Chapter 64
new acquaintance—old french
style—the portrait—taciturnity—the evergreen tree—the dark hour—the
flash—ancestors—a fortunate man—a posthumous child—antagonist ideas—the
hawks—flaws—the pony—irresistible impulse—favourable crisis—topmost
branch—ashamed
I found the stranger awaiting me at the door of
the inn. 'Like yourself, I am fond of walking,' said he, 'and when any little
business calls me to this place I generally come on foot.'
We were soon out of the town, and in a very
beautiful country. After proceeding some distance on the high-road, we turned
off, and were presently in one of those mazes of lanes for which England is
famous; the stranger at first seemed inclined to be taciturn; a few
observations, however, which I made appeared to rouse him, and he soon
exhibited not only considerable powers of conversation, but stores of
information which surprised me. So pleased did I become with my new
acquaintance that I soon ceased to pay the slightest attention either to place
or distance. At length the stranger was silent, and I perceived that we had
arrived at a handsome iron gate and a lodge; the stranger having rung a bell,
the gate was opened by an old man, and we proceeded along a gravel path, which
in about five minutes brought us to a large brick house, built something in the
old French style, having a spacious lawn before it, and immediately in front a
pond in which were golden fish, and in the middle a stone swan discharging
quantities of water from its bill. We ascended a spacious flight of steps to the
door, which was at once flung open, and two servants with powdered hair and in
livery of blue plush came out and stood one on either side as we passed the
threshold. We entered a large hall, and the stranger, taking me by the hand,
welcomed me to his poor home, as he called it, and then gave orders to another
servant, but out of livery, to show me to an apartment, and give me whatever
assistance I might require in my toilet. Notwithstanding the plea as to
primitive habits which I had lately made to my other host in the town, I
offered no objection to this arrangement, but followed the bowing domestic to a
spacious and airy chamber, where he rendered me all those little nameless
offices which the somewhat neglected state of my dress required. When everything
had been completed to my perfect satisfaction, he told me that if I pleased he
would conduct me to the library, where dinner would be speedily served.
In the library I found a table laid for two; my
host was not there, having as I supposed not been quite so speedy with his
toilet as his guest. Left alone, I looked round the apartment with inquiring
eyes; it was long and tolerably lofty, the walls from the top to the bottom
were lined with cases containing books of all sizes and bindings; there was a globe
or two, a couch, and an easy-chair. Statues and busts there were none, and only
one painting, a portrait, that of my host, but not him of the mansion. Over the
mantelpiece, the features staring like, but so ridiculously exaggerated that
they scarcely resembled those of a human being, daubed evidently by the hand of
the commonest sign-artist, hung a half-length portrait of him of round of beef
celebrity—my sturdy host of the town.
I had been in the library about ten minutes,
amusing myself as I best could, when my friend entered; he seemed to have
resumed his taciturnity—scarce a word escaped his lips till dinner was served,
when he said, smiling, 'I suppose it would be merely a compliment to ask you to
partake?'
'I don't know,' said I, seating myself; 'your
first course consists of troutlets, I am fond of troutlets, and I always like
to be companionable.'
The dinner was excellent, though I did but little
justice to it from the circumstance of having already dined; the stranger also,
though without my excuse, partook but slightly of the good cheer; he still
continued taciturn, and appeared lost in thought, and every attempt which I
made to induce him to converse was signally unsuccessful.
And now dinner was removed, and we sat over our
wine, and I remember that the wine was good, and fully justified the encomiums
of my host of the town. Over the wine I made sure that my entertainer would
have loosened the chain which seemed to tie his tongue—but no! I endeavoured to
tempt him by various topics, and talked of geometry and the use of the globes,
of the heavenly sphere, and the star Jupiter, which I said I had heard was a
very large star, also of the evergreen tree, which, according to Olaus, stood
of old before the heathen temple of Upsal, and which I affirmed was a yew—but
no, nothing that I said could induce my entertainer to relax his taciturnity.
It grew dark, and I became uncomfortable. 'I must
presently be going,' I at last exclaimed.
At these words he gave a sudden start; 'Going,'
said he, 'are you not my guest, and an honoured one?'
'You know best,' said I; 'but I was apprehensive I
was an intruder; to several of my questions you have returned no answer.'
'Ten thousand pardons!' he exclaimed, seizing me
by the hand; 'but you cannot go now, I have much to talk to you about—there is
one thing in particular—'
'If it be the evergreen tree at Upsal,' said I,
interrupting him, 'I hold it to have been a yew—what else? The evergreens of
the south, as the old bishop observes, will not grow in the north, and a pine
was unfitted for such a locality, being a vulgar tree. What else could it have
been but the yew—the sacred yew which our ancestors were in the habit of
planting in their churchyards? Moreover, I affirm it to have been the yew for
the honour of the tree; for I love the yew, and had I home and land, I would
have one growing before my front windows.'
'You would do right, the yew is indeed a venerable
tree, but it is not about the yew.'
'The star Jupiter, perhaps?'
'Nor the star Jupiter, nor its moons; an
observation which escaped you at the inn has made a considerable impression
upon me.'
'But I really must take my departure,' said I;
'the dark hour is at hand.'
And as I uttered these latter words the stranger
touched rapidly something which lay near him—I forget what it was. It was the
first action of the kind which I had observed on his part since we sat down to
table.
'You allude to the evil chance,' said I; 'but it
is getting both dark and late.'
'I believe we are going to have a storm,' said my
friend, 'but I really hope that you will give me your company for a day or two;
I have, as I said before, much to talk to you about.'
'Well,' said I, 'I shall be most happy to be your
guest for this night; I am ignorant of the country, and it is not pleasant to
travel unknown paths by night—dear me, what a flash of lightning.'
It had become very dark; suddenly a blaze of sheet
lightning illumed the room. By the momentary light I distinctly saw my host
touch another object upon the table.
'Will you allow me to ask you a question or two?'
said he at last.
'As many as you please,' said I; 'but shall we not
have lights?'
'Not unless you particularly wish it,' said my
entertainer; 'I rather like the dark, and though a storm is evidently at hand,
neither thunder nor lightning has any terrors for me. It is other things I
quake at—I should rather say ideas. Now permit me to ask you—'
And then my entertainer asked me various
questions, to all of which I answered unreservedly; he was then silent for some
time, at last he exclaimed, 'I should wish to tell you the history of my
life—though not an adventurous one, I think it contains some things which will
interest you.'
Without waiting for my reply he began. Amidst
darkness and gloom, occasionally broken by flashes of lightning, the stranger
related to me, as we sat at table in the library, his truly touching history.
'Before proceeding to relate the events of my
life, it will not be amiss to give you some account of my ancestors. My
great-grandfather on the male side was a silk mercer, in Cheapside, who, when
he died, left his son, who was his only child, a fortune of one hundred thousand
pounds and a splendid business; the son, however, had no inclination for trade,
the summit of his ambition was to be a country gentleman, to found a family,
and to pass the remainder of his days in rural ease and dignity, and all this
he managed to accomplish; he disposed of his business, purchased a beautiful
and extensive estate for fourscore thousand pounds, built upon it the mansion
to which I had the honour of welcoming you to-day, married the daughter of a
neighbouring squire, who brought him a fortune of five thousand pounds, became
a magistrate, and only wanted a son and heir to make him completely happy; this
blessing, it is true, was for a long time denied him; it came, however, at
last, as is usual, when least expected. His lady was brought to bed of my
father, and then who so happy a man as my grandsire; he gave away two thousand
pounds in charities, and in the joy of his heart made a speech at the next
quarter sessions; the rest of his life was spent in ease, tranquillity, and
rural dignity; he died of apoplexy on the day that my father came of age;
perhaps it would be difficult to mention a man who in all respects was so
fortunate as my grandfather: his death was sudden it is true, but I am not one
of those who pray to be delivered from a sudden death.
'I should not call my father a fortunate man; it
is true that he had the advantage of a first-rate education; that he made the
grand tour with a private tutor, as was the fashion at that time; that he came
to a splendid fortune on the very day that he came of age; that for many years
he tasted all the diversions of the capital; that, at last determined to
settle, he married the sister of a baronet, an amiable and accomplished lady,
with a large fortune; that he had the best stud of hunters in the country, on
which, during the season, he followed the fox gallantly; had he been a
fortunate man he would never have cursed his fate, as he was frequently known
to do; ten months after his marriage his horse fell upon him, and so injured
him, that he expired in a few days in great agony. My grandfather was, indeed,
a fortunate man; when he died he was followed to the grave by the tears of the
poor—my father was not.
'Two remarkable circumstances are connected with
my birth—I am a posthumous child, and came into the world some weeks before the
usual time, the shock which my mother experienced at my father's death having
brought on the pangs of premature labour; both my mother's life and my own were
at first despaired of; we both, however, survived the crisis. My mother loved
me with the most passionate fondness, and I was brought up in this house under
her own eye—I was never sent to school.
'I have already told you that mine is not a tale
of adventure; my life has not been one of action, but of wild imaginings and
strange sensations; I was born with excessive sensibility, and that has been my
bane. I have not been a fortunate man.
'No one is fortunate unless he is happy, and it is
impossible for a being constructed like myself to be happy for an hour, or even
enjoy peace and tranquillity; most of our pleasures and pains are the effects
of imagination, and wherever the sensibility is great, the imagination is great
also. No sooner has my imagination raised up an image of pleasure, than it is
sure to conjure up one of distress and gloom; these two antagonist ideas
instantly commence a struggle in my mind, and the gloomy one generally, I may
say invariably, prevails. How is it possible that I should be a happy man?
'It has invariably been so with me from the earliest
period that I can remember; the first playthings that were given me caused me
for a few minutes excessive pleasure: they were pretty and glittering;
presently, however, I became anxious and perplexed, I wished to know their
history, how they were made, and what of—were the materials precious? I was not
satisfied with their outward appearance. In less than an hour I had broken the
playthings in an attempt to discover what they were made of.
'When I was eight years of age my uncle the
baronet, who was also my godfather, sent me a pair of Norway hawks, with
directions for managing them; he was a great fowler. Oh, how rejoiced was I
with the present which had been made me, my joy lasted for at least five
minutes; I would let them breed, I would have a house of hawks; yes, that I
would—but—and here came the unpleasant idea—suppose they were to fly away, how
very annoying! Ah, but, said hope, there's little fear of that; feed them well
and they will never fly away, or if they do they will come back, my uncle says
so; so sunshine triumphed for a little time. Then the strangest of all doubts
came into my head; I doubted the legality of my tenure of these hawks; how did
I come by them? why, my uncle gave them to me, but how did they come into his
possession? what right had he to them? after all, they might not be his to
give. I passed a sleepless night. The next morning I found that the man who
brought the hawks had not departed. "How came my uncle by these
hawks?" I anxiously inquired. "They were sent to him from Norway,
master, with another pair." "And who sent them?" "That I
don't know, master, but I suppose his honour can tell you." I was even
thinking of scrawling a letter to my uncle to make inquiry on this point, but
shame restrained me, and I likewise reflected that it would be impossible for
him to give my mind entire satisfaction; it is true he could tell who sent him
the hawks, but how was he to know how the hawks came into the possession of those
who sent them to him, and by what right they possessed them or the parents of
the hawks? In a word, I wanted a clear valid title, as lawyers would say, to my
hawks, and I believe no title would have satisfied me that did not extend up to
the time of the first hawk, that is, prior to Adam; and, could I have obtained
such a title, I make no doubt that, young as I was, I should have suspected
that it was full of flaws.
'I was now disgusted with the hawks, and no
wonder, seeing all the disquietude they had caused me; I soon totally neglected
the poor birds, and they would have starved had not some of the servants taken
compassion upon them and fed them. My uncle, soon hearing of my neglect, was
angry, and took the birds away; he was a very good-natured man, however, and
soon sent me a fine pony; at first I was charmed with the pony, soon, however,
the same kind of thoughts arose which had disgusted me on a former occasion.
How did my uncle become possessed of the pony? This question I asked him the
first time I saw him. Oh, he had bought it of a gypsy, that I might learn to
ride upon it. A gypsy; I had heard that gypsies were great thieves, and I
instantly began to fear that the gypsy had stolen the pony, and it is probable
that for this apprehension I had better grounds than for many others. I
instantly ceased to set any value upon the pony, but for that reason, perhaps,
I turned it to some account; I mounted it and rode it about, which I don't
think I should have done had I looked upon it as a secure possession. Had I
looked upon my title as secure, I should have prized it so much, that I should
scarcely have mounted it for fear of injuring the animal; but now, caring not a
straw for it, I rode it most unmercifully, and soon became a capital rider.
This was very selfish in me, and I tell the fact with shame. I was punished,
however, as I deserved; the pony had a spirit of its own, and, moreover, it had
belonged to gypsies; once, as I was riding it furiously over the lawn, applying
both whip and spur, it suddenly lifted up its heels, and flung me at least five
yards over its head. I received some desperate contusions, and was taken up for
dead; it was many months before I perfectly recovered.
'But it is time for me to come to the touching
part of my story. There was one thing that I loved better than the choicest
gift which could be bestowed upon me, better than life itself—my mother;—at
length she became unwell, and the thought that I might possibly lose her now
rushed into my mind for the first time; it was terrible, and caused me
unspeakable misery, I may say horror. My mother became worse, and I was not
allowed to enter her apartment, lest by my frantic exclamations of grief I
might aggravate her disorder. I rested neither day nor night, but roamed about
the house like one distracted. Suddenly I found myself doing that which even at
the time struck me as being highly singular; I found myself touching particular
objects that were near me, and to which my fingers seemed to be attracted by an
irresistible impulse. It was now the table or the chair that I was compelled to
touch; now the bell-rope; now the handle of the door; now I would touch the
wall, and the next moment, stooping down, I would place the point of my finger
upon the floor: and so I continued to do day after day; frequently I would
struggle to resist the impulse, but invariably in vain. I have even rushed away
from the object, but I was sure to return, the impulse was too strong to be
resisted: I quickly hurried back, compelled by the feeling within me to touch
the object. Now I need not tell you that what impelled me to these actions was
the desire to prevent my mother's death; whenever I touched any particular
object, it was with the view of baffling the evil chance, as you would call
it—in this instance my mother's death.
'A favourable crisis occurred in my mother's
complaint, and she recovered; this crisis took place about six o'clock in the
morning; almost simultaneously with it there happened to myself a rather
remarkable circumstance connected with the nervous feeling which was rioting in
my system. I was lying in bed in a kind of uneasy doze, the only kind of rest
which my anxiety on account of my mother permitted me at this time to take,
when all at once I sprang up as if electrified; the mysterious impulse was upon
me, and it urged me to go without delay, and climb a stately elm behind the
house, and touch the topmost branch; otherwise—you know the rest—the evil
chance would prevail. Accustomed for some time as I had been, under this
impulse, to perform extravagant actions, I confess to you that the difficulty
and peril of such a feat startled me; I reasoned against the feeling, and
strove more strenuously than I had ever done before; I even made a solemn vow
not to give way to the temptation, but I believe nothing less than chains, and
those strong ones, could have restrained me. The demoniac influence, for I can
call it nothing else, at length prevailed; it compelled me to rise, to dress
myself, to descend the stairs, to unbolt the door, and to go forth; it drove me
to the foot of the tree, and it compelled me to climb the trunk; this was a
tremendous task, and I only accomplished it after repeated falls and trials.
When I had got amongst the branches, I rested for a time, and then set about accomplishing
the remainder of the ascent; this for some time was not so difficult, for I was
now amongst the branches; as I approached the top, however, the difficulty
became greater, and likewise the danger; but I was a light boy, and almost as
nimble as a squirrel, and, moreover, the nervous feeling was within me,
impelling me upward. It was only by means of a spring, however, that I was
enabled to touch the top of the tree; I sprang, touched the top of the tree,
and fell a distance of at least twenty feet, amongst the branches; had I fallen
to the bottom I must have been killed, but I fell into the middle of the tree,
and presently found myself astride upon one of the boughs; scratched and
bruised all over, I reached the ground, and regained my chamber unobserved; I
flung myself on my bed quite exhausted; presently they came to tell me that my
mother was better—they found me in the state which I have described, and in a
fever besides. The favourable crisis must have occurred just about the time
that I performed the magic touch; it certainly was a curious coincidence, yet I
was not weak enough, even though a child, to suppose that I had baffled the
evil chance by my daring feat.
'Indeed, all the time that I was performing these
strange feats, I knew them to be highly absurd, yet the impulse to perform them
was irresistible—a mysterious dread hanging over me till I had given way to it;
even at that early period I frequently used to reason within myself as to what
could be the cause of my propensity to touch, but of course I could come to no
satisfactory conclusion respecting it; being heartily ashamed of the practice,
I never spoke of it to anyone and was at all times highly solicitous that no
one should observe my weakness.'
Chapter 65
maternal anxiety—the
baronet—little zest—mr speaker!—craving—spirited address—author
After a short pause my host resumed his narration.
'Though I was never sent to school, my education was not neglected on that
account; I had tutors in various branches of knowledge, under whom I made a
tolerable progress; by the time I was eighteen I was able to read most of the
Greek and Latin authors with facility; I was likewise, to a certain degree, a
mathematician. I cannot say that I took much pleasure in my studies; my chief
aim in endeavouring to accomplish my tasks was to give pleasure to my beloved
parent, who watched my progress with anxiety truly maternal. My life at this
period may be summed up in a few words: I pursued my studies, roamed about the
woods, walked the green lanes occasionally, cast my fly in a trout stream, and
sometimes, but not often, rode a-hunting with my uncle. A considerable part of
my time was devoted to my mother, conversing with her and reading to her;
youthful companions I had none, and as to my mother, she lived in the greatest
retirement, devoting herself to the superintendence of my education, and the
practice of acts of charity; nothing could be more innocent than this mode of
life, and some people say that in innocence there is happiness, yet I can't say
that I was happy. A continual dread overshadowed my mind, it was the dread of
my mother's death. Her constitution had never been strong, and it had been
considerably shaken by her last illness; this I knew, and this I saw—for the eyes
of fear are marvellously keen. Well, things went on in this way till I had come
of age; my tutors were then dismissed, and my uncle the baronet took me in
hand, telling my mother that it was high time for him to exert his authority;
that I must see something of the world, for that, if I remained much longer
with her, I should be ruined. "You must consign him to me," said he,
"and I will introduce him to the world." My mother sighed and
consented; so my uncle the baronet introduced me to the world, took me to
horse-races and to London, and endeavoured to make a man of me according to his
idea of the term, and in part succeeded. I became moderately dissipated—I say
moderately, for dissipation had but little zest for me.
'In this manner four years passed over. It
happened that I was in London in the height of the season with my uncle, at his
house; one morning he summoned me into the parlour, he was standing before the
fire, and looked very serious. "I have had a letter," said he;
"your mother is very ill." I staggered, and touched the nearest
object to me; nothing was said for two or three minutes, and then my uncle put
his lips to my ear and whispered something. I fell down senseless. My mother
was . . . I remember nothing for a long time—for two years I was out of my
mind; at the end of this time I recovered, or partly so. My uncle the baronet
was very kind to me; he advised me to travel, he offered to go with me. I told
him he was very kind, but I would rather go by myself. So I went abroad, and
saw, amongst other things, Rome and the Pyramids. By frequent change of scene
my mind became not happy, but tolerably tranquil. I continued abroad some
years, when, becoming tired of travelling, I came home, found my uncle the
baronet alive, hearty, and unmarried, as he still is. He received me very
kindly, took me to Newmarket, and said that he hoped by this time I was become
quite a man of the world; by his advice I took a house in town, in which I
lived during the season. In summer I strolled from one watering-place to
another; and, in order to pass the time, I became very dissipated.
'At last I became as tired of dissipation as I had
previously been of travelling, and I determined to retire to the country, and
live on my paternal estate; this resolution I was not slow in putting into
effect; I sold my house in town, repaired and refurnished my country house,
and, for at least ten years, lived a regular country life; I gave dinner
parties, prosecuted poachers, was charitable to the poor, and now and then went
into my library; during this time I was seldom or never visited by the magic
impulse, the reason being that there was nothing in the wide world for which I
cared sufficiently to move a finger to preserve it. When the ten years,
however, were nearly ended, I started out of bed one morning in a fit of
horror, exclaiming, "Mercy, mercy! what will become of me? I am afraid I
shall go mad. I have lived thirty-five years and upwards without doing
anything; shall I pass through life in this manner? Horror!" And then in
rapid succession I touched three different objects.
'I dressed myself and went down, determining to
set about something; but what was I to do?—there was the difficulty. I ate no
breakfast, but walked about the room in a state of distraction; at last I thought
that the easiest way to do something was to get into Parliament, there would be
no difficulty in that. I had plenty of money, and could buy a seat; but what
was I to do in Parliament? Speak, of course—but could I speak? "I'll try
at once," said I, and forthwith I rushed into the largest dining-room,
and, locking the door, I commenced speaking: "Mr. Speaker," said I,
and then I went on speaking for about ten minutes as I best could, and then I
left off, for I was talking nonsense. No, I was not formed for Parliament; I
could do nothing there. What—what was I to do?
'Many many times I thought this question over, but
was unable to solve it; a fear now stole over me that I was unfit for anything
in the world, save the lazy life of vegetation which I had for many years been
leading; yet, if that were the case, thought I, why the craving within me to
distinguish myself? Surely it does not occur fortuitously, but is intended to
rouse and call into exercise certain latent powers that I possess? and then with
infinite eagerness I set about attempting to discover these latent powers. I
tried an infinity of pursuits, botany and geology amongst the rest, but in
vain; I was fitted for none of them. I became very sorrowful and despondent,
and at one time I had almost resolved to plunge again into the whirlpool of
dissipation; it was a dreadful resource, it was true, but what better could I
do?
'But I was not doomed to return to the dissipation
of the world. One morning a young nobleman, who had for some time past showed a
wish to cultivate my acquaintance, came to me in a considerable hurry. "I
am come to beg an important favour of you," said he; "one of the
county memberships is vacant—I intend to become a candidate; what I want
immediately is a spirited address to the electors. I have been endeavouring to
frame one all the morning, but in vain; I have, therefore, recourse to you as a
person of infinite genius; pray, my dear friend, concoct me one by the
morning!" "What you require of me," I replied, "is
impossible; I have not the gift of words; did I possess it I would stand for
the county myself, but I can't speak. Only the other day I attempted to make a
speech, but left off suddenly, utterly ashamed, although I was quite alone, of
the nonsense I was uttering." "It is not a speech that I want,"
said my friend; "I can talk for three hours without hesitating, but I want
an address to circulate through the county, and I find myself utterly
incompetent to put one together; do oblige me by writing one for me, I know you
can; and, if at any time you want a person to speak for you, you may command me
not for three but for six hours. Good-morning; to-morrow I will breakfast with
you." In the morning he came again. "Well," said he, "what
success?" "Very poor," said I; "but judge for
yourself"; and I put into his hand a manuscript of several pages. My
friend read it through with considerable attention. "I congratulate
you," said he, "and likewise myself; I was not mistaken in my opinion
of you; the address is too long by at least two-thirds, or I should rather say,
that it is longer by two-thirds than addresses generally are; but it will do—I
will not curtail it of a word. I shall win my election." And in truth he
did win his election; and it was not only his own but the general opinion that
he owed it to the address.
'But, however that might be, I had, by writing the
address, at last discovered what had so long eluded my search—what I was able
to do. I, who had neither the nerve nor the command of speech necessary to
constitute the orator—who had not the power of patient research required by
those who would investigate the secrets of nature, had, nevertheless, a ready
pen and teeming imagination. This discovery decided my fate—from that moment I
became an author.'
