Tom Thornton, or Last Resources

Part I Chapter

I. How is it, dear reader, that so many of my countrymen, after planning a continental trip, with all the appliances of content and comfort at their command, and promising themselves all sorts of gaiety and gratification, which health, leisure, and unlimited credit, can command, get cross and disgusted almost before they have well digested their first French dinner? Simply, because so many start from their native shores, blinded by such vulgar, pig-headed prejudices, that they will not see anything in its right light, or rather, in any light but their own, aud so B return (and let them), as ignorant, and to be pitied as they set forth. Poor Dobson in foreign parts ! Why, dear Sir, you may know the animal among a thousand ; and a most respectable, well conditioned animal he is, his heart's pride, John Bull, stamped on every inch of him.

Who disputes that he is lord and master over all the world ? who don't know that his beef and plum puddings, to say no thing of his Queen and constitution, are the envy of the universe ? who doubts for a moment he could buy up, if he liked, fifty such pinched, parched, paltry-looking fel low's as that opposite over his bouilli and half bottle oftenpenny claret? But he need not look so sad about it. How the French man over his leek soup laughs and talks, as if there were no such thing as care in the world, and how dull and dumb is Dobson ! What ails him ? My dear Sir, there is no roast beef at table ; therefore is the noble mind of Dobson overclouded, and you see that unhappy expression in the corners of his mouth ; therefore looks Dobson down cast and distrustful around him ; therefore revert his thoughts in gloomy pride to his own happy little isle, his country, her glo rious institutions, his home, his wife, his little ones, the pride of Old England ; and therefore blesses Dobson himself that he was born within the sound of Bow bells, and has a perfect right, if he like, to be a martyr to the end of the chapter to beef steaks and blue devils.

But there are bright exceptions. With such uninteresting, irreclaimable mortals as Dobson and Co. we have nothing to do at present, but only with those far more enlightened and estimable folks who, like myself, can see and appreciate, and take measure by other's merits ; who can acknowledge beauty, when they find it, in a Hot tentot, honesty in a Jew, gentleness in a B Turk, courtesy in a Fleming, sincerity in the French, and something fit to eat and drink, too, at their tables d'hote, besides beef steaks and double stout. Just as if Dobson could not have stayed at home with Mrs. D. and the little ones, and the beefsteak puddings and porter, and not come fuming and fretting on the continent, making himself miserable and ridiculous ; and just as if Frenchmen would depart from all established usages for his sake, and dine at six o'clock off beef steaks and apple dumplings !

Perfectly suicidal is it of Dobson to sacrifice himself so : he knew very well, and how often did Mrs. Dobson remind him, when he would persist in crossing the water, that those nasty, cold, sour, clarets never did agree with him, and that he never could endure a drop of grease in his gravy. He knew it all, and, if he will so sacrifice him self, as I said before, there is no one to blame but himself. With some such reflections as these, in duced by the presence of as veritable a Dobson as eyes ever beheld, "on board the Queen-of-tbe-French packet, which was conveying, one heavenly July day, as motly a group as you will see in a day's journey, as fast as steam could carry them to Bou logne, I paced in high spirits up and down the deck, in that harmonious state of mind, that enviable serenity of disposition towards all mankind, which makes everybody and everything appear in their best colours.

In fact I had set out, like that most amiable traveller Sterne, with a determination to be pleased, the consequence of which was that not an object that met my gaze but had some charm or interest peculiarly its own ; and while poor Dobson seemed the perpetual victim of mortifications, everything appeared to me to conspire for my joy and edification ; notwithstanding the dismal phiz of my fellow-traveller, and his dark hints, " to look sharp after my baggage, and take care those rascally Frenchmen didn't rob me of the teeth out of my head." Mercy ! what a hurrying and scampering and pushing and palavering, as we neared the quay and were drawn tight along shore ! And here poor Dobson's troubles seemed to begin in good earnest. The last I saw of him, as I mounted the ladder, was that he was in the hands of two douaniers, who were in vain endeavouring to convince him that no personal affront was intended by his being compelled to leave the boat without his bags, and to give up two bottles of old port, which Mrs. D. excellent creature ! had smuggled into the lining of his roquelaire.

In a moment more I was on terra firma, winding my way to the Custom-house, when amongst the countless heads that pressed forward to scrutinize the new7 comers, I was struck by the appearance of a tall gentlemanlyr-looking man of decayed appearance, who kept his eyes riveted on me from the moment I left the boat. That his face was perfectly familiar to me I was sure— the image of my old friend and college chum, Tom Thornton ; but how altered — it was impossible — it could not be the once handsome elegant Tom Thornton — impossible ! Yet what wrecks will not extravagance and dissipation soon leave their vic tims ! I returned his gaze ; he saw that he was recognised, and a slight colour flushed his cheeks, which the moment before were as pale as marble. I turned eagerly towards the spot where he had been standing, but he had left it, and disappeared.

" Par ici, monsieur, par ici — entrez, entrez !" urged a sharp voice at my side ; and I was hurried on, and in due time, be ing found regie in all respects, was consign ed to the tender mercies of the Commission aires. In less than an hour afterwards I had come to the determination to adopt on my return home, extensive reforms in my own culinary arrangements, and that that must be a very fastidious stomach indeed, which could depart unsatiated from the table d'hote of mine host of the Hotel des Bains. As I wras sipping my claret and wonder ing how Dobson got on with the douaniers, in bustled the waiter, and handed me a note that had just been left for me. — " Did any one w7ait ?" " No, the garcon who brought it left im mediately." It w7ould have been the easiest thing in the world to have broken the seal, and seen in a moment from whom it came; and yet, I don't know why, I continued eyeing it, and turning and twisting it about, till catching the waiter's eye wistfully watching my move ments, I w7as brought again to mv senses.

" A heron with a heart in its beak — the Thornton's crest, by George !" The restless dark grey eyes, once so lustrous, with their long silken lashes, that had rivetted me on landing, instantly recurred to me ; and as the conviction flashed on me that that haggard form, and my old and loved friend Tom Thornton, were one and the same person, I broke the seal, and read as follows — " Dear Jack — My heart is thumping at my ribs, and my hand shakes so, I can hardly guide my pen. I am wild with joy — saw you land just now, and think you re cognised me. You might well have doubt ed the evidence of your senses; there's no concealing it — times are sadly altered with me ; nevertheless, it w7as your old friend and chum, Tom Thornton. Though there's scarcely lest a vestige of what you once knew me, my heart is as stanch as ever, and, if yours is the same, come and drink your coffee and smoke a mild W. with me to-night, and talk over old times.

It may be the last time we shall ever meet ; yes, B Jack, I feel — but n'importe ! Mind, Rue d'Ambois, No 8, third story ; take care and don't break your neck. If you don't come by seven, shall place it to the score, not of any diminution of your love for me, but that you hadn't time, or couldn't find your Avay ; so, au revoir, and believe that you have, as ever, the affection and best wishes of Thursday, &c. &c." T. T. Now, had I left my native shores, as thou sands do, impressed with those inaccessible notions of self-consequence, which shut up the hearts of Englishmen, and make them the solitary animals they are, even in a crowd, here was the very thing to raise the spleen, and hurry me on my journey, grumbling and stiff-necked. My dinner, then, would have disagreed with me ; the splendid salon in which I was sitting, with its pretty tasteful muslins and scarlet draperies, its colossal mirrors and gilt cornices, would, in comparison with my own well-appointed dining-room, have appeared trumpery and comfortless.

I should immediately have noticed the difference between my own massive and highly-polished table, by Gil low, solid as rock-work, and the long, narrow, ricketty affair, which, extending almost from one end of the room to the other, seemed hardly strong enough to sustain the imj>osing row of gaudy epergnes, plated covers, and flower baskets, showily ranged along its centre. Most likely, too, the sleeky, cringing, de bonnaire figures of the gar cons, with their yel low faces and killing curls, would have sadly contrasted with the contemplation of the rubicund cheeks, spruce velvet breeches, and clean white stockings of my own Absalom — that pattern of what a footman should be. Something, no doubt, would have started up at every turn to have reminded me that I was not at home, and that not so being, I was justified in being as wretched myself, and as disagreeable to every one else as possible ; but such had not been the feelings with which I had left the home of my fathers ; that home I loved, and fully appreciated the superior arrangements of my own menage ; nor would I have exchang ed Absalom and his velvet breeches, for all the sausage-curled, cossack-trousered gar cons in all Europe : but I had voluntarily bade adieu to Absalom and his manifold at tractions for awhile, and made up my mind to think as little of myself, and as well as possible of my neighbours, all of whom seemed to smile upon me — because, I suppose.

I smiled on them — with a hearty un mistakable welcome, I must have been a savage not to have responded to. Other wise, I might have regarded the invitation of a poor devil in adversity, although an old and intimate friend of better days, as a piece of unpardonable impertinence, which it was beneath an Englishman, travelling for pleasure, with his pocket-book crammed with bank notes, to notice. As it was, nothing could have happened to please me better than this fortunate rencontre with my old chum, the beloved companion of my boy hood, the bosom friend and confidant of my earliest and happiest affections. Had we not been inseparable from child hood! Had we not travelled together through the different forms at Eton — members of the same college : were we not linked together by every tie that binds tw-o devoted hearts together — and was I not acquainted with every incident of his career ! how he had succeeded to a good estate — how by reck less profusion it had been all squandered — his headstrong passions, his fatal attachment for the beautiful daughter of a French officer, which his family had never forgiven, and the pittance allowed him by a maiden aunt, who still loved him, for his support !

His pride, his obstinacy, his generosity, his frank-heartedness — all pleaded in his favour, as I called to mind the many joyous days we had passed together. Yes, my heart swelled within me as I anticipated the emotion of our meeting thus, after so long a separation. I knew my man — selfishness had nothing to do with it — my purse was safe, even if any sneaking misgivings on that score had crossed me; so, putting his note into my pocket, and asking my way to the Rue cPAmbois, I set out, de termined to be rather twenty minutes be fore than after the appointed time. " Pray, madame, have the goodness to direct me to the Rue d'A?nbois." " Ah, mon Dieu ! the Rue cFAmbois ? you will never find it ; monsieur had better have a commissionaire— it was an ugly quar ter ; did monsieur know the Rue Royale ?"

I was a stranger, and knew nothing but that madame was very obliging. " Then, ecoutez ! — monsieur will have the kindness to take the second turning to the left ; that will take him to the Rue Tant perd Tant-paix ; if monsieur will have the goodness to go straight on till he comes to the Rue de la Campe, then turn again to the left, and then give himself the trouble to take the second turning to the right, he will see the Rue Roy ale ; he has only to observe the third turning to the left again, and any one will shew him the Rue d'Ambois." " Merci beaucoup, madame," and follow ing the line pointed out with admirable patience, I reached at last, after many en quiries, the street where my friend had chosen his habitation. Something like a cold shudder crept over me as I stood with in the doorway of a grim gloomy edifice of some four or five stories.

The entrance w7as almost pitch dark, as was the whole way up the steep winding staircase, the only thing recognisable being the horrible stench that prevailed on every side— that peculiar effluvium characteristic of French lodging-houses ; and I soon found that his warning to " take care and not break my neck," was no needless precaution, for, more than once, owing to the clammy slip periness of the stairs, and the necessity of feeling my w-ay step by step, I could hardly keep my footing, till, fairly out of breath, I reached the landing of floor num ber three. Tom bad heard my approach, and in a moment we were in each others arms, em bracing each other as old friends ought, whatever may have been their ups and dow7ns of fortune. When we last parted he was rich, I was poor ; now I wanted no thing, he seemed to lack everything; but this did not diminish one jot, the joy we felt at that moment ; our hearts yearned towards each other, with but one feeling, that of reciprocal and unaltered attachment.

" Well," said he, after an internal strug gle of some moments, during which the glistening tear and the choking utterance told what no words could have expressed ; " well, this is kind of you, Jack, that it is. I knew you would come if you could. You saw me, I was sure of it. Ah, I don't wonder you hardly knew me — my mother scarcely would ; non sum quails eram. 'Gad, though, if I had known you had been coming, you shouldn't have dined there off their soupe maigre, though I had changed my last five franc piece." " Soupe maigre !" said I, " 'faith, I've dined like an emperor — six courses and dessert, my boy, for half-a-crown ; that beats the beef steaks and porter at the Blue Posts, eh ?" " Ah, those were happy days, Jack — 'gad, but if you'll take pot luck with me to morrow, I'll give yrou a beef steak and a glass of pale ale at Lowe's, as good as any in Europe.

But how are all at home, eh ? and the governor, getting shakey, eh ? and Aunt Lucy ? Zounds, man ! but you are growing fat : ah ! the world goes well with you, and so it ought. Well, how long d'ye stay ? Oh ! to Paris to-morrow ? 'Gad ! you must stop a day or two with us, and see the lions. Devereux and the Morleys just left ; you recollect Frank Morley — money Morley as we called him at Christ Church — a precious screw. You know he came in for all his uncle's money, and married Jenkinson's daughter? well, we knocked against each other in the Grande rue the other day : by St Nicholas ! I thought he would have squeezed my hand off; though, poor fellow ! he fidgetted a little at the sight of my old hat — was almost in tears to hear that Aunt Lucy was as irreconcilable as ever — implored me to make any conces sions ; ' 'twas a thousand pities for me to cut off my nose to be revenged of my face ' — promised to call if he had time ; hadn't time, but sent me the civilest note next day, with a long lecture about Aunt Lucy's money and forgiveness, and a five-pound note from Caroline, as a souvenir, with her best wishes.

What d'ye think of that — artful wasn't it ? as if he didn't reckon on its return by the next mail. But what d'ye think of my lodgings — not so bad, eh, Jack ? near the sky, eh — airy enough ; what the deuce does a man w7ant more ? — there's a table, three chairs — not counting that vaga bond out at elbows and not a leg to stand on — a wash-stand, and a cupboard for the prog, when there's any ; and, as for a carpet, it's a luxury I have learnt to despise ; besides, not having a regular establishment, I'm the worst hand in the world at a broom or a duster," " Nothing could be snugger," said I, with a wretched endeavour at a smile, and a slight shudder — " and your dormitory ?" " Ah, by St. Nicholas ! I'd forgotten that," he replied, approaching a recess in the wall, and drawing a curtain ; " w7hat emperor could repose in greater luxury — a clever dodge that curtain, isn't it ? some thing Oriental in it : you see what may be done with a little providence, eh ? like the cobbler's stall, ' It serves for my parlour, and bed room, aud all.' Come, now don't be looking so straight down your nose, or I shall fancy you are thinking of sending me a five-pound note — artful that, wasn't it, of Morley.

By the bye, did I ever tell you about the turbot ? 'gad, sir, I had had some duck shootiug at Morley, and, knowing bis wife loved fish, took them down a turbot I gave a guinea for, meant for Lord Seston. ' Magnificent fish that,' said Frank, ' and Caroline much obliged, Tom,' and all that sort of thing : like turbot pretty well myself, only the sauce comes so confoundedly expensive. But what are you looking so grave about? have the kindness to take another chair — I won't answer for that vagabond." Grave, very grave, in truth, I felt, al though I did my best to control the painful emotion that was bursting within me ; nor did the tone of forced pleasantry with which my poor friend strove to conceal his own too visible anguish of heart, make matters better. " Tom," said I, after a mutual pause of some moments, for I could disguise no longer, " this is dreadful ! — nay, I must and will speak !

What, in Heaven's name, can you be thinking of to be rotting your life away in this hole — to be wasting the best years of your life in wilful indigence and in action, when, as Frank Morley says, a word of concession from your lips would place you at freedom, and affluence ! Nay, hear me — you shall ! By our old and lasting friendship — by every tie of affection and attacbment that has ever linked our hearts together, I claim the privilege of a friend — a true and stanch friend, to protest against such obstinacy, such false pride, such mad ness ! Has not your Aunt Lucy offered to pay every debt, remove all encumbrances, and establish you in a splendid home, with the certainty of her large fortune by-and bye, if you will only be rational, and re nounce that " " Hold, Jack, if you love me — not a word of her !

No man, not even my dearest friend, shall breathe that name with dis respect in my hearing." " Tom, you misunderstand me. This is wilful folly — to sacrifice yourself and the brilliant prospects before you, to lie rotting here, an exile from your country and kin dred, the victim of obstinacy and evil pas sions, when you might command, if you would, every enjoyment of life — to give up all — the land of your birth, your family, friends, the fortune that is yours if you will but hold out your hand for it, your proper position in society as a man and a gentle man, and all for the sake of " " Peace, Jack — you know not what you say. Promise me that you will never, while I live, disclose what I am about to tell you." " Is that your wish ?" " It is ; you promise on the word of a gentleman." " I do ; you never found me false." * " Enough ; Jack, she is dead — Blanche is dead."

As he uttered these words with tremulous lips, his cheeks were ghastly pale, his voice faltered, and a convulsive heaving of that broad manly chest, which concealed a heart as warm and generous, with all its faults, as ever beat in mortal bosom, told me but too plainly how much he suffered. Drawing forth from within his waistcoat a miniature, suspended by a silk cord round his neck, he pressed it fervently to his lips ; then pointing to it to arrest my attention, said, in a tone I shall never forget, " Look ! this was her last gift — the very image of her ! Wasn't she beautiful ?" A dead silence ensued for some moments, during which he sat with his finger pointed to the picture, and looking fixedly in my face, while I stood gazing on the lovely image it disclosed, as if spell-bound. " God bless her !" he at length ejaculated ; " she was good as beautiful, and has gone where angels ought to dwell, and where there are none to trouble her.

Jack, you have a good heart ; when at school together, your's was the better head : but why did I love you best of all? because you had a heart, too, and, though the world has gone well with you, prosperity has not ossified it. Now7, if you could stay a day or so, and were not ashamed of my old hat, I would shew you w-here she lies ; — there's not a sweeter spot in the whole cemetery — the flowers around it never fade, and more kind hands than one have dropped a chaplet there, for, though faultless, she was every where beloved. I can't help it, but night and morning I still find myself crying over the green sod that covers her, like a child ; and I've a little tablet designed, and an epitaph to finish, and then her tomb will be complete." " Poor girl !" responded I, hardly knowing what to say; " you could not have paid more respect to her memory, if she had been your " " Your wife, you would say, and wherefore not my wife ?

So, you, too, thought me a villain ! Well, well, they paint even the devil blacker than he is. I know I've given them reason to bedaub me thick enough — n'importe, Jack, you have promised never to divulge my secret while I live. Call me foolish, infatuated, mad — what you will, I know I can trust you. Jack, Blanche was my wedded wife." c " Your wife, Tom !" " Yes, Jack, my more than wife — a mother, sister, brother, friend — all, all to me !" " Then is your obstinacy without excuse — wherefore not have acknowledged her as such, returned to England, and thrown your selves at the feet of Aunt Lucy, who still loves you : the virtue and beauty of your wife would have insured your full forgiveness." " Jack, you know not my Aunt, nor her unrelenting temper towards her own sex, where she thinks herself offended.

Had I dared, much as she might love me, to have acknowdedged my union with a foreigner, and unknown to her, the pittance she now allows me for my support would have been instantly withdrawn. No, no, better as it is — I shall be a trouble to no one much longer ; my old complaint here" — pointing to his heart — " bids me prepare to follow her. Let me but crawl on, Jack, till I have paid for Blanche's tablet, and I care not then how soon they place us side by side." His face, which a moment before was livid as death, now glowed with the deep flush of excitement ; there was an unearthly fire in his eyes as he pressed his hand, as if for relief, against his burning forehead. I thought he would have fainted, as the blood, forsaking his cheeks, left them again pale as marble, and was anxiously looking around me for some restorative, when, pointing to a seat, " Leave me alone," said he, " I shall be well again directly."

A faint cry, as from an infant in the chamber adjoining, suddenly roused him from the stupor into which he seemed to have fallen — again, and the cry became louder. " Ah ! it is my little angel — my other Blanche," he cried, as he sprang to wards a door, which, I now perceived, opened into a small apartment, or cabinet, into which he entered, and, returning immediate ly, beckoned me to follow him. c " I had prepared," said he, smiling, " a little surprise for you, but the gipsy has spoilt it all — there, then ! what think yon of my nursery ?" " Wonders will never cease," I exclaimed, approaching the bed, snuggled up in which lay the most lovely infant girl, wide awake and staring at me with her large blue eyes, I had ever beheld. " This is, indeed, a paradise, for, without flattery, I never saw anything so like an angel as that beautiful child in my life."

" Isn't she perfection, eh, Jack ? Did she want to kiss her father, then — there — there ! Jack, since God gave me that cherub, I have been an altered man : she'll be the image of her mother, if she live. What d'ye think my aunt would say, if she could see us all at this moment? I could have wished, for that sweet angel's sake, to have had a brighter prospect." " Wished, Tom ? I have no patience — the highest aspirations of the fondest of fathers could not be sooner answered, than, with God's blessing, may yours Tom, for that dear child's sake, if indeed you love her, and value her welfare, beyond the selfish indulgence of your own foolish pride and suicidal resentments." " Hush, hush, messieures ! you will make mademoiselle cry if you talk so loud," urged the gentle-toned voice of a stout comely looking young woman, who sat by the bedside of her charge, endeavouring to pacify her de termined struggles to attract her father's notice.

" Ah, Josephine, you should have put her on Madame Daguebert's pretty lace cap, with the white satin bows ; the gipsy isn't fit to be seen in that ugly muslin." " Ah, if I had but known that monsieur expected company." It mattered nothing, I insisted, whether it was lace or muslin. My judgment, however, not worth much I must own, in such matters, was overruled by both father and nurse ; but, as it was universally agreed that she looked as beau tiful as an angel as she was, what more could be desired. " God bless thee, my sweet child, my other Blanche, my only treasure !" ejaculated her father, as he leant over his babe and kissed her cheek ; " Heaven watch over thee ! And, Josephine, rock her now to sleep, if you can, and then you can leave the door ajar, so that we may hear her if she awake, and let us have the candles and coffee."

Chapter II

Jack, that poor creature is a treasure to me, a better creature never lived ; since the death of my wife she has been nurse, mother, all in all to my child ; I regard her as one committed in an especial manner to my care and protection by Providence ; but sit down, and I will tell you her story. You must bear with me, my dear fellow, if I make a fool of myself sometimes ; but for that safety valve, my heart had given way long ago ; wrell, then — It was about fifteen months ago, during the height of the revolutions, when, you know, the continent was all in arms, and it was just the turn of a die whether it was to be the reign again of terror and anarchy for France, or of peace and good order; when, deserted by her rightful rulers, and left for her guidance to the tender mercies of demagogues, poets, missionaries, and adventurers of every class, she was reeling this way and that, so that no man dared predict what the morrow would bring forth ; when honest men's hearts quailed within them, and every cou rier that galloped through the street brought the news, no doubt, that Paris was in flames; when auxiliaries with one accord were has tening to her rescue from every commune ; parents taking leave of their children, wives of their husbands, brothers of fond sisters, with the inglorious reflection that they were rushing thus in arms, not against an enemy worthy of such valour, but to bathe their swords in the blood of neighbours and kins men ; it was at this terrible moment, Jack, that Louis Dubois, poor Josephine's husband, received a letter from his brother Hugo, one of the most desperate of the in surgents, of the worst fauxbourg in Paris.