ever; he _cannot_, he _dare_ not, after owing his salvation to your
generosity—prevent your having me to protect, and be devoted to you all
my life, and if anything goes wrong in future, you will always have me
to appeal to, and protect you. Oh, Mother! if you could but see into my
heart, you would see that I would, that I have given up everything to
get to you and to be with you. I know I am not worth it, that is, that
I _have_ been far from worth it, but if you could, darling, make this
great, great, noble sacrifice for me—your child—never, never, shall you
repent it.” After a great deal in the same strain, striking the one
chord in my heart that he knew he was _sure_ of, till he had brought it
into perfect unison with his own wishes, he had conquered. I threw my
arms about his neck and said, “Oh, ROBERT, had you asked me to tear my
heart out bodily, and give it naked and unguarded into your keeping, it
would not be half such a sacrifice as you require of me.” “I know it,
mother darling, I know it;” and then, after a couple of the happiest and
perhaps the most foolish hours I ever passed in my life, believing—as I
firmly did—that out of such a Slough of Despond I had walked into the
warm sheltering Paradise of my child’s heart, who at least _externally_
and in manner was all I could wish, which was in itself a great boon
after the coarse, common clay I had so long been used to be knocked and
bruised against. When he urged me to go abroad with him, to pass what he
called our honeymoon, and to take Miss R——, as he might not be able to
get sufficient leave of absence to return with me at the end of three or
four months, “Oh! no, not Miss R——,” said I, “she is so very antipathic
to me. I’ll give her any sum of money for any exertions she may have
made in getting my incarceration made public, but we shall be so happy
without her, and she is such a wet blanket, and a dirty wet blanket
too.” “Well, that she certainly _is_, and when I first saw her I said to
myself, ‘Heavens! _can_ this be a _friend_ of my mother’s?’ But when she
told me all you had done for her, I then knew how it was. She seems to
have set her heart upon going abroad with us, and after all she’s done,
I don’t think we could well refuse her.” “Well, dear,” said I, very much
annoyed at this, “you might have let me choose my own evils and not have
extended your hospitality to my _bete noire_. But suppose I _do_ yield
every point to you, in this way; you know I cannot possibly go abroad,
whatever arrangements are made, without appointing one Trustee, and
that is more easily said than done, as I know of old the great dislike
people have to being brought into contact with your Father; knowing that
they have either to abandon my rights, or quarrel with him, which before
was what drove me to the _pis aller_ of appointing the do-nothing-goose,
Sir THOMAS CULLUM.” After considering a little while, I said: “I have no
great faith in public philanthropists, more especially of the Exeter Hall
breed; but as he is one of the Commissioners in Lunacy, and knows the
whole affair, I wonder if, under the circumstances, as a piece of good
Samaritanship, Lord SHAFTESBURY would consent to be my Trustee? for he
might be a check upon your Father.” “A very good person,” said he, “I’ll
ask him, and let you know to-morrow, darling.” So, it being then seven
o’clock, and he having to get back for his Father’s dinner, left me after
this most harrowing day; though I then little dreamed of the red-hot
ploughshares there were to come, after being kept full three months in a
Fool’s Paradise about my son’s love and devotion to me; and when I used
to chide him for being so demonstrative, even in public places, and say
people would think I was some old woman whom he had married for money, he
would say, “Oh, but Mother darling, we are not like ordinary Mother and
Son; I love you in every possible way, and then I love you back all the
love I’ve not been let to pay you for years; and then you have suffered
_so_ much, and borne it so nobly, that you are to me something holy.”
At other times he would cry out after hugging me, “Mamma,” as he always
called me, “what I worship in you, is, that with a lion’s heart, you are
so tender a woman!” All these demonstrations were, of course, music to
my ears, and what tended materially to keep me in this Fool’s Paradise,
was that there was a girl whom he was much attached to (not an English
miss, thank GOD), and whom his vile Father was luring him on to suppose
he would give him sufficient money to marry, and when I used to see him
looking wretched, and thinking it was about her, he’d burst into tears,
and throw himself into my arms, saying, “Oh, no! it’s not that, Mother,
for I declare before GOD, if it were to be made a matter of alternative,
which I would give up, her or you, I’d give her up to-morrow, if I might
always have you with me.” Then, too, a very old and kind benefactor of
his, an elderly gentleman, who had shown him much kindness, and whose
large means, when ROBERT was a boy, had often atoned for his father’s
sordid parsimony, wrote to me, saying, “I can answer for the deep love
and yearning, dear, dear ROBERT has always had for his Mother; and oh!
how sincerely do I rejoice in his happiness now.” Add to which my maid
was always telling me that FLETCHER, ROBERT’S valet, used to say to her,
“Oh! how Mr. L—— does adore his Mother. I often surprise him kissing her
gloves, and slippers. Poor young gentleman! I never saw a happy face on
him till now; he seems like a natural person now, which he never did with
his Father, of whom he is mortally afraid.” So you will own that if this
was fooling, I was _well_ fooled. But I must return to the horrors. The
next day, after the first on which I had seen him, Mr. L—— returned to
the lodge, and on coming into the room, said, “Well darling, you owe me
a million of kisses, for I have good news for you; SHAFTESBURY consents
to being your trustee, so _that’s_ settled.” I thought this exceedingly
kind of Lord SHAFTESBURY, as I did not know him personally, and of course
wrote to thank him, which note I gave to Mr. L—— to take to town; and,
despite the almost universality of English bearishness and ill-breeding,
still as anything in the shape of a gentleman or gentlewoman always
answers a letter, more especially such a one as I had written, I was
surprised at that evening, and the whole of the next day passing without
my receiving any reply; and I said to Mr. L——, late on the following day,
“Are you _sure_, ROBERT, that my note went to Lord SHAFTESBURY?” “I would
not trust it to a servant, so I took it myself.” At this I felt quite
satisfied and did not think any more of the matter. The next day the
invasion increased; I was quite knocked up, and in bed. That vile fellow,
H——, came down to see me. I told Miss R—— to say I could not see him, as
I was in bed, and I added to her—though he was acting in my interest,
I would not see him if I were not. Indeed, a friend of mine, Mrs. T——,
told me, after my return from my trapped going abroad, that hearing ——
was engaged, she had driven down to Miss R—— at 12 at night, to tell her,
for Heaven’s sake to be on her guard, that that man, of such notoriously
infamous character, retained by Sir E——, did not wreck me. But she having
so completely done so, in order, as she thought, to play her own game,
replied, like the double distilled ass she is, “Oh, —— is all on Lady
L——’s side!” “Oh, Miss R——,” said Miss T——, “how can you believe such
nonsense as that?”
Well, it appears that with E—— J—— had come down Mr. L——, and Dr. F——
W——, who, I was told, was come on my behalf to counteract—that is,
contradict—the statements made by that precious pair of rascals, R——
and H—— T——. “But how,” said I, “can he possibly do that when he knows
nothing about me—has never seen me, and will only do so for a few
minutes?” Verily they are a nice set, one and all of them, ready to swear
a poor victim mad or sane, at a moment’s notice, for value received!
Shame! shame! That disgusting Miss R—— then began screaming out in her
peacock voice, “Now your son wants you to go abroad with him to-morrow.”
“But I won’t and can’t,” said I; “I must at least have a week to get some
clothes and things.” And then this horrid creature made me quite ill
with her vulgar bullying manner, and I begged she would leave the room.
The dulcifluous Dr. F—— W—— was then sent up to me, as he with more tact
than truth expressed it, to know my wishes. I told him that I thought
I had done quite enough in yielding to my son’s wishes in going abroad
at all; and that I did not see why I was to be hurried off in this life
and death way, as if _I_ had committed a crime, and was to be smuggled
out of the country. “Very true,” said the amiable Doctor, “and I am
sure nothing can be more reasonable than your wish to have a few days
to prepare for the journey.” He then added, “You are to have, or they
are getting you (I don’t remember the exact words) a thousand a year,
and a house to be furnished for you in town;” which flourishing promise
ended in £500, but the solemn assurance from Sir LIAR, E—— J——, and HYDE,
that all my debts should be immediately paid, and my debts of honour,
before I could get across the Channel was never kept. The dulciferous
Dr. W——, after so perfectly agreeing in all I said, then went down, to
as perfectly agree with all the opposition said; and was again sent back
to urge _their_ suit; telling me confidentially that the fact was, that
the place was in such an uproar that Sir E—— was terrified; and there
would be no peace till the public was assured I was at liberty, and
really gone abroad with my son. I may as well here tell you, that such
was the honourable estimation Sir L—— was held in by the said public,
that people fully believed I was sent abroad to be made away with; and
hence, among _many others_, the atrocious lie, that I was accompanied
by a _relation of my own! M—— R——, by my own special request!_ Whereas,
as I discovered, like all the rest, too late, this wretch was only sent
as a Spy on me and my Son—upon the Jesuitical plan _of triplets_, and
as “own correspondent” to Sir LIAR, to whom she used to write _every_
day from the programme _he_ had given her, the blackest lies, for him
to read to people:—such for instance, as that I had been very violent
and unmanageable till I had arrived in Paris, when I became calmer! the
real truth being, that I was _so_ exhausted, in body and mind from all
I had gone through, that I could scarcely move or speak, but used to
say, lying down, while my son sat beside me, my hand clasped in his,
that I felt so grateful to GOD for his being restored to me that I could
almost forgive the relentless author of my life-long misery, and cruelly
exceptional persecutions; but that at all events now I’d try and forget
him and them, and think of nothing but the present and the future. Well,
Dr. F—— W——, finding he could not move me from my resolve of not being
smuggled out of the country like a felon, sent up the only person who
could fool me, my son. And when he told me what it would entail upon
him, if he could not succeed in doing his father’s bidding, why then I
yielded; and having been brought to Mr. H——’s stronghold on Wednesday
the 22nd of June, 1858, at 7 p.m., I left it on Saturday, July the 17th,
1858, at 3 p.m., by almost an equal degree of treachery, falsehood, and
springeing. Poor little MARY H—— cried so violently, that I was really
grieved to leave her, and felt quite selfish in going (as I then thought)
to be happy, when she who had been for three weeks my one sole Star in
the Desert was left so unhappy. Mrs. H—— said the whole affair had made
her _us_band _hill_; I said I thought he had been always HILL; while
_he_ said he had never suffered so much in his life; the uproar that
had been made had played the deuce with him. “I told you it would, Mr.
H——, the day you _forced_ me to come here; why did you not listen to
me?” “And then,” said he, “my daughter MARY is breaking her heart, and I
have got, I’m sure, a confirmed liver complaint from it.” “Then,” said
I, “you must leave off ‘_shugger_,’ it is the worst thing in the world
for the liver.” Dr. OILY GAMMON R—— told me, after my return, that H——
had been on his knees, imploring him to have pity on his ten children,
and not ruin him. The valiant Doctor, who literally could not, or would
not say Boo! to a goose, or he might have had _beau jeu_ with H——,
pretends he said to him, “You should have thought of these before. You
had no mercy upon Lady L—— when you dragged her to your asylum in that
iniquitous manner.” However, after my departure Brentford became too hot
for him, and he removed to London, where, between him and the _rest_
in whose power he, of course, was completely, I understand Sir LIAR
was completely beggared with hush-money; not with my tremendous debts,
which, at the end of 20 years’ _ceaseless_ persecutions, and consequent
onerous law expenses, amounted to the mighty sum of £4,500, which, when
at last at the point of the sword, _alias_ the _writ_, that generous
and honourable man was _compelled_ to pay; he did so by disgorging some
of my own money. Upon this memorable and broiling 17th of July, 1858,
from 3 to 7 p.m., I had to drive all over London in quest of ready-made
things, and then go to ‘Farrance’s Hotel’ to eat a hurried dinner, and
after from Belgrave-square to the London Bridge Station, so that I was
really quite worn out when at 11 o’clock at night I found myself in bed
at the ‘Lord Warden Hotel,’ Dover, from whence we did not cross to Calais
till Monday, the 19th, all _newspapers_ being _carefully_ kept _out of
my way_; and, indeed, I was both too happy and too tired to ask for any,
which, of course, was _precisely_ what was calculated upon. Abroad, I
can only suppose that all my letters were intercepted by that vile Miss
R—— in her capacity of own correspondent to Sir LIAR, as Mrs. CLARKE
told me she had forwarded innumerable ones; and, on my return, I found
duplicates, recapitulating their painful contents, and alas! too late
warnings, as warnings generally are. “For I told thee so” the Fiend
ever whispers, when the deed is done! At Bordeaux I got a letter from
JUDAS H——, in which the following audacious and asinine passage occurred,
“Sir EDWARD is _quite_ changed, his only wish is to render your life
in future as happy as possible.” To which I replied, “Yes, no doubt,
for it is a patent fact in natural history that the leopard is in the
habit of changing its spots at a moment’s notice.” A few nights after
this H—— humbug, ROBERT was brought some letters from England at the
Opera, one of which he no sooner read than bursting into a perfect agony
of tears, he rushed out of the box. I, of course, went after him, when
that beast, Miss R——, caught hold of my dress to prevent my following
him, saying, “Augh, shure, he’s often in dat way,” as if she had known
him all her life, and had been his _bonne d’enfant_. I could not find
him; and when that night I went to kiss him, and wish him good-night,
I found him pacing his room in a state of distraction, with his hands
to his head, exclaiming, “What _does_ my father think I’m made of! what
can he suppose I am?” And upon another occasion, though not so fearfully
shaken, he appeared in a greater rage; his vile father had written him
a furious letter about the scandalous expenses of our journey! “As if,”
said ROBERT, “I was a dishonest courier; and talks of withdrawing his
patronage! from me, as if I was some beggar he had picked up in the
street!” “Well dear,” said I, “you should keep a strict account of the
expenditure; enclose your father all the bills, and ask him if he knows
of any way in which five persons can travel for nothing in a country
where everything now is fabulously dear?” For even at Luchon at the _end_
of the season, after leaving the _Hotel de Bonne Maison_ as being too
expensive, they made us pay 500 francs a week for the Châlet we had, for
which in the season Mme. DE ROTHSCHILD had paid 1000. Often and often,
when I saw the poor boy in these dreadful paroxysms of mingled rage
and despair, I implored him on my knees to confide in me, and I would
_help_ him, if it were even against myself, for I could bear anything and
everything, but to feel and find out that my own child, for whom I had
sacrificed everything, and in whom I had garnered up all my hopes, was
deceiving me! And who _can_ you trust if not your own mother? But no,
the chronic habits of terror and subterfuge were too strong! even when
stung or goaded into making me little half-confidences, from which no
one, as I told him, could give sound advice, as the very point that is
kept from them is in all probability the turning one, which would alter
their whole opinion and counsel. But his terror of his vile father was so
great, and now added to it, that of that “beastly disgusting old Spy,” as
he called her, that even in the heart of the Pyrenees, if he did unburden
himself in the least to me, it was in a whisper; and he would turn pale,
and look furtively around, as if the very birds of the air would carry
his words back to Park-lane, or Downing-street. Poor young martyr! poor
young martyr! But all the tortures he was then enduring were worthy of
the Fiend-Father, who when the poor boy had had a fearful, and nearly
fatal, fever at Lucca—took no note of whether he lived or died, only
to storm about the expense of the Doctors!!! Yet this is the loathsome
wretch! to whom he allowed the impious dedication to “Lucile” to appear,
and blaspheme about his “loved! and honoured name!! and his _gentle_
kindness to him as a child!!” And this is the Father for whom he could
so cruelly and treacherously sacrifice the Mother who _had_ sacrificed
everything, and every chance of redress for him, and whom he professed
to adore, in a way that might have deceived the Recording Angel himself.
And worse still! Miss R——, whom he so loathed and detested, that old Spy,
as he called her—was the parasite he could afterwards cabal with against
his Mother, to steal those letters of his infamous Father’s, which I had
entrusted to that creature the day I was kidnapped at H—— T——’s; but
in _that_ they did not succeed, as you shall hear presently. So much
for that paralysis of the conscience, moral cowardice, which is at once
the germ and hotbed of every vice. It was not until I had been thus
far springed upon, and thus far on the journey, that after writing to
know if all my debts of honour had been paid, as so _solemnly promised_
before I could get across the channel, and the deed drawn up, settling
that beggarly £500 a year on me for _my_ life, that I got a letter from
that precious rascal, Mr. —— ——, coolly telling me that everything was
at a standstill, _till_ I had appointed a trustee!!! I sent for Mr. L——,
and pointing to the paragraph, said “What does this fresh shuffle mean?
did you not explicitly tell me at Inverness Lodge that Lord SHAFTESBURY
had consented to be my trustee? and that you _yourself_ took my note of
thanks to him? to which I have never from that day to this received any
answer?” He turned red and pale alternately, stuttered, stammered, and
said, “Did not H—— tell you?” “Tell me what?” said I; “when and where
could I have seen him, to tell me anything?—when I was hurried out of
the country like a condemned felon. Of course, that your father, and
Mr. —— ——, might have the whole arena to themselves, to concoct their
unscrupulous lies and plots.” _This_ was the first terrible wrench my
affection, that is my esteem for, and confidence in, my son got. A
few days after, I saw an advertisement in the _Times_, from that low
swindling publisher ——, of Paternoster-row, of a cheap railway edition of
a book of mine called ‘—— ——,’ which at the time it came out, two years
before, Sir LIAR had left no stone unturned to get crushed and abused.
Now a Mr. IRONSIDE had undertaken to sell _one_ of my books to —— for a
re-issue, and knowing the apathetic hand-over-head way English people do
other people’s business, I gave Mr. IRONSIDE a list of the books he was
_not_ to allow to go into a railway edition, and another list of books
of which I had _not_ the copyrights, and ‘—— ——,’ was _first_ upon the
interdicted list. Seeing this barefaced swindle, I sent for Mr. L——,
knowing how potential a man’s name always is with English blackguards,
and I said, “Will you just write two lines to that fellow ——, saying,
‘Sir,—My mother having seen in the _Times_ of the 26th of September
(1858), an advertisement of yours re-issuing a novel of hers, entitled
“—— ——,” which Mr. IRONSIDE had so expressly forbidden you to do, she
wishes to know by whose, and what authority you have now done so?—I am,
sir, your obedient servant,
“‘R—— B—— L——.’”
“Ah!” said the young gentleman, “my father has written to me about this
re-issue, and says you have broken faith with him about that book in
re-issuing it.” “How broken faith with him?” said I. “How could that
be when I have never had any communication with him upon that or any
other subject? I merely interdicted ——’s re-issuing that book, because I
could get better terms for it elsewhere. So pray ask your father _how_ I
could have broken faith with _him_ about it; and how angry I am at ——’s
barefaced swindle! and pray go and write that letter to —— directly.” I
may as well here tell you while I think of it, that part of their plan
was to get me to go back and live with Sir LIAR for a short time to patch
up his character, and throw dust in the eyes of the public, which is all
that is ever required on the score of English morality. Had I been such
a glorious fool as to do this, of course he could have poisoned me off
comfortably out of hand, and then written a touching _In Memoriam_ on me
in Mr. HUMBUG DICKENS’S “_All the Year Round_.” For that vile Miss R——,
one day at Luchon, had the imbecility and the effrontery to bring me a
letter from her employer, from which that meanest of all villains had
ordered her to read out the following _unique_ in the annals of humbug
paragraph: “Try and soften Lady L——’s heart, by reminding her of the time
when I was so devoted to her”!!!
“Dear, now, do _tink_ of your own interest, and tell me what I shall
write back to Sir EDWARD.” “One word will do,” said I, “the word ‘When?’”