The Mysteries of London Volume 1

by Reynolds, George W. M.

  “At half-past ten o’clock the President of the Council, the Grand Chancellor, and the Intendant of the Ducal Civil List arrived in their carriages at General Grachia’s abode, preceded by one of the royal equipages, which was sent to convey the bride and her ladies-in-waiting to the palace. In a few minutes the President of the Council handed the bride, who was attended by the lady and three lovely daughters of General Grachia, into the ducal carriage. The procession then repaired to the palace, the crowds that lined the streets and occupied the windows and balconies by which it passed, expressing their feelings by cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs. To these demonstrations the bride responded by graceful bows, bestowed in a manner so modest and yet evidently sincere, that the conduct of this exalted lady upon the occasion won all hearts.

  “The procession entered the palace-square; and the Grand Duke, attended by the great officers of state and a brilliant staff, received his intended bride at the foot of the great marble staircase of the western pavilion. The illustrious company then entered the palace. Immediately afterwards the five regiments of household troops, commanded by that noble veteran the Marshal Count of Galeazzo, marched into the square, and formed into three lines along the western side of the palace. At half-past eleven the royal party appeared at the foot of the marble staircase, and entered the numerous carriages in waiting. The bride occupied the carriage which had conveyed her to the palace, and was accompanied by the ladies in attendance upon her. His Serene Highness, attended by the President of the Council and the Grand Chancellor, entered the state carriage. The procession then moved onwards to the Cathedral of Saint Theodosia.

  “This was the signal for the roar of artillery from all points. The citadel, and the ships of war in the roadstead thundered forth the announcement that His Serene Highness had just left the palace. The bells rang blithely from every steeple; the troops presented arms; the military bands played the national hymn; and the procession was welcomed with joyous shouts, the waving of handkerchiefs, and the smiles of beauty. The windows and balconies of the houses overlooking the streets through which it passed, were crowded with elegantly dressed ladies, brilliant with their own beauty, gay with waving plumes, and sparkling with diamonds. The only indication of political feeling which we observed upon the occasion, was on the part of the troops; and they were silent.

  “The bride was naturally the centre of all interest and attraction. Every one was anxious to catch a glimpse of her charming countenance. And certainly this lovely lady never could have appeared more lovely than on the present occasion. She was attired in a dress of the most costly point-lace over white satin. Her veil was of the first-mentioned material, and of the richest description. She was somewhat pale; but a charming serenity was depicted upon her countenance. She bowed frequently, and in the most unpretending and affable manner, as the procession moved along.

  “At length the cavalcade reached the cathedral, where the Archbishop of Montoni, assisted by the Bishops of Trevisano and Collato, was in attendance to perform the solemn ceremony. The sacred edifice was thronged by the élite and fashion of the capital, who had been admitted by tickets. When the royal party had entered the Cathedral, the doors were closed; and the holy ceremony was solemnized. The roar of the artillery was again heard, as the royal party returned to their carriages. This time the Grand Duchess was handed by his Serene Highness into the state carriage. The return to the palace was distinguished by demonstrations of satisfaction on the part of the spectators more enthusiastic, if possible, than those which marked the progress of the cavalcade to the cathedral. A glow of animation was visible upon the countenance of her Serene Highness; and the Grand Duke himself looked remarkably well and cheerful. In a short time the Sovereign conducted his lovely bride into that palace which in future is to be her home.

  “Thus ended a ceremony which, in a political point of view, may probably be attended with important results to the interests of Castelcicala. Should male issue proceed from this marriage, the contentions of rival parties in the state will be at once annihilated. The supporters of the Prince of Castelcicala, who is now an exile in England, are naturally indignant and annoyed at the marriage of his Serene Highness Angelo III. with a lady young enough to encourage hopes that the union may not remain unfruitful. It is even evident that many of the former friends of the exiled Prince pronounced in favour of this marriage, the moment it was contemplated some months previously to its solemnization. This sentiment of approval will account for the entrance of General Grachia, who was notorious for his adhesion to the popular cause espoused by the Prince, into the Ministry. Probably the best friends of their country, aware that it was neither natural nor legal to attempt to control the inclinations and affections of his Serene Highness Angelo III., looked upon this marriage as the best means of securing peace and internal tranquillity to Castelcicala, inasmuch as it gives a prospect of an heir to the ducal throne—an heir whose right and title none could dispute. This is the view we ourselves take of the case, and we therefore hail the event as one of a most auspicious nature in our annals.”

  Scarcely had the Enchantress terminated this narrative of the ceremony which elevated her friend to a ducal throne,—a narrative which she had perused with the liveliest feelings of satisfaction, and the most unadulterated pleasure—when the Earl of Warrington was announced.

  Diana hastened to communicate to him the tidings which she had received; and the nobleman himself read Eliza’s letter, and the extract from the Montoni Gazette, with an interest which showed how gratified he felt in the high and exalted fortunes of the daughter of her whom he had once loved so tenderly.

  “Yes, indeed,” said the earl, when he had terminated the perusal of the two documents, “Eliza Sydney now ranks amongst the queens and reigning princesses of the world: from a humble cottage she has risen to a throne.”

  “And this exalted station she owes to your lordship’s goodness,” remarked Diana.

  “Say to my justice,” observed the earl; “for I may flatter myself that I have behaved with justice to the child of my departed uncle’s daughter. And this remarkable exaltation of Eliza Sydney shows us, Diana, that we should never judge of a person’s character by one fault. Eliza has always been imbued with sentiments of virtue and integrity, although she was led into one error by that villain Stephens; and she has now met with a reward of a price high almost beyond precedent. But, ah!” exclaimed the earl, who was carelessly turning the letter of the Grand Duchess over and over in his hands as he spoke, “this is very singular—very remarkable;”—and he inspected the seal and postmarks of the letter with minute attention.

  “What is the matter?” inquired Diana.

  “Some treachery has been perpetrated here,” answered the earl, still continuing his scrutiny: “this letter had been opened before it was delivered to you.”

  “Opened!” cried Diana.

  “Yes,” said the Earl of Warrington; “here is every proof that the letter has been violated. See—there is the English post-mark of yesterday morning; and over it has been stamped another mark, of this morning’s date. Then contemplate the seal. There are two kinds of wax, the one melted over the other: do you not notice a shade different in their colours?”

  “Certainly,” said Diana: “it is apparent. But who could have done this? Perhaps the Grand Duchess herself; for the ducal arms are imprinted upon the upper layer of wax.”

  “The persons who opened this letter, Diana,” said the earl, in a serious—almost a solemn tone, “are those who know full well how to take the imprint of a seal. But have you not other letters from Castelcicala?”

  “Several,” replied Diana; and she hastily unlocked her writing-desk, where she produced all the correspondence she had received from Eliza Sydney.

  The earl carefully inspected the envelopes of those letters; and his countenance grew more serious as he proceeded with his scrutiny.

  “
Yes,” he exclaimed, after a long pause; “the fact is glaring! Every one of these letters was opened somewhere ere they were delivered to you. The utmost caution has been evidently used in re-sealing and re-stamping them;—nevertheless, there are proofs—undoubted proofs—that the whole of this correspondence has been violated in its transit from the writer to the receiver.”

  “But what object—what motive——”

  “I have long entertained suspicions,” said the Earl of Warrington, interrupting his fair mistress, “that there is one public institution in England which is made the scene of proceedings so vile—so detestable—so base as to cast a stain upon the entire nation. Those suspicions are now confirmed.”

  “What mean you?” inquired Diana: “to which institution do you allude?”

  “To the General Post-office,” replied the Earl of Warrington.

  “The General Post-office!” cried Mrs. Arlington, her countenance expressing the most profound astonishment.

  “The General Post-office,” repeated the earl. “But this is a matter of so serious a nature that I shall not allow it to rest here. You will lend me these letters for a few hours? I am more intimately acquainted with the Home Secretary than with any other of her Majesty’s Ministers; and to him will I now proceed.”

  The earl consigned the letters to his pocket, and, with an air of deep determination, took a temporary leave of Mrs. Arlington.

  Scarcely had the earl left the house, when Mr. Greenwood’s valet, Filippo, was introduced.

  “I have called, madam,” said the Italian, “to inform you that I last night counteracted another of my master’s plots, and saved a young female from the persecution of his addresses.”

  “You have done well, Filippo,” exclaimed Mrs. Arlington. “Does your master suspect you?”

  “Not in the remotest degree, madam. I contrived matters so well, that he believed the young person alluded to had escaped by her own means, and without any assistance, save that of a pair of sheets which enabled her to descend in safety from the window of the room in which she was confined.”

  “I am delighted to hear that your mission to England has been so successful, in thwarting the machinations of that bad man,” observed Mrs. Arlington. “Have you heard any news from Castelcicala?”

  “I have this morning received a Montoni newspaper, announcing the nuptials of the Grand Duke and the Marchioness of Ziani,” replied Filippo.

  “And I also have heard those happy tidings,” said Mrs. Arlington. “But have you any farther information to give me relative to the schemes of your master? I am always pleased to learn that his evil designs experience defeat through your agency.”

  “I have nothing more to say at present, madam,” answered Filippo; “except, indeed,” he added, suddenly recollecting himself, “that I overheard, a few days ago, a warm contention between my master and a certain Sir Rupert Harborough.”

  “Sir Rupert Harborough!” ejaculated Diana, a blush suddenly overspreading her cheeks.

  “Yes, madam. From what I could learn, there was a balance of about a thousand pounds due from Sir Rupert Harborough to Mr. Greenwood, on a bill that purported to be the acceptance of Lord Tremordyn, but which was in reality a forgery committed by Sir Rupert himself.”

  “A forgery!” cried Diana.

  “A forgery, madam. Sir Rupert bitterly reproached Mr. Greenwood with having suggested to him that mode of raising money, whereas Mr. Greenwood appeared to deny with indignation any share in the part of the transaction imputed to him. The matter ended by Mr. Greenwood declaring that if the bill were not paid to-morrow, when it falls due (having, it appears, been renewed several times), Sir Rupert Harborough should be prosecuted for forgery.”

  “And what said Sir Rupert Harborough to that?” inquired Diana.

  “He changed his tone, and began to implore the mercy of Mr. Greenwood: but my master was inexorable; and Sir Rupert left the house with ruin and terror depicted upon his countenance.”

  “This battle you must allow them to fight out between themselves,” said Diana, after a moment’s hesitation. “I know Sir Rupert Harborough—know him full well; but I do not think that he is so thoroughly black-hearted as your master. He was once kind to me—once,” she added, musing to herself rather than addressing the Italian valet: then, suddenly recollecting herself, she said, “However, Filippo—that affair does not regard you.”

  “Very good, madam,” replied the valet; and he then took his departure.

  The moment he was gone, Mrs. Arlington threw herself into her comfortable arm-chair, and became wrapt up in deep thought.

  CHAPTER XCIV.

  THE HOME OFFICE.

  IN a well furnished room, on the first-floor of the Home Office, sate the Secretary of State for that Department.

  The room was spacious and lofty. The walls were hung with the portraits of several eminent statesmen who had, at different times, presided over the internal policy of the country. A round table stood in the middle of the apartment; and at this table, which groaned beneath a mass of papers, was seated the Minister.

  At the feet of this functionary was a wicker basket, into which he threw the greater portion of the letters addressed to him, and over each of which he cast a glance of such rapidity that he must either have been a wonderfully clever man to acquire a notion of the contents of those documents by means of so superficial a survey, or else a very neglectful one to pay so little attention to affairs which were associated with important individual interests or which related to matters of national concern.

  The time-piece upon the mantel struck twelve, when a low knock at the door of the apartment elicited from the Minister an invitation to enter.

  A tall, thin, middle-aged, sallow-faced person, dressed in black, glided noiselessly into the room, bowed obsequiously to the Minister, and took his seat at the round table.

  This was the Minister’s private secretary.

  The secretary immediately mended a pen, arranged his blotting-paper in a business-like fashion before him, spread out his foolscap writing paper, and then glanced towards his master, as much as to say, “I am ready.”

  “Take that pile of correspondence, if you please,” said the Minister, “and run your eye over each letter.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said the Secretary; and he glanced cursorily over the letters alluded to, one after the other, briefly mentioning their respective objects as he proceeded. “This letter, my lord, is from the chaplain of Newgate. It sets forth that there is a man of the name of William Lees at present under sentence of death in that prison; that William Lees, in a fit of unbridled passion, which bordered upon insanity, murdered his wife; that the conduct of the deceased was sufficient to provoke the most temperate individual to a similar deed; that he had no interest in killing her; and that he committed the crime in a moment over which he had no control.”

  “Do you remember anything of the case?” demanded the Home Secretary. “For my part, I have no time to read trials.”

  “Yes, my lord,” replied the Secretary. “This William Lees is a barber; and his wife was of vile and most intemperate habits. He murdered her in a fit of exasperation caused by the discovery that she had pledged every thing moveable in the house, to obtain the means of buying drink.”

  “Oh! a barber—eh?” said the Home Secretary, yawning.

  “Yes, my lord. Your lordship will remember that young Medhurst, who assassinated a school-fellow in a fit of passion, was only condemned to three years’ imprisonment.”

  “Ah! but that was quite a different thing,” exclaimed the Minister. “Medhurst was a gentleman; but this man is only a barber.”[152]

  “True, my lord—very true,” said the Secretary. “I had quite forgotten that.”

  “Make a memorandum, that the law in the case of William Lees must take its course.”


  “Yes, my lord;”—and the Secretary, having endorsed the note upon the letter, referred to another document. “This, my lord, is a petition from a political prisoner confined in a county gaol, and who sets forth that he is compelled to wear the prison dress, associate with felons of the blackest character, and eat the prison allowance. He humbly submits—”

  “He may submit till he is tired,” interrupted the Minister. “Make a memorandum to answer the petition to the effect that her Majesty’s Secretary of State for the Home Department does not see any ground for interfering in the matter.”

  “Very good, my lord. This letter is from a pauper in the —— Union, stating that he has been cruelly assaulted, beaten, and ill-used by the master; that he has applied in vain to the Poor Law Commissioners for redress; and that he now ventures to submit his case to your lordship.”

  “Make a note to answer that the fullest inquiries shall be immediately instituted,” said the Minister.