set +out for Rocco, which had got the reputation of being a spot in favor with +these gentry; but, to my surprise, on arriving there, I discovered Rocco +was out of fashion. No brigand had patronized the place for the last three +years or more, and the landlord of the White Fox told me that the village +was going fast to decay. The Basilicata, in fact, was no longer 'the +mode;' and every brigand who had any sense of dignity had betaken himself +to the mountains below Atri. Fra Bartolo's account of Stoppa was not so +encouraging that I cared to follow him there. He had taken a fancy, of +late, for sending the noses as well as the ears of the captives to their +friends at Naples, and I shrank from contributing my share to this +interesting collection; and it was then it occurred to me to pretend I had +been captured, and arrange the terms of my own ransom. Fra Bartolo helped +me throughout,—provided my costume, wrote my letters, and, in a +word, conducted the whole negotiation like one thoroughly acquainted with +all the details. I intended to have confided everything to you so soon as +I secured the money, but I saw you so bent on being the hero of a great +adventure, and so full of that blessed Blue Book you had come to write, +that I felt it would be a sin to disenchant you. There's the whole story; +and if you only keep my secret, I'll keep yours. I 'm off this week to Rio +as second Secretary, so that, at all events, wait till I sail.” + </p> +<p> +“You may trust my prudence for a longer term than that,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I rather suspect so,” said he, laughing. “They say that your clever +report on brigandage is to get you a good berth, and I don't think you 'll +spoil your advancement by an indiscreet disclosure.” + </p> +<p> +We parted with a hearty shake hands, and I never met him till ten years +after. How that meeting came about, and why I now reveal this incident, I +may relate at another time. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CONFESSION THE SECOND. +</h2> +<h3> +AS TO LOVE. +</h3> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. “IN DOUBT” + </h2> +<p> +The door into the anteroom where I was waiting stood half-open, and I +heard a very imperious voice say, “Tell Mr. Gosslett it is impossible,—quite +impossible! There are above three hundred applicants, and I believe he is +about the least suitable amongst them.” A meek-looking young gentleman +came out after this; and, closing the door cautiously, said, “My Lord +regrets extremely, Mr. Gosslett, that you should have been so late in +forwarding your testimonials. He has already filled the place; but if +another vacancy occurs, his Lordship will bear your claims in mind.” + </p> +<p> +I bowed in silent indignation, and withdrew. How I wished there had been +any great meeting, any popular gathering, near me at that moment, that I +might go down and denounce, with all the force of a wounded and insulted +spirit, the insolence of office and the tyranny of the place-holder! With +what withering sarcasm I would have flayed those parasites of certain +great houses who, without deserts of their own, regard every office under +the Crown as their just prerogative! Who was Henry Lord Scatterdale that +he should speak thus of Paul Gosslett? What evidences of ability had he +given to the world? What illustrious proofs of high capacity as a +minister, that he should insult one of those who, by the declared avowal +of his party, are the bone and sinew of England? Let Beales only call +another meeting, and shall I not be there to expose these men to the scorn +and indignation of the country? Down with the whole rotten edifice of +pampered menials and corrupt place-men,—down with families patented +to live on the nation,—down with a system which perpetuates the +worst intrigues that ever disgraced and demoralized a people,—a +system worse than the corrupt rule of the Bourbons of Naples, and more +degrading than— +</p> +<p> +“Now, stoopid!” cried a cabman, as one of his shafts struck me on the +shoulder, and sent me spinning into an apple-stall. +</p> +<p> +I recovered my legs, and turned homewards to my lodgings in a somewhat +more subdued spirit. +</p> +<p> +“Please, sir,” said a dirty maid-of-all-work, entering my room after me, +“Mrs. Mechim says the apartment is let to another gentleman after Monday, +and please begs you have to pay one pound fourteen and threepence, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“I know, I know,” said I, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied the smutty face, still standing in the same place. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I have told you I know all that. You have got your answer, haven't +you?” + </p> +<p> +“Please yes, sir, but not the money.” + </p> +<p> +“Leave the room,” said I, haughtily; and my grand imperious air had its +success, for I believe she suspected I was a little deranged. +</p> +<p> +I locked the door to be alone with my own thoughts, and, opening my +writing-desk, I spread before me four sovereigns and some silver. “Barely +my funeral expenses,” said I, bitterly. I leaned my head on my hand, and +fell into a mood of sad thought. I was n't a bit of a poet. I could n't +have made three lines of verse had you given me a million for it; but +somehow I bethought me of Chatterton in his garret, and said to myself, +“Like him, poor Gosslett sunk, famished in the midst of plenty,—a +man in all the vigor of youth, able, active, and energetic, with a mind +richly gifted, and a heart tender as a woman's.” I could n't go on. I +blubbered out into a fit of crying that nearly choked me. +</p> +<p> +“Please, sir,” said the maid, tapping at the door, “the gentleman in the +next room begs you not to laugh so loud.” + </p> +<p> +“Laugh!” burst I out. “Tell him, woman, to take care and be present at the +inquest. His evidence will be invaluable.” As I spoke, I threw myself on +my bed, and fell soon after into a sound sleep. +</p> +<p> +When I woke, it was night. The lamps were lighted in the street, and a +small, thin rain was falling, blurring the gas-flame, and making +everything look indistinct and dreary. I sat at the window and looked out, +I know not how long. The world was crape-covered to me; not a thought of +it that was not dark and dismal. I tried to take a retrospect of my life, +and see where and how I might have done better; but all I could collect +was, that I had met nothing but ingratitude and injustice, while others, +with but a tithe of my capacity, had risen to wealth and honor. I, fated +to evil from my birth, fought my long fight with fortune, and sank at +last, exhausted. “I wonder will any one ever say, 'Poor Gosslett'? I +wonder will there be—even late though it be—one voice to +declare, 'That was no common man! Gosslett, in any country but our own, +would have been distinguished and honored. To great powers of judgment he +united a fancy rich, varied, and picturesque; his temperament was poetic, +but his reasoning faculties asserted the mastery over his imagination '? +Will they be acute enough to read me thus? Will they know,—in one +word,—will they know the man they have suffered to perish in the +midst of them?” My one gleam of comfort was the unavailing regret I should +leave to a world that had neglected me. “Yes,” said I, bitterly, “weep on, +and cease not.” + </p> +<p> +I made a collection of all my papers,—some of them very curious +indeed,—stray fragments of my life,—brief jottings of my +opinions on the current topics of the day. I sealed these carefully up, +and began to bethink me whom I should appoint my literary executor. I had +not the honor of his acquaintance, but how I wished I had known Martin +Tupper! There were traits in that man's writings that seemed to vibrate in +the closer chambers of my heart. While others gave you words and phrases, +he gave you the outgushings of a warm nature,—the overflowings of an +affectionate heart. I canvassed long with myself whether a stranger might +dare to address him, and prefer such a request as mine; but I could not +summon courage to take the daring step. +</p> +<p> +After all, thought I, a man's relatives are his natural heirs. My mother's +sister had married a Mr. Morse, who had retired from business, and settled +down in a cottage near Rochester. He had been “in rags”—I mean the +business of that name—for forty years, and made a snug thing of it; +but, by an unlucky speculation, had lost more than half of his savings. +Being childless, and utterly devoid of affection for any one, he had +purchased an annuity on the joint lives of his wife and himself, and +retired to pass his days near his native town. +</p> +<p> +I never liked him, nor did he like me. He was a hard, stern, +coarse-natured man, who thought that any one who had ever failed in +anything was a creature to be despised, and saw nothing in want of success +but an innate desire to live in indolence, and be supported by others. He +often asked me why I did n't turn coal-heaver? He said he would have been +a coal-heaver rather than be dependent upon his relations. +</p> +<p> +My aunt might originally have been somewhat softer-natured, but time and +association had made her very much like my uncle. Need I say that I saw +little of them, and never, under any circumstances, wrote a line to either +of them? +</p> +<p> +I determined I would go down and see them, and, not waiting for morning +nor the rail, that I would go on foot. It was raining torrents by this +time, but what did I care for that? When the ship was drifting on the +rocks, what mattered a leak more or less? +</p> +<p> +It was dark night when I set out; and when day broke, dim and dreary, I +was soaked thoroughly through, and not more than one-fifth of the way. +There was, however, that in the exercise, and in the spirit it called +forth, to rally me out of my depression; and I plodded along through mud +and mire, breasting the swooping rain in a far cheerier frame than I could +have thought possible. It was closing into darkness as I reached the +little inn where the cottage stood, and I was by this time fairly beat +between fatigue and hunger. +</p> +<p> +“Here's a go!” cried my uncle, who opened the door for me. “Here's Paul +Gosslett, just as we're going to dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“The very time to suit him,” said I, trying to be jocular. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, lad, but will it suit us? We 've only an Irish stew, and not too +much of it, either.” + </p> +<p> +“How are you, Paul?” said my aunt, offering her hand. “You seem wet +through. Won't you dry your coat?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, it's no matter,” said I. “I never mind wet.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course he does n't,” said my uncle. “What would he do if he was up at +the 'diggins'? What would he do if he had to pick rags as I have, ten, +twelve hours at a stretch, under heavier rain than this?” + </p> +<p> +“Just so, sir,” said I, concurring with all he said. +</p> +<p> +“And what brought you down, lad?” asked he. +</p> +<p> +“I think, sir, it was to see you and my aunt. I haven't been very well of +late, and I fancied a day in the country might rally me.” + </p> +<p> +“Stealing a holiday,—the old story,” muttered he. “Are you doing +anything now?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir. I have unfortunately nothing to do.” + </p> +<p> +“Why not go on the quay then, and turn coal-heaver? I 'd not eat bread of +another man's earning when I could carry a sack of coals. Do you +understand that?” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps I do, sir; but I'm scarcely strong enough to be a coal-porter.” + </p> +<p> +“Sell matches, then,—lucifer matches!” cried he, with a bang of his +hand on the table, “or be a poster.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Tom!” cried my aunt, who saw that I had grown first red, and then +sickly pale all over. +</p> +<p> +“As good men as he have done both. But here's the dinner, and I suppose +you must have your share of it.” + </p> +<p> +I was in no mood to resent this invitation, discourteous as it was, for I +was in no mood to resent anything. I was crushed and humbled to a degree +that I began to regard my abject condition as a martyr might his +martyrdom. +</p> +<p> +The meal went over somewhat silently; little was spoken on any side. A +half-jocular remark on the goodness of my appetite was the only approach +to a pleasantry. My uncle drank something which by the color I judged to +be port, but he neither offered it to my aunt nor myself. She took water, +and I drank largely of beer, which once more elicited a compliment to me +on my powers of suction. +</p> +<p> +“Better have you for a week than a fortnight, lad,” said my uncle, as we +drew round the fire after dinner. +</p> +<p> +My aunt now armed herself with some knitting apparatus, while my uncle, +flanked by a smoking glass of toddy on one side and the “Tizer” on the +other, proceeded to fill his pipe with strong tobacco, puffing out at +intervals short and pithy apothegms about youth being the season for work +and age for repose,—under the influence of whose drowsy wisdom, and +overcome by the hot fire, I fell off fast asleep. For a while I was so +completely lost in slumber that I heard nothing around. At last I began to +dream of my long journey, and the little towns I had passed through, and +the places I fain would have stopped at to bait and rest, but nobly +resisted, never breaking bread nor tasting water till I had reached my +journey's end. At length I fancied I heard people calling me by my name, +some saying words of warning or caution, and others jeering and bantering +me; and then quite distinctly,—as clearly as though the words were +in my ear,—I heard my aunt say,—“I'm sure Lizzy would take +him. She was shamefully treated by that heartless fellow, but she's +getting over it now; and if any one, even Paul there, offered, I 'm +certain she 'd not refuse him.” + </p> +<p> +“She has a thousand pounds,” grunted out my uncle. +</p> +<p> +“Fourteen hundred in the bank; and as they have no other child, they must +leave her everything they have, when they die.” + </p> +<p> +“It won't be much. Old Dan has little more than his vicarage, and he +always ends each year a shade deeper in debt than the one before it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, she has her own fortune, and nobody can touch that.” + </p> +<p> +I roused myself, yawned aloud, and opened my eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Pretty nigh as good a hand at sleeping as eating,” said my uncle, +gruffly. +</p> +<p> +“It's a smart bit of a walk from Duke Street, Piccadilly,” said I, with +more vigor than I had yet assumed. +</p> +<p> +“Why, a fellow of your age ought to do that twice a week just to keep him +in wind.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Paul,” said my aunt, “were you ever in Ireland?” + </p> +<p> +“Never, aunt. Why do you ask me?” + </p> +<p> +“Because you said a little while back that you felt rather poorly of late,—low +and weakly.” + </p> +<p> +“No loss of appetite, though,” chuckled in my uncle. +</p> +<p> +“And we were thinking,” resumed she, “of sending you over to stay a few +weeks with an old friend of ours in Donegal. He calls it the finest air in +Europe; and I know he 'd treat you with every kindness.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you shoot?” asked my uncle. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor fish?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“What are you as a sportsman? Can you ride? Can you do anything?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing whatever, sir. I once carried a game-bag, and that was all.” + </p> +<p> +“And you're not a farmer nor a judge of cattle. How are you to pass your +time, I 'd like to know?” + </p> +<p> +“If there were books, or if there were people to talk to—” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. Dudgeon's deaf,—she's been deaf these twenty years; but she +has a daughter. Is Lizzy deaf?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course she's not,” rejoined my aunt, tartly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, she'd talk to you; and Dan would talk. Not much, I believe, though; +he a'n't a great fellow for talk.” + </p> +<p> +“They 're something silent all of them, but Lizzy is a nice girl and very +pretty,—at least she was when I saw her here two years ago.” + </p> +<p> +“At all events, they are distant connections of your mother's; and as you +are determined to live on your relations, I think you ought to give them a +turn.” + </p> +<p> +“There is some justice in that, sir,” said I, determined now to resent no +rudeness, nor show offence at any coarseness, however great it might be. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, I 'll write to-morrow, and say you 'll follow my letter, and +be with them soon after they receive it. I believe it's a lonely sort of +place enough,—Dan calls it next door to Greenland; but there's good +air, and plenty of it.” + </p> +<p> +We talked for some time longer over the family whose guest I was to be, +and I went off to bed, determined to see out this new act of my life's +drama before I whistled for the curtain to drop. +</p> +<p> +It gave a great additional interest besides to my journey to have +overheard the hint my aunt threw out about a marriage. It was something +more than a mere journey for change of air. It might be a journey to +change the whole character and fortune of my life. And was it not thus +one's fate ever turned? You went somewhere by a mere accident, or you +stopped at home. You held a hand to help a lady into a boat, or you +assisted her off her horse, or you took her in to dinner; and out of +something insignificant and trivial as this your whole life's destiny was +altered. And not alone your destiny, but your very nature; your temper, as +fashioned by another's temper; your tastes as moulded by others' tastes; +and your morality, your actual identity, was the sport of a casualty too +small and too poor to be called an incident. +</p> +<p> +“Is this about to be the turning-point in my life?” asked I of myself. “Is +Fortune at last disposed to bestow a smile upon me? Is it out of the very +depth of my despair I 'm to catch sight of the first gleam of light that +has fallen upon my luckless career?” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. THE REV. DAN DUDGEON. +</h2> +<p> +My plan of procedure was to be this. I was supposed to be making a tour in +Ireland, when, hearing of certain connections of my mother's family living +in Donegal, I at once wrote to my uncle Morse for an introduction to them, +and he not only provided me with a letter accrediting me, but wrote by the +same post to the Dudgeons to say I was sure to pay them a visit. +</p> +<p> +On arriving in Dublin I was astonished to find so much that seemed unlike +what I had left behind me. That intense preoccupation, that anxious eager +look of business so remarkable in Liverpool, was not to be found here. If +the people really were busy, they went about their affairs in a +half-lounging, half-jocular humor, as though they wouldn't be selling +hides, or shipping pigs, or landing sugar hogsheads, if they had anything +else to do,—as if trade was a dirty necessity, and the only thing +was to get through with it with as little interruption as possible to the +pleasanter occupations of life. +</p> +<p> +Such was the aspect of things on the quays. The same look pervaded the +Exchange, and the same air of little to do, and of deeming it a joke while +doing it, abounded in the law courts, where the bench exchanged witty +passages with the bar; and the prisoners, the witnesses, and the jury +fired smart things at each other with a seeming geniality and enjoyment +that were very remarkable. I was so much amused by all I saw, that I would +willingly have delayed some days in the capital; but my uncle had charged +me to present myself at the vicarage without any unnecessary delay; so I +determined to set out at once. I was not, I shame to own, much better up +in the geography of Ireland than in that of Central Africa, and had but a +very vague idea whither I was going. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know Donegal?” asked I of the waiter, giving to my pronunciation +of the word a long second and a short third syllable. +</p> +<p> +“No, your honor, never heard of him,” was the answer. +</p> +<p> +“But it's a place I'm asking for,—a county,” said I, with some +impatience. +</p> +<p> +“Faix, maybe it is,” said he; “but it's new to me, all the same.” + </p> +<p> +“He means Donegal,” said a red-whiskered man with a bronzed weather-beaten +face, and a stern defiant air, that invited no acquaintanceship. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Donegal,” chimed in the waiter. “Begorra! it would n't be easy to +know it by the name your honor gav' it.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you looking for any particular place in that county?” asked the +stranger in a tone sharp and imperious as his former speech. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said I, assuming a degree of courtesy that I thought would be the +best rebuke to his bluntness; “but I 'll scarcely trust myself with the +pronunciation after my late failure. This is the place I want;” and I drew +forth my uncle's letter and showed the address. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that's it, is it?” cried he, reading aloud. “'The Reverend Daniel +Dudgeon, Killyrotherum, Donegal.' And are you going there? Oh, I see you +are,” said he, turning his eyes to the foot of the address. '“Favored by +Paul Gosslett, Esq.' and you are Paul Gosslett.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, with your kind permission, I am Paul Gosslett,” said I, with +what I hoped was a chilling dignity of manner. +</p> +<p> +“If it's only my permission you want, you may be anything you please,” + said he, turning his insolent stare full on me. +</p> +<p> +I endeavored not to show any sensitiveness to this impertinence, and went +on with my dinner, the stranger's table being quite close to mine. +</p> +<p> +“It's your first appearance in Ireland, I suspect,” said he, scanning me +as he picked his teeth, and sat carelessly with one leg crossed over the +other. +</p> +<p> +I bowed a silent acquiescence, and he went on. “I declare that I believe a +Cockney, though he has n't a word of French, is more at home on the +Continent than in Ireland.” He paused for some expression of opinion on my +part, but I gave none. I filled my glass, and affected to admire the color +of the wine, and sipped it slowly, like one thoroughly engaged in his own +enjoyments. +</p> +<p> +“Don't you agree with me?” asked he, fiercely. +</p> +<p> +“Sir, I have not given your proposition such consideration as would +entitle me to say I concur with it or not.” + </p> +<p> +“That's not it at all!” broke he in, with an insolent laugh; “but you +won't allow that you 're a Cockney.” + </p> +<p> +“I protest, sir,” said I, sternly; “I have yet to learn that I 'm bound to +make a declaration of my birth, parentage, and education to the first +stranger I sit beside in a coffee-room.” + </p> +<p> +“No, you 're not,—nothing of the kind,—for it's done for you. +It 's done in spite of you, when you open your mouth. Did n't you see the +waiter running out of the room with the napkin in his mouth when you tried +to say Donegal? Look here, Paul,” said he, drawing his chair +confidentially towards my table. “We don't care a rush what you do with +your H's, or your W's, either; but, if we can help it, we won't have our +national names miscalled. We have a pride in them, and we 'll not suffer +them to be mutilated or disfigured. Do you understand me now?” + </p> +<p> +“Sufficiently, sir, to wish you a very good-night,” said I, rising from +the table, and leaving my pint of sherry, of which I had only drunk one +glass. +</p> +<p> +As I closed the coffee-room door, I thought—indeed, I 'm certain—I +heard a loud roar of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“'Who is that most agreeable gentleman I sat next at dinner?” asked I of +the waiter. +</p> +<p> +“Counsellor MacNamara, sir. Isn't he a nice man?” + </p> +<p> +“A charming person,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“I wish you heard him in the coort, sir. By my conscience, a witness has a +poor time under him! He 'd humbug you if you was an archbishop.” + </p> +<p> +“Call me at five,” said I, passing up the stairs, and impatient to gain my +room and be alone with my indignation. +</p> +<p> +I passed a restless, feverish night, canvassing with myself whether I +would not turn back and leave forever a country whose first aspect was so +forbidding and unpromising. What stories had I not heard of Irish courtesy +to strangers,—Irish wit and Irish pleasantry! Was this, then, a +specimen of that captivating manner which makes these people the French of +Great Britain? Why, this fellow was an unmitigated savage! +</p> +<p> +Having registered a vow not to open my lips to a stranger till I reached +the end of my journey, and to affect deafness rather than be led into +conversation, I set off the next day, by train, for Derry. True to my +resolve, I only uttered the word “beer” till I arrived in the evening. The +next day I took the steamer to a small village called Cushnagorra, from +whence it was only ten miles by a good mountain-road to Killyrotherum Bay. +I engaged a car to take me on, and at last found myself able to ask a few +questions without the penalty of being cross-examined by an impertinent +barrister, and being made the jest of a coffee-room. +</p> +<p> +I wanted to learn something about the people to whose house I was going, +and asked Pat, accordingly, if he knew Mr. Dudgeon. +</p> +<p> +“Troth I do, sir, well,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“He's a good kind of man, I'm told,” said I. +</p> +<p> +“He is, indeed, sir; no betther.” + </p> +<p> +“Kind to the poor, and charitable?” + </p> +<p> +“Thrue for you; that's himself.” + </p> +<p> +“And his family is well liked down here?” + </p> +<p> +“I'll be bound they are. There's few like them to the fore.” + </p> +<p> +Rather worried by the persistent assent he gave me, and seeing that I had +no chance of deriving anything like an independent opinion from my +courteous companion, I determined to try another line. After smoking a +cigar and giving one to my friend, who seemed to relish it vastly, I said, +as if incidentally, “Where I got that cigar, Paddy, the people are better +off than here.” + </p> +<p> +“And where's that, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“In America, in the State of Virginia.” + </p> +<p> +“That's as thrue as the Bible. It's elegant times they have there.” + </p> +<p> +“And one reason is,” said I, “every man can do what he likes with his own. +You have a bit of land here, and you dare n't plant tobacco; or if you sow +oats or barley, you must n't malt it. The law says, 'You may do this, and +you sha'n't do that;' and is that freedom, I ask, or is it slavery?” + </p> +<p> +“Slavery,—devil a less,” said he, with a cut of his whip that made +the horse plunge into the air. +</p> +<p> +“And do you know why that's done? Do you know the secret of it all?” + </p> +<p> +“Sorra a bit o' me.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll tell you, then. It's to keep up the Church; it's to feed the parsons +that don't belong to the people,—that's what they put the taxes on +tobacco and whiskey for. What, I 'd like to know, do you and I want with +that place there with the steeple? What does the Rev. Daniel Dudgeon do +for you or me? Grind us,—squeeze us,—maybe, come down on us +when we 're trying to scrape a few shillings together, and carry it off +for tithes.” + </p> +<p> +“Shure and he's a hard man! He's taking the herrins out of the net this +year,—for every ten herrins he takes one.” + </p> +<p> +“And do they bear that?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, they do,” said he, mournfully; “they've no spirit down here; but +over at Muggle-na-garry they put slugs in one last winter.” + </p> +<p> +“One what?” + </p> +<p> +“A parson, your honor; and it did him a dale o' good. He 's as meek as a +child now about his dues, and they 've no trouble with him in life.” + </p> +<p> +“They'll do that with Dudgeon yet, maybe?” asked I. +</p> +<p> +“With the Lord's blessing, sir,” said he, piously. +</p> +<p> +Satisfied now that it was not a very hopeful task to obtain much +information about Ireland from such a source, I drew my hat over my eyes +and affected to doze for the remainder of the journey. +</p> +<p> +We arrived, at length, at the foot of a narrow road, impassable by the +car, and here the driver told me I must descend and make the rest of my +way on foot. +</p> +<p> +“The house wasn't far,” he said; “only over the top of the hill in front +of me,—about half-a-quarter of a mile away.” + </p> +<p> +Depositing my portmanteau under a clump of furze, I set out,—drearily +enough, I will own. The scene around me, for miles, was one of arid +desolation. It was not that no trace of human habitation, nor of any +living creature was to be seen, but that the stony, shingly soil, totally +destitute of all vegetation, seemed to deny life to anything. The surface +rose and fell in a monotonous undulation, like a great sea suddenly +petrified, while here and there some greater boulders represented those +mighty waves which in the ocean seem to assert supremacy over their +fellows. +</p> +<p> +At last I gained the crest of the ridge, and could see the Atlantic, which +indented the shore beneath into many a little bay and inlet; but it was +some time ere I could distinguish a house which stood in a narrow cleft of +the mountain, and whose roof, kept down by means of stones and rocks, had +at first appeared to me as a part of the surface of the soil. The strong +wind almost carried me off my legs on this exposed ridge; so, crouching +down, I began my descent, and after half an hour's creeping and stumbling, +I reached a little enclosed place, where stood the house. It was a long, +one-storied building, with cow-house and farm-offices under the same roof. +The hall-door had been evidently long in disuse, since it was battened +over with strong planks, and secured, besides, against the northwest wind +by a rough group of rocks. Seeing entrance to be denied on this side, I +made for the rear of the house, where a woman, beating flax under a shed, +at once addressed me civilly, and ushered me into the house. +</p> +<p> +“His riv'rence is in there,” said she, pointing to a door, and leaving me +to announce myself. I knocked, and entered. It was a small room, with an +antiquated fireplace, at which the parson and his wife and daughter were +seated,—-he reading a very much-crumpled newspaper, and they +knitting. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, this is Mr. Gosslett. How are you, sir?” asked Mr. Dudgeon, seizing +and shaking my hand; while his wife said, “We were just saying we 'd send +down to look after you. My daughter Lizzy, Mr. Gosslett.” + </p> +<p> +Lizzy smiled faintly, but did not speak. I saw, however, that she was a +pretty, fair-haired girl, with delicate features and a very gentle +expression. +</p> +<p> +“It's a wild bit of landscape here, Mr. Gosslett; but of a fine day, with +the sun on it, and the wind not so strong, it's handsome enough.” + </p> +<p> +“It 's grand,” said I, rather hesitating to find the epithet I wanted. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. D. sighed, and I thought her daughter echoed it; but as his reverence +now bustled away to send some one to fetch my trunk, I took my place at +the fire, and tried to make myself at home. +</p> +<p> +A very brief conversation enabled me to learn that Mr. Dudgeon came to the +parish on his marriage, about four-and-twenty years before, and neither he +nor his wife had ever left it since. They had no neighbors, and only six +parishioners of their own persuasion. The church was about a mile off, and +not easily approached in bad weather. It seemed, too, that the bishop and +Mr. D. were always at war. The diocesan was a Whig, and the parson a +violent Orangeman, who loved loyal anniversaries, demonstrations, and +processions, the latter of which came twice or thrice a year from Derry to +visit him and stir up any amount of bitterness and party strife; and +though the Rev. Dan, as he was familiarly called, was obliged to pass the +long interval between these triumphant exhibitions exposed to the +insolence and outrage of the large masses he had offended, be never +blinked the peril, but actually dared it, wearing his bit of orange ribbon +in his button-hole as he went down the village, and meeting Father +Lafferty's scowl with a look of defiance and insult fierce as his own. +</p> +<p> +After years of episcopal censure and reproof, administered without the +slightest amendment,—for Dan never appeared at a visitation, and +none were hardy enough to follow him into his fastness,—he was +suffered to do what he pleased, and actually abandoned as one of those +hopeless cases which time alone can clear off and remedy. An incident, +however, which had befallen about a couple of years back, had almost +released the bishop from his difficulty. +</p> +<p> +In an affray following on a twelfth of July demonstration, a man had been +shot; and though the Rev. Dan was not in any degree implicated in the act, +some imprudent allusion to the event in his Sunday's discourse got abroad +in the press, and was so severely commented on by a young barrister on the +trial, that an inhibition was issued against him, and his church closed +for three months. +</p> +<p> +I have been, thus far, prolix in sketching the history of those with whom +I was now to be domesticated, because, once placed before the reader, my +daily life is easily understood. We sat over the fire nearly all day, +abusing the Papists, and wondering if England would ever produce one man +who could understand the fact that unless you banished the priests and +threw down the chapels there was no use in making laws for Ireland. +</p> +<p> +Then we dined, usually on fish, and a bit of bacon, after which we drank +the glorious, pious, and immortal memory, with the brass money, the wooden +shoes, and the rest of it,—the mild Lizzy herself being “told off” + to recite the toast, as her father had a sore throat and could n't utter; +and the fair, gentle lips, that seldom parted save to smile, delivered the +damnatory clause against all who would n't drink that toast, and sentenced +them to be “rammed, jammed, and crammed,” as the act declares, in a way +that actually amazed me. +</p> +<p> +If the peasant who drove me over to Killyrotherum did not add much to my +knowledge of Ireland by the accuracy of his facts or the fixity of his +opinions, the Rev. Dan assuredly made amends for all these shortcomings; +for he saw the whole thing at a glance, and knew why Ireland was +ungovernable, and how she could be made prosperous and happy, just as he +knew how much poteen went to a tumbler of punch; and though occasionally +despondent when the evening began, as it grew towards bedtime and the +decanter waxed low, he had usually arrived at a glorious millennium, when +every one wore an orange lily, and the whole world was employed in singing +“Croppies lie down.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. THE RUNAWAY. +</h2> +<p> +I suppose I must be a very routine sort of creature, who loves to get into +a groove and never leave it. Indeed, I recognize this feature of my +disposition in the pleasure I feel in being left to myself, and my own +humdrum way of diverting my time. At all events, I grew to like my life at +Killyrotherum. +</p> +<p> +The monotony that would have driven most men to despair was to me soothing +and grateful. +</p> +<p> +A breezy walk with Lizzy down to the village after breakfast, where she +made whatever purchases the cares of household demanded, sufficed for +exercise. After that I wrote a little in my own room,—short, jotting +notes, that might serve to recall, on some future day, the scarcely tinted +surface of my quiet existence, and occasionally putting down such points +as puzzled me,—problems whose solution I must try to arrive at with +time and opportunity. Perhaps a brief glance at the pages of this diary, +as I open it at random, may serve to show how time went over with me. +</p> +<p> +Here is an entry:— +</p> +<p> +<i>Friday, 17th November</i>.—Mem., to find out from D. D. the exact +explanation of his words last night, and which possibly fatigue may have +made obscure to me. Is it Sir Wm. Vernon or the Pope who is Antichrist? +</p> +<p> +Query: also, would not brass money be better than no halfpence? and are +not wooden shoes as good as bare feet? +</p> +<p> +Why does the parish clerk always bring up a chicken when he comes with a +message? +</p> +<p> +Lizzy did not own she made the beefsteak dumpling, but the maid seemed to +let the secret out by bringing in a little amethyst ring she had forgotten +on the kitchen table. I wish she knew that I 'd be glad she could make +dumplings. I am fond of dumplings. To try and tell her this. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. D. suspects Lizzy is attached to me. I don't think she approves of +it. D. D. would not object if I became an Orangeman. Query, what effect +would that have on my future career? Could I be an Orangeman without being +able to sing the “Boyne Water”? for I never could hum a tune in my life. +To inquire about this. +</p> +<p> +Who was the man who behaved badly to Lizzy? And how did he behave badly? +This is a very vital point, though not easy to come at. +</p> +<p> +<i>18th.</i>—Lizzy likes—I may say loves—me. The avowal +was made this morning, when I was carrying up two pounds of sugar and one +of soap from the village. She said, “Oh, Mr. Gosslett, if you knew how +unhappy I am!” + </p> +<p> +And I laid down the parcel, and, taking her hand in mine, said, “Darling, +tell me all!” and she grew very red and flurried, and said, “Nonsense, +don't be a fool! Take care Tobias don't run away with the soap. I wanted +to confide in you, to trust you. I don't want to—” And there she +fell a-crying, and sobbed all the way home, though I tried to console her +as well as the basket would permit me. Mem.—Not to be led into any +tendernesses till the marketing is brought home. Wonder does Lizzy require +me to fight the man who behaved badly? What on earth was it he did? +</p> +<p> +A great discovery coming home from church to-day. D. D. asked me if I had +detected anything in his sermon of that morning which I could possibly +call violent, illiberal, or uncharitable. As I had not listened to it, I +was the better able to declare that there was not a word of it I could +object to. “Would you believe it, Gosslett,” said he,—and he never +had called me Gosslett before,—“that was the very sermon they +arraigned me for in the Queen's Bench; and that mild passage about the +Virgin Mary, you 'd imagine it was murder I was instilling. You heard it +to-day, and know if it's not true. Well, sir,” continued he, after a +pause, “Tom MacNamara blackguarded me for twenty minutes on it before the +whole court, screeching out, 'This is your parson! this is your instructor +of the poor man! your Christian guide! your comforter! These are the +teachings that are to wean the nation from bloodshed, and make men +obedient to the law and grateful for its protection!' Why do you think he +did this? Because I wouldn't give him my daughter,—a Papist rascal +as he is! That's the whole of it. I published my sermon and sent it to the +bishop, and he inhibited me! It was clear enough what he meant; he wanted +to be made archbishop, and he knew what would please the Whigs. 'My Lord,' +said I, 'these are the principles that placed the Queen on the throne of +this realm. If it was n't to crush Popery he came, King William crossed +the Boyne for nothing.'” + </p> +<p> +He went on thus till we reached home; but I had such a headache, from his +loud utterance, that I had to lie down and sleep it off. +</p> +<p> +<i>Monday, 31st</i>.—A letter from Aunt Morse. Very dry and cold. +Asks if I have sufficiently recovered from my late attack to be able to +resume habits of activity and industry? Why, she knows well enough I have +nothing to engage my activity and industry, for I will not be a +coal-heaver, let uncle say what he likes. Aunt surmises that possibly some +tender sentiment may be at the bottom of my attachment to Ireland, and +sternly recalls me to the fact that I am not the possessor of landed +property and an ancient family mansion in a good county. What can she mean +by these warnings? Was it not herself that I overheard asking my uncle, +“Would not he do for Lizzy?” How false women are! I wish I could probe +that secret about the man that behaved ill; there are so many ways to +behave ill, and to be behaved ill by. Shall I put a bold face on it, and +ask Lizzy? +</p> +<p> +Great news has the post brought. Sir Morris Stamer is going out Lord High +Commissioner to the Ionian Islands, and offers to take me as private sec. +</p> +<p> +It is a brilliant position, and one to marry on. I shall ask Lizzy to-day. +</p> +<p> +Wednesday, all settled;—but what have I not gone through these last +three days! She loves me to distraction; but she 'll tell nothing,—nothing +till we 're married. She says, and with truth, “confidence is the nurse of +love.” I wish she was n't so coy. I have not even kissed her hand. She +says Irish girls are all coy. +</p> +<p> +We are to run away, and be married at a place called Articlane. I don't +know why we run away; but this is another secret I 'm to hear later on. +Quiet and demure as she looks, Lizzy has a very decided disposition. She +overbears all opposition, and has a peremptory way of saying, “Don't be a +fool, G.!”—she won't call me Paul, only G.,—“and just do as I +bade you.” I hope she 'll explain why this is so,—after our +marriage. +</p> +<p> +I'm getting terribly afraid of the step we're about to take. I feel quite +sure it was the Rev. Dan who shot the Papist on that anniversary affair; +and I know he'd shoot me if he thought I had wronged him. Is there any way +out of this embarrassment? +</p> +<p> +What a headache I have! We have been singing Orange songs for four hours. +I think I hear that odious shake on the word “ba-a-t-tle,” as it rhymes to +“rat—tie,” in old Dan's song. It goes through my brain still; and +tomorrow, at daybreak, we're to run away! Lizzy's bundle is here, in my +room; and Tom Ryan's boat is all ready under the rocks, and we're to cross +the bay. It sounds very rash when one comes to think of it. I'm sure my +Aunt Morse will never forgive it. But Lizzy, all so gentle and docile as +she seems, has a very peremptory way with her; and as she promises to give +me explanations for everything later on, I have agreed to all. How it +blows! There has not been so bad a night since I came here. If it should +be rough to-morrow morning, will she still insist on going? I 'm a poor +sort of sailor at the best of times; but if there's a sea on, I shall be +sick as a dog! And what a situation,—a seasick bridegroom running +off with bis bride! That was a crash! I thought the old house was going +clean away. The ploughs and harrows they 've put on the roof to keep the +slates down perform very wild antics in a storm. +</p> +<p> +I suppose this is the worst climate in Europe. D. D. said, yesterday, that +the length of the day made the only difference between summer and winter; +and, oh dear! what an advantage does this confer on winter? +</p> +<p> +Now to bed,—though I'm afraid not to sleep; amid such a racket and +turmoil, rest is out of the question. Who knows when, where, and how I +shall make the next entry in this book? But, as Mr. Dudgeon says, when he +finishes his tumbler, “Such is life! such is life!” + </p> +<p> +I wonder will Lizzy insist on going on if the weather continues like this? +I'm sure no boatman with a wife and family could be fairly asked to go out +in such a storm. I do not think I would have the right to induce a poor +man to peril his life, and the support of those who depend upon him, for +my own—what shall I call it?—my own gratification,—that +might be for a picnic;—my own,—no, not happiness, because that +is a term of time and continuity;—my own—There goes a chimney, +as sure as fate! How they sleep here through everything! There 's that +fellow who minds the cows snoring through it all in the loft overhead; and +he might, for all he knew, have been squashed under that fall of masonry. +Was that a tap at the door? I thought I heard it twice. +</p> +<p> +Yes, it was Lizzy. She had not been to bed. She went out as far as the +church rock to see the sea. She says it was grander than she could +describe. There is a faint moon, and the clouds are scudding along, as +though racing against the waves below; but I refuse to go out and see it, +all the same. I 'll turn in, and try to get some sleep before morning. +</p> +<p> +I was sound asleep, though the noise of the storm was actually deafening, +when Lizzy again tapped at my door, and at last, opening it slightly, +pushed a lighted candle inside, and disappeared. If there be a dreary +thing in life, it is to get up before day of a dark, raw morning, in a +room destitute of all comfort and convenience, and proceed to wash and +dress in cold, gloom, and misery, with the consciousness that what you are +about to do not only might be safer and better undone, but may, and not at +all improbably will, turn out the rashest act of your life. +</p> +<p> +Over and over I said to myself, “If I were to tell her that I have a +foreboding,—a distinct foreboding of calamity; that I dreamed a +dream, and saw myself on a raft, while waves, mountain high, rose above +me, and depths yawned beneath,—dark, fathomless, and terrible,—would +she mind it?” I declare, on my sacred word of honor,—I declare I +think she'd laugh at me! +</p> +<p> +“Are you ready?” whispered a soft voice at the door; and I saw at once my +doom was pronounced. +</p> +<p> +Noiselessly, stealthily, we crept down the stairs, and, crossing the +little flagged kitchen, undid the heavy bars of the door. Shall I own that +a thought of treason shot through me as I stood with the great bolt in my +hands, and the idea flashed across me, “What if I were to let it fall with +a crash, and awake the household?” Did she divine what was passing in my +head, as she silently took the bar from me, and put it away? +</p> +<p> +We were now in the open air, breasting a swooping nor'-wester that chilled +the very marrow of my bones. She led the way through the dark night as +though it were noonday, and I followed, tumbling over stones and rocks and +tufts of heather, and falling into holes, and scrambling out again like +one drunk. I could hear her laughing at me too,—she who so seldom +laughed; and it was with difficulty she could muster gravity enough to say +she hoped I had not hurt myself. +</p> +<p> +We gained the pier at last, and, guided by a lantern held by one of the +boatmen, we saw the boat bobbing and tossing some five feet down below. +Lizzy sprang in at once, amidst the applauding cheers of the crew; and +then several voices cried out, “Now, sir! Now, your honor!” while two +stout fellows pushed me vigorously, as though to throw me into the sea. I +struggled and fought manfully, but in vain. I was jerked off my legs, and +hurled headlong down, and found myself caught below by some strong arms, +though not until I had half sprained my wrist, and barked one of my shins +from knee to instep. These sufferings soon gave way to others, as I became +sea-sick, and lay at the bottom of the boat, praying we might all go down, +and end a misery I could no longer endure. That spars struck me, and +ballast rolled over me; that heavy-footed sailors trampled me, and seemed +to dance on me,—were things I minded not. Great waves broke over the +bows, and came in sheets of foam and water over me. What cared I? I had +that death-like sickness that makes all life hideous, and I felt I had +reached a depth of degradation and misery in which there was only one +desire,—that for death. That we succeeded in clearing the point +which formed one side of the bay was little short of a miracle, and I +remember the cheer the boatmen gave as the danger was passed, and my last +hope of our all going down left me. After this, I know no more. +</p> +<p> +A wild confusion of voices, a sort of scuffling uproar, a grating sound, +and more feet dancing over me, aroused me. I looked up. It was dawn; a +gray murky streak lay towards the horizon, and sheets of rain were carried +swiftly on the winds. We were being dragged up on a low shingly shore, and +the men—up to their waists in water—were carrying the boat +along. +</p> +<p> +As I looked over the gunwale, I saw a huge strong fellow rush down the +slope, and breasting the waves as they beat, approach the boat. Lizzy +sprang into his arms at once, and he carried her back to land +triumphantly. I suppose at any other moment a pang of jealousy might have +shot through me. Much sea-sickness, like perfect love, overcometh all +things. I felt no more, as I gazed, than if it had been a bundle he had +been clasping to his bosom. +</p> +<p> +They lifted me up, and laid me on the shingle. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, do, Tom; he is such a good creature!” said a voice which, low as it +was, I heard distinctly. +</p> +<p> +“By all that's droll! this is the Cockney I met at Mor-risson's!” cried a +loud voice. I looked up; and there, bending over me, was Counsellor +MacNamara, the bland stranger I had fallen in with at Dublin. +</p> +<p> +“Are you able to get on your legs,” asked he, “or shall we have you +carried?” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said I, faintly; “I 'd rather lie here.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, we can't leave him here, Tom; it's too cruel.” + </p> +<p> +“I tell you, Lizzy,” said he, impatiently, “there's not a minute to lose.” + </p> +<p> +“Let them carry him, then,” said she, pleadingly. +</p> +<p> +I mildly protested my wish to live and die where I lay; but they carried +me up somewhere, and they put me to bed, and they gave me hot drinks, and +I fell into, not a sleep, but a trance, that lasted twenty-odd hours. +</p> +<p> +“Faix! they had a narrow escape of it,” were the first intelligible words +I heard on awaking. “They were only just married and druv off when old Dan +Dudgeon came up, driving like mad. He was foaming with passion, and said +if he went to the gallows for it, he 'd shoot the rascal that abused his +hospitality and stole his daughter. The lady left this note for your +honor.” + </p> +<p> +It went thus:— +</p> +<p> +“Dear Mr. Gosslett,—You will, I well know, bear me no ill-will for +the little fraud I have practised on you. It was an old engagement, broken +off by a momentary imprudence on Tom's part; but as I knew he loved me, it +was forgiven. My father would not have ever consented to the match, and we +were driven to this strait. I entreat you to forgive and believe me +</p> +<p> +“Most truly yours, +</p> +<p> +“Lizzy MacNamara.” + </p> +<p> +I stole quietly out of Ireland after this, and got over to the Isle of +Man, where I learned that my patron had thrown up his Ionian appointment, +and I was once again on the world. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CONFESSION THE LAST. +</h2> +<h3> +AS TO LAW. +</h3> +<p> +I do not exactly know why I sit down to make this my last confession. I +can scarcely be a guide to any one. I even doubt if I can be a warning, +for when a man is as miserably unlucky as I have proved myself, the +natural inference is to regard him as the exception to the ordinary lot of +mortals,—a craft fated to founder ere it was launched. It's all very +well to deny the existence of such a thing as luck. It sounds splendidly +wise in the Latin moralist to say, “<i>Non numen habes fortuna si sit +prudentia</i>,” which is the old story of putting the salt on the bird's +tail over again, since, I say, we can always assume the “prudentia” where +there is the “fortuna,” and in the same way declare that the unlucky man +failed because he was deficient in that same gift of foresight. +</p> +<p> +Few men knew life so thoroughly in every condition, and under every +aspect, as the first Napoleon, and he invariably asked, when inquiring +into the fitness of a man for a great command, “Is he lucky?” To my own +thinking, it would be as truthful to declare that there was no element of +luck in whist, as to say there was no such thing as luck in life. Now, all +the “prudentia” in the world will not give a man four by honors; and +though a good player may make a better fight with a bad hand than an +indifferent performer, there is that amount of badness occasionally dealt +out that no skill can compensate; and do what he may, he must lose the +game. +</p> +<p> +Now, I am by no means about to set up as a model of prudence, industry, or +perseverance; as little can I lay claim to anything like natural ability +or cleverness. I am essentially common-place,—one of those men taken +“ex medio acervo” of humanity, whose best boast is that they form the +staple of the race, and are the majority in all nations. +</p> +<p> +There is a very pleasant passage in Lockhart's Life of Scott. I cannot lay +my hand on it, and may spoil it in the attempt to quote, but the purport +is, that one day when Lockhart had used the word “vulgar” in criticising +the manners of some people they had been discussing, Sir Walter rebuked +him for the mistaken sense he had ascribed to the expression. Vulgar, said +he, is only common, and common means general; and what is the general +habit and usage of mankind has its base and foundation in a feeling and +sentiment that we must not lightly censure. It is, at all events, human. +</p> +<p> +I wish I could give the text of the passage, for I see how lamentably I +have rendered it, but this was the meaning it conveyed to me, and I own I +have very often thought over it with comfort and with gratitude. +</p> +<p> +If the great thinkers—the men of lofty intellects and high-soaring +faculties—were but to know how, in vindicating the claims of +every-day people to respect and regard, in shielding them from the sneers +of smart men and the quips of witty men, they were doing a great and noble +work, for which millions of people like myself would bless them, I am +certain we should find many more such kindly utterances as that of the +great Sir Walter. +</p> +<p> +I ask pardon for my digression, so selfish as it is, and return to my +narrative. +</p> +<p> +After that famous “fiasco” I made in Ireland, I—as the cant phrase +has it—got dark for some time. My temper, which at first sustained +me under any amount of banter and ridicule, had begun to give way, and I +avoided my relations, who certainly never took any peculiar pains to treat +me with delicacy, or had the slightest hesitation in making me a butt for +very coarse jokes and very contemptible drollery. +</p> +<p> +I tried a number of things,—that is, I begun them. I begun to read +for the law; I begun a novel; I begun to attend divinity lectures; I got a +clerkship in a public office, as supernumerary; I was employed as +traveller to a house in the wooden-clock trade; I was secretary to an +Association for the Protection of Domestic Cats, and wrote the prospectus +for the “Cats' Home:” but it's no use entering into details. I failed in +all; and to such an extent of notoriety had my ill-fortune now attained, +that the very mention of my name in connection with a new project would +have sentenced it at once to ruin. +</p> +<p> +Over and over again have I heard my “friends,” when whispering together +over some new scheme, mutter, “Of course Paul is to have nothing to do +with it,” “Take care that Paul Gosslett is n't in it,” and such-like +intimations, that gave me the sensation of being a sort of moral leper, +whose mere presence was a calamity. The sense of being deemed universally +an unlucky fellow is one of the most depressing things imaginable,—to +feel that your presence is accounted an evil agency,—and that your +co-operation foreshadows failure,—goes a considerable way towards +accomplishing the prediction announced. +</p> +<p> +Though my uncle's stereotyped recommendation to become a coal-heaver was +not exactly to my taste, I had serious thoughts of buying a sack, and by a +little private practice discovering whether the profession might not in +the end become endurable. I was fairly at my wits'-end for a livelihood; +and the depression and misery my presence occasioned wherever I went +reacted on myself, and almost drove me to desperation. +</p> +<p> +I was actually so afraid of an evil temptation that I gave up my little +lodging that I was so fond of, near Putney, and went to live at Hampstead, +where there was no water deep enough to drown a rat. I also forewent +shaving, that I might banish my razors, and in all respects set myself +steadily to meet the accidents of life with as near an approach to jollity +as I could muster. +</p> +<p> +The simple pleasures of nature—the enjoyment of the fields and the +wild flowers; the calm contemplation of the rising or setting sun; the +varied forms of insect life; the many-tinted lichens; the ferns; the +mosses that clothe the banks of shady alleys; the limpid pools, starred +and broken by the dragon-fly, so full of their own especial charm for the +weary voluptuary sick of pampered pleasures and exotic luxuries—do +not appeal to the senses of the poor man with that wonderful force of +contrast which gives them all their excellence. I have seen an alderman +express himself in ecstasies over a roast potato, which certainly would +not have called forth the same show of appreciation from an Irish peasant. +We like what awakens a new sensation in us, what withdraws us even in +imagination from the routine of our daily lives. There is a great +self-esteem gratified when we say how simple we can be, how happy in +humility, how easily satisfied, and how little dependent on mere luxury or +wealth. +</p> +<p> +The postman who passed my window every morning had long ceased to be an +object of interest or anxiety to me; for others he brought tidings, good +or ill as it might be, but to me, forgotten and ignored of the world, no +news ever came; when one day, to my intense surprise, at first to my +perfect incredulity, I saw him draw forth a letter, and make a sign to me +to come down and take it. Yes, there it was, “Paul Gosslett, Esq., The +Flaggers, Putney,” with “Try Sandpit Cottages, Hampstead,” in another +hand, in the corner. It was from my aunt, and ran thus:— +</p> +<p> +“The Briars, Rochester. +</p> +<p> +“Dear Paul,—I am rejoiced to say there is a good chance of a +situation for you with handsome pay and most agreeable duty. You are to +come down here at once, and see your uncle, but on no account let it be +known that I have mentioned to you the prospect of employment. +</p> +<p> +“Your affectionate aunt, +</p> +<p> +“Jane Morse.” + </p> +<p> +I took the morning train, and arrived at Rochester by nine o'clock, +remembering, not without pain, my last experiences of my uncle's +hospitality. I breakfasted at the inn, and only arrived at the house when +he had finished his morning meal, and was smoking his pipe in the garden. +</p> +<p> +“What wind blows you down here, lad?” cried he. “Where are you bound for +now?” + </p> +<p> +“You forget, my dear,” said my aunt, “you told me, the other evening, you +would be glad to see Paul.” + </p> +<p> +“Humph!” said he, with a grunt. “I 've been a-think-ing over it since, and +I suspect it would n't do. He 'd be making a mess of it, the way he does +of everything; that blessed luck of his never leaves him, eh?” + </p> +<p> +Seeing that this was meant as an interrogation, I replied faintly: “You +'re quite right, uncle. If I am to depend on my good fortune, it will be a +bad look-out for me.” + </p> +<p> +“Not that I value what is called luck a rush,” cried he, with energy. “I +have had luck, but I had energy, industry, thrift, and perseverance. If I +had waited for luck, I 'd have lived pretty much like yourself, and I +don't know anything to be very proud of in that, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“I am certainly not proud of my position, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't understand what you mean by your position; but I know I 'd have +been a coal-heaver rather than live on my relations. I 'd have sold +sulphur matches, I 'd have been a porter!” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, I suppose I may come to something of that kind yet; a little +more of the courteous language I am now listening to will make the step +less difficult.” + </p> +<p> +“Eh?—What! I don't comprehend. Do you mean anything offensive?” + </p> +<p> +“No, dear, he does not,” broke in my aunt; “he only says he 'd do anything +rather than be a burden to his family, and I 'm sure he would; he seems +very sorry about all the trouble he has cost them.” + </p> +<p> +My uncle smoked on for several minutes without a word; at last he came to +the end of his pipe, and, having emptied the ashes, and gazed ruefully at +the bowl, he said: “There 's no more in the fellow than in that pipe! Not +a bit. I say,” cried he, aloud, and turning to me, “you've had to my own +knowledge as good as a dozen chances, and you've never succeeded in one of +them.” + </p> +<p> +“It's all true,” said I, sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +“Owing to luck, of course,” said he, scornfully; “luck makes a man lazy, +keeps him in bed when he ought to be up and at work; luck makes him idle, +and gets him plucked for his examinations. I tell you this, sir: I 'd +rather a man would give me a fillip on the nose than talk to me about +luck. If there's a word in the language I detest and hate, it is luck.” + </p> +<p> +“I'm not in love with it myself, sir,” said I, trying to smile. +</p> +<p> +“Did you ever hear of luck mending a man's shoes or paying his +washerwoman? Did luck ever buy a beefsteak, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“That might admit of discussion.” + </p> +<p> +“Then let me have no discussion. I like work, and I dislike wrangling. +Listen to me, and mend now, sir. I want an honest, sober, fixed +determination,—no caprice, no passing fancy. Do you believe you are +capable of turning over a new leaf, and sitting down steadily to the +business of life, like a patient, industrious, respectable man who desires +to earn his own bread, and not live on the earnings of others?” + </p> +<p> +“I hope so.” “Don't tell me of hope, sir. Say you will, or you will not” + </p> +<p> +“I will,” said I, resolutely. +</p> +<p> +“You will work hard, rise early, live frugally, give up dreaming about +this, that, or the other chance, and set to like a fellow that wants to do +his own work with his own hands?” + </p> +<p> +“I promise it all.” + </p> +<p> +My uncle was neither an agreeable nor a very clear exponent of his views, +and I shall save my reader and myself some time and unpleasantness if I +reduce the statement he made to me to a few words. A company had been +formed to start an hydropathic establishment on a small river, a tributary +of the Rhine,—the Lahn. They had acquired, at a very cheap rate of +purchase, an old feudal castle and its surrounding grounds, and had +converted the building into a most complete and commodious residence, and +the part which bordered the river into a beautiful pleasure-ground. The +tinted drawings which represented various views of the castle and the +terraced gardens, were something little short of fairyland in captivation. +Nor was the pictorial effect lessened by the fact that figures on +horseback and on foot, disporting in boats or driving in carriages, gave a +life and movement to the scene, and imparted to it the animation and +enjoyment of actual existence. The place of director was vacant, and I was +to be appointed to it. My salary was to be three hundred a year, but my +table, my horses, my servants,—in fact, all my household, were to be +maintained for me on a liberal scale; and my duties were to be pretty much +what I pleased to make them. My small smattering of two or three languages—exalted +by my uncle into the reputation of a polyglot—had recommended me to +the “Direction;” and as my chief function was to entertain a certain +number of people twice or thrice a week at dinner, and suggest amusements +to fill up their time, it was believed that my faculties were up to the +level of such small requirements. +</p> +<p> +From the doctor down to the humblest menial all were to be under my sway; +and as the establishment numbered above a hundred officials, the command +was extensive, if not very dignified. I will own, frankly, I was out of +myself with joy at the prospect; nor could all the lowering suggestions of +my uncle, and the vulgar cautions he instilled, prevent my feeling +delighted with my good fortune. I need not say what resolves I made; what +oaths I registered in my own heart to be a good and faithful steward, and +while enjoying to the full the happiness of my fortunate existence, to +neglect no item of the interests confided to me. +</p> +<p> +All that I had imagined or dreamed of the place itself was as nothing to +the reality; nor shall I ever forget the sense of overwhelming delight in +which I stood on the crest of the hill that looked down over the wooded +glen and winding river, the deep-bosomed woods, the wandering paths of +lawn or of moss, the gently flowing stream in which the castle, with its +tall towers, was tremblingly reflected, seemed to me like a princely +possession, and, for once, I thought that Paul Gosslett had become the +favorite child of fortune, and asked myself what had I done to deserve +such luck as this? +</p> +<p> +If habit and daily use deaden the pangs of suffering, and enable us to +bear with more of patience the sorrows of adverse fortune, they, on the +other hand, serve to dull the generous warmth of that gratitude we first +feel for benefits, and render us comparatively indifferent to enjoyments +which, when first tasted, seemed the very ecstasy of bliss. I am sorry to +make this confession; sorry to admit that after some months at “Lahneck,” + I was, although very happy and satisfied, by no means so much struck by +the beauty of the place and the loveliness of the scenery as on my first +arrival, and listened to the raptures of the newcomers with a sort of +compassionate astonishment. Not but I was proud of the pretentious +edifice, proud of its lofty towers and battlemented terraces, its immense +proportion, and splendid extent. It was, besides, a complete success as an +enterprise. We were always full; applications for rooms poured in +incessantly, and when persons vacated their quarters, any change of mind +made restitution impossible. I believed I liked the despotism I exercised; +it was a small, commonplace sort of sovereignty over bath-men and +kitchen-folk, it is true; but in the extent of my command I discovered a +kind of dignity, and in the implicit obedience and deference I felt +something like princely sway. +</p> +<p> +As the host, too, I received a very flattering amount of homage; +foreigners always yield a willing respect to anything in authority, and my +own countrymen soon caught up the habit, as though it implied a knowledge +of life and the world. I had not the slightest suspicion that my general +manners or bearing were becoming affected by these deferences, till I +accidentally overheard a Cockney observe to his wife, “I think he's +pompious,” a censure that made me very unhappy, and led me to much +self-examination and reflection. +</p> +<p> +Had I really grown what the worthy citizen called “pom-pious,”—had I +become puffed up by prosperity, and over-exalted in self-conceit? If so, +it were time to look to this at once. +</p> +<p> +The directors, generally, were well pleased with me. Very gratifying +testimonials of their approval reached me; and it was only my uncle's +opposition prevented my salary being augmented. “Don't spoil the fellow,” + he said; “you'll have him betting on the Derby, or keeping a yacht at +Cowes, if you don't look out sharp. I 'd rather cut him down a hundred +than advance him fifty.” This fiat from my own flesh and blood decided the +matter. I sulked on this. I had grown prosperous enough to feel indignant, +and I resolved to afford myself the well-to-do luxury of discontent. I +was, therefore, discontented. I professed that to maintain my position—whatever +that meant—I was obliged to draw upon my own private resources; and +I went so far as to intimate to the visitors that if I had n't been a man +of some fortune the place would be my ruin! Of course my hint got bruited +about, and the people commonly said, “If Gosslett goes, the whole concern +will break up. They 'll not easily find a man of good private fortune, +willing to spend his money here, like Gosslett,” and such like, till I vow +and declare I began to believe my own fiction, and regard it as an +indelible fact. If my letter was not on record, I would not now believe +the fact; but the document exists, and I have seen it, where I actually +threaten to send my resignation if something—I forget what—is +not speedily conceded to my demands; and it was only on receiving an +admonition in the mild vein peculiar to my uncle that I awoke to a sense +of my peril, and of what became me. +</p> +<p> +I know that there are critics who, pronouncing upon this part of my +career, will opine that the Cockney was right, and that I had really lost +my head in my prosperity. I am not disposed to say now that there might +not have been some truth in this judgment. Things are generally going on +tolerably well with a man's material interests when he has time to be +dyspeptic. Doctors assure us that savage nations, amidst whom the wants of +life call for daily, hourly efforts, amidst whom all is exigency, +activity, and resource, have no dyspepsia. If, then, I had reasoned on my +condition,—which I did not,—I should have seen that the world +went too smoothly with me, and that, in consequence, my health suffered. +Just as the fish swallow stones to aid the digestion, we need the +accidents and frictions of life to triturate our moral pabulum, and render +it more easily assimilable to our constitutions. With dyspepsia I grew +dull, dispirited, and dissatisfied. I ceased to take pleasure in all that +formerly had interested me. I neglected duty, and regarded my occupation +with dislike. My house dinners, which once I took an especial pride in, +seeking not only that the wines and the cookery should be excellent, but +that their success as social gatherings should attract notoriety, I now +regarded with apathy. I took no pains about either company or cookery, +and, in consequence, contrarieties and bad contrasts now prevailed, where, +before, all had been in perfect keeping and true artistic shading. My +indolence and indifference extended to those beneath me. Where all had +once been order, discipline, and propriety, there now grew up +carelessness, disorder, and neglect. The complaints of the visitors were +incessant. My mornings were passed in reading. I rarely replied to the +representations and demands of outraged guests. At last the public press +became the channel of these complaints; and “Publicola,” and “One who had +Suffered,” and a number of similarly named patriots declared that the +hydropathic establishment at Lahneck was a delusion and a sham; that it +was a camp of confusion and mismanagement; and that though a certain P. +Gosslett was the nominal director, yet that visitors of three months' +standing averred they had never seen him, and the popular belief was that +he was a nervous invalid who accepted a nominal duty in recompense for the +benefit of air and climate to himself. “How,” wrote one indignant +correspondent of the Times,—“how the company who instituted this +enterprise, and started it on a scale of really great proportions, can +find it to their advantage to continue this Mr. Gosslett in a post he so +inadequately fills, is matter of daily astonishment to those who have +repaired to Lahneck for healthful exercise and amusement, and only found +there indifferent attendance and universal inattention.” + </p> +<p> +From the day this appeared I was peppered at every post with letters from +the secretary, demanding explanations, reports, returns, what not. The +phrase, “The Managing Committee, who are hourly less and less satisfied +with Mr. Gosslett's conduct,” used to pass through all my dreams. +</p> +<p> +As for my uncle, his remarks were less measured. One of his epistles—I +have it still by me—runs thus: “What do you mean? Are you only an +idiot, or is there some deeper rascality under all this misconduct? Before +I resigned my place at the Board, yesterday, I gave it as my deliberate +opinion that a warrant should be issued against you for fraud and +malversation, and that I would hail your conviction as the only solace +this nefarious concern could afford me. Never dare to address me again. I +have forbidden your aunt to utter your name in my presence.” + </p> +<p> +I don't know how it was, but I read this with as much unconcern as though +it had been an advertisement about the Sydenham trousers or Glenfield +starch. There must be a great dignity in a deranged digestion, for it +certainly raises one above all the smaller excitements and conditions of +passing events; and when, on the same morning that this epistle arrived, +the steward came to inform me that of three hundred and twenty-four rooms +twelve only were occupied, though this was what would be called the height +of the season, I blandly remarked, “Let us not be impatient, Mr. +Deechworth, they'll come yet.” This was in June; by July the twelve +diminished to eight. No new arrival came; and as August drew to a close we +had three! All September,—and the place was then in full beauty,—the +mountains glowing with purple and scarlet heath, the cactus plants on the +terrace in blossom, the Virginian acanthus hanging in tangled masses of +gorgeous flowers from every tree, the river ever plashing with the leaping +trout,—we had not one stranger within our gates. My morning report +ran, “Arrivals, none; departures, none; present in house, none;” and when +I put “Paul Gosslett” at the bottom of this, I only wonder why I did not +take a header into the Lahn! +</p> +<p> +As we had at this period eighty-four servants in the house, sixteen horses +in the stables, and a staff of thirty-two gardeners and boatmen, not to +speak of runners, commissionaires, and general loungers, I was not amazed +when a telegram came, in these words: “Close the house, place Deechworth +in charge, and come over to London.” To this I replied, “Telegram +received; compliance most undesirable. Autumn season just opening. Place +in full beauty.—P. G.” I will not weary the reader with a mere +commercial wrangle,—how the Committee reproached me, and how I +rejoined; how they called names, and I hinted at defamation; how they +issued an order for my dismissal, and I demurred, and demanded due notice. +We abused each other all September, and opened October in full cry of +mutual attack and defence. By this time, too, we were at law. They applied +for a “mandamus” to get rid of me, and my counsel argued that I was +without the four seas of the realm, and could not be attacked. They tried +to reach me by the statute of frauds; but there was no treaty with Nassau, +and I could not be touched. All this contention and quarrelling was like +sulphate of quinine to me,—I grew robust and strong under the +excitement, and discovered a lightness of heart and a buoyancy of nature I +had believed had long left me forever; and though they stopped my salary +and dishonored my drafts, I lived on fruit and vegetables, and put the +garrison on the same diet, with a liberal allowance of wine, which more +than reconciled them to the system. +</p> +<p> +So matters went on till the ninth of October,—a memorable day to me, +which I am not like to forget. It was near sunset, and I sat on the +terrace, enjoying the delicious softness of the evening air, and watching +the varying tints on the river, as the golden and green light came +slanting through the trees and fell upon the water, when I heard the sound +of wheels approaching. There had been a time when such sounds would have +awakened no attention, when arrivals poured in incessantly, and the coming +or the departing guest evoked nothing beyond the courtesy of a greeting. +Now, however, a visitor was an event; and as the post-horses swept round +the angle of the wood, and disappeared behind a wing of the castle, I felt +a strange sensation through my heart, and a soft voice seemed to say, +“Paul, Fate is dealing with you now.” I fell into a revery, however, and +soon forgot all about the arrival, till Mr. Deech-worth came up with a +card in his hand. “Do you know this name, sir,—Mrs. Pultney Dacre? +She has only her maid with her, but seems a person of condition.” I shook +my head in ignorance of the name, and he went on: “She wants rooms on the +ground floor, where she can walk out into the garden; and I have thought +of No. 4.” + </p> +<p> +“No. 4, Deechworth? that apartment costs sixty francs a day.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, as there are few people now in the house,”—this was an +euphemism for none,—“I have said she might have the rooms for +forty.” + </p> +<p> +“It may be done for one week,” said I, “but take care to caution her not +to mention it to her friends. We have trouble enough with those tiresome +people in London without this. What is she like?” + </p> +<p> +“A very handsome figure, sir; evidently young; but had a double veil down, +and I could n't see her face.” + </p> +<p> +“How long does she talk of staying?” + </p> +<p> +“A month, sir. A husband is expected back from India early in November, +and she is to wait for him here.” + </p> +<p> +“So,” said I, thoughtfully, and I am sure I cannot say why thoughtfully, +“she is waiting for her husband's arrival.” + </p> +<p> +“Those young women whose husbands are in India are always pretty; haven't +you remarked that, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“I can't say that I have, Deechworth. These are speculations of a kind +that do not occur to me. Let her have No. 4;” and with the air of one who +dismissed the theme, I waved my hand, and sent him away. +</p> +<p> +No. 4—for so the occupant was called, her name being entirely merged +in her number—never appeared in the grounds, nor showed in any way. +The small garden which belonged to her apartment had a separate enclosure +of its own, and within this she walked every evening. How she passed her +days I know not. I was told that she sang like an angel, but I never heard +her. She was, however, a most persistent bather. There was not a douche in +the establishment she did not try, and possibly, by way of pastime, she +was constantly experimenting on new modes and fashions of bathing. +</p> +<p> +When the establishment had been crowded and in full work, I had my time so +completely occupied that I had little difficulty in keeping my mind +estranged from the gossip and tittle-tattle which beset such places; but +now, when the roof sheltered a single guest, it was wonderful how, in +spite of all my determination on the subject, I became perversely uneasy +to hear about her; to know whether she read or wrote; whether she got +letters or answered them; what she thought of the place; whether she was +or was not pleased with it; did she praise the camellias? What did she +think of the cook? She was evidently “gourmet,” and the little dinners she +ordered were remarkable for a taste and piquancy that stimulated my +curiosity; for there is something very significant in this phase of the +feminine nature; and when I heard she liked her ortolans “au beurre +d'anchois,” I confess I wanted much to see her. +</p> +<p> +This, evidently, was not an easy matter, for she courted retirement, and +her maid let it be known that if her mistress found herself in the +slightest degree molested by strangers, or her privacy invaded, she would +order her horses, and set off for somewhere else without a moment's +hesitation. I was obliged, therefore, to respect this intimation. First of +all, I felt that as long as No. 4 remained I was sustained in my resolve +not to close the establishment. I was like a deposed monarch at whose +residence one envoy still remained, and whose sovereignty, therefore, was +yet recognized, and I clung to this last link that united me to the world +of material interest with intense eagerness. +</p> +<p> +I ventured to present Mr. Gosslett's respectful compliments in a small +note, and inquire if Mrs. Pultney Dacre would wish to see the Park, in +which case his phaeton and ponies were always at her disposal, as also his +boat if she felt disposed to take an airing on the river; but a few lines +declined these offers,—in very polite terms, it is true, yet in a +fashion that said, “No more of these attentions, Paul,”—at least, it +was thus I read her. +</p> +<p> +Although my contention with the company still continued, and some new +menace of law was sure to reach me by every second post, and my own +counsel feelingly warned me that I had n't an inch of ground to stand on, +and my costs when “cast” would be something overwhelming, I had steeled +myself so thoroughly to all consequences, had so resolved to make the most +of the present, that I read these minatory documents with an unmoved +heart, and a degree of placid composure that now strikes me as something +heroic. +</p> +<p> +I was sitting one evening in study, thinking over these things,—not +depressively, not desperately; for, strangely enough, since misfortune had +befallen me, I had acquired a most wonderful stock of equanimity; but I +was canvassing with myself what was to come next, when the fatal hour +struck, as strike it must, that sounded my expulsion from Eden, when a +gentle tap came to my door. I said, “Come in;” and Virginie, Mrs. Dacre's +French maid, entered. She was profuse of apologies for “deranging” me. She +was in despair at the bare thought of interrupting I do not know what or +which of my learned occupations, but her mistress had had an accident! +</p> +<p> +“An accident!” I started as I repeated the word. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! it was not serious,” she said, with a sweet smile. “It was only +troublesome, as occurring in a remote spot, and to a person who, like +Madame, was of such refined delicacy, and who could not bear consulting a +strange physician,—her own doctor was on his way from India,”—she +went on rambling thus, so that it was with difficulty I learned at last, +that Madame, when feeding the gold-fish in the pond of the garden, had +stepped on the rock-work and turned her ankle. The pain was very great, +and Virginie feared something had been broken, though Madame was certain +it was a mere sprain; and now, as the doctor had been dismissed, Madame +wished to know where medical advice could be soonest obtained. I at once +declared I was fully competent to treat such an injury. I had studied +surgery, and could certainly pronounce whether the case was a grave one or +a mere passing accident. Virginie smiled dubiously. +</p> +<p> +“Monsieur was very young. Madame never consulted a doctor under fifty-five +or sixty.” + </p> +<p> +“Possibly,” suggested I, “in an ordinary case, and where there were time +and opportunity to choose; but here, and with an accident,—an +accident that, if neglected or improperly treated—” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, <i>mon Dieu!</i>” cried she, “don't say it! Don't say there might be +unhappy results; come at once and see her!” She almost dragged me along, +such was her impatience, to her mistress's room; and in less than a minute +I was standing beside a sofa in a half-darkened room, where a lady lay, +her face closely veiled, and a large shawl so enveloping her that all +guess as to her figure or probable age was impossible. A light cambric +handkerchief was spread over one foot, which rested on a cushion, and this +kerchief the maid hastily snatched away as I approached, saying,—“Monsieur +is a doctor himself, Madame, and will cure you immediately.” + </p> +<p> +“Là!” cried she, pointing to the foot. “Là!” + </p> +<p> +And certainly I needed no more formal invitation to gaze on a foot and +ankle of such faultless mould and symmetry as never, even in the Greek +statues, had I seen equalled. Whether there had not been time for the +process of inflammation to have set up swelling or disfigurement, or +whether the injury itself had been less grave than might have been +apprehended, I am not able to say; but the beautiful proportions of that +rounded instep, the tapering of the foot, the hollowing of the sole, the +slightly mottled marble of the flesh, the blue veins swelling through the +transparent skin, were all uninjured and unmarred. Ivory itself could not +have been more smoothly turned than the ankle, nor of a more dazzling +whiteness. To have been permitted to kneel down and kiss that foot, I +would have sworn myself her slave forever. I suppose I must have shown +some signs of the rapture that was consuming me, for the maid said,—“What +does the man mean? has he lost his senses?” + </p> +<p> +“I must examine the part,” said I; and, kneeling down, I proceeded with +what I imagined to be a most chirurgical air, to investigate the injury. +As a worshipper might have touched a holy relic, I suffered my hand to +glide over that beautifully rounded instep, but all so delicately and +gently that I could not say whether the thrill that touch sent through me +was not the act of my own nerves. She seemed, however, to tremble; her +foot moved slightly, and a gentle action of her shoulders, like a shudder, +bespoke pain. It was the sort of movement that one might make in being +tickled; and as great agony causes this movement occasionally, I said, “I +trust I have not hurt you? I 'd not have done so for worlds.” She took her +handkerchief and pressed it to her face, and I thought she sobbed; but she +never said a word. +</p> +<p> +“Alors!” cried the maid. “What do you say is to be done?” + </p> +<p> +“Ice,” said I. “Iced water and perfect repose.” + </p> +<p> +“And where are we to get ice in this barbarous place?” + </p> +<p> +“Madame,” said I, “the place is less savage than you deem, and ice shall +be procured. There is a monastery at Offenbach where they have ice +throughout the year. I will despatch an estafette there at once.” + </p> +<p> +The lady bent forward, and whispered something in the maid's ear. +</p> +<p> +“Madame desires to thank you sincerely,” said the maid. “She is much +impressed by your consideration and kindness.” + </p> +<p> +“I will return in a couple of hours,” said I, with a most doctorial +sententiousness, and in reality eagerly desiring to be alone, and in the +privacy of my own room, before I should break out in those wild ecstasies +which I felt were struggling within me for utterance. +</p> +<p> +I sat down to make a clean breast of it in these confessions, but I must +ask my reader to let me pass over unrecorded the extravagances I gave way +to when once more alone. +</p> +<p> +There are men—I am one of them—who require, constitutionally +require, to be in love. That necessity which Don Quixote proclaimed to be +a condition of knightly existence,—the devotion to a mistress,—is +an essential to certain natures. This species of temperament pertained to +me in my boyhood. It has followed me through life with many pains and +suffering, but also with great compensations. I have ever been a poor man,—my +friends can tell that I have not been a lucky one,—and yet to be +rich and fortunate together, I would not resign that ecstasy, that +sentiment of love, which, though its object may have changed, has still +power to warm up the embers of my heart, and send through me a glow that +revives the days of my hot youth and my high hopes. +</p> +<p> +I was now in love, and cared as little for Boards of Directors and +resolutions passed in committee as for the ordinances of the Grand Lama. +It might rain mandamuses and warrants, they had no power to trouble me. As +I wended my way to No. 4 with my bowl of ice, I felt like a votary bearing +his offering to the shrine of his patron saint. My gift might lie on the +altar, but the incense of my devotion soared up to heaven. +</p> +<p> +I would gladly have visited her every hour, but she would only permit me +to come twice a day. I was also timid, and when Virginie said my ten +minutes was up I was dismissed. I tried to bribe Virginie, but the +unworthy creature imagined, with the levity of her nation, I had designs +on her own affections, and threatened to denounce me to her mistress,—a +menace which cost me much mortification and more money. +</p> +<p> +I don't know that the cure made great progress,—perhaps I have +learned since why this was so; at all events, I pursued my treatment with +assiduity, and was rewarded with a few soft-voiced words, as thus: “How +kind you are!” “What a gentle hand you have!” “How pleasant that ice is!” + At length she was able to move about the room. I wished to offer my arm, +but she declined. Virginie was strong enough to support her. How I +detested that woman! But for her, how many more opportunities had I +enjoyed of offering small services and attentions! Her very presence was a +perpetual restraint. She never took her eyes off me while I was in the +room with her mistress,—black-beady, inexpressive eyes for the most +part, but with something devilish in their inscrutability that always +frightened me. That she saw the passion that was consuming me, that she +read me in my alternate paroxysm of delight or despair, was plain enough +to me; but I could not make her my friend. She would take my presents +freely, but always with the air of one whose silence was worth buying at +any price, but whose co-operation or assistance no sum could compass. Her +very mode of accepting my gifts had something that smote terror into me. +She never thanked me, nor even affected gratitude. She would shake her +head mournfully and gloomily, as though matters had come to a pretty pass +between us, and as though some dreadful reckoning must one day be expected +to account for all this corruption. “Ah, Monsieur Gosslett,” said she one +day with a sigh, “what a precipice we are all standing beside! Have you +thought of the ruin you are leading us to?” These were very strange words; +and though I took my watch and chain from my pocket, and gave them to her +in order to induce her to explain her meaning, she only burst into tears +and rushed out of the room. Was I then the happiest of mortals or the most +wretched? Such was the problem that drove sleep that long night from my +eyelids, and found me still trying to solve it when the day broke. +</p> +<p> +Days would often pass now without Mrs. Dacre permitting me to visit her, +and then Virginie significantly hinted that she was right in this,—that +it was for my good as well as her own, and so on. I mourned over my +banishment and bewailed it bitterly. “One would think, sir, you forget my +mistress was married,” said Virginie to me one day; and I protest it was +no more than the truth. I had completely, utterly forgotten it; and the +stern fact thus abruptly announced almost felled me to the earth. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Dacre had promised to take a drive with me as soon as she felt able +to bear the motion of a carriage; but though I often recalled the pledge, +she found excuses of one kind or other to defer performance, and as I now +rarely saw her, she would write me a line, sometimes two lines, on a scrap +of paper, which Virginie would lay open on my table and generally shake +her head very meaningly as I read it. +</p> +<p> +If Mrs. Dacre's notes were very brief, they were not less enigmatical,—she +was the strangest writer that ever put pen to paper. Thus, to give an +instance: the ice application she always referred to as “my coldness,” and +she would say, “How long is your coldness to continue? have I not had +enough of it yet? This coldness is becoming tiresome, and if it be +continued, how am I to go out with you?” In another note, referring to our +intended drive, she says, “If it is a question of running away, I must +have a word to say first; for though I believe you have no fears on that +score, I am not so courageous.” Virginie had been telling stories about my +ponies; they were frisky, it is true, and it was thus her mistress alluded +to them. Some disparagement of me as a whip provoked this remark from her: +“As the time draws nearer, I ask myself, Shall I trust myself to your +guidance? Who can say what may come of it?” + </p> +<p> +At last came this one line: “I have summoned up all my courage, and I will +go with you this evening. Come up at eight, and I will be ready.” I ought +to have mentioned before this that for nigh three weeks a vulgar-looking +man, middle-aged and robust, had come to take the waters; and though he +only spoke a few words of bad French, being English, had continued to put +himself on terms of intimacy with all the subordinates of the household, +and was constantly seen laughing with the boatmen and trying to converse +with the gardeners. +</p> +<p> +Deechworth had conceived suspicion about him from the first; he connected +him with the law proceedings that the company had instituted against me, +and warned me to be cautious of the man. His opinion was that he belonged +to the “Force.” “I know it, sir,” said he, “by his walk and his laugh.” + The detectives, according to Deechworth, have a laugh quite peculiar to +themselves; it never takes them off what they are saying or thinking about +In fact, it is like the bassoon in a band; it serves just to mark the time +while the air is being played by the other instruments. +</p> +<p> +“I don't like that Mr. Bracken, sir,” Deechworth would say; “he ain't here +for no good, you'll see, sir;” and it is not improbable that I should have +perfectly agreed with this opinion if I had ever troubled my head about +him at all, but the fact was my mind was very differently occupied. All +Scotland Yard and Sir Richard himself might have been domiciled at the +establishment without their ever giving me a moment of uneasy reflection. +</p> +<p> +Whether Mrs. Dacre's scruples were those of prudery or cowardice, whether +she dreaded me as a companion or feared me as a coachman, I cannot say; +but she constantly put off our intended drive, and though occasionally the +few words in which she made her apologies set my heart half wild with +delight, simply because I pleased to read them in a sense of my own +invention, yet I grew feverish and uneasy at these delays. At last there +came the one line in pencil, “I have made up my mind I will go with you +to-morrow evening.” It is in no extravagance or mock rapture I say it, but +in plain homely truth, I would not have changed that scrap of paper for a +check of ten thousand on Coutts. +</p> +<p> +It was my habit to lay all the little notes I received from her before me +on my writing-table, and as I passed them under review, to weave out for +myself a story of the progress of my love. The servants who waited on me, +and who alone entered my study, were foreigners, and ignorant of English, +so that I could permit myself this indulgence without fear. Now, on the +afternoon on which I had received the latest of her despatches, I +sauntered out into the wood to be alone with my own thoughts, unmolested +and undisturbed. I wandered on for hours, too happy to count the time, and +too deeply lost in my imaginings to remember anything but my own fancies. +What was to come of this strange imbroglio in which I now stood; how was +Fate about to deal with me? I had clearly arrived at a point where the +roads led right and left Which was I to take, and which was the right one? +</p> +<p> +Thus canvassing and discussing with myself, it was very late ere I got +back to the castle; but I carried the key of a small portal gate that +admitted me to my own quarters unobserved, and I could enter or pass out +unnoticed. As I found myself in my study and lit my lamp, I turned to my +writing-table. I started with amazement on discovering that the little +notes and scraps of paper which bore Mrs. Dacre's writing had disappeared. +These, and a small notebook, a sort of diary of my own, had been taken +away; and that the act was not that of a common thief was clear, from the +fact that a valuable silver inkstand and an onyx seal mounted in gold, and +some other small objects of value lay about untouched. A cold sweat broke +over me as I stood there overwhelmed and panic-stricken by this discovery. +The terrors of a vague and undefined danger loom over a man with an +intensity far greater than the fears of a known and palpable peril. I +examined the fastenings of the door and the windows to see whether force +had been used, but there was no sign of such. And as I had locked the door +when leaving and found it locked on my return, how had this thief found +entrance except by a key? I rung the bell; but the servants were all in +bed, and it was long before any one replied to my summons. Of course, +servant-like, they had seen nothing, heard nothing. I sent for Deechworth; +he was asleep, and came unwillingly and angry at being routed out of bed. +He, too, knew nothing. He questioned me closely as to whether I had seen +the papers on my table before I left home for my walk, and half vexed me +by the pertinacity of his examination, and, finally, by the way in which +he depreciated the value of my loss, and congratulated me on the +circumstance that nothing of real worth had been abstracted. This was too +much for my patience, and I declared that I had rather the thief had left +me without a coat or without a shilling than taken these precious scraps +of paper. “Oh,” said he, with a sort of sneer, “I had not the slightest +suspicion of the value you attached to them.” “Well, sir,” said I, losing +all control over my passion, “now that you see it, now that you hear it, +now that you know it, will you tell me at what price you will restore them +to me?” + </p> +<p> +“You mean that it was I who took them?” said he, quietly, and without any +show of warmth. +</p> +<p> +“I don't suppose you will deny it,” was my answer. +</p> +<p> +“That will do, Mr. Gosslett,” said he; “that's quite enough. I hope to be +able to teach you that it's one thing to defy a board of directors, and +it's another to defame a respectable man. I'll make you smart for this, +sir;” and with these words he turned away and left the room. +</p> +<p> +I don't know when or how the servants retired,—whether I dismissed +them, or whether they went of their own accord. I was like a madman. My +temper, excited to the last limits of reason, impelled me to this or that +act of insanity. At one moment I thought of hastening after Deechworth, +and, with a revolver in my hand, compelling him to give up the stolen +papers; and I shuddered as to what I should do if he refused. At another, +I determined to follow him, and offer him everything I had in the world +for them; for, all this time, I had worked myself up to the conviction +that he, and he alone, was the thief. Oh, thought I, if I had but the aid +of one of those clever fellows of the detective order, whose skill wants +but the faintest clew to trace out these mysteries! and, suddenly, I +bethought me of Mr. Bracken, whom Deechworth himself had pronounced to be +“one of the Force.” + </p> +<p> +I rung my bell, and desired Mr. Bracken might be sent to me. The messenger +was a long time absent, and came, at last, to say that Mr. Bracken had +left the castle that evening, and taken all his luggage with him. The +tidings struck me like a blow,—here, then, was the thief! And for +what purpose could such a theft have been accomplished? “Tell Mr. +Deechworth I want him,” cried I, being no less eager to make him my +deepest apologies for my false accusation than to consult his strong +common-sense in my difficulty. +</p> +<p> +The servant returned to say Mr. Deechworth had gone too. He had left the +castle almost immediately after our stormy interview, and was already +miles away on his road to the Rhine. +</p> +<p> +In my misery and desolation, in that abandonment to utter terror and +confusion in which, with the drowning instinct, one snatches at straws, I +sent to know if I could speak to Mrs. Dacre, or even her maid. How shall I +describe my horror as I heard that they also were gone! They had left soon +after Mr. Bracken; in fact, the post-horses that took them away had passed +Mr. Bracken at the gate of the park. +</p> +<p> +I know no more how the rest of the night was passed by me, how the hours +were spent till daybreak, than I could recount the incidents of delirium +in fever. I must have had something like a paroxysm of insanity, for I +appear to have rushed from room to room, calling for different people, and +in tones of heart-rending entreaty begging that I might not be deserted. +Towards morning I slept,—slept so soundly that the noises of the +house did not disturb me. It was late in the afternoon when I awoke. The +servant brought me my coffee and my letters; but I bade him leave me, and +fell off to sleep again. In this way, and with only such sustenance as a +cup of milk or coffee would afford, I passed fourteen days, my state +resembling that of a man laboring under concussion of the brain; indeed, +so closely did the symptoms resemble those of this affection, that the +doctor carefully examined my head to see whether I had not incurred some +actual injury. It was five weeks before I could leave my bed, and crawl +down with difficulty to my study. The table was covered with the +accumulated letters of thirty-odd posts, and I turned over the envelopes, +most of which indicated communications from the company. There was also +one in my uncle's hand. This I opened and read. It was in these words:— +</p> +<p> +“So, sir, not satisfied with a life of indolence and dependence, you have +now added infamy to your worthlessness, and have not even spared the +members of your own family the contagion of your vice. If you can give +information as to the present abode of your wretched victim, do so, as the +last amends in your power, and the last act of reparation, before you are +consigned to that jail in which it is to be hoped you will end your days.” + </p> +<p> +I read this till my head reeled. Who were the members of my family I had +contaminated or corrupted? Who was my wretched victim? And why I was to +die in prison I knew not. And the only conclusion I could draw from it all +was that my uncle was hopelessly mad, and ought to be shut up. +</p> +<p> +A strange-looking, coarse-papered document, that till then had escaped my +notice, now caught my eye. It was headed “Court of Probate and Divorce,” + and set forth that on a certain day in term the case of “MacNamara <i>versus</i> +Mac-Namara, Gosslett, co-respondent,” would come on for trial; the action +being to obtain a rule <i>nisi</i> for divorce, with damages against the +co-respondent. +</p> +<p> +A notice of service, duly signed by one of my own people, lay beside this; +so that at last I got a faint glimmering of what my uncle meant, and +clearly descried what was im plied by my “victim.” + </p> +<p> +I believe that most readers of the “Times” or the “Morning Post” could +finish my story; they, at all events, might detail the catastrophe with +more patience and temper than I could. The MacNamara divorce was a +nine-days' scandal. And “if the baseness of the black-hearted iniquity of +the degraded creature who crept into a family as a supplicant that he +might pollute it with dishonor; who tracked his victim, as the Indian +tracks his enemy, from lair to lair,—silent, stealthily, and with +savage intensity,—never faltering from any momentary pang of +conscience, nor hesitating in his vile purpose from any passing gleam of +virtue,—if this wretch, stigmatized by nature with a rotten heart, +and branded by a name that will sound appropriately in the annals of +crime, for he is called Gosslett,”—if all this, and a great deal +more in the same fashion, is not familiar to the reader, it is because he +has not carefully studied the Demosthenic orations of the Court of Arches. +In one word, I was supposed to have engaged the affections and seduced the +heart of Mrs. MacNamara, who was a cousin of my own, and the daughter of +the Rev. W. Dudgeon, in whose house I had been “brought up,” &c. I had +withdrawn her from her husband, and taken her to live with me at Lahneck +under the name of Dacre, where our course of life—openly, fearlessly +infamous—was proved by a host of witnesses; in particular, by a +certain Virginie, maid of the respondent, who deposed to having frequently +found me at her feet, and who confessed to have received costly presents +to seduce her into favoring the cause of the betrayer. Mr. Bracken, a +retired detective, who produced what were called the love-letters, amused +the jury considerably by his account of my mad freaks and love-sick +performances. As for Mrs. MacNamara herself, she entered no appearance to +the suit; and the decree <i>nisi</i> was pronounced, with damages of five +thousand pounds, against Paul Gosslett, who, the counsel declared, was in +“a position to pay handsomely for his vices, and who had ample means to +afford himself the luxury of adultery.” I was told that the mob were +prepared to stone me if I had been seen; and that, such was the popular +excitement about me, a strong police force was obliged to accompany a +red-whiskered gentleman to his house because there was a general +impression abroad that he was Gosslett. +</p> +<p> +Of course I need not say I never ventured back to England; and I indite +this, my last confession, from a small village in Bohemia, where I live in +board—partial board it is—with a very humble family, who, +though not complimentary to me in many things, are profuse in the praises +of my appetite. +</p> +<p> +I rarely see an English newspaper; but a Galignani fell in my way about a +week ago, in which I read the marriage of Mrs. MacNamara with R. St. John, +Esq., the then Secretary of Legation at Rio. This piece of news gave me +much matter of reflection as to my unhappy victim, and has also enabled me +to unseal my lips about the bridegroom, of whom I knew something once +before. +</p> +<p> +The man who is always complaining is the terror of his friends; hence, if +nothing but bad luck attend we, I shall trouble the world no more with my +Confessions; if Fate, however, should be pleased to smile ever so faintly +on me, you shall hear once more from poor Paul Gosslett. +</p> +<p> +THE END. <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Gosslett's Confessions in Love, +Law, and The Civil Service, by Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL GOSSLETT'S CONFESSIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 35145-h.htm or 35145-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/4/35145/ + +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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