The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 108: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WUE MYSTERIES. 9 to that dwelling,—he felt that it could no longer be called his home. For a home means something sta- tionary, fixed, and permanent—not precarious and liable to be snatched away in a moment,—a place of one’s own choosing, and to which there is a certainty of returning to-morrow and next day, even as one re- turns to it to-day,—a tenement around whose walls the eye may glance with the satisfaction of knowing that everything contained within their boundary is one’s own. Whether it be a single apartment, or a lordly mansion, it is nevertheless a home so long as the conviction lasts that no man can deprive you of it—no one thrasts you forth at will—no rude hand lay its gripe upon the beds, the chairs, and the tables which it contains. Therefore was it that, asthe wretched John Foster, retraced his way to the house in which he had dwelt for so many years, he no longer considered it to be his home! No: ruin was imminent,—total, irre- mediable, unmitigated ruin ;—and bankruptcy would sweep away his furniture—bankruptcy would sell the lease of his house—and bankruptcy would turn him, his wife, and his daughter into the streets! Wretched—wretched man!—how had he deserved this hard fate? From his youth upward had he toiled unweariedly,—first to make his way in the world—uext to maintain the position he had achieved for himself—then to improve it—and lastly to sus- tain it against the difficulties which sprang up, through various causes,around him. Beginning life with nothing, he had succeeded at the age of thirty in exchanging the servitude of a clerkship for the independence of a master: at forty he married a woman who brought him a tolerable sum of money ; —et fifty he was rising to opulence—at fifty-five he was enabled to lend the Prince of Wales fifteen thousand pounds, being all the money he had suc- ceeded in putting by during his life of industry—and at fifty-eight, the failure of several eminent houses had so embarrassed his own resources that he was trembling on the verge of bankruptcy. Messrs. Hodson and Morley, of Wood Street, Cheapside, had threatened to strike adocketagainst him. Vainly had he besought more time—none was granted. A greedy lawyer, anxious fora job, was employed against him; and,as no character is more estimable than an honest attorney, so none is more execrable than a griping pettifogger. Fos- ter’s only resource lay in the money which the Prince owed him. Were chat repaid, he could settle the only pressing liability he had in the world; and thereby gaining time to collect his assets which were far greater than his debts, he would continue to hold up his head as a prosperous merchant. We have seen that he unfortunately missed his pointment with the Prince at the George and Blue . And yet we hardly know whether we be ustified in using the term “ unfortunately ;” for his yal Highness could not have paid him, had they fmet. Next we find him addressing a ul letter tothe Prince,—humbly imploring the restora- tion of his money: not appealing to the honesty, ‘but to the humanity of his royal debtor ;—not confi- dently demanding his own, as a right, but servilely oeseeching payment as a boon. For this is the manner in which Princes must be addressed—and they are mot letiere which you write to them, but ne | Bat to that appeal no answer was returned. It was quite sufficient if his Royal Highness deigned to give the subject a thought: how could he be ex. pected to trouble himself so far as to pen a reply? | Driven almost to desperation — perceiving Ruin standing in his presence, with only the interval of a few short hours—and having his heart filled with o boundless sympathy for that wife who for eighteen years had been a true and faithful companion to him, and for that daughter of sixteen who was so beau- tifal and innocent, and whom he loved so fondly, — the merchant had at length resolved to call at Carlton House. Thither he repaired; and, ina mild and respectful voice, solicited a few moments’ audience of the Prince. The hall-porters judged that he was a dun, and met his civility with coarse and brutalinsult. Still did John Foster preserve his temper: still did he forbear to utter anything disrespectfal towards the Prince;—but he implored one of the insoient, powdered, and lace-bedizened menials to bear a message to his Royal Highness. The request was refused with a positive raffanism of manner ;—and Foster, sinking upon one of the chairs in the marble hall, gave way to his grief. Thep was it that Germain was sent for; and the merchant, that valet with as muoh respect as if he were a great lord and Foster himself a grovelling beggar, earnestly besought either an instant’s audience of the Prince or an answer toa letter which he had previously forwarded. Germain declared that it was impossible to disturb his royal master at that hour: but he sppke in a —almost kind tone. Then was it that Foster, driven to despair, exclaimed that he should be refined unless one or the other of his requests was granted. Germain still refused to interfere— and the merchant himself away from the princely dwelling, in a state of mind which it ts scarcely possible to explain. Oh ! there are times when the brain reels with a sense of misery —misery—misery, from which no means of escape appear, and to which no relief can come,—times when the soul is filled with an an- guish beyond the limits of the imagination to con- ceive, and when every chord in the heart is so dis- tended that it feels as if the whole must give way at once and the victim be stricken down in sudden death, as if by the thunderbolt of apoplexy ! 1 Such were the sensations of the merchant as he mechanically pursued his way homeward. Though his dwelling was at some considerable distance, he thought not of taking a vehicle. A vehicle indeed | What—when he could see Rurw staring at him with its spectral eyes—preceding him, with its ghastly countenance turned towards him—following him— walking on his right hand and on his left—hemming him in, as it were, with that terrible influence which made it appear of multiform shape! And as he threaded the crowded streets,—walking on like a drunken man, unconscious which way he was pur- suing, yet mechanically taking the direct route,— he beheld not the people who jostled him—heard not the gibes which thoughtless young men threw at him —noticed not the frail girls who saluted him with obscene jests—marked not the carriages sweeping along the thoroughfares which he crossed: no— nothing did he see save the gaunt, spectral, and terrific form of Rutw;—nothing did he hear but the silent voice which thundered through his hrain the d word “ Roaren f° It was midnight when he reachei his house COMM ElOOO SS co