Claud Wilford; a romance. Second edition

Introduction

. Unlike many of his fellow-labourers, the Author has endeavoured to avoid, as much as possible, the too vivid colouring of his pictures, so that each separate scene, in whatever light it is beheld, may appear stamped by a natural truthfulness; being aware that too great an effort for effect, will often destroy the natural emotions of the beholder, and make the composition appear a laboured work. It would have been a much easier task had he depicted some dark scenes, in which the actors had displayed their sinister powers with alarming effect, which, perhaps, would have

INTRODUCTION.

. formed a bolder relief to the more pathetic portions ; but this would have destroyed the harmony of the whole. June, 1856. ALLEGORY. I stood upon the Plains of Thessaly ; around me was one vast desert, without a friendly form — above me were the heavens, clear and bright, and the sun shot forth its scorching rays to heat the sand on which I stood ; and as I gazed upon the vast white vapourless canopy, I felt, alas! that I stood alone — no sound fell on my ear — no zephyrs fanned my burning face — I felt the solitude of man. For days I travelled on the pathless waste, until my spirit, worn with shattered hopes, my body wearied with fatigue, I laid me down to die, and, in the anguish of my heart I prayed for death. * * * Again I arose and struggled on. A mighty storm now shook the heavens — the wind howled forth with direful wrath — the earth gave forth its groans — huge rocks and gigantic trees were loosened from their bold, and the mighty convulsions of the earth shook forth the rivers from VI ALLEGORY. their beds in one wild chaos — the lightning darted forth, and blazed throughout the sky, and the artillery of heaven boomed with deafening peals.

Still I stood alone ! No longer did I behold the plain I was before traversing — I was now on the summit of the loftiest mountain, and all was calm, and the balmy soothing zephyrs fanned my feverish brow. I gazed around — above me still was heaven, beneath me clouds were floating through the air : then, as they glided past, I beheld the growing cities of the world, and the crumbling ruins of a former age. Despair now seized my mind ; I could discern, too far away for me ever to reach, the gilded domes of the imperial cities. I raved aloud, and in my agony I cried " And is it here that I must die? " Alas ! I turned my head to gaze once more on the worldly scene, and bid adieu to all on earth — oh, horror upon horrors ! by my side stood the phantom figure of the evil one. ' Save me!" I cried, "what shall I do to save myself?" ' Renounce thy faith," said the evil one, " curse — " Hold, fiend !" cried I,.

" tempt me no more ! I resign myself to die upon this spot." I cast myself down, buried my face in my hands, and wept. Once more I raised my eyes, when, standing over me, I beheld a fairy spirit, clothed in a vestal robe ; and as I gazed upon her countenance, 6he smiled at my haggard looks. ALLEGOBT. VII " Comest thou to tempt me, too?" I cried. "No, I come to save a fallen spirit — follow me." She waved her hand to the demon, and he hurled him self from off the height. I followed on the virgin's track — down in a deep dell stood her abode, a solitary hut ; we entered side by side. I staid and listened to her silvery voice until all evil was charred from my heart. She spoke not of the path that I should tread to lead me to the goal I panted for, but she impressed me with the knowledge of the latent powers that lay concealed within me, and urged me on to battle with events — what I divined, she assured me I might achieve.

She perceived my weariness, and pointed out the Agi nippian fountain, and bid me quench my thirst. She prophesied my tomb would be in the Elysian fields of Luce, amidst the souls of the heroes resting there. It was midnight when I left that cot, and I gazed upon the heavens, illumined by a million stars. I mused, and in my musings I was lost amidst my own inspirations. Home, in all its ancient glory, appeared before me, with its chariots and its horsemen — its festivals, its gladiators, its heroes, and its fate'; and the mighty ruins standing forth and pointing towards the heavens, defying the hand of time, and remaining a mournful memento of its former grandeur, reminded me of the feebleness of all earthly power, and of the vanity of man, and in the loneliness of ALLEGORY. my heart I sighed ; and as that sigh was the echo of a holy thought, it ascended high, and the recording angel regis tered it in the archives of eternity — and I was changed — a new energy invigorated my mind and ennobled my spirit — I shook off the cloak of lethargy, and trampled it beneath my feet, and I trembled as I panted to dash forth in the career I aimed at.

New ideas and new powers of concep tion floated through my imagination — I possessed the feelings of a poet, and drank of the pathos of the beautiful — within my mind lay stored up innumerable treasures that wanted only unveiling to be appreciated ; polishing, to be admired ; and fixed, to become valuable. I had concep tion of the ideal, and knowledge of the real — I had learnt philosophy, in studying nature, and I bowed to the wisdom of ages, in the school of experience.

Chapter I

"An honest man, like true religion, appeals to the understand. ing, or modestly confides in the internal evidence of his conscience." Junius. Some years ago, might have been seen walking arm-in-arm with an old gentlemanly-looking man, in a quiet town on the Kentish coast, a young man ; the bloom of youth upon his features, and the lustre in his eyes alone made his appearance prepossessing, even to the casual observer ; but he had more attractions than these ; his figure was beautifully propor tioned, although he was rather slimly made, and the ease and elegance which were portrayed in each of his movements clearly showed his good breeding, as now raising his hat to some B fair acquaintance he was recognized by a sweet smile; again as he bowed more majestically to some more sedate personage, he received an equally condescending bow.

The old gentleman, his companion, Sir Charles Wilford, whose silvery locks claimed homage for his age alone, was chatting carelessly to his son Claud, for such the young man was. How happy each then appeared; the day was one of those bright autumnal days when the frosty temperature of the early dawn had mellowed down into calm and soothing atmosphere. Hundreds of people were taking the opportunity of enjoying their evening ramble ; here and there might be seen some fair equestrian, with a crowd of companions eager to gain her side and monopolize her conversation : and now and then some prancing horse would cause the rider to draw back into the rear of the group, amidst the laughter of the more fortunate riders of the quieter animals. Walking arm-in-arm might be seen some fair creature, with the idol of her heart, whose advancement towards the hymenial tie was fast approaching, as their freedom, in being unattended by a lackey, gave strong proofs.

Here, again, with joyous merry faces, were gay youths with sailor-looking hats and pilot coats evidently bent on a few hours' cruise in the bay, whose limpid waters appeared (except by the lazy waves falling on the beach in slow monotony) like one gigantic mirror cast upon the pebbly shore — amidst such sights as these the two individuals described were leisurely proceeding. Many an eye followed their two figures as they strolled along. Calm as appeared the elder's countenance, it was, really, only the semblance and mocking mask of the pent-up feelings struggling within his breast, the melancholy brooding over a fate that loomed but too darkly in the future. Sir Charles had, up to this period, and since his son's birth, been living at Walcote Abbey, an old ancestral residence of his father's ; he had of late greatly improved and re-built, and in his building strictly adhered to the old style of architecture that prevailed in the abbey.

He had also enlarged the pleasure grounds, and erected light and elegant stables ; every thing that had appeared heavy or cumbrous had been removed, at whatever cost. It had been the delight of Sir Charles, since the period of his son's attaining maturer years, and the garb of boyhood had been cast aside, to consult him upon the improvements in the abbey and grounds, until, by their combined tastes and ideas, the old monastic edifice had almost attained the grand and stately appearance that it might be imagined it possessed at a former period, when tenanted by holy friars. These gradual improvements had never been felt by Sir Charles Wilford, although they were on a scale of grandeur and magnifi cence rarely displayed, even in a baronial re sidence. The internal decorations too, had undergone a simultaneous change with the the other part ; the finest pictures of the modern school were here to be seen suspended from the walls — the finest vases and carved furniture were ranged throughout the abbey, but there was no ostentatious display.

Throughout the neighbourhood, Sir Charles's hospitality was acknowledged on all hands ; the poor in him had ever found a friend ; and when people visited the abbey, they enjoyed themselves, all unnecessary formalities were dispensed with, and even those votaries of fashion, the high-born panderersof thewhimmy world, who accepted the invitation of the good old baronet, were occasionally caught by his winning manners and kindness, and drop ped the mock plumes of affectation really inconsistent with their natural dispositions. Although Sir Charles was connected with a Metropolitan bank, in whom the higher mem bers of the aristocracy had implicit confidence, it was well known that he had seldom of late interfered in the management of the business; thus Sir Charles derived a large income, the greater portion of which was liberally spent in his own neighbourhood.

This being the position of the baronet, who had the entree to all the mansions of the neighbouring gentry and nobility. Sir Charles was in nowise connected with the sporting world, except by his joining occasionally in the hunts of the district ; but the six or seven hunters he kept were equal to the very best horses kept by the master of the hounds, and were never allowed during the season to remain long idle, as Claud Wilford was always ready for the sport. It was when Claud Wilford was a mere boy, and during a long and fast run, that he obtained the flattering encomiums of the more experienced sportsmen ; mounted on one of the best horses of his father's stud, Claud got well laid in at the burst from cover, and after going for about twenty minutes in gallant style, ten or a dozen of the hard riders had gradually increased their distance from the rest of the field; amongst these was Claud, riding with the judgment of a much more experienced head, but never deviating from the line; field after field these dozen horsemen kept within a kind of group, now one, now another taking the lead, but only very slightly, and none ever getting out of place.

It was evident there was but little supe riority in any of the horses, or, if there was, it was counterbalanced by the extra weight it bore, and each strove to retain their position in the direct line the hounds were bearing away ; and now appeared in view the old park fence of Deerwood Chase, seven feet high, but the approach on the side the horse men were advancing, was on a slight decline. The hounds were evidently going for it direct, when suddenly they made a dash, the ma jority scrambling through, and some few over; CLAUD WILFOED. when, from their tone, as they now began to give mouth, it became clear a finish was at hand. With feelings of delight did those sounds reach the ears of the horsemen in the run ; but now the high fence appeared terribly near. The excitement, however, was too great for any of the sportsmen to endeavour to check their mettled horses, and each man seated himself more firmly in his saddle and collected himself for the leap, and all charged the fence.

Hark ! what was that cry ? it echoes in the air, and mingles with the baying of the hounds. It was Claud Wilford, who, with one wild shrill shout had cleared the leap ; his horse for a moment seemed suspended in the air, then, as it safely alighted on the other side, the boy-hunter found himself alone, for not another horse got over. Several of the huntsmen dismounted, and sought a weak place in the palings, in the hope of effecting an entrance into the park, whilst others stood up in their stirrups watching Claud, who had dismounted, and was dragging the now lifeless fox to where the huntsmen stood. The breast of a fox-hunter is ever open to the sympathetic feelings of his brethren in the chase, and as Claud approached his late com panions in the run, several extended hands in turn grasped his, and brotherly were the looks of all around — would not many an older man have given a full year's income to have achieved this daring feat, and have created in the bosoms of a chosen few what Claud un consciously had done.

Having said thus much of Sir Charles Wil ford and his son, we must conduct the reader back to where we left them — sauntering near the smooth waters of the bay. Like others, the baronet and his son paced the pebbly beach ; when Claud, seeing that some thing unusual disturbed the thoughts of his father, proposed to return to the hotel, and drive home. Claud's conjectures as to Sir Charles's feelings being disturbed, were right; but little did he know that the silence observable in the baronet on their return, was occasioned by the most poignant feelings of dread of an impending evil; little did he know that the communications from the bank in which Sir Charles was so deeply concerned, were of the most painful nature; little did he anticipate what appeared a foreboding of evil to his father, who for some time past had been endeavouring to totally disconnect himself with the banking business, and had discovered the probability of immense if not ruinous losses by his partners, at an inauspicious time injudiciously investing largely in foreign undertakings. b2

Chapter II

*' Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land." Lay of the Last Minstrel. The more philosophical a person is, the more readily does he perceive how fluctuating are the changes in man's chequered life — how essential to his very being the vicissitudes he must endure. Were all people to glide through life without being called upon to combat with the stormy tide of unforeseen and startling events, where would be those truly happy moments of their existence — how could they be distinguished? Such things were not to be; would there not, were all equally placed, exist in the bosoms of the many a democratic jealousy, worrying their very souls, tormenting the vitals of their existence, until they plunged themselves into irretrievable despair?

No ! God, to whom all hearts are open, guides to the billows of life's stormy sea those who are best able to bear up against their force, to glean wisdom, to learn, and give to all mankind the experience of their dangerous course, and in the calmer moments of their after life they taste ttte happiness of quiet repose, and love to ponder on the past, and all that they had once endured. , It was in the early part of the month in which the events took place, as recorded in the last chapter, that Sir Charles Wilford, and his son Claud, were breakfasting at the baronet's residence ; the letter-bag had arrived, and Sir Charles had already opened, and was perusing his letters, whilst Claud was looking over the newspapers that had also arrived. The latter, however, was not suffered long to ascertain the contents, for glancing towards his father, he perceived that he was greatly affected; then casting one look towards his son, he suffered the letter he was then reading to drop from his powerless hands, his cheeks became pale as the parian marble in his own halls; there he sat, as immoveable as a fixed and chiselled statue, and save the quivering of his lips, no muscle moved throughout his body ; his eyes, too, were fixed, and the rigid and cold expres sion that overspread that benevolent counten ance, was painful to behold.

Claud sprang to his side, and whilst calling for assistance, raised him in his arms ; he felt the cold brow, and noticed his bloodless lips, and as he supported his drooping head, he felt the first pang of grief rise on his swelling breast, and choke him in his trial at utterance. To a man in Sir Charles's position, every assistance medical ingenuity could devise was sought after, and applied; but too thrilling had been the cause of that attack — it was a paralytic stroke, occasioned by a sudden shock. There the sick man lay, tendered by his youth ful son, who never left the chamber, but for the adjoining room. More than a week had now elapsed, and with the exception of the medical men, and an old man who acted as nurse, Claud was the only individual permitted to approach him. With the most anxious solicitude, every movement of the baronet was tched by his beloved son; and now and en a tear would, in spite of all efforts, fall 'wn his cheeks, when he gazed on the pale and death-like stillness of the dying man — for such he was.

Within that room, made sombre by the artificial light, and the arrangement of the gorgeous canopy, wrapped in narcotic slumbers lay the invalid ; beside him knelt his son ; he had become paler, and looked melancholy, with his midnight vigils; his eyes were raised towards his Maker, as if in humble supplication, his hands were clasped in prayer, tears of devotion were pouring down his fine-formed fea tures, and with slow intonation, and almost whispering accent, he was pouring forth to his Redeemer prayers, spontaneously emanating from his guileless heart, pure and unsullied as a child of nature. More fervently still he raised his eyes, and hallowed became his looks : he was in communion with his God. Day after day lingered Sir Charles. He had ceased even to notice the things around him, or to recognize his son ; but for all that vacant absent look, there appeared a spirit of determination upon his countenance, a wish un satisfied : — it was to speak, to give utterance ; and as the evening was closing, the old man and Claud were alone, when the latter was startled by his parent, by a great effort, raising himself in his bed.

Claud sprang to his aid, raised him up, and adjusted his pillows. " I feel," said Sir Charles, " that my end is fast approaching ; listen, while I have breath remaining." Claud was all attention. " It is not," said the old man, " that I fear to die, or regret to leave this world." Claud's heart was sickening, and he sobbed aloud. " My boy," said the old man, " prop me a little higher in the bed ; there that will do : my strength is failing fast. Claud," continued he, in a low whispering voice, " thou hast been to me all that a beloved son should. May heaven pre serve thee in thy youth, and prosper thee in thy maturer age ; may the negligence of thy father not cause thee to curse him for his folly in reposing implicit confidence in others. I give thee, my son, my blessing : the wide world thou wilt have to roam ; 'tis not in thy nature to linger on the land where all thy former friends would look down on thy altered position and pitiable lot.

Thou art young to meet ad versity. Oh, my God ! what have I brought thee to ? Forgive me, oh Lord ! but save, oh, save ! — watch over, and bless my son !" With these words the old man sank down on his pillow. Claud's arms were wound round his neck, and bitter as was the anguish raging within his heart, more sorrowful still were his feelings as the last dying breath of his affec tionate father was wafted, like a spirit, from its earthly shell. By Sir Charles's death, the title to the baron etcy became extinct. It would be vain to describe Claud Wilford's feelings on this momentous and heart-rending occasion. He felt the sad position in which he was so suddenly thrown, and it was not until that moment he became aware of his powers of conception, and the strength of his reasoning : he felt that he stood alone in the wide wide world, and the time would come when he should be called upon to act for him self, and to retrieve the fallen fortunes of his house.

The letter that caused the shock to Sir Charles was an intimation that the firm he was connected with had, through some ruinous speculations, closed. It urged him to lose no time in exerting himself to investigate the affairs. It was not (continued the letter) ascer tained what were the extent of the liabili ties, but they appeared somewhat enormous, and many of 'their undertakings not nearly complied with : a large sum they expected to be forthcoming from the securities the bank held, but they were sorry to inform him these had been made available by one of the partners, who had been missing, with a considerable amount in specie, and it was suspected had quitted the country ; that the other partner had given up all his effects, so that they were afraid Sir Charles would be called upon, as one of the partners.

This polite letter was signed " Hobson and Brown," who were the private solicitors of Sir Charles. On the news of the sudden demise of Sir Charles Wilford reaching his solicitors, Mr. Hobson kindly proffered his services to Claud, with whom he had contracted a strong friend ship ; his young friend gladly availed himself of his services, and it was entirely under his direction that the last remains of the baronet were consigned to their resting place. When the first outpourings of grief had in some measure given way to calmer reflections, Claud's first thoughts were to ascertain the state of his father's affairs ; with this view, he con sulted £with his friend Hobson, when it appeared that the whole of Sir Charles's property would be greatly inadequate to meet the liabilities his partners had incurred.

Under these unfortunate circumstances, his will, giving all to his son, was now but a mere piece of waste paper. Mr. Hobson was a feeling and kind-hearted man, and insisted that Claud should retain whatever he considered his own private pro perty and effects — his horses, guns, and a few valuable pictures, that undeniably were his own. Claud, on the other hand, contended that, to the value of whatever he retained, some one else would be a loser by, and declared his inten tion of allowing all he had to be sold with the rest of the estate and effects. " No persuasion on your part, Mr. Hobson," continued he, "will induce me to act otherwise, and your pressing me further will only hasten my departure to some foreign land, where, for some few years at least, it is my intention to push my fortune."

Some few days after these occurrences, Claud Wilford left his native land. His heart might well be sad; and as he stood on the prow of the gallant vessel, and the sailors merrily sung to each straining effort made in consort to each movement, as they busily employed themselves amongst the rigging, he, too, sang — Farewell Old England, cherished spot, All, all my hopes were once on thee, Where bliss reigns in the peasant's cot, Where all can claim their liberty. Adieu — farewell, thou happy isle, Though now to me an exiled shore, I'll turn to thee, thou hast my smile. Though I may ne'er behold thee more. When I a boy, with merry heart, Would wander in the grove and dell, I never dreamed that we should part, That I to thee should bid — farewell ! And now I look, o'er the blue sea, And dimly see thy cliffs so high, I feign would waft one sigh to thee, To thee return before I die.

The breeze was freshening, and as Claud concluded his extemporaneous and melancholy dirge, that flowed from his breast to soothe his sad thoughts, a boat neared the ship, hove to for a few moments, and the pilot sprung on board. He was a young man ; and as he came on board he raised his cap to the officers, and was soon pacing the deck with the captain. Their eager conversation showed at once that their friendship was of long standing, or at least genuine. Suddenly the pilot drew himself up to his full height, and gave his orders. Quick as they were given, equally rapid were they executed ; and as the breeze was still strong, every sailor was at his post, in readiness to obey the slightest order ; and gallantly bounded on the " Firefly," and spurned alike the billows from her bows, and waves beneath her keel.

For several hours the pilot remained on deck, and as the hour of twilight appeared, the wind lulled, resplendent became the scene, the last chain of the sun was fast diminishing beneath the horizon ; the waves, that had been high, were gradually subsiding ; the sails, that had been outstretched, occasionally flapped to and fro, and hung loose on their rigging ; the rapid speed at which the ship had been sailing had sank to a smooth and slow gliding motion through the briny element; no haste was displayed in the movement of the sailors, and many had turned in for their rest ; the watch was set ; and their was every appearance of a calm evening. Claud was pacing the deck ; his thoughts were far away. What would his father's friends say of the step he had taken ; — was it right not even to have acquainted them ?

But could he bear their sympathy ? No ! He disdained to be pitied. And then again, how his own feelings accorded with the last wish of his dying father, " you will not bear to be looked down upon ; you will leave this land." No ! thought he, I cannot listen to the sympathies of my equals, whatever may be my destiny ; — whatever vicissitudes and hardships I may be subjected to, I shall have none to blame. I have sought no advice ; I feel a pleasure in my future hopes, though gloomy they appear. He looked up ; for there was an interruption to his reverie, as a sailor stood at a respectful distance, waiting to catch his attention. Touch ing his cap, he informed him that the captain requested the favour of his company to supper, then waiting. Claud followed the tar ; and as he entered the cabin, the extended hands of the captain and the pilot in turn clasped his own.

This was kindness unlooked-for ; and the free and friendly greeting threw a brotherly feeling over his heart. Doubtless they knew his position, and his misfortune. Was it not sympathy, thought he, for him, that they had evinced their kindness so soon ? He felt how humble was his lot. "We thought," said the captain, " you would join us, and are glad our anticipations have been correct. Then," continued he, with some feeling, " you are sad, Mr. Wilford ; but we will try our best to enliven you. And now, Diavolo," said he to a boy waiting his orders, " we will sup, if pleaseth our most gracious cook." The boy retired like magic to convey the commands, and in a few moments the trio were busily engaged upon their repast ; proving that a few hours sailing with a fair breeze is a sure way of creating a good appetite.

During the conversation over this meal, Claud was astonished at the knowledge that was evinced by the pilot, touching on various topics connected with his hazardous profession ; and enlivening the conversation with many new and pointed anecdotes, he would at once fly off into the more refined regions of the many scientific pursuits ; an admirer and good judge of those accomplishments that have become the study of those who aspire to any degree of perfectness in killing the monotony of lingering time in fashionable life, he evinced a thorough taste for the fine arts and melody ; with ..-the poets he appeared perfectly conversant, and quoted many passages of beauty worth remembering, that Claud had merely glanced at in his perusal of those authors. How inconsistent Claud thought appeared his present pursuit with the refinement of his mind !