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diff --git a/old/10921-0.txt b/old/10921-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c58e1c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10921-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11872 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The World’s Greatest Books, Vol IV. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The World’s Greatest Books, Vol IV. + +Author: Arthur Mee and J.A. Hammerton + +Release Date: February 3, 2004 [eBook #10921] +[Most recently updated: April 29, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORLD’S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL. IV. *** + + + + +THE WORLD'S +GREATEST +BOOKS + +JOINT EDITORS + +ARTHUR MEE +Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge + +J. A. HAMMERTON +Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia + +VOL. IV +FICTION + + + +Table of Contents + +EBERS, GEORG + An Egyptian Princess + +EDGEWORTH, MARIE + Belinda + Castle Rackrent + +ELIOT, GEORGE + Adam Bede + Felix Holt + Romola + Silas Marner + The Mill on the Floss + +ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN + Waterloo + +FEUILLET, OCTAVE + Romance of a Poor Young Man + +FIELDING, HENRY + Amelia + Jonathan Wild + Joseph Andrews + Tom Jones + +FLAMMARION, CAMILLE + Urania + +FOUQUÉ, DE LA MOTTE + Undine + +GABORIAU, EMILE + File No. 113 + +GALT, JOHN + Annals of the Parish + +GASKELL, MRS. + Cranford + Mary Barton + +GODWIN, WILLIAM + Caleb Williams + +GOETHE + Sorrows of Young Werther + Wilhelm Meister + +GOLDSMITH, OLIVER + Vicar of Wakefield + +GONCOURT, EDMOND AND JULES DE + Renée Mauperin + +GRANT, JAMES + Bothwell + + +A Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end +of Volume XX. + + * * * * * + + + + +GEORG EBERS + + +An Egyptian Princess + + + Georg Moritz Ebers, a great Orientalist and Egyptologist, was + born in Berlin on March 1, 1837, received his first + instruction at Keilhau in Thuringen, then attended a college + at Quedlinburg, and finally took up the study of law at + Göttingen University. In 1858, when his feet became lame, he + abandoned this study, and took up philology and archæology. + After 1859 he devoted himself almost exclusively to + Egyptology. Having recovered from his long illness, he visited + the most important European museums, and in 1869 he travelled + to Egypt, Nubia, and Arabia. On his return he took the chair + of Egyptology at Leipzig University. He went back to Egypt in + 1872, and discovered, besides many other important + inscriptions, the famous papyrus which bears his name. "An + Egyptian Princess" is his first important novel, written + during his illness, and published in 1864. It has gone through + numerous editions, and has been translated into most European + languages. It was followed by several other similar works of + fiction, of which "Serapis" achieved wide popularity. Ebers + died on August 7, 1898. + + +_I.--The Royal Bride_ + + +A cavalcade of dazzling splendour was moving along the high road towards +Babylon. The embassy sent by Cambyses, the mighty King of the East, had +accomplished its mission, and now Nitetis, the daughter of Amasis, King +of Egypt, was on the way to meet her future spouse. At the head of the +sumptuous escort were Bartja, Cambyses' handsome golden-haired younger +brother; his kinsman Darius; Croesus, the dethroned King of Lydia, and +his son Gyges; Prexaspes, the king's ambassador, and Zopyrus, the son of +Megabyzus, a Persian noble. + +A few miles before the gates of Babylon they perceived a troop of +horsemen galloping towards them. Cambyses himself came to honour his +bride. His pale face, framed by an immense black beard, expressed great +power and unbounded pride. Deep pallor and bright colour flitted by +turns across the face of Nitetis, as his fiery eyes fixed her with a +piercing gaze. Then he waved a welcome, sprang from his horse, shook +Croesus by the hand, and asked him to act as interpreter. "She is +beautiful and pleases me well," said the king. And Nitetis, who had +begun to learn the language of her new home on the long journey, blushed +deeply and began softly in broken Persian, "Blessed be the gods, who +have caused me to find favour in thine eyes." + +Cambyses was delighted with her desire to win his approbation and with +her industry and intellect, so different from the indolence and idleness +of the Persian women in his harem. His wonder and satisfaction increased +when, after recommending her to obey the orders of Boges, the eunuch, +who was head over the house of women, she reminded him that she was a +king's daughter, bound to obey the commands of her lord, but unable to +bow to a venal servant. + +Her pride found an echo in his own haughty disposition. "You have spoken +well. A separate dwelling shall be appointed you. I, and no one else, +will prescribe your rules of life and conduct. Tell me now, how my +messengers pleased you and your countrymen?" + +"Who could know the noble Croesus without loving him? Who could fail to +admire the beauty of the young heroes, your friends, and especially of +your handsome brother Bartja? The Egyptians have no love for strangers, +but he won all hearts." + +At these words the king's brows darkened, he struck his horse so that +the creature reared, and then, turning it quickly round, he galloped +towards Babylon. He decided in his mind to give Bartja the command of an +expedition against the Tapuri, and to make him marry Rosana, the +daughter of a Persian noble. He also determined to make Nitetis his real +queen and adviser. She was to be to him what his mother Kassandane had +been to Cyrus, his great father. Not even Phædime, his favourite wife, +had occupied such a position. And as for Bartja, "he had better take +care," he murmured, "or he shall know the fate that awaits the man who +dares to cross my path." + + +_II.--The Plot_ + + +According to Persian custom a year had to pass before Nitetis could +become Cambyses' lawful wife, but, conscious of his despotic power, he +had decided to reduce this term to a few months. Meanwhile, he only saw +the fair Egyptian in the presence of his blind mother or of his sister +Atossa, both of whom became Nitetis' devoted friends. Meanwhile, Boges, +the eunuch, sank in public estimation, since it was known that Cambyses +had ceased to visit the harem, and he began to conspire with Phædime as +to the best way of ruining Nitetis, who had come to love Cambyses with +ever growing passion. + +The Egyptian princess's happiness was seriously disturbed by the arrival +of a letter from her mother, which brought her naught but sad news. Her +father, Amasis, had been struck with blindness on the very day she had +reached Babylon; and her frail twin-sister Tachot, after falling into a +violent fever, was wasting away for love of Bartja, whose beauty had +captured her heart at the time of his mission in Sais. His name had been +even on her lips in her delirium, and the only hope for her was to see +him again. + +Nitetis' whole happiness was destroyed in one moment. She wept and +sighed, until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. When her maid +Mandane came to put a last touch to her dress for the banquet, she found +her sleeping, and as there was ample time she went out into the garden, +where she met the eunuch Boges. He was the bearer of good news. Mandane +had been brought up with the children of a Magian, one of whom was now +the high-priest Oropastes. Love had sprung up between her and his +handsome brother Gaumata; and Oropastes, who had ambitious schemes, had +sent his brother to Rhagæ and procured her a situation at court, so that +they might forget one another. And now Gaumata had come and begged her +to meet him next evening in the hanging gardens. Mandane consented after +a hard struggle. + +Boges hurried away with malicious pleasure in the near success of his +scheme. He met one of the gardeners, whom he promised to bring some of +the nobles to inspect a special kind of blue lily, in which the gardener +took great pride. He then hurried to the harem, to make sure that the +king's wives should look their best, and insisted upon Phædime painting +her face white, and putting on a simple, dark dress without ornament, +except the chain given her by Cambyses on her marriage, to arouse the +pity of the Achæmenidæ, to which family she herself belonged. + +The eunuch's cunning scheme succeeded but too well. At the end of the +great banquet Bartja, to whom Cambyses had promised to grant a favour on +his victorious return from the war, confessed to him his love for +Sappho, a charming and cultured Greek maiden of noble descent, whom he +wished to make his wife. Cambyses was delighted at this proof of the +injustice of his jealous suspicions, and announced aloud that Bartja +would in a few days depart to bring home a bride. At these words +Nitetis, thinking of her poor sister's misery, fainted. + +Cambyses sprang up pale as death; his lips trembled and his fist was +clenched. Nitetis looked at him imploringly, but he commanded Boges to +take the women back to their apartments. "Sleep well, Egyptian, and pray +to the gods to give you the power of dissembling your feelings. Here, +give me wine; but taste it well, for to-day, for the first time, I fear +poison. Do you hear, Egyptian? Yes, all the poison, as well as the +medicine, comes from Egypt." + +Boges gave strict orders that nobody--not even the queen-mother or +Croesus--was to have access to the hanging gardens, whither he had +conducted Nitetis. Cambyses, meanwhile, continued the drinking bout, +thinking the while of punishment for the false woman. Bartja could have +had no share in her perfidy, or he would have killed him on the spot; +but he would send him away. And Nitetis should be handed to Boges, to be +made the servant of his concubines and thus to atone for her crimes. + +When the king left the hall, Boges, who had slipped out before him, +intercepted one of the gardener's boys with a letter for Prince Bartja. +The boy refused to hand it over, as Nitetis had instructed him to hand +it only to the prince; and on Cambyses' approach the boy fell on his +knees, touching the ground with his forehead. Cambyses snatched the +papyrus roll from his hand, and stamped furiously on the ground at +seeing that the letter was written in Greek, which he could not read. He +went to his own apartments, followed by Boges, whom he instructed to +keep a strict watch over the Egyptian and the hanging gardens. "If a +single human being or a message reach her without my knowledge, your +life will be the forfeit." + +Boges, pleading a burning fever, begged that Kandaules, the Lydian +captain of eunuchs, who was true as gold and inflexibly severe, should +relieve him on the morrow. On the king's consent, he begged furthermore +that Oropastes, Croesus, and three other nobles should be allowed to +witness the opening of the blue lily in the hanging gardens. Kandaules +would see that they enter into no communication with the Egyptian. + +"Kandaules must keep his eyes open, if he values his own life--go!" + + +_III.--Conflicting Evidence_ + + +The hunt was over, and Bartja, who had invited his bosom friends, +Darius, Gyges, Zopyrus, and Croesus, to drink a parting-cup with him, +sat with the first three in the bower of the royal gardens. They talked +long of love, of their ambitions, of the influence of stars on human +destinies, when Croesus rapidly approached the arbour. When he beheld +Bartja, he stood transfixed, then whispered to him, "Unhappy boy, you +are still here? Fly for your life! The whip-bearers are close on my +heels." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Fly, I tell you, even if your visit to the hanging gardens was +innocently meant. You know Cambyses' violent temper. You know his +jealousy of you; and your visit to the Egyptian to-night...." + +"My visit? I have never left this garden!" + +"Don't add a lie to your offense. Save yourself, quickly." + +"I speak the truth, and I shall remain." + +"You are infatuated. We saw you in the hanging-gardens not an hour ago." + +Bartja appealed to his friends, who confirmed on oath the truth of his +assertion; and before Croesus could arrive at a solution of the mystery, +the soldiers had arrived, led by an officer who had served under Bartja. +He had orders to arrest everybody found in the suspect's company, but at +the risk of his life urged Bartja to escape the king's fury. His men +would blindly follow his command. But Bartja steadfastly refused. He was +innocent, and knew that Cambyses, though hasty, was not unjust. + +Two hours later Bartja and his friends stood before the king who had +just recovered from an epileptic fit. A few hours earlier he would have +killed Bartja with his own hands. Now he was ready to lend an ear to +both sides. Boges first related that he was with the Achæmenidæ, looking +at the blue lily, and called Kandaules to inquire if everything was in +order. On being told that Nitetis had not tasted food or drink all day, +he sent Kandaules to fetch a physician. It was then that he saw Bartja +by the princess's window. She herself came out of the sleep-room. +Croesus called to Bartja, and the two figures disappeared behind a +cypress. He went to search the house and found Nitetis lying unconscious +on a couch. Hystaspes and the other nobles confirmed the eunuch's words, +and even Croesus had to admit their substantial truth, but added that +they must have been deceived by some remarkable likeness--at which Boges +grew pale. + +Bartja's friends were equally definite in their evidence for the +accused. Cambyses looked first on the one, then on the other party of +these strange witnesses. Then Bartja begged permission to speak. + +"A son of Cyrus," he said, "would rather die than lie. I confess no +judge was ever placed in so perplexing a position. But were the entire +Persian nation to rise up against you, and swear that Cambyses had +committed an evil deed, and you were to say, 'I did not commit it,' I, +Bartja, would give all Persia the lie and exclaim, 'Ye are all false +witnesses! A son of Cyrus cannot allow his mouth to deal in lies.' I +swear to you that I am innocent. I have not once set foot in the hanging +gardens since my return." + +Cambyses' looks grew milder on hearing these words, and when Oropastes +suggested that an evil spirit must have taken Bartja's form to ruin him, +he nodded assent and stretched out his hand towards Bartja. At this +moment a staff-bearer came in and gave the king a dagger found by a +eunuch under Nitetis' window. Cambyses examined it, dashed the dagger +violently to the ground, and shrieked, "This is your dagger! At last you +are convicted, you liar! Ah, you are feeling in your girdle! You may +well turn pale, your dagger is gone! Seize him, put on his fetters! He +shall be strangled to-morrow! Away with you, you perjured villains! They +shall all die to-morrow! And the Egyptian--at noon she shall be flogged +through the streets. Then I'll----" + +But here he was stopped by another fit of epilepsy, and sank down in +convulsions. + +The fate of the unfortunates was sealed when, afterwards, Cambyses made +Croesus read to him Nitetis' Greek letter to Bartja. + +"Nitetis, daughter of Amasis of Egypt, to Bartja, son of the great +Cyrus. + +"I have something important to tell you; I can tell it to no one but +yourself. To-morrow I hope to meet you in your mother's rooms. It lies +in your power to comfort a sad and loving heart, and to give it one +happy moment before death. I repeat that I must see you soon." + +Croesus, who tried to intercede on behalf of the condemned, was +sentenced to share their fate. In his heart even he was now convinced of +Bartja's guilt, and of the perjury of his own son and of Darius. + + +_IV.--The Unexpected Witness_ + + +Nitetis had passed many a wretched hour since the great banquet. All day +long she was kept in strict seclusion, and in the twilight Boges came to +her to tell her jeeringly that her letter had fallen into the king's +hand, and that its bearer had been executed. The princess swooned away, +and Boges carried her to her sleeping-room, the door of which he barred +carefully. When, later, Mandane left her lover Gaumata, the maid hurried +into her mistress's room, found her in a faint, and used every remedy to +restore her to consciousness. + +Then Boges came with two eunuchs, loaded the princess's arms with +fetters, and gave vent to his long-nourished spite, telling her of the +awful fate that was in store for her. Nitetis resolved to swallow a +poisonous ointment for the complexion directly the executioner should +draw near her. Then, in spite of her fetters, she managed to write to +Cambyses, to assure him once more of her love and to explain her +innocence. "I commit this crime against myself, Cambyses, to save you +from doing a disgraceful deed." + +Meanwhile, Boges, after exciting Phædime's curiosity by many vague +hints, divulged to her the nature of his infamous scheme. When Gaumata +had come to Babylon for the New Year's festival, Boges had discovered +his remarkable likeness to Bartja. He knew of his love for Mandane, +gained his confidence, and arranged the nocturnal meeting under Nitetis' +bedroom window. In return he exacted the promise of the lover's +immediate departure after the meeting. He helped him to escape through a +trap-door. To get Bartja out of the way, he had induced a Greek merchant +to dispatch a letter to the prince, asking him, in the name of her he +loved best, to come alone in the evening to the first station outside +the Euphrates gate. Unfortunately, the messenger managed the matter +clumsily, and apparently gave the letter to Gaumata. But to counteract +Bartja's proof of innocence, Boges had managed to get hold of his +dagger, which was conclusive evidence. And now Nitetis was sentenced to +be set astride upon an ass and led through the streets of Babylon. As +for Gaumata, three men were lying in wait for him to throw him into the +Euphrates before he could get back to Rhagae. Phædime joined in Boges' +laughter, and hung a heavy jewel-studded chain round his neck. + + * * * * * + +A few hours only were wanted for the time fixed for Nitetis' disgrace, +and the streets of Babylon were thronged with a dense crowd of +sightseers, when a small caravan approached the Bel gate. In the first +carriage was a fine, handsome man of about fifty, of commanding aspect, +and dressed as a Persian courtier. With difficulty the driver cleared a +passage through the crowd. "Make way for us! The royal post has no time +to lose, and I am driving some one who will make you repent every +minute's delay." They arrived at the palace, and the stranger's +insistence succeeded in gaining admission to the king. The Greek--for +such the stranger had declared himself--affirmed that he could prove the +condemned men's innocence. + +"Call him in!" exclaimed Cambyses. "But if he wants to deceive me, let +him remember that where the head of a son of Cyrus is about to fall, a +Greek head has but very little chance." The Greek's calm and noble +manner impressed Cambyses favourably, and his hostility was entirely +overcome when the stranger revealed to him that he was Phanes, the +famous commander of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, and that he had come +to offer his service to Cambyses. + +Phanes now related how, on approaching Babylon by the royal post, just +before midnight, they heard some cries of distress, and found three +fierce-looking fellows dragging a youth towards the river; how with his +Greek war-cry he had rushed on the murderers, slain one of them, and put +the others to flight; and how he discovered--so he thought--the youth to +be none other but Bartja, whom he had met at the Egyptian court. + +They took him to the nearest station, bled him, and bound up his wounds. +When he regained consciousness, he told them his name was Gaumata. Then +he was seized by fever, during which he constantly spoke of the hanging +gardens and of his Mandane. + +"Set the prisoners free, my king. I will answer for it with my own head, +that Bartja was not in the hanging gardens." + +The king was surprised at this speech, but not angry. Phanes then +advised him to send for Oropastes and Mandane, whose examination +elicited the full truth. Boges, who was also sent for, had disappeared. +Cambyses had all the prisoners set free, gave Phanes his hand to kiss--a +rare honour--and, greater honour still, invited him to eat at the king's +table. Then he went to the rooms of his mother, who had sent for him. + +Nitetis had been carried insensible to the queen-mother's apartments. +When she opened her eyes, her head was resting on the blind queen's lap, +she felt Atossa's warm kisses on her forehead, and Cambyses was standing +by her side. She gazed around, and smiled as she recognised them one by +one. She raised herself with difficulty. "How could you believe such a +thing of me, my king?" she asked. There was no reproach in her tone, but +deep sadness; Cambyses replied, "Forgive me." + +Nitetis then gave them the letter she had received from her mother, +which would explain all, and begged them not to scorn her poor sister. +"When an Egyptian girl once loves, she cannot forget. But I feel so +frightened. The end must be near. That horrible man, Boges, read me the +fearful sentence, and it was that which forced the poison into my hand." + +The physician rushed forward. "I thought so! She has taken a poison +which results in certain death. She is lost!" + +On hearing this, the king exclaimed in anguish, "She _shall_ live; it is +my will! Summon all the physicians in Babylon. Assemble the priests. She +is not to die! She must live! I am the king, and I command it!" + +Nitetis opened her eyes as if endeavouring to obey her lord. She looked +upon her lover, who was pressing his burning lips to her right hand. She +murmured, with a smile, "Oh, this great happiness!" Then she closed her +eyes and was seized with fever. + + * * * * * + +All efforts to save Nitetis' life were fruitless. Cambyses fell into the +deepest gloom, and wanted action, war, to dispel his sad thoughts. +Phanes gave him the pretext. As commander of the Greek mercenaries in +Egypt, he had enjoyed Amasis' confidence. He alone, with the +high-priest, shared Amasis' secret about the birth of Nitetus, who was +not the daughter of Amasis, but of Hophra, his predecessor, whose throne +Amasis had usurped. When, owing to the intrigues of Psamtik, Amasis' +son, Phanes fell into disgrace and had to fly for his life, his little +son was seized and cruelly murdered by his persecutors. Phanes had sworn +revenge. He now persuaded Cambyses to wage war upon Egypt, and to claim +Amasis' throne as the husband of Hophra's daughter. + +The rest is known to all students of history--how Cambyses, with the +help of Phanes, defeated Psamtik's host at Pelusium and took possession +of the whole Egyptian Empire; how, given more and more to drink and +fearful excesses, he set up a rule of untold terror, had his brother +Bartja murdered in another fit of jealousy, and finally suffered defeat +at the hands of the Ethiopians. They will also know how, on his death, +Gaumata, the "pseudo-Smerdis" of the Greeks, was urged by his ambitious +brother, Oropastes, to seize the throne by impersonating the dead +Bartja; how, finally, the pretender was defeated and had to pay for his +attempt with his life; and how Persia rose again to unity and greatness +under the rule of the noble Darius, Bartja's faithful kinsman and +friend. + + * * * * * + + + + +MARIA EDGEWORTH + + +Belinda + + + Maria Edgeworth was born at Black Bourton, Oxfordshire, + England, Jan. 1, 1767, and eleven years later her father + removed to Ireland and settled on his own estate at + Edgeworthstown. "Belinda," published in 1801, is Maria + Edgeworth's one early example of a novel not placed in Irish + surroundings, but dealing with fashionable life. Issued just a + year after the appearance of her first Irish tale, "Castle + Rackrent," it betrays entirely the influence of the novelist's + autocratic and eccentric father, Richard Lovell Edgeworth, + with whom the daughter had been previously collaborating. No + one could be less suited than he to advise about fiction, yet + to his daughter his advice was almost the equivalent of a + command. The story is interesting as an example of literary + workmanship outside of the scenes in which special success had + been achieved. Miss Edgeworth died at Edgeworthstown on May + 22, 1849. + + +_I.--A Match-Maker's Handicap_ + + +Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in the art of rising in +the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the +highest company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen +nieces most happily--that is to say, upon having married them to men of +fortunes far superior to their own. One niece still remained unmarried, +Belinda Portman, of whom she determined to get rid with all convenient +expedition; but finding that, owing to declining health, she could not +go out with her as much as she wished, she succeeded in fastening her +upon the fashionable Lady Delacour for a winter in London. + +"Nothing, to my mind, can be more miserable than the situation of a poor +girl who fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely from +not beginning to speculate in time)," she wrote from Bath. "She finds +herself at five or six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of +the means of rendering herself independent--for the girls I speak of +never think of _learning_ to play cards--_de trop_ in society, yet +obliged to hang upon all her acquaintances, who wish her in heaven, +because she is unqualified to make the _expected_ return for civilities, +having no home--I mean no establishment, no house, etc.--fit for the +reception of company of certain rank. My dearest Belinda, may this never +be your case. I have sent your bracelet to you by Mr. Clarence Hervey, +an acquaintance of Lady Delacour, an uncommonly pleasant young man, +highly connected, a wit and a gallant, and having a fine independent +fortune; so, my dear Belinda, I make it a point--look well when he is +introduced to you, and remember that nobody _can_ look well without +taking some pains to please." + +Belinda had been charmed by Lady Delacour, who was the most agreeable, +the most fascinating person she had ever beheld; and to be a visitor at +her house was a delightful privilege. But, a short time after her +arrival, she began to see through the thin veil with which politeness +covers domestic misery. Abroad, Lady Delacour appeared all spirit, life, +and good humour; at home, listless, fretful, and melancholy, a prey to +thoughts, seemingly, of the most painful nature. + +The first time Belinda saw his lordship he was dead drunk in the arms of +two footmen; his lady, who had just returned from Ranelagh, passed him +on the stairs with the utmost contempt. + +"Don't look so shocked and amazed, Belinda. Don't look so _new_, child. +This funeral of my lord's intellects is to me a nightly ceremony; or," +said her ladyship, looking at her watch and yawning, "I believe I should +say a daily ceremony--six o'clock, I protest!" + +The next morning Clarence Hervey called, and Belinda found him a most +uncommonly pleasant young man. Lord Delacour was jealous of him; but +although he would have started with horror at the idea of disturbing the +peace of a family, in that family, he said, there was no peace to +disturb. Consequently, he visited her ladyship every day, and every day +viewed Belinda with increasing admiration, and with increasing dread of +being taken in to marry a niece of that "catch-matchmaker," as Mrs. +Stanhope was known amongst the men of his acquaintance. + +Under the guise of a tragic muse--in which character Lady Delacour had +pretended she was going to a masquerade--Belinda heard his true +sentiments with regard to her. + +"You don't believe I go to Lady Delacour's to look for a wife? Do you +think I'm an idiot? Do you think I could be taken in by one of the +Stanhope school?" he said to the facetious friends who rallied him on +his attachment. "Do you think I don't see as plainly as any of you that +Belinda Portman is a composition of art and affectation?" + +"Melpomene, hast thou forgot thyself to warble?" asked Lady Delacour, +tripping towards them as the comic muse. + +"I am not very well," whispered Miss Portman. "Could we get away?" + +"Do see if you can find any of my people!" cried Lady Delacour to +Clarence Hervey, who had followed them downstairs. + +"Lady Delacour, the comic muse!" exclaimed he. "I had thought----" + +"No matter what you thought!" interrupted her ladyship. "Let my carriage +draw up, and put this lady into it!" And he obeyed without uttering a +syllable. + +"Dry up your tears, _keep on your mask_, and elbow your way through the +crowd," she said, when she had heard Belinda's story. "If you stop to be +civil and 'hope I don't hurt ye,' you will be trod underfoot." + +She insisted on driving to the Panthéon instead of going home, but to +Belinda the night seemed long and dull. The masquerade had no charm to +keep her thoughts from the conversation that had given her so much pain. + + +_II.--Fashion and Fortitude_ + + +"How happy you are, Lady Delacour!" she said, when they got into the +carriage to go home. "How happy to have such an amazing flow of +spirits!" + +And then she learnt the reason of her ladyship's strange unevenness of +temper. She was dying of an incurable complaint, which she kept hidden +from all the world except her maid, Marriott, who attended on her in a +mysterious cabinet full of medicines and linen rags, the door of which +she had hitherto kept locked. + +"You are shocked, Belinda," said she, "but as yet you have seen nothing. +Look here!" And baring one half of her bosom, she revealed a hideous +spectacle. + +"Am I humbled? Am I wretched enough?" she asked. "No matter. I will die +as I have lived, the envy and admiration of the world. Promise--swear to +me that you will never reveal what you have seen to-night!" And Belinda +promised not only that, but to remain with her as long as ever she +wished. + +Belinda's quiet avoidance of Clarence Hervey made him begin to believe +that she might not be "a compound of art and affectation," and he was +mortified to find that, though she joined with ease and dignity in the +general conversation with the others, her manner to him was grave and +reserved. To divert her, he declared he was convinced he was as well +able to manage a hoop as any woman in England, except Lady Delacour; +accordingly he was dressed by Marriott, and made his _entree_ with very +composed assurance and grace, being introduced as the Countess de +Pomenars to the purblind dowager, Lady Boucher, who had come to call. He +managed his part well, speaking French and broken English, until Lady +Delacour dexterously let down Belinda's beautiful tresses, and, calling +the French lady to admire _la belle chevelure,_ artfully let fall her +comb. + +Totally forgetting his hoop and his character, he stooped to pick it up, +and lost his wager by knocking over a music-stand. He would have liked a +lock of her hair, but she refused with a modest, graceful dignity; she +was glad she had done so later when a tress of hair dropped from his +pocket-book, and his confusion showed her he was extremely interested +about the person to whom it belonged. + +During her absence from the room Clarence entreated Lady Delacour to +make his peace with her. She consented on condition that he found her a +pair of horses from Tattersall's, on which Belinda, she said, had +secretly set her heart. He was vexed to find Belinda had so little +delicacy, and relapsed into his former opinion of Mrs. Stanhope's niece, +addressing her with the air of a man of gallantry, who thought his peace +had been cheaply made. + +The horses ran away with Lady Delacour, injuring her ankle, and on her +being brought home by Clarence, Lord Delacour wished to enter the locked +cabinet for _arque-busade._ On being denied entrance, he seized the key, +believing a lover of hers was concealed there, until Belinda sprang +forward and took it from him, leaving them to believe what they would. + +This circumstance was afterwards explained by Dr. X----, a mutual +friend, and Hervey was so much charmed with Belinda that he would have +gone to her at once--only that he had undertaken the reformation of Lady +Delacour. + + +_III.--An Unexpected Suitor_ + + +In the meantime, after spending a morning in tasting wines, and thinking +that, although he had never learned to swim, some recollection he had of +an essay on swimming would ensure his safety, he betted his friends a +hundred guineas that he would swim to a certain point, and flinging +himself into the Serpentine, would have drowned before their eyes but +for the help of Mr. Percival. The breach caused by this affair induced +Sir Philip Baddely, a gentleman who always supplied "each vacuity of +sense" with an oath, to endeavour to cut him out by proposing to +Belinda. + +"Damme, you're ten times handsomer than the finest woman I ever saw, +for, damme, I didn't know what it was to be in love then," he said, +heaving an audible sigh. "I'll trouble you for Mrs. Stanhope's +direction, Miss Portman; I believe, to do the thing in style, I ought to +write to her before I speak to you." + +Belinda looked at him in astonishment, and then, finding he was in +earnest, assured him it was not in her power to encourage his addresses, +although she was fully sensible of the honour he had done her. + +"Confusion seize me!" cried he, starting up, "if it isn't the most +extraordinary thing I ever heard! Is it to Sir Philip Baddely's +fortune--£15,000 a year--you object, or to his family, or to his person? +Oh, curse it!" said he, changing his tone, "you're only quizzing me to +see how I should look--you do it too well, you little coquette!" + +Belinda again assured him she was entirely in earnest, and that she was +incapable of the sort of coquetry which he ascribed to her. To punish +her for this rejection he spread the report of Hervey's entanglement +with a beautiful girl named Virginia, whose picture he had sent to an +exhibition. He also roused Lady Delacour's jealousy into the belief that +Belinda meant to marry her husband, the viscount, after her death. + +In her efforts to bring husband and wife together, Belinda had forgotten +that jealousy could exist without love, and a letter from Mrs. Stanhope, +exaggerating the scandalous reports in the hope of forcing her niece to +marry Sir Philip Baddely, shocked her so much that when Lady Delacour +quarrelled with her, she accepted an invitation from Lady Anne Percival, +and went there at once. + +There she became acquainted with Mr. Percival's ward, Augustus Vincent, +a Creole, about two-and-twenty, tall and remarkably handsome, with +striking manners and an engaging person, who fixed his favourable +attention on her. The Percivals would have wished her to marry him, but +she still thought too much of Clarence Hervey to consent, although she +believed he had some engagement with the lovely Virginia. + + +_IV.--Explanation and Reconciliation_ + + +Quite unexpectedly a summons came from Lady Delacour, and Belinda +returned to her at once, to find her so seriously ill that she persuaded +her at last to consent to an operation, and inform her husband of the +dangerous disease from which she was suffering. He believed from her +preamble that she was about to confess her love for another man; he +tried to stop her with an emotion and energy he had never shown until +now. + +"I am not sufficiently master of myself. I once loved you too well to +hear such a stroke. Say no more--trust me with no such secret! you have +said enough--too much. I forgive you, that is all I can do; but we must +part, Lady Delacour!" said he, breaking from her with agony expressed in +his countenance. + +"The man has a heart, a soul, I protest! You knew him better that I did, +Miss Portman. Nay, you are not gone yet, my lord! You really love me, I +find." + +"No, no, no!" cried he vehemently. "Weak as you take me to be, Lady +Delacour, I am incapable of loving a woman who has disgraced me, +disgraced herself, her--" His utterance failed. + +"Oh, Lady Delacour," cried Belinda, "how can you trifle in this manner?" + +"I meant not," said her ladyship, "to trifle; I am satisfied. My lord, I +can give you the most irrefragable proof that whatever may have been the +apparent levity of my conduct, you have had no serious cause for +jealousy. But the proof will shock, disgust you. Have you courage to +know more? Then follow me." + +He followed her. Belinda heard the boudoir door unlocked. In a few +minutes they returned. Grief and horror and pity were painted on Lord +Delacour's countenance as he passed hastily out of the room. + +"My dearest friend, I have taken your advice; would to heaven I had +taken it sooner!" said Lady Delacour. "I have revealed to Lord Delacour +my real situation. Poor man, he was shocked beyond expression. The +moment his foolish jealousy was extinguished, his love for me revived in +full." + +Lady Delacour awaited the operation with the utmost fortitude; but, to +everyone's joy, it was found there was no necessity for it; she had been +deceived by a villainous quack, who knew too well how to make a wound +hideous and painful, and had continued her delusion for his own +advantage. + +Meanwhile, Belinda having permitted Mr. Vincent to address her, he was +being given a fair trial whether he could win her love. They had heard +reports of Clarence Hervey's speedy marriage with an heiress, Miss +Hartley, and found them confirmed by a letter Lady Delacour received +from him. Some years ago he had formed the romantic idea of educating a +wife for himself, and having found a beautiful, artless girl in the New +Forest, he had taken her under his care on the death of her grandmother. + +She felt herself bound in honour and gratitude to him when her fortune +changed, and she was acknowledged by her father, Mr. Hartley, who had +long been searching for her, and who had traced her at last by the +picture Clarence Hervey had caused to be exhibited. + +With the utmost magnanimity, Hervey, although he saw a successful rival +for Belinda's hand in Augustus Vincent, rescued him from ruin at the +gaming-table, and induced him to promise never to gamble again. + +"I was determined Belinda's husband should be my friend. I have +succeeded beyond my hopes," he said. + +But Vincent's love of play had decided Belinda at last. She refused him +finally in a letter which she confessed she found difficult to write, +but which she sent because she had promised she would not hold him in +suspense once she had made her decision. + +After this Virginia Hartley confessed to her attachment for one Captain +Sunderland, and Clarence was free to avow his passion for Belinda. + +"And what is Miss Portman to believe," cried one of Belinda's friends, +"when she has seen you on the very eve of marriage with another lady?" + +"The strongest merit I can plead with such a woman as Miss Portman," he +replied, "is that I was ready to sacrifice my own happiness to a sense +of duty." + + * * * * * + + + + +Castle Rackrent + + + "Castle Rackrent" was published anonymously in 1800. It was + not only the first of Miss Edgeworth's novels,--it is in many + respects her best work. Later came "The Absentee," "Belinda," + "Helen," the "Tales of Fashionable Life," and the "Moral + Tales." Sir Walter Scott wrote that reading these stories of + Irish peasant life made him feel "that something might be + tempted for my own country of the same kind as that which Miss + Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland," something that + would procure for his own countrymen "sympathy for their + virtues and indulgence for their foibles." As a study of Irish + fidelity in the person of Old Thady, the steward who tells the + story of "Castle Rackrent," the book is a masterpiece. + + +_I.--Sir Patrick and Sir Murtagh_ + + +Having, out of friendship for the family, undertaken to publish the +memoirs of the Rackrent family, I think it my duty to say a few words +concerning myself first. My real name is Thady Quirk, though in the +family I've always been known as "Honest Thady"; afterwards, I remember +to hear them calling me "Old Thady," and now I've come to "Poor Thady." +To look at me you would hardly think poor Thady was the father of +Attorney Quirk; he is a high gentleman, and having better than fifteen +hundred a year, landed estate, looks down upon honest Thady. But I wash +my hands of his doings, and as I lived so will I die, true and loyal to +the family. + +I ought to bless that day when Sir Tallyhoo Rackrent lost a fine hunter +and his life, all in one day's hunt, for the estate came straight into +_the_ family, upon one condition, that Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin (whose +driver my grandfather was) should, by Act of Parliament, take the +surname and arms of Rackrent. + +Now it was the world could see what was in Sir Patrick. He gave the +finest entertainments ever was heard of in the country; not a man could +stand after supper but Sir Patrick himself. He had his house, from one +year's end to another, as full of company as it would hold; and this +went on, I can't tell you how long. + +But one year, on his birthday, just as the company rose to drink his +health, he fell down in a sort of fit, and in the morning it was all +over with poor Sir Patrick. + +Never did any gentleman die more beloved by rich and poor. All the +gentlemen in the three counties came to his funeral; and happy the man +who could get but a sight of the hearse! + +Just as they were passing through his own town the body was seized for +debt! Little gain had the creditors! + +First and foremost, they had the curses of the country, and Sir Murtagh, +the new heir, refused to pay a shilling on account of the insult to his +father's body; in which he was countenanced by all the gentlemen of +property of his acquaintance. He did not take at all after the old +gentleman. The cellars were never filled, and no open house; even the +tenants were sent away without their whiskey. I was ashamed myself, but +put it all down to my lady; she was of the family of the Skinflints. I +must say, she made the best of wives, being a notable, stirring woman, +and looking close to everything. 'Tis surprising how cheap my lady got +things done! What with fear of driving for rent, and Sir Murtagh's +lawsuits, the tenants were kept in such good order they never came near +Castle Rackrent without a present of something or other--nothing too +much or too little for my lady. And Sir Murtagh taught 'em all, as he +said, the law of landlord and tenant. No man ever loved the law as he +did. + +Out of the forty-nine suits he had, he never lost one, but seventeen. + +Though he and my lady were much of a mind in most things, there was a +deal of sparring and jarring between them. In a dispute about an +abatement one day, my lady would have the last word, and Sir Murtagh +grew mad. I was within hearing--he spoke so loud, all the kitchen was +out on the stairs. All on a sudden he stopped, and my lady, too. Sir +Murtagh, in his passion, had broken a blood-vessel. My lady sent for +five physicians; but Sir Murtagh died. She had a fine jointure settled +upon her, and took herself away, to the great joy of the tenantry. + + +_II.--Sir Kit and his Wife_ + + +Then the house was all hurry-scurry, preparing for my new master, Sir +Murtagh's younger brother, a dashing young officer. He came before I +knew where I was, with another spark with him, and horses and dogs, and +servants, and harum-scarum called for everything, as if he were in a +public-house. I walk slow, and hate a bustle, and if it had not been for +my pipe and tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my heart for +poor Sir Murtagh. + +But one morning my new master caught sight of me. "And is that Old +Thady?" says he. I loved him from that day to this, his voice was so +like the family, and I never saw a finer figure of a man. + +A fine life we should have led had he stayed among us, God bless him! +But, the sporting season over, he grew tired of the place, and was off +in a whirlwind to town. A circular letter came next post from the new +agent to say he must remit £500 to the master at Bath within a +fortnight--bad news for the poor tenants. Sir Kit Rackrent, my new +master, left it all to the agent, and now not a week without a call for +money. Rents must be paid to the day, and afore--old tenants turned out, +anything for the ready penny. + +The agent was always very civil to me, and took a deal of notice of my +son Jason, who, though he be my son, was a good scholar from his birth, +and a very cute lad. Seeing he was a good clerk, the agent gave him the +rent accounts to copy, which he did for nothing at first, being always +proud to serve the family. + +By-and-by, a good farm fell vacant, and my son put in a proposal for it. +Why not? The master, knowing no more of the land than a child unborn, +wrote over, leaving it to the agent, and he must send over £200 by +return post. So my son's proposal was just the thing, and he a good +tenant, and he got a promise of abatement after the first year for +advancing the half-year's rent to make up the £200, and my master was +satisfied. The agent told us then, as a great secret, that Sir Kit was a +little too fond of play. + +At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote he could raise no more money, +anyhow, and desired to resign the agency. My son, Jason, who had +corresponded privately with Sir Kit, was requested to take over the +accounts forthwith. His honour also condescended to tell us he was going +to be married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had +immediate occasion for £200 for travelling expenses home to Castle +Rackrent, where he intended to be early next month. We soon saw his +marriage in the paper, and news came of him and his bride being in +Dublin on their way home. We had bonfires all over the country, +expecting them all day, and were just thinking of giving them up for the +night, when the carriage came thundering up. I got the first sight of +the bride, and greatly shocked I was, for she was little better than a +blackamoor. "You're kindly welcome, my lady," I says; but neither spoke +a word, nor did he so much as hand her up the steps. + +I concluded she could not speak English, and was from foreign parts, so +I left her to herself, and went down to the servants' hall to learn +something about her. Sir Kit's own man told us, at last, that she might +well be a great fortune, for she was a Jewess, by all accounts. I had +never seen any of that tribe before, and could only gather that she +could not abide pork nor sausages, and went neither to church nor mass. +"Mercy upon his honour's poor soul," thought I. But when, after this, +strange gentleman's servants came and began to talk about the bride, I +took care to put the best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob. + +I saw plain enough, next morning, how things were between Sir Kit and +his lady, though they went arm-in-arm to look at the building. + +"Old Thady, how do you do?" says my master, just as he used to do, but I +could see he was not well pleased, and my heart was in my mouth as I +walked after them. + +There were no balls, no dinners, no doings. Sir Kit's gentleman told me +it was all my lady's fault, because she was so obstinate about the +cross. + +"What cross?" says I. "Is it about her being a heretic?" + +"Oh, no such matter," says he. "My master does not mind about her +heresies, but her diamond cross. She's thousands of English pounds +concealed in her diamonds, which she as good as promised to give to my +master before they married; but now she won't part with any of them, and +must take the consequences." + +One morning, his honour says to me, "Thady, buy me a pig," and that was +the first breaking out of my lady's troubles when the sausages were +ordered. My lady went down to the kitchen herself, and desired never +more to see them on her table. The cook took her part, but the master +made it a principle to have the sausages; so, for fear of her place, she +gave in, and from that day forward, always sausages or pig-meat in one +form or other went up to table; upon which my lady shut herself up in +her own room, and my master turned the key in the door, and kept it ever +after in his pocket. We none of us saw her, or heard her speak for seven +years after; he carried her dinner in himself. + +Then his honour had a deal of company, and was as gay and gallant as +before he was married. The country, to be sure, talked and wondered, but +nobody cared to ask impertinent questions, my master being a famous +shot. His character was so well known that he lived in peace and quiet +ever after, and was a great favourite with the ladies; so that, when he +gave out that my lady was now skin and bone, and could not live through +the winter, there were no less than three ladies at daggers drawn, as +his gentleman swore, at the balls, for Sir Kit for their partner. I +could not but think them bewitched, but it was not known how my lady's +fortune was settled, nor how the estate was all mortgaged, and bonds out +against him, for he was never cured of his gaming tricks; but that was +the only fault he had, God bless him! + +Then it was given out, by mistake, that my lady was dead, and the three +ladies showed their brothers Sir Kit's letters, and claimed his +promises. His honour said he was willing to meet any man who questioned +his conduct, and the ladies must settle among themselves who was to be +his second, while his first was alive, to his mortification and theirs. +He met the first lady's brother, and shot him; next day called out the +second, whose wooden leg stuck fast in the ploughed land, so Sir Kit, +with great candour, fired over his head, whereupon they shook hands +cordially, and went home together to dinner. + +To establish his sister's reputation this gentleman went out as Sir +Kit's second next day, when he met the last of his adversaries. He had +just hit the toothpick out of his enemy's hand, when he received a ball +in a vital part, and was brought home speechless in a hand-barrow. We +got the key out of his pocket at once, and my son Jason ran to release +her ladyship. She would not believe but that it was some new trick till +she saw the men bringing Sir Kit up the avenue. There was no life in +him, and he was "waked" the same night. + +The country was all in an uproar about him, and his murderer would have +been hanged surely, but he prudently withdrew to the Continent. + +My lady got surprisingly well, and no sooner was it known that Sir Kit +was dead than all the country came round in a body, as it were, to set +her free. But she had taken an unaccountable prejudice against the +country, and was not easy, but when she was packing up to leave us, I +considered her quite as a foreigner, and no longer part of the family. +Her diamond cross was at the bottom of it all; and it was a shame for +her, being his wife, not to have given it up to him when he condescended +to ask for it so often, especially when he made it no secret he had +married her for her money. + + +_III.--Sir Condy_ + + +The new heir, Sir Conolly, commonly called Sir Condy, was the most +universally beloved man I ever saw or heard of. He was ever my white- +headed boy, when he used to live in a small but slated house at the end +of the avenue, before he went to college. He had little fortune of his +own, and a deal of money was spent on his education. Many of the tenants +secretly advanced him cash upon his promising bargains of leases, and +lawful interest should he ever come into the estate. So that when he did +succeed, he could not command a penny of his first year's income. My son +Jason, who was now agent, explained matters to Sir Condy, who, not +willing to take his affairs in his own hands, or even to look them in +the face, gave my son a bargain of some acres at a reasonable rent to +pay him for his many years' service in the family gratis. + +There was a hunting-lodge convenient to my son's land that he had his +eye upon, but Sir Condy talked of letting it to his friend Captain +Moneygawl, with whom he had become very friendly, and whose sister, Miss +Isabella, fell over head and ears in love with my master the first time +he went there to dinner. + +But Sir Condy was at a terrible nonplus, for he had no liking for Miss +Isabella. To his mind, little Judy McQuirk, daughter to a sister's son +of mine, was worth twenty of her. But her father had locked her in her +room and forbidden her to think of him, which raised his spirit; and I +could see him growing more and more in the mind to carry Miss Isabella +off to Scotland, as she desired. And I had wished her joy, a week after, +on her return with my poor master. Lucky for her she had a few thousands +of her own, for her father would not give her a farthing. My master and +my lady set out in great style, and it was reported that her father had +undertaken to pay all Sir Condy's debts; and, of course, all the +tradesmen gave him fresh credit, and everything went on smack smooth. I +was proud to see Castle Rackrent again in all its glory. She went on as +if she had a mint of money; and all Sir Condy asked--God bless him!--was +to live in peace and quiet, and have his whiskey punch at night. But my +lady's few thousands could not last for ever. Things in a twelve-month +or so came to such a pass that there was no going on any longer. + +Well, my son Jason put in a word about the lodge, and Sir Condy was fain +to take the purchase-money to settle matters, for there were two writs +come down against him to the sheriff, who was no friend of his. Then +there came a general election, and Sir Condy was called upon by all his +friends to stand candidate; they would do all the business, and it +should not cost him a penny. + +There was open house then at Castle Rackrent, and grand dinners, and all +the gentlemen drinking success to Sir Condy till they were carried off. +The election day came, and a glorious day it was. I thought I should +have died with joy in the street when I saw my poor master chaired, and +the crowd following him up and down. But a stranger man in the crowd +gets me to introduce him to my son Jason, and little did I guess his +meaning. He gets a list of my master's debts from him, and goes round +and buys them up, and so got to be sole creditor over all, and must +needs have an execution against the master's goods and furniture. + +After the election shoals of people came from all parts, claiming to +have obliged him with votes, and to remind him of promises he never +made. Worst of all, the gentlemen who had managed everything and +subscribed by hundreds very genteelly forgot to pay, and it was all left +at my master's door. All he could do to content 'em was to take himself +off to Dublin, where my lady had taken a house fitting for a member of +parliament. + +Soon my son Jason said, "Sir Condy must look out for another agent. If +my lady had the Bank of Ireland to spend, it would all go in one +winter." + +I could scarcely believe my own old eyes when I saw my son's name joined +in the _custodian_, that the villain who got the list of debts brought +down in the spring; but he said it would make it easier for Sir Condy. + + +_IV.--The Last of the Rackrents_ + + +When Sir Condy and his lady came down in June, he was pleased to take me +aside to complain of my son and other matters; not one unkind word of my +lady, but he wondered that her relations would do nothing for them in +their great distress. He did not take anything long to heart; let it be +as it might this night, it was all out of his head before he went to +bed. Next morning my lady had a letter from her relations, and asked to +be allowed to go back to them. He fell back as if he was shot, but after +a minute said she had his full consent, for what could she do at Castle +Rackrent with an execution coming down? Next morning she set off for +Mount Juliet. + +Then everything was seized by the gripers, my son Jason, to his shame be +it spoken, among them. On the evening Sir Condy had appointed to settle +all, when he sees the sight of bills and loads of papers on the table, +he says to Jason, "Can't you now just sit down here and give me a clear +view of the balance, you know, which is all I need be talking about? +Thady, do just step out, and see they are bringing the things for the +punch." When I came back Jason was pointing to the balance, a terrible +sight for my poor master. + +"A--h! Hold your hand!" cries my master. "Where in the wide world am I +to find hundreds, let alone thousands?" + +"There's but one way," says Jason. "Sure, can't you sell, though at a +loss? Sure, you can sell, and I've a purchaser ready for you." + +"Have you so?" says Sir Condy. Then, colouring up a good deal, he tells +Jason of £500 a year he had settled upon my lady, at which Jason was +indeed mad; but, with much ado, agreed to a compromise. "And how much am +I going to sell? The lands of O'Shaughlin's town, and the lands +of"--just reading to himself--"oh, murder, Jason! Surely you won't put +this in--castle, stables, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent?" + +"Oh, murder!" says I. "This is too bad, Jason." + +"Why so?" says Jason. "When it's all mine, and a great deal more, all +lawfully mine, was I to push for it?" + +But I took no heed, for I was grieved and sick at heart for my poor +master, and couldn't but speak. + +"Here's the punch," says Jason, for the door opened. + +So my master starts up in his chair, and Jason uncorks the whiskey. +Well, I was in great hopes when I saw him making the punch, and my +master taking a glass; but Jason put it back when he saw him going to +fill again, saying, "No, Sir Condy; let us settle all before we go +deeper into the punch-bowl. You've only to sign," says Jason, putting +the pen to him. + +"Take all, and be content," said my master. So he signed, and the man +who brought the punch witnessed, for I was crying like a child. + +So I went out to the street door, and the neighbours' children left +their play to come to see what ailed me; and I told them all. When they +heard Sir Condy was going to leave Castle Rackrent for good and all, +they set up such a whillaluh as brought all their parents round the +doors in great anger against Jason. I was frightened, and went back to +warn my son. He grew quite pale and asked Sir Condy what he'd best do. + +"I'll tell you," says Sir Condy, laughing to see his fright. "Finish +your glass first, then let's go to the window, and I'll tell them--or +you shall, if you please--that I'm going to the lodge for change of air +for my health, and by my own desire, for the rest of my days." + +"Do so," says Jason, who never meant it to be so, but could not refuse +at such a time. + +So the very next day he sets off to the lodge, and I along with him. +There was great bemoaning all through the town, which I stayed to +witness. He was in his bed, and very low, when I got there, and +complained of a great pain about his heart; but I, knowing the nature of +him from a boy, took my pipe and began telling him how he was beloved +and regretted in the country. And it did him a great deal of good to +hear it. + +There was a great horn at the lodge that used to belong to the +celebrated Sir Patrick, who was reported to have drunk the full of it +without stopping to draw breath, which no other man, afore or since, +could do. + +One night Sir Condy was drinking with the excise-man and the gauger, and +wagered that he could do it. Says he, "Your hand is steadier than mine, +Old Thady; fill you the horn for me." And so, wishing his honour +success, I did. He swallowed it down and dropped like one shot. We put +him to bed, and for five days the fever came and went, and came and +went. On the sixth he says, knowing me very well, "I'm in a burning pain +all withinside of me, Thady." I could not speak. "Brought to this by +drink," says he. "Where are all the friends? Gone, hey? Ay, Sir Condy +has been a fool all his days," said he, and died. He had but a very poor +funeral, after all. + + * * * * * + + + + +GEORGE ELIOT + + +Adam Bede + + + Mary Ann Evans ("George Eliot") was born Nov. 22, 1819, at + South Farm, Arbury, Warwickshire, England, where her father + was agent on the Newdigate estate. In her youth, she was adept + at butter-making and similar rural work, but she found time to + master Italian and German. Her first important literary work + was the translation of Strauss's "Life of Jesus" in 1844, and + shortly after her father's death in 1849 she was writing in + the "Westminster Review." It was not until 1856 that George + Eliot settled down to the writing of novels. "Scenes from + Clerical Life" first appeared serially in "Blackwood's + Magazine" during 1857 and 1858; "Adam Bede," the first and + most popular of her long stories, in 1859. In May, 1880, + eighteen months after the death of her friend George Henry + Lewes (see PHILOSOPHY, Vol. XIV), George Eliot married Mr. J. + W. Cross. She died on December 22 in the same year. With all + her sense of humour there is a note of sadness in George + Eliot's novels. She deals with ordinary, everyday people, and + describes their joys and sorrows. In "Adam Bede," as in most + of her work, the novelist drew from the ample stores of her + early life in the Midlands, while the plot is unfolded with + singular simplicity, purity, and power. + + +_I.--The Two Brothers_ + + +In the roomy workshop of Mr. Jonathan Burge, carpenter and builder, in +the village of Hayslope, on the eighteenth of June, 1799, five workmen +were busy upon doors and window-frames. + +The tallest of the five was a large-boned, muscular man, nearly six feet +high. The sleeve rolled up above the elbow showed an arm that was likely +to win the prize for feats of strength; yet the long, supple hand, with +its broad finger tips, looked ready for works of skill. In his tall +stalwartness Adam Bede was a Saxon, and justified his name. The face was +large and roughly hewn, and when in repose had no other beauty than such +as belongs to an expression of good-humoured, honest intelligence. + +It is clear at a glance that the next workman is Adam's brother. He is +nearly as tall; he has the same type of features. But Seth's broad +shoulders have a slight stoop, and his glance, instead of being keen, is +confiding and benignant. + +The idle tramps always felt sure they could get a copper from Seth; they +scarcely ever spoke to Adam. + +At six o'clock the men stopped working, and went out. Seth lingered, and +looked wistfully at Adam, as if he expected him to say something. + +"Shalt go home before thee go'st to the preaching?" Adam asked. + +"Nay, I shan't be home before going for ten. I'll happen see Dinah +Morris safe home, if she's willing. There's nobody comes with her from +Poyser's, thee know'st." + +Adam set off home, and at a quarter to seven Seth was on the village +green where the Methodists were preaching. The people drew nearer when +Dinah Morris mounted the cart which served as a pulpit. There was a +total absence of self-consciousness in her demeanour; she walked to the +cart as simply as if she were going to market. There was no keenness in +the eyes; they seemed rather to be shedding love than making +observations. When Dinah spoke it was with a clear but not loud voice, +and her sincere, unpremeditated eloquence held the attention of her +audience without interruption. + +When the service was over, Seth Bede walked by Dinah's side along the +hedgerow path that skirted the pastures and corn-fields which lay +between the village and the Hall Farm. + +Seth could see an expression of unconscious placid gravity on her +face--an expression that is most discouraging to a lover. He was timidly +revolving something he wanted to say, and it was only when they were +close to the yard-gates of the Hall Farm he had the courage to speak. + +"It may happen you'll think me overbold to speak to you again after what +you told me o' your thoughts. But it seems to me there's more texts for +your marrying than ever you can find against it. St. Paul says, 'Two are +better than one,' and that holds good with marriage as well as with +other things. For we should be o' one heart and o' one mind, Dinah. I'd +never be the husband to make a claim on you as could interfere with your +doing the work God has fitted you for. I'd make a shift, and fend indoor +and out, to give you more liberty--more than you can have now; for +you've got to get your own living now, and I'm strong enough to work for +us both." + +When Seth had once begun to urge his suit, he went on earnestly and +almost hurriedly. His voice trembled at the last sentence. + +They had reached one of those narrow passes between two tall stones, +which performed the office of a stile in Loamshire. And Dinah paused, +and said, in her tender but calm notes, "Seth Bede, I thank you for your +love towards me, and if I could think of any man as more than a +Christian brother, I think it would be you. But my heart is not free to +marry, or to think of making a home for myself in this world. God has +called me to speak His word, and He has greatly owned my work." + +They said farewell at the yard-gate, for Seth wouldn't enter the +farmhouse, choosing rather to turn back along the fields through which +he and Dinah had already passed. It was ten o'clock when he reached +home, and he heard the sound of tools as he lifted the latch. + +"Why, mother," said Seth, "how is it as father's working so late?" + +"It's none o' thy feyther as is a-workin'; it's thy brother as does +iverything, for there's niver nobody else i' th' way to do nothin'." + +Lisbeth Bede was going on, for she was not at all afraid of Seth--who +had never in his life spoken a harsh word to his mother--and usually +poured into his ears all the querulousness which was repressed by the +awe which mingled itself with her idolatrous love of Adam. + +But Seth, with an anxious look, had passed into the workshop, and said, +"Addy, how's this? What! Father's forgot the coffin?" + +"Ay, lad, th' old tale; but I shall get it done," said Adam, looking up. +"Why, what's the matter with thee--thee'st in trouble?" + +Seth's eyes were red, and there was a look of deep depression on his +mild face. + +"Yes, Addy, but it's what must be borne, and can't be helped. Let me +take my turn now, and do thee go to bed." + +"No, lad; I'd rather go on, now I'm in harness. The coffin's promised to +be ready at Brox'on by seven o'clock to-morrow morning. I'll call thee +up at sunrise, to help me to carry it when it's done. Go and eat thy +supper and shut the door, so as I mayn't hear mother's talk." + +Adam worked throughout the night, thinking of his childhood and its +happy days, and then of the days of sadness that came later when his +father began to loiter at public-houses, and Lisbeth began to cry at +home. He remembered well the night of shame and anguish when he first +saw his father quite wild and foolish. + +The two brothers set off in the early sunlight, carrying the long coffin +on their shoulders. By six o'clock they had reached Broxton, and were on +their way home. + +When they were coming across the valley, and had entered the pasture +through which the brook ran, Seth said suddenly, beginning to walk +faster, "Why, what's that sticking against the willow?" + +They both ran forward, and dragged the tall, heavy body out of the +water; and then looked with mute awe at the glazed eyes--forgetting +everything but that their father lay dead before them. + +Adam's mind rushed back over the past in a flood of relenting and pity. +Only a few hours ago, and the gray-haired father, of whom he had been +thinking with a sort of hardness as certain to live to be a thorn in his +side, was perhaps even then struggling with that watery death! + + +_II.--The Hall Farm_ + + +It is a very fine old place of red brick, the Hall Farm--once the +residence of a country squire, and the Hall. + +Plenty of life there, though this is the drowsiest time of the year, +just before hay-harvest; and it is the drowsiest time of the day, too, +for it is half-past three by Mrs. Poyser's handsome eight-day clock. + +Mrs. Poyser, a good-looking woman, not more than eight-and-thirty, of +fair complexion and sandy hair, well shaped, light-footed, had just +taken up her knitting, and was seated with her niece, Dinah Morris. +Another motherless niece, Hetty Sorrel, a distractingly pretty girl of +seventeen, was busy in the adjoining dairy. + +"You look the image o' your aunt Judith, Dinah, when you sit a-sewing," +said Mrs. Poyser. "I allays said that o' Judith, as she'd bear a pound +weight any day to save anybody else carrying a ounce. And it made no +difference in her, as I could see, when she took to the Methodists; only +she talked a bit different, and wore a different sort o' cap. If you'd +only come and live i' this country you might get married to some decent +man, and there'd be plenty ready to have you, if you'd only leave off +that preaching, as is ten times worse than anything your Aunt Judith +ever did. And even if you'd marry Seth Bede, as is a poor, +wool-gathering Methodist, and's never like to have a penny beforehand, I +know your uncle 'ud help you with a pig, and very like a cow, for he's +allays been good-natur'd to my kin, for all they're poor, and made 'em +welcome to the house; and 'ud do for you, I'll be bound, as much as ever +he'd do for Hetty, though she's his own niece." + +The arrival of Mr. Irwine, the rector of Hayslope, and Captain +Donnithorne, Squire Donnithorne's grandson and heir, interrupted Mrs. +Poyser's flow of talk. + +"I'll lay my life they're come to speak about your preaching on the +Green, Dinah. It's you must answer 'em, for I'm dumb. I've said enough +a'ready about your bringing such disgrace upo' your uncle's family. I +wouldn't ha' minded if you'd been Mr. Poyser's own niece. Folks must put +up wi' their own kin as they put up wi' their own noses; it's their own +flesh and blood." + +Mr. Irwine, however, was the last man to feel any annoyance at the +Methodist preaching, and young Arthur Donnithorne's visit was merely an +excuse for exchanging a few words with Hetty Sorrel. + +The rector mentioned before he left that Thias Bede had been found +drowned in the Willow Brook; and Dinah Morris at once decided that she +might be of some comfort to the widow, and set out for the village. + +As for Hetty Sorrel, she was thinking more of the looks Captain +Donnithorne had cast at her than of Adam and his troubles. Bright, +admiring glances from a handsome young gentleman--those were the warm +rays that set poor Hetty's heart vibrating. + +Hetty was quite used to the thought that people liked to look at her. +She was aware that Mr. Craig, the gardener at Squire Donnithorne's, was +over head-and-ears in love with her. She knew still better that Adam +Bede--tall, upright, clever, brave Adam Bede--who carried such authority +with all the people round about, and whom her uncle was always delighted +to see of an evening, saying that "Adam knew a fine sight more o' the +natur o' things than those as thought themselves his betters"--she knew +that this Adam, who was often rather stern to other people, and not much +given to run after the lassies, could be made to turn pale or red any +day by a word or a look from her. Hetty's sphere of comparison was not +large, but she couldn't help perceiving that Adam was "something like" a +man; always knew what to say about things; knew, with only looking at +it, the value of a chestnut-tree that was blown down, and why the damp +came in the walls, and what they must do to stop the rats; and wrote a +beautiful hand that you could read, and could do figures in his head--a +degree of accomplishment totally unknown among the richest farmers of +that country-side. + +Hetty was quite certain her uncle wanted her to encourage Adam, and +would be pleased for her to marry him. For the last three years--ever +since he had superintended the building of the new barn--Adam had always +been made welcome at the Hall Farm, and for the last two years at least +Hetty had been in the habit of hearing her uncle say, "Adam Bede may be +working for a wage now, but he'll be a master-man some day, as sure as I +sit in this chair. Master Burge is in the right on't to want him to go +partners and marry his daughter, if it's true what they say. The woman +as marries him 'ull have a good take, be't Lady Day or Michaelmas," a +remark which Mrs. Poyser always followed up with her cordial assent. + +"Ah," she would say, "it's all very fine having a ready-made rich man, +but may happen he'll be a ready-made fool; and it's no use filling your +pocket full of money if you've got a hole in the corner. It'll do you no +good to sit in a spring-cart o' your own if you've got a soft to drive +you; he'll soon turn you over into the ditch." + +But Hetty had never given Adam any steady encouragement. She liked to +feel that this strong, keen-eyed man was in her power; but as to +marrying Adam, that was a very different affair. + +Hetty's dreams were all of luxuries. She thought if Adam had been rich, +and could have given the things of her dreams--large, beautiful earrings +and Nottingham lace and a carpeted parlour--she loved him well enough to +marry him. + +The last few weeks a new influence had come over Hetty; she had become +aware that Mr. Arthur Donnithorne would take a good deal of trouble for +the chance of seeing her. And Dinah Morris was away, preaching and +working in a manufacturing town. + + +_III.--Adam's First Love_ + + +Adam Bede, like many other men, thought the signs of love for another +were signs of love towards himself. The time had come to him that +summer, as he helped Hetty pick currants in the orchard of the Hall +Farm, that a man can least forget in after-life--the time when he +believes that the first woman he has ever loved is, at least, beginning +to love him in return. + +He was not wrong in thinking that a change had come over Hetty; the +anxieties and fears of a first passion with which she was trembling had +become stronger than vanity, and while Adam drew near to her she was +absorbed in thinking and wondering about Arthur Donnithorne's possible +return. + +For the first time Hetty felt that there was something soothing to her +in Adam's timid yet manly tenderness; she wanted to be treated lovingly. +And Arthur was away from home; and, oh, it was very hard to bear the +blank of absence. She was not afraid that Adam would tease her with +love-making and flattering speeches; he had always been so reserved to +her. She could enjoy without any fear the sense that this strong, brave +man loved her and was near her. It never entered into her mind that Adam +was pitiable, too, that Adam, too, must suffer one day. + +It was from Adam that she found out that Captain Donnithorne would be +back in a day or two, and this knowledge made her the more kindly +disposed towards him. But for all the world Adam would not have spoken +of his love to Hetty yet, till this commencing kindness towards him +should have grown into unmistakable love. He did no more than pluck a +rose for her, and walk back to the farm with her arm in his. + +When Adam, after stopping a while to chat with the Poysers, had said +good-night, Mr. Poyser remarked, "If you can catch Adam for a husband, +Hetty, you'll ride i' your own spring-cart some day, I'll be your +warrant." + +Her uncle did not see the little toss of the head with which Hetty +answered him. To ride in a spring-cart seemed a very miserable lot +indeed to her now. + +It was on August 18, when Adam, going home from some work he had been +doing at one of the farms, passed through a grove of beeches, and saw, +at the end of the avenue, about twenty yards before him, two figures. +They were standing opposite to each other with clasped hands, and they +separated with a start at a sharp bark from Adam Bede's dog. One hurried +away through a gate out of the grove; the other, Arthur Donnithorne, +looking flushed and excited, sauntered towards Adam. The young squire +had been home for some weeks celebrating his twenty-first birthday, and +he was leaving on the morrow to rejoin his regiment. + +Hitherto there had been a cordial and sincere liking and a mutual esteem +between the two young men; but now Adam stood as if petrified, and his +amazement turned quickly to fierceness. + +Arthur tried to pass the matter off lightly, as if it had been a chance +meeting with Hetty; but Adam, who felt that he had been robbed +treacherously by the man in whom he had trusted, would not so easily let +him off. It came to blows, and Arthur sank under a well-planted blow of +Adam's, as a steel rod is broken by an iron bar. + +Before they separated, Arthur promised that he would write and tell +Hetty there could be no further communication between them. And this +promise he kept. Adam rested content with the assurance that nothing but +an innocent flirtation had been stopped. As the days went by he found +that the calm patience with which he had waited for Hetty's love had +forsaken him since that night in the beech-grove. The agitations of +jealousy had given a new restlessness to his passion. + +Hetty, for her part, after the first misery caused by Arthur's letter, +had turned into a mood of dull despair, and sought only for change. Why +should she not marry Adam? She did not care what she did so that it made +some change in her life. + +So, in November, when Mr. Burge offered Adam a share in his business, +Adam not only accepted it, but decided that the time had come to ask +Hetty to marry him. + +Hetty did not speak when Adam got out the question, but his face was +very close to hers, and she put up her round cheek against his, like a +kitten. She wanted to be caressed--she wanted to feel as if Arthur were +with her again. + +Adam only said after that, "I may tell your uncle and aunt, mayn't I, +Hetty?" And she said "Yes." + +The red firelight on the hearth at the Hall Farm shone on joyful faces +that evening when Adam took the opportunity of telling Mr. and Mrs. +Poyser that he saw his way to maintaining a wife now, and that Hetty had +consented to have him. + +There was a great deal of discussion before Adam went away about the +possibility of his finding a house that would do for him to settle in. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Poyser at last, "we needna fix everything +to-night. You canna think o' getting married afore Easter. I'm not for +long courtships, but there must be a bit o' time to make things +comfortable." + +This was in November. + +Then in February came the full tragedy of Hetty Sorrel's life. She left +home, and in a strange village, a child--Arthur Donnithorne's child--was +born. Hetty left the baby in a wood, and returned to find it dead. +Arrest and trial followed, and only at the last moment was the capital +sentence commuted to transportation. + +She died a few years later on her way home. + + +_IV.--The Wife of Adam Bede_ + + +It was the autumn of 1801, and Dinah Morris was once more at the Hall +Farm, only to leave it again for her work in the town. Mrs. Poyser +noticed that Dinah, who never used to change colour, flushed when Adam +said, "Why, I hoped Dinah was settled among us for life. I thought she'd +given up the notion o' going back to her old country." + +"Thought! Yes," said Mrs. Poyser; "and so would anybody else ha' thought +as had got their right ends up'ards. But I suppose you must be a +Methodist to know what a Methodist 'ull do. It's all guessing what the +bats are flying after." + +"Why, what have we done to you, Dinah, as you must go away from us?" +said Mr. Poyser. "It's like breaking your word; for your aunt never had +no thought but you'd make this your home." + +"Nay, uncle," said Dinah, trying to be quite calm. "When I first came I +said it was only for a time, as long as I could be of any comfort to my +aunt." + +"Well, an' who said you'd ever left off being a comfort to me?" said +Mrs. Poyser. "If you didna mean to stay wi' me, you'd better never ha' +come. Them as ha' never had a cushion don't miss it." + +Dinah set off with Adam, for Lisbeth was ailing and wanted Dinah to sit +with her a bit. On the way he reverted to her leaving the Hall Farm. +"You know best, Dinah, but if it had been ordered so that you could ha' +been my sister, and lived wi' us all our lives, I should ha' counted it +the greatest blessing as could happen to us now." + +Dinah made no answer, and they walked on in silence, until presently, +crossing the stone stile, Adam saw her face, flushed, and with a look of +suppressed agitation. + +It struck him with surprise, and then he said, "I hope I've not hurt or +displeased you by what I've said, Dinah; perhaps I was making too free. +I've no wish different from what you see to be best; and I'm satisfied +for you to live thirty miles off if you think it right." + +Poor Adam! Thus do men blunder. + +Lisbeth opened his eyes on the Sunday morning when Adam sat at home and +read from his large pictured Bible. + +For a long time his mother talked on about Dinah, and about how they +were losing her when they might keep her, and Adam at last told her she +must make up her mind that she would have to do without Dinah. + +"Nay, but I canna ma' up my mind, when she's just cut out for thee; an' +nought shall ma' me believe as God didna make her and send her here o' +purpose for thee. What's it sinnify about her being a Methody? It 'ud +happen wear out on her wi' marryin'." + +Adam threw himself back in his chair and looked at his mother. He +understood now what her talk had been aiming at, and tried to chase away +the notion from her mind. + +He was amazed at the way in which this new thought of Dinah's love had +taken possession of him with an overmastering power that made all other +feelings give way before the impetuous desire to know that the thought +was true. He spoke to Seth, who said quite simply that he had long given +up all thoughts of Dinah ever being his wife, and would rejoice in his +brother's joy. But he could not tell whether Dinah was for marrying. + +"Thee might'st ask her," Seth said presently. "She took no offence at +_me_ for asking, and thee'st more right than I had." + +When Adam did ask, Dinah answered that her heart was strongly drawn +towards him, but that she must wait for divine guidance. So she left the +Hall Farm and went back to the town, and Adam waited,--and then went +after her to get his answer. + +"Adam," she said when they had met and walked some distance together, +"it is the divine will. My soul is so knit to yours that it is but a +divided life I live without you. And this moment, now you are with me, +and I feel that our hearts are filled with the same love, I have a +fullness of strength to bear and do our Heavenly Father's will that I +had lost before." + +Adam paused and looked into her sincere eyes. + +"Then we'll never part any more, Dinah, till death parts us." + +And they kissed each other with deep joy. + + * * * * * + + + + +Felix Holt, the Radical + + + "Felix Holt, the Radical," was published in 1866. It has never + been one of George Eliot's very popular books. There is less + in it of her own life and experience than in most of her + novels, less of the homely wit of agricultural England. The + real value of the book is the picture it gives of the social + and political life, and for this reason, it will always be + read by those who want to know what English political methods + and customs were like at the time of the passing of the Reform + Bill of 1832. The character of Mr. Rufus Lyon, the independent + minister, is an admirable study of the non-conformist of that + period. Esther's renunciation of a brilliant fortune for a + humbler lot with the man she loved and admired, was quite in + accord with the teaching George Eliot inculcated all her life. + The scene of the story is laid in the Midlands, and the + action, covering about nine months, begins in 1832. + + +_I.--The Minister's Daughter_ + + +The Rev. Rufus Lyon, Minister of the Independent Chapel, in the +old-fashioned market town of Treby Magna, in the County of Loumshire, +lived in a small house, adjoining the entry which led to the Chapel +Yard. + +He sat this morning, as usual, in a low upstairs room, called his study, +which served also as a sleeping-room, and from time to time got up to +walk about between the piles of old books which lay around him on the +floor. His face looked old and worn, yet the curtain of hair that fell +from his bald crown and hung about his neck retained much of its +original auburn tint, and his large, brown short-sighted eyes were still +clear and bright. At the first glance, everyone thought him a very +odd-looking, rusty old man, and the free-school boys often hooted after +him, and called him "Revelations." But he was too short-sighted and too +absent from the world of small facts and petty impulses to notice those +who tittered at him. + +He was meditating on the text for his Sunday morning sermon, when old +Lyddy, the minister's servant, opened the door to tell him that Mrs. +Holt was wanting to see him. "She says she comes out of season, but +she's in trouble." + +The minister bade her send Mistress Holt up, and a tall elderly woman +dressed in black entered. + +Mrs. Holt, Mr. Lyon said to himself, is a woman who darkens counsel by +words without knowledge, and angers the reason of the natural man; and +he prayed for patience while his visitor rambled on concerning her late +husband and her son Felix. + +The minister made out that Felix objected to the sale of his father's +quack medicines, Holt's Elixir and Cancer Cure, and wanted Mr. Lyon to +talk to him. + +"For after we'd been to chapel, he spoke better of you than he does of +most: he said you was a fine old fellow, and an old-fashioned Puritan-- +he uses dreadful language, Mr. Lyon; but I saw he didn't mean you ill, +for all that; he calls most folks' religion rottenness." + +Mrs. Holt departed, and in the evening, when Mr. Lyon was in the +sitting-room, Felix Holt knocked at the door. + +The minister, accustomed to the respectable air of provincial townsmen, +felt a slight shock, when his spectacles made clear to him the shaggy- +headed, large-eyed, strong-limbed person of this questionable young man, +without waistcoat or cravat. + +Felix spoke loudly and brusquely when the minister mentioned the subject +of Mrs. Holt's visit. + +"As to those absurd medicines and gulling advertisements that my mother +has been talking of to you, I've no more doubt about _them_ than I have +about pocket-picking. If I allowed the sale of those medicines to go on, +and my mother to live out of the proceeds when I can keep her by the +honest labour of hands, I've not the least doubt that I should be a +rascal." + +"I would fain inquire more particularly into your objection to these +medicines," said Mr. Lyon gravely. + +"My father was ignorant," said Felix, bluntly. "I know something about +these things. I was 'prentice for five miserable years to a stupid brute +of a country apothecary--my poor father left money for that--he thought +nothing could be finer for me. No matter: I know that the Cathartic +Pills may be as bad as poison to half the people who swallow them, and +that the cancer cure might as well be bottled ditch-water. I can keep my +mother, as well, nay, better, than she keeps herself. With my watch and +clock cleaning, and teaching one or two little chaps that I've got to +come to me, I can earn enough." + +Mr. Lyon's suggestion that some situation might be obtained as clerk or +assistant was brushed aside. + +"Why should I want to get into the middle class because I have some +learning? The most of the middle class are as ignorant as the working +people about everything that doesn't belong to their own Brummagem +life." + +The entrance of Lyddy with the tea tray disturbed the conversation, but +the minister, interested in his visitor, asked Felix to stay for a dish +of tea, and Felix accepted. + +"My daughter, who has been detained in giving a lesson in the French +tongue, has doubtless returned now," said the minister. On the entrance +of the young lady, Felix was conscious she was not the sort of person he +had expected the minister's daughter to be, and the incongruity repelled +him. There were things about her, her walk, the long neck and high crown +of shining brown hair, that suggested a fine lady to him. A fine lady +was always a sort of spun glass affair; but a fine lady as the daughter +of this rusty old Puritan was especially offensive. + +The discovery that Miss Lyon read Byron set Felix off on a tirade +against the poet, and his works, and throughout the meal no agreement on +any topic seemed possible between Esther and the guest. + +Felix noted that Mr. Lyon was devoted to his daughter and stood in some +fear of her. + +"That is a singular young man, Esther," said the minister, when Felix +had gone. "I discern in him a love for whatever things are honest and +true, and I feel a great enlargement in his presence." + +"I think he is very coarse and rude," said Esther, with a touch of +temper. "But he speaks better English than most of our visitors. What is +his occupation?" + +"Watch and clock making, my dear." + +Esther was disappointed, she thought he was something higher than that. + +Felix on his side wondered how the queer old minister had a daughter so +little in his own likeness. He decided that nothing should make him +marry. + + +_II.--The Election Riot_ + + +The return of Mr. Harold Transome, to Transome Court, after fifteen +years' absence, and his adoption as Radical Candidate for the county +created no little stir and excitement in Treby. It also assisted the +growing intimacy between Mr. Lyon and Felix Holt, for though neither +possessed votes in that memorable year 1832, they shared the same +liberal sympathies. Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in +which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal +liking; and the advent of the public-spirited, contradictory, yet +affectionate Felix, into Treby life had made a welcome epoch to the +minister. + +Esther had not seen so much of their new acquaintance as her father had. +But she had begun to find him amusing, though he always opposed and +criticised her, and looked at her as if he never saw a single detail +about her person. It seemed to Esther that he thought slightly of her. +"But, rude and queer as he is, I cannot say there is anything vulgar +about him," she said to herself. + +One Sunday afternoon Felix Holt rapped at the door of Mr. Lyon's house, +although he could hear the voice of the minister in the chapel. + +Esther was in the kitchen alone, reading a French romance, and she +opened the door and invited him in. + +He scoffed at her book, and as the talk went on, upbraided her for her +vanity. Finally he told her that he wanted her to change. "Of course, I +am a brute to say so," he added. "I ought to say you are perfect. +Another man would, perhaps; I can't bear to see you going the way of the +foolish women who spoil men's lives." + +Mortification and anger filled Esther's mind, and when Felix got up to +say he was going, she returned his "good-bye" without even looking at +him. + +Only, when the door closed she burst into tears. She revolted against +his assumption of superiority.... Did he love her one little bit, and +was that the reason why he wanted her to change? But Esther was quite +sure she could never love anyone who was so much of a pedagogue and a +master. + +Yet, a few weeks later, and Esther accepted willingly when Felix +proposed a walk for the first time together. That same afternoon he told +her that she was very beautiful, and that he would never be rich: he +intended going away to some manufacturing town to lead the people to +better things and this meant a life of poverty. + +Something Esther said made Felix ask suddenly, "Can you imagine yourself +choosing hardship as the better lot?" + +"Yes, I can," she answered, flushing over neck and brow. They walked +home very silently after that. Felix struggling as a firm man struggles +with a temptation, Esther struggling as a woman struggles with the +yearning for some expression of love. + +On the day of the election a mob of miners, primed with liquor by an +unscrupulous agent of Transome's, came into the town to hoot the Tory +voters; and as the disturbance increased, Felix knowing that Mr. Lyon +was away preaching went round to the minister's house to reassure +Esther. + +"I am so thankful to see you," she said eagerly. He mentioned that the +magistrates and constables were coming and that the town would be +quieter. His only fear was that drinking might inflame the mob again. + +Again Felix told her of his renunciation of the ordinary hopes and +ambitions of men, and at the same time tried to prove that he thought +very highly of her. He wanted her to know that her love was dear to him, +and he felt that they must not marry--to do so would be to ruin each +other's lives. + +When Felix went out into the streets in the afternoon, the crowd was +larger and more mischievous. The constables were quite unable to cope +with the mob, the polling booth was closed for the day, and the +magistrates had sent to the neighbouring town of Duffield for the +military. + +There were proofs that the predominant will of the crowd was in favour +of Transome for several shops were attacked and they were all of them +"Tory shops." + +Felix was soon hotly occupied trying to save a wretched publican named +Spratt from the fury of the crowd. The man had been dragged out into the +streets, and Felix had got as near him as he could when a young +constable armed with a sabre rushed upon him. It was a choice of two +evils, and quick as lightning Felix frustrated him, the constable fell +undermost and Felix got his weapon. Tucker did not rise immediately, but +Felix did not imagine that he was much hurt, and bidding the crowd +follow him tried to lead them away from the town. He hoped that the +soldiers would soon arrive, and felt confident that there would be no +resistance to a military force. + +Suddenly a cry was raised, "Let us go to Treby Manor," the residence of +Sir Maximus Debarry, whose son was the Tory candidate. + +From that moment Felix was powerless, and was carried along with the +rush. All he could hope to do was to get to the front terrace of the +house, and assure the inmates that the soldiers would arrive quickly. +Just as he approached a large window he heard the horses of the +troopers, and then came the words, "Halt! Fire!" Before he had time to +move a bullet whizzed, and passed through Felix Holt's shoulder--the +shoulder of the arm that bore the sabre. + +Felix fell. The rioters ran confusedly, like terrified sheep. + +It was a weary night for Felix, and the next day his wound was declared +trivial, and he was lodged in Loumford Jail. There were three charges +against him; that he had assaulted a constable, that he had committed +manslaughter (Tucker was dead from spinal concussion), and that he had +led a riotous onslaught on a dwelling house. + +Four other men were arrested, one for theft, and three others for riot +and assault. + + +_III.--The Trial_ + + +A great change took place in the fortunes of Esther in the interval +between the riot and the opening of the assizes. It was found that she, +and not Harold Transome, was the rightful owner of the Transome estates. +For Esther's real name was Bycliffe and not Lyon, and she was the +step-daughter only of the minister. Mr. Lyon had found Esther's mother, +a French woman of great beauty, in destitution--her husband, an +Englishman, lying in some unknown prison. This Englishman was a +Bycliffe--and heir to the Transome property, and on the proof of his +death Mr. Lyon, knowing nothing of Bycliffe's family, married his widow, +who, however, died while Esther was still a tiny child. Not till the +time of the election did Esther learn that her real father was dead. + +Mr. Transome's lawyer--Jermyn--was fully aware of the claim of the +Bycliffes, but knew they were powerless without money to enforce the +claim, and that Esther and her step-father alike were ignorant of all +the facts. It was only when Harold Transome, on his return, quarrelled +with Jermyn on the management of the estates, and, after the Election +(which Transome lost) threatened him with a law-suit, that Jermyn turned +round and told Harold the truth. At the same time, another lawyer, +formerly in Jermyn's confidence, thought the more profitable course +could be found in throwing Jermyn over, and wrote to Esther informing +her of her inheritance. + +Harold Transome decided to act openly. With his mother, he drove to the +minister's house and Mrs. Transome persuaded Esther to come and stay at +Transome Court. Both mother and son found Esther to their liking, and it +appeared to Harold that marriage with Esther would be a happy conclusion +to the divided claim to the property. He was rich, and the Transome (or +Bycliffe) property was heavily encumbered. + +The Transomes, Esther and Mr. Lyon all agreed that no law-suit over the +property should take place. + +But while Esther stayed at Transome Court she never forgot her friend in +prison. Mr. Lyon had visited Felix, and Esther herself obtained an +interview with him just before the assizes began. + +She had grown conscious that Harold Transome was making love to her, +that Mrs. Transome really desired her for a daughter-in-law, and it +seemed to her as she waited with the minister in the cheerless prison +room, that she stood at the first and last parting of the ways. + +Soon the door opened, and Felix Holt entered. + +"Miss Lyon--Esther!" and her hand was in his grasp. He was just the +same--no, something inexpressibly better, because of the distance and +separation, which made him like the return of morning. + +"Take no heed of me, children," said Mr. Lyon. "I have some notes to +make." And the old man sat down at a window with his back to them, +writing with his head bent close to the paper. + +Felix had heard of Esther's change of fortune and felt sure she would +marry Harold Transome. It was only when the time for parting came that +he could bring himself to say: + +"I had a horrible struggle, Esther. But you see I was right. There was a +fitting lot in reserve for you." Esther felt too miserable for tears to +come. She looked helplessly at Felix for a moment, then took her hands +from his, and turning away mutely, said, "Father, I am ready--there is +no more to say." + +"Esther." + +She heard Felix say the word, with an entreating cry, and went towards +him swiftly. He clasped her, and they kissed each other. + +When the trial came on Esther went under Mrs. Transome's protection to +the court. + +The case against Felix looked very black when the prosecution closed. +Various respectable witnesses swore to the prisoner's leadership of the +mob, to his fatal assault on Tucker, and to his attitude in front of the +drawing-room window at the Manor. + +Felix then gave a concise narrative of his motives and conduct on the +day of the riot, and explained that in throwing the constable down he +had not foreseen the possibility of death ensuing. It was a good, +straightforward speech, not without a touch of defiant independence, +which did the prisoner little good with judge or jury. + +Mr. Lyon and Harold Transome both gave evidence in favour of Felix, +stating that the prisoner had often expressed his hatred of rioting, and +had protested with indignation against the treating that went on during +the election by some of the Radical agents. + +One or two witnesses were called who swore that Felix had tried to lead +the mob in the opposite direction to Treby Manor, and it was understood +that the case for the defence was closed. + +Then it came to Esther that she must speak if Felix was to be saved. +There had been no witness to tell what had been his behaviour just +before the riot. There was time, but not too much time. + +Before Harold Transome was aware of Esther's intention she was on her +way to the witness-box. + +A sort of gleam shot across the face of Felix Holt, and anyone close to +the prisoner would have seen that his hand trembled, for the first time, +at Esther's beautiful aspect. There was no blush on her face: she stood, +divested of all personal consideration whether of vanity or shyness, and +gave her story as if she had been making a confession of faith. + +She knew Felix Holt well, she said. He came to see her on the day of the +election, and told her he feared the men might collect again after +drinking. "It was the last thing he would have done to join in riot or +to hurt any man, if he could have helped it. He could never have had any +intention that was not brave and good." + +When she was back in her place Felix could not help looking towards her, +and their eyes met in one solemn glance. + +Esther stayed in court till the end. She heard the verdict, "Guilty of +Manslaughter," followed by the judge's sentence, "Imprisonment for four +years." But so great was the impression made by Esther's speech that a +petition to the Home Secretary was at once set on foot by the leading +men of the county. + + +_IV.--Felix and Esther_ + + +One April day, when the sun shone on the lingering raindrops, Lyddy was +gone out, and Esther chose to sit in the kitchen. She was not reading, +but stitching, and as her fingers moved nimbly, something played about +her lips like a ray. + +A loud rap came at the door. + +"Mr. Lyon at home?" said Felix in his firm tones. "No, sir," said +Esther: "but Miss Lyon is, if you'll please to walk in." + +"Esther!" exclaimed Felix, amazed. + +They held each other by both hands, and looked into each other's faces +with delight. + +"You are out of prison?" + +"Yes, till I do something bad again. But you--how is it all? Are you +come back to live here then?" + +"Yes." + +"You are not going to be married to Harold Transome, or to be rich?" + +"No." + +"Why?" said Felix in rather a low tone, leaning his elbow on the table, +and resting his head on his hand while he looked at her. + +"I did not wish to marry him, or to be rich." + +"You have given it all up?" said Felix, leaning forward a little and +speaking in a still lower tone. "Could you share the life of a poor man, +then, Esther?" + +"If I thought well enough of him," she said, with a smile, and a pretty +movement of her head. + +"Have you considered well what it would be?--that it would be a very +bare and simple life? and the people I shall live among, Esther? They +have not just the same follies and vices as the rich, but they have +their own forms of folly and vice. It is very serious, Esther." + +"I know it is serious," said Esther, looking up at him. "Since I have +been at Transome Court I have seen many things very seriously. If I had +not, I should not have left what I did leave. I made a deliberate +choice." + +She could not tell him that at Transome Court, all that finally seemed +balanced against her love for him, was the offer of a silken bondage +that arrested all motive, and was nothing better than a well-cushioned +despair. A vision of being restless amidst ease, of being languid among +all appliances had quickened her resignation of the Transome estates. + +Esther explained, however, that she thought of retaining a little of the +wealth. + +"How?" said Felix, anxiously. "What do you mean?" + +"I think even of two pounds a week: one needn't live up to the splendour +of all that, you know: we might live as simply as you liked. And then I +think of a little income for your mother, and a little income for my +father, to save him from being dependent when he is no longer able to +preach!" + +Felix put his hand on her shoulder, said, lifting up his eyes with a +smile: + +"Why, I shall be able to set up a great library, and lend the books!" + +They laughed merrily, each holding the other's arms, like girl and boy. +There was the ineffable sense of youth in common. + +Then Felix leaned forward, that their lips might meet, and after that +his eyes roved tenderly over her face and curls. + +"I'm a rough, severe fellow, Esther. Shall you never repent?--never be +inwardly reproaching me that I was not a man who could have shared your +wealth? Are you quite sure?" + +The very next May, Felix and Esther were married. Everyone in those days +was married at the parish church; but Mr. Lyon was not satisfied without +an additional private solemnity, "so that he might have a more enlarged +utterance of joy and supplication." + +It was a very simple wedding; but no wedding, even the gayest, ever +raised so much interest and debate in Treby Magna. Even the very great +people of the county went to the church to look at this bride, who had +renounced wealth, and chosen to be the wife of a man who said he would +always be poor. + +Some few shook their heads; could not quite believe it; and thought +there was more behind. But the majority of honest Trebians were affected +somewhat in the same way as Mr. Wall, the brewer of the town, who +observed to his wife as they walked home, "I feel somehow as if I +believed more in everything that's good." + +Felix and Esther did not take up their abode in Treby Magna; and after +awhile Mr. Lyon left the town too, and joined them where they dwelt. + +As to the town in which Felix Holt now resides I will keep that a +secret. + +I will only say that Esther has never repented. Felix, however, grumbles +a little that she has made his life too easy. + +There is a young Felix, who has a great deal more science than his +father, but not much more money. + + * * * * * + + + + +Romola + + + "Romola" was George Eliot's fifth book, and followed "Silas + Marner," which was published in 1861. It is a story of + Florence in the days of Savonarola, and was largely the + outcome of a visit the novelist paid to Italy with her + life-long friend, George Henry Lewes. With dim ideas for the + story in her mind, she made exhaustive researches in the + Florentine libraries, gathering historical and topographical + details of the city and its life as they were in the mediæval + period which she was setting herself to re-create. After much + study there and at home, and after one false start, she made a + serious beginning in January, 1862. She was engaged upon it + for eighteen months, always in doubt and sometimes in despair + of her ability to accomplish the task, and by June of the + following year she had thankfully written the last words of + what is regarded by some as her greatest book. Meanwhile, the + romance had begun to appear serially in the "Cornhill" in + July, 1862. The writing of "Romola" is said to have "ploughed + into her" more than any of her other books. + + +_I.--Tito and Little Tessa_ + + +Under the Loggia de Cerchi, in the heart of old Florence, in the early +morning of April 9, 1492, two men had their eyes fixed on each other. +One was looking downward with the scrutiny of curiosity; the other, +lying on the pavement, was looking upward with the startled gaze of a +suddenly awakened dreamer. + +"Young man," said the standing figure, pointing to a ring on the finger +of the other, "when your chin has got a stiffer crop on it you'll know +better than to take your nap in street corners with a ring like that on +your forefinger. By the holy 'vangels, if it had been anybody but me +standing over you--but Bratti Ferravecchi is not the man to steal! Three +years ago, one San Giovanni, the saint, sent a dead body in my way--a +blind beggar, with his cap well lined with pieces. But how comes a young +man like you, with the face of Messer San Michele, to be sleeping on a +stone bed? Your tunic and hose match ill with that jewel, young man. +Anybody might say the saints had sent you a dead body; but if you took +the jewels, I hope you buried him--and you can afford a mass or two for +him into the bargain!" + +Something like a painful thrill appeared to dart through the frame of +the listener, and arrest the careless stretching of his arms. But he +immediately recovered an air of indifference, took off the red Levantine +cap which hung like a great purse over his left ear, and pushing back +his long, dark brown curls, said smiling, "The fact is, I'm a stranger +in Florence, and when I came in footsore last night, I preferred +flinging myself in the corner of this hospitable porch to hunting for a +chance hostelry, which might turn out to be a nest of bloodsuckers. Can +you show me the way to a more lively quarter, where I can get a meal and +a lodging?" + +"That I can," said Bratti. + +And, talking volubly as they went, Bratti led the way to the Mercato +Vecchio, or the Old Market, promising to conduct him to the prettiest +damsel in the Mercato for a cup of milk. + +But as soon as they emerged from the narrow streets into the Old Market, +they found the place packed with excited groups of men and women humming +with gossip. + +"Diavolo!" said Bratti. "The Mercato has gone as mad as if the Holy +Father had excommunicated us again! I must know what this is." + +He pushed about among the crowd, inquiring and disputing, and was +presently absorbed in discussing the newest development of Florentine +politics, the death of Lorenzo de Medici, and whether or not this death +was the beginning of the time of tribulation that Savonarola had been +seeing in visions and foretelling in sermons. + +Indifferent to this general agitation, the young stranger became tired +of waiting for Bratti's escort, and strolling on round the piazza, felt, +on a sudden thought, in the wallet that hung at his waist. + +"Not an obolus, by Jupiter!" he murmured, in a language that was not +Tuscan or even Italian. "I must get my breakfast for love, then!" + +In a corner, away from any group of talkers, two mules were standing. +One carried wooden milk vessels, the other a pair of panniers filled +with herbs and salads. Resting her elbow on the mule that carried the +milk, there leaned a young girl, apparently not more than sixteen, with +a red hood surrounding her face, which was all the more baby-like in its +prettiness from the entire concealment of her hair. The poor child was +weary, and it seemed to have gone to sleep in that half-standing, +half-leaning posture. Nevertheless, our stranger had no compunction in +awaking her. She opened her baby-blue eyes, and stared up with +astonishment and confusion. + +"Forgive me, pretty one, for awaking you," he said. "I'm dying with +hunger, and the scent of milk makes breakfast seem more desirable than +ever." + +She bestirred herself, and in a few moments a large cup of fragrant milk +was held out to him; and by the time he set the cup down she had brought +bread from a bag which hung by the side of the mule, and shyly and +mutely insisted on his taking it, even though he told her he had nothing +to pay her with; and just as he was leaning down to kiss her he was +harshly interrupted by Monna Ghita, Tessa's mother, who had come upon +them unobserved. + +The handsome presence of the stranger and his charm of manner were of no +avail with Monna Ghita; her noisy rating of him drew Bratti and the +barber, Nello, to the spot, and with these he was glad to make good his +escape, having waived a furtive adieu to the pretty Tessa. + +It was not until after Bratti, having business at home, had handed the +young stranger over to Nello, and in the barber's shop he had been +shaved and trimmed, and made to look presentable, that Tito Melema +became more confidential, and explained that he was a Greek; that he was +returning from adventures abroad, had suffered shipwreck, and found +himself in Florence with nothing saved from the disaster but some few +rare old gems for which he was anxious to obtain a purchaser. + +"Let us see, let us see," said Nello, walking up and down his shop. +"What you want is a man of wealth and influence and scholarly tastes; +and that man is Bartolommeo Scala, the Secretary of our Republic. He +came to Florence as a poor adventurer himself, a miller's son; and that +may be a reason why he may be the more ready to do a good turn to a +strange scholar. I could take you to a man who, if he has a mind, can +help you to a chance of a favourable interview with Scala--a man worth +seeing for his own sake, too, to say nothing of his collections, or of +his daughter Romola, who is as fair as the Florentine lily before it got +quarrelsome and turned red." + +"But if the father of this beautiful Romola makes collections, why +should he not like to buy some of my gems himself?" + +Nello shrugged his shoulders. "For two good reasons--want of sight to +look at the gems and want of money to pay for them." + + +_II.--"More than a Man's Ransom"_ + + +He was a moneyless, blind old scholar, the Bardo de Bardi, to whom Nello +introduced Tito Melema; a man who came of a proud, energetic stock, +whose ancestors had loved to play the signor, had been merchants and +usurers of keen daring, and conspicuous among those who clutched the +sword in the earliest world-famous quarrels of Florentine with +Florentine. The family passions lived on in Bardo under altered +conditions; he was a man with a deep-veined hand cramped by much copying +of manuscripts, who ate sparing dinners, and wore threadbare clothes, at +first from choice, and at last from necessity; who sat among his books +and manuscripts, and saw them only by the light of those far-off younger +days which still shone in his memory. + +And among his books and antiquities and rare marble fragments, in a +spacious room surrounded with laden shelves, Romola was his daily +companion and assistant. There was a time when he had hoped that his +son, Dino, would have followed in his steps, to be the prop of his age, +and to take up and continue his scholarly labours after he was dead. But +Dino had failed him; Dino had given himself up to religion and entered +the priesthood, and the passion of Bardo's resentment had flamed into +fierce hatred towards this recreant son of his, and none dared so much +as to name him within his hearing. + +Maso, the old serving-man ushered in the two visitors he had announced a +few minutes previously, and Nello introduced Tito to Bardo and his +daughter as a scholar of considerable learning. + +Romola's astonishment could hardly have been greater if the stranger had +worn a panther-skin and carried a thyrsus, for the cunning barber had +said nothing of the Greeks age or appearance, and among her father's +scholarly visitors she had hardly ever seen any but gray-headed men. + +Nevertheless, she returned Tito's bow with the same pale, proud face as +ever; but as he approached the snow melted, and when he ventured to look +towards her again a pink flush overspread her face, to vanish again +almost immediately, as if her imperious will had recalled it. Tito's +glance, on the other hand, as he looked at this tall maiden of seventeen +or eighteen, as she stood at the reading-desk with one hand on the back +of her father's chair, had that gentle, beseeching admiration in it +which is the most propitiating of appeals to a proud, shy woman, and is +perhaps the only atonement a man can make for being too handsome. + +"Messere, I give you welcome," said Bardo with some condescension; +"misfortune wedded to learning, and especially to Greek learning, is a +letter of credit that should win the ear of every instructed +Florentine." + +He proceeded to question Tito as to what part of Greece he came from, +learned that he was a young man of unusual scholastic attainments, and +that he had a father who was himself a scholar. + +"At least," said Tito, "a father by adoption. He was a Neapolitan, but," +he added, after another slight pause, "he is lost to me--was lost on a +voyage he too rashly undertook to Delos." + +Bardo forbore to speak further on so painful a topic; he discoursed +freely upon his own studies, his past hopes, and the one great ambition +that remained to him--that his library and his magnificent collection of +treasures should not be dissipated on his death, but should become the +property of the public, and be honourably housed in Florence for all +time, with his name over the door. + +In his eagerness he made passing reference to his son, of how Romola had +been filling his place to the best of her power, and plainly hinted--and +Tito was not slow to profit by the opportunity--that if he could have +the young Greek scholar to work with him instead of her, he might yet +look to fulfill some of the notable designs he had abandoned when his +blindness came upon him. + +"But," he resumed, in his original tone of condescension, "we are +departing from what I believe is your most important business. Nello +informed me that you had certain gems which you would fain dispose of." + +"I have one or two intagli of much beauty," said Tito. "But they are now +in the keeping of Messer Domenico Cennini, who has a strong and safe +place for such things. He estimates them as worth at least five hundred +ducats." + +"Ah, then, they are fine intagli!" said Bardo. "Five hundred ducats! Ah, +more than a man's ransom!" + +Tito gave a slight, almost imperceptible start, and opened his long, +dark eyes with questioning surprise at Bardo's blind face, as if his +words--a mere phrase of common parlance at a time when men were often +being ransomed from slavery or imprisonment--had some special meaning +for him. + +But Bardo had used the words in all innocence, and went on to talk of +superstitions that attached to certain gems, and to undertake that he +would use his influence with the Secretary of the Republic in Tito's +behalf. Both Romola and her father were attracted by the charm and +freshness and apparent simplicity of the young man; but just as he was +making ready to depart they were interrupted by the entrance of Bernardo +del Nero, one of the chief citizens of Florence, Bardo's oldest friend, +and Romola's godfather; and Bernardo felt an instant, instinctive +distrust of the handsome, ingratiating stranger, and did not hesitate to +say so after Tito had left them. + +"Remember, Bardo," he said at length, "thou hast a rare gem of thy own; +take care no one gets it who is not like to pay a worthy price. That +pretty Greek has a sleekness about him that seems marvelously fitted for +slipping into any nest he fixes his mind on." + + +_III.--The Man who was Wronged_ + + +It was undeniable that Tito's coming had been the dawn of a new life for +both father and daughter, and he grew to care for Romola supremely--to +wish to have her for his beautiful and loving wife. + +He took her place as Bardo's assistant, and served him with an easy +efficiency that had been beyond her; and she, happier in her father's +happiness, had given her love to Tito even before he ventured to offer +her his own. He was thus sailing under the fairest breeze, and besides +convincing fair judges that his talents squared with his good fortune, +he wore that fortune so unpretentiously that no one seemed to be +offended by it. + +And that was not the whole of Tito's good fortune, for he had sold his +jewels, and was master of full five hundred gold florins. Yet the moment +when he first had this sum in his possession was the crisis of the first +serious struggle his facile, good-humoured nature had known. + +"A man's ransom!" Who was it that had said five hundred florins was more +than a man's ransom? If, now, under this mid-day sun, on some hot coast +far away, a man somewhat stricken in years--a man not without high +thoughts, and with the most passionate heart--a man who long years ago +had rescued a little boy from a life of beggary, filth, and cruel wrong, +and had reared him tenderly, if that man were now, under this summer +sun, toiling as a slave, hewing wood and drawing water? If he were +saying to himself, "Tito will find me. He had but to carry our gems to +Venice; he will have raised money, and will never rest till he finds me +out?" If that were certain, could he--Tito--see the price of the gems +lying before him, and say, "I will stay at Florence, where I am fanned +by soft airs of love and prosperity; I will not risk myself for his +sake?" No, surely not _if it were certain_. But the galley had been +taken by a Turkish vessel; that was known by the report of the companion +galley which had escaped; and there had been resistance and probable +bloodshed, a man had been seen falling overboard. + +He quieted his conscience with such reasonings as these, and when +definite tidings reached him that his father was still a prisoner, he +contrived to keep the knowledge to himself, and still did nothing. The +death of the exhausted, emaciated monk who had brought these tidings +freed him of one fear; but this monk was Romola's brother, Dino, and +obeying his summons she had been in secret to see him as he lay dying. + +"Romola," her brother began to speak, "in the deep night, as I lay +awake, I saw my father's room, and I saw you ... And at the _leggio_ +where I used to stand stood a man whose face I could not see. I saw him +move and take thee, Romola, by the hand, and then I saw thee take my +father by the hand, and you all three went down the stone steps into the +streets, the man, whose face was a blank to me, leading the way. And you +stood at the altar of Santa Croce, and the priest who married you had +the face of death; and the graves opened and the dead in their shrouds +followed you like a bridal train. And it seemed to me that at last you +came to a stony place where there was no water, and no trees or herbage; +but instead of water I saw written parchment unrolling itself +everywhere, and instead of trees and herbage I saw men of bronze and +marble springing up and crowding round you. And my father was faint, and +fell to the ground; and the man loosed thy hand and departed; and as he +went I could see his face, and it was the face of the Great Tempter.... +Thrice have I had that vision, Romola. I believe it is a revelation +meant for thee--to warn thee against marriage as a temptation of the +enemy...." + +The words died away. + +"Frate," said the dying voice. "Give her----" + +"The crucifix," said the voice of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, who was +standing in the shadows behind her. + +"Dino!" said Romola, with a low but piercing cry. + +"Take the crucifix, my daughter," said Fra Girolamo, after a few +minutes. "His eyes behold it no more." + + * * * * * + +But, heedless of the distrust and opposition of Messer Bernardo del +Nero, and with this vision of Dino's menacing his highest hope, Tito +went gaily on his triumphant way. + +Also he had renewed acquaintance with the little Tessa. He came upon her +in the thronged streets during carnival time, and seeing her, a +timorous, tearful little _contadin_, terrified by the burlesque threats +of a boisterous conjurer, took her under his protection. + +Thereafter, he met her again at intervals, finding her naive love and +humble adoration and obedience very pleasant; and, meeting her once at a +peasant's fair, he jestingly yielded to the burlesque solicitations of a +mountebank in a white mitre, paid a small fee, and went through an +absurd ceremony of mock-marriage with her. + +Tessa herself believed the marriage to be real enough, and he would not +mar her delight by undeceiving her. Later, since she was wretched at +home with her scolding mother and a brutal step-father, and there were +dangers in allowing her to go on waylaying him in streets when too long +a period elapsed between his visits to her, he quietly took her away and +established her in a small house on the outskirts of the city, with the +deaf, discreet old Monna Lisa as her servant and companion. + +Neither this nor the darker secret of his treachery to his adoptive +father cast any cloud over his habitual cheerfulness. His love for +Romola was a higher and deeper passion than anything he felt for the +child-like, submissive little Tessa, and when she told him frankly of +her brother's warning vision, he set himself to convince her it was the +mere nightmare of a diseased imagination, and the perfect love and trust +she had for him made the task easy. + +For a while after their marriage she was ideally happy; she was not even +separated from her father, for Tito came to live with them, and was to +Bardo, in his scholastic labours, all that he had wished his own son to +be. Then came the first cloud. + +On November 17, 1494, more than eighteen months after the marriage of +Tito and Romola, the King of France marched his army into Florence on +his way to take possession of Naples and impose peace on the warring +little states into which Italy was divided. There were those in Florence +who were prepared to welcome the invaders, but the majority, the common +people in particular, resented their coming. + +With the soldiery came three wretched prisoners; they were led in ropes +by their captors, and with blows from knotted cords were stimulated to +beg. Two, as they passed, held out their hands, crying piteously, "For +the love of God and the Holy Madonna, give us something towards our +ransom!" + +But the third remained obstinately silent. He was old, white-haired, +emaciated, with a thick-set figure that seemed to express energy in +spite of age; yet there was something fitful in his eyes. + +This sight was witnessed by the Florentines with growing exasperation, +and presently from jeering at the French soldiers and hustling them, +they became bent upon rescuing this third prisoner from his tormentors; +one venturesome youth suddenly dashed in, cut the old man's bonds and +urged him to run; and the next moment he had plunged into the crowd, +which closed behind him and hampered the pursuit. + +With one soldier struggling desperately on his track, the fugitive sped +towards the Duomo, to seek refuge in that sanctuary, but in mounting the +steps his foot slipped, he was precipitated towards a group of signori +who stood there with their backs to him, and clutched one to save +himself. + +It was Tito Melema who felt the clutch. He turned, and saw the face of +his adoptive father, Baldassarre Calvo, close to his own. The two men +looked at each other silent as death; Tito with cheeks and lips all +bloodless, fascinated by terror. The next instant the grasp on his arm +relaxed, and Baldassarre disappeared within the church. + + +_IV.--Romola's Ordeal_ + + +With Baldassarre lurking in Florence, Tito went in hourly fear. At any +moment the story of his baseness might be blown abroad; at any moment, +worse still, he might be struck down by the old man, in whose wild eyes +he had read only a fierce yearning for vengeance. + +As a precaution, Tito took to wearing a coat of fine chain-mail under +his doublet, and the discovery of this alarmed Romola for his safety, +and shocked her with a suspicion that he was something of a coward. + +But by now Tito was deeply involved in Florentine politics, and easily +persuaded her that it was against secret political intriguers that he +thus shielded himself. He went on to confess that his life was no longer +safe in Florence, and he was resolved to leave the city for good. But to +this she demurred; her father had died and left his library and his +collection as a sacred trust to her and Tito, and until they had carried +out his wish and made them over to the city authorities, she felt she +could not go. + +Tito made light of her scruples. Her father's wish, he said, had been a +mere foolish vanity; they had need of money, and he intended to sell +both the library and collection, and when, for the first time in her +life, she spoke bitterly, in scorn and anger of his faithlessness, he +told her flatly it was useless to bandy words for he had sold them +already, and they were to be removed that day. + +Frantic with grief and resentment, she thought of desperate ways of +preventing the accomplishment of his heartless plans, even to borrowing +of her godfather and buying back the treasures, so that Tito might keep +his ill-gotten gain and her father's last wish still be fulfilled; but +he convinced her that all interference was too late, for the things had +been purchased by the Count di San Severino and the Seneschal de +Beaucaire, who were already on their way with the French king to Sienna. + +Latterly, in many ways, Romola had been disappointed in her husband's +character; she had found that his handsome face and gay air masked a +cowardice, a cunning meanness, a sordid selfishness of disposition that +were all at variance with her high ideal of him; but that final +unspeakable treachery of the dead man who had trusted him so implicitly +shattered her love for Tito utterly. + +As soon as her father's library was dismantled and his treasures taken +away, Romola went from the house with the old man-servant, Maso, and +would never have looked upon Tito's face again, but that Fra Girolamo +intercepted her. + +"I have a command to call you back," he said. "My daughter, you must +return to your place. You are flying from your debts; the debt of a +Florentine woman to her fellow citizens; the debt of a wife. You are +turning your back on the lot that has been appointed for you--you are +going to choose another. My daughter, you are fleeing from the presence +of God into the wilderness. My daughter, if the cross comes to you as a +wife, you must carry it as a wife. You may say, 'I will forsake my +husband,' but you cannot cease to be a wife." + +There was hunger and misery in the streets, and he urged upon her that +if she had no other purpose in life she could stay, and help the poor of +her own city. Her pride was broken, and she yielded. + + +_V.--Baldassarre is Avenged_ + + +Meanwhile, Baldassarre, lurking about Florence, had armed himself with a +knife, and was ravenous for revenge. Being homeless, he called by chance +at Tessa's little house, and she, not knowing who he was, took pity on +his age and misery, gave him shelter in a shed, and food and drink. + +Whilst he was there, Tito came, and, too frankly simple to keep anything +from him, Tessa confessed that she had disobeyed his injunctions against +holding converse with strangers, and was sheltering a strange, weary old +man in the shed without. Her description of this guest left Tito in no +doubt as to his identity, and, subduing his first perturbation, he +conceived that he might turn the situation to his own advantage. He went +out to the shed, and looking down upon Baldassarre in the moonlight, +sought to propitiate him with honeyed words, specious explanations, and +a plea for pardon. But the old man answered nothing, till his +smouldering fury burst into a flame, then he precipitated himself upon +the intruder and struck with all his force; but the blade of the knife +broke off short against the hidden coat of mail. + +Tito insisted that he was welcome to remain there, and said what he +could to soothe him, but Baldassarre would stay no longer when he knew +whose roof covered him. Presently, he armed himself anew, and waited for +another opportunity. He learned all that was to be known of Tito's +career since his arrival in Florence; ascertained that he was married, +and had thoughts of winning his wife's sympathy and telling her of +Tessa. Then one night he contrived to get into the Rucellai Gardens, +where Tito was at supper with a gathering of Florentine notabilities, +and, seized in time and held back from assassinating him, he +passionately denounced him before the company as a scoundrel, a liar, +and a robber. + +There were those present who had been on the church steps that day when +Baldassarre had clutched Tito by the arm, and Tito had then explained +away his momentary panic. Questioned now by one of these, he declared +that though when first he encountered his accuser he did not recognise +him, he now saw that he was the servant who years ago accompanied him +and his adoptive father to Greece, and was dismissed on account of +misdemeanours, and that the story of his being rescued from beggary was +the vision of a disordered brain. + +Baldassarre was given a chance to prove that he was not the servant, but +the great scholar to whom Tito was indebted for his learning. + +"The ring I possess," said Rucellai, "is a fine sard that I myself +purchased from Messer Tito. It is engraved with a subject from Homer. +Will you turn to the passage in Homer from which that subject was +taken?" + +But sitting to look over the book, Baldassarre realised that the +sufferings through which he had passed had unhinged his mind and his +memory; the words he stared at had no meaning for him, and he lifted his +hands to his head in despair. + +The consequence of this fresh failure was that Baldassarre was cast into +prison, and Tito was at liberty to pursue his political ambitions +unhaunted by that dogging shadow that was to him as the shadow of death. +He managed his affairs so cleverly that whichever party came uppermost +he was secure of favour and money. + +But by-and-by the tide began to turn against him. Baldassarre was at +large again, and met Romola and told her not only of his own wrongs, but +of Tessa. She saw Tessa and her two children, and befriended them, and +was so far from blaming that innocent little creature that she did not +even disclose the truth to her; but she was importunate with Tito that +he should make atonement to the man who had been a father to him. Then +came a day when Tito's treacheries were discovered by the party he was +supposed to serve, and he had to flee for his life through Florence. +Scattering jewels and gold to delay his pursuers, he leaped from the +bridge into the river, and swam in the darkness, leaving the bellowing +mob to think he was drowned. + +But far down the stream there were certain eyes that saw him from the +banks of the river, and when he landed and fell, faint and helpless, +Baldassarre's hands closed on his throat; and next evening a passer-by +found the two dead bodies there. + + * * * * * + + + + +Silas Marner + + + "Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe," begun about November, + 1860, and published early in 1861, is in many respects the + most admirable of all George Eliot's works. It is not a long + story, but it is a most carefully finished novel--"a perfect + gem, a pure work of art," Mr. Oscar Browning describes it. Mr. + Blackwood, the publisher, found it rather sombre, and George + Eliot replied to him, "I hope you will not find it at all a + sad story as a whole, since it sets--or is intended to set--in + a strong light the remedial influences of pure, natural, human + relations. I have felt all through as if the story would have + lent itself best to metrical rather than to prose fiction, + especially in all that relates to the psychology of Silas; + except that, under that treatment, there could not be an equal + play of humour." No novel of George Eliot's has received more + praise from men of letters than "Silas Marner." + + +_I.--Why Silas Came to Raveloe_ + + +In the early years of the nineteenth century a linen-weaver named Silas +Marner worked at his vocation in a stone cottage that stood among the +nutty hedgerows near the village of Raveloe, and not far from the edge +of a deserted stone-pit. + +It was fifteen years since Silas Marner had first come to Raveloe; he +was then simply a pallid young man with prominent, short-sighted brown +eyes. To the villagers among whom he had come to settle he seemed to +have mysterious peculiarities, chiefly owing to his advent from an +unknown region called "North'ard." He invited no comer to step across +his door-sill, and he never strolled into the village to drink a pint at +the Rainbow, or to gossip at the wheel-wrights'; he sought no man or +woman, save for the purposes of his calling, or in order to supply +himself with necessaries. + +At the end of fifteen years the Raveloe men said just the same things +about Silas Marner as at the beginning. There was only one important +addition which the years had brought; it was that Master Marner had laid +by a fine sight of money somewhere, and that he could buy up "bigger men +than himself." + +But while his daily habits presented scarcely any visible change, +Marner's inward life had been a history and a metamorphosis as that of +every fervid nature must be when it has been condemned to solitude. His +life, before he came to Raveloe, had been filled with the close +fellowship of a narrow religious sect, where the poorest layman had the +chance of distinguishing himself by gifts of speech; and Marner was +highly thought of in that little hidden world, known to itself as the +church assembling in Lantern Yard. He was believed to be a young man of +exemplary life and ardent faith, and a peculiar interest had been +centred in him ever since he had fallen at a prayer-meeting into a +trance or cataleptic fit, which lasted for an hour. + +Among the members of his church there was one young man, named William +Dane, with whom he lived in close friendship; and it seemed to the +unsuspecting Silas that the friendship suffered no chill, even after he +had formed a closer attachment, and had become engaged to a young +servant-woman. + +At this time the senior deacon was taken dangerously ill, and Silas and +William, with others of the brethren, took turns at night-watching. On +the night the old man died, Silas fell into one of his trances, and when +he awoke at four o'clock in the morning death had come, and, further, a +little bag of money had been stolen from the deacon's bureau, and +Silas's pocket-knife was found inside the bureau. For some time Silas +was mute with astonishment, then he said, "God will clear me; I know +nothing about the knife being there, or the money being gone. Search me +and my dwelling." + +The search was made, and it ended in William Dane finding the deacon's +bag, empty, tucked behind the chest of drawers in Silas's chamber. + +According to the principles of the church in Lantern Yard prosecution +was forbidden to Christians. But the members were bound to take other +measures for finding out the truth, and they resolved on praying and +drawing lots; there was nothing unusual about such proceedings a hundred +years ago. Silas knelt with his brethren, relying on his own innocence +being certified by immediate Divine interference. _The lots declared +that Silas Marner was guilty_. He was solemnly suspended from church- +membership, and called upon to render up the stolen money; only on +confession and repentance could he be received once more within the fold +of the church. Marner listened in silence. At last, when everyone rose +to depart, he went towards William Dane and said, in a voice shaken by +agitation, "The last time I remember using my knife was when I took it +out to cut a strap for you. I don't remember putting it in my pocket +again. _You_ stole the money, and you have woven a plot to lay the sin +at my door. But you may prosper for all that; there is no just God, but +a God of lies, that bears witness against the innocent!" + +There was a general shudder at this blasphemy. Poor Marner went out with +that despair in his soul--that shaken trust in God and man which is +little short of madness to a loving nature. In the bitterness of his +wounded spirit, he said to himself, "_She_ will cast me off, too!" and +for a whole day he sat alone, stunned by despair. + +The second day he took refuge from benumbing unbelief by getting into +his loom and working away as usual, and, before many hours were past, +the minister and one of the deacons came to him with a message from +Sarah, the young woman to whom he had been engaged, that she held her +engagement at an end. In little more than a month from that time Sarah +was married to William Dane, and not long afterwards it was known to the +brethren in Lantern Yard that Silas Marner had departed from the town. + + +_II.--The Second Blow_ + + +When Silas Marner first came to Raveloe he seemed to weave like a +spider, from pure impulse, without reflection. Then there were the calls +of hunger, and Silas, in his solitude, had to provide his own breakfast, +dinner, and supper, to fetch his own water from the well, and put his +own kettle on the fire; and all these immediate promptings helped to +reduce his life to the unquestioning activity of a spinning insect. He +hated the thought of the past; there was nothing that called out his +love and fellowship towards the strangers he had come amongst; and the +future was all dark, for there was no Unseen Love that cared for him. + +It was then, when all purpose of life was gone, that Silas got into the +habit of looking towards the money he received for his weaving, and +grasping it with a sense of fulfilled effort. Gradually, the guineas, +the crowns, and the half-crowns, grew to a heap, and Marner drew less +and less for his own wants, trying to solve the problem of keeping +himself strong enough to work sixteen hours a day on as small an outlay +as possible. He handled his coins, he counted them, till their form and +colour were like the satisfaction of a thirst to him; but it was only in +the night, when his work was done, that he drew them out, to enjoy their +companionship. He had taken up some bricks in his floor underneath his +loom, and here he had made a hole in which he set the iron pot that +contained his guineas and silver coins, covering the bricks with sand +whenever he replaced them. + +So, year after year, Silas Marner lived in this solitude, his guineas +rising in the iron pot, and his life narrowing and hardening itself more +and more as it became reduced to the functions of weaving and hoarding. + +This is the history of Silas Marner until the fifteenth year after he +came to Raveloe. Then, about the Christmas of that year, a second great +change came over his life. + +It was a raw, foggy night, with rain, and Silas was returning from the +village, plodding along, with a sack thrown round his shoulders, and +with a horn lantern in his hand. His legs were weary, but his mind was +at ease with the sense of security that springs from habit. Supper was +his favourite meal, because it was his time of revelry, when his heart +warmed over his gold. + +He reached his door in much satisfaction that his errand was done; he +opened it, and to his short-sighted eyes everything remained as he had +left it, except that the fire sent out a welcome increase of heat. + +As soon as he was warm he began to think it would be a long while to +wait till after supper before he drew out his guineas, and it would be +pleasant to see them on the table before him as he ate his food. + +He rose and placed his candle unsuspectingly on the floor near his loom, +swept away the sand, without noticing any change, and removed the +bricks. The sight of the empty hole made his heart leap violently, but +the belief that his gold was gone could not come at once--only terror, +and the eager effort to put an end to the terror. He passed his +trembling hand all about the hole, then he held the candle and examined +it curiously, trembling more and more. He searched in every corner, he +turned his bed over, and shook it, and kneaded it; he looked in his +brick oven; and when there was no other place to be searched, he felt +once more all round the hole. + +He could see every object in his cottage, and his gold was not there. He +put his trembling hands to his head, and gave a wild, ringing scream-- +the cry of desolation. Then the idea of a thief began to present itself, +and he entertained it eagerly, because a thief might be caught and made +to restore the gold. The robber must be laid hold of. Marner's ideas of +legal authority were confused, but he felt that he must go and proclaim +his loss; and the great people in the village--the clergyman, the +constable, and Squire Cass--would make the thief deliver up the stolen +money. + +It was to the village inn Silas Marner went, where the parish clerk and +a select company were assembled, and told the story of his loss--£272 +12s. 6d. in all. The machinery of the law was set in motion, but no +thief was ever captured, nor could grounds be found for suspicion +against any persons. + +What had really happened was that Dunsey Cass, Squire Cass's second +son--a mean, boastful rascal--on his way home on foot from hunting, saw +the light in the weaver's cottage, and knocked, hoping to borrow a +lantern, for the lane was unpleasantly slippery, and the night dark. But +all was silence in the cottage, for the weaver at that moment had not +yet reached home. For a minute Dunsey thought that old Marner might be +dead, fallen over into the stone pits. And from that came the decision +that he must be dead. If so, the question arose, what would become of +the money that everybody said the old miser had put by? + +Dunstan Cass was in difficulties for want of money, and he had killed +his brother's horse that day on the hunting-field. Who would know, if +Marner was dead, that anybody had come to take his hoard of money away? + +There were only three hiding-places where he had heard of cottagers' +hoards being found: the thatch, the bed, and a hole in the floor. His +eyes travelling eagerly over the floor, noted a spot where the sand had +been more carefully spread. + +Dunstan found the hole and the money, now hidden in two leathern bags. +From their weight he judged they must be filled with guineas. Quickly he +hastened out into the darkness with the bags, and Dunstan Cass was seen +no more alive. + +At the very moment when he turned his back on the cottage Silas Marner +was not more than a hundred yards away. + + +_III.--Silas Marner's Visitor_ + + +It was New Year's Eve, and Squire Cass was giving a dance to the +neighbouring gentry of Raveloe. There had been snow in the afternoon, +but at seven o'clock it had ceased, and a freezing wind had sprung up. + +A woman, shabbily dressed, with a child in her arms, was making her way +towards Raveloe, seeking the Red House, where Squire Cass lived. It was +not the squire she wanted, but his eldest son, Godfrey, to whom she was +secretly married. The marriage--the result of rash impulse--had been an +unhappy one from the first, for Godfrey's wife was the slave of opium. +The squire had long desired that his son should marry Miss Nancy +Lammeter, and would have turned him out of house and home had he known +of the unfortunate marriage already contracted. Cold and weariness drove +the woman, even while she walked, to the only comfort she knew. She +raised the black remnant to her lips, and then flung the empty phial +away. Now she walked, always more and more drowsily, and clutched more +and more automatically the sleeping child at her bosom. Soon she felt +nothing but a supreme longing to lie down and sleep; and so sank down +against a straggling furze-bush, an easy pillow enough; and the bed of +snow, too, was soft. The cold was no longer felt, but her arms did not +at once relax their instinctive clutch, and the little one slumbered on. + +The complete torpor came at last; the fingers lost their tension, the +arms unbent; then the little head fell away from the bosom, and the blue +eyes of the child opened wide on the cold starlight. At first there was +a little peevish cry of "Mammy," as the child rolled downward; and then, +suddenly, its eyes were caught by a bright gleaming light on the white +ground, and with the ready transition of infancy it decided the light +must be caught. + +In an instant the child had slipped on all fours, and, after making out +that the cunning gleam came from a very bright place, the little one, +rising on its legs, toddled through the snow--toddled on to the open +door of Silas Marner's cottage, and right up to the warm hearth, where +was a bright fire. + +The little one, accustomed to be left to itself for long hours without +notice, squatted down on the old sack spread out before the fire, in +perfect contentment. Presently the little golden head sank down, and the +blue eyes were veiled by their delicate half-transparent lids. + +But where was Silas Marner while this strange visitor had come to his +hearth? He was in the cottage, but he did not see the child. Since he +had lost his money he had contracted the habit of opening his door, and +looking out from time to time, as if he thought that his money might, +somehow, be coming back to him. + +That morning he had been told by some of his neighbours that it was New +Year's Eve, and that he must sit up and hear the old year rung out, and +the new rung in, because that was good luck, and might bring his money +back again. Perhaps this friendly Raveloe way of jesting had helped to +throw Silas into a more than usually excited state. Certainly he opened +his door again and again that night, and the last time, just as he put +out his hand to close it, the invisible wand of catalepsy arrested him, +and there he stood like a graven image, powerless to resist either the +good or evil that might enter. + +When Marner's sensibility returned he was unaware of the break in his +consciousness, and only noticed that he was chilled and faint. + +Turning towards the hearth it seemed to his blurred vision as if there +was a heap of gold on the floor; but instead of hard coin his fingers +encountered soft, warm curls. In utter amazement, Silas fell on his +knees to examine the marvel: it was a sleeping child, a round, fair +thing, with soft, yellow rings all over its head. Could this be the +little sister come back to him in a dream--his little sister whom he had +carried about in his arms for a year before she died? That was the first +thought. _Was_ it a dream? It was very much like his little sister. How +and when had the child come in without his knowledge? + +But there was a cry on the hearth; the child had awakened, and Marner +stooped to lift it on to his knee. He had plenty to do through the next +hour. The porridge, sweetened with some dry brown sugar, stopped the +cries of the little one for "mammy." Then it occurred to Silas's dull +bachelor mind that the child wanted its wet boots off, and this having +been done, the wet boots suggested that the child had been walking on +the snow. + +He made out the marks of the little feet in the snow, and, holding the +child in his arms, followed their track to the furze-bush. Then he +became aware that there was something more than the bush before +him--that there was a human body, half covered with the shifting snow. + +With the child in his arms, Silas at once went for the doctor, who was +spending the evening at the Red House. And Godfrey Cass recognised that +it was his own child he saw in Marner's arms. + +The woman was dead--had been dead for some hours, the doctor said; and +Godfrey, who had accompanied him to Marner's cottage, understood that he +was free to marry Nancy Lammeter. + +"You'll take the child to the parish to-morrow?" Godfrey asked, speaking +as indifferently as he could. + +"Who says so?" said Marner sharply. "Will they make me take her? I shall +keep her till anybody shows they've a right to take her away from me. +The mother's dead, and I reckon it's got no father. It's a lone thing, +and I'm a lone thing. My money's gone--I don't know where, and this is +come from I don't know where." + +Godfrey returned to the Red House with a sense of relief and gladness, +and Silas kept the child. There had been a softening of feeling to him +in the village since the day of his robbery, and now an active sympathy +was aroused amongst the women. The child was christened Hephzibah, after +Marner's mother, and was called Eppie for short. + + +_IV--Eppie's Decision_ + + +Eppie had come to link Silas Marner once more with the whole world. The +disposition to hoard had utterly gone, and there was no longer any +repulsion around to him. + +As the child grew up, one person watched with keener, though more +hidden, interest than any other the prosperous growth of Eppie under the +weaver's care. The squire was dead, and Godfrey Cass was married to +Nancy Lammeter. He had no child of his own save the one that knew him +not. No Dunsey had ever turned up, and people had ceased to think of +him. + +Sixteen years had passed, and now Aaron Winthrop, a well-behaved young +gardener, is wanting to marry Eppie, and Eppie is willing to have him +"some time." + +"'Everybody's married some time,' Aaron says," said Eppie. "But I told +him that wasn't true, for I said look at father--he's never been +married." + +"No, child," said Silas, "your father was a lone man till you was sent +to him." + +"But you'll never be lone again, father," said Eppie tenderly. "That was +what Aaron said--'I could never think o' taking you away from Master +Marner, Eppie.' And I said, 'It 'ud be no use if you did, Aaron.' And he +wants us all to live together, so as you needn't work a bit, father, +only what's for your own pleasure, and he'd be as good as a son to +you--that was what he said." + +The proposal to separate Eppie from her foster-father came from Godfrey +Cass. + +When the old stone-pit by Marner's cottage went dry, owing to drainage +operations, the skeleton of Dunstan Cass was found, wedged between two +great stones. The watch and seals were recognised, and all the weaver's +money was at the bottom of the pit. The shock of this discovery moved +Godfrey to tell Nancy the secret of his earlier marriage. + +"Everything comes to light, Nancy, sooner or later," he said. "That +woman Marner found dead in the snow--Eppie's mother--was my wife. Eppie +is my child. I oughtn't to have left the child unowned. I oughtn't to +have kept it from you." + +"It's but little wrong to me, Godfrey," Nancy answered sadly. "You've +made it up to me--you've been good to me for fifteen years. It'll be a +different coming to us, now she's grown up." + +They were childless, and it hadn't occurred to them as they approached +Silas Marner's cottage that Godfrey's offer might be declined. At first +Godfrey explained that he and his wife wanted to adopt Eppie in place of +a daughter. + +"Eppie, my child, speak," said old Marner faintly. "I won't stand in +your way. Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass." + +"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir," said Eppie dropping a curtsy; "but I +can't leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him." + +Godfrey Cass was irritated at this obstacle. + +"But I've a claim on you, Eppie," he returned. "It's my duty, Marner, to +own Eppie as my child, and provide for her. She's my own child. Her +mother was my wife. I've a natural claim on her." + +"Then, sir, why didn't you say so sixteen years ago, and claim her +before I'd come to love her, i'stead o' coming to take her from me now, +when you might as well take the heart out o' my body? When a man turns a +blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in. But let it be as +you will. Speak to the child. I'll hinder nothing." + +"Eppie, my dear," said Godfrey, looking at his daughter not without some +embarrassment, "it'll always be our wish that you should show your love +and gratitude to one who's been a father to you so many years; but we +hope you'll come to love us as well, and though I haven't been what a +father should ha' been to you all these years, I wish to do the utmost +in my power for you now, and provide for you as my only child. And +you'll have the best of mothers in my wife." + +Eppie did not come forward and curtsy as she had done before, but she +held Silas's hand in hers and grasped it firmly. + +"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir, for your offers--they're very great +and far above my wish. For I should have no delight in life any more if +I was forced to go away from my father." + +In vain Nancy expostulated mildly. + +"I can't feel as I've got any father but one," said Eppie. "I've always +thought of a little home where he'd sit i' the corner, and I should fend +and do everything for him. I can't think o' no other home. I wasn't +brought up to be a lady, and," she ended passionately, "I'm promised to +marry a working man, as'll live with father and help me to take care of +him." + +Godfrey Cass and his wife went out. + +A year later Eppie was married, and Mrs. Godfrey Cass provided the +wedding dress, and Mr. Cass made some necessary alterations to suit +Silas's larger family. + +"Oh, father," said Eppie, when the bridal party returned from the +church, "what a pretty home ours is! I think nobody could be happier +than we are!" + + * * * * * + + + + +The Mill on the Floss + + + In "The Mill on the Floss," published in 1860, George Eliot + went to her own early life for the chief characters in the + story, and in the relations of Tom and Maggie Tulliver we get + a picture of the youth of Mary Ann Evans and her brother + Isaac. Lord Lytton objected that Maggie was too passive in the + scene at Red Deeps, and that the tragedy of the flood was not + adequately prepared. To this criticism George Eliot answered, + "Now that the defect is suggested to me, if the book were + still in manuscript I should alter, or rather expand, that + scene at Red Deeps." She also admitted that there was "a want + of proportionate fulness" in the conclusion. But, with all its + faults, "The Mill on the Floss" deserves the reputation it has + won. The reception of the story at first was disappointing, + and we find the authoress telling her publisher that "she does + not want to see any newspaper articles." But the book made its + way, and prepared an ever-growing public for "Silas Marner." + + +_I.--The Tullivers of Dorlcote Mill_ + + +"What I want, you know," said Mr. Tulliver, "what I want is to give Tom +a good eddication--an eddication as'll be a bread to him. I mean to put +him to a downright good school at midsummer. The two years at th' +academy 'ud ha' done well enough if I'd meant to make a miller and +farmer of him, but I should like Tom to be a bit of a scholard. It 'ud +be a help to me wi' these lawsuits, and arbitrations, and things. I +wouldn't make a downright lawyer o' the lad--I should be sorry for him +to be a raskill--but a sort of engineer, or a surveyor, or an auctioneer +and vallyer, like Riley, or one o' them smartish businesses as are all +profits and no outlay, only for a big watch-chain and a high stool. +They're pretty nigh all one, and they're not far off being even wi' the +law, I believe; for Riley looks Lawyer Wakem i' the face as hard as one +cat looks another. _He's_ none frightened at him." + +Mr. Tulliver was speaking to his wife, a blonde, comely woman, nearly +forty years old. + +"Well, Mr. Tulliver, you know best. _I've_ no objections. But if Tom's +to go to a new school, I should like him to go where I can wash him and +mend him, else he might as well have calico as linen. And then, when the +box is goin' backwards and forwards, I could send the lad a cake, or a +pork-pie, or an apple." + +"Well, well, we won't send him out o' reach o' the carrier's cart, if +other things fit in," said Mr. Tulliver. "Riley's as likely a man as any +to know o' some school; he's had schooling himself, an' goes about to +all sorts o' places--arbitratin' and vallyin', and that." + +So a day or two later Mr. Riley, the auctioneer, came to Dorlcote Mill, +and stayed the night, the better that Mr. Tulliver, who was slow at +coming to a point, might consult him on the all-important subject of his +boy. + +"You see, I want to put him to a new school at midsummer," said Mr. +Tulliver, when the topic had been reached. "I want to send him to a +downright good school, where they'll make a scholard of him. I don't +mean Tom to be a miller an' farmer. I see no fun i' that. I shall give +Tom an eddication and put him to a business as he may make a nest for +himself, an' not want to push me out o' mine." + +At the sound of her brother's name, Maggie, the second and only other +child of the Tullivers, who was seated on a low stool close by the fire, +with a large book open on her lap, looked up eagerly. Tom, it appeared, +was supposed capable of turning his father out of doors. This was not to +be borne, and Maggie jumped up from her stool, and going up between her +father's knees, said, in a half-crying, half-indignant voice, "Father, +Tom wouldn't be naughty to you ever; I know he wouldn't." + +Mr. Tulliver's heart was touched. + +"What! They mustn't say any harm o' Tom, eh?" he said, looking at Maggie +with a twinkling eye. Then, in a lower voice, turning to Mr. Riley, "She +understands what one's talking about so as never was. And you should +hear her read--straight off, as if she knowed it all beforehand. But +it's bad--it's bad. A woman's no business wi' being so clever; it'll +turn to trouble, I doubt. It's a pity, but what she'd been the +lad--she'd ha' been a match for the lawyers, she would." + +Mr. Riley took a pinch of snuff before he said, "But your lad's not +stupid, is he? I saw him, when I was here last, busy making +fishing-tackle; he seemed quite up to it." + +"Well, he isn't not to say stupid; he's got a notion o' things out o' +door, an' a sort o' commonsense, as he'd lay hold o' things by the right +handle. But he's slow with his tongue, you see, and reads but poorly, +and can't abide the books, and spells all wrong, they tell me, an' as +shy as can be wi' strangers. Now, what I want is to send him to a school +where they'll make him a bit nimble with his tongue and his pen, to make +a smart chap of him. I want my son to be even wi' these fellows as have +got the start o' me with schooling." + +The talk ended in Mr. Riley recommending a country parson named Stelling +as a suitable tutor for Tom, and Mr. Tulliver decided that his son +should go to Mr. Stelling at King's Lorton, fifteen miles from Dorlcote +Mill. + + +_II.--School-Time_ + + +Tom Tulliver's sufferings during the first quarter he was at King's +Lorton, under the distinguished care of the Rev. Walter Stelling, were +rather severe. It had been very difficult for him to reconcile himself +to the idea that his school-time was to be prolonged, and that he was +not to be brought up to his father's business, which he had always +thought extremely pleasant, for it was nothing but riding about, giving +orders, and going to market. + +Mr. Stelling was not a harsh-tempered or unkind man--quite the contrary, +but he thought Tom a stupid boy, and determined to develop his powers +through Latin grammar and Euclid to the best of his ability. + +As for Tom, he had no distinct idea how there came to be such a thing as +Latin on this earth. It would have taken a long while to make it +conceivable to him that there ever existed a people who bought and sold +sheep and oxen, and transacted the everyday affairs of life through the +medium of this language, or why he should be called upon to learn it, +when its connection with those affairs had become entirely latent. He +was of a very firm, not to say obstinate disposition, but there was no +brute-like rebellion or recklessness in his nature; the human +sensibilities predominated, and he was anxious to acquire Mr. Stelling's +approbation by showing some quickness at his lessons, if he had known +how to accomplish it. + +In his secret heart Tom yearned to have Maggie with him, and, before the +first dreary half-year was ended, Maggie actually came. Mrs. Stelling +had given a general invitation for the little girl to come and stay with +her brother; so when Mr. Tulliver drove over to King's Lorton late in +October, Maggie came too, with the sense that she was taking a great +journey, and beginning to see the world. + +"Well, my lad," Mr. Tulliver said, "you look rarely! School agrees with +you!" + +"I don't think I _am_ well, father," said Tom; "I wish you'd ask Mr. +Stelling not to let me do Euclid--it brings on the toothache, I think." + +"Euclid, my lad--why, what's that?" said Mr. Tulliver. + +"Oh, I don't know! It's definitions and axioms and triangles and things. +It's a book I've got to learn in--there's no sense in it." + +"Go, go!" said Mr. Tulliver reprovingly. "You mustn't say so. You must +learn what your master tells you. He knows what it's right for you to +learn." + +In the second term Mr. Stelling had a second pupil--Philip, the son of +Lawyer Wakem, Mr. Tulliver's standing enemy. + +Philip was a very old-looking boy, Tom thought. His spine had been +deformed through an accident in infancy, and to Tom he was simply a +humpback. He had a vague notion that the deformity of Wakem's son had +some relation to the lawyer's rascality, of which he had so often heard +his father talk with hot emphasis. + +There was a natural antipathy of temperament between the two boys; for +Tom was an excellent bovine lad, and Philip was sensitive, and suffered +acute pain when the other blurted out offensive things. + +Maggie, on her second visit to King's Lorton, pronounced Philip to be "a +nice boy." + +"He couldn't choose his father, you know," she said to Tom. "And I've +read of very bad men who had good sons, as well as good parents who had +bad children." + +"Oh, he's a queer fellow," said Tom curtly, "and he's as sulky as can be +with me because I told him his father was a rogue. And I'd a right to +tell him so, for it was true--and he began it with calling me names." + +An accident to Tom's foot brought the two boys nearer again, and also +threw Philip and Maggie together. + +"Maggie," said Philip one day, "if you had had a brother like me, do you +think you should have loved him as well as Tom?" + +"Oh, yes, better," she answered immediately. "No, not better; because I +don't think I could love you better than Tom. But I should be so +sorry--so sorry for you." + +Philip coloured. He had meant to imply, would she love him as well in +spite of his deformity, and yet when she alluded to it so plainly he +winced under her pity. Maggie, young as she was, felt her mistake. + +"But you are so very clever, Philip, and you can play and sing," she +added quickly. "I wish you were my brother. I'm very fond of you." + +"But you'll go away soon, and go to school, Maggie, and then you'll +forget all about me, and not care for me any more." + +"Oh, no, I shan't forget you, I'm sure." And Maggie put her arm round +his neck, and kissed him quite earnestly. + + +_III.--The Downfall_ + + +When Tom had turned sixteen, and Maggie, three years younger, was at +boarding school, came the downfall of the Tullivers. A long and +expensive law-suit concerning rights of water, brought by Mr. Tulliver, +ended in defeat. Wakem was his opponent's lawyer. + +Maggie broke the news to Tom. Not only would mill and lands and +everything be lost, and nothing left, but their father had fallen off +his horse, and knew nobody, and seemed to have lost his senses. + +"They say Mr. Wakem has got a mortgage or something on the land, Tom," +said Maggie, on their way home from King's Lorton. "It was the letter +with that news in it that made father ill, they think." + +"I believe that scoundrel's been planning all along to ruin my father," +said Tom, leaping from the vaguest impressions to a definite conclusion. +"I'll make him feel for it when I'm a man. Mind you never speak to +Philip again!" + +For more than two months Mr. Tulliver lay ill in his room, oblivious to +all that was taking place around him. From time to time recognition came +to him of his wife and family, but there was no remembrance of recent +events. + +The mill and land of the Tullivers were sold to Wakem the lawyer, and +the bulk of their household goods were disposed of by public auction; +but the Tullivers were not turned out of Dorlcote Mill. And, indeed, +when Mr. Tulliver, known to be a man of proud honesty, was once more +able to be up and about, it was proposed that he should remain and +accept employment as manager of the mill for Mr. Wakem. + +It was with difficulty that poor Tulliver could bring himself to accept +the situation, but he saw the possibility, by much pinching, of saving +money out of the thirty shillings a week salary promised by Wakem, and +paying a second dividend to his creditors. The strongest influence of +all was the love of the old premises where he had run about when he was +a boy, just as Tom had done after him. + +Tom, who had at once applied to his Uncle Deane, partner in a wealthy +merchant's business, for work, and was now earning a pound a week, had +protested against entertaining the proposition; he shouldn't like his +father to be under Wakem; he thought it would look nothing but mean +spirited. + +But Mr. Tulliver had come to a decision. The first evening of his new +life downstairs, he called his family round him, and began to speak, +looking first at his wife. + +"I've made up my mind, Bessy. I'll stop in the old place, and I'll serve +under Wakem, and I'll serve him like an honest man; there's no Tulliver +but what's honest, mind that, Tom. They'll have it to throw up against +me as I paid a dividend--but it wasn't my fault--it was because there's +raskills in the world. They've been too many for me, and I must give in. +But I'll serve him as honest as if he was no raskill. I'm an honest man, +though I shall never hold my head up no more! I'm a tree as is broke--a +tree as is broke." + +He paused, and looked on the ground. Then suddenly raising his head, he +said, in a louder yet deeper tone, "But I won't forgive him! I know what +they say--he never meant me any harm! I shouldn't ha' gone to law they +say. But who made it so as there was no arbitrating and no justice to be +got? It signifies nothing to him--I know that he's one o' them fine +gentlemen as get money by doing business for poorer folks, and when he's +made beggars of 'em he'll give 'em charity. I won't forgive him! I wish +he might be punished with shame till his own son 'ud like to forget him. +And you mind this, Tom--you never forgive him, neither, if you mean to +be my son. Now write--write it i' the Bible!" + +"Oh, father, what?" said Maggie. "It's wicked to curse and bear malice." + +"It isn't wicked, I tell you," said her father, fiercely. "It's wicked +as the raskills should prosper--it's the devil's doing. Do as I tell +you, Tom! Write." + +The big Bible was open at the beginning, where many family entries were +put down. + +"What am I to write, father?" said Tom, with gloomy submission. + +"Write as your father, Edward Tulliver, took service under John Wakem, +the man as had helped to ruin him, because I'd promised my wife to make +her what amends I could, and because I wanted to die in th' old place +where I was born, and my father was born. Put that i' the right +words--you know how--and then write as I don't forgive Wakem for all +that; and for all I'll serve him honest, I wish evil may befall him. +Write that." + +There was a dead silence as Tom's pen moved along the paper. + +"Now let me hear what you've wrote," said Mr. Tulliver; and Tom read +aloud, slowly. + +"Now, write--write as you'll remember what Wakem's done to your father, +and you'll make him and his feel it, if ever the day comes. And sign +your name--Thomas Tulliver!" + +"Oh, no, father, dear father!" said Maggie, trembling like a leaf. "You +shouldn't make Tom write that!" + +"Be quiet, Maggie!" said Tom, impatiently, "I shall write it!" + + +_IV.--In Death They Were Not Divided_ + + +The Red Deeps was always a favourite place to Maggie to walk in. An old +stone quarry, so long exhausted that both mounds and hollows were now +clothed with brambles and trees, and with here and there a stretch of +grass which a few sheep kept close nibbled. This was the Red Deeps, and +it was here in June that Maggie once more met Philip Wakem, five years +after their first meeting at Mr. Stelling's. He told her that she was +much more beautiful than he had thought she would be, and assured her, +in answer to the difficulties she raised as to their meeting, that there +was no enmity in his father's mind. + +And Maggie went home with an inward conflict already begun, and Philip +went home to do nothing but remember and hope. + +In the following April they met again, after Philip had been abroad. + +And now he took her hand, and asked her the simple question, "_Do_ you +love me?" + +"I think I could hardly love anyone better; there is nothing but what I +love you for," Maggie answered. But she pointed out how impossible even +their friendship was, if it were discovered. + +Philip, on his side, refused to give up hope, and before they parted +that day she had kissed him. + +Tom intervened before the next visit to the Red Deeps. He had heard that +Philip Wakem had been seen there with his sister, and Maggie admitted, +on his questioning her, that she had told Philip that she loved him. + +"Now, then, Maggie," Tom said coldly, "there are but two courses for you +to take. Either you vow solemnly to me, with your hand on father's +Bible, that you will never have another meeting or speak another word in +private to Philip Wakem, or you refuse and I tell my father everything!" + +In vain Maggie pleaded. Tom was obdurate, and she repeated the words of +renunciation. + +But that was not enough for Tom Tulliver; he accompanied Maggie to Red +Deeps, and in a voice of harsh scorn told Philip that he had been taking +a mean, unmanly advantage. + +"It was for my father's sake, Philip," said Maggie, imploringly. "Tom +threatens to tell my father--and he couldn't bear it. I have promised, I +have vowed solemnly, that we will not have any intercourse without my +brother's knowledge." + +"It is enough, Maggie. _I_ shall not change, but I wish you to hold +yourself entirely free. But trust me--remember that I can never seek for +anything but good to what belongs to you." + +Tom only replied with angry contempt, and led Maggie away. All his +sister's remonstrances he answered with cold obstinacy. + +For his character in its strength was hard. Tom had laboured to one end +in these years: to pay off his father's creditors, and regain Dorlcote +Mill. By his industry, and by some successful private ventures in trade, +the day came when the first of the objects was realised, and Mr. +Tulliver lived to see himself free of debt. + +But Mr. Tulliver's satisfaction was short-lived. Excited by the dinner +given to celebrate the payment of his creditors, he met Mr. Wakem near +the mill. From angry words it came to blows, and Tulliver fell on the +lawyer furiously, only ceasing from attack when Maggie and Mrs. Tulliver +appeared. Wakem went off without serious injury, but Tulliver only lived +through the night; the excitement had killed him. + +"You must take care of her, Tom," said the dying man, turning to his +daughter. "You'll manage to pay for a brick grave, Tom, so as your +mother and me can lie together? This world's...too many...honest man..." + +At last there was total stillness, and poor Tulliver's dimly lighted +soul had ceased to be vexed with the painful riddle of this world. + +Tom and Maggie went downstairs together, and Maggie spoke. "Tom, forgive +me; let us always love each other"--and they clung and wept together. + +But they were not to be always united. + +Tom lived in lodgings in the town, and was anxious to provide for his +sister, but Maggie preferred to take up teaching in her old boarding- +school. She met Philip Wakem again, and though Tom released her from her +old promise, he could not regard Philip with any feelings of friendship. + +It was when Tom had, by years of steady work, fulfilled his father's +wishes and become once more master of Dorlcote Mill that Maggie +returned--to be no more separated from her brother. She was staying in +the town near the river on the night when the flood came, and the river +rose beyond its banks. Her first thought, as the water entered the lower +part of the house, was of the mill, where Tom was. There was no time to +get assistance; she must go herself, and alone. Hastily she procured a +boat, and at last reached the mill. The water was up to the first story, +but still the mill stood firm. + +"Tom, where are you? Here is Maggie!" she called out, in a loud, +piercing voice. Tom opened the middle window, and got into the boat. Tom +rowed with vigour, but a new danger was before them in the river. + +"Get out of the current!" was shouted at them, but it could not be done +at once. Huge fragments of machinery, swept off one of the wharves, +blocked the stream in one wide mass, and the current swept the boat +swiftly on to its doom. + +"It is coming, Maggie!" Tom said, in a deep, hoarse voice, loosing the +oars and clasping her. + +The next instant the boat was no longer seen upon the water, and brother +and sister had gone down in an embrace never to be parted; living +through again in one supreme moment the days when they had clasped their +little hands in love. + +"In their death they were not divided." + + * * * * * + + + + +ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN + + +Waterloo + + + Emile Erckmann was born at Phalsbourg, in Alsace, on May 20, + 1822, and Alexandre Chatrian, at Soldatenthal, on December 18, + 1826. Erckmann, the son of a bookseller, became a law student, + and was admitted to the Bar in 1858. But the law studies were + always uncongenial, and Erckmann meeting Chatrian as a fellow + student in the gymnasium at Phalsbourg, the two young men + decided to join forces in authorship. The Erckmann-Chatrian + partnership lasted from 1860 to 1885, and resulted in a + remarkable series of novels, short stories, plays, and operas. + "Waterloo" was published in 1865, and has enjoyed a wide + popularity in many languages. Like "The Conscript," its + predecessor, the charm of "Waterloo" consists largely in the + character of Joseph Bertha, the young clockmaker of + Phalsbourg, who tells the story. Bertha is a peaceful citizen + who hates war and has no taste for glory. Yet he is nothing of + a coward, and behaves like a man when he is forced to fight. + To the student of history, the light thrown on the rise and + fall of the Bourbon popularity in France, 1813-14, in this + novel, will always be of interest. Chatrian died in Paris on + September 4, 1890, and Erckmann at Luneville, on March 14, + 1899. + + +_I.--Napoleon Returns_ + + +Never was anything so joyous as the spring of 1814 Louis XVIII. was +king, and the war was over. All except the old soldiers were content; +and only when the nobles, who had fled at the Revolution, returned, and +it was said that they were going to bring back all their old ideas, did +M. Goulden express any dissatisfaction. There were great religious +processions everywhere and expiatory services, and talk of rebuilding +all the convents, and setting up the nobles again in their castles. But +these things did not trouble me, because I was married to Catherine, and +knew nothing about politics. + +The treatment of the old soldiers enraged me. On the day of the +religious procession at Phalsbourg, half a dozen old veterans, restored +prisoners, were set upon in our town by that rascal Pinacle and the +people of Baraques, and knocked about. Pinacle did this to curry favour +with Louis XVIII., and M. Goulden warned us that if ruffians like +Pinacle got the upper hand it would open people's eyes. + +Sure enough, Pinacle received the cross of honour in the autumn when the +Duc de Berry came to review the troops at Phalsbourg, and even Aunt +Grédel, who was fond of abusing Napoleon and the Jacobins, and +applauding the king and the clergy, thought this a shameful thing. + +It really was scandalous the way titles and honours were given to +worthless people who shouted for the king. Worse than this was the way +Napoleon's old officers were treated. Men who had fought and bled for +France for twenty years were now well-nigh starving, driven out of the +army to make room for the king's favourites. + +We read all this in the "Gazette," and Zébédé, who had come back alive +and in time for my wedding, and was still in the army, would often come +in and tell us of the growing indignation of the soldiers. The whole of +that winter the indignation was spreading in the town at the sight of so +many brave officers, the heroes of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Wagram, +wandering forlornly about, starving on half-pay, and deprived of their +posts. + +How well I remember one day in January, 1815, two of these officers, +pale and gaunt, coming into the workshop to sell a watch. + +M. Goulden examined the watch with great care and said, "Do not be +offended, gentlemen; I, too, served France under the Republic, and I +know it must cut to the heart to be forced to sell something which +recalls sacred memories." + +"It was given me by Prince Eugène," said one of the officers, Commandant +Margarot, a hussar. + +"It is worth more than 1,000 francs," said M. Goulden, "and I cannot +afford to buy it. But I will advance you 200 francs, and the watch shall +remain here if you like, and shall be yours whenever you come to reclaim +it." + +The old hussar broke down at this, and though his comrade, Colonel +Falconette, tried to restrain him, he poured forth thanks and bitter +words against the government. + +From that time it always seemed to me that things would end badly, and +that the nobles had gone too far. The old commandant had said that the +government behaved like Cossacks to the army, and this was horrible. + +M. Goulden read the "Gazette" aloud to us every day, and both Catherine +and I were pleased to find there were men in Paris maintaining the very +things we thought ourselves. + +All this time the clergy were going on with their processions, and +sermons were being preached about the rebellion of 1790, the restitution +of property to the landowners, and the re-establishment of convents, and +the need for missionaries for the conversion of France. From such ideas +what good could come? + +It is no wonder that when a report came early in March that Napoleon had +landed at Cannes and was marching on Paris we were all very agitated at +Phalsbourg. + +"It is plain," said M. Goulden, "that the emperor will reach Paris. The +soldiers are for him; so are the peasantry, whose property is +threatened; and so are the middle classes, provided he will make +treaties of peace." + + +_II.--"Vive l'Empereur!"_ + + +For some days, though all knew Napoleon had set foot in France, no one +dared talk of it aloud. Only the looks of the half-pay officers betrayed +their anxiety. If they had possessed horses and arms I am sure they +would have set out to meet their emperor. + +On March 8, Zébédé entered our house and said abruptly, "The two first +batallions are starting." + +"They are going to stop him?" said M. Goulden. + +"Yes, they'll stop him, that is very likely," Zébédé answered, winking. +At the foot of the stairs he drew me aside and whispered, "Look inside +my cap, Joseph; all the soldiers have got it, too." + +Sure enough it was the old tricolour cockade, which had been removed on +the return of Louis XVIII. + +At last the papers had to admit that Buonaparte had escaped from Elba. +What a scene it was in the café the night the papers arrived! M. Goulden +and I were hardly seated before the place was filled with people, and it +was so close the windows had to be opened. + +Commandant Margarot mounted on a table with other officers all around +him, and began to read the "Gazette" aloud. It took a long time, the +reading, and the people laughed and jeered at the passages that said the +troops were faithful to the king, that Buonaparte was surrounded and +would soon be taken, and that the illustrious Ney and the other marshals +had hastened to place their swords at the service of the king. The +commandant read on firmly in that distinct voice of his until he came to +the order calling upon the French to seize Buonaparte and give him up +dead or alive. + +Then his whole face changed and his eyes glittered. He took the +"Gazette" up and tore it into little pieces, and, drawing himself up, +his long arms stretched out, cried, "Vive l'Empereur!" with all his +might. Immediately all the half-pay officers took up the cry, and "Vive +l'Empereur!" was repeated again by the very soldiers posted outside the +town hall when they heard the shout. + +The commandant was carried shoulder high round the café, and everyone +was now calling out, "Vive l'Empereur!" I saw the tears in the eyes of +the commandant, tears at hearing the name he loved best acclaimed once +more. + +As for me, I felt as if cold water was being forced down my back. "It's +all over," I said to myself. "It's no good talking about peace." + +But M. Goulden was more hopeful, and after we got home spoke cheerfully +of the blessings of liberty and a good constitution. + +Aunt Grédel did not take this view. She came to see us the morning after +the scene in the café, when all the town was discussing the great news, +and began at once, "So it seems the villain has run away from his +island?" + +Both M. Goulden and I were anxious to avoid a dispute, for Aunt Grédel +was really angry, and she couldn't leave the subject. + +M. Goulden admitted that he preferred Napoleon to the Bourbons, with +their nobles and missionary priests, because the emperor was bound to +respect the national property, whereas the later would have destroyed +all that the Revolution had accomplished. "Still, I am now, and always +shall be till death, for the Republic and the rights of man," M. Goulden +concluded. + +The old gentleman took his hat and went out to escape further argument, +and Aunt Grédel turned to me and told me that M. Goulden was an old fool +and always had been, and that I should have to go to Switzerland now, +unless Buonaparte was taken before he reached Paris. + +In the evening, however, when Aunt Grédel had gone, and we three were +together, Catherine said quietly, "M. Goulden is right; he knows more +about these things than my mother does, and we will always listen to his +advice." + +I thought to myself, "Yes, that's all very well; but it will be a +horrible thing to have to put on one's knapsack again and be off. I +would rather be in Switzerland than in Leipzig." + +Each day now brought news of Napoleon's advance, from Grenoble to Lyons, +from Lyons to Macon and Auxerre. There was no opposition anywhere to his +progress, and the only question that troubled M. Goulden's mind was the +attitude of Ney to the emperor. Could Ney, an old soldier of the +Revolution, though he had kissed the hand of Louis XVIII., betray the +country to please the king? The uneasiness disappeared when we learnt +that Ney had followed the example of the army, the citizens, and of all +who did not wish to go back to the customs and laws of twenty-five years +earlier. + +On March 21, just as it was getting dark, we knew that something +decisive must have happened at Paris. The drums were calling to arms in +the market-place, and a great crowd soon assembled. + +The soldiers fell into their ranks, Commandant Gémeau, who had only just +recovered from his wounds, drew his sword, and gave the order to form +square. + +M. Goulden and I got on a bench to listen; we knew that the fate of +France depended on the message we were to hear. + +"Present arms!" called out the commandant in the same clear voice which +had bidden us at Lützen and Leipzig, "Close up your ranks!" + +Then came the news we had been waiting for. + +"Soldiers, his Majesty Louis XVIII. left Paris on March 20, and the +Emperor Napoleon entered the capital the same day." + +For a second there was a dead silence, and then the commandant spoke of +the banner of France, the banner of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena, +stained with our blood; and the old sergeant drew out the tattered +tricolour flag from its case. + +"I know no other flag!" cried the commandant, raising his sword. "Vive +la France! Vive l'Empereur!" + +What a shout there was of "Vive l'Empereur! Vive la France!" at this. +The people and the soldiers embraced one another, and that night and for +the next five or six days there was, if anything, even more rejoicing +than there had been on the return of Louis XVIII. We still hoped for the +continuance of peace, but who could say how long the peace would last? + +Phalsbourg was ordered to put itself into a state of defence, a large +workshop was set up at the arsenal for the repairing of arms, and +engineers and artillerymen came over from Metz to make earthworks in the +fortifications. It seemed to me that a large number of men would be +required for all the guns and forts, and that my watchmaking days would +soon be exchanged for active service. I began to think that, after all, +religious processions were better than being sent to fight against +people one knew nothing about. + + +_III.--On the Road to Waterloo_ + + +Aunt Grédel had not been to see us for a month, and it was a great +comfort to Catherine and me when one Sunday M. Goulden proposed that we +should all three pay her a visit at Quatre Vents. As soon as she saw us, +Aunt Grédel rushed to kiss her daughter, and called out, "You are a good +man, M. Goulden, better a thousand times than I am. How glad I am to see +you! It doesn't matter about being a Jacobin or anything else; the main +thing is to have a good heart." + +It was not until the afternoon that M. Goulden explained that he had +known for some days that I should be called up to rejoin my old +regiment, and that he had arranged with the commandant of artillery that +I should be received at the arsenal as a workman. What relief this was +to us, for I could not bear the thought of separation from Catherine. So +from that day I went to work at the arsenal, and Aunt Grédel came to see +us again as she had been accustomed to do. + +It can be guessed with what spirit I worked at the arsenal, and how +pleased I was when the commandant expressed satisfaction at my work. But +I was not allowed to stop at Phalsbourg. + +On May 23 the commandant told me that I must go to Metz with the 3rd +battalion, to which I belonged. He assured me, however, that I should be +kept at Metz in the workshops, and we all did our best to believe that I +was fortunate in my destination. M. Goulden, however, warned me before I +left that France was threatened by her enemies, that the allies would +make no peace with the emperor, but were determined to set Louis XVIII. +once more on the throne, and that now the question was not of invading +other countries, but of defending our own. + +Catherine was asleep when the morning came for my departure, and I was +glad to escape the pain of saying "good-bye." At the barracks, Zébédé, +who was now a sergeant, led me into the soldiers' room, and I put on my +uniform. Then the battalion defiled through the gates, the soldiers at +the outworks presented arms, and we were on the way to Waterloo. + +It was useless to think of stopping in Metz. We arrived in that city of +Jews and soldiers after five days' march, and were at once, after our +night's rest, supplied with ammunition. I saw that my only chance of +staying at the workshops of Metz would be after the campaign was over, +for we were on the march the very next morning. Zébédé was not always +with me now, and my closest comrade was Jean Buche, the son of a +sledge-maker at Harberg, who had never eaten anything better than +potatoes before he became a conscript. Buche turned in his feet in +walking, but he never seemed to know the meaning of being tired, and in +his own fashion was a wonderful pedestrian. + +From Metz we marched through Thionville, Châtelet, Etain, Dannevoux, +Yong, Vivier, and Cul-de-Sard. All our troops were pouring into +Belgium--cavalry, infantry, and artillery--and though there were no +signs of the enemy, it was reported that we were to attack the English. +I thought as well English as Prussians, Austrians, or Russians, since we +were to kill each other. + +On the night of June 14 we bivouacked outside the village of Roly, and +General Pécheux read a proclamation by the emperor, reminding us that +this was the anniversary of Marengo, that the powers were in coalition +against France, and that the hour had come for France to conquer or +perish. + +It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm at this message from the +emperor; our courage was stronger, and the conscripts were even more +anxious than the veterans for the fighting to begin. + +We were up at daybreak next day and on the march, eager to get a sight +of the Prussians, who had been repulsed from Charleroi by the emperor, +we were told. At the village of Châtelet we halted, and heard the noise +of firing away across the River Sambre, in the direction of Gilly. An +old bald peasant told us that evening that the Prussians had men in the +villages of Fleurus and Lambusart, that the English and Belgians were on +the great Brussels road, and that the causeway through Quatre Bras and +Ligny enabled the Prussians and English to communicate freely with each +other. He also told us that the Prussians said insulting things of the +French army, and were generally hated by the people. When I heard of the +way the Prussians boasted, my blood boiled, and I said to myself, "There +shall be no more compassion. Either they or we must be utterly +destroyed." + +I can recall with what splendour the sun rose next morning above a +cornfield--it was the morning of the battle of Ligny. Zébédé and one or +two comrades whom I had known in 1813 came and chattered while we lit +our fires. We could see the Prussians before us, posting themselves +behind hedges and walls, and preparing to defend the villages, and all +the time we were kept roasting in the corn, waiting for the signal to +attack. The emperor arrived, and held a short conference with the +superior officers, and I saw him at close quarters before he rode off +again to the village of Fleurus, already vacated by the Prussians. + +And still we waited, though we knew the attack on St. Amand had begun. + +At last came our turn to advance on Ligny. "Forward! Forward!" cried the +officers. "Vive l'Empereur!" we shouted. The Prussian bullets whizzed +like hail upon us, and then we could see or hear nothing till we were in +the village. + +No quarter was given that day; we fought in houses and gardens, in barns +and lanes, with muskets and bayonets. Those who fell were lost. At one +time fifteen of us were in possession of a barn, and the Prussians, for +a time outnumbering us, drove us up a ladder. They fired up at our +floor, and finally, when it seemed we were lost, and were all to be +massacred we heard the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the Prussians +fled. Out of that fifteen only six were left alive, but Zébédé and Buche +were among the survivors. + +The battle still raged in the village streets, dead and dying were +everywhere. Towards nightfall it was plain we were the victors; Ligny +and St. Amand were in our hands, and the Prussians had moved away. On +the plateau behind Ligny, where our cavalry had been at work, the +slaughter had been terrible. + +The dozen or so remaining of our company rested for a few hours that +night in the ruins of a farmhouse, and next day came the roll-call of +our battalion, and the sending off of the wounded. More than 360 of our +men, including Commandant Gémeau and Captain Vidal, were disabled, and +we were busy all day over the wounded. + +It was wet and muddy that evening, and we were hungry and dispirited +when we reached Quatre Bras, about eight o'clock. We were not allowed to +halt here, but marched on to a village called Jemappes, and at midnight +we settled down in a furrow to wait for morning. + +The red coats of the English were visible before us when we awoke next +morning; behind their lines was the village of Mont St. Jean, and they +had also the farmhouses of La Haie-Sainte and Hougomont. At six o'clock +I looked at their position, with Zébédé, Captain Florentin, and Buche, +and it seemed to me it was a difficult task before us. It was Sunday, +and I could hear the bells of villages, recalling Phalsbourg. But in a +very little while we heard no more bells, for at half-past eight our +battalion was on its way to the high road in front, and the battle of +Waterloo had begun. + + +_IV.--The Hour of Disaster_ + + +I have often heard veterans describe the order of battle given by the +emperor. But all I remember of that terrible day is that we marched out +with the bands playing, that we got to close quarters with the English, +were repulsed, and were assisted by regiments of cuirassiers, that we +carried La Haie-Sainte with terrible slaughter at Ney's command. +Hougomont we could not carry. When we thought we were winning, the news +was spread that Blücher, with 60,000 men, was advancing on our flank, +and that unless Grouchy, with his 30,000, arrived in time to reinforce +us the day might be lost. + +All the world knows now that Grouchy did not arrive, that we threw +ourselves again and again upon the English squares, and that at last, +when regiment after regiment had tried in vain to break the enemy's +line, the Old Guard were called up by the emperor. It was the last +chance of retrieving the day, the grand stroke--and it failed. + +The four battalions of the Guards, reduced from 3,000 to 1,200 men, were +assailed by so fierce a fire that they were compelled to retire. They +retired slowly, defending themselves with muskets and bayonets, but with +their retirement, and the approach of night, the battle ended for us in +the confusion of a rout. It was like a flood. We were surrounded on all +sides when Blücher arrived. The Old Guard formed a square for the +emperor and his officers, and the rest of us simply straggled away, back +to France. The most awful thing of all was the beating of the drum of +the Old Guard in that hour of disaster. It was like a fire-bell, the +last appeal of a burning nation. + +Buche was by my side in the retreat. Several times the Prussians +attacked us. We heard that the emperor had departed for Paris, and we +struggled on, only hoping to escape with our lives. At Charleroi the +inhabitants shut the city gates in our face, and Buche shared in the +general rage, and proposed to destroy the town. But I thought we had had +enough massacres, and that it was not right we should be killing our own +countrymen, and I persuaded Buche to come on with me. + +In a few days we felt ourselves safe from pursuing Prussians, and at the +village of Bouvigny I wrote a letter to Catherine, telling her I was +safe. In this village some officers of our regiment, the 6th of the +Line, found us, and we had to rejoin. Presently we saw all that was left +of Grouchy's army corps in retreat, and a day or two later we heard of +the emperor's abdication. On July 1, we reached Paris, and outside the +city, near the village of Issy, we once more fell in with the Prussians; +for two days we fought them with fury, and then some generals announced +that peace had been made. + +We believed that this truce was to give the enemy time to leave the +country, and that otherwise France would rise, as it rose in '92, and +drive them out. + +Unhappily, we soon learnt that the Prussians and English were to occupy +Paris, and that the remains of the French army were to be kept beyond +the Loire. We all felt that we had been betrayed, and the old officers, +pale with anger, wept in their misery. Paris in the hands of the +Prussians! Besides, were we to go to the other side of the Loire at the +command of Blücher? + +Desertions began that very day, and I said to Buche, "Let us return to +Phalsbourg and Harberg, and take up our work, and live like honest men." +About fifty of us from Alsace-Lorraine were in the battalion, and we set +off together on the road to Strasbourg. + +On July 8 we heard that Louis XVIII. was to come back, and already the +white banner of the Bourbons was being displayed in the villages. + +In some places there were rascals who called us Buonapartists, and +gendarmes who took us to the town hall and made us shout "Vive le Roi!" +Buche and some of the old soldiers hated this; but what did it matter +who was king, and what these fools wanted us to shout? + +Our little company got smaller and smaller as men halted in their own +villages, and when, on July 16, we reached Phalsbourg, Buche and I were +alone. + +Buche went on to break the news of my return, but I could not wait, and +ran after him. + +I heard people saying, "There's Joseph, Bertha," and in a moment I was +in the house, and in Catherine's arms. Then I embraced M. Goulden, and +an hour later Aunt Grédel arrived. + +Jean Buche would not stay and dine with us, but hurried home to Harberg. +I have often seen him since; and Zébédé, too, who remained in the army. + +Many insulting things were said about us by the Pinacles, but I had +happiness in my family circle, especially when Catherine presented me +with a little Joseph. + +I am an old man now, but M. Goulden always said the principles of +freedom and liberty would triumph, and I have lived long enough to see +his words come true. + + * * * * * + + + + +OCTAVE FEUILLET + + +Romance of a Poor Young Man + + Octave Feuillet, born at Saint Lô, in France, on August 11, + 1821, was the son of a Norman gentleman who regarded + literature as an ignoble profession. When Octave ran away to + Paris in order to pursue a literary career, his father refused + to help him, and for some years the young writer had a very + hard struggle. But on taking to novel-writing, Feuillet + quickly acquired fame and fortune. His "Romance of a Poor + Young Man" ("Le Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre"), which + appeared in 1858, made him the most popular author of the day. + Standing midway between the novelists of the romantic school + and the writers of the realistic movement, he combined a sense + of the poetry of life with a gift for analysing the finer + shades of feeling. The plot of the "Romance of a Poor Young + Man" is certainly extraordinary; but in the present case some + allowance must be made for the fact that the hero is induced + to accept the humble position in which he finds himself by his + old family lawyer, who secretly designs to marry him to the + daughter of his new employers. A scheme of this sort would not + Strike a French reader as improbable, for marriage in France + is often more a business arrangement than a love affair. + Feuillet spent the latter part of his life in retirement, and + died on December 29, 1890. + + +_I.--A Nobleman in Difficulties_ + + +Here I am, then, in the situation that Lawyer Laubépin obtained for me. +I am alone at last, thank goodness, sitting in a gloomy room in this old +Breton castle, in which the former steward to the Laroque family used to +live. My position is certainly very strange, but as Laubépin was +discreet, and did not tell his clients that he was sending them a new +steward in the person of the young Marquis of Champcey, perhaps I shall +not find my post very difficult. I was afraid that the Laroques were a +family of the vulgarly rich sort, like the dreadful persons who have +bought my father's lands. Laroque is a picturesque figure in his old +age, and though his widowed daughter-in-law is rather more commonplace, +his grand-daughter, Marguerite Laroque, is a nobly beautiful girl. + +If it were not for my accursed pride, I should now feel happier than I +have ever felt since that day of disaster, misery, and shame when +Laubépin told me that my poor dead father had lost his fortune in +speculations, and left nothing but his title and his debts. Well, I have +paid the debts, and if I can now only earn enough money to keep my +little sister Hélène at school, I shall not grumble at my lot. I feel +the loss of my friends, it is true. There is not a soul I can confide +in, and I must find some outlet for the thoughts and feelings that +oppress me; so I will keep this diary. + +It will be at least a silent confidant, and perhaps when I am older I +shall be able to read with a certain pleasurable interest its record of +my singular adventures. No other man in France, on May 1, 1857, can have +been transformed so suddenly, as by the wand of a witch, from a powerful +and wealthy young nobleman of ancient lineage into a humble and despised +domestic servant. Perhaps a good fairy will appear and restore me to my +proper shape; but I wish she had appeared at dinner this evening. There +were twenty guests, and it was the first time since the change of my +fortunes that I took part in a society affair. Nobody spoke to me, +except the pretty little governess of the family, Mlle. Hélouin; and we +were placed at the end of the table. The position of honour was given to +a young and brilliant nobleman, M. de Bévallan, whose estate joined that +of the Laroque family. I gathered from Mlle. Hélouin that it was his +ambition to unite the two estates by marrying Mlle. Marguerite Laroque. +I was, therefore, surprised when the lovely heiress led her grandfather +into the room when everybody was seated, placed him in a chair by +Bévallan, and came and sat by my side. + +"She can't," I thought to myself, "be much in love with her wooer," and +I began to study her with a certain curiosity. Her fine, clear-cut +features and large dark eyes attracted me; and by way of opening the +conversation I spoke of the wildly beautiful scenery through which I had +passed on my way to the castle. It was a bad beginning. + +"I see," she said, with a singular expression of irony, "that you are a +poet. You must talk about the forests and moorlands with Mlle. Hélouin, +who also adores these things. For my part I do not love them." + +"What is it, then, that you really love?" I said. + +She gave me a supercilious look and said, in a hard voice, "Nothing, +sir." + +I must confess I was hurt. I could not see that I had done anything to +lay myself open to so harsh an answer. No doubt I was only a servant. +But why had she come and sat beside me if she did not want to talk? I +was glad when the dinner was over and we went into the drawing-room. +Madame Laroque, the widowed mother of Marguerite, began to ask M. +Bévallan about the new opera in Paris; he was unable to reply, so, as I +had seen the work in Italy before it was produced in France, I gave her +a description of it. I am afraid I forgot myself with Madame Laroque--a +fine-looking, cultivated woman of forty years of age. Flattered by the +way in which she treated me entirely as her equal, I insensibly glided +from theatrical topics to fashionable gossip, and just stopped in time +in an anecdote about my tour in Russia. A few more words and she would +have learnt that her humble steward, Maxime Odiot--as I am now called-- +was a man with very aristocratic connections. + +In order to hide my embarrassment, I moved towards the table where some +of the guests were playing whist. This led to my committing a blunder +which, I fear, may make my position a difficult one. Among the whist- +players was a Mlle. de Porhoet-Gael, eighty-eight years of age and full +of strange crotchets. The last descendant of the noblest of Breton +families, she lived, so Madame Laroque told me, on an income of forty +pounds a year, her fortune having been spent in vainly fighting for the +succession to a great estate in Spain. She was talking about it to her +partner when I came up. + +"The estate belongs to me," she was saying. "My father told me so a +hundred times, and the persons who are trying to take it from me have no +more connection with my family than this handsome young gentleman has." + +And she designated me with a look and a movement of her head. No doubt +she did not mean to imply that because I was a steward I was of mean +birth; but I was stung by her remark, and forgetting myself, I replied +rather sharply, "You are mistaken, madam, in thinking that I am +unrelated to your family." + +"You will have to prove that to me, young man." + +Confused and ashamed, I withdrew into the corner and tried to talk to +Mlle. Hélouin about poetry and art, but at last, upset and distracted, I +arose and walked out of the room. Mlle. de Porhoet followed me. + +"Monsieur Odiot," she said, "would you mind seeing me home? My servant +has not arrived, and I am growing too feeble now to walk without help." + +Naturally, I went with her. + +"What did you mean," she said, as we walked on together, "by claiming to +be a relation of mine?" + +"I hope," I replied very humbly, "that you will pardon a jest that--" + +"A jest!" she interrupted. "Is a matter touching my honour a jest? I +see; a remark which would be an insult if addressed to a man becomes +only a jest when it is levelled at an old, unprotected woman." + +After that, nothing was left to me, as a man of honour, but to entrust +her with my secret. There had been several marriages between our +families, and after listening with great interest to the story of my +troubles, she became wonderfully kind in her manner to me. + +"You must come and see me to-morrow, cousin," she said, when we parted. +"My law-suit is going very badly and I should like you to go through all +my papers, and see if you can discover any new documents in support of +my claim. Do not despair, my dear, over your own misfortunes. I think I +shall be able to help you." + + +_II.--Love and Jealousy_ + + +I am afraid I lack the industry necessary for keeping a diary. It is now +two months since I wrote the last entry. If I had made every night a +brief note of the events of the day, I should now have a better view of +my position. Has Mlle. de Porhoet betrayed my secret? There has +certainly been a curious change in my relations with the Laroques. I +fancy it began on the day when Marguerite and I met at last on an equal +footing at Mlle. de Porhoet's house. The document which I had just then +found may not be as important as we thought, but our common joy in what +we considered was a discovery of tremendous value brought us closer +together. + +But I cannot understand Marguerite. Sometimes she still goes out of her +way to be insulting towards me, and sometimes she treats me with a sweet +frankness which has something sisterly in it. One day, for instance, she +came to my window and asked me if I would go for a walk with her. "Bring +your sketch-book, Monsieur Odiot," she called out gaily, "and I will +take you to Merlin's Tomb in the Enchanted Valley." + +As a matter of fact, the woods around the castle of the Laroques were +the remains of the famous forest of Broceliande, and I had always been +promising myself a long ramble through this region of romance, but I had +never found time to explore it. I was now glad I had waited, for +Marguerite was a charming guide. Never had I seen her so light-hearted. +When we reached a great block of stone in the depth of the wood, under +which the wizard Merlin is said to be imprisoned by Vivien, Marguerite +made herself a garland of oak-leaves, and standing like a lovely +priestess clad all in white against the Druidic monument, she asked me +to make a sketch of her. With what joy did I paint the poetic vision +before me! I think she was pleased with the drawing, but on our way back +to the castle a foolish word of mine brought our friendship to an end. +We came to a picturesque little lake, at the end of which was a +waterfall, overgrown with brambles. In order to show what a good swimmer +her dog was, Marguerite threw something in the current and told him to +fetch it, but he got carried over the waterfall and caught in the +whirlpool below. + +"Come away! He is drowning--come away! I can't bear to see it!" cried +Marguerite, seizing me by the arm. "No, do not attempt to save him. The +pool is very dangerous." + +I am a good swimmer, however, and with a little trouble I managed to +rescue the dog. + +"What madness!" she murmured. "You might have been drowned, and just for +a dog!" + +"It was yours," I answered in a low voice. + +Her manner at once changed. + +"You had better run home, Monsieur Odiot," she said very coldly, "or you +will get a chill. Do not wait for me." + +So I returned alone, and for some days Marguerite never spoke a word to +me. What was still worse, M. Bévallan appeared at the castle, and she +went for walks with him, leaving me in the company of Mlle. Hélouin. I +am afraid that I became very friendly with the pretty governess. +Nothing, however, that I ever said to her, or that she said to me, +prepared me for the strange scene that happened to-night. As I was +walking along the terrace, she came up and took my arm, and said, "Are +you really my friend, Maxime?" + +"Yes," I said. + +"Then tell me the truth," she exclaimed. "Do you love me, or do you love +Mademoiselle Marguerite?" + +"Why do you bring in her name?" I said. + +"Ah, you love her!" she cried fiercely; "or, rather, you love her +fortune. But you shall never have it, Monsieur de Champcey. I know why +you came here under a false name, and so shall she." + +With a movement of anger she departed. I cannot continue here under +suspicion of being a fortune-hunter, so I have written to Laubépin to +obtain another situation for me. + + +_III.--Two on a Tower_ + + +It is all over. Was it because she still only half believed the slanders +spread against me that Marguerite again asked me to go for a walk with +her? Oh, what an unfortunate wretch I am! We rode through the forest +together to one of the most magnificent monuments in Brittany, the +Castle of Elven. Finding the door unlocked, we tethered our horses in +the deserted courtyard, and climbed up the narrow, winding staircase to +the battlements. The sea of autumnal foliage below was bathed in the +light of the setting sun, and for a long time we sat side by side in +silence, gazing at the infinite distances. + +"Come!" she said at last, in a low whisper, as the light died out of the +sky. "It is finished!" + +But on descending the dark staircase we found that the door of the keep +was locked. No doubt the shepherd boy who looked after the castle had +come and shut up the place while we were sitting, watching the sunset. + +"Monsieur de Champcey," she said, in a cold, hard voice, "were there any +scoundrels in your family before you?" + +"Marguerite!" I cried. + +"You paid that boy to lock us in," she exclaimed. "You think you will +force me to marry you by compromising me in this manner. Do you think +you will win my hand--and, what is more important to you still, my +wretched wealth--by this trick? Rather than marry a scoundrel like you, +I will shut myself up in a convent!" + +Carried away by my feelings, I seized her two hands, and said, "Now +listen, Marguerite. I love you, it is true. Never did man love more +devotedly, yes, and more disinterestedly, than I do. But I swear that if +I get out of this place alive I will never marry you until you are as +poor as I am, or I as rich as you are. If you love me, as I think you +do, fall on your knees and pray, for unless a miracle happens you will +never see me again alive." + +But a miracle did happen. I threw myself out of the window, and fell +upon a branch of an oak-tree. It bent beneath my weight, and then broke; +but it came so near the earth before breaking that if my left arm had +not struck against the masonry I should have escaped uninjured. As it +was, my arm was smashed, and I swooned away with the pain. When I came +to, Marguerite was leaning out of the window, calling, "Maxime, speak to +me! For the love of heaven, speak to me, and say you pardon me!" + +I arose, saying, "I am not hurt. If you will only wait another hour, I +will go home and get some one to let you out. Believe me, I will save +your honour as I have saved my own." + +Binding up my arm, I got on my horse, and galloped back to Laroque +Castle. On the way I met Bévallan. + +"Have you seen Mlle. Marguerite?" he said. "We are afraid she has got +lost." + +"I met her this afternoon," I replied. "She told me she was going for a +ride to Elven Castle." + +He rode off in the direction from which I had come, and when I returned +from the doctor with my broken arm set and bandaged, Marguerite and +Bévallan entered. + +Hearing that I had had an accident, Madame Laroque came up late to-night +to see me. Old Laroque has had a stroke of paralysis, she tells me, and +she wishes to get the marriage contract between her daughter and +Bévallan signed to-morrow. Laubépin is bringing the document. + + +_IV.---A Test Case_ + + +I don't know why I take the trouble to go on with this diary, but having +begun it I may as well finish it. Laubépin wanted me to go into the +drawing-room to witness the signing of the marriage contract, but +happily I was too ill to leave my bed; not only was my arm very painful, +but I was suffering from the shock of the fall. What an hour of misery I +passed before Mlle. de Porhoet-Gael appeared with the news of what had +happened! Her sweet, kind old eyes were bright with joy. + +"It is all over," she said. "Bévallan has gone, and young Hélouin has +also been turned out of the house." + +I started up with surprise. + +"Yes," she continued, with a smile, "the contract has not been signed. +Our friend Laubépin drew it up in such a way that the husband was not +able to touch a penny of the wife's money. M. Bévallan objected to this; +while he and his lawyer were arguing the matter with Laubépin, +Marguerite rose up. + +"'Throw the contract in the fire,' she said, 'and, mother, give this +gentleman back the presents he sent to me.' + +"Laubépin threw the deed in the flames, and Marguerite and her mother +walked out of the room. + +"'What is the meaning of this?' cried Bévallan. + +"'I will tell you,' I answered. 'A certain young lady was afraid that +you were merely a fortune-hunter. She wanted to be certain of it, and +now she is so.' + +"Thereupon I, too, left the room. + +"But what is the matter with you, my dear boy? You are as pale as a +corpse." + +The fact was that the unexpected news aroused in me such a mixture of +joyful and painful feelings that I fell back in a swoon. When I +recovered, dear old Laubépin was standing by my bed. + +"Will you not confide in me, my boy?" he said rather sadly. "Something, +I can see, has happened which has made you miserable on the very day on +which you should be full of joy. What is it?" + +Moved by his sympathy, I gave him this diary to read, and poured out my +very soul to him. + +"It is useless for me," he said at last, "to conceal from you the fact +that I sent you here with the design to marry you to Marguerite. +Everything at first went as well as I could wish, and Madame Laroque was +delighted with the match. You and Marguerite were made for each other, +and you fell in love almost at first sight. But this affair at the +Castle of Elven is something I had not reckoned on. To leap out of the +window at the risk of breaking your neck was, my romantic young friend, +a sufficient demonstration of your disinterestedness. You need not have +taken a solemn oath never to marry Marguerite until you were as rich as +she is. What can you do now? You cannot forswear yourself, and you +cannot suddenly make an immense fortune." + +"I must depart with you," I said very sorrowfully. "There is no other +way." + +"No, Maxime," he replied, "you are too unwell to move. Remain here for +one month longer; then, if you do not hear from me, return to Paris." + +It is now a week since he left me, and I have seen no one for the last +seven days but the servant who waits upon me. He tells me that Laroque +has died, and that Marguerite and her mother, who have been tending him +night and day, have worn themselves out, and are now laid up with some +sort of fever. Mlle. de Porhoet is also very ill, and not expected to +live. Since I am well enough to walk over to Mlle. de Porhoet. I am told +that she keeps asking to see me. + + +_V.--Two in a Garden_ + + +The little maid who came to open the door was weeping, and as I came in +I was surprised to hear the voice of Laubépin. + +"It is Maxime, Marguerite," he said. + +Had Marguerite also risen up from a bed of sickness to see Mlle. de +Porhoet? I sprang up the stairs, and entered the room. + +"My poor, dear boy!" said Mlle. de Porhoet, in a strange, broken voice. + +She was lying in bed. Laubépin, a priest, and a doctor were standing on +one side, and Marguerite and her mother were kneeling down in prayer on +the other. I saw at once that she was at the point of death, and knelt +down beside Marguerite. The poor dying woman smiled faintly, and groped +for my hand and put it in Marguerite's, and then fell back on the +pillow. She was dead. + +Laubépin led me out of the room, and put a document in my hand. It was a +will, and the ink on it was hardly dry. Mlle. de Porhoet had made me her +heir. + +"How good of her!" I said to Laubépin. "I shall treasure her testament +as a mark of her love for me. I will settle her little estate on my +sister. It will at least keep Hélène from having to go out into the +world as a governess." + +"And it will keep you, my friend, from having to go out into the world +as a steward," said Laubépin, with a smile. "Don't you remember that +document about the Spanish succession which you discovered and sent to +me? We have won the law-suit, and you are the heir to an estate in Spain +which will make you one of the richest men in France." + +I went into the garden to think over my strange fortune. How long I sat +there in the darkness I do not know. On rising up, I heard a faint sound +beneath one of the trees, and a beloved form emerged from the foliage, +and stood against the starry sky. + +"Marguerite!" I cried, running up to her with outstretched arm. + +She murmured my name, and as I clasped her her lips sought mine, and we +poured our souls out in a kiss. + + * * * * * + +I have given Hélène half of my fortune. Marguerite is my wife, and I +close these pages for ever, having nothing more to confide to them. It +can be said of men, as it has been said of nations, "Happy are those +that have no story." + + * * * * * + + + + +HENRY FIELDING + + +Amelia + + Henry Fielding was born at Sharpham Park, near Glastonbury, + England, April 12, 1707. His father, a grandson of the Earl of + Desmond, and great-grandson of the first Earl of Denbigh, + settled in England shortly after the battle of Ramillies as a + country squire. In due course, Fielding was sent to Eton, and + afterwards to Leyden, where he remained for two years studying + civil law. Financial difficulties, however, put a temporary + end to his intention of entering the Bar, and in 1727 he + solved the problem of a career by beginning to write for the + stage. During the next nine years some eighteen of his plays + were produced. In 1748 he was appointed a justice of peace for + Westminster, and his writings on police and crime are of + interest to this day. "Amelia" was published in 1751, when its + author was a magistrate at Bow Street. In a dedicatory letter, + Fielding explained that the book was "sincerely designed to + promote the cause of virtue, and to expose some of the most + glaring evils, as well public as private, which at present + infest the country." The licentiousness of wealthy "men about + town," the corruption of justice, the abuses of the prison + system, the lack of honour concerning marriage--these are some + of the "glaring evils" exposed with all the great novelist's + power in "Amelia." In the characters of Dr. Harrison and + Amelia herself, the virtuous man and woman are drawn so + clearly that they inevitably win the reader's sympathy. + "Amelia" does not equal the genius of "Tom Jones," but it is + remarkable for being so largely devoted to the adventures of a + married couple, instead of ending at marriage. Fielding died + on October 8, 1754. + + +_I.--The Inside of a Prison_ + + +On the first of April, in the year--, the watchmen of a certain parish +in Westminster brought several persons, whom they had apprehended the +preceding night, before Jonathan Thrasher, Esq., one of the justices of +the peace for that city. + +Among the prisoners a young fellow, whose name was Booth, was charged +with beating the watchman in the execution of his office, and breaking +his lantern. The justice perceiving the criminal to be but shabbily +dressed, was going to commit him without asking any further questions, +but at the earnest request of the accused the worthy magistrate +submitted to hear his defence. + +The young man then alleged that as he was walking home to his lodgings +he saw two men in the street cruelly beating a third, upon which he had +stopped and endeavoured to assist the person who was so unequally +attacked; that the watch came up during the affray, and took them all +four into custody; that they were immediately carried to the +round-house, where the two original assailants found means to make up +the matter, and were discharged by the constable, a favour which he +himself, having no money in his pocket, was unable to obtain. He utterly +denied having assaulted any of the watchmen, and solemnly declared that +he was offered his liberty at the price of half a crown. + +Though the bare word of an offender can never be taken against the oath +of his accuser, yet the magistrate might have employed some labour in +cross-examining the watchman, or at least have given the defendant time +to send for the other persons who were present at the affray; neither of +which he did. + +Booth and the poor man in whose defence he had been engaged were both +dispatched to prison under a guard of watchmen. + +Mr. Booth was no sooner arrived in the prison than a number of persons +gathered around him, all demanding garnish. The master or keeper of the +prison then acquainted him that it was the custom of the place for every +prisoner, upon his first arrival there, to give something to the former +prisoners to make them drink. This was what they called garnish. Mr. +Booth answered that he would readily comply with this laudable custom, +were it in his power; but that in reality he had not a shilling in his +pocket, and, what was worse, he had not a shilling in the world. Upon +which the keeper departed, and left poor Booth to the mercy of his +companions, who, without loss of time, stripped him of his coat and hid +it. + +Mr. Booth was too weak to resist and too wise to complain of his usage. +He summoned his philosophy to his assistance, and resolved to make +himself as easy as possible under his present circumstances. + +On the following day, Miss Matthews, an old acquaintance whom he had not +seen for some years, was brought into the prison, and Booth was shortly +afterwards invited to the room this lady had engaged. Miss Matthews, +having told her story, requested Booth to do the same, and to this he +acceded. + + +_II.--Captain Booth Tells His Story_ + + +"From the first I was in love with Amelia; but my own fortune was so +desperate, and hers was entirely dependent on her mother, a woman of +violent passions, and very unlikely to consent to a match so highly +contrary to the interest of her daughter, that I endeavoured to refrain +from any proposal of love. I had nothing more than the poor provision of +an ensign's commission to depend on, and the thought of leaving my +Amelia to starve alone, deprived of her mother's help, was intolerable +to me. + +"In spite of this I could not keep from telling Amelia the state of my +heart, and I soon found all that return of my affection which the +tenderest lover can require. Against the opposition of Amelia's mother, +Mrs. Harris, to our engagement, we had the support of that good man, Dr. +Harrison, the rector; and at last Mrs. Harris yielded to the doctor, and +we were married. There was an agreement that I should settle all my +Amelia's fortune on her, except a certain sum, which was to be laid out +in my advancement in the army, and shortly afterwards I was preferred to +the rank of a lieutenant in my regiment, and ordered to Gibraltar. I +noticed that Amelia's sister, Miss Betty, who had said many ill-natured +things of our marriage, now again became my friend. + +"At the siege of Gibraltar I was very badly wounded, and in this +situation the image of my Amelia haunted me day and night. Two months +and more I continued in a state of uncertainty; when one afternoon poor +Atkinson, my servant, came running to my room. I asked him what was the +matter, when Amelia herself rushed into the room, and ran hastily to me. +She gently chided me for concealing my illness from her, saying, 'Oh, +Mr. Booth! And do you think so little of your Amelia as to think I could +or would survive you?' Amelia then informed me that she had received a +letter from an unknown hand, acquainting her with my misfortune, and +advising her, if she desired to see me more, to come directly to +Gibraltar. + +"From the time of Amelia's arrival nothing remarkable happened till my +perfect recovery; and then the siege being at an end, and Amelia being +in some sort of fever, the governor gave me leave to attend my wife to +Montpelier, the air of which was judged to be most likely to restore her +to health. + +"A fellow-officer, Captain James, willingly lent me money, and, after an +ample recovery at Montpelier, and a stay in Paris, we returned to +England. It was in Paris we received a long letter from Dr. Harrison, +enclosing £100, and containing the news that Mrs. Harris was dead, and +had left her whole fortune to Miss Betty. So now it was that I was a +married man with children, and the half-pay of a lieutenant. + +"Dr. Harrison, at whose rectory we were staying, came to our assistance. +He asked me if I had any prospect of going again into the army; if not, +what scheme of life I proposed to myself. + +"I told him that as I had no powerful friends, I could have but little +expectations in a military way; that I was incapable of thinking of any +other scheme, for I was without the necessary knowledge or experience, +and was likewise destitute of money to set up with. + +"The doctor, after a little hesitation, said he had been thinking on +this subject, and proposed to me to turn farmer. At the same time he +offered to let me his parsonage, which was then become vacant; he said +it was a farm which required but little stock, and that little should +not be wanting. + +"I embraced this offer very eagerly, and Amelia received the news with +the highest transports of joy. Thus, you see me degraded from my former +rank in life; no longer Captain Booth, but Farmer Booth. + +"For a year all went well; love, health, and tranquillity filled our +lives. Then a heavy blow befell us, and we were robbed of our dear +friend the doctor, who was chosen to attend the young lord, the son of +the patron of the living, in his travels as a tutor. + +"By this means I was bereft not only of the best companion in the world, +but of the best counsellor, and in consequence of this loss I fell into +many errors. + +"The first of these was in enlarging my business by adding a farm of one +hundred a year to the parsonage, in renting which I had also as bad a +bargain as the doctor had before given me a good one. The consequence of +which was that whereas at the end of the first year I was £80 to the +good, at the end of the second I was nearly £40 to the bad. + +"A second folly I was guilty of was in uniting families with the curate +of the parish, who had just married. We had not, however, lived one +month together before I plainly perceived the curate's wife had taken a +great prejudice against my wife, though my Amelia had treated her with +nothing but kindness, and, with the mischievous nature of envy, spread +dislike against us. + +"My greatest folly, however, was the purchase of an old coach. The +farmers and their wives considered that the setting up of a coach was +the elevating ourselves above them, and immediately began to declare war +against us. The neighbouring little squires, too, were uneasy to see a +poor renter become their equal in a matter in which they placed so much +dignity, and began to hate me likewise. + +"My neighbours now began to conspire against me. Whatever I bought, I +was sure to buy dearer, and when I sold, I was obliged to sell cheaper +than any other. In fact, they were all united; and while they every day +committed trespasses on my lands with impunity, if any of my cattle +escaped into their fields I was either forced to enter into a law-suit +or to make amends for the damage sustained. + +"The consequence of all this could be no other than ruin. Before the end +of four years I became involved in debt to the extent of £300. My +landlord seized my stock for rent, and, to avoid immediate confinement +in prison, I was forced to leave the country. + +"In this condition I arrived in town a week ago. I had just taken a +lodging, and had written my dear Amelia word where she might find me; +and that very evening, as I was returning from a coffee-house, because I +endeavoured to assist the injured party in an affray, I was seized by +the watch and committed here by a justice of the peace." + + +_III.--Amelia in London_ + + +Miss Matthews, being greatly drawn to Captain Booth, procured his +discharge by the expenditure of £20, and obtained her own release at the +same time. + +Amelia arrived in London to receive her husband in her arms. "For," said +she, "your confinement was known all over the county, my sister having +spread the news with a malicious joy; and so, not hearing from you, I +hastened to town with our children." + +Poor Booth, in spite of his release, was very cast down. Seeing tears in +his eyes at the sight of his children, Amelia, embracing him with +rapturous fondness, cried out, "My dear Billy, let nothing make you +uneasy. Heaven will provide for us and these poor babes. Great fortunes +are not necessary to happiness. Make yourself easy, my dear love, for +you have a wife who will think herself happy with you, and endeavour to +make you so, in any situation. Fear nothing, Billy; industry will always +provide us a wholesome meal." + +Booth, who was naturally of a sanguine temper, took the cue she had +given him, but he could not help reproaching himself as the cause of all +her wretchedness. This it was that enervated his heart and threw him +into agonies, which all that profusion of heroic tenderness that the +most excellent of women intended for his comfort served only to heighten +and aggravate: as the more she rose in his admiration, the more she +quickened the sense of his unworthiness. + +His affairs did not prosper; in vain he solicited a commission in the +army. With no great man to back him, and with his friend, Captain James +(now a colonel, and in London), too taken up with his own affairs to +exert any influence on behalf of Booth, it seemed as though no escape +from misery was possible. The beautiful Amelia, always patient and +cheerful, remained his comforter. And Atkinson, now a sergeant in the +guards, was the devoted servant of both Amelia and her husband. + +Then one morning, when Amelia was out, Booth was arrested for debt and +carried to the bailiff's house in Gray's Inn Lane. + +"Who has done this barbarous action?" cries Amelia, when the news is +told her by Sergeant Atkinson. + +"One I am ashamed to name," cries the sergeant; "indeed, I had always a +very different opinion of him; but Dr. Harrison is the man who has done +the deed." + +"Dr. Harrison!" cries Amelia. "Well, then, there is an end of all +goodness in the world. I will never have a good opinion of any human +being more!" + +The fact was that while the doctor was abroad he had received from the +curate, and from a gentleman of the neighbourhood, accounts of Booth's +doings very much to his disadvantage. On his return to the parish these +accusations were confirmed by many witnesses, and the whole +neighbourhood rang with several gross and scandalous lies, which were +merely the inventions of Booth's enemies. Poisoned with all this malice, +the doctor came to London, and calling at Booth's lodgings, when both +the captain and Amelia were out, learnt from the servant-maid that the +children had got a gold watch and several fine trinkets. These presents, +indeed, had come from a certain noble lord, who hoped by these means to +win Amelia's affection; but no suspicion of his evil desire had entered +the innocent mind of Amelia. + +The doctor had no doubt that these trinkets had been purchased by +Amelia; and this account tallied so well with the ideas he had imbibed +of Booth's extravagance in the country, that he firmly believed both the +husband and wife to be the vainest, silliest and most unjust people +alive. + +But no sooner did the doctor hear that Booth was arrested than the +wretched condition of his wife and children began to affect his mind. In +this temper of mind he resolved to pay Amelia a second visit, and was on +his way thither when Sergeant Atkinson met him, and made himself known +to him. + +The doctor received from Atkinson such an account of Booth and his +family that he hastened at once to Amelia, and soon became satisfied +concerning the trinkets which had given him so much uneasiness. Amelia +likewise gave the doctor some satisfaction as to what he had heard of +her husband's behaviour In the country, and assured him, upon her +honour, that Booth could answer every complaint against his conduct, so +that the doctor would find him an innocent, unfortunate man, the object +of a good man's compassion, not of his anger or resentment. + +This worthy clergyman, who was not desirous of finding proofs to condemn +the captain, rejoiced heartily in every piece of evidence which tended +to clear up the character of his friend, and gave a ready ear to all +which Amelia said. + +Induced, indeed, by the love he always had for that lady, whom he was +wont to call his daughter, as well as by pity for her present condition, +the doctor immediately endeavoured to comfort the afflicted, and then +proceeded to accomplish the captain's release. + +"So, captain," says the doctor, on arrival at the bailiff's house, "when +last we met I believe that we neither of us expected to meet in such a +place as this." + +"Indeed, doctor," cries Booth, "I did not expect to have been sent +hither by the gentleman who did me this favour." + +"How so, sir!" said the doctor. "You were sent hither by some person, I +suppose, to whom you were indebted. But you ought to be more surprised +that the gentleman who sent you thither is come to release you." + + +_IV.--Fortune Smiles on Amelia_ + + +Booth was again arrested some months later, and lodged in the bailiff's +house. This time his creditor was a Captain Trent, who had lent him +money, and promised him assistance in getting returned to the army. In +reality, Trent was only seeking to ingratiate himself with Amelia, and +meeting with no encouragement, took his revenge accordingly. + +Amelia at once sought out Dr. Harrison, and told him what had occurred +to her husband; and the doctor set forwards to the bailiff's to see what +he could do for Booth. + +The doctor had not got so much money in town as Booth's debt amounted +to, and therefore he was forced to give bail to the action. + +While the necessary forms were being made out, the bailiff, addressing +himself to the doctor, said, "Sir, there is a man above in a dying +condition that desires the favour of speaking to you. I believe he wants +you to pray by him." + +Without making any further inquiry, the doctor immediately went +upstairs. + +The sick man mentioned his name, and explained that he lived for many +years in the town where the doctor resided, and that he used to write +for the attorneys in those parts. He was anxious, he said, as he hoped +for forgiveness, to make all the amends he could to some one he had +injured, and to undo, if possible, the injury he had done. + +The doctor commended this as a sincere repentance. + +"You know, good doctor," the sick man resumed, "that Mrs. Harris, of our +town, had two daughters--one now Mrs. Booth, and another. Before Mrs. +Harris died, she made a will, and left all her fortune, except £1,000, +to Mrs. Booth, to which will Mr. Murphy, the lawyer, myself, and another +were witnesses. Mrs. Harris afterwards died suddenly, upon which it was +contrived, by her other daughter and Mr. Murphy, to make a new will, in +which Mrs. Booth had a legacy of £10, and all the rest was given to the +other." + +"Good heaven, how wonderful is thy providence!" cries the doctor. +"Murphy, say you? Why, this Murphy is still my attorney." + +Within a short time Murphy was arrested, and the sick man's depositions +taken. Booth was released on the doctor's bail, and on the following +morning Amelia learnt of the change in fortune that had befallen them. + +Dr. Harrison himself broke the good news by reading the following +paragraph from the newspaper. + +"Yesterday, one Murphy, an eminent attorney-at-law, was committed to +Newgate for the forgery of a will, under which an estate has been for +many years detained from the right owner." + +"Now," said the doctor, "in this paragraph there is something very +remarkable, and that is that it is true. But now let us read the +following note upon the words 'right owner.' 'The right owner of this +estate is a young lady of the highest merit, whose maiden name was +Harris, and who some time since was married to an idle fellow, one +Lieutenant Booth; and the best historians assure us that letters from +the elder sister of this lady, which manifestly prove the forgery and +clear up the whole affair, are in the hands of an old parson, called Dr. +Harrison.'" + +"And is this really true?" cries Amelia. + +"Yes, really and sincerely," cries the doctor, "the whole estate--for +your mother left it you all; and it is as surely yours as if you were +already in possession." + +"Gracious heaven!" cries she, falling on her knees, "I thank you!" And +then, starting up, she ran to her husband, and embracing him, cried, "My +dear love, I wish you joy! It is upon yours and my children's account +that I principally rejoice." + +She then desired her children to be brought to her, whom she immediately +caught in her arms; and having profusely cried over them, soon regained +her usual temper and complexion. + +Miss Harris, having received a letter from Amelia, informing her of the +discovery and the danger in which she stood, immediately set out for +France, carrying with her all her money, most of her clothes, and some +few jewels. + +About a week afterwards, Booth and Amelia, with their children, and +Atkinson and his wife, all set forward together for Amelia's house, +where they arrived amidst the acclamations of all the neighbours, and +every public demonstration of joy. + +Miss Harris lived for three years with a broken heart at Boulogne, where +she received annually £50 from her sister; and then died in a most +miserable manner. + +Dr. Harrison is grown old in years and in honour, beloved and respected +by all his parishioners and neighbours. + +As to Booth and Amelia, fortune seems to have made them large amends for +the tricks she played them in their youth. They have continued to enjoy +an uninterrupted course of health and happiness. In about six weeks +after Booth's first coming into the country, he went to London and paid +all his debts, after which, and a stay of two days only, he returned +into the country, and has never since been thirty miles from home. + +Amelia is still the finest woman in England of her age; Booth himself +often avers she is as handsome as ever. Nothing can equal the serenity +of their lives. + +Amelia declared the other day that she did not remember to have seen her +husband out of humour these ten years! + + * * * * * + + + + +Jonathan Wild + + + "Jonathan Wild," published in 1743, is in many respects + Fielding's most powerful piece of satire, surpassed only, + perhaps, by Thackeray's "Barry Lyndon." It can hardly be + called a novel, and still less a serious biography, though it + is founded on the real history of a notorious highway robber + and thief. The author disclaimed in his preface any attempt on + his part at authentic history or faithful portraiture. + "Roguery, and not a rogue is my subject," he wrote; adding, + that the ideas of goodness and greatness are too often + confounded together. "A man may be great without being good, + or good without being great." The story of "Jonathan Wild" is + really a bitter, satirical attack on what Fielding called "the + greatness which is totally devoid of goodness." He avowed it + his intention "to expose the character of this bombast + greatness," and no one can deny the success of his + achievement. Surely no story was ever written under more + desperate circumstances. The evils of poverty, which at this + period were at their height, were aggravated by the serious + illness of his wife, and his own sufferings from attacks of + gout. These troubles and others may well increase our + admiration for the genius which, in the face of all + difficulties, is shown in "Jonathan Wild." + + +_I.--Mr. Wild's Early Exploits_ + + +Mr. Jonathan Wild, who was descended from a long line of great men, was +born in 1665. His father followed the fortunes of Mr. Snap, who enjoyed +a reputable office under the sheriff of London and Middlesex; and his +mother was the daughter of Scragg Hollow, Esq., of Hockley-in-the-Hole. +He was scarce settled at school before he gave marks of his lofty and +aspiring temper, and was regarded by his schoolfellows with that +deference which men generally pay to those superior geniuses who will +exact it of them. If an orchard was to be robbed, Wild was consulted; +and though he was himself seldom concerned in the execution of the +design, yet was he always concerter of it, and treasurer of the booty, +some little part of which he would now and then, with wonderful +generosity, bestow on those who took it. He was generally very secret on +these occasions; but if any offered to plunder of his own head without +acquainting Master Wild, and making a deposit of the booty, he was sure +to have an information against him lodged with the schoolmaster, and to +be severely punished for his pains. + +At the age of seventeen his father brought the young gentleman to town, +where he resided with him till he was of an age to travel. + +Men of great genius as easily discover one another as Freemasons can. It +was therefore no wonder that the Count la Ruse--who was confined in Mr. +Snap's house until the day when he should appear in court to answer a +certain creditor--soon conceived an inclination to an intimacy with our +young hero, whose vast abilities could not be concealed from one of the +count's discernment; for though the latter was exceedingly expert at his +cards, he was no match for Master Wild, who never failed to send him +away from the table with less in his pocket than he brought to it. With +so much ingenuity, indeed, could our young hero extract a purse, that +his hands made frequent visits to the count's pocket before the latter +had entertained any suspicion of him. But one night, when Wild imagined +the count asleep, he made so unguarded an attack upon him that the other +caught him in the act. However, he did not think proper to acquaint him +with the discovery he had made, but only took care for the future to +button his pockets and to pack the cards with double industry. + +In reality, this detection recommended these two prigs to each other, +for a wise man--that is to say, a rogue--considers a trick in life as a +gamester doth a trick at play. It sets him on his guard, but he admires +the dexterity of him who plays it. + +When our two friends met the next morning, the count began to bewail the +misfortune of his captivity, and the backwardness of friends to assist +each other in their necessities. + +Wild told him that bribery was the surest means of procuring his escape, +and advised him to apply to the maid, telling him at the same time that +as he had no money he must make it up with promises, which he would know +how to put off. + +The maid only consented to leave the door open when Wild, depositing a +guinea in the girl's hands, declared that he himself would swear that he +saw the count descending from the window by a pair of sheets. + +Thus did our young hero not only lend his rhetoric, which few people +care to do without a fee, but his money too, to procure liberty for his +friend. At the same time it would be highly derogatory from the great +character of Wild should the reader not understand that this was done +because our hero had some interested view in the count's enlargement. + +Intimacy and friendship subsisted between the count and Mr. Wild, and +the latter, now dressed in good clothes, was introduced into the best +company. They constantly frequented the assemblies, auctions, gaming- +tables, and play-houses, and Wild passed for a gentleman of great +fortune. + +It was then that an accident occurred that obliged Wild to go abroad for +seven years to his majesty's plantations in America; and there are such +various accounts, one of which only can be true, of this accident that +we shall pass them all over. It is enough that Wild went abroad, and +stayed seven years. + + +_II.--An Example of Wild's Greatness_ + + +The count was one night very successful at the gaming-table, where Wild, +who was just returned from his travels, was then present; as was +likewise a young gentleman whose name was Bob Bagshot, an acquaintance +of Mr. Wild's. Taking, therefore, Mr. Bagshot aside, he advised him to +provide himself with a case of pistols, and to attack the count on his +way home. + +This was accordingly executed, and the count obliged to surrender to +savage force what he had in so genteel a manner taken at play. As one +misfortune never comes alone, the count had hardly passed the +examination of Mr. Bagshot when he fell into the hands of Mr. Snap, who +carried him to his house. + +Mr. Wild and Mr. Bagshot went together to the tavern, where Mr. Bagshot +offered to share the booty. Having divided the money into two unequal +heaps, and added a golden snuffbox to the lesser heap, he desired Mr. +Wild to take his choice. + +Mr. Wild immediately conveyed the larger share of the ready into his +pocket, according to an excellent maxim of his--"First secure what share +you can before you wrangle for the rest"; and then, turning to his +companion, he asked him whether he intended to keep all that sum +himself. "I grant you took it," Wild said; "but, pray, who proposed or +counselled the taking of it? Can you say that you have done more than +execute my scheme? The ploughman, the shepherd, the weaver, the builder, +and the soldier work not for themselves, but others; they are contented +with a poor pittance--the labourer's hire--and permit us, the great, to +enjoy the fruits of their labours. Why, then, should the state of a prig +differ from all others? Or why should you, who are the labourer only, +the executor of my scheme, expect a share in the profit? Be advised, +therefore; deliver the whole booty to me, and trust to my bounty for +your reward." + +Mr. Bagshot not being minded to yield to these arguments, Wild adopted a +fiercer tone, and the other was glad to let him borrow a part of his +share. So that Wild got three-fourths of the whole before taking leave +of his companion. + +Wild then returned to visit his friend the count, now in captivity at +Mr. Snap's; for our hero was none of those half-bred fellows who are +ashamed to see their friends when they have plundered and betrayed them. + +The count, little suspecting that Wild had been the sole contriver of +the misfortune which had befallen him, eagerly embraced him, and Wild +returned his embrace with equal warmth. + +While they were discoursing, Mr. Snap introduced Mr. Bagshot; for Mr. +Bagshot had lost what money he had from Mr. Wild at a gaming-table, and +was directly afterwards arrested for debt. Mr. Wild no sooner saw his +friend than he immediately presented him to the count, who received him +with great civility. But no sooner was Mr. Bagshot out of the room than +the count said to Wild, "I am very well convinced that Bagshot is the +person who robbed me, and I will apply to a justice of the peace." + +Wild replied with indignation that Mr. Bagshot was a man of honour, but, +as this had no weight with the count, he went on, more vehemently, "I am +ashamed of my own discernment when I mistook you for a great man. +Prosecute him, and you may promise yourself to be blown up at every +gaming-house in the town. But leave the affair to me, and if I find he +hath played you this trick, I will engage my own honour you shall in the +end be no loser." The count answered, "If I was sure to be no loser, Mr. +Wild, I apprehend you have a better opinion of my understanding than to +imagine I would prosecute a gentleman for the sake of the public." + +Wild having determined to make use of Bagshot as long as he could, and +then send him to be hanged, went to Bagshot next day and told him the +count knew all, and intended to prosecute him, and the only thing to be +done was to refund the money. + +"Refund the money!" cried Bagshot. "Why, you know what small part of it +fell to my share!" + +"How?" replied Wild. "Is this your gratitude to me for saving your life? +For your own conscience must convince you of your guilt." + +"Marry come up!" quoth Bagshot. "I believe my life alone will not be in +danger. Can you deny your share?" + +"Yes, you rascal!" answered Wild. "I do deny everything, and do you find +a witness to prove it. I will show you the difference between committing +a robbery and conniving at it." + +So alarmed was Bagshot at the threats of Wild that he drew forth all he +found in his pockets, to the amount of twenty-one guineas, which he had +just gained at dice. + +Wild now returned to the count, and informed him that he had got ten +guineas of Bagshot, and by these means the count was once more enlarged, +and enabled to carry out a new plan of the great Wild. + + +_III.--Mr. Heartfree's Weakness_ + + +By accident, Wild had met with a young fellow who had formerly been his +companion at school. + +Mr. Thomas Heartfree (for that was his name) was of an honest and open +disposition. He was possessed of several great weaknesses of mind, being +good-natured, friendly, and generous to a great excess. + +This young man, who was about Wild's age, had some time before set up in +the trade of a jeweller, in the materials for which he had laid out the +greatest part of a little fortune. + +He no sooner recognised Wild than he accosted him in the most friendly +manner, and invited him home with him to breakfast, which invitation our +hero, with no great difficulty, consented to. + +Wild, after vehement professions of friendship, then told him he had an +opportunity of recommending a gentleman, on the brink of marriage, to +his custom, "and," says he, "I will endeavour to prevail on him to +furnish his lady with jewels at your shop." + +Having parted from Heartfree, Wild sought out the count, who, in order +to procure credit from tradesmen, had taken a handsome house, +ready-furnished, in one of the new streets. He instructed the count to +take only one of Heartfree's jewels at the first interview, to reject +the rest as not fine enough, and order him to provide some richer. The +count was then to dispose of the jewel, and by means of that money, and +his great abilities at cards and dice, to get together as large a sum as +possible, which he was to pay down to Heartfree at the delivery of the +set of jewels. + +This method was immediately put in execution; and the count, the first +day, took only a single brilliant, worth about £300, and ordered a +necklace and earrings, of the value of £3,000 more, to be prepared by +that day week. + +This interval was employed by Wild in raising a gang, and within a few +days he had levied several bold and resolute fellows, fit for any +enterprise, how dangerous or great soever. + +The count disposed of his jewel for its full value, and by his dexterity +raised £1,000. This sum he paid down to Heartfree at the end of the +week, and promised him the rest within a month. Heartfree did not in the +least scruple giving him credit, but as he had in reality procured those +jewels of another, his own little stock not being able to furnish +anything so valuable. The count, in addition to the £1,000 in gold, gave +him his note for £2,800 more. + +As soon as Heartfree was departed, Wild came in and received the casket +from the count, and an appointment was made to meet the next morning to +come to a division of its contents. + +Two gentlemen of resolution, in the meantime, attacked Heartfree on his +way home, according to Wild's orders, and spoiled the enemy of the whole +sum he had received from the count. According to agreement, Wild, who +had made haste to overtake the conquerors, took nine-tenths of the +booty, but was himself robbed of this £900 before nightfall. + +As for the casket, when he opened it, the stones were but paste. For the +sagacious count had conveyed the jewels into his own pocket, and in +their stead had placed artificial stones. On Wild's departure the count +hastened out of London, and was well on his way to Dover when Wild +knocked at his door. + +Heartfree, wounded and robbed, had only the count's note left, and this +was returned to him as worthless, inquiries having proved that the count +had run away. So confused was poor Heartfree at this that his creditor +for the jewels was frightened, and at once had him arrested for the +debt. + +Heartfree applied in vain for money to numerous customers who were +indebted to him; they all replied with various excuses, and the unhappy +wretch was soon taken to Newgate. He had been inclined to blame Wild for +his misfortunes, but our hero boldly attacked him for giving credit to +the count, and this degree of impudence convinced both Heartfree and his +wife of Wild's innocence, the more so as the latter promised to procure +bail for his friend. In this he was unsuccessful, and it was long before +Heartfree was released and restored to happiness. + + +_IV.--The Highest Pinnacle of Greatness_ + + +Wild was a living instance that human greatness and happiness are not +always inseparable. He was under a continual alarm of frights and fears +and jealousies, and was thoroughly convinced there was not a single man +amongst his own gang who would not, for the value of five shillings, +bring him to the gallows. + +A clause in an act of parliament procured by a learned judge entrapped +Wild. Hitherto he had always employed less gifted men to carry out his +plans. Now, by this law it was made capital in a prig to steal with the +hands of other people, and it was impossible for our hero to avoid the +destruction so plainly calculated for his greatness. + +Wild, having received from some dutiful members of his gang a valuable +piece of goods, did, for a consideration, re-convey it to the right +owner, for which fact, being ungratefully informed against by the said +owner, he was surprised in his own house, and, being overpowered by +numbers, was hurried before a magistrate, and by him committed to +Newgate. + +When the day of his trial arrived, our hero was, notwithstanding his +utmost caution and prudence, convicted and sentenced to be hanged by the +neck. He now suspected that the malice of his enemies would overpower +him, and therefore betook himself to that true support of greatness in +affliction--a bottle, by means of which he was enabled to curse, swear, +and bully, and brave his fate. Other comfort, indeed, he had not much, +for not a single friend ever came near him. + +From the time our hero gave over all hopes of life, his conduct was +truly great and admirable. Instead of showing any marks of contrition or +dejection, he rather infused more confidence and assurance into his +looks. He spent most of his hours in drinking with acquaintances, and +with the good chaplain; and being asked whether he was afraid to die, he +answered, "It's only a dance without music. A man can die but once. +Zounds! Who's afraid?" + +At length the morning came which Fortune had resolutely ordained for the +consummation of our hero's greatness; he had himself, indeed, modestly +declined the public honour she intended him, and had taken a quantity of +laudanum in order to retire quietly off the stage. But it is vain to +struggle against the decrees of fortune, and the laudanum proved +insufficient to stop his breath. + +At the usual hour he was acquainted that the cart was ready, and his +fetters having been knocked off in a solemn and ceremonious manner, +after drinking a bumper of brandy, he ascended the cart, where he was no +sooner seated than he received the acclamations of the multitude, who +were highly ravished with his greatness. + +The cart now moved slowly on, preceded by a troop of Horse Guards, +bearing javelins in their hands, through the streets lined with crowds +all admiring the great behaviour of our hero, who rode on, sometimes +sighing, sometimes swearing, sometimes singing or whistling, as his +humour varied. + +When he came to the tree of glory, he was welcomed with an universal +shout of the people; but there were not wanting some who maligned this +completion of glory, now about to be fulfilled by our hero, and +endeavoured to prevent it by knocking him on the head as he stood under +the tree, while the chaplain was performing his last office. + +They therefore began to batter the cart with stones, brick-bats, dirt, +and all manner of mischievous weapons, so that the ecclesiastic ended +almost in an instant, and conveyed himself into a place of safety in a +hackney coach. + +One circumstance must not be omitted. Whilst the chaplain was busy in +his ejaculations, Wild, in the midst of the shower of stones, etc., +which played upon him, true to his character, applied his hands to the +parson's pocket, and emptied it of his bottle-screw, which he carried +out of the world in his hand. + +The chaplain being now descended from the cart, Wild had just +opportunity to cast his eyes around the crowd, and to give them a hearty +curse, when immediately the horses moved on, and, with universal +applause, our hero swung out of this world. + + + * * * * * + + + + +Joseph Andrews + + + "Joseph Andrews," Fielding's first novel, was published in + 1742, and was intended to be a satire on Richardson's "Pamela" + (see Vol. VII), which appeared in 1740. He described it as + "written in the manner of Cervantes," and in Parson Adams + there is the same quaint blending of the humorous and the + pathetic as in the Knight of La Mancha. Although such + characters as Lady Booby and Mrs. Slipslop are admittedly + ridiculous, Parson Adams remains an admirable study of a + simple-minded clergyman of the eighteenth century. + + +_I.--The Virtues of Joseph Andrews_ + + +Mr. Joseph Andrews was esteemed to be the only son of Gaffer and Gammer +Andrews, and brother to the illustrious Pamela. + +At ten years old (by which time his education was advanced to writing +and reading) he was bound an apprentice to Sir Thomas Booby, an uncle of +Mr. Booby's by the father's side. From the stable of Sir Thomas he was +preferred to attend as foot-boy on Lady Booby, to go on her errands, +stand behind her chair, wait at her tea-table, and carry her prayer-book +to church; at which place he behaved so well in every respect at divine +service that it recommended him to the notice of Mr. Abraham Adams, the +curate, who took an opportunity one day to ask the young man several +questions concerning religion, with his answers to which he was +wonderfully pleased. + +Mr. Abraham Adams was an excellent scholar, a man of good sense and good +nature, but at the same time entirely ignorant of the ways of the world. +At the age of fifty he was provided with a handsome income of twenty- +three pounds a year, which, however, he could not make any great figure +with, because he was a little encumbered with a wife and six children. + +Adams had no nearer access to Sir Thomas or my lady than through Mrs. +Slipslop, the waiting-gentlewoman, for Sir Thomas was too apt to +estimate men merely by their dress or fortune, and my lady was a woman +of gaiety, who never spoke of any of her country neighbours by any other +appellation than that of the brutes. + +Mrs. Slipslop, being herself the daughter of a curate, preserved some +respect for Adams; she would frequently dispute with him, and was a +mighty affecter of hard words, which she used in such a manner that the +parson was frequently at some loss to guess her meaning. + +Adams was so much impressed by the industry and application he saw in +young Andrews that one day he mentioned the case to Mrs. Slipslop, +desiring her to recommend him to my lady as a youth very susceptible of +learning, and one whose instruction in Latin he would himself undertake, +by which means he might be qualified for a higher station than that of +footman. He therefore desired that the boy might be left behind under +his care when Sir Thomas and my lady went to London. + +"La, Mr. Adams," said Mrs. Slipslop, "do you think my lady will suffer +any preambles about any such matter? She is going to London very +concisely, and I am confidous would not leave Joey behind on any +account, for he is one of the genteelest young fellows you may see in a +summer's day; and I am confidous she would as soon think of parting with +a pair of her grey mares, for she values herself on one as much as the +other. And why is Latin more necessitous for a footman than a gentleman? +I am confidous my lady would be angry with me for mentioning it, and I +shall draw myself into no such delemy." + +So young Andrews went to London in attendance on Lady Booby, and became +acquainted with the brethren of his profession. They could not, however, +teach him to game, swear, drink, nor any other genteel vice the town +abounded with. He applied most of his leisure hours to music, in which +he greatly improved himself, so that he led the opinion of all the other +footmen at an opera. Though his morals remain entirely uncorrupted, he +was at the same time smarter and genteeler than any of the beaus in town +either in or out of livery. + +At this time an accident happened, and this was no other than the death +of Sir Thomas Booby, who left his disconsolate lady closely confined to +her house. During the first six days the poor lady admitted none but +Mrs. Slipslop and three female friends, who made a party at cards; but +on the seventh she ordered Joey, whom we shall hereafter call Joseph, to +bring up her teakettle. + +Lady Booby's affection for her footman had for some time been a matter +of gossip in the town, but it is certain that her innocent freedoms had +made no impression on young Andrews. + +Now, however, he thought my lady had become distracted with grief at her +husband's death, so strange was her conduct, and wrote to his sister +Pamela on the subject. + + If madam be mad, I shall not care for staying long in the + family, so I heartily wish you could get me a place at some + neighbouring gentleman's. I fancy I shall be discharged very + soon, and the moment I am I shall return to my old master's + country seat, if it be only to see Parson Adams, who is the + best man in the world. London is a bad place, and there is so + little good fellowship that the next-door neighbours don't + know one another. Your loving brother, + JOSEPH ANDREWS. + +The sending of this letter was quickly followed by the discharge of the +writer. To Lady Booby's open declarations of love, Joseph replied that a +lady having no virtue was not a reason against his having any. + +"I am out of patience!" cries the lady, "did ever mortal hear of a man's +virtue? Will magistrates who punish lewdness, or parsons who preach +against it, make any scruple of committing it? And can a boy have the +confidence to talk of his virtue?" + +"Madam," says Joseph, "that boy is the brother of Pamela, and would be +ashamed that the chastity of his family, which is preserved in her, +should be stained in him. If there are such men as your ladyship +mentions, I am sorry for it, and I wish they had an opportunity of +reading my sister Pamela's letters; nor do I doubt but such an example +would amend them." + +"You impudent villain!" cries the lady in a rage. "Get out of my sight, +and leave the house this night!" + +Joseph having received what wages were due, and having been stripped of +his livery, took a melancholy leave of his fellow-servants and set out +at seven in the evening. + + +_II.--Adventures on the Road_ + + +It may be wondered why Joseph made such extraordinary haste to get out +of London, and why, instead of proceeding to the habitation of his +father and mother, or to his beloved sister Pamela, he chose rather to +set out full speed to Lady Booby's country seat, which he had left on +his journey to town. + +Be it known then, that in the same parish where this seat stood there +lived a young girl whom Joseph longed more impatiently to see than his +parents or his sister. She was a poor girl, formerly bred up in Sir +Thomas's house, and, discarded by Mrs. Slipslop on account of her +extraordinary beauty, was now a servant to a farmer in the parish. + +Fanny was two years younger than our hero, and had been always beloved +by him, and returned his affection. They had been acquainted from their +infancy, and Mr. Adams had, with much ado, prevented them from marrying, +and persuaded them to wait till a few years' service and thrift had a +little improved their experience, and enabled them to live comfortably +together. + +They followed this good man's advice, as, indeed, his word was little +less than a law in his parish, for during twenty-five years he had shown +that he had the good of his parishioners entirely at heart, so that they +consulted him on every occasion, and very seldom acted contrary to his +opinion. + +Honest Joseph therefore set out on his travels without delay, in order +that he might once more look upon his Fanny, from whom he had been +absent for twelve months. + +But on the road he was attacked by robbers, and, having been left +wounded in a ditch, was mercifully taken to an inn by some later +travellers. + +It was at this same inn that, to the great surprise on both sides, Mr. +Abraham Adams found Joseph. + +The parson informed his young friend, who was still sick in bed, that +the occasion of the journey he was making to London was to publish three +volumes of sermons, being encouraged, as he said, by an advertisement +lately set forth by the Society of Booksellers; but, though he imagined +he should get a considerable sum of money on this occasion, which his +family were in urgent need of, he protested he would not leave Joseph in +his present penniless condition. Finally, he told him he had nine +shillings and threepence-halfpenny in his pocket, which he was welcome +to use as he pleased. + +This goodness of Parson Adams brought tears into Joseph's eyes; he had +now a second reason to desire life, that he might show his gratitude to +such a friend. + +Before pursuing his journey Adams made the acquaintance of another +clergyman named Barnabas at the inn, who in his turn, hearing that Adams +was proposing to publish sermons, introduced him to a stranger who he +said was a bookseller. + +Adams, saluting the stranger, answered Barnabas that he was very much +obliged to him; that nothing could be more convenient, for he had no +other business to the great city, and was heartily desirous of returning +with the young man, who was just recovered of his misfortune. To induce +the bookseller to be as expeditious as possible, he assured them their +meeting was extremely lucky to himself, for that he had the most +pressing occasion for money at that time, his own being almost spent. +"So that nothing," says he, "could be so opportune as my making an +immediate bargain with you." + +"Sir, sermons are mere drugs," said the stranger. "The trade is so +vastly stocked with them that really, unless they come out with the name +of Whitefield or Wesley, or some other such great man, as a bishop, or +those sort of people, I don't care to touch. However, I will, if you +please, take the manuscript with me to town, and send you my opinion of +it in a very short time." + +When, however, Adams began to describe the nature of his sermons the +bookseller drew back, on the ground that the clergy would be certain to +cry down such a book. + +An accident prevented Mr. Adams from pursuing a market for his sermons +any further, which he would have done in spite of the advice of Barnabas +and the bookseller. This accident was, that those sermons which the +parson was travelling to London to publish were left behind; what he had +mistaken for them in the saddle-bags were three shirts, which Mrs. +Adams, who thought her husband would need shirts rather than sermons on +his journey, had carefully provided for him. + +Joseph, concerned at the disappointment to his friend, begged him to +pursue his journey all the same, and promised he would himself return +with the books to him with the utmost expedition. + +"No, thank you, child," answered Adams; "it shall not be so. What would +it avail me to tarry in the great city unless I had my discourses with +me? No; as this accident has happened, I am resolved to return back to +my cure, together with you; which, indeed, my inclination sufficiently +leads me to." + +Mr. Adams, whose credit was good wherever he was known, having borrowed +a guinea from a servant belonging to a coach-and-six, who had been +formerly one of his parishioners, discharged the bill for Joseph and +himself, and the two travellers set off. + + +_III.--More Adventures_ + + +Adams and Joseph Andrews being for a time separated on the road, through +the former's absent-mindedness, it fell to the lot of the parson to +hasten to the assistance of a damsel who in a lonely place was being +attacked by some ruffian. + +Adams was as strong as he was brave, and having rescued the maiden, took +her under his protection. It was too dark for either to identify the +other, but on Mr. Adams ejaculating the name of Joseph Andrews, for +whose safety he was anxious, his companion recognised his voice, and the +parson was quickly informed that it was Fanny who was by his side. + +The fact was the poor girl had heard of Joseph's misfortune from the +servants of a coach which had stopped at the inn while the poor youth +was confined to his bed; and she had that instant abandoned the cow she +was milking, and taking with her a little bundle of clothes under her +arm, and all the money she was worth in her own purse, immediately set +forward in pursuit of one whom she loved with inexpressible violence, +though with the purest and most delicate passion. + +Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age; she was tall and +delicately shaped. Her hair was a chestnut brown; her complexion was +fair; and, to conclude all, she had a natural gentility which surprised +all who beheld her. + +Can it be wondered that on the following day, when Adams and the damsel +overtook Andrews at a wayside ale-house, the youth imprinted numberless +kisses on her lips, while Parson Adams danced about the room in a +rapture of joy? + +It was so late when our travellers left the ale-house that they had not +travelled many miles before night overtook them. They moved forwards +where the nearest light presented itself; and having crossed a common +field, they came to a meadow where they seemed to be at a very little +distance from the light, when, to their grief, they arrived at the banks +of a river. Adams declared he could swim, but Joseph answered, if they +walked along its banks they might be certain of soon finding a bridge, +especially as, by the number of lights, they might be assured a parish +was near. + +"That's true, indeed," said Adams. "I did not think of that." + +Accordingly, Joseph's advice being taken, they passed over two meadows, +and came to a little orchard which led them to a house. Fanny begged of +Joseph to knock at the door, assuring him she was so weary that she +could hardly stand on her feet; and the door being immediately opened, a +plain kind of man appeared at it. Adams acquainted him that they had a +young woman with them, who was so tired with her journey that he should +be much obliged to him if he would suffer her to come in and rest +herself. + +The man, who saw Fanny by the light of the candle which he held in his +hand, perceiving her innocent and modest look, and having no +apprehensions from the civil behaviour of Adams, presently answered that +the young woman was very welcome to rest herself in his house, and so +were her company. He then ushered them into a very decent room, where +his wife was sitting at a table; she immediately rose up, and assisted +them in setting forth chairs, and desired them to sit down. + +They now sat cheerfully round the fire till the master of the house, +having surveyed his guests, and conceiving that the cassock which +appeared under Adams's greatcoat, and the shabby livery of Joseph +Andrews, did not well suit the familiarity between them, began to +entertain some suspicions not much to their advantage. Addressing +himself, therefore, to Adams, he said he perceived he was a clergyman by +his dress, and supposed that honest man was his footman. + +"Sir," answered Adams, "I am a clergyman, at your service; but as to +that young man, whom you have rightly termed honest, he is at present in +nobody's service; he never lived in any other family than that of Lady +Booby, from whence he was discharged; I assure you, for no crime." + +The modest behaviour of Joseph, with the character which Adams gave of +him, entirely cured a jealousy which had lately been in the gentleman's +mind that Fanny was the daughter of some person of fashion and that +Joseph had run away with her, and Adams was concerned in the plot. +Having had a full account from Adams of Joseph's history he became +enamoured of his guests, drank their healths with great cheerfulness; +and, at the parson's request, told something of his own life. + +"Sir," says Adams, at the conclusion of the history, "fortune has, I +think, paid you all her debts in this sweet retirement." + +"Sir," replied the gentleman, whose name was Wilson, "I have the best of +wives and three pretty children; but within three years of my arrival +here I lost my eldest son. If he had died I could have borne the loss +with patience; but, alas, he was stolen away from my door by some wicked +travelling people, whom they call gypsies; nor could I ever, with the +most diligent search, recover him. Poor child, he had the sweetest look! +The exact picture of his mother!" Mr. Wilson went on to say that he +should know his son amongst ten thousand, for he had a mark on his +breast of a strawberry. + + +_IV.--Joseph Finds his Father_ + + +Our travellers, having well refreshed themselves at Mr. Wilson's house, +renewed their journey next morning with great alacrity, and two days +later reached the parish they were seeking. + +The people flocked about Parson Adams like children round a parent; and +the parson, on his side, shook every one by the hand. Nor did Joseph and +Fanny want a hearty welcome from all who saw them. Adams carried his +fellow-travellers home to his house, where he insisted on their +partaking whatever his wife could provide, and on the very next Sunday +he published, for the first time, the banns of marriage between Joseph +Andrews and Fanny Goodwill. + +Lady Booby, who was now at her country seat again, was furious when she +heard in church these banns called, and at once sent for Mr. Adams, and +rated him soundly. + +"It is my orders that you publish these banns no more, and if you dare, +I will recommend it to your master, the rector, to discard you from his +service," says my lady. "The fellow Andrews is a vagabond, and shall not +settle here and bring a nest of beggars into the parish." + +"Madam," answered Adams, "I know not what your ladyship means by the +terms 'master' and 'service.' I am in the service of a Master who will +never discard me for doing my duty; and if the rector thinks proper to +turn me from my cure, God will provide me, I hope, another." + +The malice of Lady Booby did not stop at this; she endeavoured to get +Joseph and Fanny convicted on a trumped-up charge of trespass. In this +base wickedness she was defeated by her nephew, young Squire Booby, who +had married the virtuous Pamela, Joseph's sister; and at once stopped +the proceedings. More than that, he carried off Andrews to Lady Booby's, +and on his arrival, said, "Madam, as I have married a virtuous and +worthy woman, I am resolved to own her relations, and show them all +respect; I shall think myself, therefore, infinitely obliged to all mine +who will do the same. It is true her brother has been your servant, but +he has now become my brother." + +Lady Booby answered that she would be pleased to entertain Joseph +Andrews; but when the squire went on to speak of Fanny, his aunt put her +foot down resolutely against her civility to the young woman. + +And now both Pamela and her husband were inclined to urge Joseph to +break off the engagement with Fanny, but the young man would not give +way, and in this he was supported by Mr. Adams. + +The arrival of a peddler in the parish, who had shown some civility to +Adams and Andrews when they were travelling on the road, threatened the +marriage prospect much more dangerously for a time. + +According to the pedaler, who was a man of some education and birth, +Fanny had been stolen away from her home when an infant, and sold for +three guineas to Sir Thomas Booby; the name of her family was Andrews, +and they had a daughter of a very strange name, Pamela. This story he +had received from a dying woman when he had been a drummer in an Irish +regiment. + +The only thing now to be done was to send for old Mr. Andrews and his +wife; and, in the meantime, the pedal was bidden to Booby Hall to tell +the whole story again. All who heard him were well satisfied of the +truth, except Pamela, who imagined as neither of her parents had ever +mentioned such an incident to her, it must be false; and except Lady +Booby, who suspected the falsehood of the story from her ardent desire +that it should be true; and Joseph, who feared its truth, from his +earnest wishes that it might prove false. + +On the following morning news came of the arrival of old Mr. Andrews and +his wife. Mr. Andrews assured Mr. Booby that he had never lost a +daughter by gypsies, nor ever had any other children than Joseph and +Pamela. But old Mrs. Andrews, running to Fanny, embraced her, crying +out, "She is--she is my child!" + +The company were all amazed at this disagreement, until the old woman +explained the mystery. During her husband's absence at Gibraltar, when +he was a sergeant in the army, a party of gypsies had stolen the little +girl who had been born to him, and left a small male child in her place. +So she had brought up the boy as her own. + +"Well," says Gaffer Andrews, "you have proved, I think, very plainly, +that this girl does not belong to us; I hope you are certain the boy is +ours." + +Then it turned out that Joseph had a strawberry mark on his left breast, +and this made the peddler, who knew all about Mr. Wilson's loss, +satisfied that Joseph was no other than Mr. Wilson's son. + +So Mr. Wilson had to be sent for, who, on his arrival, no sooner saw the +mark than he cried out with tears of joy, "I have discovered my son!" + +The banns having been duly called, there was now nothing to prevent the +wedding, which, having taken place, Joseph and his wife settled down in +Mr. Wilson's parish, Mr. Booby having given Fanny a fortune of £2,000. +He also presented Mr. Adams with a living of £130 a year. + + + * * * * * + + + + +Tom Jones + + + "The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling," described in the + dedication as the "labour of some years of my life," appeared + in six volumes, on February 28, 1749, a short time after + Fielding's appointment as justice of peace for Westminster. + Though its broad humour and coarseness of expression are + perhaps hard to bear in these times, it is by common consent + Fielding's masterpiece, and by way of being one of the + greatest novels in the language. For experience of life, + observation of character, and sheer humanity, it is certainly + an outstanding specimen of the English novel and manners. Like + others of his books, "Tom Jones" was written during a period + of great mental strain. Ever haunted by poverty, Fielding + acknowledges his debt to his old schoolfellow Lyttelton, to + whom he owed his "existence during the composition of the + book." The story was popular from the first. + + +_I.--Mr. Allworthy Makes a Discovery_ + + +In that part of the country which is commonly called Somersetshire there +lately lived a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be +called the favourite of both nature and fortune. From the former of +these he derived an agreeable person, a sound constitution, a solid +understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter he was decreed to +the inheritance of one of the largest estates in the country. + +Mr. Allworthy lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one +sister, for whom he had a very tender affection. This lady, Miss Bridget +Allworthy, now somewhat past the age of thirty, was of that species of +women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty. + +Mr. Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London on some +very particular business, and having returned to his house very late in +the evening, retired, much fatigued, to his chamber. Here, after he had +spent some minutes on his knees--a custom which he never broke through +on any account--he was preparing to step into bed, when, upon opening +the clothes, to his great surprise, he beheld an infant wrapped up in +some coarse linen, in a sweet and profound sleep, between his sheets. He +stood for some time lost in astonishment at this sight; but soon began +to be touched with sentiments of compassion for the little wretch before +him. He then rang his bell, and ordered an elderly woman-servant to rise +immediately and come to him. + +The consternation of Mrs. Deborah Wilkins at the finding of the little +infant was rather greater than her master's had been; nor could she +refrain from crying out, with great horror, "My good sir, what's to be +done?" + +Mr. Allworthy answered she must take care of the child that evening, and +in the morning he would give orders to provide it a nurse. + +"Yes, sir," says she, "and I hope your worship will send out your +warrant to take up the hussy its mother. Indeed, such wicked sluts +cannot be too severely punished for laying their sins at honest men's +doors; and though your worship knows your own innocence, yet the world +is censorious, and if your worship should provide for the child it may +make the people after to believe. If I might be so bold as to give my +advice, I would have it put in a basket, and sent out and laid at the +churchwarden's door. It is a good night, only a little rainy and windy, +and if it was well wrapped up and put in a warm basket, it is two to one +but it lives till it is found in the morning. But if it should not, we +have discharged our duty in taking care of it; and it is, perhaps, +better for such creatures to die in a state of innocence than to grow up +and imitate their mothers." + +But Mr. Allworthy had now got one of his fingers into the infant's hand, +which, by its gentle pressure, seeming to implore his assistance, +certainly outpleaded the eloquence of Mrs. Deborah. Mr. Allworthy gave +positive orders for the child to be taken away and provided with pap and +other things against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper clothes +should be procured for it early in the morning, and that it should be +brought to himself as soon as he was stirring. + +Such was the respect Mrs. Wilkins bore her master, under whom she +enjoyed a most excellent place, that her scruples gave way to his +peremptory commands, and, declaring the child was a sweet little infant, +she walked off with it to her own chamber. + +Allworthy betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which a heart that +hungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughly satisfied. + +In the morning Mr. Allworthy told his sister he had a present for her, +and, when Mrs. Wilkins produced the little infant, told her the whole +story of its appearance. + +Miss Bridget took the good-natured side of the question, intimated some +compassion for the helpless little creature, and commended her brother's +charity in what he had done. The good lady subsequently gave orders for +providing all necessaries for the child, and her orders were indeed so +liberal that had it been a child of her own she could not have exceeded +them. + + +_II.--The Foundling Achieves Manhood_ + + +Miss Bridget having been asked in marriage by one Captain Blifil, a +half-pay officer, and the nuptials duly celebrated, Mrs. Blifil was in +course of time delivered of a fine boy. + +Though the birth of an heir to his beloved sister was a circumstance of +great joy to Mr. Allworthy, yet it did not alienate his affections from +the little foundling to whom he had been godfather, and had given his +own name of Thomas; the surname of Jones being added because it was +believed that was the mother's name. + +He told his sister, if she pleased, the newborn infant should be bred up +together with little Tommy, to which she consented, for she had truly a +great complaisance for her brother. + +The captain, however, could not so easily bring himself to bear what he +condemned as a fault in Mr. Allworthy; for his meditations being chiefly +employed on Mr. Allworthy's fortune, and on his hopes of succession, he +looked on all the instances of his brother-in-law's generosity as +diminutions of his own wealth. + +But one day, while the captain was exulting in the happiness which would +accrue to him by Mr. Allworthy's death, he himself died of apoplexy. + +So the two boys grew up together under the care of Mr. Allworthy and +Mrs. Blifil, and by the time he was fourteen Tom Jones--who, according +to universal opinion, was certainly born to be hanged--had been already +convicted of three robberies--_viz._, of robbing an orchard, of stealing +a duck out of a farmer's yard, and of picking Master Blifil's pocket of +a ball. + +The vices of this young man were, moreover, heightened by the +disadvantageous light in which they appeared when opposed to the virtues +of Master Blifil, his companion. He was, indeed, a lad of remarkable +disposition--sober, discreet, and pious beyond his age; and many +expressed their wonder that Mr. Allworthy should suffer such a lad as +Tom Jones to be educated with his nephew lest the morals of the latter +should be corrupted by his example. + +To say the truth, the whole duck, and great part of the apples, were +converted to the use of Tom's friend, the gamekeeper, and his family; +though, as Jones alone was discovered, the poor lad bore not only the +whole smart, but the whole blame. + +Mr. Allworthy had committed the instruction of the two boys to a learned +divine, the Reverend Mr. Thwackum, who resided in the house; but though +Mr. Allworthy had given him frequent orders to make no difference +between the lads, yet was Thwackum altogether as kind and gentle to +Master Blifil as he was harsh, nay, even barbarous, to the other. In +truth, Blifil had greatly gained his master's affections; partly by the +profound respect he always showed his person, but much more by the +decent reverence with which he received his doctrine, for he had got by +heart, and frequently repeated, his phrases, and maintained all his +master's religious principles, with a zeal which was surprising in one +so young. + +Tom Jones, on the other hand, was not only deficient in outward tokens +of respect, often forgetting to pull off his cap at his master's +approach, but was altogether unmindful both of his master's precepts and +example. + +At the, age of twenty, however, Tom, for his love of hunting, had become +a great favourite with Mr. Allworthy's neighbour, Squire Western; and +Sophia, Mr. Western's only child, lost her heart irretrievably to him +before she suspected it was in danger. On his side, Tom was truly +sensible of the great worth of Sophia. He liked her person extremely, no +less admired her accomplishments, and tenderly loved her goodness. In +reality, as he had never once entertained any thoughts of possessing +her, nor had ever given the least voluntary indulgence to his +inclinations, he had a much stronger passion for her than he himself was +acquainted with. + +An accident occurred on the hunting-field in saving Sophia from her too +mettlesome horse kept Jones a prisoner for some time in Mr. Western's +house, and during those weeks he not only found that he loved Sophia +with an unbounded passion, but he plainly saw the tender sentiments she +had for him; yet could not this assurance lessen his despair of +obtaining the consent of her father, nor the horrors which attended his +pursuit of her by any base or treacherous method. + +Hence, at the approach of the young lady, he grew pale; and, if this was +sudden, started. If his eyes accidentally met hers, the blood rushed +into his cheeks, and his countenance became all over scarlet. If he +touched her, his hand, nay, his whole frame, trembled. + +All these symptoms escaped the notice of the squire, but not so of +Sophia. She soon perceived these agitations of mind in Jones, and was at +no loss to discover the cause; for, indeed, she recognised it in her own +breast. In a word, she was in love with him to distraction. It was not +long before Jones was able to attend her to the harpsichord, where she +would kindly condescend for hours together to charm him with the most +delicious music. + +The news that Mr. Allworthy was dangerously ill (for a servant had +brought word that he was dying) broke off Tom's stay at Mr. Western's, +and drove all the thoughts of love out of his head. He hurried instantly +into the chariot which was sent for him, and ordered the coachman to +drive with all imaginable haste; nor did the idea of Sophia once occur +to him on the way. + + +_III.--Tom Jones Falls into Disgrace_ + + +On the night when the physician announced that Mr. Allworthy was out of +danger Jones was thrown into such immoderate excess of rapture by the +news that he might be truly said to be drunk with joy--an intoxication +which greatly forwards the effects of wine; and as he was very free, +too, with the bottle, on this occasion he became very soon literally +drunk. + +Jones had naturally violent animal spirits, and Thwackum, resenting his +speeches, only the doctor's interposition prevented wrath kindling. +After which, Jones gave loose to mirth, sang two or three amorous songs, +and fell into every frantic disorder which unbridled joy is apt to +inspire; but so far was he from any disposition to quarrel that he was +ten times better-humoured, if possible, than when he was sober. + +Blifil, whose mother had died during her brother's illness, was highly +offended at a behaviour which was so inconsistent with the sober and +prudent reserve of his own temper. The recent death of his mother, he +declared, made such conduct very indecent. + +"It would become them better," he said, "to express the exultations of +their hearts at Mr. Allworthy's recovery in thanksgiving, than in +drunkenness and riot." + +Wine had not so totally overpowered Jones as to prevent him recollecting +Blifil's loss the moment it was mentioned. He at once offered to shake +Mr. Blifil by the hand, and begged his pardon, saying his excessive joy +for Mr. Allworthy's recovery had driven every other thought out of his +mind. + +Blifil scornfully rejected his hand, and with an insulting illusion to +the misfortune of Jones's birth provoked the latter to blows. The +scuffle which ensued might have produced mischief had it not been for +the interference of Thwackum and the physician. + +Blifil, however, only waited for an opportunity to be revenged on Jones, +and the occasion was soon forthcoming when Mr. Allworthy was fully +recovered from his illness. + +Mr. Western had found out that his daughter was in love with Tom Jones, +and at once decided that she should marry Blifil, to whom Sophia +professed great abhorrence. + +As for Blifil, the success of Jones was much more grievous to him than +the loss of Sophia, whose estate, indeed, was dearer to him than her +person. + +Mr. Western swore that his daughter shouldn't have a ha'penny, nor the +twentieth part of a brass farthing, if she married Jones; and Blifil, +with many sighs, professed to his uncle that he could not bear the +thought of Sophia being ruined by her preference for Jones. + +"This lady, I am sure, will be undone in every sense; for, besides the +loss of most part of her own fortune, she will be married to a beggar. +Nay, that is a trifle; for I know him to be one of the worst men in the +world." + +"How?" said Mr. All worthy. "I command you to tell me what you mean." + +"You know, sir," said Blifil, "I never disobeyed you. In the very day of +your utmost danger, when myself and all the family were in tears, he +filled the house with riot and debauchery. He drank, and sang, and +roared; and when I gave him a gentle hint of the indecency of his +actions, he fell into a violent passion, swore many oaths, called me +rascal, and struck me. I am sure I have forgiven him that long ago. I +wish I could so easily forget his ingratitude to the best of +benefactors." + +Thwackum was now sent for, and corroborated every circumstance which the +other had deposed. + +Poor Jones was too full of grief at the thought that Western had +discovered the whole affair between him and Sophia to make any adequate +defence. He could not deny the charge of drunkenness, and out of modesty +sunk everything that related particularly to himself. + +Mr. Allworthy answered that he was now resolved to banish him from his +sight for ever. "Your audacious attempt to steal away a young lady calls +upon me to justify my own character in punishing you. And there is no +part of your character which I resent more than your ill-treatment of +that good young man (meaning Blifil), who hath behaved with so much +tenderness and honour towards you." + +A flood of tears now gushed from the eyes of Jones, and every faculty of +speech and motion seemed to have deserted him. It was some time before +he was able to obey Allworthy's peremptory commands of departing, which +he at length did, having first kissed his hands with a passion difficult +to be affected, and as difficult to be described. + +Mr. Allworthy, however, did not permit him to leave the house penniless, +but presented him with a note for £500. He then commanded him to go +immediately, and told Jones that his clothes, and everything else, +should be sent to him whithersoever he should order them. + +Jones had hardly set out, which he did with feelings of agony and +despair, before Sophia Western decided that only in flight could she be +saved from marriage with the detested Blifil. + +Mr. Western, in spite of tremendous love for his daughter, thought her +inclinations of as little consequence as Blifil himself conceived them +to be; and Mr. Allworthy, who said "he would on no account be accessory +to forcing a young lady into a marriage contrary to her own will," was +satisfied by his nephew's disingenuous statement that the young lady's +behaviour to him was full as forward as he wished it. + +Sophia, having appointed her maid to meet her at a certain place not far +from the house, exactly at the ghostly and dreadful hour of twelve, +began to prepare for her own departure. + +But first she was obliged to give a painful audience to her father, and +he treated her in so violent and outrageous a manner that he frightened +her into an affected compliance with his will, which so highly pleased +the good squire that he at once changed his frowns into smiles, and his +menaces into promises. + +He vowed his whole soul was wrapped in hers, that her consent had made +him the happiest of mankind. + +He then gave her a large bank-bill to dispose of in any trinkets she +pleased, and kissed and embraced her in the fondest manner. + +Sophia reverenced her father piously and loved him passionately, but the +thoughts of her beloved Jones quickly destroyed all the regretful +promptings of filial love. + + +_IV.--Tom Jones's Restoration_ + + +After many adventures on the road Mr. Jones reached London; and as he +had often heard Mr. Allworthy mention the gentlewoman at whose house in +Bond Street he used to lodge when he was in town, he sought the house, +and was soon provided with a room there on the second floor. Mrs. +Miller, the person who let these lodgings, was the widow of a clergyman, +and Mr. Allworthy had settled an annuity of £50 a year on her, "in +consideration of always having her first floor when he was in town." + +Tom Jones's fortunes were now very soon at the lowest. Having been +forced into a quarrel in the streets with an acquaintance named +Fitzpatrick, and having wounded him with his sword, a number of fellows +rushed in and carried Jones off to the civil magistrate, who, being +informed that the wound appeared to be mortal, straightway committed the +prisoner to the Gatehouse. + +Sophia Western was also in London at the house of her aunt; and soon +afterwards Mr. Western, Mr. Allworthy, and Blifil all reached the city. + +It was just at this time that Mr. Allworthy, consenting to his nephew +once more offering himself to Sophia, came with Blifil to his accustomed +lodgings in Bond Street. Mrs. Miller, to whom Jones had showed many +kindnesses, at once put in a good word for the unfortunate young man; +and, on Blifil exulting over the manslaughter Jones was alleged to have +committed, declared that the wounded man, whoever he was, was in fault. +This, indeed, was shortly afterwards corroborated by Fitzpatrick +himself, who acknowledged his mistake. + +But it was not till Mr. Allworthy discovered that Blifil had been +arranging with a lawyer to get the men who had arrested Jones to bear +false witness, and learnt further that Tom Jones was his sister +Bridget's child, and that on her death-bed Mrs. Blifil's message to her +brother confessing the fact had been suppressed by her son, that his old +feelings of affection for Tom Jones returned. Before setting out to +visit Jones in the prison Mr. Allworthy called on Sophia to inform her +that he regretted Blifil had ever been encouraged to give her annoyance, +and that Mr. Jones was his nephew and his heir. + +Men over-violent in their dispositions are, for the most part, as +changeable in them. No sooner was Western informed of Mr. Allworthy's +intention to make Jones his heir than he joined heartily with the uncle +in every commendation of the nephew, and became as eager for his +daughter's marriage with Jones as he had before been to couple her to +Blifil. + +Fitzpatrick being recovered of his wound, and admitting the aggression, +Jones was released from custody and returned to his lodgings to meet Mr. +Allworthy. + +It is impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than this +meeting between the uncle and nephew. Allworthy received Jones into his +arms. "O my child!" he cried, "how have I been to blame! How have I +injured you! What amends can I ever make you for those unkind +suspicions which I have entertained, and for all the sufferings they +have occasioned you?" + +"Am I not now made amends?" cried Jones. "Would not my sufferings, had +they been ten times greater, have been now richly repaid?" + +Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Western, who +could no longer be kept away even by the authority of Allworthy himself. +Western immediately went up to Jones, crying out, "My old friend Tom, I +am glad to see thee, with all my heart. All past must be forgotten. Come +along with me; I'll carry thee to thy mistress this moment." + +Here Allworthy interposed; and the squire was obliged to consent to +delay introducing Jones to Sophia till the afternoon. + +Blifil, now thoroughly exposed in his treachery, was at first sullen and +silent, balancing in his mind whether he should yet deny all; but +finding at last the evidence too strong against him, betook himself to +confession, and was now as remarkably mean as he had been before +remarkably wicked. Mr. Allworthy subsequently settled £200 a year upon +him, to which Jones hath privately added a third. Upon this income +Blifil lives in one of the northern counties. He is also lately turned +Methodist, in hopes of marrying a very rich widow of that sect. Sophia +would not at first permit any promise of an immediate engagement with +Jones because of certain stories of his inconstancy, but Mr. Western +refused to hear of any delay. + +"To-morrow or next day?" says Western, bursting into the room where +Sophia and Jones were alone. + +"Indeed, sir," says she, "I have no such intention." + +"But I can tell thee," replied he, "why hast not; only because thou dost +love to be disobedient, and to plague and vex thy father. When I forbid +her, then it was all nothing but sighing and whining, and languishing +and writing; now I am for thee--(this to Jones)--she is against thee. +All the spirit of contrary, that's all. She is above being guided and +governed by her father, that is the whole truth on't. It is only to +disoblige and contradict me." + +"What would my papa have me do?" cries Sophia. + +"What would I ha' thee do?" says he, "why gee un thy hand this moment." + +"Well, sir," said Sophia, "I will obey you. There is my hand, Mr. +Jones." + +"Well, and will you consent to ha' un to-morrow morning?" says Western. + +"I will be obedient to you, sir," cries she. + +"Why, then, to-morrow morning be the day," cries he. + +"Why, then, to-morrow morning shall be the day, papa, since you will +have it so," said Sophia. Jones then fell upon his knees and kissed her +hand in an agony of joy, while Western began to caper and dance about +the room, presently crying out, "Where the devil is Allworthy?" He then +sallied out in quest of him, and very opportunely left the lovers to +enjoy a few tender minutes alone. + +But he soon returned with Allworthy, saying, "If you won't believe me, +you may ask her yourself. Hast not gin thy consent, Sophy, to be married +to-morrow?" + +"Such are your commands, sir," cries Sophia, "and I dare not be guilty +of disobedience." + +"I hope there is not the least constraint," cries Allworthy. + +"Why, there," cried Western, "you may bid her unsay all again if you +will. Dost repent heartily of thy promise, dost not, Sophy?" + +"Indeed, papa," cried she. "I do not repent, nor do I believe I ever +shall, of any promise in favour of Mr. Jones." + +"Then, nephew," cries Allworthy, "I felicitate you most heartily, for I +think you are the happiest of men." + +Mr. Allworthy, Mr. Western, and Mrs. Miller were the only persons +present at the wedding, and within two days of that event Mr. Jones and +Sophia attended Mr. Western and Mr. Allworthy into the country. + +There is not a neighbour or a servant, who doth not most gratefully +bless the day when Mr. Jones was married to Sophia. + + + * * * * * + + + + +CAMILLE FLAMMARION + + +Urania + + + Camille Flammarion is one of the most remarkable of modern + French scientists. Born on February 25, 1842, he was + apprenticed at an early age to an engraver, but, attracted by + astronomy, he studied so well that, when a lad of sixteen, he + was admitted as a pupil to the Paris Observatory. There is no + doubt that the great French mathematician, Le Verrier, + regarded Flammarion with a certain disdain as more of a poet + than an astronomer; but he soon vindicated, by several + important discoveries, his title to be regarded as a man of + science. "Urania," which appeared in 1889, is an excellent + example of his ability as a thinker, and of his charm as a + writer. The work is hardly a novel, though it is far more + popular than many books of fiction. It is really an essay in + philosophy dealing with the question of the immortality of the + soul; and it has an especial interest for English readers + owing to the fact that much in it that seems to be pure + fantasy is based on researches undertaken by the British + Society for Psychical Research. The plot and the characters + are of secondary importance; they are only used for the + purpose of illustrating certain ideas. + + +_I.--The Muse of Astronomy_ + + +I was seventeen years old when I fell in love with Urania. Was she a +fair, young, blue-eyed daughter of Eve? No; she was an exquisite statue +of the Muse of Astronomy, chiselled by Pradier in the days of the +Empire. She stood on the mantelpiece in the study of the famous +mathematician, Le Verrier, who directed the Paris Observatory, where I +was working. At four o'clock in the afternoon my illustrious chief used +to depart, and I would then steal into his room and sit down before +Urania and dream of lovelier worlds than ours, hidden in the infinite +spaces of the starry sky. Sometimes my friend and companion in studies, +Georges Spero, would come and sit beside me; and, inspired by the +immortal beauty of Urania, we would let our young and ardent +imaginations play over the glories and wonders of the heavens. + +"You will be too late for Jupiter," said Le Verrier, entering +unexpectedly one evening, and catching me in an attitude of adoration +before Urania. "I am afraid you are more of a poet than an astronomer." + +The great man of science himself certainly did not love beauty as much +as he loved wisdom, for the next day he sold the lovely image of Urania +in order to buy an old Chinese astronomical clock. I was almost +heartbroken when I entered his room and found that Urania had +disappeared. With her had gone the vivifying power of imagination which +had transmuted the abstruse calculations on which I was engaged into +glimpses of heavenly visions of infinite life. With what wild joy then +did I see, when I returned home, Urania shining in all her loveliness on +my own mantelpiece. Knowing my love for the beautiful figure of the +muse, Georges Spero had bought it back from the watchmaker to whom Le +Verrier had sent it, and placed it in my room as a gift. + +It was an extraordinary mark of friendship, for Georges loved Urania +even more passionately than I did. To him she was the personification of +everything in life that lifted man above the level of the brute. + +Possessing a nobler and finer intellect than mine, he had thrown himself +into the study of the problems of the soul with a fury of passion and a +concentration of thought that almost killed him. Are our souls immortal, +or do they perish with our bodies? This was the question that tormented +him to madness. One night I found him sitting in his room in the Place +du Panthéon with a glass of poison in his hand. + +"This is the quickest road to the knowledge I want," he said, with a +smile. "I shall soon know if the soul is immortal." + +He had been dissecting a skull; and by his side was a microscope with +which he had been studying the grey matter of the brain. Convinced at +last of the uncertainty of the positive sciences, he had fallen into +violent despair. But Urania was at hand to comfort him, and his mind +became calmer and clearer when we ceased to talk about earthly things, +and ascended into high regions of philosophic speculation over which the +muse of heaven presides. + +"Ah, Camille," he exclaimed, "the Uranian way is the best. It is only by +studying the heavens that we shall be able to understand this little +earth of ours, and the part we play in it. Look at the midnight sky, +streaming with the light of infinite suns, and filled with an unending +procession of worlds in which the spirit of life clothes itself in an +unimaginable variety of forms. This clot of dust on which we live will +grow cold, and break and scatter in the abysses of space. But it is not +our home; we are only passengers, and when our journey here is done, +fairer mansions are waiting for us in the depths of the sky. If I die +before you, I will return and convince you of this truth." + +Returning to the study of astronomy, Spero built up a system of +philosophy which made him, at the age of twenty-five, one of the most +famous men in France. + + +_II.--Love and Death_ + + +By way of relief from his severer work, Georges Spero resolved to go to +Norway and study the wild and beautiful phenomena of the Aurora +Borealis, and I went with him. One morning, as we were standing on a +mountain looking at a magnificent sunrise, I saw a girl climbing a +neighbouring peak. She did not perceive us; but when she reached the +summit the image of Spero was thrown on a cloud in front of her, by one +of those curious plays of sunlight and mist which sometimes occur in +hazy, mountainous regions. His fine, austere features and graceful +figure were enlarged into a vast, god-like apparition, with a halo of +bright colours shining like a glory around his head, and a fainter +circle of rainbow hues framing his whole form. It was the first anthelia +that the lovely girl had seen, and it filled her with wonder and awe. + +Theirs was a strange courtship--Spero's and Iclea's. The lovely young +Norwegian lady had recently lost her mother, and being, like many of the +cultivated women of Northern Europe, somewhat dubious of the dogmas of +religion, she had found death a terrible mystery when it was thus +brought sharply home to her. She was wandering in the dreadful labyrinth +of modern doubt, vainly seeking to forget her trouble in the excitements +of mountaineering, when she saw the unearthly apparition of the young +French philosopher. A study of his works heightened the feeling of awe +with which she already regarded him. At first there was no room for love +in the passionate desire after knowledge which drew her to him. She was +merely a disciple sitting at the feet of the great master. Accompanied +by her father, she continued her studies under him when he returned to +Paris, and for three months they were bound together wholly by +intellectual interest. For several hours every day they studied side by +side, and much of Iclea's time was spent in translating papers in +foreign languages, bearing on subjects in which Georges was interested. +One morning he arrived earlier than usual, his eyes shining with joy. + +"I have settled the problem," he cried, leaning against the mantelpiece. +"At least," he added, with his usual modesty, "I have settled it to my +own satisfaction." + +Striding up and down the room, he rapidly sketched out a system of +philosophy in which the ultimate truths of modern science were +transformed into the bases of religion. Iclea listened to him in silence +as he went on to explain the spiritual forces still dormant in the human +soul. + +"We are still in our spiritual infancy," he said. "It is scarcely four +thousand years since mankind began to manifest its higher powers. Our +greatest conquests over nature are all of recent date, and they are the +work of a few noble souls who have erected themselves above the animal +conditions of life. The reign of brute force is over, and I am certain +that as soon as we learn to exercise the powers of our soul we shall +acquire transcendental faculties that will enable us to transport +ourselves from one world to another." + +"That, too, is my belief," said Iclea. + +Georges bent over her and gazed into her eyes of heavenly blue through +which her very soul was speaking. There was a strange silence, and then +their lips met. + + * * * * * + +For some months I lost sight of my two friends. In the ecstasy of their +love they forgot for a while the problems of philosophy which had +brought them together. The joys of intellectual communion were submerged +and almost lost in the new, strange feeling which crowned and glorified +their lives. Hand in hand the lovers wandered about Paris, which had now +become to them a city in fairyland. Meeting them one evening on the +banks of the Seine, I learned that they were returning to Norway with +Iclea's father, and that they were to be married at Christiania on the +anniversary of the mysterious apparition on the mountain which had +brought them together. Georges was about to resume his interrupted +studies of the Aurora Borealis, which he wished to trace to its source +by means of a balloon ascent, and Iclea intended to accompany him in his +voyage through the air. + +To my great regret I was unable to go with them to Norway, as my duties +as an astronomer kept me in Paris. I anxiously awaited that +extraordinary agitation of the magnetic needle which announces the +existence of an Aurora Borealis in Northern Europe. When at last the +magnetic perturbation occurred in the observatory, I rejoiced to think +that Spero and his bride were floating high, feasting their eyes on the +most gorgeous of spectacles. + +But suddenly an indefinable feeling of uneasiness came over me, which +grew into a dreadful presentiment of disaster. Long before the telegram +arrived from Christiania I knew what had happened. Georges and Iclea +were dead! + +Every reader of the newspapers next morning knew as much as I did. An +escape of gas which could not be stopped sent the balloon hurtling to +the earth. Spero threw everything movable out of the car in a vain +attempt to lighten it and break the force of the descent. The balloon +still kept falling; then Iclea, with a wild courage born of love, saved +Georges' life by leaping out of the car. Relieved of her weight, the +balloon rose up, but Spero had now no wish to live. He jumped out with a +wild cry, and his body crashed on the edge of the lake into which Iclea +had fallen. There the mortal remains of the two lovers now lie, covered +by a single stone. But where were their souls? + +One night Georges Spero remembered his promise to me, and returned to +earth. + + +_III.--A Soul from Mars_ + + +Sitting alone on the top of the ancient castle of Montlhéry, I was +conducting an experiment in optics by means of electrical communications +with two assistants at Paris and Juvisy. I was trying to find out if the +rays of different colours in the spectrum travel at the same rate. It +was just on midnight before I brought the experiment to a successful +conclusion. As I covered up my instruments, some one said, "You would +not have brought that off, Camille, if it had not been for me. I gave +you the idea of comparing the violet vibrations with the red." + +I turned round with a cry of fear. Georges Spero was sitting in the +moonlight on the parapet, looking at me with a smile. + +"Are you afraid of me, Camille?" he said. + +"You, Georges! You!" I stammered. "Is it really you? Keep still, and let +me touch you." + +I put my hands on his face, and stroked his hair, and felt his body. I +could no longer doubt that I had him before me in the actual flesh, but +he read my thoughts. + +"You are mistaken, Camille," he said. "My real body is asleep on Mars." + +"So you still live?" I exclaimed. "You have solved the great problem. +And Iclea?" + +"Let us sit here and talk," he replied. "There are many things I want to +tell you." + +My fears had vanished, and I sat by my beloved friend. + +"It seemed to me," said Georges, "that my fall from the balloon knocked +me senseless. When I came to, I was lying in the darkness with the +ripple of lake-water breaking on my ear. What amazed me was a strange +sense of lightness that made me feel I could rise up and float away if I +wanted to. Thinking this was a disorder of the mind, I did not attempt +to move, but watched with wondering eyes the sky above me. It was +lighted by two strange moons. When the day broke, and showed around me a +world of unimaginable splendour, I knew the meaning of the two moons and +of my strange feeling of lightness. I was a disembodied spirit that had +been transported to Mars. + +"Do you know, Camille, that the soul is able to choose its mortal +covering? This is, at least, the case on Mars. For some time I wandered +about in an invisible form, studying the conditions of life there. +Animal strength, I found, counted for nothing. The Martians are an +aerial race, with exquisite senses, which respond in a way unknown on +earth to spiritual influences. Do you remember I read your thoughts when +we first met, and answered them before you spoke? That is one of the +Martians' gifts. Finding that these wonderful faculties were better +developed in the women of Mars than in the men, I chose the feminine +form for my reincarnation." + +"And Iclea?" I said. + +"Iclea," said Spero, "was re-born in a masculine shape. It was partly +because of the mystic attraction that I felt for her that I chose the +other form. Neither of us remembered our earthly existence, but a vague +yet deep sentiment of our spiritual relationship made me seek her out +and unite myself to her. It was your beloved muse Uriana," he added, +"who revealed the ties that bound us in our former lives. + +"Owing to their superior faculties, the Martians have carried every +science to a perfection undreamt of on this earth. In astronomical +observations, for instance, they employ a system of telephotography. For +thousands of years their instruments have been photographing, on an +unending roll of paper, the wild spectacle of terrestrial life. + +"One day, as Iclea and I were examining recent photographs, we saw a +picture of Paris during the Great Exhibition. Seizing a microscope, we +looked at the figures, and recognised ourselves among them. Strange +memories stirred within us, and we stared at each other in silent +amazement. Suddenly I remembered the sacred words I learnt at my +mother's knee. Yes, there were many mansions in our Father's house! The +blood-stained planet from which we had escaped was neither the cradle +nor the grave of His children. + +"Then we wept as we thought of the cruelty, ignorance, misery, and +grossness of existence on earth. It was, dear Camille, with no joy that +I recollected the promise I had made to you. But, you see, I have +carried it out. I wish to convince you, and, through you, all the rest +of mankind, that the soul is immortal, and that the earth is only a +temporary stage of existence in a spiritual progress in which the whole +universe is included." + +"But how is it possible for you, Georges," I interrupted, "to appear to +me in the body you wore on earth?" + +"All this," said Spero, touching his body, "is an illusion. Do you not +recollect my saying that only invisible things are real? You do not see +me with your eyes, or feel me with your hands, as you think you do. The +impression which you have of my presence is born of the influence which +my mind is exerting in an invisible way on your mind. Can't you +understand? It is a kind of hypnotism. At the present moment, as I have +said, I am lying asleep on Mars, but my spirit is in direct +communication with yours. The form you see sitting beside you on this +parapet is only an illusion of your senses. My soul is speaking to your +soul." + +"But could you not," I said, "give me some description of life on Mars?" + +"A dream," he replied, "would be more vivid than a mere description, +though it would only be a shadow of the reality. For since you have not, +my dear friend, our exquisite faculties of knowledge, your mind could +not clearly mirror our life. Hark! Iclea is awake, and calling me. I +cannot stay any longer. Shut your eyes, and I will send you a dream." + +I turned to say good-bye, but Spero had vanished. A deep drowsiness fell +upon me, and just as I got off the parapet and found a safer position I +fell asleep. + + +_IV.--The Eternal Progress_ + + +I was sitting under a strange tree covered with gigantic red flowers. In +the sky above me were two moons that shed a dim brightness on the lovely +and fantastic scenery. A multitude of radiant shapes fluttered and +darted through the air. They were Martians--exquisite, aerial, and +divinely beautiful figures glowing with luminous tints. Airy gondolas, +which seemed to be fashioned from phosphorescent flowers, passed above +my head, and one of them floated down to the tree under which I was +lying. In it were Iclea and Georges, but etherealised beyond the reach +of human imagination. + +They took me in their flying chariot as day was breaking, and we +coursed, with a strange silent interchange of thoughts, over the +orange-coloured land of Mars. I could not understand everything which +was communicated to me, now by Iclea and now by Georges; but I perceived +that all manual labour on the planet was done by means of machines +directed by animals whose intelligence was on a level with my own. The +Martians themselves lived only for the things of the mind; they had +twelve senses instead of five, and their bodies, in which electricity +played the part that blood does in our systems, were so finely and yet +so strongly organised that they possessed an extraordinary power over +the forces of nature. Everything on their world, seas, mountains and +rivers were like their wonderful canals, works of art and science. +Nature was completely plastic in their hands. There was no poverty and +no crime. Deriving their food from the air which they breathe, the +Martians were liberated from material cares and immersed in the joys of +intellectual pursuits. + +"You now see, Camille," said Spero, resorting at last to language which +I could clearly understand, "that life on Mars has developed as +peacefully and nobly as it began. There is no break between our +vegetable kingdom and our animal kingdom. We are nourished, like your +plants, trees, and herbs, by the air which we breathe. Ten million years +ago your world was also a scene of innocence and tranquil felicity. The +land was overgrown with a wildly beautiful vegetation that fed on the +gentle winds of heaven, and primitive forms of animal life had spread +from the depths of the sea along the shallow shores, and were there +learning to extract from the air a nourishment similar to that which +they obtained from the water. But by a woeful chance, one of your +primitive animals--a deaf, blind, sexless clot of jelly--then had its +body pierced by a drop of sea-water thicker than usual, and it found +that this way of feeding was quicker than simple respiration. Such was +the origin of the first digestive tube, which has exercised so baleful +an influence on the course of terrestrial life, and turned the earth +into a vast slaughterhouse." + +"Is there no hope for us?" I said. + +"No," he replied; "the earth is a shipwrecked planet. None of the higher +organisms there will ever rise to our level. How can they alter the +structure of their bodies, and empty their veins of blood, and fill them +with the subtle electricity which serves us as a life force? And the +grossness of their blood-fed senses! How can all the fine powers of the +immortal soul ever develop along with such degraded instruments of +knowledge?" + +"But even if our earth is a shipwrecked planet," I exclaimed, "there is +at least some means of escaping from it. You and Iclea, for instance----" + +"Yes, there is a way of escape," said Spero, "the Uranian way. By +soaring aloft into the serene region of spiritual ideas, a terrestrial +soul can still free itself from its animality. Some save themselves by +their high moral qualities, others are purified and uplifted by their +imagination and intellect. Virtue and science are the wings that enable +earth-born spirits to mount the skies. The destiny of a soul is +determined by its works and aspirations. Lovers of knowledge sojourn +awhile on Mars, which is only the first stage in the eternal progress. +Spirits animated by divine feelings rise at once into high regions of +starry splendour. The Uranian way is open to all, and the day will +arrive when every inhabitant of your wild, dark planet will recognise +that he, too, is a citizen of heaven. Then Urania will at last inspire +and direct him, and point out the path by which he can ascend from the +blood-stained earth to the fairer mansions prepared for him in the +skies." + +As he was speaking our aerial chariot floated down to a fairy palace by +the shore of an enchanted sea. I alighted; and a radiant, flower-like +maiden, who was standing by the portal, unfolded her rainbow wings and +shadowed me with them, and murmured, "Do you wish to return to earth?" + +"No," I cried, running up to clasp her in my arms. + +I awoke with a sudden shock. I was lying on the top of the tower of +Montlhéry; the sun was rising, and the vast circle of country below me +shone clear and distinct in the morning light. + +"Was it a dream?" I said to myself. "Surely not. The earth is not the +only home of life in the universe. Urania, the celestial muse, is now +unfolding before our astonished eyes the panoramas of infinity, and we +know at last that we are not the children of the earth, but citizens of +the heavens." + + * * * * * + + + + +DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ + + +Undine + + + Friedrich Heinrich Karl Fouqué, Baron de la Motte, was born at + Brandenburg, in Prussia, Feb. 12, 1777, and died in Berlin + January 23, 1843. The mixed nationality indicated by his name + is accounted for by his descent from a French Huguenot family. + He served as a Prussian cavalryman in the two campaigns + against Napoleon of 1792 and 1813, but during the long + interval between devoted himself actively to intellectual + culture and literary pursuits. He began his career as an + author by translating the "Numancia" of Cervantes, but his + admiration of the ancient Norse sagas and the old German + legends led him into the composition of exquisitely beautiful + and tender, though exceedingly fantastic, romances which + speedily gained immense popularity. In these productions fairy + and magical elements predominate. His masterpiece is "Undine," + published in 1814, the other best-known works being "Sintram," + "Aslauga's Knight," and "The Two Captains." In all Fouqué's + stories the marks of genius appear in his brilliant + imagination and pure and fascinating diction. + + +_I.--The Water Sprite_ + + +About a century ago an aged fisherman sat mending his nets by his +cottage door, in front of a lovely lake. Behind his dwelling stretched a +sombre forest, reputed to be haunted by goblin creatures. Through this +gloomy solitude the pious old fisherman frequently passed, religiously +dispelling all terrors by singing hymns as he went with his fish to a +town near the border of the forest. + +One evening he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and presently +appeared a knight riding on a splendid steed, and clad in resplendent +armour. The stranger stopped, and besought shelter for the night, and +the good old fisherman accorded him a most cheery welcome, taking him +into the cottage, where sat his aged wife by a scanty fire. Soon the +three were freely conversing. The knight told of his travels and +revealed that he was Sir Huldbrand of Ringstetten, where he had a castle +by the Rhine. + +A splash against the window surprising the guest he was informed by his +host, with some little show of vexation, that little tricks were often +played by a foster-child of the old couple, named Undine, a girl of +eighteen. + +The door flew open, and a lovely girl glided, laughing, into the room. +Without the slightest token of shyness she gazed at the knight for a few +moments, then asked why he had come to the poor cottage. + +"Have you come through the wild forest?" + +He confessed that he had, and she instantly demanded a recital of his +adventures. With a slight shudder at his own recollections of the +strange creatures he had encountered, Huldbrand consented, but a reproof +from the fisherman at her obtrusiveness angered Undine. The girl sprang +up and rushed forth into the night, exclaiming, "Sleep alone in your +smoky old hut!" + +In great alarm, the fisherman and Huldbrand rose to follow the girl, but +she had vanished in the darkness. Remarking that she had acted so +before, the old fisherman invited Huldbrand to sit by the fire and talk +awhile, and began to relate how Undine had come to live with them. + +The couple had lost their only child, a wonderfully beautiful little +girl. At the age of three, when sitting in her mother's lap at the edge +of the lake, she seemed to be attracted by some lovely apparition in the +water, for, suddenly stretching out her hands and laughing, she had in a +moment sprung into the lake. No trace of the child could ever be found. +But the same evening a lovely little girl, three or four years old, with +water streaming from her golden tresses, suddenly entered the cottage, +smiling sweetly at the fisherman and his wife. They hastily undressed +the little stranger and put her to bed. She uttered not a word, but +simply smiled. In the morning she talked a little, confusedly telling +how she had been in a boat on the lake with her mother, and had fallen +in, and could recollect nothing more. She could say nothing as to who +she was or whence she came. But she talked often of golden castles and +crystal domes. + +While the fisherman was talking thus to the knight, he was suddenly +interrupted by the noise of rushing water. Floods seemed to be bursting +forth, and he and his guest, going hastily to the door, saw by the +moonlight that the brook which issued from the forest was surging in a +wild torrent over its margin, while a roaring wind was lashing the lake. +In great alarm both shouted, "Undine! Undine!" But there was no +response, and the two ran off in different directions in search of the +fugitive. + +It was Huldbrand who discovered the girl. Clambering down some rocks at +the edge of the stream, thinking Undine might have fallen there, he was +hailed by the sweet voice of the girl herself. + +"Venture not," she cried. "The old man of the stream is full of tricks." + +Looking across at a tiny isle in the stream, the knight saw her nestling +in the grass, smiling, and in an instant he had crossed. + +"The fisherman is distressed at your absence," said he. "Let us go +back." + +Looking at him with her beautiful blue eyes, the girl replied. "If you +think so, well; whatever you think is right to me." + +Taking Undine in his arms, Huldbrand bore her over the stream to the +cottage, where she was received with joy. Dawn was breaking, and +breakfast was prepared under the trees. Undine flung herself on the +grass at Huldbrand's feet, and at her renewed request the knight told +the story of his forest adventures. + +"It is now about eight days since I rode into the city on the other side +of the forest to join in a great tournament. In one of the intervals +between the jousts I noticed a lovely lady among the spectators. I +learned that she was Bertalda, foster-daughter of a great duke, and each +evening I became her partner in the dances. + +"This Bertalda was a wayward girl, and each day pleased me less and +less; but I continued in her company, and asked her jestingly to give me +a glove. She said she would do so if I would explore alone the haunted +forest. As an honourable knight I could not decline the challenge, and +yesterday I set out on the enterprise. Before I had penetrated very far +within the glades, I saw what looked like a bear in the branches of an +oak; but the creature, in a harsh, human voice, growled that it was +getting branches with which to roast me at night. My horse was scared at +this, and other grim apparitions, but at last I emerged from the forest, +and saw the lake and this cottage." + +When he had finished, the fisherman spoke of the best way by which the +visitor could return to the city; but, with sly laughter, Undine +declared that the knight could not depart, for if he attempted now to +cross the deluged wood, he would be overwhelmed. + + +_II.--"I Have No Soul!"_ + + +Huldbrand, detained at the cottage by the increasing overflow of the +stream, enjoyed the most perfect satisfaction with his sojourn. + +The old folks with pleasure regarded the two young people as being +betrothed, and Huldbrand assumed that he was accepted by the girl, whom +he had come to look upon as not being in reality one of this poor +household, but one of some illustrious family, and when, one evening, an +aged priest appeared at the cottage, driven in by the storm, Huldbrand +addressed to him a request that he should on the spot at once unite him +and the maiden, as they were pledged to each other. A discussion arose, +but matters were at length settled, and the old wife produced two +consecrated tapers. Lighting these, the priest, with brief, solemn +ceremony, celebrated the nuptials. + +Undine had been quiet and grave during these proceedings, but a singular +change took place in her demeanour as soon as the rite had been +performed. She began at intervals to indulge in wild freaks, teasing the +priest, and indulging in a variety of silly tricks. At length the priest +gently expostulated with Undine, exhorting her so to attune her soul +that it might always be in concord with that of her husband. + +Her reply amazed the listeners, for she said, "If one has no soul, as I +have none, what is there to harmonise?" Then she burst into a fit of +passionate weeping, to the consternation of all the little company. As +she again and again wept, the priest, fearing that she was possessed by +some evil spirit, sought to exorcise it. The priest turned to the +bridegroom with the assurance that he could discover nothing evil in the +bride, mysterious though her behaviour was, and he commended him to be +loving and true to her. + +The next morning Undine, when she and her husband made their appearance, +responded gracefully to the paternal greeting of the priest, beseeching +his pardon for her folly of the previous evening, and begging him to +pray for the good of her soul. Through the whole day Undine behaved +angelically. She was kind, quiet, and gentle. At eventide she led her +husband out to the edge of the stream, which, to the wonder of +Huldbrand, had subsided into gentle, rippling waves. + +She whispered, "Carry me across to that little isle, and we will decide +there." + +Wondering, he carried her across, and, laying her on the turf, listened +as she began. + +"My loved one, know that there are strange beings which, though seeming +almost mortals, are rarely visible to human eyes--salamanders in the +flames, gnomes down in the earth, spirits in the air. And in the water +are myriads of spirits dwelling in crystal domes, in the coral-trees, +and in the lovely shells. These are far more beautiful than the fairest +of human beings, and sometimes a fisherman has seen a tender mermaid, +and has listened to her song. Such wonderful creatures are called +Undines, and one of these you see now before you! + +"We should be far superior to other beings--for we consider ourselves +human--but for one defect. We have no souls, and nothing remains of us +after this mortal life is over. Yet every being aspires to rise higher, +and so my father, who is a great water prince in the Mediterranean Sea, +desired that his only daughter should become possessed of a soul. But +this can only come to pass with loving union with one of your race. Now, +O my dearly beloved, I have to thank you that I am gifted with a soul, +and it will be due to you should all my life be made wretched. For what +will become of me if you forsake me? If you would do so, do it now! Then +I will plunge into the stream--which is my uncle--and as he brought me +here, so will he take me back to my parents, a loving, suffering woman +with a soul." + +Undine would have said yet more, but Huldbrand, astonishing though the +recital was, with tears and kisses vowed he would never leave his lovely +wife; and with her leaning in loving trustfulness on his arm, they +returned to the hut. + +The next day, at Undine's strange urgency, farewell was said with bitter +tears and lamentations. + +Undine was placed on the beautiful horse, and Huldbrand and the priest +walked on either side as the three passed through the solemn glades of +the wood. A fourth soon joined them. He was dressed in a white robe, +like that of the priest, and presently attempted to speak to Undine. But +she shrank from him, declaring she wished to have nothing to do with +him. + +"Oh, oh!" cried the stranger, with a laugh. "What kind of a marriage is +this you have made, that you must not speak to your relative? Do you not +know I am your uncle Kühleborn, who brought you to this region, and that +I am here to protect you from goblins and sprites? So let me quietly +accompany you." + +"We are near the end of the forest, and shall not need you further," was +her rejoinder. But he grinned at her so frightfully that she shrieked +for help, and the knight aimed at his head a blow from his sword. +Instantly Kühleborn was transformed into a gushing waterfall, foaming +over them from a rock near by and drenching all three. + + +_III.--"Woe! Woe!"_ + + +The sudden disappearance of the young knight had caused a sensation in +the city, for the duke and duchess, and the friends and servants of +Huldbrand, feared he had perished in the forest during the terrible +tempest When he suddenly reappeared, all rejoiced except Bertalda, who +was profoundly vexed at seeing with him a beautiful bride. She so far +reconciled herself to the conditions that a warm friendship sprang up +between Undine and herself. + +It was agreed that Bertalda should accompany the wedded pair to +Ringstetten, and with the consent of the noble foster-parents of +Bertalda the three appointed a day for departure. One beautiful evening, +as they walked about the market-place round the great fountain, suddenly +a tall man emerged from among the people and stopped in front of Undine. +He quickly whispered something in her ear, and though at first she +seemed vexed at the intrusion, presently she clapped her hands and +laughed joyously. Then the stranger mysteriously vanished, and seemed to +disappear in the fountain. + +Huldbrand had suspected that he had seen the man before, and now felt +assured that he was Kühleborn. Undine admitted the fact, and said that +her uncle had told her a secret, which she was to reveal on the third +day afterwards, which would be the anniversary of Bertalda's nameday. + +The anniversary came, and strange incidents happened. After the banquet +given by the duke and duchess, Undine suddenly gave a signal, and from +among the retainers at the door came forth the old fisherman and his +wife, and Undine declared that in these Bertalda saw her real parents. +The proud maiden instantly flew into a violent rage, weeping +passionately, and utterly refused to acknowledge the old couple as her +father and mother. She declared that Undine was an enchantress and a +witch, sustaining intercourse with evil spirits. + +Undine, with great dignity, indignantly denied the accusation, while +Bertalda's violent conduct created a feeling of disgust in the minds of +all in the assembly. The matter was settled in a simple manner, for the +duke commanded Bertalda to withdraw to a private apartment with the +duchess and the two old folks from the hut, that an investigation might +be made. It was soon over, for the noble lady was able presently to +inform the company that Undine's story was absolutely true. The guests +silently departed, and Undine sank sobbing into her husband's arms. + +Next day Bertalda, humbled by these events, sought pardon of Undine for +her evil behaviour, and was instantly welcomed with loving assurances of +forgiveness, moreover, she was cordially invited to go with the pair to +Ringstetten. + +"We will share all things there as sisters," said Undine. + +The three journeyed to the distant castle, and took up their abode +together. Soon Kühleborn appeared on the scene, but Undine at once +repulsed him. Next, when her husband was one day hunting, she ordered +the great well in the courtyard to be covered with a big stone, on which +she cut some curious characters. + +Bertalda waywardly complained that this proceeding deprived her of water +that was good for her complexion, but Undine privately explained to +Huldbrand that she had caused the servants to seal up this spring +because only by that way of access could her uncle Kühleborn come to +disturb their peace. + +As time passed on, Huldbrand gradually cooled toward his wife and turned +affectionately towards Bertalda. Undine bore patiently and silently the +sorrow thus inflicted on her. But when her husband was impatient and +angry she would plead with him never to speak to her in accents of +unkindness when they happened to be on the water, for the water spirits +had her completely in their power on their element, and would seek to +protect her, and even seize her and take her down for ever to dwell in +the crystal castles of the deep. + +After some estrangements, Undine and Bertalda had again become loving +friends, and Huldbrand's affection for his wife had revived with its old +and welcome warmth, while the attachment between him and Bertalda seemed +forgotten. + +One day the three were enjoying a delightful excursion on the glorious +Danube. Bertalda had taken off a beautiful coral necklace which +Huldbrand had given her. She leaned over and drew the coral beads across +the surface, enjoying the glitter thus caused, when suddenly a great +hand from beneath seized the necklace and snatched it down. The maiden's +scream of terror was answered by mocking laughter from the water. + +In an outburst of passion, Huldbrand started up and poured forth curses +on the river and its denizens, whether spirits or sirens. With tears in +her eyes, Undine besought him softly not to scold her there, and she +took from her neck a beautiful necklace and offered it to Bertalda as a +compensation. + +But the angry knight snatched it away, and hurled it into the river, +exclaiming, "Are you still connected with them? In the name of all the +witches, remain among them with your presents, and leave us mortals in +peace, you sorceress!" + +Bitterly weeping and crying, "Woe! Woe!" she vanished over the side of +the vessel. Her last words were, "Remain true! Woe! Woe!" Huldbrand lay +swooning on the deck, and little waves seemed to be sobbing on the +surface of the Danube, "Woe! Woe! Remain true!" + + +_IV.--The White Stranger_ + + +For a time deep sorrow fell on the lord of Ringstetten and Bertalda. +They lived long in the castle quietly, often weeping for Undine, +tenderly cherishing her memory. Undine often visited Huldbrand in his +dreams, caressing him and weeping silently so that his cheeks were wet +when he awoke. But these visions grew less frequent, and the knight's +grief diminished by degrees. At length he and Bertalda were married, but +it was in spite of a grave warning from Father Heilmann, who declared +that Undine had appeared to him in visions, beseeching him to warn +Huldbrand and Bertalda to leave each other. They were too infatuated to +heed the admonition, and a priest from a neighbouring monastery promised +to perform the ceremony in a few days. + +Meantime, when lying between sleeping and waking, the knight seemed +fanned by the wings of a swan, and, as he fell asleep, seemed borne +along on the wings of swans which sang their sweetest music. All at once +he seemed to be hovering over the Mediterranean Sea. Its waters were so +crystalline that he could see through them to the bottom, and there, +under a crystal arch, sat Undine, weeping bitterly. She seemed not to +perceive him. Kühleborn approached her, and told her that Huldbrand was +to be wedded again, and that it would be her duty, from which nothing +could release her, to end his life. + +"That I cannot do," said she. "I have sealed up the fountain against my +race." + +Huldbrand felt as if he were soaring back again over the sea, and at +length he seemed to reach his castle. He awoke on his couch, but he +could not bring himself to break off the arrangements that had been +made. + +The marriage feast at Ringstetten was not as bright and happy as such +occasions usually are, for a veil of gloom seemed to rest over the +company. Even the bride affected a happy and thoughtless demeanour which +she did not really feel. The company dispersed early, Bertalda retiring +with her maidens, and Huldbrand with his attendants. + +In her apartment Bertalda, with a sigh, noticed how freckled was her +neck, and a remark she made to her maidens as she gazed in the mirror +excited the eager attention of one of them. She heard her fair mistress +say, "Oh, that I had a flask of the purifying water from the closed +fountain!" Presently the officious waiting-woman was seen leading men to +the fountain. With levers they quickly lifted the stone, for some +mysterious force within seemed to aid them. + +Then from the fountain solemnly rose a white column of water. It was +presently perceived that it was a pale female figure, veiled in white. +She was weeping bitterly as she walked slowly to the building, while +Bertalda and her attendants, pale with terror, watched from the window. +The figure passed on, and at the door of Huldbrand's room, where the +knight was partly undressed, was heard a gentle tap. The white figure +slowly entered. It was Undine, who softly said, "They have opened the +spring, and now I am here and you must die." Said the knight, "It must +be so! But let me die in your embrace." + +"Most gladly, my loved one," said she, throwing back her veil and +disclosing her face divinely smiling. Imprinting on his lips a sacred +kiss, Undine clasped the knight in her arms, weeping as if she would +weep her very soul away. Huldbrand fell softly back on the pillows of +his couch, a corpse. + +At the funeral of Huldbrand the veiled figure appeared when the +procession formed a circle round the grave. All knelt in mute devotion +at a signal from Father Heilmann. When they rose again the white +stranger had vanished, and on the spot where she had knelt a silvery +little fountain gushed forth, which almost encircled the grave and then +ran on till it reached a lake near by. And to this day the inhabitants +cherish the tradition that thus the poor rejected Undine still lovingly +embraces her husband. + + * * * * * + + + + +ÉMILE GABORIAU + + +"File No. 113" + + + Émile Gaboriau, one of the best-known exponents of the "police + story," was born at Saujon, in France, on November 9, 1833. He + began life in a lawyer's office, became a volunteer in a + cavalry regiment, and, later, secretary to Paul Feval, the + novelist and dramatist. In the meantime, Gaboriau had + contributed a number of sketches dealing with military and + fashionable life to various minor Parisian journals, but it + was not until 1866, with the publication of "L'Affaire + Lerouge," that he suddenly sprang into fame. From that time + until his death, on September 28, 1873, story after story + appeared rapidly from his pen. "File No. 113" ("Le Dossier + 113") was published in 1867, and was the first of a remarkable + series of detective tales introducing the figure of Lecoq. + "File No. 113" is perhaps the most characteristic specimen of + his work, exhibiting as it does a careful study of the Paris + police system, and a thorough acquaintance with all phases of + criminal life. + + +_I.--The Robbery and a Clue_ + + +The first mention of the celebrated robbery which took place at M. +Fauvel's bank in Paris--the _dossier_ of the case is numbered 113 in the +police files--appeared in the evening papers, February 28, 1866. + +On the previous day a certain Count Louis de Clameran sent word to M. +Fauvel that he wished to withdraw the following morning at ten o'clock +the sum of £12,000 which had been deposited in the bank by his brother, +an ironmaster from the south of France who had recently died. + +M. Fauvel made it a rule never to keep any large sums of money on the +premises, but to deposit all such amounts in the keeping of the Bank of +France. As this sum, however, had to be paid the first thing in the +morning, the chief cashier, M. Prosper Bertomy, thought he was justified +in obtaining the amount from the Bank of France on the evening of the +27th, and in locking it up in the bank safe against the morning. + +The safe was a formidable-looking affair constructed entirely of wrought +iron of treble thickness. An ingenious device regulated its opening. On +the massive door were five movable steel buttons engraved with the +letters of the alphabet. Before the key could be inserted in the lock, +these buttons had to be manipulated in the same order in which they had +been used when the safe was last shut. The buttons were arranged so that +the letters on them formed some word, which was changed from time to +time. This word was known only to M. Fauvel and his cashier, each of +whom possessed a key of the safe. + +As soon as the bank opened on the morning of February 28, the count put +in an appearance, and Prosper Bertomy went to the safe to obtain the +money. When, a second later, he reappeared, his face was ashy pale, and +his steps tottered as he walked. The £12,000 had disappeared from within +the safe. What made the affair all the more mysterious was that the safe +was locked just as the cashier had left it the night before. + +The room in which the safe was situated communicated with the bank by +another room in which every night a tried servant of the establishment +slept. By a second door admittance was obtained to the private +apartments of M. and Madame Fauvel and their niece Madeline. + +As soon as M. Fauvel had heard the startling news, he first obtained the +necessary money from the Bank of France, settled the business with the +count, and then turned his attention to the elucidation of the robbery. +He summoned the cashier to his presence. + +Bertomy was a young man of thirty to whom M. Fauvel had shown great +kindness, advancing his interests wherever possible until, though very +young for the position, he was his most important and most confidential +employee. Besides the paternal affection with which the bank manager +regarded his cashier, another tie tended to make their relations all the +stronger and more personal. Bertomy loved M. Fauvel's niece Madeline, +and though a curious estrangement had sprung up between them during the +previous nine or ten months, the banker always regarded their marriage +as practically arranged. + +The interview between the two men was a curious one. To each it appeared +that the other must be the thief. They alone had the keys of the safe; +they alone knew the magic word which could open the massive door. The +banker urged Bertomy to confess, promising him forgiveness; the other +haughtily rejected the suggestion, and hinted that his employer had +converted the £12,000 to his own use. In the end M. Fauvel lost his +temper, sent for the police, and before twenty-four hours were up, +Prosper Bertomy, who but the day before had held one of the most +important and envied positions in the financial world of Paris, was +charged before a magistrate as being a common thief. + +Investigation of the case was at first entrusted to a detective named +Fanferlot, nicknamed by his comrades the "Squirrel." Fanferlot's +examination of the premises resulted in little. All he discovered was a +scratch upon the door of the safe, but certain words that passed between +M. Fauvel and his niece, which seemed to indicate that the former was +secretly opposed to the marriage of Madeline with Bertomy, caused him to +jump to the conclusion that the banker had robbed his own safe in order +to bring disgrace upon his cashier. He connived, however, at the arrest +of Bertomy, hoping that later on he might obtain great kudos for himself +by unmasking the banker. What might have been the result of his improper +and unofficial methods will never be known, but in all probability great +inconvenience would have been caused to a number of innocent persons and +the whole course of justice thwarted had it not been for the +intervention of the great and famous M. Lecoq. + +M. Lecoq's interest in the bank robbery case was largely a personal one. +Even detectives have hearts, and M. Lecoq had loved with heart and soul +a charming young girl named Nina Gipsy. Under the name of Caldas in one +of his innumerable disguises, he had wooed her for many months. When he +thought at last that he had won her affections, she had fled to the +protection of no less a person than Prosper Bertomy himself. The cashier +cared nothing for her, but embittered by an estrangement that had sprung +up between Madeline and himself, he had sought forgetfulness in her +society. Bertomy's arrest gave Lecoq an opportunity for a noble revenge. +He determined to prove to the woman he loved his superiority over his +rival by saving the cashier from disgrace. + +Though the case looked black against Bertomy, for it was shown that he +was heavily in debt, and living far beyond his means, Lecoq was +satisfied that he had not committed the crime. When Fanferlot, +hopelessly befogged, called for his advice at his house in the Rue +Montmartre, the great detective deigned to explain the preliminary data +and the deductions from the data he had made. + +The scratch on the safe door, slight and minute as it was, was his +starting-point. How had it been made? He had found by experiment that it +was impossible to make such a scratch upon the varnish without the +exercise of considerable force. It was clear, therefore, that the +scratch by the keyhole could not have been made by the thief in his +trembling anxiety to get the business he had undertaken accomplished. +But why was such force used? + +For a long time Lecoq puzzled over this problem. Then, with Fanferlot, +he tried an experiment. In his room was an iron box varnished like the +safe. Taking the key of this box from his pocket, he ordered Fanferlot +to seize his arm just as he put it near the lock. The key slipped, +pulled away from the lock, and sliding along the surface of the door, +left upon it a diagonal scratch, almost an exact reproduction of the one +on the safe. + +From this simple experiment Lecoq deduced that two people were present +when the safe was robbed; one wanted to take the money, the other wanted +to prevent it being taken. This was the basis of the case which he set +out to draw up against some person or persons unknown. He argued, with +his usual clear logic, that neither Fauvel nor Bertomy could have robbed +the safe. Both of them had keys; both of them knew the secret word and +could have robbed the safe whenever they pleased. Therefore, neither of +them would have committed the theft in the presence of somebody else. + + +_II.--A Mysterious Journey_ + + +Lecoq's first steps after establishing these preliminary deductions was +to secure the release of Bertomy on the grounds of insufficient +evidence. + +On the very morning of his release, Bertomy had received a mysterious +letter composed of printed words cut out letter by letter from a book +and pasted on paper. + +"My dear Prosper," so the epistle ran, "a friend who knows the horror of +your situation sends you this help. There is one heart at least which +feels for you. Leave France; you are yourself. The future is before you. +Go, and may this money be of use." + +Enclosed with this note were banknotes for £400. Lecoq, disguised as a +M. Verduret, a country merchant, a friend of Bertomy's father, secured +this epistle and studied it carefully. His knowledge of the various +types used by the printers in Paris showed him that the letters had been +taken from a book printed by a well-known firm who published volumes of +devotion. The correctness of this conclusion was established by the +discovery on the back of one of the small cuttings the word "Deus." The +words had been cut from a Catholic prayer-book. To find that prayer-book +was his next business. + +In another disguise he sought out Nina Gipsy, and, by asking her +assistance to clear Prosper, induced her to take up the position of +lady's-maid in the Fauvel family, for it was there, he conceived, the +mutilated book of devotion would be found. Again his wonderful instinct +proved right. In a few days Nina brought him the very book--a prayer- +book, belonging to Madeline, which had been given her by Bertomy. + +Why had Madeline sent the cashier this elaborately disguised letter? Why +had she wished him to leave France, confident as she was, so she told +him, of his innocence? + +To find an answer to these important queries, Lecoq closely questioned +Bertomy. He learnt that the night before the robbery the cashier had +dined with his friend Raoul de Lagors, the wealthy, dissolute young +nephew of M. Fauvel's wife. This Lagors was the friend of Count Louis de +Clameran, whose demand for the £12,000 left him by his dead brother had +resulted in the discovery of the mysterious robbery. + +Bertomy had nothing but the highest praise for Lagors, but, on the other +hand, spoke most disparagingly of the count. The count, it appeared, had +proposed for the hand of Madeline, and had pressed his suit with great +determination. And Madeline--and this was what provided a new problem +for Lecoq's consideration--had tacitly accepted his attention. + +Through Nina, Lecoq had arranged a meeting between Bertomy and Madeline, +and satisfied himself that the girl was whole-heartedly and devotedly +attached to her uncle's cashier. Then why was she favouring the suit of +the count? Lecoq at once made it his business to inquire into the +count's past. + +He was the second son of an old and noble family. His elder brother, +Gaston, having to fly the country in consequence of causing the death of +several men, he had inherited the property. A life of dissolute +pleasures had soon exhausted his patrimony and he was reduced to living +by his wits. Some weeks before the robbery, he had discovered that his +brother Gaston was alive and was living on a large estate in the south +of France, which he had purchased with the wealth he had accumulated in +business. Six weeks after the two brothers met again, the elder died and +the younger inherited his vast fortune. + +Raoul de Lagors was the next character in the drama whose past the +detective made it his business to expose. Lagors, it has been said, was +the nephew of Madame Fauvel. To his surprise, Lecoq discovered, by +inquiries in her native place, that the banker's wife had never had any +brothers or sisters. Lagors, therefore, was not her nephew. + +Fanferlot, acting on instructions, had kept a strict watch on the +movements of Madeline, and by this means Lecoq received timely warning +of a mysterious excursion which the girl made one night. He followed her +to a lonely house on the outskirts of the city. When she had gained +admittance, the appearance of a light in one of the windows on the first +floor seemed to indicate the room to which she had been taken. By the +aid of a ladder, Lecoq was able to watch what was going on within +through the shutters. + +He saw Madeline standing opposite Lagors, evidently, from her attitude, +pleading with him. For some time he listened to her, with a cynical +smile upon his face, but after an hour he seemed to decide, with evident +reluctance, to comply with her request. Going to a cabinet, he took out +a bundle of pawn tickets and flung them on the table. Hastily going +through the collection, she selected three, and concealing them in her +dress, left the house. + +By following her to a pawnshop, Lecoq discovered that she had redeemed +certain valuable articles of jewelry belonging to Madame Fauvel. Lecoq +knew, through Nina Gipsy, who still filled the part of lady's-maid in +the Fauvel family, that M. Fauvel had insisted on his wife accompanying +him on the following evening to a great fancy-dress ball which was to be +given by one of the wealthiest families in the capital. Obviously, then, +the jewelry that Madeline had redeemed was required by Madame Fauvel for +the occasion. Why had she pawned it for Lagors? + +A theory had half formed itself in Lecoq's brain. He determined to prove +its truth. Disguised as a clown, he attended the fancy-dress ball, and +in the character of a mountebank collected a group of ladies and +gentlemen around him while he related with the inimitable skill of a +buffoon a romantic narrative. To most of the people present it was +simply an amusing story, but to the count and Lagors and Madame Fauvel, +who were among the listeners, it seemed something much more, for Lecoq +dressed out his theory of the robbery in the trappings of romance. Just +as he reached the climax of the story there was a cry, and Madame Fauvel +almost fell fainting on the floor. The count and Lagors rushed up +furiously to Lecoq. + +"Master Clown," said Lagors, "your tongue is too long." + +"Perhaps, my pretty boy," retorted Lecoq, "perhaps it is. But it is, I +can assure you, not so long as my arm." + +"Who are you, M. le Clown?" the count exclaimed angrily. + +"I am," replied Lecoq, "the best friend your brother Gaston had. I was +his counsellor. I am the confidant of his last wishes." + +Though the solution of the problem seemed so tantalisingly near, there +were still some threads in the tangle which required sorting out before +Lecoq could say that the case was complete. Among other matters he +inquired of Bertomy the word which had been used to lock the safe on, +the night of the robbery. The word had been "gipsy." Bertomy was +confident that he had not mentioned it to anybody, but Nina Gipsy was +able to throw light on this part of the problem. She recollected a +chance remark of Bertomy's while sitting at dinner with herself and +Lagors on the night of the robbery. She had reproached Bertomy with +neglecting her. + +"It's too bad for you to reproach me," cried the cashier, "for it is +your name which at this very moment guards the safe of M. Fauvel." + +Lagors, therefore, had known the password. What did this new discovery +imply? How did it fit in with the rest of the data which Lecoq had so +brilliantly collected? + +After his custom, he marshalled once more in his mind all the facts at +his disposal, but they were like so many loose links in a chain. They +required the connecting link to make the chain complete. To find that +link Lecoq spent a month in visiting the old home of the De Clamerans, +the estate formerly occupied by Gaston de Clameron, who had died a few +days before the robbery, and also in a trip to England. When he returned +to Paris, _dossier_ No. 113 was complete. + + +_III.--The Dossier_ + + +In her extreme youth, Madame Fauvel had been secretly loved by Gaston de +Clameron. It was a result of certain contemptuous words spoken of the +girl he loved that Gaston had committed those deeds which had compelled +him to fly the country. Shortly after his flight, the girl, finding that +she was about to give birth to a child, imparted the secret to her +mother. Fearing a scandal, the mother, accompanied by a faithful nurse, +took her daughter over to England. There, near London, a child was born, +who was immediately handed over to some simple country people to adopt. +The unhappy girl returned to France, and shortly after married M. +Fauvel, the banker. + +Years after, the Count Louis de Clameron, who had inherited and ruined +the estates of which his brother Gaston had been deprived, discovered +this secret from the nurse, and finding on inquiries in London that the +child had died, persuaded a young ne'er-do-well Englishman to play the +_rôle_ of his brother's son. He secretly introduced him to Madame +Fauvel, and through this means obtained what money he required from the +unhappy woman, who feared the discovery of her past secret by her +husband. The situation was complicated by the count falling in love with +Madeline and the sudden appearance of Gaston de Clameron, who was +thought to be dead. + +The count poisoned his brother, and then, finding that Madeline refused +to give up Bertomy, determined to accomplish the cashier's ruin, and at +the same time obtain an amount of money large enough to buy off his +fellow-conspirator Lagors. Lagors, having learnt by chance the password +that guarded the safe, was sent to Madame Fauvel late at night with a +request for money. + +At this time Madame Fauvel was at the end of her resources. Lagors +suggested taking the money from the safe. Tom between a desire to help +her supposed son and the risk of discovery, she at last consented. +Taking M. Fauvel's key, they descended silently to the safe-room. At the +last moment, just as the key was in the lock, Madame Fauvel attempted to +deter Lagors from his purpose. In the struggle that scratch was made on +the door which formed the basis of Lecoq's inquiries and enabled the +great detective to unravel the mystery. + +Madeline, who all the while half guessed at the truth, and perceived +without being told that Madame Fauvel was at the mercy of the count, had +been prepared to sacrifice her future happiness in order to prevent the +scandal being made public. + +M. Lecoq, armed with these facts, sought out Lagors. He arrived only in +time to prevent a tragedy. Warned by an anonymous letter that his wife +had pawned her diamonds for the benefit of Lagors, the banker came upon +them when they were together in Lagor's rooms. Imagining the young man +was his wife's lover, the banker drew a revolver and fired four times. +Fortunately, none of the shots took effect, and before he could fire +again Lecoq had rushed into the room and torn the weapon from his grasp. +It was the moment of the great detective's triumph. With the dramatic +skill of which he was a master, he laid bare the whole story and +disclosed the true identity of Raoul Lagors. Before he left he compelled +Lagors to refund the £12,000 he had stolen, and in order to avoid a +scandal allowed the young man to go free. Then, that nothing should be +wanting to his triumph, he obtained the consent of the banker to +Bertomy's marriage with Madeline. + +Hurrying from the banker's house, Lecoq hastened to effect the arrest of +the count. He arrived too late. Realising that he was hopelessly in the +toils, the count was bereft of his senses and become a hopeless maniac. + +Four days later M. Lecoq, the official M. Lecoq, awaited the arrival of +Nina Gipsy and Prosper Bertomy. They declared that they had come to meet +M. Verduret, who had saved Prosper Bertomy. The detective retired, +promising to summon the man they had come to see. A quarter of an hour +later M. Verduret entered the room. Facing them, he told them how a +friend of his named Caldas had fallen in love with a girl, and how that +girl had been won from him by a man who cared nothing for her. + +"Caldas determined to revenge himself in his own way. It was his hand +that saved the man on the very verge of disgrace. I see you know that +you, Nina, are the woman, and you, Prosper, the man; while Caldas +is...." + +With a quick gesture he removed his wig and whiskers, and the true Lecoq +appeared. + +"Caldas!" cried Nina. + +"No, not Caldas, not Verduret, but Lecoq, the detective." + +After the moments of amazement had passed, Lecoq turned to leave the +room, but Nina barred the way. + +"Caldas," she cried, "have you not punished me enough? Caldas...." + +Prosper went from the office alone. + + * * * * * + + + + +JOHN GALT + + +Annals of the Parish + + + John Gait, poet, dramatist, historian, and novelist, was born + at Irvine, Ayrshire, Scotland, on May 2, 1779. He was trained + for a commercial career in the Greenock Custom House, and in + the office of a merchant in that seaport. Removing to London, + Gait engaged in business and afterwards travelled extensively + to forward mercantile enterprises in all the countries + bordering on the Mediterranean and the Near East, where he + repeatedly met Lord Byron. His first work of fiction was a + Sicilian story, published in 1816, but it was not until 1820 + that he found his true literary expression, when the "Ayrshire + Legatees" appeared in "Blackwood's Magazine." The success of + this tale was so great that Gait finished the "Annals of the + Parish; or the Chronicle of Dalmailing, during the Ministry of + the Rev. Micah Balwhidder," which he had really begun in 1813, + and they were published in 1821. The "Annals" contain a lively + and humorous picture of Scottish character, manners, and + feeling during the era described. In the latter part of his + life Gait wrote several novels, a life of Byron, an + autobiography, and his "Literary Life and Miscellanies." He + died on April 11, 1838. + + +_I.--The Placing of Mr. Balwhidder_ + + +The year A.D. 1760 was remarkable for three things in the parish of +Dalmailing. First and foremost, there was my placing, then the coming of +Mrs. Malcolm with her five children to settle among us, and next my +marriage with my own cousin, Miss Betty Lanshaw. The placing was a great +affair, for I was put in by the patron, and the people knew nothing of +me whatsoever. They were really mad and vicious, insomuch that there was +obliged to be a guard of soldiers to protect the presbytery. Dirt was +flung upon us as we passed, and the finger of scorn held out to me. But +I endured it with a resigned spirit, compassionating their wilfulness +and blindness. + +The kirk door was nailed up and we were obligated to go in by the +window, making the Lord's house like an inn on a fair-day with their +grievous yelly hooing. Thomas Thorl, the weaver, a pious zealot, got up +at the time of the induction and protested, and said, "Verily, verily, I +say unto you, he that entereth not by the door of the sheepfold, but +climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber." + +When the laying on of the hands upon me was adoing, Mr. Given, minister +of Lugton, a jocose man, who could not get near, stretched out his staff +and touched my head, saying, to the great diversion of the rest, "This +will do well enough--timber to timber." + +After the ceremony we went to the manse, and there had an excellent +dinner. Although my people received me in this unruly manner, I was +resolved to cultivate civility among them; and next morning I began a +round of visitations. But, oh! it was a steep brae to climb. The doors +in some places were barred against me; in others the bairns ran crying +to their mothers, "Here's the feckless Mess-John." But Thomas Thorl +received me kindly, and said that this early visitation was a symptom of +grace, and that not to condemn me without trial he and some neighbours +would be at the kirk at the next Lord's day, so that I would not have to +preach just to the bare walls and the laird's family. + +As to Mrs. Malcolm, she was the widow of a Clyde shipmaster that was +lost at sea with his vessel. A genty body, she never changed her widow's +weeds, and span frae morning tae nicht to keep her bairns and herself. +When her daughter Effie was ill, I called on her in a sympathising way, +and offered her some assistance frae the Session, but she refused help +out of the poor's-box, as it might be hereafter cast up to her bairns. + +It was in the year 1761 that the great smuggling trade corrupted the +west coast. Tea was going like chaff, and brandy like well-water. There +was nothing minded but the riding of cadgers by day and excisemen by +night, and battles between the smugglers and the king's men, both by sea +and land; continual drunkenness and debauchery, and our Session had an +awful time o't. + +I did all that was in my power to keep my people from the contagion. I +preached sixteen times from the text, "Render to Caesar the things that +are Caesar's." I visited, exhorted, warned, and prophesied, but the evil +got in among us. The third year of my ministry was long held in +remembrance. The small-pox came in among the poor bits o' weans of the +parish, and the smashing it made among them was woeful. When the +pestilence was raging, I preached a sermon about Rachel weeping for her +children, which Thomas Thorl, a great judge of good preaching, said, +"was a monument of divinity whilk searched the heart of many a parent +that day"--a thing I was well pleased to hear, and was minded to make +him an elder the next vacancy. But, worthy man, it was not permitted him +to arrive at that honour; for that fall it pleased Him that alone can +give and take to pluck him from this life. + +In this year Charlie Malcolm, Mrs. Malcolm's eldest son, was sent to sea +in a tobacco-trader that sailed between Port Glasgow and Virginia. +Tea-drinking was beginning to spread more openly, in so much that by the +advice of the first Mrs. Balwhidder, Mrs. Malcolm took in tea to sell to +eke out something to the small profits of her wheel. I lost some of my +dislike to the tea after that, and we had it for breakfast at the manse +as well as in the afternoon. But what I thought most of it for was that +it did no harm to the head of the drinkers, which was not always the +case with the possets in fashion before, when I remember decent ladies +coming home with red faces from a posset-masking. So I refrained from +preaching against tea henceforth, but I never lifted the weight of my +displeasure from off the smuggling trade, until it was utterly put down +by the strong hand of government. + + +_II.--The Minister's Second Marriage_ + + +A memorable year, both in public and private, was 1763. The king granted +peace to the French. Lady Macadam, widow of General Macadam, who lived +in her jointure-house, took Kate Malcolm to live with her as companion, +and she took pleasure in teaching Kate all her accomplishments and how +to behave herself like a lady. The lint-mill on Lugton Water was burned +to the ground, with not a little of the year's crop of lint in our +parish. The first Mrs. Balwhidder lost upwards of twelve stone, which +was intended for sarking to ourselves and sheets and napery. A great +loss indeed it was, and the vexation thereof had a visible effect on her +health, which from the spring had been in a dwining way. But for it, I +think she might have wrestled through the winter. However, it was +ordered otherwise, and she was removed from mine to Abraham's bosom on +Christmas Day, and buried on Hogmanay, for it was thought uncanny to +have a dead corpse in the house on the New Year's Day. + +Just by way of diversion in my heavy sorrow, I got a well-shapen +headstone made for her; but a headstone without a epitaph being no +better than a body without the breath of life in't, I made a poesy for +the monument, not in the Latin tongue, which Mrs. Balwhidder, worthy +woman as she was, did not understand, but in sedate language, which was +greatly thought of at the time. My servant lassies, having no eye of a +mistress over them, wasted everything at such a rate that, long before +the end of the year, the year's stipend was all spent, and I did not +know what to do. At lang and length I sent for Mr. Auld, a douce and +discreet elder, and told him how I was situated. He advised me, for my +own sake, to look out for another wife, as soon as decency would allow. + +In the following spring I placed my affections, with due consideration, +on Miss Lizzy Kibbock, the well-brought-up daughter of Mr. Joseph +Kibbock, of the Gorbyholm, farmer; and we were married on the 29th day +of April, on account of the dread we had of being married in May, for it +is said, "Of the marriages in May, the bairns die of a decay." The +second Mrs. Balwhidder had a genius for management, and started a dairy, +and set the servant lassies to spin wool for making blankets and lint +for sheets and napery. She sent the butter on market days to Irville, +her cheese and huxtry to Glasgow. We were just coining money, in so much +that, after the first year, we had the whole tot of stipend to put into +the bank. + +The opening of coal-pits in Douray Moor brought great prosperity to the +parish, but the coal-carts cut up the roads, especially the Vennel, a +narrow and crooked street in the clachan. Lord Eglesham came down from +London in the spring of 1767 to see the new lands he had bought in our +parish. His coach couped in the Vennel, and his lordship was thrown head +foremost into the mud. He swore like a trooper, and said he would get an +act of parliament to put down the nuisance. His lordship came to the +manse, and, being in a woeful plight, he got the loan of my best suit of +clothes. This made him wonderful jocose both with Mrs. Balwhidder and +me, for he was a portly man, and I but a thin body, and it was really +droll to see his lordship clad in my garments. Out of this accident grew +a sort of neighbourliness between Lord Eglesham and me. + + +_III.--A Runaway Match_ + + +About Christmas, Lady Macadam's son, having been perfected in the art of +war at a school in France, had, with the help of his mother's friends +and his father's fame, got a stand of colours in the Royal Scots +Regiment. He came to show himself in his regimentals to his lady mother, +and during the visit he fell in love and entered into correspondence +with Kate Malcolm. A while after, her ladyship's flunkey came to the +manse and begged me to go to her. So I went; and there she was, with +gum-flowers on her head, sitting on a settee, for she was lame, and in +her hand she held a letter. + +"Sir," she said, as I came into the room, "I want you to go instantly to +your clerk," meaning Mr. Lorimore, the schoolmaster, "and tell him I +will give him a couple of hundred pounds to marry Miss Malcolm without +delay." + +"Softly, my lady; you must first tell me the meaning of all this haste +of kindness," said I, in my calm, methodical manner. At which she began +to sob, and bewail her ruin and the dishonour of her family. I was +confounded, but at length it came out that she had accidentally opened a +letter that had come from London for Kate, that she had read it, by +which she came to know that Kate and her darling son were trysted, and +that this was not the first love-letter which had passed between them. +Mr. Lorimore promptly declined her ladyship's proposal, as he was +engaged to be married to his present worthy helpmate. Although her +ladyship was so overcome with passion, she would not part with Kate, nor +allow her to quit the house. + +Three years later the young Laird Macadam, being ordered with his +regiment for America, got leave from the king to come and see his lady +mother before his departure. But it was not to see her only. He arrived +at a late hour unwarned, lest his mother would send Kate out of the way; +but no sooner did her ladyship behold his face than she kindled upon +both him and Kate, and ordered them out of her sight and house. The +young folk had discretion. Kate went home to her mother, and the laird +came to the manse and begged us to take him in. + +He asked me to perform the ceremony, as he was resolved to marry Kate. +We stepped over to Mrs. Malcolm's house, where we found the saintly +woman with Kate and Erne and Willie, preparing to read their Bible for +the night. After speaking to Mrs. Malcolm for a time, she consented to +the marriage. It was sanctified by me before we left Mrs. Malcolm's, the +young couple setting off in the laird's chaise to Glasgow, and +authorising me to break the matter to Lady Macadam. I was spared this +performance, for the servants jealoused what had been done, and told her +ladyship. When I entered the room she was like a mad woman in Bedlam. +She sent her coachman on horseback to overtake them, which he did at +Kilmarnock, and they returned in the morning, when her ladyship was as +cagey and meikle taken up with them as if they had gotten her full +consent and privilege from the first. Captain Macadam afterwards bought +a house at the Braehead, and gave it, with a judicious income, to Mrs. +Malcolm, telling her it was not becoming that she should any longer be +dependent upon her own industry. For this the young man got a name like +a sweet odour in all the country-side. + +It will be remembered that Charlie Malcolm went a-sailing in a +tobacco-trader to America. When his ship was lying in the harbour of +Virginia, a press-gang, that was in need of men for the Avenger, +man-of-war, came on board and pressed poor Charles. I wrote to Lord +Eglesham anent the matter, and his lordship's brother being connected +with the Admiralty, the captain of the man-of-war was instructed to make +a midshipman of Charles. This was done, and Mrs. Malcolm heard from time +to time from her son, saying that he had found a friend in the captain, +that was just a father to him. + +In the latter end of 1776, the man-of-war, with Charles Malcolm in her, +came to the Tail of the Bank at Greenock, and Charles got leave from his +captain to come and see his mother. He brought with him Mr. Howard, +another midshipman, the son of a great Parliament man in London. They +were dressed in their fine gold-laced garbs. When Charles had seen his +mother and his sister, Effie, he came with his friend to see me at the +manse, and got Mrs. Balwhidder to ask his friend to sleep there. In +short, we had a ploy the whole two days they stayed with us, Lady +Macadam made for them at a ball, and it was a delight to see how old and +young of all degrees made much of Charles. + + +_IV.--Years of Lamentation_ + + +I was named in the year 1779 for the General Assembly, and Mrs. +Balwhidder, by her continual thrift, having made our purse able to stand +a shake against the wind, we resolved to go into Edinburgh in a +creditable manner. We put up at Widow M'Vicar's, a relation to my first +wife, a gawsy, furthy woman, taking great pleasure in hospitality. In +short, everybody in Edinburgh was in a manner wearisome kind. + +I was delighted and surprised to find Lord Eglesham at the levee, and he +introduced me to his grace the Commissioner, who required me to preach +before him. Fain would I have eschewed the honour that was thus thrust +upon me; but both my wife and Mrs. M'Vicar were just lifted out of +themselves at the thought. After the sermon the Commissioner +complimented me on my apostolic earnestness, and Mrs. M'Vicar said I had +surprised everybody; but I was fearful there was something of jocularity +at the bottom of all this. + +The year 1781 was one of dolour and tribulation, for Lord Eglesham was +shot dead by a poaching exciseman, and Lady Macadam died of paralysis; +but the year after was one of greater lamentation. Three brave young +fellows belonging to the clachan, who had gone as soldiers in America, +were killed in battle with the rebels, for which there was great grief. +Shortly after this the news came of a victory over the French fleet, and +by the same post I got a letter from Mr. Howard, the midshipman, telling +me that poor Charles had been mortally wounded in the action, and had +afterwards died of his wounds. + +Mrs. Malcolm heard the news of the victory through the steeple bell +being set a-ringing, and she came over to the manse in great anxiety. +When I saw her I could not speak, but looked at her in pity, and, the +tears fleeing into my eyes, she guessed what had happened. After giving +a deep and sore sigh, she inquired, "How did he behave? I hope well, for +he was aye a gallant laddie!" And then she wept very bitterly. I gave +her the letter, which she begged me to give to her to keep, saying, +"It's all that I have left now of my pretty boy; but it is mair precious +to me than the wealth of the Indies!" + + +_V.--Death of the Second Mrs. Balwhidder_ + + +Some time after this a Mr. Cayenne, a man of crusty temper but good +heart, and his family, American loyalists, settled among us. In the year +1788, a proposal came from Glasgow to build a cotton mill on the banks +of the Brawl burn, a rapid stream which ran through the parish. Mr. +Cayenne took a part in the profit or loss of the concern, and the cotton +mill and a new town was built, and the whole called Cayenneville. +Weavers of muslin were brought to the mill, and women to teach the +lassie bairns in our old clachan tambouring instead of hand-spinning. + +Prosperity of fortune is like the golden hue of the evening cloud that +delighteth the spirit and passeth away. In the month of February 1796, +my second wife was gathered to the Lord. Her death was to me a great +sorrow, for she was a most excellent wife, industrious to a degree. With +her I had grown richer than any other minister in the presbytery. + +I laid her by the side of my first love, Betty Lanshaw, and I inscribed +her name upon the same headstone. Time had drained my poetical vein, and +I have not yet been able to indite an epithet on her merits and virtues, +for she had an eminent share of both. Above all, she was the mother of +my children. She was not long deposited in her place of rest until +things fell into amazing confusion, and I saw it would be necessary, as +soon as decency would allow, for me to take another wife, both for a +helpmate, and to tend me in my approaching infirmities. + +I saw it would not do for me to look out for an overly young woman, nor +yet would it do for one of my way to take an elderly maiden, ladies of +that sort being liable to possess strong-set particularities. I +therefore resolved that my choice should lie among widows of a discreet +age, and I fixed my purpose on Mrs. Nugent, the relict of a professor in +the University of Glasgow, both because she was a well-bred woman +without any children, and because she was held in great estimation as a +lady of Christian principle. And so we were married as soon as a +twelve-month and a day had passed from the death of the second Mrs. +Balwhidder; and neither of us have had occasion to rue the bargain. + + +_VI.--The Last Sermon_ + + +Two things made 1799 a memorable year; the marriage of my daughter Janet +with the Rev. Dr. Kittleword of Swappington, a match in every way +commendable; and the death of Mrs. Malcolm. If ever there was a saint on +earth she was surely one. She bore adversity with an honest pride; she +toiled in the day of penury and affliction with thankfulness for her +little earnings. + +The year 1803 saw tempestuous times. Bonaparte gathered his host fornent +the English coast, and the government at London were in terror of their +lives for an invasion. All in the country saw that there was danger, and +I was not backward in sounding the trumpet to battle. I delivered on +Lord's Day a religious and political exhortation on the present posture +of public affairs before a vast congregation of all ranks. The week +following there were meetings of weavers and others, and volunteers were +enrolled in defence of king and country. + +In the course of the next four or five years many changes took place in +the parish. The weavers and cotton-mill folk and seceders from my own +kirk built a meeting-house in Cayenneville, where there had been for a +while great suffering on account of the failure of the cotton-mill +company. In the year 1809 the elders came in a body to the manse, and +said that, seeing that I was now growing old, they thought they could +not testify their respect for me in a better manner than by agreeing to +get me a helper; and the next year several young ministers spared me +from the necessity of preaching. + +When it was known that I was to preach my last sermon on the last +sabbath of 1810, everyone, including the seceders to the meeting-house, +made it a point to be in the parish kirk, or to stand in the crowd that +made a lane of reverence for me to pass from the kirk door to the +back-yett of the manse. It was a moving discourse, and there were few +dry eyes in the kirk that day; for my bidding them farewell was as when +of old among the heathen an idol was taken away by the hand of the +enemy. Shortly after, a deputation of the seceders, with their minister +at their head, came to me and presented a server of silver in token of +their esteem of my blameless life, and the charity I had practised +towards the poor. + +I am thankful that I have been spared with a sound mind to write this +book to the end, having really no more to say, saving only to wish a +blessing on all people from on high, where I soon hope to be, and to +meet there all the old and long-departed sheep of my flock, especially +the first and second Mrs. Balwhidders. + + * * * * * + + + + +ELIZABETH CLEGHORN GASKELL + + +Cranford + + + Mrs. Gaskell, whose maiden name was Elizabeth C. Stevenson, + was born in Chelsea, London, Sept. 29, 1810. She married a + Unitarian clergyman in Manchester. Her first literary work was + published anonymously, and met with a storm of mingled + approval and disapproval. Charles Dickens invited her to + contribute to his "Household Words," and it was in the pages + of that famous periodical, at intervals between December 13, + 1851, and May 21, 1853, that her charming sketches of social + life in a little country town first appeared. In June, 1853, + they were grouped together under the title of "Cranford," + meeting with wide approval, and have long taken rank as one of + the accepted English classics. The town which figures here as + Cranford is understood to have been Knutsford, in Cheshire, + which still retains something of that old-world feeling and + restfulness which Mrs. Gaskell embodied in the pages of her + most engaging book. "Cranford" is probably the direct + progenitor of many latter-day books of the class to which the + word "idyll" has been somewhat loosely applied. Its charm and + freshness are unfading; it remains unique and unrivalled as a + sympathetic and kindly humorous description of English + provincial life. Mrs. Gaskell died in November, 1865. + + +_I.--Our Society_ + + +On the first visit I paid to Cranford, after I had left it as a +residence, I was astonished to find a man had settled there--a Captain +Brown. In my time Cranford was in possession of the Amazons. If a +married couple came to settle there, somehow the man always disappeared. +Either he was fairly frightened to death by being the only man at the +evening parties, or he was accounted for by being with his regiment, his +ship, or closely connected in business all the week in the great +neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on +the railroad. + +I was naturally interested to learn what opinions Captain Brown had +managed to win for himself in Cranford. So, with all the delicacy which +the subject demanded, I made inquiries of my hostess, Miss Jenkyns. I +was surprised to learn that Captain Brown not only was respected, but +had even gained an extraordinary place of authority among the Cranford +ladies. Of course, he had been forced to overcome great difficulties. + +In the first place, the ladies of Cranford had moaned over the invasion +of their territories by a man and a gentleman. Then Captain Brown had +started badly, very badly, by openly referring to his poverty. If he had +whispered it to an intimate friend, the doors and windows being +previously closed, his vulgarity--a tremendous word in Cranford--might +have been forgiven. But he had published his poverty in the public +street, in a loud military voice, alleging it as a reason for not taking +a particular house. + +In Cranford, too, where it was tacitly agreed to ignore that anyone with +whom we associated on terms of equality could ever be prevented by +poverty from doing anything they wished. Where, if we walked to and from +a party, it was because the night was _so_ fine or the air _so_ +refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were so expensive. + +So the poor captain had been sent to Coventry. The ladies of Cranford +had frozen him out, until the day when the cow, an Alderney cow, had +broken the ice. + +It happened like this. Miss Betsy Barker had an Alderney cow, which she +looked upon as a daughter. You could not pay the regulation short +quarter of an hour's call--to stay longer was a breach of +manners--without being told of the wonderful milk or wonderful +intelligence of this animal. The whole town knew and kindly regarded +Miss Betsy Barker's Alderney. + +One day the cow fell into a lime-pit, and Cranford grieved over the +spectacle of the poor beast being drawn out, having lost most of her +hair, and looking naked, cold and miserable, in a bare skin. Miss Betsy +Barker absolutely cried with sorrow and dismay, and was about to prepare +a bath of oil for the sufferer, when Captain Brown called out: "Get her +a flannel waistcoat and flannel drawers, ma'am, if you wish to keep her +alive. But my advice is, 'kill the poor creature at once.'" Miss Betsy +Barker dried her eyes, and in a few hours the whole town turned out to +see the Alderney meekly going to her pasture, clad in dark-gray flannel. +Do you ever see cows dressed in gray flannel in London? + +On that day was born the respect of the Cranford ladies for Captain +Brown. + +Soon after my arrival in Cranford, Miss Jenkyns gave a party in my +honour, and recalling the old days when we had almost persuaded +ourselves that to be a man was to be "vulgar," I was curious to see what +the ladies would do with Captain Brown. + +The preparations were much as usual. Card-tables, with green baize tops, +were set out by daylight, and towards four, when the evening closed in, +we all stood dressed in our best, each with a candle-lighter in our +hand, ready to dart at the candles as soon as the first knock came. The +china was delicate egg-shell; the old-fashioned silver glittered with +polishing; but the eatables were of the slightest description. While the +trays were yet on the table, Captain Brown arrived with his two +daughters, Miss Brown and Miss Jessie, the former with a sickly, pained, +and careworn expression; the latter with a pretty, round, dimpled face, +and the look of a child which will remain with her should she live to be +a hundred. + +I could see that the captain was a favourite with all the ladies +present. Ruffled brows were smoothed and sharp voices hushed at his +approach. He immediately and quietly assumed the man's place in the +room; attended to everyone's wants, lessened the pretty maidservant's +labour by waiting on empty cups and bread-and-butterless ladies; and yet +did it all in so easy and dignified a manner, and so much as if it were +a matter of course for the strong to attend to the weak, that he was a +true man throughout. + +The party passed off very well in spite of one or two little hitches. +One was Miss Jessie Brown's unguarded admission--_à propos_ of Shetland +wool--that she had an uncle, her mother's brother, who was a shopkeeper +in Edinburgh. Miss Jenkyns tried to drown this confession by a terrible +cough, for the honourable Mrs. Jamieson was sitting at the card-table +nearest Miss Jessie, and what would she say or think if she found out +she was in the same room with a shopkeeper's niece! + +Then there was a slight breeze between Miss Jenkyns and Captain Brown +over the relative merits of Dr. Johnson and the author of "Pickwick +Papers"--then being published in parts--as writers of light and +agreeable fiction. Captain Brown read an account of the "Swarry" which +Sam Weller gave at Bath. Some of us laughed very heartily. _I_ did not +dare, because I was staying in the house. At the conclusion Miss Jenkyns +said to me, with mild dignity, "Fetch me 'Rasselas,' my dear, out of the +book-room." + +After delivering one of the conversations between Rasselas and Imlac in +a majestic, high-pitched voice, Miss Jenkyns said, "I imagine I am now +justified in my preference for Dr. Johnson over your Mr. Boz as a writer +of fiction." + +The captain said nothing, merely screwed his lips up and drummed on the +table; but when Miss Jenkyns returned later to the charge and +recommended the doctor's style to Captain Brown's favourite, the captain +replied, "I should be very sorry for him to exchange his style for any +such pompous writing." + +Miss Jenkyns felt this as a personal affront in a way of which the +captain had not dreamed. How could he know that she and her friends +looked upon epistolary writing as their forte, and that when in a letter +they "seized the half-hour just previous to post-time to assure" their +friends of this and that, they were using the doctor as a model? + +As it was Miss Jenkyns refused to be mollified by Captain Brown's +efforts later to beguile her into conversation on some more pleasing +subject. She was inexorable. + +Captain Brown endeavoured to make peace after this memorable dispute by +a present to Miss Jenkyns of a wooden fire-shovel (his own making), +having heard her say how much the grating of an iron one annoyed her. +She received the present with cool gratitude and thanked him formally. +When he was gone she bade me put it in the lumber-room, feeling probably +that no present from a man who preferred Mr. Boz to Dr. Johnson could be +less jarring than an iron fire-shovel. + +Such was the state of affairs at the time when I left Cranford and went +to Drumble. I had, however, several correspondents who kept me _au fait_ +as to the proceedings of the inhabitants of the dear little town. + + +_II.--The Captain_ + + +My next visit to Cranford was in the summer. There had been neither +births, deaths, nor marriages since I was there last. Everybody lived in +the same house, and wore pretty near the same well-preserved, +old-fashioned clothes. The greatest event was that the Misses Jenkyns +had purchased a new carpet for the drawing-room. Oh, the busy work Miss +Matty and I had in chasing the sunbeams as they fell in an afternoon +right down on this carpet through the blindless windows! We spread our +newspapers over the places and sat down to our book or our work; and, +lo! in a quarter of an hour the sun had moved and was blazing away in a +fresh spot; and down again we went on our knees to alter the position of +the newspapers. One whole morning, too, we spent in cutting out and +stitching together pieces of newspapers so as to form little paths to +every chair, lest the shoes of visitors should defile the purity of the +carpet. Do you make paper paths for every guest to walk upon in London? + +The literary dispute between Captain Brown and Miss Jenkyns continued. +She had formed a habit of talking _at_ him. And he retaliated by +drumming his fingers, which action Miss Jenkyns felt and resented as +disparaging to Dr. Johnson. + +The poor captain! I noticed on this visit that he looked older and more +worn, and his clothes were very threadbare. But he seemed as bright and +cheerful as ever, unless he was asked about his daughter's health. + +One afternoon we perceived little groups in the street, all listening +with faces aghast to some tale or other. It was some time before Miss +Jenkyns took the undignified step of sending Jenny out to inquire. + +Jenny came back with a white face of terror. + +"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Miss Jenkyns, ma'am! Captain Brown is killed by them +nasty cruel railroads." And she burst into tears. + +"How, where--where? Good God! Jenny, don't waste time in crying, but +tell us something." + +Miss Matty rushed out into the street, and presently an affrighted +carter appeared in the drawing-room and told the story. + +"'Tis true, mum, I seed it myself. The captain was a-readin' some book, +waitin' for the down train, when a lass as gave its sister the slip came +toddling across the line. He looked up sudden, see'd the child, darted +on the line, cotched it up, and his foot slipped and the train came over +him in no time. The child's safe. Poor captain would be glad of that, +mum, wouldn't he? God bless him!" + +The great rough carter turned away to hide his tears. I turned to Miss +Jenkyns. She looked very ill, as though she were going to faint, and +signed to me to open a window. + +"Matilda, bring me my bonnet. I must go to those girls. God pardon me if +ever I have spoken contemptuously to the captain." + +Miss Brown did not long survive her father. Her last words were a prayer +for forgiveness for her selfishness in allowing her sister Jessie to +sacrifice herself for her all her life. + +But Miss Jessie was not long left alone. Miss Jenkyns insisted she +should come and stay with her, and would not hear of her going out into +the world to earn her living as a saleswoman. "Some people have no idea +of their rank as a captain's daughter," she related indignantly, and +stumped out of the room. Presently she came back with a strange look on +her face. + +"I have been much startled--no, I've not been startled--don't mind me, +my dear Miss Jessie, only surprised--in fact, I've had a caller whom you +once knew, my dear Miss Jessie." + +Miss Jessie went very white, then flushed scarlet. + +"Is it?--it is not----" stammered out Miss Jessie, and got no farther. + +"This is his card," said Miss Jenkyns, and went through a series of +winks and odd faces at me, and formed a long sentence with her lips, of +which I could not understand a word. + +Major Gordon was shown upstairs. + +While downstairs Miss Jenkyns told me what the major had told her. How +he had served in the same regiment as Captain Brown and had fallen in +love with Miss Jessie, then a sweet-looking, blooming girl of eighteen; +how she had refused him, though obviously not indifferent to him; how he +had discovered the obstacle to be the fell disease which had stricken +her sister, whom there was no one to nurse and comfort but herself; how +he had believed her cold and had left in anger; and finally how he had +read of the death of Captain Brown in a foreign newspaper. + +Just then Miss Matty burst into the room. + +"Oh, Deborah," she said, "there's a gentleman sitting in the drawing- +room with his arm round Miss Jessie's waist!" + +"The most proper place for his arm to be in. Go, Matilda, and mind your +own business." + +Poor Miss Matty! This was a shock, coming from her decorous sister. + +Thus happiness, and with it some of her early bloom, returned to Miss +Jessie, and as Mrs. Gordon her dimples were not out of place. + + +_III.--Poor Peter_ + + +My visits to Cranford continued for many years, and did not cease even +after the death of Miss Jenkyns. + +Miss Matty became my new hostess. At first I rather dreaded the changed +aspect of things. Miss Matty, too, began to cry as soon as she saw me. +She was evidently nervous from having anticipated my visit. I comforted +her as well as I could, and I found the best consolation I could give +was the honest praise that came from my heart as I spoke of the +deceased. + +Miss Matty made me her confidante in many matters, and one evening she +sent Martha to go for eggs at a farm at the other end of the town and +told me the story of her brother. + +"Poor Peter! The sole honour he brought from Shrewsbury was the +reputation of being captain of the school in the art of practical +joking. He even thought that the people of Cranford might be hoaxed. +'Hoaxing' is not a pretty word, my dear, and I hope you won't tell your +father I used it, for I should not like him to think I was not choice in +my language, after living with such a woman as Deborah. I don't know how +it slipped out of my mouth, except it was that I was thinking of poor +Peter, and it was always his expression. + +"One day my father had gone to see some sick people in the village. +Deborah, too, was away from home for a fortnight or so. I don't know +what possessed poor Peter, but he went to her room and dressed himself +in her old gown and shawl and bonnet. And he made the pillow into a +little--you are sure you locked the door, my dear?--into--into a little +baby with white long clothes. And he went and walked up and down in the +Filbert Walk--just half hidden by the rails and half seen; and he +cuddled the pillow just like a baby and talked to it all the nonsense +people do. Oh, dear, and my father came stepping stately up the street, +as he always did, and pushing past the crowd saw--I don't know what he +saw--but old Clare said his face went grey-white with anger. He seized +hold of poor Peter, tore the clothes off his back--bonnet, shawl, gown, +and all--threw them among the crowd, and before all the people lifted up +his cane and flogged Peter. + +"My dear, that boy's trick on that sunny day, when all promised so well, +broke my mother's heart and changed my father for life. Old Clare said +Peter looked as white as my father and stood still as a statue to be +flogged. + +"'Have you done enough, sir?' he asked hoarsely, when my father stopped. +Then Peter bowed grandly to the people outside the railing and walked +slowly home. He went straight to his mother, looking as haughty as any +man, and not like a boy. + +"'Mother,' he said, 'I am come to say "God bless you for ever."' + +"He would say no more, and by the time my mother had found out what had +happened from my father, and had gone to her boy's room to comfort him, +he had gone, and did not come back. That spring day was the last time he +ever saw his mother's face. He wrote a passionate entreaty to her to +come and see him before his ship left the Mersey for the war, but the +letter was delayed, and when she arrived it was too late. It killed my +mother. And think, my dear, the day after her death--for she did not +live a twelve-month after Peter left--came a parcel from India from her +poor boy. It was a large, soft white India shawl. Just what my mother +would have liked. + +"We took it to my father in the hopes it would rouse him, for he had sat +with her hand in his all night long. At first he took no notice of it. +Then suddenly he got up and spoke. 'She shall be buried in it,' he said. +'Peter shall have that comfort; and she would have liked it.'" + +"Did Mr. Peter ever come home?" + +"Yes, once. He came home a lieutenant. And he and my father were such +friends. My father was so proud to show him to all the neighbours. He +never walked out without Peter's arm to lean on. And then Peter went to +sea again, and by-and-by my father died, blessing us both and thanking +Deborah for all she had been to him. And our circumstances were changed, +and from a big rectory with three servants we had come down to a small +house with a servant-of-all-work. But, as Deborah used to say, we have +always lived genteelly, even if circumstances have compelled us to +simplicity. Poor Deborah!" + +"And Mr. Peter?" I asked. + +"Oh, there was some great war in India, and we have never heard of Peter +since then. I believe he is dead myself. Sometimes when I sit by myself +and the house is quiet, I think I hear his step coming up the street, +and my heart begins to flutter and beat; but the sound goes, and Peter +never comes back." + + +_IV.--Friends in Need_ + + +The years rolled on. I spent my time between Drumble and Cranford. I was +thankful that I happened to be staying with Miss Matty when the Town and +County Bank failed, which had such a disastrous effect on her little +fortune. + +It was an example to me, and I fancy it might be to many others, to see +how immediately Miss Matty set about the retrenchment she knew to be +right under her altered circumstances. I did the little I could. Some +months back a conjuror had given a performance in the Cranford Assembly +Rooms. By a strange set of circumstances the identity of Signor Brunoni +was revealed. He was plain Samuel Brown, who had fallen out of his cart +and had to be attended by our doctor. I went to visit the patient and +his wife, and learned that she had been India. She told me a long story +about being befriended, after a perilous journey, by a kind Englishman +who lived right in the midst of the natives. It was his name which +astonished me. Agra Jenkyns. + +Could Agra Jenkyns be the long lost Peter? I resolved to say nothing to +Miss Matty, but got the address from the signor (as we still called him +from habit), spelt by sound, and very queer it looked, and posted a +letter to him. + +All sorts of plans were discussed for Miss Matty's future. I thought of +all the things by which a woman, past middle age, and with the education +common to ladies fifty years ago, could earn or add to a living without +materially losing caste; but at length I put even this last clause on +one side, and wondered what in the world Miss Matty could do. Even +teaching was out of the question, for, reckoning over her +accomplishments, I had to come down to reading, writing, and +arithmetic--and in reading the chapter every morning she always coughed +before coming to long words. + +I was still in a quandary the next morning, when I received a letter +from Miss Pole, so mysteriously wrapped up and with so many seals on it +to secure secrecy that I had to tear the paper before I could unfold it. + +It summoned me to go to Miss Pole at 11 a.m., the a.m. twice dashed +under as if I were likely to come at eleven at night, when all Cranford +was usually abed and asleep by ten. I went and found Miss Pole dressed +in solemn array, though there were only Mrs. Forrester, crying quietly +and sadly, and Mrs. FitzAdam present. Miss Pole was armed with a card, +on which I imagine she had written some notes. + +"Miss Smith," she began, when I entered (I was familiarly known to all +Cranford as Mary, but this was a state occasion), "I have conversed in +private with these ladies on the misfortune which has happened to our +friend, and one and all have agreed that while we have a superfluity, it +is not only a duty but a pleasure--a true pleasure, Mary!"--her voice +was rather choked just here, and she had to wipe her spectacles before +she could go on--"to give what we can to assist her--Miss Matilda +Jenkyns. Only in consideration of the feelings of delicate independence +existing in the mind of every refined female"--I was sure she had got +back to the card--"we wish to contribute our mites in a secret and +concealed manner, so as not to hurt the feelings I have referred to." + +Well, the upshot of this solemn meeting was that each of those dear old +ladies wrote down the sum she could afford annually, signed the paper +and sealed it mysteriously, and I was commissioned to get my father to +administer the fund in such a manner that Miss Jenkyns should imagine +the money came from her own improved investments. + +As I was going, Mrs. Forrester took me aside, and in the manner of one +confessing a great crime the poor old lady told me how very, very little +she had to live on--a confession she was brought to make from a dread +lest we should think that the small contribution named in her paper bore +any proportion to her love and regard for Miss Mary. And yet that sum +which she so eagerly relinquished was, in truth, more than a twentieth +part of what she had to live on. And when the whole income does not +nearly amount to a hundred pounds, to give up a twentieth of it will +necessitate many careful economies and many pieces of self-denial--small +and insignificant in the world's account, but bearing a different value +in another account book that I have heard of. + +The upshot of it all was that dear Miss Matty was comfortably installed +in her own house, and added to her slender income by selling tea! This +last was my idea, and it was a proud moment for me when it realized. The +small dining-room was converted into a shop, without any of its +degrading characteristics, a table formed the counter, one window was +retained unaltered and the other changed into a glass door, and there +she was. Tea was certainly a happy commodity, as it was neither greasy +nor sticky, grease and stickiness being two of the qualities which Miss +Matty could not endure. Moreover, as Miss Matty said, one good thing +about it was that men did not buy it, and it was of men particularly she +was afraid. They had such sharp, loud ways with them, and did up +accounts and counted their change so quickly. + +Very little remains to be told. The approval of the Honourable Mrs. +Jamieson set the seal upon the successful career of Miss Matty as a +purveyor of tea. Thus did she escape even the shadow of "vulgarity." + +One afternoon I was sitting in the shop parlour with Miss Matty, when we +saw a gentleman go slowly past the window and then stand opposite to the +door, as if looking out for the name which we had so carefully hidden. +His clothes had an out-of-the-way foreign cut, and it flashed across me +it was the Agra himself! He entered. + +Miss Matty looked at him, and something of tender relaxation in his face +struck home to her heart. She said: "It is--oh, sir, can you be Peter?" +and trembled from head to foot. In a moment he had her in his arms, +sobbing the tearless cries of old age. + + * * * * * + + + + +Mary Barton + + + "Mary Barton," although not Mrs. Gaskell's first attempt at + authorship, was her first literary success; and although her + later writings revealed a gain in skill, subtlety and humour, + none of them equalled "Mary Barton" in dramatic intensity and + fervent sincerity. This passionate tale of the sorrows of the + Manchester poor, given to the world anonymously in the year + 1848, was greeted with a storm of mingled approval and + disapproval. It was praised by Carlyle and Landor, but some + critics attacked it fiercely as a slander on the Manchester + manufacturers, and there were admirers who complained that it + was too heartrending. The controversy has long since died + down, but the book holds a permanent place in literature as a + vivid revelation of a dark and painful phase of English life + in the middle of the last century. + + +_I.--Rich and Poor_ + + +"Mary," said John Barton to his daughter, "what's come o'er thee and Jem +Wilson? You were great friends at one time." + +"Oh, folk say he is going to be married to Molly Gibson," answered Mary, +as indifferently as she could. + +"Thou'st played thy cards badly, then," replied her father in a surly +tone. "At one time he were much fonder o' thee than thou deservedst." + +"That's as people think," said Mary pertly, for she remembered that the +very morning before, when on her way to her dressmaking work, she had +met Mr. Harry Carson, who had sighed, and sworn and protested all manner +of tender vows. Mr. Harry Carson was the son and the idol of old Mr. +Carson, the wealthy mill-owner. Jem Wilson, her old playmate, and the +son of her father's, closest friend, although he had earned a position +of trust at the foundry where he worked, was but a mechanic after all! +Mary was ambitious; she knew that she had beauty; she believed that when +young Mr. Carson declared he meant to marry her he spoke the truth. + +It so happened that Jem, after much anxious thought, had determined that +day to "put his fortune to the touch." Just after John Barton had gone +out, Jem appeared at the door, looking more awkward and abashed than he +had ever done before. + +He thought he had better begin at once. + +"Mary, it's no new story I'm going to speak about. Since we were boy and +girl I ha' loved you above father and mother and all. And now, Mary, I'm +foreman at the works, and I've a home to offer you, and a heart as true +as ever man had to love you and cherish you. Darling, say that you'll be +mine." + +Mary could not speak at once. + +"Mary, they say, silence gives consent," he whispered. + +"No, not with me! I can never be your wife." + +"Oh, Mary, think awhile!" he urged. + +"Jem, it cannot be," she said calmly, although she trembled from head to +foot. "Once for all, I will never marry you." + +"And this is the end!" he cried passionately. "Mary, you'll hear, maybe, +of me as a drunkard, and maybe as a thief, and maybe as a murderer. +Remember! it's your cruelty that will have made me what I feel I shall +become." + +He rushed out of the house. + +When he had gone, Mary lay half across the dresser, her head hidden in +her hands, and her body shaken with violent sobs. For these few minutes +had unveiled her heart to her; it had convinced her that she loved Jem +above all persons or things. What were the wealth and prosperity that +Mr. Harry Carson might bring to her now that she had suddenly discovered +the passionate secret of her soul? + +Her first duty, she saw, was to reject the advances of her rich lover. +She avoided him as far as possible, and slighted him when he forced his +presence upon her. And how was she to redress the wrong she had done to +Jem in denying him her heart? She took counsel with her friend, +Margaret Legh. When Mary had first known Margaret and her grandfather, +Job Legh--an old man who belonged to the class of Manchester workmen who +are warm and devoted followers of science, a man whose home was like a +wizard's dwelling, filled with impaled insects and books and +instruments--Margaret had a secret fear of blindness. The fear had since +been realised, but she remained the quiet, sensible, tender-hearted girl +she had been before her great deprivation. She opposed Mary's notion of +writing a letter to Jem. + +"You must just wait and be patient," she advised; "being patient is the +hardest work we have to do through life, I take it. Waiting is far more +difficult than doing; but it's one of God's lessons we must learn, one +way or another." + +So Mary waited. But Jem took his disappointment as final, and her hopes +of seeing him were always baffled. + +John Barton, on the night of Jem's proposal, had gone to his union. The +members of the union were all desperate men, ready for anything; made +ready by want. Barton himself was out of work. He had seen much of the +bitterness of poverty in Manchester; now he was feeling the pinch of it +himself. + +Ever since the death of his wife, whose end had been hastened by the +sudden and complete disappearance of her darling sister Esther, the wan +colourlessness of his face had been intensified; his stern enthusiasm, +once latent, had become visible; his heart, tenderer than ever towards +the victims of the misery around him, grew harder towards the employers, +whom he believed to be the cause of that misery. Trade grew worse, but +there was no sign that the masters were suffering; they still had their +carriages and their comforts; the woe in these terrible years 1839, +1840, and 1841 seemed to fall wholly upon the poor. It is impossible +even faintly to picture the state of distress which prevailed in +Manchester at that time. Whole families went through a gradual +starvation; John Barton saw them starve, saw fathers and mothers and +children die of low, putrid fever in foetid cellars, and cursed the rich +men who never extended a helping hand to the sufferers. + +"Working folk won't be ground to the dust much longer," he declared. +"We'n ha' had as much to bear as human nature can bear." + +Fiercer grew he, and more sullen. Darker and darker were the schemes he +brooded over in his desolate home, or discussed with others at the +meetings of the union. Even Mary did not escape his ill-temper. Once he +struck her. And yet Mary was the one being on earth he devotedly loved. +What would he have thought had he known that his daughter had listened +to the voice of an employer's son? But he did not know. + + +_II.--The Rivals_ + + +One night, as Jem was leaving the foundry, a woman laid her hand upon +his arm. A momentary glance at the faded finery she wore told him the +class to which she belonged, and he made an effort to pass on. But she +grasped him firmly. + +"You must listen to me, Jem Wilson," she said, "for Mary Barton's sake." + +"And who can you be to know Mary Barton?" he exclaimed. + +"Do you remember Esther, Mary's aunt?" + +'"Yes, I mind her well." He looked into her face. "Why, Esther! Where +have ye been this many a year?" + +She answered with fierce earnestness, "Where have I been? What have I +been doing? Can you not guess? See after Mary, and take care she does +not become like me. As she is loving now, so did I love once--one above +me, far." + +Jem cut her short with his hoarse, stern inquiry, "Who is this spark +that Mary loves?" + +"It's old Carson's son." Then, after a pause, she continued, "Oh, Jem, I +charge you with the care of her! Her father won't listen to me." She +cried a little at the recollection of John Barton's harsh words when she +had timidly tried to approach him. "It would be better for her to die +than to live to lead such a life as I do!" + +"It would be better," said Jem, as if thinking aloud. Then he went on. +"Esther, you may trust to my doing all I can for Mary. And now, listen. +Come home with me. Come to my mother." + +"God bless you, Jem!" she replied. "But it is too late now--too late!" + +She rapidly turned away. Jem felt that the great thing was to reach home +and solitude. His heart was filled with jealous anguish. Mary loved +another! She was lost to him for evermore. A frenzied longing for blood +entered his mind as he brooded that night over his loss. But at last the +thought of duty brought peace to his soul. If Carson loved Mary, Carson +must marry her. It was Jem's part to speak straightforwardly to Carson, +to be unto Mary as a brother. + +Four days later his opportunity came. He met Carson in an unfrequented +lane. + +"May I speak a word wi' you, sir?" said Jem respectfully. + +"Certainly, my good man," replied Harry Carson. + +"I think, sir, you're keeping company wi' Mary Barton?" + +"Mary Barton! Ay, that is her name. An arrant flirt the little hussy is, +but very pretty." + +"I will tell you in plain words," said Jem, angered, "what I have got to +say to you. I'm an old friend of Mary's and her father's, and I want to +know if you mean fair by Mary or not." + +"You will have the kindness to leave us to ourselves," answered Carson +contemptuously. "No one shall interfere between my little girl and me. +Get out of my way! Won't you? Then I'll make you!" + +He raised his cane, and smote the mechanic on his face. An instant +afterwards he lay stretched in the muddy road, Jem standing over him, +panting with rage. Just then a policeman, who had been watching them +unobserved, interfered with expostulations and warnings. + +"If you dare to injure her," shouted Jem, as he was dragged away, "I +will wait you where no policeman can step in between. And God shall +judge between us two!" + + * * * * * + +The mill-workers had struck against low wages. Five haggard, earnest- +looking men had presented the workpeople's demands to the assembled +mill-owners, and the demands had been rejected. None had been fiercer in +opposing the delegates, none more bitter in mockery of their rags and +leanness, than the son of old Mr. Carson. + +That evening, starved, irritated, despairing men gathered to hear the +delegates tell of their failure. + +"It's the masters as has wrought this woe," said John Barton in a low +voice. "It's the masters as should pay for it. Set me to serve out the +masters, and see if there's aught I'll stick at!" + +Deeper and darker grew the import of the speeches as the men stood +hoarsely muttering their meaning out with set teeth and livid looks. +After a fierce and terrible oath had been sworn, a number of pieces of +paper, one of them marked, were shuffled in a hat. The gas was +extinguished; each drew a paper. The gas was re-lighted. Each examined +his paper, with a countenance as immovable as he could make it. Then +they went every one his own way. + +He who had drawn the marked paper had drawn the lot of the assassin. And +no one, save God and his own conscience, knew who was the appointed +murderer. + + +_III.--Murder_ + + +Two nights later, Barton was to leave for Glasgow, whither he was to +travel as delegate to entreat assistance for the strikers. "What could +be the matter with him?" thought Mary. He was so restless; he seemed so +fierce, too. + +Presently he rose, and in a short, cold manner bade her farewell. She +stood at the door, looking after him, her eyes blinded with tears. He +was so strange, so cold, so hard. Suddenly he came back, and took her in +his arms. + +"God in heaven bless thee, Mary!" + +She threw her arms round his neck. He kissed her, unlaced her soft, +twining arms, and set off on his errand. + +When Mary reached the dressmaker's next morning, she noticed that the +girls stopped talking. They eyed her! then they began to whisper. At +last one of them asked her if she had heard the news. + +"No! What news?" she answered. + +"Have you not heard that young Mr. Carson was murdered last night?" + +Mary could not speak, but no one who looked at her pale and +terror-stricken face could have doubted that she had not heard before of +the fearful occurrence. + +She felt throughout the day as if the haunting horror were a nightmare +from which awakening would relieve her. Everybody was full of the one +subject. + +In the evening she went to Mrs. Wilson's, hoping that at last she might +see Jem. But here a new and terrible shock awaited her. + +Mrs. Wilson turned fiercely upon her. + +"And is it thee that dares set foot in this house, after what has come +to pass? Dost thou know where my son is, all through thee?" + +"No," quivered out poor Mary. + +"He's lying in prison, waiting to take his trial for murdering young Mr. +Carson." + +So, indeed, it was. At the inquest the policeman who had witnessed the +quarrel between the rivals testified to the threats uttered by Jem; and +the gun used by the murderer, and thrown away by him in his haste to +escape, had been proved to be Jem's property. + +Jem an assassin, and because of her! In the agony of that night Mary saw +the gallows standing black against the burning light which dazzled her +shut eyes, press on them as she would. She thought she was going mad; +then Heaven blessed her unawares, and she sank to sleep. + +She was awakened by the coming of a visitor. It was her long-lost, +unrecognised aunt Esther, who had come to her niece bringing her a +little piece of paper compressed into a round shape. It was the paper +that had served as wadding for the murderer's gun. Esther had picked it +up while wandering in curiosity about the scene of the murder. There was +writing on the paper, and she had brought it to Mary, fearing that if it +fell into the hands of the police it would provide more evidence against +Jem. + +The paper told Mary everything. It had belonged to John Barton. Jem was +innocent, and her own father was the murderer! Jem must be saved, and +she must do it; for was she not the sole repository of the terrible +secret? And how could she prove Jem's innocence without admitting her +father's guilt? + +When she could think calmly, she realised that she must discover where +Jem had been on the Thursday night when the murder had been committed. +Tremblingly she went to Mrs. Wilson, and learnt what she wanted to know. +Jem had walked towards Liverpool with his cousin Will, a sailor who had +spent all his money in Manchester, and could not afford railway-fare. +Will's ship was to sail on Tuesday, and on Tuesday Jem was to be tried +at the Liverpool assizes. + +Job Legh engaged a lawyer to defend Jem, and Mary prepared to go to +Liverpool to find the one man whose evidence could save her lover. Ere +she left, a policeman brought her a bit of parchment. Her heart misgave +her as she took it; she guessed its purport. It was a summons to bear +witness against Jem Wilson at the assizes. + + +_IV.--"Not Guilty_" + + +Arrived at Liverpool on Monday, after the bewilderment of a railway +journey--the first she had ever made--Mary found her way to the little +court, not far from the docks, were Jem's sailor cousin lodged. + +"Is Will Wilson here?" she asked the landlady. + +"No, he is not," replied the woman, curtly. + +"Tell me--where he is?" asked Mary, sickening. + +"He's gone this very morning, my poor dear," answered the landlady, +relenting at the sight of Mary's obvious distress. "He's sailed, my +dear--sailed in the John Cropper this very blessed morning!" + +Mary staggered into the house, stricken into hopelessness. Yet hope was +not dead. The landlady's son told her that the John Cropper would be +waiting for high-water to cross the sandbanks at the river's mouth, and +that there was a chance that a sailing-boat might overtake the vessel. + +Mary hurried down to the docks, spent every penny she had in hiring a +boat, and presently was tossing on the water for the first time in her +life, alone with two rough men. + +The boatmen hailed the John Cropper just as the crew were heaving +anchor, and told their errand. The captain refused with a dreadful oath +to stop his ship for anyone, whoever swung for it. But Will Wilson, +standing at the stern, shouted through his hands, "So help me God, Mary +Barton, I'll come back in the pilot-boat time enough to save his life!" + +As the ship receded in the distance, Mary asked anxiously when the +pilot-boat would be back. The boatmen did not know; it might be twelve +hours, it might be two days. A chance yet remained, but she could no +longer hope. When she reached the landing-place, faint and penniless, +one of the boatmen took her to his home, and there she sat sleeplessly +awaiting the dawn of the day of trial. + +When she entered the witness-box next day, the whole court reeled before +her, save two figures only--that of the judge and that of the prisoner. +Jem sat silent--he had held his peace ever since his arrest--with his +face bowed on his hands. + +Mary answered a few questions with a sort of wonder at the reality of +the terrible circumstances in which she was placed. + +"And pray, may I ask, which was the favoured lover?" went on the +barrister. + +A look of indignation for an instant contracted Mary's brow. She was +aware that Jem had raised his head and was gazing at her. Turning +towards the judge, she said steadily, "Perhaps I liked Mr. Harry Carson +once; but I loved James Wilson beyond what tongue can tell. When he +asked me to marry him, I was very hard in my answer; but he'd not been +gone out of my sight above a minute before I knew I loved him--far above +my life." + +After these words the prisoner's head was no longer bowed. He stood +erect and firm, with self-respect in his attitude; yet he seemed lost in +thought. + +But Will Wilson did not come, and the evidence against Jem grew stronger +and stronger. Mary was flushed and anxious, muttering to herself in a +wild, restless manner. Job Legh heard her repeat again and again, "I +must not go mad; I must not!" + +Suddenly she threw up her arms and shrieked aloud: "Oh, Jem! Jem! You're +saved! and I am mad!" and was carried out of court stiff and convulsed. +And as they bore her off, a sailor forced his way over rails and seats, +through turnkeys and policemen. Will Wilson had come in time. + +He told his tale clearly and distinctly; the efforts of the prosecution +to shake him were useless. "Not guilty" was the verdict that thrilled +through the breathless court. One man sank back in his seat in sickening +despair. The vengeance that old Mr. Carson had longed to compass for the +murder of his beloved boy was thwarted; he had been cheated of the +desire that now ruled his life--the desire of blood for blood. + + +_V.--"Forgive Us Our Trespasses_" + + +For many days Mary hovered between life and death, and it was long ere +she could make the journey back to Manchester under the tender care of +the man who now knew she loved him. Not until she had recovered did he +tell her that he had lost his situation at the foundry--the men refused +to work under one who had been tried for murder--and that he was looking +for work elsewhere. + +"Mary," he asked, "art thou much bound to Manchester? Would it grieve +thee sore to quit the old smoke-jack?" + +"With thee?" was her quiet response. + +"I've heard fine things of Canada. Thou knowest where Canada is, Mary?" + +"Not rightly--but with thee, Jem"--her voice sank to a +whisper--"anywhere." Then, after a pause, she added, "But father!" + +John Barton was smitten, helpless, very near to death. His face was sunk +and worn--like a skull, with yet a suffering expression that skulls have +not! Crime and all had been forgotten by his daughter when she saw him; +fondly did she serve him in every way that heart could devise. + +Jem had known from the first that Barton was the murderer of Harry +Carson. Several days before the murder Barton had borrowed Jem's gun, +and Jem had seen the truth at the moment of his arrest. When Mary came +to tell him that her father wished to speak to him, Jem could not guess +what was before him, and did not try to guess. + +When they entered the room, Mary saw all at a glance. Her father stood +holding on to a chair as if for support. Behind him sat Job Legh, +listening; before him stood the stern figure of Mr. Carson. + +"Don't dare to think that I shall be merciful; you shall be +hanged--hanged--man!" said Mr. Carson, with slow, emphasis. + +"I've had far, far worse misery than hanging!" cried Barton. "Sir, one +word! My hairs are grey with suffering." + +"And have I had no suffering?" interrupted Mr. Carson. "Is not my boy +gone--killed--out of my sight for ever? He was my sunshine, and now it +is night! Oh, my God! comfort me, comfort me!" cried the old man aloud. + +Barton lay across the table broken-hearted. "God knows I didn't know +what I was doing," he whispered. "Oh, sir," he said wildly, "say you +forgive me?" + +"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us," +said Job solemnly. + +Mr. Carson took his hands from his face. + +"Let my trespasses be unforgiven, so that I may have vengeance for my +son's murder." + +John Barton lay on the ground as one dead. + +When Mr. Carson had left the house, he leant against a railing to steady +himself, for he was dizzy with agitation. He looked up to the calm, +majestic depths of the heavens, and by-and-by the last words he had +spoken returned upon him, as if they were being echoed through all that +infinite space in tones of unutterable sorrow. He went homewards; not to +the police-office. All night long, the archangel combated with the demon +in his soul. + +All night long, others watched by the bed of death. As morning dawned, +Barton grew worse; his breathing seemed almost stopped. Jem had gone to +the druggist's, and Mary cried out for assistance to raise her father. + +A step, which was not Jem's, came up the stairs. Mr. Carson stood in the +doorway. He raised up the powerless frame, and the departing soul looked +out of the eyes with gratitude. + +"Pray for us!" cried Mary, sinking on her knees. + +"God be merciful to us sinners," was Mr. Carson's prayer. "Forgive us +our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us." + +And when the words were said, John Barton lay a corpse in Mr. Carson's +arms. + + * * * * * + +At the door of a long, low wooden house stands Mary, watching the return +of her husband from his work. + +Her baby boy, in his grandmother's arms, sees him come with a crow of +delight. + +"English letters!" cries Jem. "Guess the good news!" + +"Oh, tell me!" says Mary. + +"Margaret has recovered her sight. She and Will are to be married, and +he's bringing her out here to Canada; and Job Legh talks of coming, +too--not to see you, Mary, but to try and pick up a few specimens of +Canadian insects." + +"Dear Job Legh!" said Mary, softly. + + * * * * * + + + + +WILLIAM GODWIN + + +Caleb Williams + + + William Godwin, the son of a dissenting parson, was a man of + remarkable gifts and the father of the poet Shelley's second + wife, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (see Vol. VII). Born at + Wisbeach, England, March 3, 1756, he served for five years, + 1778-83, as a Nonconformist minister, and then going to + London, joined the leading Whig circle of the day, and turned + his attention to political writings. His "Political Justice," + though little read to-day, had a great number of readers and + considerable influence a hundred years ago. "Things as They + Are, or the Adventures of Caleb Williams," published in 1794, + has a philosophical significance, suggested by the falseness + of the common code of morality, which is apt to be overlooked + by many readers in the strong interest of the tale. It is one + of the few books of that period which may still be said to + live. It is quite the best of his novels. "It raised Godwin's + reputation to a pinnacle," according to contemporary + criticism, though some of his other novels, notably + "Fleetwood," have been preferred for their descriptive + writing. He was an exceedingly industrious writer; essays, + biography, political philosophy, and history all coming from + his pen; but in spite of this and of his many distinguished + friendships, Godwin was always in difficulties, which he bore + with the becoming grace of a philosopher. He died on April 7, + 1836. + + +_I.--Mr. Falkland's Secret_ + + +My life has for several years been a theatre of calamity. My fairest +prospects have been blasted. My enemy has shown himself inaccessible to +entreaties and untired in persecution. I was born of humble parents, in +a remote county of England. Their occupations were such as usually fall +to the lot of peasants, and they had no portion to give me. I was taught +the rudiments of no science, except reading, writing, and arithmetic. +But I had an inquisitive mind, and neglected no means of information +from conversation or books. + +The residence of my parents was within the manor of Ferdinando Falkland, +a country squire of considerable opulence. At an early age I attracted +the favourable notice of Mr. Collins, this gentleman's steward, who used +to call in occasionally at my father's. + +In the summer of the year----, Mr. Falkland visited his estate in our +county after an absence of several months. This was a period of +misfortune to me. I was then eighteen years of age. My father lay dead +in our cottage, and I had lost my mother some years before. In this +forlorn situation I received a message from the squire, ordering me to +repair to the manor house. + +My reception was as gracious and encouraging as I could possibly desire. +Mr. Falkland questioned me respecting my learning, and my conceptions of +men and things, and listened to my answers with condescension and +approbation. He then informed me that he was in want of a secretary, and +that if I approved of the employment he would take me into his house. + +I felt highly flattered by the proposal, and found my employment--which +included the duties of librarian as well as those of a secretary--easy +and agreeable. + +Mr. Falkland's mode of living was in the utmost degree recluse and +solitary. His features were scarcely ever relaxed in a smile, and the +distemper which afflicted him with incessant gloom had its paroxysms. +None of the domestics, except myself and Mr. Collins approached Mr. +Falkland but at stated seasons and then only for a very short interval. + +Once after I had seen my patron in a strange fit of intolerable anguish, +I could not help confiding in Mr. Collins that I feared Mr. Falkland had +some secret trouble, and in answer to my communication Mr. Collins told +me the story of Tyrrel's murder. + +Barnabas Tyrrel had been a neighbouring squire insupportably brutish and +arrogant, tyrannical to his inferiors, and insolent to his equals. From +the first he hated Falkland, whose dignity and courtesy were a constant +rebuke to the other's boorish ill-humours, and rejected with scorn all +proposals for civil intercourse. + +The crisis came when Tyrrel, who had been expelled from the rural +assembly which met every week at the market-town, forced his way in. He +was intoxicated, and at once attacked Falkland, knocking him down, and +then kicking his prostrate enemy before anyone had time to interfere. + +To Mr. Falkland disgrace was worse than death. This complication of +ignominy, base, humiliating, and public, stung him to the very soul, and +filled his mind with horror and uproar. One other event closed that +memorable evening. Mr. Tyrrel was found dead in the street, having been +murdered a few yards from the assembly-house. + +From that day Falkland was a changed man. His cheerfulness and +tranquillity gave way to gloomy and unsociable melancholy, and, filled +with the ideas of chivalry, the humiliating and dishonourable situation +in which he had been placed could never be forgotten. To add to his +misfortunes, it was presently whispered that he was no other than the +murderer of his antagonist, and even the magistrates at length decided +that the matter must be investigated, and requested Falkland to appear +before them. + +Mr. Falkland attended, and easily convinced the magistrates of his +innocence, pointing out that his one desire was to have called out the +man who had insulted him so horribly, and to have fought him to the +death. He was not only acquitted, but a public demonstration of sympathy +was arranged at once to show the esteem in which he was held. + +A few weeks, and the real murderer was discovered. This was a man named +Hawkins, who, with his son, had been reduced from an honest livelihood +to beggary and ruin by Tyrrel. On circumstantial evidence, Hawkins and +his son were condemned and executed. + +This was the story Mr. Collins told me in order that I might understand +Mr. Falkland's unhappy state. In reality it only added to my +embarrassment. + +Was it possible, after all, that Mr. Falkland should be the murderer? It +was but a passing thought, and yet what was the meaning of Mr. +Falkland's agonies of mind? I could not accept Mr. Collins's view that +Mr. Falkland was so much the slave and fool of honour that the shame of +Tyrrel's savage assault alone had driven him to this melancholy and +solitude, and compelled the violent outbursts of passion. + + +_II.--I Learn the Secret_ + + +My suspicions would not be set at rest. No spark of malignity was +harboured in my soul. I reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland, but +I had a mistaken curiosity to find out the truth of Tyrrel's murder. +Often it seemed that Mr. Falkland was about to speak to me, but the +movement always ended in silence. + +At last one day he sent for me to his room, and after making me swear +never to disclose his confidence, and warning me that he had observed my +suspicions, told me that he was the murderer of Tyrrel and the assassin +of the two Hawkins. + +"This it is to be a gentleman, a man of honour!" Falkland went on, in +extreme distress. "My virtue, my honesty, my everlasting peace of mind, +all sacrificed that I may preserve my good name. And I am as much the +fool of fame as ever. Though I be the blackest of villains, I will leave +behind me a spotless and illustrious name. Why is it that I am compelled +to this confidence? From the love of fame. I had no alternative but to +make you my confidant or my victim, and perhaps my next murder would not +have been so fortunate. I do not want to shed more blood. It is better +to trust you with the whole truth, under every seal of secrecy, than to +live in perpetual fear of your penetration. But look what you have done +with your foolishly inquisitive humour. You shall continue in my +service, and I will benefit you in respect of fortune; but I shall +always hate you. If ever an unguarded word escape from your lips, you +may expect to pay for it with your death, or worse. By everything that +is sacred, preserve your faith!" + +Such was the secret I had been so desirous to know. + +"It is a wretched prospect," I said to myself, "that he holds up to me. +But I will never become an informer. I will never injure my patron; and +therefore he will not be my enemy." + +It was no long time after this that Mr. Forester--Mr. Falkland's +half-brother--came to stay in the house while his own residence was +being got ready for him, and there being little in common between the +two, Mr. Forester being of a peculiarly sociable disposition, our +visitor chose to make me his companion. No sooner was this growing +intimacy observed than Mr. Falkland warned me that it was not agreeable +to him, and that he would not have it. + +"Young man, take warning!" he said to me one day when we were alone. +"You little suspect the extent of my power. You might as well think of +escaping from the power of the omnipresent God as from mine." + +My whole soul now revolted against the treatment I endured, and yet I +could not utter a word. I resolved to quit Mr. Falkland's service, and +when Mr. Forester had retired to his own house, I wrote a letter to Mr. +Falkland to that effect. + +"You shall never quit it with your life," was his reply. "If you attempt +it, you shall never cease to rue your folly as long as you exist. Do not +imagine I am afraid of you! I wear an armour against which all your +weapons are impotent. Do you not know, miserable wretch, that I have +sworn to preserve my reputation, whatever it cost? I have dug a pit for +you, and whichever way you move it is ready to swallow you." + +This speech was the dictate of frenzy, and it created in me a similar +frenzy. It determined me to do the very thing against which I was thus +solemnly warned, and fly from my patron's house. + +No sooner, however, had I set off, and travelled some miles, than a +horseman overtook me, and handed me a letter from Mr. Forester. I opened +the letter, and read as follows: + +"Williams:--My brother Falkland has sent the bearer in pursuit of you. +He expects that, if found, you will return with him. I expect it, too. +If you are a villain and a rascal, you will perhaps endeavour to fly; if +your conscience tells you you are innocent, you will, out of all doubt, +come back. If you come, I pledge myself that if you clear your +reputation, you shall not only be free to go wherever you please, but +shall receive every assistance in my power to give. + +"Valentine Forester." + +To a mind like mine, such a letter was enough to draw me from one end of +the earth to the other. I could not recall anything out of which the +shadow of a criminal accusation could be extorted, and I returned with +willingness and impatience. I knew the stern inflexibility of Mr. +Falkland's mind, but I also knew his virtuous and magnanimous +principles. I could not believe my innocence could be confounded with +guilt. + + +_III.--My Persecutions and Sufferings_ + + +Mr. Falkland accused me of having stolen money and jewels from him, and +when my boxes, which I had left behind, were opened, a watch and certain +jewels were found in one of them. + +My amazement yielded to indignation and horror. I protested my innocence +I declared that Mr. Falkland knew I was innocent, and that while I was +wholly unable to account for the articles found in my possession, I +firmly believed that their being there was of Mr. Falkland's +contrivance. + +Mr. Falkland now expressed his willingness to proceed no further against +me, and, since I had been brought to public shame, to let me depart +wherever I pleased. I was unworthy of his resentment, he said, and he +could afford to smile at my malice. + +Mr. Forester, however, said this was impossible, and, as a magistrate, +he thereupon committed me to prison to await my trial. Not one of the +servants who had been present at my examination expressed any compassion +for me. The robbery appeared to them atrocious, and they were indignant +at my recrimination on their excellent master. + +When I had been about a month in prison the assizes were held, but my +case was not brought forward, and I was suffered to stand over six +months longer. + +I noticed a change in my jailer's behaviour at this time. He offered to +make better provision for my comfort, and as I had no doubt he was +instigated by Mr. Falkland, I answered that he might tell his employer I +would accept no favours from a man that held a halter about my neck. +Then the idea of an escape occurred to me, and as I had some proficiency +in carpentry, I decided to obtain tools by proposing to make some chairs +for the jailer. My offer was accepted, and I gradually accumulated tools +of various sorts--gimlets, chisels, etc. + +In the middle of the night, my plans being now thoroughly digested, I +set about making my escape. I had to get the first door from its hinges, +and though this was attended with considerable difficulty, I was +successful. The second door being fastened on the inside, all I had to +do was to push back the bolts and unscrew the box of the lock. + +Thus far I had proceeded with the happiest success; but close on the +other side there was a kennel with a large mastiff dog, of which I had +not the smallest previous knowledge. However, I managed to soothe the +animal, and go to the wall. Before I had gained half the ascent, a voice +at the garden door cried out, "Halloa! Who is there?" At this the dog +began to bark violently, and a second man came out. Alarmed at my +situation, I descended on the other side too quickly, and in my fall +nearly dislocated my ankle. + +In the meantime, the two warders came through a door in the wall, of +which I had not been aware, and were at the place where I had descended, +in no time. The pain in my ankle was so intense that I could scarcely +stand, and I suffered myself to be retaken. + +The condition in which I was now placed was totally different from that +which had preceded this attempt. I was chained all day in my dungeon, my +manual labors were at an end, my cell was searched every night, and +every kind of tool carefully kept from me. + +Nevertheless, an active mind, which has once been forced into any +particular train, can scarcely give it up as hopeless. One day I chanced +to observe a nail trodden into the mud floor at no great distance from +me. I seized upon this new treasure, and found that I could unlock with +it the padlock that fastened me to the staple in the floor. By this +means I had the pitiful consolation of being able to range, without +constraint, the miserable coop in which I was confined. It became my +constant practice to liberate myself at night; but security breeds +negligence. One morning I overslept myself, and the turnkey, to his +surprise, found me disengaged. + +Again my apartment was changed. I was now put in the strong-room, an +underground dungeon, and handcuffs were added to my fetters. + +It was at this time that Thomas, Mr. Falkland's footman, and an old +acquaintance of mine, visited me. He was of the better order of +servants, and my condition shocked him. He returned again in the +afternoon. + +"Well, Master Williams," he said, "you have been very wicked, to be +sure, and I thought it would have done me good to see you hanged. I know +I am doing wrong; but if they hang me, too, I cannot help it. For +Christ's sake, get out of this place; I cannot bear the thought of it." + +With that, he slipped into my hand a chisel, a file, and a saw. I +received the implements with great joy, and thrust them into my bosom. + +I waited for bright moonlight; it was necessary that I should work in +the night, and between nine and seven. + +It was ten o'clock when I first took off my handcuffs. I then filed +through my fetters, and next performed the same service to the three +iron bars that secured my window. All this was the work of more than two +hours. But, even with the bars removed, the space was by no means wide +enough to admit the passing of my body. Therefore, I had to loosen the +brickwork, and this I did partly with the chisel, and partly with one of +the iron bars. When the space was sufficient for my purpose, I crept +through the opening and stepped upon a shed outside. + +The prison wall, which now had to be scaled, was of considerable height, +and there was no resource for me but that of making a breach in its +lower part. For six hours I worked at this with incredible labour, and +at last I had made a passage. But the day was breaking, and in ten +minutes' time the keepers would probably enter my apartment and see the +devastation I had left. + +I decided to avoid the town as much as possible, and depended upon the +open country for protection; and so I passed along the lane beyond the +wall. + +I was free of my prison, but I was destitute, and had not a shilling in +the world. + + +_IV.--The Doom of Falkland_ + + +Mr. Falkland's implacable animosity pursued me beyond the prison. A +hundred guineas was at once offered for my recapture, and though I +evaded arrest for some months, a man named Gines, who had at one time +been a member of a gang of robbers, undertook to lay hold of me, and +tracked me to my place of hiding in London. By this time the hawkers +were actually selling papers in the streets containing "The most +Wonderful and Surprising History and Miraculous Adventures of Caleb +Williams," for a halfpenny, and I had the temerity to purchase one. In +this I was informed how I, Caleb Williams, "first robbed, and then +brought false accusations against my master"; how I attempted at divers +times to break out of prison, and at last succeeded "in the most +wonderful and incredible manner"; and how I had travelled the kingdom in +disguise, and was now lying concealed in London, with a hundred guineas +reward for my discovery. + +It seemed then that there was no end to my persecution, and I thought of +death as my only release. That very night the landlord of my humble +lodgings brought Gines to the house, and gave me up to the authorities. + +And now the result of all my labour to get out of prison and evade my +pursuers had brought me back to my starting-place! Never was a human +creature so hunted by enemies. What hope was there they would ever cease +their persecution. + +My long-cherished reverence for Mr. Falkland was changed to something +like abhorrence. I determined to bring the real criminal to justice. + +Accordingly, when I was taken before the magistrates at Bow Street, I +declared that Mr. Falkland was a murderer, and that I was entirely +innocent. + +But the magistrates simply told me they had nothing to do with such +statements, and that I seemed a most impudent rascal to trump up such +things against my master. + +I was conducted back to the very prison from which I had escaped, and my +situation seemed more irremediable than ever. How great, therefore, was +my astonishment, at the assizes when my case was called, to find neither +Mr. Falkland, nor Mr. Forester, nor any individual to appear against me. +I, who had come to the bar with the sentence of death already ringing in +my ears, to be told I was free to go whithersoever I pleased! + +I was not, however, yet free of Mr. Falkland. I was kidnapped by Gines +and an accomplice, and carried to an inn, and here Mr. Falkland +commanded me to sign a paper declaring that the charge I had alleged +against him at Bow Street was false, malicious, and groundless. On my +refusal, he told me that he would exercise a power that should grind me +to atoms. + +The impression of that memorable meeting on my understanding is +indelible. The deathlike weakness and decay of Mr. Falkland, his misery +and rage, his haggard, emaciated, and fleshless visage, are still before +me. + +There was to be no peace or happiness for me. Wherever I went, sooner or +later, Gines found me, and any new acquaintances turned from me with +loathing after they had read the handbills containing my "Wonderful and +Surprising History." This man followed me from place to place, blasting +my reputation. + +I now formed my resolution and carried it into execution. At all costs I +would free myself from this overpowering tyranny. + +I set out for the chief town of the county in which Mr. Falkland lived, +and there laid a formal charge of murder before the principal +magistrate. + +After an interval of three days, I met Mr. Falkland in the presence of +the magistrate. It was now the appearance of a ghost before me. He was +brought in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed by +the journey he had just taken. + +Until that moment my breast was steeled to pity; it was now too late to +draw back. + +I told my story plainly, declared the nobility of Mr. Falkland's +character, and admitted that my own proceedings now seemed to me a +dreadful mistake. + +When I had finished, Mr. Falkland rose from his seat, and, to my +infinite astonishment, threw himself into my arms. + +"Williams," said he, "you have conquered. All that I most ardently +desired is for ever frustrated. I have spent a life of the basest +cruelty to cover one act of momentary passion. And now"--turning to the +magistrate--"do with me as you please. I am prepared to suffer all the +vengeance of the law." + +He survived this dreadful scene but three days, and I feel, and always +shall feel, that I have been his murderer. I began these memoirs to +vindicate my character. I have now no character that I wish to +vindicate. + + * * * * * + + + + +JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE + + +The Sorrows of Young Werther + + + Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the greatest of German poets, and + one of the most highly gifted men of the eighteenth century, + was born in 1749 at Frankfort-on-the-Main. He received his + early education from his father, who was an imperial + councillor, and in the year 1765 he went to the University of + Leipzig. Goethe's first great work was "Goetz von + Berlichingen" (see Vol. XVII). which was translated into + English by Sir Walter Scott. "The Sorrows of Young Werther" + ("Die Leiden des jungen Werthers") was begun in 1772, when + Goethe was twenty-three years old, and was published + anonymously two years later. It immediately created an immense + sensation, made a round of the world, and was everywhere + either enthusiastically praised or severely condemned. It + became the fashion of young men to dress themselves in blue + coats and yellow breeches in imitation of the hero, and many + of them were moved to follow Werther's example as the simplest + way of settling their love affairs. Nevertheless, "Werther" + formed the real basis of Goethe's fame. It was the first + revelation to the world of the genius, which, a quarter of a + century later, was to give it "Faust" (Vol. XVI). The story is + frankly sentimental, but as such it is easily the best of the + sentimental novels of the eighteenth century. When, many years + later, Goethe was invited to an audience with Napoleon, the + emperor volunteered the information that he had read "Werther" + through six times. Goethe died in March, 1832, in his + eighty-fourth year. + + +_I.--"I Have Found an Angel"_ + + +_May 4_. What a strange thing is the heart of man. To leave my dearest +friend, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me, and I in +return will promise that I will no longer worry myself over every petty +stab of fortune. Poor Leonora! And yet I was not to blame. Was I in +fault that, while I was pleasantly entertained by the charms of her +sister, her feeble heart conceived a passion for me? And yet I am not +wholly blameless. Did I not encourage her emotion? Did I not--but what +is man that he dares so to accuse himself? Beyond doubt, the sufferings +of mankind would be far less did they but endure the present with +equanimity, instead of raking up the past for memories of sorrow. + +A wonderful calm has come over me; I am alone, and feel that a spot like +this was created for the happiness of souls like mine. You ask if you +shall send me books; I pray you spare me. My heart craves for no +excitement; I need strains to soothe me, and I find them to perfection +in my Homer. + +_May 17_. I have formed many acquaintances, but as yet have found no +friends. If you inquire what sort of people are here, I answer "the same +as everywhere." The human race is a monotonous affair. The majority +labours nearly all its time for mere subsistence, and is then so +distressed to have a small portion of freedom still unemployed that it +exerts even greater efforts to get rid of it. + +I have just become acquainted with a very worthy person, the district +judge. They tell me how charming it is to see him in the midst of his +family of nine. His eldest daughter is much spoken of. He has invited me +to go and see him. + +_June 16_. Why do I not write to you? You should have guessed that I was +pre-occupied; that, in a word, that I have made a friend who has won my +heart. I have found--I know not what. An angel? Nonsense! Everyone so +describes his mistress. And yet I cannot tell you how perfect she is, or +why so perfect. Between ourselves, I have been three times on the point +of throwing down my pen, ordering my horse, and riding out. And yet this +morning I determined not to ride to-day; and I keep running to the +window to see how high the sun is. + +I could not restrain myself; go to her I must. I have just returned, +Wilhelm, and while I eat my supper I will write to you. I had already +made the acquaintance of her aunt, the judge's sister, and with her I +was going to accompany Charlotte to a ball given by some young people in +the neighbourhood. While we were on our way to fetch her, my companion +was loud in her praises of her niece's beauty and charm. "Take care, +however," she added, "that you do not lose your heart." "Why?" I asked. +"Because she is already betrothed to a most excellent man." + +As the door opened, I saw before me the most charming sight that I have +ever beheld. Six children, of various ages, were running about the hall +and surrounding a lady of medium height, with a lovely figure, dressed +in a robe of simple white, trimmed with pink ribbons. She held a loaf of +brown bread, and was cutting slices for the little ones all round. She +apologised for not being quite ready, explaining that household duties +had made her forget the children's supper, which they always preferred +to take from her. I uttered some unmeaning compliment, but my whole soul +was absorbed by her air, her voice, her manner. You who know me can +imagine how I gazed upon her rich, dark eyes; how my soul gloated over +her warm lips and fresh glowing cheeks. + +Never did I dance more lightly; I felt myself more than mortal, holding +this loveliest of creatures in my arms, flying with her as rapidly as +the wind, till I lost sight of every other object. And, oh, Wilhelm, I +vowed at that moment that no maiden whom I loved should ever waltz with +another than myself, if I went to perdition for it. + +Returning from the ball, there was a most magnificent sunrise. Our +companions were asleep. Charlotte asked me if I did not wish to sleep +too, and begged me not to stand on ceremony. Looking deep into her eyes, +I answered, "As long as those eyes remain open, there is no fear for +mine." We continued awake until we reached her door. I left her, asking +her permission to call in the course of the day. She consented, and I +went Since then, sun, moon, and stars may pursue their course; I know +not whether it is day or night; the whole world is nothing to me. + +_June 21_. My days are as happy as those reserved by God for His elect, +and whatever be my fate hereafter, I can never say that I have not +tasted joy--the purest joy of life. Little did I think when I selected +this spot for my home that all heaven lay within half a league of it. + +How childish is man. To be disturbed about a mere look. We had been to +Walheim, but during our walk I thought I saw in Charlotte's eyes--I am a +fool, but forgive me. You should see her eyes. However, to be brief, as +the ladies were preparing to drive away I watched her eyes; they +wandered from one to another, but they did not alight on me--on me who +saw nothing but her. She noticed me not. The carriage drove off, and my +eyes filled with tears. Suddenly I saw Charlotte's bonnet leaning out of +the window, and she turned to look back--was it at me? I know not, and +in uncertainty is my consolation. Perhaps she turned to look at me. +Perhaps. Good-night. What a child I am! + +_July 10_. Someone asked me the other day how I like her. How I _like_ +her! What sort of creature must he be who merely likes Charlotte? Whose +entire being were not absolutely filled with her? Like her! One might as +well ask if I like Ossian. + +_July 13_. No, I am not deceived. In her dark eyes I read a real +interest in me. Yes, I feel it, and I believe my own heart which tells +me--dare I say it?--that she loves me. How the idea exalts me in my own +eyes. And as you can understand my feelings, I may say to you, how I +honour myself because she loves me. + +I do not know a man able to take my place in her heart; yet when she +speaks of Albert with so much warmth and affection, I feel like a +soldier who has been stripped of all his honours. Sometimes when we are +talking, in the eagerness of conversation she comes closer to me, and +her balmy breath reaches my lips, I feel that I could sink into the +earth for very joy. And yet, Wilhelm, if I know myself, and should ever +dare--you understand me--No, no; my heart is not so corrupt; it is weak, +but is not that a degree of corruption? + +She is to me a sacred being; how her simplest song enchants me. +Sometimes, when I am ready to commit suicide, she sings some favourite +air, and instantly the gloom and madness are dispersed. + +_July 24_. Yes, dear Charlotte. I will arrange everything. Only give me +more commissions; the more the better. One thing, however, I must +request you--use no more writing-sand with the letters you send me! +Today, I raised your letter to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge. + + +_II.--Bereft of Comfort_ + + +_July 30_. Albert is arrived, and I must take my departure. Were he the +best of men, and I absolutely beneath him, I could not endure to see him +in possession of my perfect being. Enough! her betrothed is here. A fine +fellow, whom I cannot help liking. And he is so considerate; he has not +given Charlotte one kiss in my presence. Heaven reward him for it. He is +free from ill-humour, which you know is the fault I detest most. I do +not ask whether he may not now and then tease her with some little +jealousies, as I know that in his place I should not be entirely free +from such feelings. + +_August 8_. I am amazed to see from my diary, which I have somewhat +neglected of late, how deliberately I have entangled myself, step by +step. But even though I see the result plainly, I have no thought of +acting with any greater prudence. And yet I feel that if only I knew +where to go, I would abandon everything and fly from this place. + +And yet I feel that, if I were not a fool, I could enjoy life here most +delightfully. Admitted into this charming family, loved by the father as +a son, by his children as a second father, and by Charlotte! +Furthermore, Albert welcomes me with the heartiest affection, and loves +me, next to Charlotte, more than all the world. + +_August 21_. In vain do I stretch out my arms towards her when I wake in +the morning. In vain do I seek for her when some innocent dream has +happily deceived me, and placed me near her in the fields when I have +seized her hand and covered it with kisses. Tears flow from my oppressed +heart; and, bereft of all comfort, I weep over my future woes. + +_August 28_. This is my birthday, and early in the morning I received a +packet from Albert. I found within one of the pink ribbons which +Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her, and which I had +often asked her to give me. With it were two volumes of Wetstein's +Homer, a book I had often wished for. How well they understood those +little attentions of friendship, so superior to costly presents, unhappy +being that I am. Why do I thus deceive myself? What is to be the outcome +of all this wild, aimless, endless passion? I cannot pray except to her. +Oh, Wilhelm, the hermit's cell, his sackcloth and girdle of thorns, +would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I have to suffer. + +_October 20_. I have taken the plunge, and following your repeated +advice, I have taken a post with the ambassador. We arrived here +yesterday. If he were less peevish and morose all would be well. As it +is, he occasions me continual annoyance; he is the most punctilious +blockhead in the world. He does everything step by step, with the paltry +fussiness of an old woman; and he is a man whom it is impossible to +please, because he is never pleased with himself. + +_January 20_. I have but one being here to interest me, my dear +Charlotte--a Miss B----. She resembles you, if indeed anyone can +possibly resemble you. "Ah," you will say, "he has learnt to pay fine +compliments." And this is partly true; I have been very agreeable +lately, as it was not in my power to be otherwise. But I must tell you +of Miss B----. She has abundance of soul, which flashes from her deep +blue eyes. Her rank is a torment to her, and satisfies no single desire +of her heart. She knows you, my dear Charlotte, as I have told her all +about you, and renders homage to your merits; but her homage is not +exacted, but voluntary--she loves you, and delights to hear you made the +subject of conversation. Adieu! Is Albert with you, and what is he to +you? Forgive the question. + +_February 20_. I thank you, Albert, for having deceived me. I waited for +the news that your wedding-day was fixed, and I meant on that day to +remove Charlotte's picture from the wall, and bury it with some old +papers that I wish destroyed. You are now united, and the picture +remains. Well, let it remain. Why should it not? + + +_III.--"I Can Remain No Longer"_ + + +_June 11_. Say what you will, I can remain here no longer. Why should I +remain? The prince is as gracious to me as anyone could be, and yet I am +not at my ease. There is, indeed, nothing in common between us; he is a +man of understanding, but quite of the ordinary kind. His conversation +gives me no more amusement than I should derive from an ordinary +well-written book. Whither am I going? I think it would be better for me +to visit the mines in----. But I am only deluding myself thus. You know +that I only want to be near my dear Charlotte once more. I smile at the +suggestion of my heart, but I obey its dictates. + +_July 29_. Dear Wilhelm, my whole frame feels convulsed when I see +Albert put his arms round that slender waist. Oh, the very thought of +folding that dearest of heaven's creatures in one's arms. + +And--shall I avow it? Why should I not?--she would have been happier +with me than with him. Albert is not the man to satisfy the wishes of +such a heart. He wants a certain sensibility; he wants--in short, their +hearts do not beat in unison. But, Wilhelm, he loves her with his whole +heart, and what does not such a love deserve? + +_September 5_. Charlotte had written a letter to her husband in the +country, where he was detained on business. It began: "My dearest love, +return as soon as possible. I await you with a thousand raptures!" + +A friend who arrived brought word that he could not return immediately. +Her letter fell into my hands. I read it, and smiled. She asked the +reason. "What a heavenly treasure is imagination," I exclaimed. "I +fancied for a moment that this was written to me." She paused, and +seemed displeased. I was silent. + +_October 10_. Only to gaze into her dark eyes is to me a source of +happiness. And what grieves me is that Albert does not seem so happy as +he--as I--as he hoped to be--as I should have been--if--. I am no friend +to these pauses, but here I cannot express myself otherwise; and +probably I am explicit enough. + +_October 19_. Alas the void--the fearful void which I feel in my bosom! +Sometimes I think, if I could only once press her to my heart, this +dreadful void would be filled. + +_October 30_. A hundred times I have been on the point of embracing her. +Heavens! what a torment it is to see so much loveliness passing and +repassing before us, and yet not dare to touch it. And to touch is the +most natural of human instincts. Do not children touch everything that +they see? + +_November 8_. Charlotte reproves me for my excesses with so much +tenderness and goodness. I have lately drunk more wine than usual. +"Don't do it," she said; "think of Charlotte." "Think of you," I +answered; "can such advice be necessary? Do I not ever think of you?" +She immediately changed the subject to prevent me pursuing it further. +My dear friend, my energies are all prostrated; she can do with me what +she pleases. Yesterday, when I took leave, she seized me by the hand, +and said, "Adieu, dear Werther!" It was the first time she had ever +called me "dear." I have repeated it a hundred times. + + +_IV.--"I am Resolved to Die"_ + + +_November 24_. She is sensible of my sufferings. This morning her look +pierced my soul. I found her alone; she was silent, and only gazed +steadfastly at me. Oh, who can express my emotions? I was quite +overcome, and bending down, pronounced this vow to myself, "Beautiful +lips, which angels guard, never will I seek to profane your purity with +a kiss." And yet, oh, I wish--But, alas, my heart is darkened by doubt +and indecision. Could I but taste felicity, and then die to expiate the +sin. What sin? + +_December 21_. I am lost. My senses are bewildered, my recollection is +confused, my eyes are bathed in tears. I am ill, and yet am well. I wish +for nothing; I have no desires; it were better I were gone. I saw +Charlotte to-day; she was busy preparing some little gifts for her +brothers and sisters, to be given to them on Christmas Day. "You shall +have a gift too," she said, "if you behave well." "And what do you call +behaving well?" I asked. "What should I do; what can I do?" "Thursday +night," she answered, "is Christmas Eve; the children are all to be +here, and my father too; there is a present for each of them. Do you +come likewise, but do not come before that time!" + +I started. She must have seen my emotion, for she continued, hastily "I +desire that you will not. It must be so; I ask it of you as a favour, +for my own peace and tranquillity. We cannot go on in this manner any +longer!" It were idle to attempt to describe my emotions I was as if +paralysed; it was as if the sun had suddenly gone out. When I +recollected myself, Charlotte was trying to speak on some indifferent +topic. "No, Charlotte," I explained, "I understand you perfectly. I will +never see you again!" + +_December 22_. It is all over, Charlotte; I am resolved to die. I make +this declaration deliberately and coolly, without any romantic passion, +on the morning of the day when I am to see you for the last time. At the +moment that you read these lines the cold grave will hold the remains of +that restless and unhappy being who, in his last moments of existence, +knew no pleasure so great as that of conversing with you. + +When I tore myself from you yesterday my senses were in tumult and +disorder. I could scarcely reach my room. A thousand ideas floated +through my mind. At last one fixed, final thought took possession of my +heart. It was to die. Oh, beloved Charlotte, this heart, excited by rage +and fury, has often conceived the horrid idea of murdering your +husband--you--myself. + +What do they mean by saying that Albert is your husband? He may be so +for this world, and in this world it is a sin to love you--to wish to +tear you from his embrace. Yes, it is a crime, and I suffer the +punishment--but I have enjoyed the full delight of my sin. I have +inhaled a balm that has revived my soul; from this hour you are mine; +yes, Charlotte, you are mine. I do not dream, I do not rave. Drawing +nearer to the grave my perceptions become clearer. We shall exist; we +shall see each other again. + +I wish to be buried in the dress I wear at present; it has been made +sacred by your touch. How warmly I have loved you, Charlotte. Since the +first hour I saw you, how impossible have I found it to leave you. This +ribbon must be buried with me; it was a present from you on my birthday. +How confused it all appears. Little did I think then that I should +journey on this road. But peace, I pray you, peace. + +Both my pistols are loaded. The clock strikes twelve. I say Amen. +Charlotte! Charlotte! Farewell! Farewell! + + * * * * * + + + + +Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship + + + Goethe's prestige was enormously increased by the publication + in 1796 of "Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship" ("Wilhelm + Meisters Lehrjahre"). Representing the fruit of twenty years' + labour, it was, like "Faust," written in fragments during the + ripest period of his intellectual activity. The story of + "Wilhelm Meister" is by no means exciting, but, as a gallery + of portraits and repository of wise observation, it is more + characteristic of the genius of its author than any other of + his prose works. It is more mellow than "Werther," and the + action moves slower. Incident follows incident in a leisurely + fashion. The keen psychological analysis in the story is + assumed to have been derived from Goethe's own experience. + "Wilhelm Meister" was dramatised and produced at Leipzig a few + years ago, but with no marked success. + + +_I.--On the Road_ + + +The moment was now at hand to which poor Mariana had been looking +forward as to the last of her life. Wilhelm Meister, the man she loved, +was departing on a long journey in connection with his father's +business; a disagreeable lover was threatening to come. + +"I am miserable," she exclaimed, "miserable for life! I love him, and he +loves me; yet I see that we must part, and know not how I shall survive +it. Wilhelm is poor, and can do nothing for me--" + +Darkness had scarcely come on when Wilhelm glided forth to her house; he +carried with him a letter in which he entreated her to marry him +forthwith, saying that he would abandon his father's business, and earn +his living on the stage, to which he had always been strongly drawn. +This he could do with certainty, as he was well acquainted with Serlo, +manager of a theatre in a town at some distance. + +His plan was to leave the letter with her, and return a little later for +her answer. The vehemence of his emotion at first prevented him from +noticing that she did not greet him with her wonted heartiness; she +complained of a headache, and would not hear of his coming back later +that evening. Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to urge her, but he +felt that this was not the moment for delivering his letter. He retained +it, therefore, and, in a tumult of insatiable love, as he tore himself +away from her he snatched one of her neckerchiefs, and, after pressing +it madly to his lips, crushed it into his pocket. + +His whole being was in a ferment of excitement as he walked aimlessly +about the streets. Midnight found him again in the neighbourhood of +Mariana's house; consciousness of the fact brought him to himself. He +went slowly away, set himself for home, and constantly turned round +again; at last, with an effort, he constrained himself, and actually +departed. At the corner of the street, looking back yet once more, he +imagined that he saw Mariana's door open, and a dark figure issue from +it. He was too distant to see clearly, and in a moment the appearance +was lost in the night. + +On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion from his mind +by the most sufficient reasons. To soothe his heart, and put the last +seal on his returning belief, ere he disrobed for the night, he took her +kerchief from his pocket. The rustle of a letter which fell from it took +the kerchief from his lips; he lifted it, and read a passionate letter +from another man, railing at her for her coldness on the preceding +night, making an appointment for that same night, and breathing a spirit +of intimate familiarity. + + * * * * * + +A violent fever, with its train of consequences, besides the unwearied +attentions of his family, were so many fresh occupations for his mind, +and formed a kind of painful entertainment. On his recovery, he +determined to abandon for ever his former leaning towards the stage, and +to apply himself with greater diligence to business, and, to the great +contentment of his father, no one was now more diligent in the +counting-house. For a long time he continued to show exemplary attention +to his duties, and was then thought sufficiently master of his business +to be sent on a long expedition on behalf of the firm. + +The first part of his business successfully accomplished, Wilhelm found +himself at a little mountain town called Hochdorf. A troupe of actors +had got stranded there, their exchequer empty, their properties seized +as security for debts. Wilhelm recognised among them an old man whom he +recollected as having seen on the stage with Mariana. After some +hesitation, he hazarded a question concerning her. "Do not speak to me +of that baggage!" cried the old man. "I am ashamed that I felt such a +friendship for her. Yet, had you known the girl better, you would excuse +me. I loved her as my own daughter; indeed, I had formed a resolution to +take the creature into my own house, and save her from the hands of that +old crone Barbara, her confidante; but my wife died, and so the project +came to nothing. At the end of our stay in your native town, I noticed a +visible sadness about her. I questioned her, but she evaded me. At last +we set out on our journey. She travelled in the same coach with me, and +I soon observed what she could not deny, that she was about to become a +mother. In a short time the manager made the same discovery; he paid her +off at once and left her behind at the village inn." + +Wilhelm's old wounds were all torn open afresh by the old man's story; +the thought that perhaps Mariana was not wholly unworthy of his love was +again brought to life. Nay, even the bitter accusations brought against +her could not lower her in his estimation; for he, as well as she, was +guilty in all her aberrations. He saw her as a frail, ill-succoured +mother, wandering helplessly about the world. + +The old longing for the stage came back to him with redoubled force; he +determined to give it vent, for a time at least, and to this end he +advanced to Melina, the manager of the actors, a sum of money sufficient +to redeem their properties, and accompanied the troupe until such time +as it should be repaid. + +A profitable engagement soon came their way. A wealthy count, who +happened to pass through the town, required their services to entertain +the prince, whom he was shortly expecting as a guest. For several weeks +they stayed at his castle, and when, on the prince's departure, their +engagement came to an end, they were all weightier in purse than they +had been for many a long day. Melina was now in hopes to get established +with his company in a thriving town at some distance. To get there it +was necessary to take a considerable journey by unfrequented roads. + +Accordingly, conveyances were hired, and a start was made. Towards +evening, they began to pitch their camp in the midst of a beech wood; +all were busily engaged about the task allotted to each--the women to +prepare the evening meal, the men to attend to everything necessary for +their comfort for the night. All at once, a shot went off; immediately +another; the party flew asunder in terror. Next moment armed men were to +be seen pressing forward to the spot where the coaches, packed with +luggage, stood. + +The men all rushed at the intruders. Wilhelm fired his pistol at one who +was already on the top of the coach cutting the cords of the packages. +The scoundrel fell, but several of his friends rushed to his aid; our +hero fell, stunned by a shot-wound and by a sword-stroke that almost +penetrated to his brain. + +When he recovered his senses, it was to find himself deserted by all his +companions except two of the girls. His head was lying in Phillina's +lap, while Mignon, the child whom he had rescued from a brutal circus +master who was ill-treating her, was vainly trying to staunch his wounds +with her hair. For some time they continued in this position, no one +returning to their aid. At last, they heard a troop of horses coming up +the road; a young lady emerged on horseback, accompanied by some +cavaliers. Wilhelm fixed his eye on the soft, calm, sympathising +features of the stranger; he thought he had never seen aught nobler or +more lovely. In a few moments one of the party stepped to the side of +our hero. He held in his hand some surgeon's instruments and bandages, +with which he hastily attended to his wounds. The lady asked several +questions, and then, turning to the old gentleman, said, "Dear uncle, +may I be generous at your expense?" taking off the coat that she was +wearing as she spoke, and laying it softly above him. As he tried to +open his mouth to stammer out some words of gratitude to the beautiful +Amazon, the impression of her presence worked so strongly on his senses +that all at once it seemed to him that her head was encircled with rays, +and a glancing light seemed by degrees to spread itself all over her +form. At this moment the surgeon gave him a sharper twinge; he lost +consciousness; and on returning to himself the horsemen and coaches, the +fair one and her attendants, had vanished like a dream. + + +_II.--A Message from the Dead_ + + +Wilhelm's wounds were slow to heal, and it was long before he was able +to move about freely again. When he fully recovered he went to his old +friend, Serlo, and obtained a position in his company, both for himself, +and also for many of his companions in misfortune. + +With Serlo he remained for a considerable period, until an untoward +event led to his leaving him. Aurelia, Serlo's sister, had long +entertained an affection for a nobleman, whom she knew by the name of +Lothario; though at one time much attached to her, his affection had +cooled off, and for a long time now he had not had any communication +with her. Heartbroken at this treatment, though still devotedly attached +to him, she gradually pined away, and complete neglect of her health +finally brought her to her death-bed. Before she died, however, she +wrote a letter of farewell to him, which she entrusted to Wilhelm to +deliver as soon after her death as possible. + +Arrived at the castle where the baron lived, he found his lordship +unable to give him any attention that day, as he was engaged to fight a +duel, and was busy settling up his affairs in preparation. Wilhelm was +requested to remain until a more convenient season. On the following +morning, while the company were seated at breakfast, the baron was +brought back in a carriage, seriously wounded. + +As the surgeon came out from attending him, the band hanging from his +pouch caught Wilhelm's eye; he fancied that he knew it. He was convinced +that he beheld the very pouch of the surgeon who had dressed his wounds +in the forest, and the hope, so long deferred, of again finding his +lovely Amazon struck like a flame through his soul. + +The abbé entered from Lothario's chamber, and said to Wilhelm, "The +baron bids me ask you to remain here to share his hospitality, and, in +the present circumstances, to contribute to his solacement." + +From this hour our friend was treated in the house as if he belonged to +it. + +"We have a kindness to ask of you," said Jarno, the baron's confidential +companion, to Wilhelm one morning. "The violent, unreasonable love and +passionateness of the Lady Lydia only hinder the baron's recovery. She +must be removed by some means. His wound requires rest and calmness; you +see how she tortures him with her tempestuous anxieties, her +ungovernable terrors, her never-drying tears. Enough! Our doctor +expressly requires that she should quit us for a while; we have +persuaded her to pay a visit to a lady, an old friend of hers; it will +be your task to escort her, as you can best be spared." + +"I willingly undertake the charge," said Wilhelm, "though it is easy to +foresee the pain I shall have to suffer from the tears, the despair, of +Lydia." + +"And for this no small reward awaits you," said Jarno. "Fraulein +Theresa, with whom you will get acquainted, is a lady such as you will +rarely see. Indeed, were it not for an unfortunate passage between her +mother and the baron, she would long since have been married to his +lordship." + +When they returned from their visit, Lothario was in the way of full +recovery. He was now for the first time able to talk with Wilhelm about +the sad cause that had brought him to the castle. "You may, however, +well forgive me," he said, with a smile, "that I forsook Aurelia for +Theresa; with the one I could expect a calm and cheerful life, with the +other not a happy hour." + +"I confess," said Wilhelm, "that in coming hither I had no small anger +in my heart against you, that I proposed to censure with severity your +conduct towards Aurelia. But, at the grave in which the hapless mother +sleeps, let me ask you why you acknowledge not the child--a son in whom +any father might rejoice and whom you appear entirely to overlook. With +your tender nature, how can you altogether cast away the instinct of a +parent?" + +"Of whom do you speak?" said Lothario. "I do not understand you." + +"Of whom but your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely child to whose good +fortune there is nothing wanting but that a tender father should +acknowledge and receive him." + +"You mistake, my friend," said Lothario; "Aurelia never had a son. I +know of no child, or I would gladly acknowledge it. But did she ever +give you to believe that the boy was hers--was mine?" + +"I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her expressly on the +subject, but we took it so, and I never for a moment doubted it." + +"I can give you a clue to this perplexity," interposed Jarno. "An old +woman, whom Wilhelm must have noticed, gave Aurelia the child, telling +her that it was yours. She accepted it eagerly, hoping to alleviate her +sorrows by its presence; and, in truth, it gave her many a comfortable +hour." + +This discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm. He thought of the beautiful +child Felix with the liveliest apprehension, and expressed his wish to +remove him from the state in which he was. + +"We can soon arrange that," said Lothario. "I think you ought yourself +to take charge of him; what in us the women leave uncultivated, children +cultivate when we retain them near us." + +It was agreed to lose no time in putting this plan into execution, and +Wilhelm departed forthwith to fetch the child. + +Passing through the house, he found Aurelia's old serving-maid, whom he +had never seen at close quarters before, employed in sewing. Felix and +Mignon were sitting by her on the floor. + +"Art thou the person," he demanded earnestly, "from whom Aurelia +received this child?" + +She looked up, and turned her face to him; he saw her in full light, and +started back in terror. It was old Barbara! + +"Where is Mariana?" cried he. + +"Far from here." + +"And Felix?" + +"Is the son of that unhappy and too tender-hearted girl. Here are +Mariana's last words," she added, handing him a letter. + +"She is dead?" cried he. + +"Dead," said the old woman. + +A bitter grief took hold of Wilhelm; he could scarcely read the words +that Barbara placed before him. + +"If this should reach thee, then lament thine ill-starred friend. The +boy, whose birth I survived but a few days, is thine. I die faithful to +thee, much as appearances may be against me; with thee I lost everything +that bound me to life. This will be my only comfort, that though I +cannot call myself blameless, towards thee I am free from blame." + +Wilhelm was stupified by this news. He removed the children from +Barbara's care, and took them both back with him to Lothario's castle. +Felix he kept with him, while Mignon, who was not in the best of health, +was sent by the baron to the house of his sister, at some distance. + + +_III.--Wilhelm's Apprenticeship_ + + +One evening Jarno said to Wilhelm, "We can now consider you as one of +ourselves with such security that it were unjust not to introduce you +deeper into our mysteries. You shall see what a curious little world is +at your very hand, and how well you are known in it." He led our friend +through certain unknown chambers and galleries of the castle to a door, +strongly framed with iron. Jarno knocked; the door opened a little, so +as to admit one person. Jarno introduced our friend, but did not follow +him. + +Within was complete darkness. A voice cried "Enter"; he pressed forward +and found that only tapestry was hemming him in. Raising this, he +entered. Within, he found a man, who said, in a tone of dignity, "To +guard from error is not the instructor's duty, but to lead the erring +pupil; nay, let him quaff his error in deep, satiating draughts; he who +only tastes his error will long dwell with it; he who drains it to the +dregs will, if he be not crazy, find it out." + +A curtain closed before the figure, whom Wilhelm vaguely recollected as +having seen at some time previously; possibly on the night when he had +parted from Mariana. Then the curtain opened again; another figure +advanced, "Learn to know the men who may be trusted," he said, and again +the curtain closed. "Dispute not with us," cried a voice; "thou art +saved, thou art on the way to the goal. None of thy follies wilt thou +repent; none wilt thou wish to repeat." + +The curtain opened; the abbé came into view. "Come hither," he cried to +his marvelling friend. Wilhelm mounted the steps. On the table lay a +little roll. + +"Here is your indenture," said the abbé. "Take it to heart; it is of +weighty import." Wilhelm opened it, and read: + + "_INDENTURE_. + + "_Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity + transient. To act is easy, to think is hard, to act according + to our thought is troublesome. It is but a part of art that + can be taught; the artist needs it all. Who knows it half, + speaks much, and is always wrong; who knows it all, speaks + seldom, and is inclined to act. No one knows what he is doing + while he acts aright; but of wrong-doing we are always + conscious. The instruction which the true artist gives us + opens the mind, for where words fail him, deeds speak. The + true scholar learns from the known to unfold the unknown, and + approaches more and more to being a master_----" + +"Enough," cried the abbé; "the rest in due time. Now look round you +among these cases." With astonishment Wilhelm found, among others, +"_Lothario's Apprenticeship," "Jarno's Apprenticeship_," and his own +"_Apprenticeship_" placed there. "May I hope to look into these rolls?" + +"In this chamber nothing is now hid from you." + +Wilhelm heard a noise behind him, and saw a child's face peeping through +the tapestry at the end of the room. It was Felix. His father rushed +towards him, took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. + +"Yes, I feel it," cried he. "Thou art mine. For what a gift of Heaven +have I to thank my friends! How comest thou, my child, at this important +moment?" + +"Ask not," said the abbé. "Hail, young man! Thy apprenticeship is done; +nature has pronounced thee free." + +After sorrow, often and in vain repeated, for the loss of Mariana, +Wilhelm felt that he must find a mother for the boy; and also, that he +could not find one equal to Theresa. With this gifted lady he was now +thoroughly acquainted. Such a spouse and helpmate seemed the only one to +trust to in such circumstances. Her affection for Lothario did not make +him hesitate; she looked on herself as free; she had even spoken of +marrying, with indifference, indeed, but as a matter understood. + +Before Theresa's answer came to hand, Lothario sent for our friend. "My +sister Natalia bids me beg of you to go to her as soon as possible. Poor +Mignon seems to be getting steadily worse, and it is thought that your +presence might allay the malady." Wilhelm agreed, and proceeded on the +journey. + + +_IV.--Heart Against Reason_ + + +Behind a light screen, which threw a shadow on her, sat a young lady, +reading; she rose and came to him. It was the Amazon! Unable to restrain +himself, he fell on his knee and cried "It is she!" He seized her hand, +and kissed it with unbounded rapture. + +A day or two later, the following letter from Theresa was handed to +Wilhelm. + +"I am yours, as I am, and as you know me. I call you mine, as you are, +and as I know you. As it is no passion, but trust and inclination for +each other, that leads us together, we run less risk than thousands of +others. You will forgive me, will you not, if I still think often and +kindly of my former friend; in return, I will press Felix to my heart, +as if I were his mother. Adieu, dear friend! Theresa clasps you to her +breast with hope and joy." + +Natalia wrote a letter to her brother; she invited Wilhelm to add a word +or two. They were just about to seal it, when Jarno unexpectedly came +in. + +"I am come," he said, "to give you very curious and pleasing tidings +about Theresa; now guess." + +"We are more skilful than you think," said Natalia, smiling. "Before you +asked, we had the answer down in black and white," handing him as she +spoke the letter she had just written. Jarno read the sheet hastily. +"What shall I say?" cried he. "Surprise against surprise! I came to tell +you that Theresa is not the daughter of her reputed mother. There is no +obstacle to her marriage with Lothario: _I came to ask you to prepare +her for it_." + +"And what," said Lothario, taking Wilhelm by the hand, "what if your +alliance with my sister were the secret article on which depended my +alliance with Theresa? These amends the noble maiden has appointed for +you; she has vowed that we two pairs should appear together at the +altar. 'His reason has made choice of me,' she said; 'his heart demands +Natalia: my reason shall assist his heart.'" + +Lothario embraced his friend, and led him to Natalia, who, with Theresa, +came to meet them. "To my mind, thou resemblest Saul, the son of Kish, +who went out to seek his father's asses, and found a kingdom." + +"I know not the worth of a kingdom," said Wilhelm, "but I know that I +have attained a happiness undeserved, which I would not change for +anything in life." + + * * * * * + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + + +The Vicar of Wakefield + + + Oliver Goldsmith, the most versatile and perhaps the most + unstable of eighteenth century men of letters, was born in + Ireland on November 10, 1728. At Trinity College, Dublin, he + revealed three characteristics that clung to him throughout + his career--high spirits, conversational brilliance, and + inability to keep money in his pocket. After a spell of + "philosophic vagabondage" on the Continent, he settled in + London in 1756, earned money in various ways, and spent it + all. "The Vicar of Wakefield," perhaps the greatest of all + Goldsmith's works, was published on March 27, 1766, after Dr. + Johnson had raised £60 for him on the manuscript of it. The + liveliness and grace of Goldsmith's style were never more + plainly manifested than in this delightful story; and its + faults--it contains many coincidences and improbabilities--are + far more than atoned for by the masterly portrait of the + simple, manly, generous, and wholly lovable vicar who is the + central figure of the story. "It has," says Mitford, "the + truth of Richardson, without his minuteness, and the humour of + Fielding, without his grossness; if it yields to LeSage in the + diversified variety of his views of life, it far excels him in + the description of domestic virtues and the pleasing moral of + the tale." Goldsmith died on April 4, 1774. (See also Vol. + XVII.) + + +_I.--Family Portraits_ + + +I was ever of opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a +large family did more service than he who continued single and only +talked of population. From this motive, I chose my wife, as she did her +wedding-gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would +wear well. There was nothing that could make us angry with the world or +each other. We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues to undergo; all +our adventures were by the fireside, and all our migrations from the +blue bed to the brown. + +My children, as they were educated without softness, so they were at +once well-formed and healthy; my four sons hardy and active, my two +daughters beautiful and blooming. Olivia, the elder daughter, was open, +sprightly, and commanding; Sophia's features were not so striking at +first, but often did more certain execution, for they were soft, modest, +and alluring. + +The profits of my living I made over to the orphans and widows of the +clergy of our diocese; for, having a sufficient fortune of my own, I was +careless of temporalities, and felt a secret pleasure in doing my duty +without reward. + +My eldest son, George, just upon leaving college, fixed his affections +upon Miss Arabella Wilmot, the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman, who +was in circumstances to give her a large fortune. Mr. Wilmot was not +averse to the match, but after the day for the nuptials had been fixed, +I engaged in a dispute with him which threatened to interrupt our +intended alliance. I have always maintained that it is unlawful for a +priest of the Church of England, after the death of his first wife, to +take a second; and I showed Mr. Wilmot a tract which I had written in +defence of this principle. It was not till too late I discovered that he +was violently attached to the contrary opinion, and with good reason; +for he was at that time actually courting a fourth wife. + +While the controversy was hottest, a relation, with a face of concern, +called me out. + +"The merchant in town," he said, "in whose hands your money was lodged +has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankruptcy. Your fortune is now +almost nothing." + +It would be useless to describe the sensations of my family when I +divulged the news. Near a fortnight had passed before I attempted to +restrain their affliction; for premature consolation is but the +remembrance of sorrow. During this interval I determined to send my +eldest son to London, and I accepted a small cure of fifteen pounds a +year in a distant neighbourhood. + +The first day's journey brought us within thirty miles of our future +retreat, and we put up at an obscure inn in a village by the way. At the +inn was a gentleman who, the landlord told me, had been so liberal in +his charity that he had no money left to pay his reckoning. I could not +avoid expressing my concern at seeing a gentleman in such circumstances, +and offered the stranger my purse. "I take it with all my heart, sir," +replied he, "and am glad that my late oversight has shown me that there +are still some men like you." The stranger's conversation was so +pleasing and instructive that we were rejoiced to hear that he was going +the same way as ourselves. + +The next morning we all set forward together. Mr. Burchell and I +lightened the fatigues of the road with philosophical disputes, and he +also informed me to whom the different seats belonged that lay in our +view. + +"That, Dr. Primrose," he said to me, pointing to a very magnificent +house, "belongs to Mr. Thornhill, a young gentleman who enjoys a large +fortune, though entirely dependent upon the will of his uncle, Sir +William Thornhill." + +"What!" cried I, "is my young landlord, then, the nephew of one who is +represented as a man of consummate benevolence?" + +At this point we were alarmed by the cries of my family, and I perceived +my youngest daughter in the midst of a rapid stream, and struggling with +the torrent; she must have certainly perished had not my companion +instantly plunged in to her relief. Her gratitude may be more readily +imagined than described; she thanked her deliverer more with looks than +words. Soon afterwards Mr. Burchell took leave of us, and we pursued our +journey to the place of our retreat. + + +_II.--The Squire_ + + +At a small distance from our habitation was a seat overshaded by a hedge +of hawthorn and honeysuckle. Here, when the weather was fine, and our +labour soon finished, we usually sat together to enjoy an extensive +landscape in the calm of the evening. On an afternoon about the +beginning of autumn, when I had drawn out my family to the seat, dogs +and horsemen swept past us with great swiftness. After them a young +gentleman, of a more genteel appearance than the rest, came forward, +and, instead of pursuing the chase, stopped short, and approached us +with a careless, superior air. He let us know that his name was +Thornhill, and that he was the owner of the estate that lay around us. +As his address, though confident, was easy, we soon became more +familiar; and the whole family seemed earnest to please him. + +As soon as he was gone, my wife gave the opinion that it was a most +fortunate hit, and hoped again to see the day in which we might hold up +our heads with the best of them. + +"For my part," cried Olivia, "I don't like him, he is so extremely +impudent and familiar." I interpreted this speech by contrary, and found +that Olivia secretly admired him. + +"To confess the truth," said I, "he has not prepossessed me in his +favour. I had heard that he was particularly remarkable for +faithlessness to the fair sex." + +A few days afterwards we entertained our young landlord at dinner, and +it may be easily supposed what provisions were exhausted to make an +appearance. As he directed his looks and conversation to Olivia, it was +no longer doubted but that she was the object that induced him to be our +visitor; and my wife exulted in her daughter's victory as if it were her +own. + +On one evening Mr. Thornhill came with two young ladies, richly dressed, +whom he introduced as women of very great distinction and fashion from +town. The two ladies threw my girls quite into the shade, for they would +talk of nothing but high life and high-lived company. 'Tis true, they +once or twice mortified us sensibly by slipping out an oath; their +finery, however, threw a veil over any grossness in their conversation. + +I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon +temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded. The +distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened that pride which I +had laid asleep, but not removed. When the two ladies of quality showed +a willingness to take our girls to town with them as companions, my wife +was overjoyed at our good fortune. But Mr. Burchell, who had at first +been a welcome guest at our house, but had become less welcome since we +had been favoured with the company of persons of superior station, +dissuaded her with great ardour, and so angered her that she ended by +asking him to stay away. + +Returning home one day, I found my wife and girls all in tears, Mr. +Thornhill having been there to inform them that their journey to town +was entirely over. The two ladies, having heard reports of us from some +malicious person, were that day set out for London. We were not long in +finding who it was that had been so base as to asperse the character of +a family so harmless as ours. One of our boys found a letter-case which +we knew to belong to Mr. Burchell. Within it was a sealed note, +superscribed, "The copy of a letter to be sent to the two ladies at +Thornhill Castle." At the joint solicitation of the family, I opened it, +and read as follows: + +"Ladies,--I am informed that you have some intention of bringing two +young ladies to town, whom I have some knowledge of, under the character +of companions. As I would neither have simplicity imposed upon nor +virtue contaminated, I must offer it as my opinion that the impropriety +of such a step will be attended with dangerous consequences. Take +therefore, the admonition of a friend, and seriously reflect on the +consequences of introducing infamy and vice into retreats where peace +and innocence have hitherto resided." + +Our doubts were now at an end. It appeared to me one of the vilest +instances of unprovoked ingratitude I had ever met with. As we set +ruminating upon schemes of vengeance, Mr. Burchell himself entered and +sat down. + +"Do you know this, sir--this pocket-book?" said I. + +"Yes, sir," returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance. + +"And do you know this letter?" + +"Yes; it was I that wrote that letter." + +"And how could you so basely presume to write this letter?" + +"And how came you," replied he, with looks of unparalleled effrontery, +"so basely to presume to open this letter?" + +I could scarcely govern my passion. "Ungrateful wretch!" I cried. +"Begone, and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness!" + +So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a smile, +and left us astonished at the serenity of his assurance. + + +_III.--The Elopement_ + + +The visits of Mr. Thornhill now became more frequent and longer; but all +the schemes of Olivia and her mother to bring him to a declaration came +to nothing. And although Olivia considered his fine sentiments as +instances of the most exalted passion, it seemed to me plain that they +had more of love than matrimony in them. + +One evening as I sat by the fireside, thanking Heaven for tranquillity, +health, and competence, and thinking myself happier than the greatest +monarch upon earth, I noticed that Olivia was absent. + +"Where is my darling Olivia?" I asked. Just as I spoke, my boy Dick came +running in. + +"Oh, papa, papa, she is gone from us; she is gone from us for ever!" + +"Gone, child?" + +"Yes; she is gone off with two gentlemen in a postchaise, and one of +them kissed her. And she cried very much, but he persuaded her, and she +went into the chaise." + +"Now, then," cried I, "may Heaven's everlasting fury light upon him and +his! Thus to rob me of my child! Bring me my pistols; I'll pursue the +traitor. Old as I am, he shall find I can sting him yet--the perfidious +villain!" + +My poor wife caught me in her arms. + +"Indeed, sir," said my son Moses, "your rage is too violent." + +"I did not curse him, child, did I?" + +"Indeed, sir, you did." + +"Then may Heaven forgive me and him. But it is not--it is not a small +distress that can wring tears from these old eyes. My child--to undo my +darling! May confusion seize--Heaven forgive me! What am I about to say? +Had she but died! My son, bring hither my Bible and my staff. I will +pursue her; and though I cannot save her from shame, I may prevent the +continuance of her iniquity." + +My suspicions fell entirely upon our young landlord, whose character for +such intrigues was but too well known. I therefore directed my steps +towards Thornhill Castle. He soon appeared, with the most open, familiar +air, and seemed perfectly amazed at my daughter's elopement, protesting +upon his honour that he was quite a stranger to it. A man, however, +averred that my daughter and Mr. Burchell had been seen driving very +fast towards the Wells, about thirty miles distant. + +I walked towards the Wells with earnestness, and on entering the town I +was met by a person on horseback, whom I remembered to have seen at the +squire's, and he assured me that if I followed them to the races, which +were but thirty miles further, I might depend upon overtaking them. + +Early the next day I walked forward to the races, but saw nothing of my +daughter or of Mr. Burchell. + +The agitations of my mind, and the fatigues I had undergone, now threw +me into a fever. I retired to a little ale-house by the roadside, and +here I languished for nearly three weeks. + +The night coming on as I was twenty miles from home on my return +journey, I put up at a little public-house, and asked for the landlord's +company over a pint of wine. I could hear the landlady upstairs bitterly +reproaching a lodger who could not pay. + +"Out, I say," she cried; "pack out this moment!" + +"Oh, dear madame," replied the stranger, "pity a poor, abandoned +creature for one night and death will soon do the rest!" + +I instantly knew the voice of my poor ruined child, Olivia, and flew to +her rescue. + +"Welcome, anyway welcome, my dearest lost one, to your poor old father's +bosom!" + +"Oh, my own dear"--for minutes she could say no more--"my own dearest, +good papa! You can't forgive me--I know you cannot!" + +"Yes, my child, from my heart I do forgive thee." After we had talked +ourselves into some tranquillity, I said, "It surprises me how a person +of Mr. Burchell's seeming honour could be guilty of such deliberate +baseness." + +"My dear papa," returned my daughter, "you labour under a strange +mistake. It is Mr. Thornhill who has ruined me; who employed the two +ladies, as he called them, but who, in fact, were abandoned women of the +town, to decoy us up to London. Their artifices would certainly have +succeeded but for Mr. Burchell's letter, who directed those reproaches +at them which we all applied to ourselves." + +"You amaze me, my dear!" cried I. "But tell me, what temptation was it +that could thus obliterate your virtue?" + +"He offered me marriage," replied she. "We were indeed married secretly +by a popish priest, whose name I was sworn to conceal." + +"What!" interrupted I. "And were you indeed married?" + +"Alas!" she said, "he has been married already by the same priest to six +or eight wives more, whom, like me, he has deceived and abandoned." + +"Have patience, my child," cried I, "and I hope things will yet be +better. To-morrow I'll carry you home to your mother. Poor woman, this +has gone to her heart; but she loves you still, Olivia, and will forget +it." + + +_IV.--Fresh Calamities_ + + +It was late the next night when I approached my own home. I had left +Olivia at an inn five miles away, intending to prepare my family for her +reception. To my amazement, I saw the house bursting out into a blaze of +fire, and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud +convulsive outcry, which alarmed my son, and all my family ran out, wild +with apprehension. Our neighbours came running to our assistance; but +the flames had taken too strong a hold to be extinguished, and all the +neighbours could do was to stand spectators of the calamity. They +brought us clothes and furnished one of our outhouses with kitchen +utensils; so that by daylight we had another, though a wretched, +dwelling to retire to. + +In the midst of this affliction our poor lost one returned to us. "Ah, +madam," cried her mother, "this is but a poor place to come to after so +much finery! I can afford but little entertainment to persons who have +kept company only with persons of distinction; but I hope Heaven will +forgive you." + +The unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable to weep or to reply. + +"I entreat, woman," I said to my wife, with severity in my voice and +manner, "that my words may be now marked once for all. I have here +brought you back a poor deluded wanderer--her return to duty demands the +revival of our tenderness. The real hardships of life are now coming +fast upon us; let us not increase them by dissensions among each other. +The kindness of Heaven is promised to the penitent, and let ours be +directed by the example." + +My daughter's grief, however, seemed formed for continuing, and her +wretchedness was increased by the news that Mr. Thornhill was going to +be married to the rich Miss Wilmot, who had formerly been betrothed to +my eldest son. + +On a morning of peculiar warmth for the season, when we were +breakfasting out of doors, Mr. Thornhill drove up in his chariot, +alighted, and inquired after my health with his usual air of +familiarity. + +"Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only serves to aggravate your +baseness." + +"My dear sir," returned he, "I cannot understand what this means!" + +"Go!" cried I. "Thou art a poor, pitiful wretch, and every way a liar; +but your meanness secures you from my anger!" + +"I find," he said, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in a harsher +manner than I intended. My steward talks of driving for the rent, and it +is certain he knows his duty. Yet, still, I could wish to serve you, and +even to have you and your daughter present at my marriage." + +"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "as to your marriage with any but my +daughter, that I never will consent to! And though your friendship could +raise me to a throne, or your resentment sink me to the grave, yet would +I despise both." + +"Depend upon it," returned he, "you shall feel the effects of this +insolence," and departed abruptly. + +On the very next morning his steward came to demand my annual rent, +which, by reason of the accidents already related, I was unable to pay. +On the following day two officers of justice took me to the county gaol. + +There is no situation, however wretched it seems, but has some sort of +comfort attending it; and I found mine in the help and kindness of a +fellow-prisoner, Mr. Jenkinson by name, who was awaiting trial for +several acts of cheating and roguery. I myself, indeed, had been one of +his victims. + +The fortune of my family, who were lodged in the town, was wholly and +distressingly adverse. Olivia was ill, and longed for me to make my +submission to Mr. Thornhill by approving his marriage with Miss Wilmot. +When I had been confined a fortnight, Mr. Jenkinson brought me dreadful +news--Olivia was dead! And while yet my grief was fresh upon me my wife +came weeping to tell me that Sophia had been seized by ruffians and +carried off. + +The sum of my miseries, thought, I, is now made up; nor is it in the +power of anything on earth to give me another pang. Yet another awaited +me. My eldest son, George, to whom I had written, went to Thornhill +Castle to punish our betrayer; he was attacked by the coward's servants, +injured one of them, and was brought into the very prison where I was +confined. + +The enemy of my family had now triumphed completely. My only hope was in +a letter I had written to Sir William Thornhill, telling him of the +misdeeds of his nephew. I was by this time myself extremely ill. I +sought to break from my heart all ties that bound it to earth, and to +fit myself for eternity. + + +_V.--The Rescue_ + + +On parting from my unhappy son, who was removed to a stronger cell, I +laid me down in bed, when Mr. Jenkinson, entering, informed me that +there was news of my daughter. He had scarcely delivered his message +when my dearest girl entered with Mr. Burchell. + +"Here, papa," she cried, "here is the brave man to whom I owe my +delivery; to this gentleman's intrepidity--" + +A kiss from Mr. Burchell interrupted what she was going to add. + +"Ah, Mr. Burchell," said I, "you were ever our friend. We have long +discovered our errors with regard to you, and repented our ingratitude. +And now, as you have delivered my girl, if you think her a recompense, +she is yours." + +"But I suppose, sir," he replied, "you are apprised of my incapacity to +support her as she deserves?" + +"I know no man," I returned, "so worthy to deserve her as you." + +Without the least reply to my offer, he ordered from the next inn the +best dinner that could be provided. While we were at dinner, the gaoler +brought a message from Mr. Thornhill, desiring permission to appear +before his uncle in order to vindicate his innocence and honour. The +poor, harmless Mr. Burchell, then, was in reality the celebrated Sir +William Thornhill! + +Mr. Thornhill entered with a smile, and was going to embrace his uncle. + +"No fawning, sir, at present," cried the baronet. "The only way to my +heart is by the road of honour; but here I only see complicated +instances of falsehood, cowardice, and oppression." + +At this moment Jenkinson and the gaoler's two servants entered, hauling +in a tall man very genteelly dressed. As soon as Mr. Thornhill perceived +the prisoner and Mr. Jenkinson, he seemed to shrink backward with +terror, for this was the man whom he had put upon the carrying off of +Sophia. + +"Heavens," cried Sir William, "what a viper have I been fostering in my +bosom!" + +"As Mr. Thornhill and I have been old fellow-sporters," said Jenkinson, +"I have a friendship for him; and I hope he will show a proper return of +friendship to his own honest Jenkinson, who brings him a wife." + +So saying, he went off and left us. + +"I am surprised," said the baronet, "what he can intend by this?" + +"When we reflect," I replied, "on the various schemes--Amazement! Do I +see my lost daughter? It is--it is my Olivia!" + +"As for you, squire," said Jenkinson, "this young lady is your lawful +wedded wife. Here is the licence to prove it. He commissioned me, +gentlemen," he continued, "to procure him a false licence and a false +priest in order to deceive this young lady. What did I do, but went and +got a true licence and a true priest. To my shame, I confess it, my only +design was to keep the licence and let the squire know that I could +prove it upon him whenever I wanted money." + +"How could you," I cried, "add to my miseries by the story of her +death?" + +"That," replied Jenkinson, "is easily answered. I thought the only +probable means of freeing you from prison was by submitting to the +squire, and consenting to his marriage with the other young lady. But +this you had vowed never to grant while your daughter was living, so I +had to join with your wife in persuading you that she was dead." + +Mr. Thornhill's assurance had now entirely forsaken him. He fell on his +knees before his uncle, and implored compassion. + +"Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude," said the baronet, "deserve no +compassion; but a bare competence shall be supplied thee, and thy wife +shall possess a third part of that fortune which once was thine." Then, +turning to Sophia, he caught her to his breast with ardour. "I have +sought," he cried, "for a woman who, a stranger to my fortune, could +think I had merit as a man. How great must be my rapture to have made a +conquest over such sense and such heavenly beauty!" + +On the next day Sophia was wedded to Sir William Thornhill; and my son +George, now freed from justice, as the person supposed to be wounded by +him was detected to be an impostor, led Miss Wilmot to the altar. As +soon as I had awakened that morning, I had heard that my merchant had +been arrested at Antwerp, and that my fortune had been restored to me. + +It may not be improper to observe, with respect to Mr. Thornhill, that +he now resides as companion at a relation's house. My eldest daughter +has told me that when he reforms she may be brought to relent. + +I had now nothing on this side of the grave to wish for. All my cares +were over. It only remained that my gratitude in good fortune should +exceed my submission in adversity. + + * * * * * + + + + +EDMOND AND JULES DE GONCOURT + + +Renée Mauperin + + + Edmond de Goncourt, born at Nancy on May 26, 1822, and his + brother Jules, born in Paris on December 17, 1830, were + primarily artists, who, while wandering over France, knapsack + on back, discovered that their note-books also made them + writers. In 1850 they entered upon a literary partnership + which only finished with the death of the younger brother on + June 20, 1870. Their earliest literary endeavours consisted of + a series of historical studies dealing with the France of the + second half of the eighteenth century. It was not until 1860, + with the publication of their first novel, "Les Hommes de + Lettres," that they discovered their true bent lay in fiction. + "Renée Mauperin," which is, perhaps, the best known of their + books, was published in 1864. As a psychological analysis of + contemporaneous youth, it is probably without its equal in + French fiction. "The plot of the story," wrote Edmond de + Goncourt, "is secondary. The authors have rather preferred to + paint the modern young woman as she is: the product of the + artistic and masculine system of education in force during the + last thirty years. We have also attempted to portray the + modern young college man influenced by the republican ideas of + the time since Louis Philippe." Edmond de Goncourt died on + July 16, 1896. + + +_I.--A Wayward Girl_ + + +"Yes, I love riding and hunting. I never miss a meet. The wind blowing +through one's hair, the hounds, the horns, the trees flying past you--it +is intoxicating! In those moments I feel brave. Life has few other +pleasures for a well-brought-up girl like me. Everything is shocking! I +dance, yes ... but do you think I am allowed to talk to my partner? Yes, +no, no, yes--that's all! That's proper. And I am allowed to read if the +books and articles are proper. I paint in oils, and that shocks my +family; a young lady must not go beyond copying roses in water-colours. +Isn't the current strong here?" + +Renée Mauperin and young Reverchon, her parent's guest, were swimming in +the Seine. + +"How beautiful!" exclaimed the girl, as she noticed the evening sun +gilding the river and the banks where country and suburb merged into +each other. + +"You are an artist by nature, mademoiselle." + +"Ouf!" she exclaimed with a comic intonation. + +A boat approached. + +"Well, Renée, how is the water?" asked one of the rowers. + +"Splendid, thanks, Denoisel," she replied, as she mounted the steps +lowered for her. + +"I was almost getting nervous for you. And Reverchon? Ah, there he is!" + + * * * * * + +Renée was the youngest daughter of a distinguished Napoleonic officer, +who, at the time of the revolution of 1830, was elected deputy, and +fought with all his ardour for the Liberal cause, but who subsequently, +at the urging of his wife, a tyrannical conventional member of the +_bourgeois_, retired from the world of politics and established a sugar +refinery, so as to be able to provide suitably for his three children. + +The first two, a boy born in 1826 and a daughter in 1827, were a +disappointment to the old soldier. They were too reasonable, too +"grown-up" before they were children, but in Renée, who was born after +an interval of eight years, M. Mauperin found ample consolation. His +heart revelled in her pranks and merry laughter, and she grew up the pet +of her father, whose affection she returned with all her heart. She was +now twenty; her brother Henri, serious, studious, plodding and +determined to make a career, was a lawyer, and had made some reputation +by his articles on statistical subjects; and Henriette, her elder +sister, had found a husband in M. Davarande, whose wealth and position +allowed her to devote herself to the life of empty amusement, divided +mainly between long rounds of calls, the opera, and the Bois, which +filled the days of the moneyed Paris _bourgeoisie_ of that time. + +Madame Mauperin, delighted with Henriette's match, was anxious to find +an equally suitable partner for Renée; but the high-spirited girl had a +will of her own, and seemed to take almost a pleasure in crossing her +mother's transparent matrimonial schemes. Quite a number of eligible +young men had been introduced to the house at La Briche--and had left it +without having furthered their suit. Reverchon had now been invited with +similar intentions, and Renée was no more amenable than before. While +her mother filled the young man's ears with praise of her +accomplishments, the wayward girl, with her charming ingenuous talk, did +her best to demonstrate her lack of those negative conventional virtues +that were expected from a well-educated French girl in those days. She +made Madame Mauperin turn first crimson, then pale, when she finally +proceeded to cut Denoisel's hair in the drawing-room after dinner. + +Denoisel was the son of Mauperin's bosom friend, who had fought by his +side in many battles, and who on his death-bed had made him his son's +guardian. Mauperin became more than a guardian to the boy--he became his +father. When Henri and Henriette were born, it seemed to Denoisel that +he had been given a brother and sister; but he adored the baby Renée, +and he alone succeeded in making her listen and obey. + +"Sometimes," said Henri to Denoisel as they travelled back to Paris, "my +sister's follies are harmless enough; but to-night ... before that +fellow ... I am sure the marriage will fall through. And such an +excellent match!" + +"You think so? I began to fear for her. And that's why I lent myself to +her prank. He is too hopelessly commonplace--a tailor's dummy! He would +never have understood her. Your sister ought to marry a man of +intelligence and character." + +And Madame Mauperin, as she prepared for bed, lectured her husband upon +acceding to all his favourite's whims. + +"Another marriage missed! Henri spoke to me this evening. He is sure +Reverchon will not have her." + +"Well, what of it?" + +"Why, he is the tenth! Renée will get an awful reputation. She will see +when she is thirty ... and you too." Then, after a pause, "And now about +your son. He is twenty-nine now. He, at any rate, has no objection to +marriage. Have you ever thought of finding him a suitable wife?" + +She continued to talk and to grumble until Mauperin fell asleep. + +"Henri is reasonable enough, but he is a young man, and you know the +danger. It's driving me mad! What do you think of trying Madame +Rosiéres?" + +There was no reply. Madame Mauperin resigned herself to silence, and +turned to find the sleep which only came with morning. + + +_II.--Plots and Plays_ + + +Next morning Madame Mauperin proceeded to Paris, and drove to her son's +apartments in the Rue Taitbout. She found him at work. After some +beating about the bush she approached the object of her visit. + +"I fear," she began, "that you must have some reason for ..." + +"For not marrying, isn't it? My dear mother, you need not worry. I know +that wealth is needed for a successful career, and that the best and +most honourable way to obtain it is a good marriage. And I am determined +to make a career. I shall get married soon enough... and better, +perhaps, than you think." + +At La Briche, meanwhile, M. Mauperin vainly tried to be stern with his +pet. + +"I have done it purposely," she said. + +"And why?" + +"Because I love you better than that young gentleman who was in no way +sympathetic to me. You are ungrateful." + +"But listen, my dear child! Fathers are egotists, and would prefer to +keep their children. But I am old, and I should not like to part without +seeing you married, a mother, with affections that will replace mine." + +"Oh, this is wicked! Never, never!" she exclaimed; "let me cry alone for +a minute." And she left the room hurriedly. + +When she returned after a while, she found Denoisel in the room. + +"You have been out? And where have you been?" + +"Well, if you want to know, I have been to church to pray that I may die +before father. I knelt before a statue of the Virgin. And, you may +laugh, but it seemed to me that she nodded at my request. And it made me +quite happy." + +The conversation drifted to gayer topics, and the two soon fell into +their wonted tone of banter. "Tell me, Renée," said Denoisel, "have you +never felt, I won't say love, but some sentiment for anybody?" + +"Never. That sort of thing only occurs when the heart is empty. But when +it is defended by the affection one feels for a father--as a child I +felt perhaps the beginning of that emotion of which one reads in novels. +And do you know for whom?" + +"No." + +"For you. Oh, only for a moment. I soon loved you differently for having +corrected the spoilt child of its faults, for having directed my +attention to noble and beautiful things. And I resolved to repay you by +true friendship." + +M. Mauperin entered the room, and interrupted the confidences. + +A few days later, Renée having set her mind upon playing in private +theatricals, a discussion arose about the filling of the second lady's +part in the play that had been chosen. One by one the names suggested +were dismissed, until Henri said, "Why not ask Mlle. Bourjot? They are +just staying at Sannois." + +"Noémi?" replied Renée. "I'd love it. But she, was so cold towards me +last winter. I don't know why." + +"She will have £12,000 a year," interrupted Denoisel, "and her mother +knows that you have a brother. And they are not a little proud of their +money." + +Twelve thousand a year! Madame Mauperin thought of her son's future, and +supported his suggestion. It was decided that they would call on the +Bourjots on Saturday. + +To Sannois they went as arranged on the Saturday. They were received +with effusion, and had to put up for an hour or so with the unbearable +arrogance of their hosts' display of wealth. Renée's warm advances to +the playmate of her childhood were received by Noémi with coolness, not +to say reluctance, but the request that Noémi should take part in the +theatricals met with her mother's approval, the shy girl's objections-- +nervousness, lack of talent, and so forth--being overruled by Madame +Bourjot. Before the two families parted it was arranged that Noémi +should be taken by her governess to attend the rehearsals at the +Mauperins' house. + +Renée's whole-hearted friendliness and sparkling humour soon overcame +Noémi's reserve, and under Denoisel's direction the amateur actors made +rapid progress. Madame Bourjot herself came to one of the rehearsals, +and, after the first compliments, expressed her surprise that Henri, the +principal actor, was absent. "Oh, he has a wonderful memory," said his +proud mother; "two rehearsals will set him right." + +At last the great day arrived. A stage had been arranged in the large +drawing-room, which was filled to its utmost capacity, the ladies being +seated in the long rows of chairs, the men standing behind and +overflowing through open doors into the adjoining rooms. The play chosen +was "The Caprice." Henri, who revealed rare talent, took the part of the +husband; Noémi of the neglected wife. The curtain fell upon enthusiastic +applause, and Madame Bourjot, who had feared that her daughter would be +a fiasco, was delighted with her success. Amid the hum of voices she +heard the lady sitting next to her say to her neighbour, "His sister, I +know ... but for the part he is not sufficiently in love with her ... +and too much with his wife. Did you notice?" she continued, in a +whisper. + +In the second piece Henri appeared as Pierrot, Renée as the forsaken +wife, and Noémi as the beloved. Henri played with real passion. From +time to time his eyes seemed to search for Madame Bourjot's. Her +neighbour felt her leaning against her shoulder. The curtain fell. +Madame Bourjot swayed, and fell back in a faint. + +She was carried to the garden. + +"Leave me now," she said, "I am all right now; it was the heat. I only +want a little air ... Let M. Henri stay with me." + +They were left alone. + +"You love her?" said Madame Bourjot, clutching Henri's arm. "I know +all.... Have you nothing to say?" + +"Nothing. I have struggled for a year. I will not excuse myself. I owe +you the truth. I love your daughter, it is true." + +Finally, Madame Bourjot rose and walked towards the house. Henri +followed. + +"I count upon never seeing you again, sir," she said, without looking +round. With a mighty effort she regained her composure, and walked back +to the house on Henri's arm. + + +_III.--Stint to Death by his Sister_ + + +It was Madame Bourjot herself who insisted upon seeing Henri again, and, +since he did not answer her letter, she went to his apartments. The +interview was painful, but she gave her consent to Henri's marriage with +Noémi, and undertook to overcome M. Bourjot's possible objections, on +condition that Henri should humour her husband's vanity by adopting a +title--an easy matter enough. The Mauperins had a farm called +Villacourt. Mauperin de Villacourt would do very well. Henri promised to +see what he could do. + +Madame Bourjot and her daughter called on the Mauperins next day. The +two girls were asked to leave their mothers to their talk, and to take a +walk in the garden. + +"A secret!" said Renée, as soon as they were alone. "Can you guess it? I +can--my brother. ... But you are crying. What is it, my darling Noémi?" + +"Oh, you don't know!" her friend sobbed. "I cannot--if you only +knew----Save me! If I could only die!" + +"Die! But why?" + +"Because your brother is----" She stopped in horror at what she was +about to say, then whispered the rest of her sentence into her ear, and +hid her face on her friend's bosom. + +"You lie!" Renée pushed her back. + +"I?" Renée did not reply, but looked sadly and gently into Noémi's eyes. + +Renée doubted no longer. She was silent for a moment; she felt almost +the duties of a mother towards this child. + +In the evening Henri was surprised to find his sister waiting in his +room. She approached the subject of his impending marriage, and implored +him, by his love for her, not to give up his name, and to break off the +match. + +"Are you mad? Enough of this!" + +Renée fixed her eyes upon her brother. + +"Noémi has told me--everything!" + +Her cheeks flushed, Henri turned deathly pale. + +"My dear," he said, with a shaky voice, "you interfere in things which +do not concern you. A young girl--" Then seizing her hand, he pointed +towards the door, and said, "Go!" + +Renée was ill for a week, and Henri, knowing the cause, did his best to +alleviate her suffering. Still, a coldness remained between them. He +understood that she had forgiven the brother, but not the man. One day +she accompanied Henri to town and went with him to the Record Office, +where he had to make some inquiries about the legality of adopting his +own name. While he was questioning the keeper, she overheard two clerks +discuss her brother and his claim. "He thinks the Villacourt family is +extinct. But he is misinformed, although they have gone down in the +world. In fact, I know the heir to the title--a M. Boisjorand with whom +I once had a fight when we were boys. They lived in the forest of the +Croix-du-Soldat, near St. Mihiel, at La Motte-Noire." Renée fixed these +names in her mind. + +"I have got all I want," said Henri, gaily coming towards her. And they +went out together. + +The Bourjots were giving a great ball to celebrate the public +announcement of the engagement of their daughter to M. Mauperin de +Villacourt. + +"You are enjoying yourself," said Renée to Noémi. + +"I have never danced so much, it is true." And Noémi took her arm and +drew her into a small salon. "No, never." She kissed her. "Oh, what it +is to be happy! She loves him no longer. I am sure of it--I can see it; +I feel it." + +"And you love him now?" + +Noémi closed her mouth by pressing her lips upon Renée's. A young man +came to claim Noémi for the dance, and Denoisel requested the same +favour from Renée. + +Denoisel was with Henri Mauperin. They were smoking and talking +peacefully, when the door was thrust open, and a man forced his way in, +pushing aside the valet who wanted to prevent him from entering. + +"M. Mauperin de Villacourt?" he asked. + +"That is my name," said Henri, rising. + +"Good. My name is Boisjorand de Villacourt," retorted the stranger, +striking him so violently on the cheek that his face was immediately +covered with blood. Henri conquered his first impulse to throw himself +upon the intruder, and said calmly, "You find that there is one +Villacourt too many--so do I. Leave your card with my servant. I shall +send to you to-morrow." + +It was from a marked number of the "Moniteur," which the impoverished +heir of the glorious name of De Villacourt found on his return from a +two years' sojourn in Africa, that M. Boisjorand had learned that Henri +had taken from him this name, which was all that had come down to him +from his famous ancestors. He immediately proceeded to Paris and sought +legal advice, but found that his poverty rendered legal action +impossible. After his interview with the solicitor, he went straight to +Henri's apartment to obtain the only satisfaction that was in his power. + +Denoisel and another friend of Henri's arranged with Boisjorand's +seconds next morning the details of the meeting. Henri, who was an +excellent shot, had insisted on pistols at thirty-five paces, each +combatant to have the right to advance ten steps. The duel was to take +place at four o'clock the same afternoon near the ponds of Ville +d'Avray. + +Neither of the two adversaries showed a trace of nervousness. The signal +was given, M. De Villacourt advanced five steps, Henri remaining +stationary. At the sixth step Henri fired, and his opponent fell. Henri +hurried towards him. + +"Back to your place," shouted the wounded man. On his hands and knees he +crawled forward to the limit of his advance leaving a trail of blood in +the snow. Then he took careful aim--and Henri fell with arms extended +and his face towards the ground. + + +_IV.--Broken Wanderers_ + + +To Denoisel fell the painful duty of informing Mauperin of his son's +death. The old man's grief was heartbreaking. When Denoisel was admitted +to Renée, he found her sitting on a footstool, sobbing, with her +handkerchief pressed to her mouth. + +"Renée," he said, taking her hands, "he has been killed--that man should +never have known. He did not read, he saw nobody, he lived like a +wolf--he was not a subscriber to the 'Moniteur.' Some enemy must have +sent him that paper." + +Renée had risen; she moved her lips; she wanted to scream "It was I!" +Then, suddenly pressing her hand against her heart, she fell senseless +on the floor. + + * * * * * + +Renée did not seem to recover from her illness. Denoisel saw her daily, +but a certain coldness had set in between them--he thought that Renée +held him responsible for not having prevented the duel, while Renée +vaguely feared that Denoisel had guessed her secret. He started upon a +long journey. + +In those days of illness and anxiety the hearts of father and daughter +seemed to come together more closely even than before. The heartbroken +old man saw his beloved child wasting away. He called in the best +specialist from Paris, who did not exactly give up all hope, but did not +conceal that Renée's life was in danger. The poor girl, who could not +bear to witness her father's misery, put on a gay air, assuring him +again and again that she was recovering. Indeed, when, at her urging, +the family removed to the country house where she had spent her +childhood, there was a real and marked improvement, and for a while the +roses seemed to return to her pale cheeks. + +But she soon fell back into her listless state. Thus she lingered on for +several months, always cheering her father and speaking of her happy +future, always fading away until she became a mere shadow of her former +bright and healthy self. Only to Denoisel, when after a long absence he +returned from the Pyrenees, she opened her heart. To him she confessed +that she knew her days were counted. + +Those who travel far afield have perhaps met in foreign towns or among +the ruins of dead places--now in Russia, now in Egypt--two aged people, +a man and a woman, who seem to march along without looking and without +seeing. They are the Mauperins--father and mother. + +They have sold everything and have gone. Thus they wander from land to +land, from hotel to hotel. They wander, trying to lose their grief in +the fatigue of the road, dragging their weary life to all the corners of +the globe. + + * * * * * + + + + +JAMES GRANT + + +Bothwell + + + The author of "Bothwell," and many other romantic tales, was a + Scotsman by birth, parentage, and perfervid sentiment. He was + born at Edinburgh on August 1, 1822. His father was a + distinguished Highland officer; by his mother he was related + to his illustrious literary exemplar, Sir Walter Scott. He was + only twenty-three years of age when "The Romance of War" made + him one of the most famous authors of his day. Other tales + quickly followed, including, in 1853, "Bothwell, or The Days + of Mary Queen of Scots," and it seemed as if readers could + not have too much of the lively adventure and vigorous + historical portraiture to which Grant unfailingly treated + them. Altogether he wrote more than fifty novels, many of them + involving considerable research. Grant outlived his + popularity; the public sought new writers, and when he died, + on May 5, 1887, he was penniless. For fertility of incident, + rapid change of scene, and skilful intermingling of historical + with imaginary people and events, "Bothwell" is not surpassed + by any of the romances that came from its author's fertile + pen. + + +_I.--Anna of Bergen_ + + +Erick Rosenkrantz, Governor of Aggerhuis, in Norway, and castellan of +Bergen, stood in the hall of his castle to welcome noble guests. It was +a bleak and stormy day in September of 1565. Ill, indeed, would it have +fared with the newcomers had not Konrad of the Salzberg, the young +captain of the crossbowmen of Bergen, ventured forth on the raging sea +at the peril of his life, and piloted their vessel into safety. + +The first of these was a tall and handsome man, about thirty years old, +with a peculiar, dare-devil expression in his deep, dark eye, richly +attired, and wearing a long sword and Scottish dagger. His companion, +who deferentially remained a few paces behind, was a man of gigantic +stature, swarthy and dark in complexion, with fierce and restless eyes. + +"Sir Erick," began the chamberlain, "allow me to introduce Sir James +Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, a noble peer, ambassador from Mary Queen of +Scots to his Danish majesty." + +"We thank you for your gracious hospitality, fair sir," said Bothwell, +with a profound courtesy; then, turning to Konrad, "And now, brave +youth, by whose valour we have been saved, let me thank _you_." + +He warmly shook Konrad's hand, while the youth tried to catch the eye of +Anna, the governor's fair-haired and lovely niece. But Anna was too +intently regarding the strangers. + +Suddenly Bothwell perceived her; his colour heightened, his eyes +sparkled. + +"Anna--Lady Anna," he exclaimed, "art _thou_ here? When we parted at the +palace of King Frederick, I feared it was to meet no more." + +"Thou seest, my lord," she replied gaily, "that fate never meant to +separate us altogether." + +It was Bothwell who sat by Anna's side at the banquet, not Konrad, her +lover from childhood. Konrad was displaced and slighted; he left the +hall with a heart full of jealous and bitter thoughts. + +"Dost thou not see the hand of fate in this meeting with Anna?" said +Bothwell, when retiring, to his gigantic companion, Black Hob of +Ormiston, the most merciless and ferocious of border barons. + +"Nay," said Hob; "I perceive only the finger of mischief!" + +"I own to thee," replied the earl, "that all my old passion is revived +in full force. My whole heart and soul are hers," he went on +passionately. + +"Remember your solemn plight to the Lady Jane Gordon. If that be broken, +our doleful case will be worse than ever." For Bothwell was no +ambassador, but an exile; and his real mission to King Frederick was in +pursuit of a design to hand over the northern Scottish isles to Denmark, +and become viceroy of them. + +"Hob, be not insolent," retorted Bothwell. "I love her a thousand times +more than Huntly's sickly sister." + +It was always thus with this reckless noble--the passion of the moment +was ever too strong for past pledges and future policy. While waiting at +Bergen for the ship to be repaired, he wooed Anna with all the skill of +an accomplished man of pleasure. + +Anna's heart was ready to be won, and it was not long ere Bothwell, +having gained her love, asked Governor Rosenkrantz for her hand. To his +mortification, he was refused. Anna, said the governor, had long been +pledged to Konrad. + +But Konrad, meanwhile, was in despair. Anna no longer smiled upon him; +he was lightly cast aside to make way for a more favoured lover. One +evening he was missing. A day and a night passed, and Konrad was nowhere +to be seen. Search for him was useless--he had disappeared. + +Two letters were brought to Bothwell by a king's messenger. One was from +King Frederick, commanding him to desist from his mock embassy, and +instantly leave the Danish seas; the other, from the Earl of Huntly, +told him that his enemies in Scotland were banished, and his forfeiture +reversed. + +Bothwell's thoughts instantly turned to Anna. He knew that she would not +accompany him unless he married her, and policy now more than ever +required that he should keep his troth to the sister of his friend, the +Earl of Huntly. Then there occurred to him the sinister thought of a +mock marriage. + +His actions were quick, and his persuasions, to the love-sick Anna, +irresistible. That evening the two were wedded by a crazy hermit who +dwelt among the rocks of the fjord, and Anna, without a word of farewell +to her kin, left her native land, it might be for ever. + +A stormy voyage brought the ship to Westeray, in Shetland. Bothwell +escorted Anna to the castle of Noltland; and as she landed at the pier, +a young man sprang forward and helped her across the plank. She felt +agitated, she knew not why; she looked at the man's face, but it was +concealed. It was Konrad. He had fallen over a cliff, had been carried +out to sea on a plank, had been picked up by a ship which had carried +him to Shetland, and had taken service with the castellan of Noltland. +The unexpected sight of Anna brought back his emotions to their +starting-point, and recalled the poignancy of the hour in which he had +realised that he had lost her. + + +_II.--Bothwell Castle_ + + +"I have resolved!" exclaimed the earl, on the morning after their +arrival at Noltland. "I would be worse than mad to forego the prospect +of power by marring my union with the sister of Huntly." + +"Cock and pie! now thou speakest like a man of mettle!" growled Hob. + +"Anna is not my first love," mused the earl. "Have I not felt how feeble +have been my sentiments for Anna, for Jane of Huntly, for all who have +succeeded her whom I met in France long ago?" + +"Then thou wilt sail----" + +"Yes, like Æneas, leaving my Dido behind me." + +With a pretence of the love he felt no longer, Bothwell bade Anna +farewell, and left her to doubts which, as the months went on and his +promise to return was not fulfilled, gradually rose to despair. + +During the decline of a spring evening, as Anna wandered dejectedly on +the battlements, Konrad stood before her for the first time since her +arrival at Noltland. + +"Konrad," she faltered, "thou here!" + +"Anna--dear Anna!" exclaimed the unhappy young man. "I have tidings to +tell thee. The false lord of Bothwell hath been espoused to the sister +of Huntly!" + +"And I--" gasped Anna. + +"Thou art a captive for life in this island castle!" + +Anna would have fallen backwards had Konrad not sprung to her +assistance. + +"Listen," he said, in a low voice. "If thou wouldst escape, an hour will +set thee free." + +"Yes, land me once in Scotland, and I will make my way to Bothwell." + +That night Anna was on a Norwegian vessel bound for Glasgow, and Konrad +was with her. She could not, he knew, be his bride, but he could at +least protect and cherish her, and strive to redress the wrongs she had +suffered. + +A storm was gathering above the lovely valley of the Clyde one June +evening as two strangers--a man and a woman--plodded wearily towards +Bothwell Castle. The woman became wholly exhausted; the man laid her +gently down in shelter among the ruins of Blantyre Priory, and went on +his errand alone. The storm had now burst, and the river was rising +rapidly; but Konrad--for it was he--plunged into the raging waters, and +strove to swim across. The current was too strong for him; he clung to +an ash tree that projected over the stream, and was nearly exhausted +when a man on the bank flung down his mantle and poniard, plunged in, +and dragged him to the shore. + +Konrad, almost senseless, was carried within the castle. When he had +revived and was dressed in dry garments, he was brought before his +rescuer--it was Bothwell himself. + +"I thank thee," said Konrad proudly, "for saving my life." + +"Thou didst save mine. We are now equal," replied the earl. + +"'Tis well! I would not be _thy_ debtor for all the silver in the mines +of Bergen! Lord of Bothwell, I tell thee in thine own hall that thou art +a dishonoured villain!" + +"Thou art stark mad!" cried the earl. Then he went on, "Konrad, I have +wronged thee deeply. In my youth I loved one who neglected me as cruelly +as thou hast been neglected, and since then a mischievous spirit of +vengeance, as it were, has led me to make women my playthings, to be won +and thrown aside. I love thy spirit, Konrad. If I could be thy friend----" + +"Never!" cried Konrad. "I come not for friendship, but for justice to +Anna! Hast thou not wedded another after thine espousal of her?" + +"Dost thou deem the mock blessing of yon mad hermit a spousal rite?" +exclaimed the earl, laughing. + +Konrad repressed his passion. + +"I go to push my fortune with your turbulent border chiefs; and if, in +the strife that will soon convulse this land, thou meetest Konrad of +Salzberg, look well to thyself!" + +"Go thy way, and God be with thee!" replied the earl. "Thou art the +first who hath bent a dark brow on a lord of Bothwell under his own +roof-tree." + +Konrad returned to Anna, and in the ruined priory told her how Bothwell +was false to her. Anna's grief was dreadful to behold. + +"Anna," said Konrad, after a pause, "Scotland hath a queen whose +goodness of heart is revered in every land save her own." + +"True; and at her feet will I pour forth my sorrow and my tears +together." + +So the two traversed the thickets around the priory, and reached the +broad highway, which was to lead them at length to Edinburgh. + + +_III.--Mary Queen of Scots_ + + +But it was long ere Anna looked upon the face of the queen. At the Red +Lion Inn in Edinburgh her beauty struck the eye of the Earl of Morton, +the factious, proud, and ferocious associate of Moray in all the dark +intrigues of that craftiest of Scottish statesmen. Morton promised that +Anna should be entrusted to a lady of fair repute, and soon presented to +the queen. Konrad trusted him, little knowing that the repute of Dame +Alison Craig, Anna's new guardian, was anything but fair, and set forth +for the Border. + +It was to Sir John Elliot of Park that he offered the service of his +sword, for it was against this turbulent borderer, who had just raided +Northumberland, and threatened the peace of the two kingdoms, that +Bothwell was advancing with the army of Queen Mary. Now garrisoning some +solitary peel-tower, now hiding in some unfathomed cavern, now issuing +with uplifted lance from the haggs of some deep moss, Konrad engaged +with ardour in every desperate foray, and his daring made him the idol +of the wild spirits around him. In every deed of arms one thought was in +his mind--to come within a lance-length of Bothwell. + +Long and fierce was the struggle, but it ended as a fight so unequal was +bound to end. John of Park was slain, refusing with his dying breath to +surrender, and Konrad was carried, a half-senseless captive to +Bothwell's castle of Hermitage. Even then the earl spared his life. He +lay in a hideous den, in pitch darkness and dead silence broken only by +the splash of drops of fetid water that fell from the slimy arch of the +vault. + +No token reached him of what was happening above; and an event happened +there that had vast influence on Bothwell's future. Across the hills to +Hermitage rode the Queen of Scots herself. The sight of her stirred in +Bothwell's heart an emotion he had never wholly conquered, for she, Mary +herself, was his first love of the bygone days in France. He had begun +to realise that he loved her still; he knew the coldness of her +relations with the dissolute and unfaithful Darnley, her husband; now +she had come to Hermitage. + +"Jesu Maria!" cried the queen, as Bothwell, with beating heart, paused +in the conversation. "Have you lost your tongue?" + +"Nay, madame--my heart." + +"That is very serious; but search for another." + +"I want no other," replied the earl, in a trembling voice, "but +_thine_!" + +"Lord Bothwell," she said, with a hauteur that froze her admirer, "thou +art in a dream." + +"Pardon me, I pray you--" + +"I do pardon thee," replied the queen, with a calm smile; but added, +significantly, "I think 'tis time I was riding from Hermitage." + +So ended the famous visit to Hermitage, which was interpreted throughout +Scotland as a token of Mary's love for her favourite earl. + +Konrad, a month afterwards, was sent to Edinburgh and confined in the +old tower of Holyrood, awaiting trial as a Border outlaw. Bothwell +himself soon followed, and celebrated his return by a wild revel in +company with Hob of Ormiston and other choice spirits. + +As the revellers wandered through the narrow streets at midnight, +seeking a quarrel, they passed the house of Dame Alison Craig. + +"My page tells me," said Bothwell, "there is a famous foreign beauty +concealed there. Ho! within!" + +A stoup of water, poured on them from an upper window, was the answer. +They broke open the door, and forced the shrieking dame to lead them to +the apartment where the foreign beauty was hidden. + +"Death and confusion!" muttered the earl when he saw who was within. + +"Cock and pie!" said Ormiston. "We have started the wrong game." + +Hastily they thrust back their companions. But Anna had recognised him. +When Morton had made advances towards her, she had repulsed him +scornfully, telling him she was the Countess of Bothwell. Morton had +seized on this opportunity of injuring a man he hated, and resolved to +bring Anna before the queen. Bothwell now knew the danger before him, +and prepared for it. + +Next day, as the queen sat with her grim lords in council, Morton led in +Anna. + +"I have the pleasure," said he, "to present a lady who accuseth the Earl +of Bothwell of wedding and ignobly deserting her." + +"'Tis false, Lord Earl!" cried Bothwell. + +"Oh, madam, hear my story, and condemn me not unheard," pleaded Anna. + +"Let her speak for herself," said Mary. + +Thus encouraged, Anna, in moving accents, told her story. + +"A meloncholy tale, in sooth," said Mary; "but what proof is there?" + +"Your majesty," said Bothwell, "this is the invention of some unknown +enemy"--he glanced at Morton--"to deprive me of your royal favour. Let +this frantic damsel be removed to a Danish vessel now at Leith, and +conveyed to her home." + +"Well, so be it!" replied the facile queen. + +Anna drew herself up to her full height. + +"Farewell, Bothwell," she cried. "In that dark time of ruin and regret +that is coming upon thee, remember Anna!" + +And as she spoke they hurried her away. + +Bothwell henceforth was more than ever in the queen's favour. Only the +life of Darnley intervened between him and the goal of his love and +ambition; and the sinister promptings of Ormiston suggested that even +that obstacle was not irremovable. + + +_IV.--The Kirk of Field_ + + +On a dark winter night a conference of nobles was held at Whittinghame. +Mary had been asked to divorce her husband, and had proudly and +indignantly refused. Only one way remained. A solemn bond was drawn up +among the assembled nobles, and the bond sealed the fate of Darnley. It +was not without doubt and shrinking that Bothwell saw whither his +schemes were leading him, but he would not, he could not, turn back. + +It was at Ormiston's suggestion that Konrad was employed as an +unconscious tool in the affair. Ormiston hinted that with a little +adroitness the whole blame might be laid on the unhappy prisoner. Konrad +accordingly, on the night when the deed was to be done, was awakened +from a reverie in his cell at Holyrood by the entry of a tall, masked +figure. + +"If thou wouldst attain liberty, follow me!" said Ormiston, for it was +he. + +He put a sword in Konrad's hand. Konrad as he grasped the weapon, felt +his spirits rise again, and he followed. + +Presently they came to a group of masked men, and silently the party +went through a private door in the city walls. Their destination, though +Konrad knew it not, was the lonely house of the Kirk of Field, where +Darnley was lying slowly recovering from small-pox--an illness through +which the queen, forgetting her wrongs at his hands, had tenderly nursed +him. + +Konrad, arrived at the house, helped to unload a horse of heavy packages +which he conjectured to contain plunder; but it was gunpowder that he +unwittingly handled. + +Suddenly a piercing cry came from above. A moment later the startled +Konrad perceived Bothwell, his mask awry, his eyes glazed and haggard. + +"Thou hast done well!" said Ormiston grimly. + +"Well! My God!" groaned the earl. + +"Away while I fire the train!" shouted Ormiston. + +Like a fiery serpent the train glowed along the ground. Then, red and +lurid in the shadowy night, there flashed a volume of dazzling light; +then came a roar as if the earth was splitting. + +Konrad fled in bewildered terror, and wandered about the outskirts of +the city until, in a little ruined chapel on the verge of a moor, he lay +down exhausted and fell asleep. + +In the morning he was awakened by a rough grasp on his shoulder. + +"We have meshed one of the knaves at least," said a stern voice. Konrad +found himself amidst knights and men-at-arms, and he was led back to the +city. + +The citizens were in arms, furious at the outrage of the night before. +The appearance of a suspected murderer aroused their passion to the +utmost; Konrad's escort was overpowered and thrust aside. "Awa' wi' him +to the Papist's pillar!" cried a voice. Down they went with him to the +North Loch, and tied him there to an oaken stake about five feet deep in +the water--a spot where many a luckless Catholic had perished. The mob +retired, and Konrad was left alone, helpless, and to die. + +Bothwell sat by the fire in his apartments at Holyrood, with knit brows +and muttering lips; the word he muttered was, "Murderer." The shriek of +the man whose death-blow he had struck still echoed in his ears. + +Presently there entered the room one of his followers, Hepburn of +Bolton. + +"The Norwegian hath been bound to the Papist's pillar," said he; "and by +this time he must be dead, for it rains heavily, and the loch fills +fast." + +"One other life!" said the earl gloomily. "By heaven, Bolton! if I can +save him--come!" + +In the darkness and the rain, with the water rising around him, Konrad +waited for death. A sound of oars roused him from the stupefaction into +which he had fallen. "Here, here! His head is above water still," said a +voice. The bonds were cut, Konrad was dragged into the boat and taken to +land, and offered a draught that revived him. + +"Here we part," said the voice. "Give him dry garments, and take him to +the Norwegian vessel, and bid him cross my path no more!" + +"Who art thou?" asked Konrad feebly. + +"Thy greatest enemy, James, Earl of Bothwell!" + +Slowly Konrad mounted the horse that had been brought for him, and with +difficulty he rode; but the morning saw him on board a vessel of Bergen, +in the hands of countrymen and friends. + +Bothwell was tried for the murder of Darnley, and triumphantly +acquitted. He procured the secret assent of the nobles to his marriage +with Mary; he divorced the Countess Jane; one more vigorous action, and +the goal would be attained. + +On an April day, as Mary rode along the Stirling road towards Edinburgh, +her way was barred by a thousand armed horsemen in close array; and +Bothwell, riding up, requested that she should accompany him to his +castle of Dunbar. It was useless to resist. Once in the castle, Bothwell +offered her his hand, and was proudly refused. + +"Lord Earl," cried Mary, "thou mayest tremble when I leave Dunbar!" + +"Madame," he replied, "thou shalt never leave Dunbar but as the bride of +Bothwell!" + +In May, Mary and Bothwell were married. A month later Bothwell fled +before the wrath of an outraged nation, never to see Mary again; and +within a week of their parting he roamed a pirate on the northern seas. + + +_V.--Nemesis_ + + +A large Danish war vessel approached the port of Bergen, with prisoners +to hand over to the castellan--the new castellan, for old Erick +Rosenkrantz was dead. Chief of the captives was Bothwell, nonchalant but +melancholy, pale, and more thoughtful than formerly; still, in pleasure +and in sorrow, was he haunted by the shriek of the dying Darnley. + +Near him stood one who was not a captive, but a returning wanderer. +Konrad had again crossed the path of the earl; his vessel, long detained +in port, and afterwards delayed by storms, had been captured by the +Scottish pirate ship, and he had been rescued from this new misfortune +by the great Norwegian war vessel. + +The prisoners were escorted to the hall of the castle, and Bothwell +assumed his most defiant look. The arras that concealed the daïs was +withdrawn, and Bothwell looked upon the face of the hereditary castellan +of Bergen, Anna Rosenkrantz! + +On seeing the earl, she turned pale as death. The earl recovered +instantly from his surprise, and bowed smilingly. + +"Well, madam," said he, "we foresaw not this meeting!" + +"Dost thou know," replied Anna firmly, "that thy life and liberty are in +my power?" + +"I am assured," he answered, "that they could not be in safer keeping." + +"Regicide and betrayer," return Anna, with flashing eyes, "from this +hour thou shalt have meted out to thee the stern measures thou hast so +ruthlessly dealt to others. This man," she went on, turning to the +captain of the war ship, "is the king's prisoner; away with him to the +Castle of Kiobenhafen--be under sail before sunset!" + +Red-bearded Danish bowmen crowded round the earl, who thus passed away +to the wretched captivity that ended only with his death, ten years +afterwards. + +Konrad, unnoticed and uncared for, stood alone in the hall where he had +once been so welcome a guest. He had no intention of remaining in a +place where all was so changed; but ere he turned to leave it for ever +he paused a moment irresolutely. Once more the arras was withdrawn, and +Anna stood before him. + +"I heard thou wert here, Konrad," she said, with a blushing cheek. +"Wouldst thou go without one word to me?" + +She seated herself in the recess of a window. "I have long wished," she +faltered, "to see thee once more. I have now seen the worth and faith of +thy heart when contrasted with mine own, and I blush for my weakness--my +wickedness--my folly. Thou mayest deem this unwomanly--indelicate; but +in love we are equal, and why may not one make reparation as the other?" + +"Anna," said Konrad, in a choking voice, "though my heart be soured and +saddened, my first sentiment for thee hath never altered. For all thou +hast made me endure I forgive thee, and I pray that thou mayest be +happy. Anna--dearest Anna--I am going far away, for I have doomed myself +to exile, but I still regard thee as a sister--as a friend. All is +forgotten and forgiven. And now, farewell!" + +He felt the hand of Anna in his; another moment, and she sank upon his +breast. + +"Oh, Konrad," she whispered, "if my heart is still prized by thee, it is +thine, as in the days of our first love." + +And, borne away by his passion, the forgiving Konrad pressed the woman +he loved closer and closer to his breast. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORLD’S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL. IV. *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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