The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

  THE INQUEST.

  Melmotte had been found dead on Friday morning, and late on theevening of the same day Madame Melmotte and Marie were removed tolodgings far away from the scene of the tragedy, up at Hampstead.Herr Croll had known of the place, and at Lord Nidderdale's instancehad busied himself in the matter, and had seen that the rooms weremade instantly ready for the widow of his late employer. Nidderdalehimself had assisted them in their departure; and the German, withthe poor woman's maid, with the jewels also, which had been packedaccording to Melmotte's last orders to his wife, followed thecarriage which took the mother and the daughter. They did not starttill nine o'clock in the evening, and Madame Melmotte at the momentwould fain have been allowed to rest one other night in BrutonStreet. But Lord Nidderdale, with one hardly uttered word, made Marieunderstand that the inquest would be held early on the followingmorning, and Marie was imperious with her mother and carried herpoint. So the poor woman was taken away from Mr. Longestaffe'sresidence, and never again saw the grandeur of her own house inGrosvenor Square, which she had not visited since the night on whichshe had helped to entertain the Emperor of China.

  On Saturday morning the inquest was held. There was not the slightestdoubt as to any one of the incidents of the catastrophe. Theservants, the doctor, and the inspector of police between them,learned that he had come home alone, that nobody had been near himduring the night, that he had been found dead, and that he hadundoubtedly been poisoned by prussic acid. It was also proved that hehad been drunk in the House of Commons, a fact to which one of theclerks of the House, very much against his will, was called upon totestify. That he had destroyed himself there was no doubt,--nor wasthere any doubt as to the cause.

  In such cases as this it is for the jury to say whether theunfortunate one who has found his life too hard for endurance,and has rushed away to see whether he could not find an improvedcondition of things elsewhere, has or has not been mad at the moment.Surviving friends are of course anxious for a verdict of insanity, asin that case no further punishment is exacted. The body can be buriedlike any other body, and it can always be said afterwards that thepoor man was mad. Perhaps it would be well that all suicides shouldbe said to have been mad, for certainly the jurymen are not generallyguided in their verdicts by any accurately ascertained facts. If thepoor wretch has, up to his last days, been apparently living a decentlife; if he be not hated, or has not in his last moments made himselfspecially obnoxious to the world at large, then he is declared tohave been mad. Who would be heavy on a poor clergyman who has beenat last driven by horrid doubts to rid himself of a difficulty fromwhich he saw no escape in any other way? Who would not give thebenefit of the doubt to the poor woman whose lover and lord haddeserted her? Who would remit to unhallowed earth the body of theonce beneficent philosopher who has simply thought that he mightas well go now, finding himself powerless to do further good uponearth? Such, and such like, have of course been temporarily insane,though no touch even of strangeness may have marked their conductup to their last known dealings with their fellow-mortals. But leta Melmotte be found dead, with a bottle of prussic acid by hisside--a man who has become horrid to the world because of his lateiniquities, a man who has so well pretended to be rich that he hasbeen able to buy and to sell properties without paying for them, awretch who has made himself odious by his ruin to friends who hadtaken him up as a pillar of strength in regard to wealth, a brutewho had got into the House of Commons by false pretences, and haddisgraced the House by being drunk there,--and, of course, he willnot be saved by a verdict of insanity from the cross roads, orwhatever scornful grave may be allowed to those who have killedthemselves, with their wits about them. Just at this moment there wasa very strong feeling against Melmotte, owing perhaps as much to hishaving tumbled over poor Mr. Beauclerk in the House of Commons asto the stories of the forgeries he had committed, and the virtue ofthe day vindicated itself by declaring him to have been responsiblefor his actions when he took the poison. He was _felo de se_, andtherefore carried away to the cross roads--or elsewhere. But it maybe imagined, I think, that during that night he may have become asmad as any other wretch, have been driven as far beyond his powersof endurance as any other poor creature who ever at any time felthimself constrained to go. He had not been so drunk but that he knewall that happened, and could foresee pretty well what would happen.The summons to attend upon the Lord Mayor had been served upon him.There were some, among them Croll and Mr. Brehgert, who absolutelyknew that he had committed forgery. He had no money for theLongestaffes, and he was well aware what Squercum would do at once.He had assured himself long ago,--he had assured himself indeed notvery long ago,--that he would brave it all like a man. But we noneof us know what load we can bear, and what would break our backs.Melmotte's back had been so utterly crushed that I almost think thathe was mad enough to have justified a verdict of temporary insanity.

  But he was carried away, no one knew whither, and for a week hisname was hateful. But after that, a certain amount of whitewashingtook place, and, in some degree, a restitution of fame was madeto the manes of the departed. In Westminster he was always odious.Westminster, which had adopted him, never forgave him. But in otherdistricts it came to be said of him that he had been more sinnedagainst than sinning; and that, but for the jealousy of the oldstagers in the mercantile world, he would have done very wonderfulthings. Marylebone, which is always merciful, took him up quite withaffection, and would have returned his ghost to Parliament could hisghost have paid for committee rooms. Finsbury delighted for a whileto talk of the great Financier, and even Chelsea thought that he hadbeen done to death by ungenerous tongues. It was, however, Marylebonealone that spoke of a monument.

  Mr. Longestaffe came back to his house, taking formal possession ofit a few days after the verdict. Of course he was alone. There hadbeen no further question of bringing the ladies of the family up totown; and Dolly altogether declined to share with his father thehonour of encountering the dead man's spirit. But there was very muchfor Mr. Longestaffe to do, and very much also for his son. It wasbecoming a question with both of them how far they had been ruined bytheir connection with the horrible man. It was clear that they couldnot get back the title-deeds of the Pickering property without payingthe amount which had been advanced upon them, and it was equallyclear that they could not pay that sum unless they were enabled todo so by funds coming out of the Melmotte estate. Dolly, as he satsmoking upon the stool in Mr. Squercum's office, where he now passeda considerable portion of his time, looked upon himself as a miracleof ill-usage.

  "By George, you know, I shall have to go to law with the governor.There's nothing else for it; is there, Squercum?"

  Squercum suggested that they had better wait till they found whatpickings there might be out of the Melmotte estate. He had madeinquiries too about that, and had been assured that there mustbe property, but property so involved and tied up as to make itimpossible to lay hands upon it suddenly. "They say that the thingsin the square, and the plate, and the carriages and horses, and allthat, ought to fetch between twenty and thirty thousand. There werea lot of jewels, but the women have taken them," said Squercum.

  "By George, they ought to be made to give up everything. Did you everhear of such a thing;--the very house pulled down;--my house; and alldone without a word from me in the matter? I don't suppose such athing was ever known before, since properties were properties." Thenhe uttered sundry threats against the Bideawhiles, in reference towhom he declared his intention of "making it very hot for them."

  It was an annoyance added to the elder Mr. Longestaffe that themanagement of Melmotte's affairs fell at last almost exclusivelyinto the hands of Mr. Brehgert. Now Brehgert, in spite of his manydealings with Melmotte, was an honest man, and, which was perhapsof as much immediate consequence, both an energetic and a patientman. But then he was the man who had wanted to marry GeorgianaLongestaffe, and he was the man to whom Mr. Longestaffe had beenparticularly uncivil. Then there
arose necessities for the presenceof Mr. Brehgert in the house in which Melmotte had lately lived andhad died. The dead man's papers were still there,--deeds, documents,and such letters as he had not chosen to destroy;--and these couldnot be removed quite at once. "Mr. Brehgert must of course haveaccess to my private room, as long as it is necessary,--absolutelynecessary," said Mr. Longestaffe in answer to a message whichwas brought to him; "but he will of course see the expediency ofrelieving me from such intrusion as soon as possible." But he soonfound it preferable to come to terms with the rejected suitor,especially as the man was singularly good-natured and forbearingafter the injuries he had received.

  All minor debts were to be paid at once; an arrangement to which Mr.Longestaffe cordially agreed, as it included a sum of L300 due to himfor the rent of his house in Bruton Street. Then by degrees it becameknown that there would certainly be a dividend of not less than fiftyper cent. payable on debts which could be proved to have been owingby Melmotte, and perhaps of more;--an arrangement which was verycomfortable to Dolly, as it had been already agreed between all theparties interested that the debt due to him should be satisfiedbefore the father took anything. Mr. Longestaffe resolved duringthese weeks that he remained in town that, as regarded himself andhis own family, the house in London should not only not be keptup, but that it should be absolutely sold, with all its belongings,and that the servants at Caversham should be reduced in number,and should cease to wear powder. All this was communicated to LadyPomona in a very long letter, which she was instructed to read to herdaughters. "I have suffered great wrongs," said Mr. Longestaffe, "butI must submit to them, and as I submit so must my wife and children.If our son were different from what he is the sacrifice mightprobably be made lighter. His nature I cannot alter, but from mydaughters I expect cheerful obedience." From what incidents of hispast life he was led to expect cheerfulness at Caversham it might bedifficult to say; but the obedience was there. Georgey was for thetime broken down; Sophia was satisfied with her nuptial prospects,and Lady Pomona had certainly no spirits left for a combat. I thinkthe loss of the hair-powder afflicted her most; but she said not aword even about that.

  But in all this the details necessary for the telling of our storyare anticipated. Mr. Longestaffe had remained in London actually overthe 1st of September, which in Suffolk is the one great festival ofthe year, before the letter was written to which allusion has beenmade. In the meantime he saw much of Mr. Brehgert, and absolutelyformed a kind of friendship for that gentleman, in spite of theabomination of his religion,--so that on one occasion he evencondescended to ask Mr. Brehgert to dine alone with him in BrutonStreet. This, too, was in the early days of the arrangement of theMelmotte affairs, when Mr. Longestaffe's heart had been softenedby that arrangement with reference to the rent. Mr. Brehgert came,and there arose a somewhat singular conversation between the twogentlemen as they sat together over a bottle of Mr. Longestaffe's oldport wine. Hitherto not a word had passed between them respecting theconnection which had once been proposed, since the day on which theyoung lady's father had said so many bitter things to the expectantbridegroom. But in this evening Mr. Brehgert, who was by no means acoward in such matters and whose feelings were not perhaps painfullyfine, spoke his mind in a way that at first startled Mr. Longestaffe.The subject was introduced by a reference which Brehgert had made tohis own affairs. His loss would be, at any rate, double that whichMr. Longestaffe would have to bear;--but he spoke of it in an easyway, as though it did not sit very near his heart. "Of course there'sa difference between me and you," he said. Mr. Longestaffe bowed hishead graciously, as much as to say that there was of course a verywide difference. "In our affairs," continued Brehgert, "we expectgains, and of course look for occasional losses. When a gentleman inyour position sells a property he expects to get the purchase-money."

  "Of course he does, Mr. Brehgert. That's what made it so hard."

  "I can't even yet quite understand how it was with him, or why hetook upon himself to spend such an enormous deal of money here inLondon. His business was quite irregular, but there was very much ofit, and some of it immensely profitable. He took us in completely."

  "I suppose so."

  "It was old Mr. Todd that first took to him;--but I was deceived asmuch as Todd, and then I ventured on a speculation with him outsideof our house. The long and the short of it is that I shall losesomething about sixty thousand pounds."

  "That's a large sum of money."

  "Very large;--so large as to affect my daily mode of life. In mycorrespondence with your daughter, I considered it to be my duty topoint out to her that it would be so. I do not know whether she toldyou."

  This reference to his daughter for the moment altogether upset Mr.Longestaffe. The reference was certainly most indelicate, mostdeserving of censure; but Mr. Longestaffe did not know how topronounce his censure on the spur of the moment, and was moreover atthe present time so very anxious for Brehgert's assistance in thearrangement of his affairs that, so to say, he could not afford toquarrel with the man. But he assumed something more than his normaldignity as he asserted that his daughter had never mentioned thefact.

  "It was so," said Brehgert.

  "No doubt;"--and Mr. Longestaffe assumed a great deal of dignity.

  "Yes; it was so. I had promised your daughter when she was goodenough to listen to the proposition which I made to her, that I wouldmaintain a second house when we should be married."

  "It was impossible," said Mr. Longestaffe,--meaning to assert thatsuch hymeneals were altogether unnatural and out of the question.

  "It would have been quite possible as things were when thatproposition was made. But looking forward to the loss whichI afterwards anticipated from the affairs of our deceased friend,I found it to be prudent to relinquish my intention for the present,and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe."

  "There were other reasons," muttered Mr. Longestaffe, in a suppressedvoice, almost in a whisper,--in a whisper which was intended toconvey a sense of present horror and a desire for future reticence.

  "There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss Longestaffedid me the honour to write to me,--a letter with which I have notthe slightest right to find any fault,--she seemed to me to confineherself almost exclusively to that reason."

  "Why mention this now, Mr. Brehgert; why mention this now? Thesubject is painful."

  "Just because it is not painful to me, Mr. Longestaffe; and becauseI wish that all they who have heard of the matter should know that itis not painful. I think that throughout I behaved like a gentleman."Mr. Longestaffe, in an agony, first shook his head twice, and thenbowed it three times, leaving the Jew to take what answer he couldfrom so dubious an oracle. "I am sure," continued Brehgert, "that Ibehaved like an honest man; and I didn't quite like that the mattershould be passed over as if I was in any way ashamed of myself."

  "Perhaps on so delicate a subject the less said the soonest mended."

  "I've nothing more to say, and I've nothing at all to mend."Finishing the conversation with this little speech Brehgert arose totake his leave, making some promise at the time that he would useall the expedition in his power to complete the arrangement of theMelmotte affairs.

  As soon as he was gone Mr. Longestaffe opened the door and walkedabout the room and blew out long puffs of breath, as though tocleanse himself from the impurities of his late contact. He toldhimself that he could not touch pitch and not be defiled! How vulgarhad the man been, how indelicate, how regardless of all feeling, howlittle grateful for the honour which Mr. Longestaffe had conferredupon him by asking him to dinner! Yes;--yes! A horrid Jew! Were notall Jews necessarily an abomination? Yet Mr. Longestaffe was awarethat in the present crisis of his fortunes he could not afford toquarrel with Mr. Brehgert.