diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:30:01 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:30:01 -0700 |
| commit | ce8674647774867dfd4b08d3dd246add819d9b40 (patch) | |
| tree | ef7e6c5b5804ad264fd08d4c3bf4fea58048001b /7639-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '7639-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 7639-h/7639-h.htm | 22099 |
1 files changed, 22099 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/7639-h/7639-h.htm b/7639-h/7639-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0391935 --- /dev/null +++ b/7639-h/7639-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22099 @@ +<?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> + The Disowned, by Edward Bulwer Lytton + </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%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Disowned, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +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: The Disowned, Complete + +Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +Release Date: March 16, 2009 [EBook #7639] +Last Updated: August 23, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DISOWNED, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DISOWNED + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Edward Bulwer Lytton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER LX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER LXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link52"> CHAPTER LXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER LXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0063"> CHAPTER LXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER LXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0065"> CHAPTER LXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link57"> CHAPTER LXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER LXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER LXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0068"> CHAPTER LXX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0069"> CHAPTER LXXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0070"> CHAPTER LXXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0071"> CHAPTER LXXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0072"> CHAPTER LXXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0073"> CHAPTER LXXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0074"> CHAPTER LXXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0075"> CHAPTER LXXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0076"> CHAPTER LXXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0077"> CHAPTER LXXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0078"> CHAPTER LXXX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0079"> CHAPTER LXXXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0080"> CHAPTER LXXXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0081"> CHAPTER LXXXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0082"> CHAPTER LXXXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0083"> CHAPTER LXXXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0084"> CHAPTER LXXXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0085"> CHAPTER LXXXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0086"> CHAPTER LXXXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’ll tell you a story if you please to attend. G. KNIGHT: + Limbo. +</pre> + <p> + It was the evening of a soft, warm day in the May of 17—. The sun + had already set, and the twilight was gathering slowly over the large, + still masses of wood which lay on either side of one of those green lanes + so peculiar to England. Here and there, the outline of the trees + irregularly shrunk back from the road, leaving broad patches of waste land + covered with fern and the yellow blossoms of the dwarf furze, and at more + distant intervals thick clusters of rushes, from which came the small hum + of gnats,—those “evening revellers” alternately rising + and sinking in the customary manner of their unknown sports,—till, + as the shadows grew darker and darker, their thin and airy shapes were no + longer distinguishable, and no solitary token of life or motion broke the + voiceless monotony of the surrounding woods. + </p> + <p> + The first sound which invaded the silence came from the light, quick + footsteps of a person whose youth betrayed itself in its elastic and + unmeasured tread, and in the gay, free carol which broke out by fits and + starts upon the gentle stillness of the evening. + </p> + <p> + There was something rather indicative of poetical taste than musical + science in the selection of this vesper hymn, which always commenced with,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘T is merry, ‘t is merry, in good green wood,” + </pre> + <p> + and never proceeded a syllable further than the end of the second line,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “when birds are about and singing;” + </pre> + <p> + from the last word of which, after a brief pause, it invariably started + forth into joyous “iteration.” + </p> + <p> + Presently a heavier, yet still more rapid, step than that of the youth was + heard behind; and, as it overtook the latter, a loud, clear, good-humoured + voice gave the salutation of the evening. The tone in which this courtesy + was returned was frank, distinct, and peculiarly harmonious. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, my friend. How far is it to W——? I hope I + am not out of the direct road?” + </p> + <p> + “To W——, sir?” said the man, touching his hat, as + he perceived, in spite of the dusk, something in the air and voice of his + new acquaintance which called for a greater degree of respect than he was + at first disposed to accord to a pedestrian traveller,—“to W——, + sir? why, you will not surely go there to-night? it is more than eight + miles distant, and the roads none of the best.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, a curse on all rogues!” quoth the youth, with a serious + sort of vivacity. “Why, the miller at the foot of the hill assured + me I should be at my journey’s end in less than an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have said right, sir,” returned the man, “yet + you will not reach W—— in twice that time.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” said the younger stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that you may for once force a miller to speak truth in spite + of himself, and make a public-house, about three miles hence, the end of + your day’s journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for the hint,” said the youth. “Does the + house you speak of lie on the road-side?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir: the lane branches off about two miles hence, and you must + then turn to the right; but till then our way is the same, and if you + would not prefer your own company to mine we can trudge on together.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” rejoined the younger stranger; “and + not the less willingly from the brisk pace you walk. I thought I had few + equals in pedestrianism; but it should not be for a small wager that I + would undertake to keep up with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, sir,” said the man, laughing, “I’ll have + had in the course of my life a better usage and a longer experience of my + heels than you have.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat startled by a speech of so equivocal a meaning, the youth, for + the first time, turned round to examine, as well as the increasing + darkness would permit, the size and appearance of his companion. He was + not perhaps too well satisfied with his survey. His fellow pedestrian was + about six feet high, and of a corresponding girth of limb and frame, which + would have made him fearful odds in any encounter where bodily strength + was the best means of conquest. Notwithstanding the mildness of the + weather, he was closely buttoned in a rough great-coat, which was well + calculated to give all due effect to the athletic proportions of the + wearer. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause of some moments. + </p> + <p> + “This is but a wild, savage sort of scene for England, sir, in this + day of new-fashioned ploughs and farming improvements,” said the + tall stranger, looking round at the ragged wastes and grim woods, which + lay steeped in the shade beside and before them. + </p> + <p> + “True,” answered the youth; “and in a few years + agricultural innovation will scarcely leave, even in these wastes, a + single furze-blossom for the bee or a tuft of green-sward for the + grasshopper; but, however unpleasant the change may be for us + foot-travellers, we must not repine at what they tell us is so sure a + witness of the prosperity of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “They tell us! who tell us?” exclaimed the stranger, with + great vivacity. “Is it the puny and spiritless artisan, or the + debased and crippled slave of the counter and the till, or the sallow + speculator on morals, who would mete us out our liberty, our happiness, + our very feelings by the yard and inch and fraction? No, no, let them + follow what the books and precepts of their own wisdom teach them; let + them cultivate more highly the lands they have already parcelled out by + dikes and fences, and leave, though at scanty intervals, some green + patches of unpolluted land for the poor man’s beast and the free man’s + foot.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an enthusiast on this subject,” said the younger + traveller, not a little surprised at the tone and words of the last + speech; “and if I were not just about to commence the world with a + firm persuasion that enthusiasm on any matter is a great obstacle to + success, I could be as warm though not so eloquent as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir,” said the stranger, sinking into a more natural and + careless tone, “I have a better right than I imagine you can claim + to repine or even to inveigh against the boundaries which are, day by day + and hour by hour, encroaching upon what I have learned to look upon as my + own territory. You were, just before I joined you, singing an old song; I + honour you for your taste: and no offence, sir, but a sort of fellowship + in feeling made me take the liberty to accost you. I am no very great + scholar in other things; but I owe my present circumstances of life solely + to my fondness for those old songs and quaint madrigals. And I believe no + person can better apply to himself Will Shakspeare’s invitation,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Under the greenwood tree + Who loves to lie with me, + And tune his merry note + Unto the sweet bird’s throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither, + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather.’” + </pre> + <p> + Relieved from his former fear, but with increased curiosity at this + quotation, which was half said, half sung, in a tone which seemed to + evince a hearty relish for the sense of the words, the youth replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Truly, I did not expect to meet among the travellers of this wild + country with so well-stored a memory. And, indeed, I should have imagined + that the only persons to whom your verses could exactly have applied were + those honourable vagrants from the Nile whom in vulgar language we term + gypsies.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so, sir,” answered the tall stranger, + indifferently; “precisely so. It is to that ancient body that I + belong.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil you do!” quoth the youth, in unsophisticated + surprise; “the progress of education is indeed astonishing!” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered the stranger, laughing, “to tell you the + truth, sir, I am a gypsy by inclination, not birth. The illustrious + Bamfylde Moore Carew is not the only example of one of gentle blood and + honourable education whom the fleshpots of Egypt have seduced.” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate myself,” quoth the youth, in a tone that might + have been in jest, “upon becoming acquainted with a character at + once so respectable and so novel; and, to return your quotation in the way + of a compliment, I cry out with the most fashionable author of Elizabeth’s + days,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O for a bowl of fat Canary, + Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry,’ +</pre> + <p> + in order to drink to our better acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,—thank you,” cried the strange gypsy, + seemingly delighted with the spirit with which his young acquaintance + appeared to enter into his character, and his quotation from a class of + authors at that time much less known and appreciated than at present; + “and if you have seen already enough of the world to take up with + ale when neither Canary, Palermo, nor Sherry are forthcoming, I will + promise, at least, to pledge you in large draughts of that homely + beverage. What say you to passing a night with us? our tents are yet more + at hand than the public-house of which I spoke to you.” The young + man hesitated a moment, then replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I will answer you frankly, my friend, even though I may find cause + to repent my confidence. I have a few guineas about me, which, though not + a large sum, are my all. Now, however ancient and honourable your + fraternity may be, they labour under a sad confusion, I fear, in their + ideas of meum and tuum.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, I believe you are right; and were you some years older, + I think you would not have favoured me with the same disclosure you have + done now; but you may be quite easy on that score. If you were made of + gold, the rascals would not filch off the corner of your garment as long + as you were under my protection. Does this assurance satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” said the youth; “and now how far are we + from your encampment? I assure you I am all eagerness to be among a set of + which I have witnessed such a specimen.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” returned the gypsy, “you must not judge of + all my brethren by me: I confess that they are but a rough tribe. However, + I love them dearly; and am only the more inclined to think them honest to + each other, because they are rogues to all the rest of the world.” + </p> + <p> + By this time our travellers had advanced nearly two miles since they had + commenced companionship; and at a turn in the lane, about three hundred + yards farther on, they caught a glimpse of a distant fire burning brightly + through the dim trees. They quickened their pace, and striking a little + out of their path into a common, soon approached two tents, the Arab homes + of the vagrant and singular people with whom the gypsy claimed brotherhood + and alliance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here we securely live and eat + The cream of meat; + And keep eternal fires + By which we sit and do divine. + HERRICK: Ode to Sir Clipseby Crew. +</pre> + <p> + Around a fire which blazed and crackled beneath the large seething-pot, + that seemed an emblem of the mystery and a promise of the good cheer which + are the supposed characteristics of the gypsy race, were grouped seven or + eight persons, upon whose swarthy and strong countenances the irregular + and fitful flame cast a picturesque and not unbecoming glow. All of these, + with the exception of an old crone who was tending the pot, and a little + boy who was feeding the fire with sundry fragments of stolen wood, started + to their feet upon the entrance of the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “What ho! my bob cuffins,” cried the gypsy guide, “I + have brought you a gentry cove, to whom you will show all proper respect: + and hark ye, my maunders, if ye dare beg, borrow, or steal a single + croker,—ay, but a bawbee of him, I’ll—but ye know me.” + The gypsy stopped abruptly, and turned an eye, in which menace vainly + struggled with good-humour, upon each of his brethren, as they + submissively bowed to him and his protege, and poured forth a profusion of + promises, to which their admonitor did not even condescend to listen. He + threw off his great-coat, doubled it down by the best place near the fire, + and made the youth forthwith possess himself of the seat it afforded. He + then lifted the cover of the mysterious caldron. “Well, Mort,” + cried he to the old woman, as he bent wistfully down, “what have we + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Two ducks, three chickens, and a rabbit, with some potatoes,” + growled the old hag, who claimed the usual privilege of her culinary + office, to be as ill-tempered as she pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the gypsy; “and now, Mim, my cull, go to + the other tent, and ask its inhabitants, in my name, to come here and sup; + bid them bring their caldron to eke out ours: I’ll find the lush.” + </p> + <p> + With these words (which Mim, a short, swarthy member of the gang, with a + countenance too astute to be pleasing, instantly started forth to obey) + the gypsy stretched himself at full length by the youth’s side, and + began reminding him, with some jocularity and at some length, of his + promise to drink to their better acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + Something there was in the scene, the fire, the caldron, the intent figure + and withered countenance of the old woman, the grouping of the other + forms, the rude but not unpicturesque tent, the dark still woods on either + side, with the deep and cloudless skies above, as the stars broke forth + one by one upon the silent air, which (to use the orthodox phrase of the + novelist) would not have been wholly unworthy the bold pencil of Salvator + himself. + </p> + <p> + The youth eyed, with that involuntary respect which personal advantages + always command, the large yet symmetrical proportions of his wild + companion; nor was the face which belonged to that frame much less + deserving of attention. Though not handsome, it was both shrewd and + prepossessing in its expression; the forehead was prominent, the brows + overhung the eyes, which were large, dark, and, unlike those of the tribe + in general, rather calm than brilliant; the complexion, though sun-burnt, + was not swarthy, and the face was carefully and cleanly shaved, so as to + give all due advantage of contrast to the brown luxuriant locks which fell + rather in flakes than curls, on either side of the healthful and manly + cheeks. In age, he was about thirty-five, and, though his air and mien + were assuredly not lofty nor aristocratic, yet they were strikingly above + the bearing of his vagabond companions: those companions were in all + respects of the ordinary race of gypsies; the cunning and flashing eye, + the raven locks, the dazzling teeth, the bronzed colour, and the low, + slight, active form, were as strongly their distinguishing characteristics + as the tokens of all their tribe. + </p> + <p> + But to these, the appearance of the youth presented a striking and + beautiful contrast. + </p> + <p> + He had only just passed the stage of boyhood, perhaps he might have seen + eighteen summers, probably not so many. He had, in imitation of his + companion, and perhaps from mistaken courtesy to his new society, doffed + his hat; and the attitude which he had chosen fully developed the noble + and intellectual turn of his head and throat. His hair, as yet preserved + from the disfiguring fashions of the day, was of a deep auburn, which was + rapidly becoming of a more chestnut hue, and curled in short close curls + from the nape of the neck to the commencement of a forehead singularly + white and high. His brows finely and lightly pencilled, and his long + lashes of the darkest dye, gave a deeper and perhaps softer shade than + they otherwise would have worn to eyes quick and observant in their + expression and of a light hazel in their colour. His cheek was very fair, + and the red light of the fire cast an artificial tint of increased glow + upon a complexion that had naturally rather bloom than colour; while a + dark riding frock set off in their full beauty the fine outline of his + chest and the slender symmetry of his frame. + </p> + <p> + But it was neither his features nor his form, eminently handsome as they + were, which gave the principal charm to the young stranger’s + appearance: it was the strikingly bold, buoyant, frank, and almost joyous + expression which presided over all. There seemed to dwell the first glow + and life of youth, undimmed by a single fear and unbaffled in a single + hope. There were the elastic spring, the inexhaustible wealth of energies + which defied in their exulting pride the heaviness of sorrow and the + harassments of time. It was a face that, while it filled you with some + melancholy foreboding of the changes and chances which must, in the + inevitable course of fate, cloud the openness of the unwrinkled brow, and + soberize the fire of the daring and restless eye, instilled also within + you some assurance of triumph, and some omen of success,—a vague but + powerful sympathy with the adventurous and cheerful spirit which appeared + literally to speak in its expression. It was a face you might imagine in + one born under a prosperous star; and you felt, as you gazed, a confidence + in that bright countenance, which, like the shield of the British Prince, + [Prince Arthur.—See “The Faerie Queene.”] seemed + possessed with a spell to charm into impotence the evil spirits who + menaced its possessor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said his friend, the gypsy, who had in his turn + been surveying with admiration the sinewy and agile frame of his young + guest, “well, sir, how fares your appetite? Old Dame Bingo will be + mortally offended if you do not do ample justice to her good cheer.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” answered our traveller, who, young as he was, had + learnt already the grand secret of making in every situation a female + friend, “if so, I shall be likely to offend her still more.” + </p> + <p> + “And how, my pretty master?” said the old crone with an iron + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I shall be bold enough to reconcile matters with a kiss, Mrs. + Bingo,” answered the youth. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Ha!” shouted the tall gypsy; “it is many a long day + since my old Mort slapped a gallant’s face for such an affront. But + here come our messmates. Good evening, my mumpers; make your bows to this + gentleman who has come to bowse with us to-night. ‘Gad, we’ll + show him that old ale’s none the worse for keeping company with the + moon’s darlings. Come, sit down, sit down. Where’s the cloth, + ye ill-mannered loons, and the knives and platters? Have we no holiday + customs for strangers, think ye? Mim, my cove, off to my caravan; bring + out the knives, and all other rattletraps; and harkye, my cuffin, this + small key opens the inner hole, where you will find two barrels; bring one + of them. I’ll warrant it of the best, for the brewer himself drank + some of the same sort but two hours before I nimm’d them. Come, + stump, my cull, make yourself wings. Ho, Dame Bingo, is not that pot of + thine seething yet? Ah, my young gentleman, you commence betimes; so much + the better; if love’s a summer’s day, we all know how early a + summer morning begins,” added the jovial Egyptian in a lower voice + (feeling perhaps that he was only understood by himself), as he gazed + complacently on the youth, who, with that happy facility of making himself + everywhere at home so uncommon to his countrymen, was already paying + compliments suited to their understanding to two fair daughters of the + tribe who had entered with the new-comers. Yet had he too much craft or + delicacy, call it which you will, to continue his addresses to that limit + where ridicule or jealousy from the male part of the assemblage might + commence; on the contrary, he soon turned to the men, and addressed them + with a familiarity so frank and so suited to their taste that he grew no + less rapidly in their favour than he had already done in that of the + women, and when the contents of the two caldrons were at length set upon + the coarse but clean cloth which in honour of his arrival covered the sod, + it was in the midst of a loud and universal peal of laughter which some + broad witticism of the young stranger had produced that the party sat down + to their repast. + </p> + <p> + Bright were the eyes and sleek the tresses of the damsel who placed + herself by the side of the stranger, and many were the alluring glances + and insinuated compliments which replied to his open admiration and + profuse flattery; but still there was nothing exclusive in his attentions; + perhaps an ignorance of the customs of his entertainers, and a consequent + discreet fear of offending them, restrained him; or perhaps he found ample + food for occupation in the plentiful dainties which his host heaped before + him. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me,” said the gypsy chief (for chief he appeared to + be), “if we lead not a merrier life than you dreamt of? or would you + have us change our coarse fare and our simple tents, our vigorous limbs + and free hearts, for the meagre board, the monotonous chamber, the + diseased frame, and the toiling, careful, and withered spirit of some + miserable mechanic?” + </p> + <p> + “Change!” cried the youth, with an earnestness which, if + affected, was an exquisite counterfeit, “by Heaven, I would change + with you myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, my fine cove!” cried the host, and all the gang echoed + their sympathy with his applause. + </p> + <p> + The youth continued: “Meat, and that plentiful; ale, and that + strong; women, and those pretty ones: what can man desire more?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” cried the host, “and all for nothing,—no, + not even a tax; who else in this kingdom can say that? Come, Mim, push + round the ale.” + </p> + <p> + And the ale was pushed round, and if coarse the merriment, loud at least + was the laugh that rang ever and anon from the old tent; and though, at + moments, something in the guest’s eye and lip might have seemed, to + a very shrewd observer, a little wandering and absent, yet, upon the + whole, he was almost as much at ease as the rest, and if he was not quite + as talkative he was to the full as noisy. + </p> + <p> + By degrees, as the hour grew later and the barrel less heavy, the + conversation changed into one universal clatter. Some told their feats in + beggary; others, their achievements in theft; not a viand they had fed on + but had its appropriate legend; even the old rabbit, which had been as + tough as old rabbit can well be, had not been honestly taken from his + burrow; no less a person than Mim himself had purloined it from a widow’s + footman who was carrying it to an old maid from her nephew the Squire. + </p> + <p> + “Silence,” cried the host, who loved talking as well as the + rest, and who for the last ten minutes had been vainly endeavouring to + obtain attention. “Silence! my maunders, it’s late, and we + shall have the queer cuffins [magistrates] upon us if we keep it up much + longer. What, ho, Mim, are you still gabbling at the foot of the table + when your betters are talking? As sure as my name’s King Cole, I’ll + choke you with your own rabbit skin, if you don’t hush your prating + cheat,—nay, never look so abashed: if you will make a noise, come + forward, and sing us a gypsy song. You see, my young sir,” turning + to his guest, “that we are not without our pretensions to the fine + arts.” + </p> + <p> + At this order, Mim started forth, and taking his station at the right hand + of the soi-disant King Cole, began the following song, the chorus of which + was chanted in full diapason by the whole group, with the additional force + of emphasis that knives, feet, and fists could bestow:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE GYPSY’S SONG. + + The king to his hall, and the steed to his stall, + And the cit to his bilking board; + But we are not bound to an acre of ground, + For our home is the houseless sward. + We sow not, nor toil; yet we glean from the soil + As much as its reapers do; + And wherever we rove, we feed on the cove + Who gibes at the mumping crew. + CHORUS.—So the king to his hall, etc. + + We care not a straw for the limbs of the law, + Nor a fig for the cuffin queer; + While Hodge and his neighbour shall lavish and labour, + Our tent is as sure of its cheer. + CHORUS.—So the king to his hall, etc. + + The worst have an awe of the harman’s [constable] claw, + And the best will avoid the trap; [bailiff] + But our wealth is as free of the bailiff’s see + As our necks of the twisting crap. [gallows] + CHORUS.—So the king to his hall, etc. + + They say it is sweet to win the meat + For the which one has sorely wrought; + But I never could find that we lacked the mind + For the food that has cost us nought! + CHRUS.—So the king to his hall, etc. + + And when we have ceased from our fearless feast + Why, our jigger [door] will need no bars; + Our sentry shall be on the owlet’s tree, + And our lamps the glorious stars. + + CHORUS. + So the king to his hall, and the steed to his stall, + And the cit to his bilking board; + But we are not bound to an acre of ground, + For our home is the houseless sward. +</pre> + <p> + Rude as was this lawless stave, the spirit with which it was sung atoned + to the young stranger for its obscurity and quaintness; as for his host, + that curious personage took a lusty and prominent part in the chorus; nor + did the old woods refuse their share of the burden, but sent back a merry + echo to the chief’s deep voice and the harsher notes of his jovial + brethren. + </p> + <p> + When the glee had ceased, King Cole rose, the whole band followed his + example, the cloth was cleared in a trice, the barrel—oh! what a + falling off was there!—was rolled into a corner of the tent, and the + crew to whom the awning belonged began to settle themselves to rest; while + those who owned the other encampment marched forth, with King Cole at + their head. Leaning with no light weight upon his guest’s arm, the + lover of ancient minstrelsy poured into the youth’s ear a strain of + eulogy, rather eloquent than coherent, upon the scene they had just + witnessed. + </p> + <p> + “What,” cried his majesty in an enthusiastic tone, “what + can be so truly regal as our state? Can any man control us? Are we not + above all laws? Are we not the most despotic of kings? Nay, more than the + kings of earth, are we not the kings of Fairyland itself? Do we not + realize the golden dreams of the old rhymers, luxurious dogs that they + were? Who would not cry out,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Blest silent groves! Oh, may ye be + Forever Mirth’s best nursery! + May pure Contents + Forever pitch their tents + Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains.’” + </pre> + <p> + Uttering this notable extract from the thrice-honoured Sir Henry Wotton, + King Cole turned abruptly from the common, entered the wood which skirted + it, and, only attended by his guest and his minister Mim, came suddenly, + by an unexpected and picturesque opening in the trees, upon one of those + itinerant vehicles termed caravans, he ascended the few steps which led to + the entrance, opened the door, and was instantly in the arms of a pretty + and young woman. On seeing our hero (for such we fear the youth is likely + to become), she drew back with a blush not often found upon regal cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh,” said King Cole, half tauntingly, half fondly, “pooh, + Lucy, blushes are garden flowers, and ought never to be found wild in the + woods:” then changing his tone, he said, “come, put some fresh + straw in the corner, this stranger honours our palace to-night; Mim, + unload thyself of our royal treasures; watch without and vanish from + within!” + </p> + <p> + Depositing on his majesty’s floor the appurtenances of the regal + supper-table, Mim made his respectful adieus and disappeared; meanwhile + the queen scattered some fresh straw over a mattress in the narrow + chamber, and, laying over all a sheet of singularly snowy hue, made her + guest some apology for the badness of his lodging; this King Cole + interrupted by a most elaborately noisy yawn and a declaration of extreme + sleepiness. “Now, Lucy, let us leave the gentleman to what he will + like better than soft words even from a queen. Good night, sir, we shall + be stirring at daybreak;” and with this farewell King Cole took the + lady’s arm, and retired with her into an inner compartment of the + caravan. + </p> + <p> + Left to himself, our hero looked round with surprise at the exceeding + neatness which reigned over the whole apartment. But what chiefly + engrossed the attention of one to whose early habits books had always been + treasures were several volumes, ranged in comely shelves, fenced with + wirework, on either side of the fireplace. “Courage,” thought + he, as he stretched himself on his humble couch, “my adventures have + commenced well: a gypsy tent, to be sure, is nothing very new; but a gypsy + who quotes poetry, and enjoys a modest wife, speaks better than books do + for the improvement of the world!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hath not old custom made this life more sweet + Than that of painted pomp?—As You Like It. +</pre> + <p> + The sun broke cheerfully through the small lattice of the caravan, as the + youth opened his eyes and saw the good-humoured countenance of his gypsy + host bending over him complacently. + </p> + <p> + “You slept so soundly, sir, that I did not like to disturb you; but + my good wife only waits your rising to have all ready for breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “It were a thousand pities,” cried the guest, leaping from his + bed, “that so pretty a face should look cross on my account, so I + will not keep her waiting an instant.” + </p> + <p> + The gypsy smiled, as he answered, “I require no professional help + from the devil, sir, to foretell your fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “No!—and what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Honour, reputation, success: all that are ever won by a soft + tongue, if it be backed by a bold heart.” + </p> + <p> + Bright and keen was the flash which shot over the countenance of the one + for whom this prediction was made, as he listened to it with a fondness + for which his reason rebuked him. + </p> + <p> + He turned aside with a sigh, which did not escape the gypsy, and bathed + his face in the water which the provident hand of the good woman had set + out for his lavations. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said his host, when the youth had finished his brief + toilet, “suppose we breathe the fresh air, while Lucy smooths your + bed and prepares the breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” replied the youth, and they descended the + steps which led into the wood. It was a beautiful, fresh morning; the air + was like a draught from a Spirit’s fountain, and filled the heart + with new youth and the blood with a rapturous delight; the leaves—the + green, green leaves of spring—were quivering on the trees, among + which the happy birds fluttered and breathed the gladness of their souls + in song. While the dewdrops that— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “strewed + A baptism o’er the flowers”— +</pre> + <p> + gave back in their million mirrors the reflected smiles of the cloudless + and rejoicing sun. + </p> + <p> + “Nature,” said the gypsy, “has bestowed on her children + a gorgeous present in such a morning.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the youth; “and you, of us two, perhaps + only deserve it; as for me, when I think of the long road of dust, heat, + and toil, that lies before me, I could almost wish to stop here and ask an + admission into the gypsy’s tents.” + </p> + <p> + “You could not do a wiser thing!” said the gypsy, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “But fate leaves me no choice,” continued the youth, as + seriously as if he were in earnest; “and I must quit you immediately + after I have a second time tasted of your hospitable fare.” + </p> + <p> + “If it must be so,” answered the gypsy, “I will see you, + at least, a mile or two on your road.” The youth thanked him for a + promise which his curiosity made acceptable, and they turned once more to + the caravan. + </p> + <p> + The meal, however obtained, met with as much honour as it could possibly + have received from the farmer from whom its materials were borrowed. + </p> + <p> + It was not without complacency that the worthy pair beheld the notice + their guest lavished upon a fair, curly-headed boy of about three years + old, the sole child and idol of the gypsy potentates. But they did not + perceive, when the youth rose to depart, that he slipped into the folds of + the child’s dress a ring of some value, the only one he possessed. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said he, after having thanked his entertainers for + their hospitality, “I must say good-by to your flock, and set out + upon my day’s journey.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy, despite her bashfulness, shook hands with her handsome guest; and + the latter, accompanied by the gypsy chief, strolled down to the + encampments. + </p> + <p> + Open and free was his parting farewell to the inmates of the two tents, + and liberal was the hand which showered upon all—especially on the + damsel who had been his Thais of the evening feast—the silver coins + which made no inconsiderable portion of his present property. + </p> + <p> + It was amidst the oracular wishes and favourable predictions of the whole + crew that he recommenced his journey with the gypsy chief. + </p> + <p> + When the tents were fairly out of sight, and not till then, King Cole + broke the silence which had as yet subsisted between them. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, my young gentleman, that you expect to meet some of your + friends or relations at W——? I know not what they will say + when they hear where you have spent the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said the youth; “whoever hears my adventures, + relation or not, will be delighted with my description; but in sober + earnest, I expect to find no one at W—— more my friend than a + surly innkeeper, unless it be his dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they surely do not suffer a stripling of your youth and + evident quality to wander alone!” cried King Cole, in undisguised + surprise. + </p> + <p> + The young traveller made no prompt answer, but bent down as if to pluck a + wild-flower which grew by the road-side: after a pause, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Master Cole, you must not set me the example of playing the + inquisitor, or you cannot guess how troublesome I shall be. To tell you + the truth, I am dying with curiosity to know something more about you than + you may be disposed to tell me: you have already confessed that, however + boon companions your gypsies may be, it is not among gypsies that you were + born and bred.” + </p> + <p> + King Cole laughed: perhaps he was not ill pleased by the curiosity of his + guest, nor by the opportunity it afforded him of being his own hero. + </p> + <p> + “My story, sir,” said he, “would be soon told, if you + thought it worth the hearing, nor does it contain anything which should + prevent my telling it.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” quoth the youth, “I shall conceive your + satisfying my request a still greater favour than those you have already + bestowed upon me.” + </p> + <p> + The gypsy relaxed his pace into an indolent saunter, as he commenced:— + </p> + <p> + “The first scene that I remember was similar to that which you + witnessed last night. The savage tent, and the green moor; the fagot + blaze; the eternal pot, with its hissing note of preparation; the old dame + who tended it, and the ragged urchins who learned from its contents the + first reward of theft and the earliest temptation to it,—all these + are blended into agreeable confusion as the primal impressions of my + childhood. The woman who nurtured me as my mother was rather capricious + than kind, and my infancy passed away, like that of more favoured scions + of fortune, in alternate chastisement and caresses. In good truth, + Kinching Meg had the shrillest voice and the heaviest hand of the whole + crew; and I cannot complain of injustice, since she treated me no worse + than the rest. Notwithstanding the irregularity of my education, I grew up + strong and healthy, and my reputed mother had taught me so much fear for + herself that she left me none for anything else; accordingly, I became + bold, reckless, and adventurous, and at the age of thirteen was as + thorough a reprobate as the tribe could desire. At that time a singular + change befell me: we (that is, my mother and myself) were begging not many + miles hence at the door of a rich man’s house in which the mistress + lay on her death-bed. That mistress was my real mother, from whom Meg had + stolen me in the first year of existence. Whether it was through the fear + of conscience or the hope of reward, no sooner had Meg learnt the + dangerous state of my poor mother, the constant grief, which they said had + been the sole though slow cause of her disease, and the large sums which + had been repeatedly offered for my recovery; no sooner, I say, did Meg + ascertain all these particulars than she fought her way up to the + sick-chamber, fell on her knees before the bed, owned her crime, and + produced myself. Various little proofs of time, place, circumstance; the + clothing I had worn when stolen, and which was still preserved, joined to + the striking likeness I bore to both my parents, especially to my father, + silenced all doubt and incredulity: I was welcomed home with a joy which + it is in vain to describe. My return seemed to recall my mother from the + grave; she lingered on for many months longer than her physicians thought + it possible, and when she died her last words commended me to my father’s + protection.” + </p> + <p> + “My surviving parent needed no such request. He lavished upon me all + that superfluity of fondness and food of which those good people who are + resolved to spoil their children are so prodigal. He could not bear the + idea of sending me to school; accordingly he took a tutor for me,—a + simple-hearted, gentle, kind man, who possessed a vast store of learning + rather curious than useful. He was a tolerable, and at least an + enthusiastic antiquarian, a more than tolerable poetaster; and he had a + prodigious budget full of old ballads and songs, which he loved better to + teach and I to learn, than all the ‘Latin, Greek, geography, + astronomy, and the use of the globes,’ which my poor father had so + sedulously bargained for.” + </p> + <p> + “Accordingly, I became exceedingly well-informed in all the ‘precious + conceits’ and ‘golden garlands’ of our British ancients, + and continued exceedingly ignorant of everything else, save and except a + few of the most fashionable novels of the day, and the contents of six + lying volumes of voyages and travels, which flattered both my appetite for + the wonderful and my love of the adventurous. My studies, such as they + were, were not by any means suited to curb or direct the vagrant tastes my + childhood had acquired: on the contrary, the old poets, with their + luxurious description of the ‘green wood’ and the forest life; + the fashionable novelists, with their spirited accounts of the wanderings + of some fortunate rogue, and the ingenious travellers, with their wild + fables, so dear to the imagination of every boy, only fomented within me a + strong though secret regret at my change of life, and a restless disgust + to the tame home and bounded roamings to which I was condemned. When I was + about seventeen, my father sold his property (which he had become + possessed of in right of my mother), and transferred the purchase money to + the security of the Funds. Shortly afterwards he died; the bulk of his + fortune became mine; the remainder was settled upon a sister, many years + older than myself, whom, in consequence of her marriage and residence in a + remote part of Wales, I had never yet seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, I was perfectly free and unfettered; my guardian lived + in Scotland, and left me entirely to the guidance of my tutor, who was + both too simple and too indolent to resist my inclinations. I went to + London, became acquainted with a set of most royal scamps, frequented the + theatres and the taverns, the various resorts which constitute the + gayeties of a blood just above the middle class, and was one of the + noisiest and wildest ‘blades’ that ever heard the ‘chimes + by midnight’ and the magistrate’s lecture for matins. I was a + sort of leader among the jolly dogs I consorted with.” + </p> + <p> + “My earlier education gave a raciness and nature to my delineations + of ‘life’ which delighted them. But somehow or other I grew + wearied of this sort of existence. About a year after I was of age my + fortune was more than three parts spent; I fell ill with drinking and grew + dull with remorse: need I add that my comrades left me to myself? A fit of + the spleen, especially if accompanied with duns, makes one wofully + misanthropic; so, when I recovered from my illness, I set out on a tour + through Great Britain and France,—alone, and principally on foot. + Oh, the rapture of shaking off the half friends and cold formalities of + society and finding oneself all unfettered, with no companion but Nature, + no guide but youth, and no flatterer but hope!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my young friend, I travelled for two years, and saw even in + that short time enough of this busy world to weary and disgust me with its + ordinary customs. I was not made to be polite, still less to be ambitious. + I sighed after the coarse comrades and the free tents of my first + associates; and a thousand remembrances of the gypsy wanderings, steeped + in all the green and exhilarating colours of childhood, perpetually + haunted my mind. On my return from my wanderings I found a letter from my + sister, who, having become a widow, had left Wales, and had now fixed her + residence in a well visited watering-place in the west of England. I had + never yet seen her, and her letter was a fine-ladylike sort of epistle, + with a great deal of romance and a very little sense, written in an + extremely pretty hand, and ending with a quotation from Pope (I never + could endure Pope, nor indeed any of the poets of the days of Anne and her + successors). It was a beautiful season of the year: I had been inured to + pedestrian excursions; so I set off on foot to see my nearest surviving + relative. On the way, I fell in (though on a very different spot) with the + very encampment you saw last night. By heavens, that was a merry meeting + to me! I joined, and journeyed with them for several days: never do I + remember a happier time. Then, after many years of bondage and stiffness, + and accordance with the world, I found myself at ease, like a released + bird; with what zest did I join in the rude jokes and the knavish tricks, + the stolen feasts and the roofless nights of those careless vagabonds!” + </p> + <p> + “I left my fellow-travellers at the entrance of the town where my + sister lived. Now came the contrast. Somewhat hot, rather coarsely clad, + and covered with the dust of a long summer’s day, I was ushered into + a little drawing-room, eighteen feet by twelve, as I was afterwards + somewhat pompously informed. A flaunting carpet, green, red, and yellow, + covered the floor. A full-length picture of a thin woman, looking most + agreeably ill-tempered, stared down at me from the chimney-piece; three + stuffed birds—how emblematic of domestic life!—stood stiff and + imprisoned, even after death, in a glass cage. A fire-screen and a bright + fireplace; chairs covered with holland, to preserve them from the + atmosphere; and long mirrors, wrapped as to the frame-work in yellow + muslin, to keep off the flies,—finish the panorama of this + watering-place mansion. The door opened, silks rustled, a voice shrieked + ‘My Brother!’ and a figure, a thin figure, the original of the + picture over the chimney-piece, rushed in.” + </p> + <p> + “I can well fancy her joy,” said the youth. + </p> + <p> + “You can do no such thing, begging your pardon, sir,” resumed + King Cole. “She had no joy at all: she was exceedingly surprised and + disappointed. In spite of my early adventures, I had nothing picturesque + or romantic about me at all. I was very thirsty, and I called for beer; I + was very tired, and I lay down on the sofa; I wore thick shoes and small + buckles; and my clothes were made God knows where, and were certainly put + on God knows how. My sister was miserably ashamed of me: she had not even + the manners to disguise it. In a higher rank of life than that which she + held she would have suffered far less mortification; for I fancy great + people pay but little real attention to externals. Even if a man of rank + is vulgar, it makes no difference in the orbit in which he moves: but your + ‘genteel gentlewomen’ are so terribly dependent upon what Mrs. + Tomkins will say; so very uneasy about their relations and the opinion + they are held in; and, above all, so made up of appearances and clothes; + so undone if they do not eat, drink, and talk a la mode,—that I can + fancy no shame like that of my poor sister at having found, and being + found with, a vulgar brother.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw how unwelcome I was and I did not punish myself by a long + visit. I left her house and returned towards London. On my road, I again + met with my gypsy friends: the warmth of their welcome enchanted me; you + may guess the rest. I stayed with them so long that I could not bear to + leave them; I re-entered their crew: I am one among them. Not that I have + become altogether and solely of the tribe: I still leave them whenever the + whim seizes me, and repair to the great cities and thoroughfares of man. + There I am soon driven back again to my favourite and fresh fields, as a + reed upon a wild stream is dashed back upon the green rushes from which it + has been torn. You perceive that I have many comforts and distinctions + above the rest; for, alas, sir, there is no society, however free and + democratic, where wealth will not create an aristocracy; the remnant of my + fortune provides me with my unostentatious equipage and the few luxuries + it contains; it repays secretly to the poor what my fellow-vagrants + occasionally filch from them; it allows me to curb among the crew all the + grosser and heavier offences against the law to which want might otherwise + compel them; and it serves to keep up that sway and ascendency which my + superior education and fluent spirits enabled me at first to attain. + Though not legally their king, I assume that title over the few + encampments with which I am accustomed to travel; and you perceive that I + have given my simple name both to the jocular and kingly dignity of which + the old song will often remind you. My story is done.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” said his companion: “your wife? How came + you by that blessing?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! thereby hangs a pretty and a love-sick tale, which would not + stand ill in an ancient ballad; but I will content myself with briefly + sketching it. Lucy is the daughter of a gentleman farmer: about four years + ago I fell in love with her. I wooed her clandestinely, and at last I + owned I was a gypsy: I did not add my birth nor fortune; no, I was full of + the romance of the Nut-brown Maid’s lover, and attempted a trial of + woman’s affection, which even in these days was not disappointed. + Still her father would not consent to our marriage, till very luckily + things went bad with him; corn, crops, cattle,—the deuce was in them + all; an execution was in his house, and a writ out against his person. I + settled these matters for him, and in return received a father-in-law’s + blessing, and we are now the best friends in the world. Poor Lucy is + perfectly reconciled to her caravan and her wandering husband, and has + never, I believe, once repented the day on which she became the gypsy’s + wife!” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you heartily for your history,” said the youth, who + had listened very attentively to this detail; “and though my + happiness and pursuits are centred in that world which you despise, yet I + confess that I feel a sensation very like envy at your singular choice; + and I would not dare to ask of my heart whether that choice is not + happier, as it is certainly more philosophical, than mine.” + </p> + <p> + They had now reached a part of the road where the country assumed a + totally different character; the woods and moors were no longer visible, + but a broad and somewhat bleak extent of country lay before them. Here and + there only a few solitary trees broke the uniformity of the wide fields + and scanty hedgerows, and at distant intervals the thin spires of the + scattered churches rose, like the prayers of which they were the symbols, + to mingle themselves with heaven. + </p> + <p> + The gypsy paused: “I will accompany you,” said he, “no + farther; your way lies straight onwards, and you will reach W—— + before noon; farewell, and may God watch over you!” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” said the youth, warmly pressing the hand which was + extended to him. “If we ever meet again, it will probably solve a + curious riddle; namely, whether you are not disgusted with the caravan and + I with the world!” + </p> + <p> + “The latter is more likely than the former,” said the gypsy, + for one stands a much greater chance of being disgusted with others than + with one’s self; so changing a little the old lines, I will wish you + adieu after my own fashion, namely, in verse,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Go, set thy heart on winged wealth, + Or unto honour’s towers aspire; + But give me freedom and my health, + And there’s the sum of my desire!’” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The letter, madam; have you none for me?—The Rendezvous. + Provide surgeons.—Lover’s Progress. +</pre> + <p> + Our solitary traveller pursued his way with the light step and gay spirits + of youth and health. + </p> + <p> + “Turn gypsy, indeed!” he said, talking to himself; “there + is something better in store for me than that. Ay, I have all the world + before me where to choose—not my place of rest. No, many a long year + will pass away ere any place of rest will be my choice! I wonder whether I + shall find the letter at W——; the letter, the last letter I + shall ever have from home but it is no home to me now; and I—I, + insulted, reviled, trampled upon, without even a name—well, well, I + will earn a still fairer one than that of my forefathers. They shall be + proud to own me yet.” And with these words the speaker broke off + abruptly, with a swelling chest and a flashing eye; and as, an unknown and + friendless adventurer, he gazed on the expanded and silent country around + him, he felt like Castruccio Castrucani that he could stretch his hands to + the east and to the west and exclaim, “Oh, that my power kept pace + with my spirit, then should it grasp the corners of the earth!” + </p> + <p> + The road wound at last from the champaign country, through which it had + for some miles extended itself, into a narrow lane, girded on either side + by a dead fence. As the youth entered this lane, he was somewhat startled + by the abrupt appearance of a horseman, whose steed leaped the hedge so + close to our hero as almost to endanger his safety. The rider, a gentleman + of about five-and-twenty, pulled up, and in a tone of great courtesy + apologized for his inadvertency; the apology was readily admitted, and the + horseman rode onwards in the direction of W——. + </p> + <p> + Trifling as this incident was, the air and mien of the stranger were + sufficient to arrest irresistibly the thoughts of the young traveller; and + before they had flowed into a fresh channel he found himself in the town + and at the door of the inn to which his expedition was bound. He entered + the bar; a buxom landlady and a still more buxom daughter were presiding + over the spirits of the place. + </p> + <p> + “You have some boxes and a letter for me, I believe,” said the + young gentleman to the comely hostess. + </p> + <p> + “To you, sir!—the name, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “To—to—to C—— L——,” said + the youth; “the initials C. L., to be left till called for.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, we have some luggage; came last night by the van; and a + letter besides, sir, to C. L. also.” + </p> + <p> + The daughter lifted her large dark eyes at the handsome stranger, and felt + a wonderful curiosity to know what the letter to C. L. could possibly be + about; meanwhile mine hostess, raising her hand to a shelf on which stood + an Indian slop-basin, the great ornament of the bar at the Golden Fleece, + brought from its cavity a well-folded and well-sealed epistle. + </p> + <p> + “That is it,” cried the youth; “show me a private room + instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “What can he want a private room for?” thought the landlady’s + daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Show the gentleman to the Griffin, No. 4, John Merrylack,” + said the landlady herself. + </p> + <p> + With an impatient step the owner of the letter followed a slipshod and + marvellously unwashed waiter into No. 4,—a small square asylum for + town travellers, country yeomen, and “single gentlemen;” + presenting, on the one side, an admirable engraving of the Marquis of + Granby, and on the other an equally delightful view of the stable-yard. + </p> + <p> + Mr. C. L. flung himself on a chair (there were only four chairs in No. 4), + watched the waiter out of the room, seized his letter, broke open the + seal, and read—yea, reader, you shall read it too—as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Enclosed is the sum to which you are entitled; remember, that it is + all which you can ever claim at my hands; remember also that you have made + the choice which now nothing can persuade me to alter. Be the name you + have so long iniquitously borne henceforth and always forgotten; upon that + condition you may yet hope from my generosity the future assistance which + you must want, but which you could not ask from my affection. Equally by + my heart and my reason you are forever DISOWNED.” + </p> + <p> + The letter fell from the reader’s hands. He took up the inclosure: + it was an order payable in London for 1,000 pounds; to him it seemed like + the rental of the Indies. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so!” he said aloud, and slowly; “be it so! With + this will I carve my way: many a name in history was built upon a worse + foundation!” + </p> + <p> + With these words he carefully put up the money, re-read the brief note + which enclosed it, tore the latter into pieces, and then, going towards + the aforesaid view of the stable-yard, threw open the window and leaned + out, apparently in earnest admiration of two pigs which marched gruntingly + towards him, one goat regaling himself upon a cabbage, and a + broken-winded, emaciated horse, which having just been what the hostler + called “rubbed down,” was just going to be what the hostler + called “fed.” + </p> + <p> + While engaged in this interesting survey, the clatter of hoofs was + suddenly heard upon the rough pavement, a bell rang, a dog barked, the + pigs grunted, the hostler ran out, and the stranger, whom our hero had + before met on the road, trotted into the yard. + </p> + <p> + It was evident from the obsequiousness of the attendants that the horseman + was a personage of no mean importance; and indeed there was something + singularly distinguished and highbred in his air and carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Who can that be?” said the youth, as the horseman, having + dismounted, turned towards the door of the inn: the question was readily + answered, “There goes pride and poverty!” said the hostler, + “Here comes Squire Mordaunt!” said the landlady. + </p> + <p> + At the farther end of the stable-yard, through a narrow gate, the youth + caught a glimpse of the green sward and the springing flowers of a small + garden. Wearied with the sameness of No. 4 rather than with his journey, + he sauntered towards the said gate, and, seating himself in a small arbour + within the garden, surrendered himself to reflection. + </p> + <p> + The result of this self-conference was a determination to leave the Golden + Fleece by the earliest conveyance which went to that great object and + emporium of all his plans and thoughts, London. As, full of this + resolution and buried in the dream which it conjured up, he was returning + with downcast eyes and unheeding steps through the stable-yard, to the + delights of No. 4, he was suddenly accosted by a loud and alarmed voice,— + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, sir, look out, or—” + </p> + <p> + The sentence was broken off, the intended warning came too late, our hero + staggered back a few steps, and fell, stunned and motionless, against the + stable door. Unconsciously he had passed just behind the heels of the + stranger’s horse, which being by no means in good humour with the + clumsy manoeuvres of his shampooer, the hostler, had taken advantage of + the opportunity presented to him of working off his irritability, and had + consequently inflicted a severe kick upon the right shoulder of Mr. C. L. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, honoured by the landlady with the name and title of Squire + Mordaunt, was in the yard at the moment. He hastened towards the sufferer, + who as yet was scarcely sensible, and led him into the house. The surgeon + of the village was sent for and appeared. This disciple of Galen, commonly + known by the name of Jeremiah Bossolton, was a gentleman considerably more + inclined to breadth than length. He was exactly five feet one inch in + height, but thick and solid as a milestone; a wig of modern cut, carefully + curled and powdered, gave somewhat of a modish and therefore unseemly + grace to a solemn eye; a mouth drawn down at the corners; a nose that had + something in it exceedingly consequential; eyebrows sage and shaggy; ears + large and fiery; and a chin that would have done honour to a mandarin. Now + Mr. Jeremiah Bossolton had a certain peculiarity of speech to which I + shall find it difficult to do justice. Nature had impressed upon his mind + a prodigious love of the grandiloquent; Mr. Bossolton, therefore, + disdained the exact language of the vulgar, and built unto himself a lofty + fabric of words in which his sense managed very frequently to lose itself. + Moreover, upon beginning a sentence of peculiar dignity, Mr. Bossolton + was, it must be confessed, sometimes at a loss to conclude it in a period + worthy of the commencement; and this caprice of nature which had endowed + him with more words than thoughts (necessity is, indeed, the mother of + invention) drove him into a very ingenious method of remedying the + deficiency; this was simply the plan of repeating the sense by inverting + the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “How long a period of time,” said Mr. Bossolton, “has + elapsed since this deeply-to-be-regretted and seriously-to-be-investigated + accident occurred?” + </p> + <p> + “Not many minutes,” said Mordaunt; “make no further + delay, I beseech you, but examine the arm; it is not broken, I trust?” + </p> + <p> + “In this world, Mr. Mordaunt,” said the practitioner, bowing + very low, for the person he addressed was of the most ancient lineage in + the county, “in this world, Mr. Mordaunt, even at the earliest + period of civilization, delay in matters of judgment has ever been + considered of such vital importance, and—and such important + vitality, that we find it inculcated in the proverbs of the Greeks and the + sayings of the Chaldeans as a principle of the most expedient utility, and—and—the + most useful expediency!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bossolton,” said Mordaunt, in a tone of remarkable and + even artificial softness and civility, “have the kindness + immediately to examine this gentleman’s bruises.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bossolton looked up to the calm but haughty face of the speaker, and + without a moment’s hesitation proceeded to handle the arm, which was + already stripped for his survey. + </p> + <p> + “It frequently occurs,” said Mr. Bossolton, “in the + course of my profession, that the forcible, sudden, and vehement + application of any hard substance, like the hoof of a quadruped, to the + soft, tender, and carniferous parts of the human frame, such as the arm, + occasions a pain—a pang, I should rather say—of the intensest + acuteness, and—and of the acutest intensity.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mr. Bossolton, is the bone broken?” asked Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + By this time the patient, who had been hitherto in that languor which + extreme pain always produces at first, especially on young frames, was + sufficiently recovered to mark and reply to the kind solicitude of the + last speaker: “I thank you, sir,” said he with a smile, + “for your anxiety, but I feel that the bone is not broken; the + muscles are a little hurt, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Young gentleman,” said Mr. Bossolton, “you must permit + me to say that they who have all their lives been employed in the pursuit, + and the investigation, and the analysis of certain studies are in general + better acquainted with those studies than they who have neither given them + any importance of consideration—nor—nor any consideration of + importance. Establishing this as my hypothesis, I shall now proceed to—” + </p> + <p> + “Apply immediate remedies, if you please, Mr. Bossolton,” + interrupted Mr. Mordaunt, in that sweet and honeyed tone which somehow or + other always silenced even the garrulous practitioner. + </p> + <p> + Driven into taciturnity, Mr. Bossolton again inspected the arm, and + proceeded to urge the application of liniments and bandages, which he + promised to prepare with the most solicitudinous despatch and the most + despatchful solicitude. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your name, Sir! + Ha! my name, you say—my name? + ‘T is well—my name—is—nay, I must consider.—Pedrillo. +</pre> + <p> + This accident occasioned a delay of some days in the plans of the young + gentleman, for whom we trust very soon, both for our own convenience and + that of our reader, to find a fitting appellation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mordaunt, after seeing every attention paid to him both surgical and + hospitable, took his departure with a promise to call the next day; + leaving behind him a strong impression of curiosity and interest to serve + our hero as some mental occupation until his return. The bonny landlady + came up in a new cap, with blue ribbons, in the course of the evening, to + pay a visit of inquiry to the handsome patient, who was removed from the + Griffin, No. 4, to the Dragon, No. 8,—a room whose merits were + exactly in proportion to its number, namely, twice as great as those of + No. 4. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Mrs. Taptape, with a courtesy, “I + trust you find yourself better.” + </p> + <p> + “At this moment I do,” said the gallant youth, with a + significant air. + </p> + <p> + “Hem,” quoth the landlady. + </p> + <p> + A pause ensued. In spite of the compliment, a certain suspicion suddenly + darted across the mind of the hostess. Strong as are the prepossessions of + the sex, those of the profession are much stronger. + </p> + <p> + “Honest folk,” thought the landlady, “don’t travel + with their initials only; the last ‘Whitehall Evening’ was + full of shocking accounts of swindlers and cheats; and I gave nine pounds + odd shillings for the silver teapot John has brought him up,—as if + the delft one was not good enough for a foot traveller!” + </p> + <p> + Pursuing these ideas, Mrs. Taptape, looking bashfully down, said,— + </p> + <p> + “By the by, sir; Mr. Bossolton asked me what name he should put down + in his book for the medicines; what would you please me to say, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. who?” said the youth, elevating his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bossolton, sir, the apothecary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Bossolton! very odd name that,—not near so pretty as—dear + me, what a beautiful cap that is of yours!” said the young + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, sir, do you think so? The ribbon is pretty enough; but—but, + as I was saying, what name shall I tell Mr. Bossolton to put in his book?” + “This,” thought Mrs. Taptape, “is coming to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the youth, slowly, and as if in a profound + reverie, “well, Bossolton is certainly the most singular name I ever + heard; he does right to put it in a book: it is quite a curiosity! is he + clever?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, sir,” said the landlady, somewhat sharply; “but + it is your name, not his, that he wishes to put into his book.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine?” said the youth, who appeared to have been seeking to + gain time in order to answer a query which most men find requires very + little deliberation, “mine, you say; my name is Linden—Clarence + Linden—you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “What a pretty name!” thought the landlady’s daughter, + who was listening at the keyhole; “but how could he admire that + odious cap of Ma’s!” + </p> + <p> + “And, now, landlady, I wish you would send up my boxes; and get me a + newspaper, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the landlady, and she rose to retire. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think,” said the youth to himself, “that I + could have hit on a prettier name, and so novel a one too!—Clarence + Linden,—why, if I were that pretty girl at the bar I could fall in + love with the very words. Shakspeare was quite wrong when he said,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’” + </pre> + <p> + “A rose by any name would not smell as sweet; if a rose’s name + was Jeremiah Bossolton, for instance, it would not, to my nerves at least, + smell of anything but an apothecary’s shop!” + </p> + <p> + When Mordaunt called the next morning, he found Clarence much better, and + carelessly turning over various books, part of the contents of the luggage + superscribed C. L. A book of whatever description was among the few + companions for whom Mordaunt had neither fastidiousness nor reserve; and + the sympathy of taste between him and the sufferer gave rise to a + conversation less cold and commonplace than it might otherwise have been. + And when Mordaunt, after a stay of some length, rose to depart, he pressed + Linden to return his visit before he left that part of the country; his + place, he added, was only about five miles distant from W——. + Linden, greatly interested in his visitor, was not slow in accepting the + invitation, and, perhaps for the first time in his life, Mordaunt was + shaking hands with a stranger he had only known two days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While yet a child, and long before his time, + He had perceived the presence and the power + Of greatness. + ..... + But eagerly he read, and read again. + ..... + Yet still uppermost + Nature was at his heart, as if he felt, + Though yet he knew not how, a wasting power + In all things that from her sweet influence + Might seek to wean him. Therefore with her hues, + Her forms, and with the spirit of her forms, + He clothed the nakedness of austere truth. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Algernon Mordaunt was the last son of an old and honourable race, which + had centuries back numbered princes in its line. His parents had had many + children, but all (save Algernon, the youngest) died in their infancy. His + mother perished in giving him birth. Constitutional infirmity and the care + of mercenary nurses contributed to render Algernon a weakly and delicate + child: hence came a taste for loneliness and a passion for study; and from + these sprung, on the one hand, the fastidiousness and reserve which render + us apparently unamiable, and, on the other, the loftiness of spirit and + the kindness of heart which are the best and earliest gifts of literature, + and more than counterbalance our deficiencies in the “minor morals” + due to society by their tendency to increase our attention to the greater + ones belonging to mankind. Mr. Mordaunt was a man of luxurious habits and + gambling propensities: wedded to London, he left the house of his + ancestors to moulder into desertion and decay; but to this home Algernon + was constantly consigned during his vacations from school; and its + solitude and cheerlessness gave to a disposition naturally melancholy and + thoughtful those colours which subsequent events were calculated to + deepen, not efface. + </p> + <p> + Truth obliges us to state, despite our partiality to Mordaunt, that, when + he left his school after a residence of six years, it was with the bitter + distinction of having been the most unpopular boy in it. Why, nobody could + exactly explain, for his severest enemies could not accuse him of + ill-nature, cowardice, or avarice, and these make the three capital + offences of a school-boy; but Algernon Mordaunt had already acquired the + knowledge of himself, and could explain the cause, though with a bitter + and swelling heart. His ill health, his long residence at home, his + unfriended and almost orphan situation, his early habits of solitude and + reserve, all these, so calculated to make the spirit shrink within itself, + made him, on his entrance at school, if not unsocial, appear so: this was + the primary reason of his unpopularity; the second was that he perceived, + for he was sensitive (and consequently acute) to the extreme, the + misfortune of his manner, and in his wish to rectify it, it became doubly + unprepossessing; to reserve, it now added embarrassment, to coldness, + gloom; and the pain he felt in addressing or being addressed by another + was naturally and necessarily reciprocal, for the effects of sympathy are + nowhere so wonderful, yet so invisible, as in the manners. + </p> + <p> + By degrees he shunned the intercourse which had for him nothing but + distress, and his volatile acquaintances were perhaps the first to set him + the example. Often in his solitary walks he stopped afar off to gaze upon + the sports which none ever solicited him to share; and as the shout of + laughter and of happy hearts came, peal after peal, upon his ear, he + turned enviously, yet not malignantly away, with tears, which not all his + pride could curb, and muttered to himself, “And these, these hate + me!” + </p> + <p> + There are two feelings common to all high or affectionate natures,—that + of extreme susceptibility to opinion and that of extreme bitterness at its + injustice. These feelings were Mordaunt’s: but the keen edge which + one blow injures, the repetition blunts; and by little and little, + Algernon became not only accustomed, but, as he persuaded himself, + indifferent, to his want of popularity; his step grew more lofty, and his + address more collected, and that which was once diffidence gradually + hardened into pride. + </p> + <p> + His residence at the University was neither without honour nor profit. A + college life was then, as now, either the most retired or the most social + of all others; we need scarcely say which it was to Mordaunt, but his was + the age when solitude is desirable, and when the closet forms the mind + better than the world. Driven upon itself, his intellect became inquiring + and its resources profound; admitted to their inmost recesses, he revelled + among the treasures of ancient lore, and in his dreams of the Nymph and + Naiad, or his researches after truth in the deep wells of the Stagyrite or + the golden fountains of Plato, he forgot the loneliness of his lot and + exhausted the hoarded enthusiasm of his soul. + </p> + <p> + But his mind, rather thoughtful than imaginative, found no idol like + “Divine Philosophy.” It delighted to plunge itself into the + mazes of metaphysical investigation; to trace the springs of the + intellect; to connect the arcana of the universe; to descend into the + darkest caverns, or to wind through the minutest mysteries of Nature, and + rise, step by step, to that arduous elevation on which Thought stands + dizzy and confused, looking beneath upon a clouded earth, and above upon + an unfathomable heaven. + </p> + <p> + Rarely wandering from his chamber, known personally to few and intimately + by none, Algernon yet left behind him at the University the most + remarkable reputation of his day. He had obtained some of the highest of + academical honours, and by that proverbial process of vulgar minds which + ever frames the magnificent from the unknown, the seclusion in which he + lived and the recondite nature of his favourite pursuits attached to his + name a still greater celebrity and interest than all the orthodox and + regular dignities he had acquired. There are few men who do not console + themselves for not being generally loved, if they can reasonably hope that + they are generally esteemed. Mordaunt had now grown reconciled to himself + and to his kind. He had opened to his interest a world in his own breast, + and it consoled him for his mortification in the world without. But, + better than this, his habits as well as studies had strengthened the + principles and confirmed the nobility of his mind. He was not, it is true, + more kind, more benevolent, more upright than before; but those virtues + now emanated from principle, not emotion: and principle to the mind is + what a free constitution is to a people; without that principle or that + free constitution, the one may be for the moment as good, the other as + happy; but we cannot tell how long the goodness and the happiness will + continue. + </p> + <p> + On leaving the University, his father sent for him to London. He stayed + there a short time, and mingled partially in its festivities; but the + pleasures of English dissipation have for a century been the same, + heartless without gayety, and dull without refinement. Nor could Mordaunt, + the most fastidious, yet warm-hearted of human beings, reconcile either + his tastes or his affections to the cold insipidities of patrician + society. His father’s habits and evident distresses deepened his + disgust to his situation; for the habits were incurable and the distresses + increasing; and nothing but a circumstance which Mordaunt did not then + understand prevented the final sale of an estate already little better + than a pompous incumbrance. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with the half painful, half pleasurable sensation with + which we avoid contemplating a ruin we cannot prevent that Mordaunt set + out upon that Continental tour deemed then so necessary a part of + education. His father, on taking leave of him, seemed deeply affected. + “Go, my son,” said he, “may God bless you, and not + punish me too severely. I have wronged you deeply, and I cannot bear to + look upon your face.” + </p> + <p> + To these words Algernon attached a general, but they cloaked a peculiar, + meaning: in three years, he returned to England; his father had been dead + some months, and the signification of his parting address was already + deciphered,—but of this hereafter. + </p> + <p> + In his travels Mordaunt encountered an Englishman whose name I will not + yet mention: a person of great reputed wealth; a merchant, yet a man of + pleasure; a voluptuary in life, yet a saint in reputation; or, to abstain + from the antithetical analysis of a character which will not be + corporeally presented to the reader till our tale is considerably + advanced, one who drew from nature a singular combination of shrewd but + false conclusions, and a peculiar philosophy, destined hereafter to + contrast the colours and prove the practical utility of that which was + espoused by Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + There can be no education in which the lessons of the world do not form a + share. Experience, in expanding Algernon’s powers, had ripened his + virtues. Nor had the years which had converted knowledge into wisdom + failed in imparting polish to refinement. His person had acquired a + greater grace, and his manners an easier dignity than before. His noble + and generous mind had worked its impress upon his features and his mien; + and those who could overcome the first coldness and shrinking hauteur of + his address found it required no minute examination to discover the real + expression of the eloquent eye and the kindling lip. + </p> + <p> + He had not been long returned before he found two enemies to his + tranquillity,—the one was love, the other appeared in the more + formidable guise of a claimant to his estate. Before Algernon was aware of + the nature of the latter he went to consult with his lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “If the claim be just, I shall not, of course, proceed to law,” + said Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + “But without the estate, sir, you have nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Algernon, calmly. + </p> + <p> + But the claim was not just, and to law he went. + </p> + <p> + In this lawsuit, however, he had one assistant in an old relation, who had + seen, indeed, but very little of him, but who compassionated his + circumstances, and above all hated his opponent. This relation was rich + and childless; and there were not wanting those who predicted that his + money would ultimately discharge the mortgages and repair the house of the + young representative of the Mordaunt honours. But the old kinsman was + obstinate, self-willed, and under the absolute dominion of patrician + pride; and it was by no means improbable that the independence of Mordaunt’s + character would soon create a disunion between them, by clashing against + the peculiarities of his relation’s temper. + </p> + <p> + It was a clear and sunny morning when Linden, tolerably recovered of his + hurt, set out upon a sober and aged pony, which after some natural pangs + of shame he had hired of his landlord, to Mordaunt Court. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt’s house was situated in the midst of a wild and extensive + park, surrounded with woods, and interspersed with trees of the stateliest + growth, now scattered into irregular groups, now marshalled into sweeping + avenues; while, ever and anon, Linden caught glimpses of a rapid and + brawling rivulet, which in many a slight but sounding waterfall gave a + music strange and spirit-like to the thick copses and forest glades + through which it went exulting on its way. The deer lay half concealed by + the fern among which they couched, turning their stately crests towards + the stranger, but not stirring from their rest; while from the summit of + beeches which would have shamed the pavilion of Tityrus the rooks—those + monks of the feathered people—were loud in their confused but not + displeasing confabulations. + </p> + <p> + As Linden approached the house, he was struck with the melancholy air of + desolation which spread over and around it: fragments of stone, above + which clomb the rank weed, insolently proclaiming the triumph of Nature’s + meanest offspring over the wrecks of art; a moat dried up; a railing once + of massive gilding, intended to fence a lofty terrace on the right from + the incursions of the deer, but which, shattered and decayed, now seemed + to ask with the satirist,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To what end did our lavish ancestors + Erect of old these stately piles of ours?” + </pre> + <p> + —a chapel on the left, perfectly in ruins,—all appeared + strikingly to denote that time had outstripped fortune, and that the + years, which alike hallow and destroy, had broken the consequence, in + deepening the antiquity, of the House of Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + The building itself agreed but too well with the tokens of decay around + it; most of the windows were shut up, and the shutters of dark oak, richly + gilt, contrasted forcibly with the shattered panes and mouldered framing + of the glass. It was a house of irregular architecture. Originally built + in the fifteenth century, it had received its last improvement, with the + most lavish expense, during the reign of Anne; and it united the Gallic + magnificence of the latter period with the strength and grandeur of the + former; it was in a great part overgrown with ivy, and, where that + insidious ornament had not reached, the signs of decay, and even ruin, + were fully visible. The sun itself, bright and cheering as it shone over + Nature, making the green sod glow like emeralds, and the rivulet flash in + its beam, like one of those streams of real light, imagined by Swedenborg + in his visions of heaven, and clothing tree and fell, brake and hillock, + with the lavish hues of infant summer,—the sun itself only made more + desolate, because more conspicuous, the venerable fabric, which the + youthful traveller frequently paused more accurately to survey, and its + laughing and sportive beams playing over chink and crevice, seemed almost + as insolent and untimeous as the mirth of the young mocking the silent + grief of some gray-headed and solitary mourner. + </p> + <p> + Clarence had now reached the porch, and the sound of the shrill bell he + touched rang with a strange note through the general stillness of the + place. A single servant appeared, and ushered Clarence through a screen + hall, hung round with relics of armour, and ornamented on the side + opposite the music gallery with a solitary picture of gigantic size, and + exhibiting the full length of the gaunt person and sable steed of that Sir + Piers de Mordaunt who had so signalized himself in the field in which + Henry of Richmond changed his coronet for a crown. Through this hall + Clarence was led to a small chamber clothed with uncouth and tattered + arras, in which, seemingly immersed in papers, he found the owner of the + domain. + </p> + <p> + “Your studies,” said Linden, after the salutations of the day, + “seem to harmonize with the venerable antiquity of your home;” + and he pointed to the crabbed characters and faded ink of the papers on + the table. + </p> + <p> + “So they ought,” answered Mordaunt, with a faint smile; + “for they are called from their quiet archives in order to support + my struggle for that home. But I fear the struggle is in vain, and that + the quibbles of law will transfer into other hands a possession I am + foolish enough to value the more from my inability to maintain it.” + </p> + <p> + Something of this Clarence had before learned from the communicative + gossip of his landlady; and less desirous to satisfy his curiosity than to + lead the conversation from a topic which he felt must be so unwelcome to + Mordaunt, he expressed a wish to see the state apartments of the house. + With something of shame at the neglect they had necessarily experienced, + and something of pride at the splendour which no neglect could efface, + Mordaunt yielded to the request, and led the way up a staircase of black + oak, the walls and ceiling of which were covered with frescoes of Italian + art, to a suite of apartments in which time and dust seemed the only + tenants. Lingeringly did Clarence gaze upon the rich velvet, the costly + mirrors, the motley paintings of a hundred ancestors, and the antique + cabinets, containing, among the most hoarded relics of the Mordaunt race, + curiosities which the hereditary enthusiasm of a line of cavaliers had + treasured as the most sacred of heirlooms, and which, even to the + philosophical mind of Mordaunt, possessed a value he did not seek too + minutely to analyze. Here was the goblet from which the first prince of + Tudor had drunk after the field of Bosworth. Here the ring with which the + chivalrous Francis the First had rewarded a signal feat of that famous + Robert de Mordaunt, who, as a poor but adventurous cadet of the house, had + brought to the “first gentleman of France” the assistance of + his sword. Here was the glove which Sir Walter had received from the royal + hand of Elizabeth, and worn in the lists upon a crest which the lance of + no antagonist in that knightly court could abase. And here, more sacred + than all, because connected with the memory of misfortune, was a small box + of silver which the last king of a fated line had placed in the hands of + the gray-headed descendant of that Sir Walter after the battle of the + Boyne, saying, “Keep this, Sir Everard Mordaunt, for the sake of one + who has purchased the luxury of gratitude at the price of a throne!” + </p> + <p> + As Clarence glanced from these relics to the figure of Mordaunt, who stood + at a little distance leaning against the window, with arms folded on his + breast and with eyes abstractedly wandering over the noble woods and + extended park, which spread below, he could not but feel that if birth had + indeed the power of setting its seal upon the form, it was never more + conspicuous than in the broad front and lofty air of the last descendant + of the race by whose memorials he was surrounded. Touched by the fallen + fortunes of Mordaunt, and interested by the uncertainty which the chances + of law threw over his future fate, Clarence could not resist exclaiming, + with some warmth and abruptness,— + </p> + <p> + “And by what subterfuge or cavil does the present claimant of these + estates hope to dislodge their rightful possessor?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered Mordaunt, “it is a long story in detail, + but briefly told in epitome. My father was a man whose habits greatly + exceeded his fortune, and a few months after his death, Mr. Vavasour, a + distant relation, produced a paper, by which it appeared that my father + had, for a certain sum of ready money, disposed of his estates to this Mr. + Vavasour, upon condition that they should not be claimed nor the treaty + divulged till after his death; the reason for this proviso seems to have + been the shame my father felt for his exchange, and his fear of the + censures of that world to which he was always devoted.” + </p> + <p> + “But how unjust to you!” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Not so much so as it seems,” said Mordaunt, deprecatingly; + “for I was then but a sickly boy, and according to the physicians, + and I sincerely believe according also to my poor father’s belief, + almost certain of a premature death. In that case Vavasour would have been + the nearest heir; and this expectancy, by the by, joined to the mortgages + on the property, made the sum given ridiculously disproportioned to the + value of the estate. I must confess that the news came upon me like a + thunderbolt. I should have yielded up possession immediately, but was + informed by my lawyers that my father had no legal right to dispose of the + property; the discussion of that right forms the ground of the present + lawsuit. But,” continued Mordaunt, proudly, yet mournfully, “I + am prepared for the worst; if, indeed, I should call that the worst which + can affect neither intellect nor health nor character nor conscience.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was silent, and Mordaunt after a brief pause once more resumed + his guidance. Their tour ended in a large library filled with books, and + this Mordaunt informed his guest was his chosen sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + An old carved table was covered with works which for the most part + possessed for the young mind of Clarence, more accustomed to imagine than + reflect, but a very feeble attraction; on looking over them, he, however, + found, half hid by a huge folio of Hobbes, and another of Locke, a volume + of Milton’s poems; this paved the way to a conversation in which + both had an equal interest, for both were enthusiastic in the character + and genius of that wonderful man, for whom “the divine and solemn + countenance of Freedom” was dearer than the light of day, and whose + solitary spell, accomplishing what the whole family of earth once vainly + began upon the plain of Shinar, has built of materials more imperishable + than “slime and brick” “a city and a tower whose summit + has reached to heaven.” + </p> + <p> + It was with mutual satisfaction that Mordaunt and his guest continued + their commune till the hour of dinner was announced to them by a bell, + which, formerly intended as an alarum, now served the peaceful purpose of + a more agreeable summons. + </p> + <p> + The same servant who had admitted Clarence ushered them through the great + hall into the dining-room, and was their solitary attendant during their + repast. + </p> + <p> + The temper of Mordaunt was essentially grave and earnest, and his + conversation almost invariably took the tone of his mind; this made their + conference turn upon less minute and commonplace topics than one between + such new acquaintances, especially of different ages, usually does. + </p> + <p> + “You will positively go to London to-morrow, then?” said + Mordaunt, as the servant, removing the appurtenances of dinner, left them + alone. + </p> + <p> + “Positively,” answered Clarence. “I go there to carve my + own fortunes, and, to say truth, I am impatient to begin.” Mordaunt + looked earnestly at the frank face of the speaker, and wondered that one + so young, so well-educated, and, from his air and manner, evidently of + gentle blood, should appear so utterly thrown upon his own resources. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you success,” said he, after a pause; “and it is + a noble part of the organization of this world that, by increasing those + riches which are beyond fortune, we do in general take the surest method + of obtaining those which are in its reach.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence looked inquiringly at Mordaunt, who, perceiving it, continued, + “I see that I should explain myself further. I will do so by using + the thoughts of a mind not the least beautiful and accomplished which this + country has produced. ‘Of all which belongs to us,’ said + Bolingbroke, ‘the least valuable parts can alone fall under the will + of others. Whatever is best is safest; lies out of the reach of human + power; can neither be given nor taken away. Such is this great and + beautiful work of Nature, the world. Such is the mind of man, which + contemplates and admires the world whereof it makes the noblest part. + These are inseparably ours, and as long as we remain in one we shall enjoy + the other.’” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful, indeed!” exclaimed Clarence, with the enthusiasm + of a young and pure heart, to which every loftier sentiment is always + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “And true as beautiful!” said Mordaunt. “Nor is this + all, for the mind can even dispense with that world ‘of which it + forms a part’ if we can create within it a world still more + inaccessible to chance. But (and I now return to and explain my former + observation) the means by which we can effect this peculiar world can be + rendered equally subservient to our advancement and prosperity in that + which we share in common with our race; for the riches which by the aid of + wisdom we heap up in the storehouses of the mind are, though not the only, + the most customary coin by which external prosperity is bought. So that + the philosophy which can alone give independence to ourselves becomes; + under the name of honesty, the best policy in commerce with our kind.” + </p> + <p> + In conversation of this nature, which the sincerity and lofty enthusiasm + of Mordaunt rendered interesting to Clarence, despite the distaste to the + serious so ordinary to youth, the hours passed on, till the increasing + evening warned Linden to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” said he to Mordaunt. “I know not when we shall + meet again, but if we ever do, I will make it my boast, whether in + prosperity or misfortune, not to have forgotten the pleasure I have this + day enjoyed!” + </p> + <p> + Returning his guest’s farewell with a warmth unusual to his manner, + Mordaunt followed him to the door and saw him depart. + </p> + <p> + Fate ordained that they should pursue in very different paths their + several destinies; nor did it afford them an opportunity of meeting again, + till years and events had severely tried the virtue of one and materially + altered the prospects of the other. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Clarence Linden was on his road to London. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Upon my word,” cries Jones, “thou art a very odd fellow, + and I like thy humour extremely.”—FIELDING. +</pre> + <p> + The rumbling and jolting vehicle which conveyed Clarence to the metropolis + stopped at the door of a tavern in Holborn. Linden was ushered into a + close coffee-room and presented with a bill of fare. While he was + deliberating between the respective merits of mutton chops and beefsteaks, + a man with a brown coat, brown breeches, and a brown wig, walked into the + room; he cast a curious glance at Clarence and then turned to the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “A pair of slippers!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” and the waiter disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said the brown gentleman to Clarence, “I + suppose, sir, you are the gentleman just come to town?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, very well indeed,” resumed the stranger, musingly. + “I took the liberty of looking at your boxes in the passage; I knew + a lady, sir, a relation of yours, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” exclaimed Linden, colouring violently. + </p> + <p> + “At least I suppose, for her name was just the same as yours, only, + at least, one letter difference between them: yours is Linden I see, sir; + hers was Minden. Am I right in my conjecture that you are related to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” answered Clarence, gravely, “notwithstanding the + similarity of our names, we are not related.” + </p> + <p> + “Very extraordinary,” replied the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” repeated Linden. + </p> + <p> + “I had the honour, sir,” said the brown gentleman, “to + make Mrs. Minden many presents of value, and I should have been very happy + to have obliged you in the same manner, had you been in any way connected + with that worthy gentlewoman.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said Linden, “you are very kind; + and since such were your intentions, I believe I must have been connected + with Mrs. Minden. At all events, as you justly observe, there is only the + difference of a letter between our names, a discrepancy too slight, I am + sure, to alter your benevolent intentions.” + </p> + <p> + Here the waiter returned with the slippers. + </p> + <p> + The stranger slowly unbuttoned his gaiters. “Sir,” said he to + Linden, “we will renew our conversation presently.” + </p> + <p> + No sooner had the generous friend of Mrs. Minden deposited his feet in + their easy tenements than he quitted the room. “Pray,” said + Linden to the waiter, when he had ordered his simple repast, “who is + that gentleman in brown?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brown,” replied the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “And who or what is Mr. Brown?” asked our hero. + </p> + <p> + Before the waiter could reply, Mr. Brown returned, with a large bandbox, + carefully enveloped in a blue handkerchief. “You come from ——, + sir?” said Mr. Brown, quietly seating himself at the same table as + Linden. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “From ——, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,—from W——.” + </p> + <p> + “W——?—ay—well. I knew a lady with a name + very like W—— (the late Lady Waddilove) extremely well. I made + her some valuable presents: her ladyship was very sensible of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t doubt it, sir,” replied Clarence; “such + instances of general beneficence rarely occur!” + </p> + <p> + “I have some magnificent relics of her ladyship in this box,” + returned Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Really! then she was no less generous than yourself, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, her ladyship was remarkably generous. About a week before she + died (the late Lady Waddilove was quite sensible of her danger), she + called me to her,—‘Brown,’ said she, ‘you are a + good creature; I have had my most valuable things from you. I am not + ungrateful: I will leave you—my maid! She is as clever as you are + and as good.’ I took the hint, sir, and married. It was an excellent + bargain. My wife is a charming woman; she entirely fitted up Mrs. Minden’s + wardrobe and I furnished the house. Mrs. Minden was greatly indebted to + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help me!” thought Clarence, “the man is + certainly mad.” + </p> + <p> + The waiter entered with the dinner; and Mr. Brown, who seemed to have a + delicate aversion to any conversation in the presence of the Ganymede of + the Holborn tavern, immediately ceased his communications; meanwhile, + Clarence took the opportunity to survey him more minutely than he had + hitherto done. + </p> + <p> + His new acquaintance was in age about forty-eight; in stature, rather + under the middle height; and thin, dried, withered, yet muscular withal, + like a man who, in stinting his stomach for the sake of economy, does not + the less enjoy the power of undergoing any fatigue or exertion that an + object of adequate importance may demand. We have said already that he was + attired, like twilight, “in a suit of sober brown;” and there + was a formality, a precision, and a cat-like sort of cleanliness in his + garb, which savoured strongly of the respectable coxcombry of the + counting-house. His face was lean, it is true, but not emaciated; and his + complexion, sallow and adust, harmonized well with the colours of his + clothing. An eye of the darkest hazel, sharp, shrewd, and flashing at + times, especially at the mention of the euphonious name of Lady Waddilove,—a + name frequently upon the lips of the inheritor of her abigail,—with + a fire that might be called brilliant, was of that modest species which + can seldom encounter the straightforward glance of another; on the + contrary, it seemed restlessly uneasy in any settled place, and wandered + from ceiling to floor, and corner to corner, with an inquisitive though + apparently careless glance, as if seeking for something to admire or haply + to appropriate; it also seemed to be the especial care of Mr. Brown to + veil, as far as he was able, the vivacity of his looks beneath an + expression of open and unheeding good-nature, an expression strangely + enough contrasting with the closeness and sagacity which Nature had + indelibly stamped upon features pointed, aquiline, and impressed with a + strong mixture of the Judaical physiognomy. The manner and bearing of this + gentleman partook of the same undecided character as his countenance: they + seemed to be struggling between civility and importance; a real eagerness + to make the acquaintance of the person he addressed, and an assumed + recklessness of the advantages which that acquaintance could bestow;—it + was like the behaviour of a man who is desirous of having the best + possible motives imputed to him, but is fearful lest that desire should + not be utterly fulfilled. At the first glance you would have pledged + yourself for his respectability; at the second, you would have half + suspected him to be a rogue; and, after you had been half an hour in his + company, you would confess yourself in the obscurest doubt which was the + better guess, the first or the last. + </p> + <p> + “Waiter!” said Mr. Brown, looking enviously at the viands upon + which Linden, having satisfied his curiosity, was now with all the + appetite of youth regaling himself. “Waiter!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Bring me a sandwich—and—and, waiter, see that I have + plenty of—plenty of—” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of mustard, waiter.” + </p> + <p> + “Mustard” (and here Mr. Brown addressed himself to Clarence) + “is a very wonderful assistance to the digestion. By the by, sir, if + you want any curiously fine mustard, I can procure you some pots quite + capital,—a great favour, though,—they were smuggled from + France, especially for the use of the late Lady Waddilove.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Linden, dryly; “I shall be very happy + to accept anything you may wish to offer me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown took a pocket-book from his pouch. “Six pots of mustard, + sir,—shall I say six?” + </p> + <p> + “As many as you please,” replied Clarence; and Mr. Brown wrote + down “Six pots of French mustard.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a very young gentleman, sir,” said Mr. Brown, “probably + intended for some profession: I don’t mean to be impertinent, but if + I can be of any assistance—” + </p> + <p> + “You can, sir,” replied Linden, “and immediately—have + the kindness to ring the bell.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown, with a grave smile, did as he was desired; the waiter + re-entered, and, receiving a whispered order from Clarence, again + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “What profession did you say, sir?” renewed Mr. Brown, + artfully. + </p> + <p> + “None!” replied Linden. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,—very well indeed. Then as an idle, independent + gentleman, you will of course be a bit of a beau; want some shirts, + possibly; fine cravats, too; gentlemen wear a particular pattern now; + gloves, gold, or shall I say gilt chain, watch and seals, a ring or two, + and a snuff-box?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you are vastly obliging,” said Clarence, in undisguised + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, I would do anything for a relation of Mrs. Minden.” + </p> + <p> + The waiter re-entered; “Sir,” said he to Linden, “your + room is quite ready.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” said Clarence, rising. “Mr. + Brown, I have the honour of wishing you a good evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay, sir—stay; you have not looked into these things + belonging to the late Lady Waddilove.” + </p> + <p> + “Another time,” said Clarence, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, at ten o’clock,” muttered Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “I am exceedingly glad I have got rid of that fellow,” said + Linden to himself, as he stretched his limbs in his easy-chair, and drank + off the last glass of his pint of port. “If I have not already seen, + I have already guessed, enough of the world, to know that you are to look + to your pockets when a man offers you a present; they who ‘give,’ + also ‘take away.’ So here I am in London, with an order for + 1000 pounds in my purse, the wisdom of Dr. Latinas in my head, and the + health of eighteen in my veins; will it not be my own fault if I do not + both enjoy and make myself—” + </p> + <p> + And then, yielding to meditations of future success, partaking strongly of + the inexperienced and sanguine temperament of the soliloquist, Clarence + passed the hours till his pillow summoned him to dreams no less ardent and + perhaps no less unreal. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, how I long to be employed!”—Every Man in his Humour. +</pre> + <p> + Clarence was sitting the next morning over the very unsatisfactory + breakfast which tea made out of broomsticks, and cream out of chalk + (adulteration thrived even in 17—) afforded, when the waiter threw + open the door and announced Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Just in time, sir, you perceive,” said Mr. Brown; “I am + punctuality itself: exactly a quarter of a minute to ten. I have brought + you the pots of French mustard, and I have some very valuable articles + which you must want, besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Linden, not well knowing what to say; + and Mr. Brown, untying a silk handkerchief, produced three shirts, two + pots of pomatum, a tobacco canister with a German pipe, four pair of silk + stockings, two gold seals, three rings, and a stuffed parrot! + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful articles these, sir,” said Mr. Brown, with a + snuffle “of inward sweetness long drawn out,” and expressive + of great admiration of his offered treasures; “beautiful articles, + sir, ar’n’t they?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, the parrot in particular,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” returned Mr. Brown, “the parrot is indeed + quite a jewel; it belonged to the late Lady Waddilove; I offer it to you + with considerable regret, for—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” interrupted Clarence, “pray do not rob yourself of + such a jewel; it really is of no use to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, sir,—I know that,” replied Mr. Brown; + “but it will be of use to your friends; it will be inestimable to + any old aunt, sir, any maiden lady living at Hackney, any curious elderly + gentleman fond of a knack-knack. I knew you would know some one to send it + to as a present, even though you should not want it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” thought Linden, “was there ever such + generosity? Not content with providing for my wants, he extends his + liberality even to any possible relations I may possess!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown now re-tied “the beautiful articles” in his + handkerchief. “Shall I leave them, sir?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Why, really,” said Clarence, “I thought yesterday that + you were in jest; but you must be aware that I cannot accept presents from + any gentleman so much,—so much a stranger to me as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I am aware of that,” replied Mr. Brown; “and + in order to remove the unpleasantness of such a feeling, sir, on your + part,—merely in order to do that, I assure you with no other view, + sir, in the world,—I have just noted down the articles on this piece + of paper; but as you will perceive, at a price so low as still to make + them actually presents in everything but the name. Oh, sir, I perfectly + understand your delicacy, and would not for the world violate it.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Mr. Brown put a paper into Linden’s hands, the substance + of which a very little more experience of the world would have enabled + Clarence to foresee; it ran thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CLARENCE LINDEN, ESQ., DR. + TO Mr. MORRIS BROWN. + l. s. d. + To Six Pots of French Mustard......... 1 4 0 + To Three Superfine Holland Shirts, with Cambric Bosoms, + Complete................ 4 1 0 + To Two Pots of Superior French Pomatum...... 0 10 0 + To a Tobacco Canister of enamelled Tin, with a finely + Executed Head of the Pretender; slight flaw in the same. 0 12 6 + To a German Pipe, second hand, as good as new, belonging + to the late Lady Waddilove.......... 1 18 0 + To Four Pair of Black Silk Hose, ditto, belonging to her + Ladyship’s Husband............. 2 8 0 + To Two Superfine Embossed Gold Watch Seals, with a + Classical Motto and Device to each, namely, Mouse Trap, + and “Prenez Garde,” to one, and “Who the devil can this + be from?” [One would not have thought these ingenious + devices had been of so ancient a date as the year 17—.] + to the other............... 1 1 0 + To a remarkably fine Antique Ring, having the head of a + Monkey................. 0 16 6 + A ditto, with blue stones........... 0 12 6 + A ditto, with green ditto........... 0 12 6 + A Stuffed Green Parrot, a remarkable favourite of the late + Lady W................. 2 2 0 + ———— + Sum Total............... 15 18 0 + Deduction for Ready Money.......... 0 13 6 + ———— + 15 4 6 + Mr. Brown’s Profits for Brokerage........ 1 10 0 + ———— + Sum Total............... 16 14 6 + + Received of Clarence Linden, Esq., this day of 17—. +</pre> + <p> + It would have been no unamusing study to watch the expression of Clarence’s + face as it lengthened over each article until he had reached the final + conclusion. He then carefully folded up the paper, restored it to Mr. + Brown, with a low bow, and said, “Excuse me, sir, I will not take + advantage of your generosity; keep your parrot and other treasures for + some more worthy person. I cannot accept of what you are pleased to term + your very valuable presents!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, very well,” said Mr. Brown, pocketing the + paper, and seeming perfectly unconcerned at the termination of his + proposals; “perhaps I can serve you in some other way?” + </p> + <p> + “In none, I thank you,” replied Linden. + </p> + <p> + “Just consider, sir!—you will want lodgings; I can find them + for you cheaper than you can yourself; or perhaps you would prefer going + into a nice, quiet, genteel family where you can have both board and + lodging, and be treated in every way as the pet child of the master?” + </p> + <p> + A thought crossed Linden’s mind. He was going to stay in town some + time; he was ignorant of its ways; he had neither friends nor relations, + at least none whom he could visit and consult; moreover, hotels, he knew, + were expensive; lodgings, though cheaper, might, if tolerably comfortable, + greatly exceed the sum prudence would allow him to expend would not this + plan proposed by Mr. Brown, of going into a “nice quiet genteel + family,” he the most advisable one he could adopt? The generous + benefactor of the late and ever-to-be-remembered Lady Waddilove perceived + his advantage, and making the most of Clarence’s hesitation, + continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I know of a charming little abode, sir, situated in the suburbs of + London, quite rus in urbe, as the scholars say; you can have a delightful + little back parlour, looking out upon the garden, and all to yourself, I + dare say.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, Mr. Brown,” interrupted Linden, “what price + do you think would be demanded for such enviable accommodation? If you + offer me them as ‘a present,’ I shall have nothing to say to + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” answered Mr. Brown, “the price will be a + trifle,—a mere trifle; but I will inquire, and let you know the + exact sum in the course of the day: all they want is a respectable + gentlemanlike lodger; and I am sure so near a relation of Mrs. Minden will + upon my recommendation be received with avidity. Then you won’t have + any of these valuable articles, sir? You’ll repent it, sir; take my + word for it—hem! + </p> + <p> + “Since,” replied Clarence, dryly, “your word appears of + so much more value than your articles, pardon me, if I prefer taking the + former instead of the latter.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown forced a smile,—“Well, sir, very well, very well + indeed. You will not go out before two o’clock? and at that time I + shall call upon you respecting the commission you have favoured me with.” + </p> + <p> + “I will await you,” said Clarence; and he bowed Mr. Brown out + of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Now, really,” said Linden to himself, as he paced the narrow + limits of his apartment, “I do not see what better plan I can + pursue; but let me well consider what is my ultimate object. A high step + in the world’s ladder! how is this to be obtained? First, by the + regular method of professions; but what profession should I adopt? The + Church is incompatible with my object, the army and navy with my means. + Next come the irregular methods of adventure and enterprise, such as + marriage with a fortune,”—here he paused and looked at the + glass,—“the speculation of a political pamphlet, or an ode to + the minister; attendance on some dying miser of my own name, without a + relation in the world; or, in short, any other mode of making money that + may decently offer itself. Now, situated as I am, without a friend in this + great city, I might as well purchase my experience at as cheap a rate and + in as brief a time as possible, nor do I see any plan of doing so more + promising than that proposed by Mr. Brown.” + </p> + <p> + These and such like reflections, joined to the inspiriting pages of the + “Newgate Calendar” and “The Covent Garden Magazine,” + two works which Clarence dragged from their concealment under a black + tea-tray, afforded him ample occupation till the hour of two, punctual to + which time Mr. Morris Brown returned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Clarence, “what is your report?” + </p> + <p> + The friend of the late Lady W. wiped his brow and gave three long sighs + before he replied: “A long walk, sir—a very long walk I have + had; but I have succeeded. No thanks, sir,—no thanks,—the + lady, a most charming, delightful, amiable woman, will receive you with + pleasure; you will have the use of a back parlour (as I said) all the + morning, and a beautiful little bedroom entirely to yourself; think of + that, sir. You will have an egg for breakfast, and you will dine with the + family at three o’clock: quite fashionable hours you see, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And the terms?” said Linden, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” replied Mr. Brown, “the lady was too genteel + to talk to me about them; you had better walk with me to her house and see + if you cannot yourself agree with her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Clarence. “Will you wait here till I have + dressed?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown bowed his assent. + </p> + <p> + “I might as well,” thought Clarence, as he ascended to his + bedroom, “inquire into the character of this gentleman to whose good + offices I am so rashly intrusting myself.” He rang his bell; the + chambermaid appeared, and was dismissed for the waiter. The character was + soon asked, and soon given. For our reader’s sake we will somewhat + enlarge upon it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Morris Brown originally came into the world with the simple + appellation of Moses, a name which his father—honest man—had, + as the Minories can still testify, honourably borne before him. Scarcely, + however, had the little Moses attained the age of five, when his father, + for causes best known to himself, became a Christian. Somehow or other + there is a most potent connection between the purse and the conscience, + and accordingly the blessings of Heaven descended in golden showers upon + the proselyte. “I shall die worth a plum,” said Moses the + elder (who had taken unto himself the Christian cognomen of Brown); + “I shall die worth a plum,” repeated he, as he went one fine + morning to speculate at the Exchange. A change of news, sharp and + unexpected as a change of wind, lowered the stocks and blighted the plum. + Mr. Brown was in the “Gazette” that week, and his wife in + weeds for him the next. He left behind him, besides the said wife, several + debts and his son Moses. Beggared by the former, our widow took a small + shop in Wardour Street to support the latter. Patient, but enterprising—cautious + of risking pounds, indefatigable in raising pence—the little Moses + inherited the propensities of his Hebrew ancestors; and though not so + capable as his immediate progenitor of making a fortune, he was at least + far less likely to lose one. In spite, however, of all the industry both + of mother and son, the gains of the shop were but scanty; to increase them + capital was required, and all Mr. Moses Brown’s capital lay in his + brain. “It is a bad foundation,” said the mother, with a sigh. + “Not at all!” said the son, and leaving the shop, he turned + broker. Now a broker is a man who makes an income out of other people’s + funds,—a gleaner of stray extravagances; and by doing the public the + honour of living upon them may fairly be termed a little sort of state + minister in his way. What with haunting sales, hawking china, selling the + curiosities of one old lady and purchasing the same for another, Mr. Brown + managed to enjoy a very comfortable existence. Great pains and small gains + will at last invert their antithesis, and make little trouble and great + profit; so that by the time Mr. Brown had attained his fortieth year, the + petty shop had become a large warehouse; and, if the worthy Moses, now + christianized into Morris, was not so sanguine as his father in the + gathering of plums, he had been at least as fortunate in the collecting of + windfalls. To say truth, the abigail of the defunct Lady Waddilove had + been no unprofitable helpmate to our broker. As ingenious as benevolent, + she was the owner of certain rooms of great resort in the neighbourhood of + St. James’s,—rooms where caps and appointments were made + better than anywhere else, and where credit was given and character lost + upon terms equally advantageous to the accommodating Mrs. Brown. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile her husband, continuing through liking what he had begun through + necessity, slackened not his industry in augmenting his fortune; on the + contrary, small profits were but a keener incentive to large ones,—as + the glutton only sharpened by luncheon his appetite for dinner. Still was + Mr. Brown the very Alcibiades of brokers, the universal genius, suiting + every man to his humour. Business of whatever description, from the + purchase of a borough to that of a brooch, was alike the object of Mr. + Brown’s most zealous pursuit: taverns, where country cousins put up; + rustic habitations, where ancient maidens resided; auction or barter; city + or hamlet,—all were the same to that enterprising spirit, which made + out of every acquaintance—a commission! Sagacious and acute, Mr. + Brown perceived the value of eccentricity in covering design, and found by + experience that whatever can be laughed at as odd will be gravely + considered as harmless. Several of the broker’s peculiarities were, + therefore, more artificial than natural; and many were the sly bargains + which he smuggled into effect under the comfortable cloak of singularity. + No wonder, then, that the crafty Morris grew gradually in repute as a + person of infinite utility and excellent qualifications; or that the + penetrating friends of his deceased sire bowed to the thriving itinerant, + with a respect which they denied to many in loftier professions and more + general esteem. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trust me you have an exceeding fine lodging here,—very neat + and private.—BEN JONSON. +</pre> + <p> + It was a tolerably long walk to the abode of which the worthy broker spoke + in such high terms of commendation. At length, at the suburbs towards + Paddington, Mr. Brown stopped at a very small house; it stood rather + retired from its surrounding neighbours, which were of a loftier and more + pretending aspect than itself, and, in its awkward shape and pitiful + bashfulness, looked exceedingly like a school-boy finding himself for the + first time in a grown up party, and shrinking with all possible expedition + into the obscurest corner he can discover. Passing through a sort of + garden, in which a spot of grass lay in the embraces of a stripe of + gravel, Mr. Brown knocked upon a very bright knocker at a very new door. + The latter was opened, and a foot-boy appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mrs. Copperas within?” asked the broker. + </p> + <p> + “Yees, sir,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Show this gentleman and myself up stairs,” resumed Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Yees,” reiterated the lackey. + </p> + <p> + Up a singularly narrow staircase, into a singularly diminutive + drawing-room, Clarence and his guide were ushered. There, seated on a + little chair by a little work-table, with one foot on a little stool and + one hand on a little book, was a little—very little lady. + </p> + <p> + “This is the young gentleman,” said Mr. Brown; and Clarence + bowed low, in token of the introduction. + </p> + <p> + The lady returned the salutation with an affected bend, and said, in a + mincing and grotesquely subdued tone, “You are desirous, sir, of + entering into the bosom of my family. We possess accommodations of a most + elegant description; accustomed to the genteelest circles, enjoying the + pure breezes of the Highgate hills, and presenting to any guest we may + receive the attractions of a home rather than of a lodging, you will find + our retreat no less eligible than unique. You are, I presume, sir, in some + profession, some city avocation—or—or trade?” + </p> + <p> + “I have the misfortune,” said he, smiling, “to belong to + no profession.” + </p> + <p> + The lady looked hard at the speaker, and then at the broker. With certain + people to belong to no profession is to be of no respectability. + </p> + <p> + “The most unexceptionable references will be givenmand required,” + resumed Mrs. Copperas. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Mr. Brown, “certainly, the gentleman + is a relation of Mrs. Minden, a very old customer of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Mrs. Copperas, “the affair is + settled;” and, rising, she rang the bell, and ordered the foot-boy, + whom she addressed by the grandiloquent name of “De Warens” to + show the gentleman the apartments. While Clarence was occupied in + surveying the luxuries of a box at the top of the house, called a + bed-chamber, which seemed just large and just hot enough for a chrysalis, + and a corresponding box below, termed the back parlour, which would + certainly not have been large enough for the said chrysalis when turned + into a butterfly, Mr. Morris Brown, after duly, expatiating on the merits + of Clarence, proceeded to speak of the terms; these were soon settled, for + Clarence was yielding and the lady not above three times as extortionate + as she ought to have been. + </p> + <p> + Before Linden left the house, the bargain was concluded. That night his + trunks were removed to his new abode, and having with incredible + difficulty been squeezed into the bedroom, Clarence surveyed them with the + same astonishment with which the virtuoso beheld the flies in amber,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Not that the things were either rich or rare, + He wondered how the devil they got there!” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Such scenes had tempered with a pensive grace + The maiden lustre of that faultless face; + Had hung a sad and dreamlike spell upon + The gliding music of her silver tone, + And shaded the soft soul which loved to lie + In the deep pathos of that volumed eye.—O’Neill; or, The Rebel. +</pre> + <blockquote> + <p> + The love thus kindled between them was of no common or calculating + nature: it was vigorous and delicious, and at times so suddenly intense + as to appear to their young hearts for a moment or so with almost an + awful character.—Inesilla. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + The reader will figure to himself a small chamber, in a remote wing of a + large and noble mansion. The walls were covered with sketches whose + extreme delicacy of outline and colouring betrayed the sex of the artist; + a few shelves filled with books supported vases of flowers. A harp stood + neglected at the farther end of the room, and just above hung the slender + prison of one of those golden wanderers from the Canary Isles which bear + to our colder land some of the gentlest music of their skies and zephyrs. + The window, reaching to the ground, was open, and looked, through the + clusters of jessamine and honeysuckle which surrounded the low veranda, + beyond upon thick and frequent copses of blossoming shrubs, redolent of + spring and sparkling in the sunny tears of a May shower which had only + just wept itself away. Embosomed in these little groves lay plots of + flowers, girdled with turf as green as ever wooed the nightly dances of + the fairies; and afar off, through one artful opening, the eye caught the + glittering wanderings of water, on whose light and smiles the universal + happiness of the young year seemed reflected. + </p> + <p> + But in that chamber, heedless of all around, and cold to the joy with + which everything else, equally youthful, beautiful, and innocent, seemed + breathing and inspired, sat a very young and lovely female. Her cheek + leaned upon her hand, and large tears flowed fast and burningly over the + small and delicate fingers. The comb that had confined her tresses lay at + her feet, and the high dress which concealed her swelling breast had been + loosened, to give vent to the suffocating and indignant throbbings which + had rebelled against its cincture; all appeared to announce that + bitterness of grief when the mind, as it were, wreaks its scorn upon the + body in its contempt for external seemings, and to proclaim that the + present more subdued and softened sorrow had only succeeded to a burst far + less quiet and uncontrolled. Woe to those who eat the bread of dependence + their tears are wrung from the inmost sources of the heart. + </p> + <p> + Isabel St. Leger was the only child of a captain in the army who died in + her infancy; her mother had survived him but a few months; and to the + reluctant care and cold affections of a distant and wealthy relation of + the same name the warm-hearted and penniless orphan was consigned. + Major-General Cornelius St. Leger, whose riches had been purchased in + India at the price of his constitution, was of a temper as hot as his + curries, and he wreaked it the more unsparingly on his ward, because the + superior ill-temper of his maiden sister had prevented his giving vent to + it upon her. That sister, Miss Diana St. Leger, was a meagre gentlewoman + of about six feet high, with a loud voice and commanding aspect. Long in + awe of her brother, she rejoiced at heart to find some one whom she had + such right and reason to make in awe of herself; and from the age of four + to that of seventeen Isabel suffered every insult and every degradation + which could be inflicted upon her by the tyranny of her two protectors. + Her spirit, however, was far from being broken by the rude shocks it + received; on the contrary, her mind, gentleness itself to the kind, rose + indignantly against the unjust. It was true that the sense of wrong did + not break forth audibly; for, though susceptible, Isabel was meek, and her + pride was concealed by the outward softness and feminacy of her temper: + but she stole away from those who had wounded her heart or trampled upon + its feelings, and nourished with secret but passionate tears the memory of + the harshness or injustice she had endured. Yet she was not vindictive: + her resentment was a noble not a debasing feeling; once, when she was yet + a child, Miss Diana was attacked with a fever of the most malignant and + infectious kind; her brother loved himself far too well to risk his safety + by attending her; the servants were too happy to wreak their hatred under + the pretence of obeying their fears; they consequently followed the + example of their master; and Miss Diana St. Leger might have gone down to + her ancestors “unwept, unhonoured, and unsung,” if Isabel had + not volunteered and enforced her attendance. Hour after hour her fairy + form flitted around the sick-chamber; or sat mute and breathless by the + feverish bed; she had neither fear for contagion nor bitterness for past + oppression; everything vanished beneath the one hope of serving, the one + gratification of feeling herself, in the wide waste of creation, not + utterly without use, as she had been hitherto without friends. + </p> + <p> + Miss St. Leger recovered. “For your recovery, in the first place,” + said the doctor, “you will thank Heaven; in the second, you will + thank your young relation;” and for several days the convalescent + did overwhelm the happy Isabel with her praises and caresses. But this + change did not last long: the chaste Diana had been too spoiled by the + prosperity of many years for the sickness of a single month to effect much + good in her disposition. Her old habits were soon resumed; and though it + is probable that her heart was in reality softened towards the poor + Isabel, that softening by no means extended to her temper. In truth, the + brother and sister were not without affection for one so beautiful and + good, but they had been torturing slaves all their lives, and their + affection was, and could be, but that of a taskmaster or a planter. + </p> + <p> + But Isabel was the only relation who ever appeared within their walls; and + among the guests with whom the luxurious mansion was crowded, she passed + no less for the heiress than the dependant; to her, therefore, was offered + the homage of many lips and hearts, and if her pride was perpetually + galled and her feelings insulted in private, her vanity (had that equalled + her pride and her feelings in its susceptibility) would in no slight + measure have recompensed her in public. Unhappily, however, her vanity was + the least prominent quality she possessed; and the compliments of + mercenary adulation were not more rejected by her heart than despised by + her understanding. + </p> + <p> + Yet did she bear within her a deep fund of buried tenderness, and a mine + of girlish and enthusiastic romance,—dangerous gifts to one so + situated, which, while they gave to her secret moments of solitude a + powerful but vague attraction, probably only prepared for her future years + the snare which might betray them into error or the delusion which would + colour them with regret. + </p> + <p> + Among those whom the ostentatious hospitality of General St. Leger + attracted to his house was one of very different character and pretensions + to the rest. Formed to be unpopular with the generality of men, the very + qualities that made him so were those which principally fascinate the + higher description of women of ancient birth, which rendered still more + displeasing the pride and coldness of his mien; of talents peculiarly + framed to attract interest as well as esteem; of a deep and somewhat + morbid melancholy, which, while it turned from ordinary ties, inclined + yearningly towards passionate affections; of a temper where romance was + only concealed from the many to become more seductive to the few; + unsocial, but benevolent; disliked, but respected; of the austerest + demeanour, but of passions the most fervid, though the most carefully + concealed,—this man united within himself all that repels the common + mass of his species, and all that irresistibly wins and fascinates the + rare and romantic few. To these qualities were added a carriage and + bearing of that high and commanding order which men mistake for arrogance + and pretension, and women overrate in proportion to its contrast to their + own. Something of mystery there was in the commencement of the deep and + eventful love which took place between this person and Isabel, which I + have never been able to learn whatever it was, it seemed to expedite and + heighten the ordinary progress of love; and when in the dim twilight, + beneath the first melancholy smile of the earliest star, their hearts + opened audibly to each other, that confession had been made silently long + since and registered in the inmost recesses of the soul. + </p> + <p> + But their passion, which began in prosperity, was soon darkened. Whether + he took offence at the haughtiness of Isabel’s lover, or whether he + desired to retain about him an object which he could torment and tyrannize + over, no sooner did the General discover the attachment of his young + relation than he peremptorily forbade its indulgence, and assumed so + insolent and overbearing an air towards the lover that the latter felt he + could no longer repeat his visits to or even continue his acquaintance + with the nabob. + </p> + <p> + To add to these adverse circumstances, a relation of the lover, from whom + his expectations had been large, was so enraged, not only at the insult + his cousin had received, but at the very idea of his forming an alliance + with one in so dependent a situation and connected with such new blood as + Isabel St. Leger, that, with that arrogance which relations, however + distant, think themselves authorized to assume, he enjoined his cousin, + upon pain of forfeiture of favour and fortune, to renounce all idea of so + disparaging an alliance. The one thus addressed was not of a temper + patiently to submit to such threats: he answered them with disdain; and + the breach, so dangerous to his pecuniary interest, was already begun. + </p> + <p> + So far had the history of our lover proceeded at the time in which we have + introduced Isabel to the reader, and described to him the chamber to + which, in all her troubles and humiliations, she was accustomed to fly, as + to a sad but still unviolated sanctuary of retreat. + </p> + <p> + The quiet of this asylum was first broken by a slight rustling among the + leaves; but Isabel’s back was turned towards the window, and in the + engrossment of her feelings she heard it not. The thick copse that + darkened the left side of the veranda was pierced, and a man passed within + the covered space, and stood still and silent before the window, intently + gazing upon the figure, which (though the face was turned from him) + betrayed in its proportions that beauty which in his eyes had neither an + equal nor a fault. + </p> + <p> + The figure of the stranger, though not very tall, was above the ordinary + height, and gracefully rather than robustly formed. He was dressed in the + darkest colours and the simplest fashion, which rendered yet more striking + the nobleness of his mien, as well as the clear and almost delicate + paleness of his complexion; his features were finely and accurately + formed; and had not ill health, long travel, or severe thought deepened + too much the lines of the countenance, and sharpened its contour, the + classic perfection of those features would have rendered him undeniably + and even eminently handsome. As it was, the paleness and the somewhat worn + character of his face, joined to an expression at first glance rather + haughty and repellent, made him lose in physical what he certainly gained + in intellectual beauty. His eyes were large, deep, and melancholy, and had + the hat which now hung over his brow been removed, it would have displayed + a forehead of remarkable boldness and power. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, the face was cast in a rare and intellectual mould, and, if + wanting in those more luxuriant attractions common to the age of the + stranger, who could scarcely have attained his twenty-sixth year, it + betokened, at least, that predominance of mind over body which in some + eyes is the most requisite characteristic of masculine beauty. + </p> + <p> + With a soft and noiseless step, the stranger moved from his station + without the window, and, entering the room, stole towards the spot on + which Isabel was sitting. He leaned over her chair, and his eye rested + upon his own picture, and a letter in his own writing, over which the + tears of the young orphan flowed fast. + </p> + <p> + A moment more of agitated happiness for one, of unconscious and continued + sadness for the other,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘T is past, her lover’s at her feet.” + </pre> + <p> + And what indeed “was to them the world beside, with all its changes + of time and tide”? Joy, hope, all blissful and bright sensations, + lay mingled, like meeting waters, in one sunny stream of heartfelt and + unfathomable enjoyment; but this passed away, and the remembrance of + bitterness and evil succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Algernon!” said Isabel, in a low voice, “is this + your promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” said Mordaunt, for it was indeed he, “I + have struggled long with my feelings, but in vain; and for both our sakes, + I rejoice at the conquest they obtained. I listened only to a deceitful + delusion when I imagined I was obeying the dictates of reason. Ah, + dearest, why should we part for the sake of dubious and distant evils, + when the misery of absence is the most certain, the most unceasing evil we + can endure?” + </p> + <p> + “For your sake, and therefore for mine!” interrupted Isabel, + struggling with her tears. “I am a beggar and an outcast. You must + not link your fate with mine. I could bear, Heaven knows how willingly, + poverty and all its evils for you and with you; but I cannot bring them + upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor will you,” said Mordaunt, passionately, as he covered the + hand he held with his burning kisses. “Have I not enough for both of + us? It is my love, not poverty, that I beseech you to share.” + </p> + <p> + “No! Algernon, you cannot deceive me; your own estate will be torn + from you by the law: if you marry me, your cousin will not assist you; I, + you know too well, can command nothing; and I shall see you, for whom in + my fond and bright dreams I have presaged everything great and exalted, + buried in an obscurity from which your talents can never rise, and + suffering the pangs of poverty and dependence and humiliation like my own; + and—and—I—should be the wretch who caused you all. + Never, Algernon, never!—I love you too—too well!” + </p> + <p> + But the effort which wrung forth the determination of the tone in which + these words were uttered was too violent to endure; and, as the full + desolation of her despair crowded fast and dark upon the orphan’s + mind, she sank back upon her chair in very sickness of soul, nor heeded, + in her unconscious misery, that her hand was yet clasped by her lover and + that her head drooped upon his bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Isabel,” he said, in a low, sweet tone, which to her ear + seemed the concentration of all earthly music,—“Isabel, look + up,—my own, my beloved,—look up and hear me. Perhaps you say + truly when you tell me that the possessions of my house shall melt away + from me, and that my relation will not offer to me the precarious bounty + which, even if he did offer, I would reject; but, dearest, are there not a + thousand paths open to me,—the law, the state, the army?—you + are silent, Isabel,—speak!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel did not reply, but the soft eyes which rested upon his told, in + their despondency, how little her reason was satisfied by the arguments he + urged. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” he continued, “we know not yet whether the + law may not decide in my favour: at all events years may pass before the + judgment is given; those years make the prime and verdure of our lives; + let us not waste them in mourning over blighted hopes and severed hearts; + let us snatch what happiness is yet in our power, nor anticipate, while + the heavens are still bright above us, the burden of the thunder or the + cloud.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel was one of the least selfish and most devoted of human beings, yet + she must be forgiven if at that moment her resolution faltered, and the + overpowering thought of being in reality his forever flashed upon her + mind. It passed from her the moment it was formed; and, rising from a + situation in which the touch of that dear hand and the breath of those + wooing lips endangered the virtue and weakened the strength of her + resolves, she withdrew herself from his grasp, and while she averted her + eyes, which dared not encounter his, she said in a low but firm voice,— + </p> + <p> + “It is in vain, Algernon; it is in vain. I can be to you nothing but + a blight or burden, nothing but a source of privation and anguish. Think + you that I will be this?—no, I will not darken your fair hopes and + impede your reasonable ambition. Go (and here her voice faltered for a + moment, but soon recovered its tone), go, Algernon, dear Algernon; and if + my foolish heart will not ask you to think of me no more, I can at least + implore you to think of me only as one who would die rather than cost you + a moment of that poverty and debasement, the bitterness of which she has + felt herself, and who for that very reason tears herself away from you + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay, Isabel, stay!” cried Mordaunt, as he caught hold of her + robe, “give me but one word more, and you shall leave me. Say that + if I can create for myself a new source of independence; if I can carve + out a road where the ambition you erroneously impute to me can be + gratified, as well as the more moderate wishes our station has made + natural to us to form,—say, that if I do this, I may permit myself + to hope,—say, that when I have done it, I may claim you as my own!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel paused, and turned once more her face towards his own. Her lips + moved, and though the words died within her heart, yet Mordaunt read well + their import in the blushing cheek and the heaving bosom, and the lips + which one ray of hope and comfort was sufficient to kindle into smiles. He + gazed, and all obstacles, all difficulties, disappeared; the gulf of time + seemed passed, and he felt as if already he had earned and won his reward. + </p> + <p> + He approached her yet nearer; one kiss on those lips, one pressure of that + thrilling hand, one long, last embrace of that shrinking and trembling + form,—and then, as the door closed upon his view, he felt that the + sunshine of Nature had passed away, and that in the midst of the laughing + and peopled earth he stood in darkness and alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He who would know mankind must be at home with all men. + STEPHEN MONTAGUE. +</pre> + <p> + We left Clarence safely deposited in his little lodgings. Whether from the + heat of his apartment or the restlessness a migration of beds produces in + certain constitutions, his slumbers on the first night of his arrival were + disturbed and brief. He rose early and descended to the parlour; Mr. de + Warens, the nobly appellatived foot-boy, was laying the breakfast-cloth. + From three painted shelves which constituted the library of “Copperas + Bower,” as its owners gracefully called their habitation, Clarence + took down a book very prettily bound; it was “Poems by a Nobleman.” + No sooner had he read two pages than he did exactly what the reader would + have done, and restored the volume respectfully to its place. He then drew + his chair towards the window, and wistfully eyed sundry ancient nursery + maids, who were leading their infant charges to the “fresh fields + and pastures new” of what is now the Regent’s Park. + </p> + <p> + In about an hour Mrs. Copperas descended, and mutual compliments were + exchanged; to her succeeded Mr. Copperas, who was well scolded for his + laziness: and to them, Master Adolphus Copperas, who was also chidingly + termed a naughty darling for the same offence. Now then Mrs. Copperas + prepared the tea, which she did in the approved method adopted by all + ladies to whom economy is dearer than renown, namely, the least possible + quantity of the soi-disant Chinese plant was first sprinkled by the least + possible quantity of hot water; after this mixture had become as black and + as bitter as it could possibly be without any adjunct from the apothecary’s + skill, it was suddenly drenched with a copious diffusion, and as suddenly + poured forth—weak, washy, and abominable,—into four cups, + severally appertaining unto the four partakers of the matutinal nectar. + </p> + <p> + Then the conversation began to flow. Mrs. Copperas was a fine lady, and a + sentimentalist,—very observant of the little niceties of phrase and + manner. Mr. Copperas was a stock-jobber and a wit,—loved a good hit + in each capacity; was very round, very short, and very much like a John + Dory; and saw in the features and mind of the little Copperas the exact + representative of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Adolphus, my love,” said Mrs. Copperas, “mind what I + told you, and sit upright. Mr. Linden, will you allow me to cut you a + leetle piece of this roll?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Clarence, “I will trouble you rather + for the whole of it.” + </p> + <p> + Conceive Mrs. Copperas’s dismay! From that moment she saw herself + eaten out of house and home; besides, as she afterwards observed to her + friend Miss Barbara York, the “vulgarity of such an amazing + appetite!” + </p> + <p> + “Any commands in the city, Mr. Linden?” asked the husband; + “a coach will pass by our door in a few minutes,—must be on + ‘Change in half an hour. Come, my love, another cup of tea; make + haste; I have scarcely a moment to take my fare for the inside, before + coachee takes his for the outside. Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Linden.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Mr. Copperas,” said his helpmate, “how can you be + so silly? setting such an example to your son, too; never mind him, + Adolphus, my love; fie, child! a’n’t you ashamed of yourself? + never put the spoon in your cup till you have done tea: I must really send + you to school to learn manners. We have a very pretty little collection of + books here, Mr. Linden, if you would like to read an hour or two after + breakfast,—child, take your hands out of your pockets,—all the + best English classics I believe,—‘Telemachus,’ and Young’s + ‘Night Thoughts,’ and ‘Joseph Andrews,’ and the + ‘Spectator,’ and Pope’s Iliad, and Creech’s + Lucretius; but you will look over them yourself! This is Liberty Hall, as + well as Copperas Bower, Mr. Linden!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my love,” said the stock-jobber, “I believe I + must be off. Here Tom,” Tom (Mr. de Warens had just entered the room + with some more hot water, to weaken still further “the poor remains + of what was once”—the tea!), “Tom, just run out and stop + the coach; it will be by in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Have not I prayed and besought you, many and many a time, Mr. + Copperas,” said the lady, rebukingly, “not to call De Warens + by his Christian name? Don’t you know that all people in genteel + life, who only keep one servant, invariably call him by his surname, as if + he were the butler, you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is too good, my love,” said Copperas. “I will + call poor Tom by any surname you please, but I really can’t pass him + off for a butler! Ha—ha—ha—you must excuse me there, my + love!” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, why not, Mr. Copperas? I have known many a butler bungle + more at a cork than he does; and pray tell me who did you ever see wait + better at dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “He wait at dinner, my love! it is not he who waits.” + </p> + <p> + “Who then, Mr. Copperas?” + </p> + <p> + “Why we, my love; it’s we who wait for dinner; but that’s + the cook’s fault, not his.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! Mr. Copperas; Adolphus, my love, sit upright, darling.” + </p> + <p> + Here De Warens cried from the bottom of the stairs,—“Measter, + the coach be coming up.” + </p> + <p> + “There won’t be room for it to turn then,” said the + facetious Mr. Copperas, looking round the apartment as if he took the + words literally. + </p> + <p> + “What coach is it, boy?” + </p> + <p> + Now that was not the age in which coaches scoured the city every half + hour, and Mr. Copperas knew the name of the coach as well as he knew his + own. + </p> + <p> + “It be the Swallow coach, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well: then since I have swallowed in the roll, I will now + roll in the Swallow—ha—ha—ha! Good-by, Mr. Linden.” + </p> + <p> + No sooner had the witty stock-jobber left the room than Mrs. Copperas + seemed to expand into a new existence. “My husband, sir,” said + she, apologetically, “is so odd, but he’s an excellent + sterling character; and that, you know, Mr. Linden, tells more in the + bosom of a family than all the shining qualities which captivate the + imagination. I am sure, Mr. Linden, that the moralist is right in + admonishing us to prefer the gold to the tinsel. I have now been married + some years, and every year seems happier than the last; but then, Mr. + Linden, it is such a pleasure to contemplate the growing graces of the + sweet pledge of our mutual love.—Adolphus, my dear, keep your feet + still, and take your hands out of your pockets!” + </p> + <p> + A short pause ensued. + </p> + <p> + “We see a great deal of company,” said Mrs. Copperas, + pompously, “and of the very best description. Sometimes we are + favoured by the society of the great Mr. Talbot, a gentleman of immense + fortune and quite the courtier: he is, it is true, a little eccentric in + his dress: but then he was a celebrated beau in his young days. He is our + next neighbour; you can see his house out of the window, just across the + garden—there! We have also, sometimes, our humble board graced by a + very elegant friend of mine, Miss Barbara York, a lady of very high + connections, her first cousin was a lord mayor.—Adolphus, my dear, + what are you about? Well, Mr. Linden, you will find your retreat quite + undisturbed; I must go about the household affairs; not that I do anything + more than superintend, you know, sir; but I think no lady should be above + consulting her husband’s interests; that’s what I call true + old English conjugal affection. Come, Adolphus, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + And Clarence was now alone. “I fear,” thought he, “that + I shall get on very indifferently with these people. But it will not do + for me to be misanthropical, and (as Dr. Latinas was wont to say) the + great merit of philosophy, when we cannot command circumstances, is to + reconcile us to them.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A retired beau is one of the most instructive spectacles in the world. + STEPHEN MONTAGUE. +</pre> + <p> + It was quite true that Mrs. Copperas saw a great deal of company, for at a + certain charge, upon certain days, any individual might have the honour of + sharing her family repast; and many, of various callings, though chiefly + in commercial life, met at her miscellaneous board. Clarence must, indeed, + have been difficult to please, or obtuse of observation, if, in the + variety of her guests, he had not found something either to interest or + amuse him. Heavens! what a motley group were accustomed, twice in the + week, to assemble there! the little dining-parlour seemed a human oven; + and it must be owned that Clarence was no slight magnet of attraction to + the female part of the guests. Mrs. Copperas’s bosom friend in + especial, the accomplished Miss Barbara York, darted the most tender + glances on the handsome young stranger; but whether or not a nose + remarkably prominent and long prevented the glances from taking full + effect, it is certain that Clarence seldom repaid them with that + affectionate ardour which Miss Barbara York had ventured to anticipate. + The only persons indeed for whom he felt any sympathetic attraction were + of the same sex as himself. The one was Mr. Talbot, the old gentleman whom + Mrs. Copperas had described as the perfect courtier; the other, a young + artist of the name of Warner. Talbot, to Clarence’s great + astonishment (for Mrs. Copperas’s eulogy had prepared him for + something eminently displeasing) was a man of birth, fortune, and manners + peculiarly graceful and attractive. It is true, however, that, despite of + his vicinity, and Mrs. Copperas’s urgent solicitations, he very + seldom honoured her with his company, and he always cautiously sent over + his servant in the morning to inquire the names and number of her expected + guests; nor was he ever known to share the plenteous board of the + stock-jobber’s lady whenever any other partaker of its dainties save + Clarence and the young artist were present. The latter, the old gentleman + really liked; and as for one truly well born and well bred there is no + vulgarity except in the mind, the slender means, obscure birth, and + struggling profession of Warner were circumstances which, as they + increased the merit of a gentle manner and a fine mind, spoke rather in + his favour than the reverse. Mr. Talbot was greatly struck by Clarence + Linden’s conversation and appearance; and indeed there was in Talbot’s + tastes so strong a bias to aristocratic externals that Clarence’s + air alone would have been sufficient to win the good graces of a man who + had, perhaps, more than most courtiers of his time, cultivated the arts of + manner and the secrets of address. + </p> + <p> + “You will call upon me soon?” said he to Clarence, when, after + dining one day with the Copperases and their inmate, he rose to return + home. And Clarence, delighted with the urbanity and liveliness of his new + acquaintance, readily promised that he would. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly the next day Clarence called upon Mr. Talbot. The house, as + Mrs. Copperas had before said, adjoined her own, and was only separated + from it by a garden. It was a dull mansion of brick, which had disdained + the frippery of paint and whitewashing, and had indeed been built many + years previously to the erection of the modern habitations which + surrounded it. It was, therefore, as a consequence of this priority of + birth, more sombre than the rest, and had a peculiarly forlorn and + solitary look. As Clarence approached the door, he was struck with the + size of the house; it was of very considerable extent, and in the more + favourable situations of London, would have passed for a very desirable + and spacious tenement. An old man, whose accurate precision of dress + bespoke the tastes of the master, opened the door, and after ushering + Clarence through two long, and, to his surprise, almost splendidly + furnished rooms, led him into a third, where, seated at a small + writing-table, he found Mr. Talbot. That person, one whom Clarence then + little thought would hereafter exercise no small influence over his fate, + was of a figure and countenance well worthy the notice of a description. + </p> + <p> + His own hair, quite white, was carefully and artificially curled, and gave + a Grecian cast to features whose original delicacy, and exact though small + proportions, not even age could destroy. His eyes were large, black, and + sparkled with almost youthful vivacity; and his mouth, which was the best + feature he possessed, developed teeth white and even as rows of ivory. + Though small and somewhat too slender in the proportions of his figure, + nothing could exceed the ease and the grace of his motions and air; and + his dress, though singularly rich in its materials, eccentric in its + fashion, and from its evident study, unseemly to his years, served + nevertheless to render rather venerable than ridiculous a mien which could + almost have carried off any absurdity, and which the fashion of the garb + peculiarly became. The tout ensemble was certainly that of a man who was + still vain of his exterior, and conscious of its effect; and it was as + certainly impossible to converse with Mr. Talbot for five minutes without + merging every less respectful impression in the magical fascination of his + manner. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Mr. Linden,” said Talbot, rising, “for + your accepting so readily an old man’s invitation. If I have felt + pleasure in discovering that we were to be neighbours, you may judge what + that pleasure is to-day at finding you my visitor.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence, who, to do him justice, was always ready at returning a fine + speech, replied in a similar strain, and the conversation flowed on + agreeably enough. There was more than a moderate collection of books in + the room, and this circumstance led Clarence to allude to literary + subjects; these Mr. Talbot took up with avidity, and touched with a light + but graceful criticism upon many of the then modern and some of the older + writers. He seemed delighted to find himself understood and appreciated by + Clarence, and every moment of Linden’s visit served to ripen their + acquaintance into intimacy. At length they talked upon Copperas Bower and + its inmates. + </p> + <p> + “You will find your host and hostess,” said the gentleman, + “certainly of a different order from the persons with whom it is + easy to see you have associated; but, at your happy age, a year or two may + be very well thrown away upon observing the manners and customs of those + whom, in later life, you may often be called upon to conciliate or perhaps + to control. That man will never be a perfect gentleman who lives only with + gentlemen. To be a man of the world, we must view that world in every + grade and in every perspective. In short, the most practical art of wisdom + is that which extracts from things the very quality they least appear to + possess; and the actor in the world, like the actor on the stage, should + find ‘a basket-hilted sword very convenient to carry milk in.’ + [See the witty inventory of a player’s goods in the “Tatler.”] + As for me, I have survived my relations and friends. I cannot keep late + hours, nor adhere to the unhealthy customs of good society; nor do I think + that, to a man of my age and habits, any remuneration would adequately + repay the sacrifice of health or comfort. I am, therefore, well content to + sink into a hermitage in an obscure corner of this great town, and only + occasionally to revive my ‘past remembrances of higher state,’ + by admitting a few old acquaintances to drink my bachelor’s tea and + talk over the news of the day. Hence, you see, Mr. Linden, I pick up two + or three novel anecdotes of state and scandal, and maintain my importance + at Copperas Bower by retailing them second-hand. Now that you are one of + the inmates of that abode, I shall be more frequently its guest. By the + by, I will let you into a secret: know that I am somewhat a lover of the + marvellous, and like to indulge a little embellishing exaggeration in any + place where there is no chance of finding me out. Mind, therefore, my dear + Mr. Linden, that you take no ungenerous advantage of this confession; but + suffer me, now and then, to tell my stories my own way, even when you + think truth would require me to tell them in another.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Clarence, laughing; “let us make an + agreement: you shall tell your stories as you please, if you will grant me + the same liberty in paying my compliments; and if I laugh aloud at the + stories, you shall promise me not to laugh aloud at the compliments.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a bond,” said Talbot; “and a very fit exchange of + service it is. It will be a problem in human nature to see who has the + best of it: you shall pay your court by flattering the people present, and + I mine by abusing those absent. Now, in spite of your youth and curling + locks, I will wager that I succeed the best; for in vanity there is so + great a mixture of envy that no compliment is like a judicious abuse: to + enchant your acquaintance, ridicule his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir,” said Clarence, “this opinion of yours is, I + trust, a little in the French school, where brilliancy is more studied + than truth, and where an ill opinion of our species always has the merit + of passing for profound.” + </p> + <p> + Talbot smiled, and shook his head. “My dear young friend,” + said he, “it is quite right that you, who are coming into the world, + should think well of it; and it is also quite right that I, who am going + out of it, should console myself by trying to despise it. However, let me + tell you, my young friend, that he whose opinion of mankind is not too + elevated will always be the most benevolent, because the most indulgent, + to those errors incidental to human imperfection: to place our nature in + too flattering a view is only to court disappointment, and end in + misanthropy. The man who sets out with expecting to find all his + fellow-creatures heroes of virtue will conclude by condemning them as + monsters of vice; and, on the contrary, the least exacting judge of + actions will be the most lenient. If God, in His own perfection, did not + see so many frailties in us, think you He would be so gracious to our + virtues?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Clarence, “we remark every day examples + of the highest excellence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Talbot, “of the highest but not of the + most constant excellence. He knows very little of the human heart who + imagines we cannot do a good action; but, alas! he knows still less of it + who supposes we can be always doing good actions. In exactly the same + ratio we see every day the greatest crimes are committed; but we find no + wretch so depraved as to be always committing crimes. Man cannot be + perfect even in guilt.” + </p> + <p> + In this manner Talbot and his young visitor conversed, till Clarence, + after a stay of unwarrantable length, rose to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Talbot, “if we now rightly understand each + other, we shall be the best friends in the world. As we shall expect great + things from each other sometimes, we will have no scruple in exacting a + heroic sacrifice every now and then; for instance, I will ask you to + punish yourself by an occasional tete-a-tete with an ancient gentleman; + and, as we can also by the same reasoning pardon great faults in each + other, if they are not often committed, so I will forgive you, with all my + heart, whenever you refuse my invitations, if you do not refuse them + often. And now farewell till we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed singular and almost unnatural to Linden that a man like Talbot, + of birth, fortune, and great fastidiousness of taste and temper, should + have formed any sort of acquaintance, however slight and distant, with the + facetious stock-jobber and his wife; but the fact is easily explained by a + reference to the vanity which we shall see hereafter made the ruling + passion of Talbot’s nature. This vanity, which branching forth into + a thousand eccentricities, displayed itself in the singularity of his + dress, the studied yet graceful warmth of his manner, his attention to the + minutiae of life, his desire, craving and insatiate, to receive from every + one, however insignificant, his obolus of admiration,—this vanity, + once flattered by the obsequious homage it obtained from the wonder and + reverence of the Copperases, reconciled his taste to the disgust it so + frequently and necessarily conceived; and, having in great measure + resigned his former acquaintance and wholly outlived his friends, he was + contented to purchase the applause which had become to him a necessary of + life at the humble market more immediately at his command. + </p> + <p> + There is no dilemma in which Vanity cannot find an expedient to develop + its form, no stream of circumstances in which its buoyant and light nature + will not rise to float upon the surface. And its ingenuity is as fertile + as that of the player who (his wardrobe allowing him no other method of + playing the fop) could still exhibit the prevalent passion for distinction + by wearing stockings of different colours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who dares + Interpret then my life for me as ‘t were + One of the undistinguishable many? + COLERIDGE: Wallenstein. +</pre> + <p> + The first time Clarence had observed the young artist, he had taken a deep + interest in his appearance. Pale, thin, undersized, and slightly deformed, + the sanctifying mind still shed over the humble frame a spell more + powerful than beauty. Absent in manner, melancholy in air, and never + conversing except upon subjects on which his imagination was excited, + there was yet a gentleness about him which could not fail to conciliate + and prepossess; nor did Clarence omit any opportunity to soften his + reserve, and wind himself into his more intimate acquaintance. Warner, the + only support of an aged and infirm grandmother (who had survived her + immediate children), was distantly related to Mrs. Copperas; and that lady + extended to him, with ostentatious benevolence, her favour and support. It + is true that she did not impoverish the young Adolphus to enrich her + kinsman, but she allowed him a seat at her hospitable board, whenever it + was not otherwise filled; and all that she demanded in return was a + picture of herself, another of Mr. Copperas, a third of Master Adolphus, a + fourth of the black cat, and from time to time sundry other lesser + productions of his genius, of which, through the agency of Mr. Brown, she + secretly disposed at a price that sufficiently remunerated her for + whatever havoc the slender appetite of the young painter was able to + effect. + </p> + <p> + By this arrangement, Clarence had many opportunities of gaining that + intimacy with Warner which had become to him an object; and though the + painter, constitutionally diffident and shy, was at first averse to, and + even awed by, the ease, boldness, fluent speech, and confident address of + a man much younger than himself, yet at last he could not resist the being + decoyed into familiarity; and the youthful pair gradually advanced from + companionship into friendship. There was a striking contrast between the + two: Clarence was bold and frank, Warner close and timid. Both had + superior abilities; but the abilities of Clarence were for action, those + of Warner for art: both were ambitious; but the ambition of Clarence was + that of circumstances rather than character. Compelled to carve his own + fortunes without sympathy or aid, he braced his mind to the effort, though + naturally too gay for the austerity, and too genial for the selfishness of + ambition. But the very essence of Warner’s nature was the feverish + desire of fame: it poured through his veins like lava; it preyed as a worm + upon his cheek; it corroded his natural sleep; it blackened the colour of + his thoughts; it shut out, as with an impenetrable wall, the wholesome + energies and enjoyments and objects of living men; and, taking from him + all the vividness of the present, all the tenderness of the past, + constrained his heart to dwell forever and forever amidst the dim and + shadowy chimeras of a future he was fated never to enjoy. + </p> + <p> + But these differences of character, so far from disturbing, rather + cemented their friendship; and while Warner (notwithstanding his advantage + of age) paid involuntary deference to the stronger character of Clarence, + he, in his turn, derived that species of pleasure by which he was most + gratified, from the affectionate and unenvious interest Clarence took in + his speculations of future distinction, and the unwearying admiration with + which he would sit by his side, and watch the colours start from the + canvas, beneath the real though uncultured genius of the youthful painter. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto, Warner had bounded his attempts to some of the lesser efforts of + the art; he had now yielded to the urgent enthusiasm of his nature, and + conceived the plan of an historical picture. Oh! what sleepless nights, + what struggles of the teeming fancy with the dense brain, what labours of + the untiring thought wearing and intense as disease itself, did it cost + the ambitious artist to work out in the stillness of his soul, and from + its confused and conflicting images, the design of this long meditated and + idolized performance! But when it was designed; when shape upon shape grew + and swelled, and glowed from the darkness of previous thought upon the + painter’s mind; when, shutting his eyes in the very credulity of + delight, the whole work arose before him, glossy with its fresh hues, + bright, completed, faultless, arrayed as it were, and decked out for + immortality,—oh! then what a full and gushing moment of rapture + broke like a released stream upon his soul! What a recompense for wasted + years, health, and hope! What a coronal to the visions and transports of + Genius: brief, it is true, but how steeped in the very halo of a light + that might well be deemed the glory of heaven! + </p> + <p> + But the vision fades, the gorgeous shapes sweep on into darkness, and, + waking from his revery, the artist sees before him only the dull walls of + his narrow chamber; the canvas stretched a blank upon its frame; the + works, maimed, crude, unfinished, of an inexperienced hand, lying idly + around; and feels himself—himself, but one moment before the creator + of a world of wonders, the master spirit of shapes glorious and majestical + beyond the shapes of men—dashed down from his momentary height, and + despoiled both of his sorcery and his throne. + </p> + <p> + It was just in such a moment that Warner, starting up, saw Linden (who had + silently entered his room) standing motionless before him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Linden!” said the artist, “I have had so superb a + dream,—a dream which, though I have before snatched some such vision + by fits and glimpses, I never beheld so realized, so perfect as now; and—but + you shall see, you shall judge for yourself; I will sketch out the design + for you;” and, with a piece of chalk and a rapid hand, Warner + conveyed to Linden the outline of his conception. His young friend was + eager in his praise and his predictions of renown, and Warner listened to + him with a fondness which spread over his pale cheek a richer flush than + lover ever caught from the whispers of his beloved. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, as he rose, and his sunken and small eye + flashed out with a feverish brightness, “yes, if my hand does not + fail my thought, it shall rival even—” Here the young painter + stopped short, abashed at that indiscretion of enthusiasm about to utter + to another the hoarded vanities hitherto locked in his heart of hearts as + a sealed secret, almost from himself. + </p> + <p> + “But come,” said Clarence, affectionately, “your hand is + feverish and dry, and of late you have seemed more languid than you were + wont,—come, Warner, you want exercise: it is a beautiful evening, + and you shall explain your picture still further to me as we walk.” + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to yield to Clarence, Warner mechanically and abstractedly + obeyed; they walked out into the open streets. + </p> + <p> + “Look around us,” said Warner, pausing, “look among this + toiling and busy and sordid mass of beings who claim with us the + fellowship of clay. The poor labour; the rich feast: the only distinction + between them is that of the insect and the brute; like them they fulfil + the same end and share the same oblivion; they die, a new race springs up, + and the very grass upon their graves fades not so soon as their memory. + Who that is conscious of a higher nature would not pine and fret himself + away to be confounded with these? Who would not burn and sicken and parch + with a delirious longing to divorce himself from so vile a herd? What have + their petty pleasures and their mean aims to atone for the abasement of + grinding down our spirits to their level? Is not the distinction from + their blended and common name a sufficient recompense for all that + ambition suffers or foregoes? Oh, for one brief hour (I ask no more) of + living honour, one feeling of conscious, unfearing certainty that Fame has + conquered Death! and then for this humble and impotent clay, this drag on + the spirit which it does not assist but fetter, this wretched machine of + pains and aches, and feverish throbbings, and vexed inquietudes, why, let + the worms consume it, and the grave hide—for Fame there is no grave.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment one of those unfortunate women who earn their polluted + sustenance by becoming the hypocrites of passions abruptly accosted them. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable wretch!” said Warner, loathingly, as he pushed her + aside; but Clarence, with a kindlier feeling, noticed that her haggard + cheek was wet with tears, and that her frame, weak and trembling, could + scarcely support itself; he, therefore, with that promptitude of charity + which gives ere it discriminates put some pecuniary assistance in her hand + and joined his comrade. + </p> + <p> + “You would not have spoken so tauntingly to the poor girl had you + remarked her distress,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “And why,” said Warner, mournfully, “why be so cruel as + to prolong, even for a few hours, an existence which mercy would only seek + to bring nearer to the tomb? That unfortunate is but one of the herd, one + of the victims to pleasures which debase by their progress and ruin by + their end. Yet perhaps she is not worse than the usual followers of love,—of + love, that passion the most worshipped, yet the least divine,—selfish + and exacting,—drawing its aliment from destruction, and its very + nature from tears.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Clarence, “you confound the two loves, the + Eros and the Anteros; gods whom my good tutor was wont so sedulously to + distinguish: you surely do not inveigh thus against all love?” + </p> + <p> + “I cry you mercy,” said Warner, with something of sarcasm in + his pensiveness of tone. “We must not dispute; so I will hold my + peace: but make love all you will; what are the false smiles of a lip + which a few years can blight as an autumn leaf? what the homage of a heart + as feeble and mortal as your own? Why, I, with a few strokes of a little + hair and an idle mixture of worthless colours, will create a beauty in + whose mouth there shall be no hollowness, in whose lip there shall be no + fading; there, in your admiration, you shall have no need of flattery and + no fear of falsehood; you shall not be stung with jealousy nor maddened + with treachery; nor watch with a breaking heart over the waning bloom, and + departing health, till the grave open, and your perishable paradise is + not. No: the mimic work is mightier than the original, for it outlasts it; + your love cannot wither it, or your desertion destroy; your very death, as + the being who called it into life, only stamps it with a holier value.” + </p> + <p> + “And so then,” said Clarence, “you would seriously + relinquish, for the mute copy of the mere features, those affections which + no painting can express?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the painter, with an energy unusual to his quiet + manner, and slightly wandering in his answer from Clarence’s remark, + “ay, one serves not two mistresses: mine is the glory of my art. Oh! + what are the cold shapes of this tame earth, where the footsteps of the + gods have vanished, and left no trace, the blemished forms, the debased + brows, and the jarring features, to the glorious and gorgeous images which + I can conjure up at my will? Away with human beauties, to him whose nights + are haunted with the forms of angels and wanderers from the stars, the + spirits of all things lovely and exalted in the universe: the universe as + it was; when to fountain, and stream, and hill, and to every tree which + the summer clothed, was allotted the vigil of a Nymph! when through glade, + and by waterfall, at glossy noontide, or under the silver stars, the forms + of Godhead and Spirit were seen to walk; when the sculptor modelled his + mighty work from the beauty and strength of Heaven, and the poet lay in + the shade to dream of the Naiad and the Faun, and the Olympian dwellers + whom he walked in rapture to behold; and the painter, not as now, shaping + from shadow and in solitude the dim glories of his heart, caught at once + his inspiration from the glow of earth and its living wanderers, and, lo, + the canvas breathed! Oh! what are the dull realities and the abortive + offspring of this altered and humbled world—the world of meaner and + dwarfish men—to him whose realms are peopled with visions like + these?” + </p> + <p> + And the artist, whose ardour, long excited and pent within, had at last + thus audibly, and to Clarence’s astonishment, burst forth, paused, + as if to recall himself from his wandering enthusiasm. Such moments of + excitement were indeed rare with him, except when utterly alone, and even + then, were almost invariably followed by that depression of spirit by + which all over-wrought susceptibility is succeeded. A change came over his + face, like that of a cloud when the sunbeam which gilded leaves it; and, + with a slight sigh and a subdued tone, he resumed,— + </p> + <p> + “So, my friend, you see what our art can do even for the humblest + professor, when I, a poor, friendless, patronless artist, can thus indulge + myself by forgetting the present. But I have not yet explained to you the + attitude of my principal figure;” and Warner proceeded once more to + detail the particulars of his intended picture. It must be confessed that + he had chosen a fine though an arduous subject: it was the Trial of + Charles the First; and as the painter, with the enthusiasm of his + profession and the eloquence peculiar to himself, dwelt upon the various + expressions of the various forms which that extraordinary judgment-court + afforded, no wonder that Clarence forgot, with the artist himself, the + disadvantages Warner had to encounter in the inexperience of an + unregulated taste and an imperfect professional education. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All manners take a tincture from our own, + Or come discoloured through our passions shown.—POPE. +</pre> + <blockquote> + <p> + What! give up liberty, property, and, as the Gazeteer says, lie down to + be saddled with wooden shoes?—Vicar of Wakefield. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + There was something in the melancholy and reflective character of Warner + resembling that of Mordaunt; had they lived in these days perhaps both the + artist and the philosopher had been poets. But (with regard to the latter) + at that time poetry was not the customary vent for deep thought or + passionate feeling. Gray, it is true, though unjustly condemned as + artificial and meretricious in his style, had infused into the scanty + works which he has bequeathed to immortality a pathos and a richness + foreign to the literature of the age; and, subsequently, Goldsmith, in the + affecting yet somewhat enervate simplicity of his verse, had obtained for + Poetry a brief respite from a school at once declamatory and powerless, + and led her forth for a “Sunshine Holiday” into the village + green and under the hawthorn shade. But, though the softer and meeker + feelings had struggled into a partial and occasional vent, those which + partook more of passion and of thought, the deep, the wild, the fervid, + were still without “the music of a voice.” For the after + century it was reserved to restore what we may be permitted to call the + spirit of our national literature; to forsake the clinquant of the French + mimickers of classic gold; to exchange a thrice-adulterated Hippocrene for + the pure well of Shakspeare and of Nature; to clothe philosophy in the + gorgeous and solemn majesty of appropriate music; and to invest passion + with a language as burning as its thought and rapid as its impulse. At + that time reflection found its natural channel in metaphysical inquiry or + political speculation; both valuable, perhaps, but neither profound. It + was a bold, and a free, and an inquisitive age, but not one in which + thought ran over its set and stationary banks, and watered even the common + flowers of verse: not one in which Lucretius could have embodied the + dreams of Epicurus; Shakspeare lavished the mines of a superhuman wisdom + upon his fairy palaces and enchanted isles; or the Beautifier [Wordsworth] + of this common earth have called forth + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The motion of the spirit that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought;” + </pre> + <p> + or Disappointment and Satiety have hallowed their human griefs by a pathos + wrought from whatever is magnificent and grand and lovely in the unknown + universe; or the speculations of a great but visionary mind [Shelley] have + raised, upon subtlety and doubt, a vast and irregular pile of verse, full + of dim-lighted cells, and winding galleries, in which what treasures lie + concealed! That was an age in which poetry took one path and contemplation + another; those who were addicted to the latter pursued it in its orthodox + roads; and many, whom Nature, perhaps intended for poets, the wizard + Custom converted into speculators or critics. + </p> + <p> + It was this which gave to Algernon’s studies their peculiar hue; + while, on the other hand, the taste for the fine arts which then + universally prevailed, directed to the creations of painting, rather than + those of poetry, more really congenial to his powers, the intense + imagination and passion for glory which marked and pervaded the character + of the artist. + </p> + <p> + But as we have seen that that passion for glory made the great + characteristic difference between Clarence and Warner, so also did that + passion terminate any resemblance which Warner bore to Algernon Mordaunt. + With the former a rank and unwholesome plant, it grew up to the exclusion + of all else; with the latter, subdued and regulated, it sheltered, not + withered, the virtues by which it was surrounded. With Warner, ambition + was a passionate desire to separate himself by fame from the herd of other + men; with Mordaunt, to bind himself by charity yet closer to his kind: + with the one, it produced a disgust to his species; with the other, a pity + and a love: with the one, power was the badge of distinction; with the + other, the means to bless! But our story lingers. + </p> + <p> + It was now the custom of Warner to spend the whole day at his work, and + wander out with Clarence, when the evening darkened, to snatch a brief + respite of exercise and air. Often, along the lighted and populous + streets, would the two young and unfriended competitors for this world’s + high places roam with the various crowd, moralizing as they went or + holding dim conjecture upon their destinies to be. And often would they + linger beneath the portico of some house where, “haunted with great + resort,” Pleasure and Pomp held their nightly revels, to listen to + the music that, through the open windows, stole over the rare exotics with + which wealth mimics the southern scents, and floated, mellowing by + distance, along the unworthy streets; and while they stood together, + silent and each feeding upon separate thoughts, the artist’s pale + lip would curl with scorn, as he heard the laugh and the sounds of a + frivolous and hollow mirth ring from the crowd within, and startle the air + from the silver spell which music had laid upon it. “These,” + would he say to Clarence, “these are the dupes of the same fever as + ourselves: like us, they strive and toil and vex their little lives for a + distinction from their race. Ambition comes to them, as to all: but they + throw for a different prize than we do; theirs is the honour of a day, + ours is immortality; yet they take the same labour and are consumed by the + same care. And, fools that they are, with their gilded names and their + gaudy trappings, they would shrink in disdain from that comparison with us + which we, with a juster fastidiousness, blush at this moment to + acknowledge.” + </p> + <p> + From these scenes they would rove on, and, both delighting in contrast, + enter some squalid and obscure quarter of the city. There, one night, + quiet observers of their kind, they paused beside a group congregated + together by some common cause of obscene merriment or unholy fellowship—a + group on which low vice had set her sordid and hideous stamp—to gaze + and draw strange humours or a motley moral from that depth and ferment of + human nature into whose sink the thousand streams of civilization had + poured their dregs and offal. + </p> + <p> + “You survey these,” said the painter, marking each with the + curious eye of his profession: “they are a base horde, it is true; + but they have their thirst of fame, their aspirations even in the abyss of + crime or the loathsomeness of famished want. Down in yon cellar, where a + farthing rushlight glimmers upon haggard cheeks, distorted with the + idiotcy of drink; there, in that foul attic, from whose casement you see + the beggar’s rags hang to dry, or rather to crumble in the reeking + and filthy air; farther on, within those walls which, black and heavy as + the hearts they hide, close our miserable prospect,—there, even + there, in the mildewed dungeon, in the felon’s cell, on the very + scaffold’s self, Ambition hugs her own hope or scowls upon her own + despair. Yes! the inmates of those walls had their perilous game of + honour, their ‘hazard of the die,’ in which vice was triumph + and infamy success. We do but share their passion, though we direct it to + a better object.” + </p> + <p> + Pausing for a moment, as his thoughts flowed into a somewhat different + channel of his character, Warner continued, “We have now caught a + glimpse of the two great divisions of mankind; they who riot in palaces, + and they who make mirth hideous in rags and hovels: own that it is but a + poor survey in either. Can we be contemptible with these or loathsome with + those? Or rather have we not a nobler spark within us, which we have but + to fan into a flame that shall burn forever, when these miserable meteors + sink into the corruption from which they rise?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” observed Clarence, “these are the two extremes; + the pinnacle of civilization, too worn and bare for any more noble and + vigorous fruit, and the base upon which the cloud descends in rain and + storm. Look to the central portion of society; there the soil is more + genial, and its produce more rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so, in truth?” answered Warner; “pardon me, I + believe not: the middling classes are as human as the rest. There is the + region, the heart, of Avarice,—systematized, spreading, rotting, the + very fungus and leprosy of social states; suspicion, craft, hypocrisy, + servility to the great, oppression to the low, the waxlike mimicry of + courtly vices, the hardness of flint to humble woes; thought, feeling, the + faculties and impulses of man, all ulcered into one great canker, Gain,—these + make the general character of the middling class, the unleavened mass of + that mediocrity which it has been the wisdom of the shallow to applaud. + Pah! we too are of this class, this potter’s earth, this paltry + mixture of mud and stone; but we, my friend, we will knead gold into our + clay.” + </p> + <p> + “But look,” said Clarence, pointing to the group before them, + “look, yon wretched mother, whose voice an instant ago uttered the + coarsest accents of maudlin and intoxicated prostitution, is now fostering + her infant, with a fondness stamped upon her worn cheek and hollow eye, + which might shame the nice maternity of nobles; and there, too, yon wretch + whom, in the reckless effrontery of hardened abandonment, we ourselves + heard a few minutes since boast of his dexterity in theft, and openly + exhibit its token,—look, he is now, with a Samaritan’s own + charity, giving the very goods for which his miserable life was risked to + that attenuated and starving stripling! No, Warner, no! even this mass is + not unleavened. The vilest infamy is not too deep for the Seraph Virtue to + descend and illumine its abyss!” + </p> + <p> + “Out on the weak fools!” said the artist, bitterly: “it + would be something, if they could be consistent even in crime!” and, + placing his arm in Linden’s, he drew him away. + </p> + <p> + As the picture grew beneath the painter’s hand, Clarence was much + struck with the outline and expression of countenance given to the + regicide Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + “They are but an imperfect copy of the living original from whom I + have borrowed them,” said Warner, in answer to Clarence’s + remark upon the sternness of the features. “But that original—a + relation of mine, is coming here to-day: you shall see him.” + </p> + <p> + While Warner was yet speaking, the person in question entered. His were, + indeed, the form and face worthy to be seized by the painter. The + peculiarity of his character made him affect a plainness of dress unusual + to the day, and approaching to the simplicity, but not the neatness, of + Quakerism. His hair—then, with all the better ranks, a principal + object of cultivation—was wild, dishevelled, and, in wiry flakes of + the sablest hue, rose abruptly from a forehead on which either thought or + passion had written its annals with an iron pen; the lower part of the + brow, which overhung the eye, was singularly sharp and prominent; while + the lines, or rather furrows, traced under the eyes and nostrils, spoke + somewhat of exhaustion and internal fatigue. But this expression was + contrasted and contradicted by the firmly compressed lip; the lighted, + steady, stern eye; the resolute and even stubborn front, joined to + proportions strikingly athletic and a stature of uncommon height. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Wolfe,” said the young painter to the person we have + described, “it is indeed a kindness to give me a second sitting.” + </p> + <p> + “Tusk, boy!” answered Wolfe, “all men have their vain + points, and I own that I am not ill pleased that these rugged features + should be assigned, even in fancy, to one of the noblest of those men who + judged the mightiest cause in which a country was ever plaintiff, a tyrant + criminal, and a world witness!” While Wolfe was yet speaking his + countenance, so naturally harsh, took a yet sterner aspect, and the + artist, by a happy touch, succeeded in transferring it to the canvas. + </p> + <p> + “But, after all,” continued Wolfe, “it shames me to lend + aid to an art frivolous in itself, and almost culpable in times when + Freedom wants the head to design, and perhaps the hand to execute, far + other and nobler works than the blazoning of her past deeds upon + perishable canvas.” + </p> + <p> + A momentary anger at the slight put upon his art crossed the pale brow of + the artist; but he remembered the character of the man and continued his + work in silence. “You consider then, sir, that these are times in + which liberty is attacked?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Attacked!” repeated Wolfe,—“attacked!” and + then suddenly sinking his voice into a sort of sneer, “why, since + the event which this painting is designed to commemorate, I know not if we + have ever had one solitary gleam of liberty break along the great chaos of + jarring prejudice and barbarous law which we term forsooth a glorious + constitution. Liberty attacked! no, boy; but it is a time when liberty may + be gained.” + </p> + <p> + Perfectly unacquainted with the excited politics of the day, or the + growing and mighty spirit which then stirred through the minds of men, + Clarence remained silent; but his evident attention flattered the fierce + republican, and he proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” he said slowly, and as if drinking in a deep and stern + joy from his conviction in the truth of the words he uttered,—“ay, + I have wandered over the face of the earth, and I have warmed my soul at + the fires which lay hidden under its quiet surface; I have been in the + city and the desert,—the herded and banded crimes of the Old World, + and the scattered but bold hearts which are found among the savannahs of + the New; and in either I have beheld that seed sown which, from a mustard + grain, too scanty for a bird’s beak, shall grow up to be a shelter + and a home for the whole family of man. I have looked upon the thrones of + kings, and lo, the anointed ones were in purple and festive pomp; and I + looked beneath the thrones, and I saw Want and Hunger, and despairing + Wrath gnawing the foundations away. I have stood in the streets of that + great city where Mirth seems to hold an eternal jubilee, and beheld the + noble riot while the peasant starved; and the priest built altars to + Mammon, piled from the earnings of groaning Labour and cemented with blood + and tears. But I looked farther, and saw, in the rear, chains sharpened + into swords, misery ripening into justice, and famine darkening into + revenge; and I laughed as I beheld, for I knew that the day of the + oppressed was at hand.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat awed by the prophetic tone, though revolted by what seemed to him + the novelty and the fierceness of the sentiments of the republican, + Clarence, after a brief pause, said,— + </p> + <p> + “And what of our own country?” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe’s brow darkened. “The oppression here,” said he, + “has not been so weighty, therefore the reaction will be less + strong; the parties are more blended, therefore their separation will be + more arduous; the extortion is less strained, therefore the endurance will + be more meek; but, soon or late, the struggle must come: bloody will it + be, if the strife be even; gentle and lasting, if the people predominate.” + </p> + <p> + “And if the rulers be the strongest?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “The struggle will be renewed,” replied Wolfe, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “You still attend those oratorical meetings, cousin, I think?” + said Warner. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Wolfe; “and if you are not so utterly + absorbed in your vain and idle art as to be indifferent to all things + nobler, you will learn yourself to take interest in what concerns—I + will not say your country, but mankind. For you, young man” (and the + republican turned to Clarence), “I would fain hope that life has not + already been diverted from the greatest of human objects; if so, come + to-morrow night to our assembly, and learn from worthier lips than mine + the precepts and the hopes for which good men live or die.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come at all events to listen, if not to learn,” said + Clarence, eagerly, for his curiosity was excited. And the republican, + having now fulfilled the end of his visit, rose and departed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bound to suffer persecution + And martyrdom with resolution, + T’oppose himself against the hate + And vengeance of the incensed state.—Hudibras. +</pre> + <p> + Born of respectable though not wealthy parents, John Wolfe was one of + those fiery and daring spirits which, previous to some mighty revolution, + Fate seems to scatter over various parts of the earth, even those removed + from the predestined explosion,—heralds of the events in which they + are fitted though not fated to be actors. The period at which he is + presented to the reader was one considerably prior to that French + Revolution so much debated and so little understood. But some such event, + though not foreseen by the common, had been already foreboded by the more + enlightened, eye; and Wolfe, from a protracted residence in France among + the most discontented of its freer spirits, had brought hope to that + burning enthusiasm which had long made the pervading passion of his + existence. + </p> + <p> + Bold to ferocity, generous in devotion to folly in self-sacrifice, + unflinching in his tenets to a degree which rendered their ardour + ineffectual to all times, because utterly inapplicable to the present, + Wolfe was one of those zealots whose very virtues have the semblance of + vice, and whose very capacities for danger become harmless from the + rashness of their excess. + </p> + <p> + It was not among the philosophers and reasoners of France that Wolfe had + drawn strength to his opinions: whatever such companions might have done + to his tenets, they would at least have moderated his actions. The + philosopher may aid or expedite a change; but never does the philosopher + in any age or of any sect countenance a crime. But of philosophers Wolfe + knew little, and probably despised them for their temperance: it was among + fanatics—ignorant, but imaginative—that he had strengthened + the love without comprehending the nature of republicanism. Like Lucian’s + painter, whose flattery portrayed the one-eyed prince in profile, he + viewed only that side of the question in which there was no defect, and + gave beauty to the whole by concealing the half. Thus, though on his + return to England herding with the common class of his reforming brethren, + Wolfe possessed many peculiarities and distinctions of character which, in + rendering him strikingly adapted to the purpose of the novelist, must + serve as a caution to the reader not to judge of the class by the + individual. + </p> + <p> + With a class of Republicans in England there was a strong tendency to + support their cause by reasoning. With Wolfe, whose mind was little wedded + to logic, all was the offspring of turbulent feelings, which, in rejecting + argument, substituted declamation for syllogism. This effected a powerful + and irreconcilable distinction between Wolfe and the better part of his + comrades; for the habits of cool reasoning, whether true or false, are + little likely to bias the mind towards those crimes to which Wolfe’s + unregulated emotions might possibly urge him, and give to the characters + to which they are a sort of common denominator something of method and + much of similarity. But the feelings—those orators which allow no + calculation and baffle the tameness of comparison—rendered Wolfe + alone, unique, eccentric in opinion or action, whether of vice or virtue. + </p> + <p> + Private ties frequently moderate the ardour of our public enthusiasm. + Wolfe had none. His nearest relation was Warner, and it may readily be + supposed that with the pensive and contemplative artist he had very little + in common. He had never married, nor had ever seemed to wander from his + stern and sterile path, in the most transient pursuit of the pleasures of + sense. Inflexibly honest, rigidly austere,—in his moral character + his bitterest enemies could detect no flaw,—poor, even to indigence, + he had invariably refused all overtures of the government; thrice + imprisoned and heavily fined for his doctrines, no fear of a future, no + remembrance of the past punishment could ever silence his bitter eloquence + or moderate the passion of his distempered zeal; kindly, though rude, his + scanty means were ever shared by the less honest and disinterested + followers of his faith; and he had been known for days to deprive himself + of food, and for nights of shelter, for the purpose of yielding food and + shelter to another. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man doomed to forsake, through a long and wasted life, every + substantial blessing, in pursuit of a shadowy good; with the warmest + benevolence in his heart, to relinquish private affections, and to brood + even to madness over public offences; to sacrifice everything in a + generous though erring devotion for that freedom whose cause, instead of + promoting, he was calculated to retard; and, while he believed himself the + martyr of a high and uncompromising virtue, to close his career with the + greatest of human crimes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Faith, methinks his humour is good, and his purse will buy + good company.—The Parson’s Wedding. +</pre> + <p> + When Clarence returned home, after the conversation recorded in our last + chapter, he found a note from Talbot, inviting him to meet some friends of + the latter at supper that evening. It was the first time Clarence had been + asked, and he looked forward with some curiosity and impatience to the + hour appointed in the note. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to convey any idea of the jealous rancour felt by Mr. and + Mrs. Copperas on hearing of this distinction,—a distinction which + “the perfect courtier” had never once bestowed upon + themselves. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Copperas tossed her head, too indignant for words; and the + stock-jobber, in the bitterness of his soul, affirmed, with a meaning air, + “that he dared say, after all, that the old gentleman was not so + rich as he gave out.” + </p> + <p> + On entering Talbot’s drawing-room, Clarence found about seven or + eight people assembled; their names, in proclaiming the nature of the + party, indicated that the aim of the host was to combine aristocracy and + talent. The literary acquirements and worldly tact of Talbot, joined to + the adventitious circumstances of birth and fortune, enabled him to effect + this object, so desirable in polished society, far better than we + generally find it effected now. The conversation of these guests was light + and various. The last bon mot of Chesterfield, the last sarcasm of Horace + Walpole, Goldsmith’s “Traveller,” Shenstone’s + “Pastorals,” and the attempt of Mrs. Montagu to bring + Shakspeare into fashion,—in all these subjects the graceful wit and + exquisite taste of Talbot shone pre-eminent; and he had almost succeeded + in convincing a profound critic that Gray was a poet more likely to live + than Mason, when the servant announced supper. + </p> + <p> + That was the age of suppers! Happy age! Meal of ease and mirth; when Wine + and Night lit the lamp of Wit! Oh, what precious things were said and + looked at those banquets of the soul! There epicurism was in the lip as + well as the palate, and one had humour for a hors d’oeuvre and + repartee for an entremet. At dinner there is something too pompous, too + formal, for the true ease of Table Talk. One’s intellectual + appetite, like the physical, is coarse but dull. At dinner one is fit only + for eating; after dinner only for politics. But supper was a glorious + relic of the ancients. The bustle of the day had thoroughly wound up the + spirit, and every stroke upon the dial-plate of wit was true to the genius + of the hour. The wallet of diurnal anecdote was full, and craved + unloading. The great meal—that vulgar first love of the appetite—was + over, and one now only flattered it into coquetting with another. The + mind, disengaged and free, was no longer absorbed in a cutlet or burdened + with a joint. The gourmand carried the nicety of his physical perception + to his moral, and applauded a bon mot instead of a bonne bouche. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, one had no necessity to keep a reserve of thought for the after + evening; supper was the final consummation, the glorious funeral pyre of + day. One could be merry till bedtime without an interregnum. Nay, if in + the ardour of convivialism one did,—I merely hint at the possibility + of such an event,—if one did exceed the narrow limits of strict + ebriety, and open the heart with a ruby key, one had nothing to dread from + the cold, or, what is worse, the warm looks of ladies in the drawing-room; + no fear that an imprudent word, in the amatory fondness of the fermented + blood, might expose one to matrimony and settlements. There was no tame, + trite medium of propriety and suppressed confidence, no bridge from board + to bed, over which a false step (and your wine-cup is a marvellous + corrupter of ambulatory rectitude) might precipitate into an irrecoverable + abyss of perilous communication or unwholesome truth. One’s pillow + became at once the legitimate and natural bourne to “the overheated + brain;” and the generous rashness of the coenatorial reveller was + not damped by untimeous caution or ignoble calculation. + </p> + <p> + But “we have changed all that now.” Sobriety has become the + successor of suppers; the great ocean of moral encroachment has not left + us one little island of refuge. Miserable supper-lovers that we are, like + the native Indians of America, a scattered and daily disappearing race, we + wander among strange customs, and behold the innovating and invading + Dinner spread gradually over the very space of time in which the majesty + of Supper once reigned undisputed and supreme! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O, ye heavens, be kind, + And feel, thou earth, for this afflicted race.—WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + As he was sitting down to the table, Clarence’s notice was arrested + by a somewhat suspicious and unpleasing occurrence. The supper room was on + the ground floor, and, owing to the heat of the weather, one of the + windows, facing the small garden, was left open. Through this window + Clarence distinctly saw the face of a man look into the room for one + instant, with a prying and curious gaze, and then as instantly disappear. + As no one else seemed to remark this incident, and the general attention + was somewhat noisily engrossed by the subject of conversation, Clarence + thought it not worth while to mention a circumstance for which the + impertinence of any neighbouring servant or drunken passer-by might easily + account. An apprehension, however, of a more unpleasant nature shot across + him, as his eye fell upon the costly plate which Talbot rather + ostentatiously displayed, and then glanced to the single and aged servant, + who was, besides his master, the only male inmate of the house. Nor could + he help saying to Talbot, in the course of the evening, that he wondered + he was not afraid of hoarding so many articles of value in a house at once + so lonely and ill guarded. + </p> + <p> + “Ill guarded!” said Talbot, rather affronted, “why, I + and my servant always sleep here!” + </p> + <p> + To this Clarence thought it neither prudent nor well-bred to offer further + remark. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Meetings or public calls he never missed, + To dictate often, always to assist. + ..... + To his experience and his native sense, + He joined a bold, imperious eloquence; + The grave, stern look of men informed and wise, + A full command of feature, heart and eyes, + An awe-compelling frown, and fear-inspiring size.—CRABBE. +</pre> + <p> + The next evening Clarence, mindful of Wolfe’s invitation, inquired + from Warner (who repaid the contempt of the republican for the painter’s + calling by a similar feeling for the zealot’s) the direction of the + oratorical meeting, and repaired there alone. It was the most celebrated + club (of that description) of the day, and well worth attending, as a + gratification to the curiosity, if not an improvement to the mind. + </p> + <p> + On entering, he found himself in a long room, tolerably well lighted, and + still better filled. The sleepy countenances of the audience, the + whispered conversation carried on at scattered intervals, the listless + attitudes of some, the frequent yawns of others, the eagerness with which + attention was attracted to the opening door, when it admitted some new + object of interest, the desperate resolution with which some of the more + energetic turned themselves towards the orator, and then, with a faint + shake of the head, turned themselves again hopelessly away,—were all + signs that denoted that no very eloquent declaimer was in possession of + the “house.” It was, indeed, a singularly dull, monotonous + voice which, arising from the upper end of the room, dragged itself on + towards the middle, and expired with a sighing sound before it reached the + end. The face of the speaker suited his vocal powers; it was small, mean, + and of a round stupidity, without anything even in fault that could + possibly command attention or even the excitement of disapprobation: the + very garments of the orator seemed dull and heavy, and, like the + Melancholy of Milton, had a “leaden look.” Now and then some + words, more emphatic than others,—stones breaking, as it were with a + momentary splash, the stagnation of the heavy stream,—produced from + three very quiet, unhappy-looking persons seated next to the speaker, his + immediate friends, three single isolated “hears!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The force of friendship could no further go.” + </pre> + <p> + At last, the orator having spoken through, suddenly stopped; the whole + meeting seemed as if a weight had been taken from it; there was a general + buzz of awakened energy, each stretched his limbs, and resettled himself + in his place,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And turning to his neighbour said, + ‘Rejoice!’” + </pre> + <p> + A pause ensued, the chairman looked round, the eyes of the meeting + followed those of the president, with a universal and palpable impatience, + towards an obscure corner of the room: the pause deepened for one moment, + and then was broken; a voice cried “Wolfe!” and at that signal + the whole room shook with the name. The place which Clarence had taken did + not allow him to see the object of these cries, till he rose from his + situation, and, passing two rows of benches, stood forth in the middle + space of the room; then, from one to one went round the general roar of + applause; feet stamped, hands clapped, umbrellas set their sharp points to + the ground, and walking-sticks thumped themselves out of shape in the + universal clamour. Tall, gaunt, and erect, the speaker possessed, even in + the mere proportions of his frame, that physical power which never fails, + in a popular assembly, to gain attention to mediocrity and to throw + dignity over faults. He looked very slowly round the room, remaining + perfectly still and motionless, till the clamour of applause had entirely + subsided, and every ear, Clarence’s no less eagerly than the rest, + was strained, and thirsting to catch the first syllables of his voice. + </p> + <p> + It was then with a low, very deep, and somewhat hoarse tone, that he + began; and it was not till he had spoken for several minutes that the iron + expression of his face altered, that the drooping hand was raised, and + that the suppressed, yet powerful, voice began to expand and vary in its + volume. He had then entered upon a new department of his subject. The + question was connected with the English constitution, and Wolfe was now + preparing to put forth, in long and blackened array, the alleged evils of + an aristocratical form of government. Then it was as if the bile and + bitterness of years were poured forth in a terrible and stormy wrath,—then + his action became vehement, and his eye flashed forth unutterable fire: + his voice, solemn, swelling, and increasing with each tone in its height + and depth, filled, as with something palpable and perceptible, the shaking + walls. The listeners,—a various and unconnected group, bound by no + tie of faith or of party, many attracted by curiosity, many by the hope of + ridicule, some abhorring the tenets expressed, and nearly all disapproving + their principles or doubting their wisdom,—the listeners, certainly + not a group previously formed or moulded into enthusiasm, became rapt and + earnest; their very breath forsook them. + </p> + <p> + Linden had never before that night heard a public speaker; but he was of a + thoughtful and rather calculating mind, and his early habits of decision, + and the premature cultivation of his intellect, rendered him little + susceptible, in general, to the impressions of the vulgar: nevertheless, + in spite of himself, he was hurried away by the stream, and found that the + force and rapidity of the speaker did not allow him even time for the + dissent and disapprobation which his republican maxims and fiery + denunciations perpetually excited in a mind aristocratic both by creed and + education. At length after a peroration of impetuous and magnificent + invective, the orator ceased. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the applause that followed, Clarence left the assembly; he + could not endure the thought that any duller or more commonplace speaker + should fritter away the spell which yet bound and engrossed his spirit. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At the bottom of the staircase was a small door, which gave + way before Nigel, as he precipitated himself upon the scene + of action, a cocked pistol in one hand, etc.—Fortunes of + Nigel. +</pre> + <p> + The night, though not utterly dark, was rendered capricious and dim by + alternate wind and rain; and Clarence was delayed in his return homeward + by seeking occasional shelter from the rapid and heavy showers which + hurried by. It was during one of the temporary cessations of the rain that + he reached Copperas Bower; and, while he was searching in his pockets for + the key which was to admit him, he observed two men loitering about his + neighbour’s house. The light was not sufficient to give him more + than a scattered and imperfect view of their motions. Somewhat alarmed, he + stood for several moments at the door, watching them as well as he was + able; nor did he enter the house till the loiterers had left their + suspicious position, and, walking onwards, were hid entirely from him by + the distance and darkness. + </p> + <p> + “It really is a dangerous thing for Talbot,” thought Clarence, + as he ascended to his apartment, “to keep so many valuables, and + only one servant, and that one as old as himself too. However, as I am by + no means sleepy, and my room is by no means cool, I may as well open my + window, and see if those idle fellows make their re-appearance.” + Suiting the action to the thought, Clarence opened his little casement, + and leaned wistfully out. + </p> + <p> + He had no light in his room, for none was ever left for him. This + circumstance, however, of course enabled him the better to penetrate the + dimness and haze of the night; and, by the help of the fluttering lamps, + he was enabled to take a general though not minute survey of the scene + below. + </p> + <p> + I think I have before said that there was a garden between Talbot’s + house and Copperas Bower; this was bounded by a wall, which confined + Talbot’s peculiar territory of garden, and this wall, describing a + parallelogram, faced also the road. It contained two entrances,—one + the principal adytus, in the shape of a comely iron gate, the other a + wooden door, which, being a private pass, fronted the intermediate garden + before mentioned and was exactly opposite to Clarence’s window. + </p> + <p> + Linden had been more than ten minutes at his post, and had just begun to + think his suspicions without foundation and his vigil in vain, when he + observed the same figures he had seen before advance slowly from the + distance and pause by the front gate of Talbot’s mansion. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed and anxious, he redoubled his attention; he stretched himself, as + far as his safety would permit, out of the window; the lamps, agitated by + the wind, which swept by in occasional gusts, refused to grant to his + straining sight more than an inaccurate and unsatisfying survey. + Presently, a blast, more violent than ordinary, suspended as it were the + falling columns of rain and left Clarence in almost total darkness; it + rolled away, and the momentary calm which ensued enabled him to see that + one of the men was stooping by the gate, and the other standing apparently + on the watch at a little distance. Another gust shook the lamps and again + obscured his view; and when it had passed onward in its rapid course, the + men had left the gate, and were in the garden beneath his window. They + crept cautiously, but swiftly, along the opposite wall, till they came to + the small door we have before mentioned; here they halted, and one of them + appeared to occupy himself in opening the door. Now, then, fear was + changed into certainty, and it seemed without doubt that the men, having + found some difficulty or danger in forcing the stronger or more public + entrance, had changed their quarter of attack. No more time was to be + lost; Clarence shouted aloud, but the high wind probably prevented the + sound reaching the ears of the burglars, or at least rendered it dubious + and confused. The next moment, and before Clarence could repeat his alarm, + they had opened the door, and were within the neighbouring garden, beyond + his view. Very young men, unless their experience has outstripped their + youth, seldom have much presence of mind; that quality, which is the + opposite to surprise, comes to us in those years when nothing seems to us + strange or unexpected. But a much older man than Clarence might have well + been at a loss to know what conduct to adopt in the situation in which our + hero was placed. The visits of the watchman to that (then) obscure and + ill-inhabited neighborhood were more regulated by his indolence than his + duty; and Clarence knew that it would be in vain to listen for his cry or + tarry for his assistance. He himself was utterly unarmed, but the + stock-jobber had a pair of horse-pistols, and as this recollection flashed + upon him, the pause of deliberation ceased. + </p> + <p> + With a swift step he descended the first flight of stairs, and pausing at + the chamber door of the faithful couple, knocked upon its panels with a + loud and hasty summons. The second repetition of the noise produced the + sentence, uttered in a very trembling voice, of “Who’s there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Clarence Linden,” replied our hero; “lose no + time in opening the door.” + </p> + <p> + This answer seemed to reassure the valorous stock-jobber. He slowly undid + the bolt, and turned the key. + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven’s name, what do you want, Mr. Linden?” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” cried a sharp voice from the more internal recesses of + the chamber, “what do you want, sir, disturbing us in the bosom of + our family and at the dead of night?” + </p> + <p> + With a rapid voice, Clarence repeated what he had seen, and requested the + broker to accompany him to Talbot’s house, or at least to lend him + his pistols. + </p> + <p> + “He shall do no such thing,” cried Mrs. Copperas. “Come + here, Mr. C., and shut the door directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, my love,” said the stock-jobber, “stop a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake,” cried Clarence, “make no delay; + the poor old man may be murdered by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no business of mine,” said the stock-jobber. + “If Adolphus had not broken the rattle I would not have minded the + trouble of springing it; but you are very much mistaken if you think I am + going to leave my warm bed in order to have my throat cut.” + </p> + <p> + “Then give me your pistols,” cried Clarence; “I will go + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall commit no such folly,” said the stock-jobber; “if + you are murdered, I may have to answer it to your friends and pay for your + burial. Besides, you owe us for your lodgings: go to your bed, young man, + as I shall to mine.” And, so saying, Mr. Copperas proceeded to close + the door. + </p> + <p> + But enraged at the brutality of the man and excited by the urgency of the + case, Clarence did not allow him so peaceable a retreat. With a strong and + fierce grasp, he seized the astonished Copperas by the throat, and shaking + him violently, forced his own entrance into the sacred nuptial chamber. + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven,” cried Linden, in a savage and stern tone, for his + blood was up. “I will twist your coward’s throat, and save the + murderer his labour, if you do not instantly give me up your pistols.” + </p> + <p> + The stock-jobber was panic-stricken. “Take them,” he cried, in + the extremest terror; “there they are on the chimney-piece close by.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they primed and loaded?” said Linden, not relaxing his + gripe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” said the stock-jobber, “loose my throat, or + you will choke me!” and at that instant, Clarence felt himself + clasped by the invading hands of Mrs. Copperas. + </p> + <p> + “Call off your wife,” said he, “or I will choke you!” + and he tightened his hold, “and tell her to give me the pistols.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment Mrs. Copperas extended the debated weapons towards + Clarence. He seized them, flung the poor stock-jobber against the bedpost, + hurried down stairs, opened the back door, which led into the garden, flew + across the intervening space, arrived at the door, and entering Talbot’s + garden, paused to consider what was the next step to be taken. + </p> + <p> + A person equally brave as Clarence, but more cautious, would not have left + the house without alarming Mr. de Warens, even in spite of the failure + with his master; but Linden only thought of the pressure of time and the + necessity of expedition, and he would have been a very unworthy hero of + romance had he felt fear for two antagonists, with a brace of pistols at + his command and a high and good action in view. + </p> + <p> + After a brief but decisive halt, he proceeded rapidly round the house, in + order to ascertain at which part the ruffians had admitted themselves, + should they (as indeed there was little doubt) have already effected their + entrance. + </p> + <p> + He found the shutters of one of the principal rooms on the ground-floor + had been opened, and through the aperture he caught the glimpse of a + moving light, which was suddenly obscured. As he was about to enter, the + light again flashed out: he drew back just in time, carefully screened + himself behind the shutter, and, through one of the chinks, observed what + passed within. Opposite to the window was a door which conducted to the + hall and principal staircase; this door was open, and in the hall at the + foot of the stairs Clarence saw two men; one carried a dark lantern, from + which the light proceeded, and some tools, of the nature of which Clarence + was naturally ignorant: this was a middle-sized muscular man, dressed in + the rudest garb of an ordinary labourer; the other was much taller and + younger, and his dress was of a rather less ignoble fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Hist! hist!” said the taller one, in a low tone, “did + you not hear a noise, Ben?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a pin fall; but stow your whids, man!” + </p> + <p> + This was all that Clarence heard in a connected form; but as the wretches + paused, in evident doubt how to proceed, he caught two or three detached + words, which his ingenuity readily formed into sentences. “No, no! + sleeps to the left—old man above—plate chest; we must have the + blunt too. Come, track up the dancers, and douse the glim.” And at + the last words the light was extinguished, and Clarence’s quick and + thirsting ear just caught their first steps on the stairs; they died away, + and all was hushed. + </p> + <p> + It had several times occurred to Clarence to rush from his hiding-place, + and fire at the ruffians, and perhaps that measure would have been the + wisest he could have taken; but Clarence had never discharged a pistol in + his life, and he felt, therefore, that his aim must be uncertain enough to + render a favourable position and a short distance essential requisites. + Both these were, at present, denied to him; and although he saw no weapons + about the persons of the villains, yet he imagined they would not have + ventured on so dangerous an expedition without firearms; and if he failed, + as would have been most probable, in his two shots, he concluded that, + though the alarm would be given, his own fate would be inevitable. + </p> + <p> + If this was reasoning upon false premises, for housebreakers seldom or + never carry loaded firearms, and never stay for revenge, when their safety + demands escape, Clarence may be forgiven for not knowing the customs of + housebreakers, and for not making the very best of an extremely novel and + dangerous situation. + </p> + <p> + No sooner did he find himself in total darkness than he bitterly + reproached himself for his late backwardness, and, inwardly resolving not + again to miss any opportunity which presented itself, he entered the + window, groped along the room into the hall, and found his way very slowly + and after much circumlocution to the staircase. + </p> + <p> + He had just gained the summit, when a loud cry broke upon the stillness: + it came from a distance, and was instantly hushed; but he caught at brief + intervals, the sound of angry and threatening voices. Clarence bent down + anxiously, in the hope that some solitary ray would escape through the + crevice of the door within which the robbers were engaged. But though the + sounds came from the same floor as that on which he now trod, they seemed + far and remote, and not a gleam of light broke the darkness. + </p> + <p> + He continued, however, to feel his way in the direction from which the + sounds proceeded, and soon found himself in a narrow gallery; the voices + seemed more loud and near, as he advanced; at last he distinctly heard the + words— + </p> + <p> + “Will you not confess where it is placed?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, indeed,” replied an eager and earnest voice, which + Clarence recognized as Talbot’s, “this is all the money I have + in the house,—the plate is above,—my servant has the key,—take + it,—take all,—but save his life and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “None of your gammon,” said another and rougher voice than + that of the first speaker: “we know you have more blunt than this,—a + paltry sum of fifty pounds, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” cried the other ruffian, “here is a picture set + with diamonds, that will do, Ben. Let go the old man.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was now just at hand, and probably from a sudden change in the + position of the dark lantern within, a light abruptly broke from beneath + the door and streamed along the passage. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” cried the old man, in a loud yet tremulous + voice,—“no, not that, anything else, but I will defend that + with my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Ben, my lad,” said the ruffian, “twist the old fool’s + neck we have no more time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + At that very moment the door was flung violently open, and Clarence Linden + stood within three paces of the reprobates and their prey. The taller + villain had a miniature in his hand, and the old man clung to his legs + with a convulsive but impotent clasp; the other fellow had already his + gripe upon Talbot’s neck, and his right hand grasped a long + case-knife. + </p> + <p> + With a fierce and flashing eye, and a cheek deadly pale with internal and + resolute excitement, Clarence confronted the robbers. + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven,” cried he, “I am not too late!” And + advancing yet another step towards the shorter ruffian, who struck mute + with the suddenness of the apparition, still retained his grasp of the old + man, he fired his pistol, with a steady and close aim; the ball penetrated + the wretch’s brain, and without sound or sigh, he fell down dead, at + the very feet of his just destroyer. The remaining robber had already + meditated, and a second more sufficed to accomplish, his escape. He sprang + towards the door: the ball whizzed beside him, but touched him not. With a + safe and swift step, long inured to darkness, he fled along the passage; + and Linden, satisfied with the vengeance he had taken upon his comrade, + did not harass him with an unavailing pursuit. + </p> + <p> + Clarence turned to assist Talbot. The old man was stretched upon the floor + insensible, but his hand grasped the miniature which the plunderer had + dropped in his flight and terror, and his white and ashen lip was pressed + convulsively upon the recovered treasure. + </p> + <p> + Linden raised and placed him on his bed, and while employed in attempting + to revive him, the ancient domestic, alarmed by the report of the pistol, + came, poker in hand, to his assistance. By little and little they + recovered the object of their attention. His eyes rolled wildly round the + room, and he muttered,—“Off, off! ye shall not rob me of my + only relic of her,—where is it?—have you got it?—the + picture, the picture!” + </p> + <p> + “It is here, sir, it is here,” said the old servant; “it + is in your own hand.” + </p> + <p> + Talbot’s eye fell upon it; he gazed at it for some moments, pressed + it to his lips, and then, sitting erect and looking wildly round, he + seemed to awaken to the sense of his late danger and his present + deliverance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, + Or the death they bear, + The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove + With the wings of care! + In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, + Shall mine cling to thee! + Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, + It may bring to thee!—SHELLEY. +</pre> + <p> + LETTER FROM ALGERNON MORDAUNT TO ISABEL ST. LEGER. + </p> + <p> + You told me not to write to you. You know how long, but not how uselessly + I have obeyed you. Did you think, Isabel, that my love was of that worldly + and common order which requires a perpetual aliment to support it? Did you + think that, if you forbade the stream to flow visibly, its sources would + be exhausted, and its channel dried up? This may be the passion of others; + it is not mine. Months have passed since we parted, and since then you + have not seen me; this letter is the first token you have received from a + remembrance which cannot die. But do you think that I have not watched and + tended upon you, and gladdened my eyes with gazing on your beauty when you + have not dreamed that I was by? Ah, Isabel, your heart should have told + you of it; mine would, had you been so near me! + </p> + <p> + You receive no letters from me, it is true: think you that my hand and + heart are therefore idle? No. I write to you a thousand burning lines: I + pour out my soul to you; I tell you of all I suffer; my thoughts, my + actions, my very dreams, are all traced upon the paper. I send them not to + you, but I read them over and over, and when I come to your name, I pause + and shut my eyes, and then “Fancy has her power,” and lo! + “you are by my side!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel, our love has not been a holiday and joyous sentiment; but I feel a + solemn and unalterable conviction that our union is ordained. + </p> + <p> + Others have many objects to distract and occupy the thoughts which are + once forbidden a single direction, but we have none. At least, to me you + are everything. Pleasure, splendour, ambition, all are merged into one + great and eternal thought, and that is you! + </p> + <p> + Others have told me, and I believed them, that I was hard and cold and + stern: so perhaps I was before I knew you, but now I am weaker and softer + than a child. There is a stone which is of all the hardest and the + chillest, but when once set on fire it is unquenchable. You smile at my + image, perhaps, and I should smile if I saw it in the writing of another; + for all that I have ridiculed in romance as exaggerated seems now to me + too cool and too commonplace for reality. + </p> + <p> + But this is not what I meant to write to you; you are ill, dearest and + noblest Isabel, you are ill! I am the cause, and you conceal it from me; + and you would rather pine away and die than suffer me to lose one of those + worldly advantages which are in my eyes but as dust in the balance,—it + is in vain to deny it. I heard from others of your impaired health; I have + witnessed it myself. Do you remember last night, when you were in the room + with your relations, and they made you sing,—a song too which you + used to sing to me, and when you came to the second stanza your voice + failed you, and you burst into tears, and they, instead of soothing, + reproached and chid you, and you answered not, but wept on? Isabel, do you + remember that a sound was heard at the window and a groan? Even they were + startled, but they thought it was the wind, for the night was dark and + stormy, and they saw not that it was I: yes, my devoted, my generous love, + it was I who gazed upon you, and from whose heart that voice of anguish + was wrung; and I saw your cheek was pale and thin, and that the canker at + the core had preyed upon the blossom. + </p> + <p> + Think you, after this, that I could keep silence or obey your request? No, + dearest, no! Is not my happiness your object? I have the vanity to believe + so; and am I not the best judge how that happiness is to be secured? I + tell you, I say it calmly, coldly, dispassionately,—not from the + imagination, not even from the heart, but solely from the reason,—that + I can bear everything rather than the loss of you; and that if the evil of + my love scathe and destroy you, I shall consider and curse myself as your + murderer! Save me from this extreme of misery, my—yes, my Isabel! I + shall be at the copse where we have so often met before, to-morrow, at + noon. You will meet me; and if I cannot convince you, I will not ask you + to be persuaded. A. M. + </p> + <p> + And Isabel read this letter, and placed it at her heart, and felt less + miserable than she had done for months; for, though she wept, there was + sweetness in the tears which the assurance of his love and the tenderness + of his remonstrance had called forth. She met him: how could she refuse? + and the struggle was past. Though not “convinced” she was + “persuaded;” for her heart, which refused his reasonings, + melted at his reproaches and his grief. But she would not consent to unite + her fate with him at once, for the evils of that step to his interests + were immediate and near; she was only persuaded to permit their + correspondence and occasional meetings, in which, however imprudent they + might be for herself, the disadvantages to her lover were distant and + remote. It was of him only that she thought; for him she trembled; for him + she was the coward and the woman; for herself she had no fears, and no + forethought. + </p> + <p> + And Algernon was worthy of this devoted love, and returned it as it was + given. Man’s love, in general, is a selfish and exacting sentiment: + it demands every sacrifice and refuses all. But the nature of Mordaunt was + essentially high and disinterested, and his honour, like his love, was not + that of the world: it was the ethereal and spotless honour of a lofty and + generous mind, the honour which custom can neither give nor take away; + and, however impatiently he bore the deferring of a union, in which he + deemed that he was the only sufferer, he would not have uttered a sigh or + urged a prayer for that union, could it, in the minutest or remotest + degree, have injured or degraded her. + </p> + <p> + These are the hearts and natures which make life beautiful; these are the + shrines which sanctify love; these are the diviner spirits for whom there + is kindred and commune with everything exalted and holy in heaven and + earth. For them Nature unfolds her hoarded poetry and her hidden spells; + for their steps are the lonely mountains, and the still woods have a + murmur for their ears; for them there is strange music in the wave, and in + the whispers of the light leaves, and rapture in the voices of the birds: + their souls drink, and are saturated with the mysteries of the Universal + Spirit, which the philosophy of old times believed to be God Himself. They + look upon the sky with a gifted vision, and its dove-like quiet descends + and overshadows their hearts; the Moon and the Night are to them wells of + Castalian inspiration and golden dreams; and it was one of them who, + gazing upon the Evening Star, felt in the inmost sanctuary of his soul its + mysterious harmonies with his most worshipped hope, his most passionate + desire, and dedicated it to—LOVE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Maria. Here’s the brave old man’s love, Bianca. That loves + the young man. The Woman’s Prize; or, The Tamer + Tamed. +</pre> + <p> + “No, my dear Clarence, you have placed confidence in me, and it is + now my duty to return it; you have told me your history and origin, and I + will inform you of mine, but not yet. At present we will talk of you. You + have conferred upon me what our universal love of life makes us regard as + the greatest of human obligations; and though I can bear a large burden of + gratitude, yet I must throw off an atom or two in using my little power in + your behalf. Nor is this all: your history has also given you another tie + upon my heart, and, in granting you a legitimate title to my good offices, + removes any scruple you might otherwise have had in accepting them.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just received this letter from Lord ——, the + minister for foreign affairs: you will see that he has appointed you to + the office of attache at ——. You will also oblige me by + looking over this other letter at your earliest convenience; the trifling + sum which it contains will be repeated every quarter; it will do very well + for an attache: when you are an ambassador, why, we must equip you by a + mortgage on Scarsdale; and now, my dear Clarence, tell me all about the + Copperases.” + </p> + <p> + I need not say who was the speaker of the above sentences: sentences + apparently of a very agreeable nature; nevertheless, Clarence seemed to + think otherwise, for the tears gushed into his eyes, and he was unable for + several moments to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my young friend,” said Talbot, kindly; “I have no + near relations among whom I can choose a son I like better than you, nor + you any at present from whom you might select a more desirable father: + consequently, you must let me look upon you as my own flesh and blood; + and, as I intend to be a very strict and peremptory father, I expect the + most silent and scrupulous obedience to my commands. My first parental + order to you is to put up those papers, and to say nothing more about + them; for I have a great deal to talk to you about upon other subjects.” + </p> + <p> + And by these and similar kind-hearted and delicate remonstrances, the old + man gained his point. From that moment Clarence looked upon him with the + grateful and venerating love of a son; and I question very much, if Talbot + had really been the father of our hero, whether he would have liked so + handsome a successor half so well. + </p> + <p> + The day after this arrangement, Clarence paid his debt to the Copperases + and removed to Talbot’s house. With this event commenced a new era + in his existence: he was no longer an outcast and a wanderer; out of alien + ties he had wrought the link of a close and even paternal friendship; + life, brilliant in its prospects and elevated in its ascent, opened + flatteringly before him; and the fortune and courage which had so well + provided for the present were the best omens and auguries for the future. + </p> + <p> + One evening, when the opening autumn had made its approaches felt, and + Linden and his new parent were seated alone by a blazing fire, and had + come to a full pause in their conversation, Talbot, shading his face with + the friendly pages of the “Whitehall Evening Paper,” as if to + protect it from the heat, said,— + </p> + <p> + “I told you, the other day, that I would give you, at some early + opportunity, a brief sketch of my life. This confidence is due to you in + return for yours; and since you will soon leave me, and I am an old man, + whose life no prudent calculation can fix, I may as well choose the + present time to favour you with my confessions.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence expressed and looked his interest, and the old man thus + commenced,— + </p> + <p> + THE HISTORY OF A VAIN MAN. + </p> + <p> + I was the favourite of my parents, for I was quick at my lessons, and my + father said I inherited my genius from him; and comely in my person, and + my mother said that my good looks came from her. So the honest pair saw in + their eldest son the union of their own attractions, and thought they were + making much of themselves when they lavished their caresses upon me. They + had another son, poor Arthur,—I think I see him now! He was a shy, + quiet, subdued boy, of a very plain personal appearance. My father and + mother were vain, showy, ambitious people of the world, and they were as + ashamed of my brother as they were proud of myself. However, he afterwards + entered the army and distinguished himself highly. He died in battle, + leaving an only daughter, who married, as you know, a nobleman of high + rank. Her subsequent fate it is now needless to relate. + </p> + <p> + Petted and pampered from my childhood, I grew up with a profound belief in + my own excellences, and a feverish and irritating desire to impress every + one who came in my way with the same idea. There is a sentence in Sir + William Temple, which I have often thought of with a painful conviction of + its truth: “A restlessness in men’s minds to be something they + are not, and to have something they have not, is the root of all + immorality.” [And of all good.—AUTHOR.] At school, I was + confessedly the cleverest boy in my remove; and, what I valued equally as + much, I was the best cricketer of the best eleven. Here, then, you will + say my vanity was satisfied,—no such thing! There was a boy who + shared my room, and was next me in the school; we were, therefore, always + thrown together. He was a great stupid, lubberly cub, equally ridiculed by + the masters and disliked by the boys. Will you believe that this + individual was the express and almost sole object of my envy? He was more + than my rival, he was my superior; and I hated him with all the unleavened + bitterness of my soul. + </p> + <p> + I have said he was my superior: it was in one thing. He could balance a + stick, nay, a cricket-bat, a poker, upon his chin, and I could not; you + laugh, and so can I now, but it was no subject of laughter to me then. + This circumstance, trifling as it may appear to you, poisoned my + enjoyment. The boy saw my envy, for I could not conceal it; and as all + fools are malicious, and most fools ostentatious, he took a particular + pride and pleasure in displaying his dexterity and showing off my + discontent. You can form no idea of the extent to which this petty + insolence vexed and disquieted me. Even in my sleep, the clumsy and + grinning features of this tormenting imp haunted me like a spectre: my + visions were nothing but chins and cricket-bats; walking-sticks, + sustaining themselves upon human excrescences, and pokers dancing a + hornpipe upon the tip of a nose. I assure you that I have spent hours in + secret seclusion, practising to rival my hated comrade, and my face—see + how one vanity quarrels with another—was little better than a mass + of bruises and discolorations. + </p> + <p> + I actually became so uncomfortable as to write home, and request to leave + the school. I was then about sixteen, and my indulgent father, in granting + my desire, told me that I was too old and too advanced in my learning to + go to any other academic establishment than the University. The day before + I left the school, I gave, as was usually the custom, a breakfast to all + my friends; the circumstance of my tormentor’s sharing my room + obliged me to invite him among the rest. However, I was in high spirits, + and being a universal favourite with my schoolfellows, I succeeded in what + was always to me an object of social ambition, and set the table in a + roar; yet, when our festival was nearly expired, and I began to allude + more particularly to my approaching departure, my vanity was far more + gratified, for my feelings were far more touched, by observing the regret + and receiving the good wishes of all my companions. I still recall that + hour as one of the proudest and happiest of my life; but it had its + immediate reverse. My evil demon put it into my tormentor’s head to + give me one last parting pang of jealousy. A large umbrella happened + accidentally to be in my room; Crompton—such was my schoolfellow’s + name—saw and seized it. “Look here, Talbot,” said he, + with his taunting and hideous sneer, “you can’t do this;” + and placing the point of the umbrella upon his forehead, just above the + eyebrow, he performed various antics round the room. + </p> + <p> + At that moment I was standing by the fireplace, and conversing with two + boys upon whom, above all others, I wished to leave a favourable + impression. My foolish soreness on this one subject had been often + remarked; and, as I turned in abrupt and awkward discomposure from the + exhibition, I observed my two schoolfellows smile and exchange looks. I am + not naturally passionate, and even at that age I had in ordinary cases + great self-command; but this observation, and the cause which led to it, + threw me off my guard. Whenever we are utterly under the command of one + feeling, we cannot be said to have our reason: at that instant I literally + believe I was beside myself. What! in the very flush of the last triumph + that that scene would ever afford me; amidst the last regrets of my early + friends, to whom I fondly hoped to bequeath a long and brilliant + remembrance, to be thus bearded by a contemptible rival, and triumphed + over by a pitiful yet insulting superiority; to close my condolences with + laughter; to have the final solemnity of my career thus terminating in + mockery; and ridicule substituted as an ultimate reminiscence in the place + of an admiring regret; all this, too, to be effected by one so long hated, + one whom I was the only being forbidden the comparative happiness of + despising? I could not brook it; the insult, the insulter, were too + revolting. As the unhappy buffoon approached me, thrusting his distorted + face towards mine, I seized and pushed him aside, with a brief curse and a + violent hand. The sharp point of the umbrella slipped; my action gave it + impetus and weight; it penetrated his eye, and—spare me, spare me + the rest. [This instance of vanity, and indeed the whole of Talbot’s + history, is literally from facts.] + </p> + <p> + The old man bent down, and paused for a few moments before he resumed. + </p> + <p> + Crompton lost his eye, but my punishment was as severe as his. People who + are very vain are usually equally susceptible, and they who feel one thing + acutely will so feel another. For years, ay, for many years afterwards, + the recollection of my folly goaded me with the bitterest and most + unceasing remorse. Had I committed murder, my conscience could scarce have + afflicted me more severely. I did not regain my self-esteem till I had + somewhat repaired the injury I had done. Long after that time Crompton was + in prison, in great and overwhelming distress. I impoverished myself to + release him; I sustained him and his family till fortune rendered my + assistance no longer necessary; and no triumphs were ever more sweet to me + than the sacrifice I was forced to submit to, in order to restore him to + prosperity. + </p> + <p> + It is natural to hope that this accident had at least the effect of curing + me of my fault; but it requires philosophy in yourself, or your advisers, + to render remorse of future avail. How could I amend my fault, when I was + not even aware of it? Smarting under the effects, I investigated not the + cause, and I attributed to irascibility and vindictiveness what had a + deeper and more dangerous origin. + </p> + <p> + At college, in spite of all my advantages of birth, fortune, health, and + intellectual acquirements, I had many things besides the one enemy of + remorse to corrode my tranquillity of mind. I was sure to find some one to + excel me in something, and this was enough to embitter my peace. Our + living Goldsmith is my favourite poet, and I perhaps insensibly venerate + the genius the more because I find something congenial in the infirmities + of the man. I can fully credit the anecdotes recorded of him. I, too, + could once have been jealous of a puppet handling a spontoon; I, too, + could once have been miserable if two ladies at the theatre were more the + objects of attention than myself! You, Clarence, will not despise me for + this confession; those who knew me less would. Fools! there is no man so + great as not to have some littleness more predominant than all his + greatness. Our virtues are the dupes, and often only the playthings, of + our follies! smile, but it is mournfully, in looking back to that day. + Though rich, high-born, and good-looking, I possessed not one of these + three qualities in that eminence which could alone satisfy my love of + superiority and desire of effect. I knew this somewhat humiliating truth, + for, though vain, I was not conceited. Vanity, indeed, is the very + antidote to conceit; for while the former makes us all nerve to the + opinion of others, the latter is perfectly satisfied with its opinion of + itself. + </p> + <p> + I knew this truth, and as Pope, if he could not be the greatest of poets, + resolved to be the most correct, so I strove, since I could not be the + handsomest, the wealthiest, and the noblest of my contemporaries, to excel + them, at least, in the grace and consummateness of manner; and in this + after incredible pains, after diligent apprenticeship in the world and + intense study in the closet, I at last flattered myself that I had + succeeded. Of all success, while we are yet in the flush of youth and its + capacities of enjoyment, I can imagine none more intoxicating or + gratifying than the success of society, and I had certainly some years of + its triumph and eclat. I was courted, followed, flattered, and sought by + the most envied and fastidious circles in England and even in Paris; for + society, so indifferent to those who disdain it, overwhelms with its + gratitude—profuse though brief—those who devote themselves to + its amusement. The victim to sameness and ennui, it offers, like the + pallid and luxurious Roman, a reward for a new pleasure: and as long as + our industry or talent can afford the pleasure, the reward is ours. At + that time, then, I reaped the full harvest of my exertions: the + disappointment and vexation were of later date. + </p> + <p> + I now come to the great era of my life,—Love. Among my acquaintance + was Lady Mary Walden, a widow of high birth, and noble though not powerful + connections. She lived about twenty miles from London in a beautiful + retreat; and, though not rich, her jointure, rendered ample by economy, + enabled her to indulge her love of society. Her house was always as full + as its size would permit, and I was among the most welcome of its + visitors. She had an only daughter: even now, through the dim mists of + years, that beautiful and fairy form rises still and shining before me, + undimmed by sorrow, unfaded by time. Caroline Walden was the object of + general admiration, and her mother, who attributed the avidity with which + her invitations were accepted by all the wits and fine gentlemen of the + day to the charms of her own conversation, little suspected the face and + wit of her daughter to be the magnet of attraction. I had no idea at that + time of marriage, still less could I have entertained such a notion, + unless the step had greatly exalted my rank and prospects. + </p> + <p> + The poor and powerless Caroline Walden was therefore the last person for + whom I had what the jargon of mothers term “serious intentions.” + However, I was struck with her exceeding loveliness and amused by the + vivacity of her manners; moreover, my vanity was excited by the hope of + distancing all my competitors for the smiles of the young beauty. + Accordingly I laid myself out to please, and neglected none of those + subtle and almost secret attentions which, of all flatteries, are the most + delicate and successful; and I succeeded. Caroline loved me with all the + earnestness and devotion which characterize the love of woman. It never + occurred to her that I was only trifling with those affections which it + seemed so ardently my intention to win. She knew that my fortune was large + enough to dispense with the necessity of fortune with my wife, and in + birth she would have equalled men of greater pretensions to myself; added + to this, long adulation had made her sensible though not vain of her + attractions, and she listened with a credulous ear to the insinuated + flatteries I was so well accustomed to instil. + </p> + <p> + Never shall I forget—no, though I double my present years—the + shock, the wildness of despair with which she first detected the + selfishness of my homage; with which she saw that I had only mocked her + trusting simplicity; and that while she had been lavishing the richest + treasures of her heart before the burning altars of Love, my idol had been + Vanity and my offerings deceit. She tore herself from the profanation of + my grasp; she shrouded herself from my presence. All interviews with me + were rejected; all my letters returned to me unopened; and though, in the + repentance of my heart, I entreated, I urged her to accept vows that were + no longer insincere, her pride became her punishment, as well as my own. + In a moment of bitter and desperate feeling; she accepted the offers of + another, and made the marriage bond a fatal and irrevocable barrier to our + reconciliation and union. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how I now cursed my infatuation! how passionately I recalled the past! + how coldly I turned from the hollow and false world, to whose service I + had sacrificed my happiness, to muse and madden over the prospects I had + destroyed and the loving and noble heart I had rejected! Alas! after all, + what is so ungrateful as that world for which we renounce so much? Its + votaries resemble the Gymnosophists of old, and while they profess to make + their chief end pleasure, we can only learn that they expose themselves to + every torture and every pain! + </p> + <p> + Lord Merton, the man whom Caroline now called husband, was among the + wealthiest and most dissipated of his order; and two years after our + separation I met once more with the victim of my unworthiness, blazing in + “the full front” of courtly splendour, the leader of its + gayeties and the cynosure of her followers. Intimate with the same + society, we were perpetually cast together, and Caroline was proud of + displaying the indifference towards me, which, if she felt not, she had at + least learnt artfully to assume. This indifference was her ruin. The + depths of my evil passion were again sounded and aroused, and I resolved + yet to humble the pride and conquer the coldness which galled to the very + quick the morbid acuteness of my self-love. I again attached myself to her + train; I bowed myself to the very dust before her. What to me were her + chilling reply and disdainful civilities?—-only still stronger + excitements to persevere. + </p> + <p> + I spare you and myself the gradual progress of my schemes. A woman may + recover her first passion, it is true; but then she must replace it with + another. That other was denied to Caroline: she had not even children to + engross her thoughts and to occupy her affections; and the gay world, + which to many becomes an object, was to her only an escape. + </p> + <p> + Clarence, my triumph came! Lady Walden (who had never known our secret) + invited me to her house: Caroline was there. In the same spot where we had + so often stood before, and in which her earliest affections were + insensibly breathed away, in that same spot I drew from her colourless and + trembling lips the confession of her weakness, the restored and pervading + power of my remembrance. + </p> + <p> + But Caroline was a proud and virtuous woman: even while her heart betrayed + her, her mind resisted; and in the very avowal of her unconquered + attachment, she renounced and discarded me forever. I was not an + ungenerous though a vain man; but my generosity was wayward, tainted, and + imperfect. I could have borne the separation; I could have severed myself + from her; I could have flown to the uttermost parts of the earth; I could + have hoarded there my secret yet unextinguished love, and never disturbed + her quiet by a murmur: but then the fiat of separation must have come from + me! My vanity could not bear that her lips should reject me, that my part + was not to be the nobility of sacrifice, but the submission of + resignation. However, my better feelings were aroused, and though I could + not stifle I concealed my selfish repinings. We parted: she returned to + town; I buried myself in the country; and, amidst the literary studies to + which, though by fits and starts, I was passionately devoted, I + endeavoured to forget my ominous and guilty love. + </p> + <p> + But I was then too closely bound to the world not to be perpetually + reminded of its events. My retreat was thronged with occasional migrators + from London; my books were mingled with the news and scandal of the day. + All spoke to me of Lady Merton; not as I loved to picture her to myself, + pale and sorrowful, and brooding over my image; but gay, dissipated, the + dispenser of smiles, the prototype of joy. I contrasted this account of + her with the melancholy and gloom of my own feelings, and I resented her + seeming happiness as an insult to myself. + </p> + <p> + In this angry and fretful mood I returned to London. My empire was soon + resumed; and now, Linden, comes the most sickening part of my confessions. + Vanity is a growing and insatiable disease: what seems to its desires as + wealth to-day, to-morrow it rejects as poverty. I was at first contented + to know that I was beloved; by degrees, slow, yet sure, I desired that + others should know it also. I longed to display my power over the + celebrated and courted Lady Merton; and to put the last crown to my + reputation and importance. The envy of others is the food of our own + self-love. Oh, you know not, you dream not, of the galling mortifications + to which a proud woman, whose love commands her pride, is subjected! I + imposed upon Caroline the most humiliating, the most painful trials; I + would allow her to see none but those I pleased; to go to no place where I + withheld my consent; and I hesitated not to exert and testify my power + over her affections, in proportion to the publicity of the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Yet, with all this littleness, would you believe that I loved Caroline + with the most ardent and engrossing passion? I have paused behind her, in + order to kiss the ground she trod on; I have stayed whole nights beneath + her window, to catch one glimpse of her passing form, even though I had + spent hours of the daytime in her society; and, though my love burned and + consumed me like a fire, I would not breathe a single wish against her + innocence, or take advantage of my power to accomplish what I knew from + her virtue and pride no atonement could possibly repay. Such are the + inconsistencies of the heart, and such, while they prevent our perfection, + redeem us from the utterness of vice! Never, even in my wildest days, was + I blind to the glory of virtue, yet never, till my latest years, have I + enjoyed the faculty to avail myself of my perception. I resembled the + mole, which by Boyle is supposed to possess the idea of light, but to be + unable to comprehend the objects on which it shines. + </p> + <p> + Among the varieties of my prevailing sin, was a weakness common enough to + worldly men. While I ostentatiously played off the love I had excited I + could not bear to show the love I felt. In our country, and perhaps, + though in a less degree, in all other highly artificial states, enthusiasm + or even feeling of any kind is ridiculous; and I could not endure the + thought that my treasured and secret affections should be dragged from + their retreat to be cavilled and carped at by— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Every beardless, vain comparative.” + </pre> + <p> + This weakness brought on the catastrophe of my love; for, mark me, + Clarence, it is through our weaknesses that our vices are punished! One + night I went to a masquerade; and, while I was sitting in a remote corner, + three of my acquaintances, whom I recognized, though they knew it not, + approached and rallied me upon my romantic attachment to Lady Merton. One + of them was a woman of a malicious and sarcastic wit; the other two were + men whom I disliked, because their pretensions interfered with mine; they + were diners-out and anecdote-mongers. Stung to the quick by their sarcasms + and laughter, I replied in a train of mingled arrogance and jest; at last + I spoke slightingly of the person in question; and these profane and false + lips dared not only to disown the faintest love to that being who was more + to me than all on earth, but even to speak of herself with ridicule and + her affection with disdain. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this, I turned and beheld, within hearing, a figure which + I knew upon the moment. O Heaven! the burning shame and agony of that + glance! It raised its mask—I saw that blanched cheek, and that + trembling lip! I knew that the iron had indeed entered into her soul. + </p> + <p> + Clarence, I never beheld her again alive. Within a week from that time she + was a corpse. She had borne much, suffered much, and murmured not; but + this shock pressed too hard, came too home, and from the hand of him for + whom she would have sacrificed all! I stood by her in death; I beheld my + work; and I turned away, a wanderer and a pilgrim upon the face of the + earth. Verily, I have had my reward. + </p> + <p> + The old man paused, in great emotion; and Clarence, who could offer him no + consolation, did not break the silence. In a few minutes Talbot continued— + </p> + <p> + From that time the smile of woman was nothing to me: I seemed to grow old + in a single day. Life lost to me all its objects. A dreary and desert + blank stretched itself before me: the sounds of creation had only in my + ears one voice; the past, the future, one image. I left my country for + twenty years, and lived an idle and hopeless man in the various courts of + the Continent. + </p> + <p> + At the age of fifty I returned to England; the wounds of the past had not + disappeared, but they were scarred over; and I longed, like the rest of my + species, to have an object in view. At that age, if we have seen much of + mankind and possess the talents to profit by our knowledge, we must be one + of two sects,—a politician or a philosopher. My time was not yet + arrived for the latter, so I resolved to become the former; but this was + denied me, for my vanity had assumed a different shape. It is true that I + cared no longer for the reputation women can bestow; but I was eager for + the applause of men, and I did not like the long labour necessary to + attain it. I wished to make a short road to my object, and I eagerly + followed every turn but the right one, in the hopes of its leading me + sooner to my goal. + </p> + <p> + The great characteristic of a vain man in contradistinction to an + ambitious man, his eternal obstacle to a high and honourable fame, is + this: he requires for any expenditure of trouble too speedy a reward; he + cannot wait for years, and climb, step by step, to a lofty object; + whatever he attempts, he must seize at a single grasp. Added to this, he + is incapable of an exclusive attention to one end; the universality of his + cravings is not contented, unless it devours all; and thus he is + perpetually doomed to fritter away his energies by grasping at the + trifling baubles within his reach, and in gathering the worthless fruit + which a single sun can mature. + </p> + <p> + This, then, was my fault, and the cause of my failure. I could not give + myself up to finance, nor puzzle through the intricacies of commerce: even + the common parliamentary drudgeries of constant attendance and late hours + were insupportable to me; and so after two or three “splendid + orations,” as my friends termed them, I was satisfied with the puffs + of the pamphleteers and closed my political career. I was now, then, the + wit and the conversationalist. With my fluency of speech and variety of + information, these were easy distinctions; and the popularity of a + dinner-table or the approbation of a literary coterie consoled me for the + more public and more durable applause I had resigned. + </p> + <p> + But even this gratification did not last long. I fell ill; and the friends + who gathered round the wit fled from the valetudinarian. This disgusted + me, and when I was sufficiently recovered I again returned to the + Continent. But I had a fit of misanthropy and solitude upon me, and so it + was not to courts and cities, the scenes of former gayeties, that I + repaired; on the contrary, I hired a house by one of the most sequestered + of the Swiss lakes, and, avoiding the living, I surrendered myself without + interruption or control to commune with the dead. I surrounded myself with + books and pored with a curious and searching eye into those works which + treat particularly upon “man.” My passions were over, my love + of pleasure and society was dried up, and I had now no longer the + obstacles which forbid us to be wise; I unlearned the precepts my manhood + had acquired, and in my old age I commenced philosopher; Religion lent me + her aid, and by her holy lamp my studies were conned and my hermitage + illumined. + </p> + <p> + There are certain characters which in the world are evil, and in seclusion + are good: Rousseau, whom I knew well, is one of them. These persons are of + a morbid sensitiveness, which is perpetually galled by collision with + others. In short, they are under the dominion of VANITY; and that vanity, + never satisfied and always restless in the various competitions of + society, produces “envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness!” + but, in solitude, the good and benevolent dispositions with which our + self-love no longer interferes have room to expand and ripen without being + cramped by opposing interests: this will account for many seeming + discrepancies in character. There are also some men in whom old age + supplies the place of solitude, and Rousseau’s antagonist and mental + antipodes, Voltaire, is of this order. The pert, the malignant, the + arrogant, the lampooning author in his youth and manhood, has become in + his old age the mild, the benevolent, and the venerable philosopher. + Nothing is more absurd than to receive the characters of great men so + implicitly upon the word of a biographer; and nothing can be less + surprising than our eternal disputes upon individuals: for no man + throughout life is the same being, and each season of our existence + contradicts the characteristics of the last. + </p> + <p> + And now in my solitude and my old age, a new spirit entered within me: the + game in which I had engaged so vehemently was over for me; and I joined to + my experience as a player my coolness as a spectator; I no longer + struggled with my species, and I began insensibly to love them. I + established schools and founded charities; and, in secret but active + services to mankind, I employed my exertions and lavished my desires. + </p> + <p> + From this amendment I date the peace of mind and elasticity which I now + enjoy; and in my later years the happiness which I pursued in my youth and + maturity so hotly, yet so ineffectually, has flown unsolicited to my + breast. + </p> + <p> + About five years ago I came again to England, with the intention of + breathing my last in the country which gave me birth. I retired to my + family home; I endeavoured to divert myself in agricultural improvements, + and my rental was consumed in speculation. This did not please me long: I + sought society,—society in Yorkshire! You may imagine the result: I + was out of my element; the mere distance from the metropolis, from all + genial companionship, sickened me with a vague feeling of desertion and + solitude; for the first time in my life I felt my age and my celibacy. + Once more I returned to town, a complaint attacked my lungs, the + physicians recommended the air of this neighbourhood, and I chose the + residence I now inhabit. Without being exactly in London, I can command + its advantages, and obtain society as a recreation without buying it by + restraint. I am not fond of new faces nor any longer covetous of show; my + old servant therefore contented me: for the future, I shall, however, to + satisfy your fears, remove to a safer habitation, and obtain a more + numerous guard. It is, at all events, a happiness to me that Fate, in + casting me here and exposing me to something of danger, has raised up in + you a friend for my old age, and selected from this great universe of + strangers one being to convince my heart that it has not outlived + affection. My tale is done; may you profit by its moral! + </p> + <p> + When Talbot said that our characters were undergoing a perpetual change he + should have made this reservation,—the one ruling passion remains to + the last; it may be modified, but it never departs; and it is these + modifications which do, for the most part, shape out the channels of our + change; or as Helvetius has beautifully expressed it, “we resemble + those vessels which the waves still carry towards the south, when the + north wind has ceased to blow;” but in our old age, this passion, + having little to feed on, becomes sometimes dormant and inert, and then + our good qualities rise, as it were from an incubus, and have their sway. + </p> + <p> + Yet these cases are not common, and Talbot was a remarkable instance, for + he was a remarkable man. His mind had not slept while the age advanced, + and thus it had swelled as it were from the bondage of its earlier + passions and prejudices. But little did he think, in the blindness of + self-delusion,—though it was so obvious to Clarence, that he could + have smiled if he had not rather inclined to weep at the frailties of + human nature,—little did he think that the vanity which had cost him + so much remained “a monarch still,” undeposed alike by his + philosophy, his religion, or his remorse; and that, debarred by + circumstances from all wider and more dangerous fields, it still lavished + itself upon trifles unworthy of his powers and puerilities dishonouring + his age. Folly is a courtesan whom we ourselves seek, whose favours we + solicit at an enormous price, and who, like Lais, finds philosophers at + her door scarcely less frequently than the rest of mankind! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Trinket. What d’ye buy, what d’ye lack, gentlemen? Gloves, ribbons, + and essences,—ribbons, gloves, and essences. + ETHEREGE. +</pre> + <p> + “And so, my love,” said Mr. Copperas, one morning at + breakfast, to his wife, his right leg being turned over his left, and his + dexter hand conveying to his mouth a huge morsel of buttered cake,—“and, + so my love, they say that the old fool is going to leave the jackanapes + all his fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “They do say so, Mr. C.; for my part I am quite out of patience with + the art of the young man; I dare say he is no better than he should be; he + always had a sharp look, and for aught I know there may be more in that + robbery than you or I dreamed of, Mr. Copperas. It was a pity,” + continued Mrs. Copperas, upbraiding her lord with true matrimonial + tenderness and justice, for the consequences of his having acted from her + advice,—“it was a pity, Mr. C., that you should have refused + to lend him the pistols to go to the old fellow’s assistance, for + then who knows but—” + </p> + <p> + “I might have converted them into pocket pistols,” interrupted + Mr. C., “and not have overshot the mark, my dear—ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Mr. Copperas, you are always making a joke of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, for once I am making a joke of nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare it’s shameful,” cried Mrs. Copperas, + still following up her own indignant meditations, “and after taking + such notice of Adolphus, too, and all!” + </p> + <p> + “Notice, my dear! mere words,” returned Mr. Copperas, “mere + words, like ventilators, which make a great deal of air, but never raise + the wind; but don’t put yourself in a stew, my love, for the doctors + say that copperas in a stew is poison!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mr. de Warens, throwing open the door, announced Mr. Brown; + that gentleman entered, with a sedate but cheerful air. “Well, Mrs. + Copperas, your servant; any table-linen wanted? Mr. Copperas, how do you + do? I can give you a hint about the stocks. Master Copperas, you are + looking bravely; don’t you think he wants some new pinbefores, ma’am? + But Mr. Clarence Linden, where is he? Not up yet, I dare say. Ah, the + present generation is a generation of sluggards, as his worthy aunt, Mrs. + Minden, used to say.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” said Mrs. Copperas, with a disdainful toss of the + head, “I know nothing about the young man. He has left us; a very + mysterious piece of business indeed, Mr. Brown; and now I think of it, I + can’t help saying that we were by no means pleased with your + introduction: and, by the by, the chairs you bought for us at the sale + were a mere take-in, so slight that Mr. Walruss broke two of them by only + sitting down.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, ma’am?” said Mr. Brown, with expostulating + gravity; “but then Mr. Walruss is so very corpulent. But the young + gentleman, what of him?” continued the broker, artfully turning from + the point in dispute. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Mr. Brown, don’t ask me: it was the unluckiest step we + ever made to admit him into the bosom of our family; quite a viper, I + assure you; absolutely robbed poor Adolphus.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord help us!” said Mr. Brown, with a look which “cast + a browner horror” o’er the room, “who would have thought + it? and such a pretty young man!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Copperas, who, occupied in finishing the + buttered cake, had hitherto kept silence, “I must be off. Tom—I + mean de Warens—have you stopped the coach?” + </p> + <p> + “Yees, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And what coach is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It be the Swallow, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. And now, Mr. Brown, having swallowed in the roll, I + will e’en roll in the Swallow—Ha, ha, ha!—At any rate,” + thought Mr. Copperas, as he descended the stairs, “he has not heard + that before.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” gravely chuckled Mr. Brown, “what a very + facetious, lively gentleman Mr. Copperas is. But touching this ungrateful + young man, Mr. Linden, ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t tease me, Mr. Brown, I must see after my domestics: + ask Mr. Talbot, the old miser in the next house, the havarr, as the French + say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” said Mr. Brown, following the good lady down + stairs, “how distressing for me! and to say that he was Mrs. Minden’s + nephew, too!” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Brown’s curiosity was not so easily satisfied, and finding + Mr. de Warens leaning over the “front” gate, and “pursuing + with wistful eyes” the departing “Swallow,” he stopped, + and, accosting him, soon possessed himself of the facts that “old + Talbot had been robbed and murdered, but that Mr. Linden had brought him + to life again; and that old Talbot had given him a hundred thousand + pounds, and adopted him as his son; and that how Mr. Linden was going to + be sent to foreign parts, as an ambassador, or governor, or great person; + and that how meester and meeses were quite ‘cut up’ about it.” + </p> + <p> + All these particulars having been duly deposited in the mind of Mr. Brown, + they produced an immediate desire to call upon the young gentleman, who, + to say nothing of his being so very nearly related to his old customer, + Mrs. Minden, was always so very great a favourite with him, Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, as Clarence was musing over his approaching departure, which + was now very shortly to take place, he was somewhat startled by the + apparition of Mr. Brown—“Charming day, sir,—charming + day,” said the friend of Mrs. Minden,—“just called in to + congratulate you. I have a few articles, sir, to present you with,—quite + rarities, I assure you,—quite presents, I may say. I picked them up + at a sale of the late Lady Waddilove’s most valuable effects. They + are just the things, sir, for a gentleman going on a foreign mission. A + most curious ivory chest, with an Indian padlock, to hold confidential + letters,—belonged formerly, sir, to the Great Mogul; and a beautiful + diamond snuff-box, sir, with a picture of Louis XIV. on it, prodigiously + fine, and will look so loyal too: and, sir, if you have any old aunts in + the country, to send a farewell present to, I have some charming fine + cambric, a superb Dresden tea set, and a lovely little ‘ape,’ + stuffed by the late Lady W. herself.” + </p> + <p> + “My good sir,” began Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no thanks, sir,—none at all,—too happy to serve a + relation of Mrs. Minden,—always proud to keep up family connections. + You will be at home to-morrow, sir, at eleven; I will look in; your most + humble servant, Mr. Linden.” And almost upsetting Talbot, who had + just entered, Mr. Brown bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He talked with open heart and tongue, + Affectionate and true; + A pair of friends, though I was young + And Matthew seventy-two.—WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Meanwhile the young artist proceeded rapidly with his picture. Devoured by + his enthusiasm, and utterly engrossed by the sanguine anticipation of a + fame which appeared to him already won, he allowed himself no momentary + interval of relaxation; his food was eaten by starts, and without stirring + from his easel; his sleep was brief and broken by feverish dreams; he no + longer roved with Clarence, when the evening threw her shade over his + labours; all air and exercise he utterly relinquished; shut up in his + narrow chamber, he passed the hours in a fervid and passionate + self-commune, which, even in suspense from his work, riveted his thoughts + the closer to its object. All companionship, all intrusion, he bore with + irritability and impatience. Even Clarence found himself excluded from the + presence of his friend; even his nearest relation, who doted on the very + ground which he hallowed with his footstep, was banished from the haunted + sanctuary of the painter; from the most placid of human beings, Warner + seemed to have grown the most morose. + </p> + <p> + Want of rest, abstinence from food, the impatience of the strained spirit + and jaded nerves, all contributed to waste the health while they excited + the genius of the artist. A crimson spot, never before seen there, burned + in the centre of his pale cheek; his eye glowed with a brilliant but + unnatural fire; his features grew sharp and attenuated; his bones worked + from his whitening and transparent skin; and the soul and frame, turned + from their proper and kindly union, seemed contesting, with fierce + struggles, which should obtain the mastery and the triumph. + </p> + <p> + But neither his new prospects nor the coldness of his friend diverted the + warm heart of Clarence from meditating how he could most effectually serve + the artist before he departed from the country, It was a peculiar object + of desire to Warner that the most celebrated painter of the day, who was + on terms of intimacy with Talbot, and who with the benevolence of real + superiority was known to take a keen interest in the success of more + youthful and inexperienced genius,—it was a peculiar object of + desire to Warner, that Sir Joshua Reynolds should see his picture before + it was completed; and Clarence, aware of this wish, easily obtained from + Talbot a promise that it should be effected. That was the least service of + his zeal touched by the earnestness of Linden’s friendship, anxious + to oblige in any way his preserver, and well pleased himself to be the + patron of merit, Talbot readily engaged to obtain for Warner whatever the + attention and favour of high rank or literary distinction could bestow. + “As for his picture,” said Talbot (when, the evening before + Clarence’s departure, the latter was renewing the subject), “I + shall myself become the purchaser, and at a price which will enable our + friend to afford leisure and study for the completion of his next attempt; + but even at the risk of offending your friendship, and disappointing your + expectations, I will frankly tell you that I think Warner overrates, + perhaps not his talents, but his powers; not his ability for doing + something great hereafter, but his capacity of doing it at present. In the + pride of his heart, he has shown me many of his designs, and I am somewhat + of a judge: they want experience, cultivation, taste, and, above all, a + deeper study of the Italian masters. They all have the defects of a + feverish colouring, an ambitious desire of effect, a wavering and + imperfect outline, an ostentatious and unnatural strength of light and + shadow; they show, it is true, a genius of no ordinary stamp, but one ill + regulated, inexperienced, and utterly left to its own suggestions for a + model. However, I am glad he wishes for the opinion of one necessarily the + best judge: let him bring the picture here by Thursday; on that day my + friend has promised to visit me; and now let us talk of you and your + departure.” + </p> + <p> + The intercourse of men of different ages is essentially unequal: it must + always partake more or less of advice on one side and deference on the + other; and although the easy and unpedantic turn of Talbot’s + conversation made his remarks rather entertaining than obviously + admonitory, yet they were necessarily tinged by his experience, and + regulated by his interest in the fortunes of his young friend. + </p> + <p> + “My dearest Clarence,” said he, affectionately, “we are + about to bid each other a long farewell. I will not damp your hopes and + anticipations by insisting on the little chance there is that you should + ever see me again. You are about to enter upon the great world, and have + within you the desire and power of success; let me flatter myself that you + can profit by my experience. Among the ‘Colloquia’ of Erasmus, + there is a very entertaining dialogue between Apicius and a man who, + desirous of giving a feast to a very large and miscellaneous party, comes + to consult the epicure what will be the best means to give satisfaction to + all. Now you shall be this Spudaeus (so I think he is called), and I will + be Apicius; for the world, after all, is nothing more than a great feast + of different strangers, with different tastes and of different ages, and + we must learn to adapt ourselves to their minds, and our temptations to + their passions, if we wish to fascinate or even to content them. Let me + then call your attention to the hints and maxims which I have in this + paper amused myself with drawing up for your instruction. Write to me from + time to time, and I will, in replying to your letters, give you the best + advice in my power. For the rest, my dear boy, I have only to request that + you will be frank, and I, in my turn, will promise that when I cannot + assist, I will never reprove. And now, Clarence, as the hour is late and + you leave us early tomorrow, I will no longer detain you. God bless you + and keep you. You are going to enjoy life,—I to anticipate death; so + that you can find in me little congenial to yourself; but as the good Pope + said to our Protestant countryman, ‘Whatever the difference between + us, I know well that an old man’s blessing is never without its + value.’” + </p> + <p> + As Clarence clasped his benefactor’s hand, the tears gushed from his + eyes. Is there one being, stubborn as the rock to misfortune, whom + kindness does not affect? For my part, kindness seems to me to come with a + double grace and tenderness from the old; it seems in them the hoarded and + long purified benevolence of years; as if it had survived and conquered + the baseness and selfishness of the ordeal it had passed; as if the winds, + which had broken the form, had swept in vain across the heart, and the + frosts which had chilled the blood and whitened the thin locks had + possessed no power over the warm tide of the affections. It is the triumph + of nature over art; it is the voice of the angel which is yet within us. + Nor is this all: the tenderness of age is twice blessed,—blessed in + its trophies over the obduracy of encrusting and withering years, blessed + because it is tinged with the sanctity of the grave; because it tells us + that the heart will blossom even upon the precincts of the tomb, and + flatters us with the inviolacy and immortality of love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cannot I create, + Cannot I form, cannot I fashion forth + Another world, another universe?—KEATS. +</pre> + <p> + The next morning Clarence, in his way out of town, directed his carriage + (the last and not the least acceptable present from Talbot) to stop at + Warner’s door. Although it was scarcely sunrise, the aged + grandmother of the artist was stirring, and opened the door to the early + visitor. Clarence passed her with a brief salutation, hurried up the + narrow stairs, and found himself in the artist’s chamber. The + windows were closed, and the air of the room was confined and hot. A few + books, chiefly of history and poetry, stood in confused disorder upon some + shelves opposite the window. Upon a table beneath them lay a flute, once + the cherished recreation of the young painter, but now long neglected and + disused; and, placed exactly opposite to Warner, so that his eyes might + open upon his work, was the high-prized and already more than + half-finished picture. + </p> + <p> + Clarence bent over the bed; the cheek of the artist rested upon his arm in + an attitude unconsciously picturesque; the other arm was tossed over the + coverlet, and Clarence was shocked to see how emaciated it had become. But + ever and anon the lips of the sleeper moved restlessly, and words, low and + inarticulate, broke out. Sometimes he started abruptly, and a bright but + evanescent flush darted over his faded and hollow cheek; and once the + fingers of the thin hand which lay upon the bed expanded and suddenly + closed in a firm and almost painful grasp; it was then that for the first + time the words of the artist became distinct. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” he said, “I have thee, I have thee at last. + Long, very long thou hast burnt up my heart like fuel, and mocked me, and + laughed at my idle efforts; but now, now, I have thee. Fame, Honour, + Immortality, whatever thou art called, I have thee, and thou canst not + escape; but it is almost too late!” And, as if wrung by some sudden + pain, the sleeper turned heavily round, groaned audibly, and awoke. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Clarence, soothingly, and taking his hand, + “I have come to bid you farewell. I am just setting off for the + Continent, but I could not leave England without once more seeing you. I + have good news, too, for you.” And Clarence proceeded to repeat + Talbot’s wish that Warner should bring the picture to his house on + the following Thursday, that Sir Joshua might inspect it. He added also, + in terms the flattery of which his friendship could not resist + exaggerating, Talbot’s desire to become the purchaser of the + picture. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the artist, as his eye glanced delightedly over + his labour; “yes, I believe when it is once seen there will be many + candidates!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” answered Clarence; “and for that reason you + cannot blame Talbot for wishing to forestall all other competitors for the + prize;” and then, continuing the encouraging nature of the + conversation, Clarence enlarged upon the new hopes of his friend, besought + him to take time, to spare his health, and not to injure both himself and + his performance by over-anxiety and hurry. Clarence concluded by retailing + Talbot’s assurance that in all cases and circumstances he (Talbot) + considered himself pledged to be Warner’s supporter and friend. + </p> + <p> + With something of impatience, mingled with pleasure, the painter listened + to all these details; nor was it to Linden’s zeal nor to Talbot’s + generosity, but rather to the excess of his own merit, that he secretly + attributed the brightening prospect offered him. + </p> + <p> + The indifference which Warner, though of a disposition naturally kind, + evinced at parting with a friend who had always taken so strong an + interest in his behalf, and whose tears at that moment contrasted forcibly + enough with the apathetic coldness of his own farewell, was a remarkable + instance how acute vividness on a single point will deaden feeling on all + others. Occupied solely and burningly with one intense thought, which was + to him love, friendship, health, peace, wealth, Warner could not excite + feelings, languid and exhausted with many and fiery conflicts, to objects + of minor interest, and perhaps he inwardly rejoiced that his musings and + his study would henceforth be sacred even from friendship. + </p> + <p> + Deeply affected, for his nature was exceedingly unselfish, generous, and + susceptible, Clarence tore himself away, placed in the grandmother’s + hand a considerable portion of the sum he had received from Talbot, + hurried into his carriage, and found himself on the high road to fortune, + pleasure, distinction, and the Continent. + </p> + <p> + But while Clarence, despite of every advantage before him, hastened to a + court of dissipation and pleasure, with feelings in which regretful + affection for those he had left darkened his worldly hopes and mingled + with the sanguine anticipations of youth, Warner, poor, low-born, wasted + with sickness, destitute of friends, shut out by his temperament from the + pleasures of his age, burned with hopes far less alloyed than those of + Clarence, and found in them, for the sacrifice of all else, not only a + recompense, but a triumph. + </p> + <p> + Thursday came. Warner had made one request to Talbot, which had with + difficulty been granted: it was that he himself might unseen be the + auditor of the great painter’s criticisms, and that Sir Joshua + should be perfectly unaware of his presence. It had been granted with + difficulty, because Talbot wished to spare Warner the pain of hearing + remarks which he felt would be likely to fall far short of the sanguine + self-elation of the young artist; and it had been granted because Talbot + imagined that, even should this be the case, the pain would be more than + counterbalanced by the salutary effect it might produce. Alas! vanity + calculates but poorly upon the vanity of others! What a virtue we should + distil from frailty; what a world of pain we should save our brethren, if + we would suffer our own weakness to be the measure of theirs! + </p> + <p> + Thursday came: the painting was placed by the artist’s own hand in + the most favourable light; a curtain, hung behind it, served as a screen + for Warner, who, retiring to his hiding-place, surrendered his heart to + delicious forebodings of the critic’s wonder and golden + anticipations of the future destiny of his darling work. Not a fear dashed + the full and smooth cup of his self-enjoyment. He had lain awake the whole + of the night in restless and joyous impatience for the morrow. At daybreak + he had started from his bed, he had unclosed his shutters, he had hung + over his picture with a fondness greater, if possible, than he had ever + known before! like a mother, he felt as if his own partiality was but a + part of a universal tribute; and, as his aged relative, turning her dim + eyes to the painting, and, in her innocent idolatry, rather of the artist + than his work, praised and expatiated and foretold, his heart whispered, + “If it wring this worship from ignorance, what will be the homage of + science?” + </p> + <p> + He who first laid down the now hackneyed maxim that diffidence is the + companion of genius knew very little of the workings of the human heart. + True, there may have been a few such instances, and it is probable that in + this maxim, as in most, the exception made the rule. But what could ever + reconcile genius to its sufferings, its sacrifices, its fevered + inquietudes, the intense labour which can alone produce what the shallow + world deems the giant offspring of a momentary inspiration: what could + ever reconcile it to these but the haughty and unquenchable consciousness + of internal power; the hope which has the fulness of certainty that in + proportion to the toil is the reward; the sanguine and impetuous + anticipation of glory, which bursts the boundaries of time and space, and + ranges immortality with a prophet’s rapture? Rob Genius of its + confidence, of its lofty self-esteem, and you clip the wings of the eagle: + you domesticate, it is true, the wanderer you could not hitherto + comprehend, in the narrow bounds of your household affections; you abase + and tame it more to the level of your ordinary judgments, but you take + from it the power to soar; the hardihood which was content to brave the + thundercloud and build its eyrie on the rock, for the proud triumph of + rising above its kind, and contemplating with a nearer eye the majesty of + heaven. + </p> + <p> + But if something of presumption is a part of the very essence of genius, + in Warner it was doubly natural, for he was still in the heat and flush of + a design, the defects of which he had not yet had the leisure to examine; + and his talents, self-taught and self-modelled, had never received either + the excitement of emulation or the chill of discouragement from the study + of the masterpieces of his art. + </p> + <p> + The painter had not been long alone in his concealment before he heard + steps; his heart beat violently, the door opened, and he saw, through a + small hole which he had purposely made in the curtain, a man with a + benevolent and prepossessing countenance, whom he instantly recognized as + Sir Joshua Reynolds, enter the room, accompanied by Talbot. They walked up + to the picture, the painter examined it closely, and in perfect silence. + “Silence,” thought Warner, “is the best homage of + admiration;” but he trembled with impatience to hear the admiration + confirmed by words,—those words came too soon. + </p> + <p> + “It is the work of a clever man, certainly,” said Sir Joshua; + “but” (terrible monosyllable) “of one utterly unskilled + in the grand principles of his art—look here, and here, and here, + for instance;” and the critic, perfectly unconscious of the torture + he inflicted, proceeded to point out the errors of the work. Oh! the + agony, the withering agony of that moment to the ambitious artist! In vain + he endeavoured to bear up against the judgment,—in vain he + endeavoured to persuade himself that it was the voice of envy which in + those cold, measured, defining accents, fell like drops of poison upon his + heart. He felt at once, and as if by a magical inspiration, the truth of + the verdict; the scales of self-delusion fell from his eyes; by a hideous + mockery, a kind of terrible pantomime, his goddess seemed at a word, a + breath, transformed into a monster: life, which had been so lately + concentrated into a single hope, seemed now, at once and forever, cramped, + curdled, blistered into a single disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Talbot, who had in vain attempted to arrest the + criticisms of the painter (who, very deaf at all times, was, at that time + in particular, engrossed by the self-satisfaction always enjoyed by one + expatiating on his favourite topic),—“but,” said Talbot, + in a louder voice, “you own there is great genius in the design?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, there is genius,” replied Sir Joshua, in a tone of + calm and complacent good-nature; “but what is genius without + culture? You say the artist is young, very young; let him take time: I do + not say let him attempt a humbler walk; let him persevere in the lofty one + he has chosen, but let him first retrace every step he has taken; let him + devote days, months, years, to the most diligent study of the immortal + masters of the divine art, before he attempts (to exhibit, at least) + another historical picture. He has mistaken altogether the nature of + invention: a fine invention is nothing more than a fine deviation from, or + enlargement on, a fine model: imitation, if noble and general, insures the + best hope of originality. Above all, let your young friend, if he can + afford it, visit Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall afford it,” said Talbot, kindly, “for he shall + have whatever advantages I can procure him; but you see the picture is + only half-completed: he could alter it!” + </p> + <p> + “He had better burn it!” replied the painter, with a gentle + smile. + </p> + <p> + And Talbot, in benevolent despair, hurried his visitor out of the room. He + soon returned to seek and console the artist, but the artist was gone; the + despised, the fatal picture, the blessing and curse of so many anxious and + wasted hours, had vanished also with its creator. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What is this soul, then? Whence + Came it?—It does not seem my own, and I + Have no self-passion or identity! + Some fearful end must be— + ...... + There never lived a mortal man, who bent + His appetite beyond his natural sphere, + But starved and died.—KEATS: Endymion. +</pre> + <p> + On entering his home, Warner pushed aside, for the first time in his life + with disrespect, his aged and kindly relation, who, as if in mockery of + the unfortunate artist stood prepared to welcome and congratulate his + return. Bearing his picture in his arms, he rushed upstairs, hurried into + his room, and locked the door. Hastily he tore aside the cloth which had + been drawn over the picture; hastily and tremblingly he placed it upon the + frame accustomed to support it, and then, with a long, long, eager, + searching, scrutinizing glance, he surveyed the once beloved mistress of + his worship. Presumption, vanity, exaggerated self-esteem, are, in their + punishment, supposed to excite ludicrous not sympathetic emotion; but + there is an excess of feeling, produced by whatever cause it may be, into + which, in spite of ourselves, we are forced to enter. Even fear, the most + contemptible of the passions, becomes tragic the moment it becomes an + agony. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” said Warner, at last, speaking very slowly, + “it is over,—it was a pleasant dream,—but it is over,—I + ought to be thankful for the lesson.” Then suddenly changing his + mood and tone, he repeated, “Thankful! for what? that I am a wretch,—a + wretch more utterly hopeless and miserable and abandoned than a man who + freights with all his wealth, his children, his wife, the hoarded + treasures and blessings of an existence, one ship, one frail, worthless + ship, and, standing himself on the shore, sees it suddenly go down! Oh, + was I not a fool,—a right noble fool,—a vain fool,—an + arrogant fool,—a very essence and concentration of all things that + make a fool, to believe such delicious marvels of myself! What, man!” + (here his eye saw in the opposite glass his features, livid and haggard + with disease, and the exhausting feelings which preyed within him)—“what, + man! would nothing serve thee but to be a genius,—thee, whom Nature + stamped with her curse! Dwarf-like and distorted, mean in stature and in + lineament, thou wert, indeed, a glorious being to perpetuate grace and + beauty, the majesties and dreams of art! Fame for thee, indeed—ha-ha! + Glory—ha-ha! a place with Titian, Correggio, Raphael—ha—ha—ha! + O, thrice modest, thrice-reasonable fool! But this vile daub; this + disfigurement of canvas; this loathed and wretched monument of disgrace; + this notable candidate for—ha—ha—immortality! this I + have, at least, in my power.” And seizing the picture, he dashed it + to the ground, and trampled it with his feet upon the dusty boards, till + the moist colours presented nothing but one confused and dingy stain. + </p> + <p> + This sight seemed to recall him for a moment. He paused, lifted up the + picture once more, and placed it on the table. “But,” he + muttered, “might not this critic be envious? am I sure that he + judged rightly—fairly? The greatest masters have looked askant and + jealous at their pupils’ works. And then, how slow, how cold, how + damned cold, how indifferently he spoke; why, the very art should have + warmed him more. Could he have—No, no, no: it was true, it was! I + felt the conviction thrill through me like a searing iron. Burn it—did + he say—ay—burn it: it shall be done this instant.” + </p> + <p> + And, hastening to the door, he undid the bolt. He staggered back as he + beheld his old and nearest surviving relative, the mother of his father, + seated upon the ground beside the door, terrified by the exclamations she + did not dare to interrupt. She rose slowly, and with difficulty as she saw + him; and, throwing around him the withered arms which had nursed his + infancy, exclaimed, “My child!—my poor—poor child! what + has come to you of late? you, who were so gentle, so mild, so quiet,—you + are no longer the same,—and oh, my son, how ill you look: your + father looked so just before he died!” + </p> + <p> + “Ill!” said he, with a sort of fearful gayety, “ill—no: + I never was so well; I have been in a dream till now; but I have woke at + last. Why, it is true that I have been silent and shy, but I will be so no + more. I will laugh, and talk, and walk, and make love, and drink wine, and + be all that other men are. Oh, we will be so merry! But stay here, while I + fetch a light.” + </p> + <p> + “A light, my child, for what?” + </p> + <p> + “For a funeral!” shouted Warner, and, rushing past her, he + descended the stairs, and returned almost in an instant with a light. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed and terrified, the poor old woman had remained motionless and + weeping violently. Her tears Warner did not seem to notice; he pushed her + gently into the room, and began deliberately, and without uttering a + syllable, to cut the picture into shreds. + </p> + <p> + “What are you about, my child?” cried the old woman “you + are mad; it is your beautiful picture that you are destroying!” + </p> + <p> + Warner did not reply, but going to the hearth, piled together, with nice + and scrupulous care, several pieces of paper, and stick, and matches, into + a sort of pyre; then, placing the shreds of the picture upon it, he + applied the light, and the whole was instantly in a blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Look, look!” cried he, in an hysterical tone, “how it + burns and crackles and blazes! What master ever equalled it now?—no + fault now in those colours,—no false tints in that light and shade! + See how that flame darts up and soars!—that flame is my spirit! Look—is + it not restless?—does it not aspire bravely?—why, all its + brother flames are grovellers to it!—and now,—why don’t + you look!—it falters—fades—droops—and—ha—ha—ha! + poor idler, the fuel is consumed—and—it is darkness.” + </p> + <p> + As Warner uttered these words his eyes reeled; the room swam before him; + the excitement of his feeble frame had reached its highest pitch; the + disease of many weeks had attained its crisis; and, tottering back a few + paces, he fell upon the floor, the victim of a delirious and raging fever. + </p> + <p> + But it was not thus that the young artist was to die. He was reserved for + a death that, like his real nature, had in it more of gentleness and + poetry. He recovered by slow degrees, and his mind, almost in spite of + himself, returned to that profession from which it was impossible to + divert the thoughts and musings of many years. Not that he resumed the + pencil and the easel: on the contrary, he could not endure them in his + sight; they appeared, to a mind festered and sore, like a memorial and + monument of shame. But he nursed within him a strong and ardent desire to + become a pilgrim to that beautiful land of which he had so often dreamed, + and which the innocent destroyer of his peace had pointed out as the + theatre of inspiration and the nursery of future fame. + </p> + <p> + The physicians who, at Talbot’s instigation, attended him, looked at + his hectic cheek and consumptive frame, and readily flattered his desire; + and Talbot, no less interested in Warner’s behalf on his own account + than bound by his promise to Clarence, generously extended to the artist + that bounty which is the most precious prerogative of the rich. + Notwithstanding her extreme age, his grandmother insisted upon attending + him: there is in the heart of woman so deep a well of love that no age can + freeze it. They made the voyage: they reached the shore of the myrtle and + the vine, and entered the Imperial City. The air of Rome seemed at first + to operate favourably upon the health of the English artist. His strength + appeared to increase, his spirit to expand; and though he had relapsed + into more than his original silence and reserve, he resumed, with apparent + energy, the labours of the easel: so that they who looked no deeper than + the surface might have imagined the scar healed, and the real foundation + of future excellence begun. + </p> + <p> + But while Warner most humbled himself before the gods of the pictured + world; while the true principles of the mighty art opened in their fullest + glory on his soul; precisely at this very moment shame and despondency + were most bitter at his heart: and while the enthusiasm of the painter + kindled, the ambition of the man despaired. But still he went on, + transfusing into his canvas the grandeur and simplicity of the Italian + school; still, though he felt palpably within him the creeping advance of + the deadliest and surest enemy to fame, he pursued, with an unwearied + ardour, the mechanical completion of his task; still, the morning found + him bending before the easel, and the night brought to his solitary couch + meditation rather than sleep. The fire, the irritability which he had + evinced before his illness had vanished, and the original sweetness of his + temper had returned; he uttered no complaint, he dwelt upon no + anticipation of success; hope and regret seemed equally dead within him; + and it was only when he caught the fond, glad eyes of his aged attendant + that his own filled with tears, or that the serenity of his brow darkened + into sadness. + </p> + <p> + This went on for some months; till one evening they found the painter by + his window, seated opposite to an unfinished picture. The pencil was still + in his hand; the quiet of settled thought was still upon his countenance; + the soft breeze of a southern twilight waved the hair livingly from his + forehead; the earliest star of a southern sky lent to his cheek something + of that subdued lustre which, when touched by enthusiasm, it had been + accustomed to wear; but these were only the mockeries of life: life itself + was no more! He had died, reconciled, perhaps, to the loss of fame, in + discovering that Art is to be loved for itself, and not for the rewards it + may bestow upon the artist. + </p> + <p> + There are two tombs close to each other in the strangers’ + burial-place at Rome: they cover those for whom life, unequally long, + terminated in the same month. The one is of a woman, bowed with the burden + of many years: the other darkens over the dust of the young artist. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think upon my grief, + And on the justice of my flying hence, + To keep me from a most unholy match.—SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + “But are you quite sure,” said General St. Leger, “are + you quite sure that this girl still permits Mordaunt’s addresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” cried Miss Diana St. Leger, “sure, General! I + saw it with my own eyes. They were standing together in the copse, when I, + who had long had my suspicions, crept up, and saw them; and Mr. Mordaunt + held her hand, and kissed it every moment. Shocking and indecorous!” + </p> + <p> + “I hate that man! as proud as Lucifer,” growled the General. + “Shall we lock her up, or starve her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, General, something better than that.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my love? flog her?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s too old for that, brother; we’ll marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “Marry her!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to Mr. Glumford; you know that he has asked her several times.” + </p> + <p> + “But she cannot bear him.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll make her bear him, General St. Leger.” + </p> + <p> + “But if she marries, I shall have nobody to nurse me when I have the + gout.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, brother: I know of a nice little girl, Martha Richardson, your + second cousin’s youngest daughter; you know he has fourteen + children, and you may have them all, one after another, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Diana; let the jade marry Mr. Glumford.” + </p> + <p> + “She shall,” said the sister; “and I’ll go about + it this very moment: meantime I’ll take care that she does not see + her lover any more.” + </p> + <p> + About three weeks after this conversation, Mordaunt, who had in vain + endeavoured to see Isabel, who had not even heard from her, whose letters + had been returned to him unopened, and who, consequently, was in despair, + received the following note:— + </p> + <p> + This is the first time I have been able to write to you, at least to get + my letter conveyed: it is a strange messenger that I have employed, but I + happened formerly to make his acquaintance; and accidentally seeing him + to-day, the extremity of the case induced me to give him a commission + which I could trust to no one else. Algernon, are not the above sentences + written with admirable calmness? are they not very explanatory, very + consistent, very cool? and yet do you know that I firmly believe I am + going mad? My brain turns round and round, and my hand burns so that I + almost think that, like our old nurse’s stories of the fiend, it + will scorch the paper as I write. And I see strange faces in my sleep and + in my waking, all mocking at me, and they torture and aunt met and when I + look at those faces I see no human relenting, no! though I weep and throw + myself on my knees and implore them to save me. Algernon, my only hope is + in you. You know that I have always hitherto refused to ruin you, and even + now, though I implore you to deliver me, I will not be so selfish as—as—I + know not what I write, but if I cannot be your wife—I will not be + his! No! if they drag me to church, it shall be to my grave, not my + bridal. ISABEL ST. LEGER. + </p> + <p> + When Mordaunt had read this letter, which, in spite of its incoherence, + his fears readily explained, he rose hastily; his eyes rested upon a + sober-looking man, clad in brown. The proud love no spectators to their + emotions. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, sir?” said Algernon, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Morris Brown,” replied the stranger, coolly and civilly. + “Brought that letter to you, sir; shall be very happy to serve you + with anything else; just fitted out a young gentleman as ambassador, a + nephew to Mrs. Minden,—very old friend of mine. Beautiful slabs you + have here, sir, but they want a few knick-knacks; shall be most happy to + supply you; got a lovely little ape, sir, stuffed by the late Lady + Waddilove; it would look charming with this old-fashioned carving; give + the room quite the air of a museum.” + </p> + <p> + “And so,” said Mordaunt, for whose ear the eloquence of Mr. + Brown contained only one sentence, “and so you brought this note, + and will take back my answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; anything to keep up family connections; I knew a Lady + Morden very well,—very well indeed, sir,—a relation of yours, + I presume, by the similarity of the name; made her very valuable presents; + shall be most happy to do the same to you, when you are married, sir. You + will refurnish the house, I suppose? Let me see; fine proportions to this + room, sir; about thirty-six feet by twenty-eight; I’ll do the thing + twenty per cent cheaper than the trade; and touching the lovely little—” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” interrupted Mordaunt, “you will take back this + note, and be sure that Miss Isabel St. Leger has it as soon as possible; + oblige me by accepting this trifle,—a trifle indeed compared with my + gratitude, if this note reaches its destination safely.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” said Mr. Brown, looking with surprise at the + gift, which he held with no unwilling hand, “I am sure, sir, that + you are very generous, and strongly remind me of your relation, Lady + Morden; and if you would like the lovely little ape as a present—I + mean really a present—you shall have it, Mr. Mordaunt.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Mordaunt had left the room, and the sober Morris, looking round, + and cooling in his generosity, said to himself, “It is well he did + not hear me, however; but I hope he will marry the nice young lady, for I + love doing a kindness. This house must be refurnished; no lady will like + these old-fashioned chairs.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Squire and fool are the same thing here—FARQUHAR. + + In such a night + Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, + And, with an unthrift love, did run from Venice.—-SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + The persecutions which Isabel had undergone had indeed preyed upon her + reason as well as her health; and, in her brief intervals of respite from + the rage of the uncle, the insults of the aunt, and, worse than all, the + addresses of the intended bridegroom, her mind, shocked and unhinged, + reverted with such intensity to the sufferings she endured as to give her + musings the character of insanity. It was in one of these moments that she + had written to Mordaunt; and had the contest continued much longer the + reason of the unfortunate and persecuted girl would have totally deserted + her. + </p> + <p> + She was a person of acute, and even poignant, sensibilities, and these the + imperfect nature of her education had but little served to guide or to + correct; but as her habits were pure and good, the impulses which spring + from habit were also sinless and exalted, and, if they erred, “they + leaned on virtue’s side,” and partook rather of a romantic and + excessive generosity than of the weakness of womanhood or the selfishness + of passion. All the misery and debasement of her equivocal and dependent + situation had not been able to drive her into compliance with Mordaunt’s + passionate and urgent prayers; and her heart was proof even to the + eloquence of love, when that eloquence pointed towards the worldly injury + and depreciation of her lover: but this new persecution was utterly + unforeseen in its nature and intolerable from its cause. To marry another; + to be torn forever from one in whom her whole heart was wrapped; to be + forced not only to forego his love, but to feel that the very thought of + him was a crime,—all this, backed by the vehement and galling + insults of her relations, and the sullen and unmoved meanness of her + intended bridegroom, who answered her candour and confession with a + stubborn indifference and renewed overtures, made a load of evil which + could neither be borne with resignation nor contemplated with patience. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting, after she had sent her letter, with her two relations, + for they seldom trusted her out of their sight, when Mr. Glumford was + announced. Now, Mr. George Glumford was a country gentleman of what might + be termed a third-rate family in the county: he possessed about twelve + hundred a year, to say nothing of the odd pounds, shillings, and pence, + which, however, did not meet with such contempt in his memory or + estimation; was of a race which could date as far back as Charles the + Second; had been educated at a country school with sixty others, chiefly + inferior to himself in rank; and had received the last finish at a very + small hall at Oxford. In addition to these advantages, he had been + indebted to nature for a person five feet eight inches high, and stout in + proportion; for hair very short, very straight, and of a red hue, which + even through powder cast out a yellow glow; for an obstinate dogged sort + of nose, beginning in snub, and ending in bottle; for cold, small, gray + eyes, a very small mouth, pinched up and avaricious; and very large, very + freckled, yet rather white hands, the nails of which were punctiliously + cut into a point every other day, with a pair of scissors which Mr. + Glumford often boasted had been in his possession since his eighth year; + namely, for about thirty-two legitimate revolutions of the sun. + </p> + <p> + He was one of those persons who are equally close and adventurous; who + love the eclat of a little speculation, but take exceeding good care that + it should be, in their own graceful phrase, “on the safe side of the + hedge.” In pursuance of this characteristic of mind, he had resolved + to fall in love with Miss Isabel St. Leger; for she being very dependent, + he could boast to her of his disinterestedness, and hope that she would be + economical through a principle of gratitude; and being the nearest + relation to the opulent General St. Leger and his unmarried sister there + seemed to be every rational probability of her inheriting the bulk of + their fortunes. Upon these hints of prudence spake Mr. George Glumford. + </p> + <p> + Now, when Isabel, partly in her ingenuous frankness, partly from the + passionate promptings of her despair, revealed to him her attachment to + another, and her resolution never, with her own consent, to become his, it + seemed to the slow but not uncalculating mind of Mr. Glumford not by any + means desirable that he should forego his present intentions, but by all + means desirable that he should make this reluctance of Isabel an excuse + for sounding the intentions and increasing the posthumous liberality of + the East Indian and his sister. + </p> + <p> + “The girl is of my nearest blood,” said the Major-General, + “and if I don’t leave my fortune to her, who the devil should + I leave it to, sir?” and so saying, the speaker, who was in a fell + paroxysm of the gout, looked so fiercely at the hinting wooer that Mr. + George Glumford, who was no Achilles, was somewhat frightened, and thought + it expedient to hint no more. + </p> + <p> + “My brother,” said Miss Diana, “is so odd; but he is the + most generous of men: besides, the girl has claims upon him.” Upon + these speeches Mr. Glumford thought himself secure; and inly resolving to + punish the fool for her sulkiness and bad taste as soon as he lawfully + could, he continued his daily visits and told his sporting acquaintance + that his time was coming. + </p> + <p> + Revenons a nos moutons. Forgive this preliminary detail, and let us return + to Mr. Glumford himself, whom we left at the door, pulling and fumbling at + the glove which covered his right hand, in order to present the naked palm + to Miss Diana St. Leger. After this act was performed, he approached + Isabel, and drawing his chair near to her, proceeded to converse with her + as the Ogre did with Puss in Boots; namely, “as civilly as an Ogre + could do.” + </p> + <p> + This penance had not proceeded far, before the door was again opened, and + Mr. Morris Brown presented himself to the conclave. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, General; your servant, Madam. I took the liberty of + coming back again, Madam, because I forgot to show you some very fine + silks, the most extraordinary bargain in the world,—quite presents; + and I have a Sevres bowl here, a superb article, from the cabinet of the + late Lady Waddilove.” + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Brown was a very old acquaintance of Miss Diana St. Leger, for + there is a certain class of old maids with whom our fair readers are no + doubt acquainted, who join to a great love of expense a great love of + bargains, and who never purchase at the regular place if they can find any + irregular vendor. They are great friends of Jews and itinerants, + hand-in-glove with smugglers, Ladies Bountiful to pedlers, are diligent + readers of puffs and advertisements, and eternal haunters of sales and + auctions. Of this class was Miss Diana a most prominent individual: judge, + then, how acceptable to her was the acquaintance of Mr. Brown. That + indefatigable merchant of miscellanies had, indeed, at a time when brokers + were perhaps rather more rare and respectable than now, a numerous country + acquaintance, and thrice a year he performed a sort of circuit to all his + customers and connections; hence his visit to St. Leger House, and hence + Isabel’s opportunity of conveying her epistle. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Mr. Glumford, who had heard much of Mr. Brown’s + “presents” from Miss Diana,—“pray don’t you + furnish rooms, and things of that sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir, certainly, in the best manner possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well; I shall want some rooms furnished soon,—a + bedroom and a dressing-room, and things of that sort, you know. And so—perhaps + you may have something in your box that will suit me, gloves or + handkerchiefs or shirts or things of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, everything, I sell everything,” said Mr. Brown, + opening his box. “I beg pardon, Miss Isabel, I have dropped my + handkerchief by your chair; allow me to stoop,” and Mr. Brown, + stooping under the table, managed to effect his purpose; unseen by the + rest, a note was slipped into Isabel’s hand, and under pretence of + stooping too, she managed to secure the treasure. Love need well be honest + if, even when it is most true, it leads us into so much that is false! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown’s box was now unfolded before the eyes of the crafty Mr. + Glumford, who, having selected three pair of gloves, offered the exact + half of the sum demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown lifted up his hands and eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the imperturbable Glumford, “that if you + let me have them for that, and they last me well, and don’t come + unsewn, and stand cleaning, you’ll have my custom in furnishing the + house, and rooms, and—things of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + Struck with the grandeur of this opening, Mr. Brown yielded, and the + gloves were bought. + </p> + <p> + “The fool!” thought the noble George, laughing in his sleeve, + “as if I should ever furnish the house from his box!” Strange + that some men should be proud of being mean! The moment Isabel escaped to + dress for dinner, she opened her lover’s note. It was as follows.— + </p> + <p> + Be in the room, your retreat, at nine this evening. Let the window be left + unclosed. Precisely at that hour I will be with you. I shall have + everything in readiness for your flight. Be sure, dearest Isabel, that + nothing prevents your meeting me there, even if all your house follow or + attend you. I will bear you from all. Oh, Isabel! in spite of the mystery + and wretchedness of your letter, I feel too happy, too blest at the + thought that our fates will be at length united, and that the union is at + hand. Remember nine. A. M. + </p> + <p> + Love is a feeling which has so little to do with the world, a passion so + little regulated by the known laws of our more steady and settled + emotions, that the thoughts which it produces are always more or less + connected with exaggeration and romance. To the secret spirit of + enterprise which, however chilled by his pursuits and habits, still burned + within Mordaunt’s breast, there was a wild pleasure in the thought + of bearing off his mistress and his bride from the very home and hold of + her false friends and real foes; while in the contradictions of the same + passion, Isabel, so far from exulting at her approaching escape, trembled + at her danger and blushed for her temerity; and the fear and the modesty + of woman almost triumphed over her brief energy and fluctuating resolve. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We haste,-the chosen and the lovely bringing; + Love still goes with her from her place of birth; + Deep, silent joy, within her soul is springing, + Though in her glance the light no more is mirth.—Mrs. HEMANS. +</pre> + <p> + “Damn it!” said the General. + </p> + <p> + “The vile creature!” cried Miss Diana. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand things of that sort,” ejaculated the + bewildered Mr. Glumford. + </p> + <p> + “She has certainly gone,” said the valiant General. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” grunted Miss Diana. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” echoed the bridegroom not to be. + </p> + <p> + And she was gone! Never did more loving and tender heart forsake all, and + cling to a more loyal and generous nature. The skies were darkened with + clouds,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And the dim stars rushed through them rare and fast;” + </pre> + <p> + and the winds wailed with a loud and ominous voice; and the moon came + forth, with a faint and sickly smile, from her chamber in the mist, and + then shrank back, and was seen no more; but neither omen nor fear was upon + Mordaunt’s breast, as it swelled beneath the dark locks of Isabel, + which were pressed against it. + </p> + <p> + As Faith clings the more to the cross of life, while the wastes deepen + around her steps, and the adders creep forth upon her path, so love clasps + that which is its hope and comfort the closer, for the desert which + encompasses and the dangers which harass its way. + </p> + <p> + They had fled to London, and Isabel had been placed with a very distant + and very poor, though very high-born, relative of Algernon, till the + necessary preliminaries could be passed and the final bond knit. Yet still + the generous Isabel would have refused, despite the injury to her own + fame, to have ratified a union which filled her with gloomy presentiments + for Mordaunt’s fate; and still Mordaunt by little and little broke + down her tender scruples and self-immolating resolves, and ceased not his + eloquence and his suit till the day of his nuptials was set and come. + </p> + <p> + The morning was bright and clear; the autumn was drawing towards its + close, and seemed willing to leave its last remembrance tinged with the + warmth and softness of its parent summer, rather than with the stern gloom + and severity of its chilling successor. + </p> + <p> + And they stood beside the altar, and their vows were exchanged. A slight + tremor came over Algernon’s frame, a slight shade darkened his + countenance; for even in that bridal hour an icy and thrilling foreboding + curdled to his heart; it passed,—the ceremony was over, and Mordaunt + bore his blushing and weeping bride from the church. His carriage was in + attendance; for, not knowing how long the home of his ancestors might be + his, he was impatient to return to it. The old Countess d’Arcy, + Mordaunt’s relation, with whom Isabel had been staying, called them + back to bless them; for, even through the coldness of old age, she was + touched by the singularity of their love and affected by their nobleness + of heart. She laid her wan and shrivelled hand upon each, as she bade them + farewell, and each shrank back involuntarily, for the cold and light touch + seemed like the fingers of the dead. + </p> + <p> + Fearful, indeed, is the vicinity of death and life,—the bridal + chamber and the charnel. That night the old woman died. It appeared as if + Fate had set its seal upon the union it had so long forbidden, and had + woven a dark thread even in the marriage-bond. At least, it tore from two + hearts, over which the cloud and the blast lay couched in a “grim + repose,” the last shelter, which, however frail and distant, seemed + left to them upon the inhospitable earth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Live while ye may, yet happy pair; enjoy + Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed.—MILTON. +</pre> + <p> + The autumn and the winter passed away; Mordaunt’s relation continued + implacable. Algernon grieved for this, independent of worldly + circumstances; for, though he had seldom seen that relation, yet he loved + him for former kindness—rather promised, to be sure, than yet shown—with + the natural warmth of an affection which has but few objects. However, the + old gentleman (a very short, very fat person; very short and very fat + people, when they are surly, are the devil and all; for the humours of + their mind, like those of their body, have something corrupt and + unpurgeable in them) wrote him one bluff, contemptuous letter, in a witty + strain,—for he was a bit of a humourist,—disowned his + connection, and very shortly afterwards died, and left all his fortune to + the very Mr. Vavasour who was at law with Mordaunt, and for whom he had + always openly expressed the strongest personal dislike: spite to one + relation is a marvellous tie to another. Meanwhile the lawsuit went on + less slowly than lawsuits usually do, and the final decision was very + speedily to be given. + </p> + <p> + We said the autumn and the winter were gone; and it was in one of those + latter days in March, when, like a hoyden girl subsiding into dawning + womanhood, the rude weather mellows into a softer and tenderer month, + that, by the side of a stream, overshadowed by many a brake and tree, sat + two persons. + </p> + <p> + “I know not, dearest Algernon,” said one, who was a female, + “if this is not almost the sweetest month in the year, because it is + the month of Hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Isabel; and they did it wrong who called it harsh, and + dedicated it to Mars. I exult even in the fresh winds which hardier frames + than mine shrink from, and I love feeling their wild breath fan my cheek + as I ride against it. I remember,” continued Algernon, musingly, + “that on this very day three years ago, I was travelling through + Germany, alone and on horseback, and I paused, not far from Ens, on the + banks of the Danube; the waters of the river were disturbed and fierce, + and the winds came loud and angry against my face, dashing the spray of + the waves upon me, and filling my spirit with a buoyant and glad delight; + and at that time I had been indulging old dreams of poetry, and had laid + my philosophy aside; and, in the inspiration of the moment, I lifted up my + hand towards the quarter whence the winds came, and questioned them + audibly of their birthplace and their bourne; and, as the enthusiasm + increased, I compared them to our human life, which a moment is, and then + is not; and, proceeding from folly to folly, I asked them, as if they were + the interpreters of heaven, for a type and sign of my future lot.” + </p> + <p> + “And what said they?” inquired Isabel, smiling, yet smiling + timidly. + </p> + <p> + “They answered not,” replied Mordaunt; “but a voice + within me seemed to say, ‘Look above!’ and I raised my eyes,—but + I did not see thee, love,—so the Book of Fate lied.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Algernon, what did you see?” asked Isabel, more + earnestly than the question deserved. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a thin cloud, alone amidst many dense and dark ones scattered + around; and as I gazed it seemed to take the likeness of a funeral + procession—coffin, bearers, priests, all—as clear in the cloud + as I have seen them on the earth: and I shuddered as I saw; but the winds + blew the vapour onwards, and it mingled with the broader masses of cloud; + and then, Isabel, the sun shone forth for a moment, and I mistook, love, + when I said you were not there, for that sun was you; but suddenly the + winds ceased, and the rain came on fast and heavy: so my romance cooled, + and my fever slacked; I thought on the inn at Ens, and the blessings of a + wood fire, which is lighted in a moment, and I spurred on my horse + accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very strange,” said Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “What, love?” whispered Algernon, kissing her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dearest, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant, the deer, which lay waving their lordly antlers to and + fro beneath the avenue which sloped upward from the stream to the house, + rose hurriedly and in confusion, and stood gazing, with watchful eyes, + upon a man advancing towards the pair. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the servants with a letter. Isabel saw a faint change (which + none else could have seen) in Mordaunt’s countenance, as he + recognized the writing and broke the seal. When he had read the letter, + his eyes fell upon the ground, and then, with a slight start, he lifted + them up, and gazed long and eagerly around. Wistfully did he drink, as it + were, into his heart the beautiful and expanded scene which lay stretched + on either side; the noble avenue which his forefathers had planted as a + shelter to their sons, and which now in its majestic growth and its waving + boughs seemed to say, “Lo! ye are repaid!” and the never + silent and silver stream, by which his boyhood had sat for hours, lulled + by its music, and inhaling the fragrance of the reed and wild flower that + decoyed the bee to its glossy banks; and the deer, to whose melancholy + belling be had listened so often in the gray twilight with a rapt and + dreaming ear; and the green fern waving on the gentle hill, from whose + shade his young feet had startled the hare and the infant fawn; and far + and faintly gleaming through the thick trees, which clasped it as with a + girdle, the old Hall, so associated with vague hopes and musing dreams, + and the dim legends of gone time, and the lofty prejudices of ancestral + pride,—all seemed to sink within him, as he gazed, like the last + looks of departing friends; and when Isabel, who had not dared to break a + silence which partook so strongly of gloom, at length laid her hand upon + his arm, and lifted her dark, deep, tender eyes to his, he said, as he + drew her towards him, and a faint and sickly smile played upon his lips,— + </p> + <p> + “It is past, Isabel: henceforth we have no wealth but in each other. + The cause has been decided—and—and—we are beggars!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We expose our life to a quotidian ague of frigid + impertinences, which would make a wise man tremble to think + of.—COWLEY. +</pre> + <p> + We must suppose a lapse of four years from the date of those events which + concluded the last chapter; and, to recompence the reader, who I know has + a little penchant for “High Life,” even in the last century, + for having hitherto shown him human beings in a state of society not + wholly artificial, I beg him to picture to himself a large room, + brilliantly illuminated, and crowded “with the magnates of the land.” + Here, some in saltatory motion, some in sedentary rest, are dispersed + various groups of young ladies and attendant swains, talking upon the + subject of Lord Rochester’s celebrated poem,—namely, “Nothing!”—and + lounging around the doors, meditating probably upon the same subject, + stand those unhappy victims of dancing daughters, denominated “Papas.” + </p> + <p> + The music has ceased; the dancers have broken up; and there is a general + but gentle sweep towards the refreshment-room. In the crowd—having + just entered—there glided a young man of an air more distinguished + and somewhat more joyous than the rest. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Linden?” said a tall and (though somewhat + passe) very handsome woman, blazing with diamonds; “are you just + come?” + </p> + <p> + And, here, by the way, I cannot resist pausing to observe that a friend of + mine, meditating a novel, submitted a part of the manuscript to a friendly + publisher. “Sir,” said the bookseller, “your book is + very clever, but it wants dialogue.” + </p> + <p> + “Dialogue!” cried my friend: “you mistake; it is all + dialogue.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir, but not what we call dialogue; we want a little + conversation in fashionable life,—a little elegant chit-chat or so: + and, as you must have seen so much of the beau monde, you could do it to + the life: we must have something light and witty and entertaining.” + </p> + <p> + “Light, witty, and entertaining!” said our poor friend; + “and how the deuce, then, is it to be like conversation in ‘fashionable + life’? When the very best conversation one can get is so + insufferably dull, how do you think people will be amused by reading a + copy of the very worst?” + </p> + <p> + “They are amused, sir,” said the publisher; “and works + of this kind sell!” + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced,” said my friend; for he was a man of a placid + temper: he took the hint, and his book did sell! + </p> + <p> + Now this anecdote rushed into my mind after the penning of the little + address of the lady in diamonds,—“How do you do, Mr. Linden? + Are you just come?”—and it received an additional weight from + my utter inability to put into the mouth of Mr. Linden—notwithstanding + my desire of representing him in the most brilliant colours—any more + happy and eloquent answer than, “Only this instant!” + </p> + <p> + However, as this is in the true spirit of elegant dialogue, I trust my + readers find it as light, witty, and entertaining as, according to the + said publisher, the said dialogue is always found by the public. + </p> + <p> + While Clarence was engaged in talking with this lady, a very pretty, + lively, animated girl, with laughing blue eyes, which, joined to the + dazzling fairness of her complexion, gave a Hebe-like youth to her + features and expression, was led up to the said lady by a tall young man, + and consigned, with the ceremonious bow of the vieille tour, to her + protection. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Linden,” cried the young lady, “I am very glad + to see you,—such a beautiful ball!—Everybody here that I most + like. Have you had any refreshments, Mamma? But I need not ask, for I am + sure you have not; do come, Mr. Linden will be our cavalier.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Flora, as you please,” said the elderly lady, with a + proud and fond look at her beautiful daughter; and they proceeded to the + refreshment-room. + </p> + <p> + No sooner were they seated at one of the tables, than they were accosted + by Lord St. George, a nobleman whom Clarence, before he left England, had + met more than once at Mr. Talbot’s. + </p> + <p> + “London,” said his lordship to her of the diamonds, “has + not seemed like the same place since Lady Westborough arrived; your + presence brings out all the other luminaries: and therefore a young + acquaintance of mine—God bless me, there he is, seated by Lady Flora—very + justly called you the ‘evening star.’” + </p> + <p> + “Was that Mr. Linden’s pretty saying?” said Lady + Westborough, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” answered Lord St. George; “and, by the by, he + is a very sensible, pleasant person, and greatly improved since he left + England last.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Lady Westborough, in a low tone (for Clarence, + though in earnest conversation with Lady Flora, was within hearing), and + making room for Lord St. George beside her, “what! did you know him + before he went to ——? You can probably tell me, then, who—that + is to say—what family he is exactly of—the Lindens of + Devonshire, or—or—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, really,” said Lord St. George, a little confused, for no + man likes to be acquainted with persons whose pedigree he cannot explain, + “I don’t know what may be his family: I met him at Talbot’s + four or five years ago; he was then a mere boy, but he struck me as being + very clever, and Talbot since told me that he was a nephew of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “Talbot,” said Lady Westborough, musingly, “what Talbot?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the Talbot—the ci-devant jeune homme!” + </p> + <p> + “What, that charming, clever, animated old gentleman, who used to + dress so oddly, and had been so celebrated a beau garcon in his day?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so,” said Lord St. George, taking snuff, and + delighted to find he had set his young acquaintance on so honourable a + footing. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know he was still alive,” said Lady Westborough, + and then, turning her eyes towards Clarence and her daughter, she added + carelessly, “Mr. Talbot is very rich, is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Rich as Croesus,” replied Lord St. George, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Linden is his heir, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “In all probability,” answered Lord St. George; “though + I believe I can boast a distant relationship to Talbot. However, I could + not make him fully understand it the other day, though I took particular + pains to explain it.” + </p> + <p> + While this conversation was going on between the Marchioness of + Westborough and Lord St. George, a dialogue equally interesting to the + parties concerned, and I hope, equally light, witty, and entertaining to + readers in general, was sustained between Clarence and Lady Flora. + </p> + <p> + “How long shall you stay in England?” asked the latter, + looking down. + </p> + <p> + “I have not yet been able to decide,” replied Clarence, + “for it rests with the ministers, not me. Directly Lord Aspeden + obtains another appointment, I am promised the office of Secretary of + Legation; but till then, I am— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘A captive in Augusta’s towers + To beauty and her train.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Lady Flora, laughing, “you mean Mrs. + Desborough and her train: see where they sweep! Pray go and render her + homage.” + </p> + <p> + “It is rendered,” said Linden, in a low voice, “without + so long a pilgrimage, but perhaps despised.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora’s laugh was hushed; the deepest blushes suffused her + cheeks, and the whole character of that face, before so playful and + joyous, seemed changed, as by a spell, into a grave, subdued, and even + timid look. + </p> + <p> + Linden resumed, and his voice scarcely rose above a whisper. A whisper! O + delicate and fairy sound! music that speaketh to the heart, as if loth to + break the spell that binds it while it listens! Sigh breathed into words, + and freighting love in tones languid, like homeward bees, by the very + sweets with which they are charged! “Do you remember,” said + he, “that evening at —— when we last parted? and the + boldness which at that time you were gentle enough to forgive?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora replied not. + </p> + <p> + “And do you remember,” continued Clarence, “that I told + you that it was not as an unknown and obscure adventurer that I would + claim the hand of her whose heart as an adventurer I had won?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora raised her eyes for one moment, and encountering the ardent + gaze of Clarence, as instantly dropped them. + </p> + <p> + “The time is not yet come,” said Linden, “for the + fulfilment of this promise; but may I—dare I hope, that when it + does, I shall not be—” + </p> + <p> + “Flora, my love,” said Lady Westborough, “let me + introduce to you Lord Borodaile.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora turned: the spell was broken; and the lovers were instantly + transformed into ordinary mortals. But, as Flora, after returning Lord + Borodaile’s address, glanced her eye towards Clarence, she was + struck with the sudden and singular change of his countenance; the flush + of youth and passion was fled, his complexion was deadly pale, and his + eyes were fixed with a searching and unaccountable meaning upon the face + of the young nobleman, who was alternately addressing, with a quiet and + somewhat haughty fluency, the beautiful mother, and the more lovely though + less commanding daughter. Directly Linden perceived that he was observed, + he rose, turned away, and was soon lost among the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile, the son and heir of the powerful Earl of Ulswater, was + about the age of thirty, small, slight, and rather handsome than + otherwise, though his complexion was dark and sallow; and a very aquiline + nose gave a stern and somewhat severe air to his countenance. He had been + for several years abroad, in various parts of the Continent, and (no other + field for an adventurous and fierce spirit presenting itself) had served + with the gallant Earl of Effingham, in the war between the Turks and + Russians, as a volunteer in the armies of the latter. In this service he + had been highly distinguished for courage and conduct; and, on his return + to England about a twelvemonth since, had obtained the command of a + cavalry regiment. Passionately fond of his profession, he entered into its + minutest duties with a zeal not exceeded by the youngest and poorest + subaltern in the army. + </p> + <p> + His manners were very cold, haughty, collected, and self-possessed, and + his conversation that of a man who has cultivated his intellect rather in + the world than the closet. I mean, that, perfectly ignorant of things, he + was driven to converse solely upon persons, and, having imbibed no other + philosophy than that which worldly deceits and disappointments bestow, his + remarks, though shrewd, were bitterly sarcastic, and partook of all the + ill-nature for which a very scanty knowledge of the world gives a sour and + malevolent mind so ready an excuse. + </p> + <p> + “How very disagreeable Lord Borodaile is!” said Lady Flora, + when the object of the remark turned away and rejoined some idlers of his + corps. + </p> + <p> + “Disagreeable!” said Lady Westborough. “I think him + charming: he is so sensible. How true his remarks on the world are!” + </p> + <p> + Thus is it always; the young judge harshly of those who undeceive or + revolt their enthusiasm; and the more advanced in years, who have not + learned by a diviner wisdom to look upon the human follies and errors by + which they have suffered with a pitying and lenient eye, consider every + maxim of severity on those frailties as the proof of a superior knowledge, + and praise that as a profundity of thought which in reality is but an + infirmity of temper. + </p> + <p> + Clarence is now engaged in a minuet de la tour with the beautiful Countess + of ——, the best dancer of the day in England. Lady Flora is + flirting with half a dozen beaux, the more violently in proportion as she + observes the animation with which Clarence converses, and the grace with + which his partner moves; and, having thus left our two principal + personages occupied and engaged, let us turn for a moment to a room which + we have not entered. + </p> + <p> + This is a forlorn, deserted chamber, destined to cards, which are never + played in this temple of Terpsichore. At the far end of this room, + opposite to the fireplace, are seated four men, engaged in earnest + conversation. + </p> + <p> + The tallest of these was Lord Quintown, a nobleman remarkable at that day + for his personal advantages, his good fortune with the beau sexe, his + attempts at parliamentary eloquence, in which he was lamentably + unsuccessful, and his adherence to Lord North. Next to him sat Mr. St. + George, the younger brother of Lord St. George, a gentleman to whom power + and place seemed married without hope of divorce; for, whatever had been + the changes of ministry for the last twelve years, he, secure in a + lucrative though subordinate situation, had “smiled at the whirlwind + and defied the storm,” and, while all things shifted and vanished + round him, like clouds and vapours, had remained fixed and stationary as a + star. “Solid St. George,” was his appellative by his friends, + and his enemies did not grudge him the title. The third was the minister + for ——; and the fourth was Clarence’s friend, Lord + Aspeden. Now this nobleman, blessed with a benevolent, smooth, calm + countenance, valued himself especially upon his diplomatic elegance in + turning a compliment. + </p> + <p> + Having a great taste for literature as well as diplomacy, this respected + and respectable peer also possessed a curious felicity for applying + quotation; and nothing rejoiced him so much as when, in the same phrase, + he was enabled to set the two jewels of his courtliness of flattery and + his profundity of erudition. Unhappily enough, his compliments were seldom + as well taken as they were meant; and, whether from the ingratitude of the + persons complimented or the ill fortune of the noble adulator, seemed + sometimes to produce indignation in place of delight. It has been said + that his civilities had cost Lord Aspeden four duels and one beating; but + these reports were probably the malicious invention of those who had never + tasted the delicacies of his flattery. + </p> + <p> + Now these four persons being all members of the Privy Council, and being + thus engaged in close and earnest conference were, you will suppose, + employed in discussing their gravities and secrets of state: no such + thing; that whisper from Lord Quintown, the handsome nobleman, to Mr. St. + George, is no hoarded and valuable information which would rejoice the + heart of the editor of an Opposition paper, no direful murmur, “perplexing + monarchs with the dread of change;” it is only a recent piece of + scandal, touching the virtue of a lady of the court, which (albeit the + sage listener seems to pay so devout an attention to the news) is far more + interesting to the gallant and handsome informant than to his brother + statesman; and that emphatic and vehement tone with which Lord Aspeden is + assuring the minister for —— of some fact, is merely an angry + denunciation of the chicanery practised at the last Newmarket. + </p> + <p> + “By the by, Aspeden,” said Lord Quintown, “who is that + good-looking fellow always flirting with Lady Flora Ardenne,—an + attache of yours, is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Linden, I suppose you mean. A very sensible, clever young + fellow, who has a great genius for business and plays the flute admirably. + I must have him for my secretary, my dear lord, mind that.” + </p> + <p> + “With such a recommendation, Lord Aspeden,” said the minister, + with a bow, “the state would be a great loser did it not elect your + attache, who plays so admirably on the flute, to the office of your + secretary. Let us join the dancers.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go and talk with Count B——,” quoth Mr. + St. George. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall make my court to his beautiful wife,” said the + minister, sauntering into the ballroom, to which his fine person and + graceful manners were much better adapted than was his genius to the + cabinet or his eloquence to the senate. + </p> + <p> + The morning had long dawned, and Clarence, for whose mind pleasure was + more fatiguing than business, lingered near the door, to catch one last + look of Lady Flora before he retired. He saw her leaning on the arm of + Lord Borodaile, and hastening to join the dancers with her usual light + step and laughing air; for Clarence’s short conference with her had, + in spite of his subsequent flirtations, rendered her happier than she had + ever felt before. Again a change passed over Clarence’s countenance,—a + change which I find it difficult to express without borrowing from those + celebrated German dramatists who could portray in such exact colours + “a look of mingled joy, sorrow, hope, passion, rapture, and despair;” + for the look was not that of jealousy alone, although it certainly partook + of its nature, but a little also of interest, and a little of sorrow; and + when he turned away, and slowly descended the stairs, his eyes were full + of tears, and his thoughts far—far away;—whither? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quae fert adolescentia + Ea ne me celet consuefeci filium.—TERENCE. + + [“The things which youth proposes I accustomed + my son that he should never conceal from me.”] +</pre> + <p> + The next morning Clarence was lounging over his breakfast, and glancing + listlessly now at the pages of the newspapers, now at the various + engagements for the week, which lay confusedly upon his table, when he + received a note from Talbot, requesting to see him as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Had it not been for that man,” said Clarence to himself, + “what should I have been now? But, at least, I have not disgraced + his friendship. I have already ascended the roughest because the lowest + steps on the hill where Fortune builds her temple. I have already won for + the name I have chosen some ‘golden opinions’ to gild its + obscurity. One year more may confirm my destiny and ripen hope into + success: then—then, I may perhaps throw off a disguise that, while + it befriended, has not degraded me, and avow myself to her! Yet how much + better to dignify the name I have assumed than to owe respect only to that + which I have not been deemed worthy to inherit! Well, well, these are + bitter thoughts; let me turn to others. How beautiful Flora looked last + night! and, he—he—but enough of this: I must dress, and then + to Talbot.” + </p> + <p> + Muttering these wayward fancies, Clarence rose, completed his toilet, sent + for his horses, and repaired to a village about seven miles from London, + where Talbot, having yielded to Clarence’s fears and solicitations, + and left his former insecure tenement, now resided under the guard and + care of an especial and private watchman. + </p> + <p> + It was a pretty, quiet villa, surrounded by a plantation and + pleasure-ground of some extent for a suburban residence, in which the old + philosopher (for though in some respects still frail and prejudiced, + Talbot deserved that name) held his home. The ancient servant, on whom + four years had passed lightly and favouringly, opened the door to + Clarence, with his usual smile of greeting and familiar yet respectful + salutation, and ushered our hero into a room, furnished with the usual + fastidious and rather feminine luxury which characterized Talbot’s + tastes. Sitting with his back turned to the light, in a large easy-chair, + Clarence found the wreck of the once gallant, gay Lothario. + </p> + <p> + There was not much alteration in his countenance since we last saw him; + the lines, it is true, were a little more decided, and the cheeks a little + more sunken; but the dark eye beamed with all its wonted vivacity, and the + delicate contour of the mouth preserved all its physiognomical + characteristics of the inward man. He rose with somewhat more difficulty + than he was formerly wont to do, and his limbs had lost much of their + symmetrical proportions; yet the kind clasp of his hand was as firm and + warm as when it had pressed that of the boyish attache four years since; + and the voice which expressed his salutation yet breathed its unconquered + suavity and distinctness of modulation. After the customary greetings and + inquiries were given and returned, the young man drew his chair near to + Talbot’s, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You sent for me, dear sir; have you anything more important than + usual to impart to me?—or—and I hope this is the case—have + you at last thought of any commission, however trifling, in the execution + of which I can be of use?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clarence, I wish your judgment to select me some strawberries,—you + know that I am a great epicure in fruit,—and get me the new work Dr. + Johnson has just published. There, are you contented? And now, tell me all + about your horse; does he step well? Has he the true English head and + shoulder? Are his legs fine, yet strong? Is he full of spirit and devoid + of vice?” + </p> + <p> + “He is all this, sir, thanks to you for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Talbot,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Old as I am, for riding feats unfit, + The shape of horses I remember yet’” + </pre> + <p> + “And now let us hear how you like Ranelagh; and above all how you + liked the ball last night.” + </p> + <p> + And the vivacious old man listened with the profoundest appearance of + interest to all the particulars of Clarence’s animated detail. His + vanity, which made him wish to be loved, had long since taught him the + surest method of becoming so; and with him, every visitor, old, young, the + man of books, or the disciple of the world, was sure to find the readiest + and even eagerest sympathy in every amusement or occupation. But for + Clarence, this interest lay deeper than in the surface of courtly + breeding. Gratitude had first bound to him his adopted son, then a tie yet + unexplained, and lastly, but not least, the pride of protection. He was + vain of the personal and mental attractions of his protege, and eager for + the success of one whose honours would reflect credit on himself. + </p> + <p> + But there was one part of Clarence’s account of the last night to + which the philosopher paid a still deeper attention, and on which he was + more minute in his advice; what this was, I cannot, as yet, reveal to the + reader. + </p> + <p> + The conversation then turned on light and general matters,—the + scandal, the literature, the politics, the on dits of the day; and lastly + upon women; thence Talbot dropped into his office of Mentor. + </p> + <p> + “A celebrated cardinal said, very wisely, that few ever did anything + among men until women were no longer an object to them. That is the + reason, by the by, why I never succeeded with the former, and why people + seldom acquire any reputation, except for a hat, or a horse, till they + marry. Look round at the various occupations of life. How few bachelors + are eminent in any of them! So you see, Clarence, you will have my leave + to marry Lady Flora as soon as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence coloured, and rose to depart. Talbot followed him to the door, + and then said, in a careless way, “By the by, I had almost forgotten + to tell you that, as you have now many new expenses, you will find the + yearly sum you have hitherto received doubled. To give you this + information is the chief reason why I sent for you this morning. God bless + you, my dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + And Talbot shut the door, despite his politeness, in the face and thanks + of his adopted son. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is a great difference between seeking to raise a laugh from + everything, and seeking in everything what justly may be laughed + at. LORD SHAFTESBURY. +</pre> + <p> + Behold our hero, now in the zenith of distinguished dissipations! + Courteous, attentive, and animated, the women did not esteem him the less + for admiring them rather than himself; while, by the gravity of his + demeanour to men,—the eloquent, yet unpretending flow of his + conversation, whenever topics of intellectual interest were discussed, the + plain and solid sense which he threw into his remarks, and the avidity + with which he courted the society of all distinguished for literary or + political eminence,—he was silently but surely establishing himself + in esteem as well as popularity, and laying the certain foundation of + future honour and success. + </p> + <p> + Thus, although he had only been four months returned to England, he was + already known and courted in every circle, and universally spoken of as + among “the most rising young gentlemen” whom fortune and the + administration had marked for their own. His history, during the four + years in which we have lost sight of him, is briefly told. + </p> + <p> + He soon won his way into the good graces of Lord Aspeden; became his + private secretary and occasionally his confidant. Universally admired for + his attraction of form and manner, and, though aiming at reputation, not + averse to pleasure, he had that position which fashion confers at the + court of ——, when Lady Westborough and her beautiful daughter, + then only seventeen, came to ——, in the progress of a + Continental tour, about a year before his return to England. Clarence and + Lady Flora were naturally brought much together in the restricted circle + of a small court, and intimacy soon ripened into attachment. + </p> + <p> + Lord Aspeden being recalled, Clarence accompanied him to England; and the + ex-minister, really liking much one who was so useful to him, had + faithfully promised to procure him the office and honour of secretary + whenever his lordship should be reappointed minister. + </p> + <p> + Three intimate acquaintances had Clarence Linden. The one was the + Honourable Henry Trollolop, the second Mr. Callythorpe, and the third Sir + Christopher Findlater. We will sketch them to you in an instant. Mr. + Trollolop was a short, stout gentleman, with a very thoughtful + countenance,-that is to say, he wore spectacles and took snuff. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trollolop—we delight in pronouncing that soft liquid name—was + eminently distinguished by a love of metaphysics,—metaphysics were + in a great measure the order of the day; but Fate had endowed Mr. + Trollolop with a singular and felicitous confusion of idea. Reid, + Berkeley, Cudworth, Hobbes, all lay jumbled together in most edifying + chaos at the bottom of Mr. Trollolop’s capacious mind; and whenever + he opened his mouth, the imprisoned enemies came rushing and scrambling + out, overturning and contradicting each other in a manner quite astounding + to the ignorant spectator. Mr. Callythorpe was meagre, thin, sharp, and + yellow. Whether from having a great propensity for nailing stray + acquaintances, or being particularly heavy company, or from any other + cause better known to the wits of the period than to us, he was + occasionally termed by his friends the “yellow hammer.” The + peculiar characteristics of this gentleman were his sincerity and + friendship. These qualities led him into saying things the most + disagreeable, with the civilest and coolest manner in the world,—always + prefacing them with, “You know, my dear so-and-so, I am your true + friend.” If this proof of amity was now and then productive of + altercation, Mr. Callythorpe, who was ha great patriot, had another and a + nobler plea,—“Sir,” he would say, putting his hand to + his heart,—“sir, I’m an Englishman: I know not what it + is to feign.” Of a very different stamp was Sir Christopher + Findlater. Little cared he for the subtleties of the human mind, and not + much more for the disagreeable duties of “an Englishman.” + Honest and jovial, red in the cheeks, empty in the head, born to twelve + thousand a year, educated in the country, and heir to an earldom, Sir + Christopher Findlater piqued himself, notwithstanding his worldly + advantages, usually so destructive to the kindlier affections, on having + the best heart in the world, and this good heart, having a very bad head + to regulate and support it, was the perpetual cause of error to the owner + and evil to the public. + </p> + <p> + One evening, when Clarence was alone in his rooms, Mr. Trollolop entered. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Linden,” said the visitor, “how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, as I hope you are, very well,” answered Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “The human mind,” said Trollolop, taking off his greatcoat,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir Christopher Findlater and Mr. Callythorpe, sir,” said the + valet. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! What has Sir Christopher Findlater to do with the human + mind?” muttered Mr. Trollolop. + </p> + <p> + Sir Christopher entered with a swagger and a laugh. “Well, old + fellow, how do you do? Deuced cold this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Though it is an evening in May,” observed Clarence; “but + then, this cursed climate.” + </p> + <p> + “Climate!” interrupted Mr. Callythorpe, “it is the best + climate in the world: I am an Englishman, and I never abuse my country.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘England, with all thy faults, I love thee still!’” + </pre> + <p> + “As to climate,” said Trollolop, “there is no climate, + neither here nor elsewhere: the climate is in your mind, the chair is in + your mind, and the table too, though I dare say you are stupid enough to + think the two latter are in the room; the human mind, my dear Findlater—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mind me, Trollolop,” cried the baronet, “I + can’t bear your clever heads: give me a good heart; that’s + worth all the heads in the world; d—n me if it is not! Eh, Linden?” + </p> + <p> + “Your good heart,” cried Trollolop, in a passion (for all your + self-called philosophers are a little choleric), “your good heart is + all cant and nonsense: there is no heart at all; we are all mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I be hanged if I’m all mind,” said the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “At least,” quoth Linden, gravely, “no one ever accused + you of it before.” + </p> + <p> + “We are all mind,” pursued the reasoner; “we are all + mind, un moulin a raisonnement. Our ideas are derived from two sources, + sensation or memory. That neither our thoughts nor passions, nor our ideas + formed by the imagination, exist without the mind, everybody will allow; + [Berkeley, Sect. iii., “Principles of Human Knowledge.”] + therefore, you see, the human mind is—in short, there is nothing in + the world but the human mind!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be better demonstrated,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it,” quoth the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “But you do believe it, and you must believe it,” cried + Trollolop; “for ‘the Supreme Being has implanted within us the + principle of credulity,’ and therefore you do believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t,” cried Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” replied the metaphysician, calmly; “because + I must speak truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Why must you, pray?” said the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” answered Trollolop, taking snuff, “there is a + principle of veracity implanted in our nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I were a metaphysician,” said Clarence, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say so; for you know, my dear Linden,” + said Callythorpe, “that I am your true friend, and I must therefore + tell you that you are shamefully ignorant. You are not offended?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” said Clarence, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dear Findlater” (turning to the baronet), “you + know that I wish you well; you know that I never flatter; I’m your + real friend, so you must not be angry; but you really are not considered a + Solomon.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Callythorpe!” exclaimed the baronet in a rage (the + best-hearted people can’t always bear truth), “what do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not be angry, my good sir; you must not, really. I can’t + help telling you of your faults; for I am a true Briton, sir, a true + Briton, and leave lying to slaves and Frenchmen.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in an error,” said Trollolop; “Frenchmen don’t + lie, at least not naturally, for in the human mind, as I before said, the + Divine Author has implanted a principle of veracity which—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” interrupted Callythorpe, very affectionately, + “you remind me of what people say of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Memory may be reduced to sensation, since it is only a weaker + sensation,” quoth Trollolop; “but proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Trollolop,” said Callythorpe, in a singularly + endearing intonation of voice, “you know that I never flatter; + flattery is unbecoming a true friend,—nay, more, it is unbecoming a + native of our happy isles, and people do say of you that you know nothing + whatsoever, no, not an iota, of all that nonsensical, worthless philosophy + of which you are always talking. Lord St. George said the other day + ‘that you were very conceited.’—‘No, not + conceited,’ replied Dr. ——, ‘only ignorant;’ + so if I were you, Trollolop, I would cut metaphysics; you’re not + offended?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” cried Trollolop, foaming at the mouth. + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” said the good-hearted Sir Christopher, whose + wrath had now subsided, rubbing his hands,—“for my part, I see + no good in any of those things: I never read—never—and I don’t + see how I’m a bit the worse for it. A good man, Linden, in my + opinion, only wants to do his duty, and that is very easily done.” + </p> + <p> + “A good man; and what is good?” cried the metaphysician, + triumphantly. “Is it implanted within us? Hobbes, according to Reid, + who is our last, and consequently best, philosopher, endeavours to + demonstrate that there is no difference between right and wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea of what you mean,” cried Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + “Idea!” exclaimed the pious philosopher. “Sir, give me + leave to tell you that no solid proof has ever been advanced of the + existence of ideas: they are a mere fiction and hypothesis. Nay, sir, + ‘hence arises that scepticism which disgraces our philosophy of the + mind.’ Ideas!—Findlater, you are a sceptic and an idealist.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” cried the affrighted baronet; “upon my honour I am + no such thing. Everybody knows that I am a Christian, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” interrupted Callythorpe, with a solemn look, “everybody + knows that you are not one of those horrid persons,—those atrocious + deists and atheists and sceptics, from whom the Church and freedom of old + England have suffered such danger. I am a true Briton of the good old + school; and I confess, Mr. Trollolop, that I do not like to hear any + opinions but the right ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Right ones being only those which Mr. Callythorpe professes,” + said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so!” rejoined Mr. Callythorpe. + </p> + <p> + “The human mind,” commenced Mr. Trollolop, stirring the fire; + when Clarence, who began to be somewhat tired of this conversation, rose. + “You will excuse me,” said he, “but I am particularly + engaged, and it is time to dress. Harrison will get you tea or whatever + else you are inclined for.” + </p> + <p> + “The human mind,” renewed Trollolop, not heeding the + interruption; and Clarence forthwith left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You blame Marcius for being proud.—Coriolanus. Here is + another fellow, a marvellous pretty hand at fashioning a + compliment.-The Tanner of Tyburn. +</pre> + <p> + There was a brilliant ball at Lady T——‘s, a personage + who, every one knows, did in the year 17— give the best balls, and + have the best-dressed people at them, in London. It was about half-past + twelve, when Clarence, released from his three friends, arrived at the + countess’s. When he entered, the first thing which struck him was + Lord Borodaile in close conversation with Lady Flora. + </p> + <p> + Clarence paused for a few moments, and then, sauntering towards them, + caught Flora’s eye,—coloured, and advanced. Now, if there was + a haughty man in Europe, it was Lord Borodaile. He was not proud of his + birth, nor fortune, but he was proud of himself; and, next to that pride, + he was proud of being a gentleman. He had an exceeding horror of all + common people; a Claverhouse sort of supreme contempt to “puddle + blood;” his lip seemed to wear scorn as a garment; a lofty and stern + self-admiration, rather than self-love, sat upon his forehead as on a + throne. He had, as it were, an awe of himself; his thoughts were so many + mirrors of Viscount Borodaile dressed en dieu. His mind was a little + Versailles, in which self sat like Louis XIV., and saw nothing but + pictures of its self, sometimes as Jupiter and sometimes as Apollo. What + marvel then, that Lord Borodaile was a very unpleasant companion? for + every human being he had “something of contempt.” His eye was + always eloquent in disdaining; to the plebeian it said, “You are not + a gentleman;” to the prince, “You are not Lord Borodaile.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, with all this, he had his good points. He was brave as a lion; + strictly honourable; and though very ignorant, and very self-sufficient, + had that sort of dogged good sense which one very often finds in men of + stern hearts, who, if they have many prejudices, have little feeling, to + overcome. + </p> + <p> + Very stiffly and very haughtily did Lord Borodaile draw up, when Clarence + approached and addressed Lady Flora; much more stiffly and much more + haughtily did he return, though with old-fashioned precision of courtesy, + Clarence’s bow, when Lady Westborough introduced them to each other. + Not that this hauteur was intended as a particular affront: it was only + the agreeability of his lordship’s general manner. + </p> + <p> + “Are you engaged?” said Clarence to Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I am, at present, to Lord Borodaile.” + </p> + <p> + “After him, may I hope?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora nodded assent, and disappeared with Lord Borodaile. + </p> + <p> + His Royal Highness the Duke of —— came up to Lady Westborough; + and Clarence, with a smiling countenance and an absent heart, plunged into + the crowd. There he met Lord Aspeden, in conversation with the Earl of + Holdenworth, one of the administration. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Linden,” said the diplomatist, “let me introduce + you to Lord Holdenworth,—a clever young man, my dear lord, and plays + the flute beautifully.” With this eulogium, Lord Aspeden glided + away; and Lord Holdenworth, after some conversation with Linden, honoured + him by an invitation to dinner the next day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘T is true his nature may with faults abound; + But who will cavil when the heart is sound?—STEPHEN MONTAGUE. + + Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currant.-HORACE. + [“The foolish while avoiding vice run into the opposite + extremes.”] +</pre> + <p> + The next day Sir Christopher Findlater called on Clarence. “Let us + lounge in the park,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” replied Clarence; and into the park they + lounged. + </p> + <p> + By the way they met a crowd, who were hurrying a man to prison. The + good-hearted Sir Christopher stopped: “Who is that poor fellow?” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “It is the celebrated” (in England all criminals are + celebrated. Thurtell was a hero, Thistlewood a patriot, and Fauntleroy was + discovered to be exactly like Buonaparte!) “it is the celebrated + robber, John Jefferies, who broke into Mrs. Wilson’s house, and cut + the throats of herself and her husband, wounded the maid-servant, and + split the child’s skull with the poker.” Clarence pressed + forward: “I have seen that man before,” thought he. He looked + again, and recognized the face of the robber who had escaped from Talbot’s + house on the eventful night which had made Clarence’s fortune. It + was a strongly-marked and rather handsome countenance, which would not be + easily forgotten; and a single circumstance of excitement will stamp + features on the memory as deeply as the commonplace intercourse of years. + </p> + <p> + “John Jefferies!” exclaimed the baronet; “let us come + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Linden,” continued Sir Christopher, “that fellow was my + servant once. He robbed me to some considerable extent. I caught him. He + appealed to my heart; and you know, my dear fellow, that was irresistible, + so I let him off. Who could have thought he would have turned out so?” + And the baronet proceeded to eulogize his own good-nature, by which it is + just necessary to remark that one miscreant had been saved for a few years + from transportation, in order to rob and murder ad libitum, and, having + fulfilled the office of a common pest, to suffer on the gallows at last. + What a fine thing it is to have a good heart! Both our gentlemen now sank + into a revery, from which they were awakened, at the entrance of the park, + by a young man in rags who, with a piteous tone, supplicated charity. + Clarence, who, to his honour be it spoken, spent an allotted and + considerable part of his income in judicious and laborious benevolence, + had read a little of political morals, then beginning to be understood, + and walked on. The good-hearted baronet put his hand in his pocket, and + gave the beggar half a guinea, by which a young, strong man, who had only + just commenced the trade, was confirmed in his imposition for the rest of + his life; and, instead of the useful support, became the pernicious + incumbrance of society. + </p> + <p> + Sir Christopher had now recovered his spirits. “What’s like a + good action?” said he to Clarence, with a swelling breast. + </p> + <p> + The park was crowded to excess; our loungers were joined by Lord St. + George. His lordship was a stanch Tory. He could not endure Wilkes, + liberty, or general education. He launched out against the enlightenment + of domestics. [The ancestors of our present footmen, if we may believe Sir + William Temple, seem to have been to the full as intellectual as their + descendants. “I have had,” observes the philosophic statesman, + “several servants far gone in divinity, others in poetry; have + known, in the families of some friends; a keeper deep in the Rosicrucian + mysteries and a laundress firm in those of Epicurus.”] + </p> + <p> + “What has made you so bitter?” said Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + “My valet,” cried Lord St. George,—“he has + invented a new toasting-fork, is going to take out a patent, make his + fortune, and leave me; that’s what I call ingratitude, Sir + Christopher; for I ordered his wages to be raised five pounds but last + year.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very ungrateful,” said the ironical Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Very!” reiterated the good-hearted Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot recommend me a valet, Findlater,” renewed his + lordship, “a good, honest, sensible fellow, who can neither read nor + write?” + </p> + <p> + “N-o-o,—that is to say, yes! I can; my old servant Collard is + out of place, and is as ignorant as—as—” + </p> + <p> + “I—or you are?” said Lord St. George, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” replied the baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I take your recommendation: send him to me to-morrow at + twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Findlater,” cried Clarence, when Lord St. George was + gone, “did you not tell me, some time ago, that Collard was a great + rascal, and very intimate with Jefferies? and now you recommend him to + Lord St. George!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, hush!” said the baronet; “he was a great + rogue to be sure: but, poor fellow, he came to me yesterday with tears in + his eyes, and said he should starve if I would not give him a character; + so what could I do?” + </p> + <p> + “At least, tell Lord St. George the truth,” observed Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “But then Lord St. George would not take him!” rejoined the + good-hearted Sir Christopher, with forcible naivete. “No, no, + Linden, we must not be so hard-hearted; we must forgive and forget;” + and so saying, the baronet threw out his chest, with the conscious + exultation of a man who has uttered a noble sentiment. The moral of this + little history is that Lord St. George, having been pillaged “through + thick and thin,” as the proverb has it, for two years, at last + missed a gold watch, and Monsieur Collard finished his career as his + exemplary tutor, Mr. John Jefferies, had done before him. Ah! what a fine + thing it is to have a good heart! + </p> + <p> + But to return. Just as our wanderers had arrived at the farther end of the + park, Lady Westborough and her daughter passed them. Clarence, excusing + himself to his friend, hastened towards them, and was soon occupied in + saying the prettiest things in the world to the prettiest person, at least + in his eyes; while Sir Christopher, having done as much mischief as a good + heart well can do in a walk of an hour, returned home to write a long + letter to his mother, against “learning and all such nonsense, which + only served to blunt the affections and harden the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Admirable young man!” cried the mother, with tears in her + eyes. “A good heart is better than all the heads in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Amen! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril, or you will compel me to do + that I may be sorry for!” + + “You shall make no way here but at your peril,” said Sir + Geoffrey; “this is my ground.”—Peveril of the Peak. +</pre> + <p> + One night on returning home from a party at Lady Westborough’s in + Hanover Square, Clarence observed a man before him walking with an uneven + and agitated step. His right hand was clenched, and he frequently raised + it as with a sudden impulse, and struck fiercely as if at some imagined + enemy. + </p> + <p> + The stranger slackened his pace. Clarence passed him, and, turning round + to satisfy the idle curiosity which the man’s eccentric gestures had + provoked, his eye met a dark, lowering, iron countenance, which, despite + the lapse of four years, he recognized on the moment: it was Wolfe, the + republican. + </p> + <p> + Clarence moved, involuntarily, with a quicker step; but in a few minutes, + Wolfe, who was vehemently talking to himself, once more passed him; the + direction he took was also Clarence’s way homeward, and he therefore + followed the republican, though at some slight distance, and on the + opposite side of the way. A gentleman on foot, apparently returning from a + party, met Wolfe, and, with an air half haughty, half unconscious, took + the wall; though, according to old-fashioned rules of street courtesy, he + was on the wrong side for asserting the claim. The stern republican + started, drew himself up to his full height, and sturdily and doggedly + placed himself directly in the way of the unjust claimant. Clarence was + now nearly opposite to the two, and saw all that was going on. + </p> + <p> + With a motion a little rude and very contemptuous, the passenger attempted + to put Wolfe aside, and win his path. Little did he know of the unyielding + nature he had to do with; the next instant the republican, with a strong + hand, forced him from the pavement into the very kennel, and silently and + coldly continued his way. + </p> + <p> + The wrath of the discomfited passenger was vehemently kindled. + </p> + <p> + “Insolent dog!” cried he, in a loud and arrogant tone, “your + baseness is your protection.” Wolfe turned rapidly, and made but two + strides before he was once more by the side of his defeated opponent. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” he asked, in his low, deep, hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + Clarence stopped. “There will be mischief done here,” thought + he, as he called to mind the stern temper of the republican. + </p> + <p> + “Merely,” said the other, struggling with his rage, “that + it is not for men of my rank to avenge the insults offered us by those of + yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Your rank!” said Wolfe, bitterly retorting the contempt of + the stranger, in a tone of the loftiest disdain; “your rank! poor + changeling! And what are you, that you should lord it over me? Are your + limbs stronger? your muscles firmer? your proportions juster? your mind + acuter? your conscience clearer? Fool! fool! go home and measure yourself + with lackeys!” + </p> + <p> + The republican ceased, and pushing the stranger aside, turned slowly away. + But this last insult enraged the passenger beyond all prudence. Before + Wolfe had proceeded two paces, he muttered a desperate but brief oath, and + struck the reformer with a strength so much beyond what his figure (which + was small and slight) appeared to possess, that the powerful and gaunt + frame of Wolfe recoiled backward several steps, and, had it not been for + the iron railing of the neighbouring area, would have fallen to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + Clarence pressed forward: the face of the rash aggressor was turned + towards him; the features were Lord Borodaile’s. He had scarcely + time to make this discovery, before Wolfe had recovered himself. With a + wild and savage cry, rather than exclamation, he threw himself upon his + antagonist, twined his sinewy arms round the frame of the struggling but + powerless nobleman, raised him in the air with the easy strength of a man + lifting a child, held him aloft for one moment with a bitter and scornful + laugh of wrathful derision, and then dashed him to the ground, and + planting his foot upon Borodaile’s breast said,— + </p> + <p> + “So shall it be with all of you: there shall be but one instant + between your last offence and your first but final debasement. Lie there! + it is your proper place! By the only law which you yourself acknowledge, + the law which gives the right divine to the strongest; if you stir limb or + muscle, I will crush the breath from your body.” + </p> + <p> + But Clarence was now by the side of Wolfe, a new and more powerful + opponent. + </p> + <p> + “Look you,” said he: “you have received an insult, and + you have done justice yourself. I condemn the offence, and quarrel not + with you for the punishment; but that punishment is now past: remove your + foot, or—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” shouted Wolfe, fiercely, his lurid and vindictive eye + flashing with the released fire of long-pent and cherished passions. + </p> + <p> + “Or,” answered Clarence, calmly, “I will hinder you from + committing murder.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant the watchman’s voice was heard, and the night’s + guardian himself was seen hastening from the far end of the street towards + the place of contest. Whether this circumstance, or Clarence’s + answer, somewhat changed the current of the republican’s thoughts, + or whether his anger, suddenly raised, was now as suddenly subsiding, it + is not easy to decide; but he slowly and deliberately moved his foot from + the breast of his baffled foe, and bending down seemed endeavouring to + ascertain the mischief he had done. Lord Borodaile was perfectly + insensible. + </p> + <p> + “You have killed him!” cried Clarence in a voice of horror, + “but you shall not escape;” and he placed a desperate and + nervous hand on the republican. + </p> + <p> + “Stand off,” said Wolfe, “my blood is up! I would not do + more violence to-night than I have done. Stand off! the man moves; see!” + </p> + <p> + And Lord Borodaile, uttering a long sigh, and attempting to rise, Clarence + released his hold of the republican, and bent down to assist the fallen + nobleman. Meanwhile, Wolfe, muttering to himself, turned from the spot, + and strode haughtily away. + </p> + <p> + The watchman now came up, and, with his aid, Clarence raised Lord + Borodaile. Bruised, stunned, half insensible as he was, that personage + lost none of his characteristic stateliness; he shook off the watchman’s + arm, as if there was contamination in the touch; and his countenance, + still menacing and defying in its expression, turned abruptly towards + Clarence, as if he yet expected to meet and struggle with a foe. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, my lord?” said Linden; “not severely hurt, + I trust?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, quite well,” cried Borodaile. “Mr. Linden, I + think?—I thank you cordially for your assistance; but the dog, the + rascal, where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Where—where?” cried Borodaile; “that living + man should insult me, and yet escape!” + </p> + <p> + “Which way did the fellow go?” said the watchman, anticipative + of half-a-crown. “I will run after him in a trice, your honour: I + warrant I nab him.” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—” said Borodaile, haughtily, “I leave + my quarrels to no man; if I could not master him myself, no one else shall + do it for me. Mr. Linden, excuse me, but I am perfectly recovered, and can + walk very well without your polite assistance. Mr. Watchman, I am obliged + to you: there is a guinea to reward your trouble.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, intended as a farewell, the proud patrician, smothering + his pain, bowed with extreme courtesy to Clarence, again thanked him, and + walked on unaided and alone. + </p> + <p> + “He is a game blood,” said the watchman, pocketing the guinea. + </p> + <p> + “He is worthy his name,” thought Clarence; “though he + was in the wrong, my heart yearns to him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Things wear a vizard which I think to like not.—Tanner of + Tyburn. +</pre> + <p> + Clarence, from that night, appeared to have formed a sudden attachment to + Lord Borodaile. He took every opportunity of cultivating his intimacy, and + invariably treated him with a degree of consideration which his knowledge + of the world told him was well calculated to gain the good will of his + haughty and arrogant acquaintance; but all this was in effectual in + conquering Borodaile’s coldness and reserve. To have been once seen + in a humiliating and degrading situation is quite sufficient to make a + proud man hate the spectator, and, with the confusion of all prejudiced + minds, to transfer the sore remembrance of the event to the association of + the witness. Lord Borodaile, though always ceremoniously civil, was + immovably distant; and avoided as well as he was able Clarence’s + insinuating approaches and address. To add to his indisposition to + increase his acquaintance with Linden, a friend of his, a captain in the + Guards, once asked him who that Mr. Linden was? and, on his lordship’s + replying that he did not know, Mr. Percy Bobus, the son of a + wine-merchant, though the nephew of a duke, rejoined, “Nobody does + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Insolent intruder!” thought Lord Borodaile: “a man whom + nobody knows to make such advances to me!” + </p> + <p> + A still greater cause of dislike to Clarence arose from jealousy. Ever + since the first night of his acquaintance with Lady Flora, Lord Borodaile + had paid her unceasing attention. In good earnest, he was greatly struck + by her beauty, and had for the last year meditated the necessity of + presenting the world with a Lady Borodaile. Now, though his lordship did + look upon himself in as favourable a light as a man well can do, yet he + could not but own that Clarence was very handsome, had a devilish + gentlemanlike air, talked with a better grace than the generality of young + men, and danced to perfection. “I detest that fellow!” said + Lord Borodaile, involuntarily and aloud, as these unwilling truths forced + themselves upon his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you detest?” asked Mr. Percy Bobus, who was lying on + the sofa in Lord Borodaile’s drawing-room, and admiring a pair of + red-heeled shoes which decorated his feet. + </p> + <p> + “That puppy Linden!” said Lord Borodaile, adjusting his + cravat. + </p> + <p> + “He is a deuced puppy, certainly!” rejoined Mr. Percy Bobus, + turning round in order to contemplate more exactly the shape of his right + shoe. “I can’t bear conceit, Borodaile.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I: I abhor it; it is so d—d disgusting!” replied + Lord Borodaile, leaning his chin upon his two hands, and looking full into + the glass. “Do you use MacNeile’s divine pomatum?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s too hard; I get mine from Paris: shall I send you + some?” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Lord Borodaile. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Linden, my lord,” said the servant, throwing open the + door; and Clarence entered. + </p> + <p> + “I am very fortunate,” said he, with that smile which so few + ever resisted, “to find you at home, Lord Borodaile; but as the day + was wet, I thought I should have some chance of that pleasure; I therefore + wrapped myself up in my roquelaure, and here I am.” + </p> + <p> + Now, nothing could be more diplomatic than the compliment of choosing a + wet day for a visit, and exposing one’s self to “the pitiless + shower,” for the greater probability of finding the person visited + at home. Not so thought Lord Borodaile; he drew himself up, bowed very + solemnly, and said, with cold gravity,— + </p> + <p> + “You are very obliging, Mr. Linden.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence coloured, and bit his lip as he seated himself. Mr. Percy Bobus, + with true insular breeding, took up the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “I think I saw you at Lady C.‘s last night,” said + Clarence; “did you stay there long?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” answered Borodaile; “I hate her parties.” + </p> + <p> + “One does meet such odd people there,” observed Mr. Percy + Bobus; “creatures one never sees anywhere else:” + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” said Clarence, who never abused any one, even the + givers of stupid parties, if he could help it, and therefore thought it + best to change the conversation,—“I hear, Lord Borodaile, that + some hunters of yours are to be sold. I purpose being a bidder for + Thunderbolt.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a horse to sell you, Mr. Linden,” cried Mr. Percy + Bobus, springing from the sofa into civility; “a superb creature.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Clarence, laughing; “but I can only + afford to buy one, and I have taken a great fancy to Thunderbolt.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile, whose manners were very antiquated in their affability, + bowed. Mr. Bobus sank back into his sofa, and resumed the paper. + </p> + <p> + A pause ensued. Clarence was chilled in spite of himself. Lord Borodaile + played with a paper-cutter. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been to Lady Westborough’s lately?” said + Clarence, breaking silence. + </p> + <p> + “I was there last night,” replied Lord Borodaile. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” cried Clarence. “I wonder I did not see you + there, for I dined with them.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile’s hair curled of itself. “He dined there, and I + only asked in the evening!” thought he; but his sarcastic temper + suggested a very different reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said he, elevating his eyebrows, “Lady Westborough + told me she had had some people to dinner whom she had been obliged to + ask. Bobus, is that the ‘Public Advertiser’? See whether that + d—d fellow Junius has been writing any more of his venomous letters.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was not a man apt to take offence, but he felt his bile rise. + “It will not do to show it,” thought he; so he made some + further remark in a jesting vein; and, after a very ill-sustained + conversation of some minutes longer, rose, apparently in the best humour + possible, and departed, with a solemn intention never again to enter the + house. Thence he went to Lady Westborough’s. + </p> + <p> + The marchioness was in her boudoir: Clarence was as usual admitted; for + Lady Westborough loved amusement above all things in the world, and + Clarence had the art of affording it better than any young man of her + acquaintance. On entering, he saw Lady Flora hastily retreating through an + opposite door. She turned her face towards him for one moment: that moment + was sufficient to freeze his blood: the large tears were rolling down her + cheeks, which were as white as death, and the expression of those + features, usually so laughing and joyous, was that of utter and ineffable + despair. + </p> + <p> + Lady Westborough was as lively, as bland, and as agreeable as ever: but + Clarence thought he detected something restrained and embarrassed lurking + beneath all the graces of her exterior manner; and the single glance he + had caught of the pale and altered face of Lady Flora was not calculated + to reassure his mind or animate his spirits. His visit was short; when he + left the room, he lingered for a few moments in the ante-chamber in the + hope of again seeing Lady Flora. While thus loitering, his ear caught the + sound of Lady Westborough’s voice: “When Mr. Linden calls + again, you have my orders never to admit him into this room; he will be + shown into the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + With a hasty step and a burning cheek Clarence quitted the house, and + hurried, first to his solitary apartments, and thence, impatient of + loneliness, to the peaceful retreat of his benefactor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A maiden’s thoughts do check my trembling hand.—DRAYTON. +</pre> + <p> + There is something very delightful in turning from the unquietness and + agitation, the fever, the ambition, the harsh and worldly realities of man’s + character to the gentle and deep recesses of woman’s more secret + heart. Within her musings is a realm of haunted and fairy thought, to + which the things of this turbid and troubled life have no entrance. What + to her are the changes of state, the rivalries and contentions which form + the staple of our existence? For her there is an intense and fond + philosophy, before whose eye substances flit and fade like shadows, and + shadows grow glowingly into truth. Her soul’s creations are not as + the moving and mortal images seen in the common day: they are things, like + spirits steeped in the dim moonlight, heard when all else are still, and + busy when earth’s labourers are at rest! They are + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Such stuff + As dreams are made of, and their little life + Is rounded by a sleep.” + </pre> + <p> + Hers is the real and uncentred poetry of being, which pervades and + surrounds her as with an air, which peoples her visions and animates her + love, which shrinks from earth into itself, and finds marvel and + meditation in all that it beholds within, and which spreads even over the + heaven in whose faith she so ardently believes the mystery and the + tenderness of romance. + </p> + <p> + LETTER I. FROM LADY FLORA ARDENNE TO MISS ELEANOR TREVANION. + </p> + <p> + You say that I have not written to you so punctually of late as I used to + do before I came to London, and you impute my negligence to the gayeties + and pleasures by which I am surrounded. Eh bien! my dear Eleanor, could + you have thought of a better excuse for me? You know how fond we—ay, + dearest, you as well as I—used to be of dancing, and how earnestly + we were wont to anticipate those children’s balls at my uncle’s, + which were the only ones we were ever permitted to attend. I found a stick + the other day, on which I had cut seven notches, significant of seven days + more to the next ball; we reckoned time by balls then, and danced + chronologically. Well, my dear Eleanor, here I am now, brought out, + tolerably well-behaved, only not dignified enough, according to Mamma,—as + fond of laughing, talking, and dancing as ever; and yet, do you know, a + ball, though still very delightful, is far from being the most important + event in creation; its anticipation does not keep me awake of a night: and + what is more to the purpose, its recollection does not make me lock up my + writing-desk, burn my portefeuille, and forget you, all of which you seem + to imagine it has been able to effect. + </p> + <p> + No, dearest Eleanor, you are mistaken; for, were she twice as giddy and + ten times as volatile as she is, your own Flora could never, never forget + you, nor the happy hours we have spent together, nor the pretty + goldfinches we had in common, nor the little Scotch duets we used to sing + together, nor our longings to change them into Italian, nor our + disappointment when we did so, nor our laughter at Signor Shrikalini, nor + our tears when poor darling Bijou died. And do you remember, dearest, the + charming green lawn where we used to play together, and plan tricks for + your governess? She was very, very cross, though, I think, we were a + little to blame too. However, I was much the worst! And pray, Eleanor, don’t + you remember how we used to like being called pretty, and told of the + conquests we should make? Do you like all that now? For my part, I am + tired of it, at least from the generality of one’s flatterers. + </p> + <p> + Ah! Eleanor, or “heigho!” as the young ladies in novels write, + do you remember how jealous I was of you at ——, and how + spiteful I was, and how you were an angel, and bore with me, and kissed + me, and told me that—that I had nothing to fear? Well, Clar—I + mean Mr. Linden, is now in town and so popular, and so admired! I wish we + were at —— again, for there we saw him every day, and now we + don’t meet more than three times a week; and though I like hearing + him praised above all things, yet I feel very uncomfortable when that + praise comes from very, very pretty women. I wish we were at —— + again! Mamma, who is looking more beautiful than ever, is, very kind! she + says nothing to be sure, but she must see how—that is to say—she + must know that—that I—I mean that Clarence is very attentive + to me, and that I blush and look exceedingly silly whenever he is; and + therefore I suppose that whenever Clarence thinks fit to ask me, I shall + not be under the necessity of getting up at six o’clock, and + travelling to Gretna Green, through that odious North Road, up the + Highgate Hill, and over Finchley Common. + </p> + <p> + “But when will he ask you?” My dearest Eleanor, that is more + than I can say. To tell you the truth, there is something about Linden + which I cannot thoroughly understand. They say he is nephew and heir to + the Mr. Talbot whom you may have heard Papa talk of; but if so, why the + hints, the insinuations, of not being what he seems, which Clarence + perpetually throws out, and which only excite my interest without + gratifying my curiosity? ‘It is not,’ he has said, more than + once, ‘as an obscure adventurer that I will claim your love;’ + and if I venture, which is very seldom (for I am a little afraid of him), + to question his meaning, he either sinks into utter silence, for which, if + I had loved according to book, and not so naturally, I should be very + angry with him, or twists his words into another signification, such as + that he would not claim me till he had become something higher and nobler + than he is now. Alas, my dear Eleanor, it takes a long time to make an + ambassador out of an attache. + </p> + <p> + See now if you reproached me justly with scanty correspondences. If I + write a line more, I must begin a new sheet, and that will be beyond the + power of a frank,—a thing which would, I know, break the heart of + your dear, good, generous, but a little too prudent aunt, and irrevocably + ruin me in her esteem. So God bless you, dearest Eleanor, and believe me + most affectionately yours, FLORA ARDENNE. + </p> + <p> + LETTER II. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + </p> + <p> + Pray, dearest Eleanor, does that good aunt of yours—now don’t + frown, I am not going to speak disrespectfully of her—ever take a + liking to young gentlemen whom you detest, and insist upon the fallacy of + your opinion and the unerring rectitude of hers? If so, you can pity and + comprehend my grief. Mamma has formed quite an attachment to a very + disagreeable person! He is Lord Borodaile, the eldest, and I believe, the + only son of Lord Ulswater. Perhaps you may have met him abroad, for he has + been a great traveller: his family is among the most ancient in England, + and his father’s estate covers half a county. All this Mamma tells + me, with the most earnest air in the world, whenever I declaim upon his + impertinence or disagreeability (is there such a word? there ought to be). + “Well,” said I to-day, “what’s that to me?” + “It may be a great deal to you,” replied Mamma, significantly, + and the blood rushed from my face to my heart. She could not, Eleanor, she + could not mean, after all her kindness to Clarence, and in spite of all + her penetration into my heart,—oh, no, no,—she could not. How + terribly suspicious this love makes one! + </p> + <p> + But if I disliked Lord Borodaile at first, I have hated him of late; for, + somehow or other, he is always in the way. If I see Clarence hastening + through the crowd to ask me to dance, at that very instant up steps Lord + Borodaile with his cold, changeless face, and his haughty old-fashioned + bow, and his abominable dark complexion; and Mamma smiles; and he hopes he + finds me disengaged; and I am hurried off; and poor Clarence looks so + disappointed and so wretched! You have no idea how ill-tempered this makes + me. I could not help asking Lord Borodaile yesterday if he was never going + abroad again, and the hateful creature played with his cravat, and + answered “Never!” I was in hopes that my sullenness would + drive his lordship away: tout au contraire; “Nothing,” said he + to me the other day, when he was in full pout, “nothing is so + plebeian as good-humour!” + </p> + <p> + I wish, then, Eleanor, that he could see your governess: she must be + majesty itself in his eyes! + </p> + <p> + Ah, dearest, how we belie ourselves! At this moment, when you might think, + from the idle, rattling, silly flow of my letter, that my heart was as + light and free as it was when we used to play on the green lawn, and under + the sunny trees, in the merry days of our childhood, the tears are running + down my cheeks; see where they have fallen on the page, and my head throbs + as if my thoughts were too full and heavy for it to contain. It is past + one! I am alone, and in my own room. Mamma is gone to a rout at H—— + House, but I knew I should not meet Clarence there, and so said I was ill, + and remained at home. I have done so often of late, whenever I have + learned from him that he was not going to the same place as Mamma. Indeed, + I love much better to sit alone and think over his words and looks; and I + have drawn, after repeated attempts, a profile likeness of him; and oh, + Eleanor, I cannot tell you how dear it is to me; and yet there is not a + line, not a look of his countenance which I have not learned by heart, + without such useless aids to my memory. But I am ashamed of telling you + all this, and my eyes ache so, that I can write no more. + </p> + <p> + Ever, as ever, dearest Eleanor, your affectionate friend. + </p> + <p> + F. A. LETTER III. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + </p> + <p> + Eleanor, I am undone! My mother—my mother has been so cruel; but she + cannot, she cannot intend it, or she knows very little of my heart. With + some ties may be as easily broken as formed; with others they are twined + around life itself. + </p> + <p> + Clarence dined with us yesterday, and was unusually animated and + agreeable. He was engaged on business with Lord Aspeden afterwards, and + left us early. We had a few people in the evening, Lord Borodaile among + the rest; and my mother spoke of Clarence, and his relationship to and + expectations from Mr. Talbot. Lord Borodaile sneered; “You are + mistaken,” said he, sarcastically; “Mr. Linden may feel it + convenient to give out that he is related to so old a family as the + Talbots; and since Heaven only knows who or what he is, he may as well + claim alliance with one person as another; but he is certainly not the + nephew of Mr. Talbot of Scarsdale Park, for that gentleman had no sisters + and but one brother, who left an only daughter; that daughter had also but + one child, certainly no relation to Mr. Linden. I can vouch for the truth + of this statement; for the Talbots are related to, or at least nearly + connected with, myself; and I thank Heaven that I have a pedigree, even in + its collateral branches, worth learning by heart.” And then Lord + Borodaile—I little thought, when I railed against him, what serious + cause I should have to hate him—turned to me and harassed me with + his tedious attentions the whole of the evening. + </p> + <p> + This morning Mamma sent for me into her boudoir. “I have observed,” + said she, with the greatest indifference, “that Mr. Linden has, of + late, been much too particular in his manner towards you: your foolish and + undue familiarity with every one has perhaps given him encouragement. + After the gross imposition which Lord Borodaile exposed to us last night, + I cannot but consider the young man as a mere adventurer, and must not + only insist on your putting a total termination to civilities which we + must henceforth consider presumption, but I myself shall consider it + incumbent upon me greatly to limit the advances he has thought proper to + make towards my acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + You may guess how thunderstruck I was by this speech. I could not answer; + my tongue literally clove to my mouth, and I was only relieved by a sudden + and violent burst of tears. Mamma looked exceedingly displeased, and was + just going to speak, when the servant threw open the door and announced + Mr. Linden. I rose hastily, and had only just time to escape, as he + entered; but when I heard that dear, dear voice, I could not resist + turning for one moment. He saw me; and was struck mute, for the agony of + my soul was stamped visibly on my countenance. That moment was over: with + a violent effort I tore myself away. + </p> + <p> + Eleanor, I can now write no more. God bless you! and me too; for I am + very, very unhappy. F. A. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What a charming character is a kind old man.—STEPHEN MONTAGUE. +</pre> + <p> + “Cheer up, my dear boy,” said Talbot, kindly, “we must + never despair. What though Lady Westborough has forbidden you the boudoir, + a boudoir is a very different thing from a daughter, and you have no right + to suppose that the veto extends to both. But now that we are on this + subject, do let me reason with you seriously. Have you not already tasted + all the pleasures, and been sufficiently annoyed by some of the pains, of + acting the ‘Incognito’? Be ruled by me: resume your proper + name; it is at least one which the proudest might acknowledge; and its + discovery will remove the greatest obstacle to the success which you so + ardently desire.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence, who was labouring under strong excitement, paused for some + moments, as if to collect himself, before he replied: “I have been + thrust from my father’s home; I have been made the victim of another’s + crime; I have been denied the rights and name of son; perhaps (and I say + this bitterly) justly denied them, despite of my own innocence. What would + you have me do? Resume a name never conceded to me,—perhaps not + righteously mine,—thrust myself upon the unwilling and shrinking + hands which disowned and rejected me; blazon my virtues by pretensions + which I myself have promised to forego, and foist myself on the notice of + strangers by the very claims which my nearest relations dispute? Never! + never! never! With the simple name I have assumed; the friend I myself + have won,—you, my generous benefactor, my real father, who never + forsook nor insulted me for my misfortunes,—with these I have gained + some steps in the ladder; with these, and those gifts of nature, a stout + heart and a willing hand, of which none can rob me, I will either ascend + the rest, even to the summit, or fall to the dust, unknown, but not + contemned; unlamented, but not despised.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Talbot, brushing away a tear which he could + not deny to the feeling, even while he disputed the judgment, of the young + adventurer,—“well, this is all very fine and very foolish; but + you shall never want friend or father while I live, or when I have ceased + to live; but come,—sit down, share my dinner, which is not very + good, and my dessert, which is: help me to entertain two or three guests + who are coming to me in the evening, to talk on literature, sup, and + sleep; and to-morrow you shall return home, and see Lady Flora in the + drawing-room if you cannot in the boudoir.” + </p> + <p> + And Clarence was easily persuaded to accept the invitation. Talbot was not + one of those men who are forced to exert themselves to be entertaining. He + had the pleasant and easy way of imparting his great general and curious + information, that a man, partly humourist, partly philosopher, who values + himself on being a man of letters, and is in spite of himself a man of the + world, always ought to possess. Clarence was soon beguiled from the + remembrance of his mortifications, and, by little and little, entirely + yielded to the airy and happy flow of Talbot’s conversation. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, three or four men of literary eminence (as many as Talbot’s + small Tusculum would accommodate with beds) arrived, and in a + conversation, free alike from the jargon of pedants and the insipidities + of fashion, the night fled away swiftly and happily, even to the lover. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are here (in the country) among the vast and noble scenes + of Nature; we are there (in the town) among the pitiful + shifts of policy. We walk here in the light and open ways of + the divine bounty,—we grope therein the dark and confused + labyrinths of human malice; our senses are here feasted with + all the clear and genuine taste of their objects, which are + all sophisticated there, and for the most part overwhelmed + with their contraries: here pleasure, methinks, looks like a + beautiful, constant, and modest wife; it is there an + impudent, fickle, and painted harlot.—COWLEY. +</pre> + <p> + Draw up the curtain! The scene is the Opera. + </p> + <p> + The pit is crowded; the connoisseurs in the front row are in a very ill + humour. It must be confessed that extreme heat is a little trying to the + temper of a critic. + </p> + <p> + The Opera then was not what it is now, nor even what it had been in a + former time. It is somewhat amusing to find Goldsmith questioning, in one + of his essays, whether the Opera could ever become popular in England. But + on the night—on which the reader is summoned to that “theatre + of sweet sounds” a celebrated singer from the Continent made his + first appearance in London, and all the world thronged to “that + odious Opera-house” to hear, or to say they had heard, the famous + Sopraniello. + </p> + <p> + With a nervous step, Clarence proceeded to Lady Westborough’s box; + and it was many minutes that he lingered by the door before he summoned + courage to obtain admission. + </p> + <p> + He entered; the box was crowded; but Lady Flora was not there. Lord + Borodaile was sitting next to Lady Westborough. As Clarence entered, Lord + Borodaile raised his eyebrows, and Lady Westborough her glass. However + disposed a great person may be to drop a lesser one, no one of real birth + or breeding ever cuts another. Lady Westborough, therefore, though much + colder, was no less civil than usual; and Lord Borodaile bowed lower than + ever to Mr. Linden, as he punctiliously called him. But Clarence’s + quick eye discovered instantly that he was no welcome intruder, and that + his day with the beautiful marchioness was over. His visit, consequently, + was short and embarrassed. When he left the box, he heard Lord Borodaile’s + short, slow, sneering laugh, followed by Lady Westborough’s “hush” + of reproof. + </p> + <p> + His blood boiled. He hurried along the passage, with his eyes fixed upon + the ground and his hand clenched. + </p> + <p> + “What ho! Linden, my good fellow; why, you look as if all the + ferocity of the great Figg were in your veins,” cried a + good-humoured voice. Clarence started, and saw the young and high-spirited + Duke of Haverfield. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going behind the scenes?” said his grace. “I + have just come thence; and you had much better drop into La Meronville’s + box with me. You sup with her to-night, do you not? + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed!” replied Clarence; “I scarcely know her, + except by sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what think you of her?” + </p> + <p> + “That she is the prettiest Frenchwoman I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Commend me to secret sympathies!” cried the duke. “She + has asked me three times who you were, and told me three times you were + the handsomest man in London and had quite a foreign air; the latter + recommendation being of course far greater than the former. So, after + this, you cannot refuse to accompany me to her box and make her + acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” answered Clarence, “I shall be too happy to + profit by the taste of so discerning a person; but it is cruel in you, + Duke, not to feign a little jealousy,—a little reluctance to + introduce so formidable a rival.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to me,” said the duke, “I only like her for her + mental, not her personal, attractions. She is very agreeable, and a little + witty; sufficient attractions for one in her situation.” + </p> + <p> + “But do tell me a little of her history,” said Clarence, + “for, in spite of her renown, I only know her as La belle + Meronville. Is she not living en ami with some one of our acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” replied the duke, “with Lord Borodaile. + She is prodigiously extravagant; and Borodaile affects to be prodigiously + fond: but as there is only a certain fund of affection in the human heart, + and all Lord Borodaile’s is centred in Lord Borodaile, that cannot + really be the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he jealous of her?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least! nor indeed, does she give him any cause. She is + very gay, very talkative, gives excellent suppers, and always has her box + at the Opera crowded with admirers; but that is all. She encourages many, + and favours but one. Happy Borodaile! My lot is less fortunate! You know, + I suppose, that Julia has deserted me?” + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me,—and for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she told me, with a vehement burst of tears, that she was + convinced I did not love her, and that a hundred pounds a month was not + sufficient to maintain a milliner’s apprentice. I answered the first + assertion by an assurance that I adored her: but I preserved a total + silence with regard to the latter; and so I found Trevanion tete-a-tete + with her the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Sent my valet to Trevanion with an old coat of mine, my + compliments, and my hopes that, as Mr. Trevanion was so fond of my + cast-off conveniences, he would honour me by accepting the accompanying + trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “He challenged you, without doubt?” + </p> + <p> + “Challenged me! No: he tells all his friends that I am the wittiest + man in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “A fool can speak the truth, you see,” said Clarence, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Linden; you shall have my good word with La Meronville + for that: mais allons.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle de la Meronville, as she pointedly entitled herself, was one + of those charming adventuresses, who, making the most of a good education + and a prepossessing person, a delicate turn for letter-writing, and a + lively vein of conversation, came to England for a year or two, as + Spaniards were wont to go to Mexico, and who return to their native + country with a profound contempt for the barbarians whom they have so + egregiously despoiled. Mademoiselle de la Meronville was small, + beautifully formed, had the prettiest hands and feet in the world, and + laughed musically. By the by, how difficult it is to laugh, or even to + smile, at once naturally and gracefully! It is one of Steele’s + finest touches of character, where he says of Will Honeycombe, “He + can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily.” + </p> + <p> + In a word, the pretty Frenchwoman was precisely formed to turn the head of + a man like Lord Borodaile, who loved to be courted and who required to be + amused. Mademoiselle de la Meronville received Clarence with a great deal + of grace, and a little reserve, the first chiefly natural, the last wholly + artificial. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the duke (in French), “you have not told me + who are to be of your party this evening,—Borodaile, I suppose, of + course?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he cannot come to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quel malheur! then the hock will not be iced enough: Borodaile’s + looks are the best wine-coolers in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie!” cried La Meronville, glancing towards Clarence, “I + cannot endure your malevolence; wit makes you very bitter.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is exactly the reason why La belle Meronville loves me so: + nothing is so sweet to one person as bitterness upon another; it is human + nature and French nature (which is a very different thing) into the + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! my Lord Duke, you judge of others by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do,” cried the duke; “and that is the best + way of forming a right judgment. Ah! what a foot, that little figurante + has; you don’t admire her, Linden?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Duke; my admiration is like the bird in the cage,—chained + here, and cannot fly away!” answered Clarence, with a smile at the + frippery of his compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monsieur,” cried the pretty Frenchwoman, leaning back, + “you have been at Paris, I see: one does not learn those graces of + language in England. I have been five months in your country; brought over + the prettiest dresses imaginable, and have only received three + compliments, and (pity me!) two out of the three were upon my + pronunciation of ‘How do you do?’” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Clarence, “I should have imagined that in + England, above all other countries, your vanity would have been gratified, + for you know we pique ourselves on our sincerity, and say all we think.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? then you always think very unpleasantly. What an alternative! + which is the best, to speak ill or to think ill of one?” + </p> + <p> + “Pour l’amour de Dieu,” cried the duke, “don’t + ask such puzzling questions; you are always getting into those moral + subtleties, which I suppose you learn from Borodaile. He is a wonderful + metaphysician, I hear; I can answer for his chemical powers: the moment he + enters a room the very walls grow damp; as for me, I dissolve; I should + flow into a fountain, like Arethusa, if happily his lordship did not + freeze one again into substance as fast as he dampens one into thaw.” + </p> + <p> + “Fi donc!” cried La Meronville. “I should be very angry + had you not taught me to be very indifferent—” + </p> + <p> + “To him!” said the duke, dryly. “I’m glad to hear + it. He is not worth une grande passion, believe me; but tell me, ma belle, + who else sups with you?” + </p> + <p> + “D’abord, Monsieur Linden, I trust,” answered La + Meronville, with a look of invitation, to which Clarence bowed and smiled + his assent, “Milord D——, and Monsieur Trevanion, + Mademoiselle Caumartin, and Le Prince Pietro del Ordino.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be better arranged,” said the duke. “But + see, they are just going to drop the curtain. Let me call your carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good, milord,” replied La Meronville, with a bow + which said, “of course;” and the duke, who would not have + stirred three paces for the first princess of the blood, hurried out of + the box (despite of Clarence’s offer to undertake the commission) to + inquire after the carriage of the most notorious adventuress of the day. + </p> + <p> + Clarence was alone in the box with the beautiful Frenchwoman. To say + truth, Linden was far too much in love with Lady Flora, and too occupied, + as to his other thoughts, with the projects of ambition, to be easily led + into any disreputable or criminal liaison; he therefore conversed with his + usual ease, though with rather more than his usual gallantry, without + feeling the least touched by the charms of La Meronville or the least + desirous of supplanting Lord Borodaile in her favour. + </p> + <p> + The duke reappeared, and announced the carriage. As, with La Meronville + leaning on his arm, Clarence hurried out, he accidentally looked up, and + saw on the head of the stairs Lady Westborough with her party (Lord + Borodaile among the rest) in waiting for her carriage. For almost the + first time in his life, Clarence felt ashamed of himself; his cheek burned + like fire, and he involuntarily let go the fair hand which was leaning + upon his arm. However, the weaker our course the better face we should put + upon it, and Clarence, recovering his presence of mind, and vainly hoping + he had not been perceived, buried his face as well as he was able in the + fur collar of his cloak, and hurried on. + </p> + <p> + “You saw Lord Borodaile?” said the duke to La Meronville, as + he handed her into her carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I accidentally looked back after we had passed him, and then I + saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Looked back!” said the duke; “I wonder he did not turn + you into a pillar of salt.” + </p> + <p> + “Fi donc!” cried La belle Meronville, tapping his grace + playfully on the arm, in order to do which she was forced to lean a little + harder upon Clarence’s, which she had not yet relinquished—“Fi + donc! Francois, chez moi!” + </p> + <p> + “My carriage is just behind,” said the duke. “You will + go with me to La Meronville’s, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear duke,” said Clarence, “I wish I could + excuse myself from this party. I have another engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse yourself? and leave me to the mercy of Mademoiselle + Caumartin, who has the face of an ostrich, and talks me out of breath! + Never, my dear Linden, never! Besides, I want you to see how well I shall + behave to Trevanion. Here is the carriage. Entrez, mon cher.” + </p> + <p> + And Clarence, weakly and foolishly (but he was very young and very + unhappy, and so, longing for an escape from his own thoughts) entered the + carriage, and drove to the supper party, in order to prevent the Duke of + Haverfield being talked out of breath by Mademoiselle Caumartin, who had + the face of an ostrich. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yet truth is keenly sought for, and the wind + Charged with rich words, poured out in thought’s defence; + Whether the Church inspire that eloquence, + Or a Platonic piety, confined + To the sole temple of the inward mind; + And one there is who builds immortal lays, + Though doomed to tread in solitary ways; + Darkness before, and danger’s voice behind! + Yet not alone— + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + London, thou Niobe, who sittest in stone, amidst thy stricken and fated + children; nurse of the desolate, that hidest in thy bosom the shame, the + sorrows, the sins of many sons; in whose arms the fallen and the outcast + shroud their distresses, and shelter from the proud man’s contumely; + Epitome and Focus of the disparities and maddening contrasts of this wrong + world, that assemblest together in one great heap the woes, the joys, the + elevations, the debasements of the various tribes of man; mightiest of + levellers, confounding in thy whirlpool all ranks, all minds, the graven + labours of knowledge, the straws of the maniac, purple and rags, the + regalities and the loathsomeness of earth,—palace and lazar-house + combined! Grave of the living, where, mingled and massed together, we + couch, but rest not,—“for in that sleep of life what dreams do + come,”—each vexed with a separate vision,—“shadows” + which “grieve the heart,” unreal in their substance, but + faithful in their warnings, flitting from the eye, but graving unfleeting + memories on the mind, which reproduce new dreams over and over, until the + phantasm ceases, and the pall of a heavier torpor falls upon the brain, + and all is still and dark and hushed! “From the stir of thy great + Babel,” and the fixed tinsel glare in which sits pleasure like a + star, “which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays,” + we turn to thy deeper and more secret haunts. Thy wilderness is all before + us—where to choose our place of rest; and, to our eyes, thy hidden + recesses are revealed. + </p> + <p> + The clock of St. Paul’s had tolled the second hour of morning. + Within a small and humble apartment in the very heart of the city, there + sat a writer, whose lucubrations, then obscure and unknown, were destined, + years afterwards, to excite the vague admiration of the crowd and the + deeper homage of the wise. They were of that nature which is slow in + winning its way to popular esteem; the result of the hived and hoarded + knowledge of years; the produce of deep thought and sublime aspirations, + influencing, in its bearings, the interests of the many, yet only capable + of analysis by the judgment of the few. But the stream broke forth at last + from the cavern to the daylight, although the source was never traced; or, + to change the image,—albeit none know the hand which executed and + the head which designed, the monument of a mighty intellect has been at + length dug up, as it were, from the envious earth, the brighter for its + past obscurity, and the more certain of immortality from the temporary + neglect it has sustained. + </p> + <p> + The room was, as we before said, very small, and meanly furnished; yet + were there a few articles of costliness and luxury scattered about, which + told that the tastes of its owner had not been quite humbled to the level + of his fortunes. One side of the narrow chamber was covered with shelves, + which supported books in various languages, and though chiefly on + scientific subjects, not utterly confined to them. Among the doctrines of + the philosopher, and the golden rules of the moralist, were also seen the + pleasant dreams of poets, the legends of Spenser, the refining moralities + of Pope, the lofty errors of Lucretius, and the sublime relics of our + “dead kings of melody.” [Shakspeare and Milton] And over the + hearth was a picture, taken in more prosperous days, of one who had been + and was yet to the tenant of that abode, better than fretted roofs and + glittering banquets, the objects of ambition, or even the immortality of + fame. It was the face of one very young and beautiful, and the deep, + tender eyes looked down, as with a watchful fondness, upon the lucubrator + and his labours. While beneath the window, which was left unclosed, for it + was scarcely June, were simple yet not inelegant vases, filled with + flowers,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Those lovely leaves, where we + May read how soon things have + Their end, though ne’er so brave.” [Herrick] +</pre> + <p> + The writer was alone, and had just paused from his employment; he was + leaning his face upon one hand, in a thoughtful and earnest mood, and the + air which came chill, but gentle, from the window, slightly stirred the + locks from the broad and marked brow, over which they fell in thin but + graceful waves. Partly owing perhaps to the waning light of the single + lamp and the lateness of the hour, his cheek seemed very pale, and the + complete though contemplative rest of the features partook greatly of the + quiet of habitual sadness, and a little of the languor of shaken health; + yet the expression, despite the proud cast of the brow and profile, was + rather benevolent than stern or dark in its pensiveness, and the lines + spoke more of the wear and harrow of deep thought than the inroads of + ill-regulated passion. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight tap at the door; the latch was raised, and the original + of the picture I have described entered the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Time had not been idle with her since that portrait had been taken: the + round elastic figure had lost much of its youth and freshness; the step, + though light, was languid, and in the centre of the fair, smooth cheek, + which was a little sunken, burned one deep bright spot,—fatal sign + to those who have watched the progress of the most deadly and deceitful of + our national maladies; yet still the form and countenance were eminently + interesting and lovely; and though the bloom was gone forever, the beauty, + which not even death could wholly have despoiled, remained to triumph over + debility, misfortune, and disease. + </p> + <p> + She approached the student, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest!” said he, tenderly yet reproachfully, “yet up, + and the hour so late and yourself so weak? Fie, I must learn to scold you.” + </p> + <p> + “And how,” answered the intruder, “how could I sleep or + rest while you are consuming your very life in those thankless labours?” + </p> + <p> + “By which,” interrupted the writer, with a faint smile, + “we glean our scanty subsistence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the wife (for she held that relation to the + student), and the tears stood in her eyes, “I know well that every + morsel of bread, every drop of water, is wrung from your very heart’s + blood, and I—I am the cause of all; but surely you exert yourself + too much, more than can be requisite? These night damps, this sickly and + chilling air, heavy with the rank vapours of the coming morning, are not + suited to thoughts and toils which are alone sufficient to sear your mind + and exhaust your strength. Come, my own love, to bed; and yet first come + and look upon our child, how sound she sleeps! I have leaned over her for + the last hour, and tried to fancy it was you whom I watched, for she has + learned already your smile and has it even when she sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + “She has cause to smile,” said the husband, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “She has, for she is yours! and even in poetry and humble hopes, + that is an inheritance which may well teach her pride and joy. Come, love, + the air is keen, and the damp rises to your forehead,—yet stay, till + I have kissed it away.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine own love,” said the student, as he rose and wound his + arm round the slender waist of his wife, “wrap your shawl closer + over your bosom, and let us look for one instant upon the night. I cannot + sleep till I have slaked the fever of my blood: the air has nothing of + coldness in its breath for me.” + </p> + <p> + And they walked to the window and looked forth. All was hushed and still + in the narrow street; the cold gray clouds were hurrying fast along the + sky; and the stars, weak and waning in their light, gleamed forth at rare + intervals upon the mute city, like expiring watch-lamps of the dead. + </p> + <p> + They leaned out and spoke not; but when they looked above upon the + melancholy heavens, they drew nearer to each other, as if it were their + natural instinct to do so whenever the world without seemed discouraging + and sad. + </p> + <p> + At length the student broke the silence; but his thoughts, which were + wandering and disjointed, were breathed less to her than vaguely and + unconsciously to himself. “Morn breaks,—another and another!—day + upon day!—while we drag on our load like the blind beast which knows + not when the burden shall be cast off and the hour of rest be come.” + </p> + <p> + The woman pressed her hand to her bosom, but made no rejoinder—she + knew his mood—and the student continued,—“And so life + frets itself away! Four years have passed over our seclusion—four + years! a great segment in the little circle of our mortality; and of those + years what day has pleasure won from labour, or what night has sleep + snatched wholly from the lamp? Weaker than the miser, the insatiable and + restless mind traverses from east to west; and from the nooks, and + corners, and crevices of earth collects, fragment by fragment, grain by + grain, atom by atom, the riches which it gathers to its coffers—for + what?—to starve amidst the plenty! The fantasies of the imagination + bring a ready and substantial return: not so the treasures of thought. + Better that I had renounced the soul’s labour for that of its + hardier frame—better that I had ‘sweated in the eye of + Phoebus,’ than ‘eat my heart with crosses and with cares,’—seeking + truth and wanting bread—adding to the indigence of poverty its + humiliation; wroth with the arrogance of men, who weigh in the shallow + scales of their meagre knowledge the product of lavish thought, and of the + hard hours for which health, and sleep, and spirit have been exchanged;—sharing + the lot of those who would enchant the old serpent of evil, which refuses + the voice of the charmer!—struggling against the prejudice and + bigoted delusion of the bandaged and fettered herd to whom, in our fond + hopes and aspirations, we trusted to give light and freedom; seeing the + slavish judgments we would have redeemed from error clashing their chains + at us in ire;—made criminal by our very benevolence;—the + martyrs whose zeal is rewarded with persecution, whose prophecies are + crowned with contempt!—Better, oh, better that I had not listened to + the vanity of a heated brain—better that I had made my home with the + lark and the wild bee, among the fields and the quiet hills, where life, + if obscurer, is less debased, and hope, if less eagerly indulged, is less + bitterly disappointed. The frame, it is true, might have been bowed to a + harsher labour, but the heart would at least have had its rest from + anxiety, and the mind its relaxation from thought.” + </p> + <p> + The wife’s tears fell upon the hand she clasped. The student turned, + and his heart smote him for the selfishness of his complaint. He drew her + closer and closer to his bosom; and gazing fondly upon those eyes which + years of indigence and care might have robbed of their young lustre, but + not of their undying tenderness, he kissed away her tears, and addressed + her in a voice which never failed to charm her grief into forgetfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest and kindest,” he said, “was I not to blame for + accusing those privations or regrets which have only made us love each + other the more? Trust me, mine own treasure, that it is only in the + peevishness of an inconstant and fretful humour that I have murmured + against my fortune. For, in the midst of all, I look upon you, my angel, + my comforter, my young dream of love, which God, in His mercy, breathed + into waking life—I look upon you, and am blessed and grateful. Nor + in my juster moments do I accuse even the nature of these studies, though + they bring us so scanty a reward. Have I not hours of secret and + overflowing delight, the triumphs of gratified research—flashes of + sudden light, which reward the darkness of thought, and light up my + solitude as a revel?—These feelings of rapture, which nought but + Science can afford, amply repay her disciples for worse evils and severer + handships than it has been my destiny to endure. Look along the sky, how + the vapours struggle with the still yet feeble stars: even so have the + mists of error been pierced, though not scattered, by the dim but holy + lights of past wisdom, and now the morning is at hand, and in that hope we + journey on, doubtful, but not utterly in darkness. Nor is this all my + hope; there is a loftier and more steady comfort than that which mere + philosophy can bestow. If the certainty of future fame bore Milton + rejoicing through his blindness, or cheered Galileo in his dungeon, what + stronger and holier support shall not be given to him who has loved + mankind as his brothers, and devoted his labours to their cause?—who + has not sought, but relinquished, his own renown?—-who has braved + the present censures of men for their future benefit, and trampled upon + glory in the energy of benevolence? Will there not be for him something + more powerful than fame to comfort his sufferings and to sustain his + hopes? If the wish of mere posthumous honour be a feeling rather vain than + exalted, the love of our race affords us a more rational and noble desire + of remembrance. Come what will, that love, if it animates our toils and + directs our studies, shall when we are dust make our relics of value, our + efforts of avail, and consecrate the desire of fame, which were else a + passion selfish and impure, by connecting it with the welfare of ages and + the eternal interests of the world and its Creator! Come, we will to bed.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A man may be formed by nature for an admirable citizen, and + yet, from the purest motives, be a dangerous one to the + State in which the accident of birth has placed him.— + STEPHEN MONTAGUE. +</pre> + <p> + The night again closed., and the student once more resumed his labours. + The spirit of his hope and comforter of his toils sat by him, ever and + anon lifting her fond eyes from her work to gaze upon his countenance, to + sigh, and to return sadly and quietly to her employment. + </p> + <p> + A heavy step ascended the stairs, the door opened, and the tall figure of + Wolfe, the republican, presented itself. The female rose, pushed a chair + towards him with a smile and grace suited to better fortunes, and, + retiring from the table, reseated herself silent and apart. + </p> + <p> + “It is a fine night,” said the student, when the mutual + greetings were over. “Whence come you?” + </p> + <p> + “From contemplating human misery and worse than human degradation,” + replied Wolfe, slowly seating himself. + </p> + <p> + “Those words specify no place: they apply universally,” said + the student, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Glendower, for misgovernment is universal,” rejoined + Wolfe. + </p> + <p> + Glendower made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Wolfe, in the low, suppressed tone of intense + passion which was customary to him, “it maddens me to look upon the + willingness with which men hug their trappings of slavery,—bears, + proud of the rags which deck and the monkeys which ride them. But it frets + me yet more when some lordling sweeps along, lifting his dull eyes above + the fools whose only crime and debasement are—what?—their + subjection to him! Such a one I encountered a few nights since; and he + will remember the meeting longer than I shall. I taught that ‘god to + tremble.’” + </p> + <p> + The female rose, glanced towards her husband, and silently withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Wolfe paused for a few moments, looked curiously and pryingly round, and + then rising went forth into the passage to see that no loiterer or + listener was near; returned, and drawing his chair close to Glendower, + fixed his dark eye upon him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are poor, and your spirit rises against your lot, you are just, + and your heart swells against the general oppression you behold: can you + not dare to remedy your ills and those of mankind?” + </p> + <p> + “I can dare,” said Glendower, calmly, though haughtily, + “all things but crime.” + </p> + <p> + “And which is crime?—the rising against, or the submission to, + evil government? Which is crime, I ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “That which is the most imprudent,” answered Glendower. + </p> + <p> + “We may sport in ordinary cases with our own safeties, but only in + rare cases with the safety of others.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe rose, and paced the narrow room impatiently to and fro. He paused by + the window and threw it open. “Come here,” he cried,—“come + and look out.” + </p> + <p> + Glendower did so; all was still and quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you call me?” said he; “I see nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” exclaimed Wolfe; “look again; look on yon + sordid and squalid huts; look at yon court, that from this wretched street + leads to abodes to which these are as palaces; look at yon victims of vice + and famine, plying beneath the midnight skies their filthy and infectious + trade. Wherever you turn your eyes, what see you? Misery, loathsomeness, + sin! Are you a man, and call you these nothing? And now lean forth still + more; see afar off, by yonder lamp, the mansion of ill-gotten and griping + wealth. He who owns those buildings, what did he that he should riot while + we starve? He wrung from the negro’s tears and bloody sweat the + luxuries of a pampered and vitiated taste; he pandered to the excesses of + the rich; he heaped their tables with the product of a nation’s + groans. Lo!—his reward! He is rich, prosperous, honoured! He sits in + the legislative assembly; he declaims against immorality; he contends for + the safety of property and the equilibrium of ranks. Transport yourself + from this spot for an instant; imagine that you survey the gorgeous homes + of aristocracy and power, the palaces of the west. What see you there?—the + few sucking, draining, exhausting the blood, the treasure, the very + existence of the many. Are we, who are of the many, wise to suffer it?” + </p> + <p> + “Are we of the many?” said Glendower. + </p> + <p> + “We could be,” said Wolfe, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it;” replied Glendower. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said the republican, laying his hand upon Glendower’s + shoulder, “listen to me. There are in this country men whose spirits + not years of delayed hope, wearisome persecution, and, bitterer than all, + misrepresentation from some and contempt from others, have yet quelled and + tamed. We watch our opportunity; the growing distress of the country, the + increasing severity and misrule of the administration, will soon afford it + us. Your talents, your benevolence, render you worthy to join us. Do so, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” interrupted the student; “you know not what you + say: you weigh not the folly, the madness of your design! I am a man more + fallen, more sunken, more disappointed than you. I, too, have had at my + heart the burning and lonely hope which, through years of misfortune and + want, has comforted me with the thought of serving and enlightening + mankind,—I, too, have devoted to the fulfilment of that hope, days + and nights, in which the brain grew dizzy and the heart heavy and clogged + with the intensity of my pursuits. Were the dungeon and the scaffold my + reward Heaven knows that I would not flinch eye or hand or abate a jot of + heart and hope in the thankless prosecution of my toils. Know me, then, as + one of fortunes more desperate than your own; of an ambition more + unquenchable; of a philanthropy no less ardent; and, I will add, of a + courage no less firm: and behold the utter hopelessness of your projects + with others, when to me they only appear the visions of an enthusiast.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe sank down in the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Is it even so?” said he, slowly and musingly. “Are my + hopes but delusions? Has my life been but one idle, though convulsive + dream? Is the goddess of our religion banished from this great and + populous earth to the seared and barren hearts of a few solitary + worshippers, whom all else despise as madmen or persecute as idolaters? + And if so, shall we adore her the less?—-No! though we perish in her + cause, it is around her altar that our corpses shall be found!” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Glendower, kindly, for he was touched by the + sincerity though opposed to the opinions of the republican, “the + night is yet early: we will sit down to discuss our several doctrines + calmly and in the spirit of truth and investigation.” + </p> + <p> + “Away!” cried Wolfe, rising and slouching his hat over his + bent and lowering brows; “away! I will not listen to you: I dread + your reasonings; I would not have a particle of my faith shaken. If I err, + I have erred from my birth,—erred with Brutus and Tell, Hampden and + Milton, and all whom the thousand tribes and parties of earth consecrate + with their common gratitude and eternal reverence. In that error I will + die! If our party can struggle not with hosts, there may yet arise some + minister with the ambition of Caesar, if not his genius,—of whom a + single dagger can rid the earth!” + </p> + <p> + “And if not?” said Glendower. + </p> + <p> + “I have the same dagger for myself!” replied Wolfe, as he + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bolingbroke has said that “Man is his own sharper and his + own bubble;” and certainly he who is acutest in duping + others is ever the most ingenious in outwitting himself. The + criminal is always a sophist; and finds in his own reason a + special pleader to twist laws human and divine into a + sanction of his crime. The rogue is so much in the habit of + cheating, that he packs the cards even when playing at + Patience with himself.—STEPHEN MONTAGUE. +</pre> + <p> + The only two acquaintances in this populous city whom Glendower possessed + who were aware that in a former time he had known a better fortune were + Wolfe and a person of far higher worldly estimation, of the name of + Crauford. With the former the student had become acquainted by the favour + of chance, which had for a short time made them lodgers in the same house. + Of the particulars of Glendower’s earliest history Wolfe was utterly + ignorant; but the addresses upon some old letters, which he had + accidentally seen, had informed him that Glendower had formerly borne + another name; and it was easy to glean from the student’s + conversation that something of greater distinction and prosperity than he + now enjoyed was coupled with the appellation he had renounced. Proud, + melancholy, austere,—brooding upon thoughts whose very loftiness + received somewhat of additional grandeur from the gloom which encircled + it,—Glendower found, in the ruined hopes and the solitary lot of the + republican, that congeniality which neither Wolfe’s habits nor the + excess of his political fervour might have afforded to a nature which + philosophy had rendered moderate and early circumstances refined. Crauford + was far better acquainted than Wolfe with the reverses Glendower had + undergone. Many years ago he had known and indeed travelled with him upon + the Continent; since then they had not met till about six months prior to + the time in which Glendower is presented to the reader. It was in an + obscure street of the city that Crauford had then encountered Glendower, + whose haunts were so little frequented by the higher orders of society + that Crauford was the first, and the only one of his former acquaintance + with whom for years he had been brought into contact. That person + recognized him at once, accosted him, followed him home, and three days + afterwards surprised him with a visit. Of manners which, in their + dissimulation, extended far beyond the ordinary ease and breeding of the + world, Crauford readily appeared not to notice the altered circumstances + of his old acquaintance; and, by a tone of conversation artfully + respectful, he endeavoured to remove from Glendower’s mind that + soreness which his knowledge of human nature told him his visit was + calculated to create. + </p> + <p> + There is a certain species of pride which contradicts the ordinary + symptoms of the feeling, and appears most elevated when it would be + reasonable to expect it should be most depressed. Of this sort was + Glendower’s. When he received the guest who had known him in his + former prosperity, some natural sentiment of emotion called, it is true, + to his pale cheek a momentary flush, as he looked round his humble + apartment, and the evident signs of poverty it contained; but his address + was calm and self-possessed, and whatever mortification he might have + felt, no intonation of his voice, no tell-tale embarrassment of manner, + revealed it. Encouraged by this air, even while he was secretly vexed by + it, and perfectly unable to do justice to the dignity of mind which gave + something of majesty rather than humiliation to misfortune, Crauford + resolved to repeat his visit, and by intervals, gradually lessening, + renewed it, till acquaintance seemed, though little tinctured, at least on + Glendower’s side, by friendship, to assume the semblance of + intimacy. It was true, however, that he had something to struggle against + in Glendower’s manner, which certainly grew colder in proportion to + the repetition of the visits; and at length Glendower said, with an ease + and quiet which abashed for a moment an effrontery of mind and manner + which was almost parallel, “Believe me, Mr. Crauford, I feel fully + sensible of your attentions; but as circumstances at present are such as + to render an intercourse between us little congenial to the habits and + sentiments of either, you will probably understand and forgive my motives + in wishing no longer to receive civilities which, however I may feel them, + I am unable to return.” + </p> + <p> + Crauford coloured and hesitated before he replied. “Forgive me then,” + said he, “for my fault. I did venture to hope that no circumstances + would break off an acquaintance to me so valuable. Forgive me if I did + imagine that an intercourse between mind and mind could be equally carried + on, whether the mere body were lodged in a palace or a hovel;” and + then suddenly changing his tone into that of affectionate warmth, Crauford + continued, “My dear Glendower, my dear friend, I would say, if I + durst, is not your pride rather to blame here? Believe me, in my turn, I + fully comprehend and bow to it; but it wounds me beyond expression. Were + you in your proper station, a station much higher than my own, I would + come to you at once, and proffer my friendship: as it is, I cannot; but + your pride wrongs me, Glendower,—indeed it does.” + </p> + <p> + And Crauford turned away, apparently in the bitterness of wounded feeling. + </p> + <p> + Glendower was touched: and his nature, as kind as it was proud, + immediately smote him for conduct certainly ungracious and perhaps + ungrateful. He held out his hand to Crauford; with the most respectful + warmth that personage seized and pressed it: and from that time Crauford’s + visits appeared to receive a license which, if not perfectly welcome, was + at least never again questioned. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have this man now,” muttered Crauford, between his + ground teeth, as he left the house, and took his way to his + counting-house. There, cool, bland, fawning, and weaving in his close and + dark mind various speculations of guilt and craft, he sat among his bills + and gold, like the very gnome and personification of that Mammon of gain + to which he was the most supple though concealed adherent. + </p> + <p> + Richard Crauford was of a new but not unimportant family. His father had + entered into commerce, and left a flourishing firm and a name of great + respectability in his profession to his son. That son was a man whom many + and opposite qualities rendered a character of very singular and uncommon + stamp. Fond of the laborious acquisition of money, he was equally attached + to the ostentatious pageantries of expense. Profoundly skilled in the + calculating business of his profession, he was devoted equally to the + luxuries of pleasure; but the pleasure was suited well to the mind which + pursued it. The divine intoxication of that love where the delicacies and + purities of affection consecrate the humanity of passion was to him a + thing of which not even his youngest imagination had ever dreamed. The + social concomitants of the wine-cup (which have for the lenient an excuse, + for the austere a temptation), the generous expanding of the heart, the + increased yearning to kindly affection, the lavish spirit throwing off its + exuberance in the thousand lights and emanations of wit,—these, + which have rendered the molten grape, despite of its excesses, not + unworthy of the praises of immortal hymns, and taken harshness from the + judgment of those averse to its enjoyment,—these never presented an + inducement to the stony temperament and dormant heart of Richard Crauford. + </p> + <p> + He looked upon the essences of things internal as the common eye upon + outward nature, and loved the many shapes of evil as the latter does the + varieties of earth, not for their graces, but their utility. His loves, + coarse and low, fed their rank fires from an unmingled and gross + depravity. His devotion to wine was either solitary and unseen—for + he loved safety better than mirth—or in company with those whose + station flattered his vanity, not whose fellowship ripened his crude and + nipped affections. Even the recklessness of vice in him had the character + of prudence; and in the most rapid and turbulent stream of his excesses, + one might detect the rocky and unmoved heart of the calculator at the + bottom. + </p> + <p> + Cool, sagacious, profound in dissimulation, and not only observant of, but + deducing sage consequences from, those human inconsistencies and frailties + by which it was his aim to profit, he cloaked his deeper vices with a + masterly hypocrisy; and for those too dear to forego and too difficult to + conceal he obtained pardon by the intercession of virtues it cost him + nothing to assume. Regular in his attendance at worship; professing + rigidness of faith beyond the tenets of the orthodox church; subscribing + to the public charities, where the common eye knoweth what the private + hand giveth; methodically constant to the forms of business; primitively + scrupulous in the proprieties of speech; hospitable, at least to his + superiors, and, being naturally smooth, both of temper and address, + popular with his inferiors,—it was no marvel that one part of the + world forgave to a man rich and young the irregularities of dissipation, + that another forgot real immorality in favour of affected religion, or + that the remainder allowed the most unexceptionable excellence of words to + atone for the unobtrusive errors of a conduct which did not prejudice + them. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said his friends, “that he loves women too + much: but he is young; he will marry and amend.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crauford did marry; and, strange as it may seem, for love,—at + least for that brute-like love, of which alone he was capable. After a few + years of ill-usage on his side, and endurance on his wife’s, they + parted. Tired of her person, and profiting by her gentleness of temper, he + sent her to an obscure corner of the country, to starve upon the miserable + pittance which was all he allowed her from his superfluities. Even then—such + is the effect of the showy proprieties of form and word—Mr. Crauford + sank not in the estimation of the world. + </p> + <p> + “It was easy to see,” said the spectators of his domestic + drama, “that a man in temper so mild, in his business so honourable, + so civil of speech, so attentive to the stocks and the sermon, could not + have been the party to blame. One never knew the rights of matrimonial + disagreements, nor could sufficiently estimate the provoking disparities + of temper. Certainly Mrs. Crauford never did look in good humour, and had + not the open countenance of her husband; and certainly the very excesses + of Mr. Crauford betokened a generous warmth of heart, which the sullenness + of his conjugal partner might easily chill and revolt.” + </p> + <p> + And thus, unquestioned and unblamed, Mr. Crauford walked onward in his + beaten way; and, secretly laughing at the toleration of the crowd, + continued at his luxurious villa the orgies of a passionless yet brutal + sensuality. + </p> + <p> + So far might the character of Richard Crauford find parallels in hypocrisy + and its success. Dive we now deeper into his soul. Possessed of talents + which, though of a secondary rank, were in that rank consummate, Mr. + Crauford could not be a villain by intuition or the irregular bias of his + nature: he was a villain upon a grander scale; he was a villain upon + system. Having little learning and less knowledge, out of his profession + his reflection expended itself upon apparently obvious deductions from the + great and mysterious book of life. He saw vice prosperous in externals, + and from this sight his conclusion was drawn. “Vice,” said he, + “is not an obstacle to success; and if so, it is at least a + pleasanter road to it than your narrow and thorny ways of virtue.” + But there are certain vices which require the mask of virtue, and Crauford + thought it easier to wear the mask than to school his soul to the reality. + So to the villain he added the hypocrite. He found the success equalled + his hopes, for he had both craft and genius; nor was he naturally without + the minor amiabilities, which to the ignorance of the herd seem more + valuable than coin of a more important amount. Blinded as we are by + prejudice, we not only mistake but prefer decencies to moralities; and, + like the inhabitants of Cos, when offered the choice of two statues of the + same goddess, we choose, not that which is the most beautiful, but that + which is the most dressed. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed easily to dupe mankind, Crauford soon grew to despise them; and + from justifying roguery by his own interest, he now justified it by the + folly of others; and as no wretch is so unredeemed as to be without excuse + to himself, Crauford actually persuaded his reason that he was vicious + upon principle, and a rascal on a system of morality. But why the desire + of this man, so consummately worldly and heartless, for an intimacy with + the impoverished and powerless student? This question is easily answered. + In the first place, during Crauford’s acquaintance with Glendower + abroad, the latter had often, though innocently, galled the vanity and + self-pride of the parvenu affecting the aristocrat, and in poverty the + parvenu was anxious to retaliate. But this desire would probably have + passed away after he had satisfied his curiosity, or gloated his spite, by + one or two insights into Glendower’s home,—for Crauford, + though at times a malicious, was not a vindictive, man,—had it not + been for a much more powerful object which afterwards occurred to him. In + an extensive scheme of fraud, which for many years this man had carried on + and which for secrecy and boldness was almost unequalled, it had of late + become necessary to his safety to have a partner, or rather tool. A man of + education, talent, and courage was indispensable, and Crauford had + resolved that Glendower should be that man. With the supreme confidence in + his own powers which long success had given him; with a sovereign contempt + for, or rather disbelief in, human integrity; and with a thorough + conviction that the bribe to him was the bribe with all, and that none + would on any account be poor if they had the offer to be rich,—Crauford + did not bestow a moment’s consideration upon the difficulty of his + task, or conceive that in the nature and mind of Glendower there could + exist any obstacle to his design. + </p> + <p> + Men addicted to calculation are accustomed to suppose those employed in + the same mental pursuit arrive, or ought to arrive, at the same final + conclusion. Now, looking upon Glendower as a philosopher, Crauford looked + upon him as a man who, however he might conceal his real opinions, + secretly laughed, like Crauford’s self, not only at the established + customs, but at the established moralities of the world. Ill-acquainted + with books, the worthy Richard was, like all men similarly situated, + somewhat infected by the very prejudices he affected to despise; and he + shared the vulgar disposition to doubt the hearts of those who cultivate + the head. Glendower himself had confirmed this opinion by lauding, though + he did not entirely subscribe to, those moralists who have made an + enlightened self-interest the proper measure of all human conduct; and + Crauford, utterly unable to comprehend this system in its grand, naturally + interpreted it in a partial, sense. Espousing self-interest as his own + code, he deemed that in reality Glendower’s principles did not + differ greatly from his; and, as there is no pleasure to a hypocrite like + that of finding a fit opportunity to unburden some of his real sentiments, + Crauford was occasionally wont to hold some conference and argument with + the student, in which his opinions were not utterly cloaked in their usual + disguise; but cautious even in his candour, he always forbore stating such + opinions as his own: he merely mentioned them as those which a man + beholding the villanies and follies of his kind, might be tempted to form; + and thus Glendower, though not greatly esteeming his acquaintance, looked + upon him as one ignorant in his opinions, but not likely to err in his + conduct. + </p> + <p> + These conversations did, however, it is true, increase Crauford’s + estimate of Glendower’s integrity, but they by no means diminished + his confidence of subduing it. Honour, a deep and pure sense of the + divinity of good, the steady desire of rectitude, and the supporting aid + of a sincere religion,—these he did not deny to his intended tool: + he rather rejoiced that he possessed them. With the profound arrogance, + the sense of immeasurable superiority, which men of no principle + invariably feel for those who have it, Crauford said to himself, “Those + very virtues will be my best dupes; they cannot resist the temptations I + shall offer; but they can resist any offer to betray me afterwards; for no + man can resist hunger: but your fine feelings, your nice honour, your + precise religion,—he! he! he!—these can teach a man very well + to resist a common inducement; they cannot make him submit to be his own + executioner; but they can prevent his turning king’s evidence and + being executioner to another. No, no: it is not to your common rogues that + I may dare trust my secret,—my secret, which is my life! It is + precisely of such a fine, Athenian, moral rogue as I shall make my proud + friend that I am in want. But he has some silly scruples; we must beat + them away: we must not be too rash; and above all, we must leave the best + argument to poverty. Want is your finest orator; a starving wife, a + famished brat,—he! he!—these are your true tempters,—your + true fathers of crime, and fillers of jails and gibbets. Let me see: he + has no money, I know, but what he gets from that bookseller. What + bookseller, by the by? Ah, rare thought! I’ll find out, and cut off + that supply. My lady wife’s cheek will look somewhat thinner next + month, I fancy—he! he! But ‘t is a pity, for she is a glorious + creature! Who knows but I may serve two purposes? However, one at present! + business first, and pleasure afterwards; and, faith, the business is + damnably like that of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + Muttering such thoughts as these, Crauford took his way one evening to + Glendower’s house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Iago.—Virtue; a fig!—‘t is in ourselves that we are thus + and thus.—Othello. +</pre> + <p> + “So, so, my little one, don’t let me disturb you. Madam, dare + I venture to hope your acceptance of this fruit? I chose it myself, and I + am somewhat of a judge. Oh! Glendower, here is the pamphlet you wished to + see.” + </p> + <p> + With this salutation, Crauford drew his chair to the table by which + Glendower sat, and entered into conversation with his purposed victim. A + comely and a pleasing countenance had Richard Crauford! the lonely light + of the room fell upon a face which, though forty years of guile had gone + over it, was as fair and unwrinkled as a boy’s. Small, well-cut + features; a blooming complexion; eyes of the lightest blue; a forehead + high, though narrow; and a mouth from which the smile was never absent,—these, + joined to a manner at once soft and confident, and an elegant though + unaffected study of dress, gave to Crauford a personal appearance well + suited to aid the effect of his hypocritical and dissembling mind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my friend,” said he, “always at your books, eh? + Ah! it is a happy taste; would that I had cultivated it more; but we who + are condemned to business have little leisure to follow our own + inclinations. It is only on Sundays that I have time to read; and then (to + say truth) I am an old-fashioned man, whom the gayer part of the world + laughs at, and then I am too occupied with the Book of Books to think of + any less important study.” + </p> + <p> + Not deeming that a peculiar reply was required to this pious speech, + Glendower did not take that advantage of Crauford’s pause which it + was evidently intended that he should. With a glance towards the student’s + wife, our mercantile friend continued: “I did once—once in my + young dreams—intend that whenever I married I would relinquish a + profession for which, after all, I am but little calculated. I pictured to + myself a country retreat, well stored with books; and having concentrated + in one home all the attractions which would have tempted my thoughts + abroad, I had designed to surrender myself solely to those studies which, + I lament to say, were but ill attended to in my earlier education. But—but” + (here Mr. Crauford sighed deeply, and averted his face) “fate willed + it otherwise!” + </p> + <p> + Whatever reply of sympathetic admiration or condolence Glendower might + have made was interrupted by one of those sudden and overpowering attacks + of faintness which had of late seized the delicate and declining health of + his wife. He rose, and leaned over her with a fondness and alarm which + curled the lip of his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Thus it is,” said Crauford to himself, “with weak + minds, under the influence of habit. The love of lust becomes the love of + custom, and the last is as strong as the first.” + </p> + <p> + When—she had recovered, she rose, and (with her child) retired to + rest, the only restorative she ever found effectual for her complaint. + Glendower went with her, and, after having seen her eyes, which swam with + tears of gratitude at his love, close in the seeming slumber she affected + in order to release him from his watch, he returned to Crauford. He found + that gentleman leaning against the chimney-piece with folded arms, and + apparently immersed in thought. A very good opportunity had Glendower’s + absence afforded to a man whose boast it was never to lose one. Looking + over the papers on the table, he had seen and possessed himself of the + address of the bookseller the student dealt with. “So much for + business, now for philanthropy,” said Mr. Crauford, in his favorite + antithetical phrase, throwing himself in his attitude against the + chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + As Glendower entered, Crauford started from his revery, and with a + melancholy air and pensive voice said,— + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my friend, when I look upon this humble apartment, the weak + health of your unequalled wife, your obscurity, your misfortunes; when I + look upon these, and contrast them with your mind, your talents, and all + that you were born and fitted for, I cannot but feel tempted to believe + with those who imagine the pursuit of virtue a chimera, and who justify + their own worldly policy by the example of all their kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Virtue,” said Glendower, “would indeed be a chimera, + did it require support from those whom you have cited.” + </p> + <p> + “True,—most true,” answered Crauford, somewhat + disconcerted in reality, though not in appearance; “and yet, strange + as it may seem, I have known some of those persons very good, admirably + good men. They were extremely moral and religious: they only played the + great game for worldly advantage upon the same terms as the other players; + nay, they never made a move in it without most fervently and sincerely + praying for divine assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “I readily believe you,” said Glendower, who always, if + possible, avoided a controversy: “the easiest person to deceive is + one’s own self.” + </p> + <p> + “Admirably said,” answered Crauford, who thought it + nevertheless one of the most foolish observations he had ever heard, + “admirably said! and yet my heart does grieve bitterly for the + trials and distresses it surveys. One must make excuses for poor human + frailty; and one is often placed in such circumstances as to render it + scarcely possible without the grace of God” (here Crauford lifted up + his eyes) “not to be urged, as it were, into the reasonings and + actions of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Not exactly comprehending this observation, and not very closely attending + to it, Glendower merely bowed, as in assent, and Crauford continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I remember a remarkable instance of this truth. One of my partner’s + clerks had, through misfortune or imprudence, fallen into the greatest + distress. His wife, his children (he had a numerous family), were on the + literal and absolute verge of starvation. Another clerk, taking advantage + of these circumstances, communicated to the distressed man a plan for + defrauding his employer. The poor fellow yielded to the temptation, and + was at last discovered. I spoke to him myself, for I was interested in his + fate, and had always esteemed him. ‘What,’ said I, ‘was + your motive for this fraud?’ ‘My duty!’ answered the + man, fervently; ‘my duty! Was I to suffer my wife, my children, to + starve before my face, when I could save them at a little personal risk? + No: my duty forbade it!’ and in truth, Glendower, there was + something very plausible in this manner of putting the question.” + </p> + <p> + “You might, in answering it,” said Glendower, “have put + the point in a manner equally plausible and more true: was he to commit a + great crime against the millions connected by social order, for the sake + of serving a single family, and that his own?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” answered Crauford: “that was just the + point of view in which I did put it; but the man, who was something of a + reasoner, replied, ‘Public law is instituted for public happiness. + Now if mine and my children’s happiness is infinitely and + immeasurably more served by this comparatively petty fraud than my + employer’s is advanced by my abstaining from, or injured by my + committing it, why, the origin of law itself allows me to do it.’ + What say you to that, Glendower? It is something in your Utilitarian, or, + as you term it, Epicurean [See the article on Mr. Moore’s “Epicurean” + in the “Westminster Review.” Though the strictures on that + work are harsh and unjust, yet the part relating to the real philosophy of + Epicurus is one of the most masterly things in criticism.] principle; is + it not?” and Crauford, shading his eyes, as if from the light, + watched narrowly Glendower’s countenance, while he concealed his + own. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fool!” said Glendower; “the man was ignorant of + the first lesson in his moral primer. Did he not know that no rule is to + be applied to a peculiar instance, but extended to its most general + bearings? Is it necessary even to observe that the particular consequence + of fraud in this man might, it is true, be but the ridding his employer of + superfluities, scarcely missed, for the relief of most urgent want in two + or three individuals; but the general consequences of fraud and treachery + would be the disorganization of all society? Do not think, therefore, that + this man was a disciple of my, or of any, system of morality.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very just, very,” said Mr. Crauford, with a benevolent + sigh; “but you will own that want seldom allows great nicety in + moral distinctions, and that when those whom you love most in the world + are starving, you may be pitied, if not forgiven, for losing sight of the + after laws of Nature and recurring to her first ordinance, + self-preservation.” + </p> + <p> + “We should be harsh, indeed,” answered Glendower, “if we + did not pity; or, even while the law condemned, if the individual did not + forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “So I said, so I said,” cried Crauford; “and in + interceding for the poor fellow, whose pardon I am happy to say I + procured, I could not help declaring that, if I were placed in the same + circumstances, I am not sure that my crime would not have been the same.” + </p> + <p> + “No man could feel sure!” said Glendower, dejectedly. + Delighted and surprised with this confession, Crauford continued: “I + believe,—I fear not; thank God, our virtue can never be so tried: + but even you, Glendower, even you, philosopher, moralist as you are,—just, + good, wise, religious,—even you might be tempted, if you saw your + angel wife dying for want of the aid, the very sustenance, necessary to + existence, and your innocent and beautiful daughter stretch her little + hands to you and cry in the accents of famine for bread.” + </p> + <p> + The student made no reply for a few moments, but averted his countenance, + and then in a slow tone said, “Let us drop this subject: none know + their strength till they are tried; self-confidence should accompany + virtue, but not precede it.” + </p> + <p> + A momentary flash broke from the usually calm, cold eye of Richard + Crauford. “He is mine,” thought he: “the very name of + want abases his pride: what will the reality do? O human nature, how I + know and mock thee!” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Crauford, aloud; “let us talk of + the pamphlet.” + </p> + <p> + And after a short conversation upon indifferent subjects, the visitor + departed. Early the next morning was Mr. Crauford seen on foot, taking his + way to the bookseller whose address he had learnt. The bookseller was + known as a man of a strongly evangelical bias. “We must insinuate a + lie or two,” said Crauford, inly, “about Glendower’s + principles. He! he! it will be a fine stroke of genius to make the upright + tradesman suffer Glendower to starve out of a principle of religion. But + who would have thought my prey had been so easily snared? why, if I had + proposed the matter last night, I verily think he would have agreed to it.” + </p> + <p> + Amusing himself with these thoughts, Crauford arrived at the bookseller’s. + There he found Fate had saved him from one crime at least. The whole house + was in confusion: the bookseller had that morning died of an apoplectic + fit. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! how shocking!” said Crauford to the foreman; + “but he was a most worthy man, and Providence could no longer spare + him. The ways of Heaven are inscrutable! Oblige me with three copies of + that precious tract termed the ‘Divine Call.’ I should like to + be allowed permission to attend the funeral of so excellent a man. Good + morning, sir. Alas! alas!” and, shaking his head piteously, Mr. + Crauford left the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Hurra!” said he, almost audibly, when he was once more in the + street, “hurra! my victim is made; my game is won: death or the + devil fights for me. But, hold: there are other booksellers in this + monstrous city!—ay, but not above two or three in our philosopher’s + way. I must forestall him there,—so, so,—that is soon settled. + Now, then, I must leave him a little while, undisturbed, to his fate. + Perhaps my next visit may be to him in jail: your debtor’s side of + the Fleet is almost as good a pleader as an empty stomach,—he! he! + He!—but the stroke must be made soon, for time presses, and this d—d + business spreads so fast that if I don’t have a speedy help, it will + be too much for my hands, griping as they are. However, if it holds on a + year longer, I will change my seat in the Lower House for one in the + Upper; twenty thousand pounds to the minister may make a merchant a very + pretty peer. O brave Richard Crauford, wise Richard Crauford, fortunate + Richard Crauford, noble Richard Crauford! Why, if thou art ever hanged, it + will be by a jury of peers. ‘Gad, the rope would then have a dignity + in it, instead of disgrace. But stay, here comes the Dean of ——; + not orthodox, it is said,—rigid Calvinist! out with the ‘Divine + Call’!” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Richard Crauford repaired next to Glendower, what was his + astonishment and dismay at hearing he had left his home, none knew whither + nor could give the inquirer the slightest clew. + </p> + <p> + “How long has he left?” said Crauford to the landlady. + </p> + <p> + “Five days, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And will he not return to settle any little debts he may have + incurred?” said Crauford. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir: he paid them all before he went. Poor gentleman,—for + though he was poor, he was the finest and most thorough gentleman I ever + saw!—my heart bled for him. They parted with all their valuables to + discharge their debts: the books and instruments and busts,—all + went; and what I saw, though he spoke so indifferently about it, hurt him + the most,—he sold even the lady’s picture. ‘Mrs. + Croftson,’ said he, ‘Mr. ——, the painter, will + send for that picture the day after I leave you. See that he has it, and + that the greatest care is taken of it in delivery.’” + </p> + <p> + “And you cannot even guess where he has gone to?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; a single porter was sufficient to convey his remaining + goods, and he took him from some distant part of the town.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand devils!” muttered Crauford, as he turned away; + “I should have foreseen this! He is lost now. Of course he will + again change his name; and in the d—d holes and corners of this + gigantic puzzle of houses, how shall I ever find him out? and time presses + too! Well, well, well! there is a fine prize for being cleverer, or, as + fools would say, more rascally than others; but there is a world of + trouble in winning it. But come; I will go home, lock myself up, and get + drunk! I am as melancholy as a cat in love, and about as stupid; and, + faith, one must get spirits in order to hit on a new invention. But if + there be consistency in fortune, or success in perseverance, or wit in + Richard Crauford, that man shall yet be my victim—and preserver!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Revenge is now the cud + That I do chew.—I’ll challenge him. + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. +</pre> + <p> + We return to “the world of fashion,” as the admirers of the + polite novel of would say. The noon-day sun broke hot and sultry through + half-closed curtains of roseate silk, playing in broken beams upon rare + and fragrant exotics, which cast the perfumes of southern summers over a + chamber, moderate, indeed, as to its dimensions, but decorated with a + splendour rather gaudy than graceful, and indicating much more a passion + for luxury than a refinement of taste. + </p> + <p> + At a small writing-table sat the beautiful La Meronville. She had just + finished a note, written (how Jean Jacques would have been enchanted) upon + paper couleur de rose, with a mother-of-pearl pen, formed as one of Cupid’s + darts, dipped into an ink-stand of the same material, which was shaped as + a quiver, and placed at the back of a little Love, exquisitely wrought. + She was folding this billet when a page, fantastically dressed, entered, + and, announcing Lord Borodaile, was immediately followed by that nobleman. + Eagerly and almost blushingly did La Meronville thrust the note into her + bosom, and hasten to greet and to embrace her adorer. Lord Borodaile flung + himself on one of the sofas with a listless and discontented air. The + experienced Frenchwoman saw that there was a cloud on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said she, in her own tongue, “you seem + vexed: has anything annoyed you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Cecile, no. By the by, who supped with you last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the Duke of Haverfield, your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” interrupted Borodaile, haughtily: “he’s + no friend of mine; a vulgar, talkative fellow; my friend, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I beg your pardon: then there was Mademoiselle Caumartin, and + the Prince Pietro del Orbino, and Mr. Trevanion, and Mr. Lin—Lin—Linten, + or Linden.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, will you allow me to ask how you became acquainted with + Mr. Lin—Lin—Linten, or Linden?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly; through the Duke of Haverfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Cecile, my love, that young man is not fit to be the + acquaintance of my friend: allow me to strike him from your list.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly!” said La Meronville, hastily; and + stooping as if to pick up a fallen glove, though, in reality, to hide her + face from Lord Borodaile’s searching eye, the letter she had written + fell from her bosom. Lord Borodaile’s glance detected the + superscription, and before La Meronville could regain the note he had + possessed himself of it. + </p> + <p> + “A Monsieur, Monsieur Linden!” said he, coldly, reading the + address; “and, pray, how long have you corresponded with that + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + Now La Meronville’s situation at that moment was by no means + agreeable. She saw at one glance that no falsehood or artifice could avail + her; for Lord Borodaile might deem himself fully justified in reading the + note, which would contradict any glossing statement she might make. She + saw this. She was a woman of independence; cared not a straw for Lord + Borodaile at present, though she had had a caprice for him; knew that she + might choose her bon ami out of all London, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “That is the first letter I ever wrote to him; but I own that it + will not be the last.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “And will you suffer me to read it?” said he; for even in + these cases he was punctiliously honourable. + </p> + <p> + La Meronville hesitated. She did not know him. “If I do not consent,” + thought she, “he will do it without the consent: better submit with + a good grace.—Certainly!” she answered, with an air of + indifference. + </p> + <p> + Borodaile opened and read the note; it was as follows:— + </p> + <p> + You have inspired me with a feeling for you which astonishes myself. Ah, + why should that love be the strongest which is the swiftest in its growth? + I used to love Lord Borodaile: I now only esteem him; the love has flown + to you. If I judge rightly from your words and your eyes, this avowal will + not be unwelcome to you. Come and assure me, in person, of a persuasion so + dear to my heart. C. L. M. + </p> + <p> + “A very pretty effusion!” said Lord Borodaile, sarcastically, + and only showing his inward rage by the increasing paleness of his + complexion and a slight compression of his lip. “I thank you for + your confidence in me. All I ask is that you will not send this note till + to-morrow. Allow me to take my leave of you first, and to find in Mr. + Linden a successor rather than a rival.” + </p> + <p> + “Your request, my friend,” said La Meronville, adjusting her + hair, “is but reasonable. I see that you understand these + arrangements; and, for my part, I think that the end of love should always + be the beginning of friendship: let it be so with us!” + </p> + <p> + “You do me too much honour,” said Borodaile, bowing + profoundly. “Meanwhile I depend upon your promise, and bid you, as a + lover, farewell forever.” + </p> + <p> + With his usual slow step Lord Borodaile descended the stairs, and walked + towards the central quartier of town. His meditations were of no soothing + nature. “To be seen by that man in a ridiculous and degrading + situation; to be pestered with his d—d civility; to be rivalled by + him with Lady Flora; to be duped and outdone by him with my mistress! Ay, + all this have I been; but vengeance shall come yet. As for La Meronville, + the loss is a gain; and, thank Heaven, I did not betray myself by venting + my passion and making a scene. But it was I. who ought to have discarded + her, not the reverse; and—death and confusion—for that + upstart, above all men! And she talked in her letter about his eyes and + words. Insolent coxcomb, to dare to have eyes and words for one who + belonged to me. Well, well, he shall smart for this. But let me consider: + I must not play the jealous fool, must not fight for a ——, + must not show the world that a man, nobody knows who, could really outwit + and outdo me,—me,—Francis Borodaile! No, no: I must throw the + insult upon him, must myself be the aggressor and the challenged; then, + too, I shall have the choice of weapons,—pistols of course. Where + shall I hit him, by the by? I wish I shot as well as I used to do at + Naples. I was in full practice then. Cursed place, where there was nothing + else to do but to practise!” + </p> + <p> + Immersed in these or somewhat similar reflections did Lord Borodaile enter + Pall Mall. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Borodaile!” said Lord St. George, suddenly emerging from + a shop. “This is really fortunate: you are going my way exactly; + allow me to join you.” + </p> + <p> + Now Lord Borodaile, to say nothing of his happening at that time to be in + a mood more than usually unsocial, could never at any time bear the + thought of being made an instrument of convenience, pleasure, or good + fortune to another. He therefore, with a little resentment at Lord St. + George’s familiarity, coldly replied, “I am sorry that I + cannot avail myself of your offer. I am sure my way is not the same as + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” replied Lord St. George, who was a good-natured, + indolent man, who imagined everybody was as averse to walking alone as he + was, “then I will make mine the same as yours.” + </p> + <p> + Borodaile coloured: though always uncivil, he did not like to be excelled + in good manners; and therefore replied, that nothing but extreme business + at White’s could have induced him to prefer his own way to that of + Lord St. George. + </p> + <p> + The good-natured peer took Lord Borodaile’s arm. It was a natural + incident, but it vexed the punctilious viscount that any man should take, + not offer, the support. + </p> + <p> + “So, they say,” observed Lord St. George, “that young + Linden is to marry Lady Flora Ardenne.” + </p> + <p> + “Les on-dits font la gazette des fous,” rejoined Borodaile + with a sneer. “I believe that Lady Flora is little likely to + contract such a misalliance.” + </p> + <p> + “Misalliance!” replied Lord St. George. “I thought + Linden was of a very old family; which you know the Westboroughs are not, + and he has great expectations—” + </p> + <p> + “Which are never to be realized,” interrupted Borodaile, + laughing scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!” said Lord St. George, seriously. “Well, at + all events he is a very agreeable, unaffected young man: and, by the by, + Borodaile, you will meet him chez moi to-day; you know you dine with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Meet Mr. Linden! I shall be proud to have that honour,” said + Borodaile, with sparkling eyes; “will Lady Westborough be also of + the party?” + </p> + <p> + “No, poor Lady St. George is very ill, and I have taken the + opportunity to ask only men.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done wisely, my lord,” said Borodaile, secum multa + revolvens; “and I assure you I wanted no hint to remind me of your + invitation.” + </p> + <p> + Here the Duke of Haverfield joined them. The duke never bowed to any one + of the male sex; he therefore nodded to Borodaile, who, with a very + supercilious formality, took off his hat in returning the salutation. The + viscount had at least this merit in his pride,—that if it was + reserved to the humble, it was contemptuous to the high: his inferiors he + wished to remain where they were; his equals he longed to lower. + </p> + <p> + “So I dine with you, Lord St. George, to-day,” said the duke; + “whom shall I meet?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Borodaile, for one,” answered St. George; “my + brother, Aspeden, Findlater, Orbino, and Linden.” + </p> + <p> + “Linden!” cried the duke; “I’m very glad to hear + it, c’est un homme fait expres pour moi. He is very clever, and not + above playing the fool; has humour without setting up for a wit, and is a + good fellow without being a bad man. I like him excessively.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord St. George;” said Borodaile, who seemed that day to be + the very martyr of the unconscious Clarence, “I wish you good + morning. I have only just remembered an engagement which I must keep + before I go to White’s.” + </p> + <p> + And with a bow to the duke, and a remonstrance from Lord St. George, + Borodaile effected his escape. His complexion was, insensibly to himself, + more raised than usual, his step more stately; his mind, for the first + time for years, was fully excited and engrossed. Ah, what a delightful + thing it is for an idle man, who has been dying of ennui, to find an + enemy! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You must challenge him + There’s no avoiding; one or both must drop. + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. +</pre> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! bravo, Linden!” cried Lord St. George, from the + head of his splendid board, in approbation of some witticism of Clarence’s; + and ha! ha! ha! or he! he! he! according to the cachinnatory intonations + of the guests rang around. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship seems unwell,” said Lord Aspeden to Borodaile; + “allow me to take wine with you.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile bowed his assent. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Mr. St. George to Clarence, “have you seen + my friend Talbot lately?” + </p> + <p> + “This very morning,” replied Linden: “indeed, I + generally visit him three or four times a week; he often asks after you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Mr. St. George, rather flattered; “he + does me much honour; but he is a distant connection of mine, and I suppose + I must attribute his recollection of me to that cause. He is a near + relation of yours, too, I think: is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am related to him,” answered Clarence, colouring. + </p> + <p> + Lord Borodaile leaned forward, and his lip curled. Though, in some + respects, a very unamiable man, he had, as we have said, his good points. + He hated a lie as much as Achilles did; and he believed in his heart of + hearts that Clarence had just uttered one. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” observed Lord Aspeden, “why, Lord Borodaile, the + Talbots of Scarsdale are branches of your genealogical tree; therefore + your lordship must be related to Linden; ‘you are two cherries on + one stalk’!” + </p> + <p> + “We are by no means related,” said Lord Borodaile, with a + distinct and clear voice, intended expressly for Clarence; “that is + an honour which I must beg leave most positively to disclaim.” + </p> + <p> + There was a dead silence; the eyes of all who heard a remark so + intentionally rude were turned immediately towards Clarence. His cheek + burned like fire; he hesitated a moment, and then said, in the same key, + though with a little trembling in his intonation,— + </p> + <p> + “Lord Borodaile cannot be more anxious to disclaim it than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” returned the viscount, stung to the soul, “they + who advance false pretensions ought at least to support them!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, my lord,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly not,” answered Borodaile, carelessly: “there + is a maxim which says that people not accustomed to speak truth cannot + comprehend it in others.” + </p> + <p> + Unlike the generality of modern heroes, who are always in a passion,— + off-hand, dashing fellows, in whom irascibility is a virtue,—Clarence + was peculiarly sweet-tempered by nature, and had, by habit, acquired a + command over all his passions to a degree very uncommon in so young a man. + He made no reply to the inexcusable affront he had received. His lip + quivered a little, and the flush of his countenance was succeeded by an + extreme paleness; this was all: he did not even leave the room + immediately, but waited till the silence was broken by some well-bred + member of the party; and then, pleading an early engagement as an excuse + for his retiring so soon, he rose and departed. + </p> + <p> + There was throughout the room a universal feeling of sympathy with the + affront and indignation against the offender; for, to say nothing of + Clarence’s popularity and the extreme dislike in which Lord + Borodaile was held, there could be no doubt as to the wantonness of the + outrage or the moderation of the aggrieved party. Lord Borodaile already + felt the punishment of his offence: his very pride, while it rendered him + indifferent to the spirit, had hitherto kept him scrupulous as to the + formalities of social politeness; and he could not but see the grossness + with which he had suffered himself to violate them and the light in which + his conduct was regarded. However, this internal discomfort only rendered + him the more embittered against Clarence and the more confirmed in his + revenge. Resuming, by a strong effort, all the external indifference + habitual to his manner, he attempted to enter into a conversation with + those of the party who were next to him but his remarks produced answers + brief and cold; even Lord Aspeden forgot his diplomacy and his smile; Lord + St. George replied to his observations by a monosyllable; and the Duke of + Haverfield, for the first time in his life, asserted the prerogative which + his rank gave him of setting the example,—his grace did not reply to + Lord Borodaile at all. In truth, every one present was seriously + displeased. All civilized societies have a paramount interest in + repressing the rude. Nevertheless, Lord Borodaile bore the brunt of his + unpopularity with a steadiness and unembarrassed composure worthy of a + better cause; and finding, at last, a companion disposed to be loquacious + in the person of Sir Christopher Findlater (whose good heart, though its + first impulse resented more violently than that of any heart present the + discourtesy of the viscount, yet soon warmed to the desagremens of his + situation, and hastened to adopt its favourite maxim of forgive and + forget), Lord Borodaile sat the meeting out; and if he did not leave the + latest, he was at least not the first to follow Clarence: “L’orgueil + ou donne le courage, ou il y supplee.” [“Pride either gives + courage or supplies the place of it.”] + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Linden had returned to his solitary home. He hastened to his + room, locked the door, flung himself on his sofa, and burst into a violent + and almost feminine paroxysm of tears. This fit lasted for more than an + hour; and when Clarence at length stilled the indignant swellings of his + heart, and rose from his supine position, he started, as his eye fell upon + the opposite mirror, so haggard and exhausted seemed the forced and + fearful calmness of his countenance. With a hurried step; with arms now + folded on his bosom, now wildly tossed from him; and the hand so firmly + clenched that the very bones seemed working through the skin; with a brow + now fierce, now only dejected; and a complexion which one while burnt as + with the crimson flush of a fever, and at another was wan and colourless, + like his whose cheek a spectre has blanched,—Clarence paced his + apartment, the victim not only of shame,—the bitterest of tortures + to a young and high mind,—but of other contending feelings, which + alternately exasperated and palsied his wrath, and gave to his resolves at + one moment an almost savage ferocity and at the next an almost cowardly + vacillation. + </p> + <p> + The clock had just struck the hour of twelve when a knock at the door + announced a visitor. Steps were heard on the stairs and presently a tap at + Clarence’s room-door. He unlocked it and the Duke of Haverfield + entered. “I am charmed to find you at home,” cried the duke, + with his usual half kind, half careless address. “I was determined + to call upon you, and be the first to offer my services in this unpleasant + affair.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence pressed the duke’s hand, but made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be so unhandsome as Lord Borodaile’s conduct,” + continued the duke. “I hope you both fence and shoot well. I shall + never forgive you, if you do not put an end to that piece of rigidity.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence continued to walk about the room in great agitation; the duke + looked at him with some surprise. At last Linden paused by the window, and + said, half unconsciously, “It must be so: I cannot avoid fighting!” + </p> + <p> + “Avoid fighting!” cried his grace, in undisguised + astonishment. “No, indeed: but that is the least part of the matter; + you must kill as well as fight him.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill him!” cried Clarence, wildly, “whom?” and + then sinking into a chair, he covered his face with his hands for a few + moments, and seemed to struggle with his emotions. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” thought the duke, “I never was more mistaken in + my life. I could have bet my black horse against Trevanion’s Julia, + which is certainly the most worthless thing I know, that Linden had been a + brave fellow: but these English heroes almost go into fits at a duel; one + manages such things, as Sterne says, better in France.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence now rose, calm and collected. He sat down; wrote a brief note to + Borodaile, demanding the fullest apology, or the earliest meeting; put it + into the duke’s hands, and said with a faint smile, “My dear + duke, dare I ask you to be a second to a man who has been so grievously + affronted and whose genealogy has been so disputed?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Linden,” said the duke, warmly, “I have always + been grateful to my station in life for this advantage,—the freedom + with which it has enabled me to select my own acquaintance and to follow + my own pursuits. I am now more grateful to it than ever, because it has + given me a better opportunity than I should otherwise have had of serving + one whom I have always esteemed. In entering into your quarrel I shall at + least show the world that there are some men not inferior in pretensions + to Lord Borodaile who despise arrogance and resent overbearance even to + others. Your cause I consider the common cause of society; but I shall + take it up, if you will allow me, with the distinguishing zeal of a + friend.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence, who was much affected by the kindness of this speech, replied in + a similar vein; and the duke, having read and approved the letter, rose. + “There is, in my opinion,” said he, “no time to be lost. + I will go to Borodaile this very evening: adieu, mon cher! you shall kill + the Argus, and then carry off the Io. I feel in a double passion with that + ambulating poker, who is only malleable when he is red-hot, when I think + how honourably scrupulous you were with La Meronville last night, + notwithstanding all her advances; but I go to bury Caesar, not to scold + him. Au revoir.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Conon.—You’re well met, Crates. Crates.—If we part so, + Conon.-Queen of Corinth. +</pre> + <p> + It was as might be expected from the character of the aggressor. Lord + Borodaile refused all apology, and agreed with avidity to a speedy + rendezvous. He chose pistols (choice, then, was not merely nominal), and + selected Mr. Percy Bobus for his second, a gentleman who was much fonder + of acting in that capacity than in the more honourable one of a principal. + The author of “Lacon” says “that if all seconds were as + averse to duels as their principals, there would be very little blood + spilt in that way;” and it was certainly astonishing to compare the + zeal with which Mr. Bobus busied himself about this “affair” + with that testified by him on another occasion when he himself was more + immediately concerned. + </p> + <p> + The morning came. Mr. Bobus breakfasted with his friend. “Damn it, + Borodaile,” said he, as the latter was receiving the ultimate polish + of the hairdresser, “I never saw you look better in my life. It will + be a great pity if that fellow shoots you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoots me!” said Lord Borodaile, very quietly,—“me! + no! that is quite out of the question; but joking apart, Bobus, I will not + kill the young man. Where shall I hit him?” + </p> + <p> + “In the cap of the knee,” said Mr. Percy, breaking an egg. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, that will lame him for life,” said Lord Borodaile, + putting on his cravat with peculiar exactitude. + </p> + <p> + “Serve him right,” said Mr. Bobus. “Hang him, I never + got up so early in my life: it is quite impossible to eat at this hour. + Oh!—a propos, Borodaile, have you left any little memoranda for me + to execute?” + </p> + <p> + “Memoranda!—for what?” said Borodaile, who had now just + finished his toilet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” rejoined Mr. Percy Bobus, “in case of accident, + you know: the man may shoot well, though I never saw him in the gallery.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Lord Borodaile, in a great though suppressed + passion, “pray, Mr. Bobus, how often have I to tell you that it is + not by Mr. Linden that my days are to terminate: you are sure that + Carabine saw to that trigger?” + </p> + <p> + “Certain,” said Mr. Percy, with his mouth full, “certain. + Bless me, here’s the carriage, and breakfast not half done yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” cried Borodaile, impatiently, “we must + breakfast afterwards. Here, Roberts, see that we have fresh chocolate and + some more cutlets when we return.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather have them now,” said Mr. Bobus, foreseeing the + possibility of the return being single: “Ibis! redibis?” etc. + </p> + <p> + “Come, we have not a moment to lose,” exclaimed Borodaile, + hastening down the stairs; and Mr. Percy Bobus followed, with a strange + mixture of various regrets, partly for the breakfast that was lost and + partly for the friend that might be. + </p> + <p> + When they arrived at the ground, Clarence and the duke were already there: + the latter, who was a dead shot, had fully persuaded himself that Clarence + was equally adroit, and had, in his providence for Borodaile, brought a + surgeon. This was a circumstance of which the viscount, in the plenitude + of his confidence for himself and indifference for his opponent, had never + once dreamed. + </p> + <p> + The ground was measured; the parties were about to take the ground. All + Linden’s former agitation had vanished; his mien was firm, grave, + and determined: but he showed none of the careless and fierce hardihood + which characterized his adversary; on the contrary, a close observer might + have remarked something sad and dejected amidst all the tranquillity and + steadiness of his brow and air. + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven’s sake,” whispered the duke, as he withdrew + from the spot, “square your body a little more to your left and + remember your exact level. Borodaile is much shorter than you.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief, dread pause: the signal was given; Borodaile fired; his + ball pierced Clarence’s side; the wounded man staggered one step, + but fell not. He raised his pistol; the duke bent eagerly forward; an + expression of disappointment and surprise passed his lips; Clarence had + fired in the air. The next moment Linden felt a deadly sickness come over + him; he fell into the arms of the surgeon. Borodaile, touched by a + forbearance which he had so little right to expect, hastened to the spot. + He leaned over his adversary in greater remorse and pity than he would + have readily confessed to himself. Clarence unclosed his eyes; they dwelt + for one moment upon the subdued and earnest countenance of Borodaile. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” he said faintly, “that you were not the + victim,” and with those words he fell back insensible. They carried + him to his lodgings. His wound was accurately examined. Though not mortal, + it was of a dangerous nature; and the surgeons ended a very painful + operation by promising a very lingering recovery. + </p> + <p> + What a charming satisfaction for being insulted! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Je me contente de ce qui peut s’ecrire, et je reve tout ce + qui peut se rever.—DE SEVIGNE. +</pre> + <p> + [“I content myself with writing what I am able, and I dream all I + possibly can dream.”] + </p> + <p> + About a week after his wound, and the second morning of his return to + sense and consciousness, when Clarence opened his eyes, they fell upon a + female form seated watchfully and anxiously by his bedside. He raised + himself in mute surprise, and the figure, startled by the motion, rose, + drew the curtain, and vanished. With great difficulty he rang his bell. + His valet, Harrison, on whose mind, though it was of no very exalted + order, the kindness and suavity of his master had made a great impression, + instantly appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that lady?” asked Linden. “How came she here?” + </p> + <p> + Harrison smiled: “Oh, sir, pray please to lie down, and make + yourself easy: the lady knows you very well and would come here; she + insists upon staying in the house, so we made up a bed in the drawing-room + and she has watched by you night and day. She speaks very little English + to be sure, but your honour knows, begging your pardon, how well I speak + French.” + </p> + <p> + “French?” said Clarence, faintly,—“French? In + Heaven’s name, who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “A Madame—Madame—La Melonveal, or some such name, sir,” + said the valet. + </p> + <p> + Clarence fell back. At that moment his hand was pressed. He turned, and + saw Talbot by his side. The kind old man had not suffered La Meronville to + be Linden’s only nurse: notwithstanding his age and peculiarity of + habits, he had fixed his abode all the day in Clarence’s house, and + at night, instead of returning to his own home, had taken up his lodgings + at the nearest hotel. + </p> + <p> + With a jealous and anxious eye to the real interest and respectability of + his adopted son, Talbot had exerted all his address, and even all his + power, to induce La Meronville, who had made her settlement previous to + Talbot’s, to quit the house, but in vain. With that obstinacy which + a Frenchwoman when she is sentimental mistakes for nobility of heart, the + ci-devant amante of Lord Borodaile insisted upon watching and tending one + of whose sufferings she said and believed she was the unhappy though + innocent cause: and whenever more urgent means of removal were hinted at + La Meronville flew to the chamber of her beloved, apostrophized him in a + strain worthy of one of D’Arlincourt’s heroines, and in short + was so unreasonably outrageous that the doctors, trembling for the safety + of their patient, obtained from Talbot a forced and reluctant acquiescence + in the settlement she had obtained. + </p> + <p> + Ah! what a terrible creature a Frenchwoman is, when, instead of coquetting + with a caprice, she insists upon conceiving a grande passion. Little, + however, did Clarence, despite his vexation when he learned of the + bienveillance of La Meronville, foresee the whole extent of the + consequences it would entail upon him: still less did Talbot, who in his + seclusion knew not the celebrity of the handsome adventuress, calculate + upon the notoriety of her motions or the ill effect her ostentatious + attachment would have upon Clarence’s prosperity as a lover to Lady + Flora. In order to explain these consequences the more fully, let us, for + the present, leave our hero to the care of the surgeon, his friends, and + his would-be mistress; and while he is more rapidly recovering than the + doctors either hoped or presaged, let us renew our acquaintance with a + certain fair correspondent. + </p> + <p> + LETTER FROM THE LADY FLORA ARDENNE TO MISS ELEANOR TREVANION. + </p> + <p> + My Dearest Eleanor,—I have been very ill, or you would sooner have + received an answer to your kind,-too kind and consoling letter. Indeed I + have only just left my bed: they say that I have been delirious, and I + believe it; for you cannot conceive what terrible dreams I have had. But + these are all over now, and everyone is so kind to me,—my poor + mother above all! It is a pleasant thing to be ill when we have those who + love us to watch our recovery. + </p> + <p> + I have only been in bed a few days; yet it seems to me as if a long + portion of my existence were past,—as if I had stepped into a new + era. You remember that my last letter attempted to express my feelings at + Mamma’s speech about Clarence, and at my seeing him so suddenly. + Now, dearest, I cannot but look on that day, on these sensations, as on a + distant dream. Every one is so kind to me, Mamma caresses and soothes me + so fondly, that I fancy I must have been under some illusion. I am sure + they could not seriously have meant to forbid his addresses. No, no: I + feel that all will yet be well,—so well, that even you, who are of + so contented a temper, will own that if you were not Eleanor you would be + Flora. + </p> + <p> + I wonder whether Clarence knows that I have been ill? I wish you knew him. + Well, dearest, this letter—a very unhandsome return, I own, for + yours—must content you at present, for they will not let me write + more; though, so far as I am concerned, I am never so weak, in frame I + mean, but what I could scribble to you about him. + </p> + <p> + Addio, carissima. F. A. + </p> + <p> + I have prevailed on Mamma, who wished to sit by me and amuse me, to go to + the Opera to-night, the only amusement of which she is particularly fond. + Heaven forgive me for my insincerity, but he always comes into our box, + and I long to hear some news of him. + </p> + <p> + LETTER II. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + </p> + <p> + Eleanor, dearest Eleanor, I am again very ill, but not as I was before, + ill from a foolish vexation of mind: no, I am now calm and even happy. It + was from an increase of cold only that I have suffered a relapse. You may + believe this, I assure you, in spite of your well meant but bitter jests + upon my infatuation, as you very rightly call it, for Mr. Linden. You ask + me what news from the Opera? Silly girl that I was, to lie awake hour + after hour, and refuse even to take my draught, lest I should be surprised + into sleep, till Mamma returned. I sent Jermyn down directly I heard her + knock at the door (oh, how anxiously I had listened for it!) to say that I + was still awake and longed to see her. So, of course, Mamma came up, and + felt my pulse, and said it was very feverish, and wondered the draught had + not composed me; with a great deal more to the same purpose, which I bore + as patiently as I could, till it was my turn to talk; and then I admired + her dress and her coiffure, and asked if it was a full house, and whether + the prima donna was in voice, etc.: till, at last, I won my way to the + inquiry of who were her visitors. “Lord Borodaile,” said she, + “and the Duke of ——, and Mr. St. George, and Captain + Leslie, and Mr. De Retz, and many others.” I felt so disappointed, + Eleanor, but did not dare ask whether he was not of the list; till, at + last, my mother observing me narrowly, said, “And by the by, Mr. + Linden looked in for a few minutes. I am glad, my dearest Flora, that I + spoke to you so decidedly about him the other day.” “Why, + Mamma?” said I, hiding my face under the clothes. “Because,” + said she, in rather a raised voice, “he is quite unworthy of you! + but it is late now, and you should go to sleep; to-morrow I will tell you + more.” I would have given worlds to press the question then, but + could not venture. Mamma kissed and left me. I tried to twist her words + into a hundred meanings, but in each I only thought that they were + dictated by some worldly information,—some new doubts as to his + birth or fortune; and, though that supposition distressed me greatly, yet + it could not alter my love or deprive me of hope; and so I cried and + guessed, and guessed and cried, till at last I cried myself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke, Mamma was already up, and sitting beside me: she talked to + me for more than an hour upon ordinary subjects, till at last, perceiving + how absent or rather impatient I appeared, she dismissed Jermyn, and spoke + to me thus:— + </p> + <p> + “You know, Flora, that I have always loved you, more perhaps than I + ought to have done, more certainly than I have loved your brothers and + sisters; but you were my eldest child, my first-born, and all the earliest + associations of a mother are blent and entwined with you. You may be sure + therefore that I have ever had only your happiness in view, and that it is + only with a regard to that end that I now speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + I was a little frightened, Eleanor, by this opening, but I was much more + touched, so I took Mamma’s hand and kissed and wept silently over + it; she continued: “I observed Mr. Linden’s attention to you, + at ——; I knew nothing more of his rank and birth then than I + do at present: but his situation in the embassy and his personal + appearance naturally induced me to suppose him a gentleman of family, and, + therefore, if not a great at least not an inferior match for you, so far + as worldly distinctions are concerned. Added to this, he was uncommonly + handsome, and had that general reputation for talent which is often better + than actual wealth or hereditary titles. I therefore did not check, though + I would not encourage any attachment you might form for him; and nothing + being declared or decisive on either side when we left—, I imagined + that if your flirtation with him did even amount to a momentary and + girlish phantasy, absence and change of scene would easily and rapidly + efface the impression. I believe that in a great measure it was effaced + when Lord Aspeden returned to England, and with him Mr. Linden. You again + met the latter in society almost as constantly as before; a caprice nearly + conquered was once more renewed; and in my anxiety that you should marry, + not for aggrandizement, but happiness, I own to my sorrow that I rather + favoured than forbade his addresses. The young man—remember, Flora—appeared + in society as the nephew and heir of a gentleman of ancient family and + considerable property; he was rising in diplomacy, popular in the world, + and, so far as we could see, of irreproachable character; this must plead + my excuse for tolerating his visits, without instituting further inquiries + respecting him, and allowing your attachment to proceed without + ascertaining how far it had yet extended. I was awakened to a sense of my + indiscretion by an inquiry which Mr. Linden’s popularity rendered + general; namely, if Mr. Talbot was his uncle, who was his father? who his + more immediate relations? and at that time Lord Borodaile informed us of + the falsehood he had either asserted or allowed to be spread in claiming + Mr. Talbot as his relation. This you will observe entirely altered the + situation of Mr. Linden with respect to you. Not only his rank in life + became uncertain, but suspicious. Nor was this all: his very personal + respectability was no longer unimpeachable. Was this dubious and intrusive + person, without a name and with a sullied honour, to be your suitor? No, + Flora; and it was from this indignant conviction that I spoke to you some + days since. Forgive me, my child, if I was less cautious, less + confidential than I am now. I did not imagine the wound was so deep, and + thought that I should best cure you by seeming unconscious of your danger. + The case is now changed; your illness has convinced me of my fault, and + the extent of your unhappy attachment: but will my own dear child pardon + me if I still continue, if I even confirm, my disapproval of her choice? + Last night at the Opera Mr. Linden entered my box. I own that I was cooler + to him than usual. He soon left us, and after the Opera I saw him with the + Duke of Haverfield, one of the most incorrigible roues of the day, leading + out a woman of notoriously bad character and of the most ostentatious + profligacy. He might have had some propriety, some decency, some + concealment at least, but he passed just before me,—before the + mother of the woman to whom his vows of honourable attachment were due and + who at that very instant was suffering from her infatuation for him. Now, + Flora, for this man, an obscure and possibly a plebeian adventurer, whose + only claim to notice has been founded on falsehood, whose only merit, a + love of you, has been, if not utterly destroyed, at least polluted and + debased,—for this man, poor alike in fortune, character, and honour, + can you any longer profess affection or esteem?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never, never!” cried I, springing from the bed, and + throwing myself upon my mother’s neck. “Never: I am your own + Flora once more. I will never suffer any one again to make me forget you,” + and then I sobbed so violently that Mamma was frightened, and bade me lie + down and left me to sleep. Several hours have passed since then, and I + could not sleep nor think, and I would not cry, for he is no longer worthy + of my tears; so I have written to you. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how I despise and hate myself for having so utterly, in my vanity and + folly, forgotten my mother, that dear, kind, constant friend, who never + cost me a single tear, but for my own ingratitude! Think, Eleanor, what an + affront to me,—to me, who, he so often said, had made all other + women worthless in his eyes. Do I hate him? No, I cannot hate. Do I + despise? No, I will not despise, but I will forget him, and keep my + contempt and hatred for myself. + </p> + <p> + God bless you! I am worn out. Write soon, or rather come, if possible, to + your affectionate but unworthy friend, F. A. + </p> + <p> + Good Heavens! Eleanor, he is wounded. He has fought with Lord Borodaile. I + have just heard it; Jermyn told me. Can it, can it be true? What,—what + have I said against him? Hate? forget? No, no: I never loved him till now. + </p> + <p> + LETTER III. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + </p> + <p> + (After an interval of several weeks.) + </p> + <p> + Time has flown, my Eleanor, since you left me, after your short but kind + visit, with a heavy but healing wing. I do not think I shall ever again be + the giddy girl I have been; but my head will change, not my heart; that + was never giddy, and that shall still be as much yours as ever. You are + wrong in thinking I have not forgotten, at least renounced all affection + for Mr. Linden. I have, though with a long and bitter effort. The woman + for whom he fought went, you know, to his house, immediately on hearing of + his wound. She has continued with him ever since. He had the audacity to + write to me once; my mother brought me the note, and said nothing. She + read my heart aright. I returned it unopened. He has even called since his + convalescence. Mamma was not at home to him. I hear that he looks pale and + altered. I hope not,—at least I cannot resist praying for his + recovery. I stay within entirely; the season is over now, and there are no + parties: but I tremble at the thought of meeting him even in the Park or + the Gardens. Papa talks of going into the country next week. I cannot tell + you how eagerly I look forward to it: and you will then come and see me; + will you not, dearest Eleanor? + </p> + <p> + Ah! what happy days we will have yet: we will read Italian together, as we + used to do; you shall teach me your songs, and I will instruct you in + mine; we will keep birds as we did, let me see, eight years ago. You will + never talk to me of my folly: let that be as if it had never been; but I + will wonder with you about your future choice, and grow happy in + anticipating your happiness. Oh, how selfish I was some weeks ago! then I + could only overwhelm you with my egotisms: now, Eleanor, it is your turn; + and you shall see how patiently I will listen to yours. Never fear that + you can be too prolix: the diffuser you are, the easier I shall forgive + myself. + </p> + <p> + Are you fond of poetry, Eleanor? I used to say so, but I never felt that I + was till lately. I will show you my favourite passages in my favourite + poets when you come to see me. You shall see if yours correspond with + mine. I am so impatient to leave this horrid town, where everything seems + dull, yet feverish,—insipid, yet false. Shall we not be happy when + we meet? If your dear aunt will come with you, she shall see how I (that + is my mind) am improved. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Farewell. Ever your most affectionate, + F. A. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Brave Talbot, we will follow thee.—Henry the Sixth. +</pre> + <p> + “My letter insultingly returned—myself refused admittance; not + a single inquiry made during my illness; indifference joined to positive + contempt. By Heaven, it is insupportable!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Clarence,” said Talbot to his young friend, who, + fretful from pain and writhing beneath his mortification, walked to and + fro his chamber with an impatient stride; “my dear Clarence, do sit + down, and not irritate your wound by such violent exercise. I am as much + enraged as yourself at the treatment you have received, and no less at a + loss to account for it. Your duel, however unfortunate the event, must + have done you credit, and obtained you a reputation both for generosity + and spirit; so that it cannot be to that occurrence that you are to + attribute the change. Let us rather suppose that Lady Flora’s + attachment to you has become evident to her father and mother; that they + naturally think it would be very undesirable to marry their daughter to a + man whose family nobody knows, and whose respectability he is forced into + fighting in order to support. Suffer me then to call upon Lady + Westborough, whom I knew many years ago, and explain your origin, as well + as your relationship to me.” + </p> + <p> + Linden paused irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + “Were I sure that Lady Flora was not utterly influenced by her + mother’s worldly views, I would gladly consent to your proposal, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Clarence,” cried Talbot; “but you really + argue much more like a very young man than I ever heard you do before,—even + four years ago. To be sure Lady Flora is influenced by her mother’s + views. Would you have her otherwise? Would you have her, in defiance of + all propriety, modesty, obedience to her parents, and right feeling for + herself, encourage an attachment to a person not only unknown, but who + does not even condescend to throw off the incognito to the woman he + addresses? Come, Clarence, give me your instructions, and let me act as + your ambassador to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I may consider it settled then,” replied Talbot: “meanwhile + you shall come home and stay with me; the pure air of the country, even so + near town, will do you more good than all the doctors in London; and, + besides, you will thus be enabled to escape from that persecuting + Frenchwoman.” + </p> + <p> + “In what manner?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when you are in my house, she cannot well take up her abode + with you; and you shall, while I am forwarding your suit with Lady Flora, + write a very flattering, very grateful letter of excuses to Madame la + Meronville. But leave me alone to draw it up for you: meanwhile, let + Harrison pack up your clothes and medicines; and we will effect our escape + while Madame la Meronville yet sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence rang the bell; the orders were given, executed, and in less than + an hour he and his friends were on their road to Talbot’s villa. + </p> + <p> + As they drove slowly through the grounds to the house, Clarence was + sensibly struck with the quiet and stillness which breathed around. On + either side of the road the honeysuckle and rose cast their sweet scents + to the summer wind, which, though it was scarcely noon, stirred freshly + among the trees, and waved as if it breathed a second youth over the wan + cheek of the convalescent. The old servant’s ear had caught the + sound of wheels, and he came to the door, with an expression of quiet + delight on his dry countenance, to welcome in his master. They had lived + together for so many years that they were grown like one another. Indeed, + the veteran valet prided himself on his happy adoption of his master’s + dress and manner. A proud man, we ween, was that domestic, whenever he had + time and listeners for the indulgence of his honest loquacity; many an + ancient tale of his master’s former glories was then poured from his + unburdening remembrance. With what a glow, with what a racy enjoyment, did + he expand upon the triumphs of the past; how eloquently did he + particularize the exact grace with which young Mr. Talbot was wont to + enter the room, in which he instantly became the cynosure of ladies’ + eyes; how faithfully did he minute the courtly dress, the exquisite choice + of colour, the costly splendour of material, which were the envy of + gentles, and the despairing wonder of their valets; and then the zest with + which the good old man would cry, “I dressed the boy!” Even + still, this modern Scipio (Le Sage’s Scipio, not Rome’s) would + not believe that his master’s sun was utterly set: he was only in a + temporary retirement, and would, one day or other, reappear and reastonish + the London world. “I would give my right arm,” Jasper was wont + to say, “to see Master at court. How fond the King would be of him! + Ah! well, well; I wish he was not so melancholy-like with his books, but + would go out like other people!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Jasper! Time is, in general, a harsh wizard in his transformations; + but the change which thou didst lament so bitterly was happier for thy + master than all his former “palmy state” of admiration and + homage. “Nous avons recherche le plaisir,” says Rousseau, in + one of his own inimitable antitheses, “et le bonheur a fui loin de + nous.” [“We have pursued pleasure, and happiness has fled far + from our reach.”] But in the pursuit of Pleasure we sometimes chance + on Wisdom, and Wisdom leads us to the right track, which, if it take us + not so far as Happiness, is sure at least of the shelter of Content. + </p> + <p> + Talbot leaned kindly upon Jasper’s arm as he descended from the + carriage, and inquired into his servant’s rheumatism with the + anxiety of a friend. The old housekeeper, waiting in the hall, next + received his attention; and in entering the drawing-room, with that + consideration, even to animals, which his worldly benevolence had taught + him, he paused to notice and caress a large gray cat which rubbed herself + against his legs. Doubtless there is some pleasure in making even a gray + cat happy! + </p> + <p> + Clarence having patiently undergone all the shrugs, and sighs, and + exclamations of compassion at his reduced and wan appearance, which are + the especial prerogatives of ancient domestics, followed the old man into + the room. Papers and books, though carefully dusted, were left + scrupulously in the places in which Talbot had last deposited them + (incomparable good fortune! what would we not give for such chamber + handmaidens!); fresh flowers were in all the stands and vases; the large + library chair was jealously set in its accustomed place, and all wore, to + Talbot’s eyes, that cheerful yet sober look of welcome and + familiarity which makes a friend of our house. The old man was in high + spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I know not how it is,” said he, “but I feel younger + than ever! You have often expressed a wish to see my family seat at + Scarsdale: it is certainly a great distance hence; but as you will be my + travelling companion, I think I will try and crawl there before the summer + is over; or, what say you, Clarence, shall I lend it to you and Lady Flora + for the honeymoon? You blush! A diplomatist blush! Ah, how the world has + changed since my time! But come, Clarence, suppose you write to La + Meronville?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day, sir, if you please,” said Linden: “I feel + so very weak.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please, Clarence; but some years hence you will learn the + value of the present. Youth is always a procrastinator, and, consequently, + always a penitent.” And thus Talbot ran on into a strain of + conversation, half serious, half gay, which lasted till Clarence went + upstairs to lie down and muse on Lady Flora Ardenne. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + La vie eat un sommeil. Les vieillards sont ceux donc le + sommeil a ete plus long: ils ne commencent a se reveiller + que quand il faut mourir. —LA BRUYERE. + + [“Life is a sleep. The aged are those whose sleep has been + the longest they begin to awaken themselves just as they are + obliged to die.”] +</pre> + <p> + “You wonder why I have never turned author, with my constant love of + literature and my former desire of fame,” said Talbot, as he and + Clarence sat alone after dinner, discussing many things: “the fact + is, that I have often intended it, and as often been frightened from my + design. Those terrible feuds; those vehement disputes; those + recriminations of abuse, so inseparable from literary life,—appear + to me too dreadful for a man not utterly hardened or malevolent + voluntarily to encounter. Good Heavens! what acerbity sours the blood of + an author! The manifestoes of opposing generals, advancing to pillage, to + burn, to destroy, contain not a tithe of the ferocity which animates the + pages of literary controversialists! No term of reproach is too severe, no + vituperation too excessive! the blackest passions, the bitterest, the + meanest malice, pour caustic and poison upon every page! It seems as if + the greatest talents, the most elaborate knowledge, only sprang from the + weakest and worst-regulated mind, as exotics from dung. The private + records, the public works of men of letters, teem with an immitigable + fury! Their histories might all be reduced into these sentences: they were + born; they quarrelled; they died!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Clarence, “it would matter little to the + world if these quarrels were confined merely to poets and men of + imaginative literature, in whom irritability is perhaps almost necessarily + allied to the keen and quick susceptibilities which constitute their + genius. These are more to be lamented and wondered at among philosophers, + theologians, and men of science; the coolness, the patience, the + benevolence, which ought to characterize their works, should at least + moderate their jealousy and soften their disputes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Talbot, “but the vanity of discovery is no + less acute than that of creation: the self-love of a philosopher is no + less self-love than that of a poet. Besides, those sects the most sure of + their opinions, whether in religion or science, are always the most + bigoted and persecuting. Moreover, nearly all men deceive themselves in + disputes, and imagine that they are intolerant, not through private + jealousy, but public benevolence: they never declaim against the injustice + done to themselves; no, it is the terrible injury done to society which + grieves and inflames them. It is not the bitter expressions against their + dogmas which give them pain; by no means: it is the atrocious doctrines + (so prejudicial to the country, if in polities; so pernicious to the + world, if in philosophy), which their duty, not their vanity, induces them + to denounce and anathematize.” + </p> + <p> + “There seems,” said Clarence, “to be a sort of reaction + in sophistry and hypocrisy: there has, perhaps, never been a deceiver who + was not, by his own passions, himself the deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” said Talbot; “and it is a pity that + historians have not kept that fact in view: we should then have had a + better notion of the Cromwells and Mohammeds of the past than we have now, + nor judged those as utter impostors who were probably half dupes. But to + return to myself. I think you will already be able to answer your own + question, why I did not turn author, now that we have given a momentary + consideration to the penalties consequent on such a profession. But in + truth, as I near the close of my life, I often regret that I had not more + courage, for there is in us all a certain restlessness in the persuasion, + whether true or false, of superior knowledge or intellect, and this urges + us on to the proof; or, if we resist its impulse; renders us discontented + with our idleness and disappointed with the past. I have everything now in + my possession which it has been the desire of my later years to enjoy: + health, retirement, successful study, and the affection of one in whose + breast, when I am gone, my memory will not utterly pass away. With these + advantages, added to the gifts of fortune, and an habitual elasticity of + spirit, I confess that my happiness is not free from a biting and frequent + regret: I would fain have been a better citizen; I would fain have died in + the consciousness not only that I had improved my mind to the utmost, but + that I had turned that improvement to the benefit of my fellow-creatures. + As it is, in living wholly for myself, I feel that my philosophy has + wanted generosity; and my indifference to glory has proceeded from a + weakness, not, as I once persuaded myself, from a virtue but the + fruitlessness of my existence has been the consequence of the arduous + frivolities and the petty objects in which my early years were consumed; + and my mind, in losing the enjoyments which it formerly possessed, had no + longer the vigour to create for itself a new soil, from which labour it + could only hope for more valuable fruits. It is no contradiction to see + those who most eagerly courted society in their youth shrink from it the + most sensitively in their age; for they who possess certain advantages, + and are morbidly vain of them, will naturally be disposed to seek that + sphere for which those advantages are best calculated: and when youth and + its concomitants depart, the vanity so long fed still remains, and + perpetually mortifies them by recalling not so much the qualities they + have lost, as the esteem which those qualities conferred; and by + contrasting not so much their own present alteration, as the change they + experience in the respect and consideration of others. What wonder, then, + that they eagerly fly from the world, which has only mortification for + their self-love, or that we find, in biography, how often the most + assiduous votaries of pleasure have become the most rigid of recluses? For + my part, I think that that love of solitude which the ancients so + eminently possessed, and which, to this day, is considered by some as the + sign of a great mind, nearly always arises from a tenderness of vanity, + easily wounded in the commerce of the rough world; and that it is under + the shadow of Disappointment that we must look for the hermitage. Diderot + did well, even at the risk of offending Rousseau, to write against + solitude. The more a moralist binds man to man, and forbids us to divorce + our interests from our kind, the more effectually is the end of morality + obtained. They only are justifiable in seclusion who, like the Greek + philosophers, make that very seclusion the means of serving and + enlightening their race; who from their retreats send forth their oracles + of wisdom, and render the desert which surrounds them eloquent with the + voice of truth. But remember, Clarence (and let my life, useless in + itself, have at least this moral), that for him who in no wise cultivates + his talent for the benefit of others; who is contented with being a good + hermit at the expense of being a bad citizen; who looks from his retreat + upon a life wasted in the difficiles nugae of the most frivolous part of + the world, nor redeems in the closet the time he has misspent in the + saloon,—remember that for him seclusion loses its dignity, + philosophy its comfort, benevolence its hope, and even religion its balm. + Knowledge unemployed may preserve us from vice; but knowledge beneficently + employed is virtue. Perfect happiness, in our present state, is + impossible; for Hobbes says justly that our nature is inseparable from + desires, and that the very word desire (the craving for something not + possessed) implies that our present felicity is not complete. But there is + one way of attaining what we may term, if not utter, at least mortal, + happiness; it is this,—a sincere and unrelaxing activity for the + happiness of others. In that one maxim is concentrated whatever is noble + in morality, sublime in religion, or unanswerable in truth. In that + pursuit we have all scope for whatever is excellent in our hearts, and + none for the petty passions which our nature is heir to. Thus engaged, + whatever be our errors, there will be nobility, not weakness, in our + remorse; whatever our failure, virtue, not selfishness, in our regret; + and, in success, vanity itself will become holy and triumph eternal. As + astrologers were wont to receive upon metals ‘the benign aspect of + the stars, so as to detain and fix, as it were, the felicity of that hour + which would otherwise be volatile and fugitive,’ [Bacon] even so + will that success leave imprinted upon our memory a blessing which cannot + pass away; preserve forever upon our names, as on a signet, the hallowed + influence of the hour in which our great end was effected, and treasure up + ‘the relics of heaven’ in the sanctuary of a human fane.” + </p> + <p> + As the old man ceased, there was a faint and hectic flush over his face, + an enthusiasm on his features, which age made almost holy, and which + Clarence had never observed there before. In truth, his young listener was + deeply affected, and the advice of his adopted parent was afterwards + impressed with a more awful solemnity upon his remembrance. Already he had + acquired much worldly lore from Talbot’s precepts and conversation. + He had obtained even something better than worldly lore,—a kindly + and indulgent disposition to his fellow-creatures; for he had seen that + foibles were not inconsistent with generous and great qualities, and that + we judge wrongly of human nature when we ridicule its littleness. The very + circumstances which make the shallow misanthropical incline the wise to be + benevolent. Fools discover that frailty is not incompatible with great + men; they wonder and despise: but the discerning find that greatness is + not incompatible with frailty; and they admire and indulge. + </p> + <p> + But a still greater benefit than this of toleration did Clarence derive + from the commune of that night. He became strengthened in his honourable + ambition and nerved to unrelaxing exertion. The recollection of Talbot’s + last words, on that night, occurred to him often and often, when sick at + heart and languid with baffled hope, it roused him from that gloom and + despondency which are always unfavourable to virtue, and incited him once + more to that labour in the vineyard which, whether our hour be late or + early, will if earnest obtain a blessing and reward. + </p> + <p> + The hour was now waxing late; and Talbot, mindful of his companion’s + health, rose to retire. As he pressed Clarence’s hand and bade him + farewell for the night, Linden thought there was something more than + usually impressive in his manner and affectionate in his words. Perhaps + this was the natural result of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Clarence was awakened by a noise. He listened, and heard + distinctly an alarmed cry proceeding from the room in which Talbot slept, + and which was opposite to his own. He rose hastily and hurried to the + chamber. The door was open; the old servant was bending over the bed: + Clarence approached, and saw that he supported his master in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he cried, “what is the matter?” The + faithful old man lifted up his face to Clarence, and the big tears rolled + fast from eyes in which the sources of such emotion were well-nigh dried + up. + </p> + <p> + “He loved you well, sir!” he said, and could say no more. He + dropped the body gently, and throwing himself on the floor sobbed aloud. + With a foreboding and chilled heart, Clarence bent forward; the face of + his benefactor lay directly before him, and the hand of death was upon it. + The soul had passed to its account hours since, in the hush of night,—passed, + apparently, without a struggle or a pang, like the wind, which animates + the harp one moment, and the next is gone. + </p> + <p> + Linden seized his hand; it was heavy and cold: his eye rested upon the + miniature of the unfortunate Lady Merton, which, since the night of the + attempted robbery, Talbot had worn constantly round his neck. Strange and + powerful was the contrast of the pictured face—in which not a colour + had yet faded, and where the hues and fulness and prime of youth dwelt, + unconscious of the lapse of years—with the aged and shrunken + countenance of the deceased. + </p> + <p> + In that contrast was a sad and mighty moral: it wrought, as it were, a + contract between youth and age, and conveyed a rapid but full history of + our passions and our life. + </p> + <p> + The servant looked up once more on the countenance; he pointed towards it, + and muttered, “See, see how awfully it is changed!” + </p> + <p> + “But there is a smile upon it!” said Clarence, as he flung + himself beside the body and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they are + incensed or crushed; for prosperity doth best discover vice, + but adversity doth best discover virtue.—BACON. +</pre> + <p> + It is somewhat remarkable that while Talbot was bequeathing to Clarence, + as the most valuable of legacies, the doctrines of a philosophy he had + acquired, perhaps too late to practise, Glendower was carrying those very + doctrines, so far as his limited sphere would allow, into the rule and + exercise of his life. + </p> + <p> + Since the death of the bookseller, which we have before recorded, + Glendower had been left utterly without resource. The others to whom he + applied were indisposed to avail themselves of an unknown ability. The + trade of bookmaking was not then as it is now, and if it had been, it + would not have suggested itself to the high-spirited and unworldly + student. Some publishers offered, it is true, a reward tempting enough for + an immoral tale; others spoke of the value of an attack upon the + Americans; one suggested an ode to the minister, and another hinted that a + pension might possibly be granted to one who would prove extortion not + tyranny. But these insinuations fell upon a dull ear, and the tribe of + Barabbas were astonished to find that an author could imagine interest and + principle not synonymous. + </p> + <p> + Struggling with want, which hourly grew more imperious and urgent; wasting + his life on studies which brought fever to his pulse and disappointment to + his ambition; gnawed to the very soul by the mortifications which his + poverty gave to his pride; and watching with tearless eyes, but a + maddening brain, the slender form of his wife, now waxing weaker and + fainter, as the canker of disease fastened upon the core of her young but + blighted life,—there was yet a high, though, alas! not constant + consolation within him, whenever, from the troubles of this dim spot his + thoughts could escape, like birds released from their cage, and lose + themselves in the lustre and freedom of their native heaven. + </p> + <p> + “If,” thought he, as he looked upon his secret and treasured + work, “if the wind scatter or the rock receive these seeds, they + were at least dispersed by a hand which asked no selfish return, and a + heart which would have lavished the harvest of its labours upon those who + know not the husbandman and trample his hopes into the dust.” + </p> + <p> + But by degrees this comfort of a noble and generous nature, these whispers + of a vanity rather to be termed holy than excusable, began to grow + unfrequent and low. The cravings of a more engrossing and heavy want than + those of the mind came eagerly and rapidly upon him; the fair cheek of his + infant became pinched and hollow; his wife conquered nature itself by + love, and starved herself in silence, and set bread before him with a + smile and bade him eat. + </p> + <p> + “But you,—you?” he would ask inquiringly, and then + pause. + </p> + <p> + “I have dined, dearest: I want nothing; eat, love, eat.” But + he ate not. The food robbed from her seemed to him more deadly than + poison; and he would rise, and dash his hand to his brow, and go forth + alone, with nature unsatisfied, to look upon this luxurious world and + learn content. + </p> + <p> + It was after such a scene that, one day, he wandered forth into the + streets, desperate and confused in mind, and fainting with hunger, and + half insane with fiery and wrong thoughts, which dashed over his barren + and gloomy soul, and desolated, but conquered not! It was evening: he + stood (for he had strode on so rapidly, at first, that his strength was + now exhausted, and he was forced to pause) leaning against the railed area + of a house in a lone and unfrequented street. No passenger shared this + dull and obscure thoroughfare. He stood, literally, in scene as in heart, + solitary amidst the great city, and wherever he looked, lo, there were + none! + </p> + <p> + “Two days,” said he, slowly and faintly, “two days, and + bread has only once passed my lips; and that was snatched from her,—from + those lips which I have fed with sweet and holy kisses, and whence my sole + comfort in this weary life has been drawn. And she,—ay, she starves,—and + my child too. They complain not; they murmur not: but they lift up their + eyes to me and ask for—Merciful God! Thou didst make man in + benevolence; Thou dost survey this world with a pitying and paternal eye: + save, comfort, cherish them, and crush me if Thou wilt!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a man darted suddenly from an obscure alley, and passed + Glendower at full speed; presently came a cry, and a shout, and a rapid + trampling of feet, and, in another moment, an eager and breathless crowd + rushed upon the solitude of the street. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” cried a hundred voices to Glendower,—“where,—which + road did the robber take?” But Glendower could not answer: his + nerves were unstrung, and his dizzy brain swam and reeled; and the faces + which peered upon him, and the voices which shrieked and yelled in his + ear, were to him as the forms and sounds of a ghastly and phantasmal + world. His head drooped upon his bosom; he clung to the area for support: + the crowd passed on; they were in pursuit of guilt; they were thirsting + after blood; they were going to fill the dungeon and feed the gibbet; what + to them was the virtue they could have supported, or the famine they could + have relieved? But they knew not his distress, nor the extent of his + weakness, or some would have tarried and aided: for there is, after all, + as much kindness as cruelty in our nature; perhaps they thought it was + only some intoxicated and maudlin idler; or, perhaps, in the heat of their + pursuit, they thought not at all. + </p> + <p> + So they rolled on, and their voices died away, and their steps were + hushed, and Glendower, insensible and cold as the iron he clung to, was + once more alone. Slowly he revived; he opened his dim and glazing eyes, + and saw the evening star break from its chamber, and, though sullied by + the thick and foggy air, scatter its holy smiles upon the polluted city. + </p> + <p> + He looked quietly on the still night, and its first watcher among the + hosts of heaven, and felt something of balm sink into his soul; not, + indeed, that vague and delicious calm which, in his boyhood of poesy and + romance, he had drunk in, by green solitudes, from the mellow twilight: + but a quiet, sad and sober, circling gradually over his mind, and bringing + it back from its confused and disordered visions and darkness to the + recollection and reality of his bitter life. + </p> + <p> + By degrees the scene he had so imperfectly witnessed, the fight of the + robber and the eager pursuit of the mob, grew over him: a dark and guilty + thought burst upon his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I am a man like that criminal,” said he, fiercely. “I + have nerves, sinews, muscles, flesh; I feel hunger, thirst, pain, as + acutely: why should I endure more than he can? Perhaps he had a wife, a + child, and he saw them starving inch by inch, and he felt that he ought to + be their protector; and so he sinned. And I—I—can I not sin + too for mine? can I not dare what the wild beast, and the vulture, and the + fierce hearts of my brethren dare for their mates and young? One gripe + from this hand, one cry from this voice, and my board might be heaped with + plenty, and my child fed, and she smile as she was wont to smile,—for + one night at least.” + </p> + <p> + And as these thoughts broke upon him, Glendower rose, and with a step + firm, even in weakness, he strode unconsciously onward. + </p> + <p> + A figure appeared; Glendower’s heart beat thick. He slouched his hat + over his brows, and for one moment wrestled with his pride and his stern + virtue: the virtue conquered, but not the pride; the virtue forbade him to + be the robber; the pride submitted to be the suppliant. He sprang forward, + extended his hands towards the stranger, and cried in a sharp voice, the + agony of which rang through the long dull street with a sudden and + echoless sound, “Charity! food!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger paused; one of the boldest of men in his own line, he was as + timid as a woman in any other. Mistaking the meaning of the petitioner, + and terrified by the vehemence of his gesture, he said, in a trembling + tone, as he hastily pulled out his purse,— + </p> + <p> + “There, there! do not hurt me; take it; take all!” Glendower + knew the voice, as a sound not unfamiliar to him; his pride returned in + full force. “None,” thought he, “who know me, shall know + my full degradation also.” And he turned away; but the stranger, + mistaking this motion, extended his hand to him, saying, “Take this, + my friend: you will have no need of violence!” and as he advanced + nearer to his supposed assailant, he beheld, by the pale lamplight, and + instantly recognized, his features. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried he, in astonishment, but with internal rejoicing, + “ah! is it you who are thus reduced?” + </p> + <p> + “You say right, Crauford,” said Glendower, sullenly, and + drawing himself up to his full height, “it is I: but you are + mistaken; I am a beggar, not a ruffian!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” answered Crauford; “how fortunate that + we should meet! Providence watches over us unceasingly! I have long sought + you in vain. But” (and here the wayward malignity, sometimes, though + not always, the characteristic of Crauford’s nature, irresistibly + broke out), “but that you, of all men, should suffer so,—you, + proud, susceptible, virtuous beyond human virtue,—you, whose fibres + are as acute as the naked eye,—that you should bear this and wince + not!” + </p> + <p> + “You do my humanity wrong!” said Glendower, with a bitter and + almost ghastly smile; “I do worse than wince!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, is it so?” said Crauford; “have you awakened at + last? Has your philosophy taken a more impassioned dye?” + </p> + <p> + “Mock me not!” cried Glendower; and his eye, usually soft in + its deep thoughtfulness, glared wild and savage upon the hypocrite, who + stood trembling, yet half sneering, at the storm he had raised; “my + passions are even now beyond my mastery; loose them not upon you!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Crauford, gently, “I meant not to vex or + wound you. I have sought you several times since the last night we met, + but in vain; you had left your lodgings, and none knew whither. I would + fain talk with you. I have a scheme to propose to you which will make you + rich forever,—rich,—literally rich! not merely above poverty, + but high in affluence!” + </p> + <p> + Glendower looked incredulously at the speaker, who continued,— + </p> + <p> + “The scheme has danger: that you can dare!” + </p> + <p> + Glendower was still silent; but his set and stern countenance was + sufficient reply. “Some sacrifice of your pride,” continued + Crauford: “that also you can bear?” and the tempter almost + grinned with pleasure as he asked the question. + </p> + <p> + “He who is poor,” said Glendower, speaking at last, “has + a right to pride. He who starves has it too; but he who sees those whom he + loves famish, and cannot aid, has it not!” + </p> + <p> + “Come home with me, then,” said Crauford; “you seem + faint and weak: nature craves food; come and partake of mine; we will then + talk over this scheme, and arrange its completion.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” answered Glendower, quietly. “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they starve at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” said Crauford, affected for a moment into + sincerity; “it is indeed fortunate that business should have led me + here: but meanwhile you will not refuse this trifle,—as a loan + merely. By and by our scheme will make you so rich that I must be the + borrower.” + </p> + <p> + Glendower did hesitate for a moment; he did swallow a bitter rising of the + heart: but he thought of those at home and the struggle was over. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” said he; “I thank you for their sake: the + time may come,”—and the proud gentleman stopped short, for his + desolate fortunes rose before him and forbade all hope of the future. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” cried Crauford, “the time may come when you will + repay me this money a hundredfold. But where do you live? You are silent. + Well, you will not inform me: I understand you. Meet me, then, here, on + this very spot, three nights hence: you will not fail?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not,” said Glendower; and pressing Crauford’s + hand with a generous and grateful warmth, which might have softened a + heart less obdurate, he turned away. + </p> + <p> + Folding his arms, while a bitter yet joyous expression crossed his + countenance, Crauford stood still, gazing upon the retreating form of the + noble and unfortunate man whom he had marked for destruction. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “this virtue is a fine thing, a very + fine thing to talk so loftily about. A little craving of the gastric + juices, a little pinching of this vile body, as your philosophers and + saints call our better part, and, lo! virtue oozes out like water through + a leaky vessel,—and the vessel sinks! No, no; virtue is a weak game, + and a poor game, and a losing game. Why, there is that man, the very pink + of integrity and rectitude, he is now only wanting temptation to fall; and + he will fall, in a fine phrase, too, I’ll be sworn! And then, having + once fallen, there will be no medium: he will become utterly corrupt; + while I, honest Dick Crauford, doing as other wise men do, cheat a trick + or two, in playing with fortune, without being a whit the worse for it. Do + I not subscribe to charities? am I not constant at church, ay, and meeting + to boot? kind to my servants, obliging to my friends, loyal to my king? + ‘Gad, if I were less loving to myself, I should have been far less + useful to my country! And now, now let me see what has brought me to these + filthy suburbs. Ah, Madame H——. Woman, incomparable woman! On, + Richard Crauford, thou hast made a good night’s work of it hitherto!—business + seasons pleasures!” and the villain upon system moved away. + </p> + <p> + Glendower hastened to his home; it was miserably changed, even from the + humble abode in which we last saw him. The unfortunate pair had chosen + their present residence from a melancholy refinement in luxury; they had + chosen it because none else shared it with them, and their famine and + pride and struggles and despair were without witness or pity. + </p> + <p> + With a heavy step Glendower entered the chamber where his wife sat. When + at a distance he had heard a faint moan, but as he had approached it + ceased; for she from whom it came knew his step, and hushed her grief and + pain that they might not add to his own. The peevishness, the querulous + and stinging irritations of want, came not to that affectionate and kindly + heart; nor could all those biting and bitter evils of fate which turn the + love that is born of luxury into rancour and gall scathe the beautiful and + holy passion which had knit into one those two unearthly natures. They + rather clung the closer to each other, as all things in heaven and earth + spoke in tempest or in gloom around them, and coined their sorrows into + endearment, and their looks into smiles, and strove each from the depth of + despair to pluck hope and comfort for the other. + </p> + <p> + This, it is true, was more striking and constant in her than in Glendower; + for in love, man, be he ever so generous, is always outdone. Yet even when + in moments of extreme passion and conflict the strife broke from his + breast into words, never once was his discontent vented upon her, nor his + reproaches lavished on any but fortune or himself, nor his murmurs mingled + with a single breath wounding to her tenderness or detracting from his + love. + </p> + <p> + He threw open the door; the wretched light cast its sickly beams over, the + squalid walls, foul with green damps, and the miserable yet clean bed, and + the fireless hearth, and the empty board, and the pale cheek of the wife, + as she rose and flung her arms round his neck, and murmured out her joy + and welcome. “There,” said he, as he extricated himself from + her, and flung the money upon the table, “there, love, pine no more, + feed yourself and our daughter, and then let us sleep and be happy in our + dreams.” + </p> + <p> + A writer, one of the most gifted of the present day, has told the narrator + of this history that no interest of a high nature can be given to extreme + poverty. I know not if this be true yet if I mistake not our human + feelings, there is nothing so exalted, or so divine, as a great and brave + spirit working out its end through every earthly obstacle and evil; + watching through the utter darkness, and steadily defying the phantoms + which crowd around it; wrestling with the mighty allurements, and + rejecting the fearful voice of that WANT which is the deadliest and surest + of human tempters; nursing through all calamity the love of species, and + the warmer and closer affections of private ties; sacrificing no duty, + resisting all sin; and amidst every horror and every humiliation, feeding + the still and bright light of that genius which, like the lamp of the + fabulist, though it may waste itself for years amidst the depths of + solitude, and the silence of the tomb, shall live and burn immortal and + undimmed, when all around it is rottenness and decay! + </p> + <p> + And yet I confess that it is a painful and bitter task to record the + humiliations, the wearing, petty, stinging humiliations, of Poverty; to + count the drops as they slowly fall, one by one, upon the fretted and + indignant heart; to particularize, with the scrupulous and nice hand of + indifference, the fractional and divided movements in the dial-plate of + Misery; to behold the refinement of birth, the masculine pride of blood, + the dignities of intellect, the wealth of knowledge, the delicacy, and + graces of womanhood,—all that ennoble and soften the stony mass of + commonplaces which is our life frittered into atoms, trampled into the + dust and mire of the meanest thoroughfares of distress; life and soul, the + energies and aims of man, ground into one prostrating want, cramped into + one levelling sympathy with the dregs and refuse of his kind, blistered + into a single galling and festering sore: this is, I own, a painful and a + bitter task; but it hath its redemption,—a pride even in debasement, + a pleasure even in woe,—and it is therefore that, while I have + abridged, I have not shunned it. There are some whom the lightning of + fortune blasts, only to render holy. Amidst all that humbles and scathes; + amidst all that shatters from their life its verdure, smites to the dust + the pomp and summit of their pride, and in the very heart of existence + writeth a sudden and “strange defeature,”—they stand + erect,—riven, not uprooted,—a monument less of pity than of + awe! There are some who pass through the Lazar-House of Misery with a step + more august than a Caesar’s in his hall. The very things which, seen + alone, are despicable and vile, associated with them become almost + venerable and divine; and one ray, however dim and feeble, of that intense + holiness which, in the INFANT GOD, shed majesty over the manger and the + straw, not denied to those who in the depth of affliction cherish His + patient image, flings over the meanest localities of earth an emanation + from the glory of Heaven! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Letters from divers hands, which will absolve + Ourselves from long narration.—Tanner of Tyburn. +</pre> + <p> + One morning about a fortnight after Talbot’s death, Clarence was + sitting alone, thoughtful and melancholy, when the three following letters + were put into his hand: + </p> + <p> + LETTER I. FROM THE DUKE OF HAVERFIELD. + </p> + <p> + Let me, my dear Linden, be the first to congratulate you upon your + accession of fortune: five thousand a year, Scarsdale, and 80,000 in the + Funds, are very pretty foes to starvation! Ah, my dear fellow, if you had + but shot that frosty Caucasus of humanity, that pillar of the state, made + not to bend, that—but you know already whom I mean, and so I will + spare you more of my lamentable metaphors: had you shot Lord Borodaile, + your happiness would now be complete! Everybody talks of your luck. La + Meronville tending on you with her white hands, the prettiest hands in the + world: who would not be wounded even by Lord Borodaile, for such a nurse? + And then Talbot’s—yet, I will not speak of that, for you are + very unlike the present generation; and who knows but you may have some + gratitude, some affection, some natural feeling in you? I had once; but + that was before I went to France: those Parisians, with their fine + sentiments, and witty philosophy, play the devil with one’s good + old-fashioned feelings. So Lord Aspeden is to have an Italian ministry. By + the by, shall you go with him, or will you not rather stay at home, and + enjoy your new fortunes,—hunt, race, dine out, dance, vote in the + House of Commons, and, in short, do all that an Englishman and a gentleman + should do? Ornamento e splendor del secolo nostro. Write me a line + whenever you have nothing better to do. + </p> + <p> + And believe me, Most truly yours, HAVERFIELD. + </p> + <p> + Will you sell your black mare, or will you buy my brown one? Utrum horum + mavis accipe, the only piece of Latin I remember. + </p> + <p> + LETTER FROM LORD ASPEDEN. + </p> + <p> + My Dear Linden,—Suffer me to enter most fully into your feeling. + Death, my friend, is common to all: we must submit to its dispensations. I + heard accidentally of the great fortune left you by Mr. Talbot (your + father, I suppose I may venture to call him). Indeed, though there is a + silly prejudice against illegitimacy, yet as our immortal bard says,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Wherefore base? + When thy dimensions are as well compact, + Thy mind as generous and thy shape as true + As honest madam’s issue!” + </pre> + <p> + For my part, my dear Linden, I say, on your behalf, that it is very likely + that you are a natural son, for such are always the luckiest and the best. + </p> + <p> + You have probably heard of the honour his Majesty has conferred on me, in + appointing to my administration the city of ——. As the choice + of a secretary has been left to me, I need not say how happy I shall be to + keep my promise to you. Indeed, as I told Lord —— yesterday + morning, I do not know anywhere a young man who has more talent, or who + plays better on the flute. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dear young friend, and believe me, Very truly yours, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ASPEDEN. +</pre> + <p> + LETTER FROM MADAME DE LA MERONVILLE. (Translated.) + </p> + <p> + You have done me wrong,—great wrong. I loved you,—I waited on + you, tended you, nursed you, gave all up for you; and you forsook me,—forsook + me without a word. True, that you have been engaged in a melancholy duty, + but, at least, you had time to write a line, to cast a thought, to one who + had shown for you the love that I have done. But we will pass over all + this: I will not reproach you; it is beneath me. The vicious upbraid: the + virtuous forgive! I have for several days left your house. I should never + have come to it, had you not been wounded, and, as I fondly imagined, for + my sake. Return when you will, I shall no longer be there to persecute and + torment you. + </p> + <p> + Pardon this letter. I have said too much for myself,—a hundred times + too much to you; but I shall not sin again. This intrusion is my last. + CECILE DE LA MERONVILLE. + </p> + <p> + These letters will probably suffice to clear up that part of Clarence’s + history which had not hitherto been touched upon; they will show that + Talbot’s will (after several legacies to his old servants, his + nearest connections, and two charitable institutions, which he had + founded, and for some years supported) had bequeathed the bulk of his + property to Clarence. The words in which the bequest was made were kind, + and somewhat remarkable. “To my relation and friend, commonly known + by the name of Clarence Linden, to whom I am bound alike by blood and + affection,” etc. These expressions, joined to the magnitude of the + bequest, the apparently unaccountable attachment of the old man to his + heir, and the mystery which wrapped the origin of the latter, all + concurred to give rise to an opinion, easily received, and soon + universally accredited, that Clarence was a natural son of the deceased; + and so strong in England is the aristocratic aversion to an unknown + lineage, that this belief, unflattering as it was, procured for Linden a + much higher consideration, on the score of birth, than he might otherwise + have enjoyed. Furthermore will the above correspondence testify the + general eclat of Madame la Meronville’s attachment, and the + construction naturally put upon it. Nor do we see much left for us to + explain, with regard to the Frenchwoman herself, which cannot equally well + be gleaned by any judicious and intelligent reader, from the epistle last + honoured by his perusal. Clarence’s sense of gallantry did, indeed, + smite him severely, for his negligence and ill requital to one who, + whatever her faults or follies, had at least done nothing with which he + had a right to reproach her. It must however, be considered in his defence + that the fatal event which had so lately occurred, the relapse which + Clarence had suffered in consequence, and the melancholy confusion and + bustle in which the last week or ten days had been passed, were quite + sufficient to banish her from his remembrance. Still she was a woman, and + had loved, or seemed to love; and Clarence, as he wrote to her a long, + kind, and almost brotherly letter, in return for her own, felt that, in + giving pain to another, one often suffers almost as much for avoiding as + for committing a sin. + </p> + <p> + We have said his letter was kind; it was also frank, and yet prudent. In + it he said that he had long loved another, which love alone could have + rendered him insensible to her attachment; that he, nevertheless, should + always recall her memory with equal interest and admiration; and then, + with a tact of flattery which the nature of the correspondence and the sex + of the person addressed rendered excusable, he endeavoured, as far as he + was able, to soothe and please the vanity which the candour of his avowal + was calculated to wound. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished this letter he despatched another to Lord Aspeden, + claiming a reprieve of some days before he answered the proposal of the + diplomatist. After these epistolary efforts, he summoned his valet, and + told him, apparently in a careless tone, to find out if Lady Westborough + was still in town. Then throwing himself on the couch, he wrestled with + the grief and melancholy which the death of a friend, and more than a + father, might well cause in a mind less susceptible than his, and counted + the dull hours crawl onward till his servant returned. Lady Westborough + and all the family had been gone a week to their seat in ——. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” thought Clarence, “had he been alive, I could + have intrusted my cause to a mediator; as it is, I will plead, or rather + assert it, myself. Harrison,” said he aloud, “see that my + black mare is ready by sunrise to-morrow: I shall leave town for some + days.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in your present state of health, sir, surely?” said + Harrison, with the license of one who had been a nurse. + </p> + <p> + “My health requires it: no more words, my good Harrison, see that I + am obeyed.” And Harrison, shaking his head doubtfully, left the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Rich, independent, free to aspire to the heights which in England + are only accessible to those who join wealth to ambition, I have at least,” + said Clarence, proudly, “no unworthy pretensions even to the hand of + Lady Flora Ardenne. If she can love me for myself, if she can trust to my + honour, rely on my love, feel proud in my pride, and aspiring in my + ambition, then, indeed, this wealth will be welcome to me, and the + disguised name which has cost me so many mortifications become grateful, + since she will not disdain to share it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A little druid wight + Of withered aspect; but his eye was keen + With sweetness mixed,—a russet brown bedight. + THOMSON: Castle of Indolence. + + Thus holding high discourse, they came to where + The cursed carle was at his wonted trade, + Still tempting heedless men into his snare, + In witching wise, as I before have said.—Ibid. +</pre> + <p> + It was a fine, joyous summer morning when Clarence set out, alone and on + horseback, upon his enterprise of love and adventure. If there be anything + on earth more reviving and inspiriting than another, it is, to my taste, a + bright day,—a free horse, a journey of excitement before one, and + loneliness! Rousseau—in his own way, a great though rather a morbid + epicure of this world’s enjoyments—talks with rapture of his + pedestrian rambles when in his first youth. But what are your + foot-ploddings to the joy which lifts you into air with the bound of your + mettled steed? + </p> + <p> + But there are times when an iron and stern sadness locks, as it were, + within itself our capacities of enjoyment; and the song of the birds, and + the green freshness of the summer morning, and the glad motion of the + eager horse, brought neither relief nor change to the musings of the young + adventurer. + </p> + <p> + He rode on for several miles without noticing anything on his road, and + only now and then testifying the nature of his thoughts and his + consciousness of solitude by brief and abrupt exclamations and sentences, + which proclaimed the melancholy yet exciting subjects of his meditations. + During the heat of the noon, he rested at a small public-house about + —— miles from town; and resolving to take his horse at least + ten miles farther before his day’s journey ceased, he remounted + towards the evening and slowly resumed his way. + </p> + <p> + He was now entering the same county in which he first made his appearance + in this history. Although several miles from the spot on which the + memorable night with the gypsies had been passed, his thoughts reverted to + its remembrance, and he sighed as he recalled the ardent hopes which then + fed and animated his heart. While thus musing, he heard the sound of hoofs + behind him, and presently came by a sober-looking man, on a rough, strong + pony, laden (besides its master’s weight) with saddle-bags of + uncommon size, and to all appearance substantially and artfully filled. + </p> + <p> + Clarence looked, and, after a second survey, recognized the person of his + old acquaintance, Mr. Morris Brown. + </p> + <p> + Not equally reminiscent was the worshipful itinerant, who, in the great + variety of forms and faces which it was his professional lot to encounter, + could not be expected to preserve a very nice or distinguishing + recollection of each. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, sir, your servant,” said Mr. Brown, as he rode + his pony alongside of our traveller. “Are you going as far as W—— + this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know yet,” answered Clarence; “the length of + my ride depends upon my horse rather than myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, very well,” said Mr. Brown; “but you will + allow me, perhaps, sir, the honour of riding with you as far as you go.” + </p> + <p> + “You give me much gratification by your proposal, Mr. Brown!” + said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + The broker looked in surprise at his companion. “So you know me, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Clarence. “I am surprised that you have + forgotten me.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly Mr. Brown gazed, till at last his memory began to give itself the + rousing shake. “God bless me, sir, I beg you a thousand pardons: I + now remember you perfectly; Mr. Linden, the nephew of my old patroness, + Mrs. Minden. Dear, dear, how could I be so forgetful! I hope, by the by, + sir, that the shirts wore well? I am thinking you will want some more. I + have some capital cambric of curiously fine quality and texture, from the + wardrobe of the late Lady Waddilove.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Lady Waddilove still!” cried Clarence. “Why, my + good friend, you will offer next to furnish me with pantaloons from her + ladyship’s wardrobe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, really, sir, I see you preserve your fine spirits; but I do + think I have one or two pair of plum-coloured velvet inexpressibles, that + passed into my possession when her ladyship’s husband died, which + might, perhaps, with a leetle alteration, fit you, and, at all events, + would be a very elegant present from a gentleman to his valet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Brown, whenever I or my valet wear plum-coloured velvet + breeches, I will certainly purchase those in your possession; but to + change the subject, can you inform me what has become of my old host and + hostess, the Copperases, of Copperas Bower?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, they are the same as ever; nice, genteel people they are, + too. Master Adolphus has grown into a fine young gentleman, very nearly as + tall as you and I are. His worthy father preserves his jovial vein, and is + very merry whenever I call there. Indeed it was but last week that he made + an admirable witticism. ‘Bob,’ said he (Tom,—you + remember Tom, or De Warens, as Mrs. Copperas was pleased to call him,—Tom + is gone), ‘Bob, have you stopped the coach?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ + said Bob. ‘And what coach is it?’ asked Mr. Copperas. ‘It + be the Swallow, sir,’ said the boy. ‘The Swallow! oh, very + well,’ cried Mr. Copperas; ‘then, now, having swallowed in the + roll, I will e’en roll in the swallow! ‘Ha! ha! ha! sir, very + facetious, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, indeed,” said Clarence; “and so Mr. de Warens has + gone; how came that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, you see, the boy was always of a gay turn, and he took to + frisking about, as he called it, of a night, and so he was taken up for + thrashing a watchman, and appeared before Sir John, the magistrate, the + next morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Caractacus before Caesar!” observed Linden; “and what + said Caesar?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” said Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, what said Sir John?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he asked him his name, and Tom, whose head Mrs. Copperas (poor + good woman!) had crammed with pride enough for fifty foot-boys, replied, + ‘De Warens,’ with all the air of a man of independence. + ‘De Warens!’ cried Sir John, amazed, ‘we’ll have + no De’s here: take him to Bridewell!’ and so, Mrs. Copperas, + being without a foot-boy, sent for me, and I supplied her—with Bob!” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the late Lady Waddilove’s wardrobe too?” said + Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! that’s well, very well, sir. No, not exactly; but he + was a son of her late ladyship’s coachman. Mr. Copperas has had two + other servants of the name of Bob before, but this is the biggest of all, + so he humorously calls him ‘Triple Bob Major!’ You observe + that road to the right, sir: it leads to the mansion of an old customer of + mine, General Cornelius St. Leger; many a good bargain have I sold to his + sister. Heaven rest her! when she died I lost a good friend, though she + was a little hot or so, to be sure. But she had a relation, a young lady; + such a lovely, noble-looking creature: it did one’s heart, ay, and + one’s eyes also, good to look at her; and she’s gone too; + well, well, one loses one’s customers sadly; it makes me feel old + and comfortless to think of it. Now, yonder, as far as you can see among + those distant woods, lived another friend of mine, to whom I offered to + make some very valuable presents upon his marriage with the young lady I + spoke of just now, but, poor gentleman, he had not time to accept them; he + lost his property by a lawsuit, a few months after he was married, and a + very different person now has Mordaunt Court.” + </p> + <p> + “Mordaunt Court!” cried Clarence; “do you mean to say + that Mr. Mordaunt has lost that property?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, one Mr. Mordaunt has lost it, and another has gained it: + but the real Mr. Mordaunt has not an acre in this county or elsewhere, I + fear, poor gentleman. He is universally regretted, for he was very good + and very generous, though they say he was also mighty proud and reserved; + but for my part I never perceived it. If one is not proud one’s + self, Mr. Linden, one is very little apt to be hurt by pride in other + people.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is Mr. Algernon Mordaunt?” asked Clarence, as he + recalled his interview with that person, and the interest with which + Algernon then inspired him. + </p> + <p> + “That, sir, is more than any of us can say. He has disappeared + altogether. Some declare that he has gone abroad, others that he is living + in Wales in the greatest poverty. However, wherever he is, I am sure that + he cannot be rich; for the lawsuit quite ruined him, and the young lady he + married had not a farthing.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mordaunt!” said Clarence, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, that the squire would not be best pleased if he heard + you pity him. I don’t know why, but he certainly looked, walked, and + moved like one whom you felt it very hard to pity. But I am thinking that + it is a great shame that the general should not do anything for Mr. + Mordaunt’s wife, for she was his own flesh and blood; and I am sure + he had no cause to be angry at her marrying a gentleman of such old family + as Mr. Mordaunt. I am a great stickler for birth, sir; I learned that from + the late Lady W. ‘Brown,’ she said, and I shall never forget + her ladyship’s air when she did say it, ‘Brown, respect your + superiors, and never fall into the hands of the republicans and atheists’!” + </p> + <p> + “And why,” said Clarence, who was much interested in Mordaunt’s + fate, “did General St. Leger withhold his consent?” + </p> + <p> + “That we don’t exactly know, sir; but some say that Mr. + Mordaunt was very high and proud with the general, and the general was to + the full as fond of his purse as Mr. Mordaunt could be of his pedigree; + and so, I suppose, one pride clashed against the other, and made a quarrel + between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Would not the general, then, relent after the marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, sir; for it was a runaway affair. Miss Diana St. Leger, his + sister, was as hot as ginger upon it, and fretted and worried the poor + general, who was never of the mildest, about the match, till at last he + forbade the poor young lady’s very name to be mentioned. And when + Miss Diana died about two years ago, he suddenly introduced a tawny sort + of cretur, whom they call a mulatto or creole, or some such thing, into + the house; and it seems that he has had several children by her, whom he + never durst own during Miss Diana’s life, but whom he now declares + to be his heirs. Well, they rule him with a rod of iron, and suck him as + dry as an orange. They are a bad, griping set, all of them; and, I am + sure, I don’t say so from any selfish feeling, Mr. Linden, though + they have forbid me the house, and called me, to my very face, an old + cheating Jew. Think of that, sir!—I, whom the late Lady W. in her + exceeding friendship used to call ‘honest Brown,’—I whom + your worthy—” + </p> + <p> + “And who,” uncourteously interrupted Clarence, “has + Mordaunt Court now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, a distant relation of the last squire’s, an elderly + gentleman who calls himself Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt. I am going there + to-morrow morning, for I still keep up a connection with the family. + Indeed the old gentleman bought a lovely little ape of me, which I did + intend as a present to the late (as I may call him) Mr. Mordaunt; so, + though I will not say I exactly like him,—he is a hard hand at a + bargain,—yet at least I will not deny him his due.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a person is he? What character does he bear?” + asked Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “I really find it hard to answer that question,” said the + gossiping Mr. Brown. “In great things he is very lavish and + ostentatious, but in small things he is very penurious and saving, and + miser-like; and all for one son, who is deformed and very sickly. He seems + to dote on that boy; and now I have got two or three little presents in + these bags for Mr. Henry. Heaven forgive me, but when I look at the poor + creature, with his face all drawn up, and his sour, ill-tempered voice, + and his limbs crippled, I almost think it would be better if he were in + his grave, and the rightful Mr. Mordaunt, who would then be the next of + kin, in his place.” + </p> + <p> + “So then, there is only this unhappy cripple between Mr. Mordaunt + and the property?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so, sir. But will you let me ask where you shall put up at + W——? I will wait upon you, if you will give me leave, with + some very curious and valuable articles, highly desirable either for + yourself or for little presents to your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” said Clarence, “I shall make no stay at W——, + but I shall be glad to see you in town next week. Favour me, meanwhile, by + accepting this trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, sir,” said Mr. Brown, pocketing the money, “I + really cannot accept this; anything in the way of exchange,—a ring, + or a seal, or—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not at present,” said Clarence; “the night is + coming on, and I shall make the best of my way. Good-by, Mr. Brown;” + and Clarence trotted off: but he had scarce got sixty yards before he + heard the itinerant merchant cry out, “Mr. Linden, Mr. Linden!” + and looking back, he beheld the honest Brown putting his shaggy pony at + full speed, in order to overtake him; so he pulled up. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Brown, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, sir, you gave me no exact answer about the + plum-colored velvet inexpressibles,” said Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Are we contemned?—The Double Marriage. +</pre> + <p> + It was dusk when Clarence arrived at the very same inn at which, more than + five years ago, he had assumed his present name. As he recalled the note + addressed to him, and the sum (his whole fortune) which it contained, he + could not help smiling at the change his lot had since then undergone; but + the smile soon withered when he thought of the kind and paternal hand from + which that change had proceeded, and knew that his gratitude was no longer + availing, and that that hand, in pouring its last favours upon him, had + become cold. He was ushered into No. 4, and left to his meditations till + bed-time. + </p> + <p> + The next day he recommenced his journey. Westborough Park, was, though in + another county, within a short ride of W——; but, as he + approached it, the character of the scenery became essentially changed. + Bare, bold, and meagre, the features of the country bore somewhat of a + Scottish character. On the right side of the road was a precipitous and + perilous descent, and some workmen were placing posts along a path for + foot-passengers on that side nearest the carriage-road, probably with a + view to preserve unwary coachmen or equestrians from the dangerous + vicinity of the descent, which a dark night might cause them to incur. As + Clarence looked idly on the workmen, and painfully on the crumbling and + fearful descent I have described, he little thought that that spot would, + a few years after, become the scene of a catastrophe affecting in the most + powerful degree the interests of his future life. Our young traveller put + up his horse at a small inn, bearing the Westborough arms, and situated at + a short distance from the park gates. Now that he was so near his mistress—now + that less than an hour, nay, than the fourth part of an hour, might place + him before her, and decide his fate—his heart, which had hitherto + sustained him, grew faint, and presented, first fear, then anxiety, and, + at last, despondency to his imagination and forebodings. + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” said he, “I will see her alone before I + will confer with her artful and proud mother or her cipher of a father. I + will then tell her all my history, and open to her all my secrets: I will + only conceal from her my present fortunes; for even if rumour should have + informed her of them, it will be easy to give the report no sanction; I + have a right to that trial. When she is convinced that, at least, neither + my birth nor character can disgrace her, I shall see if her love can + enable her to overlook my supposed poverty and to share my uncertain lot. + If so, there will be some triumph in undeceiving her error and rewarding + her generosity; if not, I shall be saved from involving my happiness with + that of one who looks only to my worldly possessions. I owe it to her, it + is true, to show her that I am no low-born pretender: but I owe it also to + myself to ascertain if my own individual qualities are sufficient to gain + her hand.” + </p> + <p> + Fraught with these ideas, which were natural enough to a man whose + peculiar circumstances were well calculated to make him feel rather soured + and suspicious, and whose pride had been severely wounded by the contempt + with which his letter had been treated, Clarence walked into the park, + and, hovering around the house, watched and waited that opportunity of + addressing Lady Flora, which he trusted her habits of walking would afford + him; but hours rolled away, the evening set in, and Lady Flora had not + once quitted the house. + </p> + <p> + More disappointed and sick at heart than he liked to confess, Clarence + returned to his inn, took his solitary meal, and strolling once more into + the park, watched beneath the windows till midnight, endeavouring to guess + which were the casements of her apartments, and feeling his heart beat + high at every light which flashed forth and disappeared, and every form + which flitted across the windows of the great staircase. Little did Lady + Flora, as she sat in her room alone, and, in tears, mused over Clarence’s + fancied worthlessness and infidelity, and told her heart again and again + that she loved no more,—little did she know whose eye kept vigils + without, or whose feet brushed away the rank dews beneath her windows, or + whose thoughts, though not altogether unmingled with reproach, were + riveted with all the ardour of a young and first love upon her. + </p> + <p> + It was unfortunate for Linden that he had no opportunity of personally + pleading his suit; his altered form and faded countenance would at least + have insured a hearing and an interest for his honest though somewhat + haughty sincerity: but though that day, and the next, and the next, were + passed in the most anxious and unremitting vigilance, Clarence only once + caught a glimpse of Lady Flora, and then she was one amidst a large party; + and Clarence, fearful of a premature and untimely discovery, was forced to + retire into the thicknesses of the park, and lose the solitary reward of + his watches almost as soon as he had won it. + </p> + <p> + Wearied and racked by his suspense, and despairing of obtaining any + favourable opportunity for an interview without such a request, Clarence + at last resolved to write to Lady Flora, entreating her assent to a + meeting, in which he pledged himself to clear up all that had hitherto + seemed doubtful in his conduct or mysterious in his character. Though + respectful, urgent, and bearing the impress of truth and feeling, the tone + of the letter was certainly that of a man who conceived he had a right to + a little resentment for the past and a little confidence for the future. + It was what might well be written by one who imagined his affection had + once been returned, but would as certainly have been deemed very + presumptuous by a lady who thought that the affection itself was a + liberty. + </p> + <p> + Having penned this epistle, the next care was how to convey it. After much + deliberation it was at last committed to the care of a little girl, the + daughter of the lodge-keeper, whom Lady Flora thrice a week personally + instructed in the mysteries of spelling, reading, and calligraphy. With + many injunctions to deliver the letter only to the hands of the beautiful + teacher, Clarence trusted his despatches to the little scholar, and, with + a trembling frame and wistful eye, watched Susan take her road, with her + green satchel and her shining cheeks, to the great house. + </p> + <p> + One hour, two hours, three hours, passed, and the messenger had not + returned. Restless and impatient, Clarence walked back to his inn, and had + not been there many minutes before a servant, in the Westborough livery, + appeared at the door of the humble hostelry, and left the following letter + for his perusal and gratification:— + </p> + <p> + WESTBOROUGH PASS. + </p> + <p> + Sir,—The letter intended for my daughter has just been given to me + by Lady Westborough. I know not what gave rise to the language, or the + very extraordinary request for a clandestine meeting, which you have + thought proper to address to Lady Flora Ardenne; but you will allow me to + observe that, if you intend to confer upon my daughter the honour of a + matrimonial proposal, she fully concurs with me and her mother in the + negative which I feel necessitated to put upon your obliging offer. + </p> + <p> + I need not add that all correspondence with my daughter must close here. I + have the honour to be, sir, + </p> + <p> + Your very obedient servant, WESTBOROUGH. + </p> + <p> + TO CLARENCE LINDEN, Esq. + </p> + <p> + Had Clarence’s blood been turned to fire, his veins could not have + swelled and burned with a fiercer heat than they did, as he read the above + letter,—a masterpiece, perhaps, in the line of what may be termed + the “d—d civil” of epistolary favours. “Insufferable + arrogance!” he muttered within his teeth. “I will live to + repay it. Perfidious, unfeeling woman: what an escape I have had of her! + Now, now, I am on the world, and alone, thank Heaven. I will accept + Aspeden’s offer, and leave this country; when I return, it shall not + be as a humble suitor to Lady Flora Ardenne. Pish! how the name sickens + me: but come, I have a father; at least a nominal one. He is old and weak, + and may die before I return. I will see him once more, and then, hey for + Italy! Oh! I am so happy,—so happy at my freedom and escape. What, + ho! waiter! my horse instantly!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lucr.—What has thy father done? + Beat.—What have I done? Am I not innocent?—The Cenci. +</pre> + <p> + Tam twilight was darkening slowly over a room of noble dimensions and + costly fashion. Although it was the height of summer, a low fire burned in + the grate; and, stretching his hands over the feeble flame, an old man of + about sixty sat in an armchair curiously carved with armorial bearings. + The dim yet fitful flame cast its upward light upon a countenance, stern, + haughty, and repellent, where the passions of youth and manhood had dug + themselves graves in many an iron line and deep furrow: the forehead, + though high, was narrow and compressed; the brows sullenly overhung the + eyes; and the nose, which was singularly prominent and decided, age had + sharpened, and brought out, as it were, till it gave a stubborn and very + forbidding expression to the more sunken features over which it rose with + exaggerated dignity. Two bottles of wine, a few dried preserves, and a + water glass, richly chased, and ornamented with gold, showed that the + inmate of the apartment had passed the hour of the principal repast, and + his loneliness at a time usually social seemed to indicate that few olive + branches were accustomed to overshadow his table. + </p> + <p> + The windows of the dining-room reached to the ground, and without the + closing light just enabled one to see a thick copse of wood, which, at a + very brief interval of turf, darkened immediately opposite the house. + While the old man was thus bending over the fire and conning his evening + contemplations, a figure stole from the copse I have mentioned, and, + approaching the window, looked pryingly into the apartment; then with a + noiseless hand it opened the spring of the casement, which was framed on a + peculiar and old-fashioned construction, that required a practised and + familiar touch, entered the apartment, and crept on, silent and + unperceived by the inhabitant of the room, till it paused and stood + motionless, with folded arms, scarce three steps behind the high back of + the old man’s chair. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the latter moved from his position, and slowly rose; the + abruptness with which he turned, brought the dark figure of the intruder + full and suddenly before him: he started back, and cried in an alarmed + tone, “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger made no reply. + </p> + <p> + The old man, in a voice in which anger and pride mingled with fear, + repeated the question. The figure advanced, dropped the cloak in which it + was wrapped, and presenting the features of Clarence Linden, said, in a + low but clear tone,— + </p> + <p> + “Your son.” + </p> + <p> + The old man dropped his hold of the bell-rope, which he had just before + seized, and leaned as if for support against the oak wainscot; Clarence + approached. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said he, mournfully, “your unfortunate, your + offending, but your guiltless son. More than five years I have been + banished from your house; I have been thrown, while yet a boy, without + friends, without guidance, without name, upon the wide world, and to the + mercy of chance. I come now to you as a man, claiming no assistance, and + uttering no reproach, but to tell you that him whom an earthly father + rejected God has preserved; that without one unworthy or debasing act I + have won for myself the friends who support and the wealth which dignifies + life,—since it renders it independent. Through all the disadvantages + I have struggled against I have preserved unimpaired my honour, and + unsullied my conscience; you have disowned, but you might have claimed me + without shame. Father, these hands are clean!” + </p> + <p> + A strong and evident emotion shook the old man’s frame. He raised + himself to his full height, which was still tall and commanding, and in a + voice, the natural harshness of which was rendered yet more repellent by + passion, replied, “Boy! your presumption is insufferable. What to me + is your wretched fate? Go, go, go to your miserable mother: find her out; + claim kindred there; live together, toil together, rot together, but come + not to me! disgrace to my house, ask not admittance to my affections; the + law may give you my name, but sooner would I be torn piecemeal than own + your right to it. If you want money, name the sum, take it: cut up my + fortune to shreds, seize my property, revel on it; but come not here. This + house is sacred; pollute it not: I disown you; I discard you; I,—ay, + I detest,—I loathe you!” + </p> + <p> + And with these words, which came forth as if heaved from the inmost heart + of the speaker, who shook with the fury he endeavoured to stifle, he fell + back into his chair, and fixed his eyes, which glared fearfully through + the increasing darkness upon Linden, who stood high, erect, and + sorrowfully before him. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my lord!” said Clarence, with mournful bitterness, + “have not the years which have seared your form and whitened your + locks brought some meekness to your rancour, some mercy to your injustice, + for one whose only crime against you seems to have been his birth. But I + said I came not to reproach, nor do I. Many a bitter hour, many a pang of + shame and mortification and misery, which have made scars in my heart that + will never wear away, my wrongs have cost me; but let them pass. Let them + not swell your future and last account whenever it be required. I am about + to leave this country, with a heavy and foreboding heart; we may never + meet again on earth. I have no longer any wish, any chance, of resuming + the name you have deprived me of. I shall never thrust myself on your + relationship or cross your view. Lavish your wealth upon him whom you have + placed so immeasurably above me in your affections. But I have not + deserved your curse, Father; give me your blessing, and let me depart in + peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace! and what peace have I had? what respite from gnawing shame, + the foulness and leprosy of humiliation and reproach, since—since—? + But this is not your fault, you say: no, no,—it is another’s; + and you are only the mark of my stigma; my disgrace, not its perpetrator. + Ha! a nice distinction, truly. My blessing you say! Come, kneel; kneel, + boy, and have it!” + </p> + <p> + Clarence approached, and stood bending and bareheaded before his father, + but he knelt not. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not kneel?” cried the old man, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “It is the attitude of the injurer, not of the injured!” said + Clarence, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Injured! insolent reprobate, is it not I who am injured? Do you not + read it in my brow,—here, here?” and the old man struck his + clenched hand violently against his temples. “Was I not injured?” + he continued, sinking his voice into a key unnaturally low; “did I + not trust implicitly? did I not give up my heart without suspicion? was I + not duped deliciously? was I not kind enough, blind enough, fool enough + and was I not betrayed,—damnably, filthily betrayed? But that was no + injury. Was not my old age turned into a sapless tree, a poisoned spring? + Were not my days made a curse to me, and my nights a torture? Was I not, + am I not, a mock and a by-word, and a miserable, impotent, unavenged old + man? Injured! But this is no injury! Boy, boy, what are your wrongs to + mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” cried Clarence, deprecatingly, “I am not the + cause of your wrongs: is it just that the innocent should suffer for the + guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak not in that voice!” cried the old man, “that + voice!—fie, fie on it. Hence! away! away, boy! why tarry you? My + son! and have that voice? Pooh, you are not my son. Ha! ha!—my son?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I, then?” said Clarence, soothingly: for he was + shocked and grieved, rather than irritated by a wrath which partook so + strongly of insanity. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” cried the father, “I will tell you + what you are: you are my curse!” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell!” said Clarence, much agitated, and retiring to the + window by which he had entered; “may your heart never smite you for + your cruelty! Farewell! may the blessing you have withheld from me be with + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stay!” cried the father; for his fury was checked for + one moment, and his nature, fierce as it was, relented: but Clarence was + already gone, and the miserable old man was left alone to darkness, and + solitude, and the passions which can make a hell of the human heart! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sed quae praeclara et prospera tanti, + Ut rebus laetis par sit mensura malornm?—JUVENAL. + + [“But what excellence or prosperity so great that there should be + an equal measure of evils for our joys?”] +</pre> + <p> + We are now transported to a father and a son of a very different stamp. + </p> + <p> + It was about the hour of one p.m., when the door of Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt’s + study was thrown open, and the servant announced Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, sir; your servant, Mr. Henry,” said the + itinerant, bowing low to the two gentlemen thus addressed. The former, Mr. + Vavasour Mordaunt, might be about the same age as Linden’s father. A + shrewd, sensible, ambitious man of the world, he had made his way from the + state of a younger brother, with no fortune and very little interest, to + considerable wealth, besides the property he had acquired by law, and to a + degree of consideration for general influence and personal ability, which, + considering he had no official or parliamentary rank, very few of his + equals enjoyed. Persevering, steady, crafty, and possessing, to an eminent + degree, that happy art of “canting” which opens the readiest + way to character and consequence, the rise and reputation of Mr. Vavasour + Mordaunt appeared less to be wondered at than envied; yet, even envy was + only for those who could not look beyond the surface of things. He was at + heart an anxious and unhappy man. The evil we do in the world is often + paid back in the bosom of home. Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt was, like Crauford, + what might be termed a mistaken utilitarian: he had lived utterly and + invariably for self; but instead of uniting self-interest with the + interest of others, he considered them as perfectly incompatible ends. But + character was among the greatest of all objects to him; so that, though he + had rarely deviated into what might fairly be termed a virtue, he had + never transgressed what might rigidly be called a propriety. He had not + the aptitude, the wit, the moral audacity of Crauford: he could not have + indulged in one offence with impunity, by a mingled courage and hypocrisy + in veiling others; he was the slave of the forms which Crauford subjugated + to himself. He was only so far resembling Crauford as one man of the world + resembles another in selfishness and dissimulation: he could be dishonest, + not villanous,—much less a villain upon system. He was a canter, + Crauford a hypocrite: his uttered opinions were, like Crauford’s, + different from his conduct; but he believed the truth of the former even + while sinning in the latter; he canted so sincerely that the tears came + into his eyes when he spoke. Never was there a man more exemplary in + words: people who departed from him went away impressed with the idea of + an excess of honour, a plethora of conscience. “It was almost a + pity,” said they, “that Mr. Vavasour was so romantic;” + and thereupon they named him as executor to their wills and guardian to + their sons. None but he could, in carrying the lawsuit against Mordaunt, + have lost nothing in reputation by success. But there was something so + specious, so ostensibly fair in his manner and words, while he was ruining + Mordaunt, that it was impossible not to suppose he was actuated by the + purest motives, the most holy desire for justice; not for himself, he + said, for he was old, and already rich enough, but for his son! From that + son came the punishment of all his offences,—the black drop at the + bottom of a bowl seemingly so sparkling. To him, as the father grew old + and desirous of quiet, Vavasour had transferred all his selfishness, as if + to a securer and more durable firm. The child, when young, had been + singularly handsome and intelligent; and Vavasour, as he toiled and toiled + at his ingenious and graceful cheateries, pleased himself with + anticipating the importance and advantages the heir to his labours would + enjoy. For that son he certainly had persevered more arduously than + otherwise he might have done in the lawsuit, of the justice of which he + better satisfied the world than his own breast; for that son he rejoiced + as he looked around the stately halls and noble domain from which the + rightful possessor had been driven; for that son he extended economy into + penuriousness, and hope into anxiety; and, too old to expect much more + from the world himself, for that son he anticipated, with a wearing and + feverish fancy, whatever wealth could purchase, beauty win, or intellect + command. + </p> + <p> + But as if, like the Castle of Otranto, there was something in Mordaunt + Court which contained a penalty and a doom for the usurper, no sooner had + Vavasour possessed himself of his kinsman’s estate, than the + prosperity of his life dried and withered away, like Jonah’s gourd, + in a single night. His son, at the age of thirteen, fell from a scaffold, + on which the workmen were making some extensive alterations in the old + house, and became a cripple and a valetudinarian for life. But still + Vavasour, always of a sanguine temperament, cherished a hope that surgical + assistance might restore him: from place to place, from professor to + professor, from quack to quack, he carried the unhappy boy, and as each + remedy failed he was only the more impatient to devise a new one. But as + it was the mind as well as person of his son in which the father had + stored up his ambition; so, in despite of this fearful accident and the + wretched health by which it was followed, Vavasour never suffered his son + to rest from the tasks and tuitions and lectures of the various masters by + whom he was surrounded. The poor boy, it is true, deprived of physical + exertion and naturally of a serious disposition, required very little + urging to second his father’s wishes for his mental improvement; and + as the tutors were all of the orthodox university calibre, who imagine + that there is no knowledge (but vanity) in any other works than those in + which their own education has consisted, so Henry Vavasour became at once + the victor and victim of Bentleys and Scaligers, word-weighers and + metre-scanners, till, utterly ignorant of everything which could have + softened his temper, dignified his misfortunes, and reconciled him to his + lot, he was sinking fast into the grave, soured by incessant pain into + moroseness, envy, and bitterness; exhausted by an unwholesome and useless + application to unprofitable studies; an excellent scholar (as it is + termed), with the worst regulated and worst informed mind of almost any of + his contemporaries equal to himself in the advantages of ability, original + goodness of disposition, and the costly and profuse expenditure of + education. + </p> + <p> + But the vain father, as he heard, on all sides, of his son’s + talents, saw nothing sinister in their direction; and though the poor boy + grew daily more contracted in mind and broken in frame, Vavasour yet + hugged more and more closely to his breast the hope of ultimate cure for + the latter and future glory for the former. So he went on heaping money + and extending acres, and planting and improving and building and hoping + and anticipating, for one at whose very feet the grave was already dug! + </p> + <p> + But we left Mr. Brown in the study, making his bow and professions of + service to Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt and his son. + </p> + <p> + “Good day, honest Brown,” said the former, a middle-sized and + rather stout man, with a well-powdered head, and a sharp, shrewd, and very + sallow countenance; “good day; have you brought any of the foreign + liqueurs you spoke of, for Mr. Henry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I have some curiously fine eau d’or and liqueur des + files, besides the marasquino and curacoa. The late Lady Waddilove + honoured my taste in these matters with her especial approbation.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” said Vavasour, turning to his son, who lay + extended on the couch, reading not the “Prometheus” (that most + noble drama ever created), but the notes upon it, “my dear boy, as + you are fond of liqueurs, I desired Brown to get some peculiarly fine; + perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Pish!” said the son, fretfully interrupting him, “do, I + beseech you, take your hand off my shoulder. See now, you have made me + lose my place. I really do wish you would leave me alone for one moment in + the day.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Henry,” said the father, looking + reverently on the Greek characters which his son preferred to the + newspaper. “It is very vexatious, I own; but do taste these + liqueurs. Dr. Lukewarm said you might have everything you liked—” + </p> + <p> + “But quiet!” muttered the cripple. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, sir,” said the wandering merchant, “that + they are excellent; allow me, Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt, to ring for a + corkscrew. I really do think, sir, that Mr. Henry looks much better. I + declare he has quite a colour.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed!” said Vavasour, eagerly. “Well, it seems to + me, too, that he is getting better. I intend him to try Mr. E——‘s + patent collar in a day or two; but that will in some measure prevent his + reading. A great pity; for I am very anxious that he should lose no time + in his studies just at present. He goes to Cambridge in October.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir! Well, he will set the town in a blaze, I guess, sir! + Everybody says what a fine scholar Mr. Henry is,—even in the + servants’ hall!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” said Vavasour, gratified even by this praise, + “he is clever enough, Brown; and, what is more” (and here + Vavasour’s look grew sanctified), “he is good enough. His + principles do equal honour to his head and heart. He would be no son of + mine if he were not as much the gentleman as the scholar.” + </p> + <p> + The youth lifted his heavy and distorted face from his book, and a sneer + raised his lip for a moment; but a sudden spasm of pain seizing him, the + expression changed, and Vavasour, whose eyes were fixed upon him, hastened + to his assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Throw open the window, Brown, ring the bell, call—” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, Father,” cried the boy, with a sharp, angry voice, + “I am not going to die yet, nor faint either; but it is all your + fault. If you will have those odious, vulgar people here for your own + pleasure, at least suffer me, another day, to retire.” + </p> + <p> + “My son, my son!” said the grieved father, in reproachful + anger, “it was my anxiety to give you some trifling enjoyment that + brought Brown here: you must be sensible of that!” + </p> + <p> + “You tease me to death,” grumbled the peevish unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Mr. Brown, “shall I leave the bottles + here? or do you please that I shall give them to the butler? I see that I + am displeasing and troublesome to Mr. Henry; but as my worthy friend and + patroness, the late Lady—” + </p> + <p> + “Go, go, honest Brown!” said Vavasour (who desired every man’s + good word), “go, and give the liqueurs to Preston. Mr. Henry is + extremely sorry that he is too unwell to see you now; and I—I have + the heart of a father for his sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown withdrew. “‘Odious and vulgar,’” said he + to himself, in a little fury,—for Mr. Brown peculiarly valued + himself on his gentility,—“‘odious and vulgar!’ To + think of his little lordship uttering such shameful words! However, I will + go into the steward’s room, and abuse him there. But, I suppose, I + shall get no dinner in this house,—no, not so much as a crust of + bread; for while the old gentleman is launching out into such prodigious + expenses on a great scale,—making heathenish temples, and spoiling + the fine old house with his new picture gallery and nonsense,—he is + so close in small matters, that I warrant not a candle-end escapes him; + griping and pinching and squeezing with one hand, and scattering money, as + if it were dirt, with the other,—and all for that cross, ugly, + deformed, little whippersnapper of a son. ‘Odious and vulgar,’ + indeed! What shocking language! Mr. Algernon Mordaunt would never have + made use of such words, I know. And, bless me, now I think of it, I wonder + where that poor gentleman is. The young heir here is not long for this + world, I can see; and who knows but what Mr. Algernon may be in great + distress; and I am sure, as far as four hundred pounds, or even a + thousand, go, I would not mind lending it him, only upon the post-obits of + Squire Vavasour and his hopeful. I like doing a kind thing; and Mr. + Algernon was always very good to me; and I am sure I don’t care + about the security, though I think it will be as sure as sixpence; for the + old gentleman must be past sixty, and the young one is the worse life of + the two. And when he’s gone, what relation so near as Mr. Algernon? + We should help one another; it is but one’s duty: and if he is in + great distress he would not mind a handsome premium. Well, nobody can say + Morris Brown is not as charitable as the best Christian breathing; and, as + the late Lady Waddilove very justly observed, ‘Brown, believe me, a + prudent risk is the surest gain!’ I will lose no time in finding the + late squire out.” + </p> + <p> + Muttering over these reflections, Mr. Brown took his way to the steward’s + room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clar.—How, two letters?—The Lover’s Progress. LETTER FROM + CLARENCE LINDEN, ESQ., TO THE DUKE OF HAVERFIELD. HOTEL ——, + CALAIS. +</pre> + <p> + My Dear Duke,—After your kind letter, you will forgive me for not + having called upon you before I left England, for you have led me to hope + that I may dispense with ceremony towards you; and, in sad and sober + earnest, I was in no mood to visit even you during the few days I was in + London, previous to my departure. Some French philosopher has said that, + ‘the best compliment we can pay our friends, when in sickness or + misfortune, is to avoid them.’ I will not say how far I disagree + with this sentiment, but I know that a French philosopher will be an + unanswerable authority with you; and so I will take shelter even under the + battery of an enemy. + </p> + <p> + I am waiting here for some days in expectation of Lord Aspeden’s + arrival. Sick as I was of England and all that has lately occurred to me + there, I was glad to have an opportunity of leaving it sooner than my + chief could do; and I amuse myself very indifferently in this dull town, + with reading all the morning, plays all the evening, and dreams of my + happier friends all the night. + </p> + <p> + And so you are sorry that I did not destroy Lord Borodaile. My dear duke, + you would have been much more sorry if I had! What could you then have + done for a living Pasquin for your stray lampoons and vagrant sarcasms? + Had an unfortunate bullet carried away— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “That peer of England, pillar of the state,” + </pre> + <p> + as you term him, pray on whom could ‘Duke Humphrey unfold his griefs’?—Ah, + Duke, better as it is, believe me; and, whenever you are at a loss for a + subject for wit, you will find cause to bless my forbearance, and + congratulate yourself upon the existence of its object. + </p> + <p> + Dare I hope that, amidst all the gayeties which court you, you will find + time to write to me? If so, you shall have in return the earliest + intelligence of every new soprano, and the most elaborate criticisms on + every budding figurante of our court. + </p> + <p> + Have you met Trollolop lately, and in what new pursuit are his + intellectual energies engaged? There, you see, I have fairly entrapped + your Grace into a question which common courtesy will oblige you to + answer. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, ever, my dear Duke. Most truly yours, etc. + </p> + <p> + LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF HAVERFIELD TO CLARENCE LINDEN, ESQ. + </p> + <p> + A thousand thanks, mon cher, for your letter, though it was certainly less + amusing and animated than I could have wished it for your sake, as well as + my own; yet it could not have been more welcomely received, had it been as + witty as your conversation itself. I heard that you had accepted the place + of secretary to Lord Aspeden, and that you had passed through London on + your way to the Continent, looking (the amiable Callythorpe, ‘who + never flatters,’ is my authority) more like a ghost than yourself. + So you may be sure, my dear Linden, that I was very anxious to be + convinced under your own hand of your carnal existence. + </p> + <p> + Take care of yourself, my good fellow, and don’t imagine, as I am + apt to do, that youth is like my hunter, Fearnought, and will carry you + over everything. In return for your philosophical maxim, I will give you + another. “In age we should remember that we have been young, and in + youth that we are to be old.” Ehem!—am I not profound as a + moralist? I think a few such sentences would become my long face well; + and, to say truth, I am tired of being witty; every one thinks he can be + that: so I will borrow Trollolop’s philosophy,—take snuff, + wear a wig out of curl, and grow wise instead of merry. + </p> + <p> + A propos of Trollolop; let me not forget that you honour him with your + inquiries. I saw him three days since, and he asked me if I had been + impressed lately with the idea vulgarly called Clarence Linden; and he + then proceeded to inform me that he had heard the atoms which composed + your frame were about to be resolved into a new form. While I was knitting + my brows very wisely at this intelligence, he passed on to apprise me that + I had neither length, breadth, nor extension, nor anything but mind. + Flattered by so delicate a compliment to my understanding, I yielded my + assent: and he then shifted his ground, and told me that there was no such + thing as mind; that we were but modifications of matter; and that, in a + word, I was all body. I took advantage of this doctrine, and forthwith + removed my modification of matter from his. + </p> + <p> + Findlater has just lost his younger brother in a duel. You have no idea + how shocking it was. Sir Christopher one day heard his brother, who had + just entered the —— Dragoons, ridiculed for his want of + spirit, by Major Elton, who professed to be the youth’s best friend. + The honest heart of our worthy baronet was shocked beyond measure at this + perfidy, and the next time his brother mentioned Elton’s name with + praise, out came the story. You may guess the rest: young Findlater called + out Elton, who shot him through the lungs! “I did it for the best,” + cried Sir Christopher. + </p> + <p> + La pauvre petite Meronville! What an Ariadne! Just as I was thinking to + play the Bacchus to your Theseus, up steps an old gentleman from + Yorkshire, who hears it is fashionable to marry bonas robas, proposes + honourable matrimony, and deprives me and the world of La Meronville! The + wedding took place on Monday last, and the happy pair set out to their + seat in the North. Verily, we shall have quite a new race in the next + generation; I expect all the babes will skip into the world with a pas de + zephyr, singing in sweet trebles,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Little dancing loves we are! + Who the deuce is our papa?” + </pre> + <p> + I think you will be surprised to hear that Lord Borodaile is beginning to + thaw; I saw him smile the other day! Certainly, we are not so near the + North Pole as we were! He is going, and so am I, in the course of the + autumn, to your old friends the Westboroughs. Report says that he is un + peu epris de la belle Flore; but, then, Report is such a liar! For my own + part I always contradict her. + </p> + <p> + I eagerly embrace your offer of correspondence, and assure you that there + are few people by whose friendship I conceive myself so much honoured as + by yours. You will believe this; for you know that, like Callythorpe, I + never flatter. Farewell for the present. + </p> + <p> + Sincerely yours, HAVERFIELD. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Q. Eliz.—Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? + K. Rich.—Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. + Q. Eliz.—Shall I forget myself to be myself?—SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + It wanted one hour to midnight, as Crauford walked slowly to the lonely + and humble street where he had appointed his meeting with Glendower. It + was a stormy and fearful night. The day had been uncommonly sultry, and, + as it died away, thick masses of cloud came labouring along the air, which + lay heavy and breathless, as if under a spell,—as if in those dense + and haggard vapours the rider of the storm sat, like an incubus, upon the + atmosphere beneath, and paralyzed the motion and wholesomeness of the + sleeping winds. And about the hour of twilight, or rather when twilight + should have been, instead of its quiet star, from one obscure corner of + the heavens flashed a solitary gleam of lightning, lingered a moment,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And ere a man had power to say, Behold! + The jaws of darkness did devour it up.” + </pre> + <p> + But then, as if awakened from a torpor by a signal universally + acknowledged, from the courts and quarters of heaven, came, blaze after + blaze, and peal upon peal, the light and voices of the Elements when they + walk abroad. The rain fell not: all was dry and arid; the mood of Nature + seemed not gentle enough for tears; and the lightning, livid and forked, + flashed from the sullen clouds with a deadly fierceness, made trebly + perilous by the panting drought and stagnation of the air. The streets + were empty and silent, as if the huge city had been doomed and delivered + to the wrath of the tempest; and ever and anon the lightnings paused upon + the housetops, shook and quivered as if meditating their stroke, and then, + baffled as it were, by some superior and guardian agency, vanished into + their gloomy tents, and made their next descent from some opposite corner + of the skies. + </p> + <p> + It was a remarkable instance of the force with which a cherished object + occupies the thoughts, and of the all-sufficiency of the human mind to + itself, the slowness and unconsciousness of danger with which Crauford, a + man luxurious as well as naturally timid, moved amidst the angry fires of + heaven and brooded, undisturbed and sullenly serene, over the project at + his heart. + </p> + <p> + “A rare night for our meeting,” thought he; “I suppose + he will not fail me. Now let me con over my task. I must not tell him all + yet. Such babes must be led into error before they can walk: just a little + inkling will suffice, a glimpse into the arcana of my scheme. Well, it is + indeed fortunate that I met him, for verily I am surrounded with danger, + and a very little delay in the assistance I am forced to seek might exalt + me to a higher elevation than the peerage.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the meditation of this man, as with a slow, shufling walk, + characteristic of his mind, he proceeded to the appointed spot. + </p> + <p> + A cessation of unusual length in the series of the lightnings, and the + consequent darkness, against which the dull and scanty lamps vainly + struggled, prevented Crauford and another figure approaching from the + opposite quarter seeing each other till they almost touched. Crauford + stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “It is a man who has outlived fortune!” answered Glendower, in + the exaggerated and metaphorical language which the thoughts of men who + imagine warmly, and are excited powerfully, so often assume. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” rejoined Crauford, “you are the more suited for + my purpose. A little urging of necessity behind is a marvellous whetter of + the appetite to danger before, he! he!” And as he said this, his low + chuckling laugh jarringly enough contrasted with the character of the + night and his companion. + </p> + <p> + Glendower replied not: a pause ensued; and the lightning which, spreading + on a sudden from east to west, hung over the city a burning and ghastly + canopy, showed the face of each to the other, working and almost haggard + as it was with the conception of dark thoughts, and rendered wan and + unearthly by the spectral light in which it was beheld. “It is an + awful night,” said Glendower. + </p> + <p> + “True,” answered Crauford, “a very awful night; but we + are all safe under the care of Providence. Jesus! what a flash! Think you + it is a favourable opportunity for our conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Glendower; “what have the thunders and + wrath of Heaven to do with us?” + </p> + <p> + “H-e-m! h-e-m! God sees all things,” rejoined Crauford, + “and avenges Himself on the guilty by His storms!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; but those are the storms of the heart! I tell you that even the + innocent may have that within to which the loudest tempests without are + peace! But guilt, you say; what have we to do with guilt?” + </p> + <p> + Crauford hesitated, and, avoiding any reply to this question, drew + Glendower’s arm within his own, and in a low half-whispered tone + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Glendower, survey mankind; look with a passionless and unprejudiced + eye upon the scene which moves around us: what do you see anywhere but the + same re-acted and eternal law of Nature,—all, all preying upon each + other? Or if there be a solitary individual who refrains, he is as a man + without a common badge, without a marriage garment, and the rest trample + him under foot! Glendower, you are such a man! Now hearken, I will deceive + you not; I honour you too much to beguile you, even to your own good. I + own to you, fairly and at once, that in the scheme I shall unfold to you, + there may be something repugnant, to the factitious and theoretical + principles of education,—something hostile to the prejudices, though + not to the reasonings, of the mind; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” said Glendower, abruptly, pausing and fixing his bold + and searching eye upon the tempter; “hold! there will be no need of + argument or refinement in this case: tell me at once your scheme, and at + once I will accept or reject it!” + </p> + <p> + “Gently,” said Crauford; “to all deeds of contract there + is a preamble. Listen to me yet further: when I have ceased, I will listen + to you. It is in vain that you place man in cities; it is in vain that you + fetter him with laws; it is in vain that you pour into his mind the light + of an imperfect morality, of a glimmering wisdom, of an ineffectual + religion: in all places he is the same,—the same savage and crafty + being, who makes the passions which rule himself the tools of his conquest + over others! There is in all creation but one evident law,—self-preservation! + Split it as you like into hairbreadths and atoms, it is still + fundamentally and essentially unaltered. Glendower, that self-preservation + is our bond now. Of myself I do not at present speak; I refer only to you: + self-preservation commands you to place implicit confidence in me; it + impels you to abjure indigence, by accepting the proposal I am about to + make to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You, as yet, speak enigmas,” said Glendower; “but they + are sufficiently clear to tell me their sense is not such as I have heard + you utter.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. Truth is not always safe,—safe either to + others, or to ourselves! But I dare open to you now my real heart: look in + it; I dare to say that you will behold charity, benevolence, piety to God, + love and friendship at this moment to yourself; but I own, also, that you + will behold there a determination—which to me seems courage—not + to be the only idle being in the world, where all are busy; or, worse + still, to be the only one engaged in a perilous and uncertain game, and + yet shunning to employ all the arts of which he is master. I will own to + you that, long since, had I been foolishly inert, I should have been, at + this moment, more penniless and destitute than yourself. I live happy, + respected, wealthy! I enjoy in their widest range the blessings of life. I + dispense those blessings to others. Look round the world: whose name + stands fairer than mine? whose hand relieves more of human distresses? + whose tongue preaches purer doctrines? None, Glendower, none. I offer to + you means not dissimilar to those I have chosen, fortunes not unequal to + those I possess. Nothing but the most unjustifiable fastidiousness will + make you hesitate to accept my offer.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot expect that I have met you this night with a resolution + to be unjustifiably fastidious,” said Glendower, with a hollow and + cold smile. + </p> + <p> + Crauford did not immediately answer, for he was considering whether it was + yet the time for disclosing the important secret. While he was + deliberating, the sullen clouds began to break from their suspense. A + double darkness gathered around, and a few large drops fell on the ground + in token of a more general discharge about to follow from the floodgates + of heaven. The two men moved onward, and took shelter under an old arch. + Crauford first broke silence. “Hist!” said he, “hist! do + you hear anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I heard the winds and the rain, and the shaking houses, and + the plashing pavements, and the reeking housetops,—nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + Looking long and anxiously around to certify himself that none was indeed + the witness of their conference, Crauford approached close to Glendower + and laid his hand heavily upon his arm. At that moment a vivid and + lengthened flash of lightning shot through the ruined arch, and gave to + Crauford’s countenance a lustre which Glendower almost started to + behold. The face, usually so smooth, calm, bright in complexion, and + almost inexpressive from its extreme composure, now agitated by the + excitement of the moment, and tinged by the ghastly light of the skies, + became literally fearful. The cold blue eye glared out from its socket; + the lips blanched, and, parting in act to speak, showed the white + glistening teeth; and the corners of the mouth, drawn down in a half + sneer, gave to the cheeks, rendered green and livid by the lightning, a + lean and hollow appearance contrary to their natural shape. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Crauford, in a whispered but distinct tone, + “a perilous secret that I am about to disclose to you. I indeed have + no concern in it, but my lords the judges have, and you will not therefore + be surprised if I forestall the ceremonies of their court and require an + oath.” + </p> + <p> + Then, his manner and voice suddenly changing into an earnest and deep + solemnity, as excitement gave him an eloquence more impressive, because + unnatural to his ordinary moments, he continued: “By those + lightnings and commotions above; by the heavens in which they revel in + their terrible sports; by the earth, whose towers they crumble, and herbs + they blight, and creatures they blast into cinders at their will; by Him + whom, whatever be the name He bears, all men in the living world worship + and tremble before; by whatever is sacred in this great and mysterious + universe, and at the peril of whatever can wither and destroy and curse,—swear + to preserve inviolable and forever the secret I shall whisper in your ear!” + </p> + <p> + The profound darkness which now, in the pause of the lightning, wrapped + the scene, hid from Crauford all sight of the effect he had produced, and + even the very outline of Glendower’s figure; but the gloom made more + distinct the voice which thrilled through it upon Crauford’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Promise me that there is not dishonour, nor crime, which is + dishonour, in this confidence, and I swear.” + </p> + <p> + Crauford ground his teeth. He was about to reply impetuously, but he + checked himself. “I am not going,” thought he, “to + communicate my own share of this plot, but merely to state that a plot + does exist, and then to point out in what manner he can profit by it; so + far, therefore, there is no guilt in his concealment, and, consequently, + no excuse for him to break his vow.” + </p> + <p> + Rapidly running over this self-argument, he said aloud, “I promise!” + </p> + <p> + “And,” rejoined Glendower, “I swear!” + </p> + <p> + At the close of this sentence another flash of lightning again made + darkness visible, and Glendower, beholding the countenance of his + companion, again recoiled: for its mingled haggardness and triumph seemed + to his excited imagination the very expression of a fiend! “Now,” + said Crauford, relapsing into his usual careless tone, somewhat enlivened + by his sneer, “now, then, you must not interrupt me in my disclosure + by those starts and exclamations which break from your philosophy like + sparks from flint. Hear me throughout.” + </p> + <p> + And, bending down, till his mouth reached Glendower’s ear, he + commenced his recital. Artfully hiding his own agency, the master-spring + of the gigantic machinery of fraud, which, too mighty for a single hand, + required an assistant,—throwing into obscurity the sin, while, + knowing the undaunted courage and desperate fortunes of the man, he did + not affect to conceal the danger; expatiating upon the advantages, the + immense and almost inexhaustible resources of wealth which his scheme + suddenly opened upon one in the deepest abyss of poverty, and slightly + sketching, as if to excite vanity, the ingenuity and genius by which the + scheme originated, and could only be sustained,—Crauford’s + detail of temptation, in its knowledge of human nature, in its adaptation + of act to principles, in its web-like craft of self-concealment, and the + speciousness of its lure, was indeed a splendid masterpiece of villanous + invention. + </p> + <p> + But while Glendower listened, and his silence flattered Crauford’s + belief of victory, not for one single moment did a weak or yielding desire + creep around his heart. Subtly as the scheme was varnished, and scarce a + tithe of its comprehensive enormity unfolded, the strong and acute mind of + one long accustomed to unravel sophistry and gaze on the loveliness of + truth, saw at once that the scheme proposed was of the most unmingled + treachery and baseness. Sick, chilled, withering at heart, Glendower + leaned against the damp wall; as every word which the tempter fondly + imagined was irresistibly confirming his purpose, tore away the last prop + to which, in the credulity of hope, the student had clung, and mocked + while it crushed the fondness of his belief. + </p> + <p> + Crauford ceased, and stretched forth his hand to grasp Glendower’s. + He felt it not. “You do not speak, my friend,” said he; + “do you deliberate, or have you not decided?” Still no answer + came. Surprised, and half alarmed, he turned round, and perceived by a + momentary flash of lightning, that Glendower had risen and was moving away + towards the mouth of the arch. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! Glendower,” cried Crauford, “where are + you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere,” cried Glendower, in a sudden paroxysm of indignant + passion, “anywhere in this great globe of suffering, so that the + agonies of my human flesh and heart are not polluted by the accents of + crime! And such crime! Why, I would rather go forth into the highways, and + win bread by the sharp knife and the death-struggle, than sink my soul in + such mire and filthiness of sin. Fraud! fraud! treachery! Merciful Father! + what can be my state, when these are supposed to tempt me!” + </p> + <p> + Astonished and aghast, Crauford remained rooted to the spot. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” continued Glendower, and his noble nature was wrung to + the utmost; “Oh, MAN, MAN! that I should have devoted my best and + freshest years to the dream of serving thee! In my boyish enthusiasm, in + my brief day of pleasure and of power, in the intoxication of love, in the + reverse of fortune, in the squalid and obscure chambers of degradation and + poverty, that one hope animated, cheered, sustained me through all! In + temptation did this hand belie, or in sickness did this brain forego, or + in misery did this heart forget, thy great and advancing cause? In the + wide world, is there one being whom I have injured, even in thought; one + being who, in the fellowship of want, should not have drunk of my cup, or + broken with me the last morsel of my bread?—and now, now, is it come + to this?” + </p> + <p> + And, hiding his face with his hands, he gave way to a violence of feeling + before which the weaker nature of Crauford stood trembling and abashed. It + lasted not long; he raised his head from its drooping posture, and, as he + stood at the entrance of the arch, a prolonged flash from the inconstant + skies shone full upon his form. Tall, erect, still, the gloomy and ruined + walls gave his colourless countenance and haughty stature in bold and + distinct relief; all trace of the past passion had vanished: perfectly + calm and set, his features borrowed even dignity from their marble + paleness, and the marks of suffering which the last few months had writ in + legible characters on the cheek and brow. Seeking out, with an eye to + which the intolerable lightnings seemed to have lent something of their + fire, the cowering and bended form of his companion, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Go home, miserable derider of the virtue you cannot understand; go + to your luxurious and costly home; go and repine that human nature is not + measured by your mangled and crippled laws: amidst men, yet more fallen + than I am, hope to select your victim; amidst prisons, and hovels, and + roofless sheds; amidst rags and destitution, and wretches made mad by + hunger, hope that you may find a villain. I leave you to that hope, and—to + remembrance!” + </p> + <p> + As Glendower moved away, Crauford recovered himself. Rendered desperate by + the vital necessity of procuring some speedy aid in his designs, and not + yet perfectly persuaded of the fallacy of his former judgment, he was + resolved not to suffer Glendower thus easily to depart. Smothering his + feelings by an effort violent even to his habitual hypocrisy, he sprang + forward, and laid his hand upon Glendower’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, stay,” said he, in a soothing and soft voice; “you + have wronged me greatly. I pardon your warmth,—nay, I honour it; but + hereafter you will repent your judgment of me. At least, do justice to my + intentions. Was I an actor in the scheme proposed to you? what was it to + me? Was I in the smallest degree to be benefited by it? Could I have any + other motive than affection for you? If I erred, it was from a different + view of the question; but is it not the duty of a friend to find + expedients for distress, and to leave to the distressed person the right + of accepting or rejecting them? But let this drop forever: partake of my + fortune; be my adopted brother. Here, I have hundreds about me at this + moment; take them all, and own at least that I meant you well.” + </p> + <p> + Feeling that Glendower, who at first had vainly endeavoured to shake off + his hand, now turned towards him, though at the moment it was too dark to + see his countenance, the wily speaker continued, “Yes, Glendower, if + by that name I must alone address you, take all I have: there is no one in + this world dearer to me than you are. I am a lonely and disappointed man, + without children or ties. I sought out a friend who might be my brother in + life and my heir in death. I found you: be that to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I am faint and weak,” said Glendower, slowly, “and I + believe my senses cannot be clear; but a minute since, and you spoke at + length, and with a terrible distinctness, words which it polluted my very + ear to catch, and now you speak as if you loved me. Will it please you to + solve the riddle?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is this,” said Crauford: “I knew your pride; + I feared you would not accept a permanent pecuniary aid, even from + friendship. I was driven, therefore, to devise some plan of independence + for you. I could think of no plan but that which I proposed. You speak of + it as wicked: it may be so; but it seemed not wicked to me. I may have + formed a wrong—I own it is a peculiar—system of morals; but it + is, at least, sincere. Judging of my proposal by that system, I saw no sin + in it. I saw, too, much less danger than, in the honesty of my heart, I + spoke of. In a similar distress, I solemnly swear, I myself would have + adopted a similar relief. Nor is this all; the plan proposed would have + placed thousands in your power. Forgive me if I thought your life, and the + lives of those most dear to you, of greater value than these sums to the + persons defrauded, ay, defrauded, if you will: forgive me if I thought + that with these thousands you would effect far more good to the community + than their legitimate owners. Upon these grounds, and on some others, too + tedious now to state, I justified my proposal to my conscience. Pardon me, + I again beseech you: accept my last proposal; be my partner, my friend, my + heir; and forget a scheme never proposed to you, if I had hoped (what I + hope now) that you would accept the alternative which it is my pride to + offer, and which you are not justified, even by pride, to refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Source of all knowledge!” ejaculated Glendower, scarce + audibly, and to himself. “Supreme and unfathomable God! dost Thou + most loathe or pity Thine abased creatures, walking in their dim reason + upon this little earth, and sanctioning fraud, treachery, crime, upon a + principle borrowed from Thy laws? Oh! when, when will Thy full light of + wisdom travel down to us, and guilt and sorrow, and this world’s + evil mysteries, roll away like vapours before the blaze?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not hear you, my friend,” said Crauford. “Speak + aloud; you will, I feel you will, accept my offer, and become my brother!” + </p> + <p> + “Away!” said Glendower; “I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “He wanders; his brain is touched!” muttered Crauford, and + then resumed aloud, “Glendower, we are both unfit for talk at + present; both unstrung by our late jar. You will meet me again to-morrow, + perhaps. I will accompany you now to your door.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a step: our paths are different.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, if you will have it so, be it as you please. I have + offended: you have a right to punish me, and play the churl to-night; but + your address?” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder,” said Glendower, pointing to the heavens. “Come + to me a month hence, and you will find me there!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, my friend, your brain is heated; but you leave me? Well, + as I said, your will is mine: at least take some of these paltry notes in + earnest of our bargain; remember when next we meet you will share all I + have.” + </p> + <p> + “You remind me,” said Glendower, quietly, “that we have + old debts to settle. When last I saw you, you lent me a certain sum: there + it is; take it; count it; there is but one poor guinea gone. Fear not: + even to the uttermost farthing you shall be repaid.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, why, this is unkind, ungenerous. Stay, stay,—” + but, waving his hand impatiently, Glendower darted away, and passing into + another street, the darkness effectually closed upon his steps. + </p> + <p> + “Fool! fool! that I am,” cried Crauford, stamping vehemently + on the ground; “in what point did my wit fail me, that I could not + win one whom very hunger had driven into my net? But I must yet find him; + and I will; the police shall be set to work: these half confidences may + ruin me. And how deceitful he has proved: to talk more diffidently than a + whining harlot upon virtue, and yet be so stubborn upon trial! Dastard + that I am, too, as well as fool: I felt sunk into the dust by his voice. + But pooh, I must have him yet; your worst villains make the most noise + about the first step. True that I cannot storm, but I will undermine. But, + wretch that I am, I must win him or another soon, or I perish on a gibbet. + Out, base thought!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Formam quidem ipsam, Marce fili, et tanquam faciem honesti + video: quae, si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores (ut ait + Plato) excitaret sapientia.—TULLY. +</pre> + <p> + [“Son Marcus, you seethe form and as it were the face of Virtue: + that Wisdom, which if it could be perceived by the eyes, would (as Plato + saith) kindle absolute and marvellous affection.”] + </p> + <p> + It was almost dawn when Glendower returned to his home. Fearful of + disturbing his wife, he stole with mute steps to the damp and rugged + chamber, where the last son of a princely line, and the legitimate owner + of lands and halls which ducal rank might have envied, held his miserable + asylum. The first faint streaks of coming light broke through the + shutterless and shattered windows, and he saw that she reclined in a deep + sleep upon the chair beside their child’s couch. She would not go to + bed herself till Glendower returned, and she had sat up, watching and + praying, and listening for his footsteps, till, in the utter exhaustion of + debility and sickness, sleep had fallen upon her. Glendower bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “Sleep,” said he, “sleep on! The wicked do not come to + thee now. Thou art in a world that has no fellowship with this,—a + world from which even happiness is not banished! Nor woe nor pain, nor + memory of the past nor despair of all before thee, make the characters of + thy present state! Thou forestallest the forgetfulness of the grave, and + thy heart concentrates all earth’s comfort in one word,—‘Oblivion! + ‘Beautiful, how beautiful thou art even yet! that smile, that + momentary blush, years have not conquered them. They are as when, my young + bride, thou didst lean first upon my bosom, and dream that sorrow was no + more! And I have brought thee unto this! These green walls make thy bridal + chamber, yon fragments of bread thy bridal board. Well! it is no matter! + thou art on thy way to a land where all things, even a breaking heart, are + at rest. I weep not; wherefore should I weep? Tears are not for the dead, + but their survivors. I would rather see thee drop inch by inch into the + grave, and smile as I beheld it, than save thee for an inheritance of sin. + What is there in this little and sordid life that we should strive to hold + it? What in this dreadful dream that we should fear to wake?” + </p> + <p> + And Glendower knelt beside his wife, and, despite his words, tears flowed + fast and gushingly down his cheeks; and wearied as he was, he watched upon + her slumbers, till they fell from the eyes to which his presence was more + joyous than the day. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful thing, even in sorrow, to see that couple, whom want + could not debase, nor misfortune, which makes even generosity selfish, + divorce! All that Fate had stripped from the poetry and graces of life, + had not shaken one leaf from the romance of their green and unwithered + affections! They were the very type of love in its holiest and most + enduring shape: their hearts had grown together; their being had flowed + through caves and deserts, and reflected the storms of an angry Heaven; + but its waters had indissolubly mingled into one! Young, gifted, noble, + and devoted, they were worthy victims of this blighting and bitter world! + Their garden was turned into a wilderness; but, like our first parents, it + was hand in hand that they took their solitary way! Evil beset them, but + they swerved not; the rains and the winds fell upon their unsheltered + beads, but they were not bowed; and through the mazes and briers of this + weary life, their bleeding footsteps strayed not, for they had a clew! The + mind seemed, as it were, to become visible and external as the frame + decayed, and to cover the body with something of its own invulnerable + power; so that whatever should have attacked the mortal and frail part, + fell upon that which, imperishable and divine, resisted and subdued it! + </p> + <p> + It was unfortunate for Glendower that he never again met Wolfe: for + neither fanaticism of political faith, nor sternness of natural temper, + subdued in the republican the real benevolence and generosity which + redeemed and elevated his character; nor could any impulse of party zeal + have induced him, like Crauford, systematically to take advantage of + poverty in order to tempt to participation in his schemes. From a more + evil companion Glendower had not yet escaped: Crauford, by some means or + other, found out his abode, and lost no time in availing himself of the + discovery. In order fully to comprehend his unwearied persecution of + Glendower, it must constantly be remembered that to this persecution he + was bound by a necessity which, urgent, dark, and implicating life itself, + rendered him callous to every obstacle and unsusceptible of all remorse. + With the exquisite tact which he possessed, he never openly recurred to + his former proposal of fraud: he contented himself with endeavouring to + persuade Glendower to accept pecuniary assistance, but in vain. The veil + once torn from his character no craft could restore. Through all his + pretences and sevenfold hypocrisy Glendower penetrated at once into his + real motives: he was not to be duped by assurances of friendship which he + knew the very dissimilarities between their natures rendered impossible. + He had seen at the first, despite all allegations to the contrary, that in + the fraud Crauford had proposed, that person could by no means be an + uninfluenced and cold adviser. In after conversations, Crauford, driven by + the awful interest he had in success from his usual consummateness of + duplicity, betrayed in various important minutiae how deeply he was + implicated in the crime for which he had argued; and not even the visible + and progressive decay of his wife and child could force the stern mind of + Glendower into accepting those wages of iniquity which he knew well were + only offered as an earnest or a snare. + </p> + <p> + There is a royalty in extreme suffering, when the mind falls not with the + fortunes, which no hardihood of vice can violate unabashed. Often and + often, humble and defeated through all his dissimulation, was Crauford + driven from the presence of the man whom it was his bitterest punishment + to fear most when most he affected to despise; and as often, re-collecting + his powers and fortifying himself in his experience of human frailty when + sufficiently tried, did he return to his attempts. He waylaid the door and + watched the paths of his intended prey. He knew that the mind which even + best repels temptation first urged hath seldom power to resist the same + suggestion, if daily—dropping, unwearying—presenting itself in + every form, obtruded in every hour, losing its horror by custom, and + finding in the rebellious bosom itself its smoothest vizard and most + alluring excuse. And it was, indeed, a mighty and perilous trial to + Glendower, when rushing from the presence of his wife and child, when + fainting under accumulated evils, when almost delirious with sickening and + heated thought, to hear at each prompting of the wrung and excited nature, + each heave of the black fountain that in no mortal breast is utterly + exhausted, one smooth, soft, persuasive voice forever whispering, “Relief!”—relief, + certain, utter, instantaneous! the voice of one pledged never to relax an + effort or spare a pang, by a danger to himself, a danger of shame and + death,—the voice of one who never spoke but in friendship and + compassion, profound in craft, and a very sage in the disguises with which + language invests deeds. But VIRTUE has resources buried in itself, which + we know not till the invading hour calls them from their retreats. + Surrounded by hosts without, and when Nature itself, turned traitor, is + its most deadly enemy within, it assumes a new and a superhuman power, + which is greater than Nature itself. Whatever be its creed, whatever be + its sect, from whatever segment of the globe its orisons arise, Virtue is + God’s empire, and from His throne of thrones He will defend it. + Though cast into the distant earth, and struggling on the dim arena of a + human heart, all things above are spectators of its conflict or enlisted + in its cause. The angels have their charge over it; the banners of + archangels are on its side; and from sphere to sphere, through the + illimitable ether, and round the impenetrable darkness at the feet of God, + its triumph is hymned by harps which are strung to the glories of the + Creator! + </p> + <p> + One evening, when Crauford had joined Glendower in his solitary + wanderings, the dissembler renewed his attacks. + </p> + <p> + “But why not,” said he, “accept from my friendship what + to my benevolence you would deny? I couple with my offers, my prayers + rather, no conditions. How then do you, can you, reconcile it to your + conscience, to suffer your wife and child to perish before your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Man, man,” said Glendower, “tempt me no more: let them + die! At present the worst is death: what you offer me is dishonour.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens, how uncharitable is this! Can you call the mere act of + accepting money from one who loves you dishonour?” + </p> + <p> + “It is in vain that you varnish your designs,” said Glendower, + stopping and fixing his eyes upon him. “Do you not think that + cunning ever betrays itself? In a thousand words, in a thousand looks + which have escaped you, but not me, I know that, if there be one being on + this earth whom you hate and would injure, that being is myself. Nay, + start not: listen to me patiently. I have sworn that it is the last + opportunity you shall have. I will not subject myself to farther + temptation: I am now sane; but there are things which may drive me mad, + and in madness you might conquer. You hate me it is out of the nature of + earthly things that you should not. But even were it otherwise, do you + think that I could believe you would come from your voluptuous home to + these miserable retreats; that, among the lairs of beggary and theft, you + would lie in wait to allure me to forsake poverty, without a stronger + motive than love for one who affects it not for you? I know you: I have + read your heart; I have penetrated into that stronger motive; it is your + own safety. In the system of atrocity you proposed to me, you are the + principal. You have already bared to me enough of the extent to which that + system reaches to convince me that a single miscreant, however ingenious, + cannot, unassisted, support it with impunity. You want help: I am he in + whom you have dared to believe that you could find it. You are detected; + now be undeceived!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so?” said Crauford; and as he saw that it was no longer + possible to feign, the poison of his heart broke forth in its full venom. + The fiend rose from the reptile, and stood exposed in its natural shape. + Returning Glendower’s stern but lofty gaze with an eye to which all + evil passions lent their unholy fire, he repeated, “Is it so? then + you are more penetrating than I thought; but it is indifferent to me. It + was for your sake, not mine, most righteous man, that I wished you might + have a disguise to satisfy the modesty of your punctilios. It is all one + to Richard Crauford whether you go blindfold or with open eyes into his + snare. Go you must, and shall. Ay, frowns will not awe me. You have + desired the truth: you shall have it. You are right: I hate you,—hate + you with a soul whose force of hatred you cannot dream of. Your pride, + your stubbornness, your coldness of heart, which things that would stir + the blood of beggars cannot warm; your icy and passionless virtue,—I + hate, I hate all! You are right also, most wise inquisitor, in supposing + that in the scheme proposed to you, I am the principal: I am! You were to + be the tool, and shall. I have offered you mild inducements,—pleas + to soothe the technicalities of your conscience: you have rejected them; + be it so. Now choose between my first offer and the gibbet. Ay, the + gibbet! That night on which we made the appointment which shall not yet be + in vain,—on that night you stopped me in the street; you demanded + money; you robbed me; I will swear; I will prove it. Now, then, tremble, + man of morality: dupe of your own strength, you are in my power; tremble! + Yet in my safety is your escape: I am generous. I repeat my original + offer,—wealth, as great as you will demand, or—the gibbet, the + gibbet: do I speak loud enough? do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fool!” said Glendower, laughing scornfully and moving + away. But when Crauford, partly in mockery, partly in menace, placed his + hand upon Glendower’s shoulder, as if to stop him, the touch seemed + to change his mood from scorn to fury; turning abruptly round, he seized + the villain’s throat with a giant’s strength, and cried out, + while his whole countenance worked beneath the tempestuous wrath within, + “What if I squeeze out thy poisonous life from thee this moment!” + and then once more bursting into a withering laughter, as he surveyed the + terror which he had excited, he added, “No, no: thou art too vile!” + and, dashing the hypocrite against the wall of a neighbouring house, he + strode away. + </p> + <p> + Recovering himself slowly, and trembling with rage and fear, Crauford + gazed round, expecting yet to find he had sported too far with the + passions he had sought to control. When, however, he had fully satisfied + himself that Glendower was gone, all his wrathful and angry feelings + returned with redoubled force. But their most biting torture was the + consciousness of their impotence. For after the first paroxysm of rage had + subsided he saw, too clearly, that his threat could not be executed + without incurring the most imminent danger of discovery. High as his + character stood, it was possible that no charge against him might excite + suspicion, but a word might cause inquiry, and inquiry would be ruin. + Forced, therefore, to stomach his failure, his indignation, his shame, his + hatred, and his vengeance, his own heart became a punishment almost + adequate to his vices. + </p> + <p> + “But my foe will die,” said he, clinching his fist so firmly + that the nails almost brought blood from the palm; “he will starve, + famish, and see them—his wife, his child—perish first! I shall + have my triumph, though I shall not witness it. But now, away to my villa: + there, at least, will be some one whom I can mock and beat and trample, if + I will! Would—would—would that I were that very man, destitute + as he is! His neck, at least, is safe: if he dies, it will not be upon the + gallows, nor among the hootings of the mob! Oh, horror! horror! What are + my villa, my wine, my women, with that black thought ever following me + like a shadow? Who, who while an avalanche is sailing over him, who would + sit down to feast?” + </p> + <p> + Leaving this man to shun or be overtaken by Fate, we return to Glendower. + It is needless to say that Crauford visited him no more; and, indeed, + shortly afterwards Glendower again changed his home. But every day and + every hour brought new strength to the disease which was creeping and + burning through the veins of the devoted wife; and Glendower, who saw on + earth nothing before them but a jail, from which as yet they had been + miraculously delivered, repined not as he beheld her approach to a gentler + and benigner home. Often he sat, as she was bending over their child, and + gazed upon her cheek with an insane and fearful joy at the characters + which consumption had there engraved; but when she turned towards him her + fond eyes (those deep wells of love, in which truth lay hid, and which + neither languor nor disease could exhaust), the unnatural hardness of his + heart melted away, and he would rush from the house, to give vent to an + agony against which fortitude and manhood were in vain. + </p> + <p> + There was no hope for their distress. His wife had, unknown to Glendower + (for she dreaded his pride), written several times to a relation, who, + though distant, was still the nearest in blood which fate had spared her, + but ineffectually; the scions of a large and illegitimate family, which + surrounded him, utterly prevented the success, and generally interrupted + the application, of any claimant on his riches but themselves. Glendower, + whose temper had ever kept him aloof from all but the commonest + acquaintances, knew no human being to apply to. Utterly unable to avail + himself of the mine which his knowledge and talents should have proved; + sick, and despondent at heart, and debarred by the loftiness of honour, or + rather principle that nothing could quell, from any unlawful means of + earning bread, which to most minds would have been rendered excusable by + the urgency of nature,—Glendower marked the days drag on in dull and + protracted despair, and envied every corpse that he saw borne to the + asylum in which all earth’s hopes seemed centred and confined. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For ours was not like earthly love. + And must this parting be our very last? + No! I shall love thee still when death itself is past. + ...... + Hush’d were his Gertrude’s lips! but still their bland + And beautiful expression seem’d to melt + With love that could not die! and still his hand + She presses to the heart, no more that felt. + Ah, heart! where once each fond affection dwelt. + CAMPBELL. +</pre> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Mr. Brown to himself, as he spurred his + shaggy pony to a speed very unusual to the steady habits of either party, + “I wonder where I shall find him. I would not for the late Lady + Waddilove’s best diamond cross have any body forestall me in the + news. To think of my young master dying so soon after my last visit, or + rather my last visit but one; and to think of the old gentleman taking on + so, and raving about his injustice to the rightful possessor, and saying + that he is justly punished, and asking me so eagerly if I could discover + the retreat of the late squire, and believing me so implicitly when I + undertook to do it, and giving me this letter!” And here Mr. Brown + wistfully examined an epistle sealed with black wax, peeping into the + corners, which irritated rather than satisfied his curiosity. “I + wonder what the old gentleman says in it; I suppose he will, of course, + give up the estate and house. Let me see; that long picture gallery, just + built, will, at all events, want furnishing. That would be a famous + opportunity to get rid of the Indian jars, and the sofas, and the great + Turkey carpet. How lucky that I should just have come in time to get the + letter. But let me consider how I shall find out?—an advertisement + in the paper? Ah! that’s the plan. ‘Algernon Mordaunt, Esq.: + something greatly to his advantage; apply to Mr. Brown, etc.’ Ah! + that will do well, very well. The Turkey carpet won’t be quite long + enough. I wish I had discovered Mr. Mordaunt’s address before, and + lent him some money during the young gentleman’s life: it would have + seemed more generous. However, I can offer it now, before I show the + letter. Bless me, it’s getting dark. Come, Dobbin, ye-up!” + Such were the meditations of the faithful friend of the late Lady + Waddilove, as he hastened to London, charged with the task of discovering + Mordaunt and with the delivery of the following epistle:— + </p> + <p> + You are now, sir, the heir to that property which, some years ago, passed + from your hands into mine. My son, for whom alone wealth or I may say life + was valuable to me, is no more. I only, an old, childless man, stand + between you and the estates of Mordaunt. Do not wait for my death to enjoy + them. I cannot live here, where everything reminds me of my great and + irreparable loss. I shall remove next month into another home. Consider + this, then, as once more yours. The house, I believe, you will not find + disimproved by my alterations: the mortgages on the estate have been paid + off; the former rental you will perhaps allow my steward to account to you + for, and after my death the present one will be yours. I am informed that + you are a proud man, and not likely to receive favours. Be it so, sir! it + is no favour you will receive, but justice; there are circumstances + connected with my treaty with your father which have of late vexed my + conscience; and conscience, sir, must be satisfied at any loss. But we + shall meet, perhaps, and talk over the past; at present I will not enlarge + on it. If you have suffered by me, I am sufficiently punished, and my only + hope is to repair your losses. + </p> + <p> + I am, etc., H. VAVASOUR MORDAUNT. + </p> + <p> + Such was the letter, so important to Mordaunt, with which our worthy + friend was charged. Bowed to the dust as Vavasour was by the loss of his + son, and open to conscience as affliction had made him, he had lived too + long for effect, not to be susceptible to its influence, even to the last. + Amidst all his grief, and it was intense, there were some whispers of + self-exaltation at the thought of the eclat which his generosity and + abdication would excite; and, with true worldly morality, the hoped-for + plaudits of others gave a triumph rather than humiliation to his + reconcilement with himself. + </p> + <p> + To say truth, there were indeed circumstances connected with his treaty + with Mordaunt’s father calculated to vex his conscience. He knew + that he had not only taken great advantage of Mr. Mordaunt’s + distress, but that at his instigation a paper which could forever have + prevented Mr. Mordaunt’s sale of the property, had been destroyed. + These circumstances, during the life of his son, he had endeavoured to + forget or to palliate. But grief is rarely deaf to remorse; and at the + death of that idolized son the voice at his heart grew imperious, and he + lost the power in losing the motive of reasoning it away. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brown’s advertisement was unanswered; and, with the zeal and + patience of the Christian proselyte’s tribe and calling, the good + man commenced, in person, a most elaborate and painstaking research. For a + long time, his endeavours were so ineffectual that Mr. Brown, in despair, + disposed of the two Indian jars for half their value, and heaved a + despondent sigh, whenever he saw the great Turkey carpet rolled up in his + warehouse with as much obstinacy as if it never meant to unroll itself + again. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, by dint of indefatigable and minute investigation, he + ascertained that the object of his search had resided in London, under a + feigned name; from lodging to lodging, and corner to corner, he tracked + him, till at length he made himself master of Mordaunt’s present + retreat. A joyful look did Mr. Brown cast at the great Turkey carpet, as + he passed by it, on his way to his street door, on the morning of his + intended visit to Mordaunt. “It is a fine thing to have a good + heart,” said he, in the true style of Sir Christopher Findlater, and + he again eyed the Turkey carpet. “I really feel quite happy at the + thought of the pleasure I shall give.” + </p> + <p> + After a walk through as many obscure and filthy wynds and lanes and alleys + and courts as ever were threaded by some humble fugitive from justice, the + patient Morris came to a sort of court, situated among the miserable + hovels in the vicinity of the Tower. He paused wonderingly at a dwelling + in which every window was broken, and where the tiles, torn from the roof, + lay scattered in forlorn confusion beside the door; where the dingy bricks + looked crumbling away, from very age and rottenness, and the fabric, which + was of great antiquity, seemed so rocking and infirm that the eye looked + upon its distorted and overhanging position with a sensation of pain and + dread; where the very rats had deserted their loathsome cells from the + insecurity of their tenure, and the ragged mothers of the abject + neighbourhood forbade their brawling children to wander under the + threatening walls, lest they should keep the promise of their mouldering + aspect, and, falling, bare to the obstructed and sickly day the secrets of + their prison-house. Girt with the foul and reeking lairs of that extreme + destitution which necessity urges irresistibly into guilt, and excluded, + by filthy alleys and an eternal atmosphere of smoke and rank vapour, from + the blessed sun and the pure air of heaven, the miserable mansion seemed + set apart for every disease to couch within,—too perilous even for + the hunted criminal; too dreary even for the beggar to prefer it to the + bare hedge, or the inhospitable porch, beneath whose mockery of shelter + the frost of winter had so often numbed him into sleep. + </p> + <p> + Thrice did the heavy and silver-headed cane of Mr. Brown resound upon the + door, over which was a curious carving of a lion dormant, and a date, of + which only the two numbers 15 were discernable. Roused by a note so + unusual, and an apparition so unwontedly smug as the worthy Morris, a + whole legion of dingy and smoke-dried brats, came trooping from the + surrounding huts, and with many an elvish cry, and strange oath, and + cabalistic word, which thrilled the respectable marrow of Mr. Brown, they + collected in a gaping, and, to his alarmed eye, a menacing group, as near + to the house as their fears and parents would permit them. + </p> + <p> + “It is very dangerous,” thought Mr. Brown, looking shiveringly + up at the hanging and tottering roof, “and very appalling,” as + he turned to the ragged crowd of infant reprobates which began with every + moment to increase. At last he summoned courage, and inquired, in a tone + half soothing and half dignified, if they could inform him how to obtain + admittance or how to arouse the inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + An old crone, leaning out of an opposite window, with matted hair hanging + over a begrimed and shrivelled countenance, made answer. “No one,” + she said, in her peculiar dialect, which the worthy man scarcely + comprehended, “lived there or had done so for years:” but + Brown knew better; and while he was asserting the fact, a girl put her + head out of another hovel, and said that she had sometimes seen, at the + dusk of the evening, a man leave the house, but whether any one else lived + in it she could not tell. Again Mr. Brown sounded an alarm, but no answer + came forth, and in great fear and trembling he applied violent hands to + the door: it required but little force; it gave way; he entered; and, + jealous of the entrance of the mob without, reclosed and barred, as well + as he was able, the shattered door. The house was unnaturally large for + the neighbourhood, and Brown was in doubt whether first to ascend a broken + and perilous staircase or search the rooms below: he decided on the + latter; he found no one, and with a misgiving heart, which nothing but the + recollection of the great Turkey carpet could have inspired, he ascended + the quaking steps. All was silent. But a door was unclosed. He entered, + and saw the object of his search before him. + </p> + <p> + Over a pallet bent a form, on which, though youth seemed withered and even + pride broken, the unconquerable soul left somewhat of grace and of glory, + that sustained the beholder’s remembrance of better days; a child in + its first infancy knelt on the nearer side of the bed with clasped hands, + and vacant eyes that turned towards the intruder with a listless and + lacklustre gaze. But Glendower, or rather Mordaunt, as he bent over the + pallet, spoke not, moved not: his eyes were riveted on one object; his + heart seemed turned into stone and his veins curdled into ice. Awed and + chilled by the breathing desolation of the spot, Brown approached, and + spoke he scarcely knew what. “You are,” he concluded his + address, “the master of Mordaunt Court;” and he placed the + letter in the hands of the person he thus greeted. + </p> + <p> + “Awake, hear me!” cried Algernon to Isabel, as she lay + extended on the couch; and the messenger of glad tidings, for the first + time seeing her countenance, shuddered, and knew that he was in the + chamber of death. + </p> + <p> + “Awake, my own, own love! Happy days are in store for us yet: our + misery is past; you will live, live to bless me in riches, as you have + done in want.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel raised her eyes to his, and a smile, sweet, comforting, and full of + love, passed the lips which were about to close forever. “Thank + Heaven,” she murmured, “for your dear sake. It is pleasant to + die now, and thus;” and she placed the hand that was clasped in her + relaxing and wan fingers within the bosom which had been for anguished and + hopeless years his asylum and refuge, and which now when fortune changed, + as if it had only breathed in comfort to his afflictions, was for the + first time and forever to be cold,—cold even to him! + </p> + <p> + “You will live, you will live,” cried Mordaunt, in wild and + incredulous despair, “in mercy live! You, who have been my angel of + hope, do not,—O God, O God! do not desert me now!” + </p> + <p> + But that faithful and loving heart was already deaf to his voice, and the + film grew darkening and rapidly over the eye which still with undying + fondness sought him out through the shade and agony of death. Sense and + consciousness were gone, and dim and confused images whirled round her + soul, struggling a little moment before they sank into the depth and + silence where the past lies buried. But still mindful of him, and + grasping, as it were, at his remembrance, she clasped, closer and closer, + the icy hand which she held, to her breast. “Your hand is cold, + dearest, it is cold,” said she, faintly, “but I will warm it + here!” And so her spirit passed away, and Mordaunt felt afterwards, + in a lone and surviving pilgrimage, that her last thought had been + kindness to him, and that her last act had spoken forgetfulness even of + death in the tenderness of love! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Change and time take together their flight.—Golden Violet. +</pre> + <p> + One evening in autumn, about three years after the date of our last + chapter, a stranger on horseback, in deep mourning, dismounted at the door + of the Golden Fleece, in the memorable town of W——. He walked + into the taproom, and asked for a private apartment and accommodation for + the night. The landlady, grown considerably plumper than when we first + made her acquaintance, just lifted up her eyes to the stranger’s + face, and summoning a short stout man (formerly the waiter, now the second + helpmate of the comely hostess), desired him, in a tone which partook + somewhat more of the authority indicative of their former relative + situations than of the obedience which should have characterized their + present, “to show the gentleman to the Griffin, No. 4.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger smiled as the sound greeted his ears, and he followed not so + much the host as the hostess’s spouse into the apartment thus + designated. A young lady, who some eight years ago little thought that she + should still be in a state of single blessedness, and who always honoured + with an attentive eye the stray travellers who, from their youth, + loneliness, or that ineffable air which usually designates the unmarried + man, might be in the same solitary state of life, turned to the landlady + and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Mother, did you observe what a handsome gentleman that was?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the landlady; “I only observed that he + brought no servant” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said the daughter, “if he is in the army? he + has a military air!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he has dined,” muttered the landlady to herself, + looking towards the larder. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Squire Mordaunt within a short period of time?” + asked, somewhat abruptly, a little thick-set man, who was enjoying his + pipe and negus in a sociable way at the window-seat. The characteristics + of this personage were, a spruce wig, a bottle nose, an elevated eyebrow, + a snuff-coloured skin and coat, and an air of that consequential + self-respect which distinguishes the philosopher who agrees with the + French sage, and sees “no reason in the world why a man should not + esteem himself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, Mr. Bossolton,” returned the landlady; “but + I suppose that, as he is now in the Parliament House, he will live less + retired. It is a pity that the inside of that noble old Hall of his should + not be more seen; and after all the old gentleman’s improvements + too! They say that the estate now, since the mortgages were paid off, is + above 10,000 pounds a year, clear!” + </p> + <p> + “And if I am not induced into an error,” rejoined Mr. + Bossolton, refilling his pipe, “old Vavasour left a great sum of + ready money besides, which must have been an aid, and an assistance, and + an advantage, mark me, Mistress Merrylack, to the owner of Mordaunt Hall, + that has escaped the calculation of your faculty,—and the—and + the—faculty of your calculation!” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake, Mr. Boss,” as, in the friendliness of + diminutives, Mrs. Merrylack sometimes styled the grandiloquent + practitioner, “you mistake: the old gentleman left all his ready + money in two bequests,—the one to the College of ——, in + the University of Cambridge, and the other to an hospital in London. I + remember the very words of the will; they ran thus, Mr. Boss. ‘And + whereas my beloved son, had he lived, would have been a member of the + College of —— in the University of Cambridge, which he would + have adorned by his genius, learning, youthful virtue, and the various + qualities which did equal honour to his head and heart, and would have + rendered him alike distinguished as the scholar and the Christian, I do + devise and bequeath the sum of thirty-seven thousand pounds sterling, now + in the English Funds,’ etc; and then follows the manner in which he + will have his charity vested and bestowed, and all about the prize which + shall be forever designated and termed ‘The Vavasour Prize,’ + and what shall be the words of the Latin speech which shall be spoken when + the said prize be delivered, and a great deal more to that effect: so, + then, he passes to the other legacy, of exactly the same sum, to the + hospital, usually called and styled ——, in the city of London, + and says, ‘And whereas we are assured by the Holy Scriptures, which, + in these days of blasphemy and sedition, it becomes every true Briton and + member of the Established Church to support, that “charity doth + cover a multitude of sins,” so I do give and devise,’ etc., + ‘to be forever termed in the deeds,’ etc., ‘of the said + hospital, “The Vavasour Charity;” and always provided that on + the anniversary of the day of my death a sermon shall be preached in the + chapel attached to the said hospital by a clergyman of the Established + Church, on any text appropriate to the day and deed so commemorated.’ + But the conclusion is most beautiful, Mr. Bossolton: ‘And now having + discharged my duties, to the best of my humble ability, to my God, my + king, and my country, and dying in the full belief of the Protestant + Church, as by law established, I do set my hand and seal,’ etc.” + </p> + <p> + “A very pleasing and charitable and devout and virtuous testament or + will, Mistress Merrylack,” said Mr. Bossolton; “and in a time + when anarchy with gigantic strides does devastate and devour and harm the + good old customs of our ancestors and forefathers, and tramples with its + poisonous breath the Magna Charta and the glorious revolution, it is + beautiful, ay, and sweet, mark you, Mrs. Merrylack, to behold a gentleman + of the aristocratic classes or grades supporting the institutions of his + country with such remarkable energy of sentiments and with—and with, + Mistress Merrylack, with sentiments of such remarkable energy.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said the daughter, adjusting her ringlets by a little + glass which hung over the tap, “how long has Mr. Mordaunt’s + lady been dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she died just before the squire came to the property,” + quoth the mother. “Poor thing! she was so pretty! I am sure I cried + for a whole hour when I heard it! I think it was three years last month + when it happened. Old Mr. Vavasour died about two months afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “The afflicted husband” (said Mr. Bossolton, who was the + victim of a most fiery Mrs. Boss at home) “went into foreign lands + or parts, or, as it is vulgarly termed, the Continent, immediately after + an event or occurrence so fatal to the cup of his prosperity and the + sunshine of his enjoyment, did he not, Mrs. Merrylack?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. And you know, Mr. Boss, he only returned about six months + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And of what borough or burgh or town or city is he the member and + representative?” asked Mr. Jeremiah Bossolton, putting another lump + of sugar into his negus. “I have heard, it is true, but my memory is + short; and, in the multitude and multifariousness of my professional + engagements, I am often led into a forgetfulness of matters less important + in their variety, and less—less various in their importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered Mrs. Merrylack, “somehow or other, I + quite forget too; but it is some distant borough. The gentleman wanted him + to stand for the county, but he would not hear of it; perhaps he did not + like the publicity of the thing, for he is mighty reserved.” + </p> + <p> + “Proud, haughty, arrogant, and assumptious!” said Mr. + Bossolton, with a puff of unusual length. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” said the daughter (young people are always the + first to defend), “I’m sure he’s not proud: he does a + mort of good, and has the sweetest smile possible! I wonder if he’ll + marry again! He is very young yet, not above two or three and thirty.” + (The kind damsel would not have thought two or three and thirty very young + some years ago; but we grow wonderfully indulgent to the age of other + people as we grow older ourselves!) + </p> + <p> + “And what an eye he has!” said the landlady. “Well, for + my part,—but, bless me. Here, John, John, John, waiter, husband I + mean,—here’s a carriage and four at the door. Lizzy, dear, is + my cap right?” + </p> + <p> + And mother, daughter, and husband all flocked, charged with simper, + courtesy, and bow, to receive their expected guests. With a disappointment + which we who keep not inns can but very imperfectly conceive, the trio + beheld a single personage,—a valet, descend from the box, open the + carriage door, and take out—a desk! Of all things human, male or + female, the said carriage was utterly empty. + </p> + <p> + The valet bustled up to the landlady: “My master’s here, ma’am, + I think; rode on before!” + </p> + <p> + “And who is your master?” asked Mrs. Merrylack, a thrill of + alarm, and the thought of No. 4, coming across her at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Who!” said the valet, rubbing his hands; “who!—why, + Clarence Talbot Linden, Esq., of Scarsdale Park, county of York, late + Secretary of Legation at the court of ——, now M.P., and one of + his Majesty’s Under Secretaries of State.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy upon us!” cried the astounded landlady, “and No. + 4! only think of it. Run, John,—John,—run, light a fire (the + night’s cold, I think) in the Elephant, No. 16; beg the gentleman’s + pardon; say it was occupied till now; ask what he’ll have for + dinner,—fish, flesh, fowl, steaks, joints, chops, tarts; or, if it’s + too late (but it’s quite early yet; you may put back the day an hour + or so), ask what he’ll have for supper; run, John, run: what’s + the oaf staying for? run, I tell you! Pray, sir, walk in (to the valet, + our old friend Mr. Harrison)—you’ll be hungry after your + journey, I think; no ceremony, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s not so handsome as his master,” said Miss + Elizabeth, glancing at Harrison discontentedly; “but he does not + look like a married man, somehow. I’ll just step up stairs and + change my cap: it would be but civil if the gentleman’s gentleman + sups with us.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Clarence, having been left alone in the quiet enjoyment of No. + 4, had examined the little apartment with an interest not altogether + unmingled with painful reflections. There are few persons, however + fortunate, who can look back to eight years of their life, and not feel + somewhat of disappointment in the retrospect; few persons, whose fortunes + the world envy, to whom the token of past time suddenly obtruded on their + remembrance does not awaken hopes destroyed and wishes deceived which that + world has never known. We tell our triumphs to the crowd, but our own + hearts are the sole confidants of our sorrows. “Twice,” said + Clarence to himself, “twice before have I been in this humble room; + the first was when, at the age of eighteen, I was just launched into the + world,—a vessel which had for its only hope the motto of the + chivalrous Sidney,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Aut viam inveniam, aut—faciam;’ + [“I will either find my way, or—make it.] +</pre> + <p> + yet, humble and nameless as I was, how well I can recall the exaggerated + ambition, nay, the certainty of success, as well as its desire, which then + burned within me. I smile now at the overweening vanity of those hopes,—some, + indeed, realized, but how many nipped and withered forever! seeds, of + which a few fell upon rich ground and prospered, but of which how far the + greater number were scattered: some upon the wayside, and were devoured by + immediate cares; some on stony places, and when the sun of manhood was up + they were scorched, and because they had no root withered away; and some + among thorns, and the thorns sprang up and choked them. I am now rich, + honoured, high in the favour of courts, and not altogether unknown or + unesteemed arbitrio popularis aurae: and yet I almost think I was happier + when, in that flush of youth and inexperience, I looked forth into the + wide world, and imagined that from every corner would spring up a triumph + for my vanity or an object for my affections. The next time I stood in + this little spot, I was no longer the dependant of a precarious charity, + or the idle adventurer who had no stepping-stone but his ambition. I was + then just declared the heir of wealth, which I could not rationally have + hoped for five years before, and which was in itself sufficient to satisfy + the aspirings of ordinary men. But I was corroded with anxieties for the + object of my love, and regret for the friend whom I had lost: perhaps the + eagerness of my heart for the one rendered me, for the moment, too little + mindful of the other; but, in after years, memory took ample atonement for + that temporary suspension of her duties. How often have I recalled, in + this world of cold ties and false hearts, that true and generous friend, + from whose lessons my mind took improvement, and from whose warnings + example; who was to me, living, a father, and from whose generosity + whatever worldly advantages I have enjoyed or distinctions I have gained + are derived! Then I was going, with a torn yet credulous heart, to pour + forth my secret and my passion to her, and, within one little week thence, + how shipwrecked of all hope, object, and future happiness I was! Perhaps, + at that time, I did not sufficiently consider the excusable cautions of + the world: I should not have taken such umbrage at her father’s + letter; I should have revealed to him my birth and accession of fortune; + nor bartered the truth of certain happiness for the trials and manoeuvres + of romance. But it is too late to repent now. By this time my image must + be wholly obliterated from her heart: she has seen me in the crowd, and + passed me coldly by; her cheek is pale, but not for me; and in a little, + little while, she will be another’s, and lost to me forever! Yet + have I never forgotten her through change or time, the hard and harsh + projects of ambition, the labours of business, or the engrossing schemes + of political intrigue. Never! but this is a vain and foolish subject of + reflection now.” + </p> + <p> + And not the less reflecting upon it for that sage and veracious + recollection, Clarence turned from the window, against which he had been + leaning, and drawing one of the four chairs to the solitary table, he sat + down, moody and disconsolate, and leaning his face upon his hands, pursued + the confused yet not disconnected thread of his meditations. + </p> + <p> + The door abruptly opened, and Mr. Merrylack appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, sir!” cried he, “a thousand pities you should + have been put here, sir! Pray step upstairs, sir; the front drawing-room + is just vacant, sir; what will you please to have for dinner, sir?” + etc., according to the instructions of his wife. To Mr. Merrylack’s + great dismay, Clarence, however, resolutely refused all attempts at + locomotion, and contenting himself with entrusting the dinner to the + discretion of the landlady, desired to be left alone till it was prepared. + </p> + <p> + Now, when Mr. John Merrylack returned to the taproom, and communicated the + stubborn adherence to No. 4 manifested by its occupier, our good hostess + felt exceedingly discomposed. “You are so stupid, John,” said + she: “I’ll go and expostulate like with him;” and she + was rising for that purpose when Harrison, who was taking particularly + good care of himself, drew her back; “I know my master’s + temper better than you do, ma’am,” said he; “and when he + is in the humour to be stubborn, the very devil himself could not get him + out of it. I dare say he wants to be left to himself: he is very fond of + being alone now and then; state affairs, you know” (added the valet, + mysteriously touching his forehead), “and even I dare not disturb + him for the world; so make yourself easy, and I’ll go to him when he + has dined, and I supped. There is time enough for No. 4 when we have taken + care of number one. Miss, your health!” + </p> + <p> + The landlady, reluctantly overruled in her design, reseated herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clarence Linden, M. P., did you say, sir?” said the + learned Jeremiah: “surely, I have had that name or appellation in my + books, but I cannot, at this instant of time, recall to my recollection + the exact date and circumstance of my professional services to the + gentleman so designated, styled, or, I may say, termed.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t say, I am sure, sir,” said Harrison; “lived + with my master many years; never had the pleasure of seeing you before, + nor of travelling this road,—a very hilly road it is, sir. Miss, + this negus is as bright as your eyes and as warm as my admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Mr. Merrylack, who like most of his tribe was a + bit of a politician; “is it the Mr. Linden who made that long speech + in the House the other day?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, sir. He is a very eloquent gentleman, indeed: pity he + speaks so little; never made but that one long speech since he has been in + the House, and a capital one it was too. You saw how the prime minister + complimented him upon it. ‘A speech,’ said his lordship, + ‘which had united the graces of youthful genius with the sound + calculations of matured experience.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Did the prime minister really so speak?” said Jeremiah + “what a beautiful, and noble, and sensible compliment! I will + examine my books when I go home,—‘the graces of youthful + genius with the sound calculations of matured experience’!” + </p> + <p> + “If he is in the Parliament House,” quoth the landlady, + “I suppose he will know our Mr. Mordaunt, when the squire takes his + seat next—what do you call it—sessions?” + </p> + <p> + “Know Mr. Mordaunt!” said the valet. “It is to see him + that we have come down here. We intended to have gone there to-night, but + Master thought it too late, and I saw he was in a melancholy humour: we + therefore resolved to come here; and so Master took one of the horses from + the groom, whom we have left behind with the other, and came on alone. I + take it, he must have been in this town before, for he described the inn + so well.—Capital cheese this! as mild,—as mild as your sweet + smile, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mistress Merrylack,” said Mr. Jeremiah Bossolton, + depositing his pipe on the table, and awakening from a profound revery, in + which for the last five minutes his senses had been buried, “pray, + Mistress Merrylack, do you not call to your mind or your reminiscence or + your—your recollection, a young gentleman, equally comely in his + aspect and blandiloquent (ehem!) in his address, who had the misfortune to + have his arm severely contused and afflicted by a violent kick from Mr. + Mordaunt’s horse, even in the yard in which your stables are + situated, and who remained for two or three days in your house or tavern + or hotel? I do remember that you were grievously perplexed because of his + name, the initials of which only he gave or entrusted or communicated to + you, until you did exam—” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” interrupted Miss Elizabeth, “I remember + well,—a very beautiful young gentleman, who had a letter directed to + be left here, addressed to him by the letters C. L., and who was + afterwards kicked, and who admired your cap, Mother, and whose name was + Clarence Linden. You remember it well enough, Mother, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do, Lizzy,” said the landlady, slowly; for her + memory, not so much occupied as her daughter’s by beautiful young + gentlemen, struggled slowly amidst dim ideas of the various travellers and + visitors with whom her house had been honoured, before she came, at last, + to the reminiscence of Clarence Linden, “I think I do; and Squire + Mordaunt was very attentive to him; and he broke one of the panes of glass + in No. 8 and gave me half a guinea to pay for it. I do remember perfectly, + Lizzy. So that is the Mr. Linden now here?—only think!” + </p> + <p> + “I should not have known him, certainly,” said Miss Elizabeth; + “he is grown so much taller, and his hair looks quite dark now, and + his face is much thinner than it was; but he’s very handsome still; + is he not, sir?” turning to the valet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah! well enough,” said Mr. Harrison, stretching out his + right leg, and falling away a little to the left, in the manner adopted by + the renowned Gil Blas, in his address to the fair Laura, “well + enough; but he’s a little too tall and thin, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harrison’s faults in shape were certainly not those of being too + tall and thin. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so!” said Miss Elizabeth, who scented the vanity by a + kindred instinct, and had her own reasons for pampering it, “perhaps + so!” + </p> + <p> + “But he is a great favourite with the ladies all the same; however, + he only loves one lady. Ah, but I must not say who, though I know. + However, she is so handsome: such eyes, they would go through you like a + skewer; but not like yours,—yours, miss, which I vow and protest are + as bright as a service of plate.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” + </p> + <p> + And amidst these graceful compliments the time slipped away, till Clarence’s + dinner and his valet’s supper being fairly over, Mr. Harrison + presented himself to his master, a perfectly different being in attendance + to what he was in companionship: flippancy, impertinence, forwardness, all + merged in the steady, sober, serious demeanour which characterize the + respectful and well-bred domestic. + </p> + <p> + Clarence’s orders were soon given. They were limited to the + appurtenances of writing; and as soon as Harrison reappeared with his + master’s writing-desk, he was dismissed for the night. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly did Clarence settle himself to his task, and attempt to escape + the ennui of his solitude, or the restlessness of thought feeding upon + itself, by inditing the following epistle:— + </p> + <p> + TO THE DUKE OF HAVERFIELD. + </p> + <p> + I was very unfortunate, my dear Duke, to miss seeing you, when I called in + Arlington Street the evening before last, for I had a great deal to say to + you,—something upon public and a little upon private affairs. I will + reserve the latter, since I only am the person concerned, for a future + opportunity. With respect to the former— ......... + </p> + <p> + And now, having finished the political part of my letter, let me + congratulate you most sincerely upon your approaching marriage with Miss + Trevanion. I do not know her myself; but I remember that she was the bosom + friend of Lady Flora Ardenne, whom I have often heard speak of her in the + highest and most affectionate terms, so that I imagine her brother could + not better atone to you for dishonestly carrying off the fair Julia some + three years ago, than by giving you his sister in honourable and orthodox + exchange,—the gold amour for the brazen. + </p> + <p> + As for my lot, though I ought not, at this moment, to dim yours by + dwelling upon it, you know how long, how constantly, how ardently I have + loved Lady Flora Ardenne; how, for her sake, I have refused opportunities + of alliance which might have gratified to the utmost that worldliness of + heart which so many who saw me only in the crowd have been pleased to + impute to me. You know that neither pleasure, nor change, nor the insult I + received from her parents, nor the sudden indifference which I so little + deserved from herself, has been able to obliterate her image. You will + therefore sympathize with me, when I inform you that there is no longer + any doubt of her marriage with Borodaile (or rather Lord Ulswater, since + his father’s death), as soon as the sixth month of his mourning + expires; to this period only two months remain. + </p> + <p> + Heavens! when one thinks over the past, how incredulous one could become + to the future: when I recall all the tokens of love I received from that + woman, I cannot persuade myself that they are now all forgotten, or + rather, all lavished upon another. + </p> + <p> + But I do not blame her: may she be happier with him than she could have + been with me! and that hope shall whisper peace to regrets which I have + been foolish to indulge so long, and it is perhaps well for me that they + are about to be rendered forever unavailing. + </p> + <p> + I am staying at an inn, without books, companions, or anything to beguile + time and thought, but this pen, ink, and paper. You will see, therefore, a + reason and an excuse for my scribbling on to you, till my two sheets are + filled, and the hour of ten (one can’t well go to bed earlier) + arrived. + </p> + <p> + You remember having often heard me speak of a very extraordinary man whom + I met in Italy, and with whom I became intimate. He returned to England + some months ago; and on hearing it my desire of renewing our acquaintance + was so great that I wrote to invite myself to his house. He gave me what + is termed a very obliging answer, and left the choice of time to myself. + You see now, most noble Festus, the reason of my journey hitherwards. + </p> + <p> + His house, a fine old mansion, is situated about five or six miles from + this town: and as I arrived here late in the evening, and knew that his + habits were reserved and peculiar, I thought it better to take “mine + ease in my inn” for this night, and defer my visit to Mordaunt Court + till to-morrow morning. In truth, I was not averse to renewing an old + acquaintance,—not, as you in your malice would suspect, with my + hostess, but with her house. Some years ago, when I was eighteen, I first + made a slight acquaintance with Mordaunt at this very inn, and now, at + twenty-six, I am glad to have one evening to myself on the same spot, and + retrace here all that has since happened to me. + </p> + <p> + Now do not be alarmed: I am not going to inflict upon you the unquiet + retrospect with which I have just been vexing myself; no, I will rather + speak to you of my acquaintance and host to be. I have said that I first + met Mordaunt some years since at this inn,—an accident, for which + his horse was to blame, brought us acquainted,—I spent a day at his + house, and was much interested in his conversation; since then, we did not + meet till about two years and a half ago, when we were in Italy together. + During the intermediate interval Mordaunt had married; lost his property + by a lawsuit; disappeared from the world (whither none knew) for some + years; recovered the estate he had lost by the death of his kinsman’s + heir, and shortly afterwards by that of the kinsman himself; and had + become a widower, with one only child, a beautiful little girl of about + four years old. He lived in perfect seclusion, avoided all intercourse + with society, and seemed so perfectly unconscious of having ever seen me + before, whenever in our rides or walks we met, that I could not venture to + intrude myself on a reserve so rigid and unbroken as that which + characterized his habits and life. + </p> + <p> + The gloom and loneliness, however, in which Mordaunt’s days were + spent, were far from partaking of that selfishness so common, almost so + necessarily common, to recluses. Wherever he had gone in his travels + through Italy, he had left light and rejoicing behind him. In his + residence at ——, while unknown to the great and gay, he was + familiar with the outcast and the destitute. The prison, the hospital, the + sordid cabins of want, the abodes (so frequent in Italy, that emporium of + artists and poets) where genius struggled against poverty and its own + improvidence,—all these were the spots to which his visits were + paid, and in which “the very stones prated of his whereabout.” + It was a strange and striking contrast to compare the sickly enthusiasm of + those who flocked to Italy to lavish their sentiments on statues, and + their wealth on the modern impositions palmed upon their taste as the + masterpieces of ancient art,—it was a noble contrast, I say, to + compare that ludicrous and idle enthusiasm with the quiet and wholesome + energy of mind and heart which led Mordaunt, not to pour forth worship and + homage to the unconscious monuments of the dead but to console, to + relieve, and to sustain the woes, the wants, the feebleness of the living. + </p> + <p> + Yet while he was thus employed in reducing the miseries and enlarging the + happiness of others, the most settled melancholy seemed to mark himself + “as her own.” Clad in the deepest mourning, a stern and un + broken gloom sat forever upon his countenance. I have observed, that if in + his walks or rides any one, especially of the better classes, appeared to + approach, he would strike into a new path. He could not bear even the + scrutiny of a glance or the fellowship of a moment: and his mien, high and + haughty, seemed not only to repel others, but to contradict the meekness + and charity which his own actions so invariably and unequivocally + displayed. It must, indeed, have been a powerful exertion of principle + over feeling which induced him voluntarily to seek the abodes and + intercourse of the rude beings he blessed and relieved. + </p> + <p> + We met at two or three places to which my weak and imperfect charity had + led me, especially at the house of a sickly and distressed artist: for in + former life I had intimately known one of that profession; and I have + since attempted to transfer to his brethren that debt of kindness which an + early death forbade me to discharge to himself. It was thus that I first + became acquainted with Mordaunt’s occupations and pursuits; for what + ennobled his benevolence was the remarkable obscurity in which it was + veiled. It was in disguise and in secret that his generosity flowed; and + so studiously did he conceal his name, and hide even his features, during + his brief visits to “the house of mourning,” that only one + like myself, a close and minute investigator of whatever has once become + an object of interest, could have traced his hand in the various works of + happiness it had aided or created. + </p> + <p> + One day, among some old ruins, I met him with his young daughter. By great + good-fortune I preserved the latter, who had wandered away from her + father, from a fall of loose stones, which would inevitably have crushed + her. I was myself much hurt by my effort, having received upon my shoulder + a fragment of the falling stones; and thus our old acquaintance was + renewed, and gradually ripened into intimacy; not, I must own, without + great patience and constant endeavour on my part; for his gloom and lonely + habits rendered him utterly impracticable of access to any (as Lord + Aspeden would say) but a diplomatist. I saw a great deal of him during the + six months I remained in Italy, and—but you know already how warmly + I admire his extraordinary powers and venerate his character—Lord + Aspeden’s recall to England separated us. + </p> + <p> + A general election ensued. I was returned for ——. I entered + eagerly into domestic politics; your friendship, Lord Aspeden’s + kindness, my own wealth and industry, made my success almost + unprecedentedly rapid. Engaged heart and hand in those minute yet + engrossing labours for which the aspirant in parliamentary and state + intrigue must unhappily forego the more enlarged though abstruser + speculations of general philosophy, and of that morality which may be + termed universal, politics, I have necessarily been employed in very + different pursuits from those to which Mordaunt’s contemplations are + devoted, yet have I often recalled his maxims, with admiration at their + depth, and obtained applause for opinions which were only imperfectly + filtered from the pure springs of his own. + </p> + <p> + It is about six months since he has returned to England, and he has very + lately obtained a seat in Parliament: so that we may trust soon to see his + talents displayed upon a more public and enlarged theatre than they + hitherto have been; and though I fear his politics will be opposed to + ours, I anticipate his public debut with that interest which genius, even + when adverse to one’s self, always inspires. Yet I confess that I am + desirous to see and converse with him once more in the familiarity and + kindness of private intercourse. The rage of party, the narrowness of + sectarian zeal, soon exclude from our friendship all those who differ from + our opinions; and it is like sailors holding commune for the last time + with each other, before their several vessels are divided by the perilous + and uncertain sea, to confer in peace and retirement for a little while + with those who are about to be launched with us on that same unquiet ocean + where any momentary caprice of the winds may disjoin us forever, and where + our very union is only a sympathy in toil and a fellowship in danger. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my dear duke! it is fortunate for me that our public opinions are + so closely allied, and that I may so reasonably calculate in private upon + the happiness and honour of subscribing myself your affectionate friend, + C. L. + </p> + <p> + Such was the letter to which we shall leave the explanation of much that + has taken place within the last three years of our tale, and which, in its + tone, will serve to show the kindness and generosity of heart and feeling + that mingled (rather increased than abated by the time which brought + wisdom) with the hardy activity and resolute ambition that characterized + the mind of our “Disowned.” We now consign him to such repose + as the best bedroom in the Golden Fleece can afford, and conclude the + chapter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though the wilds of enchantment all vernal and bright, + In the days of delusion by fancy combined + With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight, + Abandon my soul, like a dream of the night, + And leave but a desert behind, + + Be hush’d my dark spirit, for Wisdom condemns + When the faint and the feeble deplore; + Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems + A thousand wild waves on the shore.—CAMPBELL. +</pre> + <p> + “Shall I order the carriage round, sir?” said Harrison; + “it is past one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; yet stay: the day is fine; I will ride; let the carriage come + on in the evening; see that my horse is saddled; you looked to his mash + last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir. He seems wonderfully fresh: would you please to have me + stay here with the carriage, sir, till the groom comes on with the other + horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, do: I don’t know yet how far strange servants may be + welcome where I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that’s lucky!” said Harrison to himself, as he + shut the door: “I shall have a good five hours’ opportunity of + making my court here. Miss Elizabeth is really a very pretty girl, and + might not be a bad match. I don’t see any brothers; who knows but + she may succeed to the inn—hem! A servant may be ambitious as well + as his master, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + So meditating, Harrison sauntered to the stables; saw (for he was an + admirable servant, and could, at a pinch, dress a horse as well as its + master) that Clarence’s beautiful steed received the utmost nicety + of grooming which the ostler could bestow; led it himself to the door; + held the stirrup for his master, with the mingled humility and grace of + his profession, and then strutted away—“pride on his brow and + glory in his eye”—to be the cynosure and oracle of the + taproom. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Linden rode slowly onwards. As he passed that turn of the town + by which he had for the first time entered it, the recollection of the + eccentric and would-be gypsy flashed upon him. “I wonder,” + thought he, “where that singular man is now, whether he still + preserves his itinerant and woodland tastes,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Si flumina sylvasque inglorius amet,’ + [“If, unknown to fame, he love the streams and the woods.”] +</pre> + <p> + or whether, as his family increased in age or number, he has turned from + his wanderings, and at length found out ‘the peaceful hermitage?’ + How glowingly the whole scene of that night comes across me,—the + wild tents, their wilder habitants, the mingled bluntness, poetry, honest + good-nature, and spirit of enterprise which constituted the chief’s + nature; the jovial meal and mirth round the wood fire, and beneath the + quiet stars, and the eagerness and zest with which I then mingled in the + merriment. Alas! how ill the fastidiousness and refinement of after days + repay us for the elastic, buoyant, ready zeal with which our first youth + enters into whatever is joyous, without pausing to ask if its cause and + nature be congenial to our habits or kindred to our tastes. After all, + there really was something philosophical in the romance of the jovial + gypsy, childish as it seemed; and I should like much to know if the + philosophy has got the better of the romance, or the romance, growing into + habit, become commonplace and lost both its philosophy and its enthusiasm. + Well, after I leave Mordaunt, I will try and find out my old friend.” + </p> + <p> + With this resolution Clarence’s thoughts took a new channel, and he + soon entered upon Mordaunt’s domain. As he rode through the park + where brake and tree were glowing in the yellow tints which Autumn, like + Ambition, gilds ere it withers, he paused for a moment to recall the scene + as he last beheld it. It was then spring—spring in its first and + flushest glory—when not a blade of grass but sent a perfume to the + air, the happy air,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Making sweet music while the young leaves danced:” + </pre> + <p> + when every cluster of the brown fern, that now lay dull and motionless + around him, and amidst which the melancholy deer stood afar off gazing + upon the intruder, was vocal with the blithe melodies of the infant year,—the + sharp, yet sweet, voices of birds,—and (heard at intervals) the + chirp of the merry grasshopper or the hum of the awakened bee. He sighed, + as he now looked around, and recalled the change both of time and season; + and with that fondness of heart which causes man to knit his own little + life to the varieties of time, the signs of heaven, or the revolutions of + Nature, he recognized something kindred in the change of scene to the + change of thought and feeling which years had wrought in the beholder. + </p> + <p> + Awaking from his revery, he hastened his horse’s pace, and was soon + within sight of the house. Vavasour, during the few years he had possessed + the place, had conducted and carried through improvements and additions to + the old mansion, upon a scale equally costly and judicious. The heavy and + motley magnificence of the architecture in which the house had been built + remained unaltered; but a wing on either side, though exactly + corresponding in style to the intermediate building, gave, by the long + colonnade which ran across the one and the stately windows which adorned + the other, an air not only of grander extent, but more cheerful lightness + to the massy and antiquated pile. It was, assuredly, in the point of view + by which Clarence now approached it, a structure which possessed few + superiors in point of size and effect; and harmonized so well with the + nobly extent of the park, the ancient woods, and the venerable avenues, + that a very slight effort of imagination might have poured from the + massive portals the pageantries of old days, and the gay galliard of + chivalric romance with which the scene was in such accordance, and which + in a former age it had so often witnessed. + </p> + <p> + Ah, little could any one who looked upon that gorgeous pile, and the broad + lands which, beyond the boundaries of the park, swelled on the hills of + the distant landscape, studded at frequent intervals with the spires and + villages, which adorned the wide baronies of Mordaunt,—little could + he who thus gazed around have imagined that the owner of all he surveyed + had passed the glory and verdure of his manhood in the bitterest struggles + with gnawing want, rebellious pride, and urgent passion, without friend or + aid but his own haughty and supporting virtue, sentenced to bear yet in + his wasted and barren heart the sign of the storm he had resisted, and the + scathed token of the lightning he had braved. None but Crauford, who had + his own reasons for taciturnity, and the itinerant broker, easily bribed + into silence, had ever known of the extreme poverty from which Mordaunt + had passed to his rightful possessions. It was whispered, indeed, that he + had been reduced to narrow and straitened circumstances; but the whisper + had been only the breath of rumour, and the imagined poverty far short of + the reality: for the pride of Mordaunt (the great, almost the sole, + failing in his character) could not endure that all he had borne and + baffled should be bared to the vulgar eye; and by a rare anomaly of mind, + indifferent as he was to renown, he was morbidly susceptible of shame. + </p> + <p> + When Clarence rang at the ivy-covered porch, and made inquiry for + Mordaunt, he was informed that the latter was in the park, by the river, + where most of his hours during the day-time were spent. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I send to acquaint him that you are come, sir?” said + the servant. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Clarence, “I will leave my horse to one + of the grooms, and stroll down to the river in search of your master.” + </p> + <p> + Suiting the action to the word, he dismounted, consigned his steed to the + groom, and following the direction indicated to him, bent his way to the + “river.” + </p> + <p> + As he descended the hill, the brook (for it did not deserve, though it + received, a higher name) opened enchantingly upon his view. Amidst the + fragrant reed and the wild-flower, still sweet though fading, and tufts of + tedded grass, all of which, when crushed beneath the foot, sent a mingled + tribute to its sparkling waves, the wild stream took its gladsome course, + now contracted by gloomy firs, which, bending over the water, cast + somewhat of their own sadness upon its surface; now glancing forth from + the shade, as it “broke into dimples and laughed in the sun;” + now washing the gnarled and spreading roots of some lonely ash, which, + hanging over it still and droopingly, seemed—the hermit of the scene—to + moralize on its noisy and various wanderings; now winding round the hill + and losing itself at last amidst thick copses, where day did never more + than wink and glimmer, and where, at night, its waters, brawling through + their stony channel, seemed like a spirit’s wail, and harmonized + well with the scream of the gray owl wheeling from her dim retreat, or the + moaning and rare sound of some solitary deer. + </p> + <p> + As Clarence’s eye roved admiringly over the scene before him, it + dwelt at last upon a small building situated on the wildest part of the + opposite bank; it was entirely overgrown with ivy, and the outline only + remained to show the Gothic antiquity of the architecture. It was a single + square tower, built none knew when or wherefore, and, consequently, the + spot of many vagrant guesses and wild legends among the surrounding + gossips. On approaching yet nearer, he perceived, alone and seated on a + little mound beside the tower, the object of his search. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt was gazing with vacant yet earnest eye upon the waters beneath; + and so intent was either his mood or look that he was unaware of Clarence’s + approach. Tears fast and large were rolling from those haughty eyes, which + men who shrank from their indifferent glance little deemed were capable of + such weak and feminine emotion. Far, far through the aching void of time + were the thoughts of the reft and solitary mourner; they were dwelling, in + all the vivid and keen intensity of grief which dies not, upon the day + when, about that hour and on that spot, he sat with Isabel’s young + cheek upon his bosom, and listened to a voice now only heard in dreams. He + recalled the moment when the fatal letter, charged with change and + poverty, was given to him, and the pang which had rent his heart as he + looked around upon a scene over which spring had just then breathed, and + which he was about to leave to a fresh summer and a new lord; and then + that deep, fond, half-fearful gaze with which Isabel had met his eye, and + the feeling, proud even in its melancholy, with which he had drawn towards + his breast all that earth had left to him, and thanked God in his heart of + hearts that she was spared. + </p> + <p> + “And I am once more master,” thought he, “not only of + all I then held, but of all which my wealthier forefathers possessed. But + she who was the sharer of my sorrows and want,—oh, where is she? + Rather, ah, rather a hundredfold that her hand was still clasped in mine, + her spirit supporting me through poverty and trial, and her soft voice + murmuring the comfort that steals away care, than to be thus heaped with + wealth and honour, and alone,—alone, where never more can come love + or hope, or the yearnings of affection or the sweet fulness of a heart + that seems fathomless in its tenderness, yet overflows! Had my lot, when + she left me, been still the steepings of bitterness, the stings of penury, + the moody silence of hope, the damp and chill of sunless and aidless + years, which rust the very iron of the soul away; had my lot been thus, as + it had been, I could have borne her death, I could have looked upon her + grave, and wept not,—nay, I could have comforted my own struggles + with the memory of her escape; but thus, at the very moment of prosperity, + to leave the altered and promising earth, ‘to house with darkness + and with death;’ no little gleam of sunshine, no brief recompense + for the agonizing past, no momentary respite between tears and the tomb. + Oh, Heaven! what—what avail is a wealth which comes too late, when + she, who could alone have made wealth bliss, is dust; and the light that + should have gilded many and happy days flings only a ghastly glare upon + the tomb?” + </p> + <p> + Starting from these reflections, Mordaunt half-unconsciously rose, and + dashing the tears from his eyes, was about to plunge into the neighbouring + thicket, when, looking up, he beheld Clarence, now within a few paces of + him. He started, and seemed for one moment irresolute whether to meet or + shun his advance, but probably deeming it too late for the latter, he + banished, by one of those violent efforts with which men of proud and + strong minds vanquish emotion, all outward sign of the past agony; and + hastening towards his guest, greeted him with a welcome which, though from + ordinary hosts it might have seemed cold, appeared to Clarence, who knew + his temper, more cordial than he had ventured to anticipate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr father urged me sair, + But my mither didna speak, + Though she looked into my face, + Till my heart was like to break.—Auld Robin Gray. +</pre> + <p> + “It is rather singular,” said Lady Westborough to her daughter + as they sat alone one afternoon in the music-room at Westborough Park,—“it + is rather singular that Lord Ulswater should not have come yet. He said he + should certainly be here before three o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Mamma, that he has some military duties to detain him at + W——,” answered Lady Flora, bending over a drawing in + which she appeared to be earnestly engaged. + </p> + <p> + “True, my dear, and it was very kind in Lord —— to + quarter the troop he commands in his native county; and very fortunate + that W——, being his head-quarters, should also be so near us. + But I cannot conceive that any duty can be sufficiently strong to detain + him from you,” added Lady Westborough, who had been accustomed all + her life to a devotion unparalleled in this age. “You seem very + indulgent, Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! she should rather say very indifferent,” thought Lady + Flora: but she did not give her thought utterance; she only looked up at + her mother for a moment, and smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + Whether there was something in that smile or in the pale cheek of her + daughter that touched her we know not, but Lady Westborough was touched: + she threw her arms round Lady Flora’s neck, kissed her fondly, and + said, “You do not seem well to-day, my love, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—very—very well,” answered Lady Flora, + returning her mother’s caress, and hiding her eyes, to which the + tears had started. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said Lady Westborough, “you know that both + myself and your father are very desirous to see you married to Lord + Ulswater,—of high and ancient birth, of great wealth, young, + unexceptionable in person and character, and warmly attached to you, it + would be impossible even for the sanguine heart of a parent to ask for you + a more eligible match. But if the thought really does make you wretched,—and + yet,—how can it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have consented,” said Flora, gently; “all I ask is, + do not speak to me more of the—the event than you can avoid.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Westborough pressed her hand, sighed, and replied not. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the marquis, who had within the last year become a + cripple, with the great man’s malady, dire podagra, was wheeled in + on his easy-chair; close behind him followed Lord Ulswater. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought you,” said the marquis, who piqued himself on + a vein of dry humour,—“I have brought you, young lady, a + consolation for my ill humours. Few gouty old fathers make themselves as + welcome as I do; eh, Ulswater?” + </p> + <p> + “Dare I apply to myself Lord Westborough’s compliment?” + said the young nobleman, advancing towards Lady Flora; and drawing his + seat near her, he entered into that whispered conversation so significant + of courtship. But there was little in Lady Flora’s manner by which + an experienced eye would have detected the bride elect: no sudden blush, + no downcast, yet sidelong look, no trembling of the hand, no indistinct + confusion of the voice, struggling with unanalyzed emotions. No: all was + calm, cold, listless; her cheek changed not tint nor hue, and her words, + clear and collected, seemed to contradict whatever the low murmurs of her + betrothed might well be supposed to insinuate. But, even in his behaviour, + there was something which, had Lady Westborough been less contented than + she was with the externals and surface of manner, would have alarmed her + for her daughter. A cloud, sullen and gloomy, sat upon his brow; and his + lip alternately quivered with something like scorn, or was compressed with + a kind of stifled passion. Even in the exultation that sparkled in his + eye, when he alluded to their approaching marriage, there was an + expression that almost might have been termed fierce, and certainly was as + little like the true orthodox ardour of “gentle swain,” as + Lady Flora’s sad and half unconscious coldness resembled the + diffident passion of the “blushing maiden.” + </p> + <p> + “You have considerably passed the time in which we expected you, my + lord,” said Lady Westborough, who, as a beauty herself, was a little + jealous of the deference due to the beauty of her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “It is true.,” said Lord Ulswater, glancing towards the + opposite glass, and smoothing his right eyebrow with his forefinger, + “it is true, but I could not help it. I had a great deal of business + to do with my troop: I have put them into a new manoeuvre. Do you know, my + lord [turning to the marquis], I think it very likely the soldiers may + have some work on the —— of this month?” + </p> + <p> + “Where, and wherefore?” asked Lord Westborough, whom a sudden + twinge forced into the laconic. + </p> + <p> + “At W——. Some idle fellows hold a meeting there on that + day; and if I may judge by bills and advertisements, chalkings on the + walls, and, more than all popular rumour, I have no doubt but what riot + and sedition are intended: the magistrates are terribly frightened. I hope + we shall have some cutting and hewing: I have no patience with the + rebellious dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame! for shame!” cried Lady Westborough, who, though a + worldly, was by no means an unfeeling, woman “the poor people are + misguided; they mean no harm.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Ulswater smiled scornfully. “I never dispute upon politics, but + at the head of my men,” said he, and turned the conversation. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards Lady Flora, complaining of indisposition, rose, left + the apartment, and retired to her own room. There she sat motionless and + white as death for more than an hour. A day or two afterwards Miss + Trevanion received the following letter from her:— + </p> + <p> + Most heartily, most truly do I congratulate you, my dearest Eleanor, upon + your approaching marriage. You may reasonably hope for all that happiness + can afford; and though you do affect (for I do not think that you feel) a + fear lest you should not be able to fix a character, volatile and light, + like your lover’s; yet when I recollect his warmth of heart and high + sense, and your beauty, gentleness, charms of conversation, and purely + disinterested love for one whose great worldly advantages might so easily + bias or adulterate affection, I own that I have no dread for your future + fate, no feeling that can at all darken the brightness of anticipation. + Thank you, dearest, for the delicate kindness with which you allude to my + destiny: me indeed you cannot congratulate as I can you. But do not grieve + for me, my generous Eleanor: if not happy, I shall, I trust, be at least + contented. My poor father implored me with tears in his eyes; my mother + pressed my hand, but spoke not; and I, whose affections were withered and + hopes strewn, should I not have been hard-hearted indeed if they had not + wrung from me a consent? And oh should I not be utterly lost, if in that + consent which blessed them I did not find something of peace and + consolation? + </p> + <p> + Yes, dearest, in two months, only two months, I shall be Lord Ulswater’s + wife; and when we meet, you shall look narrowly at me, and see if he or + you have any right to complain of me. + </p> + <p> + Have you seen Mr. Linden lately? Yet do not answer the question: I ought + not to cherish still that fatal clinging interest for one who has so + utterly forgotten me. But I do rejoice in his prosperity; and when I hear + his praises, and watch his career, I feel proud that I should once have + loved him! Oh, how could he be so false, so cruel, in the very midst of + his professions of undying, unswerving faith to me; at the very moment + when I was ill, miserable, wasting my very heart, for anxiety on his + account,—and such a woman too! And had he loved me, even though his + letter was returned, would not his conscience have told him he deserved + it, and would he not have sought me out in person, and endeavoured to win + from my folly his forgiveness? But without attempting to see me, or speak + to me, or soothe a displeasure so natural, to leave the country in + silence, almost in disdain; and when we met again, to greet me with + coldness and hauteur, and never betray, by word, sign, or look, that he + had ever been to me more than the merest stranger! Fool! Fool! that I am, + to waste another thought upon him; but I will not, and ought not to do so. + In two months I shall not even have the privilege of remembrance. + </p> + <p> + I wish, Eleanor,—for I assure you that I have tried and tried,—that + I could find anything to like and esteem (since love is out of the + question) in this man, who seems so great, and, to me, so unaccountable a + favourite with my parents. His countenance and voice are so harsh and + stern; his manner at once so self-complacent and gloomy; his very + sentiments so narrow, even in their notions of honour; his very courage so + savage, and his pride so constant and offensive,—that I in vain + endeavour to persuade myself of his virtues, and recur, at least, to the + unwearying affection for me which he professes. It is true that he has + been three times refused; that I have told him I cannot love him; that I + have even owned former love to another: he still continues his suit, and + by dint of long hope has at length succeeded. But at times I could almost + think that he married me from very hate, rather than love: there is such + an artificial smoothness in his stern voice, such a latent meaning in his + eye; and when he thinks I have not noticed him, I have, on suddenly + turning towards him, perceived so dark and lowering an expression upon his + countenance that my heart has died within me for very fear. + </p> + <p> + Had my mother been the least less kind, my father the least less urgent, I + think, nay, I know, I could not have gained such a victory over myself as + I have done in consenting to the day. But enough of this. I did not think + I should have run on so long and so foolishly; but we, dearest, have been + children and girls and women together: we have loved each other with such + fondness and unreserve that opening my heart to you seems only another + phrase for thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + However, in two months I shall have no right even to thoughts; perhaps I + may not even love you: till then, dearest Eleanor, I am, as ever, your + affectionate and faithful friend, F. A. + </p> + <p> + Had Lord Westborough, indeed, been “less urgent,” or her + mother “less kind,” nothing could ever have wrung from Lady + Flora her consent to a marriage so ungenial and ill-omened. + </p> + <p> + Thrice had Lord Ulswater (then Lord Borodaile) been refused, before + finally accepted; and those who judge only from the ordinary effects of + pride would be astonished that he should have still persevered. But his + pride was that deep-rooted feeling which, so far from being repelled by a + single blow, fights stubbornly and doggedly onward, till the battle is + over and its object gained. From the moment he had resolved to address + Lady Flora Ardenne he had also resolved to win her. For three years, + despite of a refusal, first gently, then more peremptorily, urged, he + fixed himself in her train. He gave out that he was her affianced. In all + parties, in all places, he forced himself near her, unheeding alike of her + frowns or indifference; and his rank, his hauteur, his fierceness of mien, + and acknowledged courage kept aloof all the less arrogant and hardy + pretenders to Lady Flora’s favour. For this, indeed, she rather + thanked than blamed him; and it was the only thing which in the least + reconciled her modesty to his advances or her pride to his presumption. + </p> + <p> + He had been prudent as well as bold. The father he had served, and the + mother he had won. Lord Westborough, addicted a little to politics, a good + deal to show, and devotedly to gaming, was often greatly and seriously + embarrassed. Lord Ulswater, even during the life of his father (who was + lavishly generous to him), was provided with the means of relieving his + intended father-in-law’s necessities; and caring little for money in + comparison to a desired object, he was willing enough, we do not say to + bribe, but to influence, Lord Westborough’s consent. These matters + of arrangement were by no means concealed from the marchioness, who, + herself ostentatious and profuse, was in no small degree benefited by + them; and though they did not solely procure, yet they certainly + contributed to conciliate, her favour. + </p> + <p> + Few people are designedly and systematically wicked: even the worst find + good motives for bad deeds, and are as intent upon discovering glosses for + conduct to deceive themselves as to delude others. What wonder, then, that + poor Lady Westborough, never too rigidly addicted to self-examination, and + viewing all things through a very worldly medium, saw only, in the + alternate art and urgency employed against her daughter’s real + happiness, the various praiseworthy motives of permanently disentangling + Lady Flora from an unworthy attachment, of procuring for her an + establishment proportioned to her rank, and a husband whose attachment, + already shown by such singular perseverance, was so likely to afford her + everything which, in Lady Westborough’s eyes, constituted felicity? + </p> + <p> + All our friends, perhaps, desire our happiness; but then it must + invariably be in their own way. What a pity that they do not employ the + same zeal in making us happy in ours! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="link52" id="link52"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding; + If thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures: + Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God. + —Proverbs ii. 3, 4, 5. +</pre> + <p> + While Clarence was thus misjudged by one whose affections and conduct he, + in turn, naturally misinterpreted; while Lady Flora was alternately + struggling against and submitting to the fate which Lady Westborough saw + approach with gladness, the father with indifference, and the bridegroom + with a pride that partook less of rapture than revenge,—our + unfortunate lover was endeavouring to glean, from Mordaunt’s + conversation and example, somewhat of that philosophy so rare except in + the theories of the civilized and the occasional practice of the + barbarian, which, though it cannot give us a charm against misfortune, + bestows, at least, upon us the energy to support it. + </p> + <p> + We have said already that when the first impression produced by Mordaunt’s + apparent pride and coldness wore away, it required little penetration to + discover the benevolence and warmth of his mind. But none ignorant of his + original disposition, or the misfortunes of his life, could ever have + pierced the depth of his self-sacrificing nature, or measured the height + of his lofty and devoted virtue. Many men may perhaps be found who will + give up to duty a cherished wish or even a darling vice; but few will ever + renounce to it their rooted tastes, or the indulgence of those habits + which have almost become by long use their happiness itself. Naturally + melancholy and thoughtful, feeding the sensibilities of his heart upon + fiction, and though addicted to the cultivation of reason rather than + fancy, having perhaps more of the deeper and acuter characteristics of the + poet than those calm and half-callous properties of nature supposed to + belong to the metaphysician and the calculating moralist, Mordaunt was + above all men fondly addicted to solitude, and inclined to contemplations + less useful than profound. The untimely death of Isabel, whom he had loved + with that love which is the vent of hoarded and passionate musings long + nourished upon romance, and lavishing the wealth of a soul that overflows + with secreted tenderness upon the first object that can bring reality to + fiction,—that event had not only darkened melancholy into gloom, but + had made loneliness still more dear to his habits by all the ties of + memory and all the consecrations of regret. The companionless wanderings; + the midnight closet; the thoughts which, as Hume said of his own, could + not exist in the world, but were all busy with life in seclusion,—these + were rendered sweeter than ever to a mind for which the ordinary objects + of the world were now utterly loveless; and the musings of solitude had + become, as it were, a rightful homage and offering to the dead. We may + form, then, some idea of the extent to which, in Mordaunt’s + character, principle predominated over inclination, and regard for others + over the love of self, when we see him tearing his spirit from its beloved + retreats and abstracted contemplations, and devoting it to duties from + which its fastidious and refined characteristics were particularly + calculated to revolt. When we have considered his attachment to the + hermitage, we can appreciate the virtue which made him among the most + active citizens in the great world; when we have considered the natural + selfishness of grief, the pride of philosophy, the indolence of + meditation, the eloquence of wealth, which says, “Rest, and toil + not,” and the temptation within, which says, “Obey the voice,”—when + we have considered these, we can perhaps do justice to the man who, + sometimes on foot and in the coarsest attire, travelled from inn to inn + and from hut to hut; who made human misery the object of his search and + human happiness of his desire; who, breaking aside an aversion to rude + contact, almost feminine in its extreme, voluntarily sought the meanest + companions, and subjected himself to the coarsest intrusions; for whom the + wail of affliction or the moan of hunger was as a summons which allowed + neither hesitation nor appeal; who seemed possessed of a ubiquity for the + purposes of good almost resembling that attributed to the wanderer in the + magnificent fable of Melmoth for the temptations to evil; who, by a zeal + and labour that brought to habit and inclination a thousand martyrdoms, + made his life a very hour-glass, in which each sand was a good deed or a + virtuous design. + </p> + <p> + Many plunge into public affairs, to which they have had a previous + distaste, from the desire of losing the memory of a private affliction; + but so far from wishing to heal the wounds of remembrance by the anodynes + which society can afford, it was only in retirement that Mordaunt found + the flowers from which balm could be distilled. Many are through vanity + magnanimous, and benevolent from the selfishness of fame but so far from + seeking applause where he bestowed favour, Mordaunt had sedulously + shrouded himself in darkness and disguise. And by that increasing + propensity to quiet, so often found among those addicted to lofty or + abstruse contemplation, he had conquered the ambition of youth with the + philosophy of a manhood that had forestalled the affections of age. Many, + in short, have become great or good to the community by individual motives + easily resolved into common and earthly elements of desire; but they who + inquire diligently into human nature have not often the exalted happiness + to record a character like Mordaunt’s, actuated purely by a + systematic principle of love, which covered mankind, as heaven does earth, + with an atmosphere of light extending to the remotest corners and + penetrating the darkest recesses. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those violent and gusty evenings which give to an English + autumn something rude, rather than gentle, in its characteristics, that + Mordaunt and Clarence sat together, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And sowed the hours with various seeds of talk.” + </pre> + <p> + The young Isabel, the only living relic of the departed one, sat by her + father’s side upon the floor; and though their discourse was far + beyond the comprehension of her years, yet did she seem to listen with a + quiet and absorbed attention. In truth, child as she was, she so loved, + and almost worshipped, her father that the very tones of his voice had in + them a charm which could always vibrate, as it were, to her heart; and + hush her into silence; and that melancholy and deep though somewhat low + voice, when it swelled or trembled with thought,—which in Mordaunt + was feeling,—made her sad, she knew not why; and when she heard it, + she would creep to his side, and put her little hand on his, and look up + to him with eyes in whose tender and glistening blue the spirit of her + mother seemed to float. She was serious and thoughtful and loving beyond + the usual capacities of childhood; perhaps her solitary condition and + habits of constant intercourse with one so grave as Mordaunt, and who + always, when not absent on his excursions of charity, loved her to be with + him, had given to her mind a precocity of feeling, and tinctured the + simplicity of infancy with what ought to have been the colours of after + years. She was not inclined to the sports of her age; she loved, rather, + and above all else, to sit by Mordaunt’s side and silently pore over + some books or feminine task, and to steal her eyes every now and then away + from her employment, in order to watch his motions or provide for whatever + her vigilant kindness of heart imagined he desired. And often, when he saw + her fairy and lithe form hovering about him and attending on his wants, or + her beautiful countenance glow with pleasure, when she fancied she + supplied them, he almost believed that Isabel yet lived, though in another + form, and that a love so intense and holy as hers had been, might + transmigrate, but could not perish. + </p> + <p> + The young Isabel had displayed a passion for music so early that it almost + seemed innate; and as, from the mild and wise education she received, her + ardour had never been repelled on the one hand or overstrained on the + other, so, though she had but just passed her seventh year, she had + attained to a singular proficiency in the art,—an art that suited + well with her lovely face and fond feelings and innocent heart; and it was + almost heavenly, in the literal acceptation of the word, to hear her sweet + though childish voice swell along the still pure airs of summer, and to + see her angelic countenance all rapt and brilliant with the enthusiasm + which her own melodies created. + </p> + <p> + Never had she borne the bitter breath of unkindness, nor writhed beneath + that customary injustice which punishes in others the sins of our own + temper and the varied fretfulness of caprice; and so she had none of the + fears and meannesses and acted untruths which so usually pollute and + debase the innocence of childhood. But the promise of her ingenuous brow + (over which the silken hair flowed, parted into two streams of gold), and + of the fearless but tender eyes, and of the quiet smile which sat forever + upon the rosy mouth, like Joy watching Love, was kept in its fullest + extent by the mind, from which all thoughts, pure, kind, and guileless, + flowed like waters from a well which a spirit has made holy for its own + dwelling. + </p> + <p> + On this evening we have said that she sat by her father’s side and + listened, though she only in part drank in its sense, to his conversation + with his guest. + </p> + <p> + The room was of great extent and surrounded with books, over which at + close intervals the busts of the departed Great and the immortal Wise + looked down. There was the sublime beauty of Plato, the harsher and more + earthly countenance of Tully, the only Roman (except Lucretius) who might + have been a Greek. There the mute marble gave the broad front of Bacon + (itself a world), and there the features of Locke showed how the mind + wears away the links of flesh with the file of thought. And over other + departments of those works which remind us that man is made little lower + than the angels, the stern face of the Florentine who sung of hell + contrasted with the quiet grandeur enthroned on the fair brow of the + English poet,—“blind but bold,”—and there the + glorious but genial countenance of him who has found in all humanity a + friend, conspicuous among sages and minstrels, claimed brotherhood with + all. + </p> + <p> + The fire burned clear and high, casting a rich twilight (for there was no + other light in the room) over that Gothic chamber, and shining cheerily + upon the varying countenance of Clarence and the more contemplative + features of his host. In the latter you might see that care and thought + had been harsh but not unhallowed companions. In the lines which crossed + his expanse of brow, time seemed to have buried many hopes; but his mien + and air, if loftier, were gentler than in younger days; and though they + had gained somewhat in dignity, had lost greatly in reserve. + </p> + <p> + There was in the old chamber, with its fretted roof and ancient “garniture,” + the various books which surrounded it, walls that the learned built to + survive themselves, and in the marble likenesses of those for whom thought + had won eternity, joined to the hour, the breathing quiet, and the + hearth-light, by whose solitary rays we love best in the eves of autumn to + discourse on graver or subtler themes,—there was in all this a spell + which seemed particularly to invite and to harmonize with that tone of + conversation, some portions of which we are now about to relate. + </p> + <p> + “How loudly,” said Clarence, “that last gust swept by; + you remember that beautiful couplet in Tibullus,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem, + Et dominam tenero detinuisse sinu.’” + [“Sweet on our couch to hear the winds above, + And cling with closer heart to her we love.”] +</pre> + <p> + “Ay,” answered Mordaunt, with a scarcely audible sigh, “that + is the feeling of the lover at the immites ventos, but we sages of the + lamp make our mistress Wisdom, and when the winds rage without it is to + her that we cling. See how, from the same object, different conclusions + are drawn! The most common externals of nature, the wind and the wave, the + stars and the heavens, the very earth on which we tread, never excite in + different bosoms the same ideas; and it is from our own hearts, and not + from an outward source, that we draw the hues which colour the web of our + existence.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” answered Clarence. “You remember that in + two specks of the moon the enamoured maiden perceived two unfortunate + lovers, while the ambitious curate conjectured that they were the spires + of a cathedral? But it is not only to our feelings, but also to our + reasonings, that we give the colours which they wear. The moral, for + instance, which to one man seems atrocious, to another is divine. On the + tendency of the same work what three people will agree? And how shall the + most sanguine moralist hope to benefit mankind when he finds that, by the + multitude, his wisest endeavours to instruct are often considered but as + instruments to pervert?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” answered Mordaunt, “that it is from our + ignorance that our contentions flow: we debate with strife and with wrath, + with bickering and with hatred; but of the thing debated upon we remain in + the profoundest darkness. Like the labourers of Babel, while we endeavour + in vain to express our meaning to each other, the fabric by which, for a + common end, we would have ascended to heaven from the ills of earth + remains forever unadvanced and incomplete. Let us hope that knowledge is + the universal language which shall reunite us. As, in their sublime + allegory, the Ancients signified that only through virtue we arrive at + honour, so let us believe that only through knowledge can we arrive at + virtue!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Clarence, “that seems a melancholy truth + for the mass of the people, who have no time for the researches of wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much so as at first we might imagine,” answered + Mordaunt: “the few smooth all paths for the many. The precepts of + knowledge it is difficult to extricate from error but, once discovered, + they gradually pass into maxims; and thus what the sage’s life was + consumed in acquiring becomes the acquisition of a moment to posterity. + Knowledge is like the atmosphere: in order to dispel the vapour and + dislodge the frost, our ancestors felled the forest, drained the marsh, + and cultivated the waste, and we now breathe without an effort, in the + purified air and the chastened climate, the result of the labour of + generations and the progress of ages! As to-day, the common mechanic may + equal in science, however inferior in genius, the friar [Roger Bacon] whom + his contemporaries feared as a magician, so the opinions which now startle + as well as astonish may be received hereafter as acknowledged axioms, and + pass into ordinary practice. We cannot even tell how far the sanguine + theories of certain philosophers [See Condorcet “On the Progress of + the Human Mind,” written some years after the supposed date of this + conversation, but in which there is a slight, but eloquent and affecting, + view of the philosophy to which Mordaunt refers.] deceive them when they + anticipate, for future ages, a knowledge which shall bring perfection to + the mind, baffle the diseases of the body, and even protract to a date now + utterly unknown the final destination of life: for Wisdom is a palace of + which only the vestibule has been entered; nor can we guess what treasures + are hid in those chambers of which the experience of the past can afford + us neither analogy nor clew.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, then,” said Clarence, who wished to draw his + companion into speaking of himself, “it was, then, from your + addiction to studies not ordinarily made the subject of acquisition that + you date (pardon me) your generosity, your devotedness, your feeling for + others, and your indifference to self?” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me,” said Mordaunt, modestly (and we may be + permitted to crave attention to his reply, since it unfolds the secret + springs of a character so singularly good and pure), “you flatter + me: but I will answer you as if you had put the question without the + compliment; nor, perhaps, will it be wholly uninstructive, as it will + certainly be new, to sketch, without recurrence to events or what I may + call exterior facts, a brief and progressive History of One Human Mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Our first era of life is under the influence of the primitive + feelings: we are pleased, and we laugh; hurt, and we weep: we vent our + little passions the moment they are excited: and so much of novelty have + we to perceive, that we have little leisure to reflect. By and by, fear + teaches us to restrain our feelings: when displeased, we seek to revenge + the displeasure, and are punished; we find the excess of our joy, our + sorrow, our anger, alike considered criminal, and chidden into restraint. + From harshness we become acquainted with deceit: the promise made is not + fulfilled, the threat not executed, the fear falsely excited, and the hope + wilfully disappointed; we are surrounded by systematized delusion, and we + imbibe the contagion.” + </p> + <p> + “From being forced into concealing thoughts which we do conceive, we + begin to affect those which we do not: so early do we learn the two main + tasks of life, To Suppress and To Feign, that our memory will not carry us + beyond that period of artifice to a state of nature when the twin + principles of veracity and belief were so strong as to lead the + philosophers of a modern school into the error of terming them innate.” + [Reid: On the Human Mind.] + </p> + <p> + “It was with a mind restless and confused, feelings which were + alternately chilled and counterfeited (the necessary results of my first + tuition), that I was driven to mix with others of my age. They did not + like me, nor do I blame them. ‘Les manieres que l’on neglige + comme de petites choses, sont souvent ce qui fait que les hommes decident + de vous en bien ou en mal. [“Those manners which one neglects as + trifling are often the cause of the opinion, good or bad, formed of you by + men.”] Manner is acquired so imperceptibly that we have given its + origin to Nature, as we do the origin of all else for which our ignorance + can find no other source. Mine was unprepossessing: I was disliked, and I + returned the feeling; I sought not, and I was shunned. Then I thought that + all were unjust to me, and I grew bitter and sullen and morose: I cased + myself in the stubbornness of pride; I pored over the books which spoke of + the worthlessness of man; and I indulged the discontent of myself by + brooding over the frailties of my kind.” + </p> + <p> + “My passions were strong: they told me to suppress them. The precept + was old, and seemed wise: I attempted to enforce it. I had already begun, + in earlier infancy, the lesson: I had now only to renew it. Fortunately I + was diverted from this task, or my mind in conquering its passions would + have conquered its powers. I learned in after lessons that the passions + are not to be suppressed; they are to be directed; and, when directed, + rather to be strengthened than subdued.” + </p> + <p> + “Observe how a word may influence a life: a man whose opinion I + esteemed, made of me the casual and trite remark, that ‘my nature + was one of which it was impossible to augur evil or good: it might be + extreme in either.’ This observation roused me into thought: could I + indeed be all that was good or evil? had I the choice, and could I + hesitate which to choose? But what was good and what was evil? That seemed + the most difficult inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked and received no satisfactory reply: in the words of + Erasmus, ‘Totius negotii caput ac fontem ignorant, divinant, ac + delirant omnes;’ [“All ignore, guess, and rave about the head + and fountain of the whole question at issue.”] so I resolved myself + to inquire and to decide. I subjected to my scrutiny the moralist and the + philosopher. I saw that on all sides they disputed, but I saw that they + grew virtuous in the dispute: they uttered much that was absurd about the + origin of good, but much more that was exalted in its praise; and I never + rose from any work which treated ably upon morals, whatever were its + peculiar opinions, but I felt my breast enlightened and my mind ennobled + by my studies. The professor of one sect commanded me to avoid the + dogmatist of another as the propagator of moral poison; and the dogmatist + retaliated on the professor: but I avoided neither; I read both, and + turned all ‘into honey and fine gold.’ No inquiry into wisdom, + however superficial, is undeserving attention. The vagaries of the idlest + fancy will often chance, as it were, upon the most useful discoveries of + truth, and serve as a guide to after and to slower disciples of wisdom; + even as the peckings of birds in an unknown country indicate to the + adventurous seamen the best and the safest fruits.” + </p> + <p> + “From the works of men I looked into their lives; and I found that + there was a vast difference (though I am not aware that it has before been + remarked) between those who cultivated a talent, and those who cultivated + the mind: I found that the mere men of genius were often erring or + criminal in their lives; but that vice or crime in the disciples of + philosophy was strikingly unfrequent and rare. The extremest culture of + reason had not, it is true, been yet carried far enough to preserve the + labourer from follies of opinion, but a moderate culture had been + sufficient to deter him from the vices of life. And only to the sons of + Wisdom, as of old to the sages of the East, seemed given the unerring + star, which, through the travail of Earth and the clouds of Heaven, led + them at the last to their God!” + </p> + <p> + “When I gleaned this fact from biography, I paused, and said, + ‘Then must there be something excellent in Wisdom, if it can even in + its most imperfect disciples be thus beneficial to morality.’ + Pursuing this sentiment, I redoubled my researches, and, behold, the + object of my quest was won! I had before sought a satisfactory answer to + the question, ‘What is Virtue?’ from men of a thousand tenets, + and my heart had rejected all I had received. ‘Virtue,’ said + some, and my soul bowed reverently to the dictate, ‘Virtue is + Religion.’ I heard and humbled myself before the Divine Book. Let me + trust that I did not humble myself in vain! But the dictate satisfied less + than it awed; for either it limited Virtue to the mere belief, or by + extending it to the practice, of Religion, it extended also the inquiry to + the method in which the practice should be applied. But with the first + interpretation of the dictate who could rest contented?—for while, + in the perfect enforcement of the tenets of our faith, all virtue may be + found, so in the passive and the mere belief in its divinity, we find only + an engine as applicable to evil as to good: the torch which should + illumine the altar has also lighted the stake, and the zeal of the + persecutor has been no less sincere than the heroism of the martyr. + Rejecting, therefore, this interpretation, I accepted the other: I felt in + my heart, and I rejoiced as I felt it, that in the practice of Religion + the body of all virtue could be found. But, in that conviction, had I at + once an answer to my inquiries? Could the mere desire of good be + sufficient to attain it; and was the attempt at virtue synonymous with + success? On the contrary, have not those most desirous of obeying the + precepts of God often sinned the most against their spirit, and has not + zeal been frequently the most ardent when crime was the most rife? [There + can be no doubt that they who exterminated the Albigenses, established the + Inquisition, lighted the fires at Smithfield, were actuated, not by a + desire to do evil, but (monstrous as it may seem) to do good; not to + counteract, but to enforce what they believed the wishes of the Almighty; + so that a good intention, without the enlightenment to direct it to a + fitting object, may be as pernicious to human happiness as one the most + fiendish. We are told of a whole people who used to murder their guests, + not from ferocity or interest, but from the pure and praiseworthy motive + of obtaining the good qualities, which they believed, by the murder of the + deceased, devolved upon them!] But what, if neither sincerity nor zeal was + sufficient to constitute goodness; what if in the breasts of the + best-intentioned crime had been fostered the more dangerously because the + more disguised,—what ensued? That the religion which they professed, + they believed, they adored, they had also misunderstood; and that the + precepts to be drawn from the Holy Book they had darkened by their + ignorance or perverted by their passions! Here then, at once, my enigma + was solved; here then, at once, I was led to the goal of my inquiry! + Ignorance and the perversion of passion are but the same thing, though + under different names; for only by our ignorance are our passions + perverted. Therefore, what followed?—that, if by ignorance the + greatest of God’s gifts had been turned to evil, Knowledge alone was + the light by which even the pages of Religion should be read. It followed + that the Providence that knew that the nature it had created should be + constantly in exercise, and that only through labour comes improvement, + had wisely ordained that we should toil even for the blessing of its + holiest and clearest laws. It had given us in Religion, as in this + magnificent world, treasures and harvests which might be called forth in + incalculable abundance; but had decreed that through our exertions only + should they be called forth a palace more gorgeous than the palaces of + enchantment was before us, but its chambers were a labyrinth which + required a clew.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that clew? Was it to be sought for in the corners of + earth, or was it not beneficially centred in ourselves? Was it not the + exercise of a power easy for us to use, if we would dare to do so? Was it + not the simple exertion of the discernment granted to us for all else? Was + it not the exercise of our reason? ‘Reason!’ cried the Zealot, + ‘pernicious and hateful instrument, it is fraught with peril to + yourself and to others: do not think for a moment of employing an engine + so fallacious and so dangerous.’ But I listened not to the Zealot: + could the steady and bright torch which, even where the Star of Bethlehem + had withheld its diviner light, had guided some patient and unwearied + steps to the very throne of Virtue, become but a deceitful meteor to him + who kindled it for the aid of Religion, and in an eternal cause? Could it + be perilous to task our reason, even to the utmost, in the investigation + of the true utility and hidden wisdom of the works of God, when God + himself had ordained that only through some exertion of our reason should + we know either from Nature or Revelation that He himself existed? ‘But,’ + cried the Zealot again, ‘but mere mortal wisdom teaches men + presumption, and presumption doubt.’ ‘Pardon me,’ I + answered; ‘it is not Wisdom, but Ignorance, which teaches men + presumption: Genius may be sometimes arrogant, but nothing is so diffident + as Knowledge.’ ‘But,’ resumed the Zealot, ‘those + accustomed to subtle inquiries may dwell only on the minutiae of faith,—inexplicable, + because useless to explain, and argue from those minutiae against the + grand and universal truth.’ Pardon me again: it is the petty not the + enlarged mind which prefers casuistry to conviction; it is the confined + and short sight of Ignorance which, unable to comprehend the great + bearings of truth, pries only into its narrow and obscure corners, + occupying itself in scrutinizing the atoms of a part, while the eagle eye + of Wisdom contemplates, in its widest scale, the luminous majesty of the + whole. Survey our faults, our errors, our vices,—fearful and fertile + field! Trace them to their causes: all those causes resolve themselves + into one,—Ignorance! For as we have already seen that from this + source flow the abuses of Religion, so also from this source flow the + abuses of all other blessings,—of talents, of riches, of power; for + we abuse things, either because we know not their real use, or because, + with an equal blindness, we imagine the abuse more adapted to our + happiness. But as ignorance, then, is the sole spring of evil, so, as the + antidote to ignorance is knowledge, it necessarily follows that, were we + consummate in knowledge, we should be perfect in good. He, therefore, who + retards the progress of intellect countenances crime,—nay, to a + State, is the greatest of criminals; while he who circulates that mental + light more precious than the visual is the holiest improver and the surest + benefactor of his race. Nor let us believe, with the dupes, of a shallow + policy, that there exists upon the earth one prejudice that can be called + salutary or one error beneficial to perpetrate. As the petty fish which is + fabled to possess the property of arresting the progress of the largest + vessel to which it clings, even so may a single prejudice, unnoticed or + despised, more than the adverse blast or the dead calm, delay the bark of + Knowledge in the vast seas of Time.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that the sanguineness of philanthropists may have + carried them too far; it is true (for the experiment has not yet been + made) that God may have denied to us, in this state, the consummation of + knowledge, and the consequent perfection in good; but because we cannot be + perfect are we to resolve we will be evil? One step in knowledge is one + step from sin: one step from sin is one step nearer to Heaven: Oh! never + let us be deluded by those who, for political motives, would adulterate + the divinity of religious truths; never let us believe that our Father in + Heaven rewards most the one talent unemployed, or that prejudice and + indolence and folly find the most favour in His sight! The very heathen + has bequeathed to us a nobler estimate of His nature; and the same + sentence which so sublimely declares ‘TRUTH IS THE BODY OF GOD’ + declares also ‘AND LIGHT IS HIS SHADOW.’” [Plato.] + </p> + <p> + “Persuaded, then, that knowledge contained the key to virtue, it was + to knowledge that I applied. The first grand lesson which it taught me was + the solution of a phrase most hackneyed, least understood; namely, ‘common-sense.’ + [Koinonoaemosunae, sensus communis.] It is in the Portico of the Greek + sage that that phrase has received its legitimate explanation; it is there + we are taught that ‘common-sense’ signifies ‘the sense + of the common interest.’ Yes! it is the most beautiful truth in + morals that we have no such thing as a distinct or divided interest from + our race. In their welfare is ours; and, by choosing the broadest paths to + effect their happiness, we choose the surest and the shortest to our own. + As I read and pondered over these truths, I was sensible that a great + change was working a fresh world out of the former materials of my mind. + My passions, which before I had checked into uselessness, or exerted to + destruction, now started forth in a nobler shape, and prepared for a new + direction: instead of urging me to individual aggrandizement, they panted + for universal good, and coveted the reward of Ambition only for the + triumphs of Benevolence.” + </p> + <p> + “This is one stage of virtue; I cannot resist the belief that there + is a higher: it is when we begin to love virtue, not for its objects, but + itself. For there are in knowledge these two excellences: first, that it + offers to every man, the most selfish and the most exalted, his peculiar + inducement to good. It says to the former, ‘Serve mankind, and you + serve yourself;’ to the latter, ‘In choosing the best means to + secure your own happiness, you will have the sublime inducement of + promoting the happiness of mankind.’” + </p> + <p> + “The second excellence of Knowledge is that even the selfish man, + when he has once begun to love Virtue from little motives, loses the + motives as he increases the love; and at last worships the deity, where + before he only coveted the gold upon its altar.” + </p> + <p> + “And thus I learned to love Virtue solely for its own beauty. I said + with one who, among much dross, has many particles of ore, ‘If it be + not estimable in itself, I can see nothing estimable in following it for + the sake of a bargain.’ [Lord Shaftesbury.] + </p> + <p> + “I looked round the world, and saw often Virtue in rags and Vice in + purple: the former conduces to happiness, it is true, but the happiness + lies within and not in externals. I contemned the deceitful folly with + which writers have termed it poetical justice to make the good ultimately + prosperous in wealth, honour, fortunate love, or successful desires. + Nothing false, even in poetry, can be just; and that pretended moral is, + of all, the falsest. Virtue is not more exempt than Vice from the ills of + fate, but it contains within itself always an energy to resist them, and + sometimes an anodyne to soothe,—to repay your quotation from + Tibullus,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Crura sonant ferro, sed canit inter opus!’” + [“The chains clank on its limbs, but it sings amidst its tasks.”] +</pre> + <p> + “When in the depths of my soul I set up that divinity of this nether + earth, which Brutus never really understood, if, because unsuccessful in + its efforts, he doubted its existence, I said in the proud prayer with + which I worshipped it, ‘Poverty may humble my lot, but it shall not + debase thee; Temptation may shake my nature, but not the rock on which thy + temple is based; Misfortune may wither all the hopes that have blossomed + around thine altar, but I will sacrifice dead leaves when the flowers are + no more. Though all that I have loved perish, all that I have coveted fade + away, I may murmur at fate, but I will have no voice but that of homage + for thee! Nor, while thou smilest upon my way, would I exchange with the + loftiest and happiest of thy foes! More bitter than aught of what I then + dreamed have been my trials, but I have fulfilled my vow!’” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that alone to be a true description of Virtue which makes + it all-sufficient to itself, that alone a just portraiture of its + excellence which does not lessen its internal power by exaggerating its + outward advantages, nor degrade its nobility by dwelling only on its + rewards. The grandest moral of ancient lore has ever seemed to me that + which the picture of Prometheus affords; in whom neither the shaking + earth, nor the rending heaven, nor the rock without, nor the vulture + within, could cause regret for past benevolence, or terror for future + evil, or envy, even amidst tortures, for the dishonourable prosperity of + his insulter! [Mercury.—See the “Prometheus” of + Aeschylus.] Who that has glowed over this exalted picture will tell us + that we must make Virtue prosperous in order to allure to it, or clothe + Vice with misery in order to revolt us from its image? Oh! who, on the + contrary, would not learn to adore Virtue, from the bitterest sufferings + of such a votary, a hundredfold more than he would learn to love Vice from + the gaudiest triumphs of its most fortunate disciples?” + </p> + <p> + Something there was in Mordaunt’s voice and air, and the impassioned + glow of his countenance, that, long after he had ceased, thrilled in + Clarence’s heart, “like the remembered tone of a mute lyre.” + And when a subsequent event led him at rash moments to doubt whether + Virtue was indeed the chief good, Linden recalled the words of that night + and the enthusiasm with which they were uttered, repented that in his + doubt he had wronged the truth, and felt that there is a power in the deep + heart of man to which even Destiny is submitted! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Will you hear the letter? + ..... + This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have before met in the + forest.—As You Like It. +</pre> + <p> + A morning or two after the conversation with which our last chapter + concluded, Clarence received the following letter from the Duke of + Haverfield:— + </p> + <p> + Your letter, my dear Linden, would have been answered before, but for an + occurrence which is generally supposed to engross the whole attention of + the persons concerned in it. Let me see,—ay, three,—yes, I + have been exactly three days married! Upon my honour, there is much less + in the event than one would imagine; and the next time it happens I will + not put myself to such amazing trouble and inconvenience about it. But one + buys wisdom only by experience. Now, however, that I have communicated to + you the fact, I expect you, in the first place, to excuse my negligence + for not writing before; for (as I know you are fond of the literae + humaniores, I will give the sentiment the dignity of a quotation)— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Un veritable amant ne connoit point d’amis;” + [“A true lover recognizes no friends.”—CORNEILLE.] +</pre> + <p> + and though I have been three days married, I am still a lover! In the + second place, I expect you to be very grateful that, all things + considered, I write to you so soon; it would indeed not be an ordinary + inducement that could make me “put pen to paper” (is not that + the true vulgar, commercial, academical, metaphorical, epistolary style?) + so shortly after the fatal ceremony. So, had I nothing to say but in reply + to your comments on state affairs (hang them!) or in applause of your + Italian friend, of whom I say, as Charles II. said of the honest yeoman, + “I can admire virtue, though I can’t imitate it,” I + think it highly probable that your letter might still remain in a certain + box of tortoise-shell and gold (formerly belonging to the great Richelieu, + and now in my possession), in which I at this instant descry, “with + many a glance of woe and boding dire,” sundry epistles, in manifold + handwritings, all classed under the one fearful denomination,— + “unanswered.” + </p> + <p> + No, my good Linden, my heart is inditing of a better matter than this. + Listen to me, and then stay at your host’s or order your swiftest + steed, as seems most meet to you. + </p> + <p> + You said rightly that Miss Trevanion, now her Grace of Haverfield, was the + intimate friend of Lady Flora Ardenne. I have often talked to her—namely, + Eleanor, not Lady Flora—about you, and was renewing the conversation + yesterday, when your letter, accidentally lying before me, reminded me of + you. + </p> + <p> + Sundry little secrets passed in due conjugal course from her possession + into mine. I find that you have been believed by Lady Flora to have played + the perfidious with La Meronville; that she never knew of your application + to her father! and his reply; that, on the contrary, she accused you of + indifference in going abroad without attempting to obtain an interview or + excuse your supposed infidelity; that her heart is utterly averse to a + union with that odious Lord Boro—bah! I mean Lord Ulswater; and that—prepare, + Linden—she still cherishes your memory, even through time, change, + and fancied desertion, with a tenderness which—which—deuce + take it, I never could write sentiment: but you understand me; so I will + not conclude the phrase. “Nothing in oratory,” said my cousin + D——, who was, entre nous, more honest than eloquent, “like + a break!”—“down! you should have added,” said I. + </p> + <p> + I now, my dear Linden, leave you to your fate. For my part, though I own + Lord Ulswater is a lord whom ladies in love with the et ceteras of married + pomp might well desire, yet I do think it would be no difficult matter for + you to eclipse him. I cannot, it is true, advise you to run away with Lady + Flora. Gentlemen don’t run away with the daughters of gentlemen; + but, without running away, you may win your betrothed and Lord Ulswater’s + intended. A distinguished member of the House of Commons, owner of + Scarsdale, and representative of the most ancient branch of the Talbots,—mon + Dieu! you might marry a queen dowager, and decline settlements! + </p> + <p> + And so, committing thee to the guidance of that winged god, who, if three + days afford any experience, has made thy friend forsake pleasure only to + find happiness, I bid thee, most gentle Linden, farewell. HAVERFIELD. + </p> + <p> + Upon reading this letter, Clarence felt as a man suddenly transformed. + From an exterior of calm and apathy, at the bottom of which lay one bitter + and corroding recollection, he passed at once into a state of emotion, + wild, agitated, and confused; yet, amidst all, was foremost a burning and + intense hope, which for long years he had not permitted himself to form. + </p> + <p> + He descended into the breakfast parlour. Mordaunt, whose hours of + appearing, though not of rising, were much later than Clarence’s, + was not yet down; and our lover had full leisure to form his plans, before + his host made his entree. + </p> + <p> + “Will you ride to-day?” said Mordaunt; “there are some + old ruins in the neighbourhood well worth the trouble of a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I grieve to say,” answered Clarence, “that I must take + my leave of you. I have received intelligence this morning which may + greatly influence my future life, and by which I am obliged to make an + excursion to another part of the country, nearly a day’s journey, on + horseback.” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt looked at his guest, and conjectured by his heightened colour, + and an embarrassment which he in vain endeavoured to conceal, that the + journey might have some cause for its suddenness and despatch which the + young senator had his peculiar reasons for concealing. Algernon contented + himself, therefore, with expressing his regret at Linden’s abrupt + departure, without incurring the indiscreet hospitality of pressing a + longer sojourn beneath his roof. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after breakfast, Clarence’s horse was brought to the + door, and Harrison received orders to wait with the carriage at W—— + until his master returned. Not a little surprised, we trow, was the worthy + valet at his master’s sudden attachment to equestrian excursions. + Mordaunt accompanied his visitor through the park, and took leave of him + with a warmth which sensibly touched Clarence, in spite of the absence and + excitement of his thoughts; indeed, the unaffected and simple character of + Linden, joined to his acute, bold, and cultivated mind, had taken strong + hold of Mordaunt’s interest and esteem. + </p> + <p> + It was a mild autumnal morning, but thick clouds in the rear + prognosticated rain; and the stillness of the wind, the low flight of the + swallows, and the lowing of the cattle, slowly gathering towards the + nearest shelter within their appointed boundaries, confirmed the + inauspicious omen. Clarence had passed the town of W——, and + was entering into a road singularly hilly, when he “was aware,” + as the quaint old writers of former days expressed themselves, of a tall + stranger, mounted on a neat well-trimmed galloway, who had for the last + two minutes been advancing towards a closely parallel line with Clarence, + and had, by sundry glances and hems, denoted a desire of commencing + acquaintance and conversation with his fellow traveller. + </p> + <p> + At last he summoned courage, and said, with a respectful, though somewhat + free, air, “That is a very fine horse of yours, sir; I have seldom + seen so fast a walker: if all his other paces are equally good, he must be + quite a treasure.” + </p> + <p> + All men have their vanities. Clarence’s was as much in his horse’s + excellence as his own; and, gratified even with the compliment of a + stranger, he replied to it by joining in the praise, though with a modest + and measured forbearance, which the stranger, if gifted with penetration, + could easily have discerned was more affected than sincere. + </p> + <p> + “And yet, sir;” resumed Clarence’s new companion, + “my little palfrey might perhaps keep pace with your steed; look, I + lay the rein on his neck, and, you see, he rivals—by heaven, he + outwalks—yours.” + </p> + <p> + Not a little piqued and incensed, Linden also relaxed his rein, and urged + his horse to a quicker step: but the lesser competitor not only sustained, + but increased, his superiority; and it was only by breaking into a trot + that Linden’s impatient and spirited steed could overtake him. + Hitherto Clarence had not honoured his new companion with more than a + rapid and slight glance; but rivalry, even in trifles, begets respect, and + our defeated hero now examined him with a more curious eye. + </p> + <p> + The stranger was between forty and fifty,—an age in which, + generally, very little of the boy has survived the advance of manhood; yet + was there a hearty and frank exhilaration in the manner and look of the + person we describe which is rarely found beyond the first stage of youth. + His features were comely and clearly cut, and his air and appearance + indicative of a man who might equally have belonged to the middle or the + upper orders. But Clarence’s memory, as well as attention, was + employed in his survey of the stranger; and he recognized, in a + countenance on which time had passed very lightly, an old and ofttimes + recalled acquaintance. However, he did not immediately make himself known. + “I will first see,” thought he, “whether he can remember + his young guest in the bronzed stranger after eight years’ absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Clarence, as he approached the owner of the + palfrey, who was laughing with childish glee at his conquest, “well, + you have won, sir; but the tortoise might beat the hare in walking, and I + content myself with thinking that at a trot or a gallop the result of a + race would have been very different.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that, sir,” said the sturdy stranger, + patting the arched neck of his little favourite: “if you would like + to try either, I should have no objection to venture a trifling wager on + the event.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good,” said Clarence, with a smile in which + urbanity was a little mingled with contemptuous incredulity; “but I + am not now at leisure to win your money: I have a long day’s journey + before me, and must not tire a faithful servant; yet I do candidly confess + that I think” (and Clarence’s recollection of the person he + addressed made him introduce the quotation) “that my horse + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Excels a common one + In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Eh, sir,” cried our stranger, as his eyes sparkled at the + verses: “I would own that your horse were worth all the horses in + the kingdom, if you brought Will Shakspeare to prove it. And I am also + willing to confess that your steed does fairly merit the splendid praise + which follows the lines you have quoted,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Round hoofed, short jointed, fetlocks shag and long, + Broad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostril wide, + High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong, + Thin mane, thick tale, broad buttock, tender hide.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Come,” said Clarence, “your memory has atoned for your + horse’s victory, and I quite forgive your conquest in return for + your compliment; but suffer me to ask how long you have commenced + cavalier. The Arab’s tent is, if I err not, more a badge of your + profession than the Arab’s steed.” + </p> + <p> + King Cole (for the stranger was no less a person) looked at his companion + in surprise. “So you know me, then, sir! Well, it is a hard thing + for a man to turn honest, when people have so much readier a recollection + of his sins than his reform.” + </p> + <p> + “Reform!” quoth Clarence, “am I then to understand that + your Majesty has abdicated your dominions under the greenwood tree?” + </p> + <p> + “You are,” said Cole, eying his acquaintance inquisitively; + “you are. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I fear no more the heat of the sun, + Nor the furious winter’s rages; + I my worldly task have done, + Home am gone, and ta’en my wages.’” + </pre> + <p> + “I congratulate you,” said Clarence: “but only in part; + for I have often envied your past state, and do not know enough of your + present to say whether I should equally envy that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered Cole, “after all, we commit a great + error in imagining that it is the living wood or the dead wall which makes + happiness. ‘My mind to me a kingdom is;’ and it is that which + you must envy, if you honour anything belonging to me with that feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “The precept is both good and old,” answered Clarence; “yet + I think it was not a very favourite maxim of yours some years ago. I + remember a time when you thought no happiness could exist out of ‘dingle + and bosky dell.’ If not very intrusive on your secrets, may I know + how long you have changed your sentiments and manner of life? The reason + of the change I dare not presume to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the quondam gypsy, musingly, “certainly + I have seen your face before, and even the tone of your voice strikes me + as not wholly unfamiliar: yet I cannot for the life of me guess whom I + have the honour of addressing. However, sir, I have no hesitation in + answering your questions. It was just five years ago, last summer, when I + left the Tents of Kedar. I now reside about a mile hence. It is but a + hundred yards off the high road, and if you would not object to step aside + and suffer a rasher, or aught else, to be ‘the shoeing-horn to draw + on a cup of ale,’ as our plain forefathers were wont wittily to say, + why, I shall be very happy to show you my habitation. You will have a + double welcome, from the circumstance of my having been absent from home + for the last three days.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence, mindful of his journey, was about to decline the invitation, + when a few heavy drops falling began to fulfil the cloudy promise of the + morning. “Trust,” said Cole, “one who has been for years + a watcher of the signs and menaces of the weather: we shall have a violent + shower immediately. You have now no choice but to accompany me home.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Clarence, yielding with a good grace, “I am + glad of so good an excuse for intruding on your hospitality. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O sky! + Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, + And make me travel forth without my cloak?’” + </pre> + <p> + “Bravo!” cried the ex-chief, too delighted to find a comrade + so well acquainted with Shakspeare’s sonnets to heed the little + injustice Clarence had done the sky, in accusing it of a treachery its + black clouds had by no means deserved. “Bravo, sir; and now, my + palfrey against your steed,—trot, eh? or gallop?” + </p> + <p> + “Trot, if it must be so,” said Clarence, superciliously; + “but I am a few paces before you.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” cried the jovial chief. “Little + John’s mettle will be the more up: on with you, sir; he who breaks + into a canter loses; on!” + </p> + <p> + And Clarence slightly touching his beautiful steed, the race was begun. At + first his horse, which was a remarkable stepper, as the modern Messrs. + Anderson and Dyson would say, greatly gained the advantage. “To the + right,” cried the ci-devant gypsy, as Linden had nearly passed a + narrow lane which led to the domain of the ex-king. The turn gave “Little + John” an opportunity which he seized to advantage; and, to Clarence’s + indignant surprise, he beheld Cole now close behind, now beside, and now—now—before! + In the heat of the moment he put spurs rather too sharply to his horse, + and the spirited animal immediately passed his competitor, but—in a + canter! + </p> + <p> + “Victoria!” cried Cole, keeping back his own steed. “Victoria! + confess it!” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw,” said Clarence, petulantly. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir, never mind it,” quoth the retired sovereign; + “perhaps it was but a venial transgression of your horse, and on + other ground I should not have beat you.” + </p> + <p> + It is very easy to be generous when one is quite sure one is the victor. + Clarence felt this, and, muttering out something about the sharp angle in + the road, turned abruptly from all further comment on the subject by + saying, “We are now, I suppose, entering your territory. Does not + this white gate lead to your new (at least new to me) abode?” + </p> + <p> + “It does,” replied Cole, opening the said gate, and pausing as + if to suffer his guest and rival to look round and admire. The house, in + full view, was of red brick, small and square, faced with stone copings, + and adorned in the centre with a gable roof, on which was a ball of + glittering metal. A flight of stone steps led to the porch, which was of + fair size and stately, considering the proportions of the mansion: over + the door was a stone shield of arms, surmounted by a stag’s head; + and above this heraldic ornament was a window of great breadth, compared + to the other conveniences of a similar nature. On either side of the house + ran a slight iron fence, the protection of sundry plots of gay flowers and + garden shrubs, while two peacocks were seen slowly stalking towards the + enclosure to seek a shelter from the increasing shower. At the back of the + building, thick trees and a rising hill gave a meet defence from the winds + of winter; and, in front, a sloping and small lawn afforded pasture for + few sheep and two pet deer. Towards the end of this lawn were two large + fishponds, shaded by rows of feathered trees. On the margin of each of + these, as if emblematic of ancient customs, was a common tent; and in the + intermediate space was a rustic pleasure-house, fenced from the + encroaching cattle, and half hid by surrounding laurel and the parasite + ivy. + </p> + <p> + All together there was a quiet and old-fashioned comfort, and even luxury, + about the place, which suited well with the eccentric character of the + abdicated chief; and Clarence, as he gazed around, really felt that he + might perhaps deem the last state of the owner not worse than the first. + </p> + <p> + Unmindful of the rain, which now began to pour fast and full, Cole + suffered “Little John’s” rein to fall over his neck, and + the spoiled favourite to pluck the smooth grass beneath, while he pointed + out to Clarence the various beauties of his seat. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir,” said he, “by those ponds in which, I + assure you, old Isaac might have fished with delight, I pass many a summer’s + day. I was always a lover of the angle, and the farthest pool is the most + beautiful bathing-place imaginable;—as glorious Geoffrey Chaucer + says,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘The gravel’s gold; the water pure as glass, + The baukes round the well environing; + And softe as velvet the younge grass + That thereupon lustily come springing.’” + </pre> + <p> + “And in that arbour, Lucy—that is, my wife—sits in the + summer evenings with her father and our children; and then—ah! see + our pets come to welcome me,” pointing to the deer, who had advanced + within a few yards of him, but, intimidated by the stranger, would not + venture within reach—“Lucy loved choosing her favourites among + animals which had formerly been wild, and, faith, I loved it too. But you + observe the house, sir: it was built in the reign of Queen Anne; it + belonged to my mother’s family; but my father sold it, and his son + five years ago rebought it. Those arms belonged to my maternal ancestry. + Look, look at the peacocks creeping along: poor pride theirs that can’t + stand the shower! But, egad, that reminds me of the rain. Come, sir, let + us make for our shelter.” And, resuming their progress, a minute + more brought them to the old-fashioned porch. Cole’s ring summoned a + man, not decked in “livery gay,” but, “clad in serving + frock,” who took the horses with a nod, half familiar, half + respectful, at his master’s injunctions of attention and hospitality + to the stranger’s beast; and then our old acquaintance, striking + through a small low hall, ushered Clarence into the chief sitting-room of + the mansion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are not poor; although we have + No roofs of cedar, nor our brave + Baiae, nor keep + Account of such a flock of sheep, + Nor bullocks fed + To lard the shambles; barbles bred + To kiss our hands; nor do we wish + For Pollio’s lampreys in our dish. + + If we can meet and so confer + Both by a shining salt-cellar, + And have our roof, + Although not arched, yet weather-proof, + And ceiling free + From that cheap candle-bawdery, + We’ll eat our bean with that full mirth + As we were lords of all the earth. + HERRICK, from HORACE. +</pre> + <p> + On entering the room, Clarence recognized Lucy, whom eight years had + converted into a sleek and portly matron of about thirty-two, without + stealing from her countenance its original expression of mingled modesty + and good-nature. She hastened to meet her husband, with an eager and + joyous air of welcome seldom seen on matrimonial faces after so many years + of wedlock. + </p> + <p> + A fine, stout boy, of about eleven years old, left a crossbow, which on + his father’s entrance he had appeared earnestly employed in mending, + to share with his mother the salutations of the Returned. An old man sat + in an armchair by the fire, gazing on the three with an affectionate and + gladdening eye, and playfully detaining a child of about four years old, + who was struggling to escape to dear “papa”! + </p> + <p> + The room was of oak wainscot, and the furniture plain, solid, and strong, + and cast in the fashion still frequently found in those country houses + which have remained unaltered by innovation since the days of George II. + </p> + <p> + Three rough-coated dogs, of a breed that would have puzzled a connoisseur, + gave themselves the rousing shake, and, deserting the luxurious hearth, + came in various welcome to their master. + </p> + <p> + One rubbed himself against Cole’s sturdy legs, murmuring soft + rejoicings: he was the grandsire of the canine race, and his wick of life + burned low in the socket. Another sprang up almost to the face of his + master, and yelled his very heart out with joy; that was the son, exulting + in the vigour of matured doghood; and the third scrambled and tumbled over + the others, uttering his paeans in a shrill treble, and chiding most + snappishly at his two progenitors for interfering with his pretensions to + notice; that was the infant dog, the little reveller in puppy + childishness! Clarence stood by the door, with his fine countenance + smiling benevolently at the happiness he beheld, and congratulating + himself that for one moment the group had forgot that he was a stranger. + </p> + <p> + As soon as our gypsy friend had kissed his wife, shaken hands with his + eldest hope, shaken his head at his youngest, smiled his salutation at the + father-in-law, and patted into silence the canine claimants of his favour, + he turned to Clarence, and saying, half bashfully, half good-humouredly, + “See what a troublesome thing it is to return home, even after three + days’ absence. Lucy, dearest, welcome a new friend!” he placed + a chair by the fireside for his guest, and motioned him to be seated. + </p> + <p> + The chief expression of Clarence’s open and bold countenance was + centred in the eyes and forehead; and, as he now doffed his hat, which had + hitherto concealed that expression, Lucy and her husband recognized him + simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, sir,” cried the former, “that I am glad to + see you once more!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my young guest under the gypsy awning!” exclaimed the + latter, shaking him heartily by the hand: “where were my eyes that + they did not recognize you before? + </p> + <p> + “Eight years,” answered Clarence, “have worked more + change with me and my friend here” (pointing to the boy, whom he had + left last so mere a child) “than they have with you and his blooming + mother. The wonder is, not that you did not remember me before, but that + you remember me now!” + </p> + <p> + “You are altered, sir, certainly,” said the frank chief. + “Your face is thinner, and far graver, and the smooth cheeks of the + boy (for, craving your pardon, you were little more then) are somewhat + darkened by the bronzed complexion with which time honours the man.” + </p> + <p> + And the good Cole sighed, as he contrasted Linden’s ardent + countenance and elastic figure, when he had last beheld him, with the + serious and thoughtful face of the person now before him: yet did he inly + own that years, if they had in some things deteriorated from, had in + others improved the effect of Clarence’s appearance; they had + brought decision to his mien and command to his brow, and had enlarged, to + an ampler measure of dignity and power, the proportions of his form. + Something, too, there was in his look, like that of a man who has stemmed + fate and won success; and the omen of future triumph, which our + fortune-telling chief had drawn from his features when first beheld, + seemed already in no small degree to have been fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + Having seen her guest stationed in the seat of honour opposite her father, + Lucy withdrew for a few moments, and, when she reappeared, was followed by + a neat-handed sort of Phillis for a country-maiden, bearing such kind of + “savoury messes” as the house might be supposed to afford. + </p> + <p> + “At all events, mine host,” said Clarence, “you did not + desert the flesh-pots of Egypt when you forsook its tents.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” quoth the worthy Cole, seating himself at the table, + “either under the roof or the awning we may say, in the words of the + old epilogue,—[To the play of “All Fools,” by Chapman.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘We can but bring you meat and set you stools, + And to our best cheer say, + You all are welcome.’” + </pre> + <p> + “We are plain people still; but if you can stay till dinner, you + shall have a bottle of such wine as our fathers’ honest souls would + have rejoiced in.” + </p> + <p> + “I am truly sorry that I cannot tarry with you, after so fair a + promise,” replied Clarence; “but before night I must be many + miles hence.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy came forward timidly. “Do you remember this ring, sir?” + said she (presenting one); “you dropped it in my boy’s frock + when we saw you last.” + </p> + <p> + “I did so,” answered Clarence. “I trust that he will not + now disdain a stranger’s offering. May it be as ominous of good luck + to him as my night in your caravan has proved to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I am heartily glad to hear that you have prospered,” said + Cole; “now, let us fall to.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Out of these convertites + There is much matter to be heard and learned.—SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + “If you are bent upon leaving us so soon,” said the honest + Cole, as Clarence, refusing all further solicitation to stay, seized the + opportunity which the cessation of the rain afforded him, and rose to + depart, “if you are bent upon leaving us so soon, I will accompany + you back again into the main road, as in duty bound.” + </p> + <p> + “What, immediately on your return!” said Clarence. “No, + no; not a step. What would my fair hostess say to me if I suffered it?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather, what would she say to me if I neglected such a courtesy? + Why, sir, when I meet one who knows Shakspeare’s sonnets, to say + nothing of the lights of the lesser stars, as well as you, only once in + eight years, do you not think I would make the most of him? Besides, it is + but a quarter of a mile to the road, and I love walking after a shower.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Mrs. Cole,” said Clarence, “that I must be + selfish enough to accept the offer.” And Mrs. Cole, blushing and + smiling her assent and adieu, Clarence shook hands with the whole party, + grandfather and child included, and took his departure. + </p> + <p> + As Cole was now a pedestrian, Linden threw the rein over his arm, and + walked on foot by his host’s side. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said he, smiling, “I must not inquire into the + reasons of your retirement?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” replied Cole: “I have walked with you + the more gladly from my desire of telling them to you; for we all love to + seem consistent, even in our chimeras. About six years ago, I confess that + I began to wax a little weary of my wandering life: my child, in growing + up, required playmates; shall I own that I did not like him to find them + among the children of my own comrades? The old scamps were good enough for + me, but the young ones were a little too bad for my son. Between you and + me only be it said, my juvenile hope was already a little corrupted. The + dog Mim—you remember Mim, sir—secretly taught him to filch as + well as if he had been a bantling of his own; and, faith, our smaller + goods and chattels, especially of an edible nature, began to disappear, + with a rapidity and secrecy that our itinerant palace could very ill + sustain. Among us (i.e. gypsies) there is a law by which no member of the + gang may steal from another: but my little heaven-instructed youth would + by no means abide by that distinction; and so boldly designed and well + executed were his rogueries that my paternal anxiety saw nothing before + him but Botany Bay on the one hand and Newgate courtyard on the other.” + </p> + <p> + “A sad prospect for the heir apparent!” quoth Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “It was so!” answered Cole; “and it made me deliberate. + Then, as one gets older one’s romance oozes out a little in rheums + and catarrhs. I began to perceive that, though I had been bred I had not + been educated as a gypsy; and, what was worse, Lucy, though she never + complained, felt that the walls of our palace were not exempt from the + damps of winter, nor our royal state from the Caliban curses of— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Cramps and + Side stitches that do pen our breath up.’” + </pre> + <p> + “She fell ill; and during her illness I had sundry bright visions of + warm rooms and coal fires, a friend with whom I could converse upon + Chaucer, and a tutor for my son who would teach him other arts than those + of picking pockets and pilfering larders. Nevertheless, I was a little + ashamed of my own thoughts; and I do not know whether they would have been + yet put into practice, but for a trifling circumstance which converted + doubt and longing into certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “Our crank cuffins had for some time looked upon me with suspicion + and coldness: my superior privileges and comforts they had at first + forgiven, on account of my birth and my generosity to them; but by degrees + they lost respect for the one and gratitude for the other; and as I had in + a great measure ceased from participating in their adventures, or, during + Lucy’s illness, which lasted several months, joining in their + festivities, they at length considered me as a drone in a hive, by no + means compensating by my services as an ally for my admittance into their + horde as a stranger. You will easily conceive, when this once became the + state of their feelings towards me, with how ill a temper they brooked the + lordship of my stately caravan and my assumption of superior command. + Above all, the women, who were very much incensed at Lucy’s constant + seclusion from their orgies, fanned the increasing discontent; and, at + last, I verily believe that no eyesore could have been more grievous to + the Egyptians than my wooden habitation and the smoke of its single + chimney.” + </p> + <p> + “From ill-will the rascals proceeded to ill acts; and one dark + night, when we were encamped on the very same ground as that which we + occupied when we received you, three of them, Mim at their head, attacked + me in mine own habitation. I verily believe, if they had mastered me, they + would have robbed and murdered us all; except perhaps my son, whom they + thought ill-used by depriving him of Mim’s instructive society. + Howbeit, I was still stirring when they invaded me, and, by the help of + the poker and a tolerably strong arm, I repelled the assailants; but that + very night I passed from the land of Egypt, and made with all possible + expedition to the nearest town, which was, as you may remember, W——.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, the very next day, I learned that the house I now inhabit was + to be sold. It had (as I before said) belonged to my mother’s + family, and my father had sold it a little before his death. It was the + home from which I had been stolen, and to which I had been returned: often + in my star-lit wanderings had I flown to it in thought; and now it seemed + as if Providence itself, in offering to my age the asylum I had above all + others coveted for it, was interested in my retirement from the empire of + an ungrateful people and my atonement in rest for my past sins in + migration.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, in short, I became the purchaser of the place you have + just seen, and I now think that, after all, there is more happiness in + reality than romance: like the laverock, here will I build my nest,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here give my weary spirit rest, + And raise my low-pitched thoughts above + Earth, or what poor mortals love.’” + </pre> + <p> + “And your son,” said Clarence, “has he reformed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” answered Cole. “For my part, I believe the + mind is less evil than people say it is; its great characteristic is + imitation, and it will imitate the good as well as the bad, if we will set + the example. I thank Heaven, sir, that my boy now might go from Dan to + Beersheba and not filch a groat by the way.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you intend him for?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he loves adventure, and, faith, I can’t break him of + that, for I love it too; so I think I shall get him a commission in the + army, in order to give him a fitting and legitimate sphere wherein to + indulge his propensities.” + </p> + <p> + “You could not do better,” said Clarence. “But your fine + sister, what says she to your amendment?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she wrote me a long letter of congratulation upon it and every + other summer she is graciously pleased to pay me a visit of three months + long; at which time, I observe, that poor Lucy is unusually smart and + uncomfortable. We sit in the best room, and turn out the dogs; my + father-in-law smokes his pipe in the arbour, instead of the drawing-room; + and I receive sundry hints, all in vain, on the propriety of dressing for + dinner. In return for these attentions on our part, my sister invariably + brings my boy a present of a pair of white gloves, and my wife a French + ribbon of the newest pattern; in the evening, instead of my reading + Shakspeare, she tells us anecdotes of high life, and, when she goes away, + she gives us, in return for our hospitality, a very general and very + gingerly invitation to her house. Lucy sometimes talks to me about + accepting it; but I turn a deaf ear to all such overtures, and so we + continue much better friends than we should be if we saw more of each + other.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long has your father-in-law been with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ever since we have been here. He gave up his farm, and cultivates + mine for me; for I know nothing of those agricultural matters. I made his + coming a little surprise, in order to please Lucy: you should have + witnessed their meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have now learned all particulars,” said Clarence; + “it only remains for me to congratulate you: but are you, in truth, + never tired of the monotony and sameness of domestic life?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! and then I do, as I have just done, saddle Little John, and go + on an excursion of three or four days, or even weeks, just as the whim + seizes me; for I never return till I am driven back by the yearning for + home, and the feeling that after all one’s wanderings there is no + place like it. Whether in private life or public, sir, in parting with a + little of one’s liberty one gets a great deal of comfort in + exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you truly for your frankness,” said Clarence; “it + has solved many doubts with respect to you that have often occurred to me. + And now we are in the main road, and I must bid you farewell: we part, but + our paths lead to the same object; you return to happiness, and I seek it.” + </p> + <p> + “May you find it, and I not lose it, sir,” said the wanderer + reclaimed; and, shaking hands, the pair parted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Naevia Rufo, + Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur; + Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est Naevia; + si non sit Naevia, mutus erit. + Scriberet hesterna patri cum luce salutem + Naevia lux, inquit, Naevia numen, ave.—MART. + + [“Whatever Rufus does is nothing, except Naevia be at his elbow. + Be he joyful or sorrowful, be he even silent, he is still harping + upon her. He eats, he drinks, he talks, he denies, he assents; + Naevia is his sole theme: no Naevia, and he’s dumb. Yesterday at + daybreak, he would fain write a letter of salutation to his + father: ‘Hail, Naevia, light of my eyes,’ quoth he; ‘hail, Naevia, + my divine one.’”] +</pre> + <p> + “The last time,” said Clarence to himself, “that I + travelled this road, on exactly the same errand that I travel now, I do + remember that I was honoured by the company of one in all respects the + opposite to mine honest host; for, whereas in the latter there is a + luxuriant and wild eccentricity, an open and blunt simplicity, and a + shrewd sense, which looks not after pence, but peace; so, in the mind of + the friend of the late Lady Waddilove there was a flat and hedged-in + primness and narrowness of thought; an enclosure of bargains and profits + of all species,—mustard-pots, rings, monkeys, chains, jars, and + plum-coloured velvet inexpressibles; his ideas, with the true alchemy of + trade, turned them all into gold: yet was he also as shrewd and acute as + he with whose character he contrasts,—equally with him seeking + comfort and gladness, and an asylum for his old age. Strange that all + tempers should have a common object, and never a common road to it! But + since I have begun the contrast, let me hope that it may be extended in + its omen unto me; let me hope that as my encountering with the mercantile + Brown brought me ill-luck in my enterprise, thereby signifying the crosses + and vexations of those who labour in the cheateries and overreachings + which constitute the vocation of the world; so my meeting with the + philosophical Cole, who has, both in vagrancy and rest, found cause to + boast of happiness, authorities from his studies to favour his inclination + to each, and reason to despise what he, with Sir Kenelm Digby, would + wisely call— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘The fading blossoms of the earth;’ +</pre> + <p> + so my meeting with him may prove a token of good speed to mine errand, and + thereby denote prosperity to one who seeks not riches, nor honour, nor the + conquest of knaves, nor the good word of fools, but happy love, and the + bourne of its quiet home.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, half meditating, half moralizing, and drawing, like a true lover, an + omen of fear or hope from occurrences in which plain reason could have + perceived neither type nor token, Clarence continued and concluded his day’s + journey. He put up at the same little inn he had visited three years ago, + and watched his opportunity of seeing Lady Flora alone. More fortunate in + that respect than he had been before, such opportunity the very next day + presented to him. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link57" id="link57"></a> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Duke.—Sir Valentine! Thur.—Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine. + Val.—Thurio, give back.—The Two Gentlemen of Verona. +</pre> + <p> + “I think, Mamma,” said Lady Flora to her mother, “that + as the morning is so beautiful, I will go into the pavilion to finish my + drawing.” + </p> + <p> + “But Lord Ulswater will be here in an hour, or perhaps less: may I + tell him where you are, and suffer him to join you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will accompany him,” answered Lady Flora, coldly, as + she took up her portefeuille and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Now the pavilion was a small summer-house of stone, situated in the most + retired part of the grounds belonging to Westborough Park. It was a + favourite retreat with Lady Flora, even in the winter months, for warm + carpeting, a sheltered site, and a fireplace constructed more for comfort + than economy made it scarcely less adapted to that season than to the more + genial suns of summer. + </p> + <p> + The morning was so bright and mild that Lady Flora left open the door as + she entered; she seated herself at the table, and, unmindful of her + pretended employment, suffered the portefeuille to remain unopened. + Leaning her cheek upon her hand, she gazed vacantly on the ground, and + scarcely felt the tears which gathered slowly to her eyes, but, falling + not, remained within the fair lids, chill and motionless, as if the + thought which drew them there was born of a sorrow less agitated than + fixed and silent. + </p> + <p> + The shadow of a man darkened the threshold, and there paused. + </p> + <p> + Slowly did Flora raise her eyes, and the next moment Clarence Linden was + by her side and at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Flora,” said he, in a tone trembling with its own emotions, + “Flora, have years indeed separated us forever, or dare I hope that + we have misconstrued each other’s hearts, and that at this moment + they yearn to be united with more than the fondness and fidelity of old? + Speak to me, Flora, one word.” + </p> + <p> + But she had sunk on the chair overpowered, surprised, and almost + insensible; and it was not for some moments that she could utter words + rather wrung from than dictated by her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Cruel and insulting, for what have you come? is it at such a time + that you taunt me with the remembrance of my past folly, or your—your—” + She paused for a moment, confused and hesitating, but presently recovering + herself, rose, and added, in a calmer tone, “Surely you have no + excuse for this intrusion: you will suffer me to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” exclaimed Clarence, violently agitated, “no! Have + you not wronged me, stung me, wounded me to the core by your injustice? + and will you not hear now how differently I have deserved from you? On a + bed of fever and pain I thought only of you; I rose from it animated by + the hope of winning you! Though, during the danger of my wound and my + consequent illness, your parents alone, of all my intimate acquaintances, + neglected to honour with an inquiry the man whom you professed to + consecrate with your regard, yet scarcely could my hand trace a single + sentence before I wrote to you requesting an interview, in order to + disclose my birth and claim your plighted faith! That letter was returned + to me unanswered, unopened. My friend and benefactor, whose fortune I now + inherit, promised to call upon your father and advocate my cause. Death + anticipated his kindness. As soon as my sorrow for his loss permitted me, + I came to this very spot! For three days I hovered about your house, + seeking the meeting that you would fain deny me now. I could not any + longer bear the torturing suspense I endured: I wrote to you; your father + answered the letter. Here, here I have it still: read! note well the cool, + the damning insult of each line. I see that you knew not of this: I + rejoice at it! Can you wonder that, on receiving it, I subjected myself no + more to such affronts? I hastened abroad. On my return I met you. Where? + In crowds, in the glitter of midnight assemblies, in the whirl of what the + vain call pleasure! I observed your countenance, your manner; was there in + either a single token of endearing or regretful remembrance? None! I + strove to harden my heart; I entered into politics, business, intrigue; I + hoped, I longed, I burned to forget you, but in vain!” + </p> + <p> + “At last I heard that Rumour, though it had long preceded, had not + belied, the truth, and that you were to be married,—married to Lord + Ulswater! I will not say what I suffered, or how idly I summoned pride to + resist affection! But I would not have come now to molest you, Flora, to + trouble your nuptial rejoicings with one thought of me, if, forgive me, I + had not suddenly dreamed that I had cause to hope you had mistaken, not + rejected my heart; that—you turn away, Flora, you blush, you weep! + Oh, tell me, by one word, one look, that I was not deceived!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Clarence,” said Flora, struggling with her tears: + “it is too late, too late now! Why, why did I not know this before? + I have promised, I am pledged; in less than two months I shall be the wife + of another!” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” cried Clarence, “never! You promised on a false + belief: they will not bind you to such a promise. Who is he that claims + you? I am his equal in birth, in the world’s name,—and oh, by + what worlds his superior in love! I will advance my claim to you in his + very teeth,—nay, I will not stir from these domains till you, your + father, and my rival, have repaired my wrongs.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, sir!” cried a voice behind, and Clarence turned and + beheld Lord Ulswater! His dark countenance was flushed with rage, which he + in vain endeavoured to conceal; and the smile of scorn that he strove to + summon to his lip made a ghastly and unnatural contrast with the lowering + of his brow and the fire of his eyes. “Be it so, sir,” he + said, slowly advancing, and confronting Clarence. “You will dispute + my claims to the hand Lady Flora Ardenne has long promised to one who, + however unworthy of the gift, knows, at least, how to defend it. It is + well; let us finish the dispute elsewhere. It is not the first time we + shall have met, if not as rivals, as foes.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence turned from him without reply, for he saw Lady Westborough had + just entered the pavilion, and stood mute and transfixed at the door, with + surprise, fear, and anger depicted upon her regal and beautiful + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “It is to you, madam,” said Clarence, approaching towards her, + “that I venture to appeal. Your daughter and I, four long years ago, + exchanged our vows: you flattered me with the hope that those vows were + not displeasing to you; since then a misunderstanding, deadly to my + happiness and to hers, divided us. I come now to explain it. My birth may + have seemed obscure; I come to clear it: my conduct doubtful; I come to + vindicate it. I find Lord Ulswater my rival. I am willing to compare my + pretensions to his. I acknowledge that he has titles which I have not; + that he has wealth, to which mine is but competence: but titles and + wealth, as the means of happiness, are to be referred to your daughter, to + none else. You have only, in an alliance with me, to consider my character + and my lineage: the latter flows from blood as pure as that which warms + the veins of my rival; the former stands already upon an eminence to which + Lord Ulswater in his loftiest visions could never aspire. For the rest, + madam, I adjure you, solemnly, as you value your peace of mind, your + daughter’s happiness, your freedom from the agonies of future + remorse and unavailing regret,—I adjure you not to divorce those + whom God, who speaks in the deep heart and the plighted vow, has already + joined. This is a question in which your daughter’s permanent woe or + lasting happiness from this present hour to the last sand of life is + concerned. It is to her that I refer it: let her be the judge.” + </p> + <p> + And Clarence moved from Lady Westborough, who, agitated, confused, awed by + the spell of a power and a nature of which she had not dreamed, stood pale + and speechless, vainly endeavouring to reply: he moved from her towards + Lady Flora, who leaned, sobbing and convulsed with contending emotions, + against the wall; but Lord Ulswater, whose fiery blood was boiling with + passion, placed himself between Clarence and the unfortunate object of the + contention. + </p> + <p> + “Touch her not, approach her not!” he said, with a fierce and + menacing tone. “Till you have proved your pretensions superior to + mine, unknown, presuming, and probably base-born as you are, you will only + pass over my body to your claims.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence stood still for one moment, evidently striving to master the + wrath which literally swelled his form beyond its ordinary proportions; + and Lady Westborough, recovering herself in the brief pause, passed + between the two, and, taking her daughter’s arm, led her from the + pavilion. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, madam, for one instant!” cried Clarence, and he caught + hold of her robe. + </p> + <p> + Lady Westborough stood quite erect and still; and, drawing her stately + figure to its full height, said with that quiet dignity by which a woman + so often stills the angrier passions of men, “I lay the prayer and + command of a mother upon you, Lord Ulswater, and on you, sir, whatever be + your real rank and name, not to make mine and my daughter’s presence + the scene of a contest which dishonours both. Still further, if Lady Flora’s + hand and my approval be an object of desire to either, I make it a + peremptory condition with both of you, that a dispute already degrading to + her name pass not from word to act. For you, Mr. Linden, if so I may call + you, I promise that my daughter shall be left free and unbiased to give + that reply to your singular conduct which I doubt not her own dignity and + sense will suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven!” exclaimed Lord Ulswater, utterly beside himself + with rage which, suppressed at the beginning of Lady Westborough’s + speech, had been kindled into double fury by its conclusion, “you + will not suffer Lady Flora, no, nor any one but her affianced bridegroom, + her only legitimate defender, to answer this arrogant intruder! You cannot + think that her hand, the hand of my future wife, shall trace line or word + to one who has so insulted her with his addresses and me with his rivalry.” + </p> + <p> + “Man!” cried Clarence, abruptly, and seizing Lord Ulswater + fiercely by the arm, “there are some causes which will draw fire + from ice: beware, beware how you incense me to pollute my soul with the + blood of a—” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Lord Ulswater. + </p> + <p> + Clarence bent down and whispered one word in his ear. + </p> + <p> + Had that word been the spell with which the sorcerers of old disarmed the + fiend, it could not have wrought a greater change upon Lord Ulswater’s + mien and face. He staggered back several paces, the glow of his swarthy + cheek faded into a deathlike paleness; the word which passion had conjured + to his tongue died there in silence; and he stood with eyes dilated and + fixed on Clarence’s face, on which their gaze seemed to force some + unwilling certainty. + </p> + <p> + But Linden did not wait for him to recover his self-possession: he hurried + after Lady Westborough, who, with her daughter, was hastening home. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Lady Westborough,” he said, as he approached, with + a tone and air of deep respect, “pardon me; but will you suffer me + to hope that Lady Flora and yourself will, in a moment of greater + calmness, consider over all I have said? and-that she—that you, Lady + Flora” (added he, changing the object of his address), “will + vouchsafe one line of unprejudiced, unbiased reply, to a love which, + however misrepresented and calumniated, has in it, I dare to say, nothing + that can disgrace her to whom, with an enduring constancy, and undimmed, + though unhoping, ardour, it has been inviolably dedicated?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora, though she spoke not, lifted her eyes to his; and in that + glance was a magic which made his heart burn with a sudden and flashing + joy that atoned for the darkness of years. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, sir,” said Lady Westborough, touched, in spite + of herself, with the sincerity and respect of Clarence’s bearing, + “that Lady Flora will reply to any letter of explanation or + proposal: for myself, I will not even see her answer. Where shall it be + sent to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken my lodgings at the inn by your park gates. I shall + remain there till—till—” + </p> + <p> + Clarence paused, for his heart was full; and, leaving the sentence to be + concluded as his listeners pleased, he drew himself aside from their path + and suffered them to proceed. + </p> + <p> + As he was feeding his eyes with the last glimpse of their forms, ere a + turn in the grounds snatched them from his view, he heard a rapid step + behind, and Lord Ulswater, approaching, laid his hand upon Linden’s + shoulder, and said calmly,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you furnished with proof to support the word you uttered?” + </p> + <p> + “I am!” replied Clarence, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “And will you favour me with it?” + </p> + <p> + “At your leisure, my lord,” rejoined Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Name your time and I will attend you.” + </p> + <p> + “On Tuesday: I require till then to produce my witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it; yet stay: on Tuesday I have military business at W——, + some miles hence; the next day let it be; the place of meeting where you + please.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, then, my lord,” answered Clarence; “you have + insulted me grossly before Lady Westborough and your affianced bride, and + before them my vindication and answer should be given.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Lord Ulswater; “be it here, at the + hour of twelve.” Clarence bowed his assent and withdrew. Lord + Ulswater remained on the spot, with downcast eyes, and a brow on which + thought had succeeded passion. + </p> + <p> + “If true,” said he aloud, though unconsciously, “if this + be true, why, then I owe him reparation, and he shall have it at my hands. + I owe it to him on my account, and that of one now no more. Till we meet, + I will not again see Lady Flora; after that meeting, perhaps I may resign + her forever.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words the young nobleman, who, despite of many evil and + overbearing qualities, had, as we have said, his redeeming virtues, in + which a capricious and unsteady generosity was one, walked slowly to the + house; wrote a brief note to Lady Westborough, the purport of which the + next chapter will disclose; and then, summoning his horse, flung himself + on its back, and rode hastily away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We will examine if those accidents, + Which common fame calls injuries, happen to him + Deservedly or no.—The New Inn. +FROM LORD ULSWATER TO LADY WESTBOROUGH. +</pre> + <p> + Forgive me, dearest Lady Westborough, for my violence: you know and will + allow for the infirmities of my temper. I have to make you and Lady Flora + one request, which I trust you will not refuse me. + </p> + <p> + Do not see or receive any communication from Mr. Linden till Wednesday; + and on that day at the hour of twelve suffer me to meet him at your house. + I will then either prove him to be the basest of impostors, or, if I fail + in this and Lady Flora honours my rival with one sentiment of preference, + I will without a murmur submit to her decree and my rejection. Dare I + trust that this petition will be accorded to one who is, with great regard + and esteem, etc. + </p> + <p> + “This is fortunate,” said Lady Westborough gently to her + daughter, who, leaning her head on her mother’s bosom, suffered + hopes, the sweeter for their long sleep, to divide, if not wholly to + possess, her heart. “We shall have now time well and carefully to + reflect over what will be best for your future happiness. We owe this + delay to one to whom you have been affianced. Let us, therefore, now + merely write to Mr. Linden, to inform him of Lord Ulswater’s + request; and to say that if he will meet his lordship at the time + appointed, we, that is I, shall be happy to see him.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora sighed, but she saw the reasonableness of her mother’s + proposal, and pressing Lady Westborough’s hand murmured her assent. + </p> + <p> + “At all events,” thought Lady Westborough, as she wrote to + Clarence, “the affair can but terminate to advantage. If Lord + Ulswater proves Mr. Linden’s unworthiness, the suit of the latter is + of course at rest forever: if not, and Mr. Linden be indeed all that he + asserts, my daughter’s choice cannot be an election of reproach; + Lord Ulswater promises peaceably to withdraw his pretensions; and though + Mr. Linden may not possess his rank or fortune, he is certainly one with + whom, if of ancient blood, any family would be proud of an alliance.” + </p> + <p> + Blending with these reflections a considerable share of curiosity and + interest in a secret which partook so strongly of romance, Lady + Westborough despatched her note to Clarence. The answer returned was + brief, respectful, and not only acquiescent in but grateful for the + proposal. + </p> + <p> + With this arrangement both Lady Westborough and Lady Flora were compelled, + though with very different feelings, to be satisfied; and an agreement was + established between them, to the effect that if Linden’s name passed + unblemished through the appointed ordeal Lady Flora was to be left to, and + favoured in, her own election; while, on the contrary, if Lord Ulswater + succeeded in the proof he had spoken of, his former footing in the family + was to be fully re-established and our unfortunate adventurer forever + discarded. + </p> + <p> + To this Lady Flora readily consented; for with a sanguine and certain + trust in her lover’s truth and honour, which was tenfold more strong + for her late suspicions, she would not allow herself a doubt as to the + result; and with an impatience, mingled with a rapturous exhilaration of + spirit, which brought back to her the freshness and radiancy of her + youngest years, she counted the hours and moments to the destined day. + </p> + <p> + While such was the state of affairs at Westborough Park, Clarence was + again on horseback and on another excursion. By the noon of the day + following that which had seen his eventful meeting with Lady Flora, he + found himself approaching the extreme boundaries of the county in which + Mordaunt Court and the memorable town of W—— were situated. + The characteristics of the country were now materially changed from those + which gave to the vicinity of Algernon’s domains its wild and + uncultivated aspect. + </p> + <p> + As Clarence slowly descended a hill of considerable steepness and length, + a prospect of singular and luxurious beauty opened to his view. The + noblest of England’s rivers was seen, through “turfs and + shades and flowers,” pursuing “its silver-winding way.” + On the opposite banks lay, embosomed in the golden glades of autumn, the + busy and populous town that from the height seemed still and lifeless as + an enchanted city, over which the mid-day sun hung like a guardian spirit. + Behind, in sweeping diversity, stretched wood and dale, and fields + despoiled of their rich harvest, yet still presenting a yellow surface to + the eye; and ever and anon some bright patch of green, demanding the gaze + as if by a lingering spell from the past spring; while, here and there, + spire and hamlet studded the landscape, or some lowly cot lay, backed by + the rising ground or the silent woods, white and solitary, and sending up + its faint tribute of smoke in spires to the altars of Heaven. The river + was more pregnant of life than its banks: barge and boat were gliding + gayly down the wave, and the glad oar of the frequent and slender vessels + consecrated to pleasure was seen dimpling the water, made by distance + smoother than glass. + </p> + <p> + On the right side of Clarence’s road, as he descended the hill, lay + wide plantations of fir and oak, divided from the road by a park paling, + the uneven sides of which were covered with brown moss, and which, at rare + openings in the young wood, gave glimpses of a park, seemingly extending + over great space, the theatre of many a stately copse and oaken grove, + which might have served the Druids with fane and temple meet for the + savage sublimity of their worship. + </p> + <p> + Upon these unfrequent views, Clarence checked his horse, and gazed, with + emotions sweet yet bitter, over the pales, along the green expanse which + they contained. And once, when through the trees he caught a slight + glimpse of the white walls of the mansion they adorned, all the years of + his childhood seemed to rise on his heart, thrilling to its farthest + depths with a mighty and sorrowful yet sweet melody, and— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Singing of boyhood back, the voices of his home.” + </pre> + <p> + Home! yes, amidst those groves had the April of his life lavished its + mingled smiles and tears! There was the spot hallowed by his earliest + joys! and the scene of sorrows still more sacred than joys! and now, after + many years, the exiled boy came back, a prosperous and thoughtful man, to + take but one brief glance of that home which to him had been less + hospitable than a stranger’s dwelling, and to find a witness among + those who remembered him of his very birth and identity! + </p> + <p> + He wound the ascent at last, and entering a small town at the foot of the + hill, which was exactly facing the larger one on the opposite shore of the + river, put up his horse at one of the inns, and then, with a beating + heart, remounted the hill, and entering the park by one of its lodges + found himself once more in the haunts of his childhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, the steward, the steward: I might have guessed as much. + Tales of the Crusaders. +</pre> + <p> + The evening was already beginning to close, and Clarence was yet wandering + in the park, and retracing, with his heart’s eye, each knoll and + tree and tuft once so familiar to his wanderings. + </p> + <p> + At the time we shall again bring him personally before the reader, he was + leaning against an iron fence that, running along the left wing of the + house, separated the pleasure-grounds from the park, and gazing with + folded arms and wistful eyes upon the scene on which the dusk of twilight + was gradually gathering. + </p> + <p> + The house was built originally in the reign of Charles II.; it had since + received alteration and additions, and now presented to the eye a vast + pile of Grecian or rather Italian architecture, heterogeneously blended + with the massive window, the stiff coping, and the heavy roof which the + age immediately following the Revolution introduced. The extent of the + building and the grandeur of the circling demesnes were sufficient to + render the mansion imposing in effect; while, perhaps, the style of the + architecture was calculated to conjoin a stately comfort with + magnificence, and to atone in solidity for any deficiency in grace. + </p> + <p> + At a little distance from the house, and placed on a much more commanding + site, were some ancient and ivy-grown ruins, now scanty indeed and fast + mouldering into decay, but sufficient to show the antiquarian the remains + of what once had been a hold of no ordinary size and power. These were the + wrecks of the old mansion, which was recorded by tradition to have been + reduced to this state by accidental fire, during the banishment of its + loyal owner in the time of the Protectorate. Upon his return the present + house was erected. + </p> + <p> + As Clarence was thus stationed he perceived an elderly man approach + towards him. “This is fortunate,” said he to himself,—“the + very person I have been watching for. Well, years have passed lightly over + old Wardour: still the same precise garb, the same sturdy and slow step, + the same upright form.” + </p> + <p> + The person thus designated now drew near enough for parlance; and, in a + tone a little authoritative, though very respectful, inquired if Clarence + had any business to transact with him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” said Clarence, slouching his hat over his + face, “for lingering so near the house at this hour: but I have seen + it many years ago, and indeed been a guest within its walls; and it is + rather my interest for an old friend, than my curiosity to examine a new + one, which you are to blame for my trespass.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” answered Mr. Wardour, a short and rather stout man, + of about sixty-four, attired in a chocolate coat, gray breeches, and silk + stockings of the same dye, which, by the waning light, took a sombrer and + sadder hue, “oh, sir, pray make no apology. I am only sorry the hour + is so late that I cannot offer to show you the interior of the house: + perhaps, if you are staying in the neighbourhood, you would like to see it + to-morrow. You were here, I take it, sir, in my old lord’s time? + </p> + <p> + “I was!—upon a visit to his second son: we had been boys + together.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Master Clinton?” cried the old man, with extreme, + animation; and then, suddenly changing his voice, added, in a subdued and + saddened tone, “Ah, poor young gentleman, I wonder where he is now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, is he not in this country?” asked Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—that is, I can’t exactly say where he is; + I wish I could: poor Master Clinton! I loved him as my own son.” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me,” said Clarence. “Is there anything in + the fate of Clinton L’Estrange that calls forth your pity? If so, + you would gratify a much better feeling than curiosity if you would inform + me of it. The fact is that I came here to seek him; for I have been absent + from the country many years, and on my return my first inquiry was for my + old friend and schoolfellow. None knew anything of him in London, and I + imagined therefore that he might have settled down into a country + gentleman. I was fully prepared to find him marshalling the fox-hounds or + beating the preserves; and you may consequently imagine my mortification + on learning at my inn that he had not been residing here for many years; + further I know not!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, sir,” said the old steward, who had listened very + attentively to Clarence’s detail, “had you pressed one of the + village gossips a little closer, you would doubtless have learned more. + But ‘t is a story I don’t much love telling, although formerly + I could have talked of Master Clinton by the hour together to any one who + would have had the patience to listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have really created in me a very painful desire to learn more,” + said Clarence; “and, if I am not intruding on any family secrets, + you would oblige me greatly by whatever information you may think proper + to afford to an early and attached friend of the person in question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, well,” replied Mr. Wardour, who, without + imputation on his discretion, loved talking as well as any other old + gentleman of sixty-four, “if you will condescend to step up to my + house, I shall feel happy and proud to converse with a friend of my dear + young master; and you are heartily welcome to the information I can give + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you sincerely,” said Clarence; “but suffer me + to propose, as an amendment to your offer, that you accompany me for an + hour or two to my inn.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir,” answered the old gentleman, in a piqued tone, + “I trust you will not disdain to honour me with your company. Thank + Heaven, I can afford to be hospitable now and then.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence, who seemed to have his own reasons for the amendment he had + proposed, still struggled against this offer, but was at last, from fear + of offending the honest steward, obliged to accede. + </p> + <p> + Striking across a path, which led through a corner of the plantation to a + space of ground containing a small garden, quaintly trimmed in the Dutch + taste, and a brick house of moderate dimensions, half overgrown with ivy + and jessamine, Clarence and his inviter paused at the door of the said + mansion, and the latter welcomed his guest to his abode. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Clarence, as a damsel in waiting opened the + door, “but a very severe attack of rheumatism obliges me to keep on + my hat: you will, I hope, indulge me in my rudeness.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, to be sure, sir. I myself suffer terribly from + rheumatism in the winter; though you look young, sir, very young, to have + an old man’s complaint. Ah, the people of my day were more careful + of themselves, and that is the reason we are such stout fellows in our + age.” + </p> + <p> + And the worthy steward looked complacently down at legs which very + substantially filled their comely investments. “True, sir,” + said Clarence, laying his hand upon that of the steward, who was just + about to open the door of an apartment; “but suffer me at least to + request you not to introduce me to any of the ladies of your family. I + could not, were my very life at stake, think of affronting them by not + doffing my hat. I have the keenest sense of what is due to the sex, and I + must seriously entreat you, for the sake of my health during the whole of + the coming winter, to suffer our conversation not to take place in their + presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I honour your politeness,” said the prim little steward: + “I, myself, like every true Briton, reverence the ladies; we will + therefore retire to my study. Mary, girl,” turning to the attendant, + “see that we have a nice chop for supper in half an hour; and tell + your mistress that I have a gentleman of quality with me upon particular + business, and must not be disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + With these injunctions, the steward led the way to the farther end of the + house, and, having ushered his guest into a small parlour, adorned with + sundry law-books, a great map of the estate, a print of the late owner of + it, a rusty gun slung over the fireplace, two stuffed pheasants, and a + little mahogany buffet,—having, we say, led Clarence to this + sanctuary of retiring stewardship, he placed a seat for him and said,—“Between + you and me, sir, be it respectfully said, I am not sorry that our little + confabulation should pass alone. Ladies are very delightful, very + delightful, certainly: but they won’t let one tell a story one’s + own way; they are fidgety, you know, sir,—fidgety, nothing more; + ‘t is a trifle, but it is unpleasant. Besides, my wife was Master + Clinton’s foster-mother, and she can’t hear a word about him, + without running on into a long rigmarole of what he did as a baby, and so + forth. I like people to be chatty, sir, but not garrulous; I can’t + bear garrulity, at least in a female. But, suppose, sir, we defer our + story till after supper? A glass of wine or warm punch makes talk glide + more easily; besides, sir, I want something to comfort me when I talk + about Master Clinton. Poor gentleman, he was so comely, so handsome!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you think so?” said Clarence, turning towards the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Think so!” ejaculated the steward, almost angrily; and + forthwith he launched out into an encomium on the perfections, personal, + moral, and mental, of Master Clinton which lasted till the gentle Mary + entered to lay the cloth. This reminded the old steward of the glass of + wine which was so efficacious in making talk glide easily; and, going to + the buffet before mentioned, he drew forth two bottles, both of port. + Having carefully and warily decanted both, he changed the subject of his + praise; and, assuring Clarence that the wine he was about to taste was at + least as old as Master Clinton, having been purchased in joyous + celebration of the young gentleman’s birthday, he whiled away the + minutes with a glowing eulogy on its generous qualities, till Mary entered + with the supper. + </p> + <p> + Clarence, with an appetite sharpened, despite his romance, by a long fast, + did ample justice to the fare; and the old steward, warming into + familiarity with the virtues of the far-famed port, chatted and laughed in + a strain half simple and half shrewd. + </p> + <p> + The fire being stirred up to a free blaze, the hearth swept, and all the + tokens of supper, save and except the kingly bottle and its subject + glasses, being removed, the steward and his guest drew closer to each + other, and the former began his story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The actors are at hand, and by their show + You shall know all that you are like to know. + Midsummer-Night’s Dream. +</pre> + <p> + “You know, probably, sir, that my late lord was twice married; by + his first wife he had three children, only one of whom, the youngest, + though now the present earl, survived the first period of infancy. When + Master Francis, as we always called him, in spite of his accession to the + title of viscount, was about six years old, my lady died, and a year + afterwards my lord married again. His second wife was uncommonly handsome: + she was a Miss Talbot (a Catholic), daughter of Colonel Talbot, and niece + to the celebrated beau, Squire Talbot of Scarsdale Park. Poor lady! they + say that she married my lord through a momentary pique against a former + lover. However that may be, she was a fine, high-spirited creature: very + violent in temper, to be sure, but generous and kind when her passion was + over; and however haughty to her equals charitable and compassionate to + the poor.” + </p> + <p> + “She had but one son, Master Clinton. Never, sir, shall I forget the + rejoicings that were made at his birth: for my lord doted on his second + wife, and had disliked his first, whom he had married for her fortune; and + it was therefore natural that he should prefer the child of the present + wife to Master Francis. Ah, it is sad to think how love can change! Well, + sir, my lord seemed literally to be wrapped up in the infant: he nursed it + and fondled it, and hung over it, as if he had been its mother rather than + its father. My lady desired that it might be christened by one of her + family names; and my lord consenting, it was called Clinton. (The wine is + with you, sir! Do observe that it has not changed colour in the least, + notwithstanding its age.)” + </p> + <p> + “My lord was fond of a quiet, retired life; indeed, he was a great + scholar, and spent the chief part of his time among his books. Dr. + Latinas, the young gentleman’s tutor, said his lordship made Greek + verses better than Dr. Latinas could make English ones, so you may judge + of his learning. But my lady went constantly to town, and was among the + gayest of the gay; nor did she often come down here without bringing a + whole troop of guests. Lord help us, what goings on there used to be at + the great house!—such dancing and music, and dining and supping, and + shooting-parties, fishing-parties, gypsy-parties: you would have thought + all England was merrymaking there.” + </p> + <p> + “But my lord, though he indulged my lady in all her whims and + extravagance, seldom took much share in them himself. He was constantly + occupied with his library and children, nor did he ever suffer either + Master Francis or Master Clinton to mix with the guests. He kept them very + close at their studies, and when the latter was six years old, I do assure + you, sir, he could say his Propria quae maribus better than I can. (You + don’t drink, sir.) When Master Francis was sixteen, and Master + Clinton eight, the former was sent abroad on his travels with a German + tutor, and did not return to England for many years afterwards; meanwhile + Master Clinton grew up to the age of fourteen, increasing in comeliness + and goodness. He was very fond of his studies, much more so than Master + Francis had been, and was astonishingly forward for his years. So my lord + loved him better and better, and would scarcely ever suffer him to be out + of his sight.” + </p> + <p> + “When Master Clinton was about the age I mentioned, namely, + fourteen, a gentleman of the name of Sir Clinton Manners became a constant + visitor at the house. Report said that he was always about my lady in + London at Ranelagh, and the ball-rooms and routs, and all the fine places; + and certainly he was scarcely ever from her side in the pleasure parties + at the Park. But my lady said that he was a cousin of hers, and an old + playmate in childhood, and so he was; and unhappily for her, something + more too. My lord, however, shut up in his library, did not pay any + attention to my lady’s intimacy with Sir Clinton; on the contrary, + as he was a cousin and friend of hers, his lordship seemed always happy to + see him, and was the only person in the neighbourhood who had no suspicion + of what was going on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, it is a melancholy story, and I can scarcely persuade + myself to tell it. (It is really delicious wine this-six-and-twenty years + old last birthday—to say nothing of its age before I bought it.) Ah! + well, sir, the blow came at last like a thunderclap: my lady, finding + disguise was in vain, went off with Sir Clinton. Letters were discovered + which showed that they had corresponded for years; that he was her lover + before marriage; that she, in a momentary passion with him, had accepted + my lord’s offer; that she had always repented her precipitation; and + that she had called her son after his name: all this, and much more, sir, + did my lord learn, as it were, at a single blow.” + </p> + <p> + “He obtained a divorce, and Sir Clinton and my lady went abroad. But + from that time my lord was never the same man. Always proud and gloomy, he + now became intolerably violent and morose. He shut himself up, saw no + company of any description, rarely left the house, and never the park; + and, from being one of the gayest places in the country, sir, the mansion + became as dreary and deserted as if it had been haunted. (It is for you to + begin the second bottle, sir.)” + </p> + <p> + “But the most extraordinary change in my lord was in his conduct to + Master Clinton: from doting upon him, to a degree that would have spoilt + any temper less sweet than my poor young master’s, he took the most + violent aversion to him. From the circumstance of his name, and the long + intimacy existing between my lady and her lover, his lordship would not + believe that Master Clinton was his own child; and indeed I must confess + there seemed good ground for his suspicions. Besides this, Master Clinton + took very much after his mother. He had her eyes, hair, and beautiful + features, so that my lord could never see him without being reminded of + his disgrace; therefore whenever the poor young gentleman came into his + presence, he would drive him out with oaths and threats which rang through + the whole house. He could not even bear that he should have any attendance + or respect from the servants, for he considered him quite as an alien + like, and worse than a stranger; and his lordship’s only delight + seemed to consist in putting upon him every possible indignity and + affront. But Master Clinton was a high-spirited young gentleman; and, + after having in vain endeavoured to soothe my lord by compliance and + respect, he at last utterly avoided his lordship’s presence.” + </p> + <p> + “He gave up his studies in a great measure, and wandered about the + park and woods all day and sometimes even half the night; his mother’s + conduct and his father’s unkindness seemed to prey upon his health + and mind, and at last he grew almost as much altered as my lord. From + being one of the merriest boys possible, full of life and spirits, he + became thoughtful and downcast, his step lost its lightness, and his eye + all the fire which used once quite to warm one’s heart when one + looked at it; in short, sir, the sins of the mother were visited as much + upon the child as the husband. (Not the least tawny, sir, you see, though + it is so old!)” + </p> + <p> + “My lord at first seemed to be glad that he now never saw his son, + but, by degrees, I think he missed the pleasure of venting his spleen upon + him; and so he ordered my young master not to stir out without his leave, + and confined him closer than ever to his studies. (Well, sir, if it were + not for this port I could not get out another sentence.) There used then + to be sad scenes between them: my lord was a terribly passionate man, and + said things sharper than a two-edged sword, as the psalms express it; and + though Master Clinton was one of the mildest and best-tempered boys + imaginable, yet he could not at all times curb his spirit; and, to my + mind, when a man is perpetually declaring he is not your father, one may + now and then be forgiven in forgetting that you are to behave as his son.” + </p> + <p> + “Things went on in this way sadly enough for about three years and a + half, when Master Clinton was nearly eighteen. One evening, after my lord + had been unusually stormy, Master Clinton’s spirit warmed, I + suppose, and, from word to word, the dispute increased, till my lord, in a + furious rage, ordered in the servants, and told them to horsewhip his son. + Imagine, sir, what a disgrace to that noble house! But there was not one + of them who would not rather have cut off his right hand than laid a + finger upon Master Clinton, so greatly was he beloved; and, at last, my + lord summoned his own gentleman, a German, six feet high, entirely devoted + to his lordship, and commanded him, upon pain of instant dismissal, to + make use in his presence of a horsewhip which he put into his hand.” + </p> + <p> + “The German did not dare refuse, so he approached Master Clinton. + The servants were still in the room, and perhaps they would have been bold + enough to rescue Master Clinton, had there been any need of their + assistance; but he was a tall youth, as bold as a hero, and, when the + German approached, he caught him by the throat, threw him down, and very + nearly strangled him; he then, while my lord was speechless with rage, + left the room, and did not return all night. (What a body it has, sir—ah!)” + </p> + <p> + “The next morning I was in a little room adjoining my lord’s + study, looking over some papers and maps. His lordship did not know of my + presence, but was sitting alone at breakfast, when Master Clinton suddenly + entered the study; the door leading to my room was ajar, and I heard all + the conversation that ensued.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord asked him very angrily how he had dared absent himself all + night; but Master Clinton, making no reply to this question, said, in a + very calm, loud voice, which I think I hear now, ‘My lord, after the + insult you have offered to me, it is perhaps unnecessary to observe that + nothing could induce me to remain under your roof. I come, therefore, to + take my last leave of you.’” + </p> + <p> + “He paused, and my lord (probably like me, being taken by surprise) + making no reply, he continued, ‘You have often told me, my lord, + that I am not your son; if this be possible, so much the more must you + rejoice at the idea of ridding your presence of an intruder.’ + ‘And how, sir, do you expect to live, except upon my bounty?’ + exclaimed my lord. ‘You remember,’ answered my young master, + ‘that a humble dependant of my mother’s family, who had been + our governess in childhood, left me at her death the earnings of her life. + I believe they amount to nearly a thousand pounds; I look to your lordship’s + honour either for the principal or the yearly interest, as may please you + best: further I ask not from you.’ ‘And do you think, sir,’ + cried my lord, almost screaming with passion, ‘that upon that + beggarly pittance you shall go forth to dishonour more than it is yet + dishonoured the name of my ancient house? Do you think, sir, that that + name to which you have no pretension, though the law iniquitously grants + it you, shall be sullied either with trade or robbery? for to one or the + other you must necessarily be driven.’ ‘I foresaw your speech, + my lord, and am prepared with an answer. Far be it from me to thrust + myself into any family, the head of which thinks proper to reject me; far + be it from me to honour my humble fortunes with a name which I am as + willing as yourself to disown: I purpose, therefore, to adopt a new one; + and, whatever may be my future fate, that name will screen me both from + your remembrance and the world’s knowledge. Are you satisfied now, + my lord?’” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship did not answer for some minutes: at last, he said + sneeringly, ‘Go, boy, go! I am delighted to hear you have decided so + well. Leave word with my steward where you wish your clothes to be sent to + you: Heaven forbid I should rob you either of your wardrobe or your + princely fortune. Wardour will transmit to you the latter, even to the + last penny, by the same conveyance as that which is honoured by the + former. And now good-morning, sir; yet stay, and mark my words: never dare + to re-enter my house, or to expect an iota more of fortune or favour from + me. And, hark you, sir: if you dare violate your word; if you dare, during + my life, at least, assume a name which you were born to sully,—my + curse, my deepest, heartiest, eternal curse, be upon your head in this + world and the next!’ ‘Fear not, my lord: my word is pledged,’ + said the young gentleman; and the next moment I heard his parting step in + the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my heart was full (your glass is empty!) and my head spun + round as if I were on a precipice: but I was determined my young master + should not go till I had caught another glimpse of his dear face; so I + gently left the room I was in, and, hastening out of the house by a + private entrance, met Master Clinton in the park, not very far from the + spot where I saw you, sir, just now. To my surprise there was no sign of + grief or agitation upon his countenance. I had never seen him look so + proud, or for years so happy.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Wardour,’ said he, in a gay tone, when he saw me, + ‘I was going to your house: my father has at last resolved that I + should, like my brother, commence my travels; and I wish to leave with you + the address of the place to which my clothes, etc., will be sent.’ + </p> + <p> + “I could not contain any longer when I heard this, sir: I burst into + tears, confessed that I had accidentally heard his conversation with my + lord, and besought him not to depart so hastily, and with so small a + fortune; but he shook his head and would not hear me. ‘Believe me, + my good Wardour,’ said he, ‘that since my unhappy mother’s + flight, I have never felt so elated or so happy as I do now: one should go + through what I have done, to learn the rapture of independence.’ He + then told me to have his luggage sent to him, under his initials of C. L., + at the Golden Fleece, the principal inn in the town of W——, + which, you know, sir, is at the other end of the county, on the road to + London; and then, kindly shaking me by the hand, he broke away from me: + but he turned back before he had got three paces, and said (and then, for + the first time, the pride of his countenance fell, and the tears stood in + his eyes), ‘Wardour, do not divulge what you have heard: put as good + a face upon my departure as you can, and let the blame, if any, fall upon + me, not upon your lord; after all he is to be pitied, not blamed, and I + can never forget that he once loved me.’ He did not wait for my + answer,—perhaps he did not like to show me how much he was affected,—but + hurried down the park, and I soon lost sight of him. My lord that very + morning sent for me, demanded what address his son had left, and gave me a + letter, enclosing, I suppose, a bill for my poor young master’s + fortune, ordering it to be sent with the clothes immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I have never seen or heard aught of the dear gentleman since; + you must forgive me, I cannot help tears, sir—(the wine is with + you).” + </p> + <p> + “But the mother, the mother!” said Clarence, earnestly; + “what became of her? she died abroad, two years since, did she not?” + </p> + <p> + “She did, sir,” answered the honest steward, refilling his + glass. “They say that she lived very unhappily with Sir Clinton, who + did not marry her; till all of a sudden she disappeared, none knew + whither.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence redoubled his attention. + </p> + <p> + “At last,” resumed the steward, “two years ago, a letter + came from her to my lord; she was a nun in some convent (in Italy I think) + to which she had, at the time of her disappearance, secretly retired. The + letter was written on her death-bed, and so affectingly, I suppose, that + even my stern lord was in tears for several days after he received it. But + the principal passage in it was relative to her son: it assured my lord + (for so with his own lips he told me just before he died, some months ago) + that Master Clinton was in truth his son, and that it was not till she had + been tempted many years after her marriage that she had fallen; she + implored my lord to believe this ‘on the word of one for whom earth + and earth’s objects were no more;’ those were her words.” + </p> + <p> + “Six months ago, when my lord lay on the bed from which he never + rose, he called me to him and said, ‘Wardour, you have always been + the faithful servant of our house, and warmly attached to my second son; + tell my poor boy, if ever you see him, that I did at last open my eyes to + my error and acknowledge him as my child; tell him that I have desired his + brother (who was then, sir, kneeling by my lord’s side), as he + values my blessing, to seek him out and repair the wrong I have done him; + and add that my best comfort in death was the hope of his forgiveness.’” + </p> + <p> + “Did he, did he say that?” exclaimed Clarence, who had been + violently agitated during the latter part of this recital, and now sprang + from his seat. “My father, my father! would that I had borne with + thee more! mine, mine was the fault; from thee should have come the + forgiveness!” + </p> + <p> + The old steward sat silent and aghast. At that instant his wife entered, + with a message of chiding at the lateness of the hour upon her lip, but + she started back when she saw Clarence’s profile, as he stood + leaning against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” cried she, “is it, is it,—yes, it + is my young master, my own foster-son!” + </p> + <p> + Rightly had Clarence conjectured, when he had shunned her presence. Years + had indeed wrought a change in his figure and face; acquaintance, servant, + friend, relation,—the remembrance of his features had passed from + all: but she who had nursed him as an infant on her lap and fed him from + her breast, she who had joined the devotion of clanship to the fondness of + a mother, knew him at a glance. “Yes,” cried he, as he threw + himself into her withered and aged arms, “it is I, the child you + reared, come, after many years, to find too late, when a father is no + more, that he had a right to a father’s home.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let us go in, + And charge us there upon inter’gatories.—SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + “But did not any one recognize you in your change of name?” + said the old foster-mother, looking fondly upon Clarence, as he sat the + next morning by her side. “How could any one forget so winsome a + face who had once seen it?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t remember,” said Clarence (as we will yet + continue to call our hero), smiling, “that your husband had + forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir,” cried the piqued steward, “but that was + because you wore your hat slouched over your eyes: if you had taken off + that, I should have known you directly.” + </p> + <p> + “However that may be,” said Clarence, unwilling to dwell + longer on an occurrence which he saw hurt the feelings of the kind Mr. + Wardour, “it is very easy to explain how I preserved my incognito. + You recollect that my father never suffered me to mix with my mother’s + guests: so that I had no chance of their remembering me, especially as + during the last three years and a half no stranger had ever entered our + walls. Add to this that I was in the very time of life in which a few + years work the greatest change, and on going to London I was thrown + entirely among people who could never have seen me before. Fortunately for + me, I became acquainted with my mother’s uncle; circumstances + subsequently led me to disclose my birth to him, upon a promise that he + would never call me by any other name than that which I had assumed. He, + who was the best, the kindest, the most generous of human beings, took a + liking to me. He insisted not only upon his relationship to me, as my + grand-uncle, but upon the justice of repairing to me the wrongs his + unhappy niece had caused me. The delicacy of his kindness, the ties of + blood, and an accident which had enabled me to be of some service to him, + all prevented my resisting the weight of obligation with which he + afterwards oppressed me. He procured me an appointment abroad: I remained + there four years. When I returned, I entered, it is true, into very + general society: but four years had, as you may perceive, altered me + greatly; and even had there previously existed any chance of my being + recognized, that alteration would probably have been sufficient to insure + my secret.” + </p> + <p> + “But your brother,—my present lord,—did you never meet + him, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Often, my good mother; but you remember that I was little more than + six years old when he left England, and when he next saw me I was about + two and twenty: it would have been next to a miracle, or, at least, would + have required the eyes of love like yours, to have recalled me to memory + after such an absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—to turn to my story—I succeeded, partly as his + nearest relation, but principally from an affection dearer than blood, to + the fortune of my grand-uncle, Mr. Talbot. Fate prospered with me: I rose + in the world’s esteem and honour, and soon became prouder of my + borrowed appellation than of all the titles of my lordly line. + Circumstances occurring within the last week which it will be needless to + relate, but which may have the greatest influence over my future life, + made it necessary to do what I had once resolved I would never do,—prove + my identity and origin. Accordingly I came here to seek you.” + </p> + <p> + “But why did not my honoured young master disclose himself last + night?” asked the steward. + </p> + <p> + “I might say,” answered Clarence, “because I anticipated + great pleasure in a surprise; but I had another reason; it was this: I had + heard of my poor father’s death, and I was painfully anxious to + learn if at the last he had testified any relenting towards me, and yet + more so to ascertain the manner of my unfortunate mother’s fate. + Both abroad and in England, I had sought tidings of her everywhere, but in + vain; in mentioning my mother’s retiring into a convent, you have + explained the reason why my efforts were so fruitless. With these two + objects in view, I thought myself more likely to learn the whole truth as + a stranger than in my proper person; for in the latter case, I deemed it + probable that your delicacy and kindness might tempt you to conceal + whatever was calculated to wound my feelings, and to exaggerate anything + that might tend to flatter or to soothe them. Thank Heaven, I now learn + that I have a right to the name my boyhood bore, and that my birth is not + branded with the foulest of private crimes, and that in death my father’s + heart yearned to his too hasty but repentant son. Enough of this: I have + now only to request you, my friend, to accompany me, before daybreak on + Wednesday morning, to a place several miles hence. Your presence there + will be necessary to substantiate the proof for which I came hither.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, sir,” cried the honest steward; “and + after Wednesday you will, I trust, assume your rightful name.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Clarence; “since I am no longer + ‘the Disowned.’” + </p> + <p> + Leaving Clarence now for a brief while to renew his acquaintance with the + scenes of his childhood, and to offer the tribute of his filial tears to + the ashes of a father whose injustice had been but “the stinging of + a heart the world had stung,” we return to some old acquaintances in + the various conduct of our drama. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Upon his couch the veiled Mokanna lay.—The Veiled Prophet. +</pre> + <p> + The autumn sun broke through an apartment in a villa in the neighbourhood + of London, furnished with the most prodigal yet not tasteless attention to + luxury and show, within which, beside a table strewed with newspapers, + letters, and accounts, lay Richard Crauford, extended carelessly upon a + sofa which might almost have contented the Sybarite who quarrelled with a + rose-leaf. At his elbow was a bottle half emptied and a wineglass just + filled. An expression of triumph and enjoyment was visible upon his + handsome but usually inexpressive countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, taking up a newspaper, “let us read + this paragraph again. What a beautiful sensation it is to see one’s + name in print. ‘We understand that Richard Crauford, Esq., M. P. for + ——, is to be raised to the dignity of the peerage. There does + not perhaps exist in the country a gentleman more universally beloved and + esteemed’ (mark that, Dicky Crauford). ‘The invariable + generosity with which his immense wealth has been employed, his high + professional honour, the undeviating and consistent integrity of his + political career’ (ay, to be sure, it is only your honest fools who + are inconsistent: no man can deviate who has one firm principle, + self-interest), ‘his manly and energetic attention to the welfare of + religion’ (he! he! he!), ‘conjoined to a fortune almost + incalculable, render this condescension of our gracious Sovereign no less + judicious than deserved! We hear that the title proposed for the new peer + is that of Viscount Innisdale, which, we believe, was formerly in the + noble family of which Mr. Crauford is a distant branch.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“He! he! he! Bravo! bravo! Viscount Innisdale, noble family, distant +branch,—the devil I am! What an ignoramus my father was not to know +that! Why, rest his soul, he never knew who his grandfather was; but the +world shall not be equally ignorant of that important point. Let me see, +who shall be Viscount Innisdale’s great-grandfather? Well, well, whoever +he is, here’s long life to his great-grandson! ‘Incalculable fortune!’ +Ay, ay, I hope at all events it will never be calculated. But now for +my letters. Bah! this wine is a thought too acid for the cellars of +Viscount Innisdale! What, another from Mother H——! Dark eyes, small +mouth, sings like an angel, eighteen! Pish! I am too old for such +follies now: ‘t is not pretty for Viscount Innisdale. Humph! Lisbon, +seven hundred pounds five shillings and seven-pence—half-penny, is it, +or farthing? I must note that down. Loan for King of Prussia. Well, must +negotiate that to-morrow. Ah, Hockit, the wine-merchant, pipe of claret +in the docks, vintage of 17—. Bravo! all goes smooth for Viscount +Innisdale! Pish! from my damnable wife! What a pill for my lordship! +What says she?” + + DAWLISH, DEVONSHIRE. +You have not, my dearest Richard, answered my letters for months. I do +not, however, presume to complain of your silence; I know well that you +have a great deal to occupy your time, both in business and pleasure. +But one little line, dear Richard,—one little line, surely that is not +too much now and then. I am most truly sorry to trouble you again about +money; and you must know that I strive to be as saving as possible; +(“Pish—curse the woman; sent her twenty pounds three months ago!”) but +I really am so distressed, and the people here are so pressing; and, +at all events, I cannot bear the thought of your wife being disgraced. +Pray, forgive me, Richard, and believe how painful it is in me to say so +much. I know you will answer this! and, oh, do, do tell me how you are. +</pre> + <p> + Ever your affectionate wife, CAROLINE CRAUFORD. + </p> + <p> + “Was there ever poor man so plagued? Where’s my note book? + Mem.—Send Car. to-morrow 20 pounds to last her the rest of the year. + Mem.—Send Mother H——, 100 pounds. Mem.—Pay Hockit’s + bill, 830 pounds. Bless me, what shall I do with Viscountess Innisdale? + Now, if I were not married, I would be son-in-law to a duke. Mem.—Go + down to Dawlish, and see if she won’t die soon. Healthy situation, I + fear,—devilish unlucky,—must be changed. Mem.—Swamps in + Essex. Who’s that?” + </p> + <p> + A knock at the door disturbed Mr. Crauford in his meditations. He started + up, hurried the bottle and glass under the sofa, where the descending + drapery completely hid them; and, taking up a newspaper, said in a gentle + tone, “Come in.” A small thin man, bowing at every step, + entered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Bradley, is it you, my good fellow?” said Crauford: + “glad to see you,—a fine morning: but what brings you from + town so early?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” answered Mr. Bradley, very obsequiously, “something + unpleasant has—” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heaven!” cried Crauford, blanched into the whiteness + of death, and starting up from the sofa with a violence which frightened + the timid Mr. Bradley to the other end of the room, “the + counting-house, the books,—all safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, yes, at present, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what, man?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, honoured sir,” returned Mr. Bradley, bowing to the + ground, “your partner, Mr. Jessopp, has been very inquisitive about + the accounts. He says Mr. Da Costa, the Spanish merchant, has been + insinuating very unpleasant hints, and that he must have a conversation + with you at your earliest convenience; and when, sir, I ventured to + remonstrate about the unreasonableness of attending to what Mr. Da Costa + said, Mr. Jessopp was quite abusive, and declared that there seemed some + very mysterious communication between you (begging your pardon, sir) and + me, and that he did not know what business I, who had no share in the + firm, had to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Crauford, “you were civil to him; did not + reply hotly, eh! my good Bradley?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord forbid, sir; Lord forbid, that I should not know my place + better, or that I should give an unbecoming word to the partner of my + honoured benefactor. But, sir, if I dare venture to say so, I think Mr. + Jessopp is a little jealous or so of you; he seemed quite in a passion at + the paragraph in the paper about my honoured master’s becoming a + lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, honest Bradley, right; he is jealous: we must soothe him. + Go, my good fellow, go to him with my compliments, and say that I will be + with him by one. Never fear this business will be easily settled.” + </p> + <p> + And, bowing himself out of the room, Bradley withdrew. Left alone, a dark + cloud gathered over the brow of Mr. Crauford. + </p> + <p> + “I am on a precipice,” thought he; “but if my own brain + does not turn giddy with the prospect, all yet may be safe. Cruel + necessity, that obliged me to admit another into the business, that foiled + me of Mordaunt, and drove me upon this fawning rascal! So, so: I almost + think there is a Providence, now that Mordaunt has grown rich; but then + his wife died; ay, ay, God saved him, but the devil killed her. [Dieu a + puni ce fripon, le diable a noye les autres.—VOLTAIRE: Candide.] He! + he! he! But, seriously, seriously, there is danger in the very air I + breathe! I must away to that envious Jessopp instantly; but first let me + finish the bottle.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A strange harmonious inclination + Of all degrees to reformation.—Hudibras. +</pre> + <p> + About seven miles from W——, on the main road from ——, + there was in 17— a solitary public-house, which by the by is now a + magnificent hotel. Like many of its brethren in the more courtly vicinity + of the metropolis, this amoenum hospitium peregrinae gentis then had its + peculiar renown for certain dainties of the palate; and various in degree + and character were the numerous parties from the neighbouring towns and + farms, which upon every legitimate holiday were wont to assemble at the + mansion of mine host of the Jolly Angler, in order to feast upon eel-pie + and grow merry over the true Herefordshire cider. + </p> + <p> + But upon that special day on which we are about to introduce our reader + into the narrow confines of its common parlour, the said hostelry was + crowded with persons of a very different description from the peaceable + idlers who were ordinarily wont to empty mine host’s larder, and + forget the price of corn over the divine inspirations of pomarial nectar. + Instead of the indolent, satisfied air of the saturnalian merrymaker, the + vagrant angler, or the gentleman farmer, with his comely dame who “walked + in silk attire, and siller had to spare;” instead of the quiet yet + glad countenances of such hunters of pleasure and eaters of eel-pie, or + the more obstreperous joy of urchins let loose from school to taste some + brief and perennial recreation, and mine host’s delicacies at the + same time; instead of these, the little parlour presented a various and + perturbed group, upon whose features neither eel-pie nor Herefordshire + cider had wrought the relaxation of a holiday or the serenity of a + momentary content. + </p> + <p> + The day to which we now refer was the one immediately preceding that + appointed for the far-famed meeting at W——; and many of the + patriots, false or real, who journeyed from a distance to attend that + rendezvous, had halted at our host’s of the Jolly Angler, both as + being within a convenient space from the appointed spot, and as a + tabernacle where promiscuous intrusion and (haply) immoderate charges were + less likely to occur than at the bustling and somewhat extraordinary + hotels and inns of the town of W——. + </p> + <p> + The times in which this meeting was held were those of great popular + excitement and discontent; and the purport of the meeting proposed was to + petition Parliament against the continuance of the American war and the + King against the continuance of his ministers. + </p> + <p> + Placards of an unusually inflammatory and imprudent nature had given great + alarm to the more sober and well-disposed persons in the neighbourhood of + W——; and so much fear was felt or assumed upon the occasion + that a new detachment of Lord Ulswater’s regiment had been + especially ordered into the town; and it was generally rumoured that the + legal authorities would interfere, even by force, for the dispersion of + the meeting in question. These circumstances had given the measure a + degree of general and anxious interest which it would not otherwise have + excited; and while everybody talked of the danger of attending the + assembly, everybody resolved to thrust himself into it. + </p> + <p> + It was about the goodly hour of noon, and the persons assembled were six + in number, all members of the most violent party, and generally considered + by friend and foe as embracers of republican tenets. One of these, a + little, oily, corpulent personage, would have appeared far too sleek and + well fed for a disturber of things existing, had not a freckled, pimpled, + and fiery face, a knit brow, and a small black eye of intolerable + fierceness belied the steady and contented appearance of his frame and + girth. This gentleman, by name Christopher Culpepper, spoke in a quick, + muffled, shuffling sort of tone, like the pace of a Welsh pony, somewhat + lame, perfectly broken-winded, but an exemplary ambler for all that. + </p> + <p> + Next to him sat, with hands clasped over his knees, a thin, small man, + with a countenance prematurely wrinkled and an air of great dejection. + Poor Castleton! his had been, indeed, the bitter lot of a man, honest but + weak, who attaches himself, heart and soul, to a public cause which, in + his life at least, is hopeless. Three other men were sitting by the open + window, disputing, with the most vehement gestures, upon the character of + Wilkes; and at the other window, alone, silent, and absorbed, sat a man + whose appearance and features were singularly calculated to arrest and to + concentrate attention. His raven hair, grizzled with the first advance of + age, still preserved its strong, wiry curl and luxuriant thickness. His + brows, large, bushy, and indicative of great determination, met over eyes + which at that moment were fixed upon vacancy with a look of thought and + calmness very unusual to their ordinary restless and rapid glances. His + mouth, that great seat of character, was firmly and obstinately shut; and + though, at the first observation, its downward curve and iron severity + wore the appearance of unmitigated harshness, disdain, and resolve, yet a + more attentive deducer of signs from features would not have been able to + detect in its expression anything resembling selfishness or sensuality, + and in that absence would have found sufficient to redeem the more + repellent indications of mind which it betrayed. + </p> + <p> + Presently the door was opened, and the landlord, making some apology to + both parties for having no other apartment unoccupied, introduced a + personage whose dress and air, as well as a kind of saddle-bag, which he + would not intrust to any other bearer than himself, appeared to denote him + as one rather addicted to mercantile than political speculations. + Certainly he did not seem much at home among the patriotic reformers, who, + having glared upon him for a single moment, renewed, without remark, their + several attitudes or occupations. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, after a brief pause, approached the solitary reformer whom + we last described; and making a salutation, half timorous and half + familiar, thus accosted him,— + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, Mr. Wolfe, your servant. I think I had the pleasure + of hearing you a long time ago at the Westminster election: very eloquent + you were, sir, very!” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe looked up for an instant at the face of the speaker, and, not + recognizing it, turned abruptly away, threw open the window, and, leaning + out, appeared desirous of escaping from all further intrusion on the part + of the stranger; but that gentleman was by no means of a nature easily + abashed. + </p> + <p> + “Fine day, sir, for the time of year; very fine day, indeed. October + is a charming month, as my lamented friend and customer, the late Lady + Waddilove, was accustomed to say. Talking of that, sir, as the winter is + now approaching, do you not think it would be prudent, Mr. Wolfe, to + provide yourself with an umbrella? I have an admirable one which I might + dispose of: it is from the effects of the late Lady Waddilove. ‘Brown,’ + said her ladyship, a short time before her death, ‘Brown, you are a + good creature; but you ask too much for the Dresden vase. We have known + each other a long time; you must take fourteen pounds ten shillings, and + you may have that umbrella in the corner into the bargain.’ Mr. + Wolfe, the bargain was completed, and the umbrella became mine: it may now + be yours.” + </p> + <p> + And so saying, Mr. Brown, depositing his saddle-bag on the ground, + proceeded to unfold an umbrella of singular antiquity and form,—a + very long stick, tipped with ivory, being surmounted with about a quarter + of a yard of sea-green silk, somewhat discoloured by time and wear. + </p> + <p> + “It is a beautiful article, sir,” said Mr. Brown, admiringly + surveying it: “is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” said Wolfe, impatiently, “what have I to do + with your goods and chattels? Go and palm the cheatings and impositions of + your pitiful trade upon some easier gull.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheatings and impositions, Mr. Wolfe!” cried the slandered + Brown, perfectly aghast; “I would have you to know, sir, that I have + served the first families in the country, ay, and in this county too, and + never had such words applied to me before. Sir, there was the late Lady + Waddilove, and the respected Mrs. Minden, and her nephew the ambassador, + and the Duchess of Pugadale, and Mr. Mordaunt of Mordaunt Court, poor + gentleman, though he is poor no more,” and Mr. Brown proceeded to + enumerate the long list of his customers. + </p> + <p> + Now, we have stated that Wolfe, though he had never known the rank of + Mordaunt, was acquainted with his real name, and, as the sound caught his + ear, he muttered, “Mordaunt, Mordaunt, ay, but not my former + acquaintance,—not him who was called Glendower. No, no: the man + cannot mean him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, but I do mean him,” cried Brown, in a rage. “I + do mean that Mr. Glendower, who afterwards took another name, but whose + real appellation is Mr. Algernon Mordaunt of Mordaunt Court, in this + county, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What description of man is he?” said Wolfe; “rather + tall, slender, with an air and mien like a king’s, I was going to + say, but better than a king’s, like a freeman’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay—the same,” answered Mr. Brown, sullenly; “but + why should I tell you? ‘Cheating and imposition,’ indeed! I am + sure my word can be of no avail to you; and I sha’ n’t stay + here any longer to be insulted, Mr. Wolfe, which, I am sure, talking of + freemen, no freeman ought to submit to; but as the late Lady Waddilove + once very wisely said to me, ‘Brown, never have anything to do with + those republicans: they are the worst tyrants of all.’ Good morning, + Mr. Wolfe; gentlemen, your servant; ‘cheating and imposition,’ + indeed! and Mr. Brown banged the door as he departed. + </p> + <p> + “Wolfe,” said Mr. Christopher Culpepper, “who is that + man?” + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” answered the republican, laconically, and gazing + on the ground, apparently in thought. + </p> + <p> + “He has the air of a slave,” quoth the free Culpepper, and + slaves cannot bear the company of freemen; therefore he did right to go, + whe-w! Had we a proper and thorough and efficient reform, human nature + would not be thus debased by trades and callings and barters and exchange, + for all professions are injurious to the character and the dignity of man, + whe-w! but, as I shall prove upon the hustings to-morrow, it is in vain to + hope for any amendment in the wretched state of things until the people of + these realms are fully, freely, and fairly represented, whe-w! Gentlemen, + it is past two, and we have not ordered dinner, whe-w!” (N. B.—This + ejaculation denotes the kind of snuffle which lent peculiar energy to the + dicta of Mr. Culpepper.) + </p> + <p> + “Ring the bell, then, and summon the landlord,” said, very + pertinently, one of the three disputants upon the character of Wilkes. + </p> + <p> + The landlord appeared; dinner was ordered. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” said Wolfe, “has that man, Mr. Brown I think he + called himself, left the inn?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, sir, for he was mightily offended at something which—” + </p> + <p> + “And,” interrupted Wolfe, “how far hence does Mr. + Mordaunt live?” + </p> + <p> + “About five miles on the other side of W——,” + answered mine host. + </p> + <p> + Wolfe rose, seized his hat, and was about to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, stay,” cried citizen Christopher Culpepper; “you + will not leave us till after dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall dine at W——,” answered Wolfe, quitting + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Then our reckoning will be heavier,” said Culpepper. “It + is not handsome in Wolfe to leave us, whe-w! Really I think that our + brother in the great cause has of late relaxed in his attentions and zeal + to the goddess of our devotions, whe-w!” + </p> + <p> + “It is human nature!” cried one of the three disputants upon + the character of Wilkes. + </p> + <p> + “It is not human nature!” cried the second disputant, folding + his arms doggedly, in preparation for a discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Contemptible human nature!” exclaimed the third disputant, + soliloquizing with a supercilious expression of hateful disdain. + </p> + <p> + “Poor human nature!” murmured Castleton, looking upward with a + sigh; and though we have not given to that gentleman other words than + these, we think they are almost sufficient to let our readers into his + character. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Silvis, ubi passim + Palantes error certo de tramite pellit, + Ille sinistrorsum, hic dextrorsum abit; unus utrique + Error, sed variis illudit partibus.—HORACE. + + [“Wandering in those woods where error evermore forces life’s + stragglers from the beaten path,—this one deflects to the left, + his fellow chooses the exact contrary. The fault is all the same + in each, but it excuses itself by a thousand different reasons.”] +</pre> + <p> + As Wolfe strode away from the inn, he muttered to himself,— + </p> + <p> + “Can it be that Mordaunt has suddenly grown rich? If so, I rejoice + at it. True, that he was not for our cause, but he had the spirit and the + heart which belonged to it. Had he not been bred among the prejudices of + birth, or had he lived in stormier times, he might have been the foremost + champion of freedom. As it is, I rather lament than condemn. Yet I would + fain see him once more. Perhaps prosperity may have altered his + philosophy. But can he, indeed, be the same Mordaunt of whom that trading + itinerant spoke? Can he have risen to the pernicious eminence of a landed + aristocrat? Well, it is worth the journey; for if he have power in the + neighbourhood, I am certain that he will exert it for our protection; and, + at the worst, I shall escape from the idle words of my compatriots. Oh! if + it were possible that the advocates could debase the glory of the cause, + how long since should I have flinched from the hardship and the service to + which my life is devoted! Self-interest; Envy, that snarls at all above + it, without even the beast’s courage to bite; Folly, that knows not + the substance of Freedom, but loves the glitter of its name; Fear, that + falters; Crime, that seeks in licentiousness an excuse; Disappointment, + only craving occasion to rail; Hatred; Sourness, boasting of zeal, but + only venting the blackness of rancour and evil passion,—all these + make our adherents, and give our foes the handle and the privilege to + scorn and to despise. But man chooses the object, and Fate only furnishes + the tools. Happy for our posterity, that when the object is once gained, + the frailty of the tools will be no more!” + </p> + <p> + Thus soliloquizing, the republican walked rapidly onwards, till a turn of + the road brought before his eye the form of Mr. Brown, seated upon a + little rough pony, and “whistling as he went for want of thought.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe quickened his pace, and soon overtook him. + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me, my good man,” said he, soothingly; + “I meant not to impeach your honesty or your calling. Perhaps I was + hasty and peevish; and, in sad earnest, I have much to tease and distract + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, well,” answered Mr. Brown, greatly mollified; + “I am sure no Christian can be more forgiving than I am; and, since + you are sorry for what you were pleased to say, let us think no more about + it. But touching the umbrella, Mr. Wolfe, have you a mind for that + interesting and useful relic of the late Lady Waddilove?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present, I thank you,” said Wolfe, mildly; “I + care little for the inclemencies of the heavens, and you may find many to + whom your proffered defence from them may be more acceptable. But tell me + if the Mr. Mordaunt you mentioned was ever residing in town, and in very + indifferent circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably he was,” said the cautious Brown, who, as we before + said, had been bribed into silence, and who now grievously repented that + passion had betrayed him into the imprudence of candour; “but I + really do not busy myself about other people’s affairs. ‘Brown,’ + said the late Lady Waddilove to me, ‘Brown, you are a good creature, + and never talk of what does not concern you.’ Those, Mr. Wolfe, were + her ladyship’s own words.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” said the reformer, who did not want + shrewdness, and saw that his point was already sufficiently gained; + “as you please. And now, to change the subject, I suppose we shall + have your attendance at the meeting at W—— to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” replied the worthy Brown: “I thought it likely I + should meet many of my old customers in the town on such a busy occasion; + so I went a little out of my way home to London, in order to spend a night + or two there. Indeed, I have some valuable articles for Mr. Glumford, the + magistrate, who will be in attendance to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “They say,” observed Wolfe, “that the magistrates, + against all law, right, and custom, will dare to interfere with and resist + the meeting. Think you report says true?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” returned Brown, prudently, “I cannot exactly + pretend to decide the question: all I know is that Squire Glumford said to + me, at his own house, five days ago, as he was drawing on his boots, + ‘Brown,’ said he, ‘Brown, mark my words, we shall do for + those rebellious dogs!’” + </p> + <p> + “Did he say so?” muttered Wolfe, between his teeth. “Oh, + for the old times, or those yet to come, when our answer would have been, + or shall be, the sword!” + </p> + <p> + “And you know,” pursued Mr. Brown, “that Lord Ulswater + and his regiment are in town, and have even made great preparations + against the meeting a week ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard this,” said Wolfe; “but I cannot think + that any body of armed men dare interrupt or attack a convocation of + peaceable subjects, met solely to petition Parliament against famine for + themselves and slavery for their children.” + </p> + <p> + “Famine!” quoth Mr. Brown. “Indeed it is very true, + very! times are dreadfully bad. I can scarcely get my own living; + Parliament certainly ought to do something: but you must forgive me, Mr. + Wolfe; it may be dangerous to talk with you on these matters; and, now I + think of it, the sooner I get to W—— the better; good morning; + a shower’s coming on. You won’t have the umbrella, then?” + </p> + <p> + “They dare not,” said Wolfe to himself, “no, no,—they + dare not attack us; they dare not;” and clenching his fist, he + pursued, with a quicker step, and a more erect mien, his solitary way. + </p> + <p> + When he was about the distance of three miles from W——, he was + overtaken by a middle-aged man of a frank air and a respectable + appearance. “Good day, sir,” said he; “we seem to be + journeying the same way: will it be against your wishes to join company?” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe assented, and the stranger resumed:— + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, sir, you intend to be present at the meeting at W—— + to-morrow? There will be an immense concourse, and the entrance of a new + detachment of soldiers, and the various reports of the likelihood of their + interference with the assembly, make it an object of some interest and + anxiety to look forward to.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” said Wolfe, slowly, eying his new acquaintance + with a deliberate and scrutinizing attention. “It will, indeed, be + interesting to see how far an evil and hardy government will venture to + encroach upon the rights of the people, which it ruins while it pretends + to rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Of a truth,” rejoined the other, “I rejoice that I am + no politician. I believe my spirit is as free as any cooped in the narrow + dungeon of earth’s clay can well be; yet I confess that it has drawn + none of its liberty from book, pamphlet, speech, or newspaper, of modern + times.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for you, sir,” said Wolfe, sourly: “the + man who has health and education can find no excuse for supineness or + indifference to that form of legislation by which his country decays or + prospers.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the other, gayly, “I willingly confess + myself less of a patriot than a philosopher; and as long as I am harmless, + I strive very little to be useful, in a public capacity; in a private one, + as a father, a husband, and a neighbour, I trust I am not utterly without + my value.” + </p> + <p> + “Pish!” cried Wolfe; “let no man who forgets his public + duties prate of his private merits. I tell you, man, that he who can + advance by a single hair’s-breadth the happiness or the freedom of + mankind has done more to save his own soul than if he had paced every step + of the narrow circle of his domestic life with the regularity of + clockwork.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be right,” quoth the stranger, carelessly; “but + I look on things in the mass, and perhaps see only the superficies, while + you, I perceive already, are a lover of the abstract. For my part, Harry + Fielding’s two definitions seem to me excellent. ‘Patriot,—a + candidate for a place!’ ‘Politics,—the art of getting + such a place!’ Perhaps, sir, as you seem a man of education, you + remember the words of our great novelist.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” answered Wolfe, a little contemptuously; “I cannot + say that I burden my memory with the deleterious witticisms and shallow + remarks of writers of fancy. It has been a mighty and spreading evil to + the world that the vain fictions of the poets or the exaggerations of + novelists have been hitherto so welcomed and extolled. Better had it been + for us if the destruction of the lettered wealth at Alexandria had + included all the lighter works which have floated, from their very levity, + down the stream of time, an example and a corruption to the degraded + geniuses of later days.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the stranger sparkled. “Why, you outgoth the Goth!” + exclaimed he, sharply. “But you surely preach against what you have + not studied. Confess that you are but slightly acquainted with Shakspeare, + and Spenser, and noble Dan Chaucer. Ay, if you knew them as well as I do, + you would, like me, give— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘To hem faith and full credence, + And in your heart have hem in reverence.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Pish!” again muttered Wolfe; and then rejoined aloud, “It + grieves me to see time so wasted, and judgment so perverted, as yours + appears to have been; but it fills me with pity and surprise, as well as + grief, to find that, so far from shame at the effeminacy of your studies, + you appear to glory and exult in them.” + </p> + <p> + “May the Lord help me, and lighten thee,” said Cole; for it + was he. “You are at least not a novelty in human wisdom, whatever + you may be in character; for you are far from the only one proud of being + ignorant, and pitying those who are not so.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe darted one of his looks of fire at the speaker, who, nothing + abashed, met the glance with an eye, if not as fiery, at least as bold. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said the republican, “that we shall not agree + upon the topics you have started. If you still intrude your society upon + me, you will, at least, choose some other subject of conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Cole, whose very studies, while they had + excited, in their self-defence, his momentary warmth, made him habitually + courteous and urbane, “pardon me for my hastiness of expression. I + own myself in fault.” And, with this apology, our ex-king slid into + the new topics which the scenery and the weather afforded him. + </p> + <p> + Wolfe, bent upon the object of his present mission, made some inquiries + respecting Mordaunt; and though Cole only shared the uncertain information + of the country gossips as to the past history of that person, yet the + little he did know was sufficient to confirm the republican in his belief + of Algernon’s identity; while the ex-gypsy’s account of his + rank and reputation in the country made Wolfe doubly anxious to secure, if + possible, his good offices and interference on behalf of the meeting. But + the conversation was not always restricted to neutral and indifferent + ground, but ever and anon wandered into various allusions or opinions from + the one, certain to beget retort or controversy in the other. + </p> + <p> + Had we time and our reader patience, it would have been a rare and fine + contrast to have noted more at large the differences of thought and + opinion between the companions: each in his several way so ardent for + liberty, and so impatient of the control and customs of society; each so + enthusiastic for the same object, yet so coldly contemptuous to the + enthusiasm of the other. The one guided only by his poetical and erratic + tastes, the other solely by dreams, seeming to the world no less baseless, + yet, to his own mind, bearing the name of stern judgment and inflexible + truth. Both men of active and adventurous spirits, to whom forms were + fetters and ceremonies odious; yet, deriving from that mutual similarity + only pity for mutual perversion, they were memorable instances of the + great differences congeniality itself will occasion, and of the + never-ending varieties which minds, rather under the influence of + imagination than judgment, will create. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gratis anhelans, multa agendo, nihil agens.—PHAEDRUS. + [“Panting and labouring in vain; doing much,—effecting nothing.”] +</pre> + <p> + Upon entering the town, the streets displayed all the bustle and + excitement which the approaching meeting was eminently calculated to + create in a place ordinarily quiescent and undisturbed: groups of men were + scattered in different parts, conversing with great eagerness; while here + and there some Demosthenes of the town, impatient of the coming strife, + was haranguing his little knot of admiring friends, and preparing his + oratorical organs by petty skirmishing for the grand battle of the morrow. + Now and then the eye roved upon the gaunt forms of Lord Ulswater’s + troopers, as they strolled idly along the streets, in pairs, perfectly + uninterested by the great event which set all the more peaceable inmates + of the town in a ferment, and returning, with a slighting and supercilious + glance, the angry looks and muttered anathemas which, ever and anon, the + hardier spirits of the petitioning party liberally bestowed upon them. + </p> + <p> + As Wolfe and his comrade entered the main street, the former was accosted + by some one of his compatriots, who, seizing him by the arm, was about to + apprise the neighbouring idlers, by a sudden exclamation, of the welcome + entrance of the eloquent and noted republican. But Wolfe perceived and + thwarted his design. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said he, in a low voice; “I am only now on my + way to an old friend, who seems a man of influence in these parts, and may + be of avail to us on the morrow; keep silence, therefore, with regard to + my coming till I return. I would not have my errand interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” said the brother spirit: “but whom have + you here, a fellow-labourer?” and the reformer pointed to Cole, who, + with an expression of shrewd humour, blended with a sort of philosophical + compassion, stood at a little distance waiting for Wolfe, and eying the + motley groups assembled before him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Wolfe; “he is some vain and idle sower of + unprofitable flowers; a thing who loves poetry, and, for aught I know, + writes it: but that reminds me that I must rid myself of his company; yet + stay; do you know this neighbourhood sufficiently to serve me as a guide?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” quoth the other; “I was born within three miles of + the town.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” rejoined Wolfe; “then perhaps you can tell me + if there is any way of reaching a place called Mordaunt Court without + passing through the more public and crowded thoroughfares.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” rejoined the brother spirit; “you have + only to turn to the right up yon hill, and you will in an instant be out + of the purlieus and precincts of W——, and on your shortest + road to Mordaunt Court; but surely it is not to its owner that you are + bound?” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” said Wolfe. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied the other, “he is the wealthiest, the + highest, and, as report says, the haughtiest aristocrat of these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better, then,” said Wolfe, “can he aid us + in obtaining a quiet hearing to-morrow, undisturbed by those liveried + varlets of hire, who are termed, in sooth, Britain’s defence! Much + better, when we think of all they cost us to pamper and to clothe, should + they be termed Britain’s ruin: but farewell for the present; we + shall meet to-night; your lodgings—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder,” said the other, pointing to a small inn opposite; + and Wolfe, nodding his adieu, returned to Cole, whose vivacious and + restless nature had already made him impatient of his companion’s + delay. + </p> + <p> + “I must take my leave of you now,” said Wolfe, “which I + do with a hearty exhortation that you will change your studies, fit only + for effeminate and enslaved minds.” + </p> + <p> + “And I return the exhortation,” answered Cole. “Your + studies seem to me tenfold more crippling than mine: mine take all this + earth’s restraints from me, and yours seem only to remind you that + all earth is restraint: mine show me whatever worlds the fondest fancy + could desire; yours only the follies and chains of this. In short, while + ‘my mind to me a kingdom is,’ yours seems to consider the + whole universe itself nothing but a great meeting for the purpose of + abusing ministers and demanding reform!” + </p> + <p> + Not too well pleased by this answer, and at the same time indisposed to + the delay of further reply, Wolfe contented himself with an iron sneer of + disdain, and, turning on his heel, strode rapidly away in the direction + his friend had indicated. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Cole followed him with his eye till he was out of sight, and + then muttered to himself, “Never was there a fitter addition to old + Barclay’s ‘Ship of Fools’! I should not wonder if this + man’s patriotism leads him from despising the legislature into + breaking the law; and, faith, the surest way to the gallows is less + through vice than discontent: yet I would fain hope better things for him; + for, methinks, he is neither a common declaimer nor an ordinary man.” + </p> + <p> + With these words the honest Cole turned away, and, strolling towards the + Golden Fleece, soon found himself in the hospitable mansion of Mistress + and Mister Merrylack. + </p> + <p> + While the ex-king was taking his ease at his inn, Wolfe proceeded to + Mordaunt Court. The result of the meeting that there ensued was a + determination on the part of Algernon to repair immediately to W——. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The commons here in Kent are up in arms.—Second Part of Henry VI. +</pre> + <p> + When Mordaunt arrived at W——, he found that the provincial + deities (who were all assembled at dinner with the principal inhabitants + of the town), in whose hands the fate of the meeting was placed, were in + great doubt and grievous consternation. He came in time, first to balance + the votes, and ultimately to decide them. His mind, prudent and acute, + when turned to worldly affairs, saw at a glance the harmless though noisy + nature of the meeting; and he felt that the worst course the government or + the county could pursue would be to raise into importance, by violence, + what otherwise would meet with ridicule from most and indifference from + the rest. + </p> + <p> + His large estates, his ancient name, his high reputation for talent, + joined to that manner, half eloquent and half commanding, which rarely + fails of effect when deliberation only requires a straw on either side to + become decision,—all these rendered his interference of immediate + avail; and it was settled that the meeting should, as similar assemblies + had done before, proceed and conclude, undisturbed by the higher powers, + so long as no positive act of sedition to the government or danger to the + town was committed. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely was this arrangement agreed upon, before Lord Ulswater, who had + hitherto been absent, entered the room in which the magisterial conclave + was assembled. Mr. Glumford (whom our readers will possibly remember as + the suitor to Isabel St. Leger, and who had at first opposed, and then + reluctantly subscribed to, Mordaunt’s interference) bustled up to + him. + </p> + <p> + “So, so, my lord,” said he, “since I had the honour of + seeing your lordship, quite a new sort of trump has been turned up.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not comprehend your metaphorical elegances of speech, Mr. + Glumford,” said Lord Ulswater. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Glumford explained. Lord Ulswater’s cheek grew scarlet. “So + Mr. Mordaunt has effected this wise alteration,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody else, my lord, nobody else: and I am sure, though your + lordship’s estates are at the other end of the county, yet they are + much larger than his; and since your lordship has a troop at your command, + and that sort of thing, I would not, if I were your lordship, suffer any + such opposition to your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + Without making a reply to this harangue, Lord Ulswater stalked haughtily + up to Mordaunt, who was leaning against the wainscot and conversing with + those around him. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot but conceive, Mr. Mordaunt,” said he, with a formal + bow, “that I have been misinformed in the intelligence I have just + received.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Ulswater will perhaps inform me to what intelligence he + alludes.” + </p> + <p> + “That Mr. Mordaunt, the representative of one of the noblest + families in England, has given the encouragement and influence of his name + and rank to the designs of a seditious and turbulent mob.” + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt smiled slightly, as he replied, “Your lordship rightly + believes that you are misinformed. It is precisely because I would not + have the mob you speak of seditious or turbulent that I have made it my + request that the meeting of to-morrow should be suffered to pass off + undisturbed.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” cried Lord Ulswater, striking the table with a + violence which caused three reverend potentates of the province to start + back in dismay, “I cannot but consider such interference on your + part to the last degree impolitic and uncalled for: these, sir, are times + of great danger to the State, and in which it is indispensably requisite + to support and strengthen the authority of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “I waive, at present,” answered Mordaunt, “all reply to + language neither courteous nor appropriate. I doubt not but that the + magistrates will decide as is most in accordance with the spirit of that + law which, in this and in all times, should be supported.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Lord Ulswater, losing his temper more and more, as + he observed that the bystanders, whom he had been accustomed to awe, all + visibly inclined to the opinion of Mordaunt, “sir, if your name has + been instrumental in producing so unfortunate a determination on the part + of the magistrates, I shall hold you responsible to the government for + those results which ordinary prudence may calculate upon.” + </p> + <p> + “When Lord Ulswater,” said Mordaunt, sternly, “has + learned what is due not only to the courtesies of society, but to those + legitimate authorities of his country, who (he ventures to suppose) are to + be influenced contrary to their sense of duty by any individual, then he + may perhaps find leisure to make himself better acquainted with the nature + of those laws which he now so vehemently upholds.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mordaunt, you will consider yourself answerable to me for those + words,” said Lord Ulswater, with a tone of voice unnaturally calm; + and the angry flush of his countenance gave place to a livid paleness. + Then, turning on his heel, he left the room. + </p> + <p> + As he repaired homeward he saw one of his soldiers engaged in a loud and + angry contest with a man in the plain garb of a peaceful citizen; a third + person, standing by, appeared ineffectually endeavouring to pacify the + disputants. A rigid disciplinarian, Lord Ulswater allowed not even party + feeling, roused as it was, to conquer professional habits. He called off + the soldier, and the man with whom the latter had been engaged immediately + came up to Lord Ulswater, with a step as haughty as his own. The third + person, who had attempted the peacemaker, followed him. + </p> + <p> + “I presume, sir,” said he, “that you are an officer of + this man’s regiment.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the commanding officer, sir,” said Lord Ulswater, very + little relishing the air and tone of the person who addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” answered the man (who was, indeed, no other than + Wolfe, who, having returned to W—— with Mordaunt, had already + succeeded in embroiling himself in a dispute), “then, sir, I look to + you for his punishment and my redress;” and Wolfe proceeded in his + own exaggerated language to detail a very reasonable cause of complaint. + The fact was that Wolfe, meeting one of his compatriots and conversing + with him somewhat loudly, had uttered some words which attracted the + spleen of the soldier, who was reeling home very comfortably intoxicated; + and the soldier had most assuredly indulged in a copious abuse of the d—d + rebel who could not walk the streets without chattering sedition. + </p> + <p> + Wolfe’s friend confirmed the statement. + </p> + <p> + The trooper attempted to justify himself; but Lord Ulswater saw his + intoxication in an instant, and, secretly vexed that the complaint was not + on the other side, ordered the soldier to his quarters, with a brief but + sure threat of punishment on the morrow. Not willing, however, to part + with the “d—d rebel” on terms so flattering to the + latter, Lord Ulswater, turning to Wolfe with a severe and angry air, said,— + </p> + <p> + “As for you, fellow, I believe the whole fault was on your side; and + if you dare again give vent to your disaffected ravings, I shall have you + sent to prison to tame your rank blood upon bread and water. Begone, and + think yourself fortunate to escape now!” + </p> + <p> + The fierce spirit of Wolfe was in arms on the instant; and his reply, in + subjecting him to Lord Ulswater’s threat, might at least have + prevented his enlightening the public on the morrow, had not his friend, a + peaceable, prudent man, seized him by the arm, and whispered, “What + are you about? Consider for what you are here: another word may rob the + assembly of your presence. A man bent on a public cause must not, on the + eve of its trial, enlist in a private quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my friend, true,” said Wolfe, swallowing his rage and + eying Lord Ulswater’s retreating figure with a menacing look; + “but the time may yet come when I shall have license to retaliate on + the upstart.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” quoth the other; “he is our bitterest enemy. + You know, perhaps, that he is Lord Ulswater of the —— + regiment? It has been at his instigation that the magistrates proposed to + disturb the meeting. He has been known publicly to say that all who + attended the assembly ought to be given up to the swords of his troopers.” + </p> + <p> + “The butchering dastard, to dream even of attacking unarmed men: but + enough of him; I must tarry yet in the street to hear what success our + intercessor has obtained.” And as Wolfe passed the house in which + the magisterial conclave sat, Mordaunt came out and accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “You have sworn to me that your purpose is peaceable.” said + Mordaunt. + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably,” answered Wolfe. + </p> + <p> + “And you will pledge yourself that no disturbance, that can either + be effected or counteracted by yourself and friends, shall take place?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” answered Mordaunt. “Remember that if you + commit the least act that can be thought dangerous I may not be able to + preserve you from the military. As it is, your meeting will be unopposed.” + </p> + <p> + Contrary to Lord Ulswater’s prediction, the meeting went off as + quietly as an elderly maiden’s tea-party. The speakers, even Wolfe, + not only took especial pains to recommend order and peace, but avoided, + for the most part, all inflammatory enlargement upon the grievances of + which they complained. And the sage foreboders of evil, who had locked up + their silver spoons, and shaken their heads very wisely for the last week, + had the agreeable mortification of observing rather an appearance of good + humour upon the countenances of the multitude than that ferocious + determination against the lives and limbs of the well-affected which they + had so sorrowfully anticipated. + </p> + <p> + As Mordaunt (who had been present during the whole time of the meeting) + mounted his horse and quitted the ground, Lord Ulswater, having just left + his quarters, where he had been all day in expectation of some violent act + of the orators or the mob demanding his military services, caught sight of + him with a sudden recollection of his own passionate threat. There had + been nothing in Mordaunt’s words which would in our times have + justified a challenge; but in that day duels were fought upon the + slightest provocation. Lord Ulswater therefore rode up at once to a + gentleman with whom he had some intimate acquaintance, and briefly saying + that he had been insulted both as an officer and gentleman by Mr. + Mordaunt, requested his friend to call upon that gentleman and demand + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” said Lord Ulswater, “I have the misfortune + to be unavoidably engaged. The next day you can appoint place and time of + meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “I must first see the gentleman to whom Mr. Mordaunt may refer me,” + said the friend, prudently; “and perhaps your honour may be + satisfied without any hostile meeting at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said Lord Ulswater, carelessly, as he rode + away; “for Mr. Mordaunt is a gentleman, and gentlemen never + apologize.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe was standing unobserved near Lord Ulswater while the latter thus + instructed his proposed second. “Man of blood,” muttered the + republican; “with homicide thy code of honour, and massacre thine + interpretation of law, by violence wouldst thou rule, and by violence + mayst thou perish!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0075" id="link2HCH0075"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque Manes, + Et domus exilis Plutonis.—HORACE. + + [“This very hour Death shall overcome thee, and the fabled Manes, + and the shadowy Plutonian realms receive thee.”] +</pre> + <p> + The morning was dull and heavy as Lord Ulswater mounted his horse, and + unattended took his way towards Westborough Park. His manner was unusually + thoughtful and absent; perhaps two affairs upon his hands, either of which + seemed likely to end in bloodshed, were sufficient to bring reflection + even to the mind of a cavalry officer. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely got out of the town before he was overtaken by our worthy + friend Mr. Glumford. As he had been a firm ally of Lord Ulswater in the + contest respecting the meeting, so, when he joined and saluted that + nobleman, Lord Ulswater, mindful of past services, returned his greeting + with an air rather of condescension than hauteur. To say truth, his + lordship was never very fond of utter loneliness, and the respectful + bearing of Glumford, joined to that mutual congeniality which sympathy in + political views always occasions, made him more pleased with the society + than shocked with the intrusion of the squire; so that when Glumford said, + “If your lordship’s way lies along this road for the next five + or six miles, perhaps you will allow me the honour of accompanying you,” + Lord Ulswater graciously signified his consent to the proposal, and + carelessly mentioning that he was going to Westborough Park, slid into + that conversation with his new companion which the meeting and its actors + afforded. + </p> + <p> + Turn we for an instant to Clarence. At the appointed hour he had arrived + at Westborough Park, and, bidding his companion, the trusty Wardour, + remain within the chaise which had conveyed them, he was ushered with a + trembling heart, but a mien erect and self-composed, into Lady Westborough’s + presence; the marchioness was alone. + </p> + <p> + “I am sensible, sir,” said she, with a little embarrassment, + “that it is not exactly becoming to my station and circumstances to + suffer a meeting of the present nature between Lord Ulswater and yourself + to be held within this house; but I could not resist the request of Lord + Ulswater, conscious from his character that it could contain nothing + detrimental to the—to the consideration and delicacy due to Lady + Flora Ardenne.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence bowed. “So far as I am concerned,” said he, “I + feel confident that Lady Westborough will not repent of her condescension.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “It is singular,” said Lady Westborough, looking to the clock + upon an opposite table, “that Lord Ulswater has not yet arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Clarence, scarcely conscious of his words, and + wondering whether Lady Flora would deign to appear. Another pause. Lady + Westborough felt the awkwardness of her situation. + </p> + <p> + Clarence made an effort to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “I do not see,” said he, “the necessity of delaying the + explanation I have to offer to your ladyship till my Lord Ulswater deems + it suitable to appear. Allow me at once to enter upon a history, told in + few words and easily proved.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Lady Westborough, struggling with her curiosity; + “it is due to one who has stood in so peculiar a situation in our + family to wait yet a little longer for his coming. We will therefore, till + the hour is completed, postpone the object of our meeting.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence again bowed and was silent. Another and a longer pause ensued: it + was broken by the sound of the clock striking; the hour was completed. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” began Clarence, when he was interrupted by a sudden and + violent commotion in the hall. Above all was heard a loud and piercing + cry, in which Clarence recognized the voice of the old steward. He rose + abruptly, and stood motionless and aghast; his eyes met those of Lady + Westborough, who, pale and agitated, lost for the moment all her habitual + self-command. The sound increased: Clarence rushed from the room into the + hall; the open door of the apartment revealed to Lady Westborough, as to + him, a sight which allowed her no further time for hesitation. She hurried + after Clarence into the hall, gave one look, uttered one shriek of horror, + and fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0076" id="link2HCH0076"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Iden.—But thou wilt brave me in these saucy terms. Cade.— + Brave thee I ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, + and beard thee too.—SHAKSPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + “You see, my lord,” said Mr. Glumford to Lord Ulswater, as + they rode slowly on, “that as long as those rebellious scoundrels + are indulged in their spoutings and meetings, and that sort of thing, that—that + there will be no bearing them.” + </p> + <p> + “Very judiciously remarked, sir,” replied Lord Ulswater. + “I wish all gentlemen of birth and consideration viewed the question + in the same calm, dispassionate, and profound light that you do. Would to + Heaven it were left to me to clear the country of those mutinous and + dangerous rascals: I would make speedy and sure work of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain you would, my lord; I am certain you would. It is a + thousand pities that pompous fellow Mordaunt interfered yesterday, with + his moderation, and policy, and all that sort of thing; so foolish, you + know, my lord,—mere theory and romance, and that sort of thing: we + should have had it all our own way, if he had not.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Ulswater played with his riding-whip, but did not reply. Mr. Glumford + continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Pray, my lord, did your lordship see what an ugly ill-dressed set + of dogs those meetingers were; that Wolfe, above all? Oh, he’s a + horrid-looking fellow. By the by, he left the town this very morning; I + saw him take leave of his friends in the street just before I set out. He + is going to some other meeting,—on foot too. Only think of the folly + of talking about the policy and prudence and humanity, and that sort of + thing, of sparing such a pitiful poor fellow as that; can’t afford a + chaise, or a stage-coach even, my lord,—positively can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “You see the matter exactly in its true light, Mr. Glumford,” + said his lordship, patting his fine horse, which was somewhat impatient of + the slow pace of its companion. + </p> + <p> + “A very beautiful animal of your lordship,” said Mr. Glumford, + spurring his own horse,—a heavy, dull quadruped with an obstinate + ill-set tail, a low shoulder, and a Roman nose. “I am very partial + to horses myself, and love a fine horse as well as anybody.” Lord + Ulswater cast a glance at his companion’s steed, and seeing nothing + in its qualities to justify this assertion of attachment to fine horses + was silent: Lord Ulswater never flattered even his mistress, much less Mr. + Glumford. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, my lord,” continued Mr. Glumford, “what + a bargain this horse was;” and the squire proceeded, much to Lord + Ulswater’s discontent, to retail the history of his craft in making + the said bargain. + </p> + <p> + The riders were now entering a part of the road, a little more than two + miles from Westborough Park, in which the features of the neighbouring + country took a bolder and ruder aspect than they had hitherto worn. On one + side of the road, the view opened upon a descent of considerable depth, + and the dull sun looked drearily over a valley in which large fallow + fields, a distant and solitary spire, and a few stunted and withering + trees formed the chief characteristics. On the other side of the road a + narrow footpath was separated from the highway by occasional posts; and on + this path Lord Ulswater (how the minute and daily occurrences of life show + the grand pervading principles of character!) was, at the time we refer + to, riding, in preference to the established thoroughfare for equestrian + and aurigal travellers. The side of this path farthest from the road was + bordered by a steep declivity of stony and gravelly earth, which almost + deserved the dignified appellation of a precipice; and it was with no + small exertion of dexterous horsemanship that Lord Ulswater kept his + spirited and susceptible steed upon the narrow and somewhat perilous path, + in spite of its frequent starts at the rugged descent below. + </p> + <p> + “I think, my lord, if I may venture to say so,” said Mr. + Glumford, having just finished the narration of his bargain, “that + it would be better for you to take the high road just at present; for the + descent from the footpath is steep and abrupt, and deuced crumbling! so + that if your lordship’s horse shied or took a wrong step, it might + be attended with unpleasant consequences,—a fall, or that sort of + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, sir,” said Lord Ulswater, who, like most + proud people, conceived advice an insult; “but I imagine myself + capable of guiding my horse, at least upon a road so excellent as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my lord, certainly; I beg your pardon; but—bless + me, who is that tall fellow in black, talking to himself yonder, my lord? + The turn of the road hides him from you just at present; but I see him + well. Ha! ha! what gestures he uses! I dare say he is one of the + petitioners, and—yes, my lord, by Jupiter, it is Wolfe himself! You + had better (excuse me, my lord) come down from the footpath: it is not + wide enough for two people; and Wolfe, I dare say, a d—d rascal, + would not get out of the way for the devil himself! He’s a nasty, + black, fierce-looking fellow; I would not for something meet him in a dark + night, or that sort of thing!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not exactly understand, Mr. Glumford,” returned Lord + Ulswater, with a supercilious glance at that gentleman, “what + peculiarities of temper you are pleased to impute to me, or from what you + deduce the supposition that I shall move out of my way for a person like + Mr. Woolt, or Wolfe, or whatever be his name.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, my lord, I am sure,” answered Glumford: + “of course your lordship knows best, and if the rogue is + impertinent, why, I’m a magistrate, and will commit him; though, to + be sure,” continued our righteous Daniel, in a lower key, “he + has a right to walk upon the footpath without being ridden over, or that + sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + The equestrians were now very near Wolfe, who, turning hastily round, + perceived, and immediately recognized Lord Ulswater. “Ah-ha!” + muttered he to himself, “here comes the insolent thirster for blood, + grudging us seemingly even the meagre comfort of the path which his horse’s + hoofs are breaking up; yet, thank Heaven,” added the republican, + looking with a stern satisfaction at the narrowness of the footing, + “he cannot very well pass me, and the free lion does not move out of + his way for such pampered kine as those to which this creature belongs.” + </p> + <p> + Actuated by this thought, Wolfe almost insensibly moved entirely into the + middle of the path, so that with the posts on one side, and the abrupt and + undefended precipice, if we may so call it, on the other, it was quite + impossible for any horseman to pass the republican, unless over his body. + </p> + <p> + Lord Ulswater marked the motion, and did not want penetration to perceive + the cause. Glad of an opportunity to wreak some portion of his irritation + against a member of a body so offensive to his mind, and which had the day + before obtained a sort of triumph over his exertions against them, and + rendered obstinate in his intention by the pique he had felt at Glumford’s + caution, Lord Ulswater, tightening his rein and humming with apparent + indifference a popular tune, continued his progress till he was within a + foot of the republican. Then, checking his horse for a moment, he called, + in a tone of quiet arrogance, to Wolfe to withdraw himself on one side + till he had passed. + </p> + <p> + The fierce blood of the republican, which the least breath of oppression + sufficed to kindle, and which yet boiled with the remembrance of Lord + Ulswater’s threat to him two nights before, was on fire at this + command. He stopped short, and turning half round, stood erect in the + strength and power of his singularly tall and not ungraceful form. “Poor + and proud fool,” said he, with a voice of the most biting scorn, and + fixing an eye eloquent of ire and menaced danger upon the calmly + contemptuous countenance of the patrician, “poor and proud fool, do + you think that your privileges have already reached so pleasant a pitch + that you may ride over men like dust? Off, fool! the basest peasant in + England, degraded as he is, would resist while he ridiculed your + arrogance.” + </p> + <p> + Without deigning any reply, Lord Ulswater spurred his horse; the spirited + animal bounded forward almost on the very person of the obstructer of the + path; with uncommon agility Wolfe drew aside from the danger, seized with + a powerful grasp the bridle, and abruptly arresting the horse backed it + fearfully towards the descent. Enraged beyond all presence of mind, the + fated nobleman, raising his whip, struck violently at the republican. The + latter, as he felt the blow, uttered a single shout of such ferocity that + it curdled the timorous blood of Glumford, and with a giant and iron hand + he backed the horse several paces down the precipice. The treacherous + earth crumbled beneath the weight, and Lord Ulswater spurring his steed + violently at the same instant that Wolfe so sharply and strongly curbed + it, the affrighted animal reared violently, forced the rein from Wolfe, + stood erect for a moment of horror to the spectator, and then, as its + footing and balance alike failed, it fell backward, and rolled over and + over its unfortunate and helpless rider. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” cried Glumford, who had sat quietly upon his + dozing horse, watching the result of the dispute, “what have you + done? you have killed his lordship,—positively killed him,—and + his horse, too, I dare say. You shall be hanged for this, sir, as sure as + I am a magistrate, and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + Unheeding this denunciation, Wolfe had made to the spot where rider and + horse lay blent together at the foot of the descent; and assisting the + latter to rise, bent down to examine the real effect of his violence. + “Methinks,” said he, as he looked upon the hueless but still + defying features of the horseman, “methinks I have seen that face + years before,—but where? Perhaps my dreams have foretold me this.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Ulswater was utterly senseless; and as Wolfe raised him, he saw that + the right side of the head was covered with blood, and that one arm seemed + crushed and broken. Meanwhile a carriage had appeared, was hailed by + Glumford, stopped; and on being informed of the circumstance and the rank + of the sufferer, the traveller, a single gentleman, descended, assisted to + raise the unhappy nobleman, placed him in the carriage, and, obeying + Glumford’s instructions, proceeded slowly to Westborough Park. + </p> + <p> + “But the ruffian, the rebel, the murderer?” said Mr. Glumford, + both querulously and inquiringly, looking towards Wolfe, who, without + having attempted to assist his victim, stood aloof, with arms folded, and + an expression of sated ferocity upon his speaking features. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! as to him,” quoth the traveller, stepping into his + carriage, in order to support the mangled man, “you, sir, and my + valet can bring him along with you, or take him to the next town, or do, + in short, with him just as you please, only be sure he does not escape; + drive on, post-boy, very gently.” And poor Mr. Glumford found the + muscular form of the stern Wolfe consigned to the sole care of himself and + a very diminutive man in pea-green silk stockings, who, however + excellently well he might perform the office of valet, was certainly by no + means calculated in physical powers for the detention of a criminal. + </p> + <p> + Wolfe saved the pair a world of trouble and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said he, gravely, turning to Glumford, “you + beheld the affray, and whatever its consequences will do me the common + justice of witnessing as to the fact of the first aggressor. It will, + however, be satisfactory to both of us to seize the earliest opportunity + of putting the matter upon a legal footing, and I shall therefore return + to W——, to which town you will doubtless accompany me.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart!” cried Mr. Glumford, feeling as if a + mountain of responsibility were taken from his breast. “And I wish + to Heaven you may be transported instead of hanged.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0077" id="link2HCH0077"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But gasping heaved the breath that Lara drew, + And dull the film along his dim eye grew.—BYRON. +</pre> + <p> + The light broke partially through the half-closed shutters of the room in + which lay Lord Ulswater, who, awakened to sense and pain by the motion of + the carriage, had now relapsed into insensibility. By the side of the sofa + on which he was laid, knelt Clarence, bathing one hand with tears violent + and fast; on the opposite side leaned over, with bald front, and an + expression of mingled fear and sorrow upon his intent countenance, the old + steward; while, at a little distance, Lord Westborough, who had been + wheeled into the room, sat mute in his chair, aghast with bewilderment and + horror, and counting every moment to the arrival of the surgeon, who had + been sent for. The stranger to whom the carriage belonged stood by the + window, detailing in a low voice to the chaplain of the house what + particulars of the occurrence he was acquainted with, while the youngest + scion of the family, a boy of about ten years, and who in the general + confusion had thrust himself unnoticed into the room, stood close to the + pair, with open mouth and thirsting ears and a face on which childish + interest at a fearful tale was strongly blent with the more absorbed + feeling of terror at the truth. + </p> + <p> + Slowly Lord Ulswater opened his eyes; they rested upon Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “My brother! my brother!” cried Clarence, in a voice of + powerful anguish, “is it thus—thus that you have come hither + to—” He stopped in the gushing fulness of his heart. + Extricating from Clarence the only hand he was able to use, Lord Ulswater + raised it to his brow, as if in the effort to clear remembrance; and then, + turning to Wardour, seemed to ask the truth of Clarence’s claim,—at + least so the old man interpreted the meaning of his eye, and the faint and + scarce intelligible words which broke from his lips. + </p> + <p> + “It is; it is, my honoured lord,” cried he, struggling with + his emotion; “it is your brother, your lost brother, Clinton L’Estrange.” + And as he said these words, Clarence felt the damp chill hand of his + brother press his own, and knew by that pressure and the smile—kind, + though brief from exceeding pain—with which the ill-fated nobleman + looked upon him, that the claim long unknown was at last acknowledged, and + the ties long broken united, though in death. + </p> + <p> + The surgeon arrived: the room was cleared of all but Clarence; the first + examination was sufficient. Unaware of Clarence’s close relationship + to the sufferer, the surgeon took him aside. “A very painful + operation,” said he, “might be performed, but it would only + torture, in vain, the last moments of the patient; no human skill can save + or even protract his life.” + </p> + <p> + The doomed man, who, though in great pain, was still sensible, stirred. + His brother flew towards him. “Flora,” he murmured, “let + me see her, I implore.” + </p> + <p> + Curbing, as much as he was able, his emotion, and conquering his + reluctance to leave the sufferer even for a moment, Clarence flew in + search of Lady Flora. He found her; in rapid and hasty words, he signified + the wish of the dying man, and hurried her, confused, trembling, and + scarce conscious of the melancholy scene she was about to witness, to the + side of her affianced bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + I have been by the death-beds of many men, and I have noted that shortly + before death, as the frame grows weaker and weaker, the fiercer passions + yield to those feelings better harmonizing with the awfulness of the hour. + Thoughts soft and tender, which seem little to belong to the character in + the health and vigour of former years, obtain then an empire, brief, + indeed, but utter for the time they last; and this is the more impressive + because (as in the present instance I shall have occasion to portray) in + the moments which succeed and make the very latest of life, the ruling + passion, suppressed for an interval by such gentler feelings, sometimes + again returns to take its final triumph over that frail clay, which, + through existence, it has swayed, agitated, and moulded like wax unto its + will. + </p> + <p> + When Lord Ulswater saw Flora approach and bend weepingly over him, a + momentary softness stole over his face. Taking her hand he extended it + towards Clarence, and turning to the latter faltered out, “Let this—my—brother—atone—for—;” + apparently unable to finish the sentence, he then relaxed his hold and + sank upon the pillow; and so still, so apparently breathless did he remain + for several minutes, that they thought the latest agony was over. + </p> + <p> + As, yielding to this impression, Clarence was about to withdraw the scarce + conscious Flora from the chamber, words, less tremulous and indistinct + than aught which he had yet uttered, broke from Lord Ulswater’s + lips. Clarence hastened to him; and bending over his countenance saw that + even through the rapid changes and shades of death, it darkened with the + peculiar characteristics of the unreleased soul within: the brow was knit + into more than its wonted sternness and pride; and in the eye which glared + upon the opposite wall, the light of the waning life broke into a + momentary blaze,—that flash, so rapid and evanescent, before the air + drinks in the last spark of the being it has animated, and night—the + starless and eternal—falls over the extinguished lamp! The hand of + the right arm (which was that unshattered by the fall) was clenched and + raised; but, when the words which came upon Clarence’s ear had + ceased, it fell heavily by his side, like a clod of that clay which it had + then become. In those words it seemed as if, in the confused delirium of + passing existence, the brave soldier mingled some dim and bewildered + recollection of former battles with that of his last most fatal though + most ignoble strife. + </p> + <p> + “Down, down with them!” he muttered between his teeth, though + in a tone startlingly deep and audible; “down with them! No quarter + to the infidels! strike for England and Effingham. Ha!—who strives + for flight there!—kill him! no mercy, I say,—none!—there, + there, I have despatched him; ha! ha! What, still alive?—off, slave, + off! Oh, slain! slain in a ditch, by a base-born hind; oh, bitter! bitter! + bitter!” And with these words, of which the last, from their + piercing anguish and keen despair, made a dread contrast with the fire and + defiance of the first, the jaw fell, the flashing and fierce eye glazed + and set, and all of the haughty and bold patrician which the earth + retained was—dust! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0078" id="link2HCH0078"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Il n’est jamais permis de deteriorer une ame humaine pour + l’avantage des autres, ni de faire un scelerat pour le + service des honnetes gens.—ROUSSEAU. + + [“It is not permitted us to degrade one single soul for the + sake of conferring advantage on others, nor to make a rogue + for the good of the honest.”] +</pre> + <p> + As the reader approaches the termination of this narrative, and looks back + upon the many scenes he has passed, perhaps, in the mimic representation + of human life, he may find no unfaithful resemblance to the true. + </p> + <p> + As, amongst the crowd of characters jostled against each other in their + course, some drop off at the first, the second, or the third stage, and + leave a few only continuing to the last, while Fate chooses her agents and + survivors among those whom the bystander, perchance, least noticed as the + objects of her selection; and they who, haply, seemed to him, at first, + among the most conspicuous as characters, sink, some abruptly, some + gradually, into actors of the least importance in events; as the reader + notes the same passion, in different strata, producing the most opposite + qualities, and gathers from that notice some estimate of the vast + perplexity in the code of morals, deemed by the shallow so plain a + science; when he finds that a similar and single feeling will produce both + the virtue we love and the vice we detest, the magnanimity we admire and + the meanness we despise; as the feeble hands of the author force into + contrast ignorance and wisdom, the affectation of philosophy and its true + essence, coarseness and refinement, the lowest vulgarity of sentiment with + an exaltation of feeling approaching to morbidity, the reality of virtue + with the counterfeit, the glory of the Divinity with the hideousness of + the Idol, sorrow and eager joy, marriage and death, tears and their young + successors, smiles; as all, blent together, these varieties of life form a + single yet many-coloured web, leaving us to doubt whether, in fortune the + bright hue or the dark, in character the base material or the rich, + predominate,—the workman of the web could almost reconcile himself + to his glaring and great deficiency in art by the fond persuasion that he + has, at least in his choice of tint and texture, caught something of the + likeness of Nature: but he knows, to the abasement of his vanity, that + these enumerated particulars of resemblance to life are common to all, + even to the most unskilful of his brethren; and it is not the mere act of + copying a true original, but the rare circumstance of force and accuracy + in the copy, which can alone constitute a just pretension to merit, or + flatter the artist with the hope of a moderate success. + </p> + <p> + The news of Lord Ulswater’s untimely death soon spread around the + neighbourhood, and was conveyed to Mordaunt by the very gentleman whom + that nobleman had charged with his hostile message. Algernon repaired at + once to W——, to gather from Wolfe some less exaggerated + account of the affray than that which the many tongues of Rumour had + brought to him. + </p> + <p> + It was no difficult matter to see the precise share of blame to be + attached to Wolfe; and, notwithstanding the biased account of Glumford and + the strong spirit of party then existing in the country, no rational man + could for a moment term the event of a sudden fray a premeditated murder, + or the violence of the aggrieved the black offence of a wilful criminal. + Wolfe, therefore, soon obtained a release from the confinement to which he + had been at first committed; and with a temper still more exasperated by + the evident disposition of his auditors to have treated him, had it been + possible, with the utmost rigour, he returned to companions well + calculated by their converse and bent of mind to inflame the fester of his + moral constitution. + </p> + <p> + It happens generally that men very vehement in any particular opinion + choose their friends, not for a general similarity of character, but in + proportion to their mutual congeniality of sentiment upon that particular + opinion; it happens, also, that those most audibly violent, if we may so + speak, upon any opinion, moral or political, are rarely the wisest or the + purest of their party. Those with whom Wolfe was intimate were men who + shared none of the nobler characteristics of the republican; still less + did they participate in or even comprehend the enlightened and benevolent + views for which the wise and great men of that sect—a sect to which + all philanthropy is, perhaps too fondly, inclined to lean—have been + so conspicuously eminent. On the contrary, Wolfe’s comrades, without + education and consequently without principle, had been driven to + disaffection by desperate fortunes and ruined reputations acting upon + minds polluted by the ignorance and hardened among the dross of the + populace. But the worst can by constant intercourse corrupt the best; and + the barriers of good and evil, often confused in Wolfe’s mind by the + blindness of his passions, seemed, as his intercourse with these lawless + and ruffian associates thickened, to be at last utterly broken down and + swept away. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily too—soon after Wolfe’s return to London—the + popular irritation showed itself in mobs, perhaps rather to be termed + disorderly than seditious. The ministers, however, thought otherwise; the + military were summoned, and much injury, resulting, it is to be hoped, + from accident, not design, ensued to many of the persons assembled. Some + were severely wounded by the swords of the soldiers; others maimed and + trampled upon by the horses, which shared the agitation or irritability of + their riders; and a few, among whom were two women and three children, + lost their lives. Wolfe had been one of the crowd; and the scene, + melancholy as it really was, and appearing to his temper unredeemed and + inexcusable on the part of the soldiers, left on his mind a deep and + burning impression of revenge. Justice (as they termed it) was demanded by + strong bodies of the people upon the soldiers; but the administration, + deeming it politic rather to awe than to conciliate, so far from censuring + the military, approved their exertions. + </p> + <p> + From that time Wolfe appears to have resolved upon the execution of a + design which he had long imperfectly and confusedly meditated. + </p> + <p> + This was no less a crime (and to him did conscientiously seem no less a + virtue) than to seize a favourable opportunity for assassinating the most + prominent member of the administration, and the one who, above all the + rest, was the most odious to the disaffected. It must be urged, in + extenuation of the atrocity of this design, that a man perpetually + brooding over one scheme, which to him has become the very sustenance of + existence, and which scheme, perpetually frustrated, grows desperate by + disappointment, acquires a heat of morbid and oblique enthusiasm, which + may be not unreasonably termed insanity; and that, at the very time Wolfe + reconciled it to his conscience to commit the murder of his fellow + creature, he would have moved out of his path for a worm. Assassination, + indeed, seemed to him justice; and a felon’s execution the glory of + martyrdom. And yet, O Fanatic, thou didst anathematize the Duellist as the + Man of blood: what is the Assassin? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0079" id="link2HCH0079"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And thou that, silent at my knee, + Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes, + Filled with the love of childhood, which I see + Pure through its depths,—a thing without disguise. + Thou that hast breathed in slumber on my breast, + When I have checked its throbs to give thee rest, + Mine own, whose young thoughts fresh before me rise, + Is it not much that I may guide thy prayer, + And circle thy young soul with free and healthful air?—HEMANS. +</pre> + <p> + The events we have recorded, from the time of Clarence’s visit to + Mordaunt to the death of Lord Ulswater, took place within little more than + a week. We have now to pass in silence over several weeks; and as it was + the commencement of autumn when we introduced Clarence and Mordaunt to our + reader, so it is the first opening of winter in which we will resume the + thread of our narration. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt had removed to London; and, although he had not yet taken any + share in public business, he was only watching the opportunity to commence + a career the brilliancy of which those who knew aught of his mind began + already to foretell. But he mixed little, if at all, with the gayer + occupants of the world’s prominent places. Absorbed alternately in + his studies and his labours of good, the halls of pleasure were seldom + visited by his presence; and they who in the crowd knew nothing of him but + his name, and the lofty bearing of his mien, recoiled from the coldness of + his exterior; and, while they marvelled at his retirement and reserve, saw + in both but the moroseness of the student and the gloom of the + misanthropist. + </p> + <p> + But the nobleness of his person; the antiquity of his birth; his wealth, + his unblemished character, and the interest thrown over his name by the + reputation of talent and the unpenetrated mystery of his life, all + powerfully spoke in his favour to those of the gentler sex, who judge us + not only from what we are to others, but from what they imagine we can be + to them. From such allurements, however, as from all else, the mourner + turned only the more deeply to cherish the memory of the dead; and it was + a touching and holy sight to mark the mingled excess of melancholy and + fondness with which he watched over that treasure in whose young beauty + and guileless heart his departed Isabel had yet left the resemblance of + her features and her love. There seemed between them to exist even a + dearer and closer tie than that of daughter and sire; for, in both, the + objects which usually divide the affections of the man or the child had + but a feeble charm: Isabel’s mind had expanded beyond her years, and + Algernon’s had outgrown his time; so that neither the sports natural + to her age, nor the ambition ordinary to his, were sufficient to wean or + to distract the unity of their love. When, after absence, his well-known + step trod lightly in the hall, her ear, which had listened and longed and + thirsted for the sound, taught her fairy feet to be the first to welcome + his return; and when the slightest breath of sickness menaced her slender + frame, it was his hand that smoothed her pillow, and his smile that + cheered away her pain; and when she sank into sleep she knew that a father’s + heart watched over her through the long but untiring night; that a father’s + eye would be the first which, on waking, she would meet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! beautiful, and rare as beautiful,” was that affection; in + the parent no earthlier or harder sternness in authority, nor weakness in + doting, nor caprice in love; in the child no fear debasing reverence, yet + no familiarity diminishing respect. But Love, whose pride is in serving, + seemed to make at once soft and hallowed the offices mutually rendered; + and Nature, never counteracted in her dictates, wrought, without a visible + effort, the proper channels into which those offices should flow; and that + Charity which not only covers sins, but lifts the veil from virtues, whose + beauty might otherwise have lain concealed, linked them closer and closer, + and threw over that link the sanctity of itself. For it was Algernon’s + sweetest pleasure to make her young hands the ministers of good to others, + and to drink at such times from the rich glow of her angel countenance the + purified selfishness of his reward. And when after the divine joy of + blessing, which, perhaps, the youngest taste yet more vividly than their + sires, she threw her arms around his neck and thanked him with glad tears + for the luxury he had bestowed upon her, how could they, in that gushing + overflow of heart, help loving each other the more, or feeling that in + that love there was something which justified the excess? + </p> + <p> + Nor have we drawn with too exaggerating a pencil, nor, though Isabel’s + mind was older than her years, extended that prematureness to her heart. + For, where we set the example of benevolence, and see that the example is + in nought corrupted, the milk of human kindness will flow not the less + readily from the youngest breast, and out of the mouths of babes will come + the wisdom of charity and love! + </p> + <p> + Ever since Mordaunt’s arrival in town, he had sought out Wolfe’s + abode, for the purpose of ministering to the poverty under which he + rightly conjectured that the republican laboured. But the habitation of + one, needy, distressed, seldom living long in one place, and far less + notorious of late than he had formerly been, was not easy to discover; nor + was it till after long and vain search that he ascertained the retreat of + his singular acquaintance. The day in which he effected this object we + shall have hereafter occasion to specify. Meanwhile we return to Mr. + Crauford. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0080" id="link2HCH0080"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Plot on thy little hour, and skein on skein + Weave the vain mesh, in which thy subtle soul + Broods on its venom! Lo! behind, before, + Around thee, like an armament of cloud, + The black Fate labours onward—ANONYMOUS. +</pre> + <p> + The dusk of a winter’s evening gathered over a room in Crauford’s + house in town, only relieved from the closing darkness by an expiring and + sullen fire, beside which Mr. Bradley sat, with his feet upon the fender, + apparently striving to coax some warmth into the icy palms of his spread + hands. Crauford himself was walking up and down the room with a changeful + step, and ever and anon glancing his bright, shrewd eye at the partner of + his fraud, who, seemingly unconscious of the observation he underwent, + appeared to occupy his attention solely with the difficulty of warming his + meagre and withered frame. + </p> + <p> + “Ar’n’t you very cold there, sir?” said Bradley, + after a long pause, and pushing himself farther into the verge of the + dying embers, “may I not ring for some more coals?” + </p> + <p> + “Hell and the—: I beg your pardon, my good Bradley, but you + vex me beyond patience; how can you think of such trifles when our very + lives are in so imminent a danger?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, my honoured benefactor, they are indeed in + danger!” + </p> + <p> + “Bradley, we have but one hope,—fidelity to each other. If we + persist in the same story, not a tittle can be brought home to us,—not + a tittle, my good Bradley; and though our characters may be a little + touched, why, what is a character? Shall we eat less, drink less, enjoy + less, when we have lost it? Not a whit. No, my friend, we will go abroad: + leave it to me to save from the wreck of our fortunes enough to live upon + like princes.” + </p> + <p> + “If not like peers, my honoured benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Sdeath!—yes, yes, very good,—he! he! he! if not + peers. Well, all happiness is in the senses, and Richard Crauford has as + many senses as Viscount Innisdale; but had we been able to protract + inquiry another week, Bradley, why, I would have been my Lord, and you Sir + John.” + </p> + <p> + “You bear your losses like a hero, sir,” said Mr. Bradley. + “To be sure: there is no loss, man, but life,—none; let us + preserve that—and it will be our own fault if we don’t—and + the devil take all the rest. But, bless me, it grows late, and, at all + events, we are safe for some hours; the inquiry won’t take place + till twelve to-morrow, why should we not feast till twelve to-night? Ring, + my good fellow: dinner must be nearly ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, honoured sir,” said Bradley, “I want to go home to + see my wife and arrange my house. Who knows but I may sleep in Newgate + to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + Crauford, who had been still walking to and fro, stopped abruptly at this + speech; and his eye, even through the gloom, shot out a livid and fierce + light, before which the timid and humble glance of Mr. Bradley quailed in + an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Go home!—no, my friend, no: I can’t part with you + tonight, no, not for an instant. I have many lessons to give you. How are + we to learn our parts for to-morrow, if we don’t rehearse them + beforehand? Do you not know that a single blunder may turn what I hope + will be a farce into a tragedy? Go home!—pooh! pooh! why, man, I + have not seen my wife, nor put my house to rights, and if you do but + listen to me I tell you again and again that not a hair of our heads can + be touched.” + </p> + <p> + “You know best, honoured sir; I bow to your decision.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, honest Brad! and now for dinner. I have the most glorious + champagne that ever danced in foam to your lip. No counsellor like the + bottle, believe me!” + </p> + <p> + And the servant entering to announce dinner, Crauford took Bradley’s + arm, and leaning affectionately upon it, passed through an obsequious and + liveried row of domestics to a room blazing with light and plate. A noble + fire was the first thing which revived Bradley’s spirit; and, as he + spread his hands over it before he sat down to the table, he surveyed, + with a gleam of gladness upon his thin cheeks, two vases of glittering + metal formerly the boast of a king, in which were immersed the sparkling + genii of the grape. + </p> + <p> + Crauford, always a gourmand, ate with unusual appetite, and pressed the + wine upon Bradley with an eager hospitality, which soon somewhat clouded + the senses of the worthy man. The dinner was removed, the servants + retired, and the friends were left alone. + </p> + <p> + “A pleasant trip to France!” cried Crauford, filling a bumper. + “That’s the land for hearts like ours. I tell you what, little + Brad, we will leave our wives behind us, and take, with a new country and + new names, a new lease of life. What will it signify to men making love at + Paris what fools say of them in London? Another bumper, honest Brad,—a + bumper to the girls! What say you to that, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, sir, you are so facetious, so witty! It must be owned that a + black eye is a great temptation,—Lira-lira, la-la!” and Mr. + Bradley’s own eyes rolled joyously. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Brad!—a song, a song! but treason to King Burgundy! + Your glass is—” + </p> + <p> + “Empty, honoured sir, I know it!—Lira-lira la!—but it is + easily filled! We who have all our lives been pouring from one vessel into + another know how to keep it up to the last! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Courage then, cries the knight, we may yet be forgiven, + Or at worst buy the bishop’s reversion in heaven; + Our frequent escapes in this world show how true ‘t is + That gold is the only Elixir Salutis. + Derry down, Derry down.’ + + ‘All you who to swindling conveniently creep, + Ne’er piddle; by thousands the treasury sweep + Your safety depends on the weight of the sum, + For no rope was yet made that could tie up a plum. + Derry down, etc.’” + + [From a ballad called “The Knight and the Prelate.”] +</pre> + <p> + “Bravissimo, little Brad!—you are quite a wit! See what it is + to have one’s faculties called out. Come, a toast to old England, + the land in which no man ever wants a farthing who has wit to steal it,—‘Old + England forever!’ your rogue is your only true patriot!” and + Crauford poured the remainder of the bottle, nearly three parts full, into + a beaker, which he pushed to Bradley. That convivial gentleman emptied it + at a draught, and, faltering out, “Honest Sir John!—room for + my Lady Bradley’s carriage,” dropped down on the floor + insensible. + </p> + <p> + Crauford rose instantly, satisfied himself that the intoxication was + genuine, and giving the lifeless body a kick of contemptuous disgust, left + the room, muttering, “The dull ass, did he think it was on his back + that I was going to ride off? He! he! he! But stay, let me feel my pulse. + Too fast by twenty strokes! One’s never sure of the mind if one does + not regulate the body to a hair! Drank too much; must take a powder before + I start.” + </p> + <p> + Mounting by a back staircase to his bedroom, Crauford unlocked a chest, + took out a bundle of clerical clothes, a large shovel hat, and a huge wig. + Hastily, but not carelessly, induing himself in these articles of + disguise, he then proceeded to stain his fair cheeks with a preparation + which soon gave them a swarthy hue. Putting his own clothes in the chest, + which he carefully locked (placing the key in his pocket), he next took + from a desk on his dressing-table a purse; opening this, he extracted a + diamond of great size and immense value, which, years before, in + preparation of the event that had now taken place, he had purchased. + </p> + <p> + His usual sneer curled his lip as he gazed at it. “Now,” said + he, “is it not strange that this little stone should supply the + mighty wants of that grasping thing, man? Who talks of religion, country, + wife, children? This petty mineral can purchase them all! Oh, what a + bright joy speaks out in your white cheek, my beauty! What are all human + charms to yours? Why, by your spell, most magical of talismans, my years + may walk, gloating and revelling, through a lane of beauties, till they + fall into the grave! Pish! that grave is an ugly thought,—a very, + very ugly thought! But come, my sun of hope, I must eclipse you for a + while! Type of myself, while you hide, I hide also; and when I once more + let you forth to the day, then shine out Richard Crauford,—shine + out!” So saying, he sewed the diamond carefully in the folds of his + shirt; and, rearranging his dress, took the cooling powder, which he + weighed out to a grain, with a scrupulous and untrembling hand; descended + the back stairs; opened the door, and found himself in the open street. + </p> + <p> + The clock struck ten as he entered a hackney-coach and drove to another + part of London. “What, so late!” thought he; “I must be + at Dover in twelve hours: the vessel sails then. Humph! some danger yet! + What a pity that I could not trust that fool! He! he! he!—what will + he think tomorrow, when he wakes and finds that only one is destined to + swing!” + </p> + <p> + The hackney-coach stopped, according to his direction, at an inn in the + city. Here Crauford asked if a note had been left for Dr. Stapylton. One + (written by himself) was given to him. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heaven!” cried the false doctor, as he read it, + “my daughter is on a bed of death!” + </p> + <p> + The landlord’s look wore anxiety; the doctor seemed for a moment + paralyzed by silent woe. He recovered, shook his head piteously, and + ordered a post-chaise and four on to Canterbury without delay. + </p> + <p> + “It is an ill wind that blows nobody good!” thought the + landlord, as he issued the order into the yard. + </p> + <p> + The chaise was soon out; the doctor entered; off went the post-boys; and + Richard Crauford, feeling his diamond, turned his thoughts to safety and + to France. + </p> + <p> + A little, unknown man, who had been sitting at the bar for the last two + hours sipping brandy and water, and who from his extreme taciturnity and + quiet had been scarcely observed, now rose. “Landlord,” said + he, “do you know who that gentleman is?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” quoth Boniface, “the letter to him was directed, + ‘For the Rev. Dr. Stapylton; will be called for.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the little man, yawning, “I shall have a long + night’s work of it. Have you another chaise and four in the yard?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, sir, to be sure!” cried the landlord in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Out with it, then! Another glass of brandy and water,—a + little stronger, no sugar!” + </p> + <p> + The landlord stared; the barmaid stared; even the head-waiter, a very + stately person, stared too. + </p> + <p> + “Hark ye,” said the little man, sipping his brandy and water, + “I am a deuced good-natured fellow, so I’ll make you a great + man to-night; for nothing makes a man so great as being let into a great + secret. Did you ever hear of the rich Mr. Crauford?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly: who has not?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No! I can’t say I ever did.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, landlord: you saw him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried the landlord, bristling up. + </p> + <p> + The little man pulled out a brace of pistols, and very quietly began + priming them out of a small powder-flask. + </p> + <p> + The landlord started back; the head-waiter cried “Rape!” and + the barmaid “Murder!” + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you, sir?” cried the landlord. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tickletrout! the celebrated officer,—thief-taker, as they + call it. Have a care, ma’am, the pistols are loaded. I see the + chaise is out; there’s the reckoning, landlord.” + </p> + <p> + “O Lord! I’m sure I don’t want any reckoning: too great + an honour for my poor house to be favoured with your company; but + [following the little man to the door] whom did you please to say you were + going to catch?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Crauford, alias Dr. Stapylton.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! Lord! to think of it,—how shocking! What has he done?” + </p> + <p> + “Swindled, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “My eyes! And why, sir, did not you catch him when he was in the + bar?” + </p> + <p> + “Because then I should not have got paid for my journey to Dover. + Shut the door, boy; first stage on to Canterbury.” And, drawing a + woollen nightcap over his ears, Mr. Tickletrout resigned himself to his + nocturnal excursion. + </p> + <p> + On the very day on which the patent for his peerage was to have been made + out, on the very day on which he had afterwards calculated on reaching + Paris, on that very day was Mr. Richard Crauford lodged in Newgate, fully + committed for a trial of life and death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0081" id="link2HCH0081"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There, if, O gentle love! I read aright + The utterance that sealed thy sacred bond, + ‘T was listening to those accents of delight + She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond + Expression’s power to paint, all languishingly fond.—CAMPBELL. +</pre> + <p> + “And you will positively leave us for London,” said Lady + Flora, tenderly, “and to-morrow too!” This was said to one who + under the name of Clarence Linden has played the principal part in our + drama, and whom now, by the death of his brother succeeding to the honours + of his house, we present to our reader as Clinton L’Estrange, Earl + of Ulswater. + </p> + <p> + They were alone in the memorable pavilion; and though it was winter the + sun shone cheerily into the apartment; and through the door, which was + left partly open, the evergreens, contrasting with the leafless boughs of + the oak and beech, could be just descried, furnishing the lover with some + meet simile of love, and deceiving the eyes of those willing to be + deceived with a resemblance to the departed summer. The unusual mildness + of the day seemed to operate genially upon the birds,—those children + of light and song; and they grouped blithely beneath the window and round + the door, where the hand of the kind young spirit of the place had so + often ministered to their wants. Every now and then, too, you might hear + the shrill glad note of the blackbird keeping measure to his swift and low + flight, and sometimes a vagrant hare from the neighbouring preserves + sauntered fearlessly by the half-shut door, secure, from long experience, + of an asylum in the vicinity of one who had drawn from the breast of + Nature a tenderness and love for all its offspring. + </p> + <p> + Her lover sat at Flora’s feet; and, looking upward, seemed to seek + out the fond and melting eyes which, too conscious of their secret, turned + bashfully from his gaze. He had drawn her arm over his shoulder; and + clasping that small and snowy hand, which, long coveted with a miser’s + desire, was at length won, he pressed upon it a thousand kisses, sweeter + beguilers of time than even words. All had been long explained; the space + between their hearts annihilated; doubt, anxiety, misconstruction, those + clouds of love, had passed away, and left not a wreck to obscure its + heaven. + </p> + <p> + “And you will leave us to-morrow; must it be to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Flora, it must; but see, I have your lock of hair—your + beautiful, dark hair—to kiss, when I am away from you, and I shall + have your letters, dearest,—a letter every day; and oh! more than + all, I shall have the hope, the certainty, that when we meet again, you + will be mine forever.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, too, must, by seeing it in your handwriting, learn to + reconcile myself to your new name. Ah! I wish you had been still Clarence,—only + Clarence. Wealth, rank, power,—what are all these but rivals to poor + Flora?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Flora sighed, and the next moment blushed; and, what with the sigh + and the blush, Clarence’s lips wandered from the hands to the cheek, + and thence to a mouth on which the west wind seemed to have left the + sweets of a thousand summers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0082" id="link2HCH0082"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Hounsditch man, one of the devil’s near kinsmen,—a + broker.—Every Man in His Humour. +</pre> + <p> + We have here discovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was + known in the commonwealth.—Much Ado about Nothing. + </p> + <p> + It was an evening of mingled rain and wind, the hour about nine, when Mr. + Morris Brown, under the shelter of that admirable umbrella of sea-green + silk, to which we have before had the honour to summon the attention of + our readers, was, after a day of business, plodding homeward his weary + way. The obscure streets through which his course was bent were at no time + very thickly thronged, and at the present hour the inclemency of the night + rendered them utterly deserted. It is true that now and then a solitary + female, holding up, with one hand, garments already piteously bedraggled, + and with the other thrusting her umbrella in the very teeth of the hostile + winds, might be seen crossing the intersected streets, and vanishing amid + the subterranean recesses of some kitchen area, or tramping onward amidst + the mazes of the metropolitan labyrinth, till, like the cuckoo, “heard,” + but no longer “seen,” the echo of her retreating pattens made + a dying music to the reluctant ear; or indeed, at intervals of unfrequent + occurrence, a hackney vehicle jolted, rumbling, bumping over the uneven + stones, as if groaning forth its gratitude to the elements for which it + was indebted for its fare. Sometimes also a chivalrous gallant of the + feline species ventured its delicate paws upon the streaming pavement, and + shook, with a small but dismal cry, the raindrops from the pyramidal roofs + of its tender ears. + </p> + <p> + But, save these occasional infringements on its empire, solitude, dark, + comfortless, and unrelieved, fell around the creaking footsteps of Mr. + Morris Brown. “I wish,” soliloquized the worthy broker, + “that I had been able advantageously to dispose of this cursed + umbrella of the late Lady Waddilove; it is very little calculated for any + but a single lady of slender shape, and though it certainly keeps the rain + off my hat, it only sends it with a double dripping upon my shoulders. + Pish, deuce take the umbrella! I shall catch my death of cold.” + </p> + <p> + These complaints of an affliction that was assuredly sufficient to + irritate the naturally sweet temper of Mr. Brown, only ceased as that + industrious personage paused at the corner of the street, for the purpose + of selecting the driest path through which to effect the miserable act of + crossing to the opposite side. Occupied in stretching his neck over the + kennel, in order to take the fullest survey of its topography which the + scanty and agitated lamps would allow, the unhappy wanderer, lowering his + umbrella, suffered a cross and violent gust of wind to rush, as if on + purpose, against the interior. The rapidity with which this was done, and + the sudden impetus, which gave to the inflated silk the force of a + balloon, happening to occur exactly at the moment Mr. Brown was stooping + with such wistful anxiety over the pavement, that gentleman, to his + inexpressible dismay, was absolutely lifted, as it were, from his present + footing, and immersed in a running rivulet of liquid mire, which flowed + immediately below the pavement. Nor was this all: for the wind, finding + itself somewhat imprisoned in the narrow receptacle it had thus abruptly + entered, made so strenuous an exertion to extricate itself, that it turned + Lady Waddilove’s memorable relic utterly inside out; so that when + Mr. Brown, aghast at the calamity of his immersion, lifted his eyes to + heaven, with a devotion that had in it more of expostulation than + submission, he beheld, by the melancholy lamps, the apparition of his + umbrella,—the exact opposite to its legitimate conformation, and + seeming, with its lengthy stick and inverted summit, the actual and + absolute resemblance of a gigantic wineglass. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mr. Brown, with that ironical bitterness so common + to intense despair, “now, that’s what I call pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + As if the elements were guided and set on by all the departed souls of + those whom Mr. Brown had at any time overreached in his profession, + scarcely had the afflicted broker uttered this brief sentence, before a + discharge of rain, tenfold more heavy than any which had yet fallen, + tumbled down in literal torrents upon the defenceless head of the + itinerant. + </p> + <p> + “This won’t do,” said Mr. Brown, plucking up courage and + splashing out of the little rivulet once more into terra firma, “this + won’t do: I must find a shelter somewhere. Dear, dear, how the wet + runs down me! I am for all the world like the famous dripping well in + Derbyshire. What a beast of an umbrella! I’ll never buy one again of + an old lady: hang me if I do.” + </p> + <p> + As the miserable Morris uttered these sentences, which gushed out, one by + one, in a broken stream of complaint, he looked round and round—before, + behind, beside—for some temporary protection or retreat. In vain: + the uncertainty of the light only allowed him to discover houses in which + no portico extended its friendly shelter, and where even the doors seemed + divested of the narrow ledge wherewith they are, in more civilized + quarters, ordinarily crowned. + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly have the rheumatism all this winter,” said + Mr. Brown, hurrying onward as fast as he was able. Just then, glancing + desperately down a narrow lane, which crossed his path, he perceived the + scaffolding of a house in which repair or alteration had been at work. A + ray of hope flashed across him; he redoubled his speed, and, entering the + welcome haven, found himself entirely protected from the storm. The extent + of the scaffolding was, indeed, rather considerable; and though the + extreme narrowness of the lane and the increasing gloom of the night left + Mr. Brown in almost total darkness, so that he could not perceive the + exact peculiarities of his situation, yet he was perfectly satisfied with + the shelter he had obtained; and after shaking the rain from his hat, + squeezing his coat sleeves and lappets, satisfying himself that it was + only about the shoulders that he was thoroughly wetted, and thrusting two + pocket-handkerchiefs between his shirt and his skin, as preventives to the + dreaded rheumatism, Mr. Brown leaned luxuriously back against the wall in + the farthest corner of his retreat, and busied himself with endeavouring + to restore his insulted umbrella to its original utility of shape. + </p> + <p> + Our wanderer had been about three minutes in this situation; when he heard + the voices of two men, who were hastening along the lane. + </p> + <p> + “But do stop,” said one; and these were the first words + distinctly audible to the ear of Mr. Brown, “do stop, the rain can’t + last much longer, and we have a long way yet to go.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the other, in a voice more imperious than the + first, which was evidently plebeian and somewhat foreign in its tone, + “no, we have no time. What signify the inclemencies of weather to + men feeding upon an inward and burning thought, and made, by the workings + of the mind, almost callous to the contingencies of the frame?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my very good friend,” said the first speaker, with + positive though not disrespectful earnestness, “that may be all very + fine for you, who have a constitution like a horse; but I am quite a—what + call you it—an invalid, eh? and have a devilish cough ever since I + have been in this d—d country; beg your pardon, no offence to it; so + I shall just step under cover of this scaffolding for a few minutes, and + if you like the rain so much, my very good friend, why, there is plenty of + room in the lane to—(ugh! ugh! ugh!) to enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + As the speaker ended, the dim light, just faintly glimmering at the + entrance of the friendly shelter, was obscured by his shadow, and + presently afterwards his companion, joining him, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it must be so; but how can you be fit to brave all the + perils of our scheme, when you shrink, like a palsied crone, from the + sprinkling of a few water-drops?” + </p> + <p> + “A few water-drops, my very good friend,” answered the other, + “a few—what call you them, ay, water-falls rather; (ugh! ugh!) + but let me tell you, my brother citizen, that a man may not like to get + his skin wet with waters and would yet thrust his arm up to the very elbow + in blood! (ugh! ugh!)” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” mentally ejaculated Mr. Brown, who at the word + “scheme” had advanced one step from his retreat, but who now + at the last words of the intruder drew back as gently as a snail into his + shell; and although his person was far too much enveloped in shade to run + the least chance of detection, yet the honest broker began to feel a + little tremor vibrate along the chords of his thrilling frame, and a new + anathema against the fatal umbrella rise to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” quoth the second, “I trust that it may be so; but, + to return to our project, are you quite sure that these two identical + ministers are in the regular habit of walking homeward from that + Parliament which their despotism has so degraded?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure? ay, that I am; Davidson swears to it!” + </p> + <p> + “And you are also sure of their persons, so that, even in the dusk, + you can recognize them? for you know I have never seen them.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure as fivepence!” returned the first speaker, to whose mind + the lives of the persons referred to were of considerably less value than + the sum elegantly specified in his metaphorical reply. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the other, with a deep, stern determination of + tone, “then shall this hand, by which one of the proudest of our + oppressors has already fallen, be made a still worthier instrument of the + wrath of Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “You are a d—d pretty shot, I believe,” quoth the first + speaker, as indifferently as if he were praising the address of a Norfolk + squire. + </p> + <p> + “Never did my eye misguide me, or my aim swerve a hair’s-breadth + from its target! I thought once, when I learned the art as a boy, that in + battle, rather than in the execution of a single criminal, that skill + would avail me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall have a glorious opportunity to-morrow night!” + answered the first speaker; “that is, if it does not rain so + infernally as it does this night; but we shall have a watch of many hours, + I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + “That matters but little,” replied the other conspirator; + “nor even if, night after night, the same vigil is renewed and + baffled, so that it bring its reward at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” quoth the first; “I long to be at it!—ugh! + ugh! ugh!—what a confounded cough I have! it will be my death soon, + I’m thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” said the other, with a solemnity which seemed + ludicrously horrible, from the strange contrast of the words and object, + “die at least with the sanctity of a brave and noble deed upon your + conscience and your name!” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! ugh!—I am but a man of colour, but I am a patriot, for + all that, my good friend! See, the violence of the rain has ceased; we + will proceed;” and with these words the worthy pair left the place + to darkness and Mr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + “O Lord!” said the latter, stepping forth, and throwing, as it + were, in that exclamation, a whole weight of suffocating emotion from his + chest, “what bloody miscreants! Murder his Majesty’s + ministers!—‘shoot them like pigeons!’—‘d—d + pretty shot!’ indeed. O Lord! what would the late Lady Waddilove, + who always hated even the Whigs so cordially, say, if she were alive? But + how providential that I should have been here! Who knows but I may save + the lives of the whole administration, and get a pension or a little place + in the post-office? I’ll go to the prime minister directly,—this + very minute! Pish! ar’n’t you right now, you cursed thing?” + upbraiding the umbrella, which, half-right and half-wrong, seemed endued + with an instinctive obstinacy for the sole purpose of tormenting its + owner. + </p> + <p> + However, losing this petty affliction in the greatness of his present + determination, Mr. Brown issued out of his lair, and hastened to put his + benevolent and loyal intentions into effect. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0083" id="link2HCH0083"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When laurelled ruffians die, the Heaven and Earth, + And the deep Air give warning. Shall the good + Perish and not a sign?—ANONYMOUS. +</pre> + <p> + It was the evening after the event recorded in our last chapter: all was + hushed and dark in the room where Mordaunt sat alone; the low and falling + embers burned dull in the grate, and through the unclosed windows the high + stars rode pale and wan in their career. The room, situated at the back of + the house, looked over a small garden, where the sickly and hoar shrubs, + overshadowed by a few wintry poplars and grim firs, saddened in the dense + atmosphere of fog and smoke, which broods over our island city. An air of + gloom hung comfortless and chilling over the whole scene externally and + within. The room itself was large and old, and its far extremities, + mantled as they were with dusk and shadow, impressed upon the mind that + involuntary and vague sensation, not altogether unmixed with awe, which + the eye, resting upon a view that it can but dimly and confusedly define, + so frequently communicates to the heart. There was a strange oppression at + Mordaunt’s breast with which he in vain endeavoured to contend. Ever + and anon, an icy but passing chill, like the shivers of a fever, shot + through his veins, and a wild and unearthly and objectless awe stirred + through his hair, and his eyes filled with a glassy and cold dew, and + sought, as by a self-impulse, the shadowy and unpenetrated places around, + which momently grew darker and darker. Little addicted by his peculiar + habits to an over-indulgence of the imagination, and still less accustomed + to those absolute conquests of the physical frame over the mental, which + seem the usual sources of that feeling we call presentiment, Mordaunt + rose, and walking to and fro along the room, endeavoured by the exercise + to restore to his veins their wonted and healthful circulation. It was + past the hour in which his daughter retired to rest: but he was often + accustomed to steal up to her chamber, and watch her in her young + slumbers; and he felt this night a more than usual desire to perform that + office of love; so he left the room and ascended the stairs. It was a + large old house that he tenanted. The staircase was broad, and lighted + from above by a glass dome; and as he slowly ascended, and the stars + gleamed down still and ghastly upon his steps, he fancied—but he + knew not why—that there was an omen in their gleam. He entered the + young Isabel’s chamber: there was a light burning within; he stole + to her bed, and putting aside the curtain, felt, as he looked upon her + peaceful and pure beauty, a cheering warmth gather round his heart. How + lovely is the sleep of childhood! What worlds of sweet, yet not utterly + sweet, associations, does it not mingle with the envy of our gaze! What + thoughts and hopes and cares and forebodings does it not excite! There lie + in that yet ungrieved and unsullied heart what unnumbered sources of + emotion! what deep fountains of passion and woe! Alas! whatever be its + earlier triumphs, the victim must fall at last! As the hart which the + jackals pursue, the moment its race is begun the human prey is foredoomed + for destruction, not by the single sorrow, but the thousand cares: it may + baffle one race of pursuers, but a new succeeds; as fast as some drop off + exhausted, others spring up to renew and to perpetuate the chase; and the + fated, though flying victim never escapes but in death. There was a faint + smile upon his daughter’s lip, as Mordaunt bent down to kiss it; the + dark lash rested on the snowy lid—ah, that tears had no well beneath + its surface!—-and her breath stole from her rich lips with so + regular and calm a motion that, like the “forest leaves,” it + “seemed stirred with prayer!” [And yet the forest leaves seem + stirred with prayer.—BYRON.] One arm lay over the coverlet, the + other pillowed her head, in the unrivalled grace of infancy. + </p> + <p> + Mordaunt stooped once more, for his heart filled as he gazed upon his + child, to kiss her cheek again, and to mingle a blessing with the kiss. + When he rose, upon that fair smooth face there was one bright and + glistening drop; and Isabel stirred in sleep, and, as if suddenly vexed by + some painful dream, she sighed deeply as she stirred. It was the last time + that the cheek of the young and predestined orphan was ever pressed by a + father’s kiss or moistened by a father’s tear! He left the + room silently; no sooner had he left it, than, as if without the precincts + of some charmed and preserving circle, the chill and presentiment at his + heart returned. There is a feeling which perhaps all have in a momentary + hypochondria felt at times: it is a strong and shuddering impression which + Coleridge has embodied in his own dark and supernatural verse, that + something not of earth is behind us; that if we turned our gaze backward + we should behold that which would make the heart as a bolt of ice, and the + eye shrivel and parch within its socket. And so intense is the fancy that + when we turn, and all is void, from that very void we could shape a + spectre, as fearful as the image our terror had foredrawn. Somewhat such + feeling had Mordaunt now, as his steps sounded hollow and echoless on the + stairs, and the stars filled the air around him with their shadowy and + solemn presence. Breaking by a violent effort from a spell of which he + felt that a frame somewhat overtasked of late was the real enchanter, he + turned once more into the room which he had left to visit Isabel. He had + pledged his personal attendance at an important motion in the House of + Commons for that night, and some political papers were left upon his table + which he had promised to give to one of the members of his party. He + entered the room, purposing to stay only a minute; an hour passed before + he left it: and his servant afterwards observed that, on giving him some + orders as he passed through the hall to the carriage, his cheek was as + white as marble, and that his step, usually so haughty and firm, reeled + and trembled like a fainting man’s. Dark and inexplicable Fate! + weaver of wild contrasts, demon of this hoary and old world, that movest + through it, as a spirit moveth over the waters, filling the depths of + things with a solemn mystery and an everlasting change! Thou sweepest over + our graves, and Joy is born from the ashes: thou sweepest over Joy, and + lo, it is a grave! Engine and tool of the Almighty, whose years cannot + fade, thou changest the earth as a garment, and as a vesture it is + changed; thou makest it one vast sepulchre and womb united, swallowing and + creating life! and reproducing, over and over, from age to age, from the + birth of creation to the creation’s doom, the same dust and atoms + which were our fathers, and which are the sole heirlooms that through + countless generations they bequeath and perpetuate to their sons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0084" id="link2HCH0084"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Methinks, before the issue of our fate, + A spirit moves within us, and impels + The passion of a prophet to our lips.—ANONYMOUS. + + O vitae Philosophia dux, virtutis indagatrix!-CICERO. + [“O Philosophy, conductress of life, searcher after virtue!”] +</pre> + <p> + Upon leaving the House of Commons, Mordaunt was accosted by Lord Ulswater, + who had just taken his seat in the Upper House. Whatever abstraction or + whatever weakness Mordaunt might have manifested before he had left his + home, he had now entirely conquered both; and it was with his usual + collected address that he replied to Lord Ulswater’s salutations, + and congratulated him on his change of name and accession of honours. + </p> + <p> + It was a night of uncommon calm and beauty; and, although the moon was not + visible, the frosty and clear sky, “clad in the lustre of its + thousand stars,” [Marlowe] seemed scarcely to mourn either the + hallowing light or the breathing poesy of her presence; and when Lord + Ulswater proposed that Mordaunt should dismiss his carriage, and that they + should walk home, Algernon consented not unwillingly to the proposal. He + felt, indeed, an unwonted relief in companionship; and the still air and + the deep heavens seemed to woo him from more unwelcome thoughts, as with a + softening and a sister’s love. + </p> + <p> + “Let us, before we return home,” said Lord Ulswater, “stroll + for a few moments towards the bridge: I love looking at the river on a + night like this.” + </p> + <p> + Whoever inquires into human circumstances will be struck to find how + invariably a latent current of fatality appears to pervade them. It is the + turn of the atom in the scale which makes our safety or our peril, our + glory or our shame, raises us to the throne or sinks us to the grave. A + secret voice at Mordaunt’s heart prompted him to dissent from this + proposal, trifling as it seemed and welcome as it was to his present and + peculiar mood: he resisted the voice,—the moment passed away, and + the last seal was set upon his doom; they moved onward towards the bridge. + At first both were silent, for Lord Ulswater used the ordinary privilege + of a lover and was absent and absorbed, and his companion was never the + first to break a taciturnity natural to his habits. At last Lord Ulswater + said, “I rejoice that you are now in the sphere of action most + likely to display your talents: you have not spoken yet, I think; indeed, + there has been no fitting opportunity, but you will soon, I trust.” + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” said Mordaunt, with a melancholy smile, “whether + you judge rightly in thinking the sphere of political exertion the one + most calculated for me; but I feel at my heart a foreboding that my planet + is not fated to shine in any earthly sphere. Sorrow and misfortune have + dimmed it in its birth, and now it is waning towards its decline.” + </p> + <p> + “Its decline!” repeated his companion, “no, rather its + meridian. You are in the vigor of your years, the noon of your prosperity, + the height of your intellect and knowledge; you require only an effort to + add to these blessings the most lasting of all,—Fame!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mordaunt, and a momentary light flashed over his + countenance, “the effort will be made. I do not pretend not to have + felt ambition. No man should make it his boast, for it often gives to our + frail and earth-bound virtue both its weapon and its wings; but when the + soil is exhausted its produce fails; and when we have forced our hearts to + too great an abundance, whether it be of flowers that perish or of grain + that endures, the seeds of after hope bring forth but a languid and scanty + harvest. My earliest idol was ambition; but then came others, love and + knowledge, and afterwards the desire to bless. That desire you may term + ambition: but we will suppose them separate passions; for by the latter I + would signify the thirst for glory, either in evil or in good; and the + former teaches us, though by little and little, to gain its object, no + less in secrecy than for applause; and Wisdom, which opens to us a world, + vast, but hidden from the crowd, establishes also over that world an + arbiter of its own, so that its disciples grow proud, and, communing with + their own hearts, care for no louder judgment than the still voice within. + It is thus that indifference not to the welfare but to the report of + others grows over us; and often, while we are the most ardent in their + cause, we are the least anxious for their esteem.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Lord Ulswater, “I have thought the + passion for esteem is the best guarantee for deserving it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor without justice: other passions may supply its place, and + produce the same effects; but the love of true glory is the most + legitimate agent of extensive good, and you do right to worship and + enshrine it. For me it is dead: it Survived—ay, the truth shall out!—poverty, + want, disappointment, baffled aspirations,—all, all, but the + deadness, the lethargy of regret when no one was left upon this altered + earth to animate its efforts, to smile upon its success, then the last + spark quivered and died; and—and—but forgive me—on this + subject I am not often wont to wander. I would say that ambition is for me + no more; not so are its effects: but the hope of serving that race whom I + have loved as brothers, but who have never known me,—who, by the + exterior” (and here something bitter mingled with his voice), + “pass sentence upon the heart; in whose eyes I am only the cold, the + wayward, the haughty, the morose,—the hope of serving them is to me, + now, a far stronger passion than ambition was heretofore; and whatever for + that end the love of fame would have dictated, the love of mankind will + teach me still more ardently to perform.” + </p> + <p> + They were now upon the bridge. Pausing, they leaned over, and looked along + the scene before them. Dark and hushed, the river flowed sullenly on, save + where the reflected stars made a tremulous and broken beam on the black + surface of the water, or the lights of the vast City, which lay in shadow + on its banks, scattered at capricious intervals a pale but unpiercing + wanness rather than lustre along the tide, or save where the stillness was + occasionally broken by the faint oar of the boatman or the call of his + rude voice, mellowed almost into music by distance and the element. + </p> + <p> + But behind them, as they leaned, the feet of passengers on the great + thoroughfare passed not oft,—but quick; and that sound, the + commonest of earth’s, made rarer and rarer by the advancing night, + contrasted rather than destroyed the quiet of the heaven and the solemnity + of the silent stars. + </p> + <p> + “It is an old but a just comparison,” said Mordaunt’s + companion, “which has likened life to a river such as we now survey, + gliding alternately in light or in darkness, in sunshine or in storm, to + that great ocean in which all waters meet.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” said Algernon, with his usual thoughtful and pensive + smile, “we may be allowed to vary that simile, I would, separating + the universal and eternal course of Destiny from the fleeting generations + of human life, compare the river before us to that course, and not it, but + the city scattered on its banks, to the varieties and mutability of life. + There (in the latter) crowded together in the great chaos of social union, + we herd in the night of ages, flinging the little lustre of our dim lights + over the sullen tide which rolls beside us,—seeing the tremulous ray + glitter on the surface, only to show us how profound is the gloom which it + cannot break, and the depths which it is too faint to pierce. There Crime + stalks, and Woe hushes her moan, and Poverty couches, and Wealth riots,—and + Death, in all and each, is at his silent work. But the stream of Fate, + unconscious of our changes and decay, glides on to its engulfing bourne; + and, while it mirrors the faintest smile or the lightest frown of heaven, + beholds, without a change upon its surface, the generations of earth + perish, and be renewed, along its banks!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; and by an involuntary and natural impulse, they turned + from the waves beneath to the heaven which, in its breathing contrast, + spread all eloquently, yet hushed, above. They looked upon the living and + intense stars, and felt palpably at their hearts that spell—wild, + but mute—which nothing on or of earth can inspire; that pining of + the imprisoned soul, that longing after the immortality on high, which is + perhaps no imaginary type of the immortality ourselves are heirs to. + </p> + <p> + “It is on such nights as these,” said Mordaunt, who first + broke the silence, but with a low and soft voice, “that we are + tempted to believe that in Plato’s divine fancy there is as divine a + truth; that ‘our souls are indeed of the same essence as the stars,’ + and that the mysterious yearning, the impatient wish which swells and + soars within us to mingle with their glory, is but the instinctive and + natural longing to re-unite the divided portion of an immortal spirit, + stored in these cells of clay, with the original lustre of the heavenly + and burning whole!” + </p> + <p> + “And hence then,” said his companion, pursuing the idea, + “might we also believe in that wondrous and wild influence which the + stars have been fabled to exercise over our fate; hence might we shape a + visionary clew to their imagined power over our birth, our destinies, and + our death.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” rejoined Mordaunt, and Lord Ulswater has since said + that his countenance as he spoke wore an awful and strange aspect, which + lived long and long afterwards in the memory of his companion, “perhaps + they are tokens and signs between the soul and the things of Heaven which + do not wholly shame the doctrine of him [Socrates, who taught the belief + in omens.] from whose bright wells Plato drew (while he coloured with his + own gorgeous errors) the waters of his sublime lore.” As Mordaunt + thus spoke, his voice changed: he paused abruptly, and, pointing to a + distant quarter of the heavens, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Look yonder; do you see, in the far horizon, one large and solitary + star, that, at this very moment, seems to wax pale and paler, as my hand + points to it?” + </p> + <p> + “I see it; it shrinks and soars, while we gaze into the farther + depths of heaven, as if it were seeking to rise to some higher orbit.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you see,” rejoined Mordaunt, “yon fleecy but + dusky cloud which sweeps slowly along the sky towards it? What shape does + that cloud wear to your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” answered Lord Ulswater, “to assume the + exact semblance of a funeral procession: the human shape appears to me as + distinctly moulded in the thin vapours as in ourselves; nor would it + perhaps ask too great indulgence from our fancy to image amongst the + darker forms in the centre of the cloud one bearing the very appearance of + a bier,—the plume, and the caparison, and the steeds, and the + mourners! Still, as I look, the likeness seems to me to increase!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange!” said Mordaunt, musingly, “how strange is this + thing which we call the mind! Strange that the dreams and superstitions of + childhood should cling to it with so inseparable and fond a strength! I + remember, years since, that I was affected even as I am now, to a degree + which wiser men might shrink to confess, upon gazing on a cloud exactly + similar to that which at this instant we behold. But see: that cloud has + passed over the star; and now, as it rolls away, look, the star itself has + vanished into the heavens.” + </p> + <p> + “But I fear,” answered Lord Ulswater, with a slight smile, + “that we can deduce no omen either from the cloud or the star: + would, indeed, that Nature were more visibly knit with our individual + existence! Would that in the heavens there were a book, and in the waves a + voice, and on the earth a token of the mysteries and enigmas of our fate!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Mordaunt, slowly, as his mind gradually rose + from its dream-like oppression to its wonted and healthful tone, “yet, + in truth, we want neither sign nor omen from other worlds to teach us all + that it is the end of existence to fulfil in this; and that seems to me a + far less exalted wisdom which enables us to solve the riddles, than that + which elevates us above the chances, of the future.” + </p> + <p> + “But can we be placed above those chances;—can we become + independent of that fate to which the ancients taught that even their + deities were submitted?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us not so wrong the ancients,” answered Mordaunt; “their + poets taught it, not their philosophers. Would not virtue be a dream, a + mockery indeed, if it were, like the herb of the field, a thing of blight + and change, of withering and renewal, a minion of the sunbeam and the + cloud? Shall calamity deject it? Shall prosperity pollute? then let it not + be the object of our aspiration, but the byword of our contempt. No: let + us rather believe, with the great of old, that when it is based on wisdom, + it is throned above change and chance! throned above the things of a petty + and sordid world! throned above the Olympus of the heathen! throned above + the Stars which fade, and the Moon which waneth in her course! Shall we + believe less of the divinity of Virtue than an Athenian Sage? Shall we, to + whose eyes have been revealed without a cloud the blaze and the glory of + Heaven, make Virtue a slave to those chains of earth which the Pagan + subjected to her feet? But if by her we can trample on the ills of life, + are we not a hundredfold more by her the vanquishers of death? All + creation lies before us: shall we cling to a grain of dust? All + immortality is our heritage: shall we gasp and sicken for a moment’s + breath? What if we perish within an hour?—what if already the black + cloud lowers over us?—what if from our hopes and projects, and the + fresh woven ties which we have knit around our life, we are abruptly torn?—shall + we be the creatures or the conquerors of fate? Shall we be the exiled from + a home, or the escaped from a dungeon? Are we not as birds which look into + the Great Air only through a barred cage? Shall we shrink and mourn when + the cage is shattered, and all space spreads around us,—our element + and our empire? No; it was not for this that, in an elder day, Virtue and + Valour received but a common name! The soul, into which that Spirit has + breathed its glory, is not only above Fate,—it profits by her + assaults! Attempt to weaken it, and you nerve it with a new strength; to + wound it, and you render it more invulnerable; to destroy it, and you make + it immortal! This, indeed, is the Sovereign whose realm every calamity + increases, the Hero whose triumph every invasion augments; standing on the + last sands of life, and encircled by the advancing waters of Darkness and + Eternity, it becomes in its expiring effort doubly the Victor and the + King!” + </p> + <p> + Impressed by the fervour of his companion, with a sympathy almost + approaching to awe, Lord Ulswater pressed Mordaunt’s hand, but + offered no reply; and both, excited by the high theme of their + conversation, and the thoughts which it produced, moved in silence from + their post and walked slowly homeward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0085" id="link2HCH0085"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Is it possible? + Is’t so? I can no longer what I would + No longer draw back at my liking! I + Must do the deed because I thought of it. + ...... + What is thy enterprise,—thy aim, thy object? + Hast honestly confessed it to thyself? + O bloody, frightful deed! + ...... + Was that my purpose when we parted? + O God of Justice!—COLERIDGE: Wallenstein. +</pre> + <p> + We need scarcely say that one of the persons overheard by Mr. Brown was + Wolfe, and the peculiar tone of oratorical exaggeration, characteristic of + the man, has already informed the reader with which of the two he is + identified. + </p> + <p> + On the evening after the conversation—the evening fixed for the + desperate design on which he had set the last hazard of his life—the + republican, parting from the companions with whom he had passed the day, + returned home to compose the fever of his excited thoughts, and have a + brief hour of solitary meditation, previous to the committal of that act + which he knew must be his immediate passport to the jail and the gibbet. + On entering his squalid and miserable home, the woman of the house, a + blear-eyed and filthy hag, who was holding to her withered breast an + infant, which, even in sucking the stream that nourished its tainted + existence, betrayed upon its haggard countenance the polluted nature of + the mother’s milk, from which it drew at once the support of life + and the seeds of death,—this woman, meeting him in the narrow + passage, arrested his steps to acquaint him that a gentleman had that day + called upon him and left a letter in his room with strict charge of care + and speed in its delivery. The visitor had not, however, communicated his + name, though the curiosity excited by his mien and dress had prompted the + crone particularly to demand it. + </p> + <p> + Little affected by this incident, which to the hostess seemed no + unimportant event, Wolfe pushed the woman aside with an impatient gesture, + and, scarcely conscious of the abuse which followed this motion, hastened + up the sordid stairs to his apartment. He sat himself down upon the foot + of his bed, and, covering his face with his hands, surrendered his mind to + the tide of contending emotions which rushed upon it. + </p> + <p> + What was he about to commit? Murder!—murder in its coldest and most + premeditated guise! “No!” cried he aloud, starting from the + bed, and dashing his clenched hand violently against his brow, “no! + no! no! it is not murder: it is justice! Did not they, the hirelings of + Oppression, ride over their crushed and shrieking countrymen, with drawn + blades and murderous hands? Was I not among them at the hour? Did I not + with these eyes see the sword uplifted and the smiter strike? Were not my + ears filled with the groans of their victims and the savage yells of the + trampling dastards?—yells which rang in triumph over women and babes + and weaponless men! And shall there be no vengeance? Yes, it shall fall, + not upon the tools, but the master; not upon the slaves, but the despot. + Yet,” said he, suddenly pausing, as his voice sank into a whisper, + “assassination!—in another hour perhaps; a deed irrevocable; a + seal set upon two souls,—the victim’s and the judge’s! + Fetters and the felon’s cord before me! the shouting mob! the + stigma!—no, no, it will not be the stigma; the gratitude, rather, of + future times, when motives will be appreciated and party hushed! Have I + not wrestled with wrong from my birth? have I not rejected all offers from + the men of an impious power? have I made a moment’s truce with the + poor man’s foe? have I not thrice purchased free principles with an + imprisoned frame? have I not bartered my substance, and my hopes, and the + pleasures of this world for my unmoving, unswerving faith in the Great + Cause? am I not about to crown all by one blow,—one lightning blow, + destroying at once myself and a criminal too mighty for the law? and shall + not history do justice to this devotedness,—this absence from all + self, hereafter—and admire, even if it condemn?” + </p> + <p> + Buoying himself with these reflections, and exciting the jaded current of + his designs once more into an unnatural impetus, the unhappy man ceased + and paced with rapid steps the narrow limits of his chamber; his eye fell + upon something bright, which glittered amidst the darkening shadows of the + evening. At that sight his heart stood still for a moment: it was the + weapon of intended death; he took it up, and as he surveyed the shining + barrel, and felt the lock, a more settled sternness gathered at once over + his fierce features and stubborn heart. The pistol had been bought and + prepared for the purpose with the utmost nicety, not only for use but + show; nor is it unfrequent to find in such instances of premeditated + ferocity in design a fearful kind of coxcombry lavished upon the means. + </p> + <p> + Striking a light, Wolfe reseated himself deliberately, and began with the + utmost care to load the pistol; that scene would not have been an unworthy + sketch for those painters who possess the power of giving to the low a + force almost approaching to grandeur, and of augmenting the terrible by a + mixture of the ludicrous. The sordid chamber, the damp walls, the high + window, in which a handful of discoloured paper supplied the absence of + many a pane; the single table of rough oak, the rush-bottomed and broken + chair, the hearth unconscious of a fire, over which a mean bust of Milton + held its tutelary sway; while the dull rushlight streamed dimly upon the + swarthy and strong countenance of Wolfe, intent upon his work,—a + countenance in which the deliberate calmness that had succeeded the late + struggle of feeling had in it a mingled power of energy and haggardness of + languor,—the one of the desperate design, the other of the exhausted + body; while in the knit brow, and the iron lines, and even in the settled + ferocity of expression, there was yet something above the stamp of the + vulgar ruffian,—something eloquent of the motive no less than the + deed, and significant of that not ignoble perversity of mind which + diminished the guilt, yet increased the dreadness of the meditated crime, + by mocking it with the name of virtue. + </p> + <p> + As he had finished his task, and hiding the pistol on his person waited + for the hour in which his accomplice was to summon him to the fatal deed, + he perceived, close by him on the table, the letter which the woman had + spoken of, and which till then, he had, in the excitement of his mind, + utterly forgotten. He opened it mechanically; an enclosure fell to the + ground. He picked it up; it was a bank-note of considerable amount. The + lines in the letter were few, anonymous, and written in a hand evidently + disguised. They were calculated peculiarly to touch the republican, and + reconcile him to the gift. In them the writer professed to be actuated by + no other feeling than admiration for the unbending integrity which had + characterized Wolfe’s life, and the desire that sincerity in any + principles, however they might differ from his own, should not be rewarded + only with indigence and ruin. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to tell how far, in Wolfe’s mind, his own desperate + fortunes might insensibly have mingled with the motives which led him to + his present design: certain it is that wherever the future is hopeless the + mind is easily converted from the rugged to the criminal; and equally + certain it is that we are apt to justify to ourselves many offences in a + cause where we have made great sacrifices; and, perhaps, if this + unexpected assistance had come to Wolfe a short time before, it might, by + softening his heart and reconciling him in some measure to fortune, have + rendered him less susceptible to the fierce voice of political hatred and + the instigation of his associates. Nor can we, who are removed from the + temptations of the poor,—temptations to which ours are as breezes + which woo to storms which “tumble towers,”—nor can we + tell how far the acerbity of want, and the absence of wholesome sleep, and + the contempt of the rich, and the rankling memory of better fortunes, or + even the mere fierceness which absolute hunger produces in the humours and + veins of all that hold nature’s life, nor can we tell how far these + madden the temper, which is but a minion of the body, and plead in + irresistible excuse for the crimes which our wondering virtue—haughty + because unsolicited—stamps with its loftiest reprobation! + </p> + <p> + The cloud fell from Wolfe’s brow, and his eye gazed, musingly and + rapt, upon vacancy. Steps were heard ascending; the voice of a distant + clock tolled with a distinctness which seemed like strokes palpable as + well as audible to the senses; and, as the door opened and his accomplice + entered, Wolfe muttered, “Too late! too late!”—and first + crushing the note in his hands, then tore it into atoms, with a vehemence + which astonished his companion, who, however, knew not its value. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he, stamping his foot violently upon the floor, + as if to conquer by passion all internal relenting, “come, my + friend, not another moment is to be lost; let us hasten to our holy deed!” + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” said Wolfe’s companion, when they were in the + open street, “that we shall not have our trouble in vain; it is a + brave night for it! Davidson wanted us to throw grenades into the + ministers’ carriages, as the best plan; and, faith, we can try that + if all else fails!” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe remained silent: indeed he scarcely heard his companion; for a + sullen indifference to all things around him had wrapped his spirit,—that + singular feeling, or rather absence from feeling, common to all men, when + bound on some exciting action, upon which their minds are already and + wholly bent; which renders them utterly without thought, when the + superficial would imagine they were the most full of it, and leads them to + the threshold of that event which had before engrossed all their most + waking and fervid contemplation with a blind and mechanical + unconsciousness, resembling the influence of a dream. + </p> + <p> + They arrived at the place they had selected for their station; sometimes + walking to and fro in order to escape observation, sometimes hiding behind + the pillars of a neighbouring house, they awaited the coming of their + victims. The time passed on; the streets grew more and more empty; and, at + last, only the visitation of the watchman or the occasional steps of some + homeward wanderer disturbed the solitude of their station. + </p> + <p> + At last, just after midnight, two men were seen approaching towards them, + linked arm in arm, and walking very slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Hist! hist!” whispered Wolfe’s comrade, “there + they are at last; is your pistol cocked?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” answered Wolfe, “and yours: man, collect yourself + your hand shakes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is with the cold then,” said the ruffian, using, + unconsciously, a celebrated reply; “let us withdraw behind the + pillar.” + </p> + <p> + They did so: the figures approached them; the night, though star-lit, was + not sufficiently clear to give the assassins more than the outline of + their shapes and the characters of their height and air. + </p> + <p> + “Which,” said Wolfe, in a whisper,—for, as he had said, + he had never seen either of his intended victims,—“which is my + prey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the nearest to you,” said the other, with trembling + accents; “you know his d—d proud walk, and erect head that is + the way he answers the people’s petitions, I’ll be sworn. The + taller and farther one, who stoops more in his gait, is mine.” + </p> + <p> + The strangers were now at hand. + </p> + <p> + “You know you are to fire first, Wolfe,” whispered the nearer + ruffian, whose heart had long failed him, and who was already meditating + escape. + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure, quite sure, of the identity of our prey?” + said Wolfe, grasping his pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said the other; and, indeed, the air of the + nearest person approaching them bore, in the distance, a strong + resemblance to that of the minister it was supposed to designate. His + companion, who appeared much younger and of a mien equally patrician, but + far less proud, seemed listening to the supposed minister with the most + earnest attention. Apparently occupied with their conversation, when about + twenty yards from the assassins they stood still for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Wolfe, stop,” said the republican’s accomplice, + whose Indian complexion, by fear, and the wan light of the lamps and + skies, faded into a jaundiced and yellow hue, while the bony whiteness of + his teeth made a grim contrast with the glare of his small, black, + sparkling eyes. “Stop, Wolfe, hold your hand. I see, now, that I was + mistaken; the farther one is a stranger to me, and the nearer one is much + thinner than the minister: pocket your pistol,—quick! quick!—and + let us withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + Wolfe dropped his hand, as if dissuaded from his design but as he looked + upon the trembling frame and chattering teeth of his terrified accomplice, + a sudden, and not unnatural, idea darted across his mind that he was + wilfully deceived by the fears of his companion; and that the strangers, + who had now resumed their way, were indeed what his accomplice had first + reported them to be. Filled with this impression, and acting upon the + momentary spur which it gave, the infatuated and fated man pushed aside + his comrade, with a muttered oath at his cowardice and treachery, and + taking a sure and steady, though quick, aim at the person, who was now + just within the certain destruction of his hand, he fired the pistol. The + stranger reeled and fell into the arms of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” cried the murderer, leaping from his hiding place, + and walking with rapid strides towards his victim, “hurrah! for + liberty and England!” + </p> + <p> + Scarce had he uttered those prostituted names, before the triumph of + misguided zeal faded suddenly and forever from his brow and soul. + </p> + <p> + The wounded man leaned back in the supporting arms of his chilled and + horror-stricken friend; who, kneeling on one knee to support him, fixed + his eager eyes upon the pale and changing countenance of his burden, + unconscious of the presence of the assassin. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Mordaunt; speak! how is it with you?” he said. + Recalled from his torpor by the voice, Mordaunt opened his eyes, and + muttering, “My child, my child,” sank back again; and Lord + Ulswater (for it was he) felt, by his increased weight, that death was + hastening rapidly on its victim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said he, bitterly, and recalling their last conversation—“oh! + where, where, when this man—the wise, the kind, the innocent, almost + the perfect—falls thus in the very prime of existence, by a sudden + blow from an obscure hand, unblest in life, inglorious in death,—oh! + where, where is this boasted triumph of Virtue, or where is its reward?” + </p> + <p> + True to his idol at the last, as these words fell upon his dizzy and + receding senses, Mordaunt raised himself by a sudden though momentary + exertion, and, fixing his eyes full upon Lord Ulswater, his moving lips + (for his voice was already gone) seemed to shape out the answer, “It + is here!” + </p> + <p> + With this last effort, and with an expression upon his aspect which seemed + at once to soften and to hallow the haughty and calm character which in + life it was wont to bear, Algernon Mordaunt fell once more back into the + arms of his companion and immediately expired. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0086" id="link2HCH0086"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXXXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, Death, these are thy victims, and the axe + Waits those who claimed the chariot.—Thus we count + Our treasures in the dark, and when the light + Breaks on the cheated eye, we find the coin + Was skulls— + ...... + Yet the while + Fate links strange contrasts, and the scaffold’s gloom + Is neighboured by the altar.—ANONYMOUS. +</pre> + <p> + When Crauford’s guilt and imprisonment became known; when inquiry + developed, day after day, some new maze in the mighty and intricate + machinery of his sublime dishonesty; when houses of the most reputed + wealth and profuse splendour, whose affairs Crauford had transacted, were + discovered to have been for years utterly undermined and beggared, and + only supported by the extraordinary genius of the individual by whose + extraordinary guilt, now no longer concealed, they were suddenly and + irretrievably destroyed; when it was ascertained that, for nearly the + fifth part of a century, a system of villany had been carried on + throughout Europe, in a thousand different relations, without a single + breath of suspicion, and yet which a single breath of suspicion could at + once have arrested and exposed; when it was proved that a man whose luxury + had exceeded the pomp of princes, and whose wealth was supposed more + inexhaustible than the enchanted purse of Fortunatus, had for eighteen + years been a penniless pensioner upon the prosperity of others; when the + long scroll of this almost incredible fraud was slowly, piece by piece, + unrolled before the terrified curiosity of his public, an invading army at + the Temple gates could scarcely have excited such universal consternation + and dismay. + </p> + <p> + The mob, always the first to execute justice, in their own inimitable way + took vengeance upon Crauford by burning the house no longer his, and the + houses of his partners, who were the worst and most innocent sufferers for + his crime. No epithet of horror and hatred was too severe for the + offender; and serious apprehension for the safety of Newgate, his present + habitation, was generally expressed. The more saintly members of that sect + to which the hypocrite had ostensibly belonged, held up their hands, and + declared that the fall of the Pharisee was a judgment of Providence. Nor + did they think it worth while to make, for a moment, the trifling inquiry + how far the judgment of Providence was also implicated in the destruction + of the numerous and innocent families he had ruined! + </p> + <p> + But, whether from that admiration for genius, common to the vulgar, which + forgets all crime in the cleverness of committing it, or from that + sagacious disposition peculiar to the English, which makes a hero of any + person eminently wicked, no sooner did Crauford’s trial come on than + the tide of popular feeling experienced a sudden revulsion. It became, in + an instant, the fashion to admire and to pity a gentleman so talented and + so unfortunate. Likenesses of Mr. Crauford appeared in every print-shop in + town; the papers discovered that he was the very fac-simile of the great + King of Prussia. The laureate made an ode upon him, which was set to + music; and the public learned, with tears of compassionate regret at so + romantic a circumstance, that pigeon-pies were sent daily to his prison, + made by the delicate hands of one of his former mistresses. Some + sensation, also, was excited by the circumstance of his poor wife (who + soon afterwards died of a broken heart) coming to him in prison, and being + with difficulty torn away; but then, conjugal affection is so very + commonplace, and there was something so engrossingly pathetic in the + anecdote of the pigeon-pies! + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed that Crauford displayed singular address and ability + upon his trial; and fighting every inch of ground, even to the last, when + so strong a phalanx of circumstances appeared against him that no hope of + a favourable verdict could for a moment have supported him, he concluded + the trial with a speech delivered by himself, so impressive, so powerful, + so dignified, yet so impassioned, that the whole audience, hot as they + were, dissolved into tears. + </p> + <p> + Sentence was passed,—Death! But such was the infatuation of the + people that every one expected that a pardon, for crime more complicated + and extensive than half the “Newgate Calendar” could equal, + would of course be obtained. Persons of the highest rank interested + themselves in his behalf; and up to the night before his execution, + expectations, almost amounting to certainty, were entertained by the + criminal, his friends, and the public. On that night was conveyed to + Crauford the positive and peremptory assurance that there was no hope. Let + us now enter his cell, and be the sole witnesses of his solitude. + </p> + <p> + Crauford was, as we have seen, a man in some respects of great moral + courage, of extraordinary daring in the formation of schemes, of + unwavering resolution in supporting them, and of a temper which rather + rejoiced in, than shunned, the braving of a distant danger for the sake of + an adequate reward. But this courage was supported and fed solely by the + self-persuasion of consummate genius, and his profound confidence both in + his good fortune and the inexhaustibility of his resources. Physically he + was a coward! immediate peril to be confronted by the person, not the + mind, had ever appalled him like a child. He had never dared to back a + spirited horse. He had been known to remain for days in an obscure + ale-house in the country, to which a shower had accidentally driven him, + because it had been idly reported that a wild beast had escaped from a + caravan and been seen in the vicinity of the inn. No dog had ever been + allowed in his household lest it might go mad. In a word, Crauford was one + to whom life and sensual enjoyments were everything,—the supreme + blessings, the only blessings. + </p> + <p> + As long as he had the hope, and it was a sanguine hope, of saving life, + nothing had disturbed his mind from its serenity. His gayety had never + forsaken him; and his cheerfulness and fortitude had been the theme of + every one admitted to his presence. But when this hope was abruptly and + finally closed; when Death, immediate and unavoidable,—Death, the + extinction of existence, the cessation of sense,—stood bare and + hideous before him, his genius seemed at once to abandon him to his fate, + and the inherent weakness of his nature to gush over every prop and + barrier of his art. + </p> + <p> + “No hope!” muttered he, in a voice of the keenest anguish, + “no hope; merciful God! none, none? What, I, I, who have shamed + kings in luxury,—I to die on the gibbet, among the reeking, gaping, + swinish crowd with whom—O God, that I were one of them even! that I + were the most loathsome beggar that ever crept forth to taint the air with + sores! that I were a toad immured in a stone, sweltering in the atmosphere + of its own venom! a snail crawling on these very walls, and tracking his + painful path in slime!—anything, anything, but death! And such + death! The gallows, the scaffold, the halter, the fingers of the hangman + paddling round the neck where the softest caresses have clung and sated. + To die, die, die! What, I whose pulse now beats so strongly! whose blood + keeps so warm and vigorous a motion! in the very prime of enjoyment and + manhood; all life’s million paths of pleasure before me,—to + die, to swing to the winds, to hang,—ay, ay—to hang! to be cut + down, distorted and hideous; to be thrust into the earth with worms; to + rot, or—or—or hell! is there a hell?—better that even + than annihilation!” + </p> + <p> + “Fool! fool!—damnable fool that I was” (and in his + sudden rage he clenched his own flesh till the nails met in it); “had + I but got to France one day sooner! Why don’t you save me, save me, + you whom I have banqueted and feasted, and lent money to! one word from + you might have saved me; I will not die! I don’t deserve it! I am + innocent! I tell you, Not guilty, my lord,—not guilty! Have you no + heart, no consciences? Murder! murder! murder!” and the wretched man + sank upon the ground, and tried with his hands to grasp the stone floor, + as if to cling to it from some imaginary violence. + </p> + <p> + Turn we from him to the cell in which another criminal awaits also the + awful coming of his latest morrow. + </p> + <p> + Pale, motionless, silent, with his face bending over his bosom and hands + clasped tightly upon his knees, Wolfe sat in his dungeon, and collected + his spirit against the approaching consummation of his turbulent and + stormy fate. His bitterest punishment had been already past; mysterious + Chance, or rather the Power above chance, had denied to him the haughty + triumph of self-applause. No sophistry, now, could compare his doom to + that of Sidney, or his deed to the act of the avenging Brutus. + </p> + <p> + Murder—causeless, objectless, universally execrated—rested, + and would rest (till oblivion wrapped it) upon his name. It had appeared, + too, upon his trial, that he had, in the information he had received, been + the mere tool of a spy in the ministers’ pay; and that, for weeks + before his intended deed, his design had been known, and his conspiracy + only not bared to the public eye because political craft awaited a riper + opportunity for the disclosure. He had not then merely been the blind dupe + of his own passions, but, more humbling still, an instrument in the hands + of the very men whom his hatred was sworn to destroy. Not a wreck, not a + straw, of the vain glory for which he had forfeited life and risked his + soul, could he hug to a sinking heart, and say, “This is my support.” + </p> + <p> + The remorse of gratitude embittered his cup still further. On Mordaunt’s + person had been discovered a memorandum of the money anonymously inclosed + to Wolfe on the day of the murder; and it was couched in words of esteem + which melted the fierce heart of the republican into the only tears he had + shed since childhood. From that time, a sullen, silent spirit fell upon + him. He spoke to none,—heeded none; he made no defence on trial, no + complaint of severity, no appeal from judgment. The iron had entered into + his soul; but it supported, while it tortured. Even now as we gaze upon + his inflexible and dark countenance, no transitory emotion; no natural + spasm of sudden fear for the catastrophe of the morrow; no intense and + working passions, struggling into calm; no sign of internal hurricanes, + rising as it were from the hidden depths, agitate the surface, or betray + the secrets of the unfathomable world within. The mute lip; the rigid + brow; the downcast eye; a heavy and dread stillness, brooding over every + feature,—these are all we behold. + </p> + <p> + Is it that thought sleeps, locked in the torpor of a senseless and rayless + dream; or that an evil incubus weighs upon it, crushing its risings, but + deadening not its pangs? Does Memory fly to the green fields and happy + home of his childhood, or the lonely studies of his daring and restless + youth, or his earliest homage to that Spirit of Freedom which shone bright + and still and pure upon the solitary chamber of him who sang of heaven + [Milton]; or (dwelling on its last and most fearful object) rolls it only + through one tumultuous and convulsive channel,—Despair? Whatever be + within the silent and deep heart, pride, or courage, or callousness, or + that stubborn firmness, which, once principle, has grown habit, cover all + as with a pall; and the strung nerves and the hard endurance of the human + flesh sustain what the immortal mind perhaps quails beneath, in its dark + retreat, but once dreamed that it would exult to bear. + </p> + <p> + The fatal hour had come! and, through the long dim passages of the prison, + four criminals were led forth to execution. The first was Crauford’s + associate, Bradley. This man prayed fervently; and, though he was + trembling and pale, his mien and aspect bore something of the calmness of + resignation. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that there is no friendship among the wicked. I have + examined this maxim closely, and believe it, like most popular proverbs,—false. + In wickedness there is peril, and mutual terror is the strongest of ties. + At all events, the wicked can, not unoften, excite an attachment in their + followers denied to virtue. Habitually courteous, caressing, and familiar, + Crauford had, despite his own suspicions of Bradley, really touched the + heart of one whom weakness and want, not nature, had gained to vice; and + it was not till Crauford’s guilt was by other witnesses undeniably + proved that Bradley could be tempted to make any confession tending to + implicate him. + </p> + <p> + He now crept close to his former partner, and frequently clasped his hand, + and besought him to take courage and to pray. But Crauford’s eye was + glassy and dim, and his veins seemed filled with water: so numbed and cold + and white was his cheek. Fear, in him, had passed its paroxysms, and was + now insensibility; it was only when they urged him to pray that a sort of + benighted consciousness strayed over his countenance and his ashen lips + muttered something which none heard. + </p> + <p> + After him came the Creole, who had been Wolfe’s accomplice. On the + night of the murder, he had taken advantage of the general loneliness and + the confusion of the few present, and fled. He was found, however, fast + asleep in a garret, before morning, by the officers of justice; and, on + trial, he had confessed all. This man was in a rapid consumption. The + delay of another week would have given to Nature the termination of his + life. He, like Bradley, seemed earnest and absorbed in prayer. + </p> + <p> + Last came Wolfe, his tall, gaunt frame worn by confinement and internal + conflict into a gigantic skeleton; his countenance, too, had undergone a + withering change; his grizzled hair seemed now to have acquired only the + one hoary hue of age; and, though you might trace in his air and eye the + sternness, you could no longer detect the fire, of former days. Calm, as + on the preceding night, no emotion broke over his dark but not defying + features. He rejected, though not irreverently, all aid from the + benevolent priest, and seemed to seek in the pride of his own heart a + substitute for the resignation of Religion. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable man!” at last said the good clergyman, in whom zeal + overcame kindness, “have you at this awful hour no prayer upon your + lips?” + </p> + <p> + A living light shot then for a moment over Wolfe’s eye and brow. + “I have!” said he; and raising his clasped hands to Heaven, he + continued in the memorable words of Sidney, “Lord, defend Thy own + cause, and defend those who defend it! Stir up such as are faint; direct + those that are willing; confirm those that waver; give wisdom and + integrity to all: order all things so as may most redound to Thine own + glory! + </p> + <p> + “I had once hoped,” added Wolfe, sinking in his tone, “I + had once hoped that I might with justice have continued that holy prayer; + [“Grant that I may die glorifying Thee for all Thy mercies, and that + at the last Thou hast permitted me to be singled out as a witness of Thy + truth, and even by the confession of my opposers for that OLD CAUSE in + which I was from my youth engaged, and for which Thou hast often and + wonderfully declared Thyself.”—ALGERNON SIDNEY.] but—” + he ceased abruptly; the glow passed from his countenance, his lip + quivered, and the tears stood in his eyes; and that was the only weakness + he betrayed, and those were his last words. + </p> + <p> + Crauford continued, even while the rope was put round him, mute and + unconscious of everything. It was said that his pulse (that of an + uncommonly strong and healthy man on the previous day) had become so low + and faint that, an hour before his execution, it could not be felt. He and + the Creole were the only ones who struggled; Wolfe died, seemingly, + without a pang. + </p> + <p> + From these feverish and fearful scenes, the mind turns, with a feeling of + grateful relief, to contemplate the happiness of one whose candid and high + nature, and warm affections, Fortune, long befriending, had at length + blessed. + </p> + <p> + It was on an evening in the earliest flush of returning spring that Lord + Ulswater, with his beautiful bride, entered his magnificent domains. It + had been his wish and order, in consequence of his brother’s + untimely death, that no public rejoicings should be made on his marriage: + but the good old steward could not persuade himself entirely to enforce + obedience to the first order of his new master; and as the carriage drove + into the park-gates, crowds on crowds were assembled to welcome and to + gaze. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had they caught a glimpse of their young lord, whose affability + and handsome person had endeared him to all who remembered his early days, + and of the half-blushing, half-smiling countenance beside him, than their + enthusiasm could be no longer restrained. The whole scene rang with shouts + of joy; and through an air filled with blessings, and amidst an avenue of + happy faces, the bridal pair arrived at their home. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Clarence (for so I must still call you),” said Flora, her + beautiful eyes streaming with delicious tears, “let us never leave + these kind hearts; let us live amongst them, and strive to repay and + deserve the blessings which they shower upon us! Is not Benevolence, + dearest, better than Ambition?” + </p> + <p> + “Can it not rather, my own Flora, be Ambition itself?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCLUSION. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So rest you, merry gentlemen.—Monsieur Thomas. +</pre> + <p> + The Author has now only to take his leave of the less important characters + whom he has assembled together; and then, all due courtesy to his numerous + guests being performed, to retire himself to repose. + </p> + <p> + First, then, for Mr. Morris Brown: In the second year of Lord Ulswater’s + marriage, the worthy broker paid Mrs. Minden’s nephew a visit, in + which he persuaded that gentleman to accept, “as presents,” + two admirable fire screens, the property of the late Lady Waddilove: the + same may be now seen in the housekeeper’s room at Borodaile Park by + any person willing to satisfy his curiosity and—the housekeeper. Of + all further particulars respecting Mr. Morris Brown, history is silent. + </p> + <p> + In the obituary for 1792, we find the following paragraph: + </p> + <p> + “Died at his house in Putney, aged seventy-three, Sir Nicholas + Copperas, Knt., a gentleman well known on the Exchange for his facetious + humour. Several of his bons-mots are still recorded in the Common Council. + When residing many years ago in the suburbs of London, this worthy + gentleman was accustomed to go from his own house to the Exchange in a + coach called ‘the Swallow,’ that passed his door just at + breakfast-time; upon which occasion he was wont wittily to observe to his + accomplished spouse, ‘And now, Mrs. Copperas, having swallowed in + the roll, I will e’en roll in the Swallow!’ His whole property + is left to Adolphus Copperas, Esq., banker.” + </p> + <p> + And in the next year we discover,— + </p> + <p> + “Died, on Wednesday last, at her jointure house, Putney, in her + sixty-eighth year, the amiable and elegant Lady Copperas, relict of the + late Sir Nicholas, Knt.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trollolop, having exhausted the whole world of metaphysics, died like + Descartes, “in believing he had left nothing unexplained.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Callythorpe entered the House of Commons at the time of the French + Revolution. He distinguished himself by many votes in favour of Mr. Pitt, + and one speech which ran thus: “Sir, I believe my right honourable + friend who spoke last (Mr. Pitt) designs to ruin the country: but I will + support him through all. Honourable Gentlemen may laugh; but I’m a + true Briton, and will not serve my friend the less because I scorn to + flatter him.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Christopher Findlater lost his life by an accident arising from the + upsetting of his carriage, his good heart not having suffered him to part + with a drunken coachman. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Glumford turned miser in his old age; and died of want, and an + extravagant son. + </p> + <p> + Our honest Cole and his wife were always among the most welcome visitors + at Lord Ulswater’s. In his extreme old age, the ex-king took a + journey to Scotland, to see the Author of “The Lay of the Last + Minstrel.” Nor should we do justice to the chief’s critical + discernment if we neglected to record that, from the earliest dawn of that + great luminary of our age, he predicted its meridian splendour. The eldest + son of the gypsy-monarch inherited his father’s spirit, and is yet + alive, a general, and G.C.B. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harrison married Miss Elizabeth, and succeeded to the Golden Fleece. + </p> + <p> + The Duke of Haverfield and Lord Ulswater continued their friendship + through life; and the letters of our dear Flora to her correspondent, + Eleanor, did not cease even with that critical and perilous period to all + maiden correspondents,—Marriage. If we may judge from the subsequent + letters which we have been permitted to see, Eleanor never repented her + brilliant nuptials, nor discovered (as the Duchess of —— once + said from experience) “that Dukes are as intolerable for husbands as + they are delightful for matches.” + </p> + <p> + And Isabel Mordaunt?—Ah! not in these pages shall her history be + told even in epitome. Perhaps for some future narrative, her romantic and + eventful fate may be reserved. Suffice it for the present, that the + childhood of the young heiress passed in the house of Lord Ulswater, whose + proudest boast, through a triumphant and prosperous life, was to have been + her father’s friend; and that as she grew up, she inherited her + mother’s beauty and gentle heart, and seemed to bear in her deep + eyes and melancholy smile some remembrance of the scenes in which her + infancy had been passed. + </p> + <p> + But for Him, the husband and the father, whose trials through this wrong + world I have portrayed,—for him let there be neither murmurs at the + blindness of Fate, nor sorrow at the darkness of his doom. Better that the + lofty and bright spirit should pass away before the petty business of life + had bowed it, or the sordid mists of this low earth breathed a shadow on + its lustre! Who would have asked that spirit to have struggled on for + years in the intrigues, the hopes, the objects of meaner souls? Who would + have desired that the heavenward and impatient heart should have grown + insured to the chains and toil of this enslaved state, or hardened into + the callousness of age? Nor would we claim the vulgar pittance of + compassion for a lot which is exalted above regret! Pity is for our + weaknesses: to our weaknesses only be it given. It is the aliment of love; + it is the wages of ambition; it is the rightful heritage of error! But why + should pity be entertained for the soul which never fell? for the courage + which never quailed? for the majesty never humbled? for the wisdom which, + from the rough things of the common world, raised an empire above earth + and destiny? for the stormy life?—it was a triumph! for the early + death?—it was immortality! + </p> + <p> + I have stood beside Mordaunt’s tomb: his will had directed that he + should sleep not in the vaults of his haughty line; and his last dwelling + is surrounded by a green and pleasant spot. The trees shadow it like a + temple; and a silver though fitful brook wails with a constant yet not + ungrateful dirge at the foot of the hill on which the tomb is placed. I + have stood there in those ardent years when our wishes know no boundary + and our ambition no curb; yet, even then, I would have changed my wildest + vision of romance for that quiet grave, and the dreams of the distant + spirit whose relics reposed beneath it. + </p> + <p> + THE END. <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Disowned, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DISOWNED, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 7639-h.htm or 7639-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/6/3/7639/ + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |