SOME PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF MR. EMILIUS.
The writer of this chronicle is not allowed to imagine that any of
his readers have read the wonderful and vexatious adventures of Lady
Eustace, a lady of good birth, of high rank, and of large fortune,
who, but a year or two since, became almost a martyr to a diamond
necklace which was stolen from her. With her history the present
reader has but small concern, but it may be necessary that he should
know that the lady in question, who had been a widow with many
suitors, at last gave her hand and her fortune to a clergyman whose
name was Joseph Emilius. Mr. Emilius, though not an Englishman by
birth,--and, as was supposed, a Bohemian Jew in the earlier days of
his career,--had obtained some reputation as a preacher in London,
and had moved,--if not in fashionable circles,--at any rate in
circles so near to fashion as to be brought within the reach of Lady
Eustace's charms. They were married, and for some few months Mr.
Emilius enjoyed a halcyon existence, the delights of which were,
perhaps, not materially marred by the necessity which he felt of
subjecting his young wife to marital authority. "My dear," he would
say, "you will know me better soon, and then things will be smooth."
In the meantime he drew more largely upon her money than was pleasing
to her and to her friends, and appeared to have requirements for
cash which were both secret and unlimited. At the end of twelve
months Lady Eustace had run away from him, and Mr. Emilius had made
overtures, by accepting which his wife would be enabled to purchase
his absence at the cost of half her income. The arrangement was not
regarded as being in every respect satisfactory, but Lady Eustace
declared passionately that any possible sacrifice would be preferable
to the company of Mr. Emilius. There had, however, been a rumour
before her marriage that there was still living in his old country a
Mrs. Emilius when he married Lady Eustace; and, though it had been
supposed by those who were most nearly concerned with Lady Eustace
that this report had been unfounded and malicious, nevertheless, when
the man's claims became so exorbitant, reference was again made to
the charge of bigamy. If it could be proved that Mr. Emilius had a
wife living in Bohemia, a cheaper mode of escape would be found for
the persecuted lady than that which he himself had suggested.
It had happened that, since her marriage with Mr. Emilius, Lady
Eustace had become intimate with our Mr. Bonteen and his wife. She
had been at one time engaged to marry Lord Fawn, one of Mr. Bonteen's
colleagues, and during the various circumstances which had led to the
disruption of that engagement, this friendship had been formed. It
must be understood that Lady Eustace had a most desirable residence
of her own in the country,--Portray Castle in Scotland,--and that
it was thought expedient by many to cultivate her acquaintance.
She was rich, beautiful, and clever; and, though her marriage with
Mr. Emilius had never been looked upon as a success, still, in the
estimation of some people, it added an interest to her career. The
Bonteens had taken her up, and now both Mr. and Mrs. Bonteen were
hot in pursuit of evidence which might prove Mr. Emilius to be a
bigamist.
When the disruption of conjugal relations was commenced, Lady Eustace
succeeded in obtaining refuge at Portray Castle without the presence
of her husband. She fled from London during a visit he made to
Brighton with the object of preaching to a congregation by which his
eloquence was held in great esteem. He left London in one direction
by the 5 P.M. express train on Saturday, and she in the other by the
limited mail at 8.45. A telegram, informing him of what had taken
place, reached him the next morning at Brighton while he was at
breakfast. He preached his sermon, charming the congregation by the
graces of his extempore eloquence,--moving every woman there to
tears,--and then was after his wife before the ladies had taken their
first glass of sherry at luncheon. But her ladyship had twenty-four
hours' start of him,--although he did his best; and when he reached
Portray Castle the door was shut in his face. He endeavoured to
obtain the aid of blacksmiths to open, as he said, his own hall
door,--to obtain the aid of constables to compel the blacksmiths, of
magistrates to compel the constables,--and even of a judge to compel
the magistrates; but he was met on every side by a statement that
the lady of the castle declared that she was not his wife, and that
therefore he had no right whatever to demand that the door should
be opened. Some other woman,--so he was informed that the lady
said,--out in a strange country was really his wife. It was her
intention to prove him to be a bigamist, and to have him locked up.
In the meantime she chose to lock herself up in her own mansion. Such
was the nature of the message that was delivered to him through the
bars of the lady's castle.
How poor Lady Eustace was protected, and, at the same time, made
miserable by the energy and unrestrained language of one of her
own servants, Andrew Gowran by name, it hardly concerns us now to
inquire. Mr. Emilius did not succeed in effecting an entrance; but he
remained for some time in the neighbourhood, and had notices served
on the tenants in regard to the rents, which puzzled the poor folk
round Portray Castle very much. After a while Lady Eustace, finding
that her peace and comfort imperatively demanded that she should
prove the allegations which she had made, fled again from Portray
Castle to London, and threw herself into the hands of the Bonteens.
This took place just as Mr. Bonteen's hopes in regard to the
Chancellorship of the Exchequer were beginning to soar high, and when
his hands were very full of business. But with that energy for which
he was so conspicuous, Mr. Bonteen had made a visit to Bohemia during
his short Christmas holidays, and had there set people to work. When
at Prague he had, he thought, very nearly unravelled the secret
himself. He had found the woman whom he believed to be Mrs. Emilius,
and who was now living somewhat merrily in Prague under another name.
She acknowledged that in old days, when they were both young, she
had been acquainted with a certain Yosef Mealyus, at a time in
which he had been in the employment of a Jewish moneylender in the
city; but,--as she declared,--she had never been married to him.
Mr. Bonteen learned also that the gentleman now known as Mr. Joseph
Emilius of the London Chapel had been known in his own country as
Yosef Mealyus, the name which had been borne by the very respectable
Jew who was his father. Then Mr. Bonteen had returned home, and, as
we all know, had become engaged in matters of deeper import than even
the deliverance of Lady Eustace from her thraldom.
Mr. Emilius made no attempt to obtain the person of his wife while
she was under Mr. Bonteen's custody, but he did renew his offer
to compromise. If the estate could not afford to give him the two
thousand a year which he had first demanded, he would take fifteen
hundred. He explained all this personally to Mr. Bonteen, who
condescended to see him. He was very eager to make Mr. Bonteen
understand how bad even then would be his condition. Mr. Bonteen was,
of course, aware that he would have to pay very heavily for insuring
his wife's life. He was piteous, argumentative, and at first gentle;
but when Mr. Bonteen somewhat rashly told him that the evidence
of a former marriage and of the present existence of the former
wife would certainly be forthcoming, he defied Mr. Bonteen and his
evidence,--and swore that if his claims were not satisfied, he would
make use of the power which the English law gave him for the recovery
of his wife's person. And as to her property,--it was his, not hers.
From this time forward if she wanted to separate herself from him she
must ask him for an allowance. Now, it certainly was the case that
Lady Eustace had married the man without any sufficient precaution as
to keeping her money in her own hands, and Mr. Emilius had insisted
that the rents of the property which was hers for her life should
be paid to him, and on his receipt only. The poor tenants had been
noticed this way and noticed that till they had begun to doubt
whether their safest course would not be to keep their rents in their
own hands. But lately the lawyers of the Eustace family,--who were
not, indeed, very fond of Lady Eustace personally,--came forward for
the sake of the property, and guaranteed the tenants against all
proceedings until the question of the legality of the marriage should
be settled. So Mr. Emilius,--or the Reverend Mealyus, as everybody
now called him,--went to law; and Lady Eustace went to law; and the
Eustace family went to law;--but still, as yet, no evidence was
forthcoming sufficient to enable Mr. Bonteen, as the lady's friend,
to put the gentleman into prison.
It was said for a while that Mealyus had absconded. After his
interview with Mr. Bonteen he certainly did leave England and made
a journey to Prague. It was thought that he would not return, and
that Lady Eustace would be obliged to carry on the trial, which was
to liberate her and her property, in his absence. She was told that
the very fact of his absence would go far with a jury, and she was
glad to be freed from his presence in England. But he did return,
declaring aloud that he would have his rights. His wife should be
made to put herself into his hands, and he would obtain possession
of the income which was his own. People then began to doubt. It was
known that a very clever lawyer's clerk had been sent to Prague to
complete the work there which Mr. Bonteen had commenced. But the
clerk did not come back as soon as was expected, and news arrived
that he had been taken ill. There was a rumour that he had been
poisoned at his hotel; but, as the man was not said to be dead,
people hardly believed the rumour. It became necessary, however, to
send another lawyer's clerk, and the matter was gradually progressing
to a very interesting complication.
Mr. Bonteen, to tell the truth, was becoming sick of it. When
Emilius, or Mealyus, was supposed to have absconded, Lady Eustace
left Mr. Bonteen's house, and located herself at one of the large
London hotels; but when the man came back, bolder than ever, she
again betook herself to the shelter of Mr. Bonteen's roof. She
expressed the most lavish affection for Mrs. Bonteen, and professed
to regard Mr. Bonteen as almost a political god, declaring her
conviction that he, and he alone, as Prime Minister, could save the
country, and became very loud in her wrath when he was robbed of his
seat in the Cabinet. Lizzie Eustace, as her ladyship had always been
called, was a clever, pretty, coaxing little woman, who knew how to
make the most of her advantages. She had not been very wise in her
life, having lost the friends who would have been truest to her, and
confided in persons who had greatly injured her. She was neither
true of heart or tongue, nor affectionate, nor even honest. But she
was engaging; she could flatter; and could assume a reverential
admiration which was very foreign to her real character. In these
days she almost worshipped Mr. Bonteen, and could never be happy
except in the presence of her dearest darling friend Mrs. Bonteen.
Mr. Bonteen was tired of her, and Mrs. Bonteen was becoming almost
sick of the constant kisses with which she was greeted; but Lizzie
Eustace had got hold of them, and they could not turn her off.
"You saw The People's Banner, Mrs. Bonteen, on Monday?" Lady
Eustace had been reading the paper in her friend's drawing-room.
"They seem to think that Mr. Bonteen must be Prime Minister before
long."
[Illustration: "They seem to think that Mr. Bonteen must be
Prime Minister."]
"I don't think he expects that, my dear."
"Why not? Everybody says The People's Banner is the cleverest paper
we have now. I always hated the very name of that Phineas Finn."
"Did you know him?"
"Not exactly. He was gone before my time; but poor Lord Fawn used to
talk of him. He was one of those conceited Irish upstarts that are
never good for anything."
"Very handsome, you know," said Mrs. Bonteen.
"Was he? I have heard it said that a good many ladies admired him."
"It was quite absurd; with Lady Laura Kennedy it was worse than
absurd. And there was Lady Glencora, and Violet Effingham, who
married Lady Laura's brother, and that Madame Goesler, whom I
hate,--and ever so many others."
"And is it true that it was he who got Mr. Bonteen so shamefully
used?"
"It was his faction."
"I do so hate that kind of thing," said Lady Eustace, with righteous
indignation; "I used to hear a great deal about Government and all
that when the affair was on between me and poor Lord Fawn, and that
kind of dishonesty always disgusted me. I don't know that I think so
much of Mr. Gresham after all."
"He is a very weak man."
"His conduct to Mr. Bonteen has been outrageous; and if he has done
it just because that Duchess of Omnium has told him, I really do
think that he is not fit to rule the nation. As for Mr. Phineas Finn,
it is dreadful to think that a creature like that should be able to
interfere with such a man as Mr. Bonteen."
This was on Wednesday afternoon,--the day on which members of
Parliament dine out,--and at that moment Mr. Bonteen entered the
drawing-room, having left the House for his half-holiday at six
o'clock. Lady Eustace got up, and gave him her hand, and smiled upon
him as though he were indeed her god. "You look so tired and so
worried, Mr. Bonteen."
"Worried;--I should think so."
"Is there anything fresh?" asked his wife.
"That fellow Finn is spreading all manner of lies about me."
"What lies, Mr. Bonteen?" asked Lady Eustace. "Not new lies, I hope."
"It all comes from Carlton Terrace." The reader may perhaps remember
that the young Duchess of Omnium lived in Carlton Terrace. "I can
trace it all there. I won't stand it if it goes on like this. A
clique of stupid women to take up the cudgels for a coal-heaving
sort of fellow like that, and sting one like a lot of hornets! Would
you believe it?--the Duke almost refused to speak to me just now--a
man for whom I have been working like a slave for the last twelve
months!"
"I would not stand it," said Lady Eustace.
"By the bye, Lady Eustace, we have had news from Prague."
"What news?" said she, clasping her hands.
"That fellow Pratt we sent out is dead."
"No!"
"Not a doubt but what he was poisoned; but they seem to think that
nothing can be proved. Coulson is on his way out, and I shouldn't
wonder if they served him the same."
"And it might have been you!" said Lady Eustace, taking hold of her
friend's arm with almost frantic affection.
Yes, indeed. It might have been the lot of Mr. Bonteen to have died
at Prague--to have been poisoned by the machinations of the former
Mrs. Mealyus, if such really had been the fortune of the unfortunate
Mr. Pratt. For he had been quite as busy at Prague as his successor
in the work. He had found out much, though not everything. It
certainly had been believed that Yosef Mealyus was a married man,
but he had brought the woman with him to Prague, and had certainly
not married her in the city. She was believed to have come from
Cracow, and Mr. Bonteen's zeal on behalf of his friend had not been
sufficient to carry him so far East. But he had learned from various
sources that the man and woman had been supposed to be married,--that
she had borne the man's name, and that he had taken upon himself
authority as her husband. There had been written communications with
Cracow, and information was received that a man of the name of Yosef
Mealyus had been married to a Jewess in that town. But this had
been twenty years ago, and Mr. Emilius professed himself to be only
thirty-five years old, and had in his possession a document from his
synagogue professing to give a record of his birth, proving such to
be his age. It was also ascertained that Mealyus was a name common
at Cracow, and that there were very many of the family in Galicia.
Altogether the case was full of difficulty, but it was thought that
Mr. Bonteen's evidence would be sufficient to save the property from
the hands of the cormorant, at any rate till such time as better
evidence of the first marriage could be obtained. It had been hoped
that when the man went away he would not return; but he had returned,
and it was now resolved that no terms should be kept with him and no
payment offered to him. The house at Portray was kept barred, and the
servants were ordered not to admit him. No money was to be paid to
him, and he was to be left to take any proceedings at law which he
might please,--while his adversaries were proceeding against him with
all the weapons at their disposal. In the meantime his chapel was of
course deserted, and the unfortunate man was left penniless in the
world.
Various opinions prevailed as to Mr. Bonteen's conduct in the matter.
Some people remembered that during the last autumn he and his wife
had stayed three months at Portray Castle, and declared that the
friendship between them and Lady Eustace had been very useful. Of
these malicious people it seemed to be, moreover, the opinion that
the connection might become even more useful if Mr. Emilius could be
discharged. It was true that Mrs. Bonteen had borrowed a little money
from Lady Eustace, but of this her husband knew nothing till the Jew
in his wrath made the thing public. After all it had only been a
poor £25, and the money had been repaid before Mr. Bonteen took his
journey to Prague. Mr. Bonteen was, however, unable to deny that the
cost of that journey was defrayed by Lady Eustace, and it was thought
mean in a man aspiring to be Chancellor of the Exchequer to have his
travelling expenses paid for him by a lady. Many, however, were of
opinion that Mr. Bonteen had been almost romantic in his friendship,
and that the bright eyes of Lady Eustace had produced upon this
dragon of business the wonderful effect that was noticed. Be that as
it may, now, in the terrible distress of his mind at the political
aspect of the times, he had become almost sick of Lady Eustace, and
would gladly have sent her away from his house had he known how to do
so without incurring censure.