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Wyman and Sons,
Oriental, Classical, and General Printers,
Great Queen Street, W.C.
The following tale was written between the beginning of February and the 9th of June, 1865, and is now given from the original manuscript, without addition or alterations (save grammatical and trifling verbal). The writer makes this statement in order to account for those discrepancies which the reader will observe between the course of events as therein detailed and the actual. Also in order to claim any small merit there may be in any agreements of the same.
The results of the battle of Lissa have doubly confirmed him in the idea, to illustrate which was the sole purpose of the plot developed in the following pages. Some day two nations, both rich, may go to war with each other, and then execution mast, and will be forced to its limits. In such a case it will be unfortunate for that one of the two countries which at that time shall have suffered itself to be left much behind, for the first start may be everything.
The Ships of Tarshish was written in 1865, and printed in the latter part of 1866, but till now has never been offered for sale. The only chance of being known, or publication, that the work hitherto has had has consisted in the giving away between 1867 and the present time of 30 copies of the work—that being about the number possessed by me in this country up to a year or two ago, at which date I got the sheets of the remainder of the edition forwarded to me, minus about 70 copies unaccounted for.
The whole of the edition, except those 30 copies mentioned, had been left lying at the publishers' warehouse in London during sixteen years. I had, long before that time had elapsed, been quite resigned to aban-doning it to what I thought would be its final destination - the cheese and butter shop; and even then I tried to draw some small consolation from the thought that by that means the ideas in the book might be disseminated and take root in some mind, and bear useful fruit at a future time.
One cause for this feeling was that for most of the period, or during about fourteen years, my whole mind, and necessarily time, was being taken up with "Roads North of Auckland," and whenever the thought of my unfortunate book crossed by mind, it was generally only accompanied with regret for the money I had wanted over it.
This feeling was so strong with me for some time, that even when I read, with some interest, an account of Admiral Popoff's new circular iron-clads in the Black Sea, and which approached a good way towards the ideas set forth in my book, I was not sufficiently moved to look after those neglected copies. I most say for myself, however, that I never, at any time, lost faith in the ultimate realisation of my ideas.
One incident about that time, however, I recollect amused me very much. A gentleman (in Dunedin, I think) wrote to the papers indignantly denouncing what he called Admiral Popoff's piracy of his ideas.
There came a change, however. About September, 1880, at Mr. De Grut's house, Orewa, where I was staying while engaged in surveying an improved line of road between the Wade township and the Hot Springs, Waiwera, I came across the number in the "Illustrated London News," in which was an illustrated description of the Livadia, which vessel I remarked upon at the time as being extremely like my Ships of Tarshish, though owing to the illustration being drawing in perspective, and showing the lofty superstructure, with the ordinary ship-shape appearance of the bow, the hull, or real vessel, was so disguised that the similarity did not come out very clear.
A short, time afterwards Mr. Coppell, at present engineer of the s.s. Rose Casey, at that time in the Argyle, kindly lent me a number of the Marine Engineer—that for August, 1880—which, in addition to a perspective view of the vessel, furnished also horizontal, cross, and longitu dinal sections of it.
Copies of each of the two first-named of those sections are given herewith in juxta-position, for purposes of comparison with the corresponding sections of the Ships of Tarshish. I may add here that the longitudinal section in each case is not given, as the cross section, with the middle or flat portion of the upper line suitably lengthened, would be almost exactly similar to it.
I may also state that though these sections of the Ships of Tarshish were not given with the earliest printed portion of the book, and have only lately been drawn, and therefore might be liable to suspicion from their remarkably close similarity to those of the Livadia, yet at pages 87, etc., and 97, etc., a clearly worded specification of the shape and dimensions is given (in addition to small-scale illustration on book cover), and not a single feature is shown in the drawings which could not be clearly deduced therefrom.
And what if all this is the case? Well—not much, perhaps, with most people. If you mention the Livadia to any of the ordinary run of people at the present time, you will be met with some such remark as—"Oh! the Livadia—she has proved an utter failure." "She is going to be broken up," or "has been broken up," etc.
The Great Eastern also was, or is a failure. "Every one" said she would be, chiefly because she was too big. Well, I suppose in a certain sense she is. The mottoes, "Our craft is in danger, by which we make much gain," or "He followeth not us, and therefore should be forbidden," are sufficient often to create an influence which will cause anything to be a failure. But though the Great Eastern is a failure, the City of Rome, I suppose, is a success; and she is not very unlike the Great Eastern, at leant in point of size.
The Sues Canal ought to have been a failure if the opinion of the highest practical authorities in opposition to those of amateur theorists had been taken. And had the prophets of evil the power in this case to influence the results to the extent which unfortunately they have in most, the Sues Canal would also hare proved a failure.
I may not be an impartial or good judge, but time will show, and with respect to the Livadia being a non-success, I venture to believe that there are some thoughtful people who think differently, and who will be of the opinion, that though the Livadia may never be allowed to travel another mile, she has done a good work by her exhibited proof of speed and steadiness (want of sufficient strength for the unfair trial to which she was put, and not being on a scale large enough for an ocean steamer of her shape, being her only defects), and that her construction will be quoted in after ages as the commencement of the greatest revolution ever made in the means of ocean travelling.
It is partly because I have made come lucky hits and guesses already in connection with the subject, in the shape of predictions, in my printed book, and which I will point out further on, and partly in the hope that my humble effort may perhaps expedite the course of events, that I am now writing this additional preface to show what, in my opinion, the nature of this revolution will be—in short, what the ultimate form and size of the ships of the future will be not very much unlike. This portion of the subject I will treat of in the second part of this prologue, after I have first dealt with the already printed book.
To the thoughtful people, I have alluded to, it may be interesting to have pointed out the many curious coincidences between the Ships of Tarshish and the Livadia as regards shape, proportions of length, breadth, height, etc., and they will therefore excuse the exhibition of any small amount of gratified vanity that I may display in pointing them out.
This comparison I now proceed to make, first premising that any one of the linear dimensions of the Livadia is almost exactly two-thirds of that corresponding to it in the Ships of Tarshish.
The Livadia is 235 feet long, the Ship of Tarshish 350 feet long, two-thirds of which equal 234 feet.
The former is 153 feet broad, the latter 230 feet, two-thirds of which equal 154 feet.
Now this proportion of length to breadth was not adopted by the designers of the Livadia in an arbitrary manner, but after careful trials. Among others "the late Mr. W. Froude conducted, at the request of Admiral Popoff, some experiments with the models of vessels of his design." I quote from a paper read before the Fairfield Association of Engineers and Ship Builders, by E. E. Goulaeff, Captain of the Corps of Naval Architects, R.I.N., Ad. C., F.R.S.N.A., M.I.N.A. I also quote from it the following:—
"This vessel" (the Livadia) "is 235 feet long, 153 feet broad, and has a draught of 6ft. 6in. She might have been a little longer, but on closer investigation it was found that the addition of some 25ft or 50ft. to her length would not have reduced the resistance in water. Augmentation of skin friction, not being sufficiently compensated by the improved lines, would have required increased power to drive the larger vessel with the given speed. She might have been a little narrower to suit the taste of most people, yet the beam of 153 feet cannot be regarded as being too great if we bear in mind the main object of her design, namely, the desire to secure the greatest steadiness."
I may confess here that the way in which the proportions of length to breadth in the Ships of Tarshish was arrived at by myself was not by any means experimental or scientific. I simply pondered over the matter, and, like a German philosopher (I was in Germany at the time), evolved the idea out of my own internal consciousness that the outline produced by the longtitudinal bisection of a long-shaped egg would give the proportions of length to breadth most desirable in the sort of vessel I had in view.
I accordingly selected an egg of suitable shape, and, holding it firmly over a sheet of paper, and keeping my eye at a good height, as well as I Could perpendicularly over it, with one of Faber's patent long thin leads I drew by hand a projection of the outline of the egg on paper; and having "touched" up the inequalities of the outline so produced, I scaled the length and breadth of the resulting figure, and so obtained the proportions which I used.
The height from the water line to the crown of the arch forming the highest part of the deck of the hull in the Livadia is fourteen feet by scale from the drawings given in the Marine Engineer. (The dimensions were not given in the accompanying letterpress, but the scaling brought the same result in both longtitudinal and cross sections, as compared with length and breadth of vessels. The distance from bottom to crown of arch shows 20½ feet.)
The Livadia, then, is fourteen feet from water line or base of arch to highest part of arch forming deck. The same dimension in Ships of Tarshish is 22 feet, two-thirds of which equal 14½ feet.
Now, this is, perhaps, a more extraordinary coincidence than any of the others, as the particular form of arch used for the Livadia might have been selected arbitrarily—that if, within the limits of three or four feet, more or less height—while that for the Ships of Tarshish, being for fighting ships, was amenable to the necessity of having the tangent to it at the point of its intersection with water line, at an inclination not steeper than 45 degrees.
The draught of the Livadia (with coals) is 6½ feet; that of the Ships of Tarshish (with coals), 10½ feet; two-thirds of which equal 7 feet.
This result affords me some gratification (I mean the proved draught of the Livadia), as it shows that my rough estimate given in book, and which took me only about an hour to arrive at, must be pretty near correct.
With the same load, in proportion to size, the Ships of Tarshish should have drawn 10 feet. They would have a heavier load of steel and iron to carry on the hull, in the shape of armour and numerous cells; but these, again, would be nearly balanced by the heavy superstructure carried by the Livadia, the remainder being met with the six or seven inches extra draught of the Ships of Tarshish above the proportion of three to two.
The flat bottom of the Livadia is double, the skins averaging about 3 feet apart, the interval between being filled with numerous cells, narrow and long. The flat bottom in the Ships of Tarshish is double, with skins 4 feet apart, the interval between being filled with much more numerous cells of a hexagonal form. The bottom, in fact, would resemble a honeycomb, with thin sheets top and bottom covering the cells.
The Livadia has three screws, and with the three funnels belonging to them placed a little more than three-sevenths, of the hull's length from the stern. The Ships of Tarshish have three screws and their three funnels (as shown in drawing on cover) are placed a little more than three-sevenths of the hull's length from the stern. Now, this fixing of position was entirely a hap-hazard matter on my part.
Here the more near resemblances cease with regard to the respective structures of the two sets of vessels; but where they differ, the advantage with respect to strength is in favour of the Ships of Tarshish, as was necessary should be the case for fighting ships.
The sides of the Livadia are strengthened, and the vessel is protected from sinkability by double vertical bulkheads, running round the
The Ships of Tarshish have a double skin to every part of the hull, the interval between being filled with numerous hexagonal, truncated-pyramidal, or prismatoidal cells, according as surface is flat or more or less sharply rounded, a construction—in connection with adjuncts such as tubular braces and girders provided, for in book—giving immense strength.
Now, I do not mean to claim that I have arrived at anything like correct finality, and I think it more than probable that my ideas are unpractical as far as hitting upon the line between economy and absolutely necessary strength is concerned; but I have an instinct, nevertheless, which assures me that the structure of the sides, deck, and bottom of fighting ships, ultimately fixed upon, will come much nearer to that of the Ships of Tarshish than to that of the ironclads at present in vogue—even leaving shape entirely out of question. I boldly claim, however, to have proposed the most perfect form (being a slight modification of that of the Ships of Tarshish) for unsinkable ships in the second part of this preface, that can be devised, as far as effectiveness is concerned: the only question being—Is it necessary, on the score of expense, to adopt the most perfect form?
But with respect to the question of shape, I was gratified to read the following extract from a leader in the Marine Engineer of August 1880, printed fifteen years after the Ships of Tarshish was written, and eighteen years after I first conceived the idea worked out in that book. The article is on the Livadia, and something very similar to it in reasoning and tone will be found at pages 95 and following in the boot.
"Should this vessel prove as successful as we anticipate, she will be the beau ideal of the steadiest gun platform in a heavy sea. Not only on account of her steadiness and speed will she, in our opinion, prove a new departure in ironclads, but we think she possesses an entirely novel attribute of safety, which we believe has not yet been remarked upon. We have before pointed out that in the constant rivalry between heavy guns and thick armour, the guns have still, and are likely to continue to have, a great supremacy." (See page 48, fourth line from bottom.) "We have not yet by any means reached limit of weight or piercing power in our guns and projectiles, while we are now being sorely puzzled how to add thicker armour to our already over-weighted ironclads. No serious effort has yet, however, in our opinion, been made to devise an ironclad which, by its peculiar arrangement of surface, should prevent the direct impact of a shot. In the case of the Livadia, if the superstructure were removed, and the turbot-shaped hull alone remained." (the
The Livadia, "with the superstructure removed," would be an almost exact model of the Ships of Tarshish. See drawings.
I believe, if ever the North Pole is to be reached, it will have to be by means of vessels constructed like the Ships of Tarshish, with modifications as described hereinafter with respect to "the ships of the future." A broad strong vessel that could never be crushed in, divided into numerous small cells, with saws working in front, with a deck shaped like the double mould boards of a moulding plough at the hinder part, with an arrangement of travelling scoops like those of a dredge to throw the ice detached behind the vessel as the latter burrowed its way, would do a good deal in places where another vessel would be hopelessly jammed. A perfectly circular vessel would perhaps be the best, because it might be required to be able to turn on its own centre at times.
A few words as to the origin of the book, the Ships of Tarshish. I landed in England in March, 1862, and one morning, a few days after—in common, I suppose, with many others—I was much impressed by reading the news of the encounter between the Merrimac and Monitor, and the sinking of the Constitution (I think it was) by the former ship.
The problem of how to secure absolute, or almost absolute, invulnerability for ships, immediately occurred to my mind. I thought of how the weak might be protected against the strong by suitable measures carried out with prudence and foresight.
In old times, long before, I remember how that portion of Cooper's novel, the "Deerslayer," took my fancy which described old Tom Hutter's Ark on the Glimmerglass Lake, and the safety it afforded against the murderous rush of the Indians described in one of the scenes of the book.
I suppose I was the more easily impressed from associations of ideas connected with my infant days at Paihia, when we all had to live in residences surrounded by high palisading as a protection against the muru expeditions to which we were liable about once a month, upon some pretext or another.
But to return. During the next year or two I often reflected on the best form of vessel for securing such absolute safety, and that which Ships of Tarshish, invulnerable, and with a shallow draught of water.) The result was the idea brought out in the book.
With respect to one important property, however, of these broad, flat-bottomed vessels, I must confess my ignorance at the time I wrote it. I had no idea that there was such a small difference (if any) in capabilities for speed between them and the orthodox shaped vessels. It was an agreeable surprise to me to be enlightened on the subject. That there is only a small difference (if any) will be illustrated by the following comparison communicated by Sir E. J. Reed to the Times, latter part of 1880
Near the commencement of this prologue I alluded to a certain sort of anticipatory lucky hits which I had made in the book, and which I now bring forward. It will be observed that though written in the beginning of 1865 the book professes to describe events which occurred in 1867.
At page 47 is described the construction of an immense dock not far from Gravesend (called Wavesend in book) on northern side of river in marshy land. That the northern side is intended is shown by the drawing on cover, and direction taken by the first monster on emerging from the dock.
A short time ago I came across a scrap of newspaper from which I extract the following, which does not read altogether unlike the description of the Tarshish Works at said page 47:—
"The New Tilbury Docks at Gravesend."Every succeeding dock has, of late years, been constructed lower down the river, and, at length, the East and West India Dock Company have boldly pushed their enterprise light down to Gravesend, or rather Tilbury, just opposite to Gravesend, from which works of a most gigantic character may be seen in progress, all through the night as well as by day. No such dock construction as this has ever been witnessed since docks were first in requisition. By day, a stretch of land three-quarters of a mile long, and perhaps half a mile wide, appears to be one scene of activity never suspended for above an hour at a time, and not entirely
even for an hour, Sunday or week-day…. When these docks are finished the largest vessels afloat will, it is said, be capable of coming in and going out, irrespectively of tide."
At page 48 "the big paper, the Great Diurnal Weathercock," is mentioned. Lately, in reading "John Bull and his Island," I find the paper intended called therein a "creaking old weathercock."
At page 67, in paragraph nearest foot, certain political transactions and intrigues—influencing a particular great personage—are described as occurring in July, 1867, which might serve very well in every particular as a condensed statement of what actually did occur in the same month three years later, in connection with same parties, the only exception being that another nation was substituted for Albion as object of aggression.
In Chapter XIX., a sudden declaration of war is stated to have been made in the latter half of July, 1867. In the latter half of July three years after that date a sudden declaration of war was actually made by the potentate indicated.
At page 100 is described the behaviour of the Ships of Tarshish in a fierce gale, and the appearance of their decks covered with luminous foam, etc.
In the paper read before the Fairfield Institute by Captain Gonlaeff, already alluded to, occurs the following passage describing the behaviour of Admiral Popoff's circular vessels in a gale:—"Very often when on board a circular ironclad steaming in a gale, watching the behaviour of the boisterous seas about the rounded deck of the vessel, I was lost in admiration of the fruitless attempts made by the picturesque phosphorescent waves to produce any influence on the majestic steadiness of the ship."
Lastly, among other curious coincidences, in the beginning of the same paper the Livadia is styled "The Fairfield child," the syllable italicized—the first of the two composing the name—being identical with the first of the two composing the name of myself, who, 15 years previously, had printed a specification of vessels similar to the one being described, that one at the same time being so revolutionary in its design.
One hit, however, of mine, which I must mention, was not so lucky, although a curious coincidence was mixed up with it too; for the fact forming which, however, only my word will have to be taken. The poor Baron who was described at page 67 as being so politically active in July, 1867, died about nine months before that date. The very same mail that brought to me, in the country village where I was residing, the proof of page 67, brought the daily paper recording his unexpectedly sudden death.
I had almost forgotten to state amongst the foregoing what may prove to be the greatest coincidence of all, but the stating of which, I suppose, will subject me to the derision and contempt of the wise and the learned. When I called those ships, of so strange and unusual a shape, the Ships of Tarshish, I did not dream that such would ever be fit for any other than fighting ships.
The name was of course taken from the Bible, and I always fully believed that the ships of Tarshish of prophecy meant the ships of England, or rather of the majority of the English-speaking peoples, and that they were also passenger-carrying ships, and therefore I felt (and was mentally uncomfortable therefor) the impropriety of giving that name to vessels fit only for fighting purposes. I had not then, I repeat, the least idea of what I now feel certain, since Admiral Popoff's experiment (at present seemingly unsuccessful) that of their shape will be the passenger ships of the future.
(By way of parenthesis, and partly because we are so much despised by many wise, by many learned, I may state that I am not ashamed to confess that I am one of those crazy ones who believe in what is some times called the "Anglo-Israel" theory. I first heard of it neatly ten years ago, and believed in it at once, only wondering I had not thought of it previouly. But then I was predisposed to believe, which made all the difference.
I had come to the conclusion long before, as evidenced by the ninth chapter of my book, that the English-speaking peoples formed the nucleus of Daniel's fifth kingdom, and I felt vexed at my want of discernment in not having properly appreciated such a difficulty as that God should have allowed the descendants of His chosen people to be set aside for others, these others to take their place completely, even to the "keeping of their statutes which they never kept in their own land." And also how all the splendid promises made to Abraham's seed should have been allowed to end in a miserable fiasco. For if we except a small period of time comprising the latter portion of David's and beginning of Solomon's respective reigns, the history of the children of Israel appears to be composed of a constant succession of troubles and strugglings for existence. Of course if one does not really believe the Bible, and looks upon the predictions of the prophets as the mere poetical and patriotic effusions of excited imaginations, it is perfectly useless to pursue such a subject for one instant.
But as for me, I believe in the Bible as a book different from every other book. I believe that every jot and tittle of the prophecies will be fulfilled. I even believe in the first chapter of Genesis as being a mistakes than any other mortal man before his time or since.
I am not altogether ignorant of either scientific or would-be scientific dicta on these subjects. At the same time I am not altogether overwhelmed by their authority, for I consider that the true instinct of a simple and unworldly mind may sometimes be superior in discernment to reason, and I also am constantly pervaded with a sense of the possibilities of infinitude, of the things in heaven and earth, which are not dreamt of in any philosophy.
I have a sort of instinctive hope that, when that abomination of desolation, the Mahomedan rule, is ended, allowing proper search to be made, Noah's Ark will be discovered, that the tabernacle, the ark, and the altar of incense hidden by Jeremiah will be found—(if the coffin of Agamemnon, who died more than 300 years previous to the time of Jeremiah, has been discovered, why not these things?)—as also Pharaoh's chariot wheels, and other relics of his army destroyed in crossing the Red Sea.
On the other hand, I will state, in order to complete my degradation, that I never could (not even as a boy) and do not, believe in the "sublime theory," or scientific dogma, of universal gravitation; and as for terrestrial gravitation, I believe in Sir Richard Phillips' explanation of its cause as given in his "Million of Facts." I have noticed scientific men professing to be horrified when some theory—say in connection with the sun—involving the principle or necessity of perpetual motion has been broached, as if that was sufficient to condemn it right off; but to me universal gravitation appears to involve that principle with a vengeance.)
But to resume, after this long parenthesis. If all these promises are to be faithfully kept—if these prophecies are to be fulfilled—if the descendants of the children of Israel are to be taken to their own land (where it is easy to see, in any case, even from only a secular and common-sense point of view, will be the metropolis of the world one day, in every other sense as completely as by position it is physically), then how curious that I should unconsciously—not dreaming at the time, as I have said, of passenger ships—have given the name mentioned in the prophecies to a particular form and shape of vessel (the most revolutionary since the time of Noah), and which will eventually prove to be that which will be employed to do the work mentioned in those
The immediately foregoing is not so much an irrelevant digression, as most readers perhaps will think it, for the reason that the Ships of Tarshish would never have been written had I not been strongly imbued with the sentiments expressed therein.
And now, before I proceed to the second part of this preface, which will open out new considerations, I will make a few final remarks on the book generally.
I do not wish to lay claim to any great merit for my ideas, or to any portion of the credit due to Admiral Popoff for having independently carried out practically what I had conceived of theoretically.
But I think I can claim this much. I had the good fortune, or good sense (whichever it may have been) to clear in one bound—a good way towards finality—a great way beyond several steps which have been taken since in actual practice, the most of them composed of innumerable successive experiments and expensive Tinkerings, with disappointingly uncertain results. (Even as I am copying this, which I wrote three or four weeks ago between whiles, I read in the English news of the justifiable alarm which the state of the English Navy is arousing. Do you think, intelligent reader, that if a ship of the form and dimensions of one of the Ships of Tarshish had been built sixteen years ago, even had she cost three times as much as the most costly in the British navy, that she would not now be worth her cost in the sense of security given? And can the same thing, or anything like the same thing, be truly said of any of the vessels built at that time or since?)
I think I avoided the two chief defects of the present class of vessels. Firstly, their want of steadiness and their inability to carry sufficient thickness of armour. For in vessels of the Ships of Tarshish class, in addition to almost absolute steadiness in any weather, there would scarcely be any limit to the resisting power of the armour which they could carry, owing to their great breadth together with their peculiar shape, as regards inclination of all surfaces above water line.
Secondly, I anticipated what has always seemed to me a fatal defect in the construction of the orthodox style of vessels. These latter appear to me to require barely to touch one another to cause yawning seams to open out in every direction, the vessels filling and going down in a few minutes, as instanced in the case of the Vanguard, Grosser Kurfürst, and, only the other day nearly, in the case of the collision between the Valiant and Defence.
I think the method suggested in my book, or some not very great modification of it, would remedy this defect. This method is the having the sides, top and bottom formed with doable skins, with interval between filled with numerous small cells. The resistance to any blow would thus be distributed over a great number of parts, which, with each of their junctions affording a certain amount of yielding, one after the other, would present an extent of elasticity that would deaden any blow, while any crushing in would only be local. Such a construction would also present a complete system of trussing, radiating in every direction, thus rendering the vessel equally strong in every direction, so that it could almost be able to rest on a pivot, such as a rock, without experiencing damaging strains.
An extreme illustration of the difference between the two styles of construction would be a piece of glass in contrast to a piece of pumice stone. A blow delivered with a small hammer would splinter the one into fragments, while it would only bruise the other. Now my idea of vessels is that they should be almost absolutely indestructible—that neither dynamite nor torpedoes should be able to sink them—that they should be able to be run ashore full tilt, as the Triumph was on Tiritiri-matangi, and yet be able to be backed off again with their own steaming power, and stall then have a reserve of buoyancy left uninjured sufficient to enable them to proceed to the nearest harbour or dock (even though hundreds of miles distant) with safety. But I am anticipating my second part.
The seemingly chief objection to this class of fighting ships is their great expense; but this struck me as being one of the greatest arguments in their favour. England, with her immense foreign trade and consequent wealth, who has interests to protect abroad of tenfold greater extent than has any of the continental powers, and who at the same time, owing to her insular position, is not under the necessity as they are of keeping up immense standing armies,—England, I say, would be placed in a position of relative advantage by every increase in the expense of naval warfare, on account of her greater wealth and the additional expenditure being on armaments much more than on men.
If one seriously reflects, it seems absurd that England should be satisfied with a fleet only a little stronger than that of France, who has an army five times as strong as the former has; or that Italy should possess individual vessels capable of overpowering the strongest ones in the English Navy, and consequently capable in on action of destroying a whole fleet of vessels, one after the other.
To me it seems that England ought, after allowing for difference in wages in the two countries, and hidden expenses (as services in kind by
But if that should be thought too much, yet after all, as England's naval power, increased to any extent, could never be anything more than a defensive power, she should have a fleet at least twice as strong as that of any one of the other powers, and comprising individual vessels much stronger than the strongest that could be opposed to them. Just in the same manner as their standing armies, armaments, and fortresses dwarf those of England, making it utterly out of the question that she with her army should ever be able to invade one of their countries, so should England possess such a navy as to render it just as utterly out of the question that any one or more of them should be able with their navies to invade her island.
About the end of October, 1880, I sent a letter to Admiral Popoff along with a copy of the Ships of Tarshish. I received in reply, immediately by return of post, the kind and courteous letter which is inserted at the end of this preface, and which I have given in fac-simile (pretty faithfully rendered), as I thought a time might come when it would be interesting, as—to use the Admiral's phrase—"adding to the history of the subject."
At the time the letter was written he had not yet (as he states therein) received the book, but I had taken the precaution to enclose in my letter tracings of drawings similar to those inserted at end of this preface, with addition of one of the longitudinal section, and which were drawn strictly in accordance with the description at page 95 of book, as may be verified.
I also at the same time sent a letter and a copy of the book along with similar tracings to Sir E. J. Reed. I received no acknowledgment from him. I have heard since that at the time my letter would have reached England he was absent in Japan. But even if that had not been the case, it would no doubt have been too much to have expected any notice of the matter from one with such multifarious demands on his valuable time.
And now for a few general remarks on the original book itself, which I am now about to offer to the public after the 18 years during
The book is in the form of a novel, but I do not pride myself on the felicity of the plot or the diction, nor is it of the kind that the general run of novel readers would hanker after. My first idea was to write it in the form of a burlesque, and indications of this will be seen in the opening chapters. But I had not the skill to keep this up, I suppose, or I found as I went on that it was going to clash with the practical purpose for which the book was written, and so I soon drifted into a more serious style. Magna componere parvis, I remember Dickens describes something of the same sort with respect to the first design of Pickwick.
I have not read the Battle of Dorking, never having come across it, but from what I have been told, I believe, in its leading purpose— that of warning against unpreparedness, it was anticipated by my book.
There is a good deal in the book I would like to strike out, if I had the chance, and a good deal which I think I could improve upon, but it cannot be helped now. I beg the reader therefore not to regard the composition as a novel, but only as a description of what was, in the writer's opinion, the proper form for fighting vessels, more particularly for coast and harbour defence.
The political opinions, arguments, retorts, etc., given in the opening pages of the book, are not to be taken as expressing my own individual sentiments (not, however, that I suppose that they would be held to matter much), but only as faithful and literal transcriptions of what I actually heard from others or read at the time stated.
In the chapter entitled German Chaff, or the too idiomatic translation of it, the English chaff, unbrilliant as it may be, was taken from actual remarks heard at the time from persons, or from English papers, while the German Chaff with all its brilliance is, almost word for word, taken from German newspapers at the time.
At that time from the biggest city, Zeitung, to the smallest village, Krentzer Wochen, or Tag-blatt (three kreutzers make a penny), each was full of John Bull's delinquencies; and Englishmen generally had a hard time of it, unless they were prudent, and kept very quiet. John Bull was the most sordid, contemptible creature on earth; full of greed, mean envy, trickery, bounce and cowardice. Even at the fairs, in the Punch and Judy shows, special comedies were improvised for the introduction of John as subjected to all sorts of deserved humiliations before grinning audiences.
Even when, three or four rears after, he spent 14 millions in rescuing about 30 persons from captivity (being at the rate of about half-a-million each person), of whom only one was an Englishman, the rest being
I remarked at that time (1864), however, that some of the German Evangelical papers (I think the ones I noticed were edited by Moravians) even during the season of greatest political heat, spoke always of the English in none but terms of kindness and respect. From which I infer that there are some parts of the nation who also belong to Israel.
One so thought insuperable objection to our Anglo-Israel theory is that the tares have been so hopelessly mixed up with the wheat, that the idea of ever being able to distinguish them is absurd. But when the time of harvest comes it will be found that the work will be easy enough; they will label themselves. I believe in the instincts of race.
For my part I have a great respect and liking for the Germans and their kindred nationalities. Next to being a British-descended New Zealander I would be a Briton. Next to that I would be a British-descended American. Next to that a German, or Scandinavian, or a Huguenot Frenchman (whatever now may be his representative).
I think it might be a good thing for the world if Germany, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway could be united in one large empire, but not without the full and free consent of all concerned.
I am afraid, however, such dreams are not to be; that it is too late (the three frogs being already abroad), and that the elements of internal disorder and mutual jealousy existent amongst continental nations, are too great to allow of their being realised; therefore I believe that, after a time of great trouble, in which we also, owing to the mixture of tares with our wheat, will be greatly shaken, the better parts of those nations, gazing round agonized and reeling from the effects of general anarchy, and sacrificing all particular national feelings, will ask to be taken under our wing, and so "be blessed."
Some of the opinions set forth in this second part, and which relate to the shape and manner of construction of the ships of the future, have been formed since the construction of the Livadia, and after knowledge of the results obtained by her as to speed. Some have also been partly suggested by the second part of the paper already mentioned as having been read by Captain Goulaeff before the Fairfield Association of Livadia's) class considered as means of International communication."
Now, whatever may be said to the contrary (and there are always optimists to be found who are ever ready to aver, like Sam Welter's young nobleman, and from equally disinterested motives, that "wotever is is right"), I think the present state of things with respect to comfort and safety on board of passenger ships is a reproach both to the practical and scientific world. The humiliations and miseries which often, and much of them always, have to be endured on a sea passage, would seem perfectly unbearable, were it not for the feeling, that it is best to put on a good face in encountering the inevitable.
Just fancy the following contrasts. A man has the choice between two different classes of hotel to live in. It would be quite possible, say, for him to inhabit one with roomy apartments, in a salubrious locality, with fragrant breezes pervading it, with lofty and noble apartments to live in, and with good-sized comfortable beds to sleep in —in short, with everything desirable. This is choice Number One, but as yet only possible.
Next comes choice Number Two, at present unfortunately only of the character known as Hobson's.
But the man is told, nevertheless, that there is no occasion at all for his having the comforts described. There is another class of hotel quite good enough for him unless he wishes to display a ridiculous squeamishness or effeminacy. Surely what has been brought up to a pitch far better than anything enjoyed by his forefathers for hundreds of generations, is good enough for him. He ought to be put in a glass case, or does he want to hare a whole house to himself?—these being favourite forms of phrases employed.
Imagine him then installed in this splenderiferous Number Two hotel! There is, in fact, plenty of a sort of splendour about it. Lots of carving and gilding and æsthetic choices of colour and form; plenty polished panels of bird's-eye maple and other exquisitely grained woods; but, nevertheless, all the rooms in it seem low ceiled, narrow and cramped, and in addition there is a smell, or compound of many smells, of the kind usually known by the name of close, everywhere, and which have a tendency to make one's heart come into one's mouth, as the saying is, the
But to return. The man is told that all these are only very small drawbacks, and that if he only knew it, he would find he was jolly well off. He perhaps then inspects his bedroom. He finds not only that it is miserably small, but that he can't have a room to himself unless at an extortionate price; but not only that, he must sleep in a narrow crib affixed to the wall, with another crib just over him, this second crib being near the ceiling, so that in either one has scarcely room to sit up without knocking one's forehead against something. Also the crib is so narrow, that if, as a relief from lying as in a coffin, corpse fashion, he wishes to relieve his position while on his side, by doubling up his knees toward his chin, he finds the sides of the crib prevent him.
But these are only the least of the drawbacks which quickly reveal themselves to him. As he is sitting to his first meal, mayhap, he finds that the locality where this hotel is situated is subject to curious subterraneous disturbances, such as pitchings and rockings. All of a sudden he finds a plate of soup, together with several knives, forks, spoons, glasses, etc., launched into his lap; and presently he feels very queer and turns pale, and is glad to "turn into"—I believe that is the correct phrase—the before-mentioned narrow crib in his cramped up hole of a bedroom; and the small narrow window of which the waiter, coming in, proceeds to close and screw up, informing him at the same time that it must on no account be opened again, as a lot of waterworks are going to play against it shortly.
But even this is not the worst. There are a lot of drains beneath the hotel filled with stinking sewage. The subterraneous rockings stir all this up, and all the rooms in the hotel are filled with sewage gas combined with smells of train oil and burnt fat from the kitchen. But the man will be told, for his comfort, that all this is nothing when one is used to it. If he wants fresh air there is a flat roof to the hotel where he can walk in the wind and rain, only he must be cautious that with the swaying of the edifice he doesn't get pitched over the balcony railings into the street below.
Supposing there were such a choice as described, which do you think a man would take? And if he could afford it, how many times over
Now, it is certain, in spite of all optimist complacency of views with regard to the present state of things, that the reproaches to oceanic intercommunication, or navigation, will not be taken away until the following results are secured:—
I think these results can be obtained, and that the public will insist upon them within the next two or three generations, and for the following reasons:—
It will be simply a question of whether such a class of ships would pay. Now, suppose we take 45 years hence as the outside period within which the revolution will be accomplished. Then, firstly, the advance, token even at the rate of simple and regular progression made in securing the result, will not be greater over the present state of oceanic intercommunication than is the present beyond that of 45 years ago.
Secondly, the improvements in the world's affairs do not move in simple progression but in geometrical. The advance in the last 45 years has been greater than that of the previous 100 years, and we may reasonably expect that the advance of the next 22 years will be at least as great as that of the last 45 years. For even if there were to be no farther improvements in vessels with respect to the three requisites of unsinkability, unwreckability, and freedom from sickness with regard to those travelling by them, I think, from the progress of civilisation alone, that in 45 years' time at least 50 persons will travel by sea for each one who does so at the present time. Also that, further, this number would be multiplied by ten at once directly after the three requisites just before mentioned were established. So that in 45 years' time the number of sea-going travellers, all over the world, will probably be at the present rate multiplied 500 times, which will be, perhaps, 10 times as many as would be required to make the class of vessels in question pay for construction and running. (Further on, however, I will suggest a method by which one of such a class of vessels may be made to answer as an experiment at a much earlier period.)
I think that the dimensions of the passenger-carrying, ocean-going ships of the future will be something like 500 feet wide by 750 feet long. I fix upon these figures because the breadth, as proved by the experiments hereinbefore alluded to, should be two-thirds of the length, and I take 500 feet to be the least extent required to secure nearly an equilibrium in the heaviest gales. This is with reference to the width of ocean waves, respecting which I am sorry to confess I have no data. The vessel's breadth should be double that of the wave, or nearly so.
I now proceed to describe how these vessels could be constructed to secure the results required as regards the indispensable requisites already mentioned, provided no better method could be found—that is, with reference to drawing the line in a practical manner between economy and efficiency. However, my plans in the present instance have been governed by the consideration that in first experiments it is always best to err on the side of efficiency.
These vessels would be of the Livadia or Ships of Tarshish fashion. They would be flat bottomed, and would, with dimensions as given, not draw more than from 21 to 23 feet of water at the outside, according to the extent to which they were loaded and the number of stories which they carried.
The flat bottom should be constructed with two skins 24 to 26 feet apart, or 3 feet more than the draught of water. This interval between the skins should be filled up by honeycomb-shaped cells of steel, say of 10 feet perpendicular diameter, with ends abutting against skins, and their sides secured to those of each other adjoining, with innumerable screws or by whatever other method might be found best (for, as I think I have said already, I do not lay claim to any knowledge of practical detail in these matters).
These cells would be fixed to the skins at top and bottom with brackets, and each would be provided with a man-hole.
It might be a question whether these cells should be attached at bottom to a general skin passing over several of them in one sheet, or whether each cell should have a separate and detached bottom secured to it by brackets and screws, so as to be removable for the purpose of cleaning when required, so as that the vessel would not require to be docked for cleaning or repairs. In short, it might be possible to apply the same principle to every part of the vessel, by having it so constructed that any damaged part could be removed and replaced by sound material, which, if it could be managed, would be an immense advantage.
I may here state that I am now of opinion that I was wrong with respect to the depth of the cells forming the bottom in the Ships of Tarshish, or of the interval between skins thereof, which should have been at least 12 feet instead of 4 feet as given in the book, or so as to exceed the draught of water by 18 inches to 2 feet, thus providing a sufficient margin of buoyancy in case of damage done to some of the cells.
Now, as I would propose having at least six screws to each vessel, and as this bottom might interfere with the proper placing of the screw shafting, there might be grooves left where wanted by making some of the cells of a less height than the rest to the extent necessary. Then, to obviate any insecurity caused by this provision, between each pair of screws there might be longitudinal divisions (ending in a cross division) extending from bottom to roof, each dividing wall being, say, 4ft. wide, and composed of rectangular-sectioned tubes (4ft. x 4ft. x 10ft.) rivetted to one another, tope, bottoms, and ends, and with all joints in layers broken. All the watertight divisions in the ship should have their walls constructed in a similar manner.
The rest of the vessel, sides and arched deck, would be of the shape shown in the lithographed sections of the Ships of Tarshish, furnished herewith, with double skins, say 10 feet apart, filled with 10 feet wide cells, six sided, and of shapes more or less irregular, according to the rounding of the parts against which their ends would abut.
At about 100 feet from the bows I would have a cross division formed of double skins, reaching from bottom to roof. Skins, 10 feet apart, with the interval between them filled with steel hexagons laid horizontally, and secured to each other and to skins in the manner described for the flat bottom, or, if preferred, on the alternative plan for isolation there suggested. This would be to provide for the vessel running on to the shore, or against an iceberg, or coming into collision with any other vessel, and I think the length mentioned, 100 feet, would provide a sufficient margin. For I believe, owing to the great elasticity which would result from the numerous junctions comprised in the form of construction specified, that even if the vessel ran full tilt on to the shore, as the Triumph did on the rocks under the lighthouse, not more than 50 feet of the vessel would be crushed in. This effect also would be much helped by all the iron and steel used for the cells of which the vessel or floating air-bag, as it might be called, would be composed, being so thin, in comparison with the enormous bulk of the structure, that as the parts were crushed in one after the other the successive shocks would be gradually weakened as by a buffer.
In fact, this last described quality is that which has filled my mind as the one great requirement or sine quâ non in ship construction ever since 1862, or when I first conceived the idea of the Ships of Tarshish.
Though of course the possibility of collisions should be thus provided for, from the nature of such vessels—their enormous bulk and height, and the splendid lights they would naturally carry, the risk of such occurrences would be almost infinitesimal.
On the other hand, imagine that no alteration is made on the present style of vessels, and that the passenger traffic increases in a few years, so that twenty steamers run to one that runs now—a very moderate estimate—then in suck case we can see by the alarming rate at which fatal collisions have increased within only the last ten years that the risk will become simply terrific.
But to return to the vessels. They should also be furnished with tubular girders and braces wherever required, and which it is not necessary I should specify, as I do not pretend, as before said, to have sufficient practical experience to enable me to define these details in the best possible manner.
Yet of this I feel confident, that vessels of the sort described, even if they ran ashore, would often be able—owing to their flat bottoms and immense size, by which that of the waves would be dwarfed —to back themselves off again. I feel confident also that owing to the localising power with respect to possible injuries conferred by the form of construction and minute subdivisions, before alluded to, that even explosions of dynamite or infernal machines (a state of things quite necessary to be provided for now-a-days, and which, in my humble opinion, will be much worse before it is better) would not prove effective for destruction to the extent of causing sinking.
This then—the structure as specified—would form a raft or support on which any kind of superstructure desired to form the inhabitable part of the vessel might be raised, and which could be of any number of stories required.
The crown of the arch of the superstructure would be about 50 feet out of the water. Three stories, say, on the top of this, each about 17 feet high, would make the highest deck about 100 feet above the level of the sea, and the topmost balconies about 83 feet above the same level.
There might be a circular tower in the midst of the vessel reaching say 100 feet higher, and from the summit of which the electric light could be displayed at night.
I think, by swinging on gimbals, with an immense pendulum beneath, aided by some regulator which might be devised, the having a billiard room usable in ordinary weather would be practicable.
After providing sufficient room for the play of the waves over the rounded side of the vessel, there would be about four acres and a half of space available as a ground floor, and about five acres on each of the upper stories, independently of room for wide balconies, the extra area being carried on pillars or stanchions, which would not interfere with the action of the waves to any serious extent.
I will now proceed to indicate how I think the enterprise of building a vessel such as described might be made to pay at a much earlier date than the 45 years hence, before mentioned as a limit. For their being an actual fact, at some time or another, I look upon as a moral certainty.
Still one would like to hasten their day; and if this humble effort of mine, by stirring up thought and imagination on the subject, shall conduce to that hastening, by a generation it may be, or even any still smaller period, I will be compensated for the cost and trouble that it has been to me, to a great extent.
The plan then that I would propose would be to build such a vessel, and establish a permanent international exhibition on it, providing a Crystal Palace in the middle thereof, with suites of rooms to be let out to wealthy invalids in the wings.
I believe no Continental or other resort known—no Nice, no Men-tone, no Baden-Baden, no Righi, no other known place whatever—not even, last though by no means least, our own far-famed Waiwera, that charming sea-side retreat of which we Aucklanders are so proud—would equal in health-giving powers such vessels properly used. Here would be breathed the pure air of the ocean with its ozone and all its other good constituents, without any of the sea-sickness, cramping up in confined spaces of the present style of ships, and (owing to the large scale of everything, and elevation above all machinery) without any of their delightful alternatives of either composite smells and general stuffiness, or having one's head half blown off by violent draughts, or without any of those drawbacks always experienced more or less on shore, through defective sanitary arrangements or otherwise.
In addition to the revenue derivable from permanent lodgers, an additional one might be got by taking the vessel with its permanent exhibition for years from one part of the world to another, by which means
It would be easy to dilate on all the other advantages and charms connected with such a project, but it would be a very dull imagination which would require their recital, and therefore I will not dwell much on them. Parva componere magnis, once more, we in New Zealand have had some small experience of something of the sort in connection with the cruises of the Wairarapa in the Pacific last winter, and we can remember what a run there was upon her on her first trip, so much so that she had to be laid on for a second one.
Well, imagine what the result would be likely to be if a vessel twenty-five times as big as the Wairarapa, with all comforts and conveniences excelling in proportion; with also the further advantages of certain immunity from both wreckage and sea-sickness; with possible passengers twenty times as rich and five hundred times as numerous as are here (for we must take contingents from the continents of Europe and America into account);—imagine, I say, if under these circumstances such a vessel was announced as starting on a voyage round the world, what crowds of people would take advantage of the opportunity! Imagine how one could enjoy the most furious gale, as sitting steadily in a balcony 80 feet above the waves one could watch their ineffectual raging against the sloping sides of the vessel. Then for changes there would be a magnificent theatre, concert and billiard rooms, conservatories, fountains, and every other thing almost possible to be obtained on shore.
If one could only look upon the surface of the ocean in the light of being composed of an infinite number of railway lines, crossing one another at an infinite number of angles, able to carry locomotives and rolling stock of thousands of tons weight, and of any capacity as to size, which could shift from any one line to another, at any time, without the necessity of having points or pointsmen, such lines never wearing out or requiring repairs, and never having cost sixpence in their construction; the only drawback being that the locomotives and rolling stock required for the railways would be very expensive (though the expense would be infinitesimal compared to the endless extent of mileage of line available);— if one, I repeat, could only look upon the surface of the ocean in such a light, he would wonder that greater advantage has not long ago been taken of such a valuable property, furnished to us without expense.
I know that few will believe, and many deride, the ideas here set forth; but I do not care for that, as I am certain that the things Cassandra order, or of that of Micaiah the son of Imlah, than a prosperous one of that of Zedekiah the son of Chenaanah—that is to say, as far at least as truth is concerned (and that I do not predict misfortune, but good), for I am afraid, son of degenerate modern times as I am, I might shrink from undergoing a course of "the bread of affliction and water of affliction" physically, though I am quite prepared for a good share of it morally in connection with these present predictions.
As for the re-fitting dock for such vessels, that would have to be reckoned as part of the original cost of the first one built, as such vessels would require to be built in a dock that they could sail out of when finished. (It is possible, as before hinted, that such vessels could be made to take to pieces in detail, and so have any parts cleaned or repaired piecemeal.)
In my mind's eye, Voracio Glutton—
What I have to say next being somewhat in the nature of a digression, I must place in a separate part, with an apology for such digression given at end thereof.
To commence again. In my mind's eye I can see an enormous dock, capable of receiving one of the Ships of Tarshish, stretching somewhere into Shoal Bay.
I can also see the whole north of Auckland, not as it is now, a mixture of natural beauties such as diversified contour, Italian skies, sanatorium than any other part of New Zealand; and if of New Zealand, then of the Southern Hemisphere. The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! will one day have to give place to the isles of Hauraki, and the isles of Tokerau!
I see things from a good standpoint for comparison. There are not many here now who saw the hills of Auckland half-a-dozen years before even a single house stood on any part of it. Anyone with judgment who has watched the change in its appearance created within even the last ten years by tree planting and building, can see that Auckland with its suburbs is not one half as beautiful as it will be in a few years. I remember, in the early days I never looked upon Auckland as particularly charming in its scenery, (these were the days when there had been very little tree planting); and twenty-eight years ago, after a visit to Sydney, on my return I felt quite mortified at Auckland looking so ugly in comparison. But now I think that when Auckland shall have had as much money spent upon it as Sydney it will far excel the latter in beauty. Sydney, with its surroundings, presents a succession of beautiful and almost perfect pictures, but each in a contracted form, each picture being nearly all foreground, with no remote distances, and often hardly a decent middle distance. Auckland presents, and by and bye will still more present, not only such individual pretty pictures with charming foregrounds, but also, in addition, general views, with diversified middle distances formed of volcanic hills, which do not, however, shut out exquisite snatches of far distant scenery, composed of mountains, islands, and sheets and patches of water, with often a glorious sky.
Now there is no reason why the whole of the north of Auckland should not eventually, at least, be as much improved in appearance as Auckland has been and will be yet still more.
I picture in the future the whole north of Auckland carrying a thick population, with all its hill sides above a certain steepness benched with concrete or stone-retained terraces, covered with vines, olives, oranges, and various sub-tropical fruits, and with graded roads winding along the sides of all the chief valleys.
I can see handsome villas starting up as if by magic in each of the eastern coast bays, with trim and well-appointed yachts riding opposite to them. I see the best yachting ground in the whole world at last utilized and having its pre-eminence acknowledged. Every good situation has been taken up by the more knowing ones, and there is the usual spectacle of slow-coach after-comers buying oat such at a high price, and wondering how they could have been blind to the existence of these charming spots with their capabilities so long (and, as a consequence, alas I also, the usual spectacle of the thing for a time being overdone).
For no longer isolated from one another, all these bays will be connected with each other by an easy graded main road winding along them and round or over the intervening headlands, the whole of the way from Auckland to Doubtless Bay, and forming a charming alternative means of intercommunication for the residents, and delightful route for the tourist.
Then on the western side there will be the Kaipara with its wonderful system of inland waters, which tap the whole interior of the north in every direction. A day will come when all the mud flats of its various arms will be retained, and utilized, the channels thereby deepened and the waters made clearer, and the whole coast line fringed with beautiful trees shading level drives, and all this in the most equable climate in the world.
I have mentioned terraced hills. Now I am convinced of one thing, and that is that three-fourths of the best land in the north will remain unutilized or useless, unless all the hills suitable for the purpose are terraced. It is melancholy to see the way in which the surface of the best part of the country is destroyed, never to be restored again, except at great expense, through ignorance or shortsightedness on the port of the settlers. The steep hill sides are cleared of timber which is burnt on the ground, and then grass is sown in the ashes. The grass flourishes for a year or two, by which time all the ashes and vegetable mould, the latter the accumulation of ages, are swept down into the gullies and streams never more to be recovered. The grass dies out and is succeeded by dandelion, and in a year or two more, the roots of the trees which previously held the soil together having decayed, the hill sides slide down in immense landslips. Far better, and more paying in the end, in most cases, if the natural forest had been left standing or only thinned out with judgment for firewood and fencing materials, and so left fit for terracing when the proper time came. Even if the hill sides hold and do not go away in landslips, then, if they are cultivated as fast as the soil is pulverized and enriched, it gets washed away into the streams by every
Of course the objection would be, that terracing would cost a lot of money. But there is often spare time to be filled up in a settler's family; bestowing occasional spare hours on the formation of a terrace, would be like placing small sums of money in a savings bank at compound interest, and if only ten perches a year were terraced, the work would soon begin to make a return; and the superior flavour of the fruit grown on terraces would soon come to be distinguished, such flavour being the effect of good drainage, and plenty of sun and air and reflected warmth getting at the trees.
Besides, I suppose, a time will come when kauri timber and kauri gum will all be exhausted, and when there will be another class of people in the land as well as that of those who think that it is a perfect state of things to be getting from seven to ten shillings a day for their labour, without regard to the limited maximum of comfort producing powers which the accompanying conditions will allow those wages to possess; when also it will cease to be thought that high wages with work on an average of only four days in the week, with the privilege of getting nothing for one's money but what is dear and nasty—to receive high pay (though really only nominally, the bulk of it going to the middlemen who flourish like big wens on the body politic, round the suburbs of the capital, while the country is yearly exhausted of its natural treasures, with little being provided to take their place), and at the same time live in shanties, life's monotony being relieved with occasional sprees at the settlements, or by occasional pain-killer nights, when whole cases of that cheering stimulant are polished off, for fun, at a sitting—instead of living under one's own vine and fig tree and on the fat of the land; to get one's potatoes, when one does or can get any, at a famine price from Canterbury, one's butter from Sydney, and one's milk from Switzerland;—to repeat, a time will come when this state of things will cease to be thought better than one in which wages at a lower rate will prevail, but in which a greater amount of comfort and prosperity will be obtained for such wages, along with more healthy and rational pleasures.
A time, I suppose, will come when trade and go-aheadism, and general smartness will no longer be thought (as it so much seems now) to
Not that I think this change in opinion will come voluntarily. But stall it will come.
For after a time the proportion of grown up natives of the country to the rest of the population will be greater, and a sentiment of truer patriotism will become more prevalent. That will be one thing.
There will also be other reasons, perhaps not prudent to mention, but which will cause the country to be really settled at last, when prosperity—not brilliant at first but genuine—will begin. For whatever mischief may be wrought by wrong measures, and by our own faults, the natural advantages of the country will always remain. The worst that can happen will be the ruining of one set of men, another set taking their place.
Another feature of the future in the north will be, that with respect to it, the Fencing Acts will be altered. Holders of cattle will have to keep them securely fenced in, and crops and orchards will no longer require to be fenced; and one great advantage will arise from this, namely, the road deviations which will be required so much in the north in the future will not involve compensation for fencing, but only for the land taken. The whole country north will then be given up to fruit growing, as it ought to be, only a few cattle and sheep being kept for local requirements, while such districts as the Waikato would afford the cattle required by the country.
When all this takes place the change in the appearance of the country may be imagined, for our desolate gum ranges will grow fruit better than rich level land.
One of my dreams of the future in connection with the north of Auckland is as follows:—I think that for the navigation of our northern tidal rivers, those on the East Coast, and the communication between them and Auckland, and for that of the various arms of the Kaipara, there will be adopted steamers of the Livadia pattern, so that traffic in most cases could be carried on at any time of tide, and in others, such as
This is a general sketch of what the north of Auckland will be like eventually. I look upon it as possessing potentialities of ultimate progress beyond the dreams of even local partialities, at any rate exceeding those of any other part of New Zealand. Millions of pounds spent artificially in other places will not give that arrangement of diversified contour, sheltered sheets of water, bays, islands of all sizes, ramified estuaries, fogless skies, glorious sunrises and sunsets, equable temperature, and position as to latitude—in short, that combination of advantages, which can be only given by nature, and which are to be found in that poor despised north of Auckland, at present esteemed the least of all the districts of New Zealand, and which always experiences Insult added to Injury, whenever it advances claims even to only a portion of its just
If this third port of the prologue should appear of too local an interest, and not much connected with the subject of the following book, I would state that the connection is perhaps greater than it may seem to be, because the condition of things of which I dream, and have here set forth, would be an inevitable sequence to that of those depicted in the preceding parts. Also the consideration that I may have no other special opportunity to state these things, and my being a native of the portion of the province treated upon, will serve as a further excuse both for the digression and also if I have appeared to display too sanguine an optimism in my anticipations, and too high a colouring in my pictures.
In closing I would state, as an excuse for its defects, that the composition of this prologue has been a most painful mental process to me, and anything but a spontaneous gushing forth of ideas. I have had the intention of writing it on my mind for the last three years, but could not summon resolution enough to even begin it till about two months ago, and then I only succeeded by determining to write at least ten lines every evening, as after having written that much, I generally found it easy to continue. Part of this feeling was owing to my having much other work to do, which left me very little spare time or mental elasticity.
This mental state of things has also affected me similarly in the case of another project of mine which I have been wishing to carry out any time this last twelve years, being that of writing a pamphlet on the connection of the languages of the Polynesians with those of the Indo-European races—effects of contact in olden times, and for which purpose I had previously already made a collection of some hundreds of words and roots. I was going to suggest that the Maories are the descendants of one of the darker of the various tribes driven out of Canaan by Joshua, part of which escaped by way of Egypt and the shores of the Mediterranean under the name of Mauri, More, or Moors, also along the eastern coast of Africa, and part of which took ship and escaped by way of the Red Sea and Persian Gulf, appearing in Java and Sumatra under the name of Malai, and in the Pacific and New Zealand as Maori, whither we children of Israel have followed the poor fellows up, dispossessing them once more. I wish to suggest reasons for believing the Polynesian languages to be the
And now for a final word. I hope that I shall not be called egotistical simply because in this composition the first personal pronoun has been used so often. It is quite true its use might have been avoided by writing in a more roundabout manner, but I think it more honest not to have done so, Furthermore, if my critics shall be inclined to be too severe and derisive over this "peculiar production," as I see it called in anticipation, I would venture to disarm their satire by the considerations, firstly, that the book has already cost me a good deal, without my having received one sixpence in return, and is likely to cost me something more before it shall have come into their hands, and that if I get back even half the cost only of printing this additional portion I shall be agreeably disappointed; and, secondly, that though its style and the ideas set forth in it are new, the latter nevertheless may possibly be true.
Finally, if even these considerations won't do I can always fall back upon the comforting idea that I must be in advance of my age with respect to the subjects treated upon.
It was in Heidelberg, in the month of August, 1864. The scene was one of those places where they sell beer, and coffee, and horrid cigars, and Kuchen and Wurst, and other like delicacies, called, we believe, a restoratsyown, or something of the sort. There was to be seen the usual number of beer-drinking students, and of the beer-drinking public in general, and the usual variety of infantile peakless caps, of all the colours of the rainbow, stuck on three individual hairs of the head.
At one of the tables was a party of "verdammte Engländers"—as they were mutteringly designated by two or three over-patriotic sons of Fatherland in the room, to their companions—and it is with these Englishmen that the reader will presently have chiefly to do.
The students and said public in general at the tables round about, had been for some time engaged in their pastime with such good effect that discussion had become rather noisy. And in truth, these beer-house discussions at that time were invested with particular interest; for these were the days, it may be remembered, of the grand Helswig-Schlosstein campaign, and each day, a short time previously, had been bringing in fresh news of more splendid prizes conquered, that is to say—of more Yutish wares carried south wholesale, of more cigar-boxes stormed, of dangerous feats of arms successfully performed, such as blowing up railway bridges in the rear of the conquering army.
We must beg leave to state that the foregoing rather depreciatory expressions employed in describing these events, do not It is unnecessary to state that since this was written our sentiments have become much modified. adore Prussia.Now we have an utter contempt for Austria, while our veneration for Prussia verges on idolatry—such as that, for instance, displayed (though naturally in him) by the Prussian who does the Berlin correspondence of the Daily Telegraph, and who uses such unctuous terms whenever he mentions the "old drill sergeant."
The fact is, the expressions alluded to were used by a student, one of the three or four English already mentioned—in a political discussion in which he was engaged that afternoon with a German student, and which discussion was fast degenerating into mutual "chaff." But we must introduce some of the English party.
There was John Mandevil, the principal personage of the present narrative, Mr. Box, "young Norval," the English student just alluded to, whose family lay some somewhere among the Grampian hills—and one or two others. The most remarkable-looking amongst them was certainly John Mandevil. He possessed that particular kind of beauty which is perhaps more taking with men than with women,—that is with the general run of them—not those of an earnest or enthusiastic nature. He was the reverse of a mere "handsome devil". The great peculiarity and charm about this man was not a physical beauty, though his features were regular enough; but it consisted in an expression of earnestness, and intense truthfulness which pervaded his countenance. And it was a remarkable fact that he exercised a first-sight fascination, not over persons in general, for there were some who conceived a dislike for him at first sight, but over similar natures to his own. At this time he was about thirty-three years of age. His companion young Norval, had been one of his first-sight admirers, and now secretly regarded him as a model. Young Norval, himself handsome, about twenty, with dark curling hair, dark eyes, and fresh complexion, felt a pride in Mandevil's companionship. Mandevil, with his wavy chestnut hair, serene eyes, his mathematical forehead, decided but sweet mouth, and manly, good features, with just enough irregularity in them to give them expression—Mandevil, with his voice like the mellowest notes of
Box was the oldest of the party. He had arrived that afternoon from Wimpfen on the Neckar, in company with Mandevil. The two had been latterly residing in Stuttgart, and being away for a week's change, they had dropped down in the steamer in order to pay Norval a visit. Box was about fifty, with a greyish long beard and grizzled hair. Usually he did not commit himself to long speeches, but he possessed the faculty of making dry, ironical remarks with a good effect, that is to say, with a perfectly grave face, only slightly belied by a twinkle of the eyes and a twitching of his shaggy moustache.
Having introduced the three principal persons of the situation, we will proceed to sketch out the general run of their conversation. Norval and a German student who could speak English were discussing the Helswig-Schlosstein affair. The German was of course filled with admiration at the achievements of the allied army, and seemed to expect Norval to sympathize with his admiration, and to wonder at its high state of discipline and equipment, and all the rest of it. But Norval could not be prevailed upon to see it in that light. On the contrary, he appeared to be possessed by a demon of depreciation.
"You say so much about what you've done," said Norval; "but after all you have only had three or four thousand killed and wounded in the whole affair. Why! that is an ordinary morning's work before breakfast for Lee or Grant, in America."
This somewhat nettled the German, who said, "At any rate, it was somewhat amusing to see how England altered her tone and drew in her horns before the calm and firm demeanour of the allies."
"Oh yes! I know all that," returned Norval; "but in the beginning Prussia was a good deal more cautious than England at the end. Only just going to exercise a little pressure here, and do something else there; but it was wonderful to see how plucky she suddenly got, after some one had carried over a written guarantee, numerous army of Denmark to contend with. I fancy that we should have seen a drawing in of horns more quick than that of England, had we sent over a few regiments before the passing of the frontiers. You may not think so, but I am sure of it."
"What could your paltry twenty regiments or so have done against united Germany, which in that case would have rushed forward. The fact is, that this affair has revealed the true position of your country. It has long been known on the Continent by sensible people, that, thanks to her lofty tone and assumption, England has had conceded to her a position much higher than her real power has warranted. In a military point of view, England only ranks with a third-rate power, such as Bavaria for instance."
Norval, swelling with disdain at this to him preposterous proposition, was about to argue the matter bonâ fide, when Box struck in, first muttering under his moustache—"Stay Norval, let me—I can do it better than you. You know what Solomon says about answering a what's-his-name according to his what-do-you-call-it." Then turning to the German, with the utmost gravity and apparent deference he said, "I think, mein Herr, that I shall be able to convince you that you are wrong. I will concede for argument's sake all that you say about the English army, and its relation to that of Bavaria, but then you have lost sight of the well-known fact that one English soldier is as good as at least a dozen Bavarian or any other. Why! if it were not so, what a set of fools we should be, when we are well able to pay for as big an army as we like to have. For the matter of that, when we are hard up, we can come over and buy up some of the armies of Fatherland."
All this was said with the utmost gravity. The German didn't seem quite to know whether to laugh or to be angry. Perhaps he did not quite understand it. By this time the dialogue had begun to attract the notice of the surrounding Germans, some of whom understood, more or less, Box's last speech, to which they listened with no pleased emotions.
"Ah!" broke in one of these listeners, "we Germans have lost all respect for the English. Formerly, though not liking them, in consequence of their many offensive ways, we had some respect for them; but after the shameless and impudent manner in
"You needn't tell as that yon don't like us," said Norval; "you never did, for that matter. All the alliance that has ever been between the two nations has been one between your princes alone on the one hand and us as cat's-paw on the other. But since the Italian war disclosed that we were not going to be cat's-paws any longer, that sham has been dissipated, and your journals are no longer ordered to be civil. As for your respect, we've too much respect for our noble selves to care about anybody else's. Of course we see it's quite natural you don't like us. You can't. There are no common grounds of sympathy between the two nations. You'll like ns some day—when you are in the same condition as ourselves—in short, you'll like us when you're— free."
"Oh, yes! the tailor's workshop of Europe is very free!" exclaimed a young Prussian, euphoniously designated the Baron von Kalbskopf. "Free you are to break one another's heads in your public parks, at meetings for the great Garibaldi! Free to sell your wives at Smithfield market! Free to be garotted! Free to die of starvation! We don't want such freedom. Our Government suits us; it is as good as yours."
"Excuse me, mein Herr," said Box; "I think it is a good deal better, as I can logically prove to you. The first indisputable proposition I shall lay down is this: Every nation, in the long run, gets as good a government as it deserves. Now, both the German and English nations have had a very long run; so by this time they must each have got as good governments as they deserve. Now, unquestionably, the Germans, upon their own showing, are a much more civilized and virtuous nation than us poor, huckstering, rioting, garotting, wife-selling, and pauper-starving English, and, consequently, deserve a much better government; argal, they have a much better government. Quod erat, &c. Here," continued Box, raising his glass to his lips, "is success to the most noble Bismarck Schöuhausen. He is worthy of his nation, and his nation is worthy of him. Were there any miserable so-called Liberals within hearing, I should advise them not to champ the bit any longer, but to submit with a good grace before they are obliged to submit with a bad."
"I also," said Norval, "concede what you said just now—that Kladderadatsch, and, with a red face, shoved it before Box and pointed to one of the pictures, saying,
"See here, Englander! here is John Pull. How like you him?"
Here there was a chorus of "sniggering," as Norval phrased it, and another voice said—
"Oh, it is no use for to laugh at Pull; Pull haf blenty baum-wool—cotton he call it—to stoff in ze ear."
The caricature in question was one displaying the phases of John Bull's altering demeanour during the progress of the great Helswig-Schlosstein war, and typifying in what manner his self-importance gradually diminished, as the affair went on, by means of a row of full-length portraits. The first showed John Bull tall and bloated, with immense irregular teeth, displaying the said teeth in derisive laughter because the German Diet had ordered federal execution. In the next two or three portraits he also discloses the said immense teeth, but with this difference, that whereas in the first instance it was done in pure derision, in the latter cases he is beginning, as it were, to laugh on the wrong side of his mouth. The reason of this is that Prussia and Austria by this time are supposed to have taken the field; and evidently, in spite of his blaster, he is continually getting smaller. In the next following portraits the big teeth appear to have been gradually extracted, until poor John Bull has not one to show, though his mouth is still distended, but now for the purpose of advocating prudence and of abusing Denmark for her folly. And lastly the severe artist resolves him into a mere money-bag, labelled L. S. D., surmounted and identified by the hat which has distinguished John through the piece.
"Oh, very good!" said Box;" and whom is this pot-bellied, snaggle-toothed individual with the villanously low forehead supposed to represent?"
"Zat is John Pull; and zis—and zis—and zis money-pag—all John Pull."
"And pray," said Box, turning over some leaves, "who is this pair of barber's window, wax-looking, Apollo Belvederes?"
"Zat! zat is Oesterreich and Preussen."
"That's Austria and Prussia, is it? Well then, I've got a little advice to give your Bladderbosh artists, and that is to follow the example of our Punch a little, if they can, and be more impartial in the distribution of ugliness; and when they want to represent fighting heroes, to think of their own Blucher, and not go to a barber's window for models."
"And as for your Bladderbosh editor," said Norval, "we can afford to forgive him for his many unkind cuts lately. Bismarck is sure to put him in prison one of these days, and then we shall be more than revenged."
"By the bye," said Von Kalbskopf, "where is the old Lord Firebrand, your great Bam, now, with his 'Civis Romanus'?"
"O ja!" sung out the red-faced German; "Civis Romanus, alias Macdonald.
"He! he!" tittered a lot of voices, while Norval swelled with trying to conceal his rage.
"And just now, you talked about your freedom," continued Von Kalbskopf; "but you are the servants of our servant. We send our orders over to those who order you."
"We won't talk about that—you'd like to, no doubt," answered Norval; "but I'll tell you one thing—you'll find that the husband of the King of Denmark's daughter won't take any of your orders, not even that of the Black Vulture."
"Oh! your Prince of Wales will do great things, no doubt," retorted Von Kalbskopf, viciously, at a loss for the moment what to say.
"Ze Brince of Vales," struck in the red-faced German, who imperfectly comprehended what was going on, and who was not a bad-humoured fellow, but full of pugnacity and patriotism;—"Ze Brince of Vales kriegt ze brice for piggest esel by ze Maulthier exhibitsyown."
The ludicrousness of the language, opportunely, by making him laugh, restored Norval's equanimity a little.
"I'd recommend you," said he, turning to the last speaker, "to kreeg a little more English before you attempt to put your oar in."
"Kreeg," said Box, gravely taking it up; "when Kreeg meets Kreeg then comes the tug of war. Why don't you laugh, Mandevil?"
"I think," said that personage, rising, "that all this is becoming rather undignified, and may perhaps," he murmured, "be soon something worse. Norval, I am going up the eastle way, come along; Box, are you inclined for a walk?"
Then with a most elaborate bow, deeply lowering his hat to the surrounding Germans, Mandevil walked out, followed by Box and Norval.
I Always find," said Mandevil, when fairly in the street, "a grand bow is a sort of open sesame with the Germans; and it has the merit of being a cheap resource too. Norval, my boy, I have a word of advice for you; avoid getting into these sorts of discussions; you'll get into a row one of these days, and then you'll find that their notions of fair-play don't altogether square up with your British prejudices. I think it was lucky for you this afternoon, that they were in a good humour through having had everything their own way lately. As it was, I saw a storm brewing, and was glad to get away."
"And you need not instruct me about their notions of fair play," said Norval, laughing; "'Me and another knows it,' as Jerry the Resurrectionist said. One soon finds that out here. The two of us had to encounter six, and only running saved us. I hadn't forgot the science which you imparted to me; but what's the use of science in fistycuffs against sticks. I've learnt prudence, but it's rather hard to put up with their cockiness just now."
"You are right, and I think if Earl Bustler could have foreseen the ignominy under which his countrymen have to suffer now, he would most certainly have been stirred up into sending the fleet into the Baltic."
"I think," said Box, "it is a great shame that he didn't. Not
"Bother Corncob and Fight," said Norval; " they're always abusing their own countrymen. It's one of the greatest annoyances one has, to hear them continually quoted against us by confounded foreigners."
"When you are a few years older, Norval," observed Mandevil quietly, "you will have a different opinion of Corncob and Fight. I remember, even only seven or eight years ago, I disliked Corncob, and I mortally hated Fight. But I think very differently of them now; since that I have been knocked about all over the world, and have been cheated and swindled in a variety of ways, and found out what men are."
"Whew!" whistled Norval, "I thought every decent fellow hated Corncob and Fight."
"That is because your circle of society has been a very narrow one, Norval," said Mandevil. "I can tell you what it is,—it is a good thing for a nation to have such men; and it is a healthy sign for it, and one upon which it may congratulate itself, when men who don't flatter it are so popular as they are."
"I believe you are right, Mandevil," observed Box; "but what strikes me as something very good is the way in which foreigners testify to the value of such men—that is, as belonging to us; but their admiration is of the kind which one feels for a martyr. There are the French, for example. How readily they —both Conservative and Liberal—appreciate the noble cosmopolitan spirit of these men, who tell their nation that it isn't everything it ought, or imagines itself to be. And yet, if among their public men a Corncob or a Fight ever ventures to pitch his voice to any tune at variance with the perfect glories of France, he is hunted down from all sides, as if by wild beasts."
"And how about the Germans?" asked Mandevil, laughing; "do they ill-use their Corncobs and Fights?"
"They don't," replied Box, "and simply for this reason, that the genus doesn't exist among them. It is a natural impossibility of breed for there ever to be any one among them who should have a shadow of doubt of the perfection of everything Fatherlandish. They have their faultfinders, certainly; but then these only blame their countrymen for not thinking still more of them
"Well, it's a question that requires consideration, as a Scotchman would say," answered Mandevil; "but I am inclined to think, that if I had had the decision of the matter, I would have gone in for war, and it would have been a just one. But now that it has been decided the other way, and as far as we ourselves are concerned, I am quite satisfied that things are such as they are. Were it only to have had a good reason for washing our hands clean of the whole lot of them, from henceforth and for ever, it were worth enduring the momentary depreciation in the estimation of the admirers of glory. I consider that the alliance between England and Germany—that is, Germany of the past and present—has been the backbone of tyranny in Europe. If that backbone has not now been broken, it has, any way, had a paralyzing wrench. You were talking rightly about our having been made a cat's-paw of, Norval; but I think this affair has put a stopper on that system for ever. It is beautiful! The very party among us that was most inclined upon principle to coquette with these fellows is the one that has felt the slap in the face, which they have delivered the keenest."
"I should be satisfied too," said Norval, "if I thought that it would be as you say; and I suppose it must be so, for it would be most disgusting, after having been so precious careful in this instance, where the most of us felt so strongly, not to risk anything, to be ever made tools of again."
"I'll tell you what it is," said Box; "I am afraid, after they have settled matters according to their own satisfaction, they will be coming to honour us with the proposal to register their degrees, and that there will be interest used to entrap us into it Should it be so, I declare I shall forswear my country. What business has that Lord Bloisown-Clarion to be poking about at Vienna just now? The fact is, we ought to have pitched into them—we ought to have joined with France and pitched into Russia the year before, and then all this wouldn't have happened. That delightful Russia! I suppose, after having crucified the poor Poles and Circassians, we are to let bygones be bygones, and make commercial treaties and be very friendly, and all that sort of thing. This mere commercial spirit of general Phil-Anthropy reminds me of that of Solomon's lady, who wipes her mouth so bother Gladwyn with his economy. And now you have my profession of faith. The bearings of these here observations lays in the application of them."
"What a pity it is, Box," said Mandevil, gravely, "that they don't get Englishmen like ourselves, with our great local experience on the Continent, to settle these things. But seriously, about Gladwyn; you will get no sympathy from me in abusing him; for of all men he is to me a hero, a Nature's anax andron I like Corncob and Fight as one likes necessary medicine, that is, a conviction of their utility creates the sentiment; but with Gladwyn, my admiration and liking are without any drawback; and as to what are called his faults as a statesman, I consider them to be the noblest part of him. I will show you the influence which his name exercises over me. If I have reconciled my mind to the seemingly inglorious termination of our course in this affair, it is because I have believed that he had a good deal to do with it, and I know that we can trust him, for he is a thorough English-man of the mass of the nation, and that the sequel of the affair will be carried out in an English sense, or else all his splendid talent will be against it. And so I have no fear of your being reduced to forswear your country, Box. We'll not have to wait very long before we shall see."
During this conversation they had ascended the steep stony road leading up to the castle, and had come on to the wooded portion of the platform on which it stands. They took possession of one of the rustic seats—Norval and Box smoking. Mandevil declined a cigar which Box offered him. "I have given up smoking these two years," he said; "I find it sets me castle-building too much."
After a little. Box took his leave, remembering that he had a visit to pay that evening to Darmstadt.
As Norval and Mandevil were sitting in silence a few minutes after Box's departure, the boughs rustled at a sudden curve of the path close by, and two ladies appeared before them.
One was elderly, very handsome, but rather too dignified-
The elder lady, while giving him her hand, glanced in a half-surprised manner sideways towards Mandevil (who saluted her), and then a cold haughty look settled on her face as she acknowledged his salutation stiffly, with a slight inclination. Norval, who, while shaking hands, had turned quickly to look after Mandevil, was astonished to see him flush and then turn deadly pale, as though under great emotion. Turning to the younger lady, he was struck with a similar display on her part. In answer to his salutation, she made an incoherent return, and seemed as though she did not know where to look. Then he said to the elder lady—
"You have quite startled me, Lady Trousely; I had no idea you were in Heidelberg, I thought you were still in Canstatt."
"You should have inquired of your friend Mr. Mandevil; he seems to be well informed of our movements; for though we only arrived here yesterday afternoon, he has found time to follow. If you wish to see more of us, you will find us at the hotel by the station, this evening. To morrow we depart. I had intended to have stayed several days here," she continued, raising her voice rather, "but I now see reason to alter my mind. Perhaps you will be good enough to tell your friend so. Good afternoon."
So saying, the handsome lady swept onwards, followed by her daughter, who gave an involuntary glance in Mandevil's direction as she moved away. Norval rejoined his companion, who had fallen back into his seat, with his head sunk on his chest, and face showing yet the traces of his emotion; but now the blood had come back into his cheeks, perhaps the sooner for his having heard the last words of the late speaker.
"Well! for the life of me," said Norval, "I can't make out what all this means. Here is Lady Trousely and Florence, whose life you saved in the Tyrol, and with whom I thought you were the best of friends, and lo! when I see you meet, you look at one another like strange cats, then away she sweeps like a tragedy queen, while you, Mandevil, I can't describe what you look like— but what can be the matter with you?"
"Cannot you guess, Norval?" said Mandevil, looking up and smiling, having by this time recovered his serenity. "The most natural explanation in this case is the true one."
"Nonsense! you don't say so?" returned Norval eagerly. "Stay, I will tell you a secret hitherto locked up in my own breast. You know how proud I am of my cousin Florence, and what a stunning girl I think she is. Well I have often thought that there is only one man that I know of worthy of her—and that man is you. When you were describing your sentiments with respect to Gladwyn just now, I thought—'them's my sentiments' exactly with respect to yourself. But still, you don't mean to say that anything has passed between you? Though, by the old lady's looks there must be something in the wind."
"You are too flattering to your humble servant," replied Mandevil; "but in return for your secret I will tell you another. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I hardly know which, 'something' as you express it, has passed between us."
"You've not been rejected, I'm sure; Florence ought to be too sensible a—but there's no accounting for taste, as the dairymaid said when she kissed the cow. Which is it, accepted or rejected?"
"To speak strictly," answered Mandevil, "both—accepted by Florence, but rejected by the mother on her daughter's behalf."
"Whew!" whistled Norval, "that accounts for the milk in the cocoa-nut. I see now why my lady bridled up so; and her nasty message to you, I can understand it now."
"I know," said Mandevil. "I heard it; and if it's any comfort to her, it did make me wince a little. But of course you know without my telling you, that the meeting them here was quite unexpected on my part."
"Of course I do," said Norval. "And now to tell you th truth, I never had any sympathy with my lady. She has always been very gracious and patronizing to me, but I know in her heart of hearts she only regards me as a bore of a poor relation and would be glad if I were to keep out of her sight indefinitely. I think I shall not go to see her at the hotel"
"That is just like your impetuosity, Norval," said Mandevil; "but it would be very foolish. On my own account too, I should be sorry were you to break with her; for to confess the truth, though I have promised her ladyship, as far as my own volition is concerned, to renounce my suit, I have not entirely given up hope—very vague to me at the present, but still hope; you will see better when I tell you the details."
"Oh, well then, I will honour her with my presence," said Norval, "and, never mind, we'll defeat the proud dame yet. But tell me all about it, and then I'll know better how to act."
"I have not much to tell," answered Mandevil. "The beginning of it only happened about two weeks ago. My dream of happiness, as the poets say, 'though clouded by forebodings, occupied a week of that time—the remaining week I have been wandering about like my reputed ancestor, till I arrived here. But now to my affair.
"You know the jolly time we spent in the Tyrol together the summer of last year by that mountain lake, whither you had asked me to accompany you, and where we found your aunt and cousin, as you expected. How Lady Trousely was rather stiff at first with your humble servant, until after I had saved Florence's life when she slipped into the lake that evening, and so on, and how friendly we became afterwards, but you don't, or rather did not know, what a wrench it was to me when they left after the six weeks, which seemed so short to me. I instinctively shrunk from examining into the state of my own feelings. I suppose, too, I had an instinct of the state of Florence's mind, for next summer found me in the neighbourhood of where she and her mother were spending a few weeks. I had no fixed intentions, you know, of anything; for had the question come directly before my mind, I should not have felt justified, I confess. But I was continually in Florence's company. You know the summer open air sort of life in these places?"
"I wonder the old lady's Argus eyes were not on you sooner, though," said Norval.
"So have I since," said Mandevil, "but I think her pride helped to blind her. But besides that, my natural manner up to the last moment may have deceived her. For latterly I had really honestly resolved upon steeling my heart against all impression; in accordance with which purpose I had determined upon
"You know what Box calls the celebrated falls of the Nesenbach, near Stuttgart?"
"Oh, yes; the Nesenbach! I know," answered Norval, "after passing under the city and emerging therefrom, it runs an open ditch alongside the Park down to the Neckar, in a beautiful stream like ink, without it's wholesome smell, but to the contrary. When I was in Stuttgart, I was told that the old King, on being applied to to have it covered up, answered solemnly that he wasn't going to blot out one of the rivers of his kingdom."
"However, for all that," continued Mandevil, "the Nesenbach is fair enough up by the waterfall, and it was there—to speak poetically—that my fate was sealed. There had been a party of us on a pic-nic at the Solitude. Florence was there. Her mother was to have gone too, but something at the last moment prevented her, or very likely I would not have occasion to be relating what I am to you. We returned from the Solitude by way of the waterfall, and had halted there for an hour's rest under the trees. Somehow Florence and I found ourselves alone on one of those rustic seats at the top of the fall. The rest of the party were either dispersed in the wood a little way, or were in the hollow below. I suppose I may spare you all the details—what she said, and what I said, and then what she said in answer to that, and so on. I told Florence that I was going away for good in a day or two. You know what I have always admired in her is the extreme naturalness and candour coming from her thorough honesty of mind, and which superficial observers might attribute to art. Well, she betrayed such emotion upon my making my statement, that I would have been more or less than man, as your poets say again, had I not yielded to my own feelings, and what was to come to pass did come to pass. It may seem curious to you, my manner of relating all this, but it is through trying to ease the weight off my memory a little.
"Of course, one of the first things which occurred to me though with a sort of apprehensive foreboding, was to speak to Lady Tronsely. Florence, when I mentioned it, begged me to wait for two or three days. Though not so doubtful as myself, I suppose she, too, had an instinctive knowledge of the obstacles in our path. After waiting that time, she said she would rather
"'I know that I ought to; and though, of course, there is nothing to fear from my mother—why, does she not owe her having any child at all to you?—still, my happiness is so great now, that I shrink from the bare possibility of a break in it.'
"Upon my alluding to our disparity in rank, she would not acknowledge it, but said, 'It is the reverse, rather. What is our nobility of three or four generations—for it does not extend further —to your descent, which can be traced so far back.'"
"I say 'ditto' to her there," said Norval, "I'll give you my patent as the noblest fellow I ever came across. But what did she mean in particular? A little while ago, too, I noticed your saying something about your 'reputed ancestor.'"
"Well, you mustn't laugh, Norval," answered Mandevil, smiling; "but one day I had informed Florence of a fact communicated to me only about a year ago, that I was reputed to be the lineal representative of the, so-called, traditional character known as the 'Wandering Jew.'"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Norval. "Come, I shall think that the whole affair is a joke, if you talk that way; indeed, I would at once, except that I call to mind how Lady Trousely and Florence looked a little while ago. The Wandering Jew! Good! I'll tell you whose ancestor the Wandering Jew is, in my opinion, and that is—Mrs. Harris's."
"I knew you would laugh," said Mandevil, "and so did I, when I was first informed of it. But I was left with my confidence much shaken. I will have more, though, to say to you on that subject by-and-by. I must now proceed with what I was telling you.
"It was just a week after the happy afternoon at the waterfall, that I received an ominous short note from Lady Trousely, requesting the honour of an interview in her lodgings at Canstatt. I saw her. At the first glance I could perceive what was coming. She said, Florence had informed her, &c.; that the thing was impossible. It was true, that she owed her daughter's life to me; but that she also knew my spirit was too high, too noble, to found any claim upon that. There was another thing, too. Florence was entitled to ten thousand a year in her own right, and she was news to me. In fact, she is a shrewd woman, Norval; for she must have read my character thoroughly, to have used the arguments she did."
"You are about right there," said Norval; "but the more shame for her in not valuing you properly."
"In fact though (she continued) it was not equivalent wealth, or even rank, which she had in view, with respect to Florence. But that she would never consent with pleasure to her union with any man who had not acquired political distinction, or to that effect. Further, that they (her husband and herself) had no son; that the title and bulk of the estate would go to the heir-at-law; and that Florence and her wealth (derived from another source) by duty should contribute to strengthen their political party. Florence was a young girl, and was at an impressionable age, and was likely to mistake gratitude for affection; but she would soon be able to reconcile her happiness with her duty, were I to act loyally in future and abstain from agitating her. She seemed all through her discourse, or rather exposition of her will, to take it for granted that I would accede at once. To sum up, she had already other views for Florence."
"I know what that means," said Norval—"Lord Chestnut. He is the heir-at-law. He is under-secretary of something or another. Very grave and haw-hawish. Doesn't say too much, but looks inscrutable. Very promising man, his lordship—rising character. Oh, she is a hard, ambitious woman. Florence isn't a bit like her. Florence inherits her disposition from her father, and from her mother only the best part of her mother's beauty. But did you consent to give her up at once, then?"
"I ventured some opposition," said Mandevil; "among other things, I suggested that I should take the final decision from Lord Trousely."
"Oh, I am sure that did you no good," said Norval. "It is well known that her ladyship wears the inexpressibles. He is of a kind disposition, and, if it rested with him, you wouldn't have much to fear. It is whispered, that the reason she comes over on the Continent so often without him is, because she likes to have her own way so much."
"It was just as you imagine," answered Mandevil. "Directly
"Oh yes," said Norval, "she can always be very pleasant when she has her own way."
"I think she is not altogether hard-hearted, for she showed a little touch of pity at the conclusion. She said, as I rose, that she could feel for me, but that I would acknowlege, after a sufficient time, that she had been right. That she would always remember the debt of gratitude she owed me, both for the present as well as the past, and that she was willing to grant me a last interview with Florence, as it was to be the last. Her daughter, she said, was already prepared, but it would be more satisfactory for her to hear from myself. Saying which, she led me to the door of a room, which she opened then informing me that I should find Florence inside, and that she should return in a short time, left me."
"I don't believe in that crocodile sympathy," said Norval. "But what did poor Florence say to it all?"
"When I entered the room, she came quickly towards me, and took my hand without speaking, and rested her cheek on my shoulder. I did not kiss her, as it did not seem right after the promise I had given her mother; and to say the truth, there was too great a weight on my heart to permit me to feel demonstrative. Florence, though in ordinary so timid and retiring, was braver than I She was very pale, and appeared to have been in tears. After a minute or two thus, in which neither of us spoke, I led her to a seat, and then, taking another, told her of what had passed between her mother and myself. "When I told her of the promise I had given to release her, and to attempt no further communication from thenceforth; but that though she was released,
"'Well, be it so; we will be parted as my mother has decreed. But mind—equally as you do not intend to give me up, neither will I you. I will yield so far as you have yielded; but they will find that I am not to be bartered. And now, I have a promise to require of you. In three years from the first of this month I shall be of age. I require you to come to me on that day, wherever I may be, and hear from my own lips whether I still love you. Not that I shall ever marry without my mother's consent. You need not hesitate on account of the engagement you have just made, as I shall see you in the presence of my father and mother. Send no previous notice; you will find me ready. There is only one thing more,—if you fail to come, I will take it as a confession that your feelings towards me are changed.'"
"I have," continued Mandevil, "given, as near as I can, her words to me. Of course I gave the required promise, which was too much after my own inclination not to be given gladly. And so we parted. And now you know how matters stand. You see I am not without a little hope."
"Yes!" said Norval; "the worst point in the case is the amount of money to which Florence will be entitled; I had no idea that she was a heiress, I thought she would have next thing to nothing, that is for one of her set, seeing the estates are entailed. But in these money-ruling days: ten thousand a year—the old lady's heart will be hardened ten times against letting the captive go."
"You've just hit the blot, Norval," said Mandevil; "six hundred as against ten thousand sounds like a Helswig-Schlosstein affair (I know that simile suits you), or, in other words, like a forlorn hope. It is what touched my sensitiveness most, and weakened my courage, or I would not have given in so easily, but Would have felt inclined to brave Lady Trousely, and have gone over at once to try her husband, in spite of her. I forgot to say I did not: let her retain as much as equalled my income, and let her mother have the rest."
"A very good idea!" exclaimed Norval; "but instead of her mother, hand over the remaining £9,400 to poor me, who have not £200 a year. I'll tell you what I could do though; I could keep it till you were safely married and then return it to you—just retaining a thousand a year, which you would not miss, by way of commission."
"But even upon the point of wealth, I have hopes also," said Mandevil; "for you must know that I have 'Great Expectations,' which I had dismissed from my mind. But the being brought near to despair has set me dreaming of them again. I will explain it all to you to-night, as well as my pedigree, which is concerned in it. I made you laugh by alluding to it, you know. But now it is getting dusk, and I'll tell you what I wish you to do; it is to call at once on Lady Trousely, and assure her from me that I had no idea she was here. Tell her not to let me drive her away, as I give my word of honour to depart to-morrow. I will wait for you at your lodgings."
In Norval's chamber Mandevil sat in musing mood. Reclining was his attitude. He reflected upon what he should next do. He should like very much to solicit to be allowed to accompany the projected expedition to the Great Pyramid. It was a thing that suited his turn of mind exactly. But then there was that chance of great wealth, concerning which he had received a mysterious communication a year before in Paris. He might be out of the way at the critical moment, and lose his chance. A little while ago, and had he felt an interest in departing for anywhere, such an uncertain consideration would have had very little weight with him. But now he could not help dreaming of the possibility of some wonderful turn of fortune. He did not want the wealth; but if by means of it he could conquer the objections of that proud woman—and it was his only chance. No—he could not give it up.
In about an hour his reflections were broken in upon by the arrival of Norval.
"What, John!" he said, "all melancholy. Why did you not ring for the coffee? I must see about some, and we'll have the lights in, and afterwards I'll smoke, and have the long talk with you which I want."
Coffee was brought and drunk in silence. Mandevil was still musing, and Norval smoking. After a while, the former, rousing, said,—
"How did your interview come off?"
"Very well Lady Trousely was pleased to accept the explanation on your behalf very graciously. She will condescend to remain here for the time she originally intended. I did not stay long; for I preferred having the pleasure of your society, my noble friend."
"You cover me with modest confusion of face, my young friend," said Mandevil; "I can't bow, but I can say like poor Kit did, 'Get out.'"
"But I have something more interesting to relate," said Norval. "As I was leaving, I met Florence in an outer room. She spoke very highly of you, and hoped I would cultivate intimacy with you as much as possible, and that suitable companionship was a great want of English students on the Continent. I let her go on demurely for a little, and then in a low voice, said, 'He has made me his confidant; on which she stopped suddenly, and I could see her blushes even in the dusk. I then said, taking her hand, 'Fear not, sweet Christabel, for all will yet be well—you'll have a firm ally in me,' and so parted, and here I am. But not without a further adventure, though. I met some of those fellows in the street, and they were quite ready for another row about Helswig-Schlosstein. But I heard all and said very little, as I wasn't in the humour just then."
"I'd advise you seriously always to follow the same plan," said Mandevil. "You must recollect that yon are in an enemy's country, and extreme reserve is the safest course; for there is no appeal in case of being worsted. I haven't much faith in Saxon chivalry. I have noticed in the different parts of England, the more of the Saxon element, the greater the absence of those rules
"That's just what I think," said Norval; "being over here will have cured me for ever of such things as sentimental regrets for the vanquished at the battle of Hastings, excepting Harold, who was a Northman. I wish William with his Northmen had killed off a few more thousand of them while he was about it. It would have been a great improvement of the breed, and for the future of the nation. I abominate the hackneyed misnomer of Anglo-Saxon. All our great men have descended from the Scandinavians. I shall not stop here after the end of autumn. It isn't healthy for one's mind to be in a constant atmosphere of consciousness of dislike, and to be always having one's bristles up. Besides that, I have almost made up my mind to go against my friends, and give up studying for the law, for which I am not naturally suited, and take to painting, for which I feel that I am. Bother the Roman law. We're Christians and Protestant. What do we want with anything heathen and Roman? But I want your advice on the subject. Mind—this is not a sudden resolve, it has been in my thoughts ever since I came here."
"I don't like shifting from one thing to another, in general; but if you feel confident of being able to be steady at it, I would advise you to turn to drawing, which, from your sketches that I saw in the Tyrol, I think you have a surprising natural talent for. But better work on for a while and I will send word what I think of it."
"All right," said Norval. "By the bye, those beggars in the street tried hard to make me angry. I think Box's cool manner galled them this afternoon. They kept telling me that proud Albion's pride was brought low; that we had no army, and that the French had a better fleet than ours, consequently Napoleon had us at his mercy, and that was why we were always crawling on our bellies in the dust before him. I told them demurely, that they had no right to be annoyed at our wishing to become on good terms with France, and as for ourselves, we could do so without wounding our sense of justice, for the French were not oppressors of other nationalities. There were only two nations in Europe, I said, who oppressed other nations. I would not name them; but Germany and Russia were natural allies, and should go together, and leave England and France to do the same if they chose; and
"Now, Randolph," said Mandevil, whose countenance appeared to lighten up as he spoke, "I must confess to your having touched upon my mad point. For your question is what I have pondered over again and again, and I haven't the least doubt of the answer to it. I take the greatest interest in the subject, for I think I have the same natural talent for engineering that you have for drawing. If they would only build a ship after my design, it would astonish the natives."
"Well, it's satisfactory to know that," said Norval, laughing; "but what is your opinion?"
"I think that instead of lessening our relative superiority, this new development has increased it tenfold. To all the time between the invention of steam, and shells for horizontal firing, and lately such a statement would have applied with truth; our naval superiority was in a critical state then. But now it has more than returned,—or rather, I should say, the means of attaining it are easily within our reach. In the old times good seamanship was everything in naval battles. Should you ever go a long voyage in a sailing vessel, Randolph, you would soon comprehend the difference between good seamanship and bad. To see what good seamen do in a gale of wind, thinking nothing of it, is enough to frighten a landsman. It has often made my heart jump into my mouth, as they say, to watch the men reefing topsails in a gale of wind. Fancy a fellow on the extreme end of the lee yard-arm, like a hen on a clothes-line, with the thick folds of an enormous sail flapping about him like thunder, and all the while being whirled through the air in arcs of fifty or sixty feet every five seconds; with vicious-looking white-topped waves, and valleys between them yawning under him. And they have these things to do on the darkest and coldest nights. Or were you to watch a good pilot handling a vessel in a difficult channel, how critically he has to seize the right moment for giving his orders, and how well drilled the crew must be to execute them quickly, you would soon see how good seamanship decided naval superiority. I class the courage required for the best sailor above every other. It is not mere fire and bravery, but stout-hearted heroism. To be pent up in a small space and have to endure
"But," urged Norval, "why are some of the papers, and a good many naval officers, who ought to know, continually abusing the iron vessels?"
"I suppose," answered Mandevil, "that is because the wooden vessels are more comfortable for cruising in, and they don't like them all to be done away with. But if these men were told some day, There is an enemy outside—go and fight him; here is an iron ship, and there is a wooden one, take which you like,' I fancy I know which one would be taken."
"So do I," said Norval, laughing. "It ought to be put to them in that light. First trick them by saying, 'Who are for wooden vessels, and who are for iron ones?' Then when they had declared themselves, give the wooden fellows a wooden vessel,
"Good!" said Mandevil. "But now to go on with the expense argument. Only the other day we saw in the papers that an ambassador of one of the smaller maritime states, observed to some Englishman that the late invention precluded such nations as his from having a fleet at all. For when vessels cost three or four hundred thousand pounds, they could hardly stand the expense of a single vessel. Of course any ordinary reflecting person did not want an ambassador to inform him of such a thing as that. But if the case stands thus now, what will it be when the expense is increased fourfold. For I am convinced—and now, Randolph, I am coming to the point where my monomania developes itself— I am convinced that the fleet of the future will bear the same proportion in cost of production and destructive power to our present iron ships, as they do to the old wooden vessels."
"Come!" said Norval; "I think you are going too far there. You know they have got to the greatest limit in thickness of armour. Vessels can't he made stronger to keep out shot. Besides, all the leading papers confess that guns have gained the day."
"And why have they got to the greatest limit of thickness, some five or six inches?" said Mandevil, rather warmly. "Why, because they have limited themselves to three or four hundred thousand pounds. Give me enough money and I would engage to build a vessel that should carry twelve or fifteen inches of armour, and not only that—instead of drawing twenty feet of water, draw only from nine to eleven."
"I can't see it," said Norval; "how would you manage it?"
"Perhaps you can't," said Mandevil. "No one can see these things without analyzing them a little; but you have cooled me down to sanity with your scepticism. Some other time, when I get warmed up again, I'll explain it to you. One doesn't like to expose his treasured fancies to cold incredulity. But now to dispose of the main question of superiority, as you wanted my opinion on it. Assuming—and I am certain of it—that the most powerful class of sea batteries of the future will cost nearer a million and a half pounds than three hundred thousand, you see such a fact disposes of not only the smaller maritime states, but of all, except, perhaps, America; of all, I may say, that are obliged to keep up immense standing armies besides a navy, and without an
"Granting your premises, most decidedly so," answered Norval. "But you have pretty well satisfied me without that. And now what about this affair of the Wandering Jew? You said this afternoon you would tell me of it."
"It is getting time for bed, I think," answered Mandevil, "and as the subject in question is one on which I am rather sensitive—and you are so unsympathizing to-night—I will tell you to-morrow before I go. We will have coffee early, and take a walk up to our old seat by the castle, and talk over it."
An early hour the next morning found the two friends at the same seat which they had occupied the night before.
"I like to come to this seat, because it is the place from which I last saw her," said Mandevil, "and it may be for the last time. Who knows what may happen within three years?"
"Don't talk so despairingly. 'Faint heart never won,'—you know," said Norval. "But now put me out of suspense about the Wandering Jew, that celebrated—as I once thought—Myth; but with a representative of whom, by wonderful fortune, it seems I am privileged to come in contact!"
"Beware!" said Mandevil, with a faint smile, "or perhaps like the sperrets, I shall be hurt by your unbelief, and decline to divulge anything. However to begin. But first of all look at this, and tell me whether you see anything remarkable about it," he continued, drawing from off his finger a ring with a beautiful opal in it.
"First of all," said Norval, with a knowing squint, "this opal is the most beautiful I have ever seen. I have always had a partiality for the opal; I think it is the most poetical and mystically associated of all stones. And the setting is not at all of a modern fashion, and there is also some very fine lettering on the inside."
"That is Hebrew, as you might see with a magnifying glass, and
"I declare you are beginning to interest me," said Norval; "it looks quite promising already, like the commencement of a sensation novel. It verifies my instinct of discernment too. I knew it was nothing common which attracted me so to you the first day I saw you."
"Have you read Eugene Sue's novel of the 'Wandering Jew'?" asked Mandevil.
"Yes, only a short time ago," said Norval "I found it horribly exciting. Though spoilt by his usual amount of nastiness, it is masterlily developed. That old Rodin—I should have liked to have had the pleasure of shoving him into a bone-mill. How jolly to have heard his old bones crunch!"
"I only asked you," said Mandevil, "as it will save time by alluding to it; for the groundwork of the story is founded on facts, though many parts of it are overdrawn, and the seeming omniscience and talent of the Jesuits overrated. I don't believe in their wonderful talent, and for the reason that any special society, in order to command talent, should be able to draw men of genius to it,—and men of genius could not be found to reconcile themselves to creeping, slimy work. In fact, this is a natural, I may say, divine dispensation of rectification, or else we should have a universal 'Long live the devil;' so that our friends are obliged to put up with the next best article, of which low cunning forms the chief ingredient. Thackeray, in his 'Esmond,' gives a much better gauge of them than Sue with his intensity of hate does. The Father—what's-his-name—who makes his little information go such a long way, trying to overpower Esmond with his affectation of omniscience; but Esmond's common sense detected him to be a mere smatterer. Common sense with these fellows is what they say holy water is to the devil. But to return to the other thing—this is what I have been told, mind: all that part of the tale was founded on fact—that about the large sum of money let out at compound interest to accumulate for several generations in the hands of trustees—of whom old Samuel was the representative—and then to be divided among the different Thug.
"All this you know; I come now to the part which yon don't know.
"The different characters whom Sue brings in as members of the family, vary considerably from the reality. He in fact only makes use of the true groundwork, and half invents a set of people to serve the purpose of the glorification of his nation and of his own special theories. I do not altogether know the real particulars; but I have been led to believe that a sum of money was left in the manner described, in trust to the family of Samuel (who is a reality), to be divided among the living representatives of the deviser's family at a certain date. That all these with the exception of one—a member of the Jesuit society—mysteriously died off shortly before the appointed time; and also that Samuel told the Jesuit who claimed the money—answering to Rodin in the novel—that though he represented the sole remaining heir, yet still the whole trust was an affair of honour and not of law, and that his honour would be best satisfied by destroying it before his eyes rather than allow it to be devoted to the service of wickedness and idolatry. And now comes the strange part of the affair. Samuel never destroyed the notes and securities; and he still lives—for I have seen him."
"Nonsense! you don't say so?" broke in Norval. "Why!
"The reason was this," returned Mandevil; "one branch of the family, represented by a single person—namely, my mother— was in England, married to an Englishman. My father kept a yacht, and in cruising off the coast of Spain he made my mother's acquaintance, and they became mutually attached. She was an orphan, and her guardians, who were in league with the Jesuits, wanted to force her into a convent; doubtless, in order to have another hold on the property, of the existence of which she had been kept in ignorance.
"My father, who was a man of decision, ended the matter very quickly by carrying her off in his yacht to a British man-of-war in the neighbourhood and being married by its chaplain, and then sailing away for a two years' cruise from one place to another, so as to avoid pursuit.
"Well—Samuel, who had his secret agents who continually kept him informed of the whereabouts of the different members of our family, was enabled to follow my mother's traces, and knew of her existence in England, but was not certain whether the Jesuits knew of it also. In like manner the Jesuits knew of her existence, but were not sure whether Samuel knew of it. It seems that Samuel, when these deaths occurred, was determined to make an effort to save the last representative—which was my mother; and who, being in England, could not be reached so easily by their machinations. So he determined to meet them with some of their own cunning, and affected to believe that all the heirs to the property were dead, with the exception of the one who was a member of their society. Then, as my informants suppose, he got up this scene of the burning; but it was only waste paper that was burned, the notes were all safe in Samuel's strong box. Samuel then intended to have waited till the affair was forgotten, and then have quietly delivered the property to my mother. But, though the plan succeeded completely in deceiving the Jesuits, yet they were determined to be revenged, and shortly afterwards managed to administer poison to the old man. He had an excellent knowledge of medicine, and was enabled to take an antidote in time to save his life, but not his reason, which has been affected by the poison ever since in a most remarkable manner. His memory is clean gone, except at certain times,
"The doctors say that this state of mental oblivion has served to prolong his life; and that his waking out of it completely' which they have no doubt will happen before his death, will be the immediate forerunner of that event."
"But how did you come to know all this?" asked Norval.
"When I was in Paris last autumn, I was accosted in one of the parks by a stranger, who turned out to be a member or connection of Samuel's family. After examining me as to my identity, and seeing my ring, he informed me of what I have told you. At the time of the occurrence of this affair of the pretended burning of the notes, I was about two years old. My poor father was lost in his yacht a short time after. My mother survived him about eight years. She gave me the ring, enjoining me never to lose it or part with it. She didn't know anything about it, except that there was some mystery connected with its possession, and she had a vague idea that its safe-keeping might be of the greatest importance.
"The first time that Samuel experienced one of those partial regainings of his memory happened about five years after the time of the loss of it. He managed to let his family understand the importance of keeping my mother and myself in sight, but they could get nothing conclusive from him. They were then upon the point of sending for us, thinking our appearance might recall his memory more completely; but, while they were deliberating relapse came on."
"Well!" said Norval, "I must confess that this is all very bewildering to me. It must have been stunning to you, who had so much interest in it, if true. Had any stranger addressed such information to me, I should have set him down for some fellow escaped from a lunatic asylum."
"That was my first thought," said Mandevil; "and yet I was very much shaken in my opinion by all that I heard and saw afterwards."
"But if the money was there," said Norval, "could not his family manage it without the old man? Could they not look into his books and clear up the uncertainty?"
"That is what I am about to explain," said Mandevil. "They
"But he can't live for ever, you know," said Norval; "and when he dies they can see what's in it then."
"Yes," said Mandevil; "but his family are afraid that he may destroy everything connected with it before he dies. In some of his reasonable intervals he has hinted at it. He seems to have a dread, as far as they can make out, that if he dies leaving the property unappropriated, the Jesuits will get hold of it; and that sooner than suffer the possibility of such a thing, he will leave none of it after him. His relations have entreated me then not to be out of the way of telegraphic communication with Paris, for some time to come, as they noticed then that a change was coming over him, symptomatic of a final breaking up.
"The stranger who had accosted me, told me that Samuel even then was experiencing one of his reasonable fits, and that they had already sent to England for me. You know I had returned to England the spring before last, after five or six years of travel. They were informed that I was in the Tyrol, and in consequence, were giving the affair up for the time, when they saw my name announced at one of the hotels. Inquiring there, they were told the direction I had taken, and with the help of a description of my dress and person had found me.
"He, the stranger, after being satisfied as to my identity, begged me to hasten with him to Samuel's house, as the time was precious. The old man, he said, had already experienced three days of change, and his lucid state rarely lasted longer. It was too late however, unfortunately. When we arrived at the door, we were met by a granddaughter of the old man's, named Rachel—such a lovely creature, Randolph—who told us that the change for the bad had come on again. I was shown into the room nevertheless, where the old man was sitting. At the first sight of me a flash of intelligence appeared in his intense black eyes, and we began to hope that the experiment would be successful. But the next
"Poor old beggar!" said Norval "But, excepting that he can't help it, it's too bad of him to keep you in a state of such suspense."
"He has not kept me in much suspense," answered Man-devil, "for since then, I can assure you, I have thought very little of it. It certainly made some impression on me at the time; but after I left Paris and had reflected over it, I set it down as a chimera, and banished it from my mind. To show you what store I set upon it, a month ago I had determined to depart on distant travel for four or six years. It is only this last affair that has set me dreaming again."
"Light has been once more granted to me; but the time of my departure is at hand. Haste—haste, ere it be too late. Travel night and day. Yet four nights are permitted to me. That which I have, I must render into thine own hands, otherwise it cannot be delivered at all—for, I may not—I dare not leave it behind me unappropriated. Lastly, there is that within me which tells me that after the fourth night it will be too late.
"
Samuel." "To John Mandevil!"
The communication bore date two days before. And it had been lying in Stuttgart, waiting for him a day. It was then two o'clock, Mandevil having just arrived from Heidelberg.
With his brain in a whirl be approached the window, and looked into the street. Box was just then passing, and glanced up. The sight of Box's cool, quizzical face brought back Mandevil's presence of mind somewhat. He gathered comfort from it, and called to him,—
"Come up, Box! I am in great tribulation."
"Sorry for that, my dear fellow. In a moment."
Box entered the room.
"What is it? Can I do anything to help you?" he said.
"I must be in Paris by to-morrow evening. I must—I must— I can't tell you of what importance it is to me to be there by then."
"That's awkward. The express left at twelve; there's no other till twelve to-morrow, and that will bring you too late."
"Can't I do it by starting at once and taking the ordinary trains one after another?" asked Mandevil.
"One couldn't say on the spur of the moment," answered Box. "Anyhow, I don't think it could be depended upon."
"Then what shall I do?" said Mandevil.
"I know what might he done," said Box, "that is, if money were no object with you."
"Haven't I told you money is no object with me in this case?" cried Mandevil.
"Well, then, you might take an express train."
"An express train? You know the express train has gone already. What do you mean?" said Mandevil, whose brain was still confused by the great excitement.
"I mean a special train—all to your own cheek. But it would be expensive," answered Box.
Mandevil drew a deep breath of relief. "Box," he said. "you are my angel of deliverance. What a fool I was not to think of
"Just you try them," said Box, "with the money in your hand. Have you ever known it to fail before? If twenty pounds won't do it, then forty will. If forty won't, then eighty is certain to. You know the principle of double or quits. Heads I win, tails you lose, as we used to say?"
"You are right," said Mandevil; "and I shall have a little time to spare as well. Come along to Marquadt's; I'll stand champagne after this. Then we'll look in at the railway office and arrange about the train. I don't know how to thank you, Box! Had I not happened to see you, I should have bewildered myself till it was too late."
The street lamps were being lighted, and the shades of evening were gathered in as Mandevil stood before Samuel's house. When he entered, he met Rachel.
"Come at last!" she exclaimed; "come before it is too late. But you know not how anxiously we have been expecting you. My grandfather will now have the only weight which troubled him taken off his mind before he departs."
"How goes it with the old man?" said Mandevil, softly; "does he suffer pain?"
"The physicians," she answered, "say that he cannot last more than a few hours longer. He is entirely free from pain. But he wished to see you directly you arrived. I will take you up to him; but first, will you put on these, as he is most acutely sensitive to any noise," she said, showing him into a side-room and offering him a pair of felt shoes. Mandevil did as required, and then they ascended the stairs to the room where Samuel was lying. As they entered, the old man raised himself in his bed and said—
"Thou art come at last then, descendant of one of the princes of the people! "Welcome, though late! Rachel—my children—leave me awhile, I would be alone with him;" he continued, addressing the members of his family, who were weeping round his bed.
They withdrew in accordance with his wish. Then the old man addressed Mandevil again.
"Art thou in truth John Mandevil? And hast thou the ring?"
Mandevil gave him the ring. Samuel examined it for a few moments.
"This is truly the pattern," he said. "But come nearer, my son—sit thee down by the bedside; I would look on thy countenance."
Mandevil sat down on a low chair, as requested, by the side of the bed in silence, facing Samuel. He was too much affected by the solemnity of the occasion to trust his voice with words. There was a jet of gas near the head of the bed. The old man turned on a stronger light, and then with his large dark eyes, peered into Mandevil's truthful countenance, as though he would look into his very soul. As he looked, the expression of his features gradually toned, and a softened look of pleasure came over them. The attraction seemed to keep him spell-bound, for it was full two minutes before his recollection returned, when he said—
"It reads well and pleasant, like a page from the sweet Psalmist and out of the Book of Truth. There is nought but truth there; I needed not to have looked at the ring. But I must now despatch that for which I sent to thee, for the time is but short."
Mandevil's heart felt too full for utterance, and some tears escaped down his cheeks. Samuel observed them.
"Weep not for me, my son; rather rejoice! Death is better for me than to return into the Darkness that has been over me for thirty years. I am happy in the knowledge that I soon depart. Thy coming has removed the only cloud on my joy. And now," continued the old man, removing a key which hung on his neck, and giving it to Mandevil," open that iron safe standing at the foot of the bed, and give me the small box thou wilt find inside."
Mandevil silently did as Samuel requested, wondering almost whether he was in a dream or not. Samuel took the small box, examined it for a moment, then handed it back to Mandevil.
"All that thou wilt find in the box, my son," he said, "is thine, Thou wilt find a written statement concerning it, with the money. And now, having fulfilled my trust," continued he, reclining again on his pillow, "I prepare myself for my departure. Happy am I now that I have seen thee, for I know that the wealth will be well applied in thy hands. The sons of Belial would have wrested it from me for the purposes of darkness, but I was permitted to foil
All this time Mandevil said not one word. His hands trembled as he took the box, and he sunk on his seat again. He felt awe-impressed in the presence of the old man, watching him with intense interest, and listening anxiously to his words. Samuel was silent for a little while. A mental working seemed to be going on within him, and his countenance was lightened up with a kind of ecstasy when he next spoke. And then it seemed as though the lost reason of thirty years had been recovered and concentrated on that short space of time, enabling him to pre-estimate the progress of events with superhuman ken.
"Yes! my son," he said, with the air of one looking far away, "happy am I, for I know that in thy hands it will he used to increase the power and virtue of thy father's people. And in that it shall increase the power and virtue of that nation, so shall it also help to the quicker re-establishing of mine and thy fore-fathers' people.
"The day is not far distant—scarce another generation it may be—and then—the waters of the Euphrates being dried up—the great ones shall look to one another and ask to whom shall the dominion of the ancient land be given? And then, I know, the voice of the people, as of one man, shall declare fur the right of the ancient race.
"Then will it be seen for what purpose the superiority on the main has been fore-ordained to belong to them. 'And the ships of Tarshish shall be first.'—First to help to fulfil what has been determined. To bring the sons of our people from far, and their silver and gold with them. To help to build a City which shall be the centre of Nations.
"And in the time to come, when every valley shall be exalted, that the shining tracks may be extended across, and every hill made low, that the same may pass through,—then shall all these highways from the quarters of the earth unite in that city, and shall feed its greatness.
"Then shall Gog cast his evil eye of cruelty on the land and despise its unfortified condition, and shall seek to do unto its inhabitants as he hath done unto our own kinsfolk in these latter months, casting them out of their own lands, by myriads, to rot like sheep in a land where no pasture is.
"But the hook shall be placed in his jaws, and the bridle between his teeth; and at last the punishment of this ruthless one shall be meted out to him. Shall innumerable cruelties for ever remain unpunished, and the voice of tortured ones for ever cry out in vain.—No! surely not. He who soweth the wind must reap the whirlwind.
"The ships of Tarshish shall be first.—Of a people that, it may be, is the beginning of the universal kingdom. A kingdom not fashioned by the conqueror's hand, nor carved out by the warrior's sword, nor established by holy bayonets, nor made up of discordant mixtures of feudal knightly iron and despised serfly clay. But a kingdom continually growing great, and whose members cleave to each other through mutual liking and interest.
"Not composed of Iron and Clay, but well knit together, and homogeneous like a Stone. Of which no part shall dare, or even think, to call any other 'inferior' or 'common.' A kingdom maintained in order and justice—not by means of any vaunted constitutions, but by the fear of God, which causes each man to be a law unto himself.
"The ships of Tarshish shall be first.
"The nation that Will not serve thee shall Perish."
This chapter will be short and sweet.
When Mandevil examined the contents of the box delivered to him by old Samuel, he found that they would realize about fifteen millions, comprised in the bank notes and bonds of several nations. Samuel had put everything in such a way that there would be no necessity for any legal proofs, but the holder of the securities could realize them personally and secretly. In the paper that he left, Samuel advised Mandevil to realize moderate amounts at one time, so as not to attract notice, and with the same view to spread his transactions over as many countries as he could while doing so.
And now—What will he do with it? is a question that will naturally arise in the reader's mind. But it is a question that can-did know. So the reader must also be content to wait till the proper time comes for her or him to know what he did with it.
" St. Mark's Wood, London,1st Sept., 1864."Dear Randolph,When you asked my advice in Heidelberg relative to your turning artist instead of going on with the law, I said I would send word about it soon after. As promised, I have reflected over the subject, and now think that you are most decidedly right in your wish for changing. I would recommend you to leave where you are at once, and come to me, and we will see about your being inducted into your future avocation. I have some interest that way. But, however, come at once, as I am longing to see you. I have not the least fear of your not succeeding.
"Your friend, "John Mandevil." Randolph Norval, Esq.,"15, Irgendwo Strasse, Heidelberg. "P. S. I have made up my mind to fix my quarters here for the next three years at least."
When Norval read this letter, he gave such a thundering thump on the table, and yelled such a "hurrah" that he started Pauline, the servant, who was bringing in his morning's coffee, to that extent that she dropped the tray which held it. Fortunately, as it fell on the door mat, nothing was damaged but the coffee, for the cup and saucer and jug being about half an inch thick, it would have taken a good knock to have broken them. In answer to the girl's inquiries, he cried:—
"Va-room, did I do it, Pauliney! Vy, to give room to my feelings, to be sure, at leaving this dear old Fatherland." An then he continued in German, "You must get my things home from the wash, for I am going to-morrow. And here is etwas for yourself, for I want you to share in my joy."
Three mornings after this, Norval met Mandevil at the latter's house.
"You can't think how jolly glad I was to receive your epistle," Norval said; "but I was surprised on seeing your address. I was under the impression that you were still at Stuttgart."
"I became tired of the useless life I was leading," said Mandevil, "so I made up my mind to come over here and find something to do. I think I shall try to employ myself in the engineering line. You know what a natural inclination I have that way."
"Ah, yes! I know—those ships," answered Norval. "But for one who has not served his time, as they say, regularly to it, you will find it very difficult to get anything worth your while."
"That is true," said Mandevil, quietly; "but I think I shall succeed—that is to my own satisfaction, notwithstanding."
"How about old Samuel, now that you've come over here?" asked Norval. "Have you given up all ideas of that affair?"
"Samuel is dead" answered Mandevil, gravely.
"Dead!" repeated Norval, eagerly; "and did you find out whether there was really anything for you?"
"My good fellow," said Mandevil, "you must not be offended if I beg of you as a favour not to ask me any more questions about that matter, either now or in future; nor also if I ask you never to speak of it to any one else, as I most particularly wish what I told you to remain a secret."
"Sorry I spoke," returned Norval; "but I will most readily agree to observe your request." Then he thought to himself, "He's found out it's a hoax!"
"And now, my dear fellow," said Mandevil, "to make amends for leaving your curiosity ungratified, I will give you some good news. But first, how would you like to be a pupil of 'the great Vance'?"
"How would I like?" exclaimed Norval, eagerly. "Ah! but it's no use thinking about such a thing as that; he wouldn't be bothered with a fellow like me; that is, I could not make it worth his while."
"Well, then," said Mandevil, "he has consented to be bothered with a fellow like you, for he has promised me already. You know I told you I had some interest which was at your service; and I've used it. So don't ask any questions about it, but have your breakfast, and then we'll look out for lodgings. By-and-by,
In answer to Norval's repeated inquiries as to how he had managed the affair, Mandevil furnished him with evasions. Once afterwards Norval made a slight attempt to pump "the great Vance." "The great Vance" looked at him gravely, and in return simply proceeded to give him technical information in his art, ignoring Norval's query completely. Norval never tried it again.
But "the great Vance" might have told him, if he had liked, that Mandevil with a handful of bank notes had been to him (Vance) and asked him to name any sum he liked, provided he would accept Norval as a pupil. And that Mandevil had required that that part of his share in the transactions should be a secret.
And now Mandevil, having disposed of the immediate care for his friend's fortunes, was free to pursue his own plans for the future. Whether he had any plans; what use he was going to make of the enormous power, which almost fabulous events had placed in his hands, this story will proceed to show. 'What will he do with it?" is, as we said before, a thought that must already have arisen in the reader's mind. Will he bury himself in luxury, and outvie princes in splendour? Overshadow the haughty Lady Trousely into insignificance, and carry off his bride with a high hand whenever he liked?
It is true he might have done this. But Mandevil was proud, and more—Mandevil was honest. As for the last, the wealth, he considered was a trust in his hands, not for his own self-pampering—for Samuel's last words were continually haunting him. And his nature was of that lofty kind that it was really no trial or sacrifice to him to abstain from such a use of money. As for lowering the high position which Lady Trousely had assumed with respect to him, he was certainly resolved to do that, but in his own magnanimous way and at the proper time. But he was too proud to conquer in the guise, alone, of a two-legged money-bag. As for Florence, he said to himself, that he would wait for the three years, which she herself had appointed. Should she still be attached to him, after so long a trial—so much the greater prize. If on the other hand—but he would not think it out.
With respect to what he had done for Norval, it would perhaps seem very little for one to have accomplished for a friend when,
It was about six weeks after this that the next recorded conversation took place between the two friends. Mandevil had been riding homewards, and encountering Norval, he said:—
"Come and have dinner with me; I want to tell you something when I get home."
Arrived there, Mandevil stretched himself on the sofa.
"Well, what do think?" he said, "I've just returned from an interview with Lord Malmsey Butt."
"With Lord — — Malmsey — — Butt! What could possibly have taken you there?" exclaimed Norval. "But perhaps you have been trying after some appointment—though I should say there wouldn't be much chance there."
"I should rather think not," said Mandevil, with a short laugh. "No! when I want anything of the kind, it won't be to Government that I shall apply. What I went for was to enlighten him as to my notions of ironclads."
"Bravo!" exclaimed Norval. "Those wonderful ships again. You ought to have a public dinner and a statue for your courage. But I'll be bound you convinced him though. Going to have the lines laid down to-morrow, isn't he?"
This was rather flippant in Norval; but Mandevil only looked at him with a curious kind of amused smile. At the opening of this narrative Norval was represented to be under the influence of a sort of hero-worship, of which Mandevil was the object, and as having secretly chosen him as a model. Now, under this view of things, the reader cannot fail to have remarked several inconsistencies therewith, in Norval's remarks and manner as detailed thereafter. This can be explained.
The statement alluded to held good up to the very day on which this narrative opens. From that time Norval had begun to see Mandevil in a new light. Before that time Mandevil had appeared to him the very perfection of demeanour. How different he was then. That grand, reserved, courteous manner—and yet ever perfectly candid. Always erring on the side of saying too little—so that one always wished to hear more. Never seen put out by anything. And yet it had not been always so with him. In his younger days he had been as impulsive as Norval. But wisdom and stoicism acquired by having been knocked about the world, by having been cheated in various ways, had rendered him the comparatively reserved and shrewd character that Norval first found him. But since then this love-affair had unsettled his disposition, or rather, had brought out again the features of his younger self. Norval, who was continually under the actions and reactions of impulse and its recoil, was accustomed to admire Mandevil as a firm rock upon which weaker natures could find support. But now all these ideas had received a shock. First he had seen his hero suffering under the depression of disappointment. But this he felt sympathy for. The first serious damage that Mandevil suffered in Norval's estimation was his betrayal of enthusiasm on the subject of a crotchet—that of those wonderful war-ships. The next was like unto it—the history, or hoax rather, of Samuel and the Wandering Jew.
It is true that Norval's fidelity fought stoutly against these depreciatory impressions, and would not even confess them mentally to himself. But still the resulting effect was produced. It betrayed itself in the involuntary bursting out of such ironical remarks as have been recorded at times in the foregoing pages. But to continue:—
Mandevil, as stated, only looked at him with an amused smile. Under other circumstances he would probably have felt hurt. But conscious of the enormous power that he held in his hands, he was rather pleased than otherwise. Indeed, perhaps, the secret prompting which led him to bring Norval home to discuss the affair, was to draw forth such remarks, and for that purpose also he contrived to throw a more absurd air over the account of his doings than was really warranted. Besides which he confessed to himself that Norval was quite right in his ridicule. Under ordinary circumstances, Mandevil felt that he would as soon have dreamt of trying incog. in search of adventure, experience when treated with unaccustomed want of deference, or with rudeness, sustained Mandevil under the ironical civility and raised eyebrows of the naval minister. He thought to himself during the interview, which he after recorded to Norval, how quickly that great Man, who kept looking at his watch while Mandevil was making his statements, if he could be suddenly made aware of what a power his visitor represented—would change his manner.
"Not so fast, my young friend," said Mandevil. "You mustn't be too hard upon me, especially as I have not succeeded in the purpose of my interview, which I was going to tell you of, that is, if you care about hearing."
"Oh, by all means. Hope I haven't offended you. Sorry I spoke. But then you know it does seem altogether so curious to my inexperienced mind."
"Well, then," said Mandevil, "I had asked for an interview with his lordship. This morning I went to his office. He wished, in plain words, to know what I wanted. I then told him that I had called to lay before him a statement of certain convictions which possessed me, convictions which I thought I could prove to be well founded, respecting the necessity of having a certain class of vessels in our navy, of which it is at present deficient. Well, his lordship's eyebrows began to draw up, and the corners of his month to draw down, as these features do sometimes when hearers imagine that they are being honoured with superfluous communications. Hm—Ah—his lordship interposed—he understood. If I had any plans or models, or anything practical, I could submit them, and the proper parties would report upon them. But the department was besieged by hundreds of applications of adventurers endeavouring to raise grounds for claims on Government. I told him that I had no models, nor anything in detail then to present, but that I must request that he would listen to me a little longer, as I could explain my ideas generally in a very short space of time. That unless he would hear me personally, I should communicate in no other manner to the
"'Which, to say the least of it," said he, with a curious smile (a smile which seemed to say, 'I make you out now, and I'll go on another tack, I'll humour you'), 'Mr. ——er——
"'Mandevil,' I supplied.
"'Mandevil,' he continued; 'is very disinterested of you.'"
Norval burst out laughing. "He had you there rather, I think. How did you feel after it? If it had been me, I should have shut up and bolted pretty quick."
Poor Norval; his idol had received another shock in his imagination, another loosening on its pedestal. He began to feel quite doubting, and in consequence uncomfortable; he detected himself actually pitying his hero. What! the Mandevil without a flaw of old times—the Mandevil once never to be surprised in a false position, now doing all sorts of absurd things, being snubbed by the magnates of the land and of society. Norval was quite uncomfortable. He was rather ashamed of him, but still he would love him, for was he not a good-hearted fellow, after all?
Mandevil was not put out, however, but with his new, inscrutable smile, continued—
"I managed not only to survive it, but to continue my conversation in a pretty independent tone, which I think also contributed to secure me a hearing. Not to be too long, I gave him my ideas, and he did seem rather struck with them, and acknowledged that he thought I might be right, but it was an affair that might be safely left to the course of events. I then said, 'Should some other power secretly build a vessel of the description and suddenly attack us, we would have to submit to any terms that might be dictated.' He did not think that such a thing was likely—scarcely possible perhaps. Such vessels, besides, would be awfully expensive, and a Government constituted like ours could not hope to carry a proposition for such a purpose; that we must always submit to a certain amount of risk, or else the rival race of expenditure would never end. He said a lot more, and so did I, but I have indicated the general run of the argument. I saw it was no use, but in order to be definite, and to give the department one more chance, I asked him finally, did he intend to take any further
"Well, but what are these wonderful vessels to be like?" said Norval. "You know you've never told me yet."
"Don't ask me anything more about them," said Mandevil, "for I am determined to say nothing. Don't you think that Lord Malmsey Butt has done enough to shut me up for ever. I want to talk about yourself now. What's the state of your finances?"
"Rather lower than could be wished," answered Norval. "I begin to see now that that blessed Fatherland over there did have some advantages; one of which was that you pay in kreuzers instead of pennies. Youth, my dear young friend, has a fearful amount of vanities and temptations to expenditure to put up with here. I find a sovereign melts away I don't know how."
"Will you accept a loan from me?" said Mandevil; "I am well able and should be glad to give it, and for as long as you like, and no acknowledgment. Come, now, that's tempting."
Norval's heart smote him for his late thoughts. His hero-worship revived a little too. Mandevil impressed him again with a sense of power—a man with ready money to lend generally does so. But Norval had many good points, one of which was a healthy independence, so he refused the proffered loan.
"It is tempting, and you are a good fellow," he said; "but I must not begin that game—at least not so soon—or I shall never learn how to economize."
"Well, I won't press you," said Mandevil, "for you are right to practise self-reliance. But I'll tell you how I think you can increase your income. Make some drawings, and leave them in one of the shops for sale. Stick a good price on them, for people will be more likely to think them worth buying then. There is a place in Fast-street, where they sell these things on commission. You and I were there the other day looking at a picture in the window, you remember."
"Yes!" said Norval. "I think, too, I saw that picture for sale in the same window when I was in London more than two
"That's right," said Mandevil; "finish it at once, and stick it up there for sale, and if it sells, you can draw some more."
It was late that same evening, Mandevil and Norval were sitting at the fire. The former had been for an hoar in a brown study, gazing intently on the burning coals. The latter, occupied, with a cigar the while, had once or twice addressed a remark to his companion, but receiving no answer, had given it up as a bad job. At last that companion muttered—
"Yes! they shall see. I'm resolved."
"I'm glad you've made up your mind at last," observed Norval, quietly puffing out a cloud of smoke—"What are you resolved upon?"
Mandevil turned and confronted the speaker, first with a sleepwalker sort of look, then started slightly and answered, "Oh, nothing—I've been dreaming awake," and then relapsed into his brown study again. His thoughts reverted to the death-room of the old man; he recalled all over again. The fine, still, autumn night; his strange position as he found himself alone listening to those oracular-toned utterances, which had haunted him ever since, and which seemed to imply the conditions of a mysterious trust.
"The ships of Tarshish shall be first," he murmured aloud.
"What does that mean?" said the provoking Norval,—"that they'll go the fastest?"
"Well, I suppose it does," said Mandevil awake once more; "or rather, perhaps, that they'll be the first to get ready and start wherever they are bound for. But if I examine my own thoughts, I think I was using the words in the sense of general superiority."
"But who, what, or where is this Tarshish? I fancy the name is familiar to me," said Norval.
"When did you look at your Bible last, my young friend," asked Mandevil.
"Oh! I remember now," said Norval; "Jonah was pitched is Tarshiah."
"I've an idea on the subject," returned Mandevil, smiling, "but I won't give it you, because you'll quiz me, as you did when I told you about the Wandering Jew, and the legacy, and all that."
"All right!" said Norval; "it doesn't matter, though. I suppose we can all make a guess at it, and have the same chance of being correct."
Mandevil now took down a "Bradshaw," and pored over it for ten minutes. Then shutting it up, he said to himself, "That will do." To Norval he said, "You asked me a little while ago what I was resolved upon. I must say good-night to you now, and also good-bye, for I've resolved to be off early to-morrow, by the train, to look after something to do."
Some distance above Wavesend, on the Thames, lies the farm of Marshney. The land next the river, at the time last spoken off, consisted of low grass land a few feet above the level of high water.
The immediate neighbourhood was bare of houses, and a few cows were the principal inhabitants to be seen daily. At the commencement of 1865, the regular passers up and down the river saw a wonderful change come over the face of that particular scene.
First, a sort of landing-place or jetty sprang up in the course of two or three nights. In a week move a small settlement of iron houses for workmen sprung up. And in the mean time, theodolites, levels—dumpy or Y, according to taste,—levelling-staves, signal-flags, and Gunter's chains, were glancing and dodging over the ground. For weeks a constant succession of barges were unloading bricks. In the beginning of the second week, an oblong space of about eight acres, with a frontage to the river of 400 feet, having been laid off, 500 bricklayers set to work to surround it with a wall 25 feet high. At the same time a double row of piles was erected at the end next the river. In about three weeks from the commencement of operations the wall surrounding
The works already mentioned were completed in two months from the commencement. In addition to these, before the end of July following, a set of enormous buildings, with their stacks of chimneys, had also been erected at the landward end of the inclosure, both inside and out of it. Of course all this did not go on without setting the eyes, tongues, and ears of the curious on the alert. For it commenced so suddenly and mysteriously that no one knew where to get information from. However, about the beginning of the second month, the big paper, the Great Diurnal Weathercock came out with an oracular authoritative statement which relieved the anxious suspense of the aforesaid curious.
It stated that the new works were an undertaking of two of our first firms in their several ways. That the celebrated Squire & Sons, of Jerkemahead, and Worthit & Co., were about to enter into the Manufacture of artillery on a more gigantic scale than any that had been yet attempted; that they were determined not to rest till they had found the gun—that which should beat every other. Then, that having found the gun, it was probable that they would turn their attention to building the boat that should carry it. In fact, the G. D. W. believed that both branches would be carried on simultaneously, but the gun would decidedly receive the main attention. "And we must confess," observed the Great Diurnal, in conclusion, "that we are gratified at finding the convictions which we have long since expressed on the subject, confirmed in such a practical manner and by such eminent authorities. For we have often stated our opinion that in the battle between guns and ships, the gun would and has carried the victory. And this being the case, what we have to do is to find the best gun, and then build a ship to carry it—in short
"Wiseacres!" said Mandevil, as Norval read it out to him on the day it appeared. "Mark my words, Norval; if in two or three years' time it shall have been proved that the first thing to be invented is the best ship, and then find guns for it, these clever fellows will be the first to say, 'There! did we not tell you so?'"
One day in April of that year, Mandevil asked Norval to take a trip with him down the river. When they stepped on board the steamer, Norval observed that it was the cleanest and smartest passenger-boat he had ever seen, and what a wonder that no passengers were on board such a boat.
"A nice boat, isn't it?" said Mandevil, smiling; "a yacht you might call it."
It must be stated that three or four weeks after Mandevil's having informed Norval of his intention to start the next morning by railway, to look after something to do,—the former having returned again, told Norval that he had succeeded in fashioning out a good appointment, that of general superintendent to some engineering works of great extent, which were to be commenced shortly. At the same time he evaded entering into particulars.
As they steamed down the river, Norval asked why they did not stop anywhere to take in passengers.
"Oh, bother passengers," said Mandevil; "we won't stop till we come to the new Tarshish works."
It may be observed that the new works had been so named to the further mystification of the curious. "The lower horders," as one of the workmen told Mandevil, thought it to be a corruption of "Marshney."
"Are we going there? "exclaimed Norval. "That's jolly; I should like to see them. Everybody is asking about them, and no one knows anything."
At length they arrived there. As the enormous structure came in view, Mandevil said to his companion—
"Well—here are the Tarshish works; and allow me to introduce their general superintendent and disposer also of this yacht, combined in the person of your humble servant."
"You!" exclaimed Norval, in surprise, his feeling of veneration coming back to near its olden pitch for the first time since the meeting in Heidelberg. "I had no idea your billet was anything so good. You must have a good salary from the concern."
"I get no fixed salary, but I have an interest in it. As the affair succeeds or otherwise, my fortune goes with it."
In the mean time Norval's pecuniary condition had undergone a great improvement. He had followed Mandevil's advice with respect to leaving his picture for sale, and to his great surprise it sold almost directly.
He imparted the fact to Mandevil, with great elation immediately afterwards, who recommended him to follow it up; but asked him as a favour always to bring his pictures to him before placing them for sale, as he was reckoned a good judge, and could point out, perhaps, where they needed retouching, and what price to put on them—which Norval gladly agreed to. To Norval's and still more to the picture-dealer's great surprise, the drawings continued to sell almost as soon as offered.
One feature in connection with the new works which excited the surprise of those who observed it, was the immense quantity of earth which was continually being brought out of the inclosure. By the middle of summer enough had been taken out to fill up a large hollow of about thirty acres of marsh land adjoining—which belonged to the company, and which formerly was inundated at the highest spring tides.
About a thousand men had been constantly employed on the undertaking; and the buildings, machinery, and everything ready to go to work with, were completed by the beginning of July.
About a month before that time, one morning, as Mandevil was engaged in his room over some queer-looking mechanical drawings his servant appeared and said—
"Please, sir, there is a person outside who says he wishes to see you."
"Did he give any name?" asked Mandevil.
"Yea, sir,—he said, tell your master it's Bill."
"Oh, show him in here at once," returned Mandevil.
Accordingly, Bill was shown in. A tall fine-looking fellow with something of the sailor in his walk. He had tanned yellow hair, good forehead and features generally, and an honest clear blue eye. Bill had been a great rover. He was the only son of a farmer, and bad been left an orphan when young. He didn't know much about it, he said, but he believed his relations or guardians had done him out of all the property which ought to have come to him. However he appeared to have had good ordinary schooling, for he wrote a fair hand. Mandevil in his travels, falling in with him, had occasion to employ him in his service about a year, and had conceived the highest opinion of him. He was one of those naturally independent truthful characters which are not so very often to be met with. Bill had let out something of his previous life to Mandevil. He first enlisted in the artillery. After a year or two he deserted, as Mandevil rather guessed, from what Bill let out, though Mandevil did not press him on any particulars. However his reminiscences of the service did not appear to be very agreeable. Mandevil was amused to watch his indignation, when his eyes flashed and his teeth ground together, while describing the tortures he had to undergo at drill.
"Our dress and equipments," he said, "seemed as if they were made just on purpose to torment a man as much as possible. There—time after time, I've stood two or three hours with my stiff collar digging into me, and my knapsack braced so tight on my shoulders, that I felt as if I could almost faint with the pain, and my muscles and sinews got so numbed, that I could scarcely feel my arms for the rest of the day!"
Then as Mandevil had looked at the tall strong man before him who related this, he wondered how the more delicate recruits managed to come through.
Bill had next been a sailor, then a gold-digger, then a sawyer and rail-splitter, and a settler, in different countries, and had now found his way to England, and was standing before Mandevil.
Mandevil rose and shook hands heartily with Bill when he appeared, made him take a seat and then said—
"Well, Bill! you got my letter then I suppose?"
"Yes, sir!" he answered, "and I started directly I got it. I was wondering how you managed to find me out."
"I remembered your saying where some friends of yours lived. I hunted them out, and they told me of your having lately arrived and where you were to be found. But now to business: I've been thinking a great deal about you lately, as I am in want of a good, honest, shrewd fellow, to do some confidential business for me. Do you care about a good billet now? I suppose you haven't retired on your fortune yet; I always thought, and told you, that you were too much of a rolling stone for that."
"It's quite true, sir," said Bill, with a slight laugh; "I've been very much like yourself in that respect I think, sir. I made a little pile at the new diggings across there. Then I had a fancy to see the old country again, so I took a steerage passage here. I meant when it was spent to work my passage away somewhere again. But however, if you have a job for me, sir, I shall be very glad of it, for I've always said, since you and I parted, that I'd most sooner work with you for my food and clothes than for double pay with almost any one else."
"There will be no need for that, Bill," said Mandevil. "If you like the service, I think the pay will suit you too. You will have ten pounds a week and travelling expenses. It will be a permanent situation. For the first month or two you will be travelling about: afterwards you will be captain of a yacht belonging to the company in whose service I engage you. The arrangements of the company are chiefly in my hands. Now don't thank me, Bill,—but listen," he continued, as Bill's eyes glistened with pleasure, and he showed symptoms of speaking; "there is nothing I hate so much as being thanked,—I like being abused much better. You will want to understand something of matters, and how I come to have a hand in them. But first, what I have to tell you is confidential, and of course you'll keep it secret. Now the whole affair is this. I have lately had a large fortune left me. And as to this company, though for certain purposes it appears under the names of Squire and Worthit, and I appear as the superintendent of their works, they are really contractors carrying out my designs, for I am responsible for everything. Now I wish part of these works to be carried on in secrecy, and I wish you to proceed tomorrow, for the purpose of engaging several hundred trustworthy men, within the course of the next month or two, by which time good married men. But don't engage them without first finding out what sort of wives they have. If the man is ever so good, and he has a vain, lazy, jealous sort of wife, don't engage him. For all the men you get will be required to make a solemn declaration not to betray any of the secrets concerning the nature of the work on which they shall be engaged; and there are some women who would consider themselves miserable martyrs if their husbands dared to keep a secret from them, even though it were not the husband's own to reveal. You will be allowed to have the pick of both Squire's and Worthit's establishments, and if you want any men from other works, after having fixed upon such men in your own mind, before you say anything to them, go to their masters and tell them that you wish to engage such and such men, and offer to pay them for any loss or inconvenience they may suffer by it. I will give you detailed instructions before you start, about the number of men, rate of wages, and so on; but all through the thing you need not stick at trifles in the way of expense, as I want my plans carried out whether or no."
Bill carried out the commission given him with the greatest success, and justified Mandevil's confidence in him.
By the beginning of the half-year the works were in full progress. The secret was well kept of what was going on in that inclosure. But things in general were managed with so much caution, and sufficient was allowed to appear in the shape of works carried on outside, and results produced, to veil the character of what was really the main part of the enterprise, whatever that was. Notices in other papers, similar to that which appeared in the Great Diurnal Weathercock, were verified in their statements by the production of some really good specimens of gigantic artillery, manufactured in the Tarshish works. Some of these big guns were tried under official scrutiny, and knocked big holes through all sorts of targets; and the company received several Government contracts for the supply of guns. These proceedings were the means of bringing Mandevil several times in contact with was any gratification—of experiencing a change in that nobleman's demeanour towards him. There was a difference between the practical Mr. Mandevil, the manager of an immense firm, and the unknown—it might be adventurer—Mandevil, suddenly starting up, and encroaching upon the valuable official time, with theories and crotchets. Had Mandevil in these new times desired an interview, it would have been accorded without delay, nor need he have been apprehensive during it of significant examinations of a repeatedly-opened watch.
But all this did not move Mandevil a bit; he only thought of it with an amused smile. He said to himself, "I am playing too great and high a game to care about any one's courtesies, or the reverse. If my secret intelligence is right, and my judgment of symptoms is correct, my lord will sing small enough before me one of these days. Not that I have the least desire of any such triumph over him. No; all that I care about is her opinion, and to show her that I am not unworthy of her. And all the triumph that I wish is, to triumph over the prejudices of her proud mother."
Amongst other things turned out by the Tarshish works were specimens of small gunboats, in which, by making them nearly as broad as long—the greatest invulnerability was combined with a very shallow draught of water, and which were very much admired by judges.
And so things went on. One day Mandevil said to Bill, who had been long installed as captain of the yacht,—
"It is time now, Bill, to commence with another part of my plan. I want to have a set of gunners of my own. This will be something in your line, you know. You told me you were in the artillery once; only instead of being full private, you will be an officer now. I'll be bound, your men will be more comfortably dressed than you were. Of course, you guess the main reason for doing what I have told you. But others may be told that, in competitions sometimes, we won't have a fair chance unless our guns are worked by our own men; for some of them may have peculiarities of construction, which require men specially trained in order to use them. So take the yacht, and go for two or three weeks' cruise, and get about sixty of the most likely fellows
During all this time, Mandevil's house and establishment was of the plainest description. He had a workshop fitted up at the back, where two clever engineers were continually employed at models, under his direction. Mandevil himself was often to be seen with the file in his band, hard at work for hours, and of which his hands showed traces. Next to the room was another containing a telegraphic apparatus, and from which a wire had been laid on to the works.
And thus, by these means, did Mandevil preserve his patience. Yet he often thought to himself,—"Three, two years, one year, six months, is a long time to wait, when I might do without waiting. But I scorn to conquer as a mere money-bag. And the grand crisis, which is to be my opportunity, is sure to come before then. I see it brewing—brewing—brewing!"
Norval, as may be supposed, often looked in, as they say, upon Mandevil, while all these things were in progress. It would have been difficult, even to himself, for the former to have defined the feelings he experienced towards his friend. It was certain that he did not feel the same enthusiastic secret admiration which he did when in the palmy days of their first acquaintance, Mandevil, with his calm unswerving demeanour, so impressed him. But, on the other hand, his estimation of him had wonderfully recovered from the zerowards to which it had descended, before his being informed of Mandevil's accession to his important post.
It was rather curious that it should be so; for, according to what would have been the general view, Mandevil, in point of importance, was fifty times the personage he was; yet Norval was secretly swayed by so much of false judgment, that there was something about his friend which offended his taste. Perhaps, Mandevil may have purposely conduced to aggravate this feeling, in order to heighten the contrast when the time came for removing the curtains, and also to punish him a little for his defection. But
As for the profession to which he had turned, Norval showed great talent in it; and, what was less to be expected, he turned out a hard worker. This was, perhaps, greatly owing to the development of avarice, caused by the ready sale of his pictures. Mandevil cautioned him against letting this inducement lead him away from the main purpose of his art into superficiality, and advised, that whatever he did, he should do as well as possible. And when Norval, soon after, rather disdaining this homely advice, thought he could afford to scamp some of his drawings, he received a palpable confirmation of its truth, on being informed by his friend the dealer, that the unknown patrons, who purchased most of them, though partial to Norval'a productions, would decline any more unless they showed traces of greater pains taken with them.
It was on an afternoon in the autumn of 1866 that Norval happened to be at his friend's house.
"I say, Mandevil!" he said, "you know that handsome new house on the crest of the rising ground, about a hundred yards before you get here, on the other side of the way? It has a nice garden both in front and at back, and a lane runs down one side of the grounds."
"I do," answered Mandevil. "What about it?"
"What about it? Why, one of the loveliest beings that it has ever been my lot to behold resides in that house."
"When did you see her, then?" asked Mandevil.
"I've caught glimpses of her, enough to rouse my curiosity several times. To-day, as I was passing, seeing her in the back garden, I stole down the lane, and had a good view of her, from behind some bushes. And, ah!" continued Norval, heaving a mock gigantic sigh, as he' caught Mandevil watching him closely, "I'm afraid it's a-w-I up with Squeers—or, rather, your humble servant. Oh, that I knew some one that knew the family to introduce me."
"I know them," remarked Mandevil, quietly.
"You do!" exclaimed Norval. "How reticent we can be sometimes!"
"There are reasons," said Mandevil. "One is, I have only
"That you are a jolly kind fellow," answered Norval; "and that you always surprise me into being ashamed of myself, whenever I have been led into doubting you."
Mandevil, that same day, gratified his young friend by introducing him to the Sidonias in their elegant mansion.
It would lengthen this too much to follow out any episode, but we will anticipate time about a year in order to relate one incident, which perhaps it is more convenient to state here.
The scene was the same house, this time in the possession of Mandevil. The persons present were the Sidoniæ, father and daughter (Rachel), Mandevil, Norval, and one other the fairest of them all.
The conversation had come to a pause. Just then Rachel walked up to Mandevil, and asked mysteriously—
"Shall we show them to him now?"
On receiving assent Rachel approached Norval in a playful manner, as if they were on the best of terms, and in one of the sweetest of voices rendered more piquant by a slight foreign accent, said—
"Now, Randolph, we have to apologize for a sin of omission extending over several months—and also, though late, as far as we can to remedy it. We have a picture gallery upstairs, and though, I may say, a distinguished artist has been our constant visitor, we have never either availed ourselves of the advantage, or paid him the compliment of requiring and obtaining his opinion of it."
They proceeded to the picture gallery, Rachel's slight figure leading the way; then Mandevil, Sidonia, and that one other. From the direction in which Norval entered the room, his back was turned from the best lighted part of it. After noticing a few of the first pictures that came in view, he turned, and lo!—a sight which startled him amazingly; at the same time all his friends were observing him, and one another, with significant looks and
Gazing as one gazes in a horrid dream—awaking at length as one awakes out of a horrid dream, and finds it true—Norval flung himself on a sofa, and tore his hair, and bursting out into a loud demoniacal "Ha! ha!" of a laugh, exclaimed—
"Yes! I might have guessed it, had I not been such a self complacent Jackass."
And then he relapsed into moody silence quite pitiable to behold, with his head buried in his hands, and his elbows on his knees.
"I think we were foolish not to have foreseen this," said Rachel to Mandevil. "But go you and papa out and leave him to us."
Then Rachel and that other sat one on each side of him. They raised his head from his hands, and took his hands down, and Rachel rearranged his hair with her own fingers. All the time a healing mesmeric balm was being diffused over Norval's mortified feelings. At last he could no longer resist turning to Rachel with a happy though melancholy smile.
"Now," he said, "leave me for a little. This room is my valley of humiliation. I've just had my dreadful fight with Apollyon; and now I want to ruminate over the calm sweets of the valley, and enjoy its shady walks awhile."
"Very well, Randolph," said Rachel, as she and her companion went out. But at the door, as a thought struck her, she turned and looked quickly at him and said, "But you are not going to hurt the pictures, mind?—honour bright—for I like them the best of all."
Reassured by the look he gave her in answer, they left him to his quiet meditations.
It was in June, 1867. It was in Lady Trousely's boudoir (that's the term, we believe), in Lady Trousely's town house, in Nobsquare, in the Metropolis.
And oh! for the pen of a ready writer—that is to say, of a
Tangentially here we venture to suggest a bright and original idea with reference to the causes of success of some of the so-called sensational novels. Such success has chiefly been attributed to the excitement and gratification of the love of the mysterious afforded by the relation and development of crime, secret or otherwise. The critics who take that view, in other words, would make it appear that it was all owing to the plot. The plot, they say, is almost everything—the style, language, sentiments, descriptions, almost nothing, viewed as contributory to success. And then they analyze and make a specious show of proving their assertions.
They are wrong.
The great success has not been owing to the copious cullings from the fruitful fields of Murders, Madnesses, Fraudulencies, Forgeries, Brutalities, and Bigamies. All these subjects have previously been employed during all time, and with plots just as ingenious, but with unequal or comparatively little success.
What then is this popularity owing to? And now for our own bright Idea.
It is owing to a proper attention to the
Eries.
The Unities—that general Oneness, that kind of Dovetailedness —are nothing to the Eries. The Unities about which poor Byron so raved,—and compared to the value of the observance of which in his "Sardanapalus," he esteems the beauty of the language and poetry as of very little account—we repeat, are nothing compared to the Eries.
Yes, it is the Upholst-ery, the Drap-ery, the Millin-ery, the Jewel-ery, the Perfum-ery, the Crock-ery (that is if China-ware be so meant), the man and stable Liv ery, with all the rest unnamed, and the delicious visions evoked by the masterly description of them, that does the work—not your Newgate Calendar affairs.
It is easy to follow out the manner in which success is commanded. It is only according to personal observation among own friends and relatives, when we believe that of the circulating-library supporters five to one are of the fairer sex. Of these five at least three are devotedly attached to the Eries. Thus you see that out of six readers three patronize the novels in question, while the patronage of the remaining three—that is, the one dry man and the two frumpish women, for they must be frumpish to slight
The fair Emmeline, the fair Sophia, the fair average young-lady reader in general are met together.—Asks one, "Has any one in general read Miss Gladden's last work,—it is the most beautiful that ever was written. The manner in which the heroine's head of fair hair is described surpasses description. There is something so—so weird about it. She marries ever so many thousands a year, and then to think she was only a governess.—Speaker burnt a candle and a half last night getting through it, for she couldn't leave it off after having once begun.
"And then how thoroughly the author knows how drawing-rooms and lady's bowers should be fitted up. Her descriptions of all things essential—such as knick-knacks (in short of all the assembled Eries), how delicious!"
The fair Sophia pricks up her ears at this. She too has fair hair; she too is a possible, or probable, governess, being one of a large family of daughters. She rushes off to secure the novel in question. It is already engaged. But she has the satisfaction of securing a fourth turn. At length, after having devoured it, she reclines—it may be in her summer bower, it may be on a lounge, or it may be on her midnight couch, sweetly dreaming the dreams that it has called forth. With what hand and eye of the master has the charming picture been sketched. Oh! shall she ever be able to call such fortune her own? No young man's slave will she be—rather an old man's darling—a rich old man's. Ah! that delicious touch of the rose-coloured curtains. Rosy as the light shed through them may her destiny be. And then the introduction of that crystal knick-knack and the what-not, just in the proper place; none but a genius could have done that.
Then there is Mrs. Airy Mood, who can suit various tastes—to each something good, but as before, all requiring thousands a year to keep it up. No more are these the days of sentimental Angelinas roaming about, like dear stupids that they are, looking for their long-lost Edwins, and taking up with dull old hermits, and bread and water, and fern root.
In place of such silly maidens, treading forlorn and lost with fainting steps and slow, the fastly-inclined Emmeline beholds—with approbation beholds—Mrs. Carlotta Spain's turn-out, with
Or more mildly mark Marie Dolphin and her surroundings. Caroline says that no one can accuse her of building too loftily—for she is of quite a sober turn. But if she thought that her future husband could not secure to her a bedroom done up in the exact manner Marie Dolphin's was, including that touching feature of the gilt edged blue morocco volume of morning meditations—why she would rather—be an old maid.
Fain would we also describe in captivating terms the surroundings of Lady Trousely.
But Ignoramuses must not rush in where it is only fit that angels should tread.
Simply then Lady Trousely sat in her boudoir, and she held converse with her daughter Florence, or rather she addressed her with words of mingled regret and remonstrance.
Poor Florence, who has been lost sight of so long, sat there, paler, thinner, but perhaps more beautiful than before. Poor Florence, like Mandevil, all this time had kept her loyalty, her love, her faith, nor swerved from truth her constant mind so fixed. But long suspense and silence had been much harder for her to bear than for him. True to the conditions with her mother, they had exchanged no communications during the nigh three years that had elapsed, directly or indirectly. But Mandevil had the continual excitement of his gigantic enterprise, and above all, the secret consciousness of power which he held in his hands, with the certainty of carrying his way whenever he should choose—all these he had to bear him up. Florence knew nothing of these secret things in their favour. Whatever she had become acquainted with concerning his movements, through her cousin Norval, such as his having entered into some business or another, in a subordinate position, only appeared to render the prospect more hopeless, as regarded the prejudices standing in the way.
"Now, Florence," said her mother, "I wish to speak earnestly with you. I have forborne, hitherto, because I have been waiting in the expectation of seeing your good sense awakened, and causing you of your own self to respond to my desires. You know how delicately and devotedly Lord Chestnut during the last three years has tried to gain your favour. You know how the hearts of
"Mother," answered Florence, "you said just now that you had forborne hitherto to speak with me on this subject. And if so, it is only in terms of your promise with regard to the conditions agreed to between us, that if I observed them faithfully, you would at least urge no other suit upon me."
"True, my dear," returned Lady Trousely; "but then I never dreamt of these conditions extending over so long a period. I have waited patiently for one, two, and nearly three years, and I have reasonably supposed that whatever promise I may have made has been discharged by lapse of time. As for that person—I will not mention his name—through whom it originated, and whom we have, I am glad to say, lost sight of ever since, I can never imagine that any considerations in connection with him still influence you in the matter."
Florence looked steadily down on the carpet, with a hectic spot on her cheek, as if in deep thought, but did not speak. Her mother waited for a minute, as though expecting her to do so, and then continued in her most insinuating of maternal tones:—
"Well, my love, they say that 'silence shows consent,' and I hope that it is so in the present instance. May I then return Lord Chestnut a favourable answer?"
"Why," said Florence, as if at length arousing herself to utterance by a painful effort—"why did not Lord Chestnut come boldly and speak for himself?"
"I suppose, my dear," answered Lady Trousely, "it was because he misjudged your sentiments through your manner, and was unwilling to risk wounding his feelings of, I may say, proper pride, by a personal interview."
"No!" exclaimed Florence, "it was because be knew the truth. He knows that my love is already given to another man—that I have no longer any power over it, and yet he persists in his addresses to me. I wonder what such men are made of. I know that were I a man I should scorn to offer myself to any girl whose love I did not know to be perfectly free."
"Oh, Florence!" said her mother, "do you wish to cause me the greatest distress that could befall me? It is impossible that you can still be thinking of that man—I cannot believe you. If it was most objectionable then, it is utterly out of the question now. Why, do you know I have been informed that he is now connected with trade in some way or another, that is to say, he holds a situation in some manufacturing establishment, and has actually been seen like a common blacksmith in his shirt-sleeves and with grimed hands."
"And he is quite right," said Florence. "Were I a man I should act in the same manner. He is contributing to the power and dignity of his country. Is it not better and more patriotic to be doing thus, than to be continually engaged, as Lord Chestnut and those like him, in spinning those fine diplomatic cobwebs which every now and then are swept away accompanied by the derision of the whole world? I must say the truth—you would not have me deny it—I do still love him."
"Then I suppose, Florence," said her mother, coldly, "we may expect at any time to witness the family's degradation. Our only hope now is in him—that his feelings to you have changed, or that we may be able to buy him off."
Poor Lady Trousely! If at that moment she could have become possessed of the truth, how infinitely small she would have felt with her grandiloquent sneers about purchasing.
"Mother!" exclaimed Florence, warmly, "you have no right to speak in that way. You forget your own dignity and sense of justice in doing so. You know that there is not a man in the whole world more honourable or less mercenary than he is. You know he has observed his word honourably. He has not attempted any communication with me since, directly or indirectly. It is true, as you say, his feelings to me may have changed. At any rate I shall know in a few weeks. I shall be of age on the 1st of August."
"What do you mean by 'knowing soon,' and 'being of age'?" asked her mother.
"Before we parted," said the daughter, "I required a promise from him, in case his feelings to me remained unchanged in three years, to meet me on that day in yours and my father's presence, and then we would try to gain your consent. And that he should hear from me then whether my love to him still remained. But not that I would ever marry without your consent. At the same time I claim not to be urged to marry any one else against my inclination. If he did not come at the time appointed, I would consider it to be a confession that he loved me no longer. So you see, mother, there is a chance in your favour. He may not come. But it is not long to wait, and at least leave me in peace until then."
"Yes! and by that time the Grablys will have secured the prize they have been manœuvring for so long," answered Lady Trousely, almost spitefully. "I have lately been reading a novel called, 'A School for Dreamers.' I recommend it to your particular attention, and only hope a fate similar to that pictured in it may not be yours."
It was in July, 1867. It is now time to glance over as much of the political situation as had connection with, or led to the events yet to be described in this narrative. It had in truth, latterly, been getting more and more alarming. The Great Mogul had been growing moody in his manner towards our ambassador. He had been making ominous speeches. Of course, though all this and the serious consequences which followed, and the indisputably worse consequences that might have followed but for Mandevil, have long been recognized as matters of history, yet, for the sake of the general reader, and in order to make the narrative more clear, it will be as well to state the causes which led to it.
The chief cause was the question of the inevitable old Hope of the sect of Universals, which was not to be shoved on one side, or indefinitely ignored. The Great Mogul would gladly have done either of the two things. But whether, thinking that he obliged to find some solution of the question, or fancying that be perceived a feasible one, he accomplished the feat by withdrawing the props and supports with which he had heretofore shored up the shaky sides of the Tub-and-Can, as in political slang the old Hope's establishment was denominated. In consequence of this, the latter had to decamp, and his place was taken possession of by others.
In one circumstance his experiences were analogous to those of one claimed by him to be his earliest predecessor. After suffering his dynastical shipwreck, he reached the shores of the island of Melita, where the Barbarians So called by the Germans and Chinese.showed him no little kindness.
For once upon a time, to the surprise of a great, decidedly Non-Universal nation, it was reported that a minister of that nation, in a fit of sentimental hospitality, had offered him a residence on the island, should he require it. Most people of the nation thought that this, if true, at least was a case in which might have been observed the maxim about minding one's own business, and leaving other people's alone. But wonderful are the ways of diplomacy. And perhaps that was just it. It was (still supposing it to be true) in accordance with one of the old shreds of the traditions of feudal diplomacy clinging to the office. Such doings remind one of the plot of a French novel, in which the wonderful ways, past understanding, of the old diplomacy are set forth. The wheels within wheels that distract the reader's mind; the soul-stirring plots and intrigues by which the Regent is—may be —to be induced to go to the Duchess's private theatricals in preference to the Princess's ball. Or may be—to move him to prefer the rival petition of Mdlle. Precocity for the place of lady of honour, to that of Mdlle. Cheeky. Though why such intensity of feeling should be bestowed on it all—or what difference it would have made to Tom, Dick, and Harry, representing the nation at large, if the party that succeeded hadn't succeeded, or vice versâ, nobody can tell Only, those who understood these things would declare that it was something superb.
A faint glimmering of an idea in the reader's mind leads him to believe that the great point to be achieved was, that as many other people as possible were to be annoyed, and as much as possible. The greater the annoyance, the more the annoyed—the ought only to represent the feelings of his nation) which led him to proffer the hospitality. No—it was the temptation of the moment, in which the old feudal flunkey spirit of diplomacy flashed a little of its ancient flame. If the offer should be accepted, which was probable, —at least not decidedly refused,—the latter alone a triumph —what an annoyance to the Imperators, Kaisers, and Kings, who would morally give their eyes to have a real live Hope all to themselves! Though not that any one of these would estimate the value of his treasure, save by the annoyance that his exclusive possession of it caused the rest.
Thus was terminated a temporal sovereignty, which was commenced exactly 1260 years previously by Phocas, was carried on after, as some said, by means of Hocus, and ended in a sort of combination of the latter with Pocus.
All this, by the natural laws of reaction, produced a great excitement among the Great Mogul's people, and equally naturally the occasion was improved to the greatest possible extent by the Universals.
Of course, in the fullest of full vigour were the Ultramarines—the portion of the Sect which is so called, because it represents the true political colour of the Universals, which is bluest of the blue. For though, like the chameleon, they possess the most wonderful facility of assuming the colour best suited to their purpose at the moment (consequently in England, at times, they are amongst the yellowest of the yellow—in fact, in this matter of colour, shame, or pride, with reference to inconsistency or its reverse, is a thing unknown to English Universals), yet for all this, blue is their real standing colour when they are at home. Like the chameleon, too, with this wonderful facility of putting on a beautiful variety of colours, they do great execution amongst the butterfly breed.
The reaction was great among a large portion of the Great Mogul's people; so, consequently, was the dissatisfaction at the course of events, and the Ultramarines had it all their own way. What had the nation done, or allowed to be done? A neighbouring state had become stronger, and of course themselves were proportionately weaker; consequently it had been at their expense.
They had neglected the time-honoured, generous, feudal maxim of "keeping your neighbour down when he is down," and what was the consequence? Perfidious Albion, with hypocritical smoothness of face, and with assumed indifference and impartiality, inwardly chuckles with ecstasy. Perfidious Albion! "We thank thee for that word!" Against whom shall the wrath be turned? Not against those who have outwardly profited, but against the real head and fountain of enmity. No direct proofs? Cannot be traced home? So much the worse! So much the blacker the perfidy!
Great was the prevailing irritation. Even that good Christian' the Count Tompinchembert, felt its influence, as he reflected on the fallen fortunes of the great Architect of his belief. But if it was so with this mild spirit, how must it have been with his contemporary, the redoubtable Baron Noisy. This nobleman's name, when pronounced familiarly through the nose by his more intimate friends, was sounded as though it commenced with a B, instead of N, and thus by usage came at length to be written with a B; but nevertheless Noisy is the correct form.
When the angry god, after hearing the prayer of the old man on the shore of the loud-resounding ocean, stalked along the tops of Olympus, as he went, his countenance was like unto Black Night, and the arrows rattled terribly on the shoulders of him moving, and afterwards, dreadful was the clang of his silver bow.
As the rattling of that quiver, as the twang of that silver bow, even so terrible and dreadful was the Rat-tat-tat of the Noisy drum. The performer on this dreadful musical Instrument of War, his cry had ever been " A declaration made in a senatorial harangue by the bold Barón.Delenda est perfidious Albion," and, would his nation only declare war—were his talents not worthy of a more important post, he should be delighted to join in the humble capacity of drumme.
And thus it was that the Ultramarines had it all their own way, and aided, some say, by the Great Mogulla, his consort, worked upon the mind of the Great Mogul. Whether his understanding had lost its wonted clearness, whether the temper of the nation constrained him, or whether it fell in with one of his great ideas, saving up for a suitable opportunity, cannot be said. Perhaps it was a mixture of all three influences; but, as was worked upon. This was indicated at first by his altered demeanour, and his ominous speeches to our ambassador.
Unfortunately, favouring this policy, certain circumstances which appeared to promise him an easy triumph, then existed. The results will be shown in the proper order of this narrative. But, certainly, at the time, appearances seemed to favour the probability of his carrying out cheaply the only one of the great ideas attributed to him, which had been given up openly by himself, and which all thought to be next to impossible—Albion's defeat and humiliation, in revenge for the great Cat's-paw battle, that grand consummation of a series of similar achievements with reference to continental chestnuts. He wavered greatly, though; but the Ultramarines struck incessantly while the iron was hot, and at last gained their point, Mandevil, by means of his secret agents, knew all these things, and this was what he referred to when he said he saw it—"brewing—brewing—brewing."
From the ominous hum of the Ultramarine camp, far away from the sounding terrors of the Noisy drum's incessant beat, we turn to the quiet retreat of Mandevil.
It was on an afternoon in the latter half of July; Mandevil paced in his room with a letter in his hand that he had just read. He ruminated for a while; then, with a confident smile, he soliloquized—
"All my secret agents tell me the same thing; but I'm quite ready for them, though in truth not much too soon. The piles are removed, the frontage dredged, and they won't have to wait long before they see what is behind those iron gates. What will 'my lady' say? What Florence?"
The piles in front of the Tarshish works had in fact been removed a short time previously, and this was what Mandevil referred to. Their removal had revealed a pair of enormous iron gates, spanning the entire width of the structure. The Great Diurnal Weathercock had honoured the occasion with a leading article, adverting to the general curiosity as to what was behind
"We've come to talk with you!" cried Norval; "have you heard the latest news?"
"I declare," supplemented Box, "I never saw anything like the excitement the town is in. People are rushing back wards and forwards, as if they didn't know what to do with themselves! But give him the paper, Norval."
Mandevil looked at the paper. It was the Great D. W.—second edition. Under the head of Reuter's Telegrams he read out the following:—
"At the extraordinary reception yesterday, to the astonishment of the assembled diplomatic body, the Great Mogul, abruptly addressing Lord Cowslip, said that Ireland's cry of agony had entered his very soul and could be endured no longer, and then immediately retired,"
"Well," said Mandevil, looking up with a smile, "what does all that mean?"
"You seem to take it very coolly," said Box. "What does it mean? Why, it means fighting. That's what it does."
"But what do you think?" said Norval; "we came on purpose to ask you."
"I think Box is quite right," said Mandevil quietly. "But excuse me for a moment, I want to send a telegram down to the works, to Bill. Come along."
Mandevil and his two friends adjourned to the adjoining room, where the apparatus was, and he quickly despatched his message.
"Come, tell us what mysterious orders you have sent," said Norval, whose old faith in Mandevil was returning, as he saw him so calm and cheerful.
Mandevil wrote on a slip of paper, and handed it to Norval, saying, "Here's what I sent."
Norval read it. "'Keep plenty hot oil and chemicals ready. Everything else prepared. Steam up night and day.' I'm nearly as wise as before. What does it all mean, Mandevil?"
"You must defer your curiosity for a day or two, when, I promise you, you shall know," answered Mandevil.
"I can comprehend about 'keeping the steam up;' that's in your yacht, I suppose. But the hot oil puzzles me. If you'd said
"You've made a shrewd guess as it is," said Mandevil, laughing; "I think the hot oil may be made to answer the same purpose pretty well."
"You really think it means fighting, then?" asked Box.
"I'm certain it does," said Mandevil.
"All right!" exclaimed Norval. "Our Warriors, and Black Princes, and the new cupola fleet, will give a good account of them, f they venture to show their ugly noses this way."
"I'll tell you another thing I am certain of," said Mandevil calmly; "if that is all you depend upon, your chance is not worth much."
Both Box and Norval appeared to be taken aback by the assertion delivered with so much confidence. "What do you mean?" they asked simultaneously.
"I mean that the Great Mogul is too shrewd a fellow to venture on an attack without being pretty confident beforehand that he has the means of disposing of the whole lot that you've mentioned pretty quick."
"What are we to do then?" said Norval.
"Our Government ought to have built some of the vessels I told you of once," said Mandevil.
"Oh!" said Norval, laughing and relieved; "there you are again with your wonderful ships. It's too late to begin those now. Anyhow, if we haven't the best, ours are as good as theirs. We can smash ship against ship, and then see who can build a new lot quickest. I think we can beat them at that game Come, Box, we'll go back to town and see if there is anything fresh."
Again Mandevil was left alone. As he watched their retiring forms, he said, "My wonderful ships again. I'll have the laugh of you, and a few others too, before two days are over, my young friend."
The next morning more disquieting rumours and telegrams; mid-day, still more disquieting; but at night was reached the climax of alarm. It was known for certain that Lord
The weather was hot and still; of that ominous kind which forebodes a storm. In that respect it harmonized with men's feelings. That night people who had been wont to retire early, stopped half the night talking in the streets with men they had never seen before. Thousands of generally good sleepers passed a feverish wakeful night.
Another morning has come. The scene is now in Mandevil's house. It is about half-past seven. Without, before the door, stands a carriage with horses ready harnessed. They have been there ever since daylight. Within, Mandevil is at breakfast. He too experienced a night of wakefulness and excitement, but from different causes to those which affected the people in general. Theirs was a sensation of vague alarm; his was one of certain hope and pleasure at the soon fruition of long-laid plans. It kept him awake the first part of the night, but he had a sound, refreshing sleep of three or four hours before morning.
When Mandevil had about half finished his breakfast, he heard the noise of a cab rattling up the road almost at a gallop, which ceased suddenly at his garden gate. Then Box and Norval almost rushed into his room in a state of tremendous excitement.
"There," said Norval, and "There!" said Box; "read that," each throwing a "special issue" on the table.
"You are just in time," said Mandevil quietly, without appearing to notice the state his two friends were in. "Come, sit down. What can I help you to?—there's ham, and there are boiled eggs, and there's——"
"Well," broke in Norval, "I never saw such a fellow. Have you no curiosity? Don't you know the country is in danger—as the old S. P. Q. R. used to say? Or have you heard the news already? Or if you have, how can you be so callous over it?"
"The fact is," answered Mandevil, "I have heard the news already; I suspect before even the offices of your papers received it. You forget that I have a telegraph 'on my own hook,' as they say. My assistant has been watching it all night. But come, take some breakfast, and while you are at it you can tell me what news you know."
"The news is bad enough," said Box; "there's been fighting, and as far as has been known, we've been licked. It has proved you rigth, Mandevil, as regards our Warriors, and the whole boiling of them. This morning, just before daybreak, the Warrior, with several others, discovered a strange-looking craft, a sort of Monster,—long, immensely broad, and low in the water, surmounted by two cupolas, sneaking towards the mouth of the Thames. Behind her were other vessels coming slowly, which afterwards turned out to be the Glowerer, Moll Fereeno, San Genter, and others. Our side challenged the strange Monster. The Monster didn't condescend to answer. Then we fired small shots across the Monster's bows, then at the Monster. These taking no effect, the biggest shots were tried, but without producing the least impression. The Monster didn't answer with a single gun. Then the greater part of our ships made a charge to try close quarters. The Monster waited till they got pretty near, and then opened upon them, with nothing lighter than 300-pounders;—almost every shot told between wind and water. Our vessels had to cut almost directly. One or two ran on shore to save themselves from sinking at once; others, less injured, but disabled for fight, made off in the direction of the nearest port. The remainder of our fleet then began to try their hand on the Glowerer, and her companions; but these immediately ran up and sheltered themselves under the wing of the Monster, so that our ships could only play at long bowls, in which game they got the worst of it. And in this order, they say, they are now coming up the river,—the Monster and her brood, and our ships at a respectful distance. They say it's most disgusting to see a tub that can only go six or seven knots setting all our splendid fleet, with their fifteen or sixteen knots—able to walk round and round her—at defiance."
"Well, but isn't it a satisfaction in itself," said Mandevil cynically, "to have such a set of handsome fast vessels. You know when they were built they were never meant to meet such ugly old tubs as you have described."
"Ugly or handsome—clipper or tub," exclaimed Norval impetuously, "the vessel that can send all our crack ships howling to their gods, where haply lay their petty hope in some near port or bay —is the one for me!"
"The vessel, Master Norval," said Mandevil, "which is the one for you, is some of 'my wonderful ships' that you have so often
"You've known it for the last nine months," said Norval warmly. "Then why didn't you let the public know? You are the last person I should have thought of being a traitor."
"Don't be so excitable," replied Mandevil quietly; "I will answer your imputations of treason this evening. But as to your question, I will put it to you in answer this way. Supposing I had informed the public. What more influence ought it to have on it to know that such a vessel was building than to know that such a vessel could be built? Supposing that I establish my position, that the influence ought to be only equal. Then to see what effect my informing the public would have had, we can judge from the instance of Lord Malmsey Butt, who may be supposed to be the representative of the best intellect and technical knowledge of the public in these matters. Well, I did actually wait upon his lordship more than two and a half years ago, and suggest to him that such vessels could be built, and what did he do?—heard me gravely, answered me evasively, and bowed me out politely. And the public would have done the same. Had I written to the Great Diurnal Weathercock, I dare say it would have only condescended to throw my letter amongst the waste paper without further notice."
"You are about right, Mandevil," said Box; "success is the great thing with the Great Public, and its Great Representative the Great Diurnal. But it's too late for anybodies' mutual recrimination now. But, still, I wonder whatever we shall do to get out of the mess."
"For all that the Government," replied Mandevil, "has in its power to repel attack, the best thing we can do is to pay a good round sum, say a couple of millions, as prize money, and make some concessions with respect to Ireland. The Great Mogul himself wishes us no harm, and would be glad to draw back again, with creating as little bad blood as possible, and yet with the éclat of having carried out the most seemingly impracticable of his ideas. He
"When I hear you talking so coolly of our probable disgrace," said Box, turning red, "I feel inclined to say to you what Norval did just now."
"That's right, Box! said Mandevil, laughing; "I admire your spirit. But don't accuse me wrongfully. I am not for yielding. Perhaps I am more inclined for fighting than yourself. At any rate, I am going down the river to see the enemy. Come along with me, and I promise you that when we do see them, I will go so close that you shall say Turn back before I. But it's time that I should be off. Will you go?"
"With all my heart," said Box; "but I am not such a fire-eater as to want to run into the dragon's jaws."
It was about eight o'clock as Mandevil, Box, and Norval took their seats and rattled off towards St. Katharine's Wharf, for there Mandevil's yacht was in waiting. As they were going, Norval said—
"Whichever way the affair turns out, whether we resist or compromise, how our friends in Heidelberg, and the Germans in general, will chuckle."
"According to the way," observed Mandevil in a musing manner, "in which I think the affair will turn out,—I don't think they will."
Both Norval and Box stared at the "speaker; but failing to catch his eye, pursuing the subject, Box observed—
"What a mess the funds are in. They say consols will be down to between 60 and 70 to-day, and perhaps lower. I wish I had sold out a week ago. I've a good mind to stop and sell out this morning, before they get lower still."
"If ever in your life you were inclined to be guided by me," said Mandevil, "be so now. Don't sell a penny's worth. On the contrary, if you are avaricious, lay out all the money you have in
"You are a perfect Sphinx this morning," said Box. "I will take your advice about not selling out what I have, because it squares pretty well with my own ideas. But as I am not avaricious—and also with regard to present circumstances—I won't buy. But I can't conceive what is up with you, that makes you so cheerful, not to say—if I might venture to use the expression—cocky, when everybody else is down in the mouth.
"You will know in two or three hours," replied Mandevil. "But you must excuse me if I beg of you not to inquire any farther now. I have certain plans, too, to carry out to-day, and I wish to think over them a little."
So saying, he sunk back in his seat and rested his head on his hand. The carriage continued to whirl along at a great rate, as, indeed, it had been doing ever since they started.
"He seems pretty confident about something or another," muttered Box in a low tone to Norval; "I wonder what it can be."
"Perhaps," answered Norval in the same manner, "he has some torpedo, or infernal machine or another at his works, with which he means to attack the Monster as it passes up the river. But I'm afraid he'll find it a sell."
Here Mandevil smiled, the thoughtful expression that had come over his countenance passing away, and the two speakers, seeing that they had been overheard, looked at one another rather disconcerted.
Just then the carriage stopped, having arrived at the Wharf. Standing up, Mandevil said, cheerfully—
"No sell at all, Norval, my boy. Only have patience for a few hours, and come along with me, and I'll show you as pretty a little game as you ever heard of."
When Mandevil and his two friends arrived on the Wharf, they found another party already there. This party was a very distinguished one, for it consisted of no less than a very tiptop Naval officer; a ditto ditto Military; two or three others not quite so tip-top, who accompanied them as aids and comforters in
It appeared that it had been officially telegraphed that the enemy, before proceeding to further hostilities, was prepared to offer terms of arrangement. If the proposal for a conference to the end of discussing such terms were agreed to, the Monster would not come further than Wavesend till the result was known; from thence the enemy's envoys would proceed up the stream in one of the steamers on the river, which they would take the liberty of impressing for the purpose, while the British envoys would go down till they met them, so as to save time. The offer had been accepted, and it was in consequence that the distinguished party just enumerated happened then and there to be on St. Katharine's Wharf.
It appeared also that, through some mishap, the steamer which should have taken them had not made its appearance yet, though they had been waiting a quarter of an hour, and the official party were impatient at the delay. Lord Malmsey Butt, recognizing Mandevil when he arrived, came up to him, and after some observations on the great occurrence of the day, stated the dilemma they were in. Mandevil immediately placed his yacht at their disposal, it being there ready to proceed at a moment's notice, which offer his lordship gladly accepted, and went over to Lord Chestnut and the others, to acquaint them with it. While they were talking, Norval drew close, and said in a low tone of voice—
"I say, Mandevil! that's Lord Chestnut over there."
Mandevil looked towards the party, curious as to the appearance of his rival, whom he now saw for the first time. At the same moment Lord Chestnut (together with the others of his party) was turning to look at Mandevil, but only with a very languid curiosity. And then their glances meeting, the party came forward and was introduced by Lord Malmsey Butt. Lord Chestnut, on being informed of the offer of the yacht, had inquired to whom they were indebted, and, on being told, had remarked, cutting the description short—though rather languidly—
"Oh yes, I know — that engineering man belonging to the large works down there."
To men like Lord Chestnut, who live in a refined atmosphere of the rarest official and social tenuity, in a region where nothing common or unclean—in short, nothing practical—is allowed to intrude, but only theory, in the shape of pure diplomacy and beautifully-developed ideal intricacy, prevails; to such men, every other man not belonging to their set is conveniently designated as that something or another—man, or, that something or another—fellow. And this refined official feeling is not limited only to the heads, but extends downwards to the lowest departmental grades. The worst off among them will look with a kind of lofty pity upon a "fellow" who is three times as well off as himself, but who has the misfortune to be connected with business in some way. Lord Malmsey Butt, belonging to a more practical department, and by frequent attrition with "fellows" and "men," had accustomed himself to look upon them with more of that fellow-feeling which, as the poet observes, makes us wondrous kind. The tip-top Military officer, also, had seen some service—and a battle or two, together with some roughing in real camps, had taken the nonsense out of him. As for the Naval officer, he had also done some fighting—but the very nature of his service, even without fighting, is calculated to give one a proper estimate of a man as a man.
It would certainly have made a difference in the degree of interest with which Lord Chestnut regarded Mandevil on that occasion, had he known him to be his successful rival. But he did not know it, Lady Trousely in her pride had never hinted at the identification, having always evaded the subject.
The yacht started. Mandevil generously refrained from reminding Lord Malmsey Butt of the vindication which his rejected propositions were now receiving. Nor did he offer any advice, reserving his opportunity till the result of the coming meeting should be known. His lordship, however, frankly took occasion to allude to it, and acknowledge the triumph of Mandevil's views.
"Well, Mr. Mandevil," he said, "you were quite right in your suggestions, and I heartily wish—though that's not much use now—that I could have followed them. Of course I saw a good deal of feasibility in your propositions "(Mandevil here thought of the watch), "but in an administration such as ours it would have been next to impossible to have inaugurated such an
"I could," said Mandevil, laughing; "and perhaps I have good reason for saying so. And yet I must in a measure belie my assertion, when I state that I have known of the preparation of this strange ship, that has done so much damage, for several months past."
His lordship seemed unable to speak for a few moments, as he looked fixedly at Mandevil, while the colour went and came on his cheek.
Then he said—
"And why, may I ask, did you not inform the Gov——that is, the public, so that we might have been able to concert measures of defence in time?"
"I should assuredly have done so," returned Mandevil, calmly, "had I not seen a certain way out of the danger without the necessity of taking that course."
"Might I ask you to explain?" said his lordship.
"Not just now," answered Mandevil; "but you will know very soon. At present I will only say this, let Lord Chestnut first try his hand, and see what terms he can make. Then, if you find these conditions too galling, come to me—I do not say it boastfully—and I will undertake to deliver the country out of the difficulty. At present I will not state the means, but you may be assured they will be sufficient. But here we are," he continued "in sight of our works. My advice would be to wait opposite to them till our friend the enemy comes up."
The steamer bearing the hostile envoys has arrived, and side by side it and the yacht float in the river opposite to the Great Iron Gates. For some distance up and down the stream two or three armed revenue vessels, which made their appearance, kept off the
The conference first commenced in the saloon of the enemy's vessel, but that proving inconveniently warm, it was carried on under an awning on the quarter-deck. The men of both steamers were strictly kept forward all the time, but they continued straining their ears, as now and then voices were raised to a higher pitch than ordinary, to catch any clue as to the result. A great portion of the men in the steamer of the hostile envoys were Englishmen, they having been pressed into the service along with the vessel that morning. As Bill and the yacht's crew were standing forward, these were discussing the matter with them. One of them—an old Man-o'-war's man—called out—
"I'm afraid it's all up with the old flag for the present. How-sumever, it's not along of us here fighting beggars; it's along of them there thinking beggars—and be dashed to them."
"No fear, lads! Never say die," said Bill. "Wait a little bit, and you'll see a slap-up game. You see Mr. Mandevil there—they ought to make him chief Admiral. He's got a rod in pickle that them fellows don't dream of."
The conference did not last very long. The Great Mogul, his envoys said, had generously condescended to bring forward his demands in the simplest and most moderate form to which he could permit himself to reduce them. The conditions were these:—A million pounds were to be paid down, to be divided among the grand army as a matter of prudence. This would be a mere nothing to such a rich nation as the English, and still less, considering the exceeding damage that could be done by the invaders in a few hours. This money to be paid before the signing of peace. So much for the feeling of the army. Next the sentiment of the nation was to be consulted. The least that could be demanded was the destruction of the Bridge of Cat'spaw. This must be blown up before the attacking fleet thinks of leaving the river. Also the mast-headed admiral must be ordered down from his position. The mast to be transported, at the expense of the English Government, to a position in his own capital, to be indicated by the Great Mogul, and there to he erected into a monument, and the said admiral to be placed thereon, so as, with a few alterations—such as a trifling change in the shape of his cocked hat, and particularly the arrangement of certain white
These, then, were the demands. It was no use to discuss them or to receive counter, proposals. They were in the form of an Ultimatum. There they were, and there significantly was the Monster. Nothing more could be said.
To these high-toned demands the English envoys had to reply. But what could they say? The tip-top Military officer turned scarlet, and curled his very beard for ire. The tip-top Naval officer turned purple, but couldn't trust himself to speak. Lord Malmsey Butt could say nothing likewise, but began to think of Mandevil—of what he had said,—and to hope, glancing over at the iron gates, that he was not a mere monomaniac. It was here that the true greatness and inherent superiority of the spirit of the old diplomacy asserted itself. Lord Chestnut alone had the presence of mind to say something. Without exhibiting any undignified emotion—Perhaps the opposite side would have the goodness to give them time to—talk the matter over in their own vessel. The opposite side said certainly, but would the other side make twenty minutes suffice, as the present tide must not be lost without arriving at something definite, and the question was a simple one, only involving acceptance or rejection as a whole.
Hereupon Lord Malmsey Butt—"Aye, five minutes less than that—within fifteen minutes they should have their answer." Then the party retired to the cabin of the yacht to hold their consultation.
While they are thus engaged, we will take a peep under the awning at the occupants of the quarter-deck of the enemy's steamer. Just now the members of the late conference are
The Individual alluded to, as far as dress went, was certainly the least distinguished-looking man of the party. While the rest were glancing all over in silver, steel, and gold, he did not glance at all, except in a furtive and uneasy manner at the large Iron Gates of the Tarshish works which loomed ominously abreast and whenever he did so, it might have been observed that the well-marked crow's-feet—those signs and effects of deep thought—at the corners of his eyes grew still more marked. His Nose was one of those seemed formed whereon to "hang a world." Under the nose, over the mouth—concealing it,—drooped a long and shaggy moustache. Somehow it looked as if it would have been more, in keeping, had this latter appendage been waxed and twisted out horizontally right and left, each like the lash of a whip, with which to "touch up" the nations. A jaw and cheeks to match the nose. But with respect to the cheeks, also, it would have seemed more in keeping had they been divested of a huge covering of reddish whisker, which, descending on each side, united under the chin, and which in colour did not seem to harmonize with the natural complexion of the wearer. A slouched wide-awake concealed his head, and a loose overcoat his body. He might have been a sort of secretary to the party, or a confidant of the Great Mogul's — one who shared his most secret policy.
Turn we now to the deliberations of Lord Chestnut and his colleagues. The tip-top Military was for risking anything—better than putting up with such impudence; and yet there was an irresolution in his anger, as he thought of the fearful loss and destruction to be risked. The tip-top Naval took the same view with regard to the impudence, but acknowledged the certain enormous loss to be incurred. He had a rough-and-ready plan, that by. Next there was the Bridge and the Admiral. What if they were put out of sight. He need not say that numbers of people, did they remain consistent to their recorded opinions, would say, "And a very good thing too." Of course to have to do a thing upon compulsion, was not agreeable to the feelings. But then, on the other hand, by way of comfort, might we not reflect upon what a turning of the tables it would be upon the enemy, that while he imagined himself to be harming us, he should be actually doing us a service. The third and last term—he frankly acknowledged—was the most seriously to be considered of the lot, for it involved a principle, and diplomacy always had the greatest regard to principles. But still, he thought, with a little diplomatic management, the sting might be taken out of even that. There had been nothing said as to when that particular provision should be carried out. He thought they might, by introducing some looseness of wording into the treaty, succeed in postponing the fulfilment of that part indefinitely.
So Lord Chestnut;—and with gravity and self-possession during the delivery of his sentiments, undisturbed by the fact that the military chief turned all sorts of colours the while, fidgeting with his sword and jingling his spurs,—or that the naval chief interposed two or three times with a fully audible "whew!" So Lord Chestnut with the most perfect calmness of spirit, while the others were inwardly as well as outwardly writhing. But what would be the good of diplomacy, were it not able to show its unquestionable superiority under trying circumstances?
And now it remained for Lord Malmsey Butt to declare himself. It appeared that he sympathized extremely with the pugnacious feeling of his fighting friends, at the same time he could not but in toto. He then informed them of Mandevil's communication and offer, stating that he had every reason to repose confidence in his judgment and sincerity, and indeed—though it told against himself in saying so—had Mandevil's advice, given three years ago, been followed, things had never come to such a pass as this.
The military and naval chiefs caught at the communication eagerly, and were for turning the matter over to Mandevil at once. The party immediately adjourned to the quarter-deck, where Mandevil was with his two friends. Calling him forward, Lord Malmsey Butt said—
"Well, Mandevil, we can make nothing of it, and accordingly accept your offer and turn the matter over to you."
Mandevil bowed, and with a natural feeling of gratified pride drawing himself up, said—
"You commission me then to give the enemy his answer?"
"First—do we understand you aright, Mr. Mandevil?" said the military officer. "We don't know what you have behind those Iron Gates, whether a concealed battery, or infernal machines, or what; but you undertake that the enemy shall not pass this spot?"
"I do," answered Mandevil, "and more than that—but I will not say what now, as you will see for yourselves in ten minutes."
"Then, done!—it's a bargain, and we turn it over to you. Give them what answer you like, as long as it is telling them to go to blazes before we'll give in to them," said the two officers simultaneously, Lord Malmsey Butt concurring.
"And Lord Chestnut?" inquired Mandevil of that nobleman, who was standing languidly by.
"May I ask if you have had any previous practice in diplomacy, as I have no recollection of your name in connection with anything of the sort?"
"None whatever," replied Mandevil, shortly.
Lord Chestnut's lips curled with a pitying smile as he continued:—
"Is it your plan then to fight the affair out?"
"It is," answered Mandevil.
"Then," said Lord Chestnut, shrugging his shoulders, "when you come to fighting, you come to something out of my line, and I have nothing further to say in the matter, either one way or another."
"Well then, it's settled," said Lord Malmsey Butt. "And now let's go to work, for the fifteen minutes are nearly out, and I shouldn't like to exceed them."
Mandevil then took his way to the enemy's quarter-deck in company with the whole party, including Box and Norval, whose excitement was at such a pitch that they could not resist the impulse to hear the answer to the Ultimatum. Lord Chestnut alone remained behind, with a smile on his countenance, in which pity and wounded dignity were mingled.
As Mandevil came upon the hostile party, his keen eyes wandered beyond the envoys, and encountered those of the Individual in the civilian's garb. Something in them appeared to fascinate him, for he stopped short, and regarded the Individual steadfastly for three seconds. Then he turned and whispered to Lord Malmsey Butt:—
"Were I inclined to act dishonourably, I think I could see a way to end this affair in our favour without any further fighting,—only by summoning up those revenue steamers.—But I can afford to play a higher game than that."
The other side now came forward, preceded by their chief spokesman, who, awaiting the coming answer, looked beyond Mandevil to Lord Malmsey Butt, who was a half-step in the rear. Mandevil then spoke.
"It devolves upon me, gentlemen—"
"Ah!"—interrupted the opposite spokesman in an ironical accent—"an entirely new representative suddenly sprung up, it would seem." He appeared to have an instinctive dislike to Mandevil. Perhaps the calm and cheerful confidence of the latter's looks warned him of what was to come.
"At the wish of my friends here," continued Mandevil, without noticing the interruption, and turning to Lord Malmsey Butt and the officers, who bowed in confirmation, "to make known to you that your terms are totally inadmissible."
"What!" said the other, "you do not accept them?"
"Not only not accept them," replied Mandevil, "but on the contrary—"
"'On the contrary,' what?" sneered the other. "But observe! we accept no modifications; you take or reject as a whole."
"I have already announced," said Mandevil, "or intended to, that we do reject them as a whole. And I was about to say, that so far from accepting your terms, on the contrary, we have terms to offer you."
At this the tip-top military officer's beard undulated down-wards in pleased satisfaction. The tip-top naval officer gave a small stamp of commendation, muttering, "That's the way to say it."
"That's the style I like," growled one of the lesser tip-tops.
"The style that Nelly sat on," murmured another.
While this little round of favourable criticism was being rehearsed, the Individual in civilian dress had beckoned the chief spokesman to him. After a few seconds' conference, the latter returned and said,—
"If, in violation of the most sacred rules of civilized warfare, anything is intended against our persons, we warn you that half a million of men shall dearly avenge such an act within three days after."
"You may be at perfect ease on that point," said Mandevil, smiling and glancing towards "the Individual;" "we don't make war in that way, we leave that sort of thing to others. Our terms are these:—Leave these shores before the day is past. But first deliver up to us the vessel which has done us so much damage, as payment for that damage. These terms are still more simple than those you offered to us, and you must accept or reject them as a whole."
"As for leaving these shores," replied the spokesman of the other side, "we intend to do nothing of the kind, at least not till we have made some acquaintance with the luxuries of your great city, and especially with the fairer portion of its inhabitants. As for our new iron-clad which you appreciate so highly, if you want it, you must come and take it."
"That we shall certainly do," replied Mandevil. "And now farewell till we next meet!" he said, and then, with a low salute, and a wave of the hand, stepped back into his yacht, followed by his party.
As the steamers were being cast loose from one another, in order that the enemy might return, one of the envoys called out—
"English! these thickly-populated banks will be nothing but smoking ruins before night."
"I warn you," Mandevil replied, "that for all private property you destroy, you will have to pay four-fold. Now then, Bill," he continued, addressing that worthy.
Bill ran up a signal. Immediately a platform over the Iron Gates was covered with the members of a brass band, numbering half a hundred performers, and by a swarm of sailors. Just as the enemy's steamer began to move off, Mandevil waved his handkerchief, and then with a grand crash, which perceptibly startled the hostile envoys, the band struck up "Rule Britannia." By this time an immense number of spectators, amounting to tens of thousands, had collected both on the river and on its banks, and when the music arrived at the "never—never" part, all these joined in, one after another, till there was a perfect roar, extending for at least a mile.
"That's the right tune to play them out with," said Lord Malmsey Butt.
"A very good tune," answered Mandevil "though with rather too many of what Bill calls 'curliwurlies' about it. But as for the words, I must confess they always grate on my ear, especially those in the last line but one. They are at variance, too, with what I am proud to think an English characteristic in warlike matters,—namely, a modesty of promise."
"You were not very modest in your promises to those fellows just now," retorted his lordship, laughing; "I hope your performance will be in character."
"You have me there," said Mandevil "But then you must confess the irritation was great—especially when that fellow began to talk about 'the fairer inhabitants.'"
And now "Rule Britannia" had ceased, the sailors had disappeared from the platform, and the band had begun to play a slower strain, with thrilling blasts of solemn portent, as a dictionary would say, could it be supposed to talk.
Had I the pen of a musical reviewer, I could now describe how—when it rose that sweet and solemn strain—by modulating into its relative minor it produced a wild and thrilling effect—and then how, as it went on, by a transition into the key of the
"And now at last," said the tip-top naval officer, "we shall see what we shall see, I suppose."
"Here we all are," said Lord Malmsey Butt, "extremely anxious to know—so you may as well tell us at once—What have you behind those Iron Gates?"
Answered Mandevil. "You know our works are called 'The Tarshish Works,' and therefore we may call the ships built in them 'the Ships of Tarshish.' But here they come,—the Vindicator and the Defence!"
The music had suddenly ceased. The large Iron Gates were observed to commence opening outwards from the middle, as though propelled by a force behind. It was in truth one of the "Ships of Tarshish," as Mandevil called it, forcing its way out. Forth it came full-armed, as the ancient Goddess of War issued from the opening head of Jupiter. Polished from stem to stern, it shone like the silver moon, the profile of which, when two-thirds submerged in the watery horizon, it resembled.
The mighty vessel came out and turned slowly down the stream, and then was followed by another its counterpart. It was about 350 feet long, with a breadth of about two-thirds its length. The cross section of the part above water, its outline, formed an elliptical arch. The steepest inclination, that near the water-line, was less than 45 degrees. About 80 feet of the crown of the arch was nearly flat. The bows also sloped backward from the water's edge in the same manner as the sides. The stern was more upright. It had two cupolas, each 60 feet in diameter, and a round pilot-tower forward, 15 feet in diameter. Owing to its immense breadth, it appeared, from whatever side viewed, like a low circular mound crowned by fortifications. It was propelled by three screws, each with engines of 1,500 horse-power. The vessel, in action, was steered entirely by means of the screws. It had a protected rudder, but this was only for use in case of damage to one of the
As the first vessel began to come out, there was a dead hush of expectancy all over the surface of the river, and along its banks. But presently, as the reality became apparent, there was a general roar of cheering from the assembled thousands; the cheer was caught up until it extended to places out of sight, and people were cheering at they didn't know what. In five minutes also the news had been telegraphed up to various places in the City, and there the cheering was renewed, so that within a few minutes more than a million of people were shouting together. Consols went up 15 per cent, immediately.
"There is no time to lose," said Mandevil. "We must come upon them before they form a plan, or else they may escape us. Their Monster draws more water than we, consequently is narrower—consequently is swifter. Therefore we must look sharp. Who wishes to follow out the sequel with these fellows?"
All the assembled party, with the exception of Lord Chestnut, eagerly volunteered. They then shot alongside the first vessel, the Vindicator, and Mandevil and his party sprung on board. After leaving Bill on the Defence, the yacht returned up the river with Lord Chestnut.
"I take up my position in the pilot-tower," said Mandevil. "There is only room there for three others beside myself and two trained assistants. I have long looked to the pleasure of having the company of my two friends Box and Norval on this occasion; perhaps your lordship (to Lord Malmsey Butt) would like to make the third. The other gentlemen, if they wish, can watch the way in which the big guns in the cupolas work, though, if my plan succeed, there will not be much need of using them to-day."
Mandevil and his party proceeded to the pilot-tower, a revolving one of 9 feet inside diameter, and protected by layers of steel plating 3 feet thick. In this place were numerous handles and indices by means of which instant communication could be made with any of the three engine-rooms for the purpose of steering the ship. As Lord Malmsey Butt mounted to the upper stage of this tower with Mandevil, the latter said—
"We left your friends to look after the big guns, some of them perhaps the biggest that have yet been carried at sea, but I now
As he spoke, he pointed to three miniature swivel-mounted cannon, from the butts of which proceeded downwards flexible continuations. These were opposite three nearly parallel loopholes which afforded sufficient lateral play to allow their discharges to concentrate at a distance of from thirty to one hundred yards.
"You will understand now what my telegram meant," continued Mandevil, addressing Box and Norval, "about the hot oil and chemicals. With this middle tube, on a calm day such as this, I can send a stream of boiling-hot oil to a distance of a hundred yards. With these other two I can send to the same distance two different sorts of chemical fluids, which, when they unite, burst into a flame of fire."
In due time they opened upon the reach of the river where the enemy lay. Mandevil and his party were scanning them through telescopes. Presently, about five minutes after Mandevil's two shining giants had drawn in their view, a flutter was observed about the Monster, and signals went up; then a twelve-oared boat put off from her, pulling down the river at all speed. At the same time a large iron-clad, pronounced by some to be the Moll Fereeno, was observed in the distance steaming up to meet it. This, after coming up to it, took its crew and passengers on board and then steamed away again.
When the boat was first seen to put off, Mandevil said, "I imagine there is somebody in that boat who has begun to find out that remaining on board the Monster is not likely to be so safe a game as he thought."
"Couldn't you reach it with your guns?" said Box; "send a shot after them," "I could reach them," said Mandevil; "but I am quite content that it should be as it is. I want to localize affairs as much as possible."
Mandevil had already, weeks before, formed and arranged with the officers of his vessels various plans of battle, suited to different situations and emergencies. Bill commanded the Defence, and to him, as they came down the river in the morning, he
In accordance with this arrangement, the Defence hung back a mile and a half, as Mandevil was extremely anxious not to alarm the enemy into escaping, his object being to get below him before making any attack. Consequently, as the Vindicator neared the Monster, it gave it as wide a berth as possible, neither showing a man nor firing a gun. Those who commanded the Monster, actuated by a feeling natural and common to men on occasions when something altogether new and unusual is about being tried, followed the example, and appeared equally reluctant to fire the first shot or to proceed to a collision, bat remained motionless and observant, with full steam up.
It was an anxious time for Mandevil as they came near the Monster, then abreast of it, for he dreaded every moment to see its head, which was pointing up the river, slewed round the other way. Should it do this and make up its mind to run for it, his plan would be defeated; as the enemy, he knew, could make at least a knot more than his own vessel. But, when he passed without this happening, and shot down a few hundred yards, he drew a great breath of relief; for he knew then that his game was secure. When the Vindicator had passed down about the third of a mile, it drew up, turning its head towards the enemy. Waiting until its comrade the Defence had approached the Monster to about the same distance, it advanced towards that enemy once more. Mandevil's plan was to jam the Monster between his two vessels, and so block his passage of escape; and also, trusting to the superior powers of turning and maœuvring which they possessed—owing to their greater beam and additional middle screw (the Monster only having two)—to keep one continually across his bows, while the other butted at his screws and broke them. The former task was assigned to the Defence, Bill's vessel, while Mandevil's, the Vindicator, undertook the latter.
The attack was well timed as to simultaneousness, for both vessels came up to the Monster, each within a few seconds of the other. The Defence came down stem on, but when within about fifty yards, it suddenly began to slew broadside on to the Monster's bows, turning on its own centre. The Monster, by this time perceiving the trap laid for it, tried to slip past. But Defence was able to turn in a third less time, while its additional middle screw allowed it to back or forge ahead while in the act of turning, without taking off either of the two outer screws from their work. In the open ocean, by very skilful management and with its slightly superior speed, the Monster might have escaped from the unequal fight; but in the narrow space between a river's banks, coupled with the disadvantage of having a greater draught of water, escape by running was impossible. The Defence and the Vindicator each as it came up received an immense shot; but in both cases the shot glanced off without doing any material damage. In Mandevil's vessel the shot struck the pilot-tower, much to the disturbance of the equanimity of Messrs. Lord Malmsey Butt, Box, and Norval.
"I'm no fighting man, I'm only a spectator," grunted Box; "I shall keep to the safe side of the hedge."
And accordingly he scrambled down the ladder into the hold, followed by Norval and Lord Malmsey Butt. The latter would have remained, though, but Mandevil advised him that it would perhaps be better that he should do as the others, because he wanted all the room possible, now that the fighting had commenced. The shot, fortunately, did not strike the tower fair in the middle, or the concussion would have been much more disagreeable, perhaps dangerous. As it was, it glanced off, doing no damage at all.
"And now," said Mandevil to his two assistants, "it will be our own fault if we let them have another slap at us. Keep ready now, and when I give the word—spout away!"
Accordingly, as the huge cupola revolved round to bring a second gun to bear, and the only thought the enemy had was to make sure this time and hit the middle of the tower fair, directly the port-hole began to open to view, but before the gun bore even upon the edge of the tower, such a stream of hot oil and fire-producing chemicals was poured through, that the scalded enemy were driven from their guns, after making one frantic effort to take aim with a shot, but which only grazed the tower.
"You can come up again, there's not much danger now," called out Mandevil to his friends, who accordingly scrambled up, "This is the way the money goes, Box, my boy!" continued he, hilariously; "it is spouting out now at the rate of fifty pounds a minute."
"I think it's 'pop goes the weasel' in t'other place though," said Box; "I fancy I can hear them squeaking. That's the way we used to serve the rats in Demerara."
However, being such an expensive game, Mandevil did not keep it up continuously, but kept a sharp look-out on the enemy's cupola, and directly it was observed to move for the purpose of bringing the guns to bear, the obnoxious stream was renewed.
The vessels had dodged from one side of the stream to another thrice before Mandevil got the opportunity he wanted, but at the third time of turning he perceived an opening, and ran in, in a slanting direction, on one of the Monster's screws, and succeeded in snapping its fans off. This reduced the enemy to a state of comparative helplessness, and it was not long before the other screw was served in the same manner. The Monster after this, as regarded the power of moving, was no better than a large raft on the water.
And now it was beautiful to see the way in which, after all this had been accomplished, the Defence and Vindicator disposed of their enemy. They ranged themselves side by side behind the Monster, each with its shoulder, as it were, against that vessel's quarter, and pushed it down the river before them. By keeping a stronger pressure on the outside screws of the two vessels, the captive was firmly kept in their grip, their after-parts being coupled together by a safe contrivance prepared for the purpose. Thus they proceeded down the river for a mile or two, using the hot oil and chemical preventive whenever the enemy showed a disposition to fire, but without firing a shot themselves.
By this time it was about two o'clock. That day it happened to be one of the highest spring tides on record. The enemy had chosen the time of spring tides for the better carrying out his attack up the river, and now, by way of retributive justice, the circumstance afforded his antagonists the means of disposing of him more completely. Coming opposite a convenient nook with high ground on each side of it, just at the time of high-water, Mandevil gave the signal, and then they ran the Monster in shore, hard and fast; which they were able to do, drawing, as they did, two or three feet less water.
"And now," said Mandevil, "we'll leave them to surrender to anybody they like; we've got other work to do; we must strike
The two victors backed out, and were soon proceeding on their triumphant return. The tip-top and sub-tip-top military and naval officers, with Lord Malmsey Butt, were in the highest of spirits. With what different feelings did they commence their return journey to those with which they had started in the morning. As for Mandevil, he appeared like a prince among them, as they crowded round him with respectful compliments. Yes—Mandevil, calm and silent under the reaction after his late excitement, was being played second fiddle to by all these tip-top men, and by Lord Malmsey Butt, who had once watched him out of his office.
But as to Norval, who can describe his feelings? How he pitied himself as he thought of his pity for Mandevil. And yet he felt a pride when he thought how he had at once singled him out for admiration when he first saw him. Now, he thought he should never be able to venture upon his old familiar tone with him again, and felt inexpressibly gratified when Mandevil, as soon as he could escape from his distinguished party, came up to him, and, perceiving his humble countenance, slapped him on the back, as he drew him and Box to a retired spot, where they conversed in the old manner.
They were to proceed on an expedition that night. The Defence and Vindicator were run into their old inclosure, for the purpose of being fitted with some additional necessary adjuncts in connection with their next employment. While this was being done, Mandevil, with Box and Norval, remained at the Tarshish works, in a residence which he had there, and where he also entertained the tip-top naval officer and Lord Malmsey Butt, who had expressed their eager desire to accompany the expedition and watch the progress of events. Of course their conversation that evening almost entirely had reference to the day's work, and the wonderful "ships of Tarshish" by means of which it had been accomplished.
The naval officer (as well as his lordship) was loud in commendation of the skilful manner in which the vessels had been handled, and also of the plan of battle.
"What does your lordship think of my new artillery and new projectiles?" asked Mandevil.
"First rate!" said his lordship. "One cannot fail to see that it will form an important element in all future harbour and coast naval warfare. As with Columbus and the egg, it is ridiculously simple when once practically indicated. All the events of to-day's fight have been a fresh exemplification of the saying that' extremes meet.' With our highest modern science, we are coming back to something like the old rude style of sea-fighting. Our rams are the old beaked ships re-introduced; while your hot oil and chemical fire are the jars of asps, and such like, of the Punic wars."
"Do you think," asked the naval officer, "that you could take your vessels a long voyage?"
"I do," answered Mandevil. "I do not say but that such voyages would be extremely tedious and uncomfortable; but the vessels are so strongly built that they would be perfectly safe. These vessels were never intended to act except along coasts and in harbours; and were that consideration alone to be kept in view, they need only cost half what these have, besides drawing considerably less water. But it was necessary to provide for all contingencies, such as being caught in a storm off a lee shore, or in offensive warfare having to cross the ocean, and for which requisite strength had to be given; and that has, as I have intimated, doubled their expense."
"Might I ask how much these two vessels have cost?" inquired Lord Malmsey Butt.
"As they now stand complete," said Mandevil, examining a memorandum, "they have cost together three millions eight hundred and sixty-five thousand four hundred and seventy-two pounds, seventeen shillings and sixpence halfpenny."
"Quite an exercise in numeration," said his lordship, laughing.
"The halfpenny be —— bothered," said Box.
"We'll make a present of it to Mr. Mantalini," said Norval.
"With all my heart," said Mandevil, "and the sixpence too, if you like."
At the united request of the party, Mandevil gave a description of his vessels, of which the following is the substance:—
Extreme length at water-line, 350 feet; extreme breadth ditto, 230 feet. The outline of section in plane of water-line an oval, being very much like that produced by the longitudinal bisection of a long-shaped egg, bluntest end foremost, with a slight sharpening of the stem. Bottom flat. Greatest breadth of bottom 220 feet. Draught of water with everything complete, except coals, 9 feet. Sides upright for 5 feet from water-line downwards. The remainder of depth rounded off to meet the flat bottom. Section of deck an elliptical arch, commencing at a foot above the water-line, when without coals (consequently commencing at more or less under the water-line when with coals), and having its crest 22 feet perpendicular height from base. Deck retiring at all points (stem and stern as well as sides), in an equal degree from the level of the water. About 80 feet of the crest (deck, lateral section) almost flat. No portion of the vessel above water presenting so steep an inclination as 45 degrees.
So much for the outside shape of the vessel. Next for the construction. At a uniform distance of 4 feet from the inner surface of the outside plating of deck, bottom, and sides (except at the sharper rounded corners, where the distance was somewhat greater) was an inner skin of inch iron. Ribs of the vessel at sides and bottom of wood, 4 feet by 18 inches width, with intervals of 3 feet between each. These ribs built of three sections each 6x48 inches. The thickness of outside armour varied according to position. A little above and below the water-line it was 12 inches, tapering off each way as it ascended or descended. The flat bottom was half an inch thick. The arch of the deck commenced from water-line with 12 inches, tapering away for a width of 25 feet. From thence up to the commencement of the flat portion of 40 feet on each side of the middle of the crest, it averaged 2 inches; the general rule being, the steeper the inclination the thicker the plate. The nearly flat portion of 80 feet, forming the crest, was an inch thick. To sum up what has been already described:—
The shape of the whole exterior—deck, sides, and bottom. An inner skin of a uniform thickness of one inch. An outer covering, of thickness varying as described. The ribs of wood at the sides and bottom, to which the outer
And lastly, an interval of four feet between the inner and outer skins, of deck, sides, and bottom.
"And now," said Mandevil, when he had described so far, "I come to that feature in the construction of these vessels, upon which I most pride myself; namely, the manner of filling up the four-feet interval between the inner and outer skins, so as to conduce to the perfect rigidity and enormous strength required by vessels built at such utter variance, as to sea-going shape, with the old-established principles.
"Before I commenced this undertaking, I clearly saw that the limit had been pretty nearly reached in armour-carrying power, unless some new form of vessel were adopted, by which the proportion of superficial external area to Volume of the interior would be materially diminished; by these means acquiring steadiness, and above all, the essentially necessary quality of a light draught of water.
"To this form of vessel there are several objections, each of the principal of which I will take up and examine in turn. But, generally speaking, it will be found that these objections apply to the case of ocean-going ships, while these vessels are intended solely for harbour and coast fighting; and were the proof required to be thrown on the other side, to show why there should not be a class of ships exclusively for harbour and coast fighting, there would be no necessity for further argument. But as such vessels, though not intended for ocean-fighting, may sometimes be required to cross the ocean, and as they might be caught in rough weather off a coast which would be as bad or worse than in the open sea, and as traditional bias is always great, I shall go into it more at length. The objections based on mere traditional bias, I shall dispose of by mere argument; the more valid objections I shall prove, I hope, to have been overcome by novelties and specialties of construction, and, far above all, by excellence of execution. This last I imagine to be the direction in which modern enterprise must look for scope, theory having long ago been pretty well exhausted.
"The first objection I shall consider is, that of want of speed. This is an objection resulting from traditional bias nurtured in the times when sailing-vessels only were used. In the old times
"But to proceed with the argument. When once possessed of invulnerability, speed is not necessary for harbour-fighting. Besides which, propelling power being equal, speed only means slow turning, and quick turning is a more valuable quality than speed in contracted spaces.
"The objection of want of speed in coasting is more serious, for a ship requires speed to get off a lee-shore as much as for anything. This, I hope, has been obviated by the specialty of construction, and by the enormous propelling power possessed by these vessels. At any rate, from barometrical signs, I think we shall be able to put them to the proof to-morrow: at the same time, I have the utmost confidence. Their speed is about six knots. This I consider sufficient to carry such vessels, offering, as they do, scarcely any surface against winds or waves, off a lee-shore in any gale. Of course, only that amount of speed would be utterly vain in the case of an ordinary vessel, with its mass of rigging and high hull for winds and waves to act against. Another thing, too, has to be borne in mind. The retrograde motion caused by winds and waves is not like that produced by a current. In the last case, the whole water, with its particles, moves bodily along. To make head against each acceleration of such opposing force, the propelling power has to be increased in geometrical progression. But in the case of the retrograde motion, produced by winds and waves, the increase of propelling power required to make head against each increase of opposing force is in a much more direct proportion to the latter.
"The next last serious objection is the immense strength required by these broad vessels. In the ordinary traditionally-shaped vessel, narrow and long, strength is much more easily attained, for all the supporting parts being closer to one another, are more easily knit together. Then the shape of the hull above and below water allows the vessel to yield before the shocks of the two backs to break,—a lateral as well as longitudinal. These difficulties we have endeavoured to overcome chiefly by excellence of execution, and by some novelties of construction, the principal of which is the manner of filling up the four-feet interval before mentioned. Whether we have overcome the difficulty, will most likely be proved to-morrow; but, I must say, I have no fear in the mean time. The interval, then, of four feet between the inner and outer skins is filled by steel hexagons of a least diameter of 18 inches. These hexagons are united side by side to one another, each by several screws. The four-feet interval is thus something like a honeycomb. The ends of the hexagons abut on to the inner and outer skins, each individual end carefully shaped to coincide with the rounding of their (the skins') surface. These abutting ends are secured to the plates in this manner:—From the end of each hexagon, running down the middle of each of its sides, a half-cylindrical hollow is indented in the making. Then the hexagons being firmly screwed together, and the sides of each opposite half-hollow coinciding, a hole is produced, in which a female screw is formed. All the screws used in the vessel have tapering heads accurately turned, and the corresponding holes in the plates are accurately drilled to fit them. Each screw is screwed in till it wedges itself tight. The head is then cut off flush. This sort of method stands jarring better than nuts and bolts. Besides the purpose of strengthening, this system of hexagons serves to localize and detect leaks. A thin sheet of gutta-percha being placed between the skins and the abutting ends, keeps the uninjured parts water-tight. On the inside a small perforation is made, opposite the bottom of each hexagon, for the purpose of detecting leaks. Except at the sides (where the thicknesses vary, some reaching to three-quarters of an inch), the steel hexagons have a uniform thickness of a quarter of an inch. In addition to this system of hexagons, which conduces so greatly to the strength and rigidity of the ship, we have in various directions steel tubular girders and braces of a large diameter.
"I have now," continued Mandevil, "told you of the principal
The destination of the expedition designed by Mandevil was the above-named port.
In ancient times it had belonged to the English, and had been named Port Humbug by the mariners of that nation, because, as they said, being so dangerous of access, more vessels were lost in trying to gain its shelter than would have been had there been no port there at all. Passing out of the hands of the English, its old name, though still retained, became modified, and acquiring a foreign termination, was finally resolved into Port Humbourg.
It was twelve that same night when it was announced to Mandevil and his friends that the ships were all ready to proceed to sea. The expedition started down the river soon after. Such preparations and additions as were visible, consisted in the covering over of the two cupolas of each with gutta-percha hoods. These were "battened down" to the deck by large flat steel rings, laid on the spreading edges, and screwed firmly in. A wooden tripod twenty-five feet high, over the pilot's tower, carried an illuminated "tell-tale" or transparent compass. A supply of fresh air was kept up by pumps and tubes for that purpose.
When they got to the mouth of the river, they steered in a direction nor'-nor'-east, a little southerly. All the next day 'they proceeded slowly towards their destination. In the afternoon it began to blow a gusty head-wind, and there was every
Mandevil was not at all sorry, however, at the prospect, as it would give him an opportunity of proving the sea-going qualities of his ships, in which he felt the greatest confidence. By eight that evening they got nearly abreast of Port Humbourg, and the gale was already pretty high, the sea sweeping clean over the vessels' decks.
Before dark Mandevil succeeded in getting bearings which fixed their position. It was too late to attempt entering the port that evening, so he determined, as the direction of the wind was parallel with the coast, and the gale coming on with full violence, to keep the vessels with their heads to it all night, and putting nearly full steam power on, prove their ability to crawl off a lee-shore under the worst circumstances. The strength to which the gale rose that night certainly put them to no light proof. It quite terrified Norval once when he looked out of the pilot-tower, down on the deck below. It appeared all one sheet of luminous foam. He fancied himself in one of those lighthouses in precarious positions, of which he had read, and which were washed away on such a night as this. However, the vessels stood the test well, and did not leak a drop. At daylight next morning they found that in the eight or nine hours they had forged ahead from twelve to fifteen miles, being more than Mandevil expected.
As soon as it was sufficiently light, they steered for the entrance of the port. Mandevil's plan was for one vessel, the Defence, to remain at the mouth of the harbour, while his own vessel, the Vindicator, went in and destroyed what vessels there were to destroy, and taking no notice of batteries, or any strong positions, shell and do damage to whatever was vulnerable. As they neared the mouth of the port, the Vindicator leading, the batteries at the entrance began to play on them; but, according to Mandevil's orders, they did not reply,—a fact (as they knew afterwards) which disconcerted the enemy wonderfully. The shot, though very large, glanced off without doing them harm.
"What if they have placed torpedoes?" said Lord Malmsey Butt, as they got to the entrance.
"I think we are almost too strongly built even for them,"
Just after, an immense column of water rose about thirty feet high, at a distance of twenty feet in front of the vessel, the spray of which washed its decks.
"Well done! torpedo-scraper," exclaimed Mandevil. "You must know," he continued, "that I have a projecting affair, something like a garden-scraper, which feels the way in front of us, at a depth of two feet below our own draught. It was one of the things that was fitted on the night before last. By the way, it suggests to me, that those vessels armoured only a little way below water, would not have much chance against a ram with a beak several feet under water."
Not to tediously lengthen out the story, it will simply be stated that the enemy, on perceiving, from the fact that Mandevil's vessels did not even condescend to return the fire of their batteries, that they were invulnerable, and also, seeing that the torpedoes also failed in doing any damage, telegraphed to headquarters. In a few minutes an answer was returned, and a flag of truce came off to request terms of peace. Mandevil, with the concurrence of Lord Malmsey Butt (and subject also to the concurrence of the Government, of which there was no doubt), let them off easily, offering them a peace on the terms of the statu quo, and which the enemy gladly accepted. "Which," said Mandevil, "as we have their Monster, in consideration of the damages and losses amongst our iron-clads, is not, I think, a bad exchange."
Florence's appointed day has now come round. At last. More especially for Mandevil; for, as it has been before observed, Florence knew not of those circumstances in their favour, by which waiting might have been rendered unnecessary.
And now pale, excited, she sits with her mother, who within the last few days has become nearly as anxious as the daughter. All the facts connected with Mandevil's great doings have been made known, and his name has been on every tongue. What was Lord Chestnut, with his titles and political distinction, to
When Mandevil returned triumphantly home from his expedition, he avoided all public demonstrations. Great preparations were made in several places where it was supposed that he would pass, but Mandevil escaped them all, and people did not know to where he had vanished.
The morning has passed, and still no Mandevil. It is drawing near to the same time in the afternoon that their last meeting took place.
"Even if he does not come," said Florence, with an effort, "I shall not blame him; for there is nothing but what is honourable in his nature."
"My poor child!" said her mother; "and it is my fault."
At this moment the servant announced 'Mr. Mandevil!"
Florence sprang forward with a slight; cry, and then, feeling within herself how greatly agitated she was, escaped to an adjoining room.
Mandevil entered. Lady Trousely advanced to meet him, giving him her hand.
"May I hope," said he, earnestly, "that your objections are now removed?"
"Ah, John!" she said, "you have come back to shame me. I thought myself above you—you, who, like a great prince, have defeated a great prince, and saved the honour of a great nation.
Three years ago," she continued to say, retaining his hand, and leading him to the door of the room into which Florence had retired, and opening it, "I brought you together in the hope you were parting for ever—Now, with the hope that you may never part."
It only remains now to relate in what manner Mandevil disposed of the rest of the money, which he had in trust, for he still persisted in considering himself only in the light of a trustee.
But first of all we may mention, what we omitted to state before, that Mandevil's prediction to Norval with respect to the Great D. W. was verified. After the late events, that journal took great credit to itself for the remarkable way in which its predictions and opinions had been verified and confirmed, for, as it said, its readers must have remembered how that all along it had hinted at the great room there was for development in the armour-carrying power of ships, &c. This was certainly remarkable. But what was still more remarkable, thousands of readers implicitly believed in every word of it. But now to the disposal of the money.
There were fifteen millions in all. The two vessels together had nearly cost four millions; the works and establishment in connection with them, more than two millions. Together it made six millions. These ships and works Mandevil handed over to the Government, with the hope that, the way having been indicated, they would follow it up, and by showing what power an essentially peaceful nation had in its hands, conduce to render war impossible. This left nine millions to dispose of, and these he appropriated in equal sums to three different purposes. Three millions he devoted to endowments for national education. Half a million of this was for an establishment for training masters. His schools were especially to take up ground which nobody else seemed inclined to tackle. In other respects also were they to vary from existing orthodox machinery; for the management was to be always liable to the strictest scrutiny as to the actual work done, and not to be allowed to give numberless excellent reasons why it should be
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