 Section 40 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds, the captain's ludicrous adventure. Continuation of the Black's visits to his prisoners. Having quitted the dungeon in which Josh Peddler was confined, the Blackamore proceeded to the next cell, but instead of opening the door, he merely drew back a small sliding lid that covered a grated trap and the faint rays of a light streamed from the inside. Did Marsh, said the Blackamore, in a faint tone, has your mind grown easier? Yes, sir, oh yes, replied the prisoner from the interior of his dungeon. Since you allowed me a light and good books, I've been comparatively a happy man. I know that I deserve punishment, and it seems to do me good to feel that I am atoning for my offenses in this manner. I'm not afraid of being alone now, and when I put out my light, I'm not afraid of being in the dark. You pray with more composure, said the Black, interrogatively. Yes, sir, I can settle my mind to prayer now, was the answer, and I am sure that my prayers are heard. But pray believe, sir, that I never was so wicked, so very wicked, as that bad man who kept me for years in his employ. I know that I was too willing an instrument in his hands, and I'm sorry for it now. The thing that lays heaviest on my mind is the share I had in sending poor Tom Rain to the scaffold. You are sorry for that deed, inquired the Black in a low and slightly tremulous tone. Oh God, forgive me, exclaimed Did Marsh, his voice expressing sincere contrition. I do indeed deeply, deeply deplore my share in that awful business, and the ghost of poor Tom Rain used to haunt me when I was first here. In fact, Tom Rain was ever uppermost in my thoughts, and strange though it may seem it is not the less true, sir, that your voice appeared to penetrate to my very soul as if it was Tom Rain himself that was speaking to me. But I have got over all those ideas now, since I learned to pray. And when I grow dull, I read the good books you have lent me. Sometimes I study the Bible, and I find that if I pour over it too much, it makes me melancholy. Then I turn to the travels and voyages, and I become tranquil again. Should you not rejoice at any opportunity of retrieving your character, even in your old age, and earning an honest livelihood for yourself? Ask the Black. Oh, if such a thing could be, cried the man in a tone of exaltation. But no, it is impossible, he added, after a pause and speaking in an altered voice. I've sinned too deeply in respect to pour Tom Rain to be able to hope for such happiness. God is punishing me in this world, you being his instrument. And yet I can scarcely call it punishment, since you treat me with such kindness. There are times when I even wish that I was more severely punished here, so that I might expiate all my sins and feel certain about my fate in another world. God is full of forgiveness to Mars, said the Black, I feel that he is. He added in a somewhat enthusiastic manner, the prospect I distantly hinted at in respect to yourself may possibly become practicable. You are old, but you may still have many years to live. And it would be wrong. It would be detestable not to give you a full opportunity sooner or later of enabling you to testify your contrition. But I cannot speak farther on this subject at present. I have brought you some more books. One is A Tale, The Vicar of Wakefield, the perusal of which will do you no harm. It will show you how virtue, though suffering for a time, was rewarded at last. In a few days I shall myself visit you again. The Black closed the trap and stood away from the door, which Wilton now opened, and the basket furnished the prisoner with his provisions and also with some volumes of good and beneficial reading. The visiting party next proceeded to the cell in which Toby Bunce and his wife were confined together. And here, as in the immediately preceding instance, the Black spoke to them through a sliding trap from which a light also gleamed. For three days have you now been together after dwelling some time apart, said the Black Amore, continuing to speak in a feigned tone. And I now conjure you to tell me truly whether you would rather be thus in each other's company or separated as before. Oh, leave us together, sir, leave us together. I implore you, cried Mrs. Bunce, in a voice of earnest appeal. We are now the best friends in the world, and I have promised my husband never to say or cross word unnecessarily to him again. She seems quite an altered woman, sir, observed Toby, but then what demanded the Black seeing that the man hesitated? Well, sir, I will speak my mind free, continued Bunce, because I'm no longer afraid to do so. I was going to say that perhaps it is this loneliness in which we are placed that makes Betsy talk as she does, and that if we were to be again together out of doors, you would not find me change, Toby, and erupt to the woman, but not in a quarrelous manner. I'd like to hear you read to me from the Bible and from the other good books that the gentleman has given us. I wish we had passed more of our time in this way before we got into all this trouble, but pray, sir, she added turning towards the door. Do tell me whether you mean to keep us here all our lives. You must ask me no questions. Remember, said the Black in a mild but firm tone. I've told you this before, learn to subdue all impatience and to become resigned and enduring. You have made others suffer in the world. You have been the agents and tools of a wicked man, and you now see that heaven is punishing you through the means of one who has power thus to treat you. So how I wish that I've never known that detestable bones exclaimed the woman covering her face with her hands, and how I wish that I had stuck to my trade in an honest manner, cried Toby Bunce in a voice of unfeigned contrition. Think of all that. Repeat those sentences to each other as often as you can. In the course of a few days I shall visit you again with these words he stood back from the door which Wilton opened and the two inmates of the dungeon received supplies of wholesome food and moral or instructive books. The party then proceeded farther along the subterranean passage from which the various cells open. Do you mean serve to fulfill your intention of this night, visiting him, inquired Caesar addressing his master in a low faint and tremulous tone as if he were a prey to some vague terror. Wilton did not immediately answer the question about placing his hand upon his brow, appeared to reflect profoundly for almost the space of a minute. Wilton seemed acquainted as well as Caesar with all his master's secrets, likewise surveyed the black with mingled curiosity and apprehension. Yes, at length exclaimed the mysterious personage. I will now, for the first time since he has been my prisoner here, O personal communication with Benjamin Bones. The party proceeded in silence to a cell near the extremity of the long subterranean passage, and on reaching it the black handed the lamp to Caesar. At the same time, making a sign to that youth and the other dependents to stand back so that no gleam of the light should penetrate into the dungeon when the door was opened. They obeyed in profound silence and their master immediately entered the cell, closing the door behind him with that rapidity which is exercised by a brute tamer when introducing himself into the cage of a wild beast. The interior of the dungeon was as dark as pitch, so dark that there was not even that grayish appearance which obscurity frequently wears to eyes accustomed to it. It was a darkness that might be felt, a darkness which seemed to touch and hang upon the visual organs, like a dense black mist. The visit demanded the sepulchral voice of old death, his tone marked with a subdued ferocity and a sort of savage growling which seemed to denote a rancorous hate and pent up longings for bitter vengeance against the author or authors of his solitary imprisonment. Then the person who keeps you here answered the black studying to adopt a voice even more feigned and unlike his natural tones than when he was there now addressing Tidd Marsh and the bounces. Still that voice had in it some peculiarity which appeared to touch a chord that vibrated to the very core of old death's heart for he evidently made a starting movement as he said hoarsely and thickly, but who are you, a specter or a living being? Tell me who you are. I'm a living being like yourself was the reply delivered in a voice disguised in deeper modulations than before. Are you afraid of being visited by specters? There was a long pause during which the deep silence was interrupted only by the heavy breathing of old death as if the utter darkness of the place sat oppressively upon him. Are you afraid of specters? I asked, demanded the black who was leaning with folded arms against the door and with his eyes in the direction where he presumed old death to be seated, though not even the faintest outline of his form could he trace amidst that black obscurity. Bring me a light or let me out and I will answer all your questions, cried Benjamin Bones, his anxiety to obtain his freedom, giving a cadence of earnest appeal to his voice in spite of the tremendous rage which his bosom cherished against the individual who had proclaimed himself to be his jailer. Do you deserve mercy? Do you merit the indulgence of man? I asked the black in a tone profoundly solemn. What do you know of me? Who are you? Why did you have me brought here? And by what right do you keep me in this infernal place? Demanded old death rapidly and savagely. Is it not a just retribution which makes you a prisoner in a subterranean where you have often imprisoned others, said the black? Then tis that miscreant Ellingham who has put me here exclaimed Bones in a tone which showed that he was quivering with rage. Demand themed, yes, you are Lord Ellingham. I thought I knew your voice, although you tried to disguise it. At the first moment I fancied, but that was stupid. Still it struck me that it was the voice of Tom Rain which spoke, ha ha, the old wretch chuckled with horrible ferocity and savagely. I did for him. I did for him. I sent him to the scaffold. I got him hanged and now he is food for worms. Ellingham, for I know you are Lord Ellingham. I can have the laugh at you, you devil, although you keep me here. Miserable old man, said the black in a tone of deep pity, though still disguised in modulation. Are you insensible to the whisperings of conscience? Yes, now that you are here, cried Benjamin Bones, his clothes rustling as if with the trembling nervousness of enraged excitement. You made me sell you these houses. You took them away from me by force, as it were. And now you keep me a prisoner here. It is all through vengeance that you do it. You who pretended to be above all thoughts or intentions of revenge. As God is my judge, I harbor no such sentiment towards you, said the black Amor emphatically, but will you converse tranquilly and calmly with me? Well, I will try, returned old death. What do you want to say to me to remind you that you are an old, very old man and that you cannot hope to live much longer? Fiend, would you kill me in cold blood, interrupt the bones in a sort of shrieking yelling tone that indicated mingled alarm and rage? Had I intended to slay you, I might have done it when you were first brought here, as my prisoner answered the black rest satisfied on that head. Then you do not mean to kill me, exclaimed old death with all the hysterical joy of a coward soul in spite of his natural and still untamed ferocity. Heaven forbid, ejaculated the black Amor. There, now, to the voice of Tom Rain once again cried old death, evidently shuddering as he spoke. But no, I'm a fool. You are the Earl, yes. Tell me, are you not the Earl of Ellingham? No matter who I am, was the solemn reply. If you ask me questions, I will immediately leave you. No, don't go for a few minutes, exclaimed old death imploringly. I have been here a month, yes, for I have counted the visits of your men who come as they tell me every night to bring me food. And I know that I've been here a month, and all that time I've only exchanged a dozen words with human beings, and this solitude is horrible. You have leisure to ponder on all your crimes, said the black, who made you my judge demanded old death with a return to his ferocity of tone and manner. If you want me to confess all my sins and will then set me free, I will do it, he added in a somewhat ironical way. Confession is useless without true repentance, observed the black Amor. Besides, all your misdeeds are known to me, your behavior to your half-sister Octavia Manners. Years ago, your treatment of poor Jacob Smith, your machinations to destroy Thomas Rainford. Then by all this, am I convinced that you are the Earl of Ellingham, cried old death. Ah, my Lord, he immediately added in a voice which suddenly changed to a tone of earnest appeal. Do not keep me here any longer, let me go and I will leave London forever, reflect my Lord, I am an old man, a very old man. You yourself said so just now, and you are killing me by keeping me here. Send me out of the country, anywhere you choose, however distant, and I will thank you. But again I say, do not keep me here. When the savage animal goes about preying upon the weak and unwary, he should be placed under restraint, said the black Amor. You are not repentant, Benjamin Bones. A month have you been here, a month have you been allowed to ponder upon your enormities, and still your soul is obdurate. Not many minutes have elapsed since you gloried in one of the most infamous deeds of your long and wicked life. I spoke of time, reign to annoy you, because I was enraged with you for keeping me here, returned old death hastily. There have been moments he added after a short pause, when I felt sorry for what I did in that respect, I would not do so over again. No, my Lord, I assure you I would not. I wish your poor half-brother was alive now, and I would not seek to injure him even if I had the power. You speak thus because you have been alone and in the dark observed the black Amor in a mournful voice, but were you restored to freedom, to the enjoyment of the light of God's own Son, and to the possession of the power of following your career of iniquity, you would again glory in that dreadful deed. No, answered old death, I am sorry for it. I know that my nature is savage and ferocious, but will you tame me by cruelty, and your keeping me here is downright cruelty, and nothing more or less, it makes me vindictive, it makes me feel at times as if I hated you. I shall keep you here nevertheless for some time longer, I, and in the dark, return the black Amor, because you seek not to subdue your revengeful feelings. It is terrible to think that so old a man should be so inveterately wicked. Do you know that your gang is broken up, rendered powerless in the cells of this subterranean? Our Timothy Splint, Joshua Peddler, Mrs. Bunce and her husband, and your agent, Ted Marsh. Then I have no hope from without, growled old death, his garments again rustling with a movement of savage impatience, and for an instant it struck the black Amor that he could see two ferocious eyes gleaming in the dark, but this was doubtless, the mere fancy of the moment. Yes, you are beyond the reach of human aid unless by my will and consent said the black Amor, your late companions or tools in iniquity are all housed safely here, and what is more, they are penitent. Listen for a moment, Benjamin Bunce, I made the information I'm about to give you, prove an instructive lesson. Timothy Splint is at this instant reading the Bible, therein to search for hope and consolation, which God does not deny to the worst sinners when they are truly penitent. Joshua Peddler is occupying himself in writing a letter of advice to a young girl who became his mistress whom he drove to prostitution, but who is now earning her livelihood in a respectable manner. Ted Marsh deplores the folly which made him your instrument, and he is reading good books, Bunce and his wife are together in the same dungeon, and the woman is rapidly yielding up to her husband that empire which he had usurped. They too regret that they ever knew you and the Bible is their solace. Of six persons whom I imprisoned in this place, which was once your own property, five are already repentant, you who are the sixth alone remain obdurate and hardened. Am I old friend's cursemate, moaned the ancient miscreant, his voice seeming more hollow and supple-cruel than ever, as if he were covering his face with his hands. But the people who owe so much to me, the Bunces, Ted Marsh, would not speak to you unless it were to convert you out of the black. Thus you perceive you, who in the common course of nature are of all the sixth and nearest to the threshold of the tomb, you who have so many years upon your head and such deep and manifold crimes to expiate. Continue, the warning voice are the last to show the slightest, the faintest sign of penitence is not this deplorable, and even now you appear to regret that your late companions in crime should be in their hearts thus alienated from you. Doubtless you trusted to the chapter of accidents, to the hazard of chances to enable them to discover your place of imprisonment and affect your rescue. Old death groaned heavily in spite of himself. Yes, such was your hope, such was your idea, resume the black, and now you are unmanned by disappointment. Even your friend Jeffery's turned against you. He led you into the snare which I set for you. He will not raise an arm to save you from my power. He does not even know where you are. Then I am abandoned by all the world, shrieked forth the raptured misprint unable to subdue the agonizing emotions, which this conviction excited within him. He who finds himself abandoned by all the world should throw himself upon his maker, said the black Amor. There, there, does the voice of Rainford again, quite old death evidently seized within affable terror. But no, no, you are the Earl of Ellingham. You must be the Earl, yet why do you every now and then imitate the tone of Tom Rain? Is it too frightening me, my lord? Tell me, is it too frightening me? You seem inaccessible to fear of any kind, answered the black. I mean a fear which may be permanent and salutary. You have occasional qualms of conscience, which you cannot altogether resist, but which almost immediately pass away. Have you no wish to make your peace with heaven? Would you pray with a clergyman? Were it one to visit you? No, I am unfit for prayer. I should not have the patience to stand the questioning of a clergyman, answered old death hastily, then almost immediately afterwards he said, but I was wrong to give such a reply. Yes, send me a clergyman. Let him bring a light. Do anything to relieve me from this solitude and this darkness. My lord, for I know that you are the Earl of Ellingham. Pray, take compassion upon me. I'm an old, a very old man, my lord, and I cannot endure this confinement. I told you just now that I was sorry for what I did to your brother-in-law, and you know that I cannot recall him to life. Neither will you do so by killing me. Have mercy upon me then, my lord. Let me leave this horrible place to enter the great world again and renew your course of crime. Interrupted the black. No, Benjamin Bones, that may not be. Let me first become assured that you sincerely and truly repent of your misdeeds. Let me be impressed with the conviction that you are sorry for the crimes which have marked your long life. And then, then, we will speak of ameliorating your condition for the present. Do not consider me as your enemy. Do not look upon me as a man acting towards you from vindictive motives only. For where I inclined to vent on you a miserable spite or a fiendish malignity, the means are not sufficient. I might keep you without food for days together, but each day your provender is renewed, or I might even kill you outright, and yet I would not violently injure a hair of your head. Tomorrow evening, I will visit you again in the meantime, endeavor to subdue your feelings so that you may then speak to me without irritation. With these words the black abruptly thrust the door open and quitted the dungeon, but at that instant Caesar had been pacing up and down with welcome in the immediate vicinity of that particular cell was so close to the entrance that the light of the lamp which he carried in his hand streamed full upon the countenance of his master as the latter sprang forth from the deep darkness of old death's prison house. The glare for a moment showed the interior of the dungeon, and the black mechanically turning his eyes towards the place where he presumed Benjamin Bones to be, caught a rapid glimpse of a hideous old man seated, or rather crouched on his bed, his hands clasped round his knees, and his form so arched that his knees and chin almost appeared to meet. In an instant the dungeon door was closed violently by the black amour who, as he locked and barred it, set in a low and somewhat reproachful tone to Caesar, you should not have been so incautious as to throw the light upon me just as I was leaving the cell. Old death had time, even in that single moment during which the glare flashed upon my countenance, to observe me distinctly. I'm truly sorry, sir, that I should have been so imprudent, answered Caesar in a tone of vexation at his fault, but it is impossible that he could recognize you. I believe so observed the black, and therefore we will say no more upon the subject the old man remains obdurate and hardened. He continued still speaking in a low whisper, and yet I have hopes of him as well as of the others. Wilton supplied Benjamin Bones with provisions through the trap and his dungeon door, and the party then quitted the subterranean by the mode of egress communicating with the house in Red Lion Street, Clark and Well, for the reader now perceives as indeed he may long ago have conjectured that the black's dwelling was established in the quarters lately, tenanted by old death. In the section 40. Section 41 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. The Charter House. Captain O. Blunderbuss, having made himself thus far comfortable, wrote a note to Curtis, which Mr. Scales dispatched by a messenger to Mr. Bubbleton Stiles's office in this city. For the Irishman calculated that if Curtis should return to the lodgings in Charter House Square, before the said note reached him, he would, on hearing the adventures of the morning, retrace his way to Crosby Hall Chambers, there to await either the presence of the captain, or at least some communication from him. This arrangement appeared to be far more prudent than to trust Mrs. Rudd, with either letter or message announcing the place where the captain was concealed. The note being written and the messenger dispatched with it, Mr. Scales proposed a luncheon of bread and cheese and porter, as it was only eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and he intended to order dinner for half-past two. A nurse, as the Char woman was called, making her appearance about this time. The refreshments above mentioned were duly procured, and Mr. Scales intimated to his attendant that he should not dine in the common hall that day, but would entertain his friend with steaks and potatoes in his own apartment. When the captain and the worthy brother were again alone together, they fell into a conversation upon the establishment to which the latter belonged, and in which the former had found so hospitable a refuge. He seemed to have a comfortable birth of it, my friend, observed the marshal gentleman after burying his countenance for nearly a minute in a pewter pot. Well, the fact is, return, Mr. Scales, I managed to make myself happy because I am naturally of a gay and lively disposition, and I have a great many friends who come to see me. Moreover, I have a few pounds coming in from a snug little annuity, and therefore I can afford those luxuries which the others have no chance of obtaining. But if it weren't for the circumstances, Captain, added Mr. Scales, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper, I should never be able to endure the place. Not endure the place, repeated the captain, manifested unfaithful surprise at the observation, be the holy poker, and it seems a broth of a place it does. It's all very well for people out of doors to be told of the existence of the charity, resumed the brother, and how it gives an asylum to eighty poor men who are widowers and past fifty years of age, but it's the discipline, my dear sir, the interior discipline, and the manner in which we are treated by the authorities of the establishment. Then there's abuses in the charter house as well as elsewhere, said the captain, interrogatively, blood and thunder, where the devil aren't dear abuses if this same as the case. Nowhere when the church has any influence in the matter, return Mr. Scales, but I will explain myself more fully. This institution, you must know, was founded for the purpose of affording an asylum to poor and deserving men, chiefly of the literary or learned professions, but will you believe it, there is scarcely a literate man in the place, and the only one of any repute at all is Mr. Val Creith, the celebrated dramatic author. The patrons put in their old and worn-out butlers or lackeys, but this would not matter so long as worthy deserving and respectable characters were nominated, which is not the case. Then you have some of our characters among you. I'll be after guessing, exclaimed the captain. We have indeed my friend responded, Mr. Scales, and that is what I chiefly complain of. For instance, we've lately had a certain Colonel Tickner thrust upon us, but who is no more a colonel than I am. A short time ago he called himself Major Tickner, and a little while before that he was Captain Tickner, so you perceive he rises rapidly, and I have no doubt he will be a general next week. A general be Jesus, cried Captain O'Blunderbus. It's through I might have been one myself by this time if I'd only stuck to the service, but I'll swear by the holy poker that your Colonel Tickner is nothing more nor less than an imposter, a vile imposter, and it's myself that'll unmask him. The gallant gentlemen deemed it necessary to fly into a passion relative to the pretenses of a self-styled Colonel Tickner to a high military rank in as much as such a display of indignation on his part at the assumption of another seemed to justify his own right to the honorable grade of captain. Well, it is shameful for men to pretend to be what they are not, observed Mr. Scales. This Colonel Tickner sometimes bores me with his company, and it is not at all improbable, but he may look in after dinner if so we will have some rare fun with him. If he dars to have any of his impudence to me, cried the captain, looking particularly ferocious at the moment, I'll trade him as I traded a French dragoon at Waterloo, come hither ye spalpeen, and let me cut ye down to the middle, says I. We, Monsieur, says he, and on he comes with a rush. Blood and thunder, says I, is it fighting ye main when I've as good as taken ye prisoner beforehand, and gripping him by the throat I throttled him, sir, in less time than ye'd be in tossing off a thimble full of pothine? But pray go on telling me about the charter house, my friend, and let's hear all your little gravences, ye were spaking of the discipline of the place just now, and sure it's misself that knows what discipline ought to be. My dear sir, the discipline of the army and that of the church are two very different things, said Mr. Scales. We're eighty poor brothers in this establishment, and every night the curfew rings, eighty strokes of the bell, when one dies there are only seventy-nine strokes until the vacancy is filled up, and ye may believe me when I tell you that there is something horrid in sitting in one's lonely room of a dark wintry night, and counting the bell to see whether a brother has not died since we all met in the common hall in the afternoon. For there are some very, very old men here, and old men go off, you know, like the snuff of a candle, then when one does die, and we hear the bell stop at seventy-nine, it sends the blood all cold and ice-like to the heart, and a shutter creeps over the frame from head to foot, for there's no saying whose turn it may be next. Ah, Captain, it may seem but a trifling thing to you, a very trifling and paltry thing, this tolling of the curfew bell, but I can assure you that to us who are pent up here, it is no such trivial matter, for in the deep, deep silence of this cloister building, the dreary, dull, monotonous tolling of that bell suddenly arouses the most painful thoughts, thoughts of approaching death, and coffins, and shrouds, and new-made graves, and all the somber ceremony of funerals, but to hear that bell toll one less to know that a brother has succumbed to the icy hand of the destroyer to feel that there is a gap in our fraternity, a vacancy in our association, even though we may not have loved, perhaps not even respected, the individual who is gone, still to have forced upon us by the deep-toned monitor the conviction that he is gone, this, this is terrible in our coystral loneliness. The Captain made no observation, but he evidently listened with profound attention, and Mr. Scale's warming in his subject went on, I told you just now that I am naturally of a gay and cheerful disposition, and that I can make myself happy under most circumstances, but when I am alone here of an evening and listen to the curfew bell, I, yes, I, also am seized with a cold shattering and my blood creeps with an ice jilt in my veins, and if I hear the stroke stop at seventy-nine, it suddenly appears to me the shape, dim, shadowy, and wrapped in a shroud, flits past me, and I cast my eyes around, almost dreading lest the pale and ghastly specter of the deceased brother should be standing behind my chair. And when there is one lying dead in the charter house, I feel afraid at night, and sleep visits not my pillow, I do not believe in ghosts, at least I do not believe in them when it is daytime, but in the deep silent and dark night, yes, then, I believe in them, and I tremble, oh, you conform no idea of the horrors endured in this place while the curfew bell tolls, for if it give forth a single note less than the eighty, then everyone shudderingly says within himself, I, and in the solitude of his own chamber, who knows but that it may be my turn next. Is it not cruel, then, to maintain that monastic custom of ringing the nightly bell, to alarm weak and trembling old men whose intellects are attenuated by the weight of years and whose imaginations are so susceptible of all influences likely to engender the gloomiest forebodings, for such is the case with the great majority of the poor brothers of the charter house. The captain made a brief remark to show that he was listening with deep attention, as indeed he was, and Mr. Scales proceeded in the following manner. Yes, the greater portion of the poor brothers are very infirm, oh men, who need companionship to enliven them, and little attentions to cheer them, and indulgences to render their existence tolerable. But every morning, summer and winter, hot or cold, sunshine above, or snow knee-deep below, they must all turn out at an early hour from their warm beds, and while still fasting, must prepare to the chapel to attend prayers. And in the performance of this duty, which is rigidly enforced by fine, we are compelled to wear long, dark cloaks, so that when thus muffled up, we appear to be a procession of monks, each wrapped in his cow. Here again, you may observe that there is no harm in the custom, but you must remember that there is a vast difference between what one does spontaneously and what he is forced by a rigid, inexorable discipline to do. The fact that these poor, oh men, are thus compelled to wear the badge of monastic pauperism is the iron that enters into their souls. They have been compelled by their necessities to accept an asylum in this place, and they feel that they are treated as pauperers. Their old age, which the world without believes to be passing in a serene and tranquil happiness here, unruffled by mundane cares, is rendered miserable and wretched by a thousand little vexatious points of discipline which make up an aggregate sum of tremendous ecclesiastical oppression. In the deep silence of the night, the awful silence that reigns throughout this pile, and in the solitude of his gloomy apartment, each of those poor, oh creatures broods upon what he deems to be his wrongs. And you need not be surprised when I tell you that they are often driven to the very verge of despair or to the threshold of madness. And it is not only the curfew bell, nor the compulsory attendance at chapel, nor the long, dark cows. It is not all this alone, continued the brother, now speaking with solemn earnestness. But it is that we are watched by spies, watched in all our movements within or without the walls, watched to be caught tripping, be it never so lightly, in order that we may be punished. Or perhaps expelled to make room for someone whom the master or any other authority is anxious to provide for. The surgeon is a spy upon us. The porter is a spy upon us. All the nurses are spies upon us. And what is worse, added Mr. Scales, now sinking his voice to an ominous whisper and bending his head forward, so as almost to reach the captain's ear with his lips. And what is worse, he repeated bitterly, but still in that low tone, we are spies upon each other. Captain Oblandibus started and surveyed his new friend with astonishment. I do not mean to say that I am a spy upon the rest, nor will I assert that we are all spies with regard to each other. Resuming Mr. Scales, but this I declare that there are many inmates of the place who do enact the part of spies against their fellows. Some wish to curry favor with the master Archdeacon Hale. Others carry their tittle-tattle to the surgeon. Some gossip of their brethren to the manciful or steward. Others endeavor to worm themselves into the good graces of even the cook. And all the nurses, with scarcely an exception, are the spies of the matron. I tell you, sir, that there is a monstrous system of supervision and espionage in existence within these walls. And one brother cannot talk as a friend to another because he is afraid that he may be all the time making revelations to an individual who will betray him. We have no confidence in each other. We are all afraid of one another. There is not such a thing as a good-natured chat and harmless conversation in the charter house. If you make the most commonplace observation upon things the most indifferent, Brother Gray or Brother Jones or Brother Jenkins will shake his head knowingly as if he saw something covert and mysteriously significant at the bottom of the remark. But wherefore does such a state of things prevail in the charter house you will inquire, and perhaps you will observe that if the brethren enact the part of spies upon each other, they alone are to blame for making themselves miserable. Pause, however, and reflect that it is all the fault of the authorities. They encourage this contemptible tittle-tattle. They show favor to the poor, silly old dotards who carry them tidings of all the complaints, expressions of discontent or occasional instances of convivial excess which occur on the part of the rest. These spies are favored by the authorities. The others know it and become spies themselves, and thus they all spy upon each other, even as the Jesuits do in obedience to the rules of their order. Oh, the mean and contemptible littleness of mind which such a state of things engenders. I am sick-disgusted, Captain Oblandibus, when I think of it. Be jazes and where you may be, my dear friend, grieve the gallant gentleman, but who is the governor? Do you say? Archdeacon Hale is the master, as he is called. Archdeacon Hale, the notorious pluralist, who fattens upon the loaves and fishes of the church without ever having done a single thing to render him deserving of such fine preferment and such large emoluments. He it is who presides over this Protestant monkry who enforces in the 19th century the grinding discipline of the 16th who moves the whole machinery espionage and rules us as a mitered abbot was want to sway his Romation brotherhood if a gentleman reduced by adversity one centers those walls as an inmate, he must resign himself to the treatment of a pauper. The authorities look upon us in that light and the servants behave to us accordingly. The very porter will sometimes call us by our Christian or surnames without the prefectory mister. If the surgeon visit us, it is evident that he considers himself to be doing us a great favor, just as you may suppose that the medical man belonging to an union of parishes behaves towards the pauper invalids requiring his services. Should the matron have occasion to call upon us, it is with all the heirs of a fine lady she who curtsies and does not dare sit down in the presence of the Archdeacon's wife the manciful or steward is likewise a great man and woe to the poor brother who does not receive him with all possible respect. The nurses attend upon us in a slovenly negligent manner and we dare not complain nor remonstrate for we know that they are spies ready to report us for every in cautious word that we may utter or even to invent charges against us. It was but the other day that one of the inmates, a poor old man of nearly 70, did venture to complain of the shameful neglect which he experienced at the hands of his nurse. What was the consequence? She made a counter charge to the fact that he had taken liberties with her. The woman's statement, her unsupported statement was believed in preference to the denial and the complaint of the old man and he was expelled to charter house for six months, turned out upon the wide world to live how he could or die as he might. O you have no idea of the tremendous tyranny that is perpetrated within these walls where all is so silent and all appears to be so serene and tranquil, a short time ago a brother driven to despair by the horrors of the place went away, took an obscure lodging and put an end to his life by means of poison. The authorities hushed up the matter as well as they could, prevented the interference of the coroner and had the man buried within three days from the moment of his self-destruction. These are all facts, sir, stubborn facts and the public should know them. Yes, the public should learn that there are 80 old men dwelling in a monastic institution in the very heart of London during a discipline of severe and subject to a system as despotic and oppressive as in the olden times and in those very cloisteral establishments which Henry VIII destroyed. The public should be informed that then 80 old men are the victims of ecclesiastical tyranny and that they are compelled to endure it and neglect and even insult at the hands of the very servants who are so liberally paid to attend upon them. Be the powers, it's a burning shame, cried Captain Oblandibus and what's worst of all is that it's the Parsons who are your Governors and by consequence your price serves in this establishment. By luck do them say aye. A good parson is a most estimable as well as a most necessary character in society, semester scales and this every sensible man must admit about an intolerant, illiberal, tyrannical parson is the greatest curse that can be inflicted upon a community such as our case, such as our misfortune. We have half a dozen Parsons belonging to the institution and their main object is to get all the loaves and fishes to themselves. Though they rule us with a rod of iron they do not mind breaking the regulations themselves. For instance, if a poor brother remains away from chapel without the surgeon's leave or returns home a little after hours in the evening, he is reported and fined. Fined out of the beggarly pittance of seven pounds, ten shillings, a quarter allowed him to purchase tea, sugar, milk and the many other necessaries which the establishment does not supply. But though the regulations specify in distinct terms that the master is to reside constantly upon the premises he laughs at the enactments and passes weeks or months together in the country. No fine, no punishment for him who would dare to talk of calling the very reverend Archdeacon Hale over the coals, but who does not hesitate to kick poor brother Gray or poor brother Jones or poor brother Scales to post and from post to pillar if he be caught tripping in the slightest degree. Just now, my friend exclaimed Captain Oblandibus looking particularly fierce he assured me that he hadn't an enemy in the world, but it seems pretty clear to me that I must be out there punching the head of your Archdeacon or Manswell Porter or someone just to revenge your wrongs and create a little sensation for the poor brothers as you call yourselves. My dear fellow, do nothing matter rash, cried Mr. Scales positively believing at the moment that the formidable Irishman was about to declare war against the authorities of the institution and that he would experimentalize with his fists upon the first of those functionaries who might chance to come in his way. All that I've been telling you is sacred between you and me and as a man of honor I must appeal to you be jazes and if it's to me honor you pale interrupted the captain slapping his left breast with the palm of his right hand I'll now brave the word to a soul that I'm acquainted with any grave and says it all, at all but remember at the times you should come when you may feel inclined to administer a thrilling throbbing or so any of them small pains of whom we've been talking hush, cried Mr. Scales suddenly someone is ascending the stairs let us pretend to be speaking on matters quite indifferent without my heart so the captain and elevating his voice for the behoof of the person who was approaching the room from the stairs he explained yes it is a very fine morning Mr. Scales a very fine morning indeed just as if in the natural course of things he would have made after a visit of nearly three hours the remark with which a conversation is usually commenced Mr. Scales burst out laughing at this display of his new friends ingenuity and the captain laughed heartily likewise though he knew not precisely what in the midst of this canation the door opened and the nurse or Charlem entered to lay the cloth for dinner end of section 41 section 42 of mysteries of London volume 4 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org mysteries of London volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds a strange narrative the nurse was a tall middle aged powerfully built woman with brawny arms and accountants that indicated a slight affection for an occasional drop of something short in fact it was observed by the brethren on whom she waited that she never looked sulky when requested to repair to the public house to order anything in the shape of beer or spirits but if entrusted with an errand of another kind such as the purchase of half a quire of writing paper or a stick of sealing wax it was a very great chance if she would be seen anymore until the next day her manners were of the free and easy school and she was accustomed to address the poor brothers in a half pitting half patronizing style as if they were patients in a hospital or in the infirmary of a debtor's jail if weary she would unhesitatingly seat herself without being asked and glide imperceptibly into a familiar kind of discourse while wiping the perspiration from her Rubicon face with her blue checked cotton apron and if it were in the cold weather she would wait upon her masters with a black bonnet like an inverted Japan cold scuffle on her head the propriety of leaving the tegu-mentry article in the passage outside never for a moment striking the ingenuous and simple-minded creature if this excellent woman had any special failing besides such little faults as drunkenness in attention slovenliness cool impudence and deep hypocrisy it was a propensity to gossip and a love of scandal if she were only carrying a pale down the stairs and met another nurse with a pale coming up the stairs they must both sit down their pales on the landing and stop to have a quarter of an hours chat on the affairs of their respective masters then one would whisper how poor brother Smith was the meanest skin-flint on the face of the earth and the other would declare that it was impossible for him to be worse than poor brother Webb who was always complaining and yet never gave her even so much as a drop of gin and in this manner the two men would unburden their minds to the sad waste of their time and the neglect of those whom they were well paid to render comfortable but Mrs. Pitkin for that was the name of the nurse who waited on Mr. Scales and the other gentlemen living in the chambers opening from the same staircase Mrs. Pitkin we say was a more embedded gossip than any other charwoman in the place and as a matter of course when she had no trifling truth to retail or make much of she deliberately and coolly invented a pack of lies purporting to be the most recent sayings and doings of her masters the consequence was that a great deal of mischief resulted at times from these playful exercises of Mrs. Pitkin's imaginative qualities and more than one poor brother was looked upon as an habitual drunkard or as a sad old fellow amongst the women without any other ground for the entertainment of such an opinion than the mysterious whispers of Mrs. Pitkin well it was the same Mrs. Pitkin who made her appearance as already described too late Mr. Scales' cloth and get the dinner ready what o'clock is it nurse asked Mr. Scales suspiciously only a little after two she replied but scarcely were the words uttered when the charter house bell proclaimed the hour of three while I'm sure she cried affecting the profoundest astonishment I never could have believed it were so late dearie me, dearie me but it's all through that disagreeable Mr. Yatt who would have his cupboard washed out this morning though I told him it wasn't near six months since he had it done last well where have you put the potatoes to boil demanded Mr. Scales the taters sir, Laura sir did you order taters asked Mrs. Pitkin now pretending to seem more astounded than ever well I'm sure I thought is how you said you'd have your chops without any vegetables at all chops repeated Mr. Scales now waxing positively wrong I ordered steaks steaks cried the woman holding up her hands as if in amazement why how could I ever have misunderstood you so but it's no matter I can just as well get steaks as chops and one don't take much longer cooking than another then am I to understand that you have as yet gotten neither chops nor steaks asked Mr. Scales of doing his anger as much as possible Laura sir how could I go to the butchers when there's three of my masters is in will is and dines in their own rooms today but I'll be off at once and you shall have dinner in a jiffy I can promise you thus speaking the woman walked lazily out of the room and when the door was closed behind her Mr. Scales turning to the captain said now you perceive how we poor brothers are waited upon by these nurses you heard me give her specific orders to have a steak and potatoes ready for us she comes in at three and has totally forgotten all about the dinner for that is the English of it and yet I dare not complain against her I dare not even speak harshly to the woman's face but should you not imagine that after her neglect for conduct she would make all possible haste to get the meal ready no such thing look there continued Mr. Scales motioning Captain Oblander bus to the window she has fallen in with another nurse and they are stopping to have a gossip now they are going out together and before we shall see Mrs. Pitkin again she will have paid a tolerably long visit with her companion to the bar of the fox and anchor be Jesus and shall I be after her my dear friend demanding Captain Oblander bus rushing towards the door it is useless said Mr. Scales holding him back we must have patience but do you see that old man standing apart from the rest and leaning on a stick cried the Captain the same returned the good natured and communicative brother observe how pensive how melancholy he seems that his brother Johnston late Alderman and once Lord Mayor of London be Jesus and I recollect exclaimed the Captain to the hero of the Romford bank affair precisely so responded Mr. Scales and now do you perceive that short stout elderly gentleman leaning on the arm of a friend from outside he walks as if he was blind interrupted the Captain and blind he unfortunately is said Mr. Scales but not irremediably so there's every prospect that with care and good medical advice he will recover his sight is a man who has made some noise in the world but with high honor to himself in a word he is Bell Creek the celebrated dramatic author and the most respectable looking gentlemen he is observed the Captain I've laughed many times at his farce is a little thought I should ever have the pleasure of seeing the writer himself even at a distance there is one inmate of this establishment said Mr. Scales quitting the window and returning to his seat an example of the gallant officer there is one inmate whose early history is very peculiar and the most extraordinary circumstance connected with the matter is that he believes the events of his younger days to be entirely unknown and unsuspected within these walls I should not point him out to you even were he amongst the loungers in the court at this moment neither shall I mention his name or rather the name by which he is here known but I may state that 30 years ago I met him by the name of McPherson we met in Paris shortly after the peace and he was living with a beautiful French woman as his mistress in very handsome apartments her name was Augustine and she certainly was the most lovely creature I ever saw in my life McPherson adored her and while he believed that she worshipped him in return her infidelity was notorious amongst all his friends he had succeeded to a small fortune by the death of an uncle and on visiting Paris had fallen in with this young lady whose charms immediately enthralled him she was a banker's cast-off mistress and was glad to ensnare a handsome English gentleman in her meshes her extravagance was unbounded and in less than a year McPherson's resources were completely exhausted it would appear that Augustine at that period introduced to him a Frenchman whose real name was Le Gras but whom she passed off as her brother this Le Gras was elegant in manners and agreeable in conversation as well as handsome in person but he was unprincipled, dissipated and of broken fortunes from all I subsequently learned and from the knowledge I had of McPherson's character I feel convinced that Le Gras made my English friend his dupe and victim and that McPherson was entirely innocent of any intentional complicity certain however it is that one morning I was thunder struck by the tidings that McPherson had been arrested on a charge of forgery I hastened to him in prison and he declared most solemnly that he was guiltless it was true that he had negotiated the instrument which was discovered to be fictitious but he assured me that Le Gras had induced him to do so the examination before the judge of instruction led to the arrest of Le Gras and it was confidently hoped by McPherson and his friends that the real truth would transpire at the trial but when the case came on Augustine the faithless, treacherous, ungrateful Augustine gave such evidence as entirely to exonerate Le Gras and fix all the guilt upon McPherson she committed perjury but her tale was believed for it was consistent though false, delivered with plausibility though based on the most damnable deceit in fact the vile woman sacrificed the Englishman whom she had ruined and never loved to the French paramour whom she had passed off as her brother and McPherson being pronounced guilty was condemned to be exposed and branded upon a scaffold on the plaster grave and to be afterwards imprisoned for a period of five years at the galleys at Brest myself and another English gentleman drew up a memorial to the king setting forth a variety of circumstances in favor of McPherson and imploring the royal mercy on behalf of our unhappy fellow countrymen Louis the 18th referred the petition to the judges who had condemned McPherson and as they stated that they had taken everything into consideration when they pronounced his punishment the minister of justice and grace could not hold out to the petitioners of a commutation of the sentence we had endeavored to obtain the remission of that portion of the sentence which condemned McPherson to be publicly exposed and marked with a red hot iron but alas this indignity could not be spared the unhappy sufferer while the fatal morning arrived when this dread public ceremony was to take place McPherson rose early and devoted unusual care to his toilet his eyes were fixed his lips compressed he did all he could to appear calm and endeavored to meet his punishment with firmness but to be condemned for an offense of which he was innocent to see the fairest years of his youth destined to be passed in a horrible state of servitude to know that he was about to be branded with an infamous mark which he would carry with him to the grave all this must have been beyond had he been really guilty his sufferings would not have been so acute had he deserved his punishment he would have bowed to those destinies which he would have thus prepared for himself but he was innocent and the world did not know it only a few faithful friends consoled him by the assurance that they believed in his innocence on the fatal morning which was to consummate his disgrace I visited him early but when I found him so apparently for those consolations which I would otherwise have tended and which were all I had now to offer it was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon continued Mr. Scales when McPherson was summoned to the lobby of the prison two gendarmes were waiting there to conduct him to the place to grave where he was to remain exposed for two hours and then be marked he resigned himself to their custody and accompanied by myself proceeded towards the great square where the hideous ceremony was to be performed immense crowds were collected on all the avenues leading to the plast which was itself thronged to excess two lines of soldiers kept the pathway clear for the march of the prisoner up to the foot of the scaffold he did not cast his eyes downwards nor did he glance to the right or to the left but he kept them fixed upon the scaffold which he was advancing he ascended the ladder with a firm step accompanied only by the gendarm for I was compelled to remain below the moment he appeared upon the platform a tremendous shout arose from the thousands and thousands of spectators assembled to witness his punishment but no indignity of a violent nature was offered to him he cast a hurried and anxious glance around the whole square and literally paved with human faces which were continued up every street communicating with the grave as far as he could see the key behind him the bridges the windows and the roofs of all the houses and even the towers of Notre Dame and the parapet of the Hotel de Villes were crowded with human countenances McPherson remained exposed for two hours seated upon a chair on the scaffold while the populace with hyena yells and laughter were contemplating him as if he were a wild beast which they delighted to see but of which they were afraid the idea whether this penalty were deserved or not never entered the head of one single individual in that vast multitude all that they cared about was the man and his punishment and both were there at the expiration of the two hours the crowd suddenly opened ascended by his two sons appeared at the foot of the scaffold one of the lads carried a small iron pot at the bottom of which there was a grating in this vessel was a bright fire of red, hot cinders and charcoal the other boy carried an iron implement in his hand it was like a very small shovel with a tolerably long handle the three wretches ascended the ladder and the shouts and the hootings of the mob recommenced with increased violence as the public functionary bowed jocosely to McPherson a horrible laugh issued from those who stood nearest and who comprehended the fashion of the execution of salute this individual then arranged his paraphernalia in a convenient manner he placed the brazier close to the convict's chair and put the shovel-looking implement into the fire he next proceeded to inform McPherson that he must take off his coat and other vestments from his left shoulder the prisoner obeyed mechanically he doffed his coat and his waistcoat on the left side and the executioner instantly cut a large square piece out of his shirt just above the left shoulder blade immediately above the curve of the shoulder the most breathless suspense now prevailed and not a cry, not a murmur was heard throughout the dense masses of people wedged together around take courage my boy said the executioner half ironically and half in pity it will only be the affair of a few moments I heard him make these remarks before I was closed by the scaffold he then proceeded to strap the convict tightly down in his chair confined his arms and legs and twisted the cords in such a manner around his body and the back of the seat that he was rendered as motionless and powerless as if he were a statue ten minutes elapsed and the thick part of the iron was by that time red hot this was the crowning moment of the whole day's amusement an amusement provided by the law that forbade bull-baits and punished his cruelty to animals the executioner stooped down seized the iron and applied it to McPherson's flesh to that bare part which the square cut out of the shirt had left exposed the iron hissed on the young man's shoulder and the fearful yell escaped his lips the iron remained upon the flesh it arrived in agony but only that one loud, long and piercing cry escaped his lips the implement was withdrawn one of the executioner's sons placed a cup full of water to the convict's lips and thus saved him from painting in the chair the cords were then unbound the young man's dress was adjusted and the gendarm told him that they were ready to convey him back to prison as he passed through the dense multitude that had witnessed he now hung down his head, abashed and ashamed even had he not felt the smart of the burn upon his back the knowledge that he was branded with a mark of infamy would have been sufficient thus to humble and subdue him women held up their children to gaze upon him as he passed along he heard an old father bid his son take warning from the example he had just witnessed and as he emerged from the crowd and entered a comparatively deserted street on his way back to prison following words which were uttered with a laugh by one spectator to another oh there's the man who has just been marked marked A and with a scar that he would carry to his grave thought I shuddering from head to foot he returned to the prison of love force and the moment he entered the lobby he fell into my arms for I had walked by his side from the plastic lab the courage of the man now failed him altogether to a violent passion of grief the tears flowed in torrents from his eyes his breast heaved convulsively I endeavored in vain to console him and then I thought it best to allow his agony to have full vent and he would feel relieved the truth of this opinion was speedily confirmed and when McPherson dried his tears he exclaimed now that the first bitterness of my career of misery is over I feel nervous and resigned to encounter the ills which heaven has in store for me my dear friend I said you must yet hope for many happy years the term of your incarceration will soon pass away and you will then hasten to England where friends will be prepared to receive you with open arms and enable you to forget the sorrows that will then be over alas he cried and the words still ring in my ears how can I forget all this degradation and infamy how can I ever again appear in the great world every member of which will have read my trial and many of whom have this day seen me writhing beneath the hot iron in the hands of the public executioner even supposing my innocence be eventually proved and that all moral infamy be separated from my name who will remove the scar from my shoulder who will not remember that for five years I shall have hurted with the refuse of mankind who will believe that even if guiltless I went to the gallows released from them what father will entrust his daughter to the convict what mother will consent to the union of her child with a man who has been publicly marked upon the scaffold what brother would allow his sister pure and chaste to link herself to one whose outset in life has been so horribly characterised as mine and lastly lastly out of he sinking his voice almost to a whisper and clenching his fists and grinding his teeth as he spoke and who can remove the deep deep scar from my heart even should there be a physician skillful enough to face the one upon my shoulder I was then compelled to take leave of him and on the following day he was removed to Becetra and lodged with the other convicts who were about to travel the same road together he now found that his situation was wretched indeed compelled to associate with men who had been guilty of the most horrible crimes and who gloried in their infamy his ears were offended with their obscene conversation and their fearful blasphemies and he was ill-treated by his fellow prisoners because he would not laugh at their jokes or join in their revolting discourse if he threatened to complain he was reviled and mocked but I shall hasten to the end of my story or at least to this part of it the day before the departure of the chain of gallant slaves arrived and I took leave of my unfortunate friend he was conducted to breast where he worked on that port for a short time and then on account of his good conduct he was made a clerk in the office of the governor this was the last account I heard of him while he was at the galleys for just at that period the death of a distant relative called me to England and the inheritance of some property was accompanied with the condition that should change my name to that of the individual whose fortune thus devolved upon me six years had passed continued Mr. Scales six years since the events which I have just related to you when an accident enabled me to obtain a complete assurance of that which I had all along fully believed namely the innocence of McPherson respecting the forgery I was passing down Alder's Gate street late one evening when a sudden shower began to fall and I entered a gateway for protection having no umbrella with me there being no hackney coach stand near almost immediately afterwards a gentleman in a cloak took refuge in the same place but as I was standing farther in the gateway than he and as it was pitch dark there we did not observe each other's countenance presently he stepped out into the street to see if the rain continued and I noticed that he was accosted by a female dressed in guardia tire and who murmured something to him in French to which he did not however pay immediate attention but an exclamation from her lips an exclamation of surprise which was instantly followed by the mention of his name aroused him from his reverie he gazed at the female who thus appeared to recognize him and by the light of the adjacent land the well-known but somewhat altered countenance of Augustine was revealed to him and myself at the same time amazement rooted me to the spot and compelled me to become a listener but Augustine cried McPherson for he it was and all the while my presence was unsuspected yes Augustine that is my name said the young lady somewhat flippantly but what are you doing in London she asked immediately afterwards and in an altered tone how can you ask me Augustine after my present pursuits or my future prospects when you were the principal agent in consummating my ruin in Paris demanded McPherson oh you know not the serious injury the irreparable injury which you have inflicted upon me all my hopes all my endeavors have one after another been defeated and destroyed by the consequences of that fatal period my life is a series of misfortunes of struggling against diversity of ups and downs of long intervals of misery with short and distant gleams of happiness and this career of sorrows and disappointments was prepared and marked out by the infernal schemes of yourself and Le Gras oh in auspicious was the day on which I first became acquainted with you and the miscreant whom you represented to be your brother and will you believe me when I assure you that I have never known a moment's peace since the fatal moment when I bore false evidence against you in the French tribunal exclaimed Augustine emphatically I was compelled to take that step although repugnant to my feelings for I had not then lost all principle she added mournfully Le Gras possessed such power over me and I also knew that he was as capable of sacrificing me as well as yourself to his own interests if I did not fall into his views that false step on my part has reduced me to my present state of degradation I became reckless and ceased to sustain even the appearance of respectability which I had observed while I was living with you Le Gras was killed in a quarrel at a gambling house and I then became the mistress of so and so oh distract me not with a catalogue of your vices Augustine exclaimed my person interrupting her recital can I sympathize with you who have caused my ruin can I commiserate with one whom where I vindictive I should crush beneath my heel oh could you speak to me of the means of redeeming my character which is lost innocent though I am as well you know could you give me back my peace of mind my self-respect my confidence in myself the esteem and respect of men and the enjoyment of an unsullied name could you face the mark from my shoulder Augustine and wipe from my memory the dread impression of the exposure in the plastic red with the five long years sojourn at the galleries could you do all this Augustine I would throw myself at your feet I would forgive you the wrongs I have endured I would almost worship you there's something which may yet be done said Augustine after a long pause which would partially remedy the evil and which would at all events prove my contrition for the part that I enacted in the matter and what is it that you propose demanded McPherson to what do you allude I would willingly make a confession which would publish your innocence and so far retrieve your character in the eyes of the world said Augustine but the world reviles me and cries shame upon me without waiting to ask itself if I'm really guilty return McPherson bitterly the thinking portion of the community began the frail woman earnestly will ever blank that is a mere idle phrase Augustine interrupted McPherson there is no thinking as a complete section of any community ask any individual singly and alone if he would scorn and shun a man who would endure an infamous punishment but who was innocent of the crime attributed to him and he would launch forth into an eulogy of the liberality of his own views and indulge in a tirade against the narrow mindedness of his neighbors he would say prove your innocence and I will be your friend so would reply everyone whom you thus questioned individually but take all those persons together assemble them in one room invite them all to a banquet and then introduce amongst them the man concerning whom they had singly express so much liberality of opinion and collectively they would scorn they would shun him they would hunt him from their company they would expel him as if he were infected with a pestilence where then is the thinking portion of what men is it composed who can separate the section from the mass talk no more of proving my innocence but let me now ask you a question relative to your own position my position repeated the young woman bitterly oh I feel it's degradation so thoroughly that it appears to me as if everybody must see and appreciate it also my shame clings to me like a mass energy cobwebs to a wall I cannot shake it off I cannot divest myself of the sense of its utter loathesomeness for if I seek to brush it away with one hand it clings to the other I dare not go to church to seek the comforts of religion a prayer in my mouth would be pollution I dare not even implore heaven to change my condition so thoroughly degraded in my own estimation and there are some of us I say of us you will fully comprehend to what said sisterhood I belong who are young beautiful and even educated and from their lips their red and inviting lips issue implications and blasphemies at all hours but I'm not so bad as that nor do I drink as they do God only knows however to what abyss I may fall with these words the wretched creature hurried away in one direction I did not fully pursue his path in another I did not think it right to follow him for I fancy from the tenor of his bitter outpourings to Augustine that he wished to be forgotten by the world and pass as a stranger in the mighty city well years and years elapsed and misfortunes overtook me I lost all my property save a very small annuity a mere pittance insufficient to keep body and soul together and through the interest of a friend I obtained a birth in the charter house to my surprise I found on my entrance that McPherson was already a brother and thus after a separation of five and twenty years forty five years ago that I came here our destinies cast us into the same asylum but though I recognized him he knew not me he must remember that I had changed my name and my personal appearance had undergone an immense alteration and therefore it was not singular that he should fail to perceive in me the friend who had consoled him in his misfortunes at Paris in 1816 I never revealed myself to him within these walls and never shall it would doubtless in bitter his sorrowful existence were he aware that his secret was known to a living soul in the establishment which his necessities have compelled him to make his home and from which he will move to no other abode save the tomb here then we dwell he brooding over the undying sorrow that fills his heart I not daring to call him friend and console him at this moment the clock struck four an hour had elapsed since Mrs. Pitkin had departed with a promise to return in a jiffy and she now reappeared her countenance much flushed and her breath exhaling the strongest perfume of the Juniper Berry she however had her excuse the matron had sent for her a particular business if so it must have been at the Fox and Anchor mother Mr. Scales for perceiving that she had brought up a cooked steak and a covered dish he suffered himself to be appeased by the prospect of dinner and it was agreed both by himself and the captain to dispense with potatoes Mrs. Pitkin having again quite forgotten that they were ordered the repass was now served up and it must be taken as a proof of contrition that she was neglect on the part of the worthy woman that when she sailed forth for the beer and spirits she only remained a short half hour away he being usually calculated in the charter house that a commission which one might perform for himself in five minutes occupies the nurse exactly 55 to accomplish at last Mr. Scales and the captain were unable to make themselves comfortable and when the dinner things were cleared away hot water was speedily procured by the aid of a bachelor's kettle the poutine was first rate the two gentlemen were in excellent spirits and the hilarity of the evening was soon increased by the arrival of Mr. Frank Curtis who had duly received his friend's letter at Mr. Bubbleton Stiles's office in the city End of Section 42 Section 43 of Mysteries of Landon Volume 4 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Catherine Phipps Mysteries of London Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds The Colonel and the Captain The Captain related to Frank all the numerous and varied incidents which had occurred during the forenoon of that eventful day and the listener not unfrequently burst into shouts of laughter as the gallant gentlemen described the most ludicrous parts of his adventures. We mean the little episode of the escape from the sheriff's officers in Mrs. Rudd's garments. Frank in his turn gave his gallant friend a hurried but significant intimation that Mr. Bubbleton Stiles had come down with 10 sovereigns. A figure of speech implying that the city gentlemen had advanced that amount for the special behoof of Captain O'Blanderbus and Mr. Curtis. The first use the Irishman made of this subsidy was then and there fairly and cheerfully to refund to Mr. Scales the money's advance by the worthy brother in the morning and this little arrangement increased the good feelings of that gentleman towards his new friends and enhanced the harmony of the evening. By degrees as the good liquor produced its exhilarating effect, the Captain began to talk magniliquently of his Irish estates which were unfortunately locked up in chancery. Mr. Curtis told a great many wonderful stories of his intimacy with princesses and duchesses when he was in France and Mr. Scales related a number of interesting anecdotes connected with the Charter House and which had a signal advantage over the narratives of his companions in as much as the former were all true and the latter all false. In the midst of the conviviality a knock at the door was heard and on Mr. Scales exclaiming come in the invitation was obeyed by a gentleman who was immediately introduced to the Captain and Frank Curtis as Colonel Tickner. The newcomer who was an inmate of the Charter House was a man of middle height and was much older than he thought fit to appear to be for by the aid of false teeth a handsome wig and whiskers well died he was unable to pass himself offers just over 50 whereas his years had certainly numbered a good 15 in addition to the amount specified he was well dressed and had rather an imposing exterior but there was an unpleasant expression about the eyes and in the lines around the mouth which gave his countenance a sinister aspect and denoted low canning duplicity and artfulness sit down Colonel said Mr. Scales when the ceremony of introduction had taken place and mix a glass for yourself I told the captain you were sure to come and he was most anxious to see you for I know that military men are particularly fond of meeting each other this remark was made with a slight touch of satire Mr. Scales glancing the while at the captain as much as to say now the ice is broken and you can unmask him for as sincerely as the worthy brother did not believe Tykna to be a military man at all so in proportion was he convinced that O Blunderbuss was the Colonel looked uneasy for a moment while the captain whose natural impudence was increased by his potations put a bald face upon the matter and eyed Tykna with lurking ferocity and pray sir in what regiment had you the honour to serve demanded the Irishman at length with a menacing reverberation of the ominous ours several returned the Colonel mixing his toddy without raising his eyes but might I ask the same question of you captain Big Jesus and you may ask sure enough my friend exclaimed O Blunderbuss but it would be more polite on your part if you was after answering my quarrels first and then it's myself that will give you my whole pedigree from the beginning to the end of that same but I should beg to observe sir said the Colonel stirring up his liquor on which he still kept his eyes fixed but it would be more in accordance with the rules of military etiquette if you were to give the first explanations seeing that I have the honour to hold a higher rank than yourself in her Majesty's service and be the Holy Poker ejaculated Captain O Blunderbuss flying into a passion that remains to be proved there's many a discharged corporal that dubs himself Colonel to my knowledge and there's many a discharged cad to an omnibus that calls himself but Colonel Tickner suddenly stopped short for Captain O Blunderbuss started from his seat and grasping the poker exclaimed be this holy instrument I should be after dealing a gentle tap on the head my friend if you dare to utter a word the rogatory to my honour Colonel Tickner stared in gassy silence at the ferocious Irishman and to add to the dismay of the former Frank Curtis who relished the proceeding hugely whispered hastily in his ear for God's sake don't provoke him he's the most terrible duelist in all London he shot the Duke of Bologna last year in Paris I really did not in fact it was very far from my intentions stammered the discomfort in Colonel casting a glance toward the door to ascertain if there were any possibility of escape but alas that was out of the question nothing but a mating or the most abject apology will suffice vociferated Captain O Blunderbuss perceiving that he had completely overawed his antagonist Frank my friend run over to our largeens and fetch my pistols in the box covered with green bears you know and be the powers we'll fight it out across the table each holding the end of a hand that is to say with Mr. Skels live and permission oh I shan't interfere said the red-faced brother enjoying the scene as much as Mr. Frank Curtis who rose from his chair as if to depart for the purpose of executing the little commission respecting the pistols really gentlemen stammered Colonel Tickner glancing in bewilderment and dismay from one to the other sure I did not did you maintenance salt me demanded the captain brandishing the poker while his aspect seemed to acquire increased ferocity every moment no no no not responded the Colonel catching at the hope of extricating himself from the deadly perils which appeared to hem him in around and you acknowledge yourself to be a liar and a scoundrel vasifrated the terrible Gormano Blunderbuss my dear sir as for that don't dear sir me interrupted the Irishman fiercely acknowledge yourself to be a liar scoundrel and on my part I should be ready to acknowledge in return that he made such an apology as a gentleman art under the circumstances oh yes, mutual concessions observed Frank with a wink at Mr. Scales who could scarcely keep his countenance through a violent inclination to laugh a liar and a scoundrel repeated the captain as he advanced in a threatening manner towards the wretched victim of this bullism well my dear sir, if it will satisfy you and as your friend observes on the principle of mutual concessions I outwarded man, roared the captain don't keep us waiting all day for the hot weather is getting caught you'd better not provoke him anymore whispered Frank or else you'll be compelled to run and fetch the pistols unless you prefer having your brains dashed out with a poker oh murder ejaculated the miserable ticna turning deadly pale at the awful alternative it suggested give me time to breathe captain Oblunderbos not a moment cried the ferocious gentleman thus appealed to I must have complete satisfaction before your breath another puff well then I admit that I am what you said returned the colonel in other words a liar and a scoundrel a liar and a scoundrel echoed the humbled and trembling wretch wishing that the floor would open and swallow him up or that any other equally improbable casualty might occur so long as it should remove him from the presence of the ferocious Irishman you hear his words my friends cried the captain he declares himself to be a liar and a scoundrel and now as a man of honour I confess myself completely satisfied the apology is most handsome and such as reflects the highest credit on him as a gentleman give me a hand sir the colonel diffidently extended the member thus demanded and the gallant Irishman shook it with such hearty goodwill that its owner winced and writhed with the pain of iron pressure and now will speck no more on military matters said Gormano Blunderbos but the ring potinata is and can verse on all kinds of thanks by this little arrangement the captain got rid of the necessity of giving any explanation relative to his own military career and colonel tickner speedily forgetting the deep humiliation to which the bullying character of the Irishman and his own craven spirit had subjected him paid his respects with so much earnestness to the whiskey that Frank was soon compelled to sally forth and procure another bottle mrs. Pitkin having returned to her own domicile under the plea of being very ill which in plain English meant very drunk the conviviality was maintained until half past ten when captain O Blunderbos and Frank Curtis rose to take their leave of mr. scales and the colonel but before they departed the Irishman renewed his expressions of gratitude and his protestations of friendship to the worthy brother who had manifested so much kindness towards him and highly delighted with their evening's entertainment the two inseparables walked off arm in arm together now how gloomy how truly monastic appeared the charter house as they traversed the spacious court bounded by the low uniform ranges of the buildings most of the windows were dark but here and there a flickering light was gleaming feeble and faint as the spirit of the old man for whose long lonely ours even that poor candle was a species of companion in spite of the natural liveliness of the two friends dispositions in spite of the whiskey they had imbibed they shuddered as the aspect of the place in the more than semi obscurity of the starlight seemed cold and cheerless to the view and struck so to their very hearts their footsteps raised echoes which sounded hollow and gloomy as if coming from the midst of tombs and if they paused for a moment the silence was so deep so profound it seemed impossible that the place was in the very midst of the mightiest metropolis in the world the feelings of the two friends was such that they could not have uttered a ribald word nor give invent to a jest or a laugh as they traversed an enclosure where the stillness was so awful and the cloister aspect of the scene so coldly, sternly monastic had their way lay through a vast cathedral at the silent midnight hour they could not have experienced a sense of more painful oppression nor would a deeper gloom have fallen upon their spirits it was a great relief when the porter closed the wicket of the massive gates behind them and as they hastily skirted charter house square keeping a good look out for fear of unpleasant prowlers in that region the captain whispered to his companion, well Frank and beat Jesus it soon had been knocked about the world as you and I are at times me boy then take up my quarters all together in that place it's all very pretty no doubt while one has his friends for them but when they're gone Frank it strikes me that the loneliness becomes 10,000 times more lonely I'm just of the same opinion captain returned Mr. Curtis and now where should we put up for the night be the powers and we've cash in our pockets and just after patronising some tavern will be until the morning when we'll take fresh margins exclaim the gallant gentleman his naturally good spirits reviving as he found himself safe in Aldersgate street and no suspicious looking characters dodging him in the rear end of section 43