Czytaj książkę: «Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 54, No. 338, December 1843», strona 5
"What is that, Mr Planner?" inquired the visitor.
"What? My blood, sir. I opened a vein the very day they hanged him. I suspected it all along, and there it is. There is more arsenic there, sir, than they found in the entire carcass of that man. Arsenic! Why, it's a prime ingredient in the blood. This it is to live in the clouds. Talk of dark ages—when shall we get light?"
"I was not aware, Mr Planner,"——
"Of course you were not. How should you be? It is the interest of the ruling powers to darken the intellect of society. Why am I kept down? Why don't I prosper? Why don't my works sell? Ah, Allcraft—put that small pamphlet in your pocket—there it is—under the model—take care what you are about—don't break it—there, that's right! What is it called?"
"Popular delusions."
"Ah, true enough!—put it into your pocket and read it. If Pitt could be alive to read it!—-- Well, never mind! I say, Allcraft, how does that back room flue get on—any smoke now?"
"None."
"No. I should think not. Michael, I must say it, though the old gentleman is dead, he was one of the hardest fellows to move I ever met. He would have been smoke-dried—suffocated, years ago, if it hadn't been for me. I was the first man that ever sent smoke up that chimney. Nobody could do it, sir. A fellow came from London, tried, and failed."
"It is a pity, Mr Planner, that, with abilities like yours, you have not been more successful in life. Pardon me if I say that success would have made you a quieter and a happier man."
"Ah, Michael, so your father used to say! Well, I don't know—people are such fools. They will not think for themselves, and they are ready to crush any one who offers to think for them. It has ever been so. Men in advance of their generation have always fared badly. Ages ago they were put to death cruelly and violently. Now they are left to starve, and die. The creatures are ignorant, but they are worse than that; they are selfish and jealous, and will rather sit in gloom, than owe light, and confess they owe it, to a fellow mortal and a superior spirit."
"I am afraid, Mr Planner, after such an observation, that you will hardly give me credit for the feeling which has induced me to visit you this morning."
"You are a good fellow, Michael. You were always a generous-hearted lad—an exception to the general rule. When you were five years old, you used to share your biscuits with me. It was a fine trait in your character. Proceed."
"You are aware, Mr Planner, that through my father's death increased responsibilities have come upon me."
"You may say that. He never would take my advice about the bank-notes. Stop—remind me before you go, of the few hints to bankers, which I drew up. You will do well to look at them. You'll see the advantages of my system of paper issues. Your father, sir, was stone-blind to his own interests—— but I am interrupting you."
"I have for some time past determined to associate with me in the bank, two gentlemen of noble fortunes and the first respectability. I would not willingly carry on the concern alone, and the accession of two such gentlemen as I describe, cannot but be in every way desirable."
"Humph—go on."
"Now Mr Planner, you are a very, very old friend of my father's, and I know he valued your advice as it deserved to be."
"The old gentleman was good in the main, Michael."
"Had he been aware of my position, he would have recommended the step which I am about to adopt. Mr Planner, I am young, and therefore inexperienced. These gentlemen are very worthy persons no doubt; indeed, I am assured they are; still, they are comparatively strangers to me, and I am certain you would advise me to be most cautious."
"Proceed."
"What I feel to want is the constant presence of a friend—one who, from personal attachment, may have my welfare and interest at heart, and form as it were a second self at all times—let me be present or absent—and absent I must be very often—you perceive?"
"Precisely."
"A sort of counterpoise to the opposite weight, in fact, if I may be allowed to call it so. Now, I can sincerely affirm that I know no person, Mr Planner, in whom I could rely so entirely and unreservedly as yourself; and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to serve a man so highly gifted, so long connected with our family by the closest friendship. If you think the occupation of a banker suitable to your present tastes, I believe that I can offer you an appointment worthy your serious consideration."
Mr Planner rose in his bed, and grasped firmly the hand of Mr Michael Allcraft. The latter sat at the bedside until past three o'clock, and then retired, leaving his friend in a state of great mental excitement. When Michael, upon taking his departure, reached the street door, he stopped short, and retraced his steps. Entering the apartment for a second time, he discovered Mr Planner in his night clothes, standing before a looking glass, and repeating one of his own compositions in a voice of thunder, and with the most vehement gesticulation.
"I beg your pardon. You told me to remind you, Planner, of your hints to bankers. Have you the book handy?"
"It is here, Michael. Read it attentively, my boy—trust to me. I'll make the house's name ring throughout the country. Don't forget what I have said. We must have a new façade to the old building after a while. I have such a plan for it!"
CHAPTER II.
A LULL
Allcraft, Bellamy, Brammel, and Planner. It was a goodly ship that bore the name, and fair she looked at the launching; her sails well set, her streamers flying, and the music of men's voices cheering her on her career. Happy and prosperous be her course! We think not of winter's cold in the fervent summer time, and wreck and ruin seem impossible on the smooth surface of the laughing sea; yet cold and winter come, and the smiling, sweet-tempered ripple can awaken from slumber, and battle and storm with the heavens. Never had bark left haven with finer promises of success. We will follow her from the port, and keep watchfully in the good ship's wake.
Michael formed a just conclusion when he reckoned upon increase of business. His own marriage, and the immense wealth of his lady, had inspired the world with unbounded confidence. The names of two of his partners were household words in the county, and stood high amongst the best. A convulsion of nature may destroy the world in half an hour, as love, it is said, may transform a man into an oyster; but either of these contingencies was as remote as the possibility of Allcraft's failure. Silently and successfully the house went on. For a quarter of a year the sun shone brightly, and profit, and advantage, and honour, looked Michael in the face. Thriving abroad, happy at home, what did he need more? His spirit became buoyant—his heart carefree and light. He congratulated himself upon the prudence and success of his measures, and looked for his reward in the brilliant future which he had created for himself and earned. His soul was calmed; and so are the elements, fearfully and oppressively, sometimes an hour before the tempest and the storm.
At the end of three months, Michael deemed it necessary to go abroad. The heaviest of his father's debts had been contracted with a house in Lyons, and notices as to payment had been conveyed to him—notices as full of politeness as they were of meaning. The difficulties in which he had found himself at the death of his parent—the seriousness of his engagements—and the wariness which he had been compelled to exercise—had gone far to sober down the impetuous youth, and to endue him with the airs and habits of a man of business. He had attended to his duties at the banking-house faithfully and punctually. He had entered into its affairs with the energy and resolution of a practical and working mind. He had given his heart to the work, and had put his shoulder to the wheel, honestly and earnestly. Whatsoever may have been his faults previously to his connexion with his partners, it is due to him to say that he was no sluggard afterwards, and that he grudged neither time nor labour that could be in any way productive to the house—could add a shilling to its profits, or a breath of reputation to its name. To pay his father's debts from the earnings of the bank—to keep those debts a secret—and to leave the fortune of his wife untouched, were the objects for which he lived, and soon began to slave. Believing that a favourable arrangement could be effected with his father's creditors, he determined to visit them in person. He had not been absent from the bank even for a day; and now, before he could quit it with comfort, he deemed it necessary to have a few parting words with his right hand and factotum, Planner.
Planner was the only member of the firm who lived in the establishment. His specimens, his bottles, his maps, and drawings, had been removed to a spacious apartment over the place of business, and he rejoiced in the possession of an entire first floor. His bed-room had now a distinct existence. He had not enjoyed it for a week, before the water with which he performed his daily ablutions was insinuated by a cunning contrivance through the ceiling, and dismissed afterwards, as cleverly, through the floor. Hot water came through the wall at any hour of the day, and a constant artificial ventilation was maintained around his bed by night and day. There was no end to the artifices which the chamber exhibited. Michael, although he lived at a considerable distance from the bank, was always the first at his post, after Planner himself. He arrived unusually early on the day fixed for his visit to the Continent. Planner and he sat for an hour together, and in the course of their conversation, words to the following effect escaped them:—
"You will be careful and attentive, Planner. Let me hear from you by every post. Do not spare ink and paper."
"Trust me. I shall not forget it. But don't you miss the opportunity, Allcraft, of doing something with those mines. Your father wouldn't touch them—but he repented it. I tell you, Michael, if we bought them, and worked them ourselves, we might coin money! I'd go abroad and see the shafts sunk. I could save a fortune in merely setting them to rights."
"It is rather strange, Planner, that Brammel is so long absent. He should come home, and settle down to work. It isn't well to be away. It hasn't a fair appearance to the world. You saw his father yesterday. What said he?"
"Oh, that young Brammel had a good many things to arrange in Oxford and in the neighbourhood, and would soon be back now. But never mind him, Allcraft. Between ourselves, he is better where he is; he is a horrible ass."
"Hush. So he is, Planner, but he must not run wild. We must keep him at home. He has been a rackety one, and I fear he is not much better now. I question whether I should have received him here, if I had known as much of him at first as I have heard lately. But his father deceived me."
"Queer old man that, Michael! How he takes the boy's part always, and how frightened he seems lest you should think too badly of him. Young Brammel will have every farthing of the old man's money at his death. A pretty sum, too. A hundred thousand pounds, isn't it?"
"Well, Planner, let me know when he returns. That was a curious report about his marriage. Can it be true?"
"His father denies it, but you mustn't trust the old sinner when he talks about his son. He'll lie through thick and thin for him. They do say he lived with the girl at the time he was at college, and married her at last because her brother threatened to kick him."
"Nonsense, Planner."
"Why nonsense? More than half the marriages you hear of are scarcely a whit better. What are the rules for a correct match? Who obeys them? Where do you ever hear, now-a-days, of a proper marriage? People are inconsistent in this respect as in other things. A beauty marries a beast. A philosopher weds a fool. They can't tell you why, but they do it. It's the perversity of human nature."
"I shall look sharp after Brammel."
"Take my advice, Michael, and look after the mines. Brammel can take care of himself, or his wife and brother-in-law can do it. The timber on the property will realize the purchase money."
"Well, we shall see; but here is Mr Bellamy. Mind you write to me, and be explicit and particular."
"I shall do it, Michael."
"And mark, Planner; prudence—prudence."
And so saying, Michael advanced to Bellamy with a smiling countenance. An hour afterwards, both he and his lovely bride were comfortably seated in a post-chaise and four, admiring the garden-land of Kent, and speeding to Dover fast as their horses could carry them.
CHAPTER III.
A SWEET COUPLE
The very emphatic and somewhat vulgar expression of Mr Planner, was by no means ill-chosen to express the character of Augustus Theodore Brammel. He had been lovingly spoiled from his cradle—humoured and ruined with the most praiseworthy care and perseverance. His affectionate parents had studiously neglected the few goodly shoots which the youth had brought into the world with him, and had embarked all their energies in the cultivation of the weeds that grew noxious and numerous around the unhappy boy's heart. His mother lived to see her darling expelled from Eton—the father to see much worse, and yet not the worst that the hopeful one was doomed to undergo. Gross vices, if not redeemed, are rendered less hideous by intellectual power and brilliancy. Associated with impotency and ignorance, they are disgusting beyond expression. Augustus Brammel was the most sensual and self-engrossed of men— the most idle and dissipated; and, as if these were not enough to render him an object of the deepest aversion, he was as self-willed, thick-headed, overbearing a dunce as ever moved a man to that contempt "which wisdom holds unlawful ever;" and Brammel was not only a fool, but a conceited, upstart, irritating fool. He considered himself the shrewdest of mortals, and presumed to dictate, to be impertinent, to carry matters with a high hand and a flourish. As for modesty, the word was not in his dictionary. He had never known its meaning; and therefore, perhaps, in justice is not to be blamed for the want of it. Augustus, being a great blusterer, was of course a low coward. He bullied, oppressed, and crushed the helpless and the weak, who were avenged as often as he cowered and sneaked beneath the look of the strong and the brave. The companions and friends of such creatures as Brammel, are generally selected from the lower grades of life. The tone of feeling found amongst the worst members of these classes, harmonizes with their own. They think the like thoughts, talk the same language. They are led to them by the true Satanic impulse, for it is their triumph to reign in hell—their misery to serve in heaven. Flattered by the dregs and refuse of society, they endeavour to forget that they are avoided, spurned, trodden on, by any thing higher. Just when it was too late to profit by the discovery, old Brammel found out his mistake; and then he sagaciously vowed, that if his time were to come over again, he would educate his boy in a very different manner. His first attempt had certainly been a failure. Augustus had been rusticated at the university; he had run away from his home; he had committed all kinds of enormity. He had passed weeks in the sinks of London, and had been discovered at last by his heartbroken parent amongst the stews of Shadwell, in a fearful state of disease and destitution. Years were passed in proceedings of this nature, and every attempt at recovery proved abortive and useless. His debts had been discharged a dozen times, and on every occasion under a solemn engagement that it should be the last. When Brammel senior signed the deed of partnership on behalf of his son, the latter, as I have already said, was in Oxford, having returned to the university only a month before, at the termination of his period of banishment. Whilst the father was engaged in publishing the imaginary virtues of his son to most admiring listeners, the promising youth himself was passing his days in the very agreeable society of Miss Mary Anne Waters, the eldest daughter of the cook of his college—a young lady with some pretension to beauty, but none whatever to morality, being neither more nor less than Mr Augustus Brammel's very particular and chère amie. The letter which arrived with the unwelcome intelligence of the arrangement, found the charming pair together. A specimen of their discourse at the time, will show the temper with which the communication was received.
"I sha'n't go," ejaculated the youth. "I can't be nailed down to a desk. What business had the old man to do any thing without me? Why can't he mind his own affairs? He's old and ugly enough. It's cursed impudence in him, and that's a fact."
"Oh ducky!" interposed Miss Mary Anne, with a rueful face, "I know how it will be. You'll have to go home for good, and you won't think of me no more."
"Don't you bother yourself. I sha'n't do any thing of the kind. If I go home, Molly, you go with me."
"Do you mean it, dear bless-ed?"
"Don't I? that's all. I say it is blasted impertinent in the old man, and I shall tell him so. I shall have blunt enough when his toes are up. What is the good of working for more?"
"Oh dear me, bless-ed!"
"What is the matter, old girl?"
"If you should ever forget me!"
"Don't you fear."
"I should hang myself up to the bedpost with my garters. I know I should. Don't leave me, there's a dear ducky."
"Well, haven't I said I won't?"
"Ah, you think you won't, dear bless-ed!"
"I tell you I won't."
"Yes, but when they get you up, they'll just be trying to marry you to some fine rich woman; and I am sure she won't know how to take care of you as I do. They ain't brought up to air and mend linen, to darn stockings, and to tack on shirt-buttons. They'll never suit you, ducky."
"Catch me marrying a fine woman, Moll!"
"Ha, won't you though, bless-ed? Oh, dear me!" Mary Anne burst into tears.
"What's the matter, Moll, now?"
"Oh, dear ducky! I wish I was an honest woman. I might go every where with you, and not be ashamed of it either; and I do love you so. I shall die if you leave me—I know I shall!"
"But I won't leave you."
"Oh, there's a ducks! But you know what you promised me, Tiddy dear?"
"Yes, I know, Molly, and I'll keep my word with you. If father makes a partner of me, he shall make partners of both of us."
"No, do you mean it though?"
"Haven't I said it, you stupid?"
"Yes, you dear ducks of diamonds! You do look so handsome this morning! And when shall it be? If you are to go to this business, the sooner the better, you know, darling. Oh, I shall be so happy!"
Happy or not, the lady was at least successful. In the course of a week Mary Anne Waters became extinct, and from her ashes rose the surprizingly fine, and surpassingly vulgar, Mrs Augustus Brammel. Augustus, notwithstanding his vapoury insubjection, visited his father and the partners in the bank, leaving his bride in snug lodgings at a respectable distance from all. He remained a few days at the banking-house, and then absented himself on the plea of finally arranging his incompleted affairs in Oxford and elsewhere. He had engaged to return to business at the end of a month. Nearly three had passed away, and no tidings whatever had been heard of him. Allcraft, as it has been seen, grew anxious—less perhaps for his partner's safety, than for the good name and credit of the firm. He had heard of his precious doings, and reports of his inauspicious marriage were already abroad. No wonder that the cautious and apprehensive Michael trembled somewhat in his state of uncertainty. As for Mr Augustus Brammel himself, the object of his fears, he, in conformity with general custom, and especially in compliance with the wishes of his wife, had quitted England on a wedding tour. With five hundred pounds in his purse—a sum advanced by his father to liquidate his present outstanding liabilities—he steamed from Dover on the very day that he was supposed to have reached Oxford for his final arrangements. From Boulogne, he, his wife, and suite, proceeded to Paris; and there they were, up to their eyes in the dissipation of that fascinating city, when Allcraft started on their track, followed them, unwittingly enough, from town to town, and came upon them at length in the great city itself, and in the very hotel in which they lodged. It was at night that Michael first caught sight of the runaway. And where? In a gaming-house, the most fashionable of the many legalized haunts of devils in which, not many years since, Paris abounded. Allcraft had entered upon the scene of iniquity as into a theatre, to behold a sight—the sight of human nature in its lowest, most pitiable, and melancholy garb; in its hour of degradation, craziness, and desperation. He had his recreation in such a spectacle, as men can find their pleasure in the death-struggle of a malefacter on the gibbet. He came, not to join the miserable throng that crowded round the tables, exhibiting every variety of low, unhealthy feeling; nor did he come, in truth, prepared to meet with one in whose affairs and conduct he had so deep an interest. It was with inexpressible astonishment and horror that he beheld his colleague, busy and active amongst the busiest of the crew, venturing rouleau after rouleau, losing stake upon stake, and growing more reckless and madder with every new defeat. For a time Michael would not, could not, believe his own eyes. It was one of the curious resemblances which we meet every now and then in life: it was any thing but what he dreaded it to be—the actual presence of Augustus Brammel. Michael retreated to a distant part of the room, and watched his man. The latter spoke. He used a disgusting English oath, and flung his last rouleau across the table like a drunken fiend. The heart of Allcraft grew sick, but still he kept his eye upon the gamester. Losing his stake, Brammel quitted the apartment, and retired to a spacious saloon, splendidly furnished. He called for champagne—drank greedily—finished the bottle—returned to the gaming-room flushed and feverish—looked at the players savagely, but sottishly, for a few moments, and then left the house altogether. Michael was on his heels. The worthy Brammel stopped at many small public-houses on his road, in each drank off a glass of brandy, and so went on. Michael had patience, and kept to his partner like a leech. It was midnight when he found himself once more before his hotel.
Brammel had rung at the porter's bell, and gained admittance. A quarter of an hour afterwards Allcraft followed his example. Before he retired to rest he learnt that Brammel and himself were inmates of the same house. About eleven o'clock on the following morning, Augustus quitted his dressing-room. Michael had been waiting some hours for this operation. A few minutes afterwards Mr Brammel's servant announced a visitor. Great was the consternation of Augustus Brammel when Mr Michael Allcraft looked him in the face. First the delinquent turned very white, like a guilty man—then his colour returned to him, and he tried to laugh like an innocent and careless one; but he was not so happy in the second instance. As a third experiment, he smoothed his hair with his fingers—pointed to a chair—and held out his hand. Mrs Brammel was at the breakfast table, reading an English newspaper.
"Ah! Mr Allcraft—glad to see you—glad to see you. Out on the same business, eh? Nothing like it—first weeks of marriage are delightful—there's nothing like a honey-moon on the Continent to my thinking. Mrs Brammel, my wife—Mr Allcraft, my partner, my dear."
Mrs Brammel looked up from her newspaper and giggled.
"I cannot tell you, Mr Brammel," said Allcraft in a serious tone, "how surprised I am to find you here. Are you aware, sir, that neither your father, nor any one of your partners, have the least knowledge of your movements. You were supposed to be in England. You gave your word to return to business within a month of your departure. You have not written or given the slightest account of yourself."
"Come, that's very good, Mister. Given an account of myself, indeed! Pray, whom am I accountable to?"
"To those, sir," replied Allcraft, quickly and angrily, "with whom you are associated in business, and who have an interest in your good conduct—who suffer by your acts, and will be blamed for your folly and indiscretion."
"Come, I say, that's all very fine in you, Mr Allcraft; but what brings you here, I should like to know? Haven't I as much right to bring my wife to Paris as you have? Give and take, if you please"——
"No, bless-ed," sagely and sarcastically interposed Mrs Brammel, "I ain't so rich as Mrs Allcraft; I can't dress so fine; we ain't sich gentle-folks"——
"Mr Brammel, pray let us have no more recrimination. I have met you here by the merest chance. It is my duty to speak to you at once, and very seriously, on your position. You are mistaken if you suppose that my own pleasure has brought me here; business—important, weighty business—is the sole cause, I can assure you."
"Ally—ally," answered Brammel with a knowing leer, attempting a little facetiæ in French.
"I tell you the truth, sir," continued Michael, reddening with anger, "and I warn you in good time to look to yourself, and to your course of conduct. You may bring infamy upon yourself, as you have brought sorrow and anguish upon the head of your aged father; but you shall not with impunity involve and disgrace others who are strangers to you, although unfortunately connected with you by their occupation. Depend upon it, you shall not."
"My aged father, as you call him, didn't stump up all that money, I'm thinking, Mr Allcraft, to bind me apprentice. Perhaps you'd like to kick me next. I am as much a partner in that concern as you are; and if I think proper to take my lady abroad, I am at liberty to do it as well as you. You ain't the first man because you married a rich widow, and because your name begins with A. Certainly not, monsweer."
"In course not, bless-ed. Besides, ducky, your name begins with B—and that's A's next door neighbour."
"You shall take your own course, sir," proceeded Michael; "but it shall be at your own peril, and with your eyes opened. It is my part to give you good counsel. I shall do so. You may act as you then think fit."
"I haven't done any thing to disgrace you, as you call it. It is cursed impudent in you to say so."
"You have. You disgraced yourself and me, and every one associated with you, only last night, when you were pleased to exhibit to the world as a public gamester. (Augustus Theodore changed colour.) You see that your actions are observed; they will become more so. The house shall not lose its good name through your misconduct, sir. Assure yourself of that. There are means to rid ourselves of a nuisance, and to punish severely, if we choose to use them."
"What do you mean by punish?" asked Augustus, unfeignedly alarmed by his partner's threat, and yet not liking to be bullied. "Don't you insult me, sir, in my own room; better not, I can tell you."
"Pshaw, you are an idiot;" exclaimed Michael most contemptuously.
"I'll just thank you to go, sir, and not call my husband names," said Mrs Brammel, rising from her chair. "You are a nasty ill-bred fellow, I'm sure. Talk of high people! I never see sich airs in all my life. If your wife ain't no better behaved, there's a nice pair of you, I don't think. Never mind him, ducky dear—don't you fret. We are as good as them any day. Let's go up stairs, there's a bless-ed. Call the garsoon."
Poor Michael knew not what step to take, what language to employ, in order to effect his purpose. He could not think of quitting Paris, leaving his partner behind him, open to the seductions of the city, and eager to avail himself of every license and indulgence. He had hoped to frighten him into better behaviour, and perhaps he would have succeeded but for the presence of the lady, whose appearance and demeanour, more than any thing else, confounded and annoyed him. He remained silent for a few seconds, and then, in a quieter tone, he asked Brammel when he really thought of getting back to business.
"Why, very soon," replied the youth, himself reduced to civility by Michael's more peaceful aspect; "and I should have been back before now, if I hadn't been bothered about a lot of things. If you hadn't come in blustering, I should have told you so. I shall be all right enough, don't you fear, when I get home. I promised father I should settle, and so I mean—but a wedding trip is a wedding trip, and ladies mustn't be baulked."
"Certainly not," answered Allcraft, grateful for as much as this—"then, when do you think of reaching home?"
"Oh, before you, I'll wager! We haven't got much more to see. We went to the Jordan de Plants yesterday. We are going to the Pantheon to-morrow. We shall soon get done. Make your mind easy."
