Tales and Novels Volume I Part 47

"I have kept it," said she, "a great, _great_ while, ever since we were at the Rational Toy-shop."

"Mad. de Rosier, do look at this!" exclaimed Matilda--"here are letters quite plain!--I have found the name, I do believe, of the boy who made the box!" and she spelled, letter by letter, as she looked through the magnifying gla.s.s, the words Henri-Montmorenci.

Mad. de Rosier started up; and Matilda, surprised at her sudden emotion, put the box and magnifying gla.s.s into her hand. Madame de Rosier's hand trembled so much that she could not fix the gla.s.s.

"Je ne vois rien--lisez--vite!--ma chere amie--un mot de plus!" said she, putting the gla.s.s again into Matilda's hand, and leaning over her shoulder with a look of agonizing expectation.

The word _de_ was all Matilda could make out--Isabella tried--it was in vain--no other letters were visible.

"_De_ what?--_de_ Rosier!--it must be! my son is alive!" said the mother.

Henri-Montmorenci was the name of Mad. de Rosier's son; but when she reflected for an instant that this might also be the name of some other person, her transport of joy was checked, and seemed to be converted into despair.

Her first emotions over, the habitual firmness of her mind returned.

She sent directly to the repository--no news of the boy could there be obtained. Lady N---- was gone, for a few days, to Windsor; so no intelligence could be had from her. Mrs. Harcourt was out--no carriage at home--but Mad. de Rosier set out immediately, and walked to Golden-square, near which place she knew that a number of French emigrants resided. She stopped first at a bookseller's shop; she described the person of her son, and inquired if any such person had been seen in that neighbourhood.

The bookseller was making out a bill for one of his customers, but struck with Mad. de Rosier's anxiety, and perceiving that she was a foreigner by her accent, he put down his pen, and begged her to repeat, once more, the description of her son. He tried to recollect whether he had seen such a person--but he had not. He, however, with true English good-nature, told her that she had an excellent chance of finding him in this part of the town, if he were in London--he was sorry that his shopman was from home, or he would have sent him with her through the streets near the square, where he knew the emigrants chiefly lodged;--he gave her in writing a list of the names of these streets, and stood at his door to watch and speed her on her way.

She called at the neighbouring shops--she walked down several narrow streets, inquiring at every house, where she thought that there was any chance of success, in vain. At one a slip-shod maid-servant came to the door, who stared at seeing a well-dressed lady, and who was so bewildered, that she could not, for some time, answer any questions; at another house the master was out; at another, the master was at dinner.

As it got towards four o'clock, Mad. de Rosier found it more difficult to obtain civil answers to her inquiries, for almost all the tradesmen were at dinner, and when they came to the door, looked out of humour, at being interrupted, and disappointed at not meeting with a customer.

She walked on, her mind still indefatigable:--she heard a clock in the neighbourhood strike five--her strength was not equal to the energy of her mind--and the repeated answers of, "We know of no such person"--"No such boy lives here, ma'am," made her at length despair of success.

One street upon her list remained unsearched--it was narrow, dark, and dirty;--she stopped for a moment at the corner, but a porter, heavily laden, with a sudden "By your leave, ma'am!" pushed forwards, and she was forced into the doorway of a small ironmonger's shop. The master of the shop, who was weighing some iron goods, let the scale go up, and, after a look of surprise, said--

"You've lost your way, madam, I presume--be pleased to rest yourself--it is but a dark place;" and wiping a stool, on which some locks had been lying, he left Mad. de Rosier, who was, indeed, exhausted with fatigue, to rest herself, whilst, without any officious civility, after calling his wife from a back shop, to give the lady a gla.s.s of water, he went on weighing his iron and whistling.

The woman, as soon as Mad. de Rosier had drunk the water, inquired if she should send for a coach for her, or could do any thing to serve her.

The extreme good-nature of the tone in which this was spoken seemed to revive Mad. de Rosier; she told her that she was searching for an only son, whom she had for nearly two years believed to be dead: she showed the paper on which his name was written: the woman could not read--her husband read the name, but he shook his head--"he knew of no lad who answered to the description."

Whilst they were speaking, a little boy came into the shop with a bit of small iron wire in his hand, and, twitching the skirt of the ironmonger's coat to attract his attention, asked if he had any such wire as that in his shop. When the ironmonger went to get down a roll of wire, the little boy had a full view of Mad. de Rosier. Though she was naturally disposed to take notice of children, yet now she was so intent upon her own thoughts that she did not observe him till he had bowed several times just opposite to her.

"Are you bowing to me, my good boy?" said she--"you mistake me for somebody else; I don't know you;" and she looked down again upon the paper, on which she had written the name of her son.

"But, indeed, ma'am, I know _you_," said the little boy: "aren't you the lady that was with the good-natured young gentleman, who met me going out of the pastry-cook's shop, and gave me the two buns?"

Mad. de Rosier now looked in his face; the shop was so dark that she could not distinguish his features, but she recollected his voice, and knew him to be the little boy belonging to the dulcimer man.

"Father would have come again to your house," said the boy, who did not perceive her inattention--"Father would have come to your house again, to play the tune the young gentleman fancied so much, but our dulcimer is broken."

"Is it? I am sorry for it," said Mad. de Rosier. "But can you tell me,"

continued she to the ironmonger, "whether any emigrants lodge in the street to the left of your house?" The master of the shop tried to recollect: she again repeated the name and description of her son.

"I know a young French lad of that make," said the little dulcimer boy.

"Do you?--Where is he? Where does he lodge?" cried Mad. de Rosier.

"I am not speaking as to his name, for I never heard his name," said the little boy; "but I'll tell you how I came to know him. One day lately--"

Mad. de Rosier interrupted him with questions concerning the figure, height, age, eyes, of the French lad.

The little dulcimer boy, by his answers, sometimes made her doubt, and sometimes made her certain, that he was her son.

"Tell me," said she, "where he lodges; I must see him immediately."

"I am just come from him, and I'm going back to him with the wire; I'll show the way with pleasure; he is the best-natured lad in the world; he is mending my dulcimer; he deserves to be a great gentleman, and I thought he was not what he seemed," continued the little boy, as he walked on, scarcely able to keep before Mad. de Rosier.

"This way, ma'am--this way--he lives in the corner house, turning into Golden-square." It was a stationer's.

"I have called at this house already," said Mad. de Rosier; but she recollected that it was when the family were at dinner, and that a stupid maid had not understood her questions. She was unable to speak, through extreme agitation, when she came to the shop: the little dulcimer boy walked straight forward, and gently drew back the short curtain that hung before a gla.s.s door, opening into a back parlour. Mad.

de Rosier sprang forward to the door, looked through the gla.s.s, and was alarmed to see a young man taller than her son; he was at work; his back was towards her.

When he heard the noise of some one trying to open the door, he turned and saw his mother's face! The tools dropped from his hands, and the dulcimer boy was the only person present who had strength enough to open the door.

How sudden! how powerful is the effect of joy! The mother, restored to her son, in a moment felt herself invigorated--and, forgetful of her fatigue, she felt herself another being. When she was left alone with her son, she looked round his little workshop with a mixture of pain and pleasure. She saw one of his unfinished boxes on the window-seat, which served him for a work-bench; his tools were upon the floor. "These have been my support," said her son, taking them up: "how much am I obliged to my dear father for teaching me early how to use them!"

"Your father!" said Mad. de Rosier--"I wish he could have lived to be rewarded as I am! But tell me your history, from the moment you were taken from me to prison: it is nearly two years ago,--how did you escape? how have you supported yourself since? Sit down, and speak again, that I may be sure that I hear your voice."

"You shall hear my voice, then, my dear mother," said her son, "for at least half an hour, if that will not tire you. I have a long story to tell you. In the first place, you know that I was taken to prison; three months I spent in the Conciergerie, expecting every day to be ordered out to the guillotine. The gaoler's son, a boy about my own age, who was sometimes employed to bring me food, seemed to look upon me with compa.s.sion; I had several opportunities of obliging him: his father often gave him long returns of the names of the prisoners, and various accounts, to copy into a large book; the young gentleman did not like this work; he was much fonder of exercising as a soldier with some boys in the neighbourhood, who were learning the national exercise; he frequently employed me to copy his lists for him, and this I performed to his satisfaction: but what completely won his heart was my mending the lock of his fusil. One evening he came to me in a new uniform, and in high spirits; he was just made a captain, by the unanimous voice of his corps; and he talked of _his_ men, and _his_ orders, with prodigious fluency; he then played _his_ march upon his drum, and insisted upon teaching it to me; he was much pleased with my performance, and, suddenly embracing me, he exclaimed, 'I have thought of an excellent thing for you; stay till I have arranged the plan in my head, and you shall see if I am not a great general.' The next evening he did not come to me till it was nearly dusk; he was in his new uniform; but out of a bag which he brought in his hand, in which he used to carry his father's papers, he produced his old uniform, rolled up into a surprisingly small compa.s.s. 'I have arranged every thing,' said he; 'put on this old uniform of mine--we are just of a size--by this light, n.o.body will perceive any difference: take my drum and march out of the prison slowly; beat my march on the drum as you go out; turn to the left, down to the Place de ----, where I exercise my men. You'll meet with one of my soldiers there, ready to forward your escape.' I hesitated; for I feared that I should endanger my young general; but he a.s.sured me that he had taken his precautions so '_admirably_,' that even after my escape should be discovered, no suspicion would fall upon him. 'But, if you delay,' cried he, 'we are both of us undone.' I hesitated not a moment longer, and never did I change my clothes so expeditiously in my life: I obeyed my little captain exactly, marched out of the prison slowly, playing deliberately the march which I had been taught; turned to the left, according to orders, and saw my punctual guide waiting for me on the Place de ----, just by the broken statue of Henry the Fourth.

"'Follow me, fellow-citizen,' said he, in a low voice; 'we are not all Robespierres.'"

Most joyfully I followed him. We walked on, in silence, till at length we came to a narrow street, where the crowd was so great that I thought we should both of us have been squeezed to death. I saw the guillotine at a distance, and I felt sick.

"'Come on,' said my guide, who kept fast hold of me; and he turned sharp into a yard, where I heard the noise of carts, and the voices of muleteers. 'This man,' said he, leading me up to a muleteer, who seemed to be just ready to depart, 'is my father; trust yourself to him.'

"I had n.o.body else to trust myself to. I got into the muleteer's covered cart; he began a loud song; we proceeded through the square where the crowd were a.s.sembled. The enthusiasm of the moment occupied them so entirely, that we were fortunately disregarded. We got out of Paris safely: I will not tire you with all my terrors and escapes. I, at length, got on board a neutral vessel, and landed at Bristol. Escaped from prison, and the fear of the guillotine, I thought myself happy; but my happiness was not very lasting. I began to apprehend that I should be starved to death; I had not eaten for many hours. I wandered through the bustling streets of Bristol, where every body I met seemed to be full of their own business, and brushed by me without seeing me. I was weak, and I sat down upon a stone by the door of a public-house.

"A woman was twirling a mop at the door. I wiped away the drops with which I was sprinkled by this operation. I was too weak to be angry; but a hairdresser, who was pa.s.sing by, and who had a nicely powdered wig poised upon his hand, was furiously enraged, because a few drops of the shower which had sprinkled me reached the wig. He expressed his anger half in French and half in English; but at last I observed to him in French, that the wig was still '_bien poudree_'--this calmed his rage; and he remarked that I also had been _horribly_ drenched by the shower.

I a.s.sured him that this was a trifle in comparison with my other sufferings.

"He begged to hear my misfortunes, because I spoke French; and as I followed him to the place where he was going with the wig, I told him that I had not eaten for many hours; that I was a stranger in Bristol, and had no means of earning any food. He advised me to go to a tavern, which he pointed out to me--'The Rummer;'--he told me a circ.u.mstance, which convinced me of the humanity of the master of the house.[4]

[Footnote 4: During Christmas week it is the custom in Bristol to keep a cheap ordinary in taverns: the master of the Rummer observed a stranger, meanly dressed, who constantly frequented the public table. It was suspected that he carried away some of the provision, and a waiter at length communicated his suspicions to the master of the house.

He watched the stranger, and actually detected him putting a large mince-pie into his pocket. Instead of publicly exposing him, the landlord, who judged from the stranger's manner that he was not an ordinary pilferer, called the man aside as he was going away, and charged him with the fact, demanding of him what could tempt him to such meanness. The poor man immediately acknowledged that he had for several days carried off precisely what he would have eaten himself for his starving wife, but he had eaten nothing. The humane, considerate landlord gently reproved him for his conduct, and soon found means to have him usefully and profitably employed.]

"I resolved to apply to this benevolent man. When I first went into his kitchen, I saw his cook, a man with a very important face, serving out a large turtle. Several people were waiting with covered dishes, for turtle soup and turtle, which had been bespoken in different parts of the city. The dishes, as fast as they were filled, continually pa.s.sed by me, tantalizing me by their savoury odours. I sat down upon a stool near the fire--I saw food within my reach that honesty forbade me to touch, though I was starving: how easy is it to the rich to be honest! I was at this time so weak, that my ideas began to be confused--my head grew dizzy--I felt the heat of the kitchen fire extremely disagreeable to me. I do not know what happened afterward; but when I came to myself, I found that I was leaning against some one who supported me near an open window: it was the master of the house. I do not know why I was ashamed to ask him for food; his humanity, however, prevented me. He first gave me a small basin of broth, and afterwards a little bit of bread, a.s.suring me, with infinite good nature, that he gave me food in such small quant.i.ties, because he was afraid that it would hurt me to satisfy my hunger at once--a worthy, humane physician, he said, had told him, that persons in my situation should be treated in this manner. I thanked him for his kindness, adding, that I did not mean to encroach upon his hospitality. He pressed me to stay at his house for some days, but I could not think of being a burden to him, when I had strength enough to maintain myself.

"In the window of the little parlour, where I ate my broth, I saw a novel, which had been left there by the landlord's daughter, and in the beginning of this book was pasted a direction to the circulating library in Bristol. I was in hopes that I might earn my bread as a scribe. The landlord of the Rummer told me that he was acquainted with the master of the library, and that I might easily procure employment from him on reasonable terms.

"Mr. S----, for that was the name of the master of the library, received me with an air of encouraging benevolence, and finding that I could read and write English tolerably well, he gave me a ma.n.u.script to copy, which he was preparing for the press. I worked hard, and made, as I fancied, a beautiful copy; but the printers complained of my upright French hand, which they could not easily decipher:--I began to new-model my writing, to please the taste of my employers; and as I had sufficient motives to make me take pains, I at last succeeded. I found it a great advantage to be able to read and write the English language fluently; and when my employers perceived my education had not been neglected, and that I had some knowledge of literature, their confidence in my abilities increased. I hope you will not think me vain if I add, that I could perceive my manners were advantageous to me. I was known to be a gentleman's son; and even those who set but little value upon _manners_ seemed to be influenced by them, without perceiving it. But, without p.r.o.nouncing my own eulogium, let me content myself with telling you my history.

"I used often, in carrying my day's work to the printer's, to pa.s.s through a part of the town of Bristol which has been allotted to poor emigrants, and there I saw a variety of little ingenious toys, which were sold at a high price, or at a price which appeared to me to be high. I began to consider that I might earn money by invention, as well as by mere manual labour; but before I gave up any part of my time to my new schemes, I regularly wrote as much each day as was sufficient to maintain me. Now it was that I felt the advantage of having been taught, when I was a boy, the use of carpenters' tools, and some degree of mechanical dexterity. I made several clumsy toys, and I tried various unsuccessful experiments, but I was not discouraged. One day I heard a dispute near me about some trinket--a toothpick-case, I believe--which was thought by the purchaser to be too highly priced; the man who made it repeatedly said, in recommendation of the toy--'Why, sir, you could not know it from tortoise-sh.e.l.l.'

"I, at this instant, recollected to have seen, at the Rummer, a great heap of broken sh.e.l.ls, which the cook had thrown aside, as if they were of no value. Upon inquiry, I found that there was part of the inside sh.e.l.l which was thought to be useless--it occurred to me that I might possibly make it useful. The good-natured landlord ordered that all this part of the sh.e.l.ls should be carefully collected and given to me.

I tried to polish it for many hours in vain. I was often tempted to abandon my project--there was a want of _finish_, as the workmen call it, in my manufacture, which made me despair of its being saleable. I will not weary you with a history of all my unsuccessful processes; it was fortunate for me, my dear mother, that I remembered one of the principles which you taught me when I was a child, that it is not _genius_, but perseverance, which brings things to perfection. I persevered, and though I did not bring my manufacture to _perfection_, I actually succeeded so far as to make a very neat-looking box out of my refuse sh.e.l.ls. I offered it for sale--it was liked: I made several more, and they were quickly sold for me, most advantageously, by my good friend, Mr. S----. He advised me to make them in the shape of netting-boxes; I did so, and their sale extended rapidly.

"Some benevolent lady, about this time, raised a subscription for me; but as I had now an easy means of supporting myself, and as I every day beheld numbers of my countrymen, nearly in the condition in which I was when I first went to the Rummer, I thought it was not fit to accept of the charitable a.s.sistance, which could be so much better bestowed upon others. Mr. S---- told me, that the lady who raised the contribution, so far from being offended, was pleased by my conduct in declining her bounty, and she undertook to dispose of as many of my netting-boxes as I could finish. She was one of the patronesses of a repository in London, which has lately been opened, called the 'Repository for Ingenious Works.' When she left Bristol, she desired Mr. S---- to send my boxes thither.