The events which I am about to relate occurred towards the close of the
last century, some time before I was called to the bar, and do not
therefore in strictness fall within my own experiences as a barrister.
Still, as they came to my knowledge with much greater completeness than
if I had been only professionally engaged to assist in the catastrophe of
the drama through which they are evolved, and, as I conceive, throw a
strong light upon the practical working of our criminal jurisprudence, a
brief page of these slight leaves may not inappropriately record them.
About the time I have indicated, a Mrs. Rushton, the widow of a gentleman
of commercial opulence, resided in Upper Harley Street, Cavendish Square.
She was a woman of "family," and by her marriage had greatly lowered
herself, in her relatives' opinion, by a union with a person who, however
wealthy and otherwise honorable, was so entirely the architect of his own
fortunes--owed all that he possessed so immediately to his own skill,
sagacity, and perseverance--that there was an unpleasant rumor abroad
about his widowed mother being indebted to her son's success in business
for having passed the last ten years of her life in ease and competence.
Mr. Rushton had left his widow a handsome annuity, and to his and her
only son a well-invested income of upwards of seven thousand a year.
Since the death of her husband, Mrs. Rushton, who inherited quite her
full share of family pride, if nothing else, had sought by every method
she could devise to re-enter the charmed circle from which her union with
a city merchant had excluded her. The most effectual mode of
accomplishing her purpose was, she knew, to bring about a marriage
between her son and a lady who would not be indisposed to accept of
wealth and a well-appointed establishment in Mayfair as a set-off against
birth and high connection.
Arthur Rushton, at this time between two and three-and-twenty years of
age, was a mild, retiring, rather shy person, and endowed with a
tenderness of disposition, of which the tranquil depths had not as yet
been ruffled by the faintest breath of passion. His mother possessed
almost unbounded influence over him; and he ever listened with a smile, a
languid, half-disdainful one, to her eager speculations upon the numerous
eligible matches that would present themselves the instant the "season"
and their new establishment in Mayfair--of which the decoration and
furnishing engaged all her available time and attention--enabled them to
open the campaign with effect. Arthur Rushton and myself had been college
companions, and our friendly intimacy continued for several years
afterwards. At this period especially we were very cordial and unreserved
in our intercourse with each other.
London at this time was crowded with French exiles, escaped from the
devouring sword of Robespierre and his helpers in the work of government
by the guillotine, almost all of whom claimed to be members of, or
closely connected with, the ancient nobility of France. Among these was
an elderly gentleman of the name of De Tourville, who, with his daughter
Eugénie, had for a considerable time occupied a first floor in King
Street, Holborn. Him I never saw in life, but Mademoiselle de Tourville
was one of the most accomplished, graceful, enchantingly-interesting
persons I have ever seen or known. There was a dangerous fascination in
the pensive tenderness through which her natural gaiety and archness of
manner would at intervals flash, like April sunlight glancing through
clouds and showers, which, the first time I saw her, painfully impressed
as much as it charmed me--perceiving, as I quickly did, that with her the
future peace, I could almost have said life, of Arthur Rushton was
irrevocably bound up. The fountains of his heart were for the first time
stirred to their inmost depths, and, situated as he and she were, what
but disappointment, bitterness, and anguish could well-up from those
troubled waters? Mademoiselle de Tourville, I could perceive, was fully
aware of the impression she had made upon the sensitive and amiable
Englishman; and I sometimes discovered an expression of pity--of
sorrowful tenderness, as it were--pass over her features as some
distincter revelation than usual of the nature of Arthur Rushton's
emotions flashed upon her. I also heard her express herself several
times, as overtly as she could, upon the _impossibility_ there existed
that she should, however much she might desire it, settle in England, or
even remain in it for any considerable length of time. All this I
understood, or thought I did, perfectly; but Rushton, bewildered,
entranced by feelings altogether new to him, saw nothing, heard nothing
but her presence, and felt, without reasoning upon it, that in that
delirious dream it was his fate either to live or else to bear no life.
Mrs. Rushton--and this greatly surprised me--absorbed in her matrimonial
and furnishing schemes and projects, saw nothing of what was going on.
Probably the notion that her son should for an instant think of allying
himself with an obscure, portionless foreigner, was, to a mind like hers,
too absurd to be for a moment entertained; or--But stay; borne along by
a crowd of rushing thoughts, I have, I find, somewhat anticipated the
regular march of my narrative.
M. and Mademoiselle de Tourville, according to the after-testimony of
their landlord, Mr. Osborn, had, from the time of their arrival in
England, a very constant visitor at their lodgings in King Street. He was
a tall French gentleman, of perhaps thirty years of age, and
distinguished appearance. His name was La Houssaye. He was very
frequently with them indeed, and generally he and M. de Tourville would
go out together in the evening, the latter gentleman not returning home
till very late. This was more especially the case after Mademoiselle de
Tourville ceased to reside with her father.
Among the fashionable articles with which Mrs. Rushton was anxious to
surround herself, was a companion of accomplishments and high-breeding,
who might help her to rub off the rust she feared to have contracted by
her connection with the city. A Parisian lady of high lineage and perfect
breeding might, she thought, be easily obtained; and an advertisement
brought Mademoiselle de Tourville to her house. Mrs. Rushton was
delighted with the air and manners of the charming applicant; and after a
slight inquiry by letter to an address of reference given by the young
lady, immediately engaged her, on exceedingly liberal terms, for six
months--that being the longest period for which Mademoiselle de Tourville
could undertake to remain. She also stipulated for permission to pass the
greater part of one day in the week--that which might happen to be most
convenient to Mrs. Rushton--with her father. One other condition
testified alike to M. de Tourville's present poverty and her own filial
piety: it was, that her salary should be paid weekly--she would not
accept it in advance--avowedly for her parent's necessities, who, poor
exile! and tears stood in Eugénie's dark lustrous eyes as she spoke, was
ever trembling on the brink of the grave from an affection of the heart
with which he had been long afflicted. Mademoiselle de Tourville, I
should state, spoke English exceedingly well as far as the rules of
syntax and the meanings of words went, and with an accent charming in its
very defectiveness.
She had resided with Mrs. Rushton, who on all occasions treated her with
the greatest kindness and consideration, for rather more than two months,
when an incident occurred which caused the scales to fall suddenly from
the astonished mother's eyes, and in a moment revealed to her the extent
of the risk and mischief she had so heedlessly incurred. The carriage was
at the door, and it struck Mrs. Rushton as she was descending the stairs
that Mademoiselle de Tourville, who had complained of headache in the
morning, would like to take an airing with her. The sound of the harp
issuing from the drawing-room, and the faintly-distinguished tones of her
voice in some plaintive silver melody perhaps suggested the invitation;
and thither the mistress of the mansion at once proceeded. The
folding-doors of the back drawing-room were partially open when Mrs.
Rushton, on kind thoughts intent, entered the front apartment.
Mademoiselle de Tourville was seated with her back towards her at the
harp, pouring forth with her thrilling and delicious voice a French
romaunt; and there, with his head supported on his elbow, which rested on
the marble chimney-piece, stood her son, Arthur Rushton, gazing at the
apparently-unconscious songstress with a look so full of devoted
tenderness--so completely revealing the intensity of passion by which he
was possessed--that Mrs. Rushton started with convulsive affright, and
could not for several minutes give articulation to the dismay and rage
which choked her utterance Presently, however, her emotions found
expression, and a storm of vituperative abuse was showered upon the head
of the astonished Eugénie, designated as an artful _intrigante_, a
designing pauper, who had insinuated herself into the establishment for
the sole purpose of entrapping Mr. Arthur Rushton--with a great deal more
to the same effect. Mademoiselle de Tourville, who had first been too
much surprised by the unexpected suddenness of the attack to quite
comprehend the intent and direction of the blows, soon recovered her
self-possession and hauteur. A smile of contempt curled her beautiful
lip, as, taking advantage of a momentary pause in Mrs. Rushton's
breathless tirade, she said, "Permit me, madam, to observe that if, as
you seem to apprehend, your son has contemplated honoring me by the offer
of an alliance with his ancient House"--Her look at this moment glanced
upon the dreadfully agitated young man; the expression of disdainful
bitterness vanished in an instant from her voice and features; and after
a few moments, she added, with sad eyes bent upon the floor, "That he
could not have made a more unhappy choice--more unfortunate for him, more
impossible for me!" She then hastily left the apartment, and before a
quarter of an hour had elapsed, had left the house in a hackney-coach.
The scene which followed between the mother and son was a violent and
distressing one. Mr. Rushton, goaded to fury by his mother's attack upon
Mademoiselle de Tourville, cast off the habit of deference and submission
which he had always worn in her presence, and asserted with vehemence his
right to wed with whom he pleased, and declared that no power on earth
should prevent him marrying the lady just driven ignominiously from the
house if she could be brought to accept the offer of his hand and
fortune! Mrs. Rushton fell into passionate hysterics; and her son, having
first summoned her maid, withdrew to ruminate on Mademoiselle de
Tourville's concluding sentence, which troubled him far more that what he
deemed the injustice of his mother.
When Mrs. Rushton, by the aid of water, pungent essences, and the relief
which even an hour of time seldom fails to yield in such cases, had
partially recovered her equanimity, she determined, after careful
consideration of the best course of action, to consult a solicitor of
eminence, well acquainted with her late husband, upon the matter. She had
a dim notion that the Alien Act, if it could be put in motion, might rid
her of Mademoiselle de Tourville and her friends. Thus resolving, and
ever scrupulous as to appearances, she carefully smoothed her ruffled
plumage, changed her disordered dress, and directed the carriage, which
had been dismissed, to be again brought round to the door. "Mary," she
added a few moments afterwards, "bring me my jewel-case--the small one:
you will find it in Made--in that French person's dressing-room."
Mary Austin reappeared in answer to the violent ringing of her impatient
lady's bell, and stated that the jewel-case could nowhere be found in
Mademoiselle's dressing-room. "Her clothes, everything belonging to her,
had been taken out of the wardrobe, and carried away, and perhaps that
also in mistake no doubt."
"Nonsense, woman!" replied Mrs. Rushton. "I left it not long ago on her
toilet-glass. I intended to show her a purchase I had made, and not
finding her, left it as I tell you."
Another search was made with the same ill-success. Mary Austin afterwards
said that when she returned to her mistress the second time, to say that
the jewel-case was certainly gone, an expression of satisfaction instead
of anger, it seemed to her, glanced across Mrs. Rushton's face, who
immediately left the room, and in a few minutes afterwards was driven
off in the carriage.
About an hour after her departure I called in Harley Street for Arthur
Rushton, with whom I had engaged to go this evening to the theatre to
witness Mrs. Siddons's Lady Macbeth, which neither of us had yet seen. I
found him in a state of calmed excitement, if I may so express myself;
and after listening with much interest to the minute account he gave me
of what had passed, I, young and inexperienced as I was in such affairs,
took upon myself to suggest that, as the lady he nothing doubted was as
irreproachable in character as she was confessedly charming and
attractive in person and manners, and as he was unquestionably his own
master, Mrs. Rushton's opposition was not likely to be of long
continuance; and that as to Mademoiselle de Tourville's somewhat
discouraging expression, such sentences from the lips of ladies--
"That would be wooed, and not unsought be won"--
were seldom, if ever, I had understood, to be taken in a literal and
positive sense. Under this mild and soothing treatment, Mr. Rushton
gradually threw off a portion of the load that oppressed him, and we set
off in tolerably cheerful mood for the theatre.
Mrs. Siddons' magnificent and appalling impersonation over, we left the
house; he, melancholy and sombre as I had found him in Harley Street, and
I in by no means a gay or laughing mood. We parted at my door, and
whether it was the effect of the tragedy, so wonderfully realized in its
chief creation, or whether coming events _do_ sometimes cast their
shadows before, I cannot say, but I know that an hour after Rushton's
departure I was still sitting alone, my brain throbbing with excitement,
and so nervous and impressionable, that a sudden, vehement knocking at
the street entrance caused me to spring up from my chair with a terrified
start, and before I could master the impulsive emotion, the room-door was
thrown furiously open, and in reeled Arthur Rushton--pale, haggard,
wild--his eyes ablaze with horror and affright! Had the ghost of Duncan
suddenly gleamed out of the viewless air I could not have been more
startled--awed!
"She is dead!--poisoned!" he shrieked with maniacal fury;
"killed!--murdered!--and by _her_!"