Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793

by Charles Brockden Brown

  CHAPTER V.

  Now I was once more on public ground. By so many anxious efforts had Idisengaged myself from the perilous precincts of private property. Asmany stratagems as are usually made to enter a house had been employedby me to get out of it. I was urged to the use of them by my fears; yet,so far from carrying off spoil, I had escaped with the loss of anessential part of my dress.

  I had now leisure to reflect. I seated myself on the ground and reviewedthe scenes through which I had just passed. I began to think that myindustry had been misemployed. Suppose I had met the person on his firstentrance into his chamber? Was the truth so utterly wild as not to havefound credit? Since the door was locked, and there was no other avenue,what other statement but the true one would account for my being foundthere? This deportment had been worthy of an honest purpose. My betrayerprobably expected that this would be the issue of his jest. My rusticsimplicity, he might think, would suggest no more ambiguous or elaborateexpedient. He might likewise have predetermined to interfere if mysafety had been really endangered.

  On the morrow the two doors of the chamber and the window below would befound unclosed. They will suspect a design to pillage, but theirsearches will terminate in nothing but in the discovery of a pair ofclumsy and dusty shoes in the closet. Now that I was safe I could nothelp smiling at the picture which my fancy drew of their anxiety andwonder. These thoughts, however, gave place to more momentousconsiderations.

  I could not imagine to myself a more perfect example of indigence than Inow exhibited. There was no being in the city on whose kindness I hadany claim. Money I had none, and what I then wore comprised my wholestock of movables. I had just lost my shoes, and this loss rendered mystockings of no use. My dignity remonstrated against a barefootpilgrimage, but to this, necessity now reconciled me. I threw mystockings between the bars of a stable-window, belonging, as I thought,to the mansion I had just left. These, together with my shoes, I left topay the cost of my entertainment.

  I saw that the city was no place for me. The end that I had had in view,of procuring some mechanical employment, could only be obtained by theuse of means, but what means to pursue I knew not. This night's perilsand deceptions gave me a distaste to a city life, and my ancientoccupations rose to my view enhanced by a thousand imaginary charms, Iresolved forthwith to strike into the country.

  The day began now to dawn. It was Sunday, and I was desirous of eludingobservation. I was somewhat recruited by rest, though the languors ofsleeplessness oppressed me. I meant to throw myself on the first lap ofverdure I should meet, and indulge in sleep that I so much wanted. Iknew not the direction of the streets; but followed that which I firstentered from the court, trusting that, by adhering steadily to onecourse, I should some time reach the fields. This street, as Iafterwards found, tended to Schuylkill, and soon extricated me fromhouses. I could not cross this river without payment of toll. It wasrequisite to cross it in order to reach that part of the country whitherI was desirous of going; but how should I effect my passage? I knew ofno ford, and the smallest expense exceeded my capacity. Ten thousandguineas and a farthing were equally remote from nothing, and nothing wasthe portion allotted to me.

  While my mind was thus occupied, I turned up one of the streets whichtend northward. It was, for some length, uninhabited and unpaved.Presently I reached a pavement, and a painted fence, along which a rowof poplars was planted. It bounded a garden into which a knot-holepermitted me to pry. The enclosure was a charming green, which I sawappended to a house of the loftiest and most stately order. It seemedlike a recent erection, had all the gloss of novelty, and exhibited, tomy unpractised eyes, the magnificence of palaces. My father's dwellingdid not equal the height of one story, and might be easily comprised inone-fourth of those buildings which here were designed to accommodatethe menials. My heart dictated the comparison between my own conditionand that of the proprietors of this domain. How wide and how impassablewas the gulf by which we were separated! This fair inheritance hadfallen to one who, perhaps, would only abuse it to the purposes ofluxury, while I, with intentions worthy of the friend of mankind, wasdoomed to wield the flail and the mattock.

  I had been entirely unaccustomed to this strain of reflection. My bookshad taught me the dignity and safety of the middle path, and my darlingwriter abounded with encomiums on rural life. At a distance from luxuryand pomp, I viewed them, perhaps, in a just light. A nearer scrutinyconfirmed my early prepossessions; but, at the distance at which I nowstood, the lofty edifices, the splendid furniture, and the copiousaccommodations of the rich excited my admiration and my envy.

  I relinquished my station, and proceeded, in a heartless mood, along thefence. I now came to the mansion itself. The principal door was enteredby a staircase of marble. I had never seen the stone of Carrara, andwildly supposed this to have been dug from Italian quarries. The beautyof the poplars, the coolness exhaled from the dew-besprent bricks, thecommodiousness of the seat which these steps afforded, and theuncertainty into which I was plunged respecting my future conduct, allcombined to make me pause. I sat down on the lower step and began tomeditate.

  By some transition it occurred to me that the supply of my most urgentwants might be found in some inhabitant of this house. I needed atpresent a few cents; and what were a few cents to the tenant of amansion like this? I had an invincible aversion to the calling of abeggar, but I regarded with still more antipathy the vocation of athief; to this alternative, however, I was now reduced. I must eithersteal or beg; unless, indeed, assistance could be procured under thenotion of a loan. Would a stranger refuse to lend the pittance that Iwanted? Surely not, when the urgency of my wants was explained.

  I recollected other obstacles. To summon the master of the house fromhis bed, perhaps, for the sake of such an application, would bepreposterous. I should be in more danger of provoking his anger thanexciting his benevolence. This request might, surely, with morepropriety be preferred to a passenger. I should, probably, meet severalbefore I should arrive at Schuylkill.

  A servant just then appeared at the door, with bucket and brush. Thisobliged me, much sooner than I intended, to decamp. With some reluctanceI rose and proceeded. This house occupied the corner of the street, andI now turned this corner towards the country. A person, at some distancebefore me, was approaching in an opposite direction.

  "Why," said I, "may I not make my demand of the first man I meet? Thisperson exhibits tokens of ability to lend. There is nothing chilling oraustere in his demeanour."

  The resolution to address this passenger was almost formed; but thenearer he advanced my resolves grew less firm. He noticed me not till hecame within a few paces. He seemed busy in reflection; and, had not myfigure caught his eye, or had he merely bestowed a passing glance uponme, I should not have been sufficiently courageous to have detained him.The event, however, was widely different.

  He looked at me and started. For an instant, as it were, and till he hadtime to dart at me a second glance, he checked his pace. This behaviourdecided mine, and he stopped on perceiving tokens of a desire to addresshim. I spoke, but my accents and air sufficiently denoted myembarrassments:--

  "I am going to solicit a favour which my situation makes of the highestimportance to me, and which I hope it will be easy for you, sir, togrant. It is not an alms, but a loan, that I seek; a loan that I willrepay the moment I am able to do it. I am going to the country, buthave not wherewith to pay my passage over Schuylkill, or to buy a morselof bread. May I venture to request of you, sir, the loan of sixpence? AsI told you, it is my intention to repay it."

  I delivered this address, not without some faltering, but with greatearnestness. I laid particular stress upon my intention to refund themoney. He listened with a most inquisitive air. His eye perused me fromhead to foot.

  After some pause, he said, in a very emphatic manner, "Why into thecountry? Have you family? Kindred? Friends?"

  "No," answered I, "I have neither. I go in search of the means ofsubsistence. I have passed my life up
on a farm, and propose to die inthe same condition."

  "Whence have you come?"

  "I came yesterday from the country, with a view to earn my bread in someway, but have changed my plan and propose now to return."

  "Why have you changed it? In what way are you capable of earning yourbread?"

  "I hardly know," said I. "I can, as yet, manage no tool, that can bemanaged in the city, but the pen. My habits have, in some small degree,qualified me for a writer. I would willingly accept employment of thatkind."

  He fixed his eyes upon the earth, and was silent for some minutes. Atlength, recovering himself, he said, "Follow me to my house. Perhapssomething may be done for you. If not, I will lend you sixpence."

  It may be supposed that I eagerly complied with the invitation. Mycompanion said no more, his air bespeaking him to be absorbed by his ownthoughts, till he reached his house, which proved to be that at the doorof which I had been seated. We entered a parlour together.

  Unless you can assume my ignorance and my simplicity, you will be unableto conceive the impressions that were made by the size and ornaments ofthis apartment. I shall omit these impressions, which, indeed, nodescription could adequately convey, and dwell on incidents of greatermoment. He asked me to give him a specimen of my penmanship. I told youthat I had bestowed very great attention upon this art. Implements werebrought, and I sat down to the task. By some inexplicable connection aline in Shakspeare occurred to me, and I wrote,--

  "My poverty, but not my will, consents."

  The sentiment conveyed in this line powerfully affected him, but in away which I could not then comprehend. I collected from subsequentevents that the inference was not unfavourable to my understanding or mymorals. He questioned me as to my history. I related my origin and myinducements to desert my father's house. With respect to last night'sadventures I was silent. I saw no useful purpose that could be answeredby disclosure, and I half suspected that my companion would refusecredit to my tale.

  There were frequent intervals of abstraction and reflection between hisquestions. My examination lasted not much less than an hour. At lengthhe said, "I want an amanuensis or copyist. On what terms will you livewith me?"

  I answered that I knew not how to estimate the value of my services. Iknew not whether these services were agreeable or healthful. My life hadhitherto been active. My constitution was predisposed to diseases of thelungs, and the change might be hurtful. I was willing, however, to tryand to content myself for a month or a year, with so much as wouldfurnish me with food, clothing, and lodging.

  "'Tis well," said he. "You remain with me as long and no longer thanboth of us please. You shall lodge and eat in this house. I will supplyyou with clothing, and your task will be to write what I dictate. Yourperson, I see, has not shared much of your attention. It is in my powerto equip you instantly in the manner which becomes a resident in thishouse. Come with me."

  He led the way into the court behind and thence into a neat building,which contained large wooden vessels and a pump: "There," said he, "youmay wash yourself; and, when that is done, I will conduct you to yourchamber and your wardrobe."

  This was speedily performed, and he accordingly led the way to thechamber. It was an apartment in the third story, finished and furnishedin the same costly and superb style with the rest of the house. Heopened closets and drawers which overflowed with clothes and linen ofall and of the best kinds. "These are yours," said he, "as long as youstay with me. Dress yourself as likes you best. Here is every thing yournakedness requires. When dressed, you may descend to breakfast." Withthese words he left me.

  The clothes were all in the French style, as I afterwards, by comparingmy garb with that of others, discovered. They were fitted to my shapewith the nicest precision. I bedecked myself with all my care. Iremembered the style of dress used by my beloved Clavering. My lockswere of shining auburn, flowing and smooth like his. Having wrung thewet from them, and combed, I tied them carelessly in a black riband.Thus equipped, I surveyed myself in a mirror.

  You may imagine, if you can, the sensations which this instantaneoustransformation produced. Appearances are wonderfully influenced bydress. Check shirt, buttoned at the neck, an awkward fustian coat, checktrowsers and bare feet, were now supplanted by linen and muslin, nankeencoat striped with green, a white silk waistcoat elegantlyneedle-wrought, cassimere pantaloons, stockings of variegated silk, andshoes that in their softness, pliancy, and polished surface vied withsatin. I could scarcely forbear looking back to see whether the image inthe glass, so well proportioned, so gallant, and so graceful, did notbelong to another. I could scarcely recognise any lineaments of my own.I walked to the window. "Twenty minutes ago," said I, "I was traversingthat path a barefoot beggar; now I am thus." Again I surveyed myself."Surely some insanity has fastened on my understanding. My senses arethe sport of dreams. Some magic that disdains the cumbrousness ofnature's progress has wrought this change." I was roused from thesedoubts by a summons to breakfast, obsequiously delivered by a blackservant.

  I found Welbeck (for I shall henceforth call him by his true name) atthe breakfast-table. A superb equipage of silver and china was beforehim. He was startled at my entrance. The change in my dress seemed for amoment to have deceived him. His eye was frequently fixed upon me withunusual steadfastness. At these times there was inquietude and wonder inhis features.

  I had now an opportunity of examining my host. There was nicety but noornament in his dress. His form was of the middle height, spare, butvigorous and graceful. His face was cast, I thought, in a foreign mould.His forehead receded beyond the usual degree in visages which I hadseen. His eyes large and prominent, but imparting no marks of benignityand habitual joy. The rest of his face forcibly suggested the idea of aconvex edge. His whole figure impressed me with emotions of venerationand awe. A gravity that almost amounted to sadness invariably attendedhim when we were alone together.

  He whispered the servant that waited, who immediately retired. He thensaid, turning to me, "A lady will enter presently, whom you are to treatwith the respect due to my daughter. You must not notice any emotion shemay betray at the sight of you, nor expect her to converse with you; forshe does not understand your language." He had scarcely spoken when sheentered. I was seized with certain misgivings and flutterings which aclownish education may account for. I so far conquered my timidity,however, as to snatch a look at her. I was not born to execute herportrait. Perhaps the turban that wreathed her head, the brillianttexture and inimitable folds of her drapery, and nymphlike port, morethan the essential attributes of her person, gave splendour to thecelestial vision. Perhaps it was her snowy hues, and the cast ratherthan the position of her features, that were so prolific of enchantment;or perhaps the wonder originated only in my own ignorance.

  She did not immediately notice me. When she did she almost shrieked withsurprise. She held up her hands, and, gazing upon me, uttered variousexclamations which I could not understand. I could only remark that heraccents were thrillingly musical. Her perturbations refused to bestilled. It was with difficulty that she withdrew her regards from me.Much conversation passed between her and Welbeck, but I could comprehendno part of it. I was at liberty to animadvert on the visible part oftheir intercourse. I diverted some part of my attention from my ownembarrassments, and fixed it on their looks.

  In this art, as in most others, I was an unpractised simpleton. In thecountenance of Welbeck, there was somewhat else than sympathy with theastonishment and distress of the lady; but I could not interpret theseadditional tokens. When her attention was engrossed by Welbeck, her eyeswere frequently vagrant or downcast; her cheeks contracted a deeper hue;and her breathing was almost prolonged into a sigh. These were marks onwhich I made no comments at the time. My own situation was calculated tobreed confusion in my thoughts and awkwardness in my gestures. Breakfastbeing finished, the lady, apparently at the request of Welbeck, sat downto a piano-forte.

  Here again I must be silent. I was not wholly destitu
te of musicalpractice and musical taste. I had that degree of knowledge which enabledme to estimate the transcendent skill of this performer. As if thepathos of her touch were insufficient, I found after some time that thelawless jarrings of the keys were chastened by her own more liquidnotes. She played without a book, and, though her bass might bepreconcerted, it was plain that her right-hand notes were momentary andspontaneous inspirations. Meanwhile Welbeck stood, leaning his arms onthe back of a chair near her, with his eyes fixed on her face. Hisfeatures were fraught with a meaning which I was eager to interpret, butunable.

  I have read of transitions effected by magic; I have read of palaces anddeserts which were subject to the dominion of spells; poets may sportwith their power, but I am certain that no transition was ever conceivedmore marvellous and more beyond the reach of foresight than that which Ihad just experienced. Heaths vexed by a midnight storm may be changedinto a hall of choral nymphs and regal banqueting; forest glades maygive sudden place to colonnades and carnivals; but he whose senses aredeluded finds himself still on his natal earth. These miracles arecontemptible when compared with that which placed me under this roof andgave me to partake in this audience. I know that my emotions are indanger of being regarded as ludicrous by those who cannot figure tothemselves the consequences of a limited and rustic education.