Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Volume 1

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37

"I have formed projects, but what good have I ever actually done to my
fellow-creatures?" said Forester to himself. With melancholy steps he
walked to examine every thing in the room. "Dr. Campbell sits in this
arm-chair, does not he? And where does Henry sit?" The old woman placed
the chairs for him as they usually were placed. Upon one of the shelves
there was a slate, which, as it had been written upon, the little girl
had put by very carefully; there were some calculations upon the weight
of different gases, and the figures Forester knew to be Henry's: he
looked at every thing that was Henry's with pleasure. "Because I used to
be so rough in my manner to him," said Forester to himself, "I dare say
that he thinks I have no feeling, and I suppose he has forgotten me by
this time: I deserve, indeed, to be forgotten by every body! How could I
leave such friends!" On the other side of the slate poor Forester saw his
own name written several times over, in his friend's hand-writing, and he
read two lines of his own poetry, which he remembered to have repeated to
Henry the day that they walked to Arthur's Seat. Forester felt much
pleasure from this little proof of his friend's affection. "Now won't you
look at our nice rooms?" said the child, who had waited with some
patience till he had done pondering upon the slate.

The little rooms were well arranged, and their neatness was not now as
much lost upon our hero as it would have been some time before. The old
woman and her grand-daughter, with all the pride of gratitude, exhibited
to him several little presents of furniture which they had received from
Dr. Campbell's family. "Mr. Henry gave me this! Miss Flora gave me that!"
was frequently repeated. The little girl opened the door of her own room.
On a clean white deal bracket, which "_Mr. Henry lad put up with his own
hands_," stood the well-known geranium in its painted flower-pot.
Forester saw nothing else in the room, and it was in vain that both the
old woman and her grand-daughter talked to him at once; he heard not a
word that was said to him. The flowers were all gone, and the brown
calyces of the geranium flowers reminded him of the length of time which
had elapsed since he had first seen them. "I am sorry there are no
flowers to offer you," said the little girl, observing Forester's
melancholy look; "but I thought you did not like geraniums; for I
remember when I gave you a fine flower in the watchmaker's shop you
pulled it to pieces, and threw it on the ground." "I should not do so
now," said Forester. The black marks on the painted flower-pot had been
entirely effaced: be turned away, endeavoured to conceal his emotion, and
took leave of the place as soon as the grateful inhabitants would suffer
him to depart. The reflection that he had wasted his time, that he had
never done any good to any human being, that he had lost opportunities of
making both himself and others happy, pressed upon his mind; but his
Stoical pride still resisted the thought of returning to Dr. Campbell's.
"It will be imagined that I yield my opinions from meanness of spirit,"
said he to himself. "Dr. Campbell certainly has no further regard or
esteem for me; neither he nor Henry have troubled themselves about my
fate: they are doing good to more deserving objects; they are intent upon
literary pursuits, and have not time to bestow a thought upon me. And
Flora, I suppose, is as gay as she is good. I alone am unhappy,--a
wanderer,--an outcast,--a useless being."

Forester, whilst he was looking at the geranium, or soon afterwards,
missed his handkerchief; the old woman and her grand-daughter searched
for it all over the house, but in vain: he then thought he must have left
it at the washerwoman's, where he met the little girl; he called to
inquire for it, upon his return to Edinburgh. When he returned to this
woman's house for his handkerchief, he found her sitting upon a low
stool, in her laundry, weeping bitterly; her children stood round her.
Forester inquired into the cause of her distress, and she told him that a
few minutes after he left her, the young gentleman who had been thrown
from his horse into the scavenger's cart was brought into her house,
whilst his servant went home for another suit of clothes for him. "I did
not at first guess that I had ever seen the young gentleman before,"
continued she; "but when the mud was cleared from his face I knew him to
be Mr. Archibald Mackenzie. I am sure I wish I had never seen his face
then or at any time. He was in a very bad humour after his tumble, and he
began again to threaten me about a ten-guinea bank-note, which he and his
servant declare they sent in his waistcoat pocket to be washed: I'm sure
I never saw it. Mr. Henry Campbell quieted him about it for awhile; but
just now he began again with me, and he says he has spoken to a lawyer,
and that he will make me pay the whole note; and he swore at me as if I
had been the worst creature in the world; and, God knows, I work hard for
my children, and never wronged any one in my days!"

Forester, who forgot all his own melancholy reflections as soon as he
could assist any one who was in distress, bade the poor woman dry her
tears, and assured her that she had nothing to fear; for he would
instantly go to Dr. Campbell, and get him to speak to Mackenzie. "If it
is necessary," said he, "I'll pay the money myself." She clasped her
hands joyfully as he spoke, and all her children joined in an exclamation
of delight. "I'll go to Dr. Campbell's this instant," said our hero,
whose pride now yielded to the desire of doing justice to this injured
woman; he totally forgot himself, and thought only of her: "I'll go to
Dr. Campbell's, and I will speak to Mr. Mackenzie immediately."

A SUMMONS

Whilst Forester was walking through the streets, with that energy which
the hope of serving his fellow-creatures always excited in his generous
mind, he even forgot a scheme which he had, in spite of his Stoical pride
and his dread of being thought to give up his opinions from meanness,
resolved in his imagination. He had formed the design of returning to his
friends an altered being in his external appearance: he had ordered a
fashionable suit of clothes, which were now ready. He had laid aside the
dress and manners of a gentleman from the opinion that they were
degrading to the character of a man: as soon as this prejudice had been
conquered, he began to think he might resume them. Many were the pleasing
anticipations in which he indulged himself: the looks of each of his
friends, the generous approving eye of Henry, the benevolent countenance
of Dr. Campbell, the arch smile of Flora, were all painted by his fancy;
and lie invented every circumstance that was likely to happen--every word
that would probably be said by each individual. We are sure that our
readers will give our enthusiastic hero credit for his forgetting
these pleasing reveries--for his forgetting himself, nay, even Flora
Campbell--when humanity and justice called upon him for exertion.

When he found himself in George's-square, within sight of Dr. Campbell's
house, his heart beat violently, and he suddenly stopped to recollect
himself. He had scarcely stood a few instants, when a hard, stout-looking
man came up to him, and asked him if his name were Forester: he started,
and answered, "Yes, sir, what is your business with me?" The stranger
replied by producing a paper, and desiring him to read it. The paper,
which was half printed, half written, began with these words:--"You are
hereby required to appear before me--"

"What is all this?" exclaimed our hero. "It is a summons," replied the
stranger: "I am a constable, and you will please to come with me before
Mr. W----. This is not the first time you have been before him, I am
told." To this last insolent taunt Forester made no reply, but in a firm
tone said that he was conscious of no crime, but that he was ready to
follow the constable, and to appear before Mr. W----, or any other
magistrate, who wished to inquire into his conduct. Though he summoned
all his fortitude, and spoke with composure, he was much astonished by
this proceeding; he could not help reflecting, that an individual in
society who has friends, an established character, and a _home_, is in a
more desirable situation than an unconnected being, who has no one to
answer for his conduct,--no one to rejoice in his success, or to
sympathize in his misfortunes. "Ah, Dr. Campbell! happy father! in the
midst of your own family, you have forgotten your imprudent ward!" said
Forester to himself, while his mind revolted from seeking his friend's
assistance in this discreditable situation. "You do not know how near he
is to you! you do not know that he was just returning to you! you do not
see that he is, at this moment, perhaps, on the brink of disgrace!"

THE BANK-NOTES.

Forester was mistaken in his idea that Dr. Campbell had forgotten him;
but we shall not yet explain further upon this subject; we only throw out
this hint, that our readers may not totally change their good opinion of
the doctor. We must now beg their attention to the continuation of the
history of Archibald Mackenzie's bank-note.

Lady Catherine Mackenzie one day observed that the colours were changed
in one spot on the right-hand pocket of her son's waistcoat. "My dear
Archibald," said she, "what has happened to your smart waistcoat? What is
that terrible spot?" "Really, ma'am, I don't know," said Archibald, with
his usual soft voice and deceitful smile. Henry Campbell observed that it
seemed as if the colours had been discharged by some acid. "Did you wear
that waistcoat, Mr. Mackenzie," said he, "the night the large bottle of
vitriolic acid was broken--the night that poor Forester's cat was killed:
don't you remember?" "Oh, I did not at first recollect; I cannot possibly
remember, indeed,--it is so long ago,--what waistcoat I wore on that
particular night." The extreme embarrassment in Archibald's manner
surprised Henry. "I really don't perceive your _drift_," continued
Mackenzie: "what made you ask the question so earnestly?" He was relieved
when Henry answered, that he only wished to know whether it was probable
that it was stained with vitriolic acid; "because," said he, "I think
_that_ is the pocket in which you said you left your ten-guinea note;
then, perhaps, the note may have been stained." "Perhaps so," replied
Mackenzie dryly. "And if it were, you could identify the note: you have
forgotten the number; but if the note has been stained with vitriolic
acid, we should certainly be able to know it again: the acid would have
changed the colour of the ink." Mackenzie eagerly seized this idea; and
immediately, in pursuance of Henry's advice, went to several of the
principal bankers in Edinburgh, and requested that if a note, stained in
such a manner, should be presented to them, they would stop payment of it
till Mackenzie should examine it. Some time elapsed, and nothing was
heard of the note. Mackenzie gave up all hopes of recovering it; and in
proportion as these hopes diminished, his old desire of making the poor
washerwoman answerable for his loss increased. We have just heard this
woman's account of his behaviour to her, when he came into her house to
be refitted, after his tumble from Sawney into the scavenger's cart. All
his promises to Henry he thought proper to disregard: promises appeared
to him mere matters of convenience; and the idea of "_taking in_" such a
young man as Henry Campbell was to him an excellent joke. He resolved to
keep the five guineas quietly which Henry lent him; and, at the same
time, to frighten this innocent industrious woman into paying him the
value of his bank-note.

Upon Mackenzie's return to Dr. Campbell's, after his fall from Sawney,
the first thing he heard was that his note was found; that it had been
stopped at the bank of Scotland; and that one of the clerks of the bank,
who brought it for his examination, had been some time waiting for his
return from riding. When the note was produced, Henry saw that two or
three of the words which had been written in ink, the name of the person
to whom it was payable, and the date of the month and year, were so pale
as to be scarcely visible; and that there was a round hole through one
corner of the paper. This round hole puzzled Henry, but he had no doubt
that the ink had been thus nearly obliterated by vitriolic acid. He
poured a few drops, diluted with water, upon some printing, and the ink
was quickly turned to nearly the same pale colour as that in Mackenzie's
note. The note was easily traced, as it had not passed through many
hands--our readers will be sorry to hear it--to M. Pasgrave, the
dancing-master. Mackenzie and the clerk went directly to his house, found
him at home, and without much preface, informed him of their business.
The dancing-master trembled from head to foot, and, though innocent,
exhibited all the signs of guilt; he had not the slightest knowledge of
business, and the manner and language of the banker's clerk who
accompanied Mackenzie terrified him beyond measure, because he did not
comprehend one word in ten that he said about checks, entries, and
day-books; and he was nearly a quarter of an hour before he could recover
sufficient presence of mind to consider from whom he received the note.
At length, after going over, in an unintelligible manner, all the puzzled
accounts of monies received and paid which he kept in his head, he
declared that he clearly recollected to have received the ten-guinea note
at Mr. Macpherson's, the tailor; that he went a few weeks ago to settle
his year's account with him; and that in change for a twenty-pound note,
he received that which the banker's clerk now produced. To Mackenzie it
was perfectly indifferent who was found guilty, so that he could recover
his money. "Settle it as you will amongst you," said he, "the money must
be refunded, or I must have you all before a magistrate directly."
Pasgrave, in great perturbation, set out for Mr. Macpherson's, showed him
the note, and reminded him of the day when he paid his account. "If you
received the note from us, sir," said the master-tailor, very calmly, "it
must be entered in our books, for we keep regular accounts." The tailor's
foreman, who knew much more of the affair than his master, appealed, with
assumed security, to the entry in the books. By this entry it appeared
that M. Pasgrave settled his account the 17th of October; that he paid
the balance by a twenty-pound note, and that he received in change a
ten-guinea note on Sir William Forbes's bank. "You see, sir," said the
tailor, "this cannot possibly be Mr. Mackenzie's; for his note is on the
bank of Scotland. Our entry is as full as possible; and I am ready to
produce my books, and to abide by them, in any court of justice in the
world." M. Pasgrave was totally at a loss; he could only repeat, that he
remembered to have received Mackenzie's note from one of the tailor's
men, who brought it to him from an inner room. The foreman boldly
asserted, that he brought the change exactly as his master gave it to
him, and that he knew nothing more of the matter. But, in fact, he knew a
great deal more: he had found the note in the pocket of Mackenzie's
waistcoat, which his servant had left to be mended, after he had
torn it furtively, as has been already related. When his master called
him into the inner room, to give him the change for Pasgrave, he
observed that there was a ten-guinea note wrapped up with some halfpence;
and he thought that it would be a prudent thing to substitute
Mackenzie's note, which he had by him, in the place of this. He
accordingly gave Pasgrave Mackenzie's note, and thrust the note which
he had received from his master into a corner of his trunk, where he
usually kept little windfalls, that came to him by the negligence of
customers--toothpick-cases, loose silver, odd gloves, &c., all which he
knew how to dispose of. But this bank-note was a higher prize than usual,
and he was afraid to pass it till all inquiry had blown over. He knew his
master's regularity; and he thought that if the note was stopped
afterwards at any of the banks, it could never be traced further than to
M. Pasgrave. He was rejoiced to see that this poor man was in such
trepidation of mind that he could not, in the least, use his
understanding; and he saw, with much satisfaction, that his master, who
was a positive man, and proud of the accuracy of his books, was growing
red in the face in their defence. Mackenzie, in the meantime, who had
switched his boots with great impatience during their debate, interfered
at last with, "Come, gentlemen, we can't stand here all day to hear you
give one another the lie. One of you, it's plain, must shell out your
corianders; but, as you can't settle which, we must put you to your oath,
I see." "Mr. W----'s is not far off, and I am ready to go before him
with my books this instant," said the fiery master-tailor. "My books were
never called in question since I was in trade till this instant; and
nobody but a French dancing-master, who understands no more of debtor and
creditor than my goose, would stand out against such an entry as this."
To Mr. W----'s the tailor, his foreman, the dancing-master, the banker's
clerk, and Mackenzie, repaired. Pasgrave turned paler than ever dancer
turned before; and gave himself, his character, and his wife and
children, all up for lost, when he heard that he was to be put upon his
oath. He drew back when Mr. W---- held the book to him, and demanded
whether he would swear to the person from whom he received the note. He
said he could not swear; but to the best of his belief--en conscience--en
honneur--foi d'honnete homme--he was convinced he received it from Mr.
Macpherson's foreman. The foreman, who, from one step in villany, found
himself hurried on to another and another, now scrupled not to declare
that he was ready to take his oath that he delivered the note and change,
just as his master gave it to him, to M. Pasgrave. The magistrate turned
to the paler, conscientious, incapacitated dancing-master, and in a
severe tone said--"Appearances are strangely against you, M. Pasgrave.
Here's a young gentleman has lost a bank-note--it is stopped at the bank
of Scotland--it is traced home to you--you say you got it from Mr.
Macpherson or his foreman--his books are produced--the entry in them is
clearly against you; for it states that the note given to you in change
was one of Sir William Forbes's bank; and this which I hold now in my
hand is of the Bank of Scotland. Please now to tell how this note of
the Bank of Scotland, which has been proved to be the property of Mr.
Mackenzie, came into your possession? From whom did you receive it? or
how did you come by it? I am not surprised that you decline taking an
oath upon this occasion." "Ah, monsieur, ayez pitie de moi!" cried
the innocent, but terrified man, throwing himself upon one knee,
in an attitude, which, on the stage, would have produced a sublime
effect--"Ah, monsieur, ayez pitie de moi! I have no more dan de child no
sense in affairs." Mackenzie interrupted him with a brutal laugh. The
more humane banker's clerk was moved by the simplicity of this avowed
ignorance of business. He went up to the distracted dancer, and said, "It
is not to be expected that every body should understand business as _we_
do, sir: if you are innocent, only give yourself time to recollect; and
though it's unfortunate that you never keep any regular accounts, maybe
we shall be able to make out this affair of the entry. If Mr. W---- will
give me leave to take this pen and ink, and if you will try to recollect
all the persons from whom you have received money lately--" "Ah,
mon Dieu! dat is impossible." Then he began to name the quarterly and
half-yearly payments that he had received from his various pupils.
"Did any of them lately give you a ten-guinea note?" "Ah, oui, je me
rappelle--un jeune monsieur--un certain monsieur, qui ne veut pas
que--qui est la incognito--who I would not betray for the world; for he
has behave wid de most parfaite generosite to me." "But did he give you a
ten-guinea bank-note? that is all we want to know," said the magistrate.
"Mais--oui--yes." "About what time?" said the clerk. It was about the
beginning of October: and this was so near the time when he settled
accounts with Mr. Macpherson, the tailor, that he even himself began to
believe it possible that he had mistaken one note for the other. "When
the young gentleman gave you the note," said the banker's clerk, "surely
you must have looked at it--you must have observed these remarkable
stains?" Pasgrave replied, that he did look at it, he supposed; that he
saw it was a ten-guinea note; it might be stained, it might not be
stained; he could not pretend to be certain about it. He repeated his
assurances that he was ignorant of business, and of every thing in this
world but dancing. "Pour la danse, je m'y connois--pour les affaires, je
n'en sais rien, moi." He, with his usual simplicity, added, that if Mr.
W---- would give him leave, he would go to the young gentleman, his
friend, and learn from him exactly the number of the note which he had
given him; that he was sure he could recollect his own note immediately.
Mackenzie, who thought that this was merely pretence, in order to escape,
told him that he could not be suffered to go out upon his parole. "But,"
said Mr. W----, "tell us the name of this young gentleman who has so much
generosity, and who lives incognito. I don't like gentlemen who live
incognito. I think I had a young man here before me, about two months
ago, charged with breaking a confectioner's windows in a riot, the night
of the great illuminations--Hey? don't I remember some such thing? And
you, M. Pasgrave, if I mistake not, interested yourself mightily about
this young man, and told me and my daughters, sir, that he was a young
gentleman incognito. I begin to see through this affair. Perhaps I this
is the same young gentleman from whom you received the I note. And pray
what value did you give for it?" Pasgrave, whose fear of betraying
Forester now increased his confusion, stammered, and first said the note
was a present, but afterwards added, "I have been giving de young person
lessons in dancing for des six week."

"Well, then, we must summon this young person," said Mr. W----. "Tell us
his name, if you please," said Mackenzie; "I have some suspicion that I
know your gentleman incognito." "You need not trouble him," said the
magistrate; "I know the name already, and I know where the bird is to be
found: his name, if he has not changed it since he was last in this room,
is Forester." "Forester!" exclaimed Mackenzie; "I thought so! I always
thought how he would turn out. I wonder what his friends, the Campbells,
will have to say for him now!"

Mr. W----'s pen stopped. "His friends, the Campbells--humph! So the
Campbells are his friends, are they?" repeated he. "They _were_ his
friends," answered Mackenzie; "but Mr. Forester thought proper, nobody
knows why, to run away from them, some months ago; the only reason I
could ever learn was that he did not like to live amongst gentlemen: and
he has been living ever since incognito, amongst blackguards, and we see
the fruits of it." Mackenzie eagerly handed the summons, as soon as it
was signed, to a constable; and Mr. W---- directed the constable to
Mr. ----'s, the bookseller, adding, "Book-sellers and printers are
dangerous persons." The constable, who had seen Forester the night that
he was confined with Tom Random, knew his face and person; and we have
told our readers that he met Forester in George's-square, going to Dr.
Campbell's, to vindicate the innocence of the poor washerwoman.

The tailor's foreman was not a little alarmed when the summons was sent
for our hero; he dreaded that the voice of truth should be heard, and he
skulked behind the rest of the company. What astonishment did Forester
feel when he entered the room, and saw the group that surrounded the
justice's table!--Archibald Mackenzie, with an insulting sneer on his
lips--Pasgrave, with eyes fixed upon him in despair--Mr. Macpherson, the
tailor, pointing to an entry in his book--his foreman shrinking from
notice--the banker's clerk, with benevolent scepticism in his
countenance--and the justice, with a portentous scowl upon his brow.

"Come forward, Mr. Forester," said the magistrate, as our hero made a
sudden pause of astonishment; "come forward, sir!" Forester advanced with
calm intrepidity. "You are better dressed than when I had the honour of
seeing you here some time ago, sir. Are you a printer still, or a
gentleman? Your dress certainly bespeaks a change in your condition." "I
am sure I should hardly know Mr. Forester again, he has grown such a
beau--comparatively speaking, I mean," said Mackenzie. "But certainly, M.
Pasgrave, you must have made some mistake; I don't know how to believe
my senses! Is this the young gentleman to whom you alluded? do you know
him--?" "Give me leave, Mr. Mackenzie," interrupted the justice: "I shall
examine this young incognito myself. I think I know how to come at the
truth. Will you do me the favour, sir, to inform me whether you recollect
any thing of a ten-guinea bank-note which you gave or paid, some time in
last October, to this gentleman?" pointing to M. Pasgrave. "I do,"
replied Forester, in a distinct, unembarrassed voice, "perfectly well
remember giving M. Pasgrave a ten-guinea bank-note." "Ah, monsieur, je ne
suis pas un ingrat. Ne pensez pas que--" "Oh, M. Pasgrave," interrupted
Mackenzie, "this is no time for compliments and fine speeches: for God's
sake, let us get to the bottom of this affair without further ceremony!"
"Sir," said the banker's clerk, "all we want to know is the number of
your note, and the firm of the house. Was your note one of Sir William
Forbes's, or of the Bank of Scotland?" Forester was silent. "I do not
recollect," said he, after some pause. "You don't recollect, sir," said
the justice, "is something like an evasive answer. You must have a vast
number of bank-notes then, we must presume, if you cannot recollect to
what bank your ten-guinea note belonged." Forester did not understand
this logic; but he simply repeated his assertion. "Pray, sir," said the
tailor, who could no longer restrain his impatience--"Pray, sir," said
the magistrate, in a solemn manner, "be silent. I shall find out the
truth. So, Mr. Forester, you cannot possibly recollect the house of your
note? You will tell us next, I dare say, that you cannot possibly
recollect how you came by it." "Sir," said Forester, "if it is necessary,
I can readily tell you how I came by it." "It is very necessary, sir, for
your own credit." "I received it from Dr. Campbell." "Dr. Campbell!"
repeated the magistrate, changing his tone. "And I have some idea that
the doctor gave me a list of the numbers of that and four other notes,
with which I fortunately have not parted." "Some idea means nothing in a
court of justice, sir; if you have any such paper, you can do us the
favour to produce it." Now this list was locked up in the trunk, of which
the key was dropped into the brewing-vat. Richardson, the clerk, had
returned the key to him; but, such is the force of habit, he had not
cured himself of the foolish trick of twirling it upon his thumb; and
about two months ago he dropped it in one of his walks to Arthur's Seat.
He long searched for it amongst the rocky fragments, but at last gave it
up--he little imagined of how much consequence it might be to him. Dr.
Campbell had once refused to break open the lock, and he felt very
unwilling to apply to him in his present circumstances. However, he wrote
a few lines to Henry Campbell; but, as soon as he had written them, his
pride again revolted from the thoughts of supplicating the assistance of
his friend in such a disgraceful situation. "If you don't choose to
write," said the officious malevolence of Archibald, "I can, however,
speak; I'll desire Dr. Campbell to open your trunk, and search for the
paper." He left the room before Forester could make any further
opposition.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37