_Anton._ You do mistake me, Sir.
_Off._ No, Sir, no jot: I know your favor well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head:
Take him away; he knows I know him well.
_Twelfth Night_--Act 3.
Apprehended as a great state-criminal, Bertram had been committed to
the safekeeping of Walladmor Castle as the only place in the county
strong enough to resist the attempts for his deliverance which were
anticipated from the numerous smugglers on the coast.--As regarded his
personal comfort however, and putting out of view the chances of any
such violent liberation, this arrangement was one on which a prisoner
had reason to congratulate himself. For Sir Morgan Walladmor would not
allow that any person within his gates should be inhospitably treated:
and, with the exception of his shackles, Bertram now found himself
more comfortably lodged in his prison than he had been for some time
before. He flung himself into bed, and was soon asleep. But the fury
of the wind about this exposed rock, and the fury of the sea at its
base,--with his own agitation of mind and body,--frequently awoke him.
As often he fell asleep again; and continually dreamed of the fields of
Germany and the friends whom he had left there. Sometimes he was
betrayed into imminent peril--sometimes into battle--sometimes into
flight: now he saw hands stretched forth from thick vapours to help
him; and again he saw the countenances of familiar friends turned upon
him with altered looks and glaring with mysterious revenge. Then came
running from the depth of forests a dear companion of his youth with a
coronet of flowers who smiled as in former times: but suddenly he shook
his head and vanished. The forests also vanished; and the flowers
perished: and he found himself on board the Fleurs-de-lys, with Captain
le Hamois by his side, fleeting over endless seas--and seeking in vain
for an anchor. He was on board the ship, and yet was not; but saw it
from a distance: and in this perplexity the Fleurs-de-lys changed into
a judgment-seat; and an orator was before it--pleading in some unknown
tongue against himself, and bringing to light many a secret crime that
had lain buried under a weight of years----
Confusion, struggle, shame, and woe:
Things to be hid that were not hid;
Which all confus'd he could not know
Whether he suffer'd or he did:[1]
and when the judgment seat began to speak, he died away with fear
and--suddenly awoke.
But a voice now reached him that was no voice of judgment or dismay;
the tones were low and sweet; and they spoke as woman speaks when she
comes to comfort. "Edward, dear Edward!" he heard distinctly uttered at
a few yards from his bed side. The storm was laid; the wind was hushed;
the sea had ceased to rave: it was two o'clock in the morning; and
every motion was audible. Recollecting the adamantine strength of his
prison, Bertram felt his German superstitions stealing over him; but
again he heard the voice; and, opening his eyes, he saw a dull light in
the room. Instantly he raised his head; and he beheld the figure of a
young woman standing by a little table. She was muffled up in the rich
furs of the sea-otter; and the small lamp which she held in her hand
streamed upwards a feeble gleam upon her countenance, sufficient
however to discover the superb beauty and touching expression which had
drawn all eyes upon St. David's day. It was indeed Miss Walladmor: and
at her elbow, but retiring half a step behind her, stood a young person
who was apparently her maid. "Dear Edward!" she began again, "listen to
me. I dare not stay now: if I were seen, all would be discovered: but I
will write an answer to your letter addressed to Paris. Meantime, I
will find some friend that shall put the means of escape in your way; I
hope to-morrow in the dusk of the evening. Oh! Edward, do not--do not
let it pass by: for every body here is your enemy:" and saying this she
burst into tears. "Go on board a ship immediately. And here is money,
Edward: and here is my watch, that you may know how the hours go. It is
now two o'clock. Promise me that you will escape: better times may
come: promise me, dear Edward."
Before Bertram could reply however, a hasty clank was heard at one
of the bars: this, it appeared, was a signal understood by Miss
Walladmor: she started and trembled; and exclaimed--"Farewell, Edward!
Remember!----" Something she would have added; but the door opened a
little, and a voice impatiently called "Miss Walladmor! Miss Walladmor!"
and in the next moment she and her attendant had glided inaudibly from
the room, and the door was again barred outside with as little noise as
possible. As it opened however, Bertram caught a glimpse of the person
stationed outside, who appeared to be a young boy of seventeen; he was
wrapped up in a cloak, but underneath it Bertram perceived the dragoon
uniform. That Miss Walladmor's visit had been intended for Edward
Nicholas he was sufficiently aware: and, feeling at once that he could
have no right to use to the prejudice of either a knowledge which he
had gained in this way, he took care as soon as the light came to
secrete from the sight of his jailors the watch and the other articles
left on the table: which appeared to be chiefly letters of credit on
Paris to a large amount obtained from the Dolgelly Bank.
Pretty early in the morning one of the Walldamor servants, attended by
a soldier, brought breakfast into his cell; and soon after desired him
to follow them. By a great circuit, and partly over the same ground as
he had traversed the night before, they conducted him into a large
library, at one end of which sate four magistrates for the county,
before whom he was placed: Sir Morgan Walladmor and Sir Charles
Davenant were also present; but they sate at a distance, and took no
part in the examination; though they surveyed the prisoner from time to
time with great apparent interest; and the latter, who was writing,
occasionally laid down his pen to attend to the prisoner's answers.
"What is your name?"
"Edmund Bertram."
"Whence do you come?"
"From Germany."
"Where is your home?"
"So far as I can be said to have one, in Germany."
"And you were educated in Germany?"
"Yes."
"And yet speak English like a native?"
"I was bred up in an English family resident in North Germany."
"What was your object in coming to England?"
"Upon that point you must pardon me: I do not feel myself called upon,
simply for the purpose of clearing myself from unfounded charges, to
make disclosures of that nature."
"How do you know that the charges against you are unfounded? You have
not yet heard them."
"Without pretending to any accurate knowledge of the English laws, I am
sure that I cannot have transgressed the laws of any country during my
short residence in Wales."
"Were you at the attack of the revenue officers near the chapel of
Utragan?"
"I was; but simply as a spectator: I neither understood the object of
that attack, nor took any part in it."
"By what ship did you come to England?"
"By the steam-packet Halcyon?"
"And you were on board the Halcyon when she blew up?"
"I was knocked overboard the moment before, and in that manner I
escaped."
"And what became of you?"
"I was drifted by the waves towards the Isle of Anglesea: a few miles
to the southward of Holyhead I was picked up by I know not whom.
Afterwards I obtained a passage to the main land."
"And took up your abode----where?"
"At the inn in Machynleth."
"Where was it that you were first apprehended?"
"At an abbey, I forget the name, amongst the Merionethshire mountains:
no, upon recollection, amongst the Carnarvonshire mountains."
"What led you thither?"
"I was advised by an acquaintance to visit it."
"For what purpose?"
"Simply as an interesting relic of antiquity, and as a very picturesque
building."
Here the magistrates looked at each other and smiled.
"What sort of night was that on which you visited this abbey?"
"A very severe and inclement night."
"And on such a night you were engaged in studying the picturesque?"
The prisoner was silent.
"You stated that you were apprehended at this abbey: who were the
persons that delivered you?"
"I do not know."
"Upon what motives did the persons act who rescued you?"
"So far as I know, upon motives of gratitude: one of them had received
a service from myself."
"Do you know any thing of Captain Edward Nicholas, or Captain Nicolao,
as he is sometimes called?"
The Prisoner replied--"No:" but at the same time he coloured. Feeling
that his confusion would weigh much against himself, Bertram now
endeavoured to disperse it by assuming the stern air of an injured
person, and demanded to know upon what grounds he was detained in
custody, or subjected to these humiliating examinations. One of the
magistrates rose, and addressed him with some solemnity:
"Captain Nicholas, we cannot doubt about the person we have before us.
Judge for yourself when I read to you the information we have received,
much of which has been now confirmed by yourself. Edward Nicholas,
charged with various offences against the laws, is on the point of
leaving the Isle of Wight for France: he is apprehended; put on board
the Halcyon steam-packet; the Halcyon blows up; nearly all on board
perish: but Nicholas is known to have escaped. He is seen by several in
the company of a Dutchman called Vander Velsen: to assist that person
and Captain le Harnois _alias_ Jackson of the Fleurs-de-lys in a
smuggling transaction, but for what purpose of self interest is not
known, he plays off a deception on the lord lieutenant, and conducts a
mock funeral to the chapel of Utragan. A skirmish takes place on the
road between the revenue officers and the mourners suborned by le
Harnois and Nicholas. You have acknowledged that you were present at
that skirmish; and we have witnesses who can prove that you were both
present and armed with a cudgel of unusual dimensions: in fact,"
said the magistrate by way of parenthesis, "of monstrous dimensions:"
(here the prisoner could not forbear smiling, which did him no service
with the magistrate; who went on to aggravate the enormity of the
cudgel;)--"a cudgel in fact, such as no man carries, no man ever did
carry, no man ever will carry with peaceable intentions. Nicholas is
known to have gone on from Utragan to Ap Gauvon: you admit that you
were there, and without any adequate motive; for as to the picturesque
and all that, on a night such as the last, it is really unworthy of you
to allege any thing so idle. At Ap Gauvon you are apprehended and
immediately rescued. You steal away into the barn of a peasant, and
kill the dog to prevent detection from his barking. Your footsteps
however are tracked: you are again apprehended on the following
morning: and again an attempt is made to rescue you: and a riot
absolutely raised in your behalf. And finally, when it became known
last night that you were conveyed to Walladmor, a smuggling vessel was
observed to stand in close to the shore--making signals for upwards of
five hours which no doubt were directed to you. The chain of
circumstantial evidence is complete."
Bertram was silent: he could not but acknowledge to himself that the
presumptions were strong against him. Omitting the accidental
coincidences between his own movements and those of Nicholas, whence
had he--a perfect stranger by his own account--drawn the zealous
assistance which he had received? By what means could he have obtained
such earnest and continued support?--He would have suggested to the
magistrate that the same mistake about his person, which had led to his
apprehension, was in fact the main cause (combined with the general
dislike to Alderman Gravesand) of the second mistake under which the
mob had acted in attempting his rescue. But dejection at the mass of
presumptions arrayed against himself, even apart from his own
unfortunate resemblance to the real object of those presumptions,
self-reproach on account of his own indiscretion, and pain of mind at
the prospect of the troubles which awaited him in a country where he
was friendless, suddenly came over him; and the words died away upon
his lips. The magistrates watched him keenly; and, interpreting these
indications of confusion and faultering courage in the way least
favourable to the prisoner, they earnestly exhorted him to make a full
confession as the only chance now left him for meriting any favour with
government.
This appeal had the effect of recalling the prisoner to his full
self-possession, and he briefly protested his innocence with firmness
and some indignation; adding that he was the victim of an unfortunate
resemblance to the person who was the real object of search; but that,
unless the magistrates could take upon them to affirm as of their own
knowledge that this resemblance was much stronger than he had reason to
believe it was, they were not entitled so confidently to prejudge his
case and to take his guilt for established.
All present had seen Captain Nicholas, but not often, nor for the last
two years. One of the magistrates however, who had seen him more
frequently than the others and had repeatedly conversed with him,
declared himself entirely satisfied of the prisoner's identity with
that person: it was not a case, he was persuaded, which could be shaken
by any counter-evidence. Upon this they all rose: assured the prisoner
that he should have the attendance of a clergyman; conjured him not to
disregard the spiritual assistance which would now be put in his way:
and then, upon the same grounds as had originally dictated the
selection of Bertram's prison--distrust of so weak a prison as that at
Dolgelly against the stratagems and activity of Captain Nicholas within
and the violence of his friends without--they finally recommitted him
to the Falcon's tower.
At the suggestion of Sir Morgan Walladmor however, who had taken no
part in the examination, but apparently took the liveliest interest in
the whole of what passed, the prisoner was freed from his irons--as
unnecessary in a prison of such impregnable strength, and unjust before
the full establishment of his guilt. This act of considerate attention
to his personal ease together with a pile of books[2] sent by the
worthy baronet, restored Bertram to some degree of spirits: and such
were the luxurious accommodations granted him in all other respects,
compared with any which he had recently had, that--but for the loss of
his liberty and the prospect of the troubles which awaited him--Bertram
would have found himself tolerably happy, though tenanting that ancient
and aerial mansion which was known to mariners and to all on shore for
at least six counties round by the appellation of "the house of death."
FOOTNOTES TO "CHAPTER XVI.":
[Footnote 1: Coleridge, _from imperfect recollection_.]
[Footnote 2: Amongst which we are happy to say (on the authority of a
Welch friend) was the _first_ volume of Walladmor, a novel, 2 vols.
post 8vo.; the second being not then finished.]