Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas

If my wishes arranged themselves on one side, all my fears were marshalled on the other; and what foes can wage a more terrible conflict! The world, with its most attractive pleasures, its thousand fascinations, all the delusions that gold can buy and convert into realities, beckoned here. Horrible fancies of an unknown vengeance, a Nemesis in crime unexpiated, menaced there! May I never have to preside in a court where the evidence is so strongly opposed, where the facts are so equally balanced! If, at one instant, I beheld myself the gorgeous millionnaire, launching forth into the wide ocean of unexplored enjoyment, at the next I saw myself crawling upon the earth, maimed and crippled like the old negro slave; a curse upon me; the cries of widowed mothers ringing in my ears; the curses of ruined fathers tracking me wherever I went! I cannot tell what verdict my poor empanelled conscience might have brought in at last, but suddenly a new witness appeared in the court and gave a most decided turn to the case. This was no less than “the Church,” whose testimony gently insinuated that if the matter were one of difficulty, it was not yet without a solution. “It is true, Master Con,” whispered she, “that these treasures have an odor of rapine; but let us see if the Church cannot purify them. A silver lamp to the Virgin can throw a lustre upon deeds that have not ‘loved the light.’ An embroidered petticoat can cover a great many small sins, and the incense that rises from a gold censer, offered by pious hands, will do much to correct the pungency of even the saltest tears.”

Build a chapel, Con; endow a nunnery, – or, if you don’t like shutting up young ladies, let it be a “monkery;” make an investment in hair-cloth shirts and cord girdles; buy shares in the grand Purgatory scheme, and take out “next world scrip,” in the shape of masses, jubilees, and novenas. You can keep a bishop, without feeling the cost, and have a whole candle manufactory perpetually at the service of “Our Lady,” without being obliged to curtail one of your own wax-lights. What a revulsion did this bright thought give to all my previous doubtings! not only satisfying my scruples here, but suggesting very comfortable associations for hereafter. By this proceeding, Con, thought I, you are “hedging against hereafter;” you may be a Sardanapalus while you live, and a saint after death: it’s betting upon the “double event,” with all the odds in your favor.

I must say, for the sake of my credit, that I resolved to “do the thing handsomely.” I determined that a finer virgin should not be seen than mine, and that if a “Saint Cregan” could be discovered in the catalogue, I’d adopt him as my patron, at any cost. Neither would I forget the poor old miner in my pious offerings: he should have masses said for him for a full twelvemonth to come, and I ‘d offer a silver pickaxe to any of the calendar who would deign to accept it. In a word, there was nothing that money could do (and what can it not?) that I would not engage to perform, so that the Church should consent to take me into partnership.

Never was a poor head exposed to such a conflict of discordant thoughts. Plans of pleasures and pilgrimages; gorgeous visions of enjoyment warring with fancies of sackcloth and scourges; sumptuous dinners, equipages, theatres, balls, and festivities mingling with fastings, processions, and mortifications, made up a chaos only a shade above downright insanity.

The day wore on, and it was late in the afternoon ere I bethought me of the poor Gambusino, beside whose open grave I still sat, lost in speculation. “Poor fellow!” said I, as I hoisted his coffin on my shoulder, “you have got a rich pall-bearer for one who died in such poverty; you little thought you would be borne to the grave by a millionnaire!” As I said this – I shame to own it – there was a tinge of self-commendation in the notion, as though inferring, “See what a noble fellow I am! with gold and gems such as an emperor might envy, and yet look at me, carrying a poor old miner’s body to the grave just as if we were equals!”

“It’s very handsome of you, Con, – that I must say!” whispered I to myself; but, somehow, the poor dog did not appear to take the same exalted notion of my magnanimity, but was entirely engrossed by his sorrow; for he lay crouching upon the earth, uttering cries the most piteous and heartrending at each shovelful I threw in the grave.

“Cheer up, poor fellow!” said I, patting him, “you shall have a gold collar and a clasp of real emerald.” How naturally does a rich man recur to wealth as the cure for every affliction! How difficult for him to believe that gold is not a sovereign remedy for all disorders!

As for the dog, poor brute! he took no more heed of my consolation than he noticed my altered condition, – of which, by his familiarity, he showed himself totally unconscious. How differently had he behaved, thought I, had he been a man! What sudden respect had he felt for me; what natural reluctance to obtrude himself on me; how honored by my notice, how distinguished by my favor! It is plain the dog is a very inferior animal; his perceptions are not fine enough to distinguish between the man of wealth and the pauper!

These and very similar reflections engaged me while I completed my task, after which I carried my precious burdens off, and deposited them within the hut. By this time I was very hungry, but had nothing to eat save the fragments that remained from my breakfast, – a singular meal for one who, in a fitting place, could have dined sumptuously and off vessels of gold and silver! I had the appetite of a poor man, however, and eat heartily; and then, taking my gourd of wine, sat down beside a little spring that issued from the rock, to think over my future.

Perhaps my whole life – not wanting in hours of pleasure and enjoyment – never presented anything so truly delightful as that evening.

The season of gratification which I had dreamed of, sighed, panted, and prayed for, was now to be mine. I was at last to be a “gentleman,” – so far, at least, as immense wealth and a very decided taste for spending it could make me. But were these, I flatteringly asked myself, all my qualifications? Was I not master of three or four languages? Had I not become an expert shot, an excellent rider, a graceful dancer, with some skill upon the guitar and the mandolin? Could I not contend in most exercises where strength and activity were required, with any? Had I not travelled and seen something of the world and its ways? Ay, marry, and a little more of both than was usual for young gentlemen of fortune!

Of personal advantages it might not become me to speak; but the truth requires me to say that Nature had dealt very handsomely by me. And now I ask of the fair reader, – the unfair one I put out of court on the occasion, – “Are not these very pretty chances with which to woo fortune?” Less sanguine spirits would perhaps have sighed for more, and asked for a hundred gifts, of whose use and value I knew nothing, – such as birth, family influence, and the like. As for me, I was content with the “hand of trumps” Fate had dealt me; I owned frankly that if I lost the game, it must be for lack of skill, and not of luck.

My plans were very simple. Once at Guajuaqualla, I should find out where Donna Maria de los Dolores lived, and then, providing myself with a suitable equipage and servants, I should proceed to pay my addresses in all form, affecting to have resumed my real rank and station, from which, on our first acquaintance, a passing caprice had withdrawn me. I anticipated, of course, very shrewd inquiries as to my family and fortune; but I trusted to “native wit” to satisfy these, secretly resolving at the time that I would avoid lying for the future. And à propos of this propensity, I had never indulged in it, save from that vagrant impulse that tempts a child to scamper over the flower-plat of a garden, instead of keeping to the gravel, – the great charm being found in the secret that it “was wrong.” And, oh, ye dear, good, excellent souls whose instincts are always correct, who can pass knockers on doors and not wish to wring them off; who see gas-lamps in lonely spots, and never think of breaking them; who neither “humbug” the stupid, nor mistify the vain; who “take life” seriously, – forgive the semi-barbarism of our Celtic tastes, which leads us to regard “fun” as the very honey of existence, and leads us to extract it from every flower in life’s path!

When I “lied,” – as only the great “Pinto” ever lied more atrociously, – I was more amused by my own extravagances than were my listeners. I threw out my inventions among stupid folk as a rich man flings his guinea among a group of beggars, to enjoy the squabbling and contending for such an unlooked-for prize.

And now I was going to abandon the habit, as one unsuited to the responsibilities of a rich man’s station! Oh, dear, what a sigh honest Jack Falstaff must have heaved when he swore “he would eschew sack and low company, and live cleanly.”

I now addressed myself more practically to my work, and, seeing that it would be quite impossible for me to carry the great bulk of my treasure to Guajuaqualla, I replaced the canvas sack, with the gold and some of the larger bags of the gems, in the ground, and merely took those that contained the paper securities, and some of the more valuable emeralds, along with me.

In parting with my wealth, even for a short absence, I confess my feelings were very poignant. A thousand fears beset me, and I turned to survey the spot beneath which it lay, wondering if there was any indication to mark the concealed riches below. All, however, looked safe and plausible; and I proceeded on my way, with a heart as easy as, I suppose, rich men’s hearts are permitted to be!

I believe the road along which I journeyed lay in the midst of a fertile and pleasing tract, – I believe, I say; for I own I saw nothing of it. The river along which Ï walked seemed silver, molten silver, to me; the fruit-trees bore apples of pure gold; the stars which studded the morning sky seemed sapphires and diamonds; the dewdrops on the grass were opals all. If I sat down to rest myself, I instantly took one of my precious bags from my pocket, to gaze at the bright treasures it contained, and feast my eyes with brilliancy.

At last I found myself on the great high road, and, as the sign-post told me, only “très léguas” – three leagues – from Guajuaqualla. For a few copper coins I obtained a seat upon a peasant’s “carro,” and journeyed along more agreeably, secretly laughing to myself at the strange conveyance that carried “Cæsar and his fortunes.”

The peasant was an old man who lived by selling watermelons, gourds, and cucumbers in the city, and knew most of its well-known inhabitants. It was, therefore, a good opportunity for me to learn something of those in whom I was interested. He told me that the banker Don Xafire Hijaros had died several years ago, but that his son Manuel carried on the business, and was reputed to be the richest man in Guajuaqualla. It was said that the great wealth of the house had been accumulated in ways and by means that would not bear too close scrutiny. Large sums had been, it was alleged, lodged in his hands by negroes and Indians working at the mines, the owners of which were often made away with, – at least, few of those who made large deposits ever lived to claim them. The peasant told me several stories in illustration of this suspicion; but although they certainly did make an impression upon me, I attributed much to the exaggeration so common to every piece of local gossip, and I had seen enough in the world to know how frequently successful industry meets disparagement.

As for Don Estaban Olarez, the old man told me that he had once been extremely rich, but that certain speculations he had entered into having proved unfortunate, he had lost the greater part of his fortune, and lived now in a state of comparative retirement about a league from Guajuaqualla. This piece of news had not the depressing effect upon me it might be supposed, since I augured that a rich son-in-law would be less scrupulously interrogated by the broken merchant than by the millionnaire. I even speculated on the manner I should adopt to dazzle him by my splendor, and with what cold and cutting irony I would address the Fra Miguel, and thank him for the considerate kindness with which he had repaid my services. Haughty and proud, with a dash of condescension, – “that must be my tone,” said I; and so I went on, like my prototype in the Eastern tale, ruminating upon my power and my merciful disposition, till I had warmed my blood to a very good tyrant pitch, from which state I was aroused by the guard at the gate of the town asking if I had anything with me which should pay custom.

“A poor traveller with his knapsack,” said I, “may surely pass freely.”

“Vaya con Dios,” said he, carelessly, and I entered the city.

Although the little plain in which Guajuaqualla stands is more favorable as a site than the narrow gorge where Chihuahua is situated, the city itself is inferior to the latter. Built irregularly, not only as chance or caprice directed, but sharing in all the vicissitudes of speculation which the mines afforded, great palaces stand by the side of mean hovels, and gorgeous churches are flanked by abodes of squalid poverty. Streets, properly speaking, there were none. Each choosing the spot for his house at will, and as the city was founded in troubled times, when lawless violence was unrestrained, – the fortress-like character of the buildings was often conspicuous. Massive iron bars and stanchions protected the windows of the ground-floors; heavy fastenings secured the doors, whose surface was a fretwork of iron. Loop-holes for musketry usually guarded each side of the entrance, and a “grille,” like that of a convent, showed that no stranger could be admitted uninterrogated. Many of the houses were surrounded by regular outworks of moat and bastion, while here and there an old rusty cannon, half hid among the weeds, would show more pretentious, though possibly not very efficient, means of defence.

Of shrines, holy wells, and altars there was no end. The superstitious character of the Gambusino life had been adroitly laid hold of by the priests, who rarely fail to turn each phase of existence to their own profit, and, in this spot, the priestly hierarchy appeared to have nothing so near at heart as the success of the “Placers.” Here were pictured virgins, looking blandly down at a group of very ill-favored half-breeds, at a washing; there was an old negro presenting a massive lump of gold to St. Joseph, who, with a sly look, seemed to promise not to forget the donor. St. Francis himself, pick in hand, was seen laboring at the head of a sturdy gang of workmen, and angels of all sizes appeared to busy themselves in gold-seeking, as though it were their natural pastime.

Upon several of the altars, pieces of solid gold and silver lay, in a security that said much for the religious zeal of the inhabitants, while lamps of pure silver hung in a profusion on every side, – surrounded by votive offerings of the same metal, – such as shovels, barretas, picks, and sieves. Nor did piety limit itself merely to incentives to “stand well with the saints;” some most terrible examples of the opposite line of conduct were conspicuously displayed. Pictures representing dreadful catastrophes, by falling masses of rock, irruptions of torrents, and down-pouring cataracts, showed what fates were ever in store for those who “forgot the Church.” And, as if to heighten the effect, whenever a cayman or a jaguar was “sloping off” with a miner in his mouth, a respectable saint was sure to be detected in the offing, wiping his eyes in compassion, but not stirring a finger to his assistance.

I will not say that these specimens of pictorial piety induced any strong religious feeling to my mind, but they certainly amused me highly; and although hungry from a long fast, I stopped full twenty times on my way to the Posada to gaze and wonder at them.

At the “Mono” (the “Ape”), a beast which at first I mistook for a certain historical character to whom popular prejudice always vouchsafes a tail, I put up, and having discussed a very sumptuous breakfast, sent for the landlord, a little dark-visaged Jew from Pernambuco.

“I hear,” said I, arranging myself in an attitude of imposing elegance, “I hear, Señhor Maestro, that my people and equipages have not arrived yet, and I begin to feel a great anxiety for their safety. Can you learn from any of the Muleros if they have seen two carriages, with four mules each, on the Chihuahua road?”

“I have just inquired,” said the Jew, with a sly, almost impertinent leer, “and his Excellency’s suite have not been seen.”

“How provoking!” said I, impatiently. “This comes of indulging that capricious taste for adventure which always inclines me to a solitary ramble among mountains. And now, here I am, without clothes, baggage, horses, servants, – in fact, with nothing that a person of my condition is accustomed to have about him.”

The Jew’s face changed its expression during this speech, and, from a look of droll malice which it wore at first, assumed an air of almost open insolence as he said, —

“Señhor Viajador, I am too old to be imposed upon by these fooleries. The traveller who enters an inn on his feet, with ragged clothes and tattered shoes, takes too high a flight when he raves of equipage and followers.”

I bethought me of the lesson I once gave the mate of the transport ship at Quebec, and I lay back indolently in my chair and stared coolly at the Jew. “Son of Abraham,” said I, with a slow intonation, “take care what you say. I indulge in a vast variety of caprices, some of which the severe world calls follies; but there is one which I never permit myself, – namely, to suffer the slightest liberty on the part of an inferior. I give you this piece of information for your guidance, since it is possible that business with the banker Don Manuel Hijaros may detain me a few days in this place, and I desire that the lesson be not lost upon you.”

The Jew stood, while I delivered these words, a perfect ideal of doubt and embarrassment. The pretentious tone, contrasted with the ragged apparel, the air of insufferable pride, with all the semblance of poverty, and the calm composure of confidence, seemed to him singular features in one whose apparent destitution might have suggested humility.

“I see your embarrassment,” said I, “and I forgive your error; and now to business. I have several visits to pay in this neighborhood; my people may not arrive for a day or two; and I cannot afford the delay of waiting for them. Can you tell if there be anything suitable in the way of equipage for a man of rank to be had here? Something simple, of course, as befitting the place, – a plain carriage, with four mules, – if Andalusian, all the better; two lazadores, or outriders, will be sufficient, as I wish to avoid display; the liveries and equipment may be plain also.”

“There is at this moment, Señhor, the open carriage of the late Gobernador of Guajuaqualla to be sold, – he had not used it when he was called away by death: that and his six mules, – not Andalusian, it is true, but of the black breed of the Habannah, – are now at your Excellency’s disposal.”

“And the price,” said I, not seeming to notice the half-impertinent smile that curled his lip as he spoke.

“Three thousand crowns, Señhor, – less than half their cost.”

“A mere trifle,” said I, carelessly, “if the carriage please me.

“Your Excellency can see it in the court beneath.”

I followed the Jew as he led the way into the open “cour,” and, after passing across it, we entered a spacious building, where, amidst a whole hospital of ruined and dilapidated calèches, carres, and wagons, stood a most beautiful britscka, evidently imitated from some London or Parisian model. It was of a dark chocolate color, with rich linings of pale-blue silk. The arms of the late Gobernador were to have been painted on the doors, but fortunately were not begun when he died, so that the “carroza” seemed in every respect a private one. The Jew next showed me the team of mules, magnificent animals of fifteen and half hands in height, and in top condition. The harness and housings were all equally splendid and suitable.

“If your Excellency does not deem them unworthy of you,” said he, with a smile of most treacherous meaning, “they are certainly a great bargain. I have myself advanced fifteen hundred piastres upon them.”

“I’ll take them,” said I, curtly; “and now for the servants.”

“The coachman and a few lacqueys are here still, your Excellency; but their liveries had not been ordered when the sad event occurred.”

“Send the first tailor in the place to my apartment,” said I; “and if there be a diamond merchant or a gem valuer here, let him come also.”

“I am myself a dealer in precious stones, your Excellency,” replied the Jew, with a more submissive air than he had yet exhibited.

“Come with me then,” said I; “for I always carry some of my less valuable trinkets about with me, as the least cumbrous mode of taking money.” Leaving the landlord in the sitting-room, I passed into my chamber, and speedily re-entered with a handsome emerald ring upon my finger, and a ruby brooch of great size in my breast.

The Jew’s eyes were lit up with a lustre only inferior to that of the gems as he saw them, and in a voice tremulous with eagerness he said, “Will your Excellency dispose of these?”

“Yes,” said I, carelessly; “there are others also, which I am determined to turn into cash. What value would you put upon this ring?”

“Five hundred crowns, Señhor, if it be really as pure as it seems.”

“If that be your valuation, friend,” rejoined I, “I would be a purchaser, not a seller, in this city. That gem cost me six thousand piastres! To be sure, something of the price must be laid to the charge of historical associations. It was the present of the Sultan Al Hadgid ak Meerun-ak-Roon to the Empress Matilda.”

“Six thousand piastres!” echoed the Jew, whose astonishment stopped short at the sum, without any regard for the great names I had hurled at him.

“I believe I may have paid a trifle too much,” said I, smiling; “the Prince of Syracuse thought it dear! But then here is a much more valuable stone, which only cost as much;” and, so saying, I took from my pocket an immense emerald, which had once formed the ornament of a dagger.

“Ah, Dios! that is fine,” said the Jew, as he held it between him and the light; “and, were it not for the flaw, would be a rare prize!”

“Were it not for the flaw, friend,” said I, “it would still be where it stood for upwards of eight hundred years, – in the royal crown of Hungary, in the ‘Schatzkammer’ of Presburg. The Emperor Joseph had it mounted in his own poignard; from his hands it reached the Caltons of Auersberg; and then, at the value of six thousand piastres, by a wager, came into my own.”

“And at what price would you now dispose of it?” asked he, timidly.

“A friend might have it for ten thousand,” said I, calmly; “to the world at large the price would be twelve.”

“Ah, your Excellency, such sums rest not in our humble city! You must go to Madrid or Grenada for wealth like that.”

“So I suspect,” said I, coolly. “I will content myself with depositing them with my banker for the present; to sell them here would be a needless sacrifice of them.”

“And yet, Señhor, I would willingly be the purchaser of that gem,” said he, as he stood, fascinated by the lustre of the stone, from which he could not take his eyes. “If six thousand five hundred piastres – ”

“I have said ten to a friend, my honest Israelite,” interrupted I.

“I am but a poor man, your Excellency, – a poor struggling, hard-working man, – content if he but gain the humblest profit by his labor; say, then, seven thousand piastres, and I will sell my mules to make up the amount.”

“I will say twelve, and not a doubloon less,” Señhor Judio; “but a friend may have it for ten.”

“Ah, if your ‘Alteza’ would but say eight! Eight thousand piastres counted down upon the table in honest silver,” said he; and the tears stood in his eyes as he supplicated.

“Be it so,” said I, “but upon one condition. Should you ever reveal this, or should you speak of the transaction in any way, there is no manner of evil and mischief I will not work you. If it cost me half my fortune, I will be your ruin; for I refused to part with that same to the Primate of Seville, and he would never forgive me if the story should reach his ears.”