I a not fond of scenes of low vice; I love not to dwell upon them.
Although in endeavouring to form for myself a just estimate of human
nature, to learn, for the sake of comparing them, the effects produced
upon the mind of man by every station of life, and every earthly
pursuit, I have visited the haunts of the low and the guilty, and
mingled, for a brief season, with the profligate, the criminal, and
the base, in many of the countries that my feet have trod, yet I look
back upon such moments, and such scenes, as a physician may be
supposed to look back upon the lazar-house and the plague-hospital,
whither he has gone for instruction, but which he recollects with
horror and with pain.
What was very justly said, by a man who had made acquaintance,
actuated by no evil views, with that most miserable class of
beings--the fallen women of a great city--that "each carries a tragedy
about with her," may well be said of the criminals who every day
expose themselves to fresh punishment by fresh crimes. It is not,
indeed, with the latter as with the other unhappy beings I have just
mentioned, that there is always a fund of broken hopes and lost
affections and crushed sensibilities; for man, made of sterner stuff,
often strides on rapidly into evil by his own choice, and corrupts
himself with his eyes open. With men the tragedy is not enacted in
their own heart; it is amongst parents, relations, friends--amongst
those who have built up their hopes and loves upon a being who shakes
them all to the ground, and leaves scarcely a ruin standing. But even
were it not for this--were the criminal alone in all the world--had he
disappointed no father's brightest wishes--had broken no mother's
heart had he never scattered dismay and sorrow round the fond domestic
hearth, nor cast the shadow of the Upas on the hearts of brothers and
sisters, surely the degradation of high intellect, the debasement of
all man's powers, corporeal and mental, the extinction of bright
innocence, the condemnation of an immortal spirit, are tragic acts,
enough to wring the heart of even the sternest when he beholds crime.
It is the apathy of age, the deadened sense of habit, or the levity of
youth, that enable us all to walk almost indifferent through scenes,
where, every day, sorrow, and sin, and destruction, are taking hold of
beings like ourselves.
The character of Morley Ernstein, as I have before depicted it, will
enable the reader to judge easily of the feelings with which he
visited, in company with Mr. Higgins, one of the nocturnal meetings of
a body of notorious criminals. The eager and impetuous part of his
nature was, for the time, predominant; and the spirit of adventure
which the act implied, heightened by a change of dress, with which the
worthy pawnbroker had furnished him, and the novelty of the whole
scene, made him feel amused rather than otherwise, and caused him to
forget altogether the more painful aspect of that which was before his
eyes.
I will not dwell upon all that took place, though, for reasons which
will be seen hereafter, it is necessary to touch upon these events in
some degree. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Higgins introduced his young
friend, pledged himself for his _honesty_, and bestowed such
commendations upon him as the society and the circumstances required.
Morley, not very many years before, had been at a public school,
where, amongst other branches of learning, nothing is acquired more
thoroughly than the art of making one's way in every sort of male
society. On this occasion he gave himself up to the impulse of the
moment, and, without affecting to talk their slang, or imitate their
manners, he soon found himself highly popular amongst the ruffians by
whom he was surrounded. There was a blithe jollity about them, which,
probably, nothing but utter recklessness of all that others hold dear
could produce; and one of the men in particular, whom the rest called
Harry Martin, had a gay, good-humoured frankness; a daring, insolent,
but cheerful merriment, which Morley could very well conceive might
prove not a little engaging to persons of his own class. Martin also
seemed struck and amused with Morley, laughed with him, talked with
him, tried to make him drink, and, not being successful, had many a
joke at his puny habits, even while he evidently admired his
self-command.
After having remained with these men for about an hour, Morley
perceived a note brought in, or rather a scrap of paper, for it was
not doubled up into the form of a letter, which, being handed to Harry
Martin, he replied--"Oh, very well;" and pushed it over to Higgins. A
momentary consultation ensued, and then a youth of about two or three
and twenty was singled out, and placed at the top of the table, when
Martin, pulling out a handsome gold watch, remarked, aloud--
"It is now half-past nine, gentlemen; and this is our friend, Billy
Barham."
Morley Ernstein stared. Although the name was similar, there was not
the least resemblance in the world, between the Billy Barham before
his eyes, and the William Barham whom he had seen in the morning.
However, everything went on as before; Billy Barham laughing,
drinking, and talking with the rest, and his friends around always
taking especial care to address him by his two names.
After a certain space of time, Morley found the scene begin to grow
tiresome. It was not exactly what he had expected; there was less
distinctive character about it than he had imagined he should find;
very little, indeed, to bring away, or which could bear in any degree
upon views of philosophy, or serve the purposes of instruction. He
accordingly gave Higgins, who sat next to him, the signal that had
been agreed upon, as indicating his wish to depart.
"Stay a bit, sir," whispered Higgins--"stay a bit. We mustn't go yet,
the time's not up."
Morley accordingly remained, till Higgins informed him that they might
go, adding, in the same low tone--"You'll pay for the lush, I
suppose."
"Oh, yes!" replied Morley; but, upon putting his hand into his pocket,
where he had left a few sovereigns for accidental expenses, he found
that they had disappeared. He uttered not a word, however, in regard
to his suspicions, though he saw the eyes of Higgins, Martin, and one
or two others upon him at the moment.
"Come, Mr. Higgins," he said, "you know me well enough to trust me.
You pay the reckoning for us all, for I have forgot to bring any
money."
"That's a hearty, now!" cried Martin, tossing down the sovereigns upon
the table--"they've been handed up to me; but I wouldn't take them
from such a fellow, for my little finger."
"Well then," said Morley, leaving them on the table--"let all that is
over the reckoning, be spent by the party, and so good night to you
all."
"We'll drink your health, sir!" cried one of the persons present, and
with such benediction, Morley and Higgins were suffered to depart.
"And now, Mr. Higgins," said Morley, as, after treading a great number
of narrow streets, they entered King-street, Covent Garden--"pray,
tell me, was that young man's name--I mean the one they took up to the
top of the table--really William Barham, as well as the youth you
mentioned to me yesterday?"
"Lord bless you!--no, sir," replied Higgins, "no more than yours!"
"Then, why did they call him so?" demanded Morley Ernstein.
"Why, that's a bit of a secret, sir," replied Higgins; "but, however,
I don't mind telling you; and now, let me see how I can manage to make
you understand. You know something of an alibi already, I think, sir.
Well, you see, many a good witness might be caught tripping, if he
were to come into court with a story told him by another: and so, when
we know that any one is upon the lay, or have notice given us that
something's going on, where such and such men that we know may chance
to put themselves in need of an alibi, we call one or two of the
fellows present, by the names of the men that are out, and talk to
them all night as such. Then every man that is there present, can
swear with a safe conscience, that he saw Billy Barham, or any one
else, at this house or that, and he can swear to the place, and name
what was said, and be quite sure that if any one else is called he
will swear to the same likewise; so that there can be no contradicting
oneself or one another. That's the way we get up an alibi. So, you
see, to-night some one sent in to say that Billy Barham was out upon
some job; and though he did not tell us himself, we did the thing just
out of kindness to him, because he's a young hand. But it wont do,
sir; he'll get pulled up some of these days! He is going it a great
deal too fast."
"I should think so, indeed," said Morley; "and, pray, Mr. Higgins,
who is a personage named Neville?"
"Oh, sir," replied Higgins, "Neville was what we call a _prime swell_;
he's getting a little bit down now, but I can recollect the time when
his line of business was altogether on the race-course, and at certain
houses in the neighbourhood of St. James's. Then he took to getting
money by lending it, and as long as he kept to pianoforte selling, and
all that, it did very well; but he was fool enough to let a story get
into the papers, about his filching some bills, and though the
serjeant cleared him of that cleverly, it blowed him a great deal.
Then he got horsewhipped one day, and shewed a little bit of the white
feather, and that did him no good with any party. But, if you are
asking because of what happened this morning, I can put you up to all
that in no time."
"Indeed!" said Morley. "Then you have heard all about this morning's
business, it seems."
"To be sure!" replied Higgins. "The stupid young fool came to me
to-night, about six o'clock, or so, and told me the whole; so I shewed
him that Neville would never do for his sister, and told him what I
wanted to make up for her. I said to him: 'There's Sir Morley
Ernstein, he may do very well, if you like, and what he promises he'll
keep; but as for Neville, he may have a hundred pounds in his pocket
to-day, and not twopence to-morrow; and as for his doing what he says
he will, even when he can, there's no use in trusting to that.' We
know him well enough--Master Neville. He's not a man of honour, sir."
A new light was beginning to shine upon Morley Ernstein; he was now,
indeed, seeing human existence, under a fresh aspect; he was too young
to be suspicious, but yet he had heard a good deal of the world, if he
had not mingled with it much; and the horrible scheme of villany and
vice, of which the reader is already aware, but which now first broke
upon him, made him ask himself, which were the agents, which the
victims, in the sad affair wherein he had himself become so suddenly
and unexpectedly a participator? or, was he alone the object of this
nefarious arrangement? Was Helen Barham, beautiful and high-minded as
she seemed, but a light woman, seeking for some new paramour; or was
she in reality what she appeared, and a mere victim to be immolated by
the criminal selfishness of her brother? He paused then, for several
minutes, without making any answer; he was, in fact, putting on his
armour, if one may so call it, finding himself suddenly attacked in a
manner that he did not expect. Accordingly, after some silence, he
replied, "Well, Mr. Higgins, I think you spoke quite reasonably. She
is a very beautiful girl, certainly. Pray, who did she live with
last?"
"No, sir; no," said Mr. Higgins, with more warmth than Morley had
expected. "She never lived with anybody that I know of--no, I'm sure
she hasn't--but I'll tell you the plain truth of the matter. I have
been given to understand, that you are a gentleman that wants to see
life; now you know very well, sir, that young gentlemen that set out
upon that lay, make a point, in the first place, of picking up some
lady. Well, sir, what I've got to say is no bad compliment to you,
either. I had seen this youth--this William Barham--almost every day,
for the last three or four months; and I had heard all about his
sister from him, and how she had laboured to support him in his wild
ways. Well, sir, I found that now, having pawned or sold everything he
had in the world, and almost everything she had, too, and done a great
many other things besides, which we wont talk about, he was determined
to sell his sister at last to some one. So, sir, when I saw you, and
heard you talk, I thought that you were one who, if you did take the
young lady, would not treat her as some men do, but, if some time you
liked to marry, and part with her, would provide for her handsomely.
It was that made me put you up quietly to go into that house."
"A very hopeful scheme, indeed!" said Morley. "But it seems to me, my
good friend, that this youth, who is, evidently, as hopeless a
scapegrace as ever cut a purse, or trod the drop, has other views for
his sister."
"Ay, sir; he's a bad one," answered Mr. Higgins. "He's one that will
come to no good. He might have been in a very genteel way of business,
if he had liked it, without any risk either; but there's no keeping
him steady, and he's got into bad hands that don't care how soon they
ruin the young man altogether, provided they screen themselves."
The moralizing vein of Mr. Higgins might, in some degree, have
surprised Morley Ernstein, had he not thought that there was something
equivocal in the good gentleman's expressions, and that, perhaps, what
he termed a genteel way of business, might be neither more nor less
than gambling, swindling, or thieving dexterously, and that the more
dangerous courses to which he alluded, might only be crimes easy of
detection. Mr. Higgins went on, however, after a moment's pause,
saying--"I can't help thinking, that young scoundrel has got himself
entangled with Neville, in a way that he'll not easily, break through;
Neville's got a string round his foot, I have a notion."
"I do not understand exactly what you mean," replied Morley.
"Why, I mean, sir," replied Higgins, "that the fellow has got Bill to
do something which might swing him, if Neville were to peach. I don't
know what it is, either; but I could soon know, if I liked."
"Well, then," answered Morley, "I wish you would like, and let me
know; and if ten pounds or so will get at the matter, I should not
mind giving it, though you know very well that I would not use the
information to the young man's harm."
"Oh, I understand, sir, what you want," replied Higgins, while at one
comprehensive view he saw every possible use that a gentleman,
situated as Sir Morley Ernstein was, could make of the intelligence he
was desirous of obtaining; and, remaining perfectly satisfied that the
object was to frustrate Neville, and at once to put brother and
sister into his own power, he repeated, with greater emphasis than
before,--"Oh, I understand, sir--I understand!"
"You will almost always find me, Mr. Higgins," said Morley, "at about
six o'clock, when I come home to dress for dinner; and, of course, I
need not say that I should like the information as soon as possible."
"You shall have it, sir--you shall have it," replied Higgins, "if not
to-morrow night, for certain, the night after."
"So be it, then," replied Morley; "good night! Mr. Higgins;" and
taking his way homeward, he left his worthy companion to pursue his
path to the shop.