Complete Works of F Marion Crawford

by F. Marion Crawford

  Augustus proposed his plan in January. Before the end of April the castle was bought, repaired and luxuriously furnished, the beds were made, the French chef had ordered the kitchen fires to be lighted and had established a donkey post over the mountains to the market in Castellamare; the great halls and drawing-rooms looked thoroughly habitable, and everything was ready for the new-comers, who were to arrive in the evening. Augustus Chard congratulated himself with the reflection that his whim had been gratified at a trifling cost of ten thousand pounds, and he subsequently discovered that a ducal title had been thrown into the bargain. He immediately determined to bestow the title upon the captain of his yacht, for the sake of being able to order a real Duke to “go about”; but Lady Brenda, whose mind took a practical turn, suggested that as times and governments change rather quickly nowadays it would be as well to keep the parchment and see what came of it.

  The party arrived at the appointed hour and proceeded to survey their new dwelling. Augustus Chard had come over from Naples several times and had personally directed most of the repairs and improvements. The result did not fall short of his intentions. The huge, irregular mass of building had been made perfectly habitable. The tiled roofs shone red above the rugged stones of the towers and walls; great polished doors moved noiselessly in the old marble doorways; plate-glass panes filled the high Moorish windows; pleasantly coloured glazed tiles cunningly arranged in patterns upon the floor had taken the place of the worn-out bricks; soft stuffs and tapestries covered the walls and rich Oriental carpets were spread under the tables and before the deep easy chairs; massive furniture was disposed comfortably in the hall and drawing-room, while each of the ladies found a boudoir fitted up for her especial use, furnished in the colours she loved best; Vienna cane lounges stood upon the tented terraces and hammocks were hung in shady corners overlooking the sea; the newest books lay by vases of roses upon low reading-tables, shades of the latest patterns covered the still unlighted lamps, writing-paper marked “Castello del Gaudio, Amalfi” was ready in the boxes in every room, and Lady Brenda remarked with pleasure that there was ink in the inkstands. Bimbam, Chard’s butler, a Swiss, watched his mistress’s face with anxiety as Gwendoline passed from room to room, examining everything with the critical eye of a practised housekeeper. For Gwendoline believed that the bigger a house was, the more keeping it needed, and Bimbam stood in awe of her rebuke; but if Augustus ventured to make a remark concerning anything outside of his own rooms, Bimbam smiled a soft and pitying smile, as much as to say that amiable lunatics like Augustus should mind their own business.

  The great hall of the house opened upon a wide terrace, by a row of tall windows which stood open on the sunny April afternoon when the party arrived. Earthenware pots of flowers were arranged along the parapet, pots of roses and of carnations — not common pinks, but great southern carnations — and long troughs of pansies and heliotrope; while from the garden below the vines grew up, wild and uncultivated, putting out their first spring leaves. Behind the castle, and on both sides of it, and below the garden, the vast grey rocks lay like an angry sea of stone petrified in the very moment when the rough crests would have broken into a flinty spray. Far below, the isles of the Sirens lay like green leaves floating on the sapphire water.

  The whole party came out together upon this terrace, followed at a respectful distance by Bimbam.

  “It is too beautiful for anything!” exclaimed Diana, gazing at the sea. Like all imaginative people she loved the water.

  “A dream!” cried Lady Brenda, who was not given to dreaming.

  Gwendoline laid her hand upon her husband’s arm and stood silently surveying the scene, her face pale with pleasure. Augustus stared out into the distance.

  “What are you thinking of?” asked Gwendoline at last.

  “I was wondering how the experiment would succeed.”

  “It will succeed admirably,” said Lady Brenda. “We are admirable people — this is an admirable place—”

  “Then let us fall to admiring each other and our surroundings,” answered Augustus. “But I was thinking of the experiment.”

  “Oh — your spirits and things!” exclaimed his mother-in-law. “Really, Augustus, I can’t understand how a man of your intelligence—”

  “Had we not better sit down?” suggested Augustus, smiling.

  “No,” said Lady Brenda; “I am sure we have not seen everything yet. Come along — let us explore.”

  Bimbam whispered to Augustus that he had taken the liberty of improvising a Swiss dairy, as it was hard to get any milk but that of goats.

  “Oh! I want to see my dairy!” exclaimed Gwendoline, and away they went.

  Lady Brenda sent for writing materials and began a letter, while Diana entered the great hall and tried the piano. Lady Brenda had a vast correspondence and she wrote well, which was the principal reason why she was able to live in the country. People were so real to her, that to write to them was almost as good as to talk to them. She did not care so much for cows as she did for people. It does not follow that Gwendoline preferred cows to human society; but when she began to see a place, she liked to see it all, whereas her mother contented herself with proposing further explorations and then sat down to describe what she had already seen.

  On this occasion Lady Brenda sent for writing materials and established herself upon the wide terrace. She wrote a very interesting epistle in which she explained to her sister that Augustus had come to the Castello del Gaudio to try things with ghosts and mathematical electricity and so forth, but that the place was charming and Gwendoline looked so well in jerseys — and a real mediaeval castle with a drawbridge somewhere and a Swiss dairy not far off —— the great hall was hung with Rhodes tapestry which Augustus had got from a Jew in Asia Minor —— so rare, they sold little bits of it in London — and by the bye, where was Lord Mavourneen going to? Augustus meant to ask him during the summer, when he was tired of the ghosts — Diana was certainly a most delightful girl — just Gwendoline’s age, but so different — life was a dream of summer flowers — if only Lord Brenda could be with her — but then perhaps he would not enjoy it so much, though of course he would like it immensely, dear fellow. She did not quite know whether Brenda were in St. Petersburg or in India, but of course he would write.

  Meanwhile Diana played soft dreamy harmonies upon the wonderful piano, taking delight in the idea that in all the ages before no such sounds had floated out upon the evening air to stir the echoes of the jagged rocks, unless indeed the tale of the Sirens were true, a matter concerning which Diana held opinions of her own. She secretly hoped that her brother’s experiments might be successful, and she felt sure that if success were possible at all it must be possible in the wild region where he had at last determined to make his great trial of a new theory. While she played, her mind wandered away to strange regions, and she fancied she heard wonderful sounds answering the ringing chords of the piano. Just then Lady Brenda came in and looked briskly round the great room.

  “Really, Augustus has very good taste. Don’t you think so?” she said, appealing to Diana.

  “Such a piano!” exclaimed Diana, rising. “I wonder where he got it!”

  “You can get most things for money, my dear,” said Lady Brenda. “Augustus will probably get his ghosts, too!”

  “For money?”

  “Oh, I don’t know I why should not ghosts be bribed, like other people?”

  “If money were of any use, where they live.”

  “It must be awfully funny to be in a place where money is of no use,” said Lady Brenda.

  “Awfully funny — indeed!” repeated Diana with a laugh. “I hope they see the humorous aspect of their situation, poor dears.”

  “Do you suppose there is really anything in it, my dear? For my part I think it is all ridiculous, you know.”

  “Ghosts? well—” Diana hesitated. “There is no particular reason for thinking them ridiculous, after all.”

  “Oh, of
course they are ridiculous,” said Lady Brenda with an air of conviction. “Can anything be more absurd than to suppose that one’s great-uncle can get up out of his grave and walk into a room without opening the doors and rap underneath a table without your seeing him? Just think!”

  “Yes — if you confine ghosts to spirit rapping and table turning. I quite agree with you. But there are—”

  “Oh, I know just what you are going to say about mathematics and electric things — of course I don’t know anything about them and so I never pretend to argue, but I am perfectly sure it is all quite nonsensical. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have some tea?”

  “Delightful,” answered Diana, looking dreamily out of the great window and letting her hands run carelessly over the keys of the piano. She had more than once reflected on the impossibility of ever convincing any one who first stated a firm belief and then refused to argue about it on the ground of ignorance. She also reflected that Lady Brenda was a charming woman and that it made not the smallest difference whether she believed in ghosts or not.

  Just then Gwendoline entered the room, followed by Augustus. The latter spoke in a low voice to the solemn Bimbam, who retired. In a few minutes tea and Turkish coffee were brought in.

  “Mamma, the cows are too beautiful,” said Gwendoline. “It was such a brilliant idea to build the little dairy up there among the rocks. Now tell us what you have been talking about.”

  “By all means,” echoed Augustus, examining the details of the room and walking slowly from one point to another with his hands in his pockets. “By all means, tell us what you have been talking about.”

  “I have been writing a letter—” began Lady Brenda.

  “The novelty of your occupation is only surpassed by—” interrupted Augustus. But Lady Brenda would not let him finish the sentence.

  “I know — please don’t make fun of me. It’s dreadful, I know I am always writing letters.”

  “We talked a little about ghosts,” said Diana. “Augustus, if you really have any ghosts, do have nice ones.”

  “Yes,” said Gwendoline. “Have people who would be pleasant at dinner — people who can talk. It would be so delightful to be able to ask ever so many questions of historical people. I could make such a beautiful dinner party. Whom would you have, mamma?”

  “I, well — I think if I might choose — perhaps I would have Francis the First. Whom would you have, Gwendoline?”

  “Dear me! — Oh — I think I would choose a musician — Chopin, for instance. Let us all say. Diana, whom would you like?”

  “Lots of people,” answered the young girl. “Heine for one — then Pascal, and Plato and — let me see, I think Pico della Mirandola would be nice and I should be curious to see Giordano Bruno—”

  “A conceited, blaspheming fool!” exclaimed Augustus, speaking for the first time. “I would be quite satisfied with Julius Cæsar.”

  “Do you think he would be quite sympathetic?” asked Lady Brenda, entering into the discussion as though the invitation were a reality.

  “Oh yes!” exclaimed Gwendoline. “He was a great dandy, and immensely refined. Besides, Augustus would not be happy unless he were asked. Julius Cæsar is his ideal.”

  “Won’t you have anybody besides Chopin, Gwendoline?” asked Augustus. “You might have George Sand, for instance.”

  “Oh no!” protested Gwendoline. “They would sit in corners and talk to each other all the evening.”

  “Why is not it possible!” exclaimed Diana regretfully.

  “Perhaps it is,” answered Augustus, quietly.

  “Augustus, I think you are quite mad!” cried Lady Brenda, laughing.

  “My dear mother-in-law, you are probably right. It is quite certain that I am mad, if you are sane, but if I am sane you are undoubtedly mad. Happily it is often people of very opposite dispositions who best agree. In either case, mad or sane, you are the most charming woman I know and I hope you will not change at all.”

  Lady Brenda blushed faintly, as she always did when anybody made her a compliment, and she kissed the tips of her fingers and waved them towards Augustus across the tea-table with a pretty gesture.

  “Oh, Augustus! How can you say mamma is more charming than I am?” said Gwendoline with a laugh.

  “Or than I am?” echoed Diana, between two bites of a huge strawberry.

  “With such women as you, my dears,” answered Augustus, imperturbably, “the most charming woman is always the one who is speaking at the moment.”

  “We might all speak at once,” suggested Lady Brenda, “then we should all be equally charming.”

  “No man could stand that,” answered Augustus.

  “You would take refuge in the fourth dimension, then, I suppose?” asked Diana.

  “Like the bishop who said he travelled in the third class because there was no fourth!” suggested Gwendoline. “Let us return to the question of the dinner party. Shall I write invitations to the people we mentioned? Could we not perform an incantation and burn the notes upon the sacrificial altar?”

  “We could,” said Augustus. “It would be a comparatively cheap form of amusement. But in the course of time, if Julius Cæsar and the rest never came, the novelty of asking them would wear off.”

  “If they only knew what agreeable people we are, I am sure they would come,” answered Gwendoline.

  “I will see about it,” said Augustus. “It will soon be time to dress for dinner.”

  CHAPTER II.

  AUGUSTUS CHARD BELIEVED that science had reached a point at which it was necessary to try entirely new experiments and to try them on a vast scale. It seemed to him that the problem of greatest present importance was of a practical kind — the production of electricity in a serviceable form and at a cost which should at once make it the universal source of heat, light and motive power for the whole world. After a careful examination he had come to the conclusion that the most convenient form in which the fluid could be produced was the voltaic, which also was unfortunately the most expensive. He accordingly set to work to ascertain whether any method existed, and could be guessed at, whereby the earth herself could be made to produce under the existing circumstances of nature a current of voltaic electricity. He argued that if such a current could be produced, and if the quality should prove satisfactory, the quantity as compared with the needs of mankind must be unlimited.

  Acting upon his usual plan of beginning from first principles, he reflected that in the earliest experiments voltaic currents were produced by immersing two metals in a fluid. He naturally discarded all the chemical theories of electricity as worthless, basing his reasoning entirely upon fact and not fearing to give trial to any system which suggested itself, regardless of all existing prejudices about probability. Grotthuss’s hypothesis had no charms for him. The problem was, not how to explain the chemical action of currents, but how to produce currents on an enormous scale at a trifling cost. It was necessary to consult nature and not books. If he succeeded in producing a vast quantity of electricity he would find leisure to discourse upon its chemical effects. The idea that the earth must be considered to be a gigantic reservoir of electricity presented itself to his mind under a practical aspect; and it immediately struck him that in the shape of land and water the earth contained the two elements of a stupendous battery; acted upon at all points by a uniform fluid agent, the atmosphere. The idea was simple and grand. It would be sufficient to immerse one conductor in the sea and to attach another to the land. If anything were to result from the attempt it must result immediately. No one had ever thought of it before and the credit of the discovery would belong wholly to him, Augustus Chard. If it failed there was no one but Lady Brenda to say “I told you so.” Augustus accordingly set to work to convert the earth into a battery, beginning with a preliminary experiment, to the success of which he attached considerable importance and for which he had caused special instruments to be constructed. Even if this previous attempt should fail Augustus
would not be discouraged. A great mathematician has said that “a law would be theoretically universal if it were true of all cases whatever; and that is what we do not know of any law at all.” All previous experiments on such a scale might fail and yet the final experiment, which nobody had ever tried, might be brilliantly successful.

  Augustus therefore proceeded to construct an artificial world. This is a very simple operation, and it is unfortunate that the construction of the real article should be accompanied with such difficulty. It would be well worth while for the European Powers to construct two little supplementary worlds, one for Russians to live in and one for Turks. It has indeed been found theoretically possible to make much out of nothing at all, but hitherto all efforts to materialise the cosmic ether into human habitations and other practical conveniences have signally failed. Augustus made his world in a glass bowl with earth and pebbles and salt water, and tested its nature with a tangent compass of his own invention, very delicately constructed. His expectations were raised to the highest pitch and he hesitated to make the connection of the wire in the mercury cup. At that moment Lady Brenda entered the room, dressed in an exquisite spring costume, with a little straw hat upon her head and a wonderful parasol in her hand.

  “Come and look at my ghost,” said Augustus, smiling.

  “It does not look at all like my idea of a ghost,” answered Lady Brenda.

  “Neither is your idea of a ghost at all like mine,” returned her son-in-law. “Look here, I am going to consult a kind of Egyptian oracle which I have reconstructed from original manuscripts rescued by Dr. Mumienschinder from a tomb in Thebes. The peculiarity of this oracle is that it tells the truth sometimes. It is a sort of teraphim—”

  “Oh, I know. They eat teraphims in America. Brenda dotes on them.”

  “I said teraphim — you mean terrapin,” said Augustus, gravel}”.