Sir Jasper Carew: His Life and Experience

All his arrangements had been already made for this casualty; and I found that relays of horses had been provided to within a short distance of Mannheim, where we were to cross the Rhine, and trust to chances to guide us through the Luxembourg territory down to Namur, at a little village in the neighborhood of which town his wife was then living. My part in the plan was to repair by daybreak to Erlauch, a small village on the Rhine, three leagues from Kehl, and await his arrival, or such tidings as might recall me to Kehl.

“If I be not with you by seven o’clock at the latest,” said he, “it is because Challendrouze has viséd my passports for another route.”

These were his last words to me ere I started, with, it is not too much to say, a far heavier heart than he had who uttered them.

It was drawing towards evening, and I was standing watching the lazy drift of a timber-raft as it floated down the river, when I heard the clattering of a horse’s hoofs approaching at a full gallop. I turned, and saw Ysaffich, who was coming at full speed, waving his handkerchief by way of signal.

I hurried back to the inn to order out the horses at once, and ere many minutes we were in the saddle, side by side, not a word having passed between us till, as we passed out into the open country, Ysaffich said, —

“We must ride for it, Gervois.”

“It’s all over, then?” said I.

“Yes, all over,” said he while, pressing his horse to speed, he dashed on in front of me; nor was I sorry that even so much of space separated us at that moment.

Through that long, bright, starry night we rode at the top speed of our horses, and, as day was breaking, entered Rostadt, where we ate a hasty breakfast, and again set out. Ysaffich reported himself at each military station as the bearer of despatches, till, on the second morning, we arrived at Hellsheim, on the Bergstrasse, where we left our horses, and proceeded on foot to the Rhine by a little pathway across the fields. We crossed the river, and, hiring a wagon, drove on to Erz, a hamlet on the Moselle, at which place we found horses again ready for us. I was terribly fatigued by this time, but Ysaffich seemed fresh as when we started. Seeing, however, my exhaustion, he proposed to halt for a couple of hours, – a favor I gladly accepted. The interval over, we remounted, and so on to Namur, where we arrived on the sixth day, having scarcely interchanged as many words with each other from the moment of our setting out.

CHAPTER XLVII. TOWARDS HOME

Ysaffich’s retreat was a small cottage about two miles from Dinant, and on the verge of the Ardennes forest. He had purchased it from a retired “Garde Chasse” some years before, “seeing,” as he said, “it was exactly the kind of place a man may lie concealed in, whenever the time comes, as it invariably does come, that one wants to escape from recognition.”

I have already said that he was not very communicative as we went along; but as we drew nigh to Dinant he told me in a few words the chief events of his career since we had parted.

“I have made innumerable mistakes in life, Gervois, but my last was the worst of all. I married! Yes, I persuaded your old acquaintance Madame von Geysiger to accept me at last. She yielded, placed her millions and tens of millions at my disposal, and three months after we were beggared. Davoust found, or said he found, that I was a Russian spy; swore that I was carrying on a secret correspondence with Sweden; confiscated every sou we had in the world, and threw me into jail at Lubeck, from which I managed to escape, and made my way to Paris. There I preferred my claim against the marshal: at first before the cour militaire, then to the minister, then to the Emperor. They all agreed that Davoust was grossly unjust; that my case was one of the greatest hardship, and so on; that the money was gone, and there was no help for it. In fact, I was pitied by some, and laughed at by others; and out of sheer disgust at the deplorable spectacle I presented, a daily supplicant at some official antechamber, I agreed to take my indemnity in the only way that offered, – a commission in the newly raised Polish Legion, where I served for two years, and quitted three days ago in the manner you witnessed.”

His narrative scarcely occupied more words than I have given it. He told me the story as we led our horses up a narrow bridle-path that ascended from the river’s side to a little elevated terrace where a cottage stood.

“There,” said he, pointing with his whip, “there is my pied à terre, all that I possess in the world, after twenty years of more persevering pursuit of wealth than any man in Europe. Ay, Gervois, for us who are not born to the high places in this world, there is but one road open to power, and that is money! It matters not whether the influence be exerted by a life of splendor or an existence of miserable privation, – money is power, and the only power that every faction acknowledges and bows down to. He who lends is the master, and he who borrows is the slave. That is a doctrine that monarchs and democrats all agree in. The best proof I can afford you that my opinion is sincere lies in the simple fact that he who utters the sentiment lives here;” and with these words he tapped with the head of his riding-whip at the door of the cottage.

Although only an hour after the sun set, the windows were barred and shuttered for the night, and all within seemingly had retired to rest. The Count repeated his summons louder; and at last the sounds of heavy sabots were heard approaching the door. It was opened at length, and a sturdy-looking peasant woman, in the long-eared cap and woollen jacket of the country, asked what we wanted.

“Don’t you know me, Lisette?” said the Count. “How is madame?”

The brown cheeks of the woman became suddenly pale, and she had to grasp the door for support before she could speak.

“Eh heu!” said he, accosting her familiarly in the patois of the land, “what is it? what has happened here?”

The woman looked at me and then at him, as though to say that she desired to speak to him apart. I understood the glance, and fell back to a little distance, occupying myself with my horse, ungirthing the saddle, and so on. The few minutes thus employed were passed in close whispering by the others, at the end of which the Count said aloud, —

“Well, who is to look after the beasts? Is Louis not here?”

“He was at Dinant, but would return presently.”

“Be it so,” said the Count; “we ‘ll stable them ourselves. Meanwhile, Lisette, prepare something for our supper. – Lisette has not her equal for an omelet,” said he to me, “and when the Meuse yields us fresh trout, you ‘ll acknowledge that her skill will not discredit them.”

The woman’s face, as he spoke these words in an easy, jocular tone, was actually ghastly. It seemed as if she were contending against some sickening sensation that was over-powering her, for her eyes lost all expression, and her ruddy lips grew livid. The only answer was a brief nod of her head as she turned away and re-entered the house. I watched the Count narrowly as we busied ourselves about our horses, but nothing could be possibly more calm, and to all seeming unconcerned, than his bearing and manner. The few words he spoke were in reference to objects around us, and uttered with careless ease.

When we entered the cottage we found Lisette had already spread a cloth, and was making preparations for our supper; and Ysaffich, with the readiness of an old campaigner, proceeded to aid her in these details. At last she left the room, and, looking after her for a second or two in silence, he said compassionately, —

“Poor creature! she takes this to heart far more heavily than I could have thought;” and then, seeing that the words were not quite intelligible to me, he added, “Yes, mon cher Grégoire, I am a bachelor once more; Madame the Countess has left me! Weary of a life of poverty to which she had been so long unaccustomed, she has returned to the world again – to the stage, perhaps – who knows?” added he, with a careless indifference, and as though dismissing the theme from his thoughts forever.

I had never liked him, but at no time of our intercourse did he appear so thoroughly odious to me as when he uttered these words.

There is some strange fatality in the way our characters are frequently impressed by circumstances and intimacies which seem the veriest accidents. We linger in some baneful climate till it has made its fatal inroad on our health; and so we as often dally amidst associations fully as dangerous and deadly. In this way did I continue to live on with Ysaffich, daily resolving to leave him, and yet, by some curious chain of events, bound up inseparably with his fortunes. At one moment his poverty was the tie between us We supported ourselves by the chasse, a poor and most precarious livelihood, and one which we well knew would fail us when the spring came. At other moments he would gain an influence over me by the exercise of that sanguine, hopeful spirit which seemed never to desert him. He saw, or affected to see, that the great drama of revolution which closed the century in France must yet be played out over the length and breadth of Europe, and that in this great piece the chief actors would be those who had all to gain and nothing to lose by the convulsion. “We shall have good parts in the play, Grégoire,” would he repeat to me, time after time, till he thoroughly filled my mind with ambitions that rose far above the region of all probability, and, worse still, that utterly silenced every whisper of conscience within me.

Had he attempted to corrupt me by the vulgar ideas of wealth, – by the splendor of a life of luxurious ease and enjoyment, with all the appliances of riches, – it is more than likely he would have failed. He however assailed me by my weak side: the delight I always experienced in acts of protection and benevolence – the pleasure I felt in being regarded by others as their good genius – this was a flattery that never ceased to sway me! The selfishness of such a part lay so hidden from view; there was a plausibility in one’s conviction of being good and amiable, – that the enjoyment became really of a higher order than usually waits on mere egotism. I had been long estranged from the world, so far as the ties of affection and friendship existed. For me there was neither home nor family, and yet I yearned for what would bind me to the cause of my fellow-men. All my thoughts were now centred on this object, and innumerable were the projects by which I amused my imagination about it. Ysaffich perhaps detected this clew to my confidence. At all events, he made it the pivot of all reasonings with me. To be powerless with good intentions – to have the “will” to work for good, and yet want the “way” – was, he would say, about the severest torture poor humanity could be called on to endure. When he had so far imbued my mind with these notions that he found me not only penetrated with his own views, but actually employing his own reasonings, his very expressions, to maintain them, he then advanced a step further; and this was to demonstrate that to every success in life there was a compromise attached, as inseparable as were shadow and substance.

“Was there not,” he would say, “a compensation attached to every great act of statesmanship, to every brilliant success in war, – in fact, to every grand achievement, wherever and however accomplished? It is simply a question of weighing the evil against the good, whatever we do in life; and he is the best of us who has the largest balance in the scales of virtue.”

When a subtle theory takes possession of the mind, it is curious to mark with what ingenuity examples will suggest themselves to sustain and support it. Ysaffich possessed a ready memory, and never failed to supply me with illustrations of his system. There was scarcely a good or great name of ancient or modern times that he could not bring within this category; and many an hour have we passed in disputing the claims of this one or that to be accounted as the benefactor or the enemy of mankind. If I recall these memories now, it is simply to show the steps by which a mind far more subtle and acute than my own succeeded in establishing its influence over me.

I have said that we were very poor; our resources were derived from the scantiest of all supplies; and even these, as the spring drew nigh, showed signs of failure. If I at times regarded our future with gloomy anticipations, my companion never did so. On the contrary, his hopeful spirit seemed to rise under the pressure of each new sufferance, and he constantly cheered me by saying, “The tide must ebb soon.” It is true, this confidence did not prevent him suggesting various means by which we might eke out a livelihood.

“It is the same old story over again,” said he to me one day, as we sat at our meal of dry bread and water. “Archimedes could have moved the world had he had a support whereon to station his lever, and so with me; I could at» this very moment rise to wealth and power, could I but find a similar appliance. There is a million to be made on the Bourse of Amsterdam any morning, if one only could pay for a courier who should arrive at speed from the Danube with the news of a defeat of the French army. A lighted tar-barrel in the midst of the English fleet at Spithead would n’t cost a deal of money, and yet might do great things towards changing the fortunes of mankind. And even here,” added he, taking a letter from his pocket, “even here are the means of wealth and fortune to both of us, if I could rely on you for the requisite energy and courage to play your part.”

“I have at least had courage to share your fortunes,” said I, half angrily; “and even that much might exempt me from the reproach of cowardice.”

Not heeding my taunt in the slightest, he resumed his speech with slow and deliberate words: —

“I found this paper last night by a mere accident, when looking over some old letters; but, unfortunately, it is not accompanied by any other document which could aid us, though I have searched closely to discover such.”

So often had it been my fate to hear him hold forth on similar themes – on incidents which lacked but little, the veriest trifle, to lead to fortune – that I confess I paid slight attention to his words, and scarcely heard him as he went on describing how he had chanced upon his present discovery, when he suddenly startled me by saying, —

“And yet, even now, if you were of the stuff to dare it, there is wherewithal in that letter to make you a great man, and both of us rich ones.”

Seeing that he had at least secured my attention, he went on: —

“You remember the first time we ever met, Gervois, and the evening of our arrival at Hamburg. Well, on that same night there occurred to me the thought of making your fortune and my own; and when I shall have explained to you how, you will probably look less incredulous than you now do. You may remember that the first husband of Madame von Geysiger was a rich merchant of Hamburg. Well, there chanced to be in his employment a certain English clerk who conducted all his correspondence with foreign countries, – a man of great business knowledge and strict probity, and by whose means Von Geysiger once escaped the risk of total bankruptcy. Full of gratitude for his services, Von Geysiger wished to give him a partnership in the house; but however flattering the prospect for one of humble means, he positively rejected the offer; and when pressed for his reasons for so doing, at last owned that he could not consistently pledge himself to adhere to the fortunes of his benefactor, since he had in heart devoted his life to another object, – one for which he then only labored to obtain means to prosecute. I do not believe that the secret to which he alluded was divulged at the time, nor even for a long while after, but at length it came out that this poor fellow had no other aim in life than to find out the heir to a certain great estate in England which had lapsed from its rightful owner, and to obtain the document which should establish his claim. To this end he had associated himself with some relative of the missing youth, – a lady of rank, I have heard tell, and of considerable personal attractions, who had braved poverty and hardship of the severest kind in the pursuit of this one object. I do not know where they had not travelled, nor what amount of toil they had not bestowed on this search. Occasionally, allured by some apparent clew, they had visited the most remote parts of the Continent; and at last, acting on some information derived from one of their many agents, they left Europe for America. That the pursuit is still unsuccessful, an advertisement that I saw, a few days back, in a Dutch newspaper, assures me. A large reward is there offered for any one who can give certain information as to the surviving relatives of a French lady, – the name I forget, but which at the time I remembered as one of those connected with this story. And now, to apply the case to yourself, there were so many circumstances of similitude in the fortunes of this youth and your own life that it occurred to me, and not alone to me, but to another, to make you his representative.”

For a moment I scarcely knew whether to be indignant or amused at this shameless avowal; but the absurdity overcame my anger, and I laughed long and heartily at it.

“Laugh if you will, my dear Gervois,” said he; “but you are not the first, nor will you be the last, kite who has roosted in the eagle’s nest. Take my word for it, with all the cares and provisions of law, it is seldom enough that the rightful heir sits in the hall of his fathers; and, in the present case, we know that the occupant is a mere pretender; so that your claim, or mine, if you like it, is fully as good as his to be there.”

“You have certainly excited my curiosity on one point,” said I, “and it is to know where the resemblance lies between this gentleman’s case and my own; pray tell me that!”

“Easily enough,” said he, “and from the very papers in my hand: a mixed parentage, French and English – a father of one country, a mother of another – a life of scrapes and vicissitudes; but, better than all, a position so isolated that none can claim you. There, my dear Gervois, there is the best feature in the whole case; and if I could only inspire your heart with a dash of the ambitious daring that fills my own, it is not on a straw bed nor a starvation diet we should speculate over the future before us. Just fancy, if you can, the glorious life of ease and enjoyment that would reward us if we succeed; and as to failure, conjure up, if you are able, anything worse than this;” and as he spoke he made a gesture with his hand towards the wretched furniture of our humble chamber.

“You seem to exclude from your calculation all question of right and wrong,” said I, “of justice or injustice.”

“I have already told you that he who now enjoys this estate is not its real owner. It is, to all purposes, a disputed territory, where the strongest may plant his flag, – yours to-day; another may advance to the conquest to-morrow. I only say that to fellows like us, who, for aught I see, may have to take the high-road for a livelihood, this chance is not to be despised.”

“Then why not yourself attempt it?”

“For two sufficient reasons. I am a Pole, and my nationality can be proved; and, secondly, I am full ten years too old: this youth was born about the year 1782.”

“The very year of my own birth!” said I.

“By Jove, Gervois! everything would seem to aid us. There is but one deficiency,” added he, after a pause, and a look towards me of such significance that I could not misunderstand it.

“I know what you mean,” said I; “the want lies in me, – in my lack of energy and courage. I might, perhaps, give another name to it,” added I, after waiting in vain for some reply on his part, “and speak of reluctance to become a swindler.”

A long silence now ensued between us. Each seemed to feel that another word might act like a spark in a magazine, and produce a fearful explosion; and so we sat, scarcely daring to look each other in the face. As we remained thus, my eyes fell upon the paper in his hand, and read the following words: “Son of Walter Carew, of Castle Carew, and Josephine de Courtois, his wife,” I snatched the document from his fingers, and read on. “The proof of this marriage wanting, but supposed to have been solemnized at or about the year 1780 or ‘81. No trace of Mademoiselle de Courtois’ family obtainable, save her relationship to Count de Gabriac, who died in England three years ago. The youth Jasper Carew served in the Bureau of the Minister of War at Paris in ‘95, and was afterwards seen in the provinces, supposed to be employed by the Legitimist party as an agent; traced thence to England, and believed to have gone to America, or the West Indies.” Then followed some vague speculations as to where and how this youth was possibly employed, and some equally delusive guesses as to the signs by which he might be recognized.

“Does that interest you, Gervois?” said Ysaffich. “This is the best part of the narrative, to my thinking; read that, and say if your heart does not bound at the very notion of such a prize.”

The paper which he now handed to me was closely and carefully written, and headed, “Descriptive sketch of the lands and estate of the late Walter Carew, Esq., known as the demesne of Castle Carew, in the county of Wicklow, in Ireland.”

“Two thousand seven hundred acres of a park, and a princely mansion!” exclaimed the Count. “An estate of at least twelve thousand pounds a year! Gervois, my boy, why not attempt it?”

“You talk wildly, Ysaffich,” said I, restraining by a great effort the emotions that were almost suffocating me. “Bethink you who I am, – poor, friendless, and unprotected. Take it, even, that I had the most indisputable right to this fortune; assume, if you will, that I am the very person here alluded to, – where is there a single document to prove my claim? Should I not be scouted at the bare mention of such pretensions?”

“That would all depend on the way the affair was managed,” said he. “If these solicitors whose names and addresses I have here, were themselves convinced or even disposed to credit the truth of the tale we should tell them, they would embark in the suit with all their influence and all their wealth. Once engaged in it, self-interest would secure their zealous co-operation. As to documents, proofs, and all that, these things are a material that lawyers know how to supply, or, if need be, explain the absence of. Of this missing youth’s story I already know enough for our purpose; and when you have narrated for me your own life, we will arrange the circumstances together, and weave of the two one consistent and plausible tale. Take my word for it, that if we can once succeed in interesting counsel in your behalf, the very novelty of the incident will enlist public sympathy. Jurors are, after all, but representatives of that same passing opinion, and will be well disposed to befriend our cause. I speak as if the matter must come to a head; but it need not go so far. When our plans are laid and all our advances duly prepared, we may condescend to treat with the enemy. Ay, Gervois, we may be inclined to accept a compromise of our claim. These things are done every day. The men who seem to sit in all the security of undisturbed possession are buying off demands here, paying hush-money to this man, and bribery to that.”

“But if the real claimant should appear on the stage – ”

“I have reason to believe he is dead these many years,” said he, interrupting; “but were it otherwise, these friends of his are of such a scrupulous temperament, they would not adventure on the suit without such a mass of proof as no concurrence of accidents could possibly accumulate. They have not the nerve to accomplish an undertaking of this kind, where much must be hazarded, and many things done at risk.”

“Which means, in plain words, done fraudulently,” said I, solemnly.

“Let us not fall out about words,” said he, smiling. “When a state issues a paper currency, it waits for the day of prosperity to recall the issue and redeem the debt; and if we live and do well, what shall prevent us making an equally good use of our fortune? But you may leave all this to me; I will undertake every document, from the certificate of your father’s marriage to your own baptism; I will legalize you and legitimatize you; you have only to be passive.”