Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793
Page 43
CHAPTER XLIII.
This unexpected and agreeable decision was accompanied by an invitationto supper, at which we were treated by our host with much affability andkindness. Finding me the author of Williams's good fortune as well asMrs. Maurice's, and being assured by the former of his entire convictionof the rectitude of my conduct, he laid aside all reserve and distancewith regard to me. He inquired into my prospects and wishes, andprofessed his willingness to serve me.
I dealt with equal unreserve and frankness. "I am poor," said I. "Moneyfor my very expenses hither I have borrowed from a friend, to whom I am,in other respects, much indebted, and whom I expect to compensate onlyby gratitude and future services.
"In coming hither, I expected only an increase of my debts; to sinkstill deeper into poverty; but happily the issue has made me rich. Thishour has given me competence, at least."
"What! call you a thousand dollars competence?"
"More than competence. I call it an abundance. My own ingenuity, while Ienjoy health, will enable me to live. This I regard as a fund, first topay my debts, and next to supply deficiencies occasioned by untowardaccidents or ill health, during the ensuing three or four years atleast."
We parted with this new acquaintance at a late hour, and I acceptedWilliams's invitation to pass the time I should spend at Baltimore,under his sister's roof. There were several motives for prolonging thisstay. What I had heard of Miss Fanny Maurice excited strong wishes to bepersonally acquainted with her. This young lady was affectionatelyattached to Mrs. Watson, by whose means my wishes were easilyaccomplished.
I never was in habits of reserve, even with those whom I had no reasonto esteem. With those who claimed my admiration and affection, it wasimpossible to be incommunicative. Before the end of my second interview,both these women were mistresses of every momentous incident of my life,and of the whole chain of my feelings and opinions, in relation to everysubject, and particularly in relation to themselves. Every topicdisconnected with these is comparatively lifeless and inert.
I found it easy to win their attention, and to render them communicativein their turn. As full disclosures as I had made without condition orrequest, my inquiries and example easily obtained from Mrs. Watson andMiss Maurice. The former related every event of her youth, and thecircumstances leading to her marriage. She depicted the character of herhusband, and the whole train of suspenses and inquietudes occasioned byhis disappearance. The latter did not hide from me her opinions upon anyimportant subject, and made me thoroughly acquainted with her actualsituation.
This intercourse was strangely fascinating. My heart was buoyed up by akind of intoxication. I now found myself exalted to my genial element,and began to taste the delights of existence. In the intercourse ofingenuous and sympathetic minds, I found a pleasure which I had notpreviously conceived.
The time flew swiftly away, and a fortnight passed almost before I wasaware that a day had gone by. I did not forget the friends whom I hadleft behind, but maintained a punctual correspondence with Stevens, towhom I imparted all occurrences.
The recovery of my friend's kinsman allowed him in a few days to returnhome. His first object was the consolation and relief of Carlton, whom,with much difficulty, he persuaded to take advantage of the laws infavour of insolvent debtors. Carlton's only debt was owing to his uncle,and, by rendering up every species of property, except his clothes andthe implements of his trade, he obtained a full discharge. Inconjunction with his sister, he once more assumed the pen, and, beingno longer burdened with debts he was unable to discharge, he resumed,together with his pen, his cheerfulness. Their mutual industry wassufficient for their decent and moderate subsistence.
The chief reason for my hasty return was my anxiety respecting ClemenzaLodi. This reason was removed by the activity and benevolence of myfriend. He paid this unfortunate stranger a visit at Mrs. Villars's.Access was easily obtained, and he found her sunk into the deepestmelancholy. The recent loss of her child, the death of Welbeck, of whichshe was soon apprized, her total dependence upon those with whom she wasplaced, who, however, had always treated her without barbarity orindecorum, were the calamities that weighed down her spirits.
My friend easily engaged her confidence and gratitude, and prevailedupon her to take refuge under his own roof. Mrs. Wentworth's scruples,as well as those of Mrs. Fielding, were removed by his arguments andentreaties, and they consented to take upon themselves, and dividebetween them, the care of her subsistence and happiness. Theycondescended to express much curiosity respecting me, and some interestin my welfare, and promised to receive me, on my return, on the footingof a friend.
With some reluctance, I at length bade my new friends farewell, andreturned to Philadelphia. Nothing remained, before I should enter on myprojected scheme of study and employment, under the guidance of Stevens,but to examine the situation of Eliza Hadwin with my own eyes, and, ifpossible, to extricate my father from his unfortunate situation.
My father's state had given me the deepest concern. I figured to myselfhis condition, besotted by brutal appetites, reduced to beggary, shut upin a noisome prison, and condemned to that society which must foster allhis depraved propensities. I revolved various schemes for his relief. Afew hundreds would take him from prison; but how should he be afterwardsdisposed of? How should he be cured of his indolent habits? How shouldhe be screened from the contagion of vicious society? By what means,consistently with my own wants and the claims of others, should Isecure to him an acceptable subsistence?
Exhortation and example were vain. Nothing but restraint would keep himat a distance from the haunts of brawling and debauchery. The want ofmoney would be no obstacle to prodigality and waste. Credit would beresorted to as long as it would answer his demand. When that failed, hewould once more be thrown into a prison; the same means to extricate himwould have to be repeated, and money be thus put into the pockets of themost worthless of mankind, the agents of drunkenness and blasphemy,without any permanent advantage to my father, the principal object of mycharity.
Though unable to fix on any plausible mode of proceeding, I determined,at least, to discover his present condition. Perhaps something mightsuggest itself, upon the spot, suited to my purpose. Without delay Iproceeded to the village of Newtown, and, alighting at the door of theprison, inquired for my father.
"Sawny Mervyn you want, I suppose," said the keeper. "Poor fellow! Hecame into limbo in a crazy condition, and has been a burden on my handsever since. After lingering along for some time, he was at last kindenough to give us the slip. It is just a week since he drank his lastpint--and _died_."
I was greatly shocked at this intelligence. It was some time before myreason came to my aid, and showed me that this was an event, on thewhole, and on a disinterested and dispassionate view, not unfortunate.The keeper knew not my relation to the deceased, and readily recountedthe behaviour of the prisoner and the circumstances of his last hours.
I shall not repeat the narrative. It is useless to keep alive the sadremembrance. He was now beyond the reach of my charity or pity; and,since reflection could answer no beneficial end to him, it was my dutyto divert my thoughts into different channels, and live henceforth formy own happiness and that of those who were within the sphere of myinfluence.
I was now alone in the world, so far as the total want of kindredcreates solitude. Not one of my blood, nor even of my name, was to befound in this quarter of the world. Of my mother's kindred I knewnothing. So far as friendship or service might be claimed from them, tome they had no existence. I was destitute of all those benefits whichflow from kindred, in relation to protection, advice, or property. Myinheritance was nothing. Not a single relic or trinket in my possessionconstituted a memorial of my family. The scenes of my childish andjuvenile days were dreary and desolate. The fields which I was wont totraverse, the room in which I was born, retained no traces of the past.They were the property and residence of strangers, who knew nothing ofthe former tenants, and who, as I was now told, had hastene
d tonew-model and transform every thing within and without the habitation.
These images filled me with melancholy, which, however, disappeared inproportion as I approached the abode of my beloved girl. Absence hadendeared the image of my _Bess_--I loved to call her so--to my soul. Icould not think of her without a melting softness at my heart, and tearsin which pain and pleasure were unaccountably mingled. As I approachedCurling's house, I strained my sight, in hopes of distinguishing herform through the evening dusk.
I had told her of my purpose, by letter. She expected my approach atthis hour, and was stationed, with a heart throbbing with impatience, atthe roadside, near the gate. As soon as I alighted, she rushed into myarms.
I found my sweet friend less blithesome and contented than I wished. Hersituation, in spite of the parental and sisterly regards which shereceived from the Curlings, was mournful and dreary to her imagination.Rural business was irksome, and insufficient to fill up her time. Herlife was tiresome, and uniform, and heavy.
I ventured to blame her discontent, and pointed out the advantages ofher situation. "Whence," said I, "can these dissatisfactions andrepinings arise?"
"I cannot tell," said she; "I don't know how it is with me. I am alwayssorrowful and thoughtful. Perhaps I think too much of my poor fatherand of Susan; and yet that can't be it, neither, for I think of them butseldom; not half as much as I ought, perhaps. I think of nobody almostbut you. Instead of minding my business, or chatting and laughing withPeggy Curling, I love to get by myself,--to read, over and over, yourletters, or to think how you are employed just then, and how happy Ishould be if I were in Fanny Maurice's place.
"But it is all over now; this visit rewards me for every thing. I wonderhow I could ever be sullen or mopeful. I will behave better, indeed Iwill, and be always, as now, a most happy girl."
The greater part of three days was spent in the society of my friend, inlistening to her relation of all that had happened during my absence,and in communicating, in my turn, every incident which had befallenmyself. After this I once more returned to the city.