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The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II). Lever Charles James
Читать онлайн.Название The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II)
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Автор произведения Lever Charles James
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
“How they found me out a patient in a ward of the Hôtel Dieu, rescued and carried me away with them, I have heard full half a dozen times, but I ‘m far from being clear enough to repeat the story; and, indeed, when I try to recall the period, the only images which rise up before me are long ranges of white coverlids, pale faces, and groans and cries of suffering, with the dark curly head of a great master of torture peeping at me, and whom, I am told, is the Baron Dupuytren, the Surgeon-in-Chief. After these comes a vision of litters and charrettes, – sore joltings and stoppages to drink water – But I shall rave if I go on. Better I should tell you of my pleasant little bedroom here, opening on a small garden, with a tiny fountain trying to sprinkle the wild myrtle and blush-roses around it, and sportively sending its little plash over me, as the wind wafts it into my chamber. My luxurious chair and easy-cushioned sofa, and my table littered with everything, from flowers to French romances; not to speak of the small rustic seat beside the window, where she has been sitting the last hour, and has only quitted to give me time to write this to you. I know it – I see it – all you can say, all that you are saying at this moment, is fifty times more forcibly echoing within my own heart, and repeating in fitful sentences: ‘A ruined man – a broken fortune – a mad attachment – a life of struggle, difficulty, and failure!’ But why should it be failure? Such a girl for a wife ought in itself to be an earnest of success. Are not her qualities exactly those that do battle with the difficulties of fortune? Self-denial – ambition – courage – an intense, an intuitive knowledge of the world – and then, a purpose-like devotion to whatever she undertakes, that throws an air of heroism over all her actions.
“Birth – blood – family connections – what have they done for me, except it be to entail upon me the necessity of selecting a career amidst the two or three that are supposed to suit the well-born? I may be a Life Guardsman, or an unpaid attaché, but I must not be a physician or a merchant. Nor is it alone that certain careers are closed against us, but certain opinions too. I must not think ill of the governing class, – I must never think well of the governed.
“Well, Harry, the colonies are the remedy for all this. There, at least, a man can fashion existence as arbitrarily as he can the shape and size of his house. None shall dictate his etiquette, no more than his architecture; and I am well weary of the slavery of this old-world life, with our worship of old notions and old china, both because they are cracked, damaged, and useless. I ‘ll marry her. I have made up my mind on ‘t. Spare me all your remonstrances, all your mock compassion. Nor is it like a fellow who has not seen the world in its best gala suit, affecting to despise rank, splendor, and high station. I have seen the thing. I have cantered my thoroughbred along Rotten Row, eaten my truffled dinners in Belgravia, whispered my nonsense over the white shoulders of the fairest and best-born of England’s daughters. I know to a decimal fraction the value of all these; and, what ‘s more, I know what one pays for them, – the miserable vassalage, the poor slavery of mind, soul, and body they cost!
“It is the terror of exclusion here, the dread of coldness there – the possibility of offence to ‘his Grace’ on this side, or misconception by ‘her Ladyship’ on that – sway and rule a man so that he may neither eat, drink, nor sleep without a ‘Court Guide’ in his pocket. I ‘ve done with it! now and forever, – I tell you frankly, – I return no more to this bondage.
“I have written a farewell address to my worthy constituents of Oughterard. I have told them that, ‘feeling an instinct of independence within me, I can no longer remain their representative; that, as a man of honor, I shrink from the jobbery of the little borough politicians, and, as a gentleman, I beg to decline their intimacy.’ They took me for want of a better – I leave them for the same reason.
“To my father I have said: ‘Let us make a compromise. As your son I have a claim on the House. Now, what will you give for my share? I ‘ll neither importune you for place, nor embarrass you with solicitations for employment. Help me to stock my knapsack, and I ‘ll find my road myself.’ She knows nothing of these steps on my part; nor shall she, till they have become irrevocable. She is too proud ever to consent to what would cost me thus heavily; but the expense once incurred, – the outlay made, – she cannot object to what has become the law of my future life.
“I send off these two documents to-night; this done, I shall write to her an offer of marriage. What a fever I ‘m in! and all because I feel the necessity of defending myself to you, – to you of all men the most headstrong, reckless, and self-indulgent, – a fellow who never curbed a caprice nor restrained a passing fancy; and yet you are just the man to light your cigar, and while you puff away your blue cloud, mutter on about rashness, folly, insanity, and the rest of it, as if the state of your bank account should make that wisdom in you, which with me is but mere madness! But I tell you, Harry, it is your very thousands per annum that preclude you from doing what I can. It is your house in town, your stud at Tattersall’s, your yacht at Cowes, your grouse-lodge in the Highlands, that tie and fetter you to live like some scores of others, with whom you have n’t one solitary sympathy, save in income! You are bound up in all the recognizances of your wealth to dine stupidly, sup languidly, and sink down at last into a marriage of convenience, – to make a wife of her whom ‘her Grace’ has chosen for you without a single speculation in the contract save the thought of the earl you will be allied to, and the four noble families you ‘ll have the right to go in mourning for.
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