CHAPTER CCIX.
MR. GREEN’S MISSION.
In the meantime Mr. Green had taken a cab, and ordered himself to be
driven to the mansion of the Earl of Ellingham in Pall Mall.
While he was proceeding thither, he threw himself back in the vehicle
and gave way to a variety of pleasurable reflections. He considered
his prospects to be most brilliant; and he believed that he was on
the high road to amass as considerable a fortune as that which his
late master Heathcote had once enjoyed. It was fortunate for him that
he had applied to Jack Rily in the hour of his need: the Doctor had
proved of the greatest assistance to him;--and he resolved to run down
to Woolwich some day and call upon his old friend at the hulks. For
Jack Rily had been tried for the murder of Vitriol Bob, and acquitted
of the capital charge: but he was condemned to two years’ imprisonment
in a convict-ship for manslaughter, the police having appeared to give
him a character which by no means recommended him to the good opinion
of the jury nor the mercy of the Court. As for the immense quantity
of Bank-notes found upon his person at the time of his arrest, he had
positively refused to give any satisfactory account concerning them;
and as no one stood forward to claim them, nor to throw any light upon
this mysterious subject, they were declared to be forfeited to the
Crown on the prisoner’s conviction for manslaughter.
Pondering upon these and other matters, Mr. Green arrived in due course
at the noble mansion in Pall Mall; and on inquiring for Mr. Hatfield,
he was informed that this gentleman was ill in bed.
“But my business is of the most urgent character,” said the attorney;
“and I must see him.”
The domestic to whom this assurance was given, conducted Mr. Green into
a parlour, and hastened to report to the Earl of Ellingham the presence
of the visitor.
The nobleman accordingly repaired to the room in which Green was
waiting, and represented to him that Mr. Hatfield was too much
indisposed to receive any stranger.
“If, however,” added the Earl, “you will communicate to me the nature
of the affair which has brought you hither, your object will be gained
as readily as if you saw Mr. Hatfield. He is an intimate friend of
mine--indeed, a bosom friend,” said the nobleman, emphatically; “and we
have no secrets from each other.”
“I must respectfully decline to open my business to your lordship in
the first instance,” returned Mr. Green. “But I should be glad if your
lordship would witness what I have to say to Mr. Hatfield.”
“Your card informs me that you are an attorney, sir,” said the Earl
of Ellingham: “may I ask if the object of your visit be of a legal
nature?--because in that case, you would do well to address yourself to
my solicitor.”
“You must excuse me, my lord,” was the laconic answer, “if I decline
giving any explanations.”
“Although I consider your behaviour to be far from courteous, Mr.
Green,” said the Earl, “I will communicate to Mr. Hatfield your desire
to have an interview with him; and perhaps, under the circumstances, he
may see you.”
“Good, my lord,” responded the attorney. “I am in no particular
hurry--and will cheerfully wait an hour or two in order to have the
pleasure of seeing Mr. Hatfield.”
The Earl of Ellingham forthwith repaired to his half-brother’s
room, and mentioned to him all that had occurred. Mr. Hatfield,
though feeling weak after the long illness which he had experienced,
considered the behaviour of the visitor to be so extraordinary that it
was advisable to grant the interview demanded.
Lord Ellingham accordingly returned to the parlour, and thence
conducted the attorney to the chamber where Mr. Hatfield was lying in
bed.
The invalid cast a rapid and searching glance at Green as he entered
the room; but he recognised in the visitor no one with whom he
remembered to have ever been acquainted.
Scarcely was the door closed, when it opened again--and the Countess of
Ellingham, accompanied by Lady Georgiana, made her appearance: but, on
perceiving a stranger, they both drew back and were about to withdraw.
“There are no secrets here, ladies--no secrets, I can assure you,”
exclaimed Mr. Green, with a smirking expression of countenance, which,
nevertheless, had a deep malignity in it.
“In that case, come in,” said Lord Ellingham; and the two ladies
accordingly entered the room.
“Will you now explain the object of your visit, sir?” asked Mr.
Hatfield, who had observed the sinister aspect which the attorney’s
features had ere now assumed, and who entertained a vague presentiment
of evil.
“I must begin by informing you,” said Green, taking a seat, and
glancing around on those present, as much as to intimate that he spoke
to no one in particular, but was addressing them all collectively,--“I
must begin by informing you that I am a very extraordinary person in
one respect--which is, that I am constantly ferretting about amongst
old papers, musty documents, and ancient records; and while engaged in
this occupation I frequently light upon strange secrets--very strange
indeed.”
While he was yet uttering these last words, the rapid look which he
threw around convinced him that he had already made a most unpleasant
impression upon his auditory: for the ladies both turned pale and
started--while the Earl and Mr. Hatfield exchanged glances significant
of alarm.
“Yes--such is the case,” continued Mr. Green, chuckling inwardly,
though maintaining an external composure: “and amongst the most
singular--the most astounding of the secrets which I have thus dragged
to light, the one that I have discovered in connexion with your
lordship’s family, is not the least remarkable.”
As he thus spoke, the attorney fixed his eyes upon the nobleman, who
coloured deeply in spite of himself: for it naturally struck him
that Green alluded to matters with which the reader is already well
acquainted. The same apprehension seized upon Hatfield, Lady Georgiana,
and the Countess of Ellingham; and the suspense which the lawyer’s
auditory now endured, was poignant in the extreme.
“Your lordship can of course conjecture to what I allude,” continued
Green; “and you, Mr. Hatfield,” he added, turning towards the invalid,
“cannot possibly misunderstand me.”
Lady Georgiana rose from the seat which she had taken on entering the
room, and proceeded to place herself instinctively as it were near the
head of the couch, so as to be close to her husband. It was a movement
which said as eloquently as if her lips had simultaneously explained
it--“This man menaces evil: but I am near to console you with all the
sympathy of a loving wife.”
“Mr. Green,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham, after a few moments’
reflection, “I appeal to you whether it will not be better that these
matters at which you have glanced should be discussed privately between
yourself and me. Mr. Hatfield has been ill--very ill: and it would be
cruel to excite him at the moment when he is approaching convalescence.”
“I have already stated to your lordship that whatever communication
I have to make must be in the presence of witnesses,” returned the
implacable Green. “I presume that this lady,” he added, with a gentle
inclination of his head towards the invalid’s wife, “is Lady Georgiana
Hatfield?”
“You are correct, sir,” observed the lady herself, with a haughty tone
and distant manner.
“And this lady is the Countess of Ellingham, doubtless?” said Green,
altogether unabashed.
The beautiful Esther bowed in an affirmative reply.
“But what mean these questions, sir?” demanded the Earl, impatiently.
“Surely you will not use language that may prove outrageous to the
feelings of ladies who have never offended you?”
“If the truths which I am about to utter should prove so very
disagreeable to hear, my lord,” responded Green, “they must be equally
unpleasant to cherish in the depths of the soul. In a word, you are
doubtless all too much accustomed to contemplate these truths to be
liable to any startling effect when they are shaped in words and
whispered to the ear.”
“This is an insolence of behaviour, sir, which I cannot--will not
tolerate,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham. “You shall not force your
way into the bosom of a family with a view to play upon their feelings
with a cruelty that is as refined as it is unaccountable.”
“Very good, my lord,” returned Green, rising from his seat, and taking
up his hat; “I can as easily proclaim from the head of the stairs--or
in the hall of your mansion--every thing I know relative to your
family, as I can talk the matter quietly over with you in this room.”
And the villain was moving towards the door, when Lord Ellingham caught
him by the arm, saying, “Nay--you must not leave us thus! What object
have you in view?--what use do you propose to make of the secrets which
you have discovered? Speak frankly--candidly--openly: is it money that
you require?”
A new idea flashed to the mind of Mr. Green, as these words fell upon
his ears.
By serving Signora Barthelma he would gain a thousand guineas, half of
which sum was already in his possession: he had therefore only another
five hundred to receive--and it was possible that he might obtain as
many thousands by striking a bargain with the nobleman and making a
market of the secrets in his possession.
“Wherefore does your lordship ask me if I require money?” he demanded,
by way of sounding the Earl’s intentions.
“Because I am rich enough to bribe you,” was the unhesitating response:
for the nobleman had already formed a pretty accurate idea of the
attorney’s character.
Green paused--reflected--and began to grow embarrassed. He knew not how
to act--how much to demand--what terms to propose. Fearful of spoiling
all, by carrying his extortionate views too high, he was likewise
apprehensive of losing a large by agreeing to take a small amount.
The Earl guessed what was passing in his mind; and, pointing to writing
materials that lay upon the table, he said, “Draw a cheque--and I will
sign it.”
Mr. Green sat down, and with trembling hand wrote a draft for five
thousand pounds.
Lord Ellingham glanced over it, and immediately affixed his signature
to the document, inserting the names of his bankers in the corner.
“Stop!” ejaculated Mr. Hatfield, starting up in his couch: “Arthur,
retain that cheque--let not the villain take it!”
And the Earl of Ellingham instantly obeyed this injunction; while Green
turned, with a countenance livid through rage and disappointment,
towards the invalid.
“Not one shilling shall this man extort from us!” continued Mr.
Hatfield, powerfully excited. “His story is a fabrication! There are no
documents in existence which can have revealed our family secrets to
him. He has been sent hither by an enemy--and who that enemy is I can
too well divine!”
“Yes--yes--I understand you!” cried the Earl, the name of _Perdita_
suggesting itself immediately to his memory: but at the same time he
recollected that neither the Countess of Ellingham nor Lady Georgiana
was acquainted with the secret of that fatal marriage which Charles had
contracted.
“Vile--despicable tool that you are!” resumed Mr. Hatfield, addressing
himself to the attorney: “I can see through all your conduct as if
your very soul were transparent! The vengeance of an enemy sent you
hither--and the demand which the Earl of Ellingham made respecting your
object, was suggestive of this extortionate deed that you sought to
perpetrate. Begone, sir--do your worst--we fear you not! You may reveal
family matters that may cause pain--but you can do no serious injury:
for if you allude to the secrets which I myself am referring to, your
malignant aim is completely baffled--inasmuch as the documents that
could alone corroborate your assertions, are no longer in existence. I
myself destroyed them!”
And thoroughly exhausted, Mr. Hatfield sank back upon the pillow.
At this moment the door was hastily opened; and Clarence Villiers
rushed into the room.
“Pardon this abrupt intrusion,” he exclaimed, not immediately noticing
Green: “but I have news of some importance--though of horrible
interest--to communicate. That woman Perdita, who ensnared my friend
Charles with her wiles and witcheries, is no more!”
“Dead?” cried Mr. Hatfield, again starting up in the couch.
“Murdered--assassinated--and by her own husband!” ejaculated Villiers.
“I was driving past Westbourne Terrace ere now--I saw a crowd--I heard
appalling rumours--I enquired the cause--and I learnt the outline of
the frightful tragedy! She is dead--and Barthelma, her husband, who
destroyed her, has perished by his own hand!”
“Then Charles is beyond all danger for the future!” exclaimed Mr.
Hatfield;--and again did he fall back on his pillow.
Lady Georgiana and the Countess of Ellingham hastened to administer
restoratives to the invalid: although they themselves were greatly
excited by the intelligence which had just arrived--for, it will be
remembered, they were aware that Charles had fled from London with an
abandoned woman who had gained a powerful ascendancy over him; and
horrified as they were at the tidings of the murder, they could not
help feeling that all apprehension of a relapse on the young man’s part
into the meshes of the intriguing Perdita, was now suddenly removed.
While the ladies were ministering to Mr. Hatfield, Clarence Villiers
had turned and recognised Green, who was standing stupefied and
motionless at the sudden news which revealed to him that his fair
client Perdita Barthelma had been murdered!
“Ah! Mr. Green,” exclaimed Villiers, in astonishment at beholding the
attorney in the room; “what brings you hither?”
“Do you know this person, Clarence?” demanded the Earl, bending his
looks with mingled indignation and abhorrence upon the man.
“I have been acquainted with him for many years----” began Villiers.
“Stop, sir!” cried the nobleman, again seizing the arm of the attorney,
who was making for the door. “Before you leave us, you shall be
thoroughly unmasked in the presence of a gentleman who appears to
address you as a friend.”
“Let me go, my lord!” exclaimed Green, struggling to get away; for he
knew that Villiers could reveal a secret which would at once place the
infamy of his character beyond question: “let me go, I say--you have no
right to detain me against my will!”
“You shall remain yet a few minutes!” cried the Earl, holding his
arm with a strong grasp. “This villain,” continued the nobleman,
turning towards Clarence, “came hither as the instrument of that
woman Perdita’s vengeance! That such is the fact, I have no doubt.
But in a short time he changed his character--he began to act a part
for himself--he played the scoundrel on his own account--and he
attempted to extort from me the sum of five thousand pounds, as the
purchase-money for retaining all the secrets which Perdita could alone
have revealed to him!”
“You offered me the money--and the amount was not extravagant,
considering the purpose for which it was to have been given,” said
Green, glancing anxiously at Clarence Villiers.
“I told you to name your own terms--and you drew up this draft,”
exclaimed the Earl, exhibiting the slip of paper.
“Then, by heaven! forbearance in respect to such a man as you, is a
positive crime on my part!” said Villiers, in an excited tone; and,
seizing the wretched attorney by the collar, he cried, “You go not
hence, Mr. Green, save in the custody of an officer, and under an
accusation of forgery!”
“Forgery!” exclaimed the Earl, in amazement; and at the same time the
ladies and Mr. Hatfield became interested observers of the scene that
was now passing.
“Yes--forgery, my lord!” cried Villiers, still retaining his hold upon
Green. “This man was left joint trustee with myself, on behalf of a
youth who had a small sum bequeathed to him: the money was sold out
of the funds years ago, my signature to the power of attorney being
forged! That forgery was perpetrated by the villain before you. Some
six months ago he replaced the money--he called upon me--he confessed
the deed--he avowed his contrition--and I promised to shield him. But
now, my lord--_now_, that he dares to set himself up as the persecutor
of those whom I have so many reasons to esteem and revere,--_now_, that
he has ventured to direct his villanies against the peace of an amiable
family,--I cannot--will not--must not spare him!”
“No, Clarence--you shall keep your promise,” said the Earl; “and
perhaps the man may be moved by gratitude to repentance.”
“My promise was conditional, my lord,” exclaimed Villiers: “and if
he have represented it otherwise to a living soul, he has uttered a
falsehood. I declared to him at the time that I would forgive him,
provided he undertook to enter upon the ways of rectitude and honesty:
and it is he who has now forfeited his solemn pledge to that effect! No
mercy, then, for this bad--this heartless man!”
“One word!” cried Green, in a menacing tone. “Fulfil your threat, Mr.
Villiers, and I will at once--without the slightest hesitation or
remorse--proclaim to all the world that the man known as Mr. Hatfield--”
“Silence, villain!” thundered Clarence: “silence!--or I will strangle
you!”
“No--no--you shall not coerce me! I _will_ speak out!” cried Green,
struggling to disengage himself from the strong grasp in which he was
held. “Mark what I say--hear me--hear me, all of you! Mr. Hatfield
bears an assumed name--he is the Earl’s eldest brother--the heir to the
title--aye, and also Thomas Rainford, who was hanged at Horsemonger
Lane Gaol!”
A blow from the clenched fist of Villiers felled the attorney as these
last words burst from his lips;--and at the same instant a wild shriek,
uttered by Lady Georgiana, rang through the room. For Mr. Hatfield had
sunk back upon the pillow, with a low moan and a death-like pallor of
countenance;--and almost immediately afterwards, blood oozed from his
mouth.
All was now confusion and dismay in the chamber of the invalid: but at
this juncture, Sir John Lascelles made his appearance. A few words,
hurriedly spoken by the Earl of Ellingham, conveyed to the physician
an idea of what had caused the relapse of his patient; and the worthy
man speedily ordered the requisite restoratives. But these were all in
vain:--Mr. Hatfield had broken a blood-vessel internally--and a few
minutes after the arrival of the doctor, he expired without a groan!
* * * * *
We must draw a veil over the scene of sorrow which the chamber of death
presented, and which we cannot find words to describe. The intensity
of that anguish was increased by the almost frantic grief of Charles
Hatfield, who, having been out for several hours upon his own and his
father’s business, returned but a few minutes too late to witness the
sad catastrophe.
He threw himself upon the corpse of his sire--uttered the most
passionate lamentations--and even pushed his mother aside when she
endeavoured to console him.
But at length a reaction came; and the violence of the young man’s
grief gave way to a profound sorrow,--a sorrow that was deeply, deeply
shared by many other hearts!
In the confusion that had taken place when Lady Georgiana’s scream
echoed through the room, denoting the occurrence of something
dreadful,--Green had risen from the floor and made his escape, inwardly
cursing himself for having undertaken to become the agent of Perdita’s
vengeance.
But Villiers, who entertained the most sincere friendship for Mr.
Hatfield, and who was goaded almost to madness by the conduct of the
vile attorney towards the man whom he thus loved as a brother, vowed
that such infamy should not go unpunished. Scarcely, therefore, had the
terrible conviction burst upon all present in the chamber of death,
that Mr. Hatfield was indeed no more, when Villiers rushed franticly in
pursuit of him whom he looked upon as the murderer!
The chase was successful--and in less than half an hour, Green was in
custody on a charge of forgery!
CONCLUSION.
Our narrative is about to close: but ere we lay aside the pen, a few
observations are requisite in order to render the history of each
prominent character as complete as possible. Several have already been
disposed of: but there yet remain many in whose fate the reader may
feel more or less interested; and we accordingly proceed to sum up
in a few words all the particulars which are wanting to the faithful
accomplishment of our task.
Mr. Green in due time figured at the Old Bailey, where Clarence
Villiers appeared to prosecute him for forgery; but the prisoner
pleaded guilty in order to obtain the merciful consideration of the
court, and was sentenced to transportation for seven years, instead
of for the term of his natural life. Preparatory, however, to his
expatriation, he was lodged in one of the convict-hulks at Woolwich;
and there he encountered his friend Jack Rily the Doctor, who,
instead of consoling the wretched attorney, only laughed at him for
the tears which he shed and the useless repinings to which he gave
vent. Mr. Green is at this present moment occupied in the healthy but
disagreeable task of repairing the high roads in Van Diemen’s Land, in
company with some of the greatest scoundrels that ever disgraced the
human species; and he even looks back with bitter regret to those times
when he was the oppressed, crushed, and despised instrument of James
Heathcote. Nor was it a source of solace to Mr. Green when one fine
morning, about ten months ago, he recognised the Doctor in a new-comer
who was thus added to the gang of convicts: for Mr. Rily, having
endeavoured to stir up his brethren in the Woolwich hulk to rebellion,
was discovered in the attempt and forthwith packed off to the island
which Nature had in the origin made a terrestrial paradise, but which
the English Government has converted into “a den of thieves.”
James Heathcote, being utterly ruined by the transfer of all his
property for the benefit of the numerous clients whom he had
robbed,--for this affair was completely carried out by Green’s head
clerk,--was compelled to abandon his fine house and take a humble
office where he strove hard to reconstruct his once extensive
business. But the exposure which his character had received in the
Court of Queen’s Bench, proved a fatal blow to his prospects and an
insurmountable obstacle in his path; and at the end of six months,
being unable to pay his rent, he was turned out of the little nook to
which he had retired, and plunged into the deepest poverty. At this
juncture his brother Sir Gilbert returned to England; and James wrote
him a penitential letter, imploring his succour. The baronet refused
to see him, but generously undertook to allow him two guineas a-week
in order to keep him from starving; and on this pittance--for such it
is in comparison with the wealth he once possessed--the broken-down,
baffled, and dispirited man still subsists in some suburb of the
metropolis.
The Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks has experienced many ups and downs since
we last saw him at the lunatic asylum in Bethnal Green. It appears
that one evening Dr. Swinton gave a grand supper to the relatives and
friends of his pensioners, who were present on the occasion as usual;
and that previously to the repast being served up, the Doctor had
been holding forth in a highly eulogistic style upon the excellent
qualities, Christian virtues, and profound piety of his chaplain. Now
the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks was out at the time, the Doctor both
declaring and believing that “the good man had gone to pay his usual
evening visits to the poor in the neighbourhood;” and the guests were
all very anxious for the return of the worthy individual who possessed
such numerous claims upon their esteem, veneration, and respect. But
the truth was--and the truth _must_ be told--that the Reverend Mr.
Sheepshanks, instead of visiting the poor or even dreaming of such
a thing, was smoking his pipe and drinking his gin-and-water at the
_Cat and the Fiddle_ in Globe Town; and as he happened to take an
extra pipe and two extra glasses on this particular occasion, the
fumes thereof became more potent than the odour of sanctity. The
consequence was that on his return to the lunatic asylum, his walk
was so unsteady and irregular that his progress up the gravel walk to
the front door resembled that of a ship tacking about in the Channel;
and when he entered the supper-room, just as the company were sitting
down to the well-spread table, his nose was so red, his cheeks were so
flushed, and his eyes so vacant and watery, that the Doctor inquired
in a tone of bland anxiety if he were unwell? “No, sir--I am quite
well--and I am all right!” was the somewhat savage answer.--“Then
will you have the kindness to ask a blessing, Mr. Sheepshanks?” said
the Doctor.--“No, sir,” responded the pious gentleman: “I will see
you and the blessing at the devil first. You’re drunk, sir--and I’m
ashamed of you.”--It would be impossible to describe the dismay--we
might almost term it horrified amazement--which this peremptory refusal
to say grace, and the scandalous attack upon Dr. Swinton’s sobriety,
produced amongst the guests. The physician himself started up in a
furious rage, forgetful of all his propriety; and applying his right
foot to the proper quarter, he kicked the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks
ignominiously forth from the lunatic asylum. On the following morning
this pious gentleman, who was endowed with so many Christian virtues,
awoke in a station-house to a sense of his altered position; but
when introduced to the notice of a magistrate for being “drunk and
disorderly, and kicking up a row at Dr. Swinton’s door,” he boldly
proclaimed himself a martyr, and held forth at great length, and in a
peculiar nasal drone, on the vanities of this world. The magistrate
was, however, compelled to cut him short, by inflicting a fine: but
as Mr. Sheepshanks had exhausted all his pecuniary resources at the
_Cat and the Fiddle_ on the preceding evening, he was doomed to extend
his experience of worldly vanities beneath the roof of the House of
Correction. There he found that the treadmill was one of the most
uncomfortable vanities he had ever yet encountered; and the redness
of his nose was considerably subdued by the prison skilly. On his
emancipation at the end of a week, he took up his abode at the house
of a poor widow with whom he was acquainted, and whom he induced to
convert her front-parlour into a receptacle for prayer-meetings. This
succeeded very well for a few months, the congregation being delighted
with Mr. Sheepshanks’ discourse, and a tolerable amount of pence being
collected every evening in furtherance of the pious gentleman’s holy
purpose of supplying the benighted Esquimaux with flannel-jackets
and religious tracts: but the widow proving at length to be in the
family-way, and Mr. Sheepshanks not choosing to wait to have the
paternity of the expected offspring fixed upon his reverend shoulders,
his sudden evaporation from the neighbourhood led to the break-up
of the prayer-meetings and the total ruin of the unfortunate woman.
What became of Mr. Sheepshanks for the next six months, we cannot
say: but one fine Sunday morning he turned up at the Obelisk in St.
George’s Fields, where he addressed a crowd in his usual strain. His
discourse was however suddenly cut short by the presence of the poor
widow, who, wrapped in rags and with a baby in her arms, was begging
in that neighbourhood; and when the reverend gentleman’s delinquencies
were proclaimed by the miserable woman, he was hooted, pelted, and
maltreated all up the Westminster-road, until he managed to escape
from his assailants by diving into one of the narrow streets leading
out of that great thoroughfare. After this affair, the pious man
again disappeared for a season; and when we last heard of him, he had
given up preaching as a trade which he had thoroughly worn out, and
had betaken himself to the highly respectable and cheering avocation
of beating the drum and playing the month-organ--_alias_ pandean
pipes--for a colleague who exhibited a Punch and Judy show.
We must now direct attention to Captain O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Frank
Curtis. Upon the strength of the handsome pecuniary present made to
them by Lord William Trevelyan, the former forthwith dubbed himself
_Major_; and for the first six weeks after this self-bestowed
elevation, he was under the disagreeable necessity of thrashing his
bosom friend soundly at least once a day for being oblivious of
the new rank and calling him _Captain_. At length he succeeded in
completely beating into the head of Frank Curtis that he was really
a Major; and when they were seated together of an evening over their
whisky-and-water, at some public-house, the gallant Irishman never
failed to recount to his companion all the military services he had
rendered the State, and all the splendours of his paternal mansion
of Blunderbuss Park, Connemara. These statements, though ostensibly
addressed to Mr. Frank Curtis, were really intended for the behoof
of the frequenters of the parlours where they were enunciated; and
the quiet tradesmen into whose ears the flaming narratives were thus
dinned, ended by being particularly proud of the acquaintance of
Major Gorman O’Blunderbuss. At length, what with succulent dinners
at eating-houses and oceans of “potheen” every evening, the sum so
liberally given by Lord William Trevelyan came to a termination; and
the two friends were one day holding a council of war--or rather
sitting in “committee of ways and means”--when a paragraph in the
newspaper informed them that Lady Blunt and her son had been upset in
a boat during an aquatic excursion at Richmond, and drowned “in spite
of all the efforts made by the footman to save them.” Up jumped both
the Major and Frank Curtis in ectasies of joy, dissolving themselves
as a committee then and there by kicking over the table; and away
they sped to the mansion in Jermyn Street. The Intelligence was true:
Lady Blunt and her son were no more;--and the stout footman was
disconsolate. There was no will; and Frank Curtis accordingly found
himself, as if by magic, the heir-at-law to all those possessions
from which his uncle had sought to exclude him years ago. The day on
which the remains of the deceased lady and her son were consigned to
the tomb, was the happiest that Major O’Blunderbuss and his friend
had ever passed in their lives: for the gallant officer resolved to
make a regular Irish wake of it, and the good “potheen” circulated
so rapidly that the assembled mourners alarmed the whole street with
their noise and laughter. And a most refreshing spectacle was it when
Major O’Blunderbuss, with a view to enhance the hilarity of the scene,
kicked the stout footman completely out of the house and tossed his
clothes and wages ignominiously from the window. In the course of a few
days the two friends paid a visit to Mr. Strongitharms, the celebrated
engraver in St. James’s Street, for the purpose of having their cards
printed with their armorial bearings on the top; and when Frank blandly
directed the shopman who took the order to write down in his book the
names of _Mr. Curtis_ and _Major O’Bluntherbuss_, the latter exclaimed
in a tone of mingled indignation and disgust, “Be Jasus! Frank, and
your mimory grows worse and worse ivery day: for, be the holy poker-r!
and isn’t it _Colonel O’Bluntherbuss_ that I am, the new rank being
conferred upon me by her Gracious Majesty for my services in the East
Indies?”--The shopman wrote down _Colonel O’Blunderbuss_ accordingly;
and as a colonel is the gallant gentleman known at the present day.
Reader, if you happen to be passing along Jermyn Street any time in
the evening after five o’clock, you will hear such shouts of laughter
and peals of merriment issuing from one of the houses, that there can
be no mistake as to the identity of that dwelling. We need not tell
you the number of the mansion, because you cannot fail to discover
where Colonel O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Curtis reside by means of the
uproarious sounds that emanate from the front-parlour, in spite of
the closed shutters and heavy draperies. And to tell you the truth,
the neighbours look upon that house as a complete nuisance; and rents
are falling rapidly in the immediate neighbourhood--for quiet old
bachelor-gentlemen, families, and even young blades about town, are
frightened away from the lodgings that are let in the three or four
nearest tenements on either side of the one where the two friends have
settled themselves. But these worthies care nothing for the opinion of
their neighbours and are deaf to all remonstrances: they lead a jolly
life after their own hearts and in their own peculiar fashion--and
to witness them in their happy domesticity, a stranger unacquainted
with their history could not tell that the house and the fortune both
belonged to Frank Curtis, for the Colonel is as much master of both
dwelling and purse as his devoted friend.
Although Rosalie, the French lady’s-maid, has not performed a very
conspicuous part on the stage of our narrative, we are nevertheless
induced to trace her career up to the present time. Compelled to
appear as a witness at the Coroner’s Inquest which was holden upon
her late master and mistress, she attracted the notice of a young
baronet who attended the proceedings through motives of curiosity:
and as the overtures which he subsequently made her, were far from
displeasing, she accepted them after a due amount of affected
hesitation. The baronet was rich, and provided in a sumptuous manner
for his mistress. He hired and furnished a house for her accommodation
in a fashionable street at the West End--bought her a brougham and pair
of handsome bays--took for her use a box at the Opera--and allowed
her fifty guineas a month for her domestic expenses. In return for
this generosity, she treated him with a capriciousness that would
have been intolerable on the part of a sensible man, but which only
confirmed the insensate spendthrift’s infatuation. Rosalie’s conduct
was a matter of calculation, and not the unavoidable result of a wilful
disposition. She knew that she had only to be kind and winning, in
order to coax him into any extravagant expenditure which would minister
to her enjoyments; and her smiles were thus literally purchased with
gold and diamonds. Six months only did the baronet’s fortune stand
this wanton devastation; and when he could no longer draw cheques for
the sums which she required, she at once accepted the “protection”
of an old nobleman who made her very handsome offers, and who was in
his dotage. But now mark the wayward inconsistency of this woman’s
conduct! The moment she ceased to be dependent upon the baronet, she
conceived a violent affection for him--was never happy save when in
his society--bestowed upon him two-thirds of the money which she
received from the ancient peer--and even stinted herself to supply
his extravagances. She never treated him with the slightest indication
of caprice--but served him as if she were a purchased slave, and he a
Pacha. He gave way to intemperance, and in his drunken freaks would
beat and ill-use her. She endured it all without a murmur, so long as
he would _forgive_ her when he was sober! At length the old nobleman
died one day of indigestion--and Rosalie passed into the keeping
of a Bishop. The Right Reverend Father was one of the most staunch
supporters of all measures for the better observance of the Sabbath.
He hated Sunday trading as something a shade or two worse than wilful
murder--and no one declaimed more eloquently than he against the
steam-boats plying on the Lord’s Day. He even wished to prevent the
railway-trains from running on the Sabbath; and his heart rejoiced
when he read in the newspapers that apple-women, orange-girls, and
shrimp-boys had been taken into custody for attempting to earn a penny
to buy a meal on the “day of rest.” But every Sunday evening this
respectable old prelate made it a rule to dine with his mistress--aye,
and remain with her too until past twelve at night; and heaven only
knows what lying excuses he made to his wife for these intervals
of absence. He was, however, far more stingy towards Rosalie than
the deceased nobleman; and she accordingly cut him in favour of his
Archdeacon, who was as unmitigated an old sinner as himself. Meantime
the baronet continued to be the young woman’s real favourite; and when
he happened to find himself locked up in the Queen’s Bench Prison, she
never failed to visit him every day. Her diamonds--her jewels--her
rings--her very watch she pawned to raise the sum necessary to procure
his release; although the more his temper grew soured by adversity,
the more brutal became his conduct towards her. From the keeping of
the Archdeacon, she passed into that of a wealthy tradesman who had a
splendid establishment in Regent Street. He likewise had a wife and six
children; but he neglected them for the sake of his mistress--and while
he grudged the former even common necessaries, he lavished all his
gains upon the latter. At length he learnt that Rosalie was constantly
visited by the baronet; and he broke off the connexion. No admirer
immediately appearing to supply his place, the Frenchwoman wrote a very
pretty letter to the Bishop, complimenting him upon his last speech
against Sunday-trading, and declaring how much pleasure she should
experience if he would honour her with a visit. The invitation was
irresistible--the prelate went--and the result was that Rosalie once
more became his mistress. The renewal of their connexion has not since
been interrupted; and the baronet is still the object of the young
woman’s affection--still the recipient of two-thirds of all the money
she can obtain--and still the only person in the world who would dare
to raise his hand against her.
For nearly a year after his attempted suicide, the Marquis of Delmour
lived happily with his wife, the past being buried in oblivion. Lady
Delmour devoted herself to her husband as far as her own blighted and
crushed affections would permit; and she at least had the supreme
felicity of witnessing the unalloyed happiness which was experienced
by Lord William Trevelyan and the lovely Agnes, who were united about
six months after the reconciliation of the young lady’s parents, the
consent of the Lord Chancellor being obtained to sanction the marriage.
But in the summer of 1847 the Marquis of Delmour was seized with a
sudden and alarming illness; and in spite of the unwearied attentions
of Sir John Lascelles and Lady Delmour, the old nobleman succumbed to
the tyrant sway of Death. Upwards of a year has elapsed since that
event; and we observe by a recent paragraph in the newspapers that the
Marchioness has bestowed her hand upon Sir Gilbert Heathcote.
Lord William Trevelyan and Agnes are as happy as mortals can hope to
be on earth. Their mode of life is somewhat secluded--for it is in
each other’s society that their enjoyment of existence consists. Their
charity is unbounded, but bestowed privately and unostentatiously;
and although you will never hear the name of Lord William Trevelyan
proclaimed from the platform of Exeter Hall, amidst a list of liberal
subscribers to Missionary Societies and other legalised swindles and
robberies of the same class, yet rest assured that many and many a poor
family has reason to bless that good nobleman and his amiable wife.
Timothy Splint, _alias_ Tim the Snammer, continues the occupant
of a fine farm in the backwoods of the United States: indeed, the
property has spread out to an extent which renders the denomination
of “estate” the more correct one. Joshua Pedlar and his wife have
prospered equally well in Canada; and they are now in possession of a
large mercantile establishment at Quebec. Mrs. Bunce is dead: but her
husband still resides at Saint Peter’s Port in Guernsey, and earns
a very comfortable livelihood. Jeffreys leads a steady, industrious
life at Liverpool, where he has became a substantial merchant, and
is deservedly respected. Had all these persons been consigned to the
horrors of transportation to a penal colony, their redemption from sin
would have become an impossibility: but when placed in a condition
to earn an honourable independence, even _murderers_ may be put to a
better use than hanging them like dogs, or sending them into the midst
of a vile community where their example would only produce a deeper
demoralisation.
Poor Mr. Bubbleton Styles, having failed in getting up his Railway
Company, was compelled to pass through the Insolvents’ Court; and
during the eighteen months which have elapsed since that event, he has
turned his attention to at least a dozen different occupations. On his
discharge from the process of white-washing in Portugal Street, he
became a wine-merchant: but finding that this market was completely
glutted, he entered the coal and coke trade--with may be a little
dealing in slates as a necessary adjunct thereto. This speculation not
succeeding “for want of capital,” Mr. Styles turned drysalter--then
town-traveller for an ale-brewer--then commission-agent for a house
in the woollen line--and then something else. But none of these
occupations answering his purpose, and hearing of the good luck which
had befallen his friends O’Blunderbuss and Curtis, he put on his last
clean shirt and paid them a visit. His reception was not at first very
encouraging, inasmuch as the gallant Irishman commenced by knocking
him down and bunging up his right eye, for the simple reason that Mr.
Styles was unaware of that formidable gentleman’s elevation to the rank
of _Colonel_, and had called him _Captain_: but when explanations took
place, complete harmony was restored; and the worthy Bubbleton, having
been made uncommonly drunk by his two friends, received a cheque for a
hundred guineas to enable him to begin the world again. He has made the
recommencement accordingly, and seems in a fair way to get a living by
adhering to one particular occupation instead of having a hundred upon
his hands at the same time.
Clarence Villiers and Adelais continue to reside at Brompton. They
are well off in a pecuniary point of view; and though the ardent love
of their youth has mellowed down into a deep attachment, still are
they as happy in each other’s society as they were in those days when
the marriage-state was as yet new with them. And often and often,
when seated together of an evening, do they speak with never-failing
gratitude and regret of poor Tom Rain!
Our readers will doubtless recollect the manuscript which Lord William
Trevelyan discovered at the lunatic-asylum in Bethnal Green, and
which recorded the experiences of a victim to that detestable system
of quackery which the law allows. We may as well observe that in the
course of a short tour which the young nobleman and his wife took to
the south of France, a few months back, Trevelyan encountered Mr.
Macdonald, the author of that lamentable history. This gentleman had
completely recovered his mental equilibrium, and was living in a
strict but happy seclusion with his Editha and their son. Trevelyan
communicated to him the circumstances under which he had found the
manuscript, and the motives which had induced him to convey it away
from its place of concealment in the mad-house. Macdonald expressed
his fervent gratitude for the young nobleman’s generosity; and the
papers were consigned to the flames. We will not mention the name of
the town where Mr. Macdonald is residing: for, were we guilty of such
imprudence, the extortioner would be assuredly sent after him.
We have now to speak of the inmates of Ellingham House. Reader, the
family circle there is as happy as the mournful reminiscence of Mr.
Hatfield’s sudden death will permit. Charles has become the husband
of the beautiful and accomplished Lady Frances; and the youthful pair
continue to dwell at the Earl’s mansion. Lady Georgiana is likewise
a permanent resident beneath the same roof; and her son amply repays
her by his affectionate devotion for any temporary uneasiness or
grief which he might have caused her at the lamentable period of his
connexion with Perdita. Sir John Lascelles is a frequent visitor at
the mansion in Pall Mall; and we need scarcely add that he is always a
welcome guest.
The Republic of Castelcicala flourishes under the free institutions
which General Markham gave it. It is the Model-State in Europe; and
appears to be the solution of a problem whether it is possible for
honest rulers, a conscientious legislature, and a democratic system to
extirpate poverty from a country, and make an entire people contented,
free, and prosperous. There the Rights of Labour are recognised in
all the plenitude of industry’s claims: there no man who is willing
to work, can possibly starve. Mendicity is unknown throughout the
Republic; and when the Castelcicalans read paragraphs translated from
the English papers into their own prints, and detailing how men, women,
and children _die of starvation_--aye, and very frequently too--in the
British Islands, they say to each other, “It is a hideous mockery to
pretend that true freedom has any existence _there_!”
But, thank God! the tide of liberal sentiments is rolling rapidly over
Europe--sweeping away the remnants of feudal barbarism--levelling all
oppressive institutions--compelling tyrants to bend to the will of
the masses--and giving such an impulse to enlightened notions as the
world never saw before. And may that tide still flow on with unabating
force--not wearing off the asperities of barbaric systems by degrees,
but whirling all abuses away at once and in a moment;--not proceeding
without certainty or uniformity, like a stream that is sometimes free
and sometimes checked--but rushing on in a channel that is broad
and deep;--not here diverted from its course by some obstacle--nor
there dammed up until the weight of its waters break down the
impediment,--but rolling on with a mighty and irresistible volume, and
expanding into a glorious and illimitable flood!
THE END.
[ADVERTISEMENT.]
The Proprietor of the “MYSTERIES OF LONDON,” having, at present,
an opportunity of carrying out his original design--viz. that of
presenting the public with faithful and unexaggerated sketches of
every class of society forming the “world of London,” has determined
upon submitting to his readers a NEW SERIES of the “MYSTERIES OF
LONDON,” and which will be from the pen of a writer of the most eminent
reputation,
THOMAS MILLER, ESQ.,
AUTHOR OF “ROYSTON GOWER;” “FAIR ROSAMOND;” “LADY JANE GREY;” “GODFREY
MALVERN;” “PICTURES OF COUNTRY LIFE;” “RURAL SKETCHES;” “BEAUTIES OF
THE COUNTRY;” “A DAY IN THE WOODS;” “THE POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS;”
“THE BOY’S YEAR BOOK;” POEMS, ETC. ETC.
This NEW SERIES will be entitled “MYSTERIES OF LONDON; OR, LIGHTS AND
SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE.”
THE FIRST NUMBER WILL APPEAR ON WEDNESDAY, 20th SEPTEMBER.
London: WALTER SULLY, Printer, “Bonner House,” Seacoal Lane.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See the First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.”
[2] See Chapter LIX.
[3] See Chapter LXIV.
[4] See last paragraph of Chapter LXV.
[5] See Chapter LXXIX.
[6] This was when Rainford quitted the packet-ship at Guernsey, and
commenced his career as the Blackamoor.
[7] See first paragraph, second column, page 28, of this Volume of the
Second Series.
[8] “An obscure threepenny print, called the _Daily News_, published in
its impression of November 2nd, an article purporting to be a notice
of the leading works belonging to the sphere of Cheap Literature, but
in which a vile, cowardly, and ruffian-like attack was made upon Mrs.
Reynolds’s novel of ‘GRETNA GREEN.’ The article alluded to appeared in
the evening of the same date in the _Express_, a paper made up from the
contents of the other, but of whose existence we were totally unaware
until the occurrence of the matter in question. The attack, though
evidently written by some silly boy, was so savage and malignant, and
was made up of such a pack of atrocious lies, that it became necessary
to take some kind of notice of it, although neither the _Daily News_
nor its evening reflex enjoy a circulation or an influence sufficient
to effect the amount of mischief which the dastardly scribe sought to
accomplish. Our solicitors were accordingly instructed to write to the
Editors of the _News_ and _Express_, requiring a complete contradiction
to the libel, or menacing an action as the alternative. The letter
which our legal advisers despatched was a gentlemanly and talented
remonstrance, which soon brought the stupid Editors of the _Daily News_
and the _Express_ to reason. Bradbury and Evans, the proprietors of
those threepenny prints, shook in their shoes at the idea of an action,
they already having enough law business on their hands in consequence
of their treatment of Messrs. Powell and Wareing:--and, accordingly,
the _News_ and _Express_ ate their own words, on Tuesday, Nov. 9th, in
the following terms:--
“‘We have received a letter, protesting against Mrs. S. F. Reynolds’
work of “GRETNA GREEN” being included in that list of popular works
described as marked by “looseness, warmth of colouring in criminal
scenes, and the false glow cast around guilty indulgencies.” We must
admit that “GRETNA GREEN” does not merit this; and that, whatever its
faults it certainly contains nothing derogatory to the character or
delicacy of a lady writer.’
“Now let our readers mark well the atrocity of the proceeding on the
part of the _News_ and the _Express_. They first denounce ‘GRETNA
GREEN’ in the strongest terms: they are afterwards compelled, _by
the fear of law proceedings_, to ’admit that “GRETNA GREEN” does not
merit this, and that it contains nothing derogatory to the character
or delicacy of a lady writer.’ Then how dared the wretched scribe
to act such a miscreant’s part as to accuse a lady of writing with
’looseness,’ when he must have known the charge to be unfounded? He
told a downright, deliberate, wilful lie: he has proclaimed himself,
and likewise admitted himself to be, an abominable liar! And as such we
denounce him.
“But of what value can criticisms of the _News_ and _Express_ be, when
a contemptible scribe is thus allowed to make the columns of these
prints the vehicle for his own beastly malignity? What authority can
belong to a reviewer who is obliged to say on the 9th of November,
‘I was guilty of a foul, cowardly, and unjustifiable calumny against
a lady’s character on the 2nd of November.’ And these two papers
belong to men who are so very particular that they turned off their
sub--editors. Messrs. Powell and Wareing, because, forsooth, these
gentlemen gave insertion to a particular bankruptcy case which the
bankrupt himself had written to implore Bradbury and Evans _not_ to
publish!
“We hope the contemptible slanderer who ‘does the criticisms’ for the
_News_ and _Express_ will treat his readers (two grown-up persons and
a small boy for the _News_, and the small boy without the grown-up
persons for the _Express_) with an account of the origin, progress,
and present condition of those threepenny things. If so, he must
state how the _News_ first came out at five-pence with the intention
of smashing every thing,--how Charles Dickens was the man entrusted
with the obstetric process of introducing this phenomenon to the
world,--how froth was never so frothy, and vapouring never so vapoury,
as when the bills, placards, and advertisements appeared,--and how
the mountain at last brought forth a mouse! In fact, no failure was
ever more miserable--more ludicrous--more contemptible than that of
the _Daily News_. When a friend once spoke of his uppermost garment to
Brummell, the ‘exquisite,’ laying his finger upon the collar thereof,
said, ‘Do you call this thing a coat?’--and when the _News_ first
came out, people held it up between the tips of their forefinger and
thumb, and asked each other innocently, ‘Do you call this thing a
newspaper?’ Well, after continuing remarkably sickly for some time,
and seeing the utter folly of hoping to compete with the established
daily newspapers, Bradbury and Evans--dear, kind, worthy souls!--said
one morning to each other, ‘This will never do: the public will not be
gulled--we must really sell our wares at what they are worth;’--and so
down went the price of the _News_ to twopence-halfpenny! ‘Hurrah for
the _cheap_ newspaper press!’ vociferated they who now affect to look
down with contempt on cheap literature altogether: and forthwith they
fetch Mr. Dilk all the way from the _Athenæum_ office in Wellington
Street to manage their paper for them. And such management as it has
been! Mr. Dilk knows about as much of newspapers in general as he does
of courtesy in the _Athenæum_ in particular;--and Bradbury and Evans
very soon found that a twopenny-halfpenny daily thing was ‘no go.’ The
price is accordingly raised to threepence; and, just to eke out by hook
and by crook, the _Express_ is issued as an evening paper, its contents
being precisely those of the _News_, with perhaps half-a-dozen lines of
new matter just to make a show under the head of ‘Latest Intelligence.’
Thus has the _Daily News_ been tinkered about in all shapes and
ways, with the hope of establishing it on some kind of basis or
another;--and, after such a career, it fancies itself to be respectable
and influential enough to undertake the duties of Mentor! But it has
entrusted the office to a disgusting twaddler who scruples not to
season his mawkish composition with diabolical lies, as a make-shift
for ‘Attic salt.’ However, enough of this for the present:--we have
compelled the _News_ and the _Express_ to acknowledge themselves to be
slanderers;--but we are afraid that after all they have got the better
of us, inasmuch as they probably provoked us only for the purpose
of obtaining _a gratuitous advertisement_ through the medium of any
reply which might be made to them in THE MISCELLANY.”--_Reynolds’s
Miscellany, No. 56._
[9] The readers of the First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON” will
recollect the character of Lady Adeline Enfield in the “History of an
Unfortunate Woman.” Lady Caroline Jerningham is drawn expressly in
contrast with that heroine,--one of the objects of “THE MYSTERIES OF
LONDON” being to depict the good and the bad--the generous and the
selfish--of all classes of society.
[10] Fact.
[11] Fact. This incident shows how the Ministers of the Established
Church will at times unscrupulously set the laws of the land at
defiance.
[12] Equivalent to “Miss” in English.
[13] The Industrious classes in Great Britain should take into their
serious consideration the ensuing plan, which the operatives in France
have submitted to the Provisional Government. The basis of a similar
scheme might be established in London; and there are doubtless many
persons, possessing the intelligence required for the initiative
of the grand work, who would devote a few hours per week, without
fee or reward, to the foundation of so glorious an institution. The
plan alluded to is conceived as follows; but we have substituted the
equivalent sums of English money for the French coins specified in the
original document;--
“Petition for a bill to establish a National Pension Fund for every
workman that has attained the age of fifty-five years.
“Every citizen of the two sexes from seventeen to fifty-five years of
age shall be bound to pay each day one farthing, or 7½_d._ per month,
or 7_s._ 6_d._ per annum; every town or village shall be bound to pay
for the totality of its inhabitants.
“Every workman employing workmen or servants is bound to keep back this
amount from their wages, and is to be considered responsible therefore.
“Every father of a family who is unfortunate, and has several mouths to
support, shall be _de jure_ exempted from paying his annual quota until
such time as his family shall be able to work.
“Are excluded from the advantages of the pension-fund all persons
having a revenue above 32_l._ a year; the most severe laws to be made
against such persons as should rob the money of the poor.
“A scale of pension is to be fixed, giving 20_l._ a year at 55 years,
28_l._ at 65 years, and 44_l._ at 75 years.
“The pension-fund is to be for all citizens: thus bankers, notaries,
advocates, in a word, all persons who may have been favoured by fortune
all their life-time, will have as much right to it, if they become
unfortunate, as the workman who all his life-time has known only labour
and privation.
“What workman is there who cannot save 1¾d. per week? Who is there
that would not blush to receive alms when age shall have weakened his
strength and courage?
“The pension which he will receive will be the economy of his whole
life; and if he throws a glance backwards, it will be to bless the
progress of civilisation.
“The day on which this law will pass, the payment of the pension
may commence; since from the age of 17 to 55 all citizens will
contribute to the common stock; and since the funds, in place of being
capitalised, will be distributed every year. During 15 years the State
will have little to add in order to complete the pensions, but after
that period it will every year have some sacrifice to make. Let, during
the fifteen years, the money hitherto spent on royalty be capitalised.
Let the resources of the Civil List be added to them, and the sum will
be more than sufficient. If fears are entertained not to obtain a sum
sufficient to pay all the pensions, let the diamonds of the crown be
sold. The most glorious crown of a government aught to be the happiness
of the people.”
[14] Witness the noble conduct of the Parisian operatives, as described
in the following extract from the _Constitutional_ newspaper:--
“We have already stated that by the care of the Minister of the
Interior prompt measures had been taken to ensure the preservation
of the furniture and other articles of value at the Tuileries. The
following are some further details:--The citizen Chalon d’Argé, one
of the special commissaries appointed by the minister, after having
concerted with Captain St. Amand, commandant of the Tuileries,
proceeded to an inventory of the jewels, objects of art, &c., found
there. These gentlemen soon ascertained that the people had respected
the various articles scattered about. The apartment of the Duke de
Nemours had alone been thrown into disorder, but nothing was taken
away. The apartments of the other members of the royal family remained
intact. Not a picture was touched in the saloons of the late Duke of
Orleans, containing, as they did, a celebrated collection. The most
valuable pictures were taken to the Louvre, under the direction of M.
Mérinée. A great quantity of coined money was found in the different
apartments; a man of the people conceived the idea of throwing all this
money into a baignoire, over which he placed a coverlet, so as to give
it the appearance of a couch. He then placed himself on it, and waited
in that position until some persons came up who could save the treasure
which he had collected. To give an idea of the wealth thus preserved,
we may state that on Saturday alone four fourgons, and on Sunday two
others, transported to the Treasury masses of silver plate, as well
as coffers containing the diamonds of the ex-princesses. In these
fourgons there was property to the amount of several millions. The same
people which had contributed to save these valuable articles helped
to pack them up, and escorted them to the national Treasury. It was a
touching sight to behold these hard hands taking up with the greatest
precautions diamonds, necklaces, jewels of all kinds. It is useless to
say that not an article in the inventory was missing. When M. Bastide
and M. Bixio, who had been entrusted by the Provisional Government to
take charge of the jewels and other valuable property left behind in
the Tuileries, and which had been collected and packed up by men of the
people, and an inventory taken of them under the superintendence of a
student of the Polytechnic School, and a National Guard, the Government
commissioners found the chests, trunks, and other packages in which
they had been placed, under the charge of some of the people who had
been employed in collecting them. When the whole were removed, one of
the men went up to M. Bastide, and said, ‘_Sir, we have been forgotten
since yesterday. It is now twelve o’clock, and we have not yet
anything to eat. Can you order me some bread?_ All present were deeply
affected by this proof of disinterested fidelity to men, resisting the
temptation of property at their command greater in value than any they
had ever before seen, and demanding a piece of bread as their only
reward. M. Bastide repeatedly urged the man who spoke to him to give
his name, but he constantly refused, saying--‘_We want nothing more.
We can earn our food by our labour. To-morrow we shall return to work,
and to-day ask only for the bread we have been unable to obtain._’ They
were then fed, and took their departure with the same resolution.”
[15] At the “monster meeting” in Trafalgar-square, on Monday, March
6th, we were called upon to preside in the absence of Mr. Cochrane.
The _London Telegraph_ contained the ensuing sketch or outline of the
speech which we delivered on that occasion, and which we now transfer
to the pages of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON” simply for the purpose of
convincing our readers that we are not afraid to proclaim in all
possible ways the opinions which we have for years promulgated through
the medium of our writings:--
“Mr. Reynolds rose, and, suggesting that the parties present should
form a meeting to congratulate the Parisians on their recent triumph,
addressed the meeting. He had been voted to preside at this assembly,
in the absence of Mr. Cochrane. Where that gentleman was, he could not
say. His conduct was, at least, extraordinary, in convening a meeting
which he neglected to attend. He (Mr. Reynolds) must beg of the meeting
to be orderly; it was moral force which would gain their ends for them.
Let them, therefore, show that, though met to demand their rights, they
knew how to conduct themselves. The French revolution was a glorious
triumph of public feeling. The French had recognised the rights of the
working-classes. What the people of this country wanted was, that every
man who was willing to work and fit for work should have work to do.
(Loud cheers.) The working-classes only wanted fair wages. They were
willing to give the fair value of labour for them. (Hear.) The right
of labour had been recognised in France; and the rights of labour must
be recognised in England. Let them not take the leading articles of
aristocratic newspapers as the public voice; but let them listen to
the shout which they would now hear from thousands of people met to
express their adhesion to the principles of liberty. (Loud cheers).
This meeting had been called to oppose the income-tax. Let them show
by their cheers that they were opposed to all oppressive taxation.
But let them be peaceable. Let there be no disturbance. Let them
show the police and the Government-spies in plain clothes, that the
working-classes of England could conduct themselves in a quiet orderly
manner when met to discuss their wrongs. Mr. Reynolds sat down amidst
the most vociferous cheering.”
In the evening of the same day we attended another “monster meeting”
held on Clerkenwell Green, on which occasion the following outline of
the speech which we delivered was given by the _London Telegraph_ and
other newspapers:--
“Mr. Reynolds, the well-known author, next spoke at some length.
He drew attention to the meeting which had taken place that day in
Trafalgar-square, and commented on the aggressive conduct of the
police. The time, he also contended, was come, when they ought no
longer to mince matters. (Cheers.) The people of France had really done
their duty, and it now remained with the people of this country to do
the same. They were bound to demand their rights by every moral means;
and if they were forced to have recourse to bloodshed, their oppressors
would have to account for the result, not themselves. (Cheers.) He
rejoiced at the exhibition of feeling that had taken place in France.
(Cheers.) The people had raised a man to power, who had turned round
and sought, by a large array of armed forces, to crush them. (Groans.)
They, however, he rejoiced to find, gave him his deserts, and hurled
him from his throne. (Cheers.) He was now in this country--an exiled
villain. (Cheers.) Far, indeed, was it from him (the speaker) to
wish that the tyrant should be molested or disturbed while suffering
in a foreign land the pangs of remorse. No; he wished him to remain
harmless and in insignificance. (Hear, hear.) But he did not see why
the gallant and noble people of France were to be insulted by the
feelings of sympathy which Her Majesty and some other personages were
exhibiting towards the exiled tyrant (Hear.) He complained of this,
and particularly that the people of England should be identified with
the anti-liberal opinions of those persons. (Hear, hear.) What, if
the gallant people of France were to be so exasperated as to declare
war against this country, would the hard-working people of England,
Scotland, and Ireland consent to be war-taxed became of the caprice
of a number of individuals--(no, no)--who, while wallowing in luxury,
had no sympathy whatever with the masses of their fellow-creatures
suffering from sickness and starvation? Mr. Reynolds, at some length,
very ably and forcibly dwelt on the evils of class-legislation, and
showed, from his writings, that he had ever been the friend of the
working-men. He concluded, amidst much cheering, by proposing the first
resolution.”
[16] Letting the thieves know that he was aware of the fact of the
robbery, and demanding a portion for himself. This is a common practice
amongst thieves; and the claim of the person thus “declaring on” is
seldom disputed, even though he had nothing to do with the robbery.
[17] Share of the plunder.
[18] This mighty warrior _ran away_ from London when danger was
apprehended in consequence of the glorious democratic meeting of
250,000 enlightened working men, at Kennington Common, on the 10th of
April, 1848.
[19] The memorable day of the 10th of April, 1848.
[20] With deep sorrow and indignation we have frequently noticed
blackguard boys and dirty vagabonds insult private soldiers in the
streets. Nothing can be more reprehensible than such conduct as this;
but we are sure that the British soldier is too enlightened and too
generous-hearted to suppose that any respectable working-man would
treat him with indignity. There is and ought to be a deep sympathy
between the military and the operative-classes,--both alike being
diabolically oppressed by the aristocratic and wealthy classes, and
both having rights to claim, privileges to acquire, abuses to rectify,
and tyranny to subdue. In the name of common sense and common justice,
let no insult ever be offered to the private soldier who conducts
himself properly.
[21] It may seem astonishing how any respectable journals could be
induced to lend themselves to such disgraceful puffery: but we will
give our readers some little explanation upon the subject. The fact
is that the quacks pay in the first instance for the insertion of the
puffs as “paragraph-advertisements,” and then quote them as being the
editorial opinions of the newspapers in which they are thus inserted!
We quote from some of the quack-advertisements a few specimens of these
“_ad captandum_” notices:--
“The task of preparing and producing the work entitled * * *
*, by Messrs. * * *, though apparently not one of magnitude,
demands a most intimate acquaintance with the mysteries of a
profession of the highest character. To say that the author
has produced a volume which cannot be otherwise considered
than as a treasure, and a blessing to the community, is not
saying too much; and being written by a duly qualified medical
practitioner, its pages give evidence of the results of much
personal investigation, and great researches in the study of
medicine. In a word, the work has merits which develope no
superficial attainments, and we cordially and most earnestly
recommend it for general perusal.--_Weekly Chronicle._”
“To the gay and thoughtless we trust this little work will
serve as a beacon to warn them of the danger attendant upon
the too rash indulgence of their passions; whilst to some it
may serve as a monitor in the hour of temptation, and to the
afflicted as a sure guide to health.--_Chronicle._”
“Their long experience and reputation is the patient’s
guarantee, and well deserves for the work its immense
circulation.--_Era._”
“This is a medical publication, ably written, and developes the
treatment of a class of painful maladies which has too long
been the prey of the illiterate and the designing.--_United
Service Gazette._”
“The author of this singular and talented work is a legally
qualified medical man, who has had considerable experience
in the treatment of the various disorders arising from the
follies of early indiscretion. The engravings demonstrate the
consequences of excesses, and, by its perusal, many questions
may be satisfactorily replied to that admit of no appeal, even
to the most confidential friend.--_Era._”
To explain more fully still the proceedings of the quacks and the
artfulness of quackery, we refer our readers to the _Weekly Dispatch_
of Sunday, July 2; and at the bottom of a column (not in the regular
advertising department) will be found the ensuing advertisement:--
“[ADVERTISEMENT.]--Holloway’s Pills an excellent Remedy for
Indigestion, Bilious and Liver Complaints.--All painful and
distressing sensations arising from these complaints (which are
too well known to sufferers to require a description here of
their symptoms) may be easily removed by a few doses of this
inestimable medicine; for such is its efficacy, that the most
debilitated constitutions are effectually strengthened, and
the aversion to motion overcome, thus giving buoyancy to the
spirits, creating an appetite, and promoting digestion. At this
season, when epidemics are so prevalent, these pills should be
taken, as they surpass every other remedy as a preventative
of disorders, even of the most malignant kind. Sold by all
Druggists, and at Professor Holloway’s Establishment, 244,
Strand, London.”
This advertisement was of course duly paid for: but Mr. Holloway may
now, if he choose to do so, quote the _Dispatch_ as having recommended
the efficacy of his medicines to “strengthen the most debilitated
constitutions;” and the public, trusting to such a powerful and honest
authority as the _Dispatch_, will be induced to purchase the pills. Our
readers can now comprehend how the medical quacks obtain reviews of
their obscene books.
[22] Luck.
[23] Piece of luck.
[24] Money.
[25] In a publication entitled _The Medical Adviser_, and issued some
years ago, we find the following observations relative to quacks and
quackery:--“The legislators in almost every civilized society have
considered them as pests and a disgrace to every country where they
are to be found, and penal laws have therefore been enacted for the
suppression of quackery. The Colleges of Physicians were instituted in
different kingdoms of Europe, to examine all persons who undertook the
practice of the art, to inspect all drugs in the apothecaries’ shops,
and destroy such as were unfit; and there can be no doubt but their
power extended to the examinations of nostrums in general, and on their
report, the vendors were subject to severe penalties. In the reign of
James I., an order of council, grounded on former laws, was issued
for the apprehension of all quacks, in order to their being examined
by the censors of the College of Physicians; on that occasion several
mountebanks, water-tasters, ague-charmers, and vendors of nostrums
were fined, imprisoned, and banished. This wholesome severity, it may
be supposed, checked the evil for a time; but in the reign of William
III. it became again necessary to put the laws in force against these
base vermin and miscreants, in consequence of which many of them,
when examined, confessed their utter ignorance to such a degree, as
to be unable either to read or write; others, it was found, had been
attempting to procure abortion in unfortunate single women; several of
them were discovered to be fortune-tellers, match-makers, frauders,
pimps, and bawds; some of these miscreants were set in the pillory,
some put on horseback with their faces to the horse’s tail, with
their noses and lips slit, and their necks decorated with a collar of
urinals, and afterwards whipped, imprisoned, branded, and banished.”
The victims of quacks might even now show the scoundrels, if they
chose, that there are laws in existence fully strong enough to punish
them; and we should advise those who have been plundered to state their
cases to their solicitors. It is intolerable that the public should be
prayed upon by a set of villains who live in splendid mansions, ride in
their carriages, and maintain luxurious tables at the expense of the
unfortunate dupes whom their advertisements entrap.
Several years ago, Mr. Charles Dunne, a surgeon, presented to
Parliament a petition against Quackery; and in that well reasoned
document we find the ensuing paragraph, which, we feel convinced, our
readers will peruse with interest:--
“That the mal-practices of quack doctors are wisely guarded against
in every country of Europe, except Britain; for no person (under
pain of fine and imprisonment), is allowed to take the charge of the
sick, or even to direct the application of medicines, without having
gone through the proper ordeals of examination as to his professional
knowledge and acquirements. In England it is notorious that we have not
only carpenters, tailors, bricklayers’ labourers, lead-pencil-makers,
Jews old clothes men, journeymen, linen-drapers, and men of colour,
but even women quacks, who practise their duplicities on the unwary
and unthinking part of the public, by plundering all those who have
the folly to approach them, whilst many are absolutely deprived of
life by them, and others, who have the misfortune to escape death,
are left to drag on a miserable existence with an entirely broken
constitution for the remainder of their days. The baneful effects, too,
of patent medicines, as they are called, deserve particular notice,
the composition of which is formed in such a manner as to render their
administration at all times dangerous, and but too often fraught with
death; whereas, on the Continent, no medicines (similar to those with
us called patent) are permitted to be sold, without first having been
analyzed by the constituted chemical authorities, and duly examined by
the respective faculties of medicine. It is clear from what occurs in
law, divinity, and physic, that a foundation or competent education
by a course of study, is essentially necessary to exercise any of
these different departments, and whoever exercises them without this
education cannot possibly do it with advantage to the community. For
an unscientific knowledge of the treatment of any disease, even if
occasionally successful in its object, can never be trusted to; for if
any unforeseen circumstance should arise, such practitioner can neither
avert the mischief, nor find means to relieve the patient, as a man of
real science would do;--mere experience alone, devoid of science, can
have no other claim on public notice than as empiricism, and, like a
seaman, incapable of taking an observation when anything inauspicious
occurs at sea, is unable to direct his course. Empiricism in all
professions being the opposite to science, and directed by no regular
principle but the knowledge of one or two isolated facts, is evidently
hostile to the advancement of liberal principles, and too often ruinous
to those confiding in such hollow pretensions. Empiricism, therefore,
in religion, law, politics, and physic, is the hydra to be guarded
against, as the bane of real knowledge and improvement; and wherever
encouraged, such empiricism is always subversive of the best interests
of mankind. The great object of legislation should be to impose a
wholesome restraint on any attempt calculated to overstep the just and
fair bounds, which the welfare of the people requires.”
[26] Flash, or fictitious, notes.
[27] Pass off, or change.
[28] Dark lanthorn.
[29] A crow-bar used by burglars.
[30] Burglary.
[31] Eliza Sydney. See First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.”
[32] This was the case with the celebrated Watt, the improver of
the steam-engine. He was driven from the city of London, at the
commencement of his career, through his inability to pay the fine,
then amounting to 40_l._ This fact remains on record to the immortal
disgrace of the Corporation.
[Transcriber’s Note:
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of London, v. 4/4, by
George W. M. Reynolds