Under Other Conditions: a tale

Preface

This story is reprinted, at the request of friends, in a book form from the Western Magazine and Portfolio. It is told as related by Philip Maynard, the narrator, and is connected with my other work "Aleriel." As the interest in the plot might be marred by further explanation, I will only say that the key lies in the title, " Under other Conditions ; " and that, how ever improbable the story may read, it can hardly be said to be scientifically quite impossible. CONTENTS

Chapter I Lake

C0M0 Every tourist in North Italy who has visited the beautiful lake of Como must remember the famous church which is perched aloft above the reach of the lake, between Argegno and Sala, on the slope of Monte Ossuccio. It is a prominent object in the landscape as one steams upon the placid blue waters of the loveliest of Europe's lakes, or walks amid oliveyards and vineyards on its shore. This church, so picturesquely placed over Como's loveliest part, and commanding some of the most famous scenery in Europe — the valleys around Como and Lecco rearing up in the north towards the grand Alps — is a far-famed place of pilgrimage, and has a series of stations, i.e. little chapels, in which are groups of figures illustrating the life of Our Lord and the Gospel story along the winding road reaching to it.

Here the enthusiast may dwell upon the most sacred memories connected with the New Testament history, and, when he turns from the reminders of the Christian faith, gaze in admiration on some of the loveliest scenery in Europe, which is presented, by the turns in the winding road, to him from divers standpoints, and with different foregrounds. Rarely has the refined taste of Italy more strikingly called the soul ' from Nature unto Nature's God ' than in this wonderful proces sion of chapels (each recalling some feature or event in the Gospel history) amid the beautiful scenery of Lake Como and its surrounding mountains. It was on a fine September morn in 1888 that I Philip Maynard first mounted this hill, and never shall I forget that day nor its memor able events, for it was in after results the most LAKE COMO I 3 momentous in my life.

However, I must not anticipate my story. The sun was shining brightly on blue Como when I left my hotel at Tremezzo and proceeded along the shores towards Lenno. Here, having stopped a few minutes to peep again at the old baptistery, I proceeded on my walk, and in half an hour was at the foot of Monte Ossuccio. Passing through the pictur esque village, I soon gained the first of the series of chapels that lead upwards to the church. I toiled up the winding incline, looking sometimes on the lovely scenery and sometimes at the quaint groups of figures in the chapels, which (dilapidated and time worn though some of them were) recalled sacred and solemnising memories. At length I reached the Church of S. Maria, and looked down from its terrace. The church itself, after its splendid approach, which nature and art combined to make so solemnising, was disappointing.

It was to my mind somewhat tawdry. One had seen outside such wondrous work in Nature's masterpieces of landscape, and even the rude figures had aroused such sacred memories, that it was almost a bathos to find oneself in this gaudy Lombard edifice, with its third class pictures and its overlaid meretricious ornament. A mountain had been in labour, and a tawdry butterfly (not a ' ridiculous mouse,' I own) was the result. So I did not wait long in S. Maria. The approach was ten times grander than the church itself. I paused a moment to glance at the scenery, and then went a hundred yards up a path on the mountain side, where I had a still finer view. Here I sat down on a rock and con templated the vast expanse of lake, and olive woods, and vine-clad slopes, and pictur esque mountains about me.

I turned and looked upwards. Just above me, perched on an impending rock, was a small, almost dwarfish, fair man, with light beard, clad in dark clothes, with a black cloak over his shoulders. He appeared to be sketching, but I LAKE COMO 5 almost immediately, seeing that I noticed him, jumped with remarkable alacrity from the rock, and, with the agility of a mountaineer, made his way towards me. ' Signor ! are you an Englishman ? ' he asked, with a very sweet, but somewhat effeminate voice, and in a somewhat foreign accent. ' Yes ! ' I replied. ' I am so glad. I can speak some English, but I do not know Italian well ; and Italians cannot answer my questions. Will you tell me, Signor, about this place where we are ? ' ' Very gladly ; ' I replied, ' only I am a stranger myself, and a foreigner, as you are, so I cannot tell you much.

All I know I will gladly communicate to you.' ' Thank you. What is that lake there at our feet ? ' ' It is Lake Como, thought to be the most beautiful lake in Europe.' ' Indeed ! Have you none finer than this in Europe ? ' ' I like Lucerne very much, but Como is usually preferred. Maggiore has some good points, and so has Garda.' ' And what is that building ? ' The Church of S. Maria di Succorso. It is a pilgrimage church, and stands at the head of a succession of chapels.' ' Can I see it inside ? ' ' Yes ; it is open if you wish to enter.' I walked forward slowly, and, having paused a minute or two on the terrace, pro ceeded downward on the road. When I had reached the station where the Crucifixion was depicted (in quaint and rude power with a large group of figures), and paused looking at it once more, I suddenly noticed that my strange friend was beside me.

He did not speak, but knelt on the stone step, gazing at it in silence. I was the first to speak. ' It is rude, but still it is striking, and must tend to teach these poor villagers the great truth of the Atonement.' ' It is the Gospel narrative, is it not, here depicted ? ' I LAKE COMO 7 ' Of course. 'Then He who hangs there represented the Incarnate Son of God — the Saviour of Mankind.' ' Yes,' I replied. ' Oh ! man, how grateful thou shouldst be that, though thou hast sinned, God hath opened to thee the gate of pardon.' He rose from his knees and passed down to the next station. About each he asked me questions, and spoke reverently and solemnly. He seemed well acquainted with the Gospel narrative. When we reached the last station of the Nativity a precipitous descent opened to the foot of the mountain. ' I am going down this way,' he said. ' It is rather precipitous ; I prefer the roadway. 1 How shall we meet again ? ' he asked. ' I should like you to tell me more about Italy.

I cannot yet make the Italians understand me.' chap. ' Come, then, this evening to my hotel at Tremezzo. Ask for Signor Philip Maynard. I shall have coffee in my room at eight.' ' Thanks, Adieu ! ' he said, and, springing forward, leapt down from the ledge on to the dried watercourse which constituted the mountain path. He hurried downward with the skill of a trained acrobat, and, utterly regardless of the risk of slipping, in half a minute he had disappeared in the wood below, and the trees concealed him from my view. I walked back to Tremezzo more full of my strange acquaintance than of the sights I had seen. The two somehow seemed to suit, and yet there was something more strange in the man than in the place I had met him in. So gay, so effeminate, yet so agile. So delicate looking and bloodless, yet so active.

What was he ? Could he be an American, ignorant of any tongue but English ? After dinner I went to my room, where I had ordered coffee to be brought for my strange acquaintance. Just at the stroke of eight the waiter came in, and brought me a card inscribed Dr. Ezariel. 'What an extraordinary name,' I said to myself; 'as strange as the personage it belongs to ! ' I directed that he should be shown in, and now, without his hat, my curious acquaintance entered. It was a strange countenance. Highly intellectual, yet very effeminate, almost as much a woman's as a man's, with small, soft, regular features, and flashing eyes that had a strange far-off look. He never looked me in the face, I noticed during our interview, but gazed upwards at the ceiling or at one of the pictures. Our eyes never met.

His forehead was lofty and intelligent, and his hair quite golden. ' I have come just in time,' he said ; ' I shall be so pleased if you can tell me all about this country. It will be kind of you to help me, for I cannot speak with the Italians.' ' You are most welcome. Pray be seated.' There were four chairs in the room, but my new friend threw himself on the bed, and, reclining, said — 'Was not this land of Italy very great once ? Did not the Italians conquer Europe?' ' Of course they did,' I said. ' Rome was the mistress of the world. Even England was conquered by the Roman legions.' ' And now,' he asked, ' England, I suppose, is the greatest nation ? ' ' Well, I hardly know that. The Germans think themselves very powerful, and they have a very fine army. The Russians have some strength, but they are barbarous.' ' But is not the English language the best known ?

I find it of little use here.' ' There are a few English people, however, even in Tremezzo, and many more in Caden abbia or Bellagio. So, even here, English is not unknown. If any language now used has pretension to be universal it is the English. In one whole continent, i.e. of North America, it is in general use, and in the far-off regions of Australia it is the only civilised language. In India it is spreading, and, of course, is the tongue of the British Isles.' ' Why do not all nations on earth use it, then ? ' ' Perhaps they may, but not yet. Each nation stands by its own tongue, and the curse of Babel is maintained. Not far from here, near those distant Alps you saw to-day, four tongues are centered — Italian, French, German, and Romansch. In passing through St. Gothard Tunnel I have found German, which is the chief language of Uri and the Forest Cantons, useless, as it is superseded by Italian in Ticino.

So in Berne German is succeeded by French.' ' But,' I asked, ' you must be an American, since you are unfamiliar with this confusion of tongues, and even in your America the Indian tongues were almost more different than our European, as belonging to different classes of languages ? ' He did not answer me. Was he an American ? I changed the subject. ' You are a vege tarian (I think you told me this afternoon), but you will not mind some coffee.' He thanked me, and I poured out a cup. He drank it, and took of some cake I offered him. ' Do you smoke ? I have some good cigars.' ' No,' he replied. ' My nerves need no calming. But I do not see why others may not. Tell me what is the government of this country ? ' ' This Como region is in the kingdom of Italy. Surely you have passed the frontier and the custom house.' ' No. I came over from Lugano last night.' ' Yes, but you must have been stopped at the frontier at Porlezza or elsewhere, and your luggage examined ? ' ' Oh no. Nobody stopped me, and I have no luggage to examine.' ' You passed over the mountains, then, just like the smugglers ? ' ' Just so.' ' Then I suppose you are going back to Switzerland ? ' ' Perhaps so.

I should like to see more of these beautiful lakes before I go back. Are you going anywhere to-morrow ? ' 'Yes, I am going to Lecco by the ten steamer. Would you like to go with me ? ' 'Yes, if you will. I should like you to explain things to me. I shall be so obliged.' We chatted on many things, and then my strange friend bade me good night. Next morning I took the 10 a.m. steamer for Menaggio and Bellano. The lake looked very bright and beautiful in the morning sun. At Menaggio I found our strange friend waiting on the quay for me. He got on board and seemed pleased to meet me, and again asked me many questions about the places we saw from the steamer. 'Did you sleep at Menaggio last night ? ' I asked. ' No, I was in the mountains, and came down this morning. It is a curious-looking town, but I found the children stared at me.

Do I look very strange 1 ' ' Well, perhaps so ; but do not mind that. The Italians are not a rude people, and they will not trouble you.' ' I wish I looked like other people, but I cannot help it. God has made us all.' I was struck at this remark as to his appearance. Certainly he did seem to shun observation, and it seemed natural, for his small effeminate aspect was against him. We landed at Bellano, and then proceeded on the fine Austrian road towards Varenna along the shores of Como. My companion was deeply interested in everything. One singularity he had, which seemed childish, was to pluck the little flowers and weeds on the roadside, and ask me their names. Some I did know, but many I did not. The curious thing was that some most common plants he did not know. It was almost like an in telligent and inquisitive child.

While in this botanical research a most curious accident occurred. Basking in the sun upon a rock was a scorpion. Ezariel stepped forward and, to my horror, took it in his hand. ' Good heavens ! What are you doing ? That is a scorpion. Drop it, or it will sting you!' He put it down ; but too late, for I saw its sting pierce his hand. ' My dear friend, we must see a doctor in Varenna. You will be very ill. You are stung.' He smiled. ' Do not mind about me : the scorpion will do me no harm. But, to soothe your fears, I will drop some lotion I have about me on the wound.' He put his hand in his breast and drew forth a small cylindrical silver case. He touched a spring and, open ing it, showed eight small crystal phials. From one he removed the stopper, and dropped one drop on the place. ' Now it is all right.

You see the scorpion will do me no harm.' CHAP. It was as he said ; no inflammation ensued, and it appeared that he had not the slightest inconvenience from the sting. At Varenna I bought some grapes and offered him some, which he took. We then went on to Fiume Latte, chatting, as we walked, on divers topics. Fiume Latte and its water-mills greatly interested him. ' How is it possible,' he exclaimed, ' that with such a command of water-power as I have seen in the Alps more is not used ? I should say there is a thousand times more power in Switzerland than is employed — all going to waste. Why not use it ? ' At length we reached Lecco. I was get ting a little tired ; but my companion appeared as bright and fresh as ever. As we walked down by the quay the Bellagio steamer came in. Just as she was approaching the shore a piercing shriek sounded from the water.

A little boat was in her way, and, by accident, was upset by the steamer. Two people, it appeared, were in her — an old man and a young girl. The Italians on the shore crowded to the bank, raising a shout, with the excit ability of their race ; but none leapt in. The old man seized a rope cast him from the steamer, and was pulled on board. The girl still struggled in the water. Ezariel sprang from my side into the lake. In a moment he was by the girl's side. Her hat was floating in the water ; she was just sinking. But he passed his arm around her neck and, keeping her up, swam to the shore. A cry of admiration burst from the Italians. One brawny dark sailor waded into the water and helped Ezariel with his fainting burden. I hurried forward, and I carried her to the cafe close by. She was pale and fainting.

Her golden hair hung damp over my arm. Her eyes were closed. ' Call a doctor ! ' I said in Italian. ' You need not,' said Ezariel. ' One drop of this will recover her.' He put his hand in his breast and drew out a little rubycoloured phial. He poured a drop of a yellow fluid on CHAP. her lips. She shuddered, gasped, drew a long breath, then flushed in her cheek, and said in English — ' Thank you. You have saved me. Where is father ? ' ' Here, my dearest. Thank God ! I am saved,' said the old man, who had just come from the steamer. ' I feared we both were lost.' ' No, neither,' said Ezariel. ' No harm is done to her. She will be well again soon.' Meanwhile we had reached the cafe door, and the hostess rushed out to us with a small flask of eau de vie. ' Will you take her upstairs and put her to bed ? ' said the old man in Italian. ' Some hot coffee may do her good.' 'I think I can walk up myself, father, presently,' she said ; ' I feel wonderfully better.

I cannot tell how I could recover so quickly, seemingly, from death to life. How strange ! ' We took her into the cafe, and the kind hostess closed the outer door to keep off the crowd. We seated her on a comfortable cushioned seat, where she reclined, when the waiter brought her some coffee au petit verre. ' How can I thank you enough, sir ? ' said the old man to my companion. ' I only did my duty,' he replied. ' I could help her, and so I was bound to assist.' ' But you are wet yourself,' said the old man ; ' you should change.' ' It does not matter. But you shudder with the cold,' he said to the young lady. ' Another drop of this will warm you more than the coffee.' He poured again just a drop on her lip. She flushed up in a moment, as if feverishly, and said — ' I am sure I can walk now.

May I go upstairs and change my things ? ' ' Will you accept my arm ? ' I said. She took it, and I supported her along the passage and up the stair, preceded by the hostess, who said in Italian, ' Signorina, you had a wonderful deliverance. You have been rescued from the jaws of death ! ' CHAP. ' I feel God has been merciful to me.' The hostess opened a door, and I left my fair charge to her care. I discovered the old gentleman was just going upstairs also to change his clothes, and was leaning on the waiter's arm. ' How can I express my gratitude to you both for your kindness ? It was a miraculous escape.' ' Can I do anything for you, sir ? ' I asked. ' We were staying at Bellagio. Would it be too much to ask you if you would kindly go to the Hotel de l'Europe there and get our portmanteaux.

My daughter and I will want some changes of clothes. Stay, I will just give you a note authorising you, and here are two twenty-franc notes.' I undertook the commission, and went in the next steamer to Bellagio. My mysterious companion offered to go with me, but I advised him to stay at Lecco and wTatch if the invalids might want him again. I reached Bellagio by the evening steamer and went to the hotel. I obtained Mr. Carlyon's (for that was his name) things, and paid his bill. But by this time it was night, and the last steamer was gone ; so there was nothing for it but to take a boat to Varenna. Here I hired a little carriage at the inn, and drove along the chaussee to Lecco, which I reached about midnight. All the way I could not help dwelling on the wonderful events of these two eventful days — my strange acquaintance, the scorpion bite, the plunge in the lake ; but, above all, that fair, pale face and the dripping golden hair haunted my memories.

Chapter II

maynard's courtship When I reached Lecco I found the people at the cafe had gone to bed ; but I knocked loudly at the door, and soon the sleepy waiter came down. I asked how the Signorina Inglese was. He said he believed she was doing well, and not much the worse for her past peril. I gave him the luggage, with a message that I would call early next morning. As he told me that they had no bed vacant, I had to go to another hotel, where I found a room, and I soon slept, wearied out with the exertion of the day, in spite of the strange events which occupied my mind. On waking, my first thought was of that fair girl whom I had seen almost dying in CHAP. II MA YNARD'S COURTSHIP 23 my arms. Was she the worse for the plunge in the cold waters of the lake and the fright ? I resolved at once to go over to the cafe, which, though it was only 7 a.m., I found open for early customers.

It was a mean place, I thought, for a young English lady, and yet certainly it was wisest to send her to bed at once. In times when ' life or death ' is the question, one does not think of grandeur, or even of comfort. I went in and found the waiter busy with his customers, and I ordered him to bring me some coffee. ' How is the English lady and the old gentleman ? ' I asked. The hostess herself heard my question, and came over to me. ' Wonderful ! She does not seem the worse at all. You have strong nerves, you English. It would almost have killed me, and I should have been ill for a week. But see, she comes to answer for herself.' Yes, it was so. The door opened as she spoke, and a bright, fair English girl, with golden hair, and cheeks ruddier than most of the Italians, entered. She blushed at seeing me, and stretched out her hand. ' I thank you so much for all your kind ness.

It must have been such a trouble to get those things from Bellagio, especially as I find the last steamer had gone, and you had to drive here from Varenna. It was so kind of you to me and papa.' ' I am sure, as my comrade said, it was only my duty, although duty was a pleasure. I was bound to help a countrywoman in such dire distress in a foreign land. You had even more claim on me than on your deliverer, for he is not English.' ' I noticed his accent was foreign ; but he really is wonderful in his skill, not merely in saving, but in reviving me.' ' Where has he gone ? ' I asked. ' I have not seen him this morning. He called in last night about ten, and, seeing us both recovered, bade us good-bye.' MA YNARD'S COURTSHIP 25 ' Did he tell you where he was going ? ' ' No. I should like to meet my preserver again.' ' At any rate, I am with you,' I said ; for I was not altogether at the moment sorry to have the field to myself.

I breakfasted with the Carlyons, and then learning they were going to Verona, I agreed to accompany them. Here we stayed at the Hotel d'Inghilterra, where that evening Frank Carlyon, Lilian's brother, a Wadham under graduate, joined us. We did a little lionising together. Neither father nor daughter seemed the worse for the accident, and enjoyed the interesting scenes of Verona very much. We went together from Verona to Venice. Here, by accident, we met Legrand, a fellow undergraduate and old friend of mine, with his tutor, Priestley. I did not put up at the same hotel as the Carlyons, but saw them daily. I felt each day more and more drawn to that beautiful girl whom I had helped to rescue from the jaws of death. I had pitied her deeply and intensely then, when I saw her cold, pale face, damp with the waters of the lake.

I loved her now when she was bright and beautiful in restored health and life. The contrast to the Italians around made her English beauty more striking, although one must own the Italians, and especially the Venetians, are a handsome people ; indeed, much of our con ventional ideas of beauty are derived through the old masters from Italian models. Still, the fresh English girl was to me fairer than them all. As we got to know each other more, I could not help feeling increased gratitude that this noble girl had been spared from a watery grave. She had so many fine points in her character — pure, and generous, and modest, and I believe she wras grateful to me, and trusting, from my sincere kindness to her in her hour of need. But the time of parting approached. At last but three days remained to that MAYNARD'S COURTSHIP I! 27 fixed for beginning my term in Oxford.

Legrand and Priestley had returned to England. I could not longer delay going home, and ending my bright holiday in lovely Italy. I resolved to speak to Lilian and tell her my feelings towards her. I shall not detail that interview — sacred to my memories. All I can say is, that though I approached the subject awkwardly, and did not say half I meant to say, I was not refused. She said she owed her life to me, and could not refuse her hand. So we were engaged, and my last act in Venice was putting an engagement ring on her finger. She and her father — who raised no difficulty to our engagement — saw me off at the station. The locomotive whistled, and I was on my way to England and Oxford. My bright and happy Italian tour was over.

Chapter III Oxford

In the anxiety and studies of the next few weeks my strange friend was forgotten. I had to go in during that term for classical honours in the final schools, and found on my return from my continental tour that there was much to be done to make up for lost time. The examination was pressing on me before I had finished all my work, and I must own that I felt some of the anxious care that is so usual when the result of the school and college labours of one's young life has to be tested at the final classical examination for honours. At length the fatal day, half dreaded, half hoped for, arrived, and I, with a number of CHAP. Ill OXFORD 29 other anxious students, entered with the ' school squad ' to pass to the room in which much of our future destiny was to be settled. I shall not trouble the reader with describ ing the examination.

Suffice it to say that I was very wearied with my first day's paper work when I passed out again into the cold November fog beneath the arches of the Bodleian. As I approached the door of my room the curious feeling (not uncommon among some sensitive people, and to which I am very liable) struck me that I should find some one awaiting my return. I opened the door. The room was dark and silent : I struck a light, half disappointed at my false presentiment, when I noticed, stretched on my sofa, the quaint stranger whom I had met on the shores of Como. ' Do not be astonished at my coming here. You told me you were at St. Ambrose College, and as I came to Oxford I resolved to visit you. I much wish to see your great university.' CHAP. 30 ' I fear you come at a bad time,' I replied ; ' I am just in for an examination.

However, will you dine with us in Hall to-day.' ' No, I thank you,' he replied ; ' you English, I hear, are great meat eaters, and you know I only eat vegetables. It is one of the strange things about me. You must not mind my being eccentric. There are many eccentric people in the world besides me. Besides, I am very shy.' He smiled strangely, but sweetly, as he spoke. I at once was in duty bound to offer him hospitality in my rooms, but he refused, and at his request I left him during our dinner. As he evidently was retiring to most people, I resisted the strong inclination to ask one of the undergraduates to come to my rooms after dinner, and so I returned alone. I found my strange friend busy reading my Plato, wdiich I had left open on the table. We naturally entered on the subject of his philosophy, and, to my astonishment, I soon found that, in OXFORD Ill 31 abstract points, my visitor was a greater adept than even our professors.