DEEP ARE THE PURPOSES OF ADVERSITY.
Next morning, when the Count Sobieski unfolded the several packets of
papers which were put into his hands by little Nanny, he laid them
one after the other on the table, and sighing heavily, said to
himself, "Now comes the bitterness of poverty! Heaven only knows by
what means I shall pay these heavy charges."
Mere personal privations, induced by his fallen fortunes, excited
little uneasiness in the mind of Thaddeus. As he never had derived
peculiar gratification from the enjoyment of a magnificent house,
splendid table, and numerous attendants, he was contented in the
field, where he slept on the bare ground, and snatched his hasty
meals at uncertain intervals. Watching, rough fare, and other
hardships were dust in the path of honor; he had dashed through them
with light and buoyant spirits; and he repined as little at the
actual wants of his forlorn state in exile, until, compelled by
friendship to contract demands which he could not defray, he was
plunged at once into the full horrors of poverty and debt.
He looked at the amount of the bills. The apothecary was twelve
pounds; the funeral fifteen. Thaddeus turned pale. The value of all
that he possessed would not produce one half of the sum; besides, he
owed five guineas to his good landlady for numerous little comforts
procured for his deceased friend.
"Whatever be the consequence," cried he, "that excellent woman shall
not suffer by her humanity! If I have to pay with the last memorial
of those who were so dear, she shall be repaid."
He scarcely had ceased speaking, when Nanny re-entered the room, and
told him the apothecary's young man and the undertaker were both
below, waiting for answers to their letters. Reddening with disgust
at the unfeeling haste of these men, he desired Nanny to say that he
could not see either of them to-day, but would send to their houses
to-morrow.
In consequence of this promise, the men made their bows to Mrs.
Robson (who too well guessed the reason of this message), and took
their leave.
When Thaddeus put the pictures of his mother and the palatine, with
other precious articles, into his pocket, he could not forbear an
internal invective against the thoughtless meanness of the Misses
Dundas, who had never offered any further liquidation of the large
sum they now stood indebted to him than the trifling note which had
been transmitted to him, prior to his attendance, through the hands
of Lady Tinemouth.
Whilst his necessities reproached them for this illiberal conduct,
his proud heart recoiled at making a request to their chanty; for he
had gathered from the haughty demeanor of Miss Diana that what he was
entitled to demand would be given, not as a just remuneration for
labor received, but as alms of humanity to an indigent emigrant.
"I would rather perish," cried he, putting on his hat, "than ask that
woman for a shilling."
When the count laid his treasure on the table of the worthy
pawnbroker, he desired to have the value of the settings of the
pictures, and the portraits themselves put into leather cases. With
the other little things, there were a pair of gold spurs, the
peculiar insignia of his princely rank, which the palatine himself
had buckled on his grandson's heels on mounting his noble charger for
his first field. There was a peculiar pang in parting with these--a
sort of last relic of what he had been! But there was no alternative:
all that had any intrinsic value must pass from him.
Having examined the setting of the miniatures, and the gold of the
other trinkets, with that of the spurs (which their hard service had
something marred), Mr. Burket declared, on the word of an honest man,
that he could not give more than fifteen pounds.
With difficulty Thaddeus stifled as torturing a sigh as ever
distended his breast, whilst he said,
"I will take it, I only implore you to be careful of the things,
trifling as they are; circumstances with which they were connected
render them valuable to me to redeem."
"You may depend on me, sir," replied the pawnbroker, presenting him
the notes and acknowledgment.
When Thaddeus took them, Mr. Burket's eye was caught by the ring on
his finger.
"That ring seems curious? If you won't think me impertinent, may I
ask to look at it?"
The count pulled it off, and forcing a smile, replied, "I suppose it
is of little jewel value. The setting is slight, though the painting
is fine."
Burket breathed on the diamonds. "If you were to sell it," returned
he, "I don't think it would fetch more than three guineas. The
diamonds are flawed, and the emeralds would be of little use, being
out of fashion here; as for the miniature, it goes for nothing."
"Of course," said Thaddeus, putting it on again; "but I shall not
part with it." While he drew on his glove, Mr. Burket asked him
"whether the head were not intended for the King of Poland?"
The count, surprised, answered in the affirmative.
"I thought so," answered the man; "it is very like two or three
prints which I had in my shop of that king. [Footnote: The author
has a very correct likeness of this memorable king, copied from an
original miniature; and it is not one of the least valued portraits
in a little room which contains those of several other heroes of
different countries,--friends and gallant foes.] Indeed, I believe I
have them somewhere now: these matters are but a nine-day's wonder,
and the sale is over."
His auditor did not clearly comprehend him, and he told him so.
"I meant nothing," continued he, "to the disparagement of the King of
Poland, or of any other great personage who is much the subject of
conversation. I only intended to say that everything has its fashion.
The ruin of Poland was the fashionable topic for a month after it
happened; and now nobody minds it--it is forgotten."
Thaddeus, in whose bosom all its miseries were written, with a
clouded brow bowed to the remarks of Mr. Burket, and in silence
quitted the shop.
Having arrived at home, he discharged his debt to the worthy Mrs.
Robson; then entering his room, he laid the remainder of his money on
the bills of the two claimants. It was unequal to the demands of
either; yet, in some measure to be just to both, he determined on
dividing it between them and to promise the liquidation of the rest
by degrees.
Surely he might hope that, even should the Misses Dundas entirely
forget his claims on them, he could, in the course of time make
drawings sufficient to discharge the residue of this debt; but he was
not permitted to put this calculation to the trial.
When he called on the apothecary, and offered him only half his
demand, the man refused it with insolence, insisting upon having the
whole then, "or he would make him pay for it!" Unused to the language
of compulsion and vulgarity, the count quitted the shop saying "he
was at liberty to act as he thought fit." With no very serene
countenance, he entered the undertaker's warehouse. This man was
civil; to him Thaddeus gave the entire sum, half of which the
apothecary had rejected with so much derision. The undertaker's
politeness a little calmed the irritated feelings of the count, who
returned home musing on the vile nature of that class of mankind who
can with indifference heap insult upon distress.
Judging men by his own disposition, he seldom gave credence to the
possibility of such conduct. He had been told of dastardly spirits,
but never having seen them, and possessing no archetype within his
own breast of what he heard, the repeated relation passed over his
mind without leaving an impression. He had entered the world filled
with animating hopes of virtue and renown. He was virtuous; he became
powerful, great, and renowned. Creation seemed paradise to his eyes;
it was the task of adversity to teach him a different lesson of
mankind. Not less virtuous, not less great, his fortunes fell: he
became poor. The perfidy, the hard-heartedness of man, made and kept
him friendless. When he wanted succor and consolation, he found the
world peopled by a race too mean even to bear the stamp of the devil.
Whilst Sobieski was employed next morning at his drawing, Mrs. Robson
sent Nanny to say that there were two strange-looking men below who
wanted to speak with him. Not doubting they were messengers from the
apothecary, he desired the girl to show them up stairs. When they
entered his room, the count rose. One of the men stepped forward, and
laying a slip of paper on the table, said, "I arrest you, sir, at the
suit of Messrs. Vincent and Jackson, apothecaries!"
Thaddeus colored; but suppressing his indignant emotion, he calmly
asked the men whither they were going to take him?
"If you like," replied one of them, "you may be well enough lodged. I
never heard a word against Clement's in Wych Street."
"Is that a prison?" inquired Thaddeus.
"No, not exactly that, sir," answered the other man, laughing. "You
seem to know little of the matter, which, for a Frenchman, is odd
enough; but mayhap you have never a lock-upd-house in France, since
ye pulled down the bastile! Howsoever, if you pay well, Mr. Clements
will give you lodgings as long as you like. It is only poor rogues
who are obligated to go to Newgate; such gemmen as you can live as
ginteely in Wych Street as at their own houses."
There was such an air of derision about this fellow while he spoke,
and glanced around the room, that Thaddeus, sternly contracting his
brows, took no further notice of him, but, turning towards his more
civil companion, said:
"Has this person informed me rightly? Am I going to a prison, or am I
not? If I do not possess money to pay Mr. Jackson, I can have none to
spend elsewhere."
"Then you must go to Newgate!" answered the man, in as surly a tone
as his comrade's had been insolent.
"I'll run for a coach, Wilson," cried the other, opening the room
door.
"I will not pay for one," said Thaddeus, at once comprehending the
sort of wretches into whose custody he had fallen; "follow me down
stairs. I shall walk."
Mrs. Robson was in her shop as he passed to the street. She called
out, "You will come home to dinner, sir?"
"No," replied he; "but you shall hear from me before night." "The
men, winking at each other, sullenly pursued his steps down the lane.
In the Strand, Thaddeus asked them which way he was to proceed?"
"Straight on," cried one of them; "most folks find the road to a jail
easy enough."
Involved in thought, the count walked forward, unmindful of the stare
which the well-known occupation of his attendants attracted towards
him. When he arrived at Somerset House, one of the men stepped up to
him, and said, "We are now nearly opposite Wych Street. You had
better take your mind again, and go there instead of Newgate. I don't
think your honor will like the debtor's hole."
Thaddeus, coldly thanking him, repeated his determination to be led
to Newgate. But when he beheld the immense walls within which he
believed he should be immured for life, his feet seemed rooted to the
ground; and when the massive doors were opened and closed upon him,
he felt as if suddenly deprived of the vital spring of existence. A
mist spread over his eyes, his soul shuddered, and with difficulty he
followed the men into the place where his commitment was to be
ratified. Here all the proud energies of his nature again rallied
round his heart.
The brutal questions of the people in office, re-echoed by taunts
from the wretches who had brought him to the prison, were of a nature
so much beneath his answering, that he stood perfectly silent during
the business; and when dismissed, without evincing any signs of
discomposure, he followed the turnkey to his cell.
One deal chair, a table, and a miserable bed, were all the furniture
it contained. The floor was paved with flags, and the sides of the
apartment daubled with discolored plaster, part of which, having been
peeled off by the damp, exposed to view large spaces of the naked
stones.
Before the turnkey withdrew he asked Thaddeus whether he wanted
anything?
"Only a pen, ink, and paper."
The man held out his hand.
"I have no money," replied Sobieski.
"Then you get nothing here," answered the fellow, pulling the door
after him.
Thaddeus threw himself on the chair, and in the bitterness of his
heart exclaimed, "Can these scoundrels be Christians?--can they be
men?" He cast his eyes round him with the wildness of despair.
"Mysterious Heaven, can it be possible that for a few guineas I am to
be confined in this place for life? In these narrow bounds am I to
waste my youth, my existence? Even so; I cannot, I will not, degrade
the spirit of Poland by imploring assistance from any native of a
land in which avarice has extinguished the feelings of humanity."
By the next morning, the first paroxysm of indignation having
subsided, Thaddeus entertained a cooler and more reasonable opinion
of his situation. He considered that though he was a prisoner, it was
in consequence of debts incurred in behalf of a friend whose latter
hours were rendered less wretched by such means. Notwithstanding "all
that man could do unto him," he had brought an approving conscience
to lighten the gloom of his dungeon; and resuming his wonted
serenity, he continued to distance the impertinent freedom of his
jailers by a calm dignity, which extorted civility and commanded
respect.
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