CONCLUSION.
Lafleur was captured, tried, and condemned to transportation for life,
for the manslaughter of Eugene Markham.
Immediately after the trial the Prince and Princess of Montoni, with the
infant Prince Alberto, and accompanied by Signor and Signora Bazzano,
embarked for Castelcicala in the _Torione_ steam-frigate which was sent
to convey them thither. We need scarcely say that the faithful
Whittingham was in our hero's suite.
Eliza Sydney continues to reside at her beautiful villa near Upper
Clapton; and her charitable disposition, her amiable manners, and her
exemplary mode of life render her the admiration and pride of the entire
neighbourhood.
The Earl of Warrington and Diana dwell in comparative seclusion, but in
perfect happiness, and have never once regretted the day when they
accompanied each other to the altar.
King Zingary departed this life about six months ago; and Morcar is now
the sovereign of the Gipsy tribe in these realms. He has already begun
strenuously to exert himself in the improvement of the moral character
of his people; and though he finds the materials on which he labours to
make an impression somewhat stubborn, he has declared his intention of
persevering in his good work. His wife Eva constantly wears round her
neck the gold chain which Isabella sent her; and night and morning the
son of these good people is taught to kneel down and pray for the
continued prosperity and happiness of the Prince and Princess of
Montoni.
Pocock has remained an honest, industrious, and worthy man. He has now a
good establishment in one of the most business-streets of the City,
employs many hands, and has purchased some nice little freehold property
in the neighbourhood of Holloway—in order, as he says, that he may have
an occasional excuse for taking a walk round the mansion which bears the
name of him whom he extols as his saviour—his benefactor!
And that mansion—to whom does it now belong? It is the property of Mr.
Monroe, and will become Ellen's at his death: but the old man is still
strong and hearty; and every fine afternoon he may be seen walking
through the grounds, leaning upon the arm of his daughter or of Eliza
Sydney, who is a frequent visitor at the Place.
Ellen is beautiful as ever, and might doubtless marry well, did she
choose to seek society: but she has vowed to remain single for the sake
of her child, who is now a blooming boy, and whom she rears with the
fond hope that he will prove worthy of the name that he bears—the name
of his uncle, Richard Markham.
Skilligalee and the Rattlesnake, long since united in matrimonial bonds,
are leading a comfortable and steady life in Hoxton, the business of
their little shop producing them not only a sufficiency for the present,
but also the wherewith to create a provision for their old age.
Crankey Jem called upon them on the evening following the death of the
Resurrection Man, and acquainted them with the event. From that moment
nothing positive has ever been heard of James Cuffin; but it is supposed
that he embarked as a common sailor in some ship bound for a long
voyage.
Henry Holford remains a prisoner in Bethlem Hospital. He is in the full
and unimpaired possession of his intellects, but has often and bitterly
cursed the day when he listened to the whispering voice of his morbid
ambition.
Albert Egerton has already become a wealthy merchant, possessing an
establishment at Montoni and one in London; and, when sojourning at the
former, he receives frequent invitations to dine at the Palace.
Lord Dunstable has retrieved the errors of his earlier years by an
unwearied course of honourable and upright conduct, steadfastly pursued
from the moment when he declared himself to have been touched by the
words of the Prince of Montoni on the occasion of the exposure in
Stratton Street.
Colonel Cholmondeley, Sir Rupert Harborough, and Mr. Chichester are
undergoing a sentence of ten years' condemnation to the galleys at
Brest, for having attempted to pass forged Bank of England notes at a
money-changer's shop in Paris.
Major Anderson continues to live honourably and comfortably upon a
pension allowed him by the Prince.
Mrs. Chichester removed about two years ago to a pleasant cottage in
Wales, where she dwells in the tranquil seclusion suitable to her taste.
Filippo Dorsenni has opened an extensive hotel for foreigners at the
West End of the town, and is happy in the prosperity of his business.
Lady Bounce was compelled to sue for a separate maintenance about
eighteen months ago, on the ground of cruelty and ill-treatment; and in
this suit she succeeded.
Sir Cherry and Major Dapper continue as intimate as ever, and pursue
pretty well the same unprofitable career as we have hitherto seen them
following.
Mr. Banks, the undertaker of Globe Lane, carried his economic principles
to such an extent that he fell into the habit of purchasing cloth to
cover his coffins at a rate which certainly defied competition; but a
quantity of that material having been missed from a warehouse in the
City and traced to his establishment, he was compelled, although much
against his inclination, to accompany an officer to Worship Street,
where the porter belonging to the aforesaid warehouse was already in the
dock on a charge of stealing the lost property. Vain was it that Mr.
Banks endeavoured to impress upon the magistrate's mind the fact that he
was as "pious and savoury a old wessel as ever made a coffin on economic
principles:" the case was referred to the learned Recorder at the Old
Bailey for farther investigation; and one fine morning Mr. Banks found
himself sentenced to two years' imprisonment in the Compter for
receiving goods knowing them to have been stolen.
Concerning Tomlinson and old Michael Martin, we have been unable to
glean any tidings: but in respect to Robert Stephens, we have reason to
believe that he manages to obtain a livelihood, under a feigned name, in
a counting-house at New York.
John Smithers, better known to our readers as Gibbet, is the wealthiest
inhabitant of a new town that has risen within these last three years in
the valley of the Ohio; and in a recent letter to the Prince of Montoni
he declares that he is happier than he ever thought he could become.
EPILOGUE.
'Tis done: VIRTUE is rewarded—VICE has received its punishment.
Said we not, in the very opening of this work, that from London branched
off two roads, leading to two points totally distinct the one from the
other?
Have we not shown how the one winds its tortuous way through all the
noisome dens of crime, chicanery, dissipation, and voluptuousness; and
how the other meanders amidst rugged rocks and wearisome acclivities,
but having on its way-side the resting-places of rectitude and virtue?
The youths who set out along those roads,—the elder pursuing the former
path, the younger the latter,—have fulfilled the destinies to which
their separate ways conducted them.
The one sleeps in an early grave: the other is the heir-apparent to a
throne.
Yes: and the prophetic words of the hapless Mary-Anne are fulfilled to
the letter; for now in their palace at Montoni, do the hero and heroine
of our tale, while retrospecting over all they have seen and all they
have passed through, devote many a kind regret to the memory of the
departed girl who predicted for them all the happiness which they enjoy!
And that happiness—the world has seen no felicity more perfect.
Adored by a tender wife,—honoured by her parents, on whose brows his
valour placed the diadems which they wear,—and almost worshipped by a
grateful nation whom his prowess redeemed from slavery,—Richard Markham
knows not a single care.
On her side,—wedded to him to whom her young heart gave its virgin
love,—proud of a husband whose virtues in peace and whose glory in war
have shed undying lustre on the name which he bears,—blessed, too, with
a lovely boy, whose mind already develops the reflections of his
father's splendid qualities, and with a charming girl, who promises to
be the heiress of the mother's beauty,—can Isabella be otherwise than
happy?
Kind Reader, who have borne with me so long—one word to thee.
If amongst the circle of thy friends, there be any who express an
aversion to peruse this work,—fearful from its title or from fugitive
report that the mind will be shocked more than it can be improved, or
the blush of shame excited on the cheek oftener than the tear of
sympathy will be drawn from the eye;—if, in a word, a false
fastidiousness should prejudge, from its own supposition or from
misrepresentations made to it by others, a book by means of which we
have sought to convey many an useful moral and lash many a flagrant
abuse,—do you, kind reader, oppose that prejudice, and exclaim—"Peruse,
ere you condemn!"
For if, on the one side, we have raked amidst the filth and
loathsomeness of society,—have we not, on the other, devoted adequate
attention to its bright and glorious phases?
In exposing the hideous deformity of vice, have we not studied to
develope the witching beauty of virtue?
Have we not taught, in fine, how the example and the philanthropy of one
good man can "_save more souls and redeem more sinners than all the
Bishops that ever wore lawn-sleeves_?"
If, then, the preceding pages be calculated to engender one useful
thought—awaken one beneficial sentiment,—the work is not without its
value.
If there be any merit in honesty of purpose and integrity of aim,—then
is that merit ours.
And if, in addition to considerations of this nature, we may presume
that so long as we are enabled to afford entertainment, our labours will
be rewarded by the approval of the immense audience to whom we address
ourselves,—we may with confidence invite attention to a SECOND SERIES of
"THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON."
GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS.
THE END OF THE FIRST SERIES.
London:—J. J. WILKINSON, Printer, "Bonner House," Seacoal Lane.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical
errors.
2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.