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Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

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




"I have answered, I hope, both distinctly and respectfully, all
the questions that you have asked me," said Forester, turning to Mr.
W----. "I hope you will no longer keep me in the dark. Of what am I
suspected?" "I will tell you, sir," replied the deliberate, unfeeling
magistrate; "you are suspected of having, I will not say _stolen_,
but you are more than suspected of having come unfairly by a certain
ten-guinea bank-note, which the young gentleman who has just left the
room lost a few months ago." Forester, as this speech was slowly
pronounced, sat down, folded his arms, and appeared totally
insensible--quite unconscious that he was in the presence of a
magistrate, or that any human being was observing him. "Ah, mon cher
monsieur, pardonnez!" cried Pasgrave, bursting into tears. "N'en parlons
plus," added he, turning to the magistrate. "Je payerai tout ce qu'il
faut. I will pay de ten guineas. I will satisfy every body. I cannot
never forgive myself if I bring him into any disgrace." "Disgrace!"
exclaimed Forester, starting up, and repeating the word in a tone which
made every person in the room, not excepting the phlegmatic magistrate,
start and look up to him, with a sudden feeling of inferiority. His
ardent eye spoke the language of his soul. No words could express his
emotion. The master-tailor dropped his day-book. "Constable--call a
constable!" cried the justice. "Sir, you forget in whose presence you
are--you think, I suppose, that your friends, the Campbells, will bear
you out. Sir, I would have you to know that all the Campbells in Scotland
can't bail you for a felony. Sir, philosophers should know these things.
If you cannot clear yourself to my entire satisfaction, Mr. Forester, I
shall commit you--in one word--to gaol: yes--look as you please, sir--to
gaol. And if the doctor and his son, and all his family, come up to bail
you, I shall, _meo periculo_, refuse their bail. The law, sir, is no
respecter of persons. So none of your rhodomontades, young gentleman, in
my presence; but step into this closet, if you please; and, I advise you,
bring your mind into a becoming temperament, whilst I go to dinner.
Gentlemen," continued he to Macpherson and Pasgrave, "you'll be so good
to wait here in this apartment. Constable, look to your prisoner,"
pointing to the door of the closet. "John, let me know when Dr. Campbell
arrives; and tell them to send up dinner directly," said the justice to
his butler.

Whilst he dines, we must leave the tailor complaining that he was wasting
precious time; the foreman in the panic of guilt; and the good-natured
dancing-master half distracted betwixt his fears and his ignorance. He
looked from time to time through the key-hole of the closet in which
Forester was confined, and exclaimed, "Grand Dieu! comme il a l'air noble
a cet instant! Ah! lui coupable! he go to gaol! it is impossible!"

"We shall see how that will be presently," said the foreman, who had
hitherto preserved absolute silence. "I abide by my books," said the
master-tailor; "and I wish Dr. Campbell would make haste. _I have lost a
day!_"

In spite of the tailor's imperial exclamation, he was obliged to wait
some time longer. When Mackenzie arrived at Dr. Campbell's, Henry was not
at home: he was gone to the house at the back of the meadows, to prepare
some chemical experiments for the next day's lecture. Mackenzie, however,
found Dr. Campbell at home in his study; and, in a soft hypocritical
voice, lamented that he was obliged to communicate some disagreeable
circumstances relating to young Mr. Forester. "You do not, I presume,
know where that unfortunate, misguided youth is at present--at this
moment, I mean." "I do not know where he is at this moment," said Dr.
Campbell, calmly; "but I know where he has been for some time--at
Mr. ----'s, the bookseller. I have had my eye upon him ever since he
left this house. I have traced him from place to place. Though I have
said little about him, Mr. Mackenzie, I have a great regard for my
unfortunate ward." "I am sorry for it, sir," said Mackenzie: "I fear I
must wound your feelings the more deeply." "What is the matter? pray
speak at once," cried Dr. Campbell, who now forgot all his usual
calmness. "Where is Forester?" "He is at this moment before Mr. W----,
the magistrate, sir, charged with--but, I own, I cannot believe him
guilty--" "Charged with what? For God's sake, speak plainly, Mr.
Mackenzie!" "Then, in one word, sir, my lost bank-note is traced home to
Mr. Forester. M. Pasgrave says he received it from him." "Surely, sir,"
said Dr. Campbell, with indignation, "you would not insinuate that
Forester has stolen your bank-note?" "I insinuate nothing, doctor," said
Archibald; "but, I fear, the thing is too plainly proved. My bank-note
has certain stains, by which it has been identified. All that I know is,
that Mr. W---- says he can take no bail; and that he must commit Mr.
Forester to gaol, unless he can clear himself. He says, that a few days
before he left your house, you paid him his quarterly allowance of fifty
guineas, in five ten-guinea bank-notes." "He says true--I did so," said
Dr. Campbell eagerly. "And he says that you gave them to him wrapped in a
piece of paper, on which the numbers of the notes were written." "I
remember it distinctly: I desired him to take care of that paper." "He is
not famous for taking care, you know, sir, of any thing. He says, he
believes he threw it into his trunk; but he has lost the key of the
trunk, I understand." "No matter; we can break it open this instant, and
search for the paper," cried Dr. Campbell, who was now extremely alarmed
for his ward. Mackenzie stood by without offering any assistance, whilst
Dr. Campbell broke open the trunk, and searched it with the greatest
anxiety. It was in terrible disorder. The coat and waistcoat which
Forester wore at the ball were crammed in at the top; and underneath
appeared unfolded linen, books, boots, maps, shoes, cravats, fossils, and
heaps of little rumpled bits of paper, in which the fossils had once been
contained. Dr. Campbell opened every one of these. The paper he wanted
was not amongst them. He took every thing out of the box, shook and
searched all the pockets of the coat, in which Forester used, before his
reformation, to keep hoards of strange papers. No list of bank-notes
appeared. At length, Dr. Campbell espied the white corner of a paper-mark
in a volume of Goldsmith's Animated Nature, He pulled out this mark, and
to his great joy, he found it to be the very paper he wanted. "So it's
found, is it?" said Mackenzie, disappointed; whilst Dr. Campbell seized
his hat, left every thing upon the floor, and was very near locking the
door of the room upon Mackenzie. "Don't lock me in here, doctor--I am
going back with you to Mr. W----'s" said Arcibald. "Won't you stay?
dinner's going up--Mr. W---- was going this dinner when I came away."
Without listening to him, Dr. Campbell just let him out, locked the door,
and hurried away to his poor ward.

"I have let things go to far," said he to himself. "As long as
Forester's credit was not in danger, as long as he was unknown, it was
very well; but now his character is at stake; he may pay too dear for his
experience."

"Dr. Campbell," said the pompous magistrate, who hated philosophers,
rising from table as Dr. Campbell entered, "do not speak to me of bailing
this ward of yours--it is impossible, sir; I know my duty." "I am not
come to offer bail for my ward," said Dr. Campbell, "but to prove his
innocence." "We must hope the best," said Mr. W----; and, having forced
the doctor to pledge him in a bumper of port, "Now I am ready to proceed
again to the examination of all parties concerned."

Dr. Campbell was now shown into the room where Mr. Macpherson, his
foreman and Pasgrave, were waiting. "Ah, monsieur, Dieu merci, vous
voila!" exclaimed Pasgrave. "You may go," said Mr. W---- to the
constable: "but wait below stairs." He unlocked the closet-door.
Forester, at the sight of Dr. Campbell, covered his face with his hands;
but, an instant afterwards, advanced with intrepidity. "You cannot, I am
sure, believe me to be guilty of any meanness, Dr. Campbell," said he.
"Imprudent I have been, and I suffer for my folly." "Guilty!" cried Dr.
Campbell; "no: I could almost as soon suspect my own son of such an
action. But my belief is nothing to the purpose. We must _prove_ your
innocence." "Ah, oui, monsieur--and mine too; for I am innocent, I can
assure you," cried M. Pasgrave.

"The whole business, sir," said the banker's clerk, who had, by this
time, returned to hear the termination of the affair--"the whole thing
can be settled in two minutes, by a gentleman like you, who understands
business. Mr. Forester cannot recollect the number or the firm of a
ten-guinea bank-note which he gave to M. Pasgrave. M. Pasgrave cannot
recollect either; and he is in doubt whether he received this stained
note, which Mr. Mackenzie lost, from Mr. Forester or from Mr. Macpherson,
the tailor." "There can be no doubt about me," said Macpherson. "Dr.
Campbell, will you be so good to look at the entry? I acknowledge, I gave
M. Pasgrave a ten-guinea note; but here's the number of it, 177, of
Forbes's bank. Mr. Mackenzie's note, you see, is of the bank of Scotland;
and the stains upon it are so remarkable, that, if I had ever seen it
before, I should certainly remember it. I'll take my oath I never saw it
before." "Sir," said Forester eagerly to Dr. Campbell, "you gave me five
ten-guinea notes: here are four of them in this pocket-book; the fifth I
gave to M. Pasgrave. Can you tell me the number of that note?" "I can,"
said Dr. Campbell, producing the paper which he found in Goldsmith's
Animated Nature. "I had the precaution to write down the numbers of all
your notes myself: here they are." Forester opened his pocket-book: his
four remaining notes were compared, and perfectly agreed with the numbers
in the list. The fifth, the number of the note which he gave to Pasgrave,
was 1260, of the New Bank. "One of your ten-guinea notes," said Dr.
Campbell to Pasgrave, "you paid into the bank of Scotland; and this
gentleman," pointing to the banker's clerk, "stopped it this morning. Now
you have had another ten-guinea note; what became of that?" Pasgrave, who
understood Dr. Campbell's plain method of questioning him, answered
immediately, "I did give the other to my hair-dresser, not long ago,
who lives in ---- street." Dr. Campbell instantly went himself to the
hair-dresser, found that he had the note still in his possession, brought
him to Mr. W----'s, and, when the note was examined, it was found to be
1260 of the New Bank, which exactly corresponded with the entry in the
list of notes which Dr. Campbell had produced.

"Then all is right," said Dr. Campbell. "Ah, oui!--Ah, non!" exclaimed
Pasgrave. "What will become of me?" "Compose yourself, my good sir," said
Dr. Campbell. "You had but two ten-guinea notes, you are sure of that?"
"But two--but two: I will swear but two." "You are now certain which of
these two notes you had from my ward. The other, you say, you received
from ----" "From dis gentleman, I will swear," cried Pasgrave, pulling
the tailor's foreman forwards. "I can swear now I am in no embarras: I am
sure I did get de oder note from dis gentleman." The master-tailor was
astonished to see all the pallid marks of guilt in his foreman's
countenance. "Did you change the note that I gave you in the inner room?"
said Mr. Macpherson. The foreman, as soon as he could command his voice,
denied the charge; and persisted in it that he gave the note and change,
which his master wrapped up, exactly as it was, to the dancing-master.
Dr. Campbell proposed that the tailor's shop, and the foreman's room,
should be searched. Mr. W---- sent proper people to Mr. Macpherson's; and
whilst they are searching his house, we may inquire what has become of
Henry Campbell.



THE CATASTROPHE.


Henry Campbell, the last time we heard of him, was at the house at the
back of the meadows. When he went into the large room to his chemical
experiments, the little girl, who was proud of having arranged it neatly,
ran on before him, and showed him the places where all his things were
put. "The writing and the figures are not rubbed off your slate--there it
is, sir," said she, pointing to a high shelf. "But whose handkerchief is
this?" said Henry, taking up a handkerchief which was under the slate.
"Gracious! that must be the good gentleman's handkerchief; he missed it
just as he was going out of the house. He thought he had left it at the
washerwoman's, where I met him; and he's gone back to look for it there.
I'll run with it to the washerwoman's,--maybe she knows where to find
him." "But you have not told me who he is. Whom do you mean by the good
gentleman?" "The good gentleman, sir, that I saw with you at the
watchmaker's, the day that you helped me to carry the great geranium out
of my grandmother's room." "Do you mean that Forester has been here?"
exclaimed Henry. "I never heard his name, sir; but I mean that the
gentleman has been here, whom I call the good gentleman, because it was
he who went with me to my cross schoolmistress, to try to persuade her to
use me well. She beat me, to be sure, after he was gone, for what he had
said; but I'm not the less obliged to him, because he did every thing as
he thought for the best. And so I'll run with his handkerchief to the
woman's, who will give it safe to him."

Henry recollected his promise to his father. It required all his power
over himself to forbear questioning the child, and endeavouring to find
out something more of his friend. He determined to mention the
circumstance to his father, and to Flora, as soon as he returned home. He
was always impatient to tell any thing to his sister that interested
himself or his friends; for Flora's gaiety was not of that unfeeling sort
which seeks merely for amusement, and which, unmixed with sympathy for
others, may divert in a companion, but disgusts in a friend.

Whilst Henry was reflecting upon the manner in which he might most
expeditiously arrange his chemical experiments and return home, the
little girl came running back, with a face of great distress. As soon as
she had breath to speak, she told Henry that when she went to the
washerwoman's with the handkerchief, she was told a sad piece of news;
that Mr. Forester had been taken up, and carried before Mr. W----, the
magistrate. "We don't know what he has done: I'm sure I don't think he
can have done any thing wrong." Henry no sooner heard these words than he
left all his retorts, rushed out of the house, hurried home to his
father, and learned from Flora, with great surprise, that his father had
already been sent for, and was gone to Mr. W----'s. She did not know the
circumstances that Mackenzie related to Dr. Campbell, but she told him
that her father seemed much alarmed; that she met him crossing the hall,
and that he could not stop to speak to her. Henry proceeded directly to
Mr. W----'s, and he arrived there just as the people returned from the
search of the tailor's house. His opinion of Forester's innocence was so
strong, that when he entered the room, he instantly walked up to him, and
embraced him, with a species of frank confidence in his manner which, to
Forester, was more expressive than any thing that he could have said. The
whole affair was quickly explained to him; and the people who had been
sent to Mr. Macpherson's now came up-stairs to Mr. W----, and produced a
ten-guinea bank-note, which was found in the foreman's box. Upon
examination, this note was discovered to be the very note which Mr.
Macpherson sent with the change to Pasgrave. It was No. 177, of Sir
William Forbes's bank, as mentioned in the circumstantial entry in the
day-book. The joy of the poor dancing-master at this complete proof of
his innocence was rapturous and voluble. Secure of the sympathy of
Forester, Henry, and Dr. Campbell, he looked at them by turns, whilst he
congratulated himself upon this "_eclaircissement_," and assured the
banker's clerk that he would in future keep accounts. We are impatient to
get rid of the guilty foreman: he stood a horrible image of despair. He
was committed to gaol; and was carried away by the constables, without
being pitied by any person present. Every body, however, was shocked.
Mackenzie broke silence first, by exclaiming, "Well, now, I presume, Mr.
W----, I may take possession of my bank-note again." He took up all the
notes which lay upon the table to search amongst them for his own. "Mine,
you know, is stained," said Archibald. "But it is very singular," said
Henry Campbell, who was looking over his shoulder, "that here are two
stained notes. That which was found in the foreman's box is stained in
one corner, exactly as yours was stained, Mr. Mackenzie." Macpherson, the
tailor, now stooped to examine it. "Is this No. 177, the note that I sent
in change, by my foreman, to M. Pasgrave? I'll take my oath it was not
stained in that manner when I took it out of my desk. It was a new and
quite clean note: it must have been stained since." "And it must have
been stained with vitriolic acid," continued Henry. "Ay, there's cunning
for you," cried Archibald. "The foreman, I suppose, stained it, that it
might not be known again." "Have you any vitriolic acid in your house?"
pursued Henry, addressing himself to the master-tailor. "Not I, indeed,
sir; we have nothing to do with such things. They'd be very dangerous to
us." "Pray," said Henry, "will you give me leave, Mr. W----, to ask the
person who searched the foreman's box a few questions?" "Certainly sir,"
said Mr. W----; "though, I protest, I cannot see what you are driving
at." Henry inquired what was found in the box with the bank-note. The man
who searched it enumerated a variety of things. "None of these," said
Henry, "could have stained the note: are you sure that there was nothing
else?" "Nothing in the world; nothing but an old glass stopper, I
believe." "I wish I could see that stopper," said Henry. "This note was
rolled round it," said the man: "but I threw it into the box again. I'll
go and fetch it, sir, if you have any curiosity to see it." "Curiosity to
see an old stopper? No!" cried Archibald Mackenzie, with a forced laugh;
"what good would that do us? We have been kept here long enough. I move
that we go home to our dinners." But Dr. Campbell, who saw that Henry had
some particular reason for wishing to see this glass stopper, seconded
his son. The man went for it; and when he brought it into the room, Henry
Campbell looked at it very carefully, and then decidedly said, fixing his
eyes upon Archibald Mackenzie, who in vain struggled to keep his
countenance from changing. "This glass stopper, Mr. Mackenzie, is the
stopper of my father's vitriolic acid bottle, that was broken the night
the cat was killed. This stopper has stained both the bank-notes. And it
must have been in the pocket of your waistcoat." "My pocket!" interrupted
Archibald: "how should it come into my pocket? It never was in _my_
pocket, sir." Henry pointed to the stain on his waistcoat. He wore the
very waistcoat in question. "Sir," said Archibald, "I don't know what you
mean by pointing at my waistcoat. It is stained, it is true, and very
likely by vitriolic acid; but, as I have been so often in the doctor's
laboratory, when your chemical experiments have been going on, is it not
very natural to suppose that a drop of one of the acids might have fallen
on my clothes? I have seen your waistcoats stained, I am sure. Really,
Mr. Campbell, you are unfriendly, uncharitable; your partiality for Mr.
Forester should not blind you, surely. I know you want to exculpate him
from having any hand in the death of that cat: but that should not, my
dear sir, make you forget what is due to justice. You should not, permit
me to say, endeavour to criminate an innocent person." "This is all very
fine," said Henry; "and you may prove your innocence to me at once, Mr.
Mackenzie, if you think proper, by showing that the waistcoat was really,
as you assert, stained by a drop of vitriolic acid falling upon the
outside of it. Will you show us the inside of the pocket?" Mackenzie, who
was now in too much confusion to know distinctly what Henry meant to
prove, turned the pocket inside out, and repeated, "That stopper was
never in my pocket, I'll swear." "Don't swear to that, for God's sake,"
said Henry. "Consider what you are saying. You see that there is a hole
burnt in this pocket. Now if a drop of acid had fallen, as you said, upon
the outside of the waistcoat, it must have been more burnt on the outside
than on the inside." "I don't know--I can't pretend to be positive,"
said Archibald; "but what signifies all this rout about the stopper?"
"It signifies a great deal to me," said Dr. Campbell, turning away from
Mackenzie with contempt, and addressing himself to his ward, who met his
approving eye with proud delight--"it signifies a great deal to me.
Forgive me, Mr. Forester, for having doubted your word for a moment."
Forester held his guardian's hand, without being able for some instants
to reply. "You are coming home with us, Forester?" said Henry. "No,"
said Dr. Campbell, smiling; "you must not ask him to come home with us
to-night. We have a little dance at our house to-night. Lady Catherine
Mackenzie wished to take leave of her Edinburgh friends. She goes from us
to-morrow. We must not expect to see Forester at a ball; but to-morrow
morning--" "I see," said Forester, smiling, "you have no faith in my
reformation. Well, I have affairs to settle with my master, the printer.
I must go home, and take leave of him. He has been a good master to me;
and I must go and finish my task of correcting. Adieu." He abruptly left
Dr. Campbell and Henry, and went to the bookseller's, to inform him of
all that had passed, and to thank him for his kindness. "You will be at a
loss to-morrow for a corrector of the press," said he. "I am determined
you shall not suffer for my vagaries. Send home the proof-sheets of the
work in hand to me, at Dr. Campbell's, and I will return them to you
punctually corrected. Employ me till you have provided yourself with
another, I will not say a better hand. I do not imagine," continued
Forester, "that I can pay you for your kindness to me by presents;
indeed, I know you are in such circumstances that you disdain money. But
I hope you will accept of a small mark of my regard--a complete font of
new types."

Whilst Forester's generous heart expanded with joy at the thoughts of
returning once more to his friends, we are sorry to leave him, to finish
the history of Archibald Mackenzie. He sneaked home after Dr. Campbell
and Henry, whose silent contempt he well understood. Dr. Campbell related
all that had passed to Lady Catherine. Her ladyship showed herself more
apprehensive that her son's meanness should be made known to the world,
than indignation or sorrow for his conduct. Archibald, whilst he was
dressing for the ball, began to revolve in his mind certain words which
his mother had said to him _about his having received the lie direct from
Henry Campbell--his not having the spirit of a gentleman._ "She certainly
meant," said he to himself, "that I ought to fight him. It's the only way
I can come off, as he spoke so plainly before Mr. W----, and all those
people: the banker's clerk too was by; and, as my mother says, it will be
talked of. I'll get Sir Philip Gosling to go with my message. I think
I've heard Dr. Campbell say, he disapproved of duels. Perhaps Henry won't
fight. Has Sir Philip Gosling sent to say, whether he would be with us at
the ball to-night?" said Archibald to the servant who was dressing his
hair. "No, sir," replied the servant: "Sir Philip's man has not been
here: but Major O'Shannon has been here twice since you were away, to see
you. He said he had some message to deliver from Sir Philip to you." "To
me! message to me!" repeated Archibald, turning pale. Archibald knew
Major O'Shannon, who had of late insinuated himself into Sir Philip
Gosling's favour, had a particular dislike to him, and had successfully
bullied him upon one or two occasions. Archibald had that civil
cowardice, which made him excessively afraid of the opinion of the world;
and Major O'Shannon, a gamester, who was jealous of his influence over
the rich dupe, Sir Philip, determined to entangle him in a quarrel. The
major knocked at the door a third time before Archibald was dressed; and
when he was told that he was dressing, and could not see any one, he sent
up the following note:--

"SIR,

"The last time I met you at the livery-stables, in company with my
friend, Sir Philip Gosling, I had the honour of telling you my mind, in
terms sufficiently explicit, concerning a transaction, which cannot have
escaped your memory. My friend, Sir Philip, declares you never hinted
that the pony was spavined. I don't pretend to be so good a jockey as
you, but you'll excuse my again saying, I can't consider your conduct as
that of a gentleman. Sir Philip is of my mind; and if you resent my
interference, I am ready to give you the satisfaction of a gentleman. If
not, you will do well to leave Edinburgh along with your mother to-morrow
morning; for Edinburgh is no place for cowards, as long as one has the
honour of living in it, who calls himself (by courtesy)

If you think books have dumbed down …
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Kerouac's On the Road manuscript travels to the Midlands

John Crace swallows a very thirsty volume

Documentary to lay bare 'Narnia Code'

He wrote it in just three weeks, furiously and loudly tap-tap-tapping away on his typewriter on 12ft long reels of paper so that he did not have to stop, just writing writing writing fuelled only, he said, by coffee…

It became one of the most important American novels of the last century and yesterday the original manuscript - a scroll taped together with eight reels of paper - of Jack Kerouac's On The Road was unfurled in the UK for the first time.
Fifty years after the novel which more or less defined the Beat generation, was published in Britain, the Barber Institute in Birmingham is showing what is now one of the most valuable literary manuscripts in existence as part of its exhibition Jack Kerouac: Back On the Road.

The exhibition's curator Professor Dick Ellis said there had been a lot of competition to get the scroll which is itself spending a lot of time on the move, having toured a string of US cities and hitting the road to Rome once this show is over. "We're very excited indeed," he said. "This is an iconic manuscript. It is a record of the huge effort Kerouac put into composing it. It was 20 days of typing 6,500 words a day, flat out, in spontaneous composition. He wanted to record things with the most possible accuracy using the spontaneous technique. His typewriter became a compositional instrument.

"Truman Capote once accused Kerouac of typing rather than writing, I would say he was learning the ability of using the typewriter like a jazz instrument, like a saxophone. He also had an incredible memory. And he had great speed at typing, he became a lightning typist. He came to be able to use a typewriter in a way that has not been seen before or since. Kerouac said he wrote fast because the road was fast."

About 22 of the scroll's 120ft will be on display in a specially built cabinet and while visitors will have to slightly tilt their heads, Ellis believes they will get a much deeper knowledge of what Kerouac was all about. It comes to Birmingham courtesy of Jim Irsay, owner of the Indianapolis Colts, who bought it for $2.4m (£1.6m) in 2001 before agreeing to a tour. Of course, in the published novel, there are paragraph breaks but in the scroll, there are none. Kerouac did not have the time. The exhibition runs until January 28.

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