Charles Reade made his first appearance as an author
comparatively late in life. He was the son of an English
squire, born at Ipsden on June 8, 1814, and was educated for
the Bar, being entered at Lincoln's Inn in 1843. His literary
career began as dramatist, and it is significant that it was
his own wish that the word "dramatist" should stand first in
the description of his works on his tombstone. His maiden
effort in stage literature, "The Ladies' Battle," was produced
in 1851; but it was not until November, 1852, with the
appearance of "Masks and Faces"--the story which he afterwards
adapted into prose under the title of "Peg Woffington"--that
Reade became famous as a playwright. From 1852 until his
death, which occurred on April 11, 1884, Reade's life is
mainly a catalogue of novels and dramas. Like many of Charles
Reade's works, "Hard Cash, a Matter-of-Fact Romance," is a
novel with a purpose, and was written with the object of
exposing abuses connected with the lunacy laws and the
management of private lunatic asylums. Entitled "Very Hard
Cash," it first appeared serially in the pages of "All the
Year Round," then under the editorship of Charles Dickens, and
although its success in that form was by no means
extraordinary, its popularity on its publication in book form
in 1863 was well deserved and emphatic. The appearance of
"Hard Cash," which is a sequel to a comparatively trivial
tale, "Love me Little, Love me Long," provoked much hostile
criticism from certain medical quarters--criticism to which
Reade replied with vehemence and characteristic vigour. His
activity in the campaign against the abuses of lunacy law did
not end with the publication of this story, since he conducted
personal investigations in many individual cases of false
imprisonment under pretence of lunacy.
_I.--The Dodd and Hardie Families_
In a snowy-villa, just outside the great commercial seaport, Barkington,
there lived, a few years ago, a happy family. A lady, middle-aged, but
still charming; two young friends of hers, and an occasional visitor.
The lady was Mrs. Dodd; her periodical visitor her husband, the captain
of an East Indiaman; her friends were her son Edward, aged twenty, and
her daughter, Julia, nineteen.
Mrs. Dodd was the favourite companion and bosom friend of both her
children. They were remarkably dissimilar. Edward was comely and manly,
no more; could walk up to a five-barred gate and clear it; could row all
day, and then dance all night; and could not learn his lessons to save
his life.
In his sister Julia modesty, intelligence, and, above all, enthusiasm
shone, and made her an incarnate sunbeam.
This one could learn her lessons with unreasonable rapidity, and Mrs.
Dodd educated her herself, from first to last; but Edward she sent to
Eton, where he made good progress--in aquatics and cricket.
In spite of his solemn advice--"you know, mamma, I've got no
headpiece"--he was also sent to Oxford, and soon found he could not have
carried his wares to a better market. Advancing steadily in that line of
study towards which his genius lay, he was soon as much talked about in
the university as any man in his college, except one. Singularly enough,
that one was his townsman--much Edward's senior in standing, though not
in age. Young Alfred Hardie was doge of a studious clique, and careful
to make it understood that he was a reading man who boated and cricketed
to avoid the fatigue of lounging.
To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated laurel, Edward looked up
from a distance, praised him and recorded his triumphs in all his
letters; but he, thinking nothing human worthy of reverence but
intellect, was not attracted by Edward, till at Henley he saw Julia, and
lo! true life had dawned. He passed the rest of the term in a soft
ecstasy, called often on Edward, and took a prodigious interest in him,
and counted the days till he should be for four months in the same town
as his enchantress. Within a month of his arrival in Barkington he
obtained Mrs. Dodd's permission to ask his father's consent to propose
an engagement to Julia, which was promptly refused; and inquiry,
petulance, tenderness, and logic were alike wasted on Mr. Hardie by his
son in vain. He would give no reason. But Mrs. Dodd, knowing him of old,
had little doubt, and watched her daughter day and night to find whether
love or pride was the stronger, all the mother in arms to secure her
daughter's happiness. Finding this really at stake, she explained that
she knew the nature of Mr. Hardie's objections, and they were objections
that her husband, on his return, would remove. "My darling," she said,
"pray for your father's safe return, for on him, and on him alone, your
happiness depends, as mine does."
Next day Mrs. Dodd walked two hours with Alfred, and his hopes revived
under her magic, as Julia's had. The wise woman quietly made terms. He
was not to come to the house except on her invitation, unless indeed he
had news of the Agra to communicate; but he might write once a week, and
enclose a few lines to Julia. On this he proceeded to call her his best,
dearest, loveliest friend--his mother. That touched her. Hitherto he had
been to her but a thing her daughter loved. Her eyes filled.
"My poor, warm-hearted, motherless boy," she said, "pray for my
husband's safe return."
So now two more bright eyes looked longingly seaward for the Agra,
homeward bound.
_II.--Richard Hardie's Villainy_
Richard Hardie was at that moment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to
decline Julia Dodd, with hard cash in five figures, for his
daughter-in-law.
The great banker stood, a colossus of wealth and stability to the eye,
though ready to crumble at a touch, and, indeed, self-doomed; for
bankruptcy was now his game. This was a miserable man, far more so than
his son, whose happiness he was thwarting; and of all things that gnawed
him, none was more bitter than to have borrowed £5,000 of his children's
trust money, and sunk it. His son's marriage would expose him; lawyers
would peer into trusts, etc.
When his son announced his attachment to a young lady living in a
suburban villa it was a terrible blow, but if Alfred had told him hard
cash in five figures could be settled by the bride's family on the young
couple, he would have welcomed the wedding with a secret gush of joy,
for he could then have thrown himself on Alfred's generosity, and been
released from that one corroding debt.
He had for months spent his days poring over the books, fabricating and
maturing a false balance-sheet. Suspecting that the cashier was watching
him, he one day handed him his dismissal, polite but peremptory, and
went on cooking his accounts with surpassing dignity. Rage supplying the
place of courage, the cashier let him know that he--poor, despised Noah
Skinner--had kept genuine books while he had been preparing false ones.
He was at the mercy of his servant, and bowed his pride to flatter
Skinner, and soon saw this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. He
became his accomplice, and on this his master told him everything it was
impossible to keep from him. At this moment Captain Dodd was announced.
Mr. Hardie explained to his new ally the danger that threatened him from
Miss Julia Dodd.
"And now," said he, "the women have sent the father to soften me. I
shall be told his girl will die if she can't have my boy."
But, instead of the heartbroken father he expected, in came the gallant
sailor, with a brown cheek reddened with triumph and excitement, who
held out his hand cordially, almost shouting in a jovial voice, "Well,
sir, here I am, just come ashore, and visiting you before my very wife;
what d'ye think of that?"
Hardie stared, and remained on his guard, puzzled; while David Dodd
showed his pocket-book, and in the pride of his heart, and the fever in
his blood--for there were two red spots on his cheeks all the time--told
the cold pair its adventures in a few glowing words; the Calcutta
firm--the two pirates--the hurricane--the wrecks, the land-sharks he had
saved it from. "And here it is safe, in spite of them all, and you must
be good enough to take care of it for me."
He then opened the pocket-book, and Mr. Hardie ran over the notes and
bills, and said the amount was £14,010 12s. 6d.
Dodd asked for a receipt, and while it was written poor Dodd's heart
overflowed.
"It's my children's fortune, you see; I don't look on a sixpence of it
as mine. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her, she's a rosebud if
ever there was one; and my boy Edward, he's the honestest young chap you
ever saw; but how could they miss either good looks or good hearts, and
her children? Here's a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh and blood,
but you know how it is with us fathers; our hearts are so full of the
little darlings, out it must come. You can imagine how joyful I feel at
saving their fortune from land-sharks, and landing it safe in an honest
man's hands."
Skinner gave him the receipt.
"All right, little gentleman; now my heart is relieved of such a weight.
Good-bye, shake hands. God bless you! God bless you both!" And with this
he was out and making ardently for Albion Villa.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later the door burst open, and David Dodd stood on the
threshold, looking terrible. He seemed black and white with anger and
anxiety. Making a great effort to control his agitation, he said, "I
have changed my mind, sir; I want my money back."