“I persisted in my fearful course; and, as if I were not already surrounded by elements of ruin sufficiently powerful, I became a member of Crockford’s. In saying that, I mention sufficient to convince your Highness that I rushed wilfully and blindly on to the goal of utter destruction. My fortune disappeared rapidly; and when it was gone, I sold my commission, and then applied to Goldshig, who lent me money upon the most exorbitant terms. But let me pass over the incidents of three years. At the expiration of that time how was I situated? What was the condition of my family? Painful as these reminiscences are, I will not conceal the facts from your Highness. In a chamber at the house in Russell Square Mrs. Vandeleur lay upon her deathbed. Julia—pale, with haggard eyes, sunken cheeks, and appearance so care-worn that it would have moved even the heart of an overseer or master of a work-house,—Julia hung, weeping bitterly, over the pillow. In the nursery, a servant was endeavouring to pacify the children, who were crying because they knew that their ‘dear grandmamma’ was very, very ill. In the kitchen an ill-looking fellow was dozing by the fire:—he was a bailiff’s man in possession—for there was an execution levied on my property. And I—where was I? Gone to solicit Goldshig the Jew for a few days’ grace, the sale having been advertised to take place next morning! Thus was this once happy home now invaded by misery and distress:—thus was an amiable wife plunged into sorrows so keen, woes so bitter, afflictions so appalling, that it was no wonder if her charming form had wasted away, and the frightful aspect of the demon of despair had chased the roses from her cheeks;—and thus, too, was an excellent lady dying prematurely with that worst of the Destroyer’s plagues—a broken heart!
“It was about five o’clock in the evening when I returned, after vainly waiting six hours to see Goldshig, who was not at home. Wearied and anxious, I left a note for him at his office, and retraced my miserable way to Russell Square. On my entrance Julia hastened to meet me, for she had heard my knock. ‘What tidings?’ she inquired in a rapid tone.—I informed her of what I had done. Her countenance became even more wretched than it was before.—‘Oh! that they will not molest my dear, dear mother on her death-bed!’ she shrieked, clasping her hands franticly together. I turned aside, and shed bitter—burning tears. The children now came rushing into the room. Alas! poor innocents, they knew not of the ruin that was hanging over their heads; and when they took my hands—kissed them—and said, ‘Oh! we are so glad that dear papa has come home!’—I thought my heart would break. My God! my God! had all the misery which weighed upon our house been caused by me?
“I approached my wife—I took her in my arms—I murmured, as I kissed her pale cheek, ‘Can you—can you forgive me?’—‘Oh! have I ever reproached you, William?’ she asked, endeavouring to smile in gratitude for my caresses.—‘No: never, never, poor dear afflicted creature!’ I exclaimed wildly; ‘and it is your resignation, your goodness which makes my conduct so black, so very black!’—She wound her arms about my neck, and said in her soft gentle tone, ‘Will you not come and see my mother?’—I started back in horror. She comprehended me, and observed, ‘Do not fear reproaches: but come with me, I conjure you!’—I took the hand which she extended to me: holy God! how thin that hand had become—how skeleton-like had grown the taper fingers. Though it was my own wife’s hand I shuddered at the touch. She seemed to read my thoughts; for she pressed my hand affectionately, and then wiped away her tears. A deep sob escaped her bosom—and she hurried me towards the sick-room. The children followed us without opposition on their mother’s part; and in a few moments the mournful group approached the bed of death. I had not seen Mrs. Vandeleur for nearly a week; and I was shocked—oh! painfully shocked at the alteration which had taken place in her. From a fine, stout, handsome, healthy woman, she had wasted away to a mere shadow:—Julia was a shadow herself—but her mother seemed to be the shade of a shadow! Merciful heavens! and all this had been wrought by me!
“Kneeling by the side of the bed, I took the transparent hand that the dying woman tendered me, and pressed it to my lips. My brain seemed to whirl; and all became confusion and bewilderment around me. I remember a low and plaintive voice assuring me that heaven would yet forgive me the broken heart of the mother, if I would only be kind to the daughter:—I have a faint recollection of that dying voice imploring me to quit my evil ways, for the sake of her whom I had sworn to love and protect—for the sake of the children who were sobbing bitterly close by;—and methinks that I reiterated those solemn vows of repentance which I had before so often uttered—but to break! Then I was suddenly aroused from a sort of stupor into which I fell—kneeling as I still was,—aroused, too, by a piercing scream. Starting up, I caught the fainting form of Julia in my arms;—and a glance towards the bed showed me that her mother was no more! Her prophetic words were fulfilled: the widow, who gave me her only treasure, had died of a broken heart!
“Heaven only knows how I passed the wretched night that followed. I remember that the dawn of a cold March morning, accompanied by a cheerless drizzling rain, found me pacing the parlour in a despairing manner. I do believe I was half mad. And such horrible ideas haunted me! I thought of killing my wife and children, and then blowing out my own brains. Then I resolved to fly—and never see them more. In another minute I wept bitterly when I asked myself, ‘But what would become of them?’ I writhed in mental agony, as I found no response to this question; and when I pictured to myself all the amiable qualities of my wife—her gentleness—her goodness—her endearments—her unimpaired love,—and then thought of the little innocents with their winning ways, their little tricks, their pretty sayings, and their cherub countenances,——Oh! God, no words can explain how acute my sufferings were!
“From that painful reverie I was aroused by a loud commanding knock at the front door. There was an ominous insolence in that knock; and the worst fears entered my mind. Alas! they were full soon confirmed. The broker made his appearance, accompanied by his men; and the house was at the same time invaded by a posse of Jews—the usual buyers at sales effected under instructions from the Sheriff. Hastening the burst of anguish that rose to my lips, I drew the broker aside, acquainted him with the fact of my mother-in-law’s death on the previous evening, and implored his forbearance for a week. He quietly took a pinch of snuff, and then observed that he was not the master—that he had no power to interfere—that the advertisements, announcing the sale, had appeared in the papers—and that the business must proceed without delay! Remonstrances—threats—prayers were all useless; the sale commenced;—and I was forced to repair to my wife’s room to break the fatal news to her. She uttered no reproach—she even conquered her anguish as much as she could;—and the children were then ordered to be dressed directly. Presently Julia inquired in a meek and timid tone, if I had money enough to buy in the furniture of the room—she meant where her mother lay. I answered in the affirmative; but it was only to console her—for I had not a guinea—not a friend! In a state of distraction I returned to the parlour where the sale was in progress. Merciful heavens! foremost of the buyers was Beaumont—my mortal enemy—bidding for the most costly articles that were put up. In a moment I felt as if I could fall on him, and tear him to pieces. He saw me; and, although taking no apparent notice of me, I beheld a sardonic smile of triumph upon his lips. I could bear no more; reckless of all—of every thing—I rushed from the house.
“For hours and hours did I wander about like a maniac—walking hastily along, without any defined object—and not even observing the crowds that I passed me. Every thing was confused: bells seemed to be ringing in my very brain. It was dark when I thought of returning home; and then I felt shocked at the idea of having deserted my poor wife and helpless children at such a time. My ideas were now more collected; and I hastened to Russell Square. All was quiet in the house, but they were evidently still there—for a faint light gleamed through one of the shutters. I knocked with a trembling hand. The door was immediately opened—by J
ulia. ‘Oh! thank God that you have come back!’ she exclaimed, sinking half-fainting into my arms: ‘you know not what horrible fears have oppressed me!’—I embraced her tenderly: never—never did she seem more dear to me! The children also flocked around me; and the tender word ‘Papa!’ wrung from me a flood of tears, which relieved me. I then made certain inquiries, and learnt the most heart-rending particulars. Every thing was sold and removed—even to the children’s little beds;—but the worst of all was that the corse of Julia’s mother lay upon the floor of the chamber where she had breathed her last!
“But let me hurry over these dreadful details. A few trinkets belonging to Julia yet remained; and the sale of those ornaments—presents made to her by me in happier days—enabled us to bury her mother decently, and to remove to a small ready-furnished lodging. Julia supported these sad afflictions and reverses with angelic resignation; and never did a single reproach emanate from her lips. Neither did she neglect the children: on the contrary, her attention to them redoubled, now that she had no longer a servant to aid her. But, alas! her strength was failing visibly: her constitution was undermined by misery and woe! And still it seemed, much though we had already suffered, as if our sorrows had only just begun. For, a few weeks after the sale of my property, and just as I had obtained a clerk’s situation in a mercantile house, I was arrested for the balance of the debt due to Goldshig, the auction not having produced enough to liquidate his claims. This blow was terrible indeed, as it paralysed all my energies. I was taken to Whitecross Street prison, the only prospect of obtaining my release being the Insolvents’ Court. I was accordingly compelled to apply to a philanthropic association to advance me six pounds for that purpose. The request was complied with; my wife went herself to receive the money; and she brought it to me in the prison. I compelled her to retain a sovereign for the support of herself and children; and I managed to borrow three pounds more from the only one of all my late friends who would even read a letter that came from me—so utterly was I despised by them all!
“And now—will it be believed that such was my infatuation in respect to play, I actually gambled with my fellow-prisoners—staking the money that had been obtained with so much difficulty to pay a lawyer to conduct my business in the Insolvents’ Court! Yes—while my poor wife was sitting up nearly all night to earn a trifle with her needle or in painting maps,—while my children were dependent for their daily bread upon the exertions of their poor dying mother,—I—wretch that I was—lost the very means that were to restore me to them! When the money had all disappeared, I became like a madman, and attempted to lay violent hands upon myself. I was taken to the infirmary of the prison, where I lay delirious with fever for six weeks. At the expiration of that time I recovered; and the humanity of the governor of the gaol secured the services of a lawyer to file my petition and schedule in the Insolvents’ Court. The day of hearing came; and I was discharged. But, alas! I returned to the humble lodging occupied by my family without a hope—without resources. Nevertheless, the angel Julia received me with smiles; and the children also smiled with their sickly, wan, and famished countenances. Then, in the course of a conversation which Julia endeavoured to render as little mournful as possible, I learnt that Colonel Beaumont had been persecuting her with his dishonourable offers,—that he had dogged her in her way to the prison when she went thither to see me,—that he had even intruded himself upon her in her poor dwelling of one back room! Indeed, it was only in consequence of this visit that my wife mentioned the circumstance to me at all; but so pure was her soul, that she could not keep secret from me an occurrence on which, did I hear it from stranger lips, a disagreeable construction might be placed. Ill—weak—dying as she was, she was still sweetly interesting;—and I could well understand how an unprincipled libertine might seek to possess her.
“Without allowing Julia to comprehend the full extent of the impression made upon me by this information, I vowed within myself a desperate vengeance against that man who seemed to take a delight in persecuting me and mine. But for the present the condition of my family occupied nearly all my thoughts. Poor Julia was killing herself with hard—hard toil at the needle; and the children were only the ghosts of what they were in the days of our prosperity. I was, however, fortunate enough to obtain another situation, with a salary of twenty-eight shillings a week; and for some months we lived in comparative tranquillity—if not in happiness. But Julia always had smiles for me,—smiles, too, when the worm of an insidious disease was gnawing at her heart’s core. And for my part, my lord, whenever I hear the discontented husband or the insolent libertine depreciating the character of Woman, the memory of my own devoted wife instantly renders me Woman’s champion;—and lost—low—wretched as I have been, I have never failed—even in the vilest pot-house in which my miseries have compelled me to seek shelter—to vindicate the sex against the aspersions of the malevolent!
“Six months after my release from prison the small-pox invaded the house in which we lodged; and so virulent was the malady, that within three weeks it carried off two of my children—the girl, who was the eldest, and the younger boy. I need not attempt to describe my own grief nor the anguish of my wife. The blow was too much for her; and she was thrown upon a sick bed. At the same time my employer failed in business; and I accordingly lost my situation. I was returning home one evening,—very miserable after several hours’ vain search for another place,—when I met a gentleman who had once been a brother-officer in the regiment in which I first served. I made known to him my deplorable situation, assuring him that both my wife and my only remaining child were at that moment lying dangerously ill, and that I was on my way home without a shilling to purchase even the necessaries of life. He said that he had no objection to serve me; and, giving me a guinea for immediate wants, desired me to call on him next day at a particular address in Jermyn Street. I hastened joyfully home, and communicated my good fortune to poor Julia. On the following morning I repaired to Jermyn Street. My friend received me cordially, and then explained his views. To my profound surprise I learnt that he was the proprietor of a common gaming-house; and his proposal was that I should receive three guineas a week for mere lounging about the play-rooms of an evening, and acting as a decoy to visitors. My situation was so desperate that I consented; and ten guineas were given me on the spot to fit myself out in a becoming manner. I returned home; and informed Julia that I had obtained the place of a night-clerk in a coach-office. She believed me: a smile played on her sickly countenance;—and she was soon afterwards able to leave her bed.
“I entered on my new employment; and all that fatal thirst for gaming which had plunged me into such depths of misery, was immediately revived. The proprietor of the hell would not of course permit his ‘decoys’ to play legitimately on their own account; but we were allowed to make bets with strangers in the rooms. This I did; and as the passion gained upon me, I visited other gambling-houses when my services were not required at the one where I was engaged. Thus I again plunged into that dreadful course; and my poor wife soon suspected the fatal truth. Our little girl died—thank God!—at this period. Start not when I express my gratitude to heaven that it was so; for what could have become of her during the period of utter destitution which soon after supervened? Yes, my lord: scarcely a year had passed, when I was hurled into the very depths of want and misery. I was accused of cheating my employer at the gaming-house: the imputation was as false as ever villanous lie could be;—and from that moment forth the door of every hell was closed against me. I was also unable to obtain an honest situation; and after Julia and myself had parted with all our wearing apparel, save the few things upon our backs, we were one night thrust forth into the streets—houseless beggars!
“It was in the middle of winter: the snow lay upon the ground; and the cold was intense. My poor wife—in the last stage of consumption, and with only a thin gown and a miserable rag of a shawl to cover her—clung to my arm, and even then
attempted to console me. Oh! God—what an angel was that woman! We roved through the streets—for we dared not sit down on a door-step, through fear of being frozen to death! What my feelings were, it is impossible to explain. Morning—the cold wintry morning—found us dragging our weary forms along the Dover Road. We had no object in proceeding that way; but with tacit consent we seemed bent upon leaving a city where we had endured so much. At length Julia murmured in a faint tone, ‘William, dearest, I cannot move a step farther!’ And she sank, half fainting, upon a bank covered with snow.
“I was nearly distracted; but still she smiled—smiled, and pressed my hand tenderly, even while the ice-cold finger of Death touched her heart. I raised her in my arms:—my God! she was as light as a child—so emaciated in person and so thinly clad was she! I bore her to a neighbouring cottage, which was fortunately tenanted by kind and hospitable people, who immediately received the dying woman into their abode. The good mistress of the house gave up her bed to Julia, while her husband hastened to Blackheath for a doctor. And I, kneeling by the side of my poor wife, implored her forgiveness for all the miseries she had endured through me. ‘Do not speak in that manner, my dearest William,’ she said, in a faint tone, as she drew me towards her; ‘for I have always loved you, and I am sure you have loved me in return. Alas! my adored husband, what is to become of you? I am going to a better world, where I shall meet our departed children: but, ah! to what sorrows, do I leave you? Oh! this is the pang which I feel upon my death-bed; and it is more than I can bear. For I love you, William, as never woman yet loved; and when I am no more, do not remember any little sufferings which you may imagine that you have caused me; for if there be any thing to forgive, God knows how sincerely I do forgive you! Think of me sometimes, William—and remember that as I have ever loved you, so would I continue to love you were I spared. But——’
The Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics) Page 119