O, tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide!
How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child,
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible;
Thou--stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
_Third part of King Henry VI._
Bertram was now immediately restored to liberty. Indeed the baronet had
never perfectly acquiesced in the presumptions, however circumstantial,
which went to identify him with Captain Nicholas. Bertram, as it struck
him, looked younger; and had the appearance of greater delicacy of
constitution, or at least of having been bred up less hardily: whence
perhaps was derived his more juvenile aspect. His voice also sounded
very different: and, though Sir Morgan had not been able to recal the
peculiar tone of Captain Nicholas, he _recognized_ it most
unequivocally at that instant when the Captain threw off his disguise.
A considerable interest in Bertram had from the first arisen in Sir
Morgan's mind from the general air of candor and amiable feeling which
marked his demeanour; and this interest was not weakened by the
remarkable resemblance which Sir Morgan believed that he discovered in
Bertram's features and expression to the portraits in the Walladmor
picture-gallery of two distinguished ancestors of his own house. Partly
on these special claims to his notice, and partly with the general
desire of expressing his concern to the young man for the unmerited
distress into which he had been thrown, the kind-hearted old gentleman
gave him a pressing invitation to take up his abode for some time in
Walladmor Castle; an invitation which, as it offered him a ready
introduction into English society, and was pressed with evident
sincerity, Bertram did not hesitate to accept.
The clergyman of the parish, who had been sent to Bertram as a ghostly
adviser and summoner to repentance, could not boast of much success
with his subject in that character. In fact the young stranger had been
too much interested by _some_ of the books[1] furnished from Sir
Morgan's library to have leisure for such serious thoughts. But a thing
or a person, that is of no use in one function, may do excellent
service in another: and the Reverend Mr. Williams, who had failed in
his spiritual mission, was turned to good worldly account by Bertram as
a gossiper and a mine of information upon all questions which had
arisen to excite his curiosity in the course of his recent adventures.
The case of poor Mrs. Godber, his aged hostess in Anglesea, was easily
explained.
Four and twenty years ago her eldest son, at that time about seventeen
years old, had participated in some smuggling transaction during which
two revenue officers had been killed under circumstances which the law
adjudged to be murder. Nobody suspected young Godber of having (in the
English sense of the word) assisted in this murder, foreseen it, or
approved it: but in the French sense he _did_ 'assist:' that is, he was
present: and therefore in the eye of the law an accessary. As such, he
was put upon his trial--found guilty--and sentenced to death.
Unfortunately at this time the outrages of the smugglers upon the coast
of Wales had become so frequent and terrific, that it was judged
necessary to make an example. The case came before the Privy Council:
the opinion of Sir Morgan Walladmor, as lord lieutenant of the two
counties chiefly infested by the smugglers, naturally weighed a good
deal with the council: and this opinion was unfavorable to the poor
young criminal.
"But in later years," said Mr. Williams, "and when Sir Morgan had come
to think very differently on some parts of that unhappy affair, I have
often heard him protest with earnestness that in giving the opinion he
did at the council hoard he was simply reporting the universal judgment
of the magistracy throughout the maritime counties of North Wales.
This, Mr. Bertram, I am sure was true. But that was known to few; and
Sir Morgan from his high station drew the whole blame upon himself: and
perhaps in one view not unjustly. For, though he was not single in the
opinion which decided the case against the poor boy, it was generally
believed that his single voice on the other side the question would
have outweighed all opposition, and have obtained the mercy of the
crown. So at least the poor boy's mother thought: and she addressed
herself to Sir Morgan morning, noon, and night. The lad was her darling
child; indeed her other son, Tom, was then only an infant; and, as the
time drew near for his execution, she was like a mad thing. Never was
there such an agony of intercession. She wept, and prayed, and clung
about Sir Morgan's knees, and tore her hair: she rushed through all the
servants, ran up stairs, and found out lady Walladmor's room: lady
Walladmor was then ill, and sitting in her dressing-room: but she (God
love her!) was the kindest creature in the world: and she was easily
won to come and beg for the poor distracted mother. In the great hall
she kneeled to Sir Morgan: but all wouldn't do. I have heard Sir Morgan
say that his heart relented even at that time: and he had a sort of
misgiving upon him that night, as he looked back upon the frantic woman
from the head of the great stair-case, that all could not go right--and
that some evil would fall upon him for standing out against such
pleadings as he had just heard. Still his sense of duty, according to
the notion he then had of his duty, obliged him to persist: and besides
he told them both that, after what had been said to the council, it was
now impossible to make another application on the case--unless some new
circumstance in the boy's favor had come out. This was very unadvised
in Sir Morgan: for it confirmed the mother in her belief that it was
_his_ representations which had determined the fate of her son.
"Mr. Bertram, you have read Virgil: and in that fine episode of
Mezentius, which we all admire so much (and which, by the way, seems to
me finer even than the 'Shield of AEneas,' or with the critics' leave
than any thing in the sixth book), there are two grand hemistichs
applied to the case of Mezentius in the moment of his mounting his
horse to avenge the death of his gallant son who (you will remember)
had fallen a sacrifice to his filial piety:
"----mixtoque insania luctu,
Et furiis agitatus amor----"
"I remember them well," said Bertram "and Virgil has reflected rather a
weakening effect on them by afterwards applying the same words to a
case of inferior passion."
"He has so. But, to return to the case of Mrs. Godber, these fine words
of the Roman poet may convey some picture of her state of mind; it was
truly the state of Mezentius--'mixtoque insania luctu'--frenzy mixed
with grief; and the tenderness of maternal love, that love which is
taken in Scripture as the express image of the love which exists in
the divine nature, tarnished and darkened by earthly--I may say by
hellish--passions. Even then, and from that very night, she altered much:
as one passed her, she muttered indistinctly; often she would lift up her
hands in the air, clench them, and shake them as if at some figure that
she saw in the clouds; and at times she slunk into corners, refused all
comfort or society, and sank wholly into herself."
"And how meantime did her son behave?"
"Oh, Sir, incomparably well. He knew his mother's temper: and the very
night before he suffered, as he hung about her neck and kissed her at
their farewell interview, he wrung her hand and prayed her to put aside
all thoughts of vengeance. I attended him to the last: and his final
words to me on the scaffold, as the executioner prepared to draw the
cap over his face, were--'God bless you. Sir, and remember!' by which
he meant to remind me of his only request; and _that_ was that I would
visit his mother, and endeavour to soothe her into resignation, and
persuade her to let him sleep unremembered in his grave; and not to
recal the memory of his unhappy end to people's minds by any action
that might make shipwreck of her own conscience. Young as he was, Mr.
Bertram, these were the thoughts that made the bitterness of death to
him; 'thoughts high for one so tender:'[2]--most of all the thought
afflicted him that _he_ should be made the occasion of overthrowing the
peace of mind of her whom he loved beyond all things in the world. Sir
Morgan mused much when he heard this report of the boy's latter hours;
and afterwards much more, when two of the older smugglers were taken
and condemned for the same murders: for their confessions wholly
exonerated him from all knowledge of their worst actions: he was
considered by the whole gang as a mere child; so indeed he was: and
nothing was ever communicated to him of their schemes: nor was he ever
present at any of them except by mere accident. The extent of his
connexion appeared to have been this--that now and then he had given
them a helping hand in stowing away their smuggled goods; and _that_
only for the sake of his mother, who was very poor, having just become
a widow,--and in this way obtained a few groceries or other additions
to her domestic comforts. This it was that made the sharpest sting in
the mother's wretchedness: she knew that all had been done for _her_;
that, but for her sake, he would never have gone near the smugglers;
and that, without perhaps directly giving her sanction to such
connexions, she had never decidedly opposed them--and had availed
herself of their profits. Some were unfeeling enough to throw this in
the poor creature's teeth, whose heart was already wounded beyond what
she could bear; and after that she became perfectly frantic."
"You visited her then, Mr. Williams?"
"I did for a time; and indeed she has always been willing to hold
intercourse with me in consideration of what I did and attempted to do
for her son. But I will confess to you, Mr. Bertram, that the spectacle
of a human being originally of strong mind driven by extremity of
wretchedness into the total wreck of her own final peace,--her moral
feelings all giving way before a devilish malignity, and her wits
gradually unsettling under this tremendous internal conflict,--was too
pitiable to be supported by me, unless I had felt myself able in some
way or other to stem the misery which I witnessed: and, after the
perpetration of that great crime by which she sought to avenge herself,
I could never bear to go near her; though I have occasionally conversed
with her on the roads."
"What crime do you speak of, Mr. Williams? and how is it that, having
committed any crime to justify your present language, she is yet
allowed to go at large?
"I do not speak of any crime proved in a court of justice, or perhaps
capable of being so; but nobody ever doubted that Mrs. Godber was the
secret mover in the matter; though the very nature of her purpose
obliged her to employ the hand of an intermediate agent.--About three
months after the execution of the poor boy, and when the ferment of
that unhappy affair was beginning to subside in all minds but those
of his mother and of Sir Morgan, lady Walladmor lay in of twins. By
whose means it never has been discovered,--the only person, who could
certainly have cleared up that matter, being so soon removed by
death,--but from some quarter or other a moving representation had been
made to lady Walladmor, when riding out, in favour of a young woman who
about that time applied for the place of under nurse: she was described
to have been deserted under circumstances of peculiar interest by a
person to whom she was under an engagement of marriage; and other
particulars, implying some unusual elevation of character in the young
woman, were reported in a way which was likely to plead powerfully with
a woman of her ladyship's known goodness of heart. But all these
representations were false, as came out when it was too late. However
she was hired. It was not known at that time,--or, if it were, only to
those who allowed it no weight in their minds,--that she was a niece of
Gillie Godber's. That perhaps of itself was not so important a fact:
but she had lived for the seven last years of her life in her aunt's
house, had fallen deeply under her influence, and shared in her
feelings with regard to the execution of the young boy her cousin.
Moving chiefly under this influence, and confirmed no doubt by the
means which suddenly offered of appropriating a very large sum of
money, this woman lent herself as the instrument to the savage
vengeance of her aunt--which in one hour laid prostrate the happy
prospects of an ancient house and ravaged their peace in a way which
time has done nothing to heal. And here it was, Mr. Bertram, that
Gillie Godber forfeited all hold on the public sympathy--even amongst
those whose rank indisposed them to judge Sir Morgan with any charity.
All hearts were steeled against her. Sir Morgan might be thought to
have done her wrong: with regard to the fact, as it ultimately came
out, he certainly had; though not, as I am sure, in design or according
to the light of his conscience at that time. But for lady Walladmor,
the meek and gentle lady that had wept with her--wept _for_
her--pleaded for her--prayed for her--knelt for her;--Gillie Godber,
that was a mother by so bitter a mother's pang, to forget the mother's
heart in her benefactress; she, that mourned for a son, to tear the
infants for ever from their mother's breasts, and consign them--oh! heart
of Herod--to a life worse than a thousand deaths amongst robbers, pirates,
murderers,--this it was that blotted out from all men's memories her
own wrongs, cancelled and tore the record of her sufferings.--Mr.
Bertram, it will be four and twenty years next summer from the date of
this miserable transaction; and yet I protest that the storm of
affliction, which in one night descended upon this ancient house of
Walladmor, was, in itself--in its origin--and its irreparable nature,
so memorable a scene of human frailty, such a monument of the awful
power for evil which is lodged in the humblest of human beings when
shaken by extremity of passion and liberated from restraints of
conscience, that at this moment the impression of all its circumstances
is as fresh and perfect as if it happened yesterday; nor do I think
that any time could avail to dim them. To me, as also in the end to Sir
Morgan, the moral of the whole was this--that human affections, love
and grief in excess, are holy things,--yes, even in that wicked woman,
were holy--and not lightly to be set at nought or rejected without
judgment and vengeance to follow."
Here Mr. Williams paused: but Bertram was so much interested in the
story, both in itself and from the connexion into which he had so
recently been brought with two of those who bore a principal share in
it, that he earnestly requested him to complete his narrative; which,
after a short interval of thought, he did.
"The dreadful event, to which I have been alluding, took place on the
12th of June, three-and-twenty years ago--dating from the summer which
is past. About seven o'clock on the evening of that day, finding
herself unusually languid and weary, lady Walladmor had lain down on a
sopha in one of the children's apartments. A fortnight, I ought to
mention, had passed from the time of her _accouchement_: she had
suffered much, and was recovering but slowly: and her female attendants
had, in consequence, been a good deal harassed by unseasonable
watchings and sudden disturbances of their rest. They, poor creatures!
submitted to these, as they would have done to far greater hardships,
cheerfully and without a murmur: indeed all the servants in the castle
would have gone through fire and water to have served their lady; all
but one: and _that_ one, alas! was now left alone in attendance upon
her. Lady Walladmor, who was all consideration for every body about
her, and just such another angel upon earth as Miss Walladmor at
present, had dismissed her own maid and the upper nurse--to refresh
themselves in any way they thought fit from the fatigues of their long
day's attendance; for they had been called up at two o'clock in the
morning. One of the under nurses was engaged in the laundry. And thus
it happened that the duty of attending the two children, who were both
asleep in the adjoining room, devolved on that serpent--Winifred
Griffiths."
"Winifred Griffiths?" exclaimed Bertram in a tone of consternation.
"Yes; Winifred Griffiths:" and at the same time Mr. Williams looked at
him keenly; "have you ever met with a person of that name?"
"I do not know that I have," replied Bertram: "but I remember reading
many books in my youth that bore that name in the blank leaves. One of
these I left at Machynleth; and I will show it you to-morrow. Meantime
pray go on."
Mr. Williams mused a little, and then proceeded. "Griffiths, as she was
generally called in the castle, to distinguish her from another
Winifred upon the establishment, had a style of person and countenance
much like those of her aunt, Mrs. Godber; but she was still handsomer,
and (if possible) prouder. Many people wondered that lady Walladmor
could like her; but she was a girl of superior understanding, very
well-mannered, and subtle as the fiend; so that she masqued her
demoniacal purposes before lady Walladmor with a cloak of insinuating
softness far too thick for that good creature to penetrate. She had
besides many accomplishments, which she had learned from the young
ladies of an elegant Irish family by whom she had been educated: and
amongst these was the art of reading, which she had undoubtedly in
great perfection. This, and the elegance of her manners, recommended
her especially to lady Walladmor. And on the present occasion, as the
other women were leaving the room, lady Walladmor bade them tell
Griffiths to stay in the adjoining one; meaning, in case she found
herself unable to sleep, to go and sit by the side of her children,
whilst Griffiths read to her. Hoping however that she might be able to
sleep, they were directed not to return until Griffiths or her ladyship
should ring.
"Unhappy mother! that was thus unconsciously preparing all things
for the snake that even now--'her crest brightening with hope' was
couchant by her children's cradle. Unhappy children! that on this quiet
summer-night were to be driven out upon the main sea of a stormy and
wicked world from the quiet haven of their father's castle, and had
already on this earth parted for ever from their angelic mother!----
"Lady Walladmor fell asleep: and, when she next awoke, the room was
gloomy with dusk: indeed it was all but dark; for it must have been
nearly ten o'clock. She rang the bell: and the housekeeper, who
happened to be passing the door, answered it.
"'Oh, is that you, Mrs. Howel?' said her ladyship: 'send candles; and
tell lady Charlotte that she may come up, if she is not gone to bed.'
"Lady Charlotte Vaughan was a little girl of seven years old, a
daughter of the Earl of Kilgarran, who married lady Walladmor's sister,
and had been for some months on a visit to her aunt. In a transport of
pleasure on receiving this permission, the child ran up before the
candles; and, on kissing her, it seemed that lady Walladmor had asked
playfully what they would say at Kilgarran if they knew of her keeping
such late hours.
"Upon this the child had answered gaily that her little cousins were
not yet gone to bed; and that at least she must stay up till after
them.
"'Your cousins, my love, I am sorry to say, sleep less in the night
than the day. However, they have been in bed for hours.'
"'Oh, no! they were gone out into the park.'
"Lady Walladmor must have thought the child dreaming: she questioned
her; and no doubt heard the same account from her which she afterwards
repeated to us all;--how far she was impressed by it, cannot be known:
but possibly, at this moment, the silence of the adjoining room struck
her as remarkable; at any rate, as the ready means of putting an end to
all doubts, she went thither--called probably--receiving no answer,
felt about in the darkness for her children's cradles; found them; they
were empty--they were cold! And instantly, with feelings no doubt such
as could not have been remembered if she had ever had it in her power
to speak of that moment, lady Walladmor uttered a piercing shriek and
fell to the ground.
"Lady Charlotte ran to alarm the family: the servant, whom she met on
the stairs with the candles, sent her on to summon assistance, whilst
she herself pressed forwards: in half a minute all lady Walladmor's
women were about her: there was no need to make inquiries: the empty
cradles told the miserable tale: and circumstances of confirmation came
out at every moment.
"Just at this time Sir Morgan arrived from Dolgelly, where he had been
attending a public meeting. With the rapidity of a train of gunpowder
the whole course of the transaction, and its devilish purpose, came
out: lady Charlotte had met Griffiths in a passage which you have
perhaps observed to connect the green-house with what was then lady
Walladmor's suite of apartments; in this passage there was a private
door into the park, of which the key hung in the very room where the
poor mother was sleeping. As she passed, Griffiths said nothing: but,
as she came near, one of the children cried; and Griffiths endeavoured
to stifle the cry by drawing her cloak closer; in doing which, a sudden
motion of her arm caused the cloak to open; and lady Charlotte had
distinctly seen both her little cousins. By crossing one corner of the
park, which is there sheltered from view of the windows by the
battlements, there was a near road to a sort of woodland horse track,
not much frequented, which led down to the sea-shore. Here she had been
seen hurrying along by a woodman, who observed her from a distance, and
described her dress accurately. This was about eight o'clock. Ten
minutes later she had been seen in company with another woman
traversing the sea-shore. Then all at once it came out in the general
confusion that Griffiths was the niece of Gillie Godber. Sir Morgan had
himself, about nine o'clock, in coming over the hills from Dolgelly,
observed the smuggling ship under sail. The lover of Griffiths was
known to be one of the smugglers: all of them, it is certain, would
abet any plan of vengeance upon Sir Morgan Walladmor: and, in less time
than I have taken to relate it, the whole devilish plot--mode, purpose,
and too probable success,--became apparent to every body in the castle.
"Cases, in which hope and fear are brought into fierce struggle with
each other, are those which are the worst to support and which bear
heavily on the fortitude even of strongest minds. This was shown in Sir
Morgan: there was still a chance that the smuggler might be
intercepted: and that chance might be defeated in a thousand ways.
Hence it was perhaps that then first during my whole knowledge of him,
and then last, I saw Sir Morgan Walladmor lose his self-possession. Now
was Gillie Godber avenged: even in his own hall--that hall which had
echoed to her maternal groans and rung with the agony of her fruitless
supplications, even there--on the very spot where her curse was
muttered--had it taken effect: where it was breathed, there had it
caught him: just where _she_ stood--_he_ stood: where _she_ was
shaken as by fierce convulsions--there was _he_ shaken: where _she_
raved--_he_ raved: and under the very light of that same lamp, which
lighted up the ghastly despair of the wretched mother as she heard the
decree which sealed for ever the fate of her blooming boy, did I read
in Sir Morgan's features too surely a revelation of his foreboding soul,
that one night had stripped him bare of comfort and left him a poor
forlorn man to a life of self-reproach--of shipwrecked hopes--and
blasted affections.
"What was to be done? All were eager to be in motion; all fretting, I
may say, to follow and avenge; but how, or with what hope? One bold
fellow offered to man Sir Morgan's pinnace, barge, and all the other
small craft he could collect, with sailors and others from the
neighbourhood--to pursue the smuggler--and to carry her, if possible,
by boarding. But this, considering the strength of the smuggler, was
too hopeless an attempt to be countenanced. There were however king's
ships cruising or in port all the way between Barmouth and Parkgate:
the nearest of these, a sloop called the Falcon, was said to be lying
at anchor off Aber, between Bangor and Conway: and in that direction
expresses were sent off one upon the heels of the other; some having
orders to go on to Parkgate and Liverpool. A favourite groom of Sir
Morgan's, on this occasion, rode a thoroughbred horse in two hours and
a quarter to Bangor Ferry: between Beddgelart and Carnarvon he had
learned that the sloop was anchored off Beaumaris: he turned aside
therefore from the Bangor road to the Ferry. There he jumped into a
six-oared boat, and made for Beaumaris. Faithfully he did his duty: as
you will suppose when I tell you that the castle clock had struck ten
when he mounted, and a little after one we that stood on the summits of
Arthur's chair--the high peak to the northward--heard a sullen report
in the direction of Carnarvon: we all knew that this must be a signal
to us from the Falcon--giving notice of her approach. She was now
standing through the Menai strait. Twenty minutes after this a second
gun was fired; and the prodigious roar of echoes, which it awoke in the
mountains, proclaimed that she had passed Carnarvon. At two the flashes
of her guns became visible, and showed that she had uncovered the point
of Llandovery. At a quarter past two there was light enough to make her
out distinctly; she carried a press of sail; and a few minutes after
that we discovered the smuggler in the offing, about three miles to
leeward of the Falcon.
"The same high gale which had carried the Falcon so rapidly through the
Menai, had baffled the smuggler in her attempt to go to the northward;
for that was obviously her intention; and she still continued to tack
in that direction. We expected that, as soon as she descried the
Falcon, she would wear and run: but, greatly to our surprize, she took
no notice of her--but continued standing on her tack in the evident
design of running to the outside of the isle of Anglesea.
"The Falcon, seeing her purpose, fired a shot to bring her to. This the
smuggler paid no sort of regard to: and we all began to suspect some
mistake: as the light increased, and we could use our glasses with
effect, we found too certainly that there was. The smuggler was painted
so as to resemble the Viper; and Sir Morgan had taken her for that
vessel on the night before: but we now suspected (and the event proved)
that she was her partner, the Rattlesnake--a ship of much greater force
with a piratical crew from the South Seas, and strengthened by some of
the picked hands from the Viper. She had come round expressly on this
service from the West coast of Ireland, where she had been hovering for
some time back. The officer, who commanded the Falcon, had no doubt
found his mistake before we did: but it seemed that, both for the honor
of his flag and on account of the affecting occasion, he resolved to
fight her under any odds. The wind moderated at this time: but he kept
on his course, and neared her fast.
"At three o'clock the Falcon ranged up within pistol shot. At this
moment the Rattlesnake showed her colors--black, striped with
horizontal crimson bars, the well-known flag of a rover that had of
late years fixed his nest in the Gallapagos, and thence infested the
South Seas. Not a shot had yet been exchanged: and just before the
action commenced we could distinguish Griffiths making her way across
the decks from the cabin to the cock-pit. Oh! what a moment of suspense
for us!--Oh! for some arm from heaven to strengthen the righteous
cause! Some angel to intercept the oppressor's triumph; or some
darkness to hide it from the oppressed!
"Never again may the innocent light of early dawn, when visiting our
quiet seas, and these peaceful valleys of Merionethshire, ascend upon
such a spectacle of human crime and woe as lay before me at that moment
of that sweet summer morning. There in front, upon the tranquil sea,
began the bloody strife--the thunder and the carnage:----On my right
hand stood the unhappy father, praying for some merciful shot to
dismiss his children from the evil to come:----In a gloomy fir-grove on
my left hand stood the guilty, but most miserable, mother--Gillie
Godber, spectatress of Sir Morgan's agonies, writhing with exultation
that her vengeance had reached his heart, and laughing like a fell
hyaena as she surveyed her work upon the sea.
"But why should I dwell upon these hideous remembrances? Let a few
words tell the issue: the Rattlesnake was greatly superior to her
antagonist in number of men, and those picked men, three parts of them
English and Irish: consequently there was no chance of boarding with
success. She had also the advantage in number of guns, but much more
advantage in weight of metal. Hence, and from the fatal effect of one
broadside upon the rudder and rigging of the Falcon--within half an
hour from the commencement of the action, and just as the sun rose--the
Rattlesnake beheld her enemy lying unmanageable on the water, and
unable to bring a gun to bear. In this condition the Falcon would have
lain at the pirate's mercy, but for the appearance of two sail which
now hove in sight from the southward: the wind had shifted two or three
points and was freshening; the Rattlesnake crowded sail; was out of
sight before the strangers came up; and the end of that scene was, that
our brave champion was towed into Carnarvon--crippled, helpless,
dismantled, all but a wreck, and with the third part of her crew
slaughtered.
"But from this scene Sir Morgan was now summoned hastily away to
another which, too ruefully he augured, must await him. A second lesson
he was now to have upon the sanctity of human affections. For I will
maintain, Mr. Bertram,--that however the poor may, upon matters of
taste, delicacy, or refinement, seem coarser in their feelings, and
less sensitive than the rich (from which aspect it is that many people
take their estimate of poor people's sensibilities),--yet in all that
regards the primary affections I will maintain, I say, that the
distinctions of rich and poor--high and low--are lighter than dew or
the dust which is in the balance. The ties, which cement the great
elementary relations of human life, are equally strong in every rank;
alike sacred in the eyes of God; and in the lowest as in the highest,
the anguish of their dissolution as perfect. Now did Sir Morgan learn
what that anguish was: the next half hour taught him to estimate the
torments of a final parting from the being in whom the whole heart's
love lies treasured.--Lady Walladmor had passed the night in
convulsions, falling out of one fit into another with intervals of only
a few moments. Towards sun-rise the intervals grew longer, but she was
evidently sinking fast; she was sensible; and, as she recovered the use
of speech, she asked for Sir Morgan.
"I entered the room with Sir Morgan: lady Walladmor was sitting on a
sopha propped up by cushions and surrounded by her women. All of us
staid in the room; for some could not be spared; and the presence of
strangers is distressing only when they are neutral spectators and not
participators in the emotion witnessed--as we were in the very deepest
degree, and by an interest which far transcended the possibility of any
vulgar interest of curiosity.--There is no doubt that lady Walladmor
had recollected some circumstance in the application made to her on
behalf of Winifred Griffiths--not understood or suspected at that
time--but suddenly interpreted to her by the event of the preceding
night and too sadly interpreting that event. This was plain: for she
asked no information from us: she saw by our countenances that we had
none to give her which could shed a comfort on her dying moments: and
even to turn her thoughts that way was too terrific a trial for her
exhausted nature. She moved her head mournfully with a world of sad
meaning: twice she raised and dropped her hand, as if in supplication
or internal prayer: a third time she raised it, and the hand fell into
that of Sir Morgan's: her lips moved; and at last she said--and the
solemnity of her utterance for a moment checked our tears--'That for
her sake, and as he hoped for comfort to visit him in his afflictions,
she made it her last request that, if ever' (even then she was too
tender to say 'ever' _again_) 'if ever any poor suffering human
creature, sinking under trials too great for human fortitude, should
lay down the burthen of wretchedness at his feet, he would not close
his heart or turn away his ear from the petition.' Saying this, she hid
her face in Sir Morgan's arms; strong convulsions again came on: and,
before the morning dew was exhaled, she was once more at peace;
'And Nature rested from her work in death.'
"Thus did one night wither Sir Morgan's 'palmy state' of prosperity:
thus were his children torn away: thus died lady Walladmor: and with
her died all Sir Morgan's happiness, and upon this earth all his
prospects of consolation. He was now left with no companion; none to
comfort him, or support him. After this, for some years he shut up
himself from all society, except upon public occasions where he
appeared but as an official or ceremonial person: but gradually the
intreaties of his friends, and the claims of his rank, drew him back
into the world: and then came his lovely niece, Miss Walladmor; and
with her again came something like joy to Walladmor; though but for a
season; for _that_ joy also was overcast."
"But did Sir Morgan," asked Bertram, "never recover any traces of the
pirates or his lost children?"
"There again his unhappy fate denied him the last medicine to his
grief. Next to the joy of recapturing his children, would have been the
consolation of knowing that they had perished. But, though that was
probable, it could never finally be ascertained. The express, sent on
to Liverpool, found a frigate of 36 guns--the Nemesis--lying in
Hoylake. The Nemesis slipped her cables, and went after the enemy. Her
hope was to intercept him before he reached the Isle of Man: but the
Rattlesnake was an excellent sailer, and had the lead. However on the
second evening, off the Cumberland coast, between Ravenglass and
Whitehaven, the Nemesis got a sight of her about two leagues ahead. A
chace of two hours more would have put her into the possession of the
frigate: but within that time came on the great storm of June 13th,
which strewed the whole channel with wrecks. The Nemesis was herself
obliged to run into Maryport: and, as nothing more was ever heard of
the Rattlesnake, it was presumed that she had foundered in that
memorable storm which was fatal to so many ships better acquainted with
those seas. This was a point which Sir Morgan would have given a king's
ransom to establish. But unfortunately it was never put beyond doubt:
there was still a possibility that she might have executed her
intention of going north about. There was once a rumor afloat that she
had got into the Baltic: you may be sure that every means, which Sir
Morgan's vast wealth and influence could command, was put in motion to
trace her in that region: but all to no purpose: and perhaps Sir Morgan
would have been satisfied (as others were) that the rumor had no
foundation, but for the hints and ambiguous expressions dropped at
times by Gillie Godber."
"You remind me seasonably," said Bertram, "of a question which I had
nearly overlooked: why was not this fiendish woman apprehended, and
brought to trial?"
"Of what service would _that_ have been? Suppose that she had been
convicted, and transported--_that_ would only have removed her from the
knowledge of all who were on the watch to take advantage of any
discoveries she might make from carelessness or craziness, or which she
yet may make from repentance on her death-bed."
"But at least she might have been threatened with trial?"
"She was: twice she was committed to custody and underwent rigorous
examinations before a whole board of magistrates: but to what end? She
was as wild as the sea, as intractable as the wind. What threats,
indeed, what voice, what sound--except it were the sound of the last
trumpet wakening her from the grave--shall ever again alarm her? What
cares she for judge or jury? The last sentence, that _she_ could fear,
rang in her ears long years ago at Walladmor. That dreadful voice, as
it sounded in the great hall of Walladmor Castle when it gave up her
blooming boy to the scaffold, still sounds in her adder's ear; and it<
is deaf to all sounds beside."
"Yet surely Sir Morgan must be distressed at seeing her: and
yesterday----"
"I know what you would say, Mr. Bertram: yesterday you saw her walking
freely about the castle. True. But, for the purposes I have already
explained, it is necessary to give her free access to the castle; and
she comes so seldom that she is now a privileged person with licence to
range where she will. Nay, Sir Morgan would court her hither with
gifts--and rain bounties upon her, if she would accept them. This
desire of having her before his eyes, Mr. Bertram, is a fantastic and
wayward expression of misery--one of those tricks of sorrow--most apt
to haunt the noblest minds. Some have worn about their persons the
symbols, the instruments, or the mementos of their guilt: and in Mrs.
Godber Sir Morgan sees a living memorial of what he now deems his crime
and of its punishment; a record (as he says himself) of his own
unpitying heart--and of the bitter judgment that recalled him to more
merciful thoughts.
"I think him right:--in the Greek tragedians, who sometimes teach us
Christians better morality than (I am sorry to say) we teach ourselves,
there is a sentiment often repeated--which I dare say, Mr. Bertram,
you remember: it is to this effect,--That it is ominous of evil to
come--for any man to express, by his words or acts, that he glories in
his own prosperity as though it were of his own creation, or held by the
tenure of his own merits. Now this is in effect the very crime of him
that, being born of woman, yet hardens his heart against the prostrate
supplications of a human brother or sister. For how would _he_ refuse
to show mercy, that did not think himself raised above the possibility
of needing it?
"Yes, Sir Morgan is right; his own sad recollections tell him that he
is; and often have I heard him say--That, from that memorable moment
when, looking back as he ascended the great stair-case, he beheld in
the centre of his hall the unhappy mother prostrate and writhing upon
the ground--read the pangs that were in her face--and the curse that
was in her eye, from that moment he turned away like one already
reached by her vengeance; and never again had thought--moved--talked--
slept--or dreamed--as they think--move--talk--sleep and dream that have
the blessedness of an untroubled conscience, and against whom no record
is filed in the courts of heaven on which are written the tears of the
afflicted or the crimes of the despairing."
FOOTNOTES TO "CHAPTER XVIII.":
[Footnote 1: Modesty forbids us to say _which_: but a truth is a truth:
and his favorite volume, we understand, was in "post 8vo."]
[Footnote 2: Winter's Tale.]