 | CHAPTER IV. Arthur Mervyn, or, Memoirs of the year 1793 |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
We arrived at a brick wall through which we
passed by a gate into an extensive court or yard. The darkness
would allow me to see nothing but outlines. Compared
with the pigmy dimensions of my father's wooden hovel, the
buildings before me were of gigantic loftiness. The horses
were here far more magnificently accommodated than I had
been. By a large door we entered an elevated hall. “Stay
here,” said he, “just while I fetch a light.”
He returned, bearing a candle, before I had time to ponder
on my present situation.
We now ascended a stair-case, covered with painted canvas.
No one whose inexperience is less than mine, can imagine
to himself the impressions made upon me by surrounding
objects. The height to which this stair ascended, its
dimensions, and its ornaments, appeared to me a combination
of all that was pompous and superb.
We stopped not till we had reached the third story. Here
my companion unlocked and led the way into a chamber.
“This,” said he, “is my room: Permit me to welcome you
into it.”
I had no time to examine this room before, by some accident,
the candle was extinguished. “Curse upon my carelessness,”
said he. “I must go down again and light the
candle. I will return in a twinkling. Meanwhile you may
I afterwards recollected, locked the door behind him.
I was not indisposed to follow his advice, but my curiosity
would first be gratified by a survey of the room. Its height
and spaciousness were imperfectly discernible by star-light,
and by gleams from a street lamp. The floor was covered
with a carpet, the walls with brilliant hangings; the bed
and windows were shrouded by curtains of a rich texture
and glossy hues. Hitherto I had merely read of these things.
I knew them to be the decorations of opulence, and yet as I
viewed them, and remembered where and what I was on the
same hour the preceding day, I could scarcely believe myself
awake or that my senses were not beguiled by some spell.
“Where,” faid I, “will this adventure terminate. I rise
on the morrow with the dawn and speed into the country.
When this night is remembered, how like a vision will it
appear! If I tell the tale by a kitchen fire, my veracity will
be disputed. I shall be ranked with the story tellers of Shirauz
and Bagdad.”
Though busied in these reflections, I was not inattentive
to the progress of time. Methought my companion was remarkably
dilatory. He went merely to re-light his candle,
but certainly he might, during this time, have performed the
operation ten times over. Some unforeseen accident might
occasion his delay.
Another interval passed and no tokens of his coming. I
began now to grow uneasy. I was unable to account for his
detention. Was not some treachery designed? I went to
the door and found that it was locked. This heightened my
suspicions. I was alone, a stranger, in an upper room of
the house. Should my conductor have disappeared, by design
or by accident, and some one of the family should find
me here, what would be the consequence? Should I not be
arrested as a thief and conveyed to prison? My transition
from the street to this chamber would not be more rapid than
my passage hence to a gaol.
These ideas struck me with panick. I revolved them anew,
but they only acquired greater plausibility. No doubt I had
been the victim of malicious artifice. Inclination, however,
conjured up opposite sentiments and my fears began to subside.
What motive, I asked, could induce an human being
to inflict wanton injury? I could not account for his delay,
but how numberless were the contingencies, that might occasion
it?
I was somewhat comforted by these reflections, but the
consolation they afforded was short-lived. I was listening
with the utmost eagerness to catch the sound of a foot, when
a noise was indeed heard, but totally unlike a step. It was
human breath struggling, as it were, for passage. On the
first effort of attention it appeared like a groan. Whence it
arofe I could not tell. He that uttered it was near; perhaps
in the room.
Presently the same noise was again heard, and now I perceived
that it came from the bed. It was accompanied with
a motion like some one changing his posture. What I at
first conceived to be a groan, appeared now to be nothing
more than the expiration of a sleeping man. What should
I infer from this incident? My companion did not apprise me
that the apartment was inhabited. Was his imposture a
jestful or a wicked one?
There was no need to deliberate. There were no means
of concealment or escape. The person would sometime awaken
and detect me. The interval would only be fraught with
agony and it was wise to shorten it. Should I not withdraw
the curtain, awake the person, and encounter at once all the
consequences of my situation? I glided softly to the bed,
when the thought occurred, May not the sleeper be a female?
I cannot describe the mixture of dread and of shame which
glowed in my veins. The light in which such a visitant
would be probably regarded by a woman's fears, the precipitate
alarms that might be given, the injury which I might
unknowingly inflict or undeservedly suffer, threw my thoughts
reputation or furnish fuel to jealousy.
Still, though it were a female, would not least injury
be done by gently interrupting her slumber? But the question
of sex still remained to be decided. For this end I once
more approached the bed and drew aside the silk. The sleeper
was a babe. This I discovered by the glimmer of a street
lamp.
Part of my solicitudes were now removed. It was plain
that this chamber belonged to a nurse or a mother. She had
not yet come to bed. Perhaps it was a married pair and their
approach might be momently expected. I pictured to myself
their entrance and my own detection. I could imagine no
consequence that was not disastrous and horrible, and from
which I would not, at any price, escape. I again examined
the door, and found that exit by this avenue was impossible.
There were other doors in this room. Any practicable expedient
in this extremity was to be pursued. One of these was
bolted. I unfastened it and found a considerable space within.
Should I immure myself in this closet? I saw no benefit that
would finally result from it. I discovered that there was a
bolt on the inside which would somewhat contribute to security.
This being drawn no one could enter without breaking
the door.
I had scarcely paused when the long expected sound or
footsteps were heard in the entry. Was it my companion or
a stranger? If it were the latter, I had not yet mustered courage
sufficient to meet him. I cannot applaud the magnanimity
of my proceeding, but no one can expect intrepid or
judicious measures from one in my circumstances. I stepped
into the closet and closed the door. Some one immediately
after, unlocked the chamber door. He was unattended with
a light, The footsteps, as they moved along the carpet, could
scarcely be heard.
I waited impatiently for some token by which I might be
governed. I put my ear to the key-hole, and at length heard
above a whisper, “Smiling cherub! safe and sound, I see.
Would to God my experiment may succeed and that thou
mayest find a mother where I have found a wife!” There he
stopped. He appeared to kiss the babe and presently retiring
locked the door after him.
These words were capable of no consistent meaning. They
served, at least, to assure me that I had been treacherously
dealt with. This chamber, it was manifest, did not belong
to my companion. I put up prayers to my deity that he
would deliver me from these toils. What a condition was
mine? Immersed in palpable darkness! shut up in this unknown
recess! lurking like a robber!
My meditations were disturbed by new sounds. The door
was unlocked, more than one person entered the apartment,
and light streamed through the key-hole. I looked; but
the aperture was too small and the figures passed too quickly
to permit me the sight of them. I bent my ear and this imparted
some more authentic information.
The man, as I judged by the voice, was the same who
had just departed. Rustling of silk denoted his companion
to be female. Some words being uttered by the man, in too
low a key to be overheard, the lady burst into a passion of
tears. He strove to comfort her by soothing tones and tender
appellations. “How can it be helped,” said he. “It is
time to resume your courage. Your duty to yourself and to
me requires you to subdue this unreasonable grief.”
He spoke frequently in this strain, but all he said seemed
to have little influence in pacifying the lady. At length, however,
her sobs began to lesson in vehemence and frequency.
He exhorted her to seek for some repose. Apparently she prepared
to comply, and conversation was, for a few minutes,
intermitted.
I could not but advert to the possibility that some occasion
to examine the closet in which I was immured, might occur.
I knew not in what manner to demean myself if this should
from view I had lost the privilege of an upright deportment.
Yet the thought of spending the night in this spot was
not to be endured.
Gradually I began to view the project of bursting from
the closet, and trusting to the energy of truth and of an artless
tale, with more complacency. More than once my hand
was placed upon the bolt, but withdrawn by a sudden faltering
of resolution. When one attempt failed, I recurred once
more to such reflections as were adapted to renew my purpose.
I preconcerted the address which I should use. I resolved
to be perfectly explicit: To withhold no particular of my
adventures from the moment of my arrival. My description
must necessarily suit some person within their knowledge.
All I should want was liberty to depart; but if this
were not allowed, I might at least hope to escape any ill
treatment, and to be confronted with my betrayer. In that
case I did not fear to make him the attester of my innocence.
Influenced by these considerations, I once more touched
the lock. At that moment the lady shrieked, and exclaimed
“Good God! What is here?” An interesting conversation
ensued. The object that excited her astonishment was the
child. I collected from what passed that the discovery was
wholly unexpected by her. Her husband acted as if equally
unaware of this event. He joined in all her exclamations of
wonder and all her wild conjectures. When these were
somewhat exhausted he artfully insinuated the propriety of
bestowing care upon the little foundling. I now found that
her grief had been occasioned by the recent loss of her own
offspring. She was, for some time, averse to her husband's
proposal, but at length was persuaded to take the babe to her
bosom and give it nourishment.
This incident had diverted my mind from its favourite
project, and filled me with speculations on the nature of the
scene. One explication was obvious, that the husband was
to procure for it the maternal protection of his wife. It
would soon claim from her all the fondness which she entertained
for her own progeny. No suspicion probably had yet,
or would hereafter, occur with regard to its true parent. If
her character be distinguished by the usual attributes of women,
the knowledge of this truth may convert her love into
hatred. I reflected with amazement on the slightness of that
thread by which human passions are led from their true direction.
With no less amazement did I remark the complexity
of incidents by which I had been impowered to communicate
to her this truth. How baseless are the structures of falsehood,
which we build in opposition to the system of eternal
nature. If I should escape undetected from this recess, it will
be true that I never saw the face of either of these persons,
and yet I am acquainted with the most secret transaction of
their lives.
My own situation was now more critical than before. The
lights were extinguished and the parties had sought repose.
To issue from the closet now would be eminently dangerous.
My councils were again at a stand and my designs frustrated.
Meanwhile the persons did not drop their discourse, and I
thought myself justified in listening. Many facts of the most
secret and momentous nature were alluded to. Some allusions
were unintelligible. To others I was able to affix a plausible
meaning, and some were palpable enough. Every word
that was uttered on that occasion is indelibly imprinted on
my memory. Perhaps the singularity of my circumstances
and my previous ignorance of what was passing in the world,
contributed to render me a greedy listener. Most that was said
I shall overlook, but one part of the conversation it will be
necessary to repeat.
A large company had assembled that evening at their
house. They criticised the character and manners of several.
At last the husband said, “What think you of the Nabob?
Especially when he talked about riches? How artfully he
him. I cannot for my part account for that scheme of his. I
half suspect that his wealth flows from a bad source, since he
is so studious of concealing it.”
“Perhaps, after all,” said the lady, “you are mistaken as
to his wealth.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed the other. “Mark how he lives.
Have I not seen his bank account. His deposits, since he has
been here, amount to not less than half a million.”
“Heaven grant that it be so,” said the lady with a sigh.
“I shall think with less aversion of your scheme. If poor
Tom's fortune be made, and he not the worse, or but little
the worse on that account, I shall think it on the whole best.”
“That,” replied he, “is what reconciles me to the scheme.
To him thirty thousand are nothing.”
“But will he not suspect you of some hand in it?”
“How can he? Will I not appear to lose as well as himself?
Tom is my brother, but who can be supposed to answer
for a brother's integrity: but he cannot suspect either of us.
Nothing less than a miracle can bring our plot to light. Besides,
this man is not what he ought to be. He will, some
time or other, come out to be a grand impostor. He makes
money by other arts than bargain and sale. He has found
his way, by some means, to the Portuguese treasury.”
Here the conversation took a new direction, and after
some time, the silence of sleep ensued.
Who, thought I, is this nabob who counts his dollars by
half millions, and on whom, it seems as if some fraud was
intended to be practised. Amidst their waryness and subtlety
how little are they aware that their conversation has been
overheard! By means as inscrutable as those which conducted
me hither, I may hereafter be enabled to profit by this detection
of a plot. But, meanwhile, what was I to do? How was
I to effect my escape from this perilous asylum?
After much reflection it occurred to me that to gain the
street without exciting their notice was not utterly impossible.
period. What impediments were there between me and
liberty which I could not remove, and remove with so much
caution as to escape notice. Motion and sound inevitably
go together, but every sound is not attended to. The doors
of the closet and the chamber did not creak upon their hinges.
The latter might be locked. This I was able to ascertain
only by experiment. If it were so, yet the key was
probably in the lock and might be used without much noise.
I waited till their slow and hoarser inspirations shewed
them to be both asleep. Just then, on changing my position,
my head struck against some things which depended from
the ceiling of the closet. They were implements of some
kind which rattled against each other in consequence of this
unlucky blow. I was fearful lest this noise should alarm, as
the closet was little distant from the bed. The breathing of
one instantly ceased, and a motion was made as if the head
were lifted from the pillow. This motion, which was made
by the husband, awaked his companion, who exclaimed,
“What is the matter?”
“Something, I believe,” replied he, “in the closet. If
I was not dreaming, I heard the pistols strike against each
other as if some one was taking them down.”
This intimation was well suited to alarm the lady. She
besought him to ascertain the matter. This to my utter dismay
he at first consented to do, but presently observed that
probably his ears had misinformed him. It was hardly possible
that the sound proceeded from them. It might be a rat,
or his own fancy might have fashioned it.—It is not easy to
describe my trepidations while this conference was holding.
I saw how easily their slumber was disturbed. The obstacles
to my escape were less surmountable than I had imagined.
In a little time all was again still. I waited till the usual
tokens of sleep were distinguishable. I once more resumed
any attempt. The bolt was withdrawn with all possible slowness
but I could by no means prevent all sound. My state
divided between the bolt and the condition of the sleepers.
The difficulty lay in giving that degree of force which
was barely sufficient. Perhaps not less than fifteen minutes
were consumed in this operation. At last it was happily effected
and the door was cautiously opened.
Emerging as I did from utter darkness, the light admitted
into three windows, produced, to my eyes, a considerable
illumination. Objects which, on my first entrance into this
apartment, were invisible, were now clearly discerned. The
bed was shrowded by curtains, yet I shrunk back into my
covert, fearful of being seen. To facilitate my escape I put
off my shoes. My mind was so full of objects of more urgent
moment that the propriety of taking them along with
me never occurred. I left them in the closet.
I now glided across the apartment to the door. I was not
a little discouraged by observing that the key was wanting.
My whole hope depended on the omission to lock it. In my
haste to ascertain this point, I made some noise which again
roused one of the sleepers. He started and cried “Who is
there?”
I now regarded my case as desperate and detection as inevitable.
My apprehensions, rather than my caution, kept
me mute. I shrunk to the wall, and waited in a kind of agony
for the moment that should decide my fate.
The lady was again roused. In answer to her inquiries,
her husband said that some one he believed was at the door,
but there was no danger of their entering, for he had locked
it and the key was in his pocket.
My courage was completely annihilated by this piece of
intelligence. My resources were now at an end. I could only
remain in this spot, till the morning light, which could be at
no great distance, should discover me. My inexperience disabled
me from estimating all the perils of my situation. Perhaps
I had no more than temporary inconveniences to dread.
My intention was innocent, and I had been betrayed into my
of others.
I was deeply impressed with the ambiguousness which
would necessarily rest upon my motives, and the scrutiny to
which they would be subjected. I shuddered at the bare possibility
of being ranked with thieves. These reflections again
gave edge to my ingenuity in search of the means of escape.
I had carefully attended to the circumstances of their entrance.
Possibly the act of locking had been unnoticed; but,
was it not likewise possible that this person had been mistaken?
The key was gone. Would this have been the case if
the door were unlocked?
My fears, rather than my hopes, impelled me to make the
experiment. I drew back the latch and, to my unspeakable
joy, the door opened.
I passed through and explored my way to the stair-case. I
descended till I reached the bottom. I could not recollect with
accuracy the position of the door leading into the court, but
by carefully feeling along the wall with my hands, I at
length discovered it. It was fastened by several bolts and a
lock. The bolts were easily withdrawn, but the key was removed.
I knew not where it was deposited. I though: I had
reached the thresho'd of liberty, but here was an impediment
that threatened to be insurmountable.
But if doors could not be passed, windows might be unbarred.
I remembered that my companion had gone into a door
on the left hand, in search of a light. I searched for this
door. Fortunately it was fastened only by a bolt. It admitted
me into a room which I carefully explored till I reached
a window. I will not dwell on my efforts to unbar this entrance.
Suffice it to say that, after much exertion and frequent
mistakes, I at length found my way into the yard, and
thence passed into the court.
| CHAPTER IV. Arthur Mervyn, or, Memoirs of the year 1793 | |