"I will lay any wager you like," said Fritz, when we had come to the end
of the letter, "that the wretch who has written this is a woman."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because all the false reports about poor Madame Fontaine, when I was at
Wurzburg, were traced to women. They envy and hate Minna's mother. She is
superior to them in everything; handsome, distinguished, dresses to
perfection, possesses all the accomplishments--a star, I tell you, a
brilliant star among a set of dowdy domestic drudges. Isn't it infamous,
without an atom of evidence against her, to take it for granted that she
is guilty? False to her dead husband's confidence in her, a breaker of
seals, a stealer of poisons--what an accusation against a defenseless
woman! Oh, my poor dear Minna! how she must feel it; she doesn't possess
her mother's strength of mind. I shall fly to Wurzburg to comfort her. My
father may say what he pleases; I can't leave these two persecuted women
without a friend. Suppose the legal decision goes against the widow? How
do I know that judgment has not been pronounced already? The suspense is
intolerable. Do you mean to tell me I am bound to obey my father, when
his conduct is neither just nor reasonable?"
"Gently, Fritz--gently!"
"I tell you, David, I can prove what I say. Just listen to this. My
father has never even seen Minna's mother; he blindly believes the
scandals afloat about her--he denies that any woman can be generally
disliked and distrusted among her neighbors without some good reason for
it. I assure you, on my honor, he has no better excuse for forbidding me
to marry Minna than that. Is it just, is it reasonable, to condemn a
woman without first hearing what she has to say in her own defense? Ah,
now indeed I feel the loss of my own dear mother! If she had been alive
she would have exerted her influence, and have made my father ashamed of
his own narrow prejudices. My position is maddening; my head whirls when
I think of it. If I go to Wurzburg, my father will never speak to me
again. If I stay here, I shall cut my throat."
There was still a little beer left in the bottom of the second bottle.
Fritz poured it out, with a gloomy resolution to absorb it to the last
drop.
I took advantage of this momentary pause of silence to recommend the
virtue of patience to the consideration of my friend. News from Wurzburg,
I reminded him, might be obtained in our immediate neighborhood by
consulting a file of German journals, kept at a foreign coffee-house. By
way of strengthening the good influence of this suggestion, I informed
Fritz that I expected to be shortly sent to Frankfort, as the bearer of a
business communication addressed to Mr. Keller by my aunt; and I offered
privately to make inquiries, and (if possible) even to take messages to
Wurzburg--if he would only engage to wait patiently for the brighter
prospects that might show themselves in the time to come.
I had barely succeeded in tranquilizing Fritz, when my attention was
claimed by the more serious and pressing subject of the liberation of
Jack Straw. My aunt sent to say that she wished to see me.
I found her at her writing-table, with the head-clerk established at the
desk opposite.
Mr. Hartrey was quite as strongly opposed as the lawyer to any meddling
with the treatment of mad people on the part of my aunt. But he placed
his duty to his employer before all other considerations; and he
rendered, under respectful protest, such services as were required of
him. He was now engaged in drawing out the necessary memorials and
statements, under the instructions of my aunt. Her object in sending for
me was to inquire if I objected to making fair copies of the rough drafts
thus produced. In the present stage of the affair, she was unwilling to
take the clerks at the office into her confidence. As a matter of course,
I followed Mr. Hartrey's example, and duly subordinated my own opinions
to my aunt's convenience.
On the next day, she paid her promised visit to poor Jack.
The bag which she had committed to his care was returned to her without
the slightest injury. Naturally enough, she welcomed this circumstance as
offering a new encouragement to the design that she had in view. Mad Jack
could not only understand a responsibility, but could prove himself
worthy of it. The superintendent smiled, and said, in his finely ironical
way, "I never denied, madam, that Jack was cunning."
From that date, my aunt's venturesome enterprise advanced towards
completion with a rapidity that astonished us.
Applying, in the first instance, to the friend of her late husband,
holding a position in the Royal Household, she was met once more by the
inevitable objections to her design. She vainly pleaded that her purpose
was to try the experiment modestly in the one pitiable case of Jack
Straw, and that she would willingly leave any further development of her
husband's humane project to persons better qualified to encounter dangers
and difficulties than herself. The only concession that she could obtain
was an appointment for a second interview, in the presence of a gentleman
whose opinion it would be important to consult. He was one of the
physicians attached to the Court, and he was known to be a man of liberal
views in his profession. Mrs. Wagner would do well, in her own interests,
to be guided by his disinterested advice.
Keeping this second appointment, my aunt provided herself with a special
means of persuasion in the shape of her husband's diary, containing his
unfinished notes on the treatment of insanity by moral influence.
As she had anticipated, the physician invited to advise her was readier
to read the notes than to listen to her own imperfect explanation of the
object in view. He was strongly impressed by the novelty and good sense
of the ideas that her husband advocated, and was candid enough openly to
acknowledge it. But he, too, protested against any attempt on the part of
a woman to carry out any part of the proposed reform, even on the
smallest scale. Exasperated by these new remonstrances, my aunt's
patience gave way. Refusing to submit herself to the physician's advice,
she argued the question boldly from her own point of view. The discussion
was at its height, when the door of the room was suddenly opened from
without. A lady in walking-costume appeared, with two ladies in
attendance on her. The two gentlemen started to their feet, and whispered
to my aunt, "The Princess!"
This was the exalted personage whom the superintendent at Bethlehem had
been too discreet to describe more particularly as a daughter of George
the Third. Passing the door on her way to the Palace-gardens, the
Princess had heard the contending voices, and the name of Jack distinctly
pronounced in a woman's tones. Inheriting unusually vigorous impulses of
curiosity from her august father, her Highness opened the door and joined
the party without ceremony.
"What are you quarreling about?" inquired the Princess. "And who is this
lady?"
Mrs. Wagner was presented, to answer for herself. She made the best of
the golden opportunity that had fallen into her hands. The Princess was
first astonished, then interested, then converted to my aunt's view of
the case. In the monotonous routine of Court life, here was a romantic
adventure in which even the King's daughter could take some share. Her
Highness quoted Boadicea, Queen Elizabeth, and Joan of Arc, as women who
had matched the men on their own ground--and complimented Mrs. Wagner as
a heroine of the same type.
"You are a fine creature," said the Princess, "and you may trust to me to
help you with all my heart. Come to my apartments tomorrow at this
time--and tell poor Jack that I have not forgotten him."
Assailed by Royal influence, all the technical obstacles that lawyers,
doctors, and governors could raise to the liberation of Jack Straw were
set aside by an ingenious appeal to the letter of the law, originating in
a suggestion made by the Princess herself.
"It lies in a nutshell, my dear," said her Highness to my aunt. "They
tell me I broke the rules when I insisted on having Jack admitted to the
Hospital. Now, your late husband was one of the governors; and you are
his sole executor. Very good. As your husband's representative, complain
of the violation of the rules, and insist on the discharge of Jack. He
occupies a place which ought to be filled by an educated patient in a
higher rank of life. Oh, never mind me! I shall express my regret for
disregarding the regulations--and, to prove my sincerity, I shall consent
to the poor creature's dismissal, and assume the whole responsibility of
providing for him myself. There is the way out of our difficulty. Take
it--and you shall have Jack whenever you want him."
In three weeks from that time, the "dangerous lunatic" was free (as our
friend the lawyer put it) to "murder Mrs. Wagner, and to burn the house
down."
How my aunt's perilous experiment was conducted--in what particulars it
succeeded and in what particulars it failed--I am unable to state as an
eyewitness, owing to my absence at the time. This curious portion of the
narrative will be found related by Jack himself, on a page still to come.
In the meanwhile, the course of events compels me to revert to the
circumstances which led to my departure from London.
While Mrs. Wagner was still in attendance at the palace, a letter reached
her from Mr. Keller, stating the necessity of increasing the number of
clerks at the Frankfort branch of our business. Closely occupied as she
then was, she found time to provide me with those instructions to her
German partners, preparing them for the coming employment of women in
their office, to which she had first alluded when the lawyer and I had
our interview with her after the reading of the will.
"The cause of the women," she said to me, "must not suffer because I
happen to be just now devoted to the cause of poor Jack. Go at once to
Frankfort, David. I have written enough to prepare my partners there for
a change in the administration of the office, and to defer for the
present the proposed enlargement of our staff of clerks. The rest you can
yourself explain from your own knowledge of the plans that I have in
contemplation. Start on your journey as soon as possible--and understand
that you are to say No positively, if Fritz proposes to accompany you. He
is not to leave London without the express permission of his father."
Fritz did propose to accompany me, the moment he heard of my journey. I
must own that I thought the circumstances excused him.
On the previous evening, we had consulted the German newspapers at the
coffee-house, and had found news from Wurzburg which quite overwhelmed my
excitable friend.
Being called upon to deliver their judgment, the authorities presiding at
the legal inquiry into the violation of the seals and the loss of the
medicine-chest failed to agree in opinion, and thus brought the
investigation to a most unsatisfactory end. The moral effect of this
division among the magistrates was unquestionably to cast a slur on the
reputation of Widow Fontaine. She was not pronounced to be guilty--but
she was also not declared to be innocent. Feeling, no doubt, that her
position among her neighbors had now become unendurable, she and her
daughter had left Wurzburg. The newspaper narrative added that their
departure had been privately accomplished. No information could be
obtained of the place of their retreat.
But for this last circumstance, I believe Fritz would have insisted on
traveling with me. Ignorant of what direction to begin the search for
Minna and her mother, he consented to leave me to look for traces of them
in Germany, while he remained behind to inquire at the different foreign
hotels, on the chance that they might have taken refuge in London.
The next morning I started for Frankfort.
My spirits were high as I left the shores of England. I had a young man's
hearty and natural enjoyment of change. Besides, it flattered my
self-esteem to feel that I was my aunt's business-representative; and I
was almost equally proud to be Fritz's confidential friend. Never could
any poor human creature have been a more innocent instrument of mischief
in the hands of Destiny than I was, on that fatal journey. The day was
dark, when the old weary way of traveling brought me at last to
Frankfort. The unseen prospect, at the moment when I stepped out of the
mail-post-carriage, was darker still.