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diff --git a/2129-h/2129-h.htm b/2129-h/2129-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c91242f --- /dev/null +++ b/2129-h/2129-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5484 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Murad the Unlucky and Other Tales, by Maria Edgeworth</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; +margin-right: 20%; +text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; +margin-top: 0.6em; +margin-bottom: 0.6em; +letter-spacing: 0.12em; +word-spacing: 0.2em; +text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; +margin-top: 0.25em; +margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Murad the Unlucky and Other Tales, by Maria Edgeworth</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Murad the Unlucky and Other Tales</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Maria Edgeworth</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April, 2000 [eBook #2129]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 22, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MURAD THE UNLUCKY AND OTHER TALES ***</div> + +<h1>MURAD THE UNLUCKY<br /> +AND OTHER TALES</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Maria Edgeworth</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">Introduction</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Murad the Unlucky</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">The Limerick Gloves</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Madame de Fleury</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p>Maria Edgeworth came of a lively family which had settled in Ireland +in the latter part of the sixteenth century. Her father at the +age of five-and-twenty inherited the family estates at Edgeworthstown +in 1769. He had snatched an early marriage, which did not prove +happy. He had a little son, whom he was educating upon the principles +set forth in Rousseau’s “Emile,” and a daughter Maria, +who was born on the 1st of January, 1767. He was then living at +Hare Hatch, near Maidenhead. In March, 1773, his first wife died +after giving birth to a daughter named Anna. In July, 1773, he +married again, Honora Sneyd, and went to live in Ireland, taking with +him his daughter Maria, who was then about six years old. Two +years afterwards she was sent from Ireland to a school at Derby. +In April, 1780, her father’s second wife died, and advised him +upon her death-bed to marry her sister Elizabeth. He married his +deceased wife’s sister on the next following Christmas Day. +Maria Edgeworth was in that year removed to a school in London, and +her holidays were often spent with her father’s friend Thomas +Day, the author of “Sandford and Merton,” an eccentric enthusiast +who lived then at Anningsley, in Surrey.</p> + +<p>Maria Edgeworth—always a little body—was conspicuous +among her schoolfellows for quick wit, and was apt alike for study and +invention. She was story-teller general to the community. +In 1782, at the age of fifteen, she left school and went home with her +father and his third wife, who then settled finally at Edgeworthstown.</p> + +<p>At Edgeworthstown Richard Lovell Edgeworth now became active in the +direct training of his children, in the improvement of his estate, and +in schemes for the improvement of the country. His eldest daughter, +Maria, showing skill with the pen, he made her more and more his companion +and fellow-worker to good ends. She kept household accounts, had +entrusted to her the whole education of a little brother, wrote stories +on a slate and read them to the family, wiped them off when not approved, +and copied them in ink if they proved popular with the home public. +Miss Edgeworth’s first printed book was a plea for the education +of women, “Letters to Literary Ladies,” published in 1795, +when her age was eight-and-twenty. Next year, 1796, working with +her father, she produced the first volume of the “Parent’s +Assistant.” In November, 1797, when Miss Edgeworth’s +age was nearly thirty-one, her father, then aged fifty-three, lost his +third wife, and he married a fourth in the following May. The +fourth wife, at first objected to, was young enough to be a companion +and friend, and between her and Maria Edgeworth a fast friendship came +to be established. In the year of her father’s fourth marriage +Maria joined him in the production of two volumes on “Practical +Education.” Then followed books for children, including +“Harry and Lucy,” which had been begun by her father years +before in partnership with his second wife, when Thomas Day began writing +“Sandford and Merton,” with the original intention that +it should be worked in as a part of the whole scheme.</p> + +<p>In the year 1800 Miss Edgeworth, thirty-three years old, began her +independent career as a novelist with “Castle Rackrent;” +and from that time on, work followed work in illustration of the power +of a woman of genius to associate quick wit and quick feeling with sound +sense and a good reason for speaking. Sir Walter Scott in his +frank way declared that he received an impulse from Miss Edgeworth’s +example as a story-teller. In the general preface to his own final +edition of the Waverley Novels he said that “Without being so +presumptuous as to hope to emulate the rich humour, pathetic tenderness, +and admirable tact, which pervade the works of my accomplished friend, +I felt that something might be attempted for my own country of the same +kind with that which Miss Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland—something +which might introduce her natives to those of the sister kingdom in +a more favourable light than they had been placed hitherto, and tend +to procure sympathy for their virtues and indulgence for their foibles.”</p> + +<p>Of the three stories in this volume, who—“Murad the Unlucky” +and “The Limerick Gloves”—first appeared in three +volumes of “Popular Tales,” which were first published in +1804, with a short introduction by Miss Edgeworth’s father. +“Madame de Fleury” was written a few years later.</p> + +<p>H. M.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>MURAD THE UNLUCKY</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p>It is well known that the grand seignior amuses himself by going +at night, in disguise, through streets of Constantinople; as the caliph +Haroun Alraschid used formerly to do in Bagdad.</p> + +<p>One moonlight night, accompanied by his grand vizier, he traversed +several of the principal streets of the city without seeing anything +remarkable. At length, as they were passing a rope-maker’s, +the sultan recollected the Arabian story of Cogia-Hassan Alhabal, the +rope-maker, and his two friends, Saad and Saadi, who differed so much +in their opinion concerning the influence of fortune over human affairs.</p> + +<p>“What is your opinion on this subject?” said the grand +seignior to his vizier.</p> + +<p>“I am inclined, please your majesty,” replied the vizier, +“to think that success in the world depends more upon prudence +than upon what is called luck, or fortune.”</p> + +<p>“And I,” said the sultan, “am persuaded that fortune +does more for men than prudence. Do you not every day hear of +persons who are said to be fortunate or unfortunate? How comes +it that this opinion should prevail amongst men, if it be not justified +by experience?”</p> + +<p>“It is not for me to dispute with your majesty,” replied +the prudent vizier.</p> + +<p>“Speak your mind freely; I desire and command it,” said +the sultan.</p> + +<p>“Then I am of opinion,” answered the vizier, “that +people are often led to believe others fortunate, or unfortunate, merely +because they only know the general outline of their histories; and are +ignorant of the incidents and events in which they have shown prudence +or imprudence. I have heard, for instance, that there are at present, +in this city, two men, who are remarkable for their good and bad fortune: +one is called Murad the Unlucky, and the other Saladin the Lucky. +Now, I am inclined to think, if we could hear their stories, we should +find that one is a prudent and the other an imprudent character.”</p> + +<p>“Where do these men live?” interrupted the sultan. +“I will hear their histories from their own lips before I sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Murad the Unlucky lives in the next square,” said the +vizier.</p> + +<p>The sultan desired to go thither immediately. Scarcely had +they entered the square, when they heard the cry of loud lamentations. +They followed the sound till they came to a house of which the door +was open, and where there was a man tearing his turban, and weeping +bitterly. They asked the cause of his distress, and he pointed +to the fragments of a china vase, which lay on the pavement at his door.</p> + +<p>“This seems undoubtedly to be beautiful china,” said +the sultan, taking up one of the broken pieces; “but can the loss +of a china vase be the cause of such violent grief and despair?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, gentlemen,” said the owner of the vase, suspending +his lamentations, and looking at the dress of the pretended merchants, +“I see that you are strangers: you do not know how much cause +I have for grief and despair! You do not know that you are speaking +to Murad the Unlucky! Were you to hear all the unfortunate accidents +that have happened to me, from the time I was born till this instant, +you would perhaps pity me, and acknowledge I have just cause for despair.”</p> + +<p>Curiosity was strongly expressed by the sultan; and the hope of obtaining +sympathy inclined Murad to gratify it by the recital of his adventures. +“Gentlemen,” said he, “I scarcely dare invite you +into the house of such an unlucky being as I am; but if you will venture +to take a night’s lodging under my roof, you shall hear at your +leisure the story of my misfortunes.”</p> + +<p>The sultan and the vizier excused themselves from spending the night +with Murad, saying that they were obliged to proceed to their khan, +where they should be expected by their companions; but they begged permission +to repose themselves for half an hour in his house, and besought him +to relate the history of his life, if it would not renew his grief too +much to recollect his misfortunes.</p> + +<p>Few men are so miserable as not to like to talk of their misfortunes, +where they have, or where they think they have, any chance of obtaining +compassion. As soon as the pretended merchants were seated, Murad +began his story in the following manner:—</p> + +<p>“My father was a merchant of this city. The night before +I was born he dreamed that I came into the world with the head of a +dog and the tail of a dragon; and that, in haste to conceal my deformity, +he rolled me up in a piece of linen, which unluckily proved to be the +grand seignior’s turban; who, enraged at his insolence in touching +his turban, commanded that his head should be struck off.</p> + +<p>“My father awaked before he lost his head, but not before he +had lost half his wits from the terror of his dream. He considered +it as a warning sent from above, and consequently determined to avoid +the sight of me. He would not stay to see whether I should really +be born with the head of a dog and the tail of a dragon; but he set +out, the next morning, on a voyage to Aleppo.</p> + +<p>“He was absent for upwards of seven years; and during that +time my education was totally neglected. One day I inquired from +my mother why I had been named Murad the Unlucky. She told me +that this name was given to me in consequence of my father’s dream; +but she added that perhaps it might be forgotten, if I proved fortunate +in my future life. My nurse, a very old woman, who was present, +shook her head, with a look which I shall never forget, and whispered +to my mother loud enough for me to hear, ‘Unlucky he was, and +is, and ever will be. Those that are born to ill luck cannot help +themselves; nor can any, but the great prophet, Mahomet himself, do +anything for them. It is a folly for an unlucky person to strive +with their fate: it is better to yield to it at once.’</p> + +<p>“This speech made a terrible impression upon me, young as I +then was; and every accident that happened to me afterwards confirmed +my belief in my nurse’s prognostic. I was in my eighth year +when my father returned from abroad. The year after he came home +my brother Saladin was born, who was named Saladin the Lucky, because +the day he was born a vessel freighted with rich merchandise for my +father arrived safely in port.</p> + +<p>“I will not weary you with a relation of all the little instances +of good fortune by which my brother Saladin was distinguished, even +during his childhood. As he grew up, his success in everything +he undertook was as remarkable as my ill luck in all that I attempted. +From the time the rich vessel arrived, we lived in splendour; and the +supposed prosperous state of my father’s affairs was of course +attributed to the influence of my brother Saladin’s happy destiny.</p> + +<p>“When Saladin was about twenty, my father was taken dangerously +ill; and as he felt that he should not recover, he sent for my brother +to the side of his bed, and, to his great surprise, informed him that +the magnificence in which we had lived had exhausted all his wealth; +that his affairs were in the greatest disorder; for, having trusted +to the hope of continual success, he had embarked in projects beyond +his powers.</p> + +<p>“The sequel was, he had nothing remaining to leave to his children +but two large china vases, remarkable for their beauty, but still more +valuable on account of certain verses inscribed upon them in an unknown +character, which were supposed to operate as a talisman or charm in +favour of their possessors.</p> + +<p>“Both these vases my father bequeathed to my brother Saladin; +declaring he could not venture to leave either of them to me, because +I was so unlucky that I should inevitably break it. After his +death, however, my brother Saladin, who was blessed with a generous +temper, gave me my choice of the two vases; and endeavoured to raise +my spirits by repeating frequently that he had no faith either in good +fortune or ill fortune.</p> + +<p>“I could not be of his opinion, though I felt and acknowledged +his kindness in trying to persuade me out of my settled melancholy. +I knew it was in vain for me to exert myself, because I was sure that, +do what I would, I should still be Murad the Unlucky. My brother, +on the contrary, was nowise cast down, even by the poverty in which +my father left us: he said he was sure he should find some means of +maintaining himself; and so he did.</p> + +<p>“On examining our china vases, he found in them a powder of +a bright scarlet colour; and it occurred to him that it would make a +fine dye. He tried it, and after some trouble, it succeeded to +admiration.</p> + +<p>“During my father’s lifetime, my mother had been supplied +with rich dresses by one of the merchants who was employed by the ladies +of the grand seignior’s seraglio. My brother had done this +merchant some trifling favours, and, upon application to him, he readily +engaged to recommend the new scarlet dye. Indeed, it was so beautiful, +that, the moment it was seen, it was preferred to every other colour. +Saladin’s shop was soon crowded with customers; and his winning +manners and pleasant conversation were almost as advantageous to him +as his scarlet dye. On the contrary, I observed that the first +glance at my melancholy countenance was sufficient to disgust every +one who saw me. I perceived this plainly; and it only confirmed +me the more in my belief in my own evil destiny.</p> + +<p>“It happened one day that a lady, richly apparelled and attended +by two female slaves, came to my brother’s house to make some +purchases. He was out, and I alone was left to attend to the shop. +After she had looked over some goods, she chanced to see my china vase, +which was in the room. She took a prodigious fancy to it, and +offered me any price if I would part with it; but this I declined doing, +because I believed that I should draw down upon my head some dreadful +calamity if I voluntarily relinquished the talisman. Irritated +by my refusal, the lady, according to the custom of her sex, became +more resolute in her purpose; but neither entreaties nor money could +change my determination. Provoked beyond measure at my obstinacy, +as she called it, she left the house.</p> + +<p>“On my brother’s return, I related to him what had happened, +and expected that he would have praised me for my prudence; but, on +the contrary, he blamed me for the superstitious value I set upon the +verses on my vase; and observed that it would be the height of folly +to lose a certain means of advancing my fortune for the uncertain hope +of magical protection. I could not bring myself to be of his opinion; +I had not the courage to follow the advice he gave. The next day +the lady returned, and my brother sold his vase to her for ten thousand +pieces of gold. This money he laid out in the most advantageous +manner, by purchasing a new stock of merchandise. I repented when +it was too late; but I believe it is part of the fatality attending +certain persons, that they cannot decide rightly at the proper moment. +When the opportunity has been lost, I have always regretted that I did +not do exactly the contrary to what I had previously determined upon. +Often, whilst I was hesitating, the favourable moment passed.<a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">[1]</a> +Now this is what I call being unlucky. But to proceed with my +story.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">[1]</a> +“Whom the gods wish to destroy, they first deprive of understanding.”</p> + +<p>“The lady who bought my brother Saladin’s vase was the +favourite of the Sultan, and all-powerful in the seraglio. Her +dislike to me, in consequence of my opposition to her wishes, was so +violent, that she refused to return to my brother’s house while +I remained there. He was unwilling to part with me; but I could +not bear to be the ruin of so good a brother. Without telling +him my design, I left his house careless of what should become of me. +Hunger, however, soon compelled me to think of some immediate mode of +obtaining relief. I sat down upon a stone, before the door of +a baker’s shop: the smell of hot bread tempted me in, and with +a feeble voice I demanded charity.</p> + +<p>“The master baker gave me as much bread as I could eat, upon +condition that I should change dresses with him and carry the rolls +for him through the city this day. To this I readily consented; +but I had soon reason to repent of my compliance. Indeed, if my +ill-luck had not, as usual, deprived me at this critical moment of memory +and judgment, I should never have complied with the baker’s treacherous +proposal. For some time before, the people of Constantinople had +been much dissatisfied with the weight and quality of the bread furnished +by the bakers. This species of discontent has often been the sure +forerunner of an insurrection; and, in these disturbances, the master +bakers frequently lose their lives. All these circumstances I +knew, but they did not occur to my memory when they might have been +useful.</p> + +<p>“I changed dresses with the baker; but scarcely had I proceeded +through the adjoining streets with my rolls before the mob began to +gather round me with reproaches and execrations. The crowd pursued +me even to the gates of the grand seignior’s palace, and the grand +vizier, alarmed at their violence, sent out an order to have my head +struck off; the usual remedy, in such cases, being to strike off the +baker’s head.</p> + +<p>“I now fell upon my knees, and protested I was not the baker +for whom they took me; that I had no connection with him; and that I +had never furnished the people of Constantinople with bread that was +not weight. I declared I had merely changed clothes with a master +baker for this day, and that I should not have done so but for the evil +destiny which governs all my actions. Some of the mob exclaimed +that I deserved to lose my head for my folly; but others took pity on +me, and whilst the officer, who was sent to execute the vizier’s +order, turned to speak to some of the noisy rioters, those who were +touched by my misfortune opened a passage for me through the crowd, +and thus favoured, I effected my escape.</p> + +<p>“I quitted Constantinople; my vase I had left in the care of +my brother. At some miles’ distance from the city I overtook +a party of soldiers. I joined them, and learning that they were +going to embark with the rest of the grand seignior’s army for +Egypt, I resolved to accompany them. ‘If it be,’ thought +I, ‘the will of Mahomet that I should perish, the sooner I meet +my fate the better.’ The despondency into which I was sunk +was attended by so great a degree of indolence, that I scarcely would +take the necessary means to preserve my existence. During our +passage to Egypt I sat all day long upon the deck of the vessel, smoking +my pipe, and I am convinced that if a storm had risen, as I expected, +I should not have taken my pipe from my mouth, nor should I have handled +a rope to save myself from destruction. Such is the effect of +that species of resignation, or torpor, whichever you please to call +it, to which my strong belief in fatality had reduced my mind.</p> + +<p>“We landed, however, safely, contrary to my melancholy forebodings. +By a trifling accident, not worth relating, I was detained longer than +any of my companions in the vessel when we disembarked, and I did not +arrive at the camp till late at night. It was moonlight, and I +could see the whole scene distinctly. There was a vast number +of small tents scattered over a desert of white sand; a few date-trees +were visible at a distance; all was gloomy, and all still; no sound +was to be heard but that of the camels feeding near the tents, and, +as I walked on, I met with no human creature.</p> + +<p>“My pipe was now out, and I quickened my pace a little towards +a fire which I saw near one of the tents. As I proceeded, my eye +was caught by something sparkling in the sand: it was a ring. +I picked it up and put it on my finger, resolving to give it to the +public crier the next morning, who might find out its rightful owner; +but, by ill-luck, I put it on my little finger, for which it was much +too large, and as I hastened towards the fire to light my pipe, I dropped +the ring. I stooped to search for it amongst the provender on +which a mule was feeding, and the cursed animal gave me so violent a +kick on the head that I could not help roaring aloud.</p> + +<p>“My cries awakened those who slept in the tent near which the +mule was feeding. Provoked at being disturbed, the soldiers were +ready enough to think ill of me, and they took it for granted that I +was a thief, who had stolen the ring I pretended to have just found. +The ring was taken from me by force, and the next day I was bastinadoed +for having found it; the officer persisting in the belief that stripes +would make me confess where I had concealed certain other articles of +value which had lately been missed in the camp. All this was the +consequence of my being in a hurry to light my pipe and of my having +put the ring on a finger that was too little for it, which no one but +Murad the Unlucky would have done.</p> + +<p>“When I was able to walk again, after my wounds were healed, +I went into one of the tents distinguished by a red flag, having been +told that these were coffee-houses. Whilst I was drinking coffee +I heard a stranger near me complaining that he had not been able to +recover a valuable ring he had lost, although he had caused his loss +to be published for three days by the public crier, offering a reward +of two hundred sequins to whoever should restore it. I guessed +that this was the very ring which I had unfortunately found. I +addressed myself to the stranger, and promised to point out to him the +person who had forced it from me. The stranger recovered his ring, +and, being convinced that I had acted honestly, he made me a present +of two hundred sequins, as some amends for the punishment which I had +unjustly suffered on his account.</p> + +<p>“Now you would imagine that this purse of gold was advantageous +to me. Far the contrary; it was the cause of new misfortunes.</p> + +<p>“One night, when I thought that the soldiers who were in the +same tent with me were all fast asleep, I indulged myself in the pleasure +of counting my treasure. The next day I was invited by my companions +to drink sherbet with them. What they mixed with the sherbet which +I drank I know not, but I could not resist the drowsiness it brought +on. I fell into a profound slumber, and when I awoke, I found +myself lying under a date-tree, at some distance from the camp.</p> + +<p>“The first thing I thought of when I came to my recollection +was my purse of sequins. The purse I found still safe in my girdle; +but on opening it, I perceived that it was filled with pebbles, and +not a single sequin was left. I had no doubt that I had been robbed +by the soldiers with whom I had drunk sherbet, and I am certain that +some of them must have been awake the night I counted my money; otherwise, +as I had never trusted the secret of my riches to any one, they could +not have suspected me of possessing any property; for ever since I kept +company with them I had appeared to be in great indigence.</p> + +<p>“I applied in vain to the superior officers for redress: the +soldiers protested they were innocent; no positive proof appeared against +them, and I gained nothing by my complaint but ridicule and ill-will. +I called myself, in the first transport of my grief, by that name which, +since my arrival in Egypt, I had avoided to pronounce: I called myself +Murad the Unlucky. The name and the story ran through the camp, +and I was accosted, afterwards, very frequently, by this appellation. +Some, indeed, varied their wit by calling me Murad with the purse of +pebbles.</p> + +<p>“All that I had yet suffered is nothing compared to my succeeding +misfortunes.</p> + +<p>“It was the custom at this time, in the Turkish camp, for the +soldiers to amuse themselves with firing at a mark. The superior +officers remonstrated against this dangerous practice, but ineffectually. +Sometimes a party of soldiers would stop firing for a few minutes, after +a message was brought them from their commanders, and then they would +begin again, in defiance of all orders. Such was the want of discipline +in our army, that this disobedience went unpunished. In the meantime, +the frequency of the danger made most men totally regardless of it. +I have seen tents pierced with bullets, in which parties were quietly +seated smoking their pipes, whilst those without were preparing to take +fresh aim at the red flag on the top.</p> + +<p>“This apathy proceeded, in some, from unconquerable indolence +of body; in others, from the intoxication produced by the fumes of tobacco +and of opium; but in most of my brother Turks it arose from the confidence +which the belief in predestination inspired. When a bullet killed +one of their companions, they only observed, scarcely taking the pipes +from their mouths, ‘Our hour is not yet come: it is not the will +of Mahomet that we should fall.’</p> + +<p>“I own that this rash security appeared to me, at first, surprising, +but it soon ceased to strike me with wonder, and it even tended to confirm +my favourite opinion, that some were born to good and some to evil fortune. +I became almost as careless as my companions, from following the same +course of reasoning. ‘It is not,’ thought I, ‘in +the power of human prudence to avert the stroke of destiny. I +shall perhaps die to-morrow; let me therefore enjoy to-day.’</p> + +<p>“I now made it my study every day to procure as much amusement +as possible. My poverty, as you will imagine, restricted me from +indulgence and excess, but I soon found means to spend what did not +actually belong to me. There were certain Jews who were followers +of the camp, and who, calculating on the probability of victory for +our troops, advanced money to the soldiers, for which they engaged to +pay these usurers exorbitant interest. The Jew to whom I applied +traded with me also, upon the belief that my brother Saladin, with whose +character and circumstances he was acquainted, would pay my debts if +I should fall. With the money I raised from the Jew I continually +bought coffee and opium, of which I grew immoderately fond. In +the delirium it created I forgot all my misfortunes, all fear of the +future.</p> + +<p>“One day, when I had raised my spirits by an unusual quantity +of opium, I was strolling through the camp, sometimes singing, sometimes +dancing, like a madman, and repeating that I was not now Murad the Unlucky. +Whilst these words were on my lips, a friendly spectator, who was in +possession of his sober senses, caught me by the arm, and attempted +to drag me from the place where I was exposing myself. ‘Do +you not see,’ said he, ‘those soldiers, who are firing at +a mark? I saw one of them, just now, deliberately taking aim at +your turban; and observe, he is now reloading his piece.’ +My ill luck prevailed even at this instant—the only instant in +my life when I defied its power. I struggled with my adviser, +repeating, ‘I am not the wretch you take me for; I am not Murad +the Unlucky.’ He fled from the danger himself; I remained, +and in a few seconds afterwards a ball reached me, and I fell senseless +on the sand.</p> + +<p>“The ball was cut out of my body by an awkward surgeon, who +gave me ten times more pain than was necessary. He was particularly +hurried at this time, because the army had just received orders to march +in a few hours, and all was confusion in the camp. My wound was +excessively painful, and the fear of being left behind with those who +were deemed incurable added to my torments. Perhaps, if I had +kept myself quiet, I might have escaped some of the evils I afterwards +endured; but, as I have repeatedly told you, gentlemen, it was my ill +fortune never to be able to judge what was best to be done till the +time for prudence was past.</p> + +<p>“During the day, when my fever was at the height, and when +my orders were to keep my bed, contrary to my natural habits of indolence, +I rose a hundred times, and went out of my tent in the very heat of +the day, to satisfy my curiosity as to the number of the tents which +had not been struck, and of the soldiers who had not yet marched. +The orders to march were tardily obeyed, and many hours elapsed before +our encampment was raised. Had I submitted to my surgeon’s +orders, I might have been in a state to accompany the most dilatory +of the stragglers; I could have borne, perhaps, the slow motion of a +litter, on which some of the sick were transported; but in the evening, +when the surgeon came to dress my wounds, he found me in such a situation +that it was scarcely possible to remove me.</p> + +<p>“He desired a party of soldiers, who were left to bring up +the rear, to call for me the next morning. They did so; but they +wanted to put me upon the mule which I recollected, by a white streak +on its back, to be the cursed animal that had kicked me whilst I was +looking for the ring. I could not be prevailed upon to go upon +this unlucky animal. I tried to persuade the soldiers to carry +me, and they took me a little way; but, soon growing weary of their +burden, they laid me down on the sand, pretending that they were going +to fill a skin with water at a spring they had discovered, and bade +me lie still, and wait for their return.</p> + +<p>“I waited and waited, longing for the water to moisten my parched +lips; but no water came—no soldiers returned; and there I lay, +for several hours, expecting every moment to breathe my last. +I made no effort to move, for I was now convinced my hour was come, +and that it was the will of Mahomet that I should perish in this miserable +manner, and lie unburied like a dog: ‘a death,’ thought +I, ‘worthy of Murad the Unlucky.’</p> + +<p>“My forebodings were not this time just; a detachment of English +soldiers passed near the place where I lay: my groans were heard by +them, and they humanely came to my assistance. They carried me +with them, dressed my wound, and treated me with the utmost tenderness. +Christians though they were, I must acknowledge that I had reason to +love them better than any of the followers of Mahomet, my good brother +only excepted.</p> + +<p>“Under their care I recovered; but scarcely had I regained +my strength before I fell into new disasters. It was hot weather, +and my thirst was excessive. I went out with a party, in hopes +of finding a spring of water. The English soldiers began to dig +for a well, in a place pointed out to them by one of their men of science. +I was not inclined to such hard labour, but preferred sauntering on +in search of a spring. I saw at a distance something that looked +like a pool of water; and I pointed it out to my companions. Their +man of science warned me by his interpreter not to trust to this deceitful +appearance; for that such were common in this country, and that, when +I came close to the spot, I should find no water there. He added, +that it was at a greater distance than I imagined; and that I should, +in all probability, be lost in the desert if I attempted to follow this +phantom.</p> + +<p>“I was so unfortunate as not to attend to his advice: I set +out in pursuit of this accursed delusion, which assuredly was the work +of evil spirits, who clouded my reason, and allured me into their dominion. +I went on, hour after hour, in expectation continually of reaching the +object of my wishes; but it fled faster than I pursued, and I discovered +at last that the Englishman, who had doubtless gained his information +from the people of the country, was right; and that the shining appearance +which I had taken for water was a mere deception.</p> + +<p>“I was now exhausted with fatigue: I looked back in vain after +the companions I had left; I could see neither men, animals, nor any +trace of vegetation in the sandy desert. I had no resource but, +weary as I was, to measure back my footsteps, which were imprinted in +the sand.</p> + +<p>“I slowly and sorrowfully traced them as my guides in this +unknown land. Instead of yielding to my indolent inclinations, +I ought, however, to have made the best of my way back, before the evening +breeze sprang up. I felt the breeze rising, and, unconscious of +my danger, I rejoiced, and opened my bosom to meet it; but what was +my dismay when I saw that the wind swept before it all trace of my footsteps +in the sand. I knew not which way to proceed; I was struck with +despair, tore my garments, threw off my turban, and cried aloud; but +neither human voice nor echo answered me. The silence was dreadful. +I had tasted no food for many hours, and I now became sick and faint. +I recollected that I had put a supply of opium into the folds of my +turban; but, alas! when I took my turban up, I found that the opium +had fallen out. I searched for it in vain on the sand, where I +had thrown the turban.</p> + +<p>“I stretched myself out upon the ground, and yielded without +further struggle to my evil destiny. What I suffered from thirst, +hunger, and heat cannot be described. At last I fell into a sort +of trance, during which images of various kinds seemed to flit before +my eyes. How long I remained in this state I know not: but I remember +that I was brought to my senses by a loud shout, which came from persons +belonging to a caravan returning from Mecca. This was a shout +of joy for their safe arrival at a certain spring, well known to them +in this part of the desert.</p> + +<p>“The spring was not a hundred yards from the spot where I lay; +yet, such had been the fate of Murad the Unlucky, that he missed the +reality, whilst he had been hours in pursuit of the phantom. Feeble +and spiritless as I was, I sent forth as loud a cry as I could, in hopes +of obtaining assistance; and I endeavoured to crawl to the place from +which the voices appeared to come. The caravan rested for a considerable +time whilst the slaves filled the skins with water, and whilst the camels +took in their supply. I worked myself on towards them; yet, notwithstanding +my efforts, I was persuaded that, according to my usual ill-fortune, +I should never be able to make them hear my voice. I saw them +mount their camels! I took off my turban, unrolled it, and waved +it in the air. My signal was seen! The caravan came towards +me!</p> + +<p>“I had scarcely strength to speak; a slave gave me some water, +and, after I had drunk, I explained to them who I was, and how I came +into this situation.</p> + +<p>“Whilst I was speaking, one of the travellers observed the +purse which hung to my girdle: it was the same the merchant for whom +I recovered the ring had given to me; I had carefully preserved it, +because the initials of my benefactor’s name and a passage from +the Koran were worked upon it. When he give it to me, he said +that perhaps we should meet again in some other part of the world, and +he should recognise me by this token. The person who now took +notice of the purse was his brother; and when I related to him how I +had obtained it, he had the goodness to take me under his protection. +He was a merchant, who was now going with the caravan to Grand Cairo: +he offered to take me with him, and I willingly accepted the proposal, +promising to serve him as faithfully as any of his slaves. The +caravan proceeded, and I was carried with it.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p>“The merchant, who was become my master, treated me with great +kindness; but on hearing me relate the whole series of my unfortunate +adventures, he exacted a promise from me that I would do nothing without +first consulting him. ‘Since you are so unlucky, Murad,’ +said he, ‘that you always choose for the worst when you choose +for yourself, you should trust entirely to the judgment of a wiser or +a more fortunate friend.’</p> + +<p>“I fared well in the service of this merchant, who was a man +of a mild disposition, and who was so rich that he could afford to be +generous to all his dependants. It was my business to see his +camels loaded and unloaded at proper places, to count his bales of merchandise, +and to take care that they were not mixed with those of his companions. +This I carefully did till the day we arrived at Alexandria; when, unluckily, +I neglected to count the bales, taking it for granted that they were +all right, as I had found them so the preceding day. However, +when we were to go on board the vessel that was to take us to Cairo, +I perceived that three bales of cotton were missing.</p> + +<p>“I ran to inform my master, who, though a good deal provoked +at my negligence, did not reproach me as I deserved. The public +crier was immediately sent round the city, to offer a reward for the +recovery of the merchandise; and it was restored by one of the merchants’ +slaves with whom we had travelled. The vessel was now under sail; +my master and I and the bales of cotton were obliged to follow in a +boat; and when we were taken on board, the captain declared he was so +loaded, that he could not tell where to stow the bales of cotton. +After much difficulty, he consented to let them remain upon deck; and +I promised my master to watch them night and day.</p> + +<p>“We had a prosperous voyage, and were actually in sight of +shore, which the captain said we could not fail to reach early the next +morning. I stayed, as usual, this night upon deck, and solaced +myself by smoking my pipe. Ever since I had indulged in this practice +at the camp at El Arish, I could not exist without opium and tobacco. +I suppose that my reason was this night a little clouded with the dose +I took; but towards midnight I was sobered by terror. I started +up from the deck on which I had stretched myself; my turban was in flames—the +bale of cotton on which I had rested was all on fire. I awakened +two sailors, who were fast asleep on deck. The consternation became +general, and the confusion increased the danger. The captain and +my master were the most active, and suffered the most, in extinguishing +the flames—my master was terribly scorched.</p> + +<p>“For my part, I was not suffered to do anything; the captain +ordered that I should be bound to the mast; and when at last the flames +were extinguished, the passengers, with one accord, besought him to +keep me bound hand and foot, lest I should be the cause of some new +disaster. All that had happened was, indeed, occasioned by my +ill-luck. I had laid my pipe down, when I was falling asleep, +upon the bale of cotton that was beside me. The fire from my pipe +fell out and set the cotton in flames. Such was the mixture of +rage and terror with which I had inspired the whole crew, that I am +sure they would have set me ashore on a desert island rather than have +had me on board for a week longer. Even my humane master, I could +perceive, was secretly impatient to get rid of Murad the Unlucky and +his evil fortune.</p> + +<p>“You may believe that I was heartily glad when we landed, and +when I was unbound. My master put a purse containing fifty sequins +into my hand, and bade me farewell. ‘Use this money prudently, +Murad, if you can,’ said he, ‘and perhaps your fortune may +change.’ Of this I had little hopes, but determined to lay +out my money as prudently as possible.</p> + +<p>“As I was walking through the streets of Grand Cairo, considering +how I should lay out my fifty sequins to the greatest advantage, I was +stopped by one who called me by my name, and asked me if I could pretend +to have forgotten his face. I looked steadily at him, and recollected +to my sorrow that he was the Jew Rachub, from whom I had borrowed certain +sums of money at the camp at El Arish. What brought him to Grand +Cairo, except it was my evil destiny, I cannot tell. He would +not quit me; he would take no excuses; he said he knew that I had deserted +twice, once from the Turkish and once from the English army; that I +was not entitled to any pay; and that he could not imagine it possible +that my brother Saladin would own me or pay my debts.</p> + +<p>“I replied, for I was vexed by the insolence of this Jewish +dog, that I was not, as he imagined, a beggar: that I had the means +of paying him my just debt, but that I hoped he would not extort from +me all that exorbitant interest which none but a Jew could exact. +He smiled, and answered that if a Turk loved opium better than money +this was no fault of his; that he had supplied me with what I loved +best in the world, and that I ought not to complain when he expected +I should return the favour.</p> + +<p>“I will not weary you, gentlemen, with all the arguments that +passed between me and Rachub. At last we compromised matters; +he would take nothing less than the whole debt: but he let me have at +a very cheap rate a chest of second-hand clothes, by which he assured +me I might make my fortune. He brought them to Grand Cairo, he +said, for the purpose of selling them to slave merchants, who, at this +time of the year, were in want of them to supply their slaves; but he +was in haste to get home to his wife and family at Constantinople, and, +therefore, he was willing to make over to a friend the profits of this +speculation. I should have distrusted Rachub’s professions +of friendship, and especially of disinterestedness, but he took me with +him to the khan where his goods were, and unlocked the chest of clothes +to show them to me. They were of the richest and finest materials, +and had been but little worn. I could not doubt the evidence of +my senses; the bargain was concluded, and the Jew sent porters to my +inn with the chest.</p> + +<p>“The next day I repaired to the public market-place; and, when +my business was known, I had choice of customers before night—my +chest was empty, and my purse was full. The profit I made upon +the sale of these clothes was so considerable, that I could not help +feeling astonishment at Rachub’s having brought himself so readily +to relinquish them.</p> + +<p>“A few days after I had disposed of the contents of my chest, +a Damascene merchant, who had bought two suits of apparel from me, told +me, with a very melancholy face, that both the female slaves who had +put on these clothes were sick. I could not conceive that the +clothes were the cause of their sickness; but soon afterwards, as I +was crossing the market, I was attacked by at least a dozen merchants, +who made similar complaints. They insisted upon knowing how I +came by the garments, and demanded whether I had worn any of them myself. +This day I had, for the first time, indulged myself with wearing a pair +of yellow slippers, the only finery I had reserved for myself out of +all the tempting goods. Convinced by my wearing these slippers +that I could have had no insidious designs, since I shared the danger, +whatever it might be, the merchants were a little pacified; but what +was my terror and remorse the next day, when one of them came to inform +me that plague-boils had broken out under the arms of all the slaves +who had worn this pestilential apparel! On looking carefully into +the chest, we found the word ‘Smyrna’ written, and half +effaced, upon the lid. Now, the plague had for some time raged +at Smyrna; and, as the merchants suspected, these clothes had certainly +belonged to persons who had died of that distemper. This was the +reason why the Jew was willing to sell them to me so cheap; and it was +for this reason that he would not stay at Grand Cairo himself to reap +the profits of his speculation. Indeed, if I had paid attention +to it at the proper time, a slight circumstance might have revealed +the truth to me. Whilst I was bargaining with the Jew, before +he opened the chest, he swallowed a large dram of brandy, and stuffed +his nostrils with sponge dipped in vinegar; he told me, he did to prevent +his perceiving the smell of musk, which always threw him into convulsions.</p> + +<p>“The horror I felt when I discovered that I had spread the +infection of the plague, and that I had probably caught it myself, overpowered +my senses—a cold dew spread over all my limbs, and I fell upon +the lid of the fatal chest in a swoon. It is said that fear disposes +people to take the infection; however this may be, I sickened that evening, +and soon was in a raging fever. It was worse for me whenever the +delirium left me, and I could reflect upon the miseries my ill-fortune +had occasioned. In my first lucid interval I looked round, and +saw that I had been removed from the khan to a wretched hut. An +old woman, who was smoking her pipe in the farthest corner of my room, +informed me that I had been sent out of the town of Grand Cairo by order +of the cadi, to whom the merchants had made their complaint. The +fatal chest was burnt, and the house in which I had lodged razed to +the ground. ‘And if it had not been for me,’ continued +the old woman, ‘you would have been dead probably at this instant; +but I have made a vow to our great Prophet that I would never neglect +an opportunity of doing a good action; therefore, when you were deserted +by all the world, I took care of you. Here, too, is your purse, +which I saved from the rabble—and, what is more difficult, from +the officers of justice. I will account to you for every part +that I have expended; and will, moreover, tell you the reason of my +making such an extraordinary vow.’</p> + +<p>“As I believed that this benevolent old woman took great pleasure +in talking, I made an inclination of my head to thank her for her promised +history, and she proceeded; but I must confess I did not listen with +all the attention her narrative doubtless deserved. Even curiosity, +the strongest passion of us Turks, was dead within me. I have +no recollection of the old woman’s story. It is as much +as I can do to finish my own.</p> + +<p>“The weather became excessively hot; it was affirmed by some +of the physicians that this heat would prove fatal to their patients; +but, contrary to the prognostics of the physicians, it stopped the progress +of the plague. I recovered, and found my purse much lightened +by my illness. I divided the remainder of my money with my humane +nurse, and sent her out into the city to inquire how matters were going +on.</p> + +<p>“She brought me word that the fury of the plague had much abated, +but that she had met several funerals, and that she had heard many of +the merchants cursing the folly of Murad the Unlucky, who, as they said, +had brought all this calamity upon the inhabitants of Cairo. Even +fools, they say, learn by experience. I took care to burn the +bed on which I had lain and the clothes I had worn; I concealed my real +name, which I knew would inspire detestation, and gained admittance, +with a crowd of other poor wretches, into a lazaretto, where I performed +quarantine and offered up prayers daily for the sick.</p> + +<p>“When I thought it was impossible I could spread the infection, +I took my passage home. I was eager to get away from Grand Cairo, +where I knew I was an object of execration. I had a strange fancy +haunting my mind; I imagined that all my misfortunes, since I left Constantinople, +had arisen from my neglect of the talisman upon the beautiful china +vase. I dreamed three times, when I was recovering from the plague, +that a genius appeared to me, and said, in a reproachful tone, ‘Murad, +where is the vase that was entrusted to thy care?’</p> + +<p>“This dream operated strongly upon my imagination. As +soon as we arrived at Constantinople, which we did, to my great surprise, +without meeting with any untoward accidents, I went in search of my +brother Saladin to inquire for my vase. He no longer lived in +the house in which I left him, and I began to be apprehensive that he +was dead, but a porter, hearing my inquiries, exclaimed, ‘Who +is there in Constantinople that is ignorant of the dwelling of Saladin +the Lucky? Come with me, and I will show it to you.’</p> + +<p>“The mansion to which he conducted me looked so magnificent +that I was almost afraid to enter lest there should be some mistake. +But whilst I was hesitating the doors opened, and I heard my brother +Saladin’s voice. He saw me almost at the same instant that +I fixed my eyes upon him, and immediately sprang forward to embrace +me. He was the same good brother as ever, and I rejoiced in his +prosperity with all my heart. ‘Brother Saladin,’ said +I, ‘can you now doubt that some men are born to be fortunate and +others to be unfortunate? How often you used to dispute this point +with me!’</p> + +<p>“‘Let us not dispute it now in the public street,’ +said he, smiling; ‘but come in and refresh yourself, and we will +consider the question afterwards at leisure.’</p> + +<p>“‘No, my dear brother,’ said I, drawing back, ‘you +are too good: Murad the Unlucky shall not enter your house, lest he +should draw down misfortunes upon you and yours. I come only to +ask for my vase.’</p> + +<p>“‘It is safe,’ cried he; ‘come in, and you +shall see it: but I will not give it up till I have you in my house. +I have none of these superstitious fears: pardon me the expression, +but I have none of these superstitious fears.’</p> + +<p>“I yielded, entered his house, and was astonished at all I +saw. My brother did not triumph in his prosperity; but, on the +contrary, seemed intent only upon making me forget my misfortunes: he +listened to the account of them with kindness, and obliged me by the +recital of his history: which was, I must acknowledge, far less wonderful +than my own. He seemed, by his own account, to have grown rich +in the common course of things; or rather, by his own prudence. +I allowed for his prejudices, and, unwilling to dispute farther with +him, said, ‘You must remain of your opinion, brother, and I of +mine; you are Saladin the Lucky, and I Murad the Unlucky; and so we +shall remain to the end of our lives.’</p> + +<p>“I had not been in his house four days when an accident happened, +which showed how much I was in the right. The favourite of the +sultan, to whom he had formerly sold his china vase, though her charms +were now somewhat faded by time, still retained her power and her taste +for magnificence. She commissioned my brother to bespeak for her, +at Venice, the most splendid looking-glass that money could purchase. +The mirror, after many delays and disappointments, at length arrived +at my brother’s house. He unpacked it, and sent to let the +lady know it was in perfect safety. It was late in the evening, +and she ordered it should remain where it was that night, and that it +should be brought to the seraglio the next morning. It stood in +a sort of ante-chamber to the room in which I slept; and with it were +left some packages, containing glass chandeliers for an unfinished saloon +in my brother’s house. Saladin charged all his domestics +to be vigilant this night, because he had money to a great amount by +him, and there had been frequent robberies in our neighbourhood. +Hearing these orders, I resolved to be in readiness at a moment’s +warning. I laid my scimitar beside me upon a cushion, and left +my door half open, that I might hear the slightest noise in the ante-chamber +or the great staircase. About midnight I was suddenly awakened +by a noise in the ante-chamber. I started up, seized my scimitar, +and the instant I got to the door, saw, by the light of the lamp which +was burning in the room, a man standing opposite to me, with a drawn +sword in his hand. I rushed forward, demanding what he wanted, +and received no answer; but seeing him aim at me with his scimitar, +I gave him, as I thought, a deadly blow. At this instant I heard +a great crash; and the fragments of the looking-glass, which I had shivered, +fell at my feet. At the same moment something black brushed by +my shoulder: I pursued it, stumbled over the packages of glass, and +rolled over them down the stairs.</p> + +<p>“My brother came out of his room to inquire the cause of all +this disturbance; and when he saw the fine mirror broken, and me lying +amongst the glass chandeliers at the bottom of the stairs, he could +not forbear exclaiming, ‘Well, brother! you are indeed Murad the +Unlucky.’</p> + +<p>“When the first emotion was over, he could not, however, forbear +laughing at my situation. With a degree of goodness, which made +me a thousand times more sorry for the accident, he came downstairs +to help me up, gave me his hand, and said, ‘Forgive me if I was +angry with you at first. I am sure you did not mean to do me any +injury; but tell me how all this has happened?’</p> + +<p>“Whilst Saladin was speaking, I heard the same kind of noise +which had alarmed me in the ante-chamber; but, on looking back, I saw +only a black pigeon, which flew swiftly by me, unconscious of the mischief +he had occasioned. This pigeon I had unluckily brought into the +house the preceding day; and had been feeding and trying to tame it +for my young nephews. I little thought it would be the cause of +such disasters. My brother, though he endeavoured to conceal his +anxiety from me, was much disturbed at the idea of meeting the favourite’s +displeasure, who would certainly be grievously disappointed by the loss +of her splendid looking-glass. I saw that I should inevitably +be his ruin if I continued in his house; and no persuasions could prevail +upon me to prolong my stay. My generous brother, seeing me determined +to go, said to me, ‘A factor, whom I have employed for some years +to sell merchandise for me, died a few days ago. Will you take +his place? I am rich enough to bear any little mistakes you may +fall into from ignorance of business; and you will have a partner who +is able and willing to assist you.’</p> + +<p>“I was touched to the heart by this kindness, especially at +such a time as this. He sent one of his slaves with me to the +shop in which you now see me, gentlemen. The slave, by my brother’s +directions, brought with us my china vase, and delivered it safely to +me, with this message: ‘The scarlet dye that was found in this +vase, and in its fellow, was the first cause of Saladin’s making +the fortune he now enjoys: he therefore does no more than justice in +sharing that fortune with his brother Murad.’</p> + +<p>“I was now placed in as advantageous a situation as possible; +but my mind was ill at ease when I reflected that the broken mirror +might be my brother’s ruin. The lady by whom it had been +bespoken was, I well knew, of a violent temper; and this disappointment +was sufficient to provoke her to vengeance. My brother sent me +word this morning, however, that though her displeasure was excessive, +it was in my power to prevent any ill consequences that might ensue. +‘In my power!’ I exclaimed; ‘then, indeed, I am happy! +Tell my brother there is nothing I will not do to show him my gratitude +and to save him from the consequences of my folly.’</p> + +<p>“The slave who was sent by my brother seemed unwilling to name +what was required of me, saying that his master was afraid I should +not like to grant the request. I urged him to speak freely, and +he then told me the favourite declared nothing would make her amends +for the loss of the mirror but the fellow-vase to that which she had +bought from Saladin. It was impossible for me to hesitate; gratitude +for my brother’s generous kindness overcame my superstitious obstinacy, +and I sent him word I would carry the vase to him myself.</p> + +<p>“I took it down this evening from the shelf on which it stood; +it was covered with dust, and I washed it, but, unluckily, in endeavouring +to clean the inside from the remains of the scarlet powder, I poured +hot water into it, and immediately I heard a simmering noise, and my +vase, in a few instants, burst asunder with a loud explosion. +These fragments, alas! are all that remain. The measure of my +misfortunes is now completed! Can you wonder, gentlemen, that +I bewail my evil destiny? Am I not justly called Murad the Unlucky? +Here end all my hopes in this world! Better would it have been +if I had died long ago! Better that I had never been born! +Nothing I ever have done or attempted has prospered. Murad the +Unlucky is my name, and ill-fate has marked me for her own.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<p>The lamentations of Murad were interrupted by the entrance of Saladin. +Having waited in vain for some hours, he now came to see if any disaster +had happened to his brother Murad. He was surprised at the sight +of the two pretended merchants, and could not refrain from exclamations +on beholding the broken vase. However, with his usual equanimity +and good-nature, he began to console Murad; and, taking up the fragments, +examined them carefully, one by one joined them together again, found +that none of the edges of the china were damaged, and declared he could +have it mended so as to look as well as ever.</p> + +<p>Murad recovered his spirits upon this. “Brother,” +said he, “I comfort myself for being Murad the Unlucky when I +reflect that you are Saladin the Lucky. See, gentlemen,” +continued he, turning to the pretended merchants, “scarcely has +this most fortunate of men been five minutes in company before he gives +a happy turn to affairs. His presence inspires joy: I observe +your countenances, which had been saddened by my dismal history, have +brightened up since he has made his appearance. Brother, I wish +you would make these gentlemen some amends for the time they have wasted +in listening to my catalogue of misfortunes by relating your history, +which, I am sure, they will find rather more exhilarating.”</p> + +<p>Saladin consented, on condition that the strangers would accompany +him home and partake of a social banquet. They at first repeated +the former excuse of their being obliged to return to their inn; but +at length the sultan’s curiosity prevailed, and he and his vizier +went home with Saladin the Lucky, who, after supper, related his history +in the following manner:—</p> + +<p>“My being called Saladin the Lucky first inspired me with confidence +in myself; though I own that I cannot remember any extraordinary instances +of good luck in my childhood. An old nurse of my mother’s, +indeed, repeated to me twenty times a day that nothing I undertook could +fail to succeed, because I was Saladin the Lucky. I became presumptuous +and rash; and my nurse’s prognostics might have effectually prevented +their accomplishment had I not, when I was about fifteen, been roused +to reflection during a long confinement, which was the consequence of +my youthful conceit and imprudence.</p> + +<p>“At this time there was at the Porte a Frenchman, an ingenious +engineer, who was employed and favoured by the sultan, to the great +astonishment of many of my prejudiced countrymen. On the grand +seignior’s birthday he exhibited some extraordinarily fine fireworks; +and I, with numbers of the inhabitants of Constantinople, crowded to +see them. I happened to stand near the place where the Frenchman +was stationed; the crowd pressed upon him, and I amongst the rest; he +begged we would, for our own sakes, keep at a greater distance, and +warned us that we might be much hurt by the combustibles which he was +using. I, relying upon my good fortune, disregarded all these +cautions; and the consequence was that, as I touched some of the materials +prepared for the fireworks, they exploded, dashed me upon the ground +with great violence, and I was terribly burnt.</p> + +<p>“This accident, gentlemen, I consider as one of the most fortunate +circumstances of my life; for it checked and corrected the presumption +of my temper. During the time I was confined to my bed the French +gentleman came frequently to see me. He was a very sensible man; +and the conversations he had with me enlarged my mind and cured me of +many foolish prejudices, especially of that which I had been taught +to entertain concerning the predominance of what is called luck or fortune +in human affairs. ‘Though you are called Saladin the Lucky,’ +said he, ‘you find that your neglect of prudence has nearly brought +you to the grave even in the bloom of youth. Take my advice, and +henceforward trust more to prudence than to fortune. Let the multitude, +if they will, call you Saladin the Lucky; but call yourself, and make +yourself, Saladin the Prudent.’</p> + +<p>“These words left an indelible impression on my mind, and gave +a new turn to my thoughts and character. My brother, Murad, has +doubtless told you our difference of opinion on the subject of predestination +produced between us frequent arguments; but we could never convince +one another, and we each have acted, through life, in consequence of +our different beliefs. To this I attribute my success and his +misfortunes.</p> + +<p>“The first rise of my fortune, as you have probably heard from +Murad, was owing to the scarlet dye, which I brought to perfection with +infinite difficulty. The powder, it is true, was accidentally +found by me in our china vases; but there it might have remained to +this instant, useless, if I had not taken the pains to make it useful. +I grant that we can only partially foresee and command events; yet on +the use we make of our own powers, I think, depends our destiny. +But, gentlemen, you would rather hear my adventures, perhaps, than my +reflections; and I am truly concerned, for your sakes, that I have no +wonderful events to relate. I am sorry I cannot tell you of my +having been lost in a sandy desert. I have never had the plague, +nor even been shipwrecked: I have been all my life an inhabitant of +Constantinople, and have passed my time in a very quiet and uniform +manner.</p> + +<p>“The money I received from the sultan’s favourite for +my china vase, as my brother may have told you, enabled me to trade +on a more extensive scale. I went on steadily with my business, +and made it my whole study to please my employers by all fair and honourable +means. This industry and civility succeeded beyond my expectations: +in a few years I was rich for a man in my way of business.</p> + +<p>“I will not proceed to trouble you with the journal of a petty +merchant’s life; I pass on to the incident which made a considerable +change in my affairs.</p> + +<p>“A terrible fire broke out near the walls of the grand seignior’s +seraglio. As you are strangers, gentlemen, you may not have heard +of this event, though it produced so great a sensation in Constantinople. +The vizier’s superb palace was utterly consumed, and the melted +lead poured down from the roof of the mosque of St. Sophia. Various +were the opinions formed by my neighbours respecting the cause of the +conflagration. Some supposed it to be a punishment for the sultan’s +having neglected one Friday to appear at the mosque of St. Sophia; others +considered it as a warning sent by Mahomet to dissuade the Porte from +persisting in a war in which we were just engaged. The generality, +however, of the coffee-house politicians contented themselves with observing +that it was the will of Mahomet that the palace should be consumed. +Satisfied by this supposition, they took no precaution to prevent similar +accidents in their own houses. Never were fires so common in the +city as at this period; scarcely a night passed without our being wakened +by the cry of fire.</p> + +<p>“These frequent fires were rendered still more dreadful by +villains, who were continually on the watch to increase the confusion +by which they profited, and to pillage the houses of the sufferers. +It was discovered that these incendiaries frequently skulked, towards +evening, in the neighbourhood of the bezestein, where the richest merchants +store their goods. Some of these wretches were detected in throwing +<i>coundaks</i>, or matches, into the windows; and if these combustibles +remained a sufficient time, they could not fail to set the house on +fire.</p> + +<p>“Notwithstanding all these circumstances, many even of those +who had property to preserve continued to repeat, ‘It is the will +of Mahomet,’ and consequently to neglect all means of preservation. +I, on the contrary, recollecting the lesson I had learned from the sensible +foreigner, neither suffered my spirits to sink with superstitious fears +of ill-luck, nor did I trust presumptuously to my good fortune. +I took every possible means to secure myself. I never went to +bed without having seen that all the lights and fires in the house were +extinguished, and that I had a supply of water in the cistern. +I had likewise learned from my Frenchman that wet mortar was the most +effectual thing for stopping the progress of flames. I, therefore, +had a quantity of mortar made up in one of my outhouses, which I could +use at a moment’s warning. These precautions were all useful +to me. My own house, indeed, was never actually on fire; but the +houses of my next-door neighbours were no less than five times in flames +in the course of one winter. By my exertions, or rather by my +precautions, they suffered but little damage, and all my neighbours +looked upon me as their deliverer and friend; they loaded me with presents, +and offered more, indeed, than I would accept. All repeated that +I was Saladin the Lucky. This compliment I disclaimed, feeling +more ambitious of being called Saladin the Prudent. It is thus +that what we call modesty is often only a more refined species of pride. +But to proceed with my story.</p> + +<p>“One night I had been later than usual at supper at a friend’s +house; none but the watch were in the streets, and even they, I believe, +were asleep.</p> + +<p>“As I passed one of the conduits which convey water to the +city, I heard a trickling noise; and, upon examination, I found that +the cock of the water-spout was half turned, so that the water was running +out. I turned it back to its proper place, thought it had been +left unturned by accident, and walked on; but I had not proceeded far +before I came to another spout, and another, which were in the same +condition. I was convinced that this could not be the effect merely +of accident, and suspected that some ill-intentioned persons designed +to let out and waste the water of the city, that there might be none +to extinguish any fire that should break out in the course of the night.</p> + +<p>“I stood still for a few moments, to consider how it would +be most prudent to act. It would be impossible for me to run to +all parts of the city, that I might stop the pipes that were running +to waste. I first thought of wakening the watch and the firemen, +who were most of them slumbering at their stations; but I reflected +that they were perhaps not to be trusted, and that they were in a confederacy +with the incendiaries, otherwise they would certainly before this hour +have observed and stopped the running of the sewers in their neighbourhood. +I determined to waken a rich merchant, called Damat Zade, who lived +near me, and who had a number of slaves whom he could send to different +parts of the city, to prevent mischief and give notice to the inhabitants +of their danger.</p> + +<p>“He was a very sensible, active man, and one that could easily +be wakened; he was not like some Turks, an hour in recovering their +lethargic senses. He was quick in decision and action; and his +slaves resembled their master. He despatched a messenger immediately +to the grand vizier, that the sultan’s safety might be secured, +and sent others to the magistrates in each quarter of Constantinople. +The large drums in the janissary aga’s tower beat to rouse the +inhabitants; and scarcely had they been heard to beat half an hour before +the fire broke out in the lower apartments of Damat Zade’s house, +owing to a <i>coundak</i> which had been left behind one of the doors.</p> + +<p>“The wretches who had prepared the mischief came to enjoy it, +and to pillage; but they were disappointed. Astonished to find +themselves taken into custody, they could not comprehend how their designs +had been frustrated. By timely exertions, the fire in my friend’s +house was extinguished; and though fires broke out during the night +in many parts of the city, but little damage was sustained, because +there was time for precautions, and, by the stopping of the spouts, +sufficient water was preserved. People were awakened and warned +of the danger, and they consequently escaped unhurt.</p> + +<p>“The next day, as soon as I made my appearance at the bezestein, +the merchants crowded round, called me their benefactor, and the preserver +of their lives and fortunes. Damat Zade, the merchant whom I had +awakened the preceding night, presented to me a heavy purse of gold, +and put upon my finger a diamond ring of considerable value; each of +the merchants followed his example in making me rich presents; the magistrates +also sent me tokens of their approbation; and the grand vizier sent +me a diamond of the first water, with a line written by his own hand, +‘To the man who has saved Constantinople.’ Excuse +me, gentlemen, for the vanity I seem to show in mentioning these circumstances. +You desired to hear my history, and I cannot, therefore, omit the principal +circumstance of my life. In the course of four-and-twenty hours +I found myself raised, by the munificent gratitude of the inhabitants +of this city, to a state of affluence far beyond what I had ever dreamed +of attaining.</p> + +<p>“I now took a house suited to my circumstances, and bought +a few slaves. As I was carrying my slaves home, I was met by a +Jew, who stopped me, saying, in his language, ‘My lord, I see, +has been purchasing slaves; I could clothe them cheaply.’ +There was something mysterious in the manner of this Jew, and I did +not like his countenance; but I considered that I ought not to be governed +by caprice in my dealings, and that, if this man could really clothe +my slaves more cheaply than another, I ought not to neglect his offer +merely because I took a dislike to the cut of his beard, the turn of +his eye, or the tone of his voice. I, therefore, bade the Jew +follow me home, saying that I would consider of his proposal.</p> + +<p>“When we came to talk over the matter, I was surprised to find +him so reasonable in his demands. On one point, indeed, he appeared +unwilling to comply. I required not only to see the clothes I +was offered, but also to know how they came into his possession. +On this subject he equivocated; I, therefore, suspected there must be +something wrong. I reflected what it could be, and judged that +the goods had been stolen, or that they had been the apparel of persons +who had died of some contagious distemper. The Jew showed me a +chest, from which he said I might choose whatever suited me best. +I observed that, as he was going to unlock the chest, he stuffed his +nose with some aromatic herbs. He told me that he did so to prevent +his smelling the musk with which the chest was perfumed; musk, he said, +had an extraordinary effect upon his nerves. I begged to have +some of the herbs which he used himself, declaring that musk was likewise +offensive to me.</p> + +<p>“The Jew, either struck by his own conscience or observing +my suspicions, turned as pale as death. He pretended he had not +the right key, and could not unlock the chest; said he must go in search +of it, and that he would call on me again.</p> + +<p>“After he had left me, I examined some writing upon the lid +of the chest that had been nearly effaced. I made out the word +‘Smyrna,’ and this was sufficient to confirm all my suspicions. +The Jew returned no more; he sent some porters to carry away the chest, +and I heard nothing of him for some time, till one day, when I was at +the house of Damat Zade, I saw a glimpse of the Jew passing hastily +through one of the courts, as if he wished to avoid me. ‘My +friend,’ said I to Damat Zade, ‘do not attribute my question +to impertinent curiosity, or to a desire to intermeddle with your affairs, +if I venture to ask the nature of your business with the Jew who has +just now crossed your court?’</p> + +<p>“‘He has engaged to supply me with clothing for my slaves,’ +replied my friend, ‘cheaper than I can purchase it elsewhere. +I have a design to surprise my daughter Fatima, on her birthday, with +an entertainment in the pavilion in the garden, and all her female slaves +shall appear in new dresses on the occasion.’</p> + +<p>“I interrupted my friend, to tell him what I suspected relative +to this Jew and his chest of clothes. It is certain that the infection +of the plague can be communicated by clothes, not only after months, +but after years have elapsed. The merchant resolved to have nothing +more to do with this wretch, who could thus hazard the lives of thousands +of his follow-creatures for a few pieces of gold. We sent notice +of the circumstance to the cadi, but the cadi was slow in his operations; +and before he could take the Jew into custody the cunning fellow had +effected his escape. When his house was searched, he and his chest +had disappeared. We discovered that he sailed for Egypt, and rejoiced +that we had driven him from Constantinople.</p> + +<p>“My friend, Damat Zade, expressed the warmest gratitude to +me. ‘You formerly saved my fortune; you have now saved my +life, and a life yet dearer than my own: that of my daughter Fatima.’</p> + +<p>“At the sound of that name I could not, I believe, avoid showing +some emotion. I had accidentally seen this lady, and I had been +captivated by her beauty and by the sweetness of her countenance; but +as I knew she was destined to be the wife of another, I suppressed my +feeling, and determined to banish the recollection of the fair Fatima +for ever from my imagination. Her father, however, at this instant +threw into my way a temptation which it required all my fortitude to +resist. ‘Saladin,’ continued he, ‘it is but +just that you, who have saved our lives, should share our festivity. +Come here on the birthday of my Fatima; I will place you in a balcony +which overlooks the garden, and you shall see the whole spectacle. +We shall have a <i>feast of tulips</i>, in imitation of that which, +as you know, is held in the grand seignior’s gardens. I +assure you the sight will be worth seeing; and besides, you will have +a chance of beholding my Fatima, for a moment, without her veil.’</p> + +<p>“‘That,’ interrupted I, ‘is the thing I most +wish to avoid. I dare not indulge myself in a pleasure which might +cost me the happiness of my life. I will conceal nothing from +you, who treat me with so much confidence. I have already beheld +the charming countenance of your Fatima, but I know that she is destined +to be the wife of a happier man.’</p> + +<p>“Damat Zade seemed much pleased by the frankness with which +I explained myself; but he would not give up the idea of my sitting +with him in the balcony on the day of the feast of tulips; and I, on +my part, could not consent to expose myself to another view of the charming +Fatima. My friend used every argument, or rather every sort of +persuasion, he could imagine to prevail upon me; he then tried to laugh +me out of my resolution; and, when all failed, he said, in a voice of +anger, ‘Go, then, Saladin: I am sure you are deceiving me; you +have a passion for some other woman, and you would conceal it from me, +and persuade me you refuse the favour I offer you from prudence, when, +in fact, it is from indifference and contempt. Why could you not +speak the truth of your heart to me with that frankness with which one +friend should treat another?’</p> + +<p>“Astonished at this unexpected charge, and at the anger which +flashed from the eyes of Damat Zade, who till this moment had always +appeared to me a man of a mild and reasonable temper, I was for an instant +tempted to fly into a passion and leave him; but friends, once lost, +are not easily regained. This consideration had power sufficient +to make me command my temper. ‘My friend,’ replied +I, ‘we will talk over this affair to-morrow. You are now +angry, and cannot do me justice, but to-morrow you will be cool; you +will then be convinced that I have not deceived you, and that I have +no design but to secure my own happiness, by the most prudent means +in my power, by avoiding the sight of the dangerous Fatima. I +have no passion for any other woman.’</p> + +<p>“‘Then,’ said my friend, embracing me, and quitting +the tone of anger which he had assumed only to try my resolution to +the utmost, ‘Then, Saladin, Fatima is yours.’</p> + +<p>“I scarcely dared to believe my senses; I could not express +my joy! ‘Yes, my friend,’ continued the merchant, +‘I have tried your prudence to the utmost, it has been victorious, +and I resign my Fatima to you, certain that you will make her happy. +It is true I had a greater alliance in view for her—the Pacha +of Maksoud has demanded her from me; but I have found, upon private +inquiry, he is addicted to the intemperate use of opium, and my daughter +shall never be the wife of one who is a violent madman one-half the +day and a melancholy idiot during the remainder. I have nothing +to apprehend from the pacha’s resentment, because I have powerful +friends with the grand vizier, who will oblige him to listen to reason, +and to submit quietly to a disappointment he so justly merits. +And now, Saladin, have you any objection to seeing the feast of tulips?’</p> + +<p>“I replied only by falling at the merchant’s feet, and +embracing his knees. The feast of tulips came and on that day +I was married to the charming Fatima! The charming Fatima I continue +still to think her, though she has now been my wife some years. +She is the joy and pride of my heart; and, from our mutual affection, +I have experienced more felicity than from all the other circumstances +of my life, which are called so fortunate. Her father gave me +the house in which I now live, and joined his possessions to ours; so +that I have more wealth even than I desire. My riches, however, +give me continually the means of relieving the wants of others; and +therefore I cannot affect to despise them. I must persuade my +brother Murad to share them with me, and to forget his misfortunes: +I shall then think myself completely happy. As to the sultana’s +looking-glass and your broken vase, my dear brother,” continued +Saladin, “we must think of some means—”</p> + +<p>“Think no more of the sultana’s looking-glass or of the +broken vase,” exclaimed the sultan, throwing aside his merchant’s +habit, and showing beneath it his own imperial vest. “Saladin, +I rejoice to have heard, from your own lips, the history of your life. +I acknowledge, vizier, I have been in the wrong in our argument,” +continued the sultan, turning to his vizier. “I acknowledge +that the histories of Saladin the Lucky and Murad the Unlucky favour +your opinion, that prudence has more influence than chance in human +affairs. The success and happiness of Saladin seem to me to have +arisen from his prudence: by that prudence Constantinople has been saved +from flames and from the plague. Had Murad possessed his brother’s +discretion, he would not have been on the point of losing his head, +for selling rolls which he did not bake: he would not have been kicked +by a mule or bastinadoed for finding a ring: he would not have been +robbed by one party of soldiers, or shot by another: he would not have +been lost in a desert, or cheated by a Jew: he would not have set a +ship on fire; nor would he have caught the plague, and spread it through +Grand Cairo: he would not have run my sultana’s looking-glass +through the body, instead of a robber: he would not have believed that +the fate of his life depended on certain verses on a china vase: nor +would he, at last, have broken this precious talisman, by washing it +with hot water. Henceforward, let Murad the Unlucky be named Murad +the Imprudent: let Saladin preserve the surname he merits, and be henceforth +called Saladin the Prudent.”</p> + +<p>So spake the sultan, who, unlike the generality of monarchs, could +bear to find himself in the wrong, and could discover his vizier to +be in the right without cutting off his head. History farther +informs us that the sultan offered to make Saladin a pacha, and to commit +to him the government of a province; but, Saladin the Prudent declined +this honour, saying he had no ambition, was perfectly happy in his present +situation, and that, when this was the case, it would be folly to change, +because no one can be more than happy. What farther adventures +befell Murad the Imprudent are not recorded; it is known only that he +became a daily visitor to the Teriaky, and that he died a martyr to +the immoderate use of opium.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>THE LIMERICK GLOVES</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p>It was Sunday morning, and a fine day in autumn; the bells of Hereford +Cathedral rang, and all the world, smartly dressed, were flocking to +church.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Hill! Mrs. Hill!—Phœbe! Phœbe! There’s +the cathedral bell, I say, and neither of you ready for church, and +I a verger,” cried Mr. Hill, the tanner, as he stood at the bottom +of his own staircase. “I’m ready, papa,” replied +Phœbe; and down she came, looking so clean, so fresh, and so gay, that +her stern father’s brows unbent, and he could only say to her, +as she was drawing on a new pair of gloves, “Child, you ought +to have had those gloves on before this time of day.”</p> + +<p>“Before this time of day!” cried Mrs. Hill, who was now +coming downstairs completely equipped—“before this time +of day! She should know better, I say, than to put on those gloves +at all: more especially when going to the cathedral.”</p> + +<p>“The gloves are very good gloves, as far as I see,” replied +Mr. Hill. “But no matter now. It is more fitting that +we should be in proper time in our pew, to set an example, as becomes +us, than to stand here talking of gloves and nonsense.”</p> + +<p>He offered his wife and daughter each an arm, and set out for the +cathedral; but Phœbe was too busy in drawing on her new gloves, and +her mother was too angry at the sight of them, to accept of Mr. Hill’s +courtesy. “What I say is always nonsense, I know, Mr. Hill,” +resumed the matron: “but I can see as far into a millstone as +other folks. Was it not I that first gave you a hint of what became +of the great dog that we lost out of our tan-yard last winter? +And was it not I who first took notice to you, Mr. Hill, verger as you +are, of the hole under the foundation of the cathedral? Was it +not, I ask you, Mr. Hill?”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear Mrs. Hill, what has all this to do with Phœbe’s +gloves?”</p> + +<p>“Are you blind, Mr. Hill? Don’t you see that they +are Limerick gloves?”</p> + +<p>“What of that?” said Mr. Hill, still preserving his composure, +as it was his custom to do as long as he could, when he saw his wife +was ruffled.</p> + +<p>“What of that, Mr. Hill! why, don’t you know that Limerick +is in Ireland, Mr. Hill?”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and with all your heart, I suppose, Mr. Hill, you would +see our cathedral blown up, some fair day or other, and your own daughter +married to the person that did it; and you a verger, Mr. Hill.”</p> + +<p>“God forbid!” cried Mr, Hill; and he stopped short and +settled his wig. Presently recovering himself, he added, “But, +Mrs. Hill, the cathedral is not yet blown up; and our Phœbe is not +yet married.”</p> + +<p>“No; but what of that, Mr. Hill? Forewarned is forearmed, +as I told you before your dog was gone; but you would not believe me, +and you see how it turned out in that case; and so it will in this case, +you’ll see, Mr. Hill.”</p> + +<p>“But you puzzle and frighten me out of my wits, Mrs. Hill,” +said the verger, again settling his wig. “<i>In that case +and in this case</i>! I can’t understand a syllable of what +you’ve been saying to me this half-hour. In plain English, +what is there the matter about Phœbe’s gloves?”</p> + +<p>“In plain English, then, Mr. Hill, since you can understand +nothing else, please to ask your daughter Phœbe who gave her those +gloves. Phœbe, who gave you those gloves?”</p> + +<p>“I wish they were burnt,” said the husband, whose patience +could endure no longer. “Who gave you those cursed gloves, +Phœbe?”</p> + +<p>“Papa,” answered Phœbe, in a low voice, “they +were a present from Mr. Brian O’Neill.”</p> + +<p>“The Irish glover!” cried Mr. Hill, with a look of terror.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” resumed the mother; “very true, Mr. Hill, +I assure you. Now, you see, I had my reasons.”</p> + +<p>“Take off the gloves directly: I order you, Phœbe,” +said her father, in his most peremptory tone. “I took a +mortal dislike to that Mr. Brian O’Neill the first time I ever +saw him. He’s an Irishman, and that’s enough, and +too much for me. Off with the gloves, Phœbe! When I order +a thing, it must be done.”</p> + +<p>Phœbe seemed to find some difficulty in getting off the gloves, +and gently urged that she could not well go into the cathedral without +them. This objection was immediately removed by her mother’s +pulling from her pocket a pair of mittens, which had once been brown, +and once been whole, but which were now rent in sundry places; and which, +having been long stretched by one who was twice the size of Phœbe, +now hung in huge wrinkles upon her well-turned arms.</p> + +<p>“But, papa,” said Phœbe, “why should we take a +dislike to him because he is an Irishman? Cannot an Irishman be +a good man?”</p> + +<p>The verger made no answer to this question, but a few seconds after +it was put to him observed that the cathedral bell had just done ringing; +and, as they were now got to the church door, Mrs. Hill, with a significant +look at Phœbe, remarked that it was no proper time to talk or think +of good men, or bad men, or Irishmen, or any men, especially for a verger’s +daughter.</p> + +<p>We pass over in silence the many conjectures that were made by several +of the congregation concerning the reason why Miss Phœbe Hill should +appear in such a shameful shabby pair of gloves on a Sunday. After +service was ended, the verger went, with great mystery, to examine the +hole under the foundation of the cathedral; and Mrs. Hill repaired, +with the grocer’s and the stationer’s ladies, to take a +walk in the Close, where she boasted to all her female acquaintance, +whom she called her friends, of her maternal discretion in prevailing +upon Mr. Hill to forbid her daughter Phœbe to wear the Limerick gloves.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Phœbe walked pensively homewards, endeavouring +to discover why her father should take a mortal dislike to a man at +first sight, merely because he was an Irishman: and why her mother had +talked so much of the great dog which had been lost last year out of +the tan-yard; and of the hole under the foundation of the cathedral! +“What has all this to do with my Limerick gloves?” thought +she. The more she thought, the less connection she could perceive +between these things: for as she had not taken a dislike to Mr. Brian +O’Neill at first sight, because he was an Irishman, she could +not think it quite reasonable to suspect him of making away with her +father’s dog, nor yet of a design to blow up Hereford Cathedral. +As she was pondering upon these matters, she came within sight of the +ruins of a poor woman’s house, which a few months before this +time had been burnt down. She recollected that her first acquaintance +with her lover began at the time of this fire; and she thought that +the courage and humanity he showed, in exerting himself to save this +unfortunate woman and her children, justified her notion of the possibility +that an Irishman might be a good man.</p> + +<p>The name of the poor woman whose house had been burnt down was Smith: +she was a widow, and she now lived at the extremity of a narrow lane +in a wretched habitation. Why Phœbe thought of her with more +concern than usual at this instant we need not examine, but she did; +and, reproaching herself for having neglected it for some weeks past, +she resolved to go directly to see the widow Smith, and to give her +a crown which she had long had in her pocket, with which she had intended +to have bought play tickets.</p> + +<p>It happened that the first person she saw in the poor widow’s +kitchen was the identical Mr. O’Neill. “I did not +expect to see anybody here but you, Mrs. Smith,” said Phœbe, +blushing.</p> + +<p>“So much the greater the pleasure of the meeting; to me, I +mean, Miss Hill,” said O’Neill, rising, and putting down +a little boy, with whom he had been playing. Phœbe went on talking +to the poor woman; and, after slipping the crown into her hand, said +she would call again. O’Neill, surprised at the change in +her manner, followed her when she left the house, and said, “It +would be a great misfortune to me to have done anything to offend Miss +Hill, especially if I could not conceive how or what it was, which is +my case at this present speaking.” And as the spruce glover +spoke, he fixed his eyes upon Phœbe’s ragged gloves. She +drew them up in vain; and then said, with her natural simplicity and +gentleness, “You have not done anything to offend me, Mr. O’Neill; +but you are some way or other displeasing to my father and mother, and +they have forbid me to wear the Limerick gloves.”</p> + +<p>“And sure Miss Hill would not be after changing her opinion +of her humble servant for no reason in life but because her father and +mother, who have taken a prejudice against him, are a little contrary.”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Phœbe; “I should not change my opinion +without any reason; but I have not yet had time to fix my opinion of +you, Mr. O’Neill.”</p> + +<p>“To let you know a piece of my mind, then, my dear Miss Hill,” +resumed he, “the more contrary they are, the more pride and joy +it would give me to win and wear you, in spite of ’em all; and +if without a farthing in your pocket, so much the more I should rejoice +in the opportunity of proving to your dear self, and all else whom it +may consarn, that Brian O’Neill is no fortune-hunter, and scorns +them that are so narrow-minded as to think that no other kind of cattle +but them there fortune-hunters can come out of all Ireland. So, +my dear Phœbe, now we understand one another, I hope you will not be +paining my eyes any longer with the sight of these odious brown bags, +which are not fit to be worn by any Christian arms, to say nothing of +Miss Hill’s, which are the handsomest, without any compliment, +that ever I saw, and, to my mind, would become a pair of Limerick gloves +beyond anything: and I expect she’ll show her generosity and proper +spirit by putting them on immediately.”</p> + +<p>“You expect, sir!” repeated Miss Hill, with a look of +more indignation than her gentle countenance had ever before been seen +to assume. “Expect!” “If he had said hope,” +thought she, “it would have been another thing: but expect! what +right has he to expect?”</p> + +<p>Now Miss Hill, unfortunately, was not sufficiently acquainted with +the Irish idiom to know that to expect, in Ireland, is the same thing +as to hope in England; and, when her Irish admirer said “I expect,” +he meant only, in plain English, “I hope.” But thus +it is that a poor Irishman, often, for want of understanding the niceties +of the English language, says the rudest when he means to say the civillest +things imaginable.</p> + +<p>Miss Hill’s feelings were so much hurt by this unlucky “I +expect” that the whole of his speech, which had before made some +favourable impression upon her, now lost its effect: and she replied +with proper spirit, as she thought, “You expect a great deal too +much, Mr. O’Neill; and more than ever I gave you reason to do. +It would be neither pleasure nor pride to me to be won and worn, as +you were pleased to say, in spite of them all; and to be thrown, without +a farthing in my pocket, upon the protection of one who expects so much +at first setting out.—So I assure you, sir, whatever you may expect, +I shall not put on the Limerick gloves.”</p> + +<p>Mr. O’Neill was not without his share of pride and proper spirit; +nay, he had, it must be confessed, in common with some others of his +countrymen, an improper share of pride and spirit. Fired by the +lady’s coldness, he poured forth a volley of reproaches; and ended +by wishing, as he said, a good morning, for ever and ever, to one who +could change her opinion, point blank, like the weathercock. “I +am, miss, your most obedient; and I expect you’ll never think +no more of poor Brian O’Neill and the Limerick gloves.”</p> + +<p>If he had not been in too great a passion to observe anything, poor +Brian O’Neill would have found out that Phœbe was not a weathercock: +but he left her abruptly, and hurried away, imagining all the while +that it was Phœbe, and not himself, who was in a rage. Thus, +to the horseman who is galloping at full speed, the hedges, trees, and +houses seem rapidly to recede, whilst, in reality, they never move from +their places. It is he that flies from them, and not they from +him.</p> + +<p>On Monday morning Miss Jenny Brown, the perfumer’s daughter, +came to pay Phœbe a morning visit, with face of busy joy.</p> + +<p>“So, my dear!” said she: “fine doings in Hereford! +But what makes you look so downcast? To be sure you are invited, +as well as the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>“Invited where?” cried Mrs. Hill, who was present, and +who could never endure to hear of an invitation in which she was not +included. “Invited where, pray, Miss Jenny?”</p> + +<p>“La! have not you heard? Why, we all took it for granted +that you and Miss Phœbe would have been the first and foremost to have +been asked to Mr. O’Neill’s ball.”</p> + +<p>“Ball!” cried Mrs. Hill; and luckily saved Phœbe, who +was in some agitation, the trouble of speaking. “Why, this +is a mighty sudden thing: I never heard a tittle of it before.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this is really extraordinary! And, Phœbe, have +you not received a pair of Limerick gloves?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have,” said Phœbe, “but what then? +What have my Limerick gloves to do with the ball?”</p> + +<p>“A great deal,” replied Jenny. “Don’t +you know that a pair of Limerick gloves is, as one may say, a ticket +to this ball? for every lady that has been asked has had a pair sent +to her along with the card; and I believe as many as twenty, besides +myself, have been asked this morning.”</p> + +<p>Jenny then produced her new pair of Limerick gloves, and as she tried +them on, and showed how well they fitted, she counted up the names of +the ladies who, to her knowledge, were to be at this ball. When +she had finished the catalogue, she expatiated upon the grand preparations +which it was said the widow O’Neill, Mr. O’Neill’s +mother, was making for the supper, and concluded by condoling with Mrs. +Hill for her misfortune in not having been invited. Jenny took +her leave to get her dress in readiness: “for,” added she, +“Mr. O’Neill has engaged me to open the ball in case Phœbe +does not go; but I suppose she will cheer up and go, as she has a pair +of Limerick gloves as well as the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>There was a silence for some minutes after Jenny’s departure, +which was broken by Phœbe, who told her mother that, early in the morning, +a note had been brought to her, which she had returned unopened, because +she knew, from the handwriting of the direction, that it came from Mr. +O’Neill.</p> + +<p>We must observe that Phœbe had already told her mother of her meeting +with this gentleman at the poor widow’s, and of all that had passed +between them afterwards. This openness on her part had softened +the heart of Mrs. Hill, who was really inclined to be good-natured, +provided people would allow that she had more penetration than any one +else in Hereford. She was, moreover, a good deal piqued and alarmed +by the idea that the perfumer’s daughter might rival and outshine +her own. Whilst she had thought herself sure of Mr. O’Neill’s +attachment to Phœbe, she had looked higher, especially as she was persuaded +by the perfumer’s lady to think that an Irishman could not but +be a bad match; but now she began to suspect that the perfumer’s +lady had changed her opinion of Irishmen, since she did not object to +her own Jenny’s leading up the ball at Mr. O’Neill’s.</p> + +<p>All these thoughts passed rapidly in the mother’s mind, and, +with her fear of losing an admirer for her Phœbe, the value of that +admirer suddenly rose in her estimation. Thus, at an auction, +if a lot is going to be knocked down to a lady who is the only person +that has bid for it, even she feels discontented, and despises that +which nobody covets; but if, as the hammer is falling, many voices answer +to the question, “Who bids more?” then her anxiety to secure +the prize suddenly rises, and, rather than be outbid, she will give +far beyond its value.</p> + +<p>“Why, child,” said Mrs. Hill, “since you have a +pair of Limerick gloves; and since certainly that note was an invitation +to us to this ball; and since it is much more fitting that you should +open the ball than Jenny Brown; and since, after all, it was very handsome +and genteel of the young man to say he would take you without a farthing +in your pocket, which shows that those were misinformed who talked of +him as an Irish adventurer; and since we are not certain ’twas +he made away with the dog, although he said its barking was a great +nuisance; there is no great reason to suppose he was the person who +made the hole under the foundation of the cathedral, or that he could +have such a wicked thought as to blow it up; and since he must be in +a very good way of business to be able to afford giving away four or +five guineas’ worth of Limerick gloves, and balls and suppers; +and since, after all, it is no fault of his to be an Irishman, I give +it as my vote and opinion, my dear, that you put on your Limerick gloves +and go to this ball; and I’ll go and speak to your father, and +bring him round to our opinion, and then I’ll pay the morning +visit I owe to the widow O’Neill and make up your quarrel with +Brian. Love quarrels are easy to make up, you know, and then we +shall have things all upon velvet again, and Jenny Brown need not come +with her hypocritical condoling face to us any more.”</p> + +<p>After running this speech glibly off, Mrs. Hill, without waiting +to hear a syllable from poor Phœbe, trotted off in search of her consort. +It was not, however, quite so easy a task as his wife expected, to bring +Mr. Hill round to her opinion. He was slow in declaring himself +of any opinion; but when once he had said a thing, there was but little +chance of altering his notions. On this occasion Mr. Hill was +doubly bound to his prejudice against our unlucky Irishman; for he had +mentioned with great solemnity at the club which he frequented the grand +affair of the hole under the foundation of the cathedral, and his suspicions +that there was a design to blow it up. Several of the club had +laughed at this idea; others, who supposed that Mr. O’Neill was +a Roman Catholic, and who had a confused notion that a Roman Catholic +must be a very wicked, dangerous being, thought that there might be +a great deal in the verger’s suggestions, and observed that a +very watchful eye ought to be kept upon this Irish glover, who had come +to settle at Hereford nobody knew why, and who seemed to have money +at command nobody knew how.</p> + +<p>The news of this ball sounded to Mr. Hill’s prejudiced imagination +like the news of a conspiracy. “Ay! ay!” thought he; +“the Irishman is cunning enough! But we shall be too many +for him: he wants to throw all the good sober folks of Hereford off +their guard by feasting, and dancing, and carousing, I take it, and +so to perpetrate his evil design when it is least suspected; but we +shall be prepared for him, fools as he takes us plain Englishmen to +be, I warrant.”</p> + +<p>In consequence of these most shrewd cogitations, our verger silenced +his wife with a peremptory nod when she came to persuade him to let +Phœbe put on the Limerick gloves and go to the ball. “To +this ball she shall not go, and I charge her not to put on those Limerick +gloves as she values my blessing,” said Mr. Hill. “Please +to tell her so, Mrs. Hill, and trust to my judgment and discretion in +all things, Mrs. Hill. Strange work may be in Hereford yet: but +I’ll say no more; I must go and consult with knowing men who are +of my opinion.”</p> + +<p>He sallied forth, and Mrs. Hill was left in a state which only those +who are troubled with the disease of excessive curiosity can rightly +comprehend or compassionate. She hied her back to Phœbe, to whom +she announced her father’s answer, and then went gossiping to +all her female acquaintance in Hereford, to tell them all that she knew, +and all that she did not know, and to endeavour to find out a secret +where there was none to be found.</p> + +<p>There are trials of temper in all conditions, and no lady, in high +or low life, could endure them with a better grace than Phœbe. +Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Hill were busied abroad, there came to see Phœbe +one of the widow Smith’s children. With artless expressions +of gratitude to Phœbe this little girl mixed the praises of O’Neill, +who, she said, had been the constant friend of her mother, and had given +her money every week since the fire happened. “Mammy loves +him dearly for being so good-natured,” continued the child; “and +he has been good to other people as well as to us.”</p> + +<p>“To whom?” said Phœbe.</p> + +<p>“To a poor man who has lodged for these few days past next +door to us,” replied the child; “I don’t know his +name rightly, but he is an Irishman, and he goes out a-haymaking in +the daytime along with a number of others. He knew Mr. O’Neill +in his own country, and he told mammy a great deal about his goodness.”</p> + +<p>As the child finished these words, Phœbe took out of a drawer some +clothes, which she had made for the poor woman’s children, and +gave them to the little girl. It happened that the Limerick gloves +had been thrown into this drawer; and Phœbe’s favourable sentiments +of the giver of those gloves were revived by what she had just heard, +and by the confession Mrs. Hill had made, that she had no reasons, and +but vague suspicious, for thinking ill of him. She laid the gloves +perfectly smooth, and strewed over them, whilst the little girl went +on talking of Mr. O’Neill, the leaves of a rose which she had +worn on Sunday.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill was all this time in deep conference with those prudent +men of Hereford who were of his own opinion, about the perilous hole +under the cathedral. The ominous circumstance of this ball was +also considered, the great expense at which the Irish glover lived, +and his giving away gloves, which was a sure sign he was not under any +necessity to sell them, and consequently a proof that, though he pretended +to be a glover, he was something wrong in disguise. Upon putting +all these things together, it was resolved by these over-wise politicians +that the best thing that could be done for Hereford, and the only possible +means of preventing the immediate destruction of its cathedral, would +be to take Mr. O’Neill into custody. Upon recollection, +however, it was perceived that there was no legal ground on which he +could be attacked. At length, after consulting an attorney, they +devised what they thought an admirable mode of proceeding.</p> + +<p>Our Irish hero had not that punctuality which English tradesmen usually +observe in the payment of bills; he had, the preceding year, run up +a long bill with a grocer in Hereford, and, as he had not at Christmas +cash in hand to pay it, he had given a note, payable six months after +date. The grocer, at Mr. Hill’s request, made over the note +to him, and it was determined that the money should be demanded, as +it was now due, and that, if it was not paid directly, O’Neill +should be that night arrested. How Mr. Hill made the discovery +of this debt to the grocer agree with his former notion that the Irish +glover had always money at command we cannot well conceive, but anger +and prejudice will swallow down the grossest contradictions without +difficulty.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Hill’s clerk went to demand payment of the note, O’Neill’s +head was full of the ball which he was to give that evening. He +was much surprised at the unexpected appearance of the note: he had +not ready money by him to pay it; and after swearing a good deal at +the clerk, and complaining of this ungenerous and ungentleman-like behaviour +in the grocer and the tanner, he told the clerk to be gone, and not +to be bothering him at such an unseasonable time: that he could not +have the money then, and did not deserve to have it at all.</p> + +<p>This language and conduct were rather new to the English clerk’s +mercantile ears: we cannot wonder that it should seem to him, as he +said to his master, more the language of a madman than a man of business. +This want of punctuality in money transactions, and this mode of treating +contracts as matters of favour and affection, might not have damned +the fame of our hero in his own country, where such conduct is, alas! +too common; but he was now in a kingdom where the manners and customs +are so directly opposite, that he could meet with no allowance for his +national faults. It would be well for his countrymen if they were +made, even by a few mortifications, somewhat sensible of this important +difference in the habits of Irish and English traders before they come +to settle in England.</p> + +<p>But to proceed with our story. On the night of Mr. O’Neill’s +grand ball, as he was seeing his fair partner, the perfumer’s +daughter, safe home, he felt himself tapped on the shoulder by no friendly +hand. When he was told that he was the king’s prisoner, +he vociferated with sundry strange oaths, which we forbear to repeat. +“No, I am not the king’s prisoner! I am the prisoner +of that shabby, rascally tanner, Jonathan Hill. None but he would +arrest a gentleman in this way, for a trifle not worth mentioning.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jenny Brown screamed when she found herself under the protection +of a man who was arrested; and, what between her screams and his oaths, +there was such a disturbance that a mob gathered.</p> + +<p>Among this mob there was a party of Irish haymakers, who, after returning +late from a hard day’s work, had been drinking in a neighbouring +ale-house. With one accord they took part with their countryman, +and would have rescued him from the civil officers with all the pleasure +in life if he had not fortunately possessed just sufficient sense and +command of himself to restrain their party spirit, and to forbid them, +as they valued his life and reputation, to interfere, by word or deed, +in his defence.</p> + +<p>He then despatched one of the haymakers home to his mother, to inform +her of what had happened, and to request that she would get somebody +to be bail for him as soon as possible, as the officers said they could +not let him out of their sight till he was bailed by substantial people, +or till the debt was discharged.</p> + +<p>The widow O’Neill was just putting out the candles in the ball-room +when this news of her son’s arrest was brought to her. We +pass over Hibernian exclamations: she consoled her pride by reflecting +that it would certainly be the most easy thing imaginable to procure +bail for Mr. O’Neill in Hereford, where he had so many friends +who had just been dancing at his house; but to dance at his house she +found was one thing and to be bail for him quite another. Each +guest sent excuses, and the widow O’Neill was astonished at what +never fails to astonish everybody when it happens to themselves. +“Rather than let my son be detained in this manner for a paltry +debt,” cried she, “I’d sell all I have within half +an hour to a pawnbroker.” It was well no pawnbroker heard +this declaration: she was too warm to consider economy. She sent +for a pawnbroker, who lived in the same street, and, after pledging +goods to treble the amount of the debt, she obtained ready money for +her son’s release.</p> + +<p>O’Neill, after being in custody for about an hour and a half, +was set at liberty upon the payment of his debt. As he passed +by the cathedral in his way home, he heard the clock strike; and he +called to a man, who was walking backwards and forwards in the churchyard, +to ask whether it was two or three that the clock struck. “Three,” +answered the man; “and, as yet, all is safe.”</p> + +<p>O’Neill, whose head was full of other things, did not stop +to inquire the meaning of these last words. He little suspected +that this man was a watchman whom the over-vigilant verger had stationed +there to guard the Hereford Cathedral from his attacks. O’Neill +little guessed that he had been arrested merely to keep him from blowing +up the cathedral this night. The arrest had an excellent effect +upon his mind, for he was a young man of good sense: it made him resolve +to retrench his expenses in time, to live more like a glover and less +like a gentleman; and to aim more at establishing credit, and less at +gaining popularity. He found, from experience, that good friends +will not pay bad debts.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p>On Thursday morning our verger rose in unusually good spirits, congratulating +himself upon the eminent service he had done to the city of Hereford +by his sagacity in discovering the foreign plot to blow up the Cathedral, +and by his dexterity in having the enemy held in custody, at the very +hour when the dreadful deed was to have been perpetrated. Mr. +Hill’s knowing friends farther agreed it would be necessary to +have a guard that should sit up every night in the churchyard; and that +as soon as they could, by constantly watching the enemy’s motions, +procure any information which the attorney should deem sufficient grounds +for a legal proceeding, they should lay the whole business before the +mayor.</p> + +<p>After arranging all this most judiciously and mysteriously with friends +who were exactly of his own opinion, Mr. Hill laid aside his dignity +of verger, and assuming his other character of a tanner, proceeded to +his tan-yard. What was his surprise and consternation, when he +beheld his great rick of oak bark levelled to the ground; the pieces +of bark were scattered far and wide, some over the close, some over +the fields, and some were seen swimming upon the water! No tongue, +no pen, no muse can describe the feelings of our tanner at this spectacle—feelings +which became the more violent from the absolute silence which he imposed +on himself upon this occasion. He instantly decided in his own +mind that this injury was perpetrated by O’Neill, in revenge for +his arrest; and went privately to the attorney to inquire what was to +be done, on his part, to secure legal vengeance.</p> + +<p>The attorney unluckily—or at least, as Mr. Hill thought, unluckily—had +been sent for, half an hour before, by a gentleman at some distance +from Hereford, to draw up a will: so that our tanner was obliged to +postpone his legal operations.</p> + +<p>We forbear to recount his return, and how many times he walked up +and down the close to view his scattered bark, and to estimate the damage +that had been done to him. At length that hour came which usually +suspends all passions by the more imperious power of appetite—the +hour of dinner: an hour of which it was never needful to remind Mr. +Hill by watch, clock, or dial; for he was blessed with a punctual appetite, +and powerful as punctual: so powerful, indeed, that it often excited +the spleen of his more genteel or less hungry wife. “Bless +my stars! Mr. Hill,” she would oftentimes say, “I +am really downright ashamed to see you eat so much; and when company +is to dine with us, I do wish you would take a snack by way of a damper +before dinner, that you may not look so prodigious famishing and ungenteel.”</p> + +<p>Upon this hint, Mr. Hill commenced a practice, to which he ever afterwards +religiously adhered, of going, whether there was to be company or no +company, into the kitchen regularly every day, half an hour before dinner, +to take a slice from the roast or the boiled before it went up to table. +As he was this day, according to his custom, in the kitchen, taking +his snack by way of a damper, he heard the housemaid and the cook talking +about some wonderful fortune-teller, whom the housemaid had been consulting. +This fortune-teller was no less a personage than the successor to Bampfylde +Moore Carew, king of the gipsies, whose life and adventures are probably +in many, too many, of our readers’ hands. Bampfylde, the +second king of the gipsies, assumed this title, in hopes of becoming +as famous, or as infamous, as his predecessor: he was now holding his +court in a wood near the town of Hereford, and numbers of servant-maids +and ’prentices went to consult him—nay, it was whispered +that he was resorted to, secretly, by some whose education might have +taught them better sense.</p> + +<p>Numberless were the instances which our verger heard in his kitchen +of the supernatural skill of this cunning man; and whilst Mr. Hill ate +his snack with his wonted gravity, he revolved great designs in his +secret soul. Mrs. Hill was surprised, several times during dinner, +to see her consort put down his knife and fork, and meditate. +“Gracious me, Mr. Hill! what can have happened to you this day? +What can you be thinking of, Mr. Hill, that can make you forget what +you have upon your plate?”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Hill,” replied the thoughtful verger, “our +grandmother Eve had too much curiosity; and we all know it did not lead +to good. What I am thinking of will be known to you in due time, +but not now, Mrs. Hill; therefore, pray, no questions, or teasing, or +pumping. What I think, I think; what I say, I say; what I know, +I know; and that is enough for you to know at present: only this, Phœbe, +you did very well not to put on the Limerick gloves, child. What +I know, I know. Things will turn out just as I said from the first. +What I say, I say; and what I think, I think; and this is enough for +you to know at present.”</p> + +<p>Having finished dinner with this solemn speech, Mr. Hill settled +himself in his arm-chair, to take his after-dinner’s nap: and +he dreamed of blowing up cathedrals, and of oak bark floating upon the +waters; and the cathedral was, he thought, blown up by a man dressed +in a pair of woman’s Limerick gloves, and the oak bark turned +into mutton steaks, after which his great dog Jowler was swimming; when, +all on a sudden, as he was going to beat Jowler for eating the bark +transformed into mutton steaks, Jowler became Bampfylde the Second, +king of the gipsies; and putting a horse-whip with a silver handle into +Hill’s hand, commanded him three times, in a voice as loud as +the town-crier’s, to have O’Neill whipped through the market-place +of Hereford: but just as he was going to the window to see this whipping, +his wig fell off, and he awoke.</p> + +<p>It was difficult, even for Mr. Hill’s sagacity, to make sense +of this dream: but he had the wise art of always finding in his dreams +something that confirmed his waking determinations. Before he +went to sleep, he had half resolved to consult the king of the gipsies, +in the absence of the attorney; and his dream made him now wholly determined +upon this prudent step. “From Bampfylde the Second,” +thought he, “I shall learn for certain who made the hole under +the cathedral, who pulled down my rick of bark, and who made away with +my dog Jowler; and then I shall swear examinations against O’Neill, +without waiting for attorneys. I will follow my own way in this +business: I have always found my own way best.”</p> + +<p>So, when the dusk of the evening increased, our wise man set out +towards the wood to consult the cunning man. Bampfylde the Second, +king of the gipsies, resided in a sort of hut made of the branches of +trees; the verger stooped, but did not stoop low enough, as he entered +this temporary palace, and, whilst his body was almost bent double, +his peruke was caught upon a twig. From this awkward situation +he was relieved by the consort of the king; and he now beheld, by the +light of some embers, the person of his gipsy majesty, to whose sublime +appearance this dim light was so favourable that it struck a secret +awe into our wise man’s soul; and, forgetting Hereford Cathedral, +and oak bark, and Limerick gloves, he stood for some seconds speechless. +During this time, the queen very dexterously disencumbered his pocket +of all superfluous articles. When he recovered his recollection, +he put with great solemnity the following queries to the king of the +gipsies, and received the following answers:—</p> + +<p>“Do you know a dangerous Irishman of the name of O’Neill, +who has come, for purposes best known to himself, to settle at Hereford?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we know him well.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! And what do you know of him?”</p> + +<p>“That he is a dangerous Irishman.”</p> + +<p>“Right! And it was he, was it not, that pulled down, +or caused to be pulled down, my rick of oak bark?”</p> + +<p>“It was.”</p> + +<p>“And who was it that made away with my dog Jowler, that used +to guard the tan-yard?”</p> + +<p>“It was the person that you suspect.”</p> + +<p>“And was it the person whom I suspect that made the hole under +the foundation of our cathedral?”</p> + +<p>“The same, and no other.”</p> + +<p>“And for what purpose did he make that hole?”</p> + +<p>“For a purpose that must not be named,” replied the king +of the gipsies, nodding his head in a mysterious manner.</p> + +<p>“But it may be named to me,” cried the verger, “for +I have found it out, and I am one of the vergers; and is it not fit +that a plot to blow up the Hereford Cathedral should be known <i>to</i> +me, and <i>through</i> me?”</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Now, take my word,<br /> +Wise men of Hereford,<br /> +None in safety may be,<br /> +Till the bad man doth flee.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>These oracular verses, pronounced by Bampfylde with all the enthusiasm +of one who was inspired, had the desired effect upon our wise man; and +he left the presence of the king of the gipsies with a prodigiously +high opinion of his majesty’s judgment and of his own, fully resolved +to impart, the next morning, to the mayor of Hereford his important +discoveries.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that, during the time Mr. Hill was putting the foregoing +queries to Bampfylde the Second, there came to the door or entrance +of the audience chamber an Irish haymaker who wanted to consult the +cunning man about a little leathern purse which he had lost whilst he +was making hay in a field near Hereford. This haymaker was the +same person who, as we have related, spoke so advantageously of our +hero O’Neill to the widow Smith. As this man, whose name +was Paddy M’Cormack, stood at the entrance of the gipsies’ +hut, his attention was caught by the name of O’Neill; and he lost +not a word of all that pasted. He had reason to be somewhat surprised +at hearing Bampfylde assert it was O’Neill who had pulled down +the rick of bark. “By the holy poker!” said he to +himself, “the old fellow now is out there. I know more o’ +that matter than he does—no offence to his majesty; he knows no +more of my purse, I’ll engage now, than he does of this man’s +rick of bark and his dog: so I’ll keep my tester in my pocket, +and not be giving it to this king o’ the gipsies, as they call +him: who, as near as I can guess, is no better than a cheat. But +there is one secret which I can be telling this conjuror himself: he +shall not find it such an easy matter to do all what he thinks; he shall +not be after ruining an innocent countryman of my own whilst Paddy M’Cormack +has a tongue and brains.”</p> + +<p>Now, Paddy M’Cormack had the best reason possible for knowing +that Mr. O’Neill did not pull down Mr. Hill’s rick of bark; +it was M’Cormack himself who, in the heat of his resentment for +the insulting arrest of his countryman in the streets of Hereford, had +instigated his fellow haymakers to this mischief; he headed them, and +thought he was doing a clever, spirited action.</p> + +<p>There is a strange mixture of virtue and vice in the minds of the +lower class of Irish: or rather, a strange confusion in their ideas +of right and wrong, from want of proper education. As soon as +poor Paddy found out that his spirited action of pulling down the rick +of bark was likely to be the ruin of his countryman, he resolved to +make all the amends in his power for his folly—he went to collect +his fellow haymakers, and persuaded them to assist him this night in +rebuilding what they had pulled down.</p> + +<p>They went to this work when everybody except themselves, as they +thought, was asleep in Hereford. They had just completed the stack, +and were all going away except Paddy, who was seated at the very top, +finishing the pile, when they heard a loud voice cry out, “Here +they are! Watch! Watch!”</p> + +<p>Immediately all the haymakers who could, ran off as fast as possible. +It was the watch who had been sitting up at the cathedral who gave the +alarm. Paddy was taken from the top of the rick and lodged in +the watch-house till morning. “Since I’m to be rewarded +this way for doing a good action, sorrow take me,” said he, “if +they catch me doing another the longest day ever I live.”</p> + +<p>Happy they who have in their neighbourhood such a magistrate as Mr. +Marshal! He was a man who, to an exact knowledge of the duties +of his office, joined the power of discovering truth from the midst +of contradictory evidence, and the happy art of soothing or laughing +the angry passions into good-humour. It was a common saying in +Hereford that no one ever came out of Justice Marshal’s house +as angry as he went into it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Marshal had scarcely breakfasted when he was informed that Mr. +Hill, the verger, wanted to speak to him on business of the utmost importance. +Mr. Hill, the verger, was ushered in; and, with gloomy solemnity, took +a seat opposite to Mr. Marshal.</p> + +<p>“Sad doings in Hereford, Mr. Marshal! Sad doings, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Sad doings? Why, I was told we had merry doings in Hereford. +A ball the night before last, as I heard.”</p> + +<p>“So much the worse, Mr. Marshal—so much the worse: as +those think with reason that see as far into things as I do.”</p> + +<p>“So much the better, Mr. Hill,” said Mr. Marshal, laughing, +“so much the better: as those think with reason that see no farther +into things than I do.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir,” said the verger, still more solemnly, “this +is no laughing matter, nor time for laughing, begging your pardon. +Why, sir, the night of that there diabolical ball our Hereford Cathedral, +sir, would have been blown up—blown up from the foundation, if +it had not been for me, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Mr. Verger! And pray how, and by whom, was the +cathedral to be blown up? and what was there diabolical in this ball?”</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Hill let Mr. Marshal into the whole history of his early +dislike to O’Neill, and his shrewd suspicions of him the first +moment he saw him in Hereford: related in the most prolix manner all +that the reader knows already, and concluded by saying that, as he was +now certain of his facts, he was come to swear examinations against +this villanous Irishman, who, he hoped, would be speedily brought to +justice, as he deserved.</p> + +<p>“To justice he shall be brought, as he deserves,” said +Mr. Marshal; “but before I write, and before you swear, will you +have the goodness to inform me how you have made yourself as certain, +as you evidently are, of what you call your facts?”</p> + +<p>“Sir, that is a secret,” replied our wise man, “which +I shall trust to you alone;” and he whispered into Mr. Marshal’s +ear that, his information came from Bampfylde the Second, king of the +gipsies.</p> + +<p>Mr. Marshal instantly burst into laughter; then composing himself, +said: “My good sir, I am really glad that you have proceeded no +farther in this business; and that no one in Hereford, beside myself, +knows that you were on the point of swearing examinations against a +man on the evidence of Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies. +My dear sir, it would be a standing joke against you to the end of your +days. A grave man like Mr. Hill! and a verger too! Why you +would be the laughing-stock of Hereford!”</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Marshal well knew the character of the man to whom he was +talking, who, above all things on earth, dreaded to be laughed at. +Mr. Hill coloured all over his face, and, pushing back his wig by way +of settling it, showed that he blushed not only all over his face, but +all over his head.</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Marshal, sir,” said he, “as to my being +laughed at, it is what I did not look for, being, as there are, some +men in Hereford to whom I have mentioned that hole in the cathedral, +who have thought it no laughing matter, and who have been precisely +of my own opinion thereupon.”</p> + +<p>“But did you tell these gentlemen that you had been consulting +the king of the gipsies?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, no: I can’t say that I did.”</p> + +<p>“Then I advise you, keep your own counsel, as I will.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill, whose imagination wavered between the hole in the cathedral +and his rick of bark on one side, and between his rick of bark and his +dog Jowler on the other, now began to talk of the dog, and now of the +rick of bark; and when he had exhausted all he had to say upon these +subjects, Mr. Marshal gently pulled him towards the window, and putting +a spy-glass into his hand, bade him look towards his own tan-yard, and +tell him what he saw. To his great surprise, Mr. Hill saw his +rick of bark re-built. “Why, it was not there last night,” +exclaimed he, rubbing his eyes. “Why, some conjuror must +have done this.”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Mr. Marshal, “no conjuror did it: +but your friend Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies, was the cause +of its being re-built; and here is the man who actually pulled it down, +and who actually re-built it.”</p> + +<p>As he said these words Mr. Marshal opened the door of an adjoining +room and beckoned to the Irish haymaker, who had been taken into custody +about an hour before this time. The watch who took Paddy had called +at Mr. Hill’s house to tell him what had happened, but Mr. Hill +was not then at home.</p> + +<p>It was with much surprise that the verger heard the simple truth +from this poor fellow; but no sooner was he convinced that O’Neill +was innocent as to this affair, than he recurred to his other ground +of suspicion, the loss of his dog.</p> + +<p>The Irish haymaker now stepped forward, and, with a peculiar twist +of the hips and shoulders, which those only who have seen it can picture +to themselves, said, “Plase your honour’s honour, I have +a little word to say too about the dog.”</p> + +<p>“Say it, then,” said Mr. Marshal.</p> + +<p>“Plase your honour, if I might expect to be forgiven, and let +off for pulling down the jontleman’s stack, I might be able to +tell him what I know about the dog.”</p> + +<p>“If you can tell me anything about my dog,” said the +tanner, “I will freely forgive you for pulling down the rick: +especially as you have built it up again. Speak the truth, now: +did not O’Neill make away with the dog?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, at all, plase your honour,” replied the +haymaker: “and the truth of the matter is, I know nothing of the +dog, good or bad; but I know something of his collar, if your name, +plase your honour, is Hill, as I take it to be.”</p> + +<p>“My name is Hill: proceed,” said the tanner, with great +eagerness. “You know something about the collar of my dog +Jowler?”</p> + +<p>“Plase your honour, this much I know, any way, that it is now, +or was the night before last, at the pawnbroker’s there, below +in town; for, plase your honour, I was sent late at night (that night +that Mr. O’Neill, long life to him! was arrested) to the pawnbroker’s +for a Jew by Mrs. O’Neill, poor creature! She was in great +trouble that same time.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely,” interrupted Mr. Hill: “but go on +to the collar; what of the collar?”</p> + +<p>“She sent me—I’ll tell you the story, plase your +honour, <i>out of the face</i>—she sent me to the pawnbroker’s +for the Jew; and, it being so late at night, the shop was shut, and +it was with all the trouble in life that I got into the house any way: +and, when I got in, there was none but a slip of a boy up; and he set +down the light that he had in his hand, and ran up the stairs to waken +his master: and, whilst he was gone, I just made bold to look round +at what sort of a place I was in, and at the old clothes and rags and +scraps; there was a sort of a frieze trusty.”</p> + +<p>“A trusty!” said Mr. Hill; “what is that, pray?”</p> + +<p>“A big coat, sure, plase your honour: there was a frieze big +coat lying in a corner, which I had my eye upon, to trate myself to: +I having, as I then thought, money in my little purse enough for it. +Well, I won’t trouble your honour’s honour with telling +of you now how I lost my purse in the field, as I found after; but about +the big coat—as I was saying, I just lifted it off the ground +to see would it fit me; and, as I swung it round, something, plase your +honour, hit me a great knock on the shins: it was in the pocket of the +coat, whatever it was, I knew; so I looks into the pocket to see what +was it, plase your honour, and out I pulls a hammer and a dog-collar: +it was a wonder, both together, they did not break my shins entirely: +but it’s no matter for my shins now; so, before the boy came down, +I just out of idleness spelt out to myself the name that was upon the +collar: there were two names, plase your honour, and out of the first +there were so many letters hammered out I could make nothing of it at +all, at all; but the other name was plain enough to read, any way, and +it was Hill, plase your honour’s honour, as sure as life: Hill, +now.”</p> + +<p>This story was related in tones and gestures which were so new and +strange to English ears and eyes, that even the solemnity of our verger +gave way to laughter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Marshal sent a summons for the pawnbroker, that he might learn +from him how he came by the dog-collar. The pawnbroker, when he +found from Mr. Marshal that he could by no other means save himself +from being committed to prison, confessed that the collar had been sold +to him by Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies.</p> + +<p>A warrant was immediately despatched for his majesty; and Mr. Hill +was a good deal alarmed by the fear of its being known in Hereford that +he was on the point of swearing examinations against an innocent man +upon the evidence of a dog-stealer and a gipsy.</p> + +<p>Bampfylde the Second made no sublime appearance when he was brought +before Mr. Marshal, nor could all his astrology avail upon this occasion. +The evidence of the pawnbroker was so positive as to the fact of his +having sold to him the dog-collar, that there was no resource left for +Bampfylde but an appeal to Mr. Hill’s mercy. He fell on +his knees, and confessed that it was he who stole the dog, which used +to bark at him at night so furiously, that he could not commit certain +petty depredations by which, as much as by telling fortunes, he made +his livelihood.</p> + +<p>“And so,” said Mr. Marshal, with a sternness of manner +which till now he had never shown, “to screen yourself, you accused +an innocent man; and by your vile arts would have driven him from Hereford, +and have set two families for ever at variance, to conceal that you +had stolen a dog.”</p> + +<p>The king of the gipsies was, without further ceremony, committed +to the house of correction. We should not omit to mention that, +on searching his hat, the Irish haymaker’s purse was found, which +some of his majesty’s train had emptied. The whole set of +gipsies decamped upon the news of the apprehension of their monarch.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill stood in profound silence, leaning upon his walking-stick, +whilst the committal was making out for Bampfylde the Second. +The fear of ridicule was struggling with the natural positiveness of +his temper. He was dreadfully afraid that the story of his being +taken in by the king of the gipsies would get abroad; and, at the same +time, he was unwilling to give up his prejudice against the Irish glover.</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Marshal,” cried he, after a long silence, “the +hole under the foundation of the cathedral has never been accounted +for—that is, was, and ever will be, an ugly mystery to me; and +I never can have a good opinion of this Irishman till it is cleared +up, nor can I think the cathedral in safety.”</p> + +<p>“What!” said Mr. Marshal, with an arch smile, “I +suppose the verses of the oracle still work upon your imagination, Mr. +Hill. They are excellent in their kind. I must have them +by heart, that when I am asked the reason why Mr. Hill has taken an +aversion to an Irish glover, I may be able to repeat them:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Now, take my word,<br /> +Wise men of Hereford,<br /> +None in safety may be,<br /> +Till the bad man doth flee.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“You’ll oblige me, sir,” said the verger, “if +you would never repeat those verses, sir, nor mention, in any company, +the affair of the king of the gipsies.”</p> + +<p>“I will oblige you,” replied Mr. Marshal, “if you +will oblige me. Will you tell me honestly whether, now that you +find this Mr. O’Neill is neither a dog-killer nor a puller-down +of bark-ricks, you feel that you could forgive him for being an Irishman, +if the mystery, as you call it, of the hole under the cathedral was +cleared up?”</p> + +<p>“But that is not cleared up, I say, sir,” cried Mr. Hill, +striking his walking-stick forcibly upon the ground with both his hands. +“As to the matter of his being an Irishman, I have nothing to +say to it; I am not saying anything about that, for I know we all are +born where it pleases God, and an Irishman may be as good as another. +I know that much, Mr. Marshal, and I am not one of those illiberal-minded, +ignorant people that cannot abide a man that was not born in England. +Ireland is now in his majesty’s dominions. I know very well, +Mr. Marshal; and I have no manner of doubt, as I said before, that an +Irishman born may be as good, almost, as an Englishman born.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad,” said Mr. Marshal, “to hear you speak—almost +as reasonably as an Englishman born and every man ought to speak; and +I am convinced that you have too much English hospitality to persecute +an inoffensive stranger, who comes amongst us trusting to our justice +and good nature.”</p> + +<p>“I would not persecute a stranger, God forbid!” replied +the verger, “if he was, as you say, inoffensive.”</p> + +<p>“And if he was not only inoffensive, but ready to do every +service in his power to those who are in want of his assistance, we +should not return evil for good, should we?”</p> + +<p>“That would be uncharitable, to be sure; and, moreover, a scandal,” +said the verger.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Mr. Marshal, “will you walk with me +as far as the Widow Smith’s, the poor woman whose house was burnt +last winter? This haymaker, who lodged near her, can show us the +way to her present abode.”</p> + +<p>During his examination of Paddy M’Cormack, who would tell his +whole history, as he called it, <i>out of the face</i>, Mr. Marshal +heard several instances of the humanity and goodness of O’Neill, +which Paddy related to excuse himself for that warmth of attachment +to his cause that had been manifested so injudiciously by pulling down +the rick of bark in revenge for the rest. Amongst other things, +Paddy mentioned his countryman’s goodness to the Widow Smith. +Mr. Marshal was determined, therefore, to see whether he had, in this +instance, spoken the truth; and he took Hill with him, in hopes of being +able to show him the favourable side of O’Neill’s character.</p> + +<p>Things turned out just as Mr. Marshal expected. The poor widow +and her family, in the most simple and affecting manner, described the +distress from which they had been relieved by the good gentleman; and +lady—the lady was Phœbe Hill; and the praises that were bestowed +upon Phœbe were delightful to her father’s ear, whose angry passions +had now all subsided.</p> + +<p>The benevolent Mr. Marshal seized the moment when he saw Mr. Hill’s +heart was touched, and exclaimed, “I must be acquainted with this +Mr. O’Neill. I am sure we people of Hereford ought to show +some hospitality to a stranger who has so much humanity. Mr. Hill, +will you dine with him to-morrow at my house?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill was just going to accept of this invitation, when the recollection +of all he had said to his club about the hole under the cathedral came +across him, and, drawing Mr. Marshal aside, he whispered, “But, +sir, sir, that affair of the hole under the cathedral has not been cleared +up yet.”</p> + +<p>At this instant the Widow Smith exclaimed, “Oh! here comes +my little Mary” (one of her children, who came running in); “this +is the little girl, sir, to whom the lady has been so good. Make +your curtsey, child. Where have you been all this while?”</p> + +<p>“Mammy,” said the child, “I’ve been showing +the lady my rat.”</p> + +<p>“Lord bless her! Gentlemen, the child has been wanting +me this many a day to go to see this tame rat of hers; but I could never +get time, never—and I wondered, too, at the child’s liking +such a creature. Tell the gentlemen, dear, about your rat. +All I know is that, let her have but never such a tiny bit of bread +for breakfast or supper, she saves a little of that little for this +rat of hers; she and her brothers have found it out somewhere by the +cathedral.”</p> + +<p>“It comes out of a hole under the wall of the cathedral,” +said one of the older boys; “and we have diverted ourselves watching +it, and sometimes we have put victuals for it—so it has grown, +in a manner, tame-like.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill and Mr. Marshal looked at one another during this speech; +and the dread of ridicule again seized on Mr. Hill, when he apprehended +that, after all he had said, the mountain might at last bring forth—a +rat. Mr. Marshal, who instantly saw what passed in the verger’s +mind, relieved him from this fear by refraining even from a smile on +this occasion. He only said to the child, in a grave manner, “I +am afraid, my dear, we shall be obliged to spoil your diversion. +Mr. Verger, here, cannot suffer rat-holes in the cathedral; but, to +make you amends for the loss of your favourite, I will give you a very +pretty little dog, if you have a mind.”</p> + +<p>The child was well pleased with this promise; and, at Mr. Marshal’s +desire, she then went along with him and Mr. Hill to the cathedral, +and they placed themselves at a little distance from that hole which +had created so much disturbance. The child soon brought the dreadful +enemy to light; and Mr. Hill, with a faint laugh, said, “I’m +glad it’s no worse, but there were many in our club who were of +my opinion; and, if they had not suspected O’Neill too, I am sure +I should never have given you so much trouble, sir, as I have done this +morning. But I hope, as the club know nothing about that vagabond, +that king of the gipsies, you will not let any one know anything about +the prophecy, and all that? I am sure I am very sorry to have +given you so much trouble, Mr. Marshal.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Marshal assured him that he did not regret the time which he +had spent in endeavouring to clear up all those mysteries and suspicions; +and Mr. Hill gladly accepted his invitation to meet O’Neill at +his house the next day. No sooner had Mr. Marshal brought one +of the parties to reason and good humour than he went to prepare the +other for a reconciliation. O’Neill and his mother were +both people of warm but forgiving tempers—the arrest was fresh +in their minds; but when Mr. Marshal represented to them the whole affair, +and the verger’s prejudices, in a humorous light, they joined +in the good-natured laugh; and O’Neill declared that, for his +part, he was ready to forgive and to forget everything if he could but +see Miss Phœbe in the Limerick gloves.</p> + +<p>Phœbe appeared the next day, at Mr. Marshal’s, in the Limerick +gloves; and no perfume ever was so delightful to her lover as the smell +of the rose-leaves in which they had been kept.</p> + +<p>Mr. Marshal had the benevolent pleasure of reconciling the two families. +The tanner and the glover of Hereford became, from bitter enemies, useful +friends to each other; and they were convinced by experience that nothing +could be more for their mutual advantage than to live in union.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>MADAME DE FLEURY</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,<br /> +The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall—<br /> +How can you, mothers, vex your infants so?”—POPE</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“D’abord, madame, c’est impossible!—Madame +ne descendra pas ici?” said François, the footman of Madame +de Fleury, with a half expostulatory, half indignant look, as he let +down the step of her carriage at the entrance of a dirty passage, that +led to one of the most miserable-looking houses in Paris.</p> + +<p>“But what can be the cause of the cries which I hear in this +house?” said Madame de Fleury.</p> + +<p>“’Tis only some child who is crying,” replied François; +and he would have put up the step, but his lady was not satisfied.</p> + +<p>“’Tis nothing in the world,” continued he, with +a look of appeal to the coachman, “it <i>can</i> be nothing, but +some children who are locked up there above. The mother, the workwoman +my lady wants, is not at home: that’s certain.”</p> + +<p>“I must know the cause of these cries; I must see these children” +said Madame de Fleury, getting out of her carriage.</p> + +<p>François held his arm for his lady as she got out.</p> + +<p>“Bon!” cried he, with an air of vexation. “Si +madame la vent absolument, à la bonne heure!—Mais madame +sera abimée. Madame verra que j’ai raison. +Madame ne montera jamais ce vilain escalier. D’ailleurs +c’est au cinquième. Mais, madame, c’est impossible.”</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the impossibility, Madame de Fleury proceeded; and +bidding her talkative footman wait in the entry, made her way up the +dark, dirty, broken staircase, the sound of the cries increasing every +instant, till, as she reached the fifth storey, she heard the shrieks +of one in violent pain. She hastened to the door of the room from +which the cries proceeded; the door was fastened, and the noise was +so great that, though she knocked as loud as she was able, she could +not immediately make herself heard. At last the voice of a child +from within answered, “The door is locked—mamma has the +key in her pocket, and won’t be home till night; and here’s +Victoire has tumbled from the top of the big press, and it is she that +is shrieking so.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury ran down the stairs which she had ascended with +so much difficulty, called to her footman, who was waiting in the entry, +despatched him for a surgeon, and then she returned to obtain from some +people who lodged in the house assistance to force open the door of +the room in which the children were confined.</p> + +<p>On the next floor there was a smith at work, filing so earnestly +that he did not hear the screams of the children. When his door +was pushed open, and the bright vision of Madame de Fleury appeared +to him, his astonishment was so great that he seemed incapable of comprehending +what she said. In a strong provincial accent he repeated, “<i>Plait-il</i>?” +and stood aghast till she had explained herself three times; then suddenly +exclaiming, “Ah! c’est ça;”—he collected +his tools precipitately, and followed to obey her orders. The +door of the room was at last forced half open, for a press that had +been overturned prevented its opening entirely. The horrible smells +that issued did not overcome Madame de Fleury’s humanity: she +squeezed her way into the room, and behind the fallen press saw three +little children: the youngest, almost an infant, ceased roaring, and +ran to a corner; the eldest, a boy of about eight years old, whose face +and clothes were covered with blood, held on his knee a girl younger +than himself, whom he was trying to pacify, but who struggled most violently +and screamed incessantly, regardless of Madame de Fleury, to whose questions +she made no answer.</p> + +<p>“Where are you hurt, my dear?” repeated Madame de Fleury +in a soothing voice. “Only tell me where you feel pain?”</p> + +<p>The boy, showing his sister’s arm, said, in a surly tone—“It +is this that is hurt—but it was not I did it.”</p> + +<p>“It was, it <i>was</i>!” cried the girl as loud as she +could vociferate: “it was Maurice threw me down from the top of +the press.”</p> + +<p>“No—it was you that were pushing me, Victoire, and you +fell backwards.—Have done screeching, and show your arm to the +lady.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“She won’t,” said the boy.</p> + +<p>“She cannot,” said Madame de Fleury, kneeling down to +examine it. “She cannot move it; I am afraid that it is +broken.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t touch it! don’t touch it!” cried the +girl, screaming more violently.</p> + +<p>“Ma’am, she screams that way for nothing often,” +said the boy. “Her arm is no more broke than mine, I’m +sure; she’ll move it well enough when she’s not cross.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid,” said Madame de Fleury, “that her +arm is broken.”</p> + +<p>“Is it indeed?” said the boy, with a look of terror.</p> + +<p>“Oh! don’t touch it—you’ll kill me; you are +killing me,” screamed the poor girl, whilst Madame de Fleury with +the greatest care endeavoured to join the bones in their proper place, +and resolved to hold the arm till the arrival of the surgeon.</p> + +<p>From the feminine appearance of this lady, no stranger would have +expected such resolution; but with all the natural sensibility and graceful +delicacy of her sex, she had none of that weakness or affection which +incapacitates from being useful in real distress. In most sudden +accidents, and in all domestic misfortunes, female resolution and presence +of mind are indispensably requisite: safety, health, and life often +depend upon the fortitude of women. Happy they who, like Madame +de Fleury, possess strength of mind united with the utmost gentleness +of manner and tenderness of disposition!</p> + +<p>Soothed by this lady’s sweet voice, the child’s rage +subsided; and no longer struggling, the poor little girl sat quietly +on her lap, sometimes writhing and moaning with pain.</p> + +<p>The surgeon at length arrived: her arm was set: and he said “that +she had probably been saved much future pain by Madame de Fleury’s +presence of mind.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,—will it soon be well?” said Maurice to the +surgeon.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, very soon, I dare say,” said the little girl. +“To-morrow, perhaps; for now that it is tied up it does not hurt +me to signify—and after all, I do believe, Maurice, it was not +you threw me down.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she held up her face to kiss her brother.—“That +is right,” said Madame de Fleury; “there is a good sister.”</p> + +<p>The little girl put out her lips, offering a second kiss, but the +boy turned hastily away to rub the tears from his eyes with the back +of his hand.</p> + +<p>“I am not cross now: am I, Maurice?”</p> + +<p>“No, Victoire; I was cross myself when I said <i>that</i>.”</p> + +<p>As Victoire was going to speak again, the surgeon imposed silence, +observing that she must be put to bed, and should be kept quiet. +Madame de Fleury laid her upon the bed, as soon as Maurice had cleared +it of the things with which it was covered; and as they were spreading +the ragged blanket over the little girl, she whispered a request to +Madame de Fleury that she would “stay till her mamma came home, +to beg Maurice off from being whipped, if mamma should be angry.”</p> + +<p>Touched by this instance of goodness, and compassionating the desolate +condition of these children, Madame de Fleury complied with Victoire’s +request; resolving to remonstrate with their mother for leaving them +locked up in this manner. They did not know to what part of the +town their mother was gone; they could tell only “that she was +to go to a great many different places to carry back work, and to bring +home more, and that she expected to be in by five.” It was +now half after four.</p> + +<p>Whilst Madame de Fleury waited, she asked the boy to give her a full +account of the manner in which the accident had happened.</p> + +<p>“Why, ma’am,” said Maurice, twisting and untwisting +a ragged handkerchief as he spoke, “the first beginning of all +the mischief was, we had nothing to do, so we went to the ashes to make +dirt pies; but Babet would go so close that she burnt her petticoat, +and threw about all our ashes, and plagued us, and we whipped her. +But all would not do, she would not be quiet; so to get out of her reach, +we climbed up by this chair on the table to the top of the press, and +there we were well enough for a little while, till somehow we began +to quarrel about the old scissors, and we struggled hard for them till +I got this cut.”</p> + +<p>Here he unwound the handkerchief, and for the first time showed the +wound, which he had never mentioned before.</p> + +<p>“Then,” continued he, “when I got the cut, I shoved +Victoire, and she pushed at me again, and I was keeping her off, and +her foot slipped, and down she fell, and caught by the press-door, and +pulled it and me after her, and that’s all I know.”</p> + +<p>“It is well that you were not both killed,” said Madame +de Fleury. “Are you often left locked up in this manner +by yourselves, and without anything to do?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, always, when mamma is abroad, except sometimes we are +let out upon the stairs or in the street; but mamma says we get into +mischief there.”</p> + +<p>This dialogue was interrupted by the return of the mother. +She came upstairs slowly, much fatigued, and with a heavy bundle under +her arm.</p> + +<p>“How now! Maurice, how comes my door open? What’s +all this?” cried she, in an angry voice; but seeing a lady sitting +upon her child’s bed, she stopped short in great astonishment. +Madame de Fleury related what had happened, and averted her anger from +Maurice by gently expostulating upon the hardship and hazard of leaving +her young children in this manner during so many hours of the day.</p> + +<p>“Why, my lady,” replied the poor woman, wiping her forehead, +“every hard-working woman in Paris does the same with her children; +and what can I do else? I must earn bread for these helpless ones, +and to do that I must be out backwards and forwards, and to the furthest +parts of the town, often from morning till night, with those that employ +me; and I cannot afford to send the children to school, or to keep any +kind of a servant to look after them; and when I’m away, if I +let them run about these stairs and entries, or go into the streets, +they do get a little exercise and air, to be sure, such as it is on +which account I do let them out sometimes; but then a deal of mischief +comes of that, too: they learn all kinds of wickedness, and would grow +up to be no better than pickpockets, if they were let often to consort +with the little vagabonds they find in the streets. So what to +do better for them I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>The poor mother sat down upon the fallen press, looked at Victoire, +and wept bitterly. Madame de Fleury was struck with compassion; +but she did not satisfy her feelings merely by words or comfort or by +the easy donation of some money—she resolved to do something more, +and something better.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Come often, then; for haply in my bower<br /> +Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may’st gain:<br /> +If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.”—BEATTIE.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>It is not so easy to do good as those who have never attempted it +may imagine; and they who without consideration follow the mere instinct +of pity, often by their imprudent generosity create evils more pernicious +to society than any which they partially remedy. “Warm Charity, +the general friend,” may become the general enemy, unless she +consults her head as well as her heart. Whilst she pleases herself +with the idea that she daily feeds hundreds of the poor, she is perhaps +preparing want and famine for thousands. Whilst she delights herself +with the anticipation of gratitude for her bounties, she is often exciting +only unreasonable expectations, inducing habits of dependence and submission +to slavery.</p> + +<p>Those who wish to do good should attend to experience, from whom +they may receive lessons upon the largest scale that time and numbers +can afford.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury was aware that neither a benevolent disposition +nor a large fortune were sufficient to enable her to be of real service, +without the constant exercise of her judgment. She had, therefore, +listened with deference to the conversation of well-informed men upon +those subjects on which ladies have not always the means or the wish +to acquire extensive and accurate knowledge. Though a Parisian +belle, she had read with attention some of those books which are generally +thought too dry or too deep for her sex. Consequently, her benevolence +was neither wild in theory nor precipitate nor ostentatious in practice.</p> + +<p>Touched with compassion for a little girl whose arm had been accidentally +broken, and shocked by the discovery of the confinement and the dangers +to which numbers of children in Paris were doomed, she did not make +a parade of her sensibility. She did not talk of her feelings +in fine sentences to a circle of opulent admirers, nor did she project +for the relief of the little sufferers some magnificent establishment +which she could not execute or superintend. She was contented +with attempting only what she had reasonable hopes of accomplishing.</p> + +<p>The gift of education she believed to be more advantageous than the +gift of money to the poor, as it ensures the means both of future subsistence +and happiness. But the application even of this incontrovertible +principle requires caution and judgment. To crowd numbers of children +into a place called a school, to abandon them to the management of any +person called a schoolmaster or a schoolmistress, is not sufficient +to secure the blessings of a good education. Madame de Fleury +was sensible that the greatest care is necessary in the choice of the +person to whom young children are to be entrusted; she knew that only +a certain number can be properly directed by one superintendent, and +that, by attempting to do too much, she might do nothing, or worse than +nothing. Her school was formed, therefore, on a small scale, which +she could enlarge to any extent, if it should be found to succeed. +From some of the families of poor people, who, in earning their bread, +are obliged to spend most of the day from home, she selected twelve +little girls, of whom Victoire was the eldest, and she was between six +and seven.</p> + +<p>The person under whose care Madame de Fleury wished to place these +children was a nun of the <i>Soeurs de la Charité</i>, with whose +simplicity of character, benevolence, and mild, steady temper she was +thoroughly acquainted. Sister Frances was delighted with the plan. +Any scheme that promised to be of service to her follow-creatures was +sure of meeting with her approbation; but this suited her taste peculiarly, +because she was extremely fond of children. No young person had +ever boarded six months at her convent without becoming attached to +good Sister Frances.</p> + +<p>The period of which we are writing was some years before convents +were abolished; but the strictness of their rules had in many instances +been considerably relaxed. Without much difficulty, permission +was obtained from the abbess for our nun to devote her time during the +day to the care of these poor children, upon condition that she should +regularly return to her convent every night before evening prayers. +The house which Madame de Fleury chose for her little school was in +an airy part of the town; it did not face the street, but was separated +from other buildings at the back of a court, retired from noise and +bustle. The two rooms intended for the occupation of the children +were neat and clean, but perfectly simple, with whitewashed walls, furnished +only with wooden stools and benches, and plain deal tables. The +kitchen was well lighted (for light is essential to cleanliness), and +it was provided with utensils; and for these appropriate places were +allotted, to give the habit and the taste of order. The schoolroom +opened into a garden larger than is usually seen in towns. The +nun, who had been accustomed to purchase provisions for her convent, +undertook to prepare daily for the children breakfast and dinner; they +were to sup and sleep at their respective homes. Their parents +were to take them to Sister Frances every morning when they went out +to work, and to call for them upon their return home every evening. +By this arrangement, the natural ties of affection and intimacy between +the children and their parents would not be loosened; they would be +separate only at the time when their absence must be inevitable. +Madame de Fleury thought that any education which estranges children +entirely from their parents must be fundamentally erroneous; that such +a separation must tend to destroy that sense of filial affection and +duty, and those principles of domestic subordination, on which so many +of the interests and much of the virtue and happiness of society depend. +The parents of these poor children were eager to trust them to her care, +and they strenuously endeavoured to promote what they perceived to be +entirely to their advantage. They promised to take their daughters +to school punctually every morning—a promise which was likely +to be kept, as a good breakfast was to be ready at a certain hour, and +not to wait for anybody. The parents looked forward with pleasure, +also, to the idea of calling for their little girls at the end of their +day’s labour, and of taking them home to their family supper. +During the intermediate hours the children were constantly to be employed, +or in exercise. It was difficult to provide suitable employments +for their early age; but even the youngest of those admitted could be +taught to wind balls of cotton, thread, and silk for haberdashers; or +they could shell peas and beans, &c., for a neighbouring <i>traiteur</i>; +or they could weed in a garden. The next in age could learn knitting +and plain work, reading, writing, and arithmetic. As the girls +should grow up, they were to be made useful in the care of the house. +Sister Frances said she could teach them to wash and iron, and that +she would make them as skilful in cookery as she was herself. +This last was doubtless a rash promise; for in most of the mysteries +of the culinary art, especially in the medical branches of it, in making +savoury messes palatable to the sick, few could hope to equal the neat-handed +Sister Frances. She had a variety of other accomplishments; but +her humility and good sense forbade her upon the present occasion to +mention these. She said nothing of embroidery, or of painting, +or of cutting out paper, or of carving in ivory, though in all these +she excelled: her cuttings-out in paper were exquisite as the finest +lace; her embroidered housewives, and her painted boxes, and her fan-mounts, +and her curiously-wrought ivory toys, had obtained for her the highest +reputation in the convent amongst the best judges in the world. +Those only who have philosophically studied and thoroughly understand +the nature of fame and vanity can justly appreciate the self-denial +or magnanimity of Sister Frances, in forbearing to enumerate or boast +of these things. She alluded to them but once, and in the slightest +and most humble manner.</p> + +<p>“These little creatures are too young for us to think of teaching +them anything but plain work at present; but if hereafter any of them +should show a superior genius we can cultivate it properly. Heaven +has been pleased to endow me with the means—at least, our convent +says so.”</p> + +<p>The actions of Sister Frances showed as much moderation as her words; +for though she was strongly tempted to adorn her new dwelling with those +specimens of her skill which had long been the glory of her apartment +in the convent, yet she resisted the impulse, and contented herself +with hanging over the chimney-piece of her schoolroom a Madonna of her +own painting.</p> + +<p>The day arrived when she was to receive her pupils in their new habitation. +When the children entered the room for the first time, they paid the +Madonna the homage of their unfeigned admiration. Involuntarily +the little crowd stopped short at the sight of the picture. Some +dormant emotions of human vanity were now awakened—played for +a moment about the heart of Sister Frances—and may be forgiven. +Her vanity was innocent and transient, her benevolence permanent and +useful. Repressing the vain-glory of an artist, as she fixed her +eyes upon the Madonna, her thoughts rose to higher objects, and she +seized this happy moment to impress upon the minds of her young pupils +their first religious ideas and feelings. There was such unaffected +piety in her manner, such goodness in her countenance, such persuasion +in her voice, and simplicity in her words, that the impression she made +was at once serious, pleasing, and not to be effaced. Much depends +upon the moment and the manner in which the first notions of religion +are communicated to children; if these ideas be connected with terror, +and produced when the mind is sullen or in a state of dejection, the +future religious feelings are sometimes of a gloomy, dispiriting sort; +but if the first impression be made when the heart is expanded by hope +or touched by affection, these emotions are happily and permanently +associated with religion. This should be particularly attended +to by those who undertake the instruction of the children of the poor, +who must lead a life of labour, and can seldom have leisure or inclination, +when arrived at years of discretion, to re-examine the principles early +infused into their minds. They cannot in their riper age conquer +by reason those superstitions terrors, or bigoted prejudices, which +render their victims miserable, or perhaps criminal. To attempt +to rectify any errors in the foundation after an edifice has been constructed +is dangerous: the foundation, therefore, should be laid with care. +The religious opinions of Sister Frances were strictly united with just +rules of morality, strongly enforcing, as the essential means of obtaining +present and future happiness, the practice of the social virtues, so +that no good or wise persons, however they might differ from her in +modes of faith, could doubt the beneficial influence of her general +principles, or disapprove of the manner in which they were inculcated.</p> + +<p>Detached from every other worldly interest, this benevolent nun devoted +all her earthly thoughts to the children of whom she had undertaken +the charge. She watched over them with unceasing vigilance, whilst +diffidence of her own abilities was happily supported by her high opinion +of Madame de Fleury’s judgment. This lady constantly visited +her pupils every week; not in the hasty, negligent manner in which fine +ladies sometimes visit charitable institutions, imagining that the honour +of their presence is to work miracles, and that everything will go on +rightly when they have said, “<i>Let it be so</i>,” or, +“<i>I must have it so</i>.” Madame de Fleury’s +visits were not of this dictatorial or cursory nature. Not minutes, +but hours, she devoted to these children—she who could charm by +the grace of her manners, and delight by the elegance of her conversation, +the most polished circles and the best-informed societies of Paris, +preferred to the glory of being admired the pleasure of being useful:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Her life, as lovely as her face,<br /> +Each duty mark’d with every grace;<br /> +Her native sense improved by reading,<br /> +Her native sweetness by good breeding.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be;<br /> +But if that pride it be which thus inspires,<br /> +Beware, ye dames! with nice discernment see<br /> +Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires.”</p> + +<p>SHENSTONE.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>By repeated observation, and by attending to the minute reports of +Sister Frances, Madame de Fleury soon became acquainted with the habits +and temper of each individual in this little society. The most +intelligent and the most amiable of these children was Victoire. +Whence her superiority arose, whether her abilities were naturally more +vivacious than those of her companions, or whether they had been more +early developed by accidental excitation, we cannot pretend to determine, +lest we should involve ourselves in the intricate question respecting +natural genius—a metaphysical point, which we shall not in this +place stop to discuss. Till the world has an accurate philosophical +dictionary (a work not to be expected in less than half a dozen centuries), +this question will never be decided to general satisfaction. In +the meantime we may proceed with our story.</p> + +<p>Deep was the impression made on Victoire’s heart by the kindness +that Madame de Fleury showed her at the time her arm was broken; and +her gratitude was expressed with all the enthusiastic fondness of childhood. +Whenever she spoke or heard of Madame de Fleury her countenance became +interested and animated in a degree that would have astonished a cool +English spectator. Every morning her first question to Sister +Frances was: “Will <i>she</i> come to-day?” If Madame +de Fleury was expected, the hours and the minutes were counted, and +the sand in the hour-glass that stood on the schoolroom table was frequently +shaken. The moment she appeared Victoire ran to her, and was silent; +satisfied with standing close beside her, holding her gown when unperceived, +and watching, as she spoke and moved, every turn of her countenance. +Delighted by these marks of sensibility, Sister Frances would have praised +the child, but was warned by Madame de Fleury to refrain from injudicious +eulogiums, lest she should teach her affectation.</p> + +<p>“If I must not praise, you will permit me at least to love +her,” said Sister Frances.</p> + +<p>Her affection for Victoire was increased by compassion: during two +months the poor child’s arm hung in a sling, so that she could +not venture to play with her companions. At their hours of recreation +she used to sit on the schoolroom steps, looking down into the garden +at the scene of merriment in which she could not partake.</p> + +<p>For those who know how to find it, there is good in everything. +Sister Frances used to take her seat on the steps, sometimes with her +work and sometimes with a book; and Victoire, tired of being quite idle, +listened with eagerness to the stories which Sister Frances read, or +watched with interest the progress of her work; soon she longed to imitate +what she saw done with so much pleasure, and begged to be taught to +work and read. By degrees she learned her alphabet, and could +soon, to the amazement of her schoolfellows, read the names of all the +animals in Sister Frances’ picture-book. No matter how trifling +the thing done, or the knowledge acquired, a great point is gained by +giving the desire for employment. Children frequently become industrious +from impatience of the pains and penalties of idleness. Count +Rumford showed that he understood childish nature perfectly well when, +in his House of Industry at Munich, he compelled the young children +to sit for some time idle in a gallery round the hall, where others +a little older than themselves were busied at work. During Victoire’s +state of idle convalescence she acquired the desire to be employed, +and she consequently soon became more industrious than her neighbours. +Succeeding in her first efforts, she was praised—was pleased, +and persevered till she became an example of activity to her companions. +But Victoire, though now nearly seven years old, was not quite perfect. +Naturally, or accidentally, she was very passionate, and not a little +self-willed.</p> + +<p>One day being mounted, horsemanlike, with whip in hand, upon the +banister of the flight of stairs leading from the schoolroom to the +garden, she called in a tone of triumph to her playfellows, desiring +them to stand out of the way, and see her slide from top to bottom. +At this moment Sister Frances came to the schoolroom door and forbade +the feat; but Victoire, regardless of all prohibition, slid down instantly, +and moreover was going to repeat the glorious operation, when Sister +Frances, catching hold of her arm, pointed to a heap of sharp stones +that lay on the ground upon the other side of the banisters.</p> + +<p>“I am not afraid,” said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“But if you fall there, you may break your arm again.”</p> + +<p>“And if I do, I can bear it,” said Victoire. “Let +me go, pray let me go: I must do it.”</p> + +<p>“No; I forbid you, Victoire, to slide down again. Babet +and all the little ones would follow your example, and perhaps break +their necks.”</p> + +<p>The nun, as she spoke, attempted to compel Victoire to dismount; +but she was so much of a heroine, that she would do nothing upon compulsion. +Clinging fast to the banisters, she resisted with all her might; she +kicked and screamed, and screamed and kicked, but at last her feet were +taken prisoners; then grasping the railway with one hand, with the other +she brandished high the little whip.</p> + +<p>“What!” said the mild nun, “would you strike me +with that <i>arm</i>?”</p> + +<p>The arm dropped instantly—Victoire recollected Madame de Fleury’s +kindness the day when the arm was broken; dismounting immediately, she +threw herself upon her knees in the midst of the crowd of young spectators, +and begged pardon of Sister Frances. For the rest of the day she +was as gentle as a lamb; nay, some assert that the effects of her contrition +were visible during the remainder of the week.</p> + +<p>Having thus found the secret of reducing the little rebel to obedience +by touching her on the tender point of gratitude, the nun had recourse +to this expedient in all perilous cases; but one day, when she was boasting +of the infallible operation of her charm, Madame de Fleury advised her +to forbear recurring to it frequently, lest she should wear out the +sensibility she so much loved. In consequence of this counsel, +Victoire’s violence of temper was sometimes reduced by force and +sometimes corrected by reason; but the principle and the feeling of +gratitude were not exhausted or weakened in the struggle. The +hope of reward operated upon her generous mind more powerfully than +the fear of punishment; and Madame de Fleury devised rewards with as +much ability as some legislators invent punishments.</p> + +<p>Victoire’s brother Maurice, who was now of an age to earn his +own bread, had a strong desire to be bound apprentice to the smith who +worked in the house where his mother lodged. This most ardent +wish of his soul he had imparted to his sister; and she consulted her +benefactress, whom she considered as all-powerful in this, as in every +other affair.</p> + +<p>“Your brother’s wish shall be gratified,” replied +Madame de Fleury, “if you can keep your temper one month. +If you are never in a passion for a whole month, I will undertake that +your brother shall be bound apprentice to his friend the smith. +To your companions, to Sister Frances, and above all to yourself, I +trust, to make me a just report this day month.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“You she preferred to all the gay resorts,<br /> +Where female vanity might wish to shine,<br /> +The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts.”</p> + +<p>LYTTELTON.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>At the end of the time prescribed, the judges, including Victoire +herself, who was the most severe of them all, agreed she had justly +deserved her reward. Maurice obtained his wish; and Victoire’s +temper never relapsed into its former bad habits—so powerful is +the effect of a well-chosen motive! Perhaps the historian may +be blamed for dwelling on such trivial anecdotes; yet a lady, who was +accustomed to the conversation of deep philosophers and polished courtiers, +listened without disdain to these simple annals. Nothing appeared +to her a trifle that could tend to form the habits of temper, truth, +honesty, order, and industry: habits which are to be early induced, +not by solemn precepts, but by practical lessons. A few more examples +of these shall be recorded, notwithstanding the fear of being tiresome.</p> + +<p>One day little Babet, who was now five years old, saw, as she was +coming to school, an old woman sitting at a corner of the street beside +a large black brazier full of roasted chestnuts. Babet thought +that the chestnuts looked and smelled very good; the old woman was talking +earnestly to some people, who were on her other side; Babet filled her +work-bag with chestnuts, and then ran after her mother and sister, who, +having turned the corner of the street, had not seen what passed. +When Babet came to the schoolroom, she opened her bag with triumph, +displayed her treasure, and offered to divide it with her companions. +“Here, Victoire,” said she, “here is the largest chestnut +for you.”</p> + +<p>But Victoire would not take it; for she said that Babet had no money, +and that she could not have come honestly by these chestnuts. +She spoke so forcibly upon this point that even those who had the tempting +morsel actually at their lips forbore to bite; those who had bitten +laid down their half-eaten prize; and those who had their hands full +of chestnuts rolled them back again towards the bag. Babet cried +with vexation.</p> + +<p>“I burned my fingers in getting them for you, and now you won’t +eat them!—And I must not eat them!” said she: then curbing +her passion, she added, “But at any rate, I won’t be a thief. +I am sure I did not think it was being a thief just to take a few chestnuts +from an old woman who had such heaps and heaps; but Victoire says it +is wrong, and I would not be a thief for all the chestnuts in the world—I’ll +throw them all into the fire this minute!”</p> + +<p>“No; give them back again to the old woman,” said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“But, may be, she would scold me for having taken them,” +said Babet; “or who knows but she might whip me?”</p> + +<p>“And if she did, could you not bear it?” said Victoire. +“I am sure I would rather bear twenty whippings than be a thief.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty, whippings! that’s a great many,” said +Babet; “and I am so little, consider—and that woman has +such a monstrous arm!—Now, if it was Sister Frances, it would +be another thing. But come! if you will go with me, Victoire, +you shall see how I will behave.”</p> + +<p>“We will all go with you,” said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“Yes, all!” said the children; “And Sister Frances, +I dare say, would go, if you asked her.”</p> + +<p>Babet ran and told her, and she readily consented to accompany the +little penitent to make restitution. The chestnut woman did not +whip Babet, nor even scold her, but said she was sure that since the +child was so honest as to return what she had taken, she would never +steal again. This was the most glorious day of Babet’s life, +and the happiest. When the circumstance was told to Madame de +Fleury, she gave the little girl a bag of the best chestnuts the old +women could select, and Babet with great delight shared her reward with +her companions.</p> + +<p>“But, alas! these chestnuts are not roasted. Oh, if we +could but roast them!” said the children.</p> + +<p>Sister Frances placed in the middle of the table on which the chestnuts +were spread a small earthenware furnace—a delightful toy, commonly +used by children in Paris to cook their little feasts.</p> + +<p>“This can be bought for sixpence,” said she: “and +if each of you twelve earn one halfpenny apiece to-day, you can purchase +it to-night, and I will put a little fire into it, and you will then +be able to roast your chestnuts.”</p> + +<p>The children ran eagerly to their work—some to wind worsted +for a woman who paid them a <i>liard</i> for each ball, others to shell +peas for a neighbouring <i>traiteur</i>—all rejoicing that they +were able to earn something. The older girls, under the directions +and with the assistance of Sister Frances, completed making, washing, +and ironing, half a dozen little caps, to supply a baby-linen warehouse. +At the end of the day, when the sum of the produce of their labours +was added together, they were surprised to find that, instead of one, +they could purchase two furnaces. They received and enjoyed the +reward of their united industry. The success of their first efforts +was fixed in their memory: for they were very happy roasting the chestnuts, +and they were all (Sister Frances inclusive) unanimous in opinion that +no chestnuts ever were so good, or so well roasted. Sister Frances +always partook in their little innocent amusements; and it was her great +delight to be the dispenser of rewards which at once conferred present +pleasure and cherished future virtue.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“To virtue wake the pulses of the heart,<br /> +And bid the tear of emulation start.”</p> + +<p>ROGERS.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Victoire, who gave constant exercise to the benevolent feelings of +the amiable nun, became every day more dear to her. Far from having +the selfishness of a favourite, Victoire loved to bring into public +notice the good actions of her companions. “Stoop down your +ear to me, Sister Frances,” said she, “and I will tell you +a secret—I will tell you why my friend Annette is growing so thin—I +found it out this morning—she does not eat above half her soup +every day. Look, there’s her porringer covered up in the +corner—she carries it home to her mother, who is sick, and who +has not bread to eat.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury came in whilst Sister Frances was yet bending down +to hear this secret; it was repeated to her, and she immediately ordered +that a certain allowance of bread should be given to Annette every day +to carry to her mother during her illness.</p> + +<p>“I give it in charge to you, Victoire, to remember this, and +I am sure it will never be forgotten. Here is an order for you +upon my baker: run and show it to Annette. This is a pleasure +you deserve; I am glad that you have chosen for your friend a girl who +is so good a daughter. Good daughters make good friends.”</p> + +<p>By similar instances of goodness Victoire obtained the love and confidence +of her companions, notwithstanding her manifest superiority. In +their turn, they were eager to proclaim her merits; and, as Sister Frances +and Madame de Fleury administered justice with invariable impartiality, +the hateful passions of envy and jealousy were never excited in this +little society. No servile sycophant, no malicious detractor, +could rob or defraud their little virtues of their due reward.</p> + +<p>“Whom shall I trust to take this to Madame de Fleury?” +said Sister Frances, carrying into the garden where the children were +playing a pot of fine jonquils, which she had brought from her convent.—“These +are the first jonquils I have seen this year, and finer I never beheld! +Whom shall I trust to take them to Madame de Fleury this evening?—It +must be some one who will not stop to stare about on the way, but who +will be very, very careful—some one in whom I can place perfect +dependence.”</p> + +<p>“It must be Victoire, then,” cried every voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she deserves it to-day particularly,” said Annette +eagerly; “because she was not angry with Babet when she did what +was enough to put anybody in a passion. Sister Frances, you know +this cherry-tree which you grafted for Victoire last year, and that +was yesterday so full of blossoms—now you see, there is not a +blossom left!—Babet plucked them all this morning to make a nosegay.”</p> + +<p>“But she did not know,” said Victoire, “that pulling +off the blossoms would prevent my having any cherries.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am very sorry I was so foolish,” said Babet; “Victoire +did not even say a cross word to me.”</p> + +<p>“Though she was excessively anxious about the cherries,” +pursued Annette, “because she intended to have given the first +she had to Madame de Fleury.”</p> + +<p>“Victoire, take the jonquils—it is but just,” said +Sister Frances. “How I do love to hear them all praise her!—I +knew what she would be from the first.”</p> + +<p>With a joyful heart Victoire took the jonquils, promised to carry +them with the utmost care, and not to stop to stare on the way. +She set out to Madame de Fleury’s hotel, which was in <i>La Place +de Louis Quinze</i>. It was late in the evening, the lamps were +lighting, and as Victoire crossed the Pont de Louis Seize, she stopped +to look at the reflection of the lamps in the water, which appeared +in succession, as they were lighted, spreading as if by magic along +the river. While Victoire leaned over the battlements of the bridge, +watching the rising of these stars of fire, a sudden push from the elbow +of some rude passenger precipitated her pot of jonquils into the Seine. +The sound it made in the water was thunder to the ear of Victoire; she +stood for an instant vainly hoping it would rise again, but the waters +had closed over it for ever.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Dans cet état affreux, que faire?<br /> +. . . Mon devoir.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Victoire courageously proceeded to Madame de Fleury’s, and +desired to see her.</p> + +<p>“D’abord c’est impossible—madame is dressing +to go to a concert,” said François. “Cannot +you leave your message?”</p> + +<p>“Oh no,” said Victoire; “it is of great consequence—I +must see her myself; and she is so good, and you too, Monsieur François, +that I am sure you will not refuse.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I remember one day you found the seal of my watch, which +I dropped at your schoolroom door—one good turn deserves another. +If it is possible it shall be done—I will inquire of madame’s +woman.”—“Follow me upstairs,” said he, returning +in a few minutes; “madame will see you.”</p> + +<p>She followed him up the large staircase, and through a suite of apartments +sufficiently grand to intimidate her young imagination.</p> + +<p>“Madame est dans son cabinet. Entrez—mais entrez +donc, entrez toujours.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury was more richly dressed than usual; and her image +was reflected in the large looking-glass, so that at the first moment +Victoire thought she saw many fine ladies, but not one of them the lady +she wanted.</p> + +<p>“Well, Victoire, my child, what is the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it is her voice!—I know you now, madame, and I am +not afraid—not afraid even to tell you how foolish I have been. +Sister Frances trusted me to carry for you, madame, a beautiful pot +of jonquils, and she desired me not to stop on the way to stare; but +I did stop to look at the lamps on the bridge, and I forgot the jonquils, +and somebody brushed by me and threw them into the river—and I +am very sorry I was so foolish.”</p> + +<p>“And I am very glad that you are so wise as to tell the truth, +without attempting to make any paltry excuses. Go home to Sister +Frances, and assure her that I am more obliged to her for making you +such an honest girl than I could be for a whole bed of jonquils.”</p> + +<p>Victoire’s heart was so full that she could not speak—she +kissed Madame de Fleury’s hand in silence, and then seemed to +be lost in contemplation of her bracelet.</p> + +<p>“Are you thinking, Victoire, that you should be much happier +if you had such bracelets as these? Believe me, you are mistaken +if you think so; many people are unhappy who wear fine bracelets; so, +my child, content yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Myself! Oh, madame, I was not thinking of myself—I +was not wishing for bracelets; I was only thinking that—”</p> + +<p>“That what?”</p> + +<p>“That it is a pity you are so very rich; you have everything +in this world that you want, and I can never be of the least use to +<i>you</i>—all my life I shall never be able to do <i>you</i> +any good—and what,” said Victoire, turning away to hide +her tears, “what signifies the gratitude of such a poor little +creature as I am?”</p> + +<p>“Did you never hear the fable of the lion and the mouse, Victoire?”</p> + +<p>“No, madame—never!”</p> + +<p>“Then I will tell it to you.”</p> + +<p>Victoire looked up with eyes of eager expectation—François +opened the door to announce that the Marquis de M--- and the Comte de +S--- were in the saloon; but Madame de Fleury stayed to tell Victoire +her fable—she would not lose the opportunity of making an impression +upon this child’s heart.</p> + +<p>It is whilst the mind is warm that the deepest impressions can be +made. Seizing the happy moment sometimes decides the character +and the fate of a child. In this respect, what advantages have +the rich and great in educating the children of the poor! they have +the power which their rank and all its decorations obtain over the imagination. +Their smiles are favours; their words are listened to as oracular; they +are looked up to as beings of a superior order. Their powers of +working good are almost as great, though not quite so wonderful, as +those formerly attributed to beneficent fairies.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Knowledge for them unlocks her <i>useful</i> page,<br /> +And virtue blossoms for a better age.”—BARBAULD.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>A few days after Madame de Fleury had told Victoire the fable of +the lion and the mouse, she was informed by Sister Frances that Victoire +had put the fable into verse. It was wonderfully well done for +a child of nine years old, and Madame de Fleury was tempted to praise +the lines; but, checking the enthusiasm of the moment, she considered +whether it would be advantageous to cultivate her pupil’s talent +for poetry. Excellence in the poetic art cannot be obtained without +a degree of application for which a girl in her situation could not +have leisure. To encourage her to become a mere rhyming scribbler, +without any chance of obtaining celebrity or securing subsistence, would +be folly and cruelty. Early prodigies in the lower ranks of life +are seldom permanently successful; they are cried up one day, and cried +down the next. Their productions rarely have that superiority +which secures a fair preference in the great literary market. +Their performances are, perhaps, said to be <i>wonderful, all things +considered</i>, &c. Charitable allowances are made; the books +are purchased by associations of complaisant friends or opulent patrons; +a kind of forced demand is raised, but this can be only temporary and +delusive. In spite of bounties and of all the arts of protection, +nothing but what is intrinsically good will long be preferred, when +it must be purchased. But granting that positive excellence is +attained, there is always danger that for works of fancy the taste of +the public may suddenly vary: there is a fashion in these things; and +when the mode changes, the mere literary manufacturer is thrown out +of employment; he is unable to turn his hand to another trade, or to +any but his own peculiar branch of the business. The powers of +the mind are often partially cultivated in these self-taught geniuses. +We often see that one part of their understanding is nourished to the +prejudice of the rest—the imagination, for instance, at the expense +of the judgment: so that whilst they have acquired talents for show +they have none for use. In the affairs of common life they are +utterly ignorant and imbecile—or worse than imbecile. Early +called into public notice, probably before their moral habits are formed, +they are extolled for some play of fancy or of wit, as Bacon calls it, +some juggler’s trick of the intellect; they immediately take an +aversion to plodding labour, they feel raised above their situation; +possessed by the notion that genius exempts them not only from labour, +but from vulgar rules of prudence, they soon disgrace themselves by +their conduct, are deserted by their patrons, and sink into despair +or plunge into profligacy.</p> + +<p>Convinced of these melancholy truths, Madame de Fleury was determined +not to add to the number of those imprudent or ostentatious patrons, +who sacrifice to their own amusement and vanity the future happiness +of their favourites. Victoire’s verses were not handed about +in fashionable circles, nor was she called upon to recite them before +a brilliant audience, nor was she produced in public as a prodigy; she +was educated in private, and by slow and sure degrees, to be a good, +useful, and happy member of society. Upon the same principles +which decided Madame de Fleury against encouraging Victoire to be a +poetess, she refrained from giving any of her little pupils accomplishments +unsuited to their situation. Some had a fine ear for music, others +showed powers of dancing; but they were taught neither dancing nor music—talents +which in their station were more likely to be dangerous than serviceable. +They were not intended for actresses or opera-girls, but for shop-girls, +mantua-makers, work-women, and servants of different sorts; consequently +they were instructed in things which would be most necessary and useful +to young women in their rank of life. Before they were ten years +old they could do all kinds of plain needlework, they could read and +write well, and they were mistresses of the common rules of arithmetic. +After this age they were practised by a writing-master in drawing out +bills neatly, keeping accounts, and applying to every-day use their +knowledge of arithmetic. Some were taught by a laundress to wash +and get up fine linen and lace; others were instructed by a neighbouring +traiteur in those culinary mysteries with which Sister Frances was unacquainted. +In sweetmeats and confectioneries she yielded to no one; and she made +her pupils as expert as herself. Those who were intended for ladies’ +maids were taught mantua-making, and had lessons from Madame de Fleury’s +own woman in hairdressing.</p> + +<p>Amongst her numerous friends and acquaintances, and amongst the shopkeepers +whom she was in the habit of employing, Madame de Fleury had means of +placing and establishing her pupils suitably and advantageously: of +this, both they and their parents were aware, so that there was a constant +and great motive operating continually to induce them to exert themselves, +and to behave well. This reasonable hope of reaping the fruits +of their education, and of being immediately rewarded for their good +conduct; this perception of the connection between what they are taught +and what they are to become, is necessary to make young people assiduous; +for want of attending to these principles many splendid establishments +have failed to produce pupils answerable to the expectations which had +been formed of them.</p> + +<p>During seven years that Madame de Fleury persevered uniformly on +the same plan, only one girl forfeited her protection—a girl of +the name of Manon; she was Victoire’s cousin, but totally unlike +her in character.</p> + +<p>When very young, her beautiful eyes and hair caught the fancy of +a rich lady, who took her into her family as a sort of humble playfellow +for her children. She was taught to dance and to sing: she soon +excelled in these accomplishments, and was admired, and produced as +a prodigy of talent. The lady of the house gave herself great +credit for having discerned, and having brought forward, such talents. +Manon’s moral character was in the meantime neglected. In +this house, where there was a constant scene of hurry and dissipation, +the child had frequent opportunities and temptations to be dishonest. +For some time she was not detected; her caressing manners pleased her +patroness, and servile compliance with the humours of the children of +the family secured their goodwill. Encouraged by daily petty successes +in the art of deceit, she became a complete hypocrite. With culpable +negligence, her mistress trusted implicitly to appearances; and without +examining whether she were really honest, she suffered her to have free +access to unlocked drawers and valuable cabinets. Several articles +of dress were missed from time to time; but Manon managed so artfully, +that she averted from herself all suspicion. Emboldened by this +fatal impunity, she at last attempted depredations of more importance. +She purloined a valuable snuff-box—was detected in disposing of +the broken parts of it at a pawnbroker’s, and was immediately +discarded in disgrace; but by her tears and vehement expressions of +remorse she so far worked upon the weakness of the lady of the house +as to prevail upon her to conceal the circumstance that occasioned her +dismissal. Some months afterwards, Manon, pleading that she was +thoroughly reformed, obtained from this lady a recommendation to Madame +de Fleury’s school. It is wonderful that, people, who in +other respects profess and practise integrity, can be so culpably weak +as to give good characters to those who do not deserve them: this is +really one of the worst species of forgery. Imposed upon by this +treacherous recommendation, Madame de Fleury received into the midst +of her innocent young pupils one who might have corrupted their minds +secretly and irrecoverably. Fortunately a discovery was made in +time of Manon’s real disposition. A mere trifle led to the +detection of her habits of falsehood. As she could not do any +kind of needlework, she was employed in winding cotton; she was negligent, +and did not in the course of the week wind the same number of balls +as her companions; and to conceal this, she pretended that she had delivered +the proper number to the woman, who regularly called at the end of the +week for the cotton. The woman persisted in her account, and the +children in theirs; and Manon would not retract her assertion. +The poor woman gave up the point; but she declared that she would the +next time send her brother to make up the account, because he was sharper +than herself, and would not be imposed upon so easily. The ensuing +week the brother came, and he proved to be the very pawnbroker to whom +Manon formerly offered the stolen box: he knew her immediately; it was +in vain that she attempted to puzzle him, and to persuade him that she +was not the same person. The man was clear and firm. Sister +Frances could scarcely believe what she heard. Struck with horror, +the children shrank back from Manon, and stood in silence. Madame +de Fleury immediately wrote to the lady who had recommended this girl, +and inquired into the truth of the pawnbroker’s assertions. +The lady, who had given Manon a false character, could not deny the +facts, and could apologise for herself only by saying that “she +believed the girl to be partly reformed, and that she hoped, under Madame +de Fleury’s judicious care, she would become an amiable and respectable +woman.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury, however, wisely judged that the hazard of corrupting +all her pupils should not be incurred for the slight chance of correcting +one, whose bad habits were of such long standing. Manon was expelled +from this happy little community—even Sister Frances, the most +mild of human beings, could never think of the danger to which they +had been exposed without expressing indignation against the lady who +recommended such a girl as a fit companion for her blameless and beloved +pupils.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Alas! regardless of their doom,<br /> +The little victims play:<br /> +No sense have they of ills to come,<br /> +No care beyond to-day.”—GRAY.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Good legislators always attend to the habits, and what is called +the genius, of the people they have to govern. From youth to age, +the taste for whatever is called <i>une fête</i> pervades the +whole French nation. Madame de Fleury availed herself judiciously +of this powerful motive, and connected it with the feelings of affection +more than with the passion for show. For instance, when any of +her little people had done anything particularly worthy of reward, she +gave them leave to invite their parents to a <i>fête</i> prepared +for them by their children, assisted by the kindness of Sister Frances.</p> + +<p>One day—it was a holiday obtained by Victoire’s good +conduct—all the children prepared in their garden a little feast +for their parents. Sister Frances spread the table with a bountiful +hand, the happy fathers and mothers were waited upon by their children, +and each in their turn heard with delight from the benevolent nun some +instance of their daughter’s improvement. Full of hope for +the future and of gratitude for the past, these honest people ate and +talked, whilst in imagination they saw their children all prosperously +and usefully settled in the world. They blessed Madame de Fleury +in her absence, and they wished ardently for her presence.</p> + +<p>“The sun is setting, and Madame de Fleury is not yet come,” +cried Victoire; “she said she would be here this evening—What +can be the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing is the matter, you may be sure,” said Babet; +“but that she has forgotten us—she has so many things to +think of.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I know she never forgets us,” said Victoire; +“and she loves so much to see us all happy together, that I am +sure it must be something very extraordinary that detains her.”</p> + +<p>Babet laughed at Victoire’s fears; but presently even she began +to grow impatient; for they waited long after sunset, expecting every +moment that Madame de Fleury would arrive. At last she appeared, +but with a dejected countenance, which seemed to justify Victoire’s +foreboding. When she saw this festive company, each child sitting +between her parents, and all at her entrance looking up with affectionate +pleasure, a faint smile enlivened her countenance for a moment; but +she did not speak to them with her usual ease. Her mind seemed +preoccupied by some disagreeable business of importance. It appeared +that it had some connection with them; for as she walked round the table +with Sister Frances, she said, with a voice and look of great tenderness, +“Poor children! how happy they are at this moment!—Heaven +only knows how soon they may be rendered, or may render themselves, +miserable!”</p> + +<p>None of the children could imagine what this meant; but their parents +guessed that it had some allusion to the state of public affairs. +About this time some of those discontents had broken out which preceded +the terrible days of the Revolution. As yet, most of the common +people, who were honestly employed in earning their own living, neither +understood what was going on nor foresaw what was to happen. Many +of their superiors were not in such happy ignorance—they had information +of the intrigues that were forming; and the more penetration they possessed, +the more they feared the consequences of events which they could not +control. At the house of a great man, with whom she had dined +this day, Madame de Fleury had heard alarming news. Dreadful public +disturbances, she saw, were inevitable; and whilst she trembled for +the fate of all who were dear to her, these poor children had a share +in her anxiety. She foresaw the temptations, the dangers, to which +they must be exposed, whether they abandoned, or whether they abided +by the principles their education had instilled. She feared that +the labour of years would perhaps be lost in an instant, or that her +innocent pupils would fall victims even to their virtues.</p> + +<p>Many of these young people were now of an age to understand and to +govern themselves by reason; and with these she determined to use those +preventive measures which reason affords. Without meddling with +politics, in which no amiable or sensible woman can wish to interfere, +the influence of ladies in the higher ranks of life may always be exerted +with perfect propriety, and with essential advantage to the public, +in conciliating the inferior classes of society, explaining to them +their duties and their interests, and impressing upon the minds of the +children of the poor sentiments of just subordination and honest independence. +How happy would it have been for France if women of fortune and abilities +had always exerted their talents and activity in this manner, instead +of wasting their powers in futile declamations, or in the intrigues +of party!</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“E’en now the devastation is begun,<br /> +And half the business of destruction done.”</p> + +<p>GOLDSMITH.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Madame de Fleury was not disappointed in her pupils. When the +public disturbances began, these children were shocked by the horrible +actions they saw. Instead of being seduced by bad example, they +only showed anxiety to avoid companions of their own age who were dishonest, +idle, or profligate. Victoire’s cousin Manon ridiculed these +absurd principles, as she called them, and endeavoured to persuade Victoire +that she would be much happier if she followed the fashion.</p> + +<p>“What! Victoire, still with your work-bag on your arm, +and still going to school with your little sister, though you are but +a year younger than I am, I believe!—thirteen last birthday, were +not you?—Mon Dieu! Why, how long do you intend to be a child? +and why don’t you leave that old nun, who keeps you in leading-strings?—I +assure you, nuns, and school-mistresses, and schools, and all that sort +of thing, are out of fashion now—we have abolished all that—we +are to live a life of reason now—and all soon to be equal, I can +tell you; let your Madame de Fleury look to that, and look to it yourself; +for with all your wisdom, you might find yourself in the wrong box by +sticking to her, and that side of the question.—Disengage yourself +from her, I advise you, as soon as you can.—My dear Victoire! +believe me, you may spell very well—but you know nothing of the +rights of man, or the rights of woman.”</p> + +<p>“I do not pretend to know anything of the rights of men, or +the rights of women,” cried Victoire; “but this I know: +that I never can or will be ungrateful to Madame de Fleury. Disengage +myself from her! I am bound to her for ever, and I will abide +by her till the last hour I breathe.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well! there is no occasion to be in a passion—I +only speak as a friend, and I have no more time to reason with you; +for I must go home, and get ready my dress for the ball to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Manon, how can you afford to buy a dress for a ball?”</p> + +<p>“As you might, if you had common sense, Victoire—only +by being a good citizen. I and a party of us denounced a milliner +and a confectioner in our neighbourhood, who were horrible aristocrats; +and of their goods forfeited to the nation we had, as was our just share, +such delicious <i>marangues</i> and charming ribands!—Oh, Victoire, +believe me, you will never get such things by going to school, or saying +your prayers either. You may look with as much scorn and indignation +as you please, but I advise you to let it alone, for all that is out +of fashion, and may, moreover, bring you into difficulties. Believe +me, my dear Victoire, your head is not deep enough to understand these +things—you know nothing of politics.”</p> + +<p>“But I know the difference between right and wrong, Manon: +politics can never alter that, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Never alter that! there you are quite mistaken,” said +Manon. “I cannot stay to convince you now—but this +I can tell you: that I know secrets that you don’t suspect.”</p> + +<p>“I do not wish to know any of your secrets, Manon,” said +Victoire, proudly.</p> + +<p>“Your pride may be humbled, Citoyenne Victoire, sooner than +you expect,” exclaimed Manon, who was now so provoked by her cousin’s +contempt that she could not refrain from boasting of her political knowledge. +“I can tell you that your fine friends will in a few days not +be able to protect you. The Abbé Tracassier is in love +with a dear friend of mine, and I know all the secrets of state from +her—and I know what I know. Be as incredulous as you please, +but you will see that, before this week is at end, Monsieur de Fleury +will be guillotined, and then what will become of you? Good morning, +my proud cousin.”</p> + +<p>Shocked by what she had just heard, Victoire could scarcely believe +that Manon was in earnest; she resolved, however, to go immediately +and communicate this intelligence, whether true or false, to Madame +de Fleury. It agreed but too well with other circumstances, which +alarmed this lady for the safety of her husband. A man of his +abilities, integrity, and fortune, could not in such times hope to escape +persecution. He was inclined to brave the danger; but his lady +represented that it would not be courage, but rashness and folly, to +sacrifice his life to the villainy of others, without probability or +possibility of serving his country by his fall.</p> + +<p>Monsieur de Fleury, in consequence of these representations, and +of Victoire’s intelligence, made his escape from Paris; and the +very next day placards were put up in every street, offering a price +for the head of Citoyen Fleury, <i>suspected of incivisme</i>.</p> + +<p>Struck with terror and astonishment at the sight of these placards, +the children read them as they returned in the evening from school; +and little Babet in the vehemence of her indignation mounted a lamplighter’s +ladder, and tore down one of the papers. This imprudent action +did not pass unobserved: it was seen by one of the spies of Citoyen +Tracassier, a man who, under the pretence of zeal <i>pour la chose publique</i>, +gratified without scruple his private resentments and his malevolent +passions. In his former character of an abbé, and a man +of wit, he had gained admittance into Madame de Fleury’s society. +There he attempted to dictate both as a literary and religious despot. +Accidentally discovering that Madame de Fleury had a little school for +poor children, he thought proper to be offended, because he had not +been consulted respecting the regulations, and because he was not permitted, +as he said, to take the charge of this little flock. He made many +objections to Sister Frances, as being an improper person to have the +spiritual guidance of these young people; but as he was unable to give +any just reason for his dislike, Madame de Fleury persisted in her choice, +and was at last obliged to assert, in opposition to the domineering +abbé, her right to judge and decide in her own affairs. +With seeming politeness, he begged ten thousand pardons for his conscientious +interference. No more was said upon the subject; and as he did +not totally withdraw from her society till the revolution broke out, +she did not suspect that she had anything to fear from his resentment. +His manners and opinions changed suddenly with the times; the mask of +religion was thrown off; and now, instead of objecting to Sister Frances +as not being sufficiently strict and orthodox in her tenets, he boldly +declared that a nun was not a fit person to be intrusted with the education +of any of the young citizens—they should all be <i>des élèves +de la patrie</i>. The abbé, become a member of the Committee +of Public Safety, denounced Madame de Fleury, in the strange jargon +of the day, as “<i>the fosterer of a swarm of bad citizens, who +were nourished in the anticivic prejudices</i> de l’ancien régime, +<i>and fostered in the most detestable superstitions, in defiance of +the law</i>.” He further observed, that he had good reason +to believe that some of these little enemies to the constitution had +contrived and abetted Monsieur de Fleury’s escape. Of their +having rejoiced at it in a most indecent manner, he said he could produce +irrefragable proof. The boy who saw Babet tear down the placard +was produced and solemnly examined; and the thoughtless action of this +poor little girl was construed into a state crime of the most horrible +nature. In a declamatory tone, Tracassier reminded his fellow-citizens, +that in the ancient Grecian times of virtuous republicanism (times of +which France ought to show herself emulous), an Athenian child was condemned +to death for having made a plaything of a fragment of the gilding that +had fallen from a public statue. The orator, for the reward of +his eloquence, obtained an order to seize everything in Madame de Fleury’s +school-house, and to throw the nun into prison.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Who now will guard bewildered youth<br /> +Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage?—<br /> +Such war can Virtue wage?”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>At the very moment when this order was going to be put in execution, +Madame de Fleury was sitting in the midst of the children, listening +to Babet, who was reading Æsop’s fable of <i>The old man +and his sons</i>. Whilst her sister was reading, Victoire collected +a number of twigs from the garden: she had just tied them together; +and was going, by Sister Frances’ desire, to let her companions +try if they could break the bundle, when the attention to the moral +of the fable was interrupted by the entrance of an old woman, whose +countenance expressed the utmost terror and haste, to tell what she +had not breath to utter. To Madame de Fleury she was a stranger; +but the children immediately recollected her to be the chestnut woman +to whom Babet had some years ago restored certain purloined chestnuts.</p> + +<p>“Fly!” said she, the moment she had breath to speak: +“Fly!—they are coming to seize everything here—carry +off what you can—make haste—make haste!—I came through +a by-street. A man was eating chestnuts at my stall, and I saw +him show one that was with him the order from Citoyen Tracassier. +They’ll be here in five minutes—quick!—quick!—You, +in particular,” continued she, turning to the nun, “else +you’ll be in prison.”</p> + +<p>At these words, the children, who had clung round Sister Frances, +loosed their hold, exclaiming, “Go! go quick: but where? where?—we +will go with her.”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” said Madame de Fleury, “she shall come +home with me—my carriage is at the door.”</p> + +<p>“Ma belle dame!” cried the chestnut woman, “your +house is the worst place she can go to—let her come to my cellar—the +poorest cellar in these days is safer than the grandest palace.”</p> + +<p>So saying, she seized the nun with honest roughness, and hurried +her away. As soon as she was gone, the children ran different +ways, each to collect some favourite thing, which they thought they +could not leave behind. Victoire alone stood motionless beside +Madame de Fleury; her whole thoughts absorbed by the fear that her benefactress +would be imprisoned. “Oh, madame! dear, dear Madame de Fleury, +don’t stay! don’t stay!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, children, never mind these things.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t stay, madame, don’t stay! I will stay +with them—I will stay—do you go.”</p> + +<p>The children hearing these words, and recollecting Madame de Fleury’s +danger, abandoned all their little property, and instantly obeyed her +orders to go home to their parents. Victoire at last saw Madame +de Fleury safe in her carriage. The coachman drove off at a great +rate; and a few minutes afterwards Tracassier’s myrmidons arrived +at the school-house. Great was their surprise when they found +only the poor children’s little books, unfinished samplers, and +half-hemmed handkerchiefs. They ran into the garden to search +for the nun. They were men of brutal habits, yet as they looked +at everything round them, which bespoke peace, innocence, and childish +happiness, they could not help thinking it was a pity to destroy what +could do the nation no great harm after all. They were even glad +that the nun had made her escape, since they were not answerable for +it; and they returned to their employer satisfied for once without doing +any mischief; but Citizen Tracassier was of too vindictive a temper +to suffer the objects of his hatred thus to elude his vengeance. +The next day Madame de Fleury was summoned before his tribunal and ordered +to give up the nun, against whom, as a suspected person, a decree of +the law had been obtained.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury refused to betray the innocent woman; the gentle +firmness of this lady’s answers to a brutal interrogatory was +termed insolence—she was pronounced a refractory aristocrat, dangerous +to the state; and an order was made out to seal up her goods, and to +keep her a prisoner in her own house.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Alas! full oft on Guilt’s victorious car<br /> +The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne,<br /> +While the fair captive, marked with many a scar,<br /> +In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn,<br /> +Resigns to tears her angel form.”—BEATTIE.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>A close prisoner in her own house, Madame de Fleury was now guarded +by men suddenly become soldiers, and sprung from the dregs of the people; +men of brutal manners, ferocious countenances, and more ferocious minds. +They seemed to delight in the insolent display of their newly-acquired +power. One of those men had formerly been convicted of some horrible +crime, and had been sent to the galleys by M. de Fleury. Revenge +actuated this wretch under the mask of patriotism, and he rejoiced in +seeing the wife of the man he hated a prisoner in his custody. +Ignorant of the facts, his associates were ready to believe him in the +right, and to join in the senseless cry against all who were their superiors +in fortune, birth, and education. This unfortunate lady was forbidden +all intercourse with her friends, and it was in vain she attempted to +obtain from her gaolers intelligence of what was passing in Paris.</p> + +<p>“Tu verras—Tout va bien—Ça ira,” were +the only answers they deigned to make; frequently they continued smoking +their pipes in obdurate silence. She occupied the back rooms of +her house, because her guards apprehended that she might from the front +windows receive intelligence from her friends. One morning she +was awakened by an unusual noise in the streets; and, upon her inquiring +the occasion of it, her guards told her she was welcome to go to the +front windows and satisfy her curiosity. She went, and saw an +immense crowd of people surrounding a guillotine that had been erected +the preceding night. Madame de Fleury started back with horror—her +guards burst into an inhuman laugh, and asked whether her curiosity +was satisfied. She would have left the room; but it was now their +pleasure to detain her, and to force her to continue the whole day in +this apartment. When the guillotine began its work, they had even +the barbarity to drag her to the window, repeating, “It is there +you ought to be!—It is there your husband ought to be!—You +are too happy, that your husband is not there this moment. But +he will be there—the law will overtake him—he will be there +in time—and you too!”</p> + +<p>The mild fortitude of this innocent, benevolent woman made no impression +upon these cruel men. When at night they saw her kneeling at her +prayers, they taunted her with gross and impious mockery; and when she +sank to sleep, they would waken her by their loud and drunken orgies—if +she remonstrated, they answered, “The enemies of the constitution +should have no rest.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury was not an enemy to any human being; she had never +interfered in politics; her life had been passed in domestic pleasures, +or employed for the good of her fellow-creatures. Even in this +hour of personal danger she thought of others more than of herself: +she thought of her husband, an exile in a foreign country, who might +be reduced to the utmost distress now that she was deprived of all means +of remitting him money. She thought of her friends, who, she knew, +would exert themselves to obtain her liberty, and whose zeal in her +cause might involve them and their families in distress. She thought +of the good Sister Frances, who had been exposed by her means to the +unrelenting persecution of the malignant and powerful Tracassier. +She thought of her poor little pupils, now thrown upon the world without +a protector. Whilst these ideas were revolving in her mind one +night as she lay awake, she heard the door of her chamber open softly, +and a soldier, one of her guards, with a light in his hand, entered; +he came to the foot of her bed, and, as she started up, laid his finger +upon his lips.</p> + +<p>“Don’t make the least noise,” said he in a whisper; +“those without are drunk, and asleep. Don’t you know +me?—don’t you remember my face?”</p> + +<p>“Not in the least; yet I have some recollection of your voice.”</p> + +<p>The man took off the bonnet-rouge—still she could not guess +who he was. “You never saw me in a uniform before nor without +a black face.”</p> + +<p>She looked again, and recollected the smith to whom Maurice was bound +apprentice, and remembered his <i>patois</i> accent.</p> + +<p>“I remember you,” said he, “at any rate; and your +goodness to that poor girl the day her arm was broken, and all your +goodness to Maurice. But I’ve no time for talking of that +now—get up, wrap this great coat round you—don’t be +in a hurry, but make no noise—and follow me.”</p> + +<p>She followed him; and he led her past the sleeping sentinels, opened +a back door into the garden, hurried her (almost carried her) across +the garden to a door at the furthest end of it, which opened into Les +Champs Elysées—“La voilà!” cried he, +pushing her through the half-opened door. “God be praised!” +answered a voice, which Madame de Fleury knew to be Victoire’s, +whose arms were thrown round her with a transport of joy.</p> + +<p>“Softly; she is not safe yet—wait till we get her home, +Victoire,” said another voice, which she knew to be that of Maurice. +He produced a dark lantern, and guided Madame de Fleury across the Champs +Elysées, and across the bridge, and then through various by-streets, +in perfect silence, till they arrived safely at the house where Victoire’s +mother lodged, and went up those very stairs which she had ascended +in such different circumstances several years before. The mother, +who was sitting up waiting most anxiously for the return of her children, +clasped her hands in an ecstasy when she saw them return with Madame +de Fleury.</p> + +<p>“Welcome, madame! Welcome, dear madame! but who would +have thought of seeing you here in such a way? Let her rest herself—let +her rest; she is quite overcome. Here, madame, can you sleep on +this poor bed?”</p> + +<p>“The very same bed you laid me upon the day my arm was broken,” +said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“Ay, Lord bless her!” said the mother; “and though +it’s seven good years ago, it seemed but yesterday that I saw +her sitting on that bed beside my poor child looking like an angel. +But let her rest, let her rest—we’ll not say a word more, +only God bless her; thank Heaven, she’s safe with us at last!”</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury expressed unwillingness to stay with these good +people, lest she should expose them to danger; but they begged most +earnestly that she would remain with them without scruple.</p> + +<p>“Surely, madame,” said the mother, “you must think +that we have some remembrance of all you have done for us, and some +touch of gratitude.”</p> + +<p>“And surely, madame, you can trust us, I hope,” said +Maurice.</p> + +<p>“And surely you are not too proud to let us do something for +you. The lion was not too proud to be served by the poor little +mouse,” said Victoire. “As to danger for us,” +continued she, “there can be none; for Maurice and I have contrived +a hiding-place for you, madame, that can never be found out—let +them come spying here as often as they please, they will never find +her out, will they, Maurice? Look, madame, into this lumber-room; +you see it seems to be quite full of wood for firing; well, if you creep +in behind, you can hide yourself quite snug in the loft above, and here’s +a trap-door into the loft that nobody ever would think of, for we have +hung these old things from the top of it, and who could guess it was +a trap-door? So you see, dear madame, you may sleep in peace here, +and never fear for us.”</p> + +<p>Though but a girl of fourteen, Victoire showed at this time all the +sense and prudence of a woman of thirty. Gratitude seemed at once +to develop all the powers of her mind. It was she and Maurice +who had prevailed upon the smith to effect Madame de Fleury’s +escape from her own house. She had invented, she had foreseen, +she had arranged everything; she had scarcely rested night or day since +the imprisonment of her benefactress, and now that her exertions had +fully succeeded, her joy seemed to raise her above all feeling of fatigue; +she looked as fresh and moved as briskly, her mother said, as if she +were preparing to go to a ball.</p> + +<p>“Ah! my child,” said she, “your cousin Manon, who +goes to those balls every night, was never so happy as you are this +minute.”</p> + +<p>But Victoire’s happiness was not of long continuance; for the +next day they were alarmed by intelligence that Tracassier was enraged +beyond measure at Madame de Fleury’s escape, that all his emissaries +were at work to discover her present hiding-place, that the houses of +all the parents and relations of her pupils were to be searched, and +that the most severe denunciations were issued against all by whom she +should be harboured. Manon was the person who gave this intelligence, +but not with any benevolent design; she first came to Victoire, to display +her own consequence; and to terrify her, she related all she knew from +a soldier’s wife, who was M. Tracassier’s mistress. +Victoire had sufficient command over herself to conceal from the inquisitive +eyes of Manon the agitation of her heart; she had also the prudence +not to let any one of her companions into her secret, though, when she +saw their anxiety, she was much tempted to relieve them, by the assurance +that Madame de Fleury was in safety. All the day was passed in +apprehension. Madame de Fleury never stirred from her place of +concealment: as the evening and the hour of the domiciliary visits approached, +Victoire and Maurice were alarmed by an unforeseen difficulty. +Their mother, whose health had been broken by hard work, in vain endeavoured +to suppress her terror at the thoughts of this domiciliary visit; she +repeated incessantly that she knew they should all be discovered, and +that her children would be dragged to the guillotine before her face. +She was in such a distracted state, that they dreaded she would, the +moment she saw the soldiers, reveal all she knew.</p> + +<p>“If they question me, I shall not know what to answer,” +cried the terrified woman. “What can I say?—What can +I do?”</p> + +<p>Reasoning, entreaties, all were vain; she was not in a condition +to understand, or even to listen to, anything that was said. In +this situation they were when the domiciliary visitors arrived—they +heard the noise of the soldiers’ feet on the stairs—the +poor woman sprang from the arms of her children; but at the moment the +door was opened, and she saw the glittering of the bayonets, she fell +at full length in a swoon on the floor—fortunately before she +had power to utter a syllable. The people of the house knew, and +said, that she was subject to fits on any sudden alarm; so that her +being affected in this manner did not appear surprising. They +threw her on a bed, whilst they proceeded to search the house: her children +stayed with her; and, wholly occupied in attending to her, they were +not exposed to the danger of betraying their anxiety about Madame de +Fleury. They trembled, however, from head to foot when they heard +one of the soldiers swear that all the wood in the lumber-room must +be pulled out, and that he would not leave the house till every stick +was moved; the sound of each log, as it was thrown out, was heard by +Victoire; her brother was now summoned to assist. How great was +his terror when one of the searchers looked up to the roof, as if expecting +to find a trap door; fortunately, however, he did not discover it. +Maurice, who had seized the light, contrived to throw the shadows so +as to deceive the eye. The soldiers at length retreated; and with +inexpressible satisfaction Maurice lighted them down stairs, and saw +them fairly out of the house. For some minutes after they were +in safety, the terrified mother, who had recovered her senses, could +scarcely believe that the danger was over. She embraced her children +by turns with wild transport; and with tears begged Madame de Fleury +to forgive her cowardice, and not to attribute it to ingratitude, or +to suspect that she had a bad heart. She protested that she was +now become so courageous, since she found that she had gone through +this trial successfully, and since she was sure that the hiding-place +was really so secure, that she should never be alarmed at any domiciliary +visit in future. Madame de Fleury, however, did not think it either +just or expedient to put her resolution to the trial. She determined +to leave Paris; and, if possible, to make her escape from France. +The master of one of the Paris diligences was brother to François, +her footman: he was ready to assist her at all hazards, and to convey +her safely to Bourdeaux, if she could disguise herself properly; and +if she could obtain a pass from any friend under a feigned name.</p> + +<p>Victoire—the indefatigable Victoire—recollected that +her friend Annette had an aunt, who was nearly of Madame de Fleury’s +size, and who had just obtained a pass to go to Bourdeaux, to visit +some of her relations. The pass was willingly given up to Madame +de Fleury; and upon reading it over it was found to answer tolerably +well—the colour of the eyes and hair at least would do; though +the words <i>un nez gros</i> were not precisely descriptive of this +lady’s. Annette’s mother, who had always worn the +provincial dress of Auvergne, furnished the high <i>cornette</i>, stiff +stays, bodice, &c.; and equipped in these, Madame de Fleury was +so admirably well disguised, that even Victoire declared she should +scarcely have known her. Money, that most necessary passport in +all countries, was still wanting: as seals had been put upon all Madame +de Fleury’s effects the day she had been first imprisoned in her +own house, she could not save even her jewels. She had, however, +one ring on her finger of some value. How to dispose of it without +exciting suspicion was the difficulty. Babet, who was resolved +to have her share in assisting her benefactress, proposed to carry the +ring to a <i>colporteur</i>—a pedlar, or sort of travelling jeweller—who +had come to lay in a stock of hardware at Paris: he was related to one +of Madame de Fleury’s little pupils, and readily disposed of the +ring for her: she obtained at least two-thirds of its value—a +great deal in those times.</p> + +<p>The proofs of integrity, attachment, and gratitude which she received +in these days of peril, from those whom she had obliged in her prosperity, +touched her generous heart so much, that she has often since declared +she could not regret having been reduced to distress. Before she +quitted Paris she wrote letters to her friends, recommending her pupils +to their protection; she left these letters in the care of Victoire, +who to the last moment followed her with anxious affection. She +would have followed her benefactress into exile, but that she was prevented +by duty and affection from leaving her mother, who was in declining +health.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fleury successfully made her escape from Paris. Some +of the municipal officers in the towns through which she passed on her +road were as severe as their ignorance would permit in scrutinising +her passport. It seldom happened that more than one of these petty +committees of public safety could read. One usually spelled out +the passport as well as he could, whilst the others smoked their pipes, +and from time to time held a light up to the lady’s face to examine +whether it agreed with the description.</p> + +<p>“Mais toi! tu n’as pas le nez gros!” said one of +her judges to her. “Son nez est assez gros, et c’est +moi qui le dit,” said another. The question was put to the +vote; and the man who had asserted what was contrary to the evidence +of his senses was so vehement in supporting his opinion, that it was +carried in spite of all that could be said against it. Madame +de Fleury was suffered to proceed on her journey. She reached +Bordeaux in safety. Her husband’s friends—the good +have always friends in adversity—her husband’s friends exerted +themselves for her with the most prudent zeal. She was soon provided +with a sum of money sufficient for her support for some time in England; +and she safely reached that free and happy country, which has been the +refuge of so many illustrious exiles.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Cosi rozzo diamante appena splende<br /> +Dalla rupe natia quand’ esce fuora,<br /> +E a poco a poco lucido se rende<br /> +Sotto l’attenta che lo lavora.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Madame de Fleury joined her husband, who was in London, and they +both lived in the most retired and frugal manner. They had too +much of the pride of independence to become burthensome to their generous +English friends. Notwithstanding the variety of difficulties they +had to encounter, and the number of daily privations to which they were +forced to submit, yet they were happy—in a tranquil conscience, +in their mutual affection, and the attachment of many poor but grateful +friends. A few months after she came to England, Madame de Fleury +received, by a private hand, a packet of letters from her little pupils. +Each of them, even the youngest, who had but just begun to learn joining-hand, +would write a few lines in this packet.</p> + +<p>In various hands, of various sizes, the changes were rung upon these +simple words:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“MY DEAR MADAME DE FLEURY,</p> + +<p>“I love you—I wish you were here again—I will be +<i>very very</i> good whilst you are away. If you stay away ever +so long, I shall never forget you, nor your goodness; but I hope you +will soon be able to come back, and this is what I pray for every night. +Sister Frances says I may tell you that I am very good, and Victoire +thinks so too.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>This was the substance of several of their little letters. +Victoire’s contained rather more information:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“You will be glad to learn that dear Sister Frances +is safe, and that the good chestnut-woman, in whose cellar she took +refuge, did not get into any difficulty. After you were gone, +M. T--- said that he did not think it worth while to pursue her, as +it was only you he wanted to humble. Manon, who has, I do not +know how, means of knowing, told me this. Sister Frances is now +with her abbess, who, as well as everybody else that knows her, is very +fond of her. What was a convent is no longer a convent—the +nuns are turned out of it. Sister Frances’ health is not +so good as it used to be, though she never complains. I am sure +she suffers much; she has never been the same person since that day +when we were driven from our happy schoolroom. It is all destroyed—the +garden and everything. It is now a dismal sight. Your absence +also afflicts Sister Frances much, and she is in great anxiety about +all of us. She has the six little ones with her every day in her +own apartment, and goes on teaching them as she used to do. We +six eldest go to see her as often as we can. I should have begun, +my dear Madame de Fleury, by telling you, that, the day after you left +Paris, I went to deliver all the letters you were so very kind to write +for us in the midst of your hurry. Your friends have been exceedingly +good to us, and have got places for us all. Rose is with Madame +la Grace, your mantua-maker, who says she is more handy and more expert +at cutting out than girls she has had these three years. Marianne +is in the service of Madame de V---, who has lost a great part of her +large fortune, and cannot afford to keep her former waiting-maid. +Madame de V--- is well pleased with Marianne, and bids me tell you that +she thanks you for her. Indeed, Marianne, though she is only fourteen, +can do everything her lady wants. Susanne is with a confectioner. +She gave Sister Frances a box of <i>bonbons</i> of her own making this +morning; and Sister Frances, who is a judge, says they are excellent—she +only wishes you could taste them. Annette and I (thanks to your +kindness!) are in the same service with Madame Feuillot, the <i>brodeuse</i>, +to whom you recommended us. She is not discontented with our work, +and, indeed, sent a very civil message yesterday to Sister Frances on +this subject; but believe it is too flattering for me to repeat in this +letter. We shall do our best to give her satisfaction. She +is glad to find that we can write tolerably, and that we can make out +bills and keep accounts, this being particularly convenient to her at +present, as the young man she had in the shop is become an orator, and +good for nothing but <i>la chose publique</i>; her son, who could have +supplied his place, is ill; and Madame Feuillot herself, not having +had, as she says, the advantage of such a good education as we have +been blessed with, writes but badly, and knows nothing of arithmetic. +Dear Madame de Fleury, how much, how very much we are obliged to you! +We feel it every day more and more; in these times what would have become +of us if we could do nothing useful? Who would, who could be burdened +with us? Dear madame, we owe everything to you—and we can +do nothing, not the least thing for you! My mother is still in +bad health, and I fear will never recover; Babet is with her always, +and Sister Frances is very good to her. My brother Maurice is +now so good a workman that he earns a louis a week. He is very +steady to his business, and never goes to the revolutionary meetings, +though once he had a great mind to be an orator of the people, but never +since the day that you explained to him that he knew nothing about equality +and the rights of men, &c. How could I forget to tell you, +that his master the smith, who was one of your guards, and who assisted +you to escape, has returned without suspicion to his former trade? and +he declares that he will never more meddle with public affairs. +I gave him the money you left with me for him. He is very kind +to my brother. Yesterday Maurice mended for Annette’s mistress +the lock of an English writing-desk, and he mended it so astonishingly +well, that an English gentleman, who saw it, could not believe the work +was done by a Frenchman; so my brother was sent for, to prove it, and +they were forced to believe it. To-day he has more work than he +can finish this twelve-month—all this we owe to you. I shall +never forget the day when you promised that you would grant my brother’s +wish to be apprenticed to the smith, if I was not in a passion for a +month; that cured me of being so passionate.</p> + +<p>“Dear Madame de Fleury, I have written you too long a letter, +and not so well as I can write when I am not in a hurry; but I wanted +to tell you everything at once, because, may be, I shall not for a long +time have so safe an opportunity of sending a letter to you.</p> + +<p>“VICTOIRE.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Several months elapsed before Madame do Fleury received another letter +from Victoire; it was short and evidently written in great distress +of mind. It contained an account of her mother’s death. +She was now left at the early age of sixteen an orphan. Madame +Feuillot, the <i>brodeuse</i>, with whom she lived, added few lines +to her letter, penned with difficulty and strangely spelled, but, expressive +of her being highly pleased with both the girls recommended to her by +Madame de Fleury, especially Victoire, who she said was such a treasure +to her, that she would not part with her on any account, and should +consider her as a daughter. “I tell her not to grieve so +much; for though she has lost one mother she has gained another for +herself, who will always love her; and besides she is so useful, and +in so many ways, with her pen and her needle, in accounts, and everything +that is wanted in a family or a shop; she can never want employment +or friends in the worst times, and none can be worse than these, especially +for such pretty girls as she is, who have all their heads turned, and +are taught to consider nothing a sin that used to be sins. Many +gentlemen, who come to our shop, have found out that Victoire is very +handsome, and tell her so; but she is so modest and prudent that I am +not afraid for her. I could tell you, madame, a good anecdote +on this subject, but my paper will not allow, and, besides, my writing +is so difficult.”</p> + +<p>Above a year elapsed before Madame de Fleury received another letter +from Victoire: this was in a parcel, of which an emigrant took charge; +it contained a variety of little offerings from her pupils, instances +of their ingenuity, their industry, and their affection; the last thing +in the packet was a small purse labelled in this manner—</p> + +<p>“<i>Savings from our wages and earnings for her who taught +us all we know</i>.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Dans sa pompe élégante, admirez +Chantilly,<br /> +De héros en héros, d’âge en âge, embelli.”—DE +LILLE.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The health of the good Sister Frances, which had suffered much from +the shock her mind received at the commencement of the revolution, declined +so rapidly in the course of the two succeeding years, that she was obliged +to leave Paris, and she retired to a little village in the neighbourhood +of Chantilly. She chose this situation because here she was within +a morning’s walk of Madame de Fleury’s country-seat. +The Château de Fleury had not yet been seized as national property, +nor had it suffered from the attacks of the mob, though it was in a +perilous situation, within view of the high road to Paris. The +Parisian populace had not yet extended their outrages to this distance +from the city, and the poor people who lived on the estate of Fleury, +attached from habit, principle, and gratitude, to their lord, were not +disposed to take advantage of the disorder of the times, to injure the +property of those from whom they had all their lives received favours +and protection. A faithful old steward had the care of the castle +and the grounds. Sister Frances was impatient to talk to him and +to visit the château, which she had never seen; but for some days +after her arrival in the village she was so much fatigued and so weak +that she could not attempt so long a walk. Victoire had obtained +permission from her mistress to accompany the nun for a few days to +the country, as Annette undertook to do all the business of the shop +during the absence of her companion. Victoire was fully as eager +as Sister Frances to see the faithful steward and the Château +de Fleury, and the morning was now fixed for their walk; but in the +middle of the night they were awakened by the shouts of a mob, who had +just entered the village fresh from the destruction of a neighbouring +castle. The nun and Victoire listened; but in the midst of the +horrid yells of joy no human voice, no intelligible word could be distinguished; +they looked through a chink in the window-shutter and they saw the street +below filled with a crowd of men, whose countenances were by turns illuminated +by the glare of the torches which they brandished.</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens!” whispered the nun to Victoire: “I +should know the face of that man who is loading his musket—the +very man whom I nursed ten years ago when he was ill with a gaol fever!”</p> + +<p>This man, who stood in the midst of the crowd, taller by the head +than the others, seemed to be the leader of the party; they were disputing +whether they should proceed further, spend the remainder of the night +in the village ale-house, or return to Paris. Their leader ordered +spirits to be distributed to his associates, and exhorted them in a +loud voice to proceed in their glorious work. Tossing his firebrand +over his head he declared that he would never return to Paris till he +had razed to the ground the Château de Fleury. At these +words, Victoire, forgetful of all personal danger, ran out into the +midst of the mob, pressed her way up to the leader of these ruffians, +caught him by the arm, exclaiming, “You will not touch a stone +in the Château de Fleury—I have my reasons—I say you +will not suffer a stone in the Château de Fleury to be touched.”</p> + +<p>“And why not?” cried the man, turning astonished; “and +who are you that I should listen to you?”</p> + +<p>“No matter who I am,” said Victoire; “follow me +and I will show you one to whom you will not refuse to listen. +Here!—here she is,” continued Victoire, pointing to the +nun, who had followed her in amazement; “here is one to whom you +will listen—yes, look at her well: hold the light to her face.”</p> + +<p>The nun, in a supplicating attitude, stood in speechless expectation.</p> + +<p>“Ay, I see you have gratitude, I know you will have mercy,” +cried Victoire, watching the workings in the countenance of the man; +“you will save the Château de Fleury for her sake—who +saved your life.”</p> + +<p>“I will,” cried this astonished chief of a mob, fired +with sudden generosity. “By my faith you are a brave girl, +and a fine girl, and know how to speak to the heart, and in the right +moment. Friends, citizens, this nun, though she is a nun, is good +for something. When I lay ill with a fever, and not a soul else +to help me, she came and gave me medicines and food—in short, +I owe my life to her. ’Tis ten years ago, but I remember +it well, and now it is our turn to rule, and she shall be paid as she +deserves. Not a stone of the Château de Fleury shall be +touched!”</p> + +<p>With loud acclamations the mob joined in the generous enthusiasm +of the moment and followed their leader peaceably out of the village. +All this passed with such rapidity as scarcely to leave the impression +of reality upon the mind. As soon as the sun rose in the morning +Victoire looked out for the turrets of the Château de Fleury, +and she saw that they were safe—safe in the midst of the surrounding +devastation. Nothing remained of the superb palace of Chantilly +but the white arches of its foundation.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“When thy last breath, ere Nature sank to rest<br /> +Thy meek submission to thy God expressed;<br /> +When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,<br /> +A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;<br /> +What to thy soul its glad assurance gave—<br /> +Its hope in death, its triumph o’er the grave?<br /> +The sweet remembrance of unblemished youth,<br /> +Th’ inspiring voice of innocence and truth!”—ROGERS.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The good Sister Frances, though she had scarcely recovered from the +shock of the preceding night, accompanied Victoire to the Château +de Fleury. The gates were opened for them by the old steward and +his son Basile, who welcomed them with all the eagerness with which +people welcome friends in time of adversity. The old man showed +them the place; and through every apartment of the castle went on talking +of former times, and with narrative fondness told anecdotes of his dear +master and mistress. Here his lady used to sit and read—here +was the table at which she wrote—this was the sofa on which she +and the ladies sat the very last day she was at the castle, at the open +windows of the hall, whilst all the tenants and people of the village +were dancing on the green.</p> + +<p>“Ay, those were happy times,” said the old man; “but +they will never return.”</p> + +<p>“Never! Oh do not say so,” cried Victoire.</p> + +<p>“Never during my life, at least,” said the nun in a low +voice, and with a look of resignation.</p> + +<p>Basile, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, happened to strike his +arm against the chord of Madame de Fleury’s harp, and the sound +echoed through the room.</p> + +<p>“Before this year is at an end,” cried Victoire, “perhaps +that harp will be struck again in this Château by Madame de Fleury +herself. Last night we could hardly have hoped to see these walls +standing this morning, and yet it is safe—not a stone touched! +Oh, we shall all live, I hope, to see better times!”</p> + +<p>Sister Frances smiled, for she would not depress Victoire’s +enthusiastic hope: to please her, the good nun added, that she felt +better this morning than she had felt for months, and Victoire was happier +than she had been since Madame de Fleury left France. But, alas! +it was only a transient gleam. Sister Frances relapsed and declined +so rapidly, that even Victoire, whose mind was almost always disposed +to hope, despaired of her recovery. With placid resignation, or +rather with mild confidence, this innocent and benevolent creature met +the approach of death. She seemed attached to earth only by affection +for those whom she was to leave in this world. Two of the youngest +of the children who had formerly been placed under her care, and who +were not yet able to earn their own subsistence, she kept with her, +and in the last days of her life she continued her instructions to them +with the fond solicitude of a parent. Her father confessor, an +excellent man, who never even in these dangerous times shrank from his +duty, came to Sister Frances in her last moments, and relieved her mind +from all anxiety, by promising to place the two little children with +the lady who had been abbess of her convent, who would to the utmost +of her power protect and provide for them suitably. Satisfied +by this promise, the good Sister Frances smiled upon Victoire, who stood +beside her bed, and with that smile upon her countenance expired.—It +was some time before the little children seemed to comprehend, or to +believe, that Sister Frances was dead: they had never before seen any +one die; they had no idea what it was to die, and their first feeling +was astonishment; they did not seem to understand why Victoire wept. +But the next day when no Sister Frances spoke to them, when every hour +they missed some accustomed kindness from her,—when presently +they saw the preparations for her funeral,—when they heard that +she was to be buried in the earth, and that they should never see her +more,—they could neither play nor eat, but sat in a corner holding +each other’s hands, and watching everything that was done for +the dead by Victoire.</p> + +<p>In those times, the funeral of a nun, with a priest attending, would +not have been permitted by the populace. It was therefore performed +as secretly as possible: in the middle of the night the coffin was carried +to the burial-place of the Fleury family; the old steward, his son Basile, +Victoire, and the good father confessor, were the only persons present. +It is necessary to mention this, because the facts were afterwards misrepresented.</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“The character is lost!<br /> +Her head adorned with lappets, pinned aloft,<br /> +And ribands streaming gay, superbly raised,<br /> +Indebted to some smart wig-weaver’s hand<br /> +For more than half the tresses it sustains.”—COWPER.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Upon her return to Paris, Victoire felt melancholy; but she exerted +herself as much as possible in her usual occupation; finding that employment +and the consciousness of doing her duty were the best remedies for sorrow.</p> + +<p>One day as she was busy settling Madame Feuillot’s accounts +a servant came into the shop and inquired for Mademoiselle Victoire: +he presented her a note, which she found rather difficult to decipher. +It was signed by her cousin Manon, who desired to see Victoire at her +hotel. “<i>Her hotel</i>!” repeated Victoire with +astonishment. The servant assured her that one of the finest hotels +in Paris belonged to his lady, and that he was commissioned to show +her the way to it. Victoire found her cousin in a magnificent +house, which had formerly belonged to the Prince de Salms. Manon, +dressed in the disgusting, indecent extreme of the mode, was seated +under a richly-fringed canopy. She burst into a loud laugh as +Victoire entered.</p> + +<p>“You look just as much astonished as I expected,” cried +she. “Great changes have happened since I saw you last—I +always told you, Victoire, I knew the world better than you did. +What has come of all your schooling, and your mighty goodness, and your +gratitude truly? Your patroness is banished and a beggar, and +you a drudge in the shop of a <i>brodeuse</i>, who makes you work your +fingers to the bone, no doubt. Now you shall see the difference. +Let me show you my house; you know it was formerly the hotel of the +Prince de Salms, he that was guillotined the other day; but you know +nothing, for you have been out of Paris this month, I understand. +Then I must tell you that my friend Villeneuf has acquired an immense +fortune! by assignats made in the course of a fortnight. I say +an immense fortune! and has bought this fine house. Now do you +begin to understand?”</p> + +<p>“I do not clearly know whom you mean by ‘your friend +Villeneuf,’” said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“The hairdresser who lived in our street,” said Manon; +“he became a great patriot, you know, and orator; and, what with +his eloquence and his luck in dealing in assignats, he has made his +fortune and mine.”</p> + +<p>“And yours! then he is your husband?”</p> + +<p>“That does not follow—that is not necessary—but +do not look so shocked—everybody goes on the sane way now; besides, +I had no other resource—I must have starved—I could not +earn my bread as you do. Besides, I was too delicate for hard +work of any sort—and besides—but come, let me show you my +house—you have no idea how fine it is.”</p> + +<p>With anxious ostentation Manon displayed all her riches to excite +Victoire’s envy.</p> + +<p>“Confess, Victoire,” said she at last, “that you +think me the happiest person you have ever known.—You do not answer; +whom did you ever know that was happier?”</p> + +<p>“Sister Frances, who died last week, appeared to be much happier,” +said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“The poor nun!” said Manon, disdainfully. “Well, +and whom do you think the next happiest?”</p> + +<p>“Madame de Fleury.”</p> + +<p>“An exile and a beggar!—Oh, you are jesting now, Victoire—or—envious. +With that sanctified face, citoyenne—perhaps I should say Mademoiselle—Victoire +you would be delighted to change places with me this instant. +Come, you shall stay with me a week to try how you like it.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” said Victoire, firmly; “I cannot stay +with you, Manon; you have chosen one way of life and I another—quite +another. I do not repent my choice—may you never repent +yours!—Farewell!”</p> + +<p>“Bless me! what airs! and with what dignity she looks! +Repent of my choice!—a likely thing, truly. Am not I at +the top of the wheel?”</p> + +<p>“And may not the wheel turn?” said Victoire.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it may,” said Manon; “but till it does +I will enjoy myself. Since you are of a different humour, return +to Madame Feuillot, and figure upon cambric and muslin, and make out +bills, and nurse old nuns all the days of your life. You will +never persuade me, however, that you would not change places with me +if you could. Stay till you are tried, Mademoiselle Victoire. +Who was ever in love with you or your virtues?—Stay till you are +tried.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree,<br /> +Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard<br /> +Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye<br /> +To save her blossoms, or defend her fruit.”—MILTON.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The trial was nearer than either Manon or Victoire expected. +Manon had scarcely pronounced the last words when the ci-devant hairdresser +burst into the room, accompanied by several of his political associates, +who met to consult measures for the good of the nation. Among +these patriots was the Abbé Tracassier.</p> + +<p>“Who is that pretty girl who is with you, Manon?” whispered +he; “a friend of yours, I hope?”</p> + +<p>Victoire left the room immediately, but not before the profligate +abbé had seen enough to make him wish to see more. The +next day he went to Madame Feuillot’s under pretence of buying +some embroidered handkerchiefs; he paid Victoire a profusion of extravagant +compliments, which made no impression upon her innocent heart, and which +appeared ridiculous to her plain good sense. She did not know +who he was, nor did Madame Feuillot; for though she had often heard +of the abbé, yet she had never seen him. Several succeeding +days he returned, and addressed himself to Victoire, each time with +increasing freedom. Madame Feuillot, who had the greatest confidence +in her, left her entirely to her own discretion. Victoire begged +her friend Annette to do the business of the shop, and stayed at work +in the back parlour. Tracassier was much disappointed by her absence; +but as he thought no great ceremony necessary in his proceedings, he +made his name known in a haughty manner to Madame de Feuillot, and desired +that he might be admitted into the back parlour, as he had something +of consequence to say to Mademoiselle Victoire in private. Our +readers will not require to have a detailed account of this <i>tête-à-tête</i>; +it is sufficient to say that the disappointed and exasperated abbé +left the house muttering imprecations. The next morning a note +came to Victoire apparently from Manon: it was directed by her, but +the inside was written by an unknown hand, and continued these words:—</p> + +<p>“You are a charming, but incomprehensible girl—since +you do not like compliments, you shall not be addressed with empty flattery. +It is in the power of the person who dictates this, not only to make +you as rich and great as your cousin Manon, but also to restore to fortune +and to their country the friends for whom, you are most interested. +Their fate as well as your own is in your power: if you send a favourable +answer to this note, the persons alluded to will, to-morrow, be struck +from the list of emigrants, and reinstated in their former possessions. +If your answer is decidedly unfavourable, the return of your friends +to France will be thenceforward impracticable, and their château, +as well as their house in Paris, will be declared national property, +and sold without delay to the highest bidder. To you, who have +as much understanding as beauty, it is unnecessary to say more. +Consult your heart, charming Victoire! be happy, and make others happy. +This moment is decisive of your fate and of theirs, for you have to +answer a man of a most decided character.”</p> + +<p>Victoire’s answer was as follows:—</p> + +<p>“My friends would not, I am sure, accept of their fortune, +or consent to return to their country, upon the conditions proposed; +therefore I have no merit in rejecting them.”</p> + +<p>Victoire had early acquired good principles, and that plain steady +good sense, which goes straight to its object, without being dazzled +or imposed upon by sophistry. She was unacquainted with the refinements +of sentiment, but she distinctly knew right from wrong, and had sufficient +resolution to abide by the right. Perhaps many romantic heroines +might have thought it a generous self-devotion to have become in similar +circumstances the mistress of Tracassier; and those who are skilled +“to make the worst appear the better cause” might have made +such an act of heroism the foundation of an interesting, or at least +a fashionable novel. Poor Victoire had not received an education +sufficiently refined to enable her to understand these mysteries of +sentiment. She was even simple enough to flatter herself that +this libertine patriot would not fulfil his threats, and that these +had been made only with a view to terrify her into compliance. +In this opinion, however, she found herself mistaken. M. Tracassier +was indeed a man of the most decided character, if this form may properly +be applied to those who act uniformly in consequence of their ruling +passion. The Château de Fleury was seized as national property. +Victoire heard this bad news from the old steward, who was turned out +of the castle, along with his son, the very day after her rejection +of the proposed conditions.</p> + +<p>“I could not have believed that any human creature could be +so wicked!” exclaimed Victoire, glowing with indignation: but +indignation gave way to sorrow.</p> + +<p>“And the Château de Fleury is really seized?—and +you, good old man, are turned out of the place where you were born?—and +you too, Basile?—and Madame de Fleury will never come back again!—and +perhaps she may be put into prison in a foreign country, and may die +for want—and I might have prevented all this!”</p> + +<p>Unable to shed a tear, Victoire stood in silent consternation, whilst +Annette explained to the good steward and his son the whole transaction. +Basile, who was naturally of an impetuous temper, was so transported +with indignation, that he would have gone instantly with the note from +Tracassier to denounce him before the whole National Convention, if +he had not been restrained by his more prudent father. The old +steward represented to him, that as the note was neither signed nor +written by the hand of Tracassier, no proof could be brought home to +him, and the attempt to convict one of so powerful a party would only +bring certain destruction upon the accusers. Besides, such was +at this time the general depravity of manners, that numbers would keep +the guilty in countenance. There was no crime which the mask of +patriotism could not cover. “There is one comfort we have +in our misfortunes, which these men can never have,” said the +old man; “when their downfall comes, and come it will most certainly, +they will not feel as we do, INNOCENT. Victoire, look up! and +do not give way to despair—all will yet be well.”</p> + +<p>“At all events, you have done what is right—so do not +reproach yourself,” said Basile. “Everybody—I +mean everybody who is good for anything—must respect, admire, +and love you, Victoire.”</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Ne mal cio che v’annoja,<br /> +Quello e vero gioire<br /> +Che nasce da virtude dopo il soffrire.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Basile had not seen without emotion the various instances of goodness +which Victoire showed during the illness of Sister Frances. Her +conduct towards M. Tracassier increased his esteem and attachment; but +he forbore to declare his affection, because he could not, consistently +with prudence, or with gratitude to his father, think of marrying, now +that he was not able to maintain a wife and family. The honest +earnings of many years of service had been wrested from the old steward +at the time the Château de Fleury was seized, and he now depended +on the industry of his son for the daily support of his age. His +dependence was just, and not likely to be disappointed; for he had given +his son an education suitable to his condition in life. Basile +was an exact arithmetician, could write an excellent hand, and was a +ready draughtsman and surveyor. To bring these useful talents +into action, and to find employment for them with men by whom they would +be honestly rewarded, was the only difficulty—a difficulty which +Victoire’s brother Maurice soon removed. His reputation +as a smith had introduced him, among his many customers, to a gentleman +of worth and scientific knowledge, who was at this time employed to +make models and plans of all the fortified places in Europe; he was +in want of a good clerk and draughtsman, of whose integrity he could +be secure. Maurice mentioned his friend Basile; and upon inquiry +into his character, and upon trial of his abilities, he was found suited +to the place, and was accepted. By his well-earned salary he supported +himself and his father; and began, with the sanguine hopes of a young +man, to flatter himself that he should soon be rich enough to marry, +and that then he might declare his attachment to Victoire. Notwithstanding +all his boasted prudence, he had betrayed sufficient symptoms of his +passion to have rendered a declaration unnecessary to any clear-sighted +observer: but Victoire was not thinking of conquests; she was wholly +occupied with a scheme of earning a certain sum of money for her benefactress, +who was now, as she feared, in want. All Madame de Fleury’s +former pupils contributed their share to the common stock; and the mantua-maker, +the confectioner, the servants of different sorts, who had been educated +at her school, had laid by, during the years of her banishment, an annual +portion of their wages and savings: with the sum which Victoire now +added to the fund, it amounted to ten thousand livres. The person +who undertook to carry this money to Madame de Fleury, was François, +her former footman, who had procured a pass to go to England as a hairdresser. +The night before he set out was a happy night for Victoire, as all her +companions met, by Madame Feuillot’s invitation, at her house; +and after tea they had the pleasure of packing up the little box, in +which each, besides the money, sent some token their gratitude, and +some proof of their ingenuity. They would with all their hearts +have sent twice as many <i>souvenirs</i> as François could carry.</p> + +<p>“D’abord c’est impossible!” cried he, when +he saw the box that was prepared for him to carry to England: but his +good nature was unable to resist the entreaties of each to have her +offering carried, “which would take up no room.”</p> + +<p>He departed—arrived safe in England—found out Madame +de Fleury, who was in real distress, in obscure lodgings at Richmond. +He delivered the money, and all the presents of which he had taken charge: +but the person to whom she entrusted a letter, in answer to Victoire, +was not so punctual, or was more unlucky: for the letter never reached +her, and she and her companions were long uncertain whether their little +treasure had been received. They still continued, however, with +indefatigable gratitude, to lay by a portion of their earnings for their +benefactress; and the pleasure they had in this perseverance made them +more than amends for the loss of some little amusements, and for privations +to which they submitted in consequence of their resolution.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Basile, going on steadily with his employments, +advanced every day in the favour of his master, and his salary was increased +in proportion to his abilities and industry; so that he thought he could +now, without any imprudence, marry. He consulted his father, who +approved of his choice; he consulted Maurice as to the probability of +his being accepted by Victoire; and encouraged by both his father and +his friend, he was upon the eve of addressing himself to Victoire, when +he was prevented by a new and unforeseen misfortune. His father +was taken up, by an emissary of Tracassier’s, and brought before +one of their revolutionary committees, where he was accused of various +acts of <i>incivisme</i>. Among other things equally criminal, +it was proved that one Sunday, when he went to see Le Petit Trianon, +then a public-house, he exclaimed, “C’est ici que le canaille +danse, et que les honnêtes gens pleurent!”</p> + +<p>Basile was present at this mock examination of his father—he +saw him on the point of being dragged to prison—when a hint was +given that he might save his father by enlisting immediately, and going +with the army out of France. Victoire was full in Basile’s +recollection; but there was no other means of saving his father. +He enlisted, and in twenty-four hours left Paris.</p> + +<p>What appear to be the most unfortunate circumstances of life often +prove ultimately the most advantageous—indeed, those who have +knowledge, activity, and integrity, can convert the apparent blanks +in the lottery of fortune into prizes. Basile was recommended +to his commanding officer by the gentleman who had lately employed him +as a clerk; his skill in drawing plans, and in taking rapid surveys +of the country through which they passed, was extremely useful to his +general, and his integrity made it safe to trust him as a secretary. +His commanding officer, though a brave man, was illiterate, and a secretary +was to him a necessary of life. Basile was not only useful, but +agreeable; without any mean arts, or servile adulation, he pleased by +simply showing the desire to oblige and the ability to serve.</p> + +<p>“Diable!” exclaimed the general one day, as he looked +at Basile’s plan of a town which the army was besieging. +“How comes it that you are able to do all these things? +But you have a genius for this sort of work, apparently.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Basile, “these things were taught +to me when I was a child by a good friend.”</p> + +<p>“A good friend he was, indeed! he did more for you than if +he had given you a fortune; for, in these times, that might have been +soon taken from you; but now you have the means of making a fortune +for yourself.”</p> + +<p>This observation of the general’s, obvious as it may seem, +is deserving of the serious consideration of those who have children +of their own to educate, or who have the disposal of money for public +charities. In these times no sensible person will venture to pronounce +that a change of fortune and station may not await the highest and the +lowest; whether we rise or fall in the scale of society, personal qualities +and knowledge will be valuable. Those who fall cannot be destitute, +and those who rise cannot be ridiculous or contemptible, if they have +been prepared for their fortune by proper education. In shipwreck +those who carry their all in their minds are the most secure.</p> + +<p>But to return to Basile. He had sense enough not to make his +general jealous of him by any unseasonable display of his talents, or +any officious intrusion of advice, even upon subjects which he best +understood.</p> + +<p>The talents of the warrior and the secretary were in such different +lines, that there was no danger of competition; and the general, finding +in his secretary the soul of all the arts, good sense, gradually acquired +the habit of asking his opinion on every subject that came within his +department. It happened that the general received orders from +the Directory at Paris to take a certain town, let it cost what it would, +within a given time: in his perplexity he exclaimed before Basile against +the unreasonableness of these orders, and declared his belief that it +was impossible he should succeed, and that this was only a scheme of +his enemies to prepare his ruin. Basile had attended to the operations +of the engineer who acted under the general, and perfectly recollected +the model of the mines of this town, which he had seen when he was employed +as draughtsman by his Parisian friend. He remembered that there +was formerly an old mine that had been stopped up somewhere near the +place where the engineer was at work; he mentioned in private his suspicions +to the general, who gave orders in consequence. The old mine was +discovered, cleared out, and by these means the town was taken the day +before the time appointed. Basile did not arrogate to himself +any of the glory of this success; he kept his general’s secret +and his confidence. Upon their return to Paris, after a fortunate +campaign, the general was more grateful than some others have been, +perhaps because more room was given by Basile’s prudence for the +exercise of this virtue.</p> + +<p>“My friend,” said he to Basile, “you have done +me a great service by your counsel, and a greater still by holding your +tongue. Speak now, and tell me freely if there is anything I can +do for you. You see, as a victorious general, I have the upper +hand amongst these fellows—Tracassier’s scheme to ruin me +missed—whatever I ask will at this moment be granted; speak freely, +therefore.”</p> + +<p>Basile asked what he knew Victoire most desired—that Monsieur +and Madame de Fleury should be struck from the list of emigrants, and +that their property now in the hands of the nation should be restored +to them. The general promised that this should be done. +A warm contest ensued upon the subject between him and Tracassier, but +the general stood firm; and Tracassier, enraged, forgot his usual cunning, +and quarrelling irrevocably with a party now more powerful than his +own, he and his adherents were driven from that station in which they +had so long tyrannised. From being the rulers of France, they +in a few hours became banished men, or, in the phrase of the times, +<i>des déportés</i>.</p> + +<p>We must not omit to mention the wretched end of Manon. The +man with whom she lived perished by the guillotine. From his splendid +house she went upon the stage, did not succeed, sank from one degree +of profligacy to another, and at last died in an hospital.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the order for the restoration of the Fleury property, +and for permission for the Fleury family to return to France, was made +out in due form, and Maurice begged to be the messenger of these good +tidings—he set out for England with the order.</p> + +<p>Victoire immediately went down to the Château de Fleury, to +get everything in readiness for the reception of the family.</p> + +<p>Exiles are expeditious in their return to their native country. +Victoire had but just time to complete her preparations, when Monsieur +and Madame de Fleury arrived at Calais. Victoire had assembled +all her companions, all Madame de Fleury’s former pupils; and +the hour when she was expected home, they, with the peasants of the +neighbourhood, were all in their holiday clothes, and, according to +the custom of the country, singing and dancing. Without music +and dancing there is no perfect joy in France. Never was <i>fête +du village</i> or <i>fête du Seigneur</i> more joyful than this.</p> + +<p>The old steward opened the gate, the carriage drove in. Madame +de Fleury saw that home which she had little expected evermore to behold, +but all other thoughts were lost in the pleasure of meeting her beloved +pupils.</p> + +<p>“My children!” cried she, as they crowded round her the +moment she got out of her carriage—“my dear, <i>good</i> +children!”</p> + +<p>It was all she could say. She leaned on Victoire’s arm +as she went into the house, and by degrees recovering from the almost +painful excess of pleasure, began to enjoy what she yet only confusedly +felt.</p> + +<p>Several of her pupils were so much grown and altered in their external +appearance, that she could scarcely recollect them till they spoke, +and then their voices and the expression of their countenances brought +their childhood fully to her memory. Victoire, she thought, was +changed the least, and at this she rejoiced.</p> + +<p>The feeling and intelligent reader will imagine all the pleasure +that Madame de Fleury enjoyed this day; nor was it merely the pleasure +of a day. She heard from all her friends, with prolonged satisfaction, +repeated accounts of the good conduct of these young people during her +absence. She learned with delight how her restoration to her country +and her fortune had been effected; and is it necessary to add, that +Victoire consented to marry Basile, and that she was suitably portioned, +and, what is better still, that she was perfectly happy? Monsieur +de Fleury rewarded the attachment and good conduct of Maurice by taking +him into his service, and making him his manager under the old steward +at the Château de Fleury.</p> + +<p>On Victoire’s wedding-day Madame de Fleury produced all the +little offerings of gratitude which she had received from her and her +companions during her exile. It was now her turn to confer favours, +and she knew how to confer them both with grace and judgment.</p> + +<p>“No gratitude in human nature! No gratitude in the lower +classes of the people!” cried she; “how much those are mistaken +who think so! I wish they could know my history, and the history +of these my children, and they would acknowledge their error.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MURAD THE UNLUCKY AND OTHER TALES ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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