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On reading the letters, one of my Jewish friends agreed to furnish
me with two or three hundred pounds on my personal security,
provided I could persuade the young Earl--who was, by the way, not
older than myself--to guarantee the payment on our coming of age;
the Jew's final object being, as I now suppose, not the trifling
profit he could expect to make by me, but the prospect of
establishing a connection with my noble friend, whose immense
expectations were well known to him. In pursuance of this proposal
on the part of the Jew, about eight or nine days after I had
received the 10 pounds, I prepared to go down to Eton. Nearly 3
pounds of the money I had given to my money-lending friend, on his
alleging that the stamps must be bought, in order that the writings
might be preparing whilst I was away from London. I thought in my
heart that he was lying; but I did not wish to give him any excuse
for charging his own delays upon me. A smaller sum I had given to
my friend the attorney (who was connected with the money-lenders as
their lawyer), to which, indeed, he was entitled for his unfurnished
lodgings. About fifteen shillings I had employed in re-establishing
(though in a very humble way) my dress. Of the remainder I gave one
quarter to Ann, meaning on my return to have divided with her
whatever might remain. These arrangements made, soon after six
o'clock on a dark winter evening I set off, accompanied by Ann,
towards Piccadilly; for it was my intention to go down as far as
Salthill on the Bath or Bristol mail. Our course lay through a part
of the town which has now all disappeared, so that I can no longer
retrace its ancient boundaries--Swallow Street, I think it was
called. Having time enough before us, however, we bore away to the
left until we came into Golden Square; there, near the corner of
Sherrard Street, we sat down, not wishing to part in the tumult and
blaze of Piccadilly. I had told her of my plans some time before,
and I now assured her again that she should share in my good
fortune, if I met with any, and that I would never forsake her as
soon as I had power to protect her. This I fully intended, as much
from inclination as from a sense of duty; for setting aside
gratitude, which in any case must have made me her debtor for life,
I loved her as affectionately as if she had been my sister; and at
this moment with sevenfold tenderness, from pity at witnessing her
extreme dejection. I had apparently most reason for dejection,
because I was leaving the saviour of my life; yet I, considering the
shock my health had received, was cheerful and full of hope. She,
on the contrary, who was parting with one who had had little means
of serving her, except by kindness and brotherly treatment, was
overcome by sorrow; so that, when I kissed her at our final
farewell, she put her arms about my neck and wept without speaking a
word. I hoped to return in a week at farthest, and I agreed with
her that on the fifth night from that, and every night afterwards,
she would wait for me at six o'clock near the bottom of Great
Titchfield Street, which had been our customary haven, as it were,
of rendezvous, to prevent our missing each other in the great
Mediterranean of Oxford Street. This and other measures of
precaution I took; one only I forgot. She had either never told me,
or (as a matter of no great interest) I had forgotten her surname.
It is a general practice, indeed, with girls of humble rank in her
unhappy condition, not (as novel-reading women of higher
pretensions) to style themselves Miss Douglas, Miss Montague, etc.,
but simply by their Christian names--Mary, Jane, Frances, etc. Her
surname, as the surest means of tracing her hereafter, I ought now
to have inquired; but the truth is, having no reason to think that
our meeting could, in consequence of a short interruption, be more
difficult or uncertain than it had been for so many weeks, I had
scarcely for a moment adverted to it as necessary, or placed it
amongst my memoranda against this parting interview; and my final
anxieties being spent in comforting her with hopes, and in pressing
upon her the necessity of getting some medicines for a violent cough
and hoarseness with which she was troubled, I wholly forgot it until
it was too late to recall her.
It was past eight o'clock when I reached the Gloucester Coffee-
house, and the Bristol mail being on the point of going off, I
mounted on the outside. The fine fluent motion {5} of this mail
soon laid me asleep: it is somewhat remarkable that the first easy
or refreshing sleep which I had enjoyed for some months, was on the
outside of a mail-coach--a bed which at this day I find rather an
uneasy one. Connected with this sleep was a little incident which
served, as hundreds of others did at that time, to convince me how
easily a man who has never been in any great distress may pass
through life without knowing, in his own person at least, anything
of the possible goodness of the human heart--or, as I must add with
a sigh, of its possible vileness. So thick a curtain of MANNERS is
drawn over the features and expression of men's NATURES, that to the
ordinary observer the two extremities, and the infinite field of
varieties which lie between them, are all confounded; the vast and
multitudinous compass of their several harmonies reduced to the
meagre outline of differences expressed in the gamut or alphabet of
elementary sounds. The case was this: for the first four or five
miles from London I annoyed my fellow-passenger on the roof by
occasionally falling against him when the coach gave a lurch to his:
side; and indeed, if the road had been less smooth and level than it
is, I should have fallen off from weakness. Of this annoyance he
complained heavily, as perhaps, in the same circumstances, most
people would; he expressed his complaint, however, more morosely
than the occasion seemed to warrant, and if I had parted with him at
that moment I should have thought of him (if I had considered it
worth while to think of him at all) as a surly and almost brutal
fellow. However, I was conscious that I had given him some cause
for complaint, and therefore I apologized to him, and assured him I
would do what I could to avoid falling asleep for the future; and at
the same time, in as few words as possible, I explained to him that
I was ill and in a weak state from long suffering, and that I could
not afford at that time to take an inside place. This man's manner
changed, upon hearing this explanation, in an instant; and when I
next woke for a minute from the noise and lights of Hounslow (for in
spite of my wishes and efforts I had fallen asleep again within two
minutes from the time I had spoken to him) I found that he had put
his arm round me to protect me from falling off, and for the rest of
my journey he behaved to me with the gentleness of a woman, so that
at length I almost lay in his arms; and this was the more kind, as
he could not have known that I was not going the whole way to Bath
or Bristol. Unfortunately, indeed, I DID go rather farther than I
intended, for so genial and so refreshing was my sleep, that the
next time after leaving Hounslow that I fully awoke was upon the
sudden pulling up of the mail (possibly at a post-office), and on
inquiry I found that we had reached Maidenhead--six or seven miles,
I think, ahead of Salthill. Here I alighted, and for the half-
minute that the mail stopped I was entreated by my friendly
companion (who, from the transient glimpse I had had of him in
Piccadilly, seemed to me to be a gentleman's butler, or person of
that rank) to go to bed without delay. This I promised, though with
no intention of doing so; and in fact I immediately set forward, or
rather backward, on foot. It must then have been nearly midnight,
but so slowly did I creep along that I heard a clock in a cottage
strike four before I turned down the lane from Slough to Eton. The
air and the sleep had both refreshed me; but I was weary
nevertheless. I remember a thought (obvious enough, and which has
been prettily expressed by a Roman poet) which gave me some
consolation at that moment under my poverty. There had been some
time before a murder committed on or near Hounslow Heath. I think I
cannot be mistaken when I say that the name of the murdered person
was STEELE, and that he was the owner of a lavender plantation in
that neighbourhood. Every step of my progress was bringing me
nearer to the Heath, and it naturally occurred to me that I and the
accused murderer, if he were that night abroad, might at every
instant be unconsciously approaching each other through the
darkness; in which case, said I--supposing I, instead of being (as
indeed I am) little better than an outcast -
Lord of my learning, and no land beside -
were, like my friend Lord -, heir by general repute to 70,000 pounds
per annum, what a panic should I be under at this moment about my
throat! Indeed, it was not likely that Lord--should ever be in my
situation. But nevertheless, the spirit of the remark remains true-
-that vast power and possessions make a man shamefully afraid of
dying; and I am convinced that many of the most intrepid
adventurers, who, by fortunately being poor, enjoy the full use of
their natural courage, would, if at the very instant of going into
action news were brought to them that they had unexpectedly
succeeded to an estate in England of 50,000 pounds a-year, feel
their dislike to bullets considerably sharpened, {6} and their
efforts at perfect equanimity and self-possession proportionably
difficult. So true it is, in the language of a wise man whose own
experience had made him acquainted with both fortunes, that riches
are better fitted
to slacken virtue, and abate her edge,
than tempt her to do ought may merit praise.
Paradise Regained.
I dally with my subject because, to myself, the remembrance of these
times is profoundly interesting. But my reader shall not have any
further cause to complain, for I now hasten to its close. In the
road between Slough and Eton I fell asleep, and just as the morning
began to dawn I was awakened by the voice of a man standing over me
and surveying me. I know not what he was: he was an ill-looking
fellow, but not therefore of necessity an ill-meaning fellow; or, if
he were, I suppose he thought that no person sleeping out-of-doors
in winter could be worth robbing. In which conclusion, however, as
it regarded myself, I beg to assure him, if he should be among my
readers, that he was mistaken. After a slight remark he passed on;
and I was not sorry at his disturbance, as it enabled me to pass
through Eton before people were generally up. The night had been
heavy and lowering, but towards the morning it had changed to a
slight frost, and the ground and the trees were now covered with
rime. I slipped through Eton unobserved; washed myself, and as far
as possible adjusted my dress, at a little public-house in Windsor;
and about eight o'clock went down towards Pote's. On my road I met
some junior boys, of whom I made inquiries. An Etonian is always a
gentleman; and, in spite of my shabby habiliments, they answered me
civilly. My friend Lord--was gone to the University of -. "Ibi
omnis effusus labor!" I had, however, other friends at Eton; but it
is not to all that wear that name in prosperity that a man is
willing to present himself in distress. On recollecting myself,
however, I asked for the Earl of D-, to whom (though my acquaintance
with him was not so intimate as with some others) I should not have
shrunk from presenting myself under any circumstances. He was still
at Eton, though I believe on the wing for Cambridge. I called, was
received kindly, and asked to breakfast.
Here let me stop for a moment to check my reader from any erroneous
conclusions. Because I have had occasion incidentally to speak of
various patrician friends, it must not be supposed that I have
myself any pretension to rank and high blood. I thank God that I
have not. I am the son of a plain English merchant, esteemed during
his life for his great integrity, and strongly attached to literary
pursuits (indeed, he was himself, anonymously, an author). If he
had lived it was expected that he would have been very rich; but
dying prematurely, he left no more than about 30,000 pounds amongst
seven different claimants. My mother I may mention with honour, as
still more highly gifted; for though unpretending to the name and
honours of a LITERARY woman, I shall presume to call her (what many
literary women are not) an INTELLECTUAL woman; and I believe that if
ever her letters should be collected and published, they would be
thought generally to exhibit as much strong and masculine sense,
delivered in as pure "mother English," racy and fresh with idiomatic
graces, as any in our language--hardly excepting those of Lady M. W.
Montague. These are my honours of descent, I have no other; and I
have thanked God sincerely that I have not, because, in my judgment,
a station which raises a man too eminently above the level of his
fellow-creatures is not the most favourable to moral or to
intellectual qualities.
Lord D- placed before me a most magnificent breakfast. It was
really so; but in my eyes it seemed trebly magnificent, from being
the first regular meal, the first "good man's table," that I had
sate down to for months. Strange to say, however, I could scarce
eat anything. On the day when I first received my 10 pound bank-
note I had gone to a baker's shop and bought a couple of rolls; this
very shop I had two months or six weeks before surveyed with an
eagerness of desire which it was almost humiliating to me to
recollect. I remembered the story about Otway, and feared that
there might be danger in eating too rapidly. But I had no need for
alarm; my appetite was quite sunk, and I became sick before I had
eaten half of what I had bought. This effect from eating what
approached to a meal I continued to feel for weeks; or, when I did
not experience any nausea, part of what I ate was rejected,
sometimes with acidity, sometimes immediately and without any
acidity. On the present occasion, at Lord D-'s table, I found
myself not at all better than usual, and in the midst of luxuries I
had no appetite. I had, however, unfortunately, at all times a
craving for wine; I explained my situation, therefore, to Lord D-,
and gave him a short account of my late sufferings, at which he
expressed great compassion, and called for wine. This gave me a
momentary relief and pleasure; and on all occasions when I had an
opportunity I never failed to drink wine, which I worshipped then as
I have since worshipped opium. I am convinced, however, that this
indulgence in wine contributed to strengthen my malady, for the tone
of my stomach was apparently quite sunk, and by a better regimen it
might sooner, and perhaps effectually, have been revived. I hope
that it was not from this love of wine that I lingered in the
neighbourhood of my Eton friends; I persuaded myself then that it
was from reluctance to ask of Lord D-, on whom I was conscious I had
not sufficient claims, the particular service in quest of which I
had come down to Eton. I was, however unwilling to lose my journey,
and--I asked it. Lord D-, whose good nature was unbounded, and
which, in regard to myself, had been measured rather by his
compassion perhaps for my condition, and his knowledge of my
intimacy with some of his relatives, than by an over-rigorous
inquiry into the extent of my own direct claims, faltered,
nevertheless, at this request. He acknowledged that he did not like
to have any dealings with money-lenders, and feared lest such a
transaction might come to the ears of his connexions. Moreover, he
doubted whether HIS signature, whose expectations were so much more
bounded than those of -, would avail with my unchristian friends.
However, he did not wish, as it seemed, to mortify me by an absolute
refusal; for after a little consideration he promised, under certain
conditions which he pointed out, to give his security. Lord D- was
at this time not eighteen years of age; but I have often doubted, on
recollecting since the good sense and prudence which on this
occasion he mingled with so much urbanity of manner (an urbanity
which in him wore the grace of youthful sincerity), whether any
statesman--the oldest and the most accomplished in diplomacy--could
have acquitted himself better under the same circumstances. Most
people, indeed, cannot be addressed on such a business without
surveying you with looks as austere and unpropitious as those of a
Saracen's head.
Recomforted by this promise, which was not quite equal to the best
but far above the worst that I had pictured to myself as possible, I
returned in a Windsor coach to London three days after I had quitted
it. And now I come to the end of my story. The Jews did not
approve of Lord D-'s terms; whether they would in the end have
acceded to them, and were only seeking time for making due
inquiries, I know not; but many delays were made, time passed on,
the small fragment of my bank-note had just melted away, and before
any conclusion could have been put to the business I must have
relapsed into my former state of wretchedness. Suddenly, however,
at this crisis, an opening was made, almost by accident, for
reconciliation with my friends; I quitted London in haste for a
remote part of England; after some time I proceeded to the
university, and it was not until many months had passed away that I
had it in my power again to revisit the ground which had become so
interesting to me, and to this day remains so, as the chief scene of
my youthful sufferings.
Meantime, what had become of poor Ann? For her I have reserved my
concluding words. According to our agreement, I sought her daily,
and waited for her every night, so long as I stayed in London, at
the corner of Titchfield Street. I inquired for her of every one
who was likely to know her, and during the last hours of my stay in
London I put into activity every means of tracing her that my
knowledge of London suggested and the limited extent of my power
made possible. The street where she had lodged I knew, but not the
house; and I remembered at last some account which she had given me
of ill-treatment from her landlord, which made it probable that she
had quitted those lodgings before we parted. She had few
acquaintances; most people, besides, thought that the earnestness of
my inquiries arose from motives which moved their laughter or their
slight regard; and others, thinking I was in chase of a girl who had
robbed me of some trifles, were naturally and excusably indisposed
to give me any clue to her, if indeed they had any to give. Finally
as my despairing resource, on the day I left London I put into the
hands of the only person who (I was sure) must know Ann by sight,
from having been in company with us once or twice, an address to -,
in -shire, at that time the residence of my family. But to this
hour I have never heard a syllable about her. This, amongst such
troubles as most men meet with in this life, has been my heaviest
affliction. If she lived, doubtless we must have been some time in
search of each other, at the very same moment, through the mighty
labyrinths of London; perhaps even within a few feet of each other--
a barrier no wider than a London street often amounting in the end
to a separation for eternity! During some years I hoped that she
DID live; and I suppose that, in the literal and unrhetorical use of
the word MYRIAD, I may say that on my different visits to London I
have looked into many, many myriads of female faces, in the hope of
meeting her. I should know her again amongst a thousand, if I saw
her for a moment; for though not handsome, she had a sweet
expression of countenance and a peculiar and graceful carriage of
the head. I sought her, I have said, in hope. So it was for years;
but now I should fear to see her; and her cough, which grieved me
when I parted with her, is now my consolation. I now wish to see
her no longer; but think of her, more gladly, as one long since laid
in the grave--in the grave, I would hope, of a Magdalen; taken away,
before injuries and cruelty had blotted out and transfigured her
ingenuous nature, or the brutalities of ruffians had completed the
ruin they had begun.
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