"Our family," said young Perry, "has held a good position in Culbut for
many generations. My great-grandfather is said to have come here as a
boy with ten thousand pounds in his pocket; but by diligence and
sobriety he managed to get rid of nearly all of it while he was still a
young man."
"How did he do it?" I asked.
"He got into the warehouse of a poor cloth-merchant. He stuck to his
work night and day, and lost his employers so much money, that they took
him into partnership when he was only twenty-one. Then he redoubled his
efforts, bought in the dearest markets and sold in the cheapest, and
decreased the trade of the firm by leaps and bounds. He married his
master's daughter, and she brought him a considerable number of debts.
Before he was thirty he had retired from business a very poor man, and
spent the rest of his life serving his fellow citizens. He was Lord
Mayor of Culbut three times, and was offered a baronetcy, which he
refused.
"My great-grandfather and my grandfather were both poor men, and my
father was brought up in the lap of indigence. But when he was quite a
boy, he saw a sight that affected his whole life.
"He was walking along the poor street in which he lived, when he saw a
carriage with four horses and postillions coming along. In it was seated
a miserably rich-looking old man swathed in furs, who was being taken
off to prison. My father hung on to the back of the carriage--he was but
a child--and was carried inside the prison gates. There he saw the
treatment that was then considered good enough for rich malefactors.
They drove through a large garden to a fine-looking house, and when the
carriage stopped at the door a groom of the chambers came out, followed
by two footmen in powdered wigs and silk stockings. The wretched
creature was taken inside, and before he went away my father learnt that
he would be treated with every refinement of luxury. And what do you
think his crime was?"
"I haven't the least idea," I replied. "Probably making somebody a
present of a fortune."
"No. His crime was that he had thrown a pot of caviare into a provision
shop."
"And you're not allowed to do that here?"
"You must remember that he was an old man, in the last stages of
opulence, and actually surfeited with food. As my father went back to
his happy home, which had always lacked all but the barest necessities
of life, the contrast between his lot and that of this unfortunate
creature, bred from his earliest years to the burdens of wealth, took
strong hold of his youthful imagination. Then and there he vowed his
life to the service of the unhappy rich, and especially to the
alleviation of the lot of prisoners; and nothing ever turned him from
his purpose. When he grew up, he left home, much against the wishes of
his parents, and went to live in one of the richest parts of the town,
so as to get to know the wealthy thoroughly, and to be able to help them
when the time came for him to do so. He even took their money, and, so
far as a man of education could, became like them. Of course, there are
many who follow in his footsteps now, but most of them live in
settlements, and only come into actual contact with the people they are
trying to help by going in and out amongst them in their own homes. But
he was the first; and he really lived with them, in a house with twenty
bedrooms, luxuriously furnished, and with a _chef_ and a great many
servants. I believe he did actually nothing for himself for two whole
years, and, of course, he broke down under the strain."
"Poor fellow!" I murmured sympathetically.
"He went back for a time to the life of poverty in which he had been
brought up. But even then, he refused to live like the rest of his
family, and, as far as his enfeebled state of health would permit,
practised secret indulgences, and never lost sight of his great purpose
in life.
"He made a convert of my mother, who was the daughter of a
farm-labourer, and of one of the proudest and poorest families in
Upsidonia. They started their married life in a comfortable villa, with
four indoor servants and two out--my father could not, of course, expect
his young wife to take the extreme plunge that he had himself--and he
has told me that she acted like a heroine, and never grumbled at the
life of strict affluence they laid down for themselves. I was born in
that house, and it was my mother's own wish that we then moved to a
larger one, where we have lived ever since. We have all been brought up
to think nothing of wealth, and each of us in our several ways does his
or her utmost to help our parents in their noble work. My eldest sister
has even married a stockbroker, and a very good fellow he is, and it is
wonderful how he has overcome the defects of his upbringing.
"Well, I have been talking for a long time; but I wanted to show you how
dreadful it would be if a man like my father should suffer disgrace for
committing an error which only arose from his eager desire to serve one
whom he saw to be in an unfortunate position."
"Oh, you need not fear anything of that sort after what you have told
me," I assured him. "I would rather go to prison myself--even such a
prison as I am in now--than that he should."
"It is very good of you indeed to say so," he said gratefully. "But you
need have no fear of this sort of prison. My father would exert his
influence to have you sent to Pankhurst, where, chiefly by his efforts,
everything is as it should be, and a real attempt is made to raise
prisoners. Even in the first division, you would be permitted to do
something useful, such as breaking stones, and you would not be expected
to eat more than two meals a day, and those quite meagre ones."
"Well, to tell you the truth," I said, "one of my hobbies is to study
conditions of prison life in the various countries I visit. I am very
glad to have had the opportunity of judging for myself in this way, and
though I don't want to go to prison myself any longer, if it can be
avoided, you would be conferring a real benefit upon me if you could get
me sent to the most luxurious penal establishment you possess, supposing
I am found guilty."
"Do you really mean that?" he asked.
"Yes, I really do. I know it must seem odd to you, but I am like that."
He rose and shook hands with me. "I can't tell you how I admire your
spirit," he said.
I drank half a glass of port and rose to still greater heights of
self-abnegation. I was anxious to show myself worthy of his praise. "As
long as I remain in Upsidonia," I said, "I should like to live entirely
amongst the very rich, and just as if I were rich myself. Could you
manage that for me, do you think, in return for what I am going to do
for your father?"
He laughed. "If you really mean it," he said, "there won't be the
slightest difficulty. And we are the right people to help you. They
might not show themselves as they really are to a stranger, for they
stick to one another wonderfully, and the more respectable among them
hide their riches as much as possible. Some of the tragedies of wealth
one comes across are heart-breaking. But I mustn't begin on that
subject, or I should never end. If you can see your way to relieving a
few of the rich in Culbut of a little of their load of misery, you will
be doing a great work."
"I shall quite hope to be able to do that," I said. "I might be able to
take away a considerable sum of money."
Again he shook hands with me, but his emotion did not permit of much
speech. "You will have your reward," he said simply.
"I quite hope so," I replied. "What, must you be going? Are you sure you
won't take--I mean are you sure you are quite wrapped up enough? The
night air is a little chilly."
"Thank you, I shall walk home," he said. "Well, I am very much obliged
to you for what you have promised to do. We shan't forget it, and
anything we can do for you in return, as long as you remain in
Upsidonia, you may be sure we _shall_ do."