hardened gamblers were indignant at the Chevalier's unexampled
behaviour. The voice of the public was raised against him. The bank was
closed by the police. He was, moreover, accused of false play; and his
unprecedented good-luck tended to establish the truth of the charge. He
was unable to clear himself. The fine he was compelled to pay deprived
him of a considerable part of his riches. He found himself disgraced
and looked upon with contempt; then he went back to the arms of the
wife he had ill-used, and she willingly received him, the penitent,
since the remembrance of how her own father had turned aside from the
demoralising life of a gambler allowed a glimmer of hope to rise, that
the Chevalier's conversion might this time, now that he was older,
really have some stamina in it.
"The Chevalier left Paris along with his wife, and went to Genoa,
Angela's birthplace. Here he led a very retired life at first. But all
endeavours to restore the footing of quiet domesticity with Angela,
which his evil genius had destroyed, were in vain. It was not long
before his deep-rooted discontent awoke anew and drove him out of the
house in a state of uneasy, unsettled restlessness. His evil reputation
had followed him from Paris to Genoa; he dare not venture to establish
a bank, although he was being goaded to do so by a power he could
hardly resist.
"At that time the richest bank in Genoa was kept by a French colonel,
who had been invalided owing to serious wounds. His heart burning with
envy and fierce hatred, the Chevalier appeared at the Colonel's table,
expecting that his usual good fortune would stand by him, and that he
should soon ruin his rival. The Colonel greeted him in a merry humour,
such as was in general not customary with him, and said that now the
play would really be worth indulging in since they had got Chevalier
Menars and his good-luck to join them, for now would come the struggle
which alone made the game interesting.
"And in fact during the first _taille_ the cards fell favourable to the
Chevalier as they always had done. But when, relying upon his
invincible luck, he at last cried '_Va banquet_,'6 he lost a very
considerable sum at one stroke.
"The Colonel, at other times preserving the same even temperament
whether winning or losing, now swept the money towards him with the
most demonstrative signs of extreme delight. From this moment fortune
turned away from the Chevalier utterly and completely. He played every
night, and every night he lost, until his property had melted away to a
few thousand ducats,7 which he still had in securities.
"The Chevalier had spent the whole day in running about to get his
securities converted into ready money, and did not reach home until
late in the evening. So soon as it was fully night, he was about to
leave the house with his last gold pieces in his pocket, when Angela,
who suspected pretty much how matters stood, stepped in his path and
threw herself at his feet, whilst a flood of tears gushed from her
eyes, beseeching him by the Virgin and all the saints to abandon his
wicked purpose, and not to plunge her in want and misery.
"He raised her up and strained her to his heart with painful passionate
intensity, saying in a hoarse voice, 'Angela, my dear sweet Angela! It
can't be helped now, indeed it must be so; I must go on with it, for I
can't let it alone. But to-morrow--to-morrow all your troubles shall be
over, for by the Eternal Destiny that rules over us I swear that to-day
shall be the last time I will play. Quiet yourself, my dear good
child--go and sleep--dream of happy days to come, of a better life that
is in store for you; that will bring good-luck. Herewith he kissed his
wife and hurried off before she could stop him.
"Two _tailles_, and the Chevalier had lost all--all. He stood beside
the Colonel, staring upon the faro-table in moody senselessness.
"'Are you not punting any more, Chevalier?' said the Colonel, shuffling
the cards for a new _taille_, 'I have lost all,' replied the Chevalier,
forcing himself with an effort to be calm.
"'Have you really nothing left?' asked the Colonel at the next _
taille_.
"'I am a beggar,' cried the Chevalier, his voice trembling with rage
and mortification; and he continued to stare fiercely upon the table
without observing that the players were gaining more and more
advantages over the banker.
"The Colonel went on playing quietly. But whilst shuffling the cards
for the following _taille_, he said in a low voice, without looking at
the Chevalier, 'But you have a beautiful wife.'
"'What do you mean by that?' burst out the Chevalier angrily. The
Colonel drew his cards without making any answer.
"'Ten thousand ducats or--Angela!' said the Colonel, half turning round
whilst the cards were being cut.
"'You are mad!' exclaimed the Chevalier, who now began to observe on
coming more to himself that the Colonel continually lost and lost
again.
"'Twenty thousand ducats against Angela!' said the Colonel in a low
voice, pausing for a moment in his shuffling of the cards.
"The Chevalier did not reply. The Colonel went on playing, and almost
all the cards fell to the players' side.
"'Taken!' whispered the Chevalier in the Colonel's ear, as the new
_taille_ began, and he pushed the queen on the table.
"In the next draw the queen had lost. The Chevalier drew back from the
table, grinding his teeth, and in despair stood leaning in a window,
his face deathly pale.
"Play was over. 'Well, and what's to be done now?' were the Colonel's
mocking words as he stepped up to the Chevalier.
"'Ah!' cried the Chevalier, quite beside himself, 'you have made me a
beggar, but you must be insane to imagine that you could win my wife.
Are we on the islands? is my wife a slave, exposed as a mere _thing_ to
the brutal arbitrariness of a reprobate man, that he may trade with
her, gamble with her? But it is true! You would have had to pay twenty
thousand ducats if the queen had won, and so I have lost all right to
raise a protest if my wife is willing to leave me to follow you. Come
along with me, and despair when you see how my wife will repel you with
detestation when you propose to her that she shall follow you as your
shameless mistress.'
"'You will be the one to despair,' replied the Colonel, with a mocking,
scornful laugh; 'you will be the one to despair, Chevalier, when Angela
turns with abhorrence from you--you, the abandoned sinner, who have
made her life miserable--and flies into my arms in rapture and delight;
you will be the one to despair when you learn that we have been united
by the blessing of the Church, and that our dearest wishes are crowned
with happiness. You call me insane. Ho! ho! All I wanted to win was the
right to claim her, for of Angela herself I am sure. Ho! ho! Chevalier,
let me inform you that your wife loves _me_--_me_, with unspeakable
love: let me inform you that I am that Duvernet, the neighbour's son,
who was brought up along with Angela, bound to her by ties of the most
ardent affection--he whom you drove away by means of your diabolical
devices. Ah! it was not until I had to go away to the wars that Angela
became conscious to herself of what I was to her; I know all. It was
too late. The Spirit of Evil suggested to me the idea that I might ruin
you in play, and so I took to gambling--followed you to Genoa,--and now
I have succeeded. Away now to your wife.'
"The Chevalier was almost annihilated, like one upon whose head had
fallen the most disastrous blows of fortune. Now he saw to the bottom
of that mysterious secret, now he saw for the first time the full
extent of the misfortune which he had brought upon poor Angela.
'Angela, my wife, shall decide,' he said hoarsely, and followed the
Colonel, who was hurrying off at full speed.
"On reaching the house the Colonel laid his hand upon the latch of
Angela's chamber; but the Chevalier pushed him back, saying, 'My wife
is asleep. Do you want to rouse her up out of her sweet sleep?'
"'Hm!' replied the Colonel. 'Has Angela ever enjoyed sweet sleep since
you brought all this nameless misery upon her?' Again the Colonel
attempted to enter the chamber; but the Chevalier threw himself at his
feet and screamed, frantic with despair, 'Be merciful. Let me keep my
wife; you have made me a beggar, but let me keep my wife.'
"'That's how old Vertua lay at your feet, you miscreant dead to all
feeling, and could not move your stony heart; may Heaven's vengeance
overtake you for it.' Thus spoke the Colonel; and he again strode
towards Angela's chamber.
"The Chevalier sprang towards the door, tore it open, rushed to the bed
in which his wife lay, and drew back the curtains, crying, 'Angela!
Angela!' Bending over her, he grasped her hand; but all at once he
shook and trembled in mortal anguish and cried in a thundering voice,
'Look! look! you have won my wife's corpse.'
"Perfectly horrified, the Colonel approached the bed; no sign of
life!--Angela was dead--dead.
"Then the Colonel doubled his fist and shook it heavenwards, and rushed
out of the room uttering a fearful cry. Nothing more was ever heard of
him."
This was the end of the stranger's tale; and the Baron was so shaken
that before he could say anything the stranger had hastily risen from
the seat and gone away.
A few days later the stranger was found in his room suffering from
apoplexy of the nerves. He never opened his mouth up to the moment of
his death, which ensued after the lapse of a few hours. His papers
proved that, though he called himself Baudasson simply, he was no less
a person than the unhappy Chevalier Menars himself.
The Baron recognised it as a warning from Heaven, that Chevalier Menars
had been led across his path to save him just as he was approaching the
brink of the precipice; he vowed that he would withstand all the
seductions of the gambler's deceptive luck.
Up till now he has faithfully kept his word.
FOOTNOTES TO "GAMBLER'S LUCK":
Footnote 1 In faro the keeper of the bank plays against all the rest of
the players (who are called _punters_). He has a full pack; they have
but a single complete suit. The punters may stake what they please upon
any card they please, except in so far as rules may have been made to
the contrary by the banker. After the cards have been cut, the banker
proceeds to take off the two top cards one after the other, placing the
first at his right hand, and the second at his left, each with the face
uppermost. Any punter who has staked a card which bears exactly the
same number of "peeps" as the card turned up on the banker's right hand
loses the stake to the latter; but if it bears the same number of
"peeps" as the card on the banker's left, it is the banker who has to
pay the punter a sum equal to the value of his stake. The twenty-six
drawings which a full pack allows the banker to make are called a
_taille_.
This general sketch will help to make the text intelligible for the
most part without going into minor technicalities of the game.]
Footnote 2 The words "win," "lose," with which the banker places the
two cards on the table, the first to his right for himself, the second
on his left for the punter.]
Footnote 3 The new _Louis d'or_ were worth somewhat less than the old
coins of the time of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. (See note, page 175.)]
Footnote 4 The banker's assistants, who shuffle cards for him, change
cheques, notes, and make themselves generally useful.]
Footnote 5 Malmaison is a chateau and park situated about six miles W.
of Paris. It once belonged to Richelieu; and there the Empress
Josephine lived, and there she died on the 13th May, 1814.]
Footnote 6 "_Va bout_" or "_Va banque_" meant a challenge to the bank
to the full amount of the highest limit of play, and if the punter won
he virtually broke the bank.]
Footnote 7 The first silver ducat is believed to have been struck in
1140 by Roger II., Norman king of Sicily; and ducats have been struck
constantly since the twelfth century, especially at Venice (see
_Merchant of Venice_). They have varied considerably both in weight and
fineness, and consequently in value, at different times and places.
Ducats have been struck in both gold and silver. The early Venetian
silver ducat was worth about five shillings. The name is said,
according to one account, to have been derived from the last word of
the Latin legend found on the earliest Venetian gold coins:--_Sit tibi,
Christe, datus, quem tu regis, ducatus_ (duchy); according to another
account it is taken from "_il ducato_," the name generally applied to
the duchy of Apulia. (Note, page 98, Vol. I.)]
_MASTER JOHANNES WACHT._1
At the time when people in the beautiful and pleasant town of Bamberg
lived, according to the well-known saying, well, _i.e._, under the
crook, namely in the end of the previous century, there was also one
inhabitant, a man belonging to the burgher class, who might be called
in every respect both singular and eminent His name was Johannes Wacht,
and his trade was that of a carpenter.
Nature, in weighing and definitely determining her children's
destinies, pursues her own dark inscrutable path; and all that is
claimed by convenience, and by the opinions and considerations which
prevail in man's narrow existence, as determining factors in settling
the true tendency of every man's self. Nature regards as nothing more
than the pert play of deluded children imagining themselves to be wise.
But short-sighted man often finds an insuperable irony in the
contradiction between the conviction of his own mind and the mysterious
ordering of this inscrutable Power, who first nourished and fed him at
her maternal bosom and then deserted him; and this irony fills him with
terror and awe, since it threatens to annihilate his own self.
The mother of Life does not choose for her favourites either the
palaces of the great or the state-apartments of princes. And so she
made our Johannes, who, as the kindly reader will soon learn, might be
called one of her most richly endowed favourites, first see the light
of the world on a wretched heap of straw, in the workshop of an
impoverished master turner in Augsburg. His mother died of want and
from suffering soon after the child's birth, and his father followed
her after the lapse of a few months.
The town government had to take charge of the helpless boy; and when
the Council's master carpenter, a well-to-do, respectable man, who
found in the child's face, notwithstanding that it was pinched with
hunger, certain traits which pleased him,--when he would not suffer the
boy to be lodged in a public institution, but took him into his own
house, in order to bring him up along with his own children, then there
dawned upon Johannes his first genial ray of sunshine, heralding a
happier lot in the future.
In an incredibly short space of time the boy's frame developed, so that
it was difficult to believe that the little insignificant creature in
the cradle had really been the shapeless colourless chrysalis out of
which this pretty, living, golden-locked boy had proceeded, like a
beautiful butterfly. But--what seemed of more importance--along with
this pleasing grace of physical form the boy soon displayed such
eminent intellectual faculties as astonished both his foster-father and
his teachers. Johannes grew up in a workshop which sent forth some of
the best and highest work that mechanical skill was able to produce,
since the master carpenter to the Council was constantly engaged upon
the most important buildings. No wonder, therefore, that the child's
mind, which caught up everything with such keen clear perception,
should be excited thereby, and should feel all his heart drawn towards
a trade the deeper significance of which, in so far as it was concerned
with the material creation of great and bold ideas, he dimly felt deep
down in his soul. The joy that this bent of the orphan's mind
occasioned his foster-father may well be conceived; and hence he felt
persuaded to teach the boy all practical matters himself with great
care and attention, and furthermore, when he had grown into a youth, to
have him instructed by the cleverest masters in all the higher branches
of knowledge connected with the trade, both theoretical and practical,
such as, for instance, drawing, architecture, mechanics, &c.
Our Johannes was four and twenty years of age when the old master
carpenter died; and even at that time his foster-son was a thoroughly
experienced and skilful journeyman in all branches of his craft, whose
equal could not be found far and near. At this period Johannes set out,
along with his true and faithful comrade Engelbrecht, on the usual
journeyman's2 travels.
Herewith you know, indulgent reader, all that it is needful to know
about the youth of our worthy Wacht; and it only remains to tell you in
a few words how it was that he came to settle in Bamberg and how he
became master there.
After being on the travel for a pretty long time he happened to arrive
at Bamberg on his way home along with his comrade Engelbrecht; and
there they found the Bishop's palace undergoing thorough repair, and
particularly on that side of it where the walls rose up to a great
height out of a very narrow alley or court. Here an entirely new roof
was to be put up, of very great and very heavy beams; and they wanted a
machine, which, whilst taking up the least possible room, would possess
sufficient concentration of power to raise the heavy weights up to the
required height. The Prince-bishop's builder, who knew how to calculate
to a nicety how Trajan's Column in Rome had been made to stand, and
also knew the hundred or more mistakes that had been made which he
should never have laid himself open to the reproach of committing, had
indeed constructed a machine--a sort of crane--which was very nice to
look at, and was praised by everybody as a masterpiece of mechanical
skill; but when the men tried to set the thing agoing, it turned out
that the Herr builder had calculated upon downright Samsons and
Herculeses. The wheels creaked and squeaked horribly; the huge beams
which were hooked on to the crane did not budge an inch; the men
declared, whilst shaking the sweat from their brows, that they would
much sooner carry ships' mainmasts up steep stairs than strain
themselves in this way, and waste all their best strength in vain over
such a machine; and there matters remained.
Standing at some distance, Wacht and Engelbrecht looked on at what they
were doing, or rather, not doing; and it is possible that Wacht may
have smiled just a little at the builder's want of knowledge.
A grey-headed old foreman, recognising the strangers' handicraft from
their clothing, stepped up to them without more ado, and asked Wacht if
he understood how to manage the machine any better since he looked so
cunning about it. "Ah, well!" replied Wacht, without being in the least
disconcerted, "ah well; it's a doubtful point whether I know better,
for every fool thinks he understands everything better than anybody
else; but I can't help wondering that in this part of the country you
don't seem to be acquainted with a certain simple contrivance, which
would easily perform all that the Herr Builder yonder is vainly
tormenting his men to accomplish."
The young man's bold answer nettled the grey-haired old foreman not a
little; he turned away muttering to himself; and very soon it was known
to them all that a young stranger, a carpenter's journeyman, had
laughed the builder together with his machine to scorn, and boasted
that he was acquainted with a more serviceable contrivance. As is
usually the case, nobody paid any heed to it; but the worthy builder as
well as the honourable guild of carpenters in Bamberg were of opinion
that the stranger had not, it was to be presumed, devoured up all the
wisdom of the world, nor would he presume to dictate to and teach old
and experienced masters. "Now do you see, Johannes," said Engelbrecht
to his comrade, "now do you see how your rash boldness has again
provoked against you the people whom we must meet as comrades of the
craft?"
"Who can, who may look on quietly," replied Johannes, whilst his eyes
flashed, "when the poor labourers--I'm sure they're to be pitied--are
tormented so and made to work beyond all reason, and that all to no
purpose. And who knows whether my rash boldness may not, after all,
have beneficial consequences?" And it really turned out to be so.
One single individual, of such pre-eminent intellectual capacity that
no gleam of knowledge, however fugitive it might be, ever escaped his
keen penetration, attached a quite different importance to the youth's
words from what the rest did, for the builder had reported them to him
as the presumptuous saying of a young fledgling carpenter. This man was
the Prince-bishop himself. He had the young man summoned to his
presence, that he might inquire further into the import of his words,
and was not a little astonished both at his appearance and at his
general bearing and character. My kindly reader ought to know what this
astonishment was due to, and now is the time to tell him something more
about Johannes Wacht's exterior and Johannes Wacht's mind and thoughts.
As far as his face and figure were concerned, he might justly be called
a remarkably handsome young fellow, and yet his noble features and
majestic stature did not attain to full perfection until after he had
reached a riper manhood. Æsthetic canons of the cathedral credited
Johannes with having the head of an old Roman; a younger member of the
same fraternity, who even in the severest winter was in the habit of
going about dressed in black silk, and who had read Schiller's
_Fiesko_, maintained, on the contrary, that Johannes Wacht was Verrina3
in the flesh.
But the mysterious charm by means of which many highly-gifted men are
enabled to win at once the confidence of those whom they approach does
not consist in beauty and grace of external form alone. We in a certain
sense feel their superiority; yet this feeling is by no means an
oppressive feeling as might be imagined; but, whilst elevating the
spirit, it also excites a certain kind of mental comfort that does us
an incalculable amount of good. All the factors of the physical and
intellectual organism are united into a whole by the most perfect
harmony, so that the contact with the superior soul is like a pure
strain of music; it suffers no discord. This harmony creates that
inimitable deportment, that--one might almost say--comfort in the
slightest movements, through which the consciousness of true human
dignity is proclaimed. This deportment can be taught by no dancing-
master, by no Prince's tutor; and well and rightly does it deserve its
proper name of the distinguished deportment, since it is stamped as
such by Nature herself. Here need only be added that Master Wacht,
unflinchingly constant in generosity, truth, and faithfulness to his
burgher standing, became as the years went on ever more a man of the
people. He developed all the virtues, but at the same time all the
unconquerable prejudices, which are generally wont to form the
unfavourable sides of such men's characters. My kindly reader will soon
learn of what these prejudices consisted.
I have now perhaps sufficiently explained why it was that the young
man's appearance made such an uncommon impression upon the respected
Prince-bishop. For a long time he observed the stalwart young workman
in silence, but with visible satisfaction; then he questioned him about
his previous life. Johannes answered all his questions candidly and
modestly, and finally explained to the Prince with convincing
clearness, that the master-builder's machine, though perhaps fitted for
other purposes, would in the present case never effect what it was
intended to do.
In reply to the Prince's inquiry whether he could indeed trust himself
to specify a machine that would be more suitable for the purpose,
namely, to raise the heavy weights, the young man replied that all he
required to construct such a machine was a single day, and the help of
his comrade Engelbrecht and a few skilful and willing labourers.
It may be conceived with what malicious and mischievous inward joy, and
with what impatience the master-builder, and all who were connected
with him, looked forward to the morrow, when the forward stranger would
be sent off home covered with shame and ridicule. But things turned out
different from what these good-hearted people had expected, or indeed
had wished.