By the author of the "Extract from a Novel that will never be
published."
There were two among my companions at College with whom my intimacy was
particularly close. They differed much from each other, as I did from
them, in character and mental powers, but we were from the same state,
viz. Virginia, although from different parts of it; and the presence of
each of us spoke to the others of our distant homes, and formed a tie
that bound us closely together. There is besides, a strong local
attachment, separate and distinct from national feeling, (a peculiar
one, as far as my observation extends, in our country,) pervading the
native born inhabitants of that state, particularly the eastern and
southern section of it, which draws them like brothers together when
abroad. However reserved a Virginian may be to others, his heart
immediately opens to one who possesses the same birthright with
himself; and for him, if called upon, he will encounter pecuniary
inconvenience and personal risk. I have known many instances of this
feeling. But to my tale. The elder of us three, by name Morriss
Heywood, was one of those beings on whom has been bestowed the
fearful--almost fatal gift of genius. He stood pre-eminent among us
all, towering in intellect, piercing the veil of truths hid from our
dimmer eyes, revelling in the gardens of imagination barred to our dull
and every day capacities. While we with pigmy steps and slow, crept
along the paths of knowledge, urging our toilsome way with many a
groan, he pressed forward with a giant's stride, and left us a
sightless distance in the rear. His disposition too was noble as his
mind. Generous beyond the bounds of prudence--brave to the verge of
rashness--ever ready to afford assistance to those who required it--to
promote their welfare, and to condole with, and partake of their
grievances. Like most persons of extraordinary powers, his temper was
unequal. At times gloomy and abstracted, shunning all communion,
avoiding all recreation, abstaining from exercise and almost from
food,--he would bury himself in the seclusion of his chamber, devoting
day and night to intense application; then sated for a time with his
"deep draught" at "the well spring of science," he would come among us
full of life and gaiety, the soul and promoter of every frolic,
breathing into us the spirit of his own warm heart, robing common
things with the hues of his own bright fancy, and lighting up the very
regions of dulness with the quick and brilliant flashes of his wit. The
grave professors regarded him with amazement, and some of them even
with fear; for sometimes in the spirit of mischief, he would sport with
their heavy and useless learning, and puzzle them sadly with the
subtleness of his inquiries,--leading them unconsciously into the mazes
of metaphysical absurdities, and then leaving them with a quibble or a
jest to pick their way out as they could, floundering at every step,
and conscious of the ridicule they incurred. My other friend, Charles
Drayton, had no peculiar characteristic that calls for present
description. He had ordinary intellect, great application, a kind but
not a warm heart, and a disposition to submit to legitimate authority;
for all which, when we were graduated, he was rewarded with some fifth
or sixth rate honor. The busy pursuits of life soon separated me from
them after our departure from college. They commenced the study of the
law, while I doubting my powers to succeed in the learned professions,
and naturally inclined to an active life, turned my attention to
commerce, and in the course of business, was called on to leave "my
native land" to sojourn in a far distant one, and my return was not
until after an absence of many years. During those years of labor and
various fortunes, my time and talents devoted to one ruling object, the
acquisition of wealth, (but not, I trust, influenced by sordidness, or
ever induced to employ unworthy means,) my communications with home had
been very rare, and of my early friends I had received no tidings; but
often after reposing from the toils of the day, when the bustle of
occupation was hushed, and the wearied mind revolted from following up
the many schemes of aggrandizement that so constantly taxed it, memory
would roll back to those halcyon days of my youth, and the images of
Heywood and of Drayton would be mirrored in freshness to my fancy,
while I busied myself in conjectures as to their probable fate and
fortunes. Were they still among the living? Had Heywood fulfilled the
promise of his early youth, and climbed with vigorous step
"The hill, where fame's proud temple shines afar?"
Had the perseverance of Drayton won for him wealth and respectability
in his profession? More he could not attain to. And amid their busy
struggles, did they ever recur to the friend who was absent, with the
same deep feeling that dwelt in his heart for them?
After many efforts, sometimes crowned with success, and often, very
often marked by adversity, fortune at last smiled upon them, and placed
me in a situation (as I was alone in the world,) of comparative wealth.
I wound up my affairs as speedily as possible, and embarked for home.
My voyage was prosperous: once more I trod the free soil of the United
States of America, and bent my way without delay to the town of ----,
where first I drew my infant breath. It was evening when I reached it.
I found it much altered, enlarged and improved; but around me were many
a memorial of the times gone by;--and as the slanting rays of the
setting sun threw their purple and gold on the broad summit of the well
remembered hills, and played in ever changing beauty on the ripple of
the chrystal stream, I seemed borne back from the present, when Time
had furrowed my brow and sprinkled his snows upon my hair, to that
past, when the smooth forehead and the curly locks, the long loud
laugh, and the joyous leap, were tokens of the happy boy. In passing
along the main road leading to the town, I had observed at some little
distance from it, a very large and handsome brick edifice, in the midst
of highly cultivated grounds, where formerly there had stood a very
indifferent wooden building, on a neglected farm, the property of an
idle and dissipated gentleman. It was very foolish to do so, and yet I
uttered a half sigh at the change; for although the present state of
things was infinitely more agreeable to the eye, it struck coldly on my
heart and jarred the chord of cherished associations. When I had fairly
established myself at the "best inn," and answered as I pleased, all
customary inquiries as to who I was, whence from, where going to, and
numberless other impertinencies, I commenced querist in turn, and the
information I then and subsequently obtained from other quarters, I am
now about to lay before the reader. Both of my college friends after
obtaining their licenses, had removed to my native town, which then
offered the best field in the state for the practice of the law.
Heywood had, as I was sure he would, commenced his career at the bar
with signal success. His very first appearance, his maiden speech, had
given him a station far beyond his youthful competitors, and indeed
among the foremost ranks of those who had grown gray in their vocation.
He had been entrusted, with others, in the management of a case of
great difficulty, and involving property to a large amount; and in the
examination of the witnesses, had exhibited a knowledge of human
character, and a power to discover and elicit truth, that in one so
young and so unpracticed, seemed absolutely marvellous; while his
familiarity with the abstruse points and technicalities of the law,
appeared as close and intimate as if he had spent years in acquiring
it. He was regarded as a prodigy, and indeed he was one. I have seen
many men in many climes, but never have I met with Heywood's equal in
native genius; and then the godlike mind with which he was endowed, was
set forth and enhanced by a corresponding face and figure. His stature
was tall and his bulk in proportion, but there was no clumsiness. His
limbs were
"Heaped with strength, and turned with elegance;"
His presence was lordly, with his statue-like brow, crested with short
dark curls, the Roman nose, the sharp cut lips, and the full large
pellucid eye, in which "the lightning played." His was
"A combination, and a form indeed,
On which, every god had seemed to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man."
One thus gifted was eagerly sought after, and while business poured on
him from all quarters, his society was every where courted. The
presence of Heywood was an indispensable requisite to any meeting whose
object was pleasure. Nor did he refuse it, or hold himself aloof from
the amusements sought after by others. He could be gay with the gay,
and sedate with the grave, and without an effort; and even in the midst
of what may be termed dissipation, none had cause to complain that
their affairs entrusted to his care were not faithfully attended to and
ably managed. Thus did he go on increasing in usefulness and
reputation, and men looked forward to the time when he would rank among
the master spirits of the day, and perhaps reach the highest honors his
country could bestow. Indeed a new career had now been opened to him,
which promised to lead to such a result. He had been chosen to
represent his county in the state legislature, and there as at the bar,
his success was immediate and brilliant. To him it truly seemed
----------------"an easy leap,
To pluck bright honor from the pale faced moon;"
and, (to follow up the quotation,) he might fairly hope
"To wear without corrival all her dignities."
Such then was Morriss Heywood; in years a youth, a man in wisdom--the
possessor of genius, health, reputation and beauty; his career as yet
unchecked by a single obstacle--his hopes undimmed by the shadow of a
fear. There resided at that period in the county of ---- an individual,
who, by a long course of unremitting industry and the most grinding
parsimony, together with less honest, if lawful means, had amassed an
overgrown fortune; and having money at command, had contrived by
lending it to the neighboring farmers, (generally improvident men,) and
exacting high interest for its use, taking mortgages on their estates
as security, to make himself the real if not nominal owner of half the
landed property of the county. Having it at his will at any moment to
strip many of their possessions, he was vested with a power that
(although in their secret hearts all men detested him, and execrated
his very name,) challenged opinion, and made dangerous as regarded him
its public expression. It so happened that one of those gentlemen on
whom his gripe was fixed, and whose debt, from an originally small sum,
had swelled with usury until it covered his whole estate, had been a
patron and valuable friend of this man, who was originally his
overseer--had established him in the business with which he commenced
his career, and aided him both with money and his name. It is a well
established maxim, which hard experience has gathered from human
intercourse, that you insure yourself an enemy when you bestow a
benefit on a bad man. A noble mind may find an obligation burthensome,
and be galled by the sense of dependence created by it. This feeling,
however, does not destroy gratitude to the benefactor; but the mean and
unprincipled hate those who give to them, from the consciousness that
there is an utter dissimilarity of character between the giver and
themselves. It grieves them that any should possess a virtue which they
have not; and the performance of a good action, even although they
themselves are its object, is gall and wormwood to their souls, from
the secret knowledge that they are incapable of doing the same. This
violence of hatred which the wicked, without apparent motive, entertain
for the good, is forcibly pourtrayed by Shakspeare, (nature's magician,
who applied his "Open Sesame" to that dark cave the human heart,
penetrated its recesses, and explored its most secret nooks,) when he
makes Iago give as a reason for desiring the death of Cassio,
"He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly"----
The feelings engendered in the heart of Willis, (for that was the name
of the usurer,) by the kindness of his benefactor, were envy and bitter
hatred. Envy, that he possessed the means to be generous; hatred, that
having them he was so. But his heart rejoiced when he reflected that
this very generosity would betray itself; and as he counted his own
increasing gains, and became acquainted with the diminished and
decreasing resources of his friend, he foresaw the time would come when
their relative situations would be changed--when the patron would in
turn become the suitor, and be dependant on his former menial's bounty.
The time did come. A small loan was requested, and granted with
cheerfulness. "The spider" as Heywood afterwards said, "had spun his
first line." Then came a demand for a larger sum, which was raised with
a pretence of great difficulty. Another thread was wrapped around the
body of the victim. Slowly, silently, cautiously, these tiny lines were
drawn, with a touch so light, that they were not felt until the web was
fully formed--the prey secure--fluttering and struggling in the
toils,--but vainly struggling; for those little threads had been plied
and twisted into a cord of strength to bind the unshorn Sampson.
Of all the galling miseries that man is heir to, the most intolerable,
the most debasing, the most corroding to the heart, the most
destructive to the mind, is the consciousness of debt without the means
of payment. Oh! what days of humiliation, what nights of nervous
wakefulness, or else of dreaming horror, does he abide, on whose
oppressed spirit is laid the load of payments he cannot meet, of
obligations he cannot cancel. For him, though the sun shines abroad,
there is no beauty in his beams. The earth is clothed with verdure, and
a thousand odorous flowers are scattered in his path. He heeds them
not; their perfume is wasted on him. The moon rides in liquid lustre,
and the myriad stars break forth in light, and the whole heaven is
clothed with exceeding glory; but there is a darkness in his soul no
light can penetrate--a grief at his heart no beauties of nature can
assuage. His energies are dead; they fester beneath the pall of
despair.
When at last every inch of his property was covered by debt, and the
remorseless creditor was about to strip and turn naked on the world,
him from whose hand he once had fed, kind death stepped in and released
the poor old gentleman from his troubles; and what he himself was too
honorable to do, his heirs did without hesitation. They resisted
Willis's claim upon the plea of usury. Heywood was their advocate.
Fired with indignation at the base ingratitude of the man, he summoned
all the powers of his eloquence against him, and so awfully severe was
the attack, that Willis, although in general bold and impudent, slunk
away from the court amid the hisses and groans of the crowd. The very
next day, to his utter amazement, Heywood was waited on by Willis, who
placed in his hands business of great value, and paid him down a
handsome fee.
"You see, Mr. Heywood, I can forgive and forget, as bad as you think of
me, and as much as you have abused me. The fact is, sir, you are what I
call a real clever man, and to my notion the best lawyer I've met
with--so you're the man for my money; and I suppose if I pay you your
fees, you'll do my business as soon as another man's--and I can make it
worth your while, I tell you. You said yesterday, I was a vampire
bloated with the lifeblood sucked in secret from the veins of my
victims. I remember the words, but not in malice. Well sir, when I see
fit I can bleed pretty free myself; and if you'll just consider
yourself my lawyer in all my cases, I'll pay you fifteen hundred a
year, and say done first."
"Mr. Willis," replied Heywood, "I have no hesitation in accepting your
offer, and will to the best of my ability serve you, as I would any
other individual who called upon me. It is my trade, or profession, to
advocate that cause in which I am retained; and although I rejoice when
I find I am on the right side, I have in common with my brethren, no
scruples in doing battle on the wrong."
And so they parted. It may perhaps be thought unnatural that Willis
should have acted in the way he did; but he was a shrewd, worldly wise
man, and could make any sacrifice to promote what he deemed his
interests. Now he had not forgiven, much less forgot. On the contrary,
his hatred of Heywood was deep and concentrated; but he knew him to
possess talents that were formidable when opposed to him, and on which
he could with safety rely when enlisted in his behalf.
The transactions of business necessarily carried Heywood to his
client's house, where one day being detained until the dinner hour, he
was introduced to Miss Louisa Willis, an exceedingly beautiful and
interesting lady of about eighteen. He was much struck with her, and
indeed it was impossible for the coldest disposition to withhold its
admiration from charms seldom surpassed, and then in the very fulness
of their bloom. With a form over whose round and soft proportions
hovered an atmosphere of the most soul subduing voluptuousness, she was
the possessor of a countenance, whose features in themselves almost
faultless, habitually wore the bewitching expression of confiding love;
as if for all she looked upon, there existed in her bosom a living
spring of kindness; and the consciousness of her own deep charities,
taught her to expect a like return from others. She was the adopted
daughter of Willis. Her parents, poor but highly respectable people,
died while she was yet an infant, having been carried off within a few
hours of each other, by one of those pestilential fevers that sweep
whole districts of our country, and leave in their path the silence of
death or the sob of mourning anguish, where the sounds of merriment had
been wont to break upon the ear. Willis was alone in the world. There
was no human being connected with him by the ties of consanguinity:
there was not one whom he had propitiated by the exercise of kindness:
and although the consciousness that he was hated only served to harden
and imbitter his feelings, there were moments when he felt the
loneliness of his situation, and longed for something that even he
could love.
He took the little orphan to his home, and in her found the object he
had sought. Upon her he lavished all his bounty--bestowed upon her the
best education the capabilities of the country afforded--and at a
proper age, placed her in an eligible seminary in the city of ----,
whence indeed, at the time of Heywood's first interview with her, she
had just returned.--Perhaps the disposition of Miss Willis--that of
great sweetness with very little energy or passion, was particularly
calculated to win upon such a man as Heywood. Himself all passion,
burning with the consciousness of uncommon powers, urged into action by
the ever goading stimulus of a brain that teemed with strong and
beautiful thought,--now breaking out into commanding eloquence--now
running over with sparkling wit,--it was enjoyment to him to find
repose in another. His mind self taxed to its utmost limit, was
refreshed, and soothed, and solaced by the calm and even purity which
dwelt within that form of intoxicating loveliness. Perhaps with persons
constituted like Heywood, the same ardor of passion might be exhibited
towards any object, "in whose fresh cheek" they might "meet the power
of fancy;" perhaps their glowing temperament would vest with beauty
both of mind and person, those who to common eyes had nothing to
distinguish them. Be this as it may, it is certain that he loved Miss
Willis, deeply, devotedly, ardently--with tender delicacy and with
manly passion. Whether his feelings were reciprocated by her, to the
extent of which she was capable, it is not for me to say: that secret
lies within her own bosom. Heywood thought so. He was constant in his
attentions to her, which seemed to be well received, and were certainly
encouraged by Willis. The only annoyance Heywood experienced, arose
from his feelings towards the latter. Greater familiarity with his
character had not, it is true, increased his abhorrence of it; perhaps
it had diminished it;--for as the visual eye becomes accustomed to look
without winking upon the disgusting and even the terrible, so does the
mental, and sad to say, the constant recurrence of deeds of vice,
lessens the sense of detestation which they at first inspired. But
there was something very galling to his pride, in the idea of
connecting himself in so close a manner with Willis as he must
necessarily do, if he married his daughter; only his adopted daughter,
it is true: but still in no action that could evince a parent's
fondness and a parent's care, had he been wanting to her--and he was
unquestionably entitled to a full return of that affection that might
be looked for from a properly disposed child; and as certainly did he
receive it from Miss Willis, whose respectful love for him was without
stint or measure. The struggle between pride and passion, seldom
eventuates in favor of the former, particularly where our feelings are
uninfluenced by the effect our actions may produce upon the minds of
others, and have no reference to a _degrading_ change of situation that
may be produced on us in society. Heywood might by marrying Miss
Willis, excite the sneers of the unsuccessful and the envy of the
disappointed; but he would not be the less loved, esteemed and
respected by the great bulk of his acquaintance, while by many it would
be thought a fortunate circumstance; for in the event of their
obligations falling into his hands, they might look for an indulgence
it were vain to hope from the ruthless usurer. Heywood, as might be
expected, yielded to the suggestions of his heart, and proffered his
affections to Miss Willis. She of course referred him to her father;
and with much embarrassment and hesitation of manner, Heywood announced
to him the fact, and solicited his approbation. He received the
information with a smile of peculiar meaning, of gratification--but
apparently of malicious gratification, as if he were about to win a
triumph he had been long seeking to obtain. He said but little however
in reply, nor was that little, discouraging or otherwise. He professed
himself honored by the proposal, coming as it did from so distinguished
an individual.
"To be sure," he said, "Louisa Willis was not an every day sort of
girl, and she might fairly look for as good offers as any lady in the
country. She had that, or she would have, which was all the same, that
would command them. It commanded every thing else, _he reckoned_, even
talents. She was young enough too, and likely enough, for the matter of
that, and he had had other views for her. Hows'ever, there was no
hurry--he would see about it; he must have some little time to think
before he made up his mind: when he had, he would let Heywood know what
it was."
To talk to such a man of the urgency of one's affections, was
ridiculous. Heywood felt it so, and therefore made no objection to the
delay.
It was about a month after this interview, during which interval there
had been no communication between Heywood and Willis, that the latter,
accompanied by another individual, a Mr. ----, entered the office of
the former. They had called for the purpose of explaining their mutual
understanding of the nature of a conveyance which was to pass between
them, and to request him to draw it out in proper form. He accordingly
made a rough draft of it, read it to the parties, who expressed
themselves satisfied, and Mr. ---- took his leave, with a promise to
return and execute the deed when the fair copy should have been made
out. Willis remained behind. After a few minutes silence, (of torturing
silence to Heywood, for he expected he should now receive an answer on
the subject nearest his heart,) "Mr. Heywood," said the hard featured
old man, "let me see that deed." Heywood disappointed, handed it to
him. He conned it over attentively, as he sat with one elbow placed
upon his knee and his chin resting in the hollow of his hand.
"It is all right?" said Heywood inquiringly.
"Why--ye-es," replied Willis, "but there are one or two little words
here I would like to have changed; that is, I would like to have some
others put in their place. It's of no great consequence, but somehow
they please me better."
"What words are they? Be so good as to point them out."
"Why these," answered Willis, as he shewed them with his finger, and
peered into Heywood's face, over his spectacles, with half closed eyes.
"Suppose now, instead of them, you _was_ to use _such_ words," and he
mentioned those he wished adopted.
"But sir," rejoined Heywood, "these words that I have used are
technical words, and express in a legal sense what I understand most
positively to be the intention of the parties. Were I to substitute for
them those that you propose, I should make the granter convey a title
it is by no means his wish to do."
"Pray, Mr. Heywood, are you acquainted with Mr. ----, and do you
consider yourself employed by him or me?"
"I am but slightly acquainted with Mr. ----, sir, and it matters not to
me by which party I am employed. It is my business as an honest man, to
execute to the best of my ability, what I consider myself intrusted by
both to perform, and that I have done."
"Then let me tell you Mr. Heywood that I know ---- well, that he has
not had quite as much as either you or I to do with deeds, and that if
you make the alteration I want, it's a hundred to one he will never
find it out to the end of time--so where can be the harm?"
"You surely jest with me, Mr. Willis," quickly answered Heywood; "you
cannot seriously propose to me to do that, which according to my view
of the matter, would be neither more nor less than a legal fraud."
"A fraud, sir! do you mean to say _I_ would commit a fraud, sir?" cried
Willis, in an angry tone and blustering manner.
"I have not said so, Mr. Willis," calmly replied Heywood; "I only said,
that with my knowledge of the law, _I_ should commit one were I to do
what you request."
"Well then," urged Willis, "suppose you let me go for Mr. ----, and
have the alteration made before his eyes. Will that satisfy your
squeamishness?"
"Certainly, if Mr. ---- consents to it, and is made fully aware of the
situation in which he thus places himself."
"But _you_ aint no ways bound to tell him that."
"Pardon me, sir, I am every way bound to do so."
"Very well, sir, very well, we'll drop the matter then--I don't care
much about it; only you aint as much _my_ friend as I thought you
was--that's all. But let that pass, it don't signify no great deal. And
now Mr. Heywood, for what you would call a more interesting subject."
Heywood's heart beat quick. "You told me t'other day you loved my
daughter, and would like to marry her. Now, sir, suppose you had a
daughter, and you could afford to give her as much as would make the
best men in all the land snap at her--and suppose there was one man who
despised you in his heart, though he was willing to work for your
money, and who had abused and insulted you in the public court, and
refused to befriend you, in a small way, when you wanted his
friendship, and _he_ of all men in the world was just to pop up and
say, Give me your daughter and a fortune,--what would you say to him?
Would'nt you tell him, certain, and thankee to boot, sir? Would'nt it
please you to the heart to have a son-in-law, who if he could help
himself, would'nt speak to you when he met you, nor shake hands with
you, if there was any body by to see him do it? Now just answer me
that, Mr. Heywood; you're a mighty ready man with your bills and
answers--answer me that if you please."
"Mr. Willis," stammered Heywood, "this is not--a fair way to--treat
me."
"Aint it? Now I think it is--so there we differ again; any how it's my
way, and I can afford to have my ways as well as most folks. Hows'ever,
since you don't seem to fancy those questions, I'll try again. Do you
_really_ love my daughter, for herself alone mind you, and will you
marry her if I tell you, and I am in earnest, that if you do, you never
shall, nor she either, touch a farthing of money or an acre of land
that belongs to me."
"Most readily, most willingly, and think myself but too happy in
maintaining her by my own humble efforts."
"Money is not a thing to be despised, Mr. Heywood, and it would be a
heap of it I can tell you, and as you partly know, that you would be
giving up; you'd better think again."
"This is not a matter of reflection and calculation with me, sir. It is
a feeling deep and durable, and I cannot hesitate to choose between
what I esteem my happiness and my misery. With her, portioned or
unportioned, I shall be happy--without her, though Croesus' wealth were
showered on me, I know I must be miserable."
"Say you so, sir," shouted Willis, with an air of vindictive triumph.
"Then be miserable, for I would see her, gladly see her, and I love her
too, a rotting corpse in her winding sheet--or worse, a common beggar
in the public road, for all the world to spit on if they choose, before
you should call her wife. I am glad that you love her too. If you loved
her ten thousand times better than you do--if you went mad for love, as
they tell me some fools do, I should like it all the better. I wanted
you to love her, and I saw you would love her, and I sort of encouraged
you to do so, just that when you were fairly fixed, I might have the
satisfaction to tell you that you should not have her; and now I think
we're quits. You dared to tread upon me--to flout me in the open
court-house, before a whole crowd of people, when you could have all
the talk to yourself, and my mouth was shut and my hands as good as
tied. But my turn has come, and if I have'nt paid you back, and with a
stinging interest, my name is not Abraham Willis; and so good morning
to you. You need'nt write no notes, nor send no messages to my
daughter. She knows my mind, and she is satisfied with it. She wants no
man for a husband who has abused her father. Once more, good morning to
you." And with another of his demon like smiles, he departed.
Heywood remained as a man stupified, without change of position or
movement of a muscle, every feature rigidly fixed as if cut out of
marble, his whole appearance more like a breathing statue than a living
creature. Yet who shall say what torturing thought was pressing on that
brain--what stormy passions struggling in that bosom. Did the uprooting
of his heart's affection, the total prostration of his hopes, the utter
destruction of his anticipated bliss, smite him to despair; or did his
powerful mind confront the evils that beset him, and although deeply
wounded, rise in triumph from the conflict? It is only by the effects
we can judge, and these to common observation were not remarkable. It
is true, he resigned his seat in the legislature, and altogether
withdrew himself from social intercourse, and save when necessitated by
his professional duties, rarely left the solitude of his rooms. There
his time was devoted to study; not confined to the acquisition of legal
knowledge, but of literature in general. He collected about him a noble
library, and made himself master of its contents; but though he heaped
up knowledge such as few possess, and added daily to his mental stores,
it was even as a miser gathers pelf, to gloat upon the heap in private,
but impart to none its benefits. Still, although he thus secluded
himself, when he did appear abroad, there was nothing of gloom about
him, or marked reserve in his manner to his fellow men. He might even
sometimes have been thought gay. He would jest himself, and laugh at
other's jests; but all this was but "outward seeming." There was no joy
of the heart--no "flow of soul"--no living sympathy with mankind,
teaching him to be glad when they rejoiced, to sorrow when they
mourned.
There were none to whom he imparted his feelings, none to whom he
communicated his sentiments. On none of the usual topics of
conversation among men, whether of politics or literature, were his
opinions ever expressed--not even on legal points, unless when sought
for professionally. He lived strictly alone, concealing thought and
passion within the impenetrable recesses of his unfathomable mind.
Here for the present I will leave him, to give a short account of
Drayton's career, connected as it is with the main interest of my
narrative.
With the assiduity, industry and application for which he had been
distinguished at college, he pursued his professional studies; and
although denied the gift of eloquence, or rather I should say,
embarrassed by a slow and hesitating manner of speaking, it was obvious
enough that his knowledge of the law was sound, and that he perfectly
understood its application to the point he might be advocating. If too,
he lacked the graces of oratory, and could distil no honied words into
the ears of his auditory, he possessed that happy manner, which imposes
on society the opinion that there is a fund of wisdom and learning to
be drawn on, whenever the exigency of the case might require its use.
He had a serious, business like look, and if he walked abroad for
exercise, he seemed to have a deeper motive for the action. His
progress was nevertheless very slow in the commencement; still he
advanced by degrees, and his patience was inexhaustible. Drayton had
another advantage too, that to him amply compensated for the want of
purely professional business, and even the glitter of fame. A relation
had bequeathed him a few thousand dollars, and this enabled him to make
occasional advances to a needy client, where the claim was eventually
secure, and also to carry on a traffic in bonds, exchanging one for
another at a large discount, and thus in a short time doubling his
original capital. One or two lucky hits in land speculation returned
him large profits; and people beginning to find out his merits, as they
perceived these accessions to his worldly wealth, in course of time his
practice became respectable and lucrative. Between Heywood and Drayton
there continued the same kindness of feeling they had mutually
entertained at college, up to some short time before the philippic
delivered by the former against Willis. But about that period a
coolness grew between them. This arose from no misunderstanding or
quarrel, but simply from a dislike Heywood entertained to the very
obsequious manner Drayton exhibited towards all men who were superior
to him in private wealth or public station; and the former could not
refrain from telling him one day, after some display of the sort, that
he reminded him of Sir Pertinax McSycophant, in the "Man of the World,"
who never in all his life could stand straight "in the presence of a
great mon." Drayton was conscious that there was truth in the
application of the sarcasm, and although he made no reply, he was hurt,
and thenceforth avoided one who could and would tell him disagreeable
truths. After the rupture between Heywood and Willis, the latter
transferred his business to Drayton, who received from Heywood all the
papers in his possession, with the necessary information and
instructions, which were given to him with perfect freedom, and without
the slightest manifestation of chagrin or resentment. This perhaps was
not exactly pleasing to him. He would have liked on Heywood's part some
small exhibition of a consciousness that he was deprived of a
considerable advantage.
"This should be a valuable business I have had the good fortune to fall
into, Mr. Heywood," said he; "Mr. Willis's concerns must be very
extensive, and require much legal advice, as well as other matters in
our way. I fear he will be hardly content with my poor management,
after the able assistance he has derived from you."
"You will certainly find the business profitable," replied Heywood;
"Mr. Willis pays liberal fees, and it depends upon yourself to make
larger gains than I have done. I congratulate you on having obtained
it."
"I suppose I shall be so unfortunate as to have you opposed to me
occasionally, and if so, I trust you will not be quite so hard on my
poor client as you once were," said Drayton with an insinuating smile.
"Circumstances, sir," answered Heywood, "have put it out of my power to
speak of Mr. Willis as I think of him. You need entertain no
apprehensions for your _poor_ client; he is safe at least from my
invective."
Some few months after this conversation, rumor babbled of the
particular attentions paid by a certain lawyer, to a very wealthy young
lady, and in the course of a year, the babble was confirmed by the
marriage of Charles Drayton, Esq. to the all accomplished, &c. Miss
Louisa Willis. Drayton was now become a very wealthy and of course a
very influential man. He was sent to the legislature, then to the state
senate, thence to congress, and finally having been created a judge, he
took up his residence near ---- on a farm given him by Willis, where he
built the handsome brick house, I had observed on my return home. Two
or three days after I had fixed myself at ----, I fell in with Drayton,
whom I found much altered. He had grown quite fat, and had a very
justice-like rotundity of body. His manner was kind enough though
somewhat pompous, and he had the air of one who was on especial good
terms with himself. I dined with him and was introduced to his family,
consisting of his wife and four children; the eldest, a handsome lad of
seventeen, the others girls, the youngest about eight years old. Mrs.
Drayton, was very pale and apparently in bad health. I endeavored to
converse with her, but found her little disposed to talk. Willis was
there. He was a tall, lean man, with very sharp features--small grey
eyes somewhat inflamed, and almost hid by long bushy, wiry eye-brows, a
pinched, sharp pointed nose, thin, pale lips, much drawn in and
compressed, and a projecting chin. He endeavored to assume ease in his
manners, but his vulgarity was very apparent. There were two other
gentlemen of the neighborhood there, and on the whole, my time was not
spent so pleasantly then, or afterwards, as to induce me to repeat my
visits often, although I occasionally called in as an old acquaintance
of the master of the house. Heywood's name was of course, never
mentioned there. I once did make some inquiries of Drayton, when only
he and I were together. "Ah poor fellow, yes," said he, "he has been
absent from ---- for some time, went up the country to his brother's,
who I hear is lately dead. Heywood turned out badly sir with all his
genius,--thrown himself completely away--no prudence--ruined himself to
pay his brother's debts, and took to drinking--little better, if any,
than a common blackguard." "So much for early friendship," thought I,
as I turned away in disgust.
The marriage of Drayton to Miss Willis seemed not to affect Heywood; if
he felt, his feelings were perfectly concealed. When he met Drayton, he
congratulated him on the event, without the slightest awkwardness or
embarrassment, although the former exhibited much of both; to all
appearance he had entirely conquered his ill fated passion. His
studies, however, became more and more intense, and his seclusion
closer than ever. He scarcely eat or slept, and took no exercise. He
gave up the practice he had hitherto pursued in the adjoining counties,
and confined himself to that of the one he lived in. This mode of life
could not fail to injure his health. He grew pale and thin, and
experienced great languor: to remedy the latter, instead of resorting
to the only proper mode, a change of habits, he applied to artificial
stimulants for temporary relief. They naturally increased the evil, by
leaving behind them when their momentary excitement had worn off, a
greater degree of depression than they had been employed to remove. He
was probably aware of this, but he changed not his course. On the
contrary he increased the dose, and repeated it the more frequently,
until gradually his libations amounted to intoxication, which after a
while became daily. This, at first, was confined to the after part of
the day, but by and by he was frequently found in an unfit state for
business, by those who called upon him in the morning. Still, so great
was his reputation as a lawyer, and so powerful were the displays he
made when he appeared at the bar, that men continued to employ him,
although they were put to the inconvenience and expense of associating
other counsel with him, who would attend to the minutiæ and drudgery of
their cases. About this time, his brother (whom I did not know,) a
careless, extravagant man, with a large family, became entirely
insolvent, and the farm on which he lived was exposed to sale. Heywood
became the purchaser, for the wife, and nearly exhausted his own means
in doing so; for though he had received large sums of money in his
profession, and might with a little economy, have been very
independent, if not rich, he had not retained much of his hard earned
gains, and money had never been to him an object of solicitude.
Besides, his library had cost him no contemptible fortune. By degrees,
as the vile and fatal habit he had acquired, grew upon him, he became
more and more unfit for business, and his clients were reluctantly
compelled to abandon him, and transfer their cases to others. Finally,
(what he had never done before,) he was compelled to run in debt. He
raised money on his books, a paltry sum in proportion to their value;
that was soon exhausted, and they were forced off at auction at an
enormous sacrifice. Hitherto, his intemperance had been confined to the
privacy of his chamber, but now he commenced frequenting taverns, where
he was frequently to be found in a state of beastly drunkenness.
When I arrived at ---- he was absent, as Drayton stated, at the
brother's whom I have mentioned, and did not make his appearance for
several months. One evening as I returned from my accustomed walk, I
entered the bar-room of the inn where I lodged, for the purpose of
making some inquiries of the landlord. A man was sitting at a table,
with his back towards me. He was dressed in a rusty black coat, coarse,
dirty, white trowsers; shoes and stockings that were covered with the
dust of the road, and a worn out straw hat, around which was a piece of
ragged, soiled crape. I naturally took him for some common vagabond,
and paid no farther attention to him, but commenced my business with
the landlord, who was standing at the bar door with a pint decanter of
common whiskey in his hand, intended, no doubt, for his _genteel_
looking customer; who, growing somewhat impatient at the delay I
occasioned by my conversation, called out in a hoarse voice, "Mr.
Tomlins, do you mean to bring me that liquor or no? I tell you I am
dying of thirst." "Certainly, sir," said Mr. Tomlins. "Excuse me a
moment, sir," addressing me, as he proceeded to the table with the
spirits, a pitcher of water and a glass. The man poured into his glass
about a gill of spirits and drank it off at one gulph, taking a little
water after it,--and then, without stopping, proceeded to take a second
dose. I gazed at him with mingled emotions of contempt and pity. The
landlord touched me on the arm. "You have frequently inquired of me,
sir, about Mr. Heywood; that is _him_." "Great God!" I exclaimed aloud,
"that Heywood?" He turned immediately on hearing his name, and I
hastened to him, extending my hand. "You are familiar with my name,
sir," he said, "and act as if you had a claim upon my recognition, but
I have no recollection of your countenance."
"Have you entirely forgot then, your old friend S----."
"S----," he exclaimed, and he rose and took my hand in both of his, and
gazed with earnestness some moments in my face. "Thirty years--yes,
thirty years have fled since last this hand was clasped in mine. They
are nothing in Time's record, but much to us poor, three-score-and-ten
mortals, and they have shown their power on us both. S----, my friend,
for _you_ were my friend, and I loved you even with the warmth of a
brother's love, I look in vain for the marks by which I once knew you.
The fair cheek of youth, the laughing eye, the bold, self-confiding
air, have fled. Age is a sad destroyer of good looks, is it not? It has
not been over lenient with me; but never mind; our hearts are filled
with hot blood yet, though sometimes I think mine is growing cold: it
will be cold enough by and by, and yours too, S----; the more's the
pity, for there are men, my friend, and you are one, who should never
die; they should live to redeem mankind from the charge of utter
selfishness; to save this Sodom and Gomorrah of a world from the curse
of an outraged and offended Heaven."
"Heywood," said I, interrupting him, "come with me--come to my room; I
have much to say to you, and this is no place for it; I cannot talk to
you here. Come where we will be private and uninterrupted."
"Not now, not now; I have just got here, after walking all day, for I
am compelled to take exercise on foot for the benefit of my health as
well as from poverty;" and he smiled bitterly. "I am fatigued and
soiled with dust, and unfit for conversation."
"These are paltry excuses between friends--I cannot admit them. What!
be thirty years apart, and when we meet have five minutes conversation
in a public bar-room. That will never do."
"Well, well, then, allow me a little time to step to my room, and I
will join you in an hour at farthest." This I could not refuse,
although I parted with him with very great reluctance, as from the
avidity with which he swallowed the spirits in my presence, I was
apprehensive he might render himself unfit for rational conversation.
There was a dreadful change in his appearance. I have described him as
a remarkably handsome man, both in face and person. He was no longer
so. I found him much emaciated, though his features were bloated; his
hair was entirely gray; and in the place of the freshness and manly
ruddiness of complexion for which he had been distinguished, his
countenance was overcast with a sickly yellow hue; and those eyes, once
so clear and expressive, were bloodshotten and dull. Age might, and
would, no doubt, have made an alteration for the worse in his looks;
but the prime agent in the destruction I witnessed, was habitual
intemperance. That insatiate fiend, on whose bloodstained altars reeks
the sacrifice of myriad hetacombs, whose worshippers, in the frenzy of
their zeal, yield up all that is valuable in life; the world's respect,
health, fortune, fame, domestic ties, their present good, their future
hope; and whose reward is racking disease, infamy, an early and
dishonorable grave.
Before the appointed time, Heywood returned. He had undergone a
purification, which somewhat improved his looks, and he bore no
evidence of having increased his potations. We had a long, and to us
highly interesting conversation; but Heywood was not the man he had
been; the mind--that glorious mind had suffered in the wreck. It is
true he was occasionally eloquent, grand in his conceptions, pouring
out burning thoughts, and exhibiting amazing knowledge; but there was a
want of solidity and continuity in his discourse, and there were abrupt
starts from deep pathos, when he touched upon his situation, to a wild
and reckless jocularity that made me shudder. I had determined in my
own mind, difficult and delicate as I felt the task to be, to strive to
the utmost to reclaim him. It was a sacred duty devolving on me as a
friend; it was a conscientious duty belonging to me as a man; and I
felt if I could turn such a being from the path of evil, and lead him
once again to the high and honorable station he was by his talents so
eminently entitled to, it would be a deed whose reward even here would
be inappreciable, and might plead against a thousand errors at the
judgment seat of a righteous God. It required great tact, however, to
approach the subject, for his sensitiveness was very keen, and I knew
if I offended him there, I should lose my hold upon him; therefore I
waited until he himself should give me an opportunity of entering on
the subject. None occurred that night. Occasionally, as I have said, he
would advert to himself and his present miserable situation, but in
such a manner as deprived me of courage to speak upon the subject. At
one time he observed, when Drayton's name had been mentioned, "It is
somewhat strange S----, that man seems to have been born to supplant
me. Who would have thought it? The quiet, easy, dull Charles Drayton,
to supplant Morriss Heywood! Why, in the exuberance of my youthful
vanity, I should have thought my wings beat an atmosphere too refined
and rare, to sustain his heavy weight; that my eyes looked unwinking on
a light that would have seared his duller optics. And yet he reached
me, and he passed me. And while I descended in rapid whirls, until I
grovelled in the very dust, he sustained his flight and held aloft his
station. Yes, he supplanted me in my profession--supplanted me in
public life--supplanted me in love. Ha! ha! ha! It is a strange tale to
tell. What would our college mates say to it? What _does_ the world say
to it? I know what it says. No matter,
'They can't but say I had the crown;
I was not fool.'
And yet I was a fool, a miserable fool; but as it is a great approach
to wisdom to know our own weakness, I am in a fair way to become a
Solon, and should not be surprised, if ere long, public honors were
decreed me. They must hurry them tho', or it will be to my senseless
ashes they will bow, and hang their laurel wreaths upon my urn. But it
grows late, my friend, and I must leave you. We are neither of us the
boys we were, when we could stare the rising sun in the face, as he
peeped upon our protracted revels. We will meet again soon." "Soon!" I
exclaimed; "yes, tomorrow; I have not exhausted the half of what I have
to say to you." "Faith, I have given you but little chance," said
Heywood; "I am in truth a sad talker. Good night, or rather morning,
for 'methinks I scent the morning air.'" And he left me, not without a
promise however, with difficulty obtained from him, that he would join
me at dinner on the morrow. He was punctual to his engagement, and I
was much pleased to find that he was free from all artificial
excitement. After we had dined, and I had discussed my usual allowance
of wine, (in which Heywood did not join, alleging that it did not agree
with him,) I proposed to him to take a stroll, for I felt as if I could
make the effort I had determined upon, with more ease in the open air,
than when seated in a small room _tete a tete_. After we had cleared
the skirts of the town, I commenced making my approaches from a wary
distance, to the subject I was anxious to enter upon. "To-day was the
first of the sitting of the superior court for this term, I believe,
Heywood; were you there?"
"No, not I; what should I do there? I have always made it a rule not to
thrust myself into a place where I have no business."
"Have you entirely given up the practice of the law?"
"No, but the practice has entirely deserted me."
"How happened that? I have heard your legal attainments spoken of in
terms of the highest praise."
"I neglected it, as I have neglected every thing else; health,
reputation, my obligations to society, and my duty, if not my reverence
to God. This is a painful subject, S----; let us quit it. If I dwell
upon it, it will unman me, and I shall then break through a resolution
I this day made, and fain would keep."
"Will you tell me what that resolution is?"
"I had rather not;
'Be innocent of the knowledge,
Till thou applaud the deed.'"
"Heywood! will you let me act towards you as one friend should act
towards another?"
"How? in what way? explain yourself."
"It is in your power to be all you have been--nay, more; for many men
rise to eminence, but how few when once they have sunk, have energy and
firmness to regain the proud height from which they fell. It may be a
work of time to you--it must be one of unbending resolution; but with
such a mind and such attainments as your's, it will require nothing
more. In the meantime, you shall not be harassed by debts, nor tortured
by poverty. I have means, my friend--ample means; wealth beyond my
hopes or wishes. It is useless to me, for my habits are frugal, and my
expenses do not reach a fourth of my income. I will place in your hands
the requisite sum to free you from all incumbrance, and enable you to
pursue the plan I propose; and it shall be a debt between us, to be
repaid when you are once more in prosperous circumstances. If this
place be disagreeable to you, remove to some other; I will accompany
you: all places now are the same to me. Do this Heywood, I conjure, I
implore you; and you will confer on me a degree of happiness which
nothing I have ever yet compassed could equal. What say you?"
"I say as Nero said--'It is too late.' You speak of my mind and my
attainments. It must be plain to you as it is to me, that whatever that
mind may have been in the flower of my youth and the pride of my
manhood, it is now weakened, broken, dropping to decay; and what avails
knowledge, learning, the deep research into ancient wisdom, the
unwearied study of modern science? When the judgment that should direct
their use is fled, they become a pile of worthless lore. No, I am a
lost, degraded wretch--a mockery and a byword--
'A fixed figure for the time of scorn
To point his slow, unmoving finger at.'