A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (world of reading .txt) 📖

Full Hour Longer Trying To Realize His Situation, And To Think Of Some

Plan By Which He Might Best Recover His Lost Position. As He Recalled

All That Had Occurred he Began To Understand The Extreme Difficulty Of

His Task, And He Even Queried whether It Were Possible For Him To

Succeed. If The Respectable Would Not Even Give Him Shelter, How Could

He Hope That They Would Employ And Trust Him?

 

 

 

After He Had Partaken Of Quite A Hearty Breakfast, However, His Fortunes

Began To Wear A Less Forbidding aspect. Endowed with Youth, Health, And,

As He Believed, With More Than Usual Ability, He Felt That There Was

Scarcely Occasion For Despair. Some One Would Employ Him--Some One Would

Give Him Another Chance. He Would Take Any Respectable Work That Would

Give Him A Foothold, And By Some Vague, Fortunate Means, Which The

Imagination Of The Young Always Supplies, He Would Achieve Success That

Would Obliterate The Memory Of The Past. Therefore, With Flashes Of Hope

In His Heart, He Started out To Seek His Fortune, And Commenced applying

At The Various Stores And Offices Of The City.

 

 

 

So Far From Giving any Encouragement, People Were Much Surprised that He

Had The Assurance To Ask To Be Employed and Trusted again. The Majority

Dismissed him Coldly And Curtly. A Few Mongrel Natures, True To

Themselves, Gave A Snarling Refusal. Then There Were Jovial Spirits Who

Must Have Their Jest, Even Though The Sensitive Subject Of It Was

Tortured thereby--Men Who Enjoyed quizzing Haldane Before Sending Him

On, As Much As The Old Inquisitors Relished a Little Recreation With Hot

Pincers And Thumb-Screws. There Were Also Conscientious People, Whose

Worldly Prudence Prevented them From Giving Employment To One So Damaged

In Character, And Yet Who Felt Constrained to Give Some Good Advice. To

This, It Must Be Confessed, Haldane Listened with Very Poor Grace, Thus

Extending The Impression That He Was A Rather Hopeless Subject.

 

 

 

"Good God!" He Exclaimed, Interrupting an Old Gentleman Who Was

Indulging In some Platitudes To The Effect That The "Way Of The

Transgressor Is Hard"--"I Would Rather Black Your Boots Than Listen To

Such Talk. What I Want Is Work--A Chance To Live Honestly. What'S The

Use Of Telling a Fellow Not To Go To The Devil, And Then Practically

Send Him To The Devil?"

 

 

 

The Old Gentleman Was Somewhat Shocked and Offended, And Coldly

Intimated that He Had No Need of The Young Man'S Services.

 

 

 

A Few Spoke Kindly And Seemed truly Sorry For Him, But They Either Had

No Employment To Give, Or, On Business Principles, Felt That They Could

Not Introduce Among Their Other Assistants One Under Bonds To Appear And

Be Tried for A State-Prison Offence That Was Already The Same As Proved.

 

 

 

After Receiving Rebuffs, And Often What He Regarded as Insults, For

Hours, The Young Man'S Hope Began To Fail Him Utterly. His Face Grew

Pale And Haggard, Not Only From Fatigue, But From That Which Tells

Disastrously Almost As Soon Upon The Body As Upon The Mind--Discouragement.

He Saw That He Had Not Yet Fully Realized the Consequences Of His Folly.

The Deep And Seemingly Implacable Resentment Of Society Was A Continued

Surprise. He Was Not Conscious Of Being a Monster Of Wickedness, And It

Seemed to Him That After His Bitter Experience He Would Rather Starve

Than Again Touch What Was Not His Own.

 

 

 

But The Trouble Is, The World Does Not Give Us Much Credit For What We

Think, Feel, And Imagine, Even If Aware Of Our Thoughts. It Is What We

_Do_ That Forms Public Opinion; And It Was Both Natural And Just That

The Public Should Have A Very Decided opinion Of One Who Had Recently

Shown Himself Capable Of Gambling, Drunkenness, And Practical Theft.

 

 

 

And Yet The Probabilities Were That If Some Kind, Just Man Had Bestowed

Upon Haldane Both Employment And Trust, With A Chance To Rise, His

Bitter Lesson Would Have Made Him Scrupulously Careful To Shun His

Peculiar Temptations From That Time Forward. But The World Usually

Regards One Who Has Committed a Crime As A Criminal, And Treats Him As

Such. It Cannot, If It Would, Nicely Calculate The Hidden Moral State

And Future Chances. It Acts On Sound Generalities, Regardless Of The

Exceptions; And Thus It Often Happens That Men And Women Who At First

Can Scarcely Understand The World'S Adverse Opinion, Are Disheartened by

It, And At Last Come To Merit The Worst That Can Be Said Or Thought.

 

 

 

As, At The Time Of His First Arrest, Haldane Had Found His Eyes Drawn By

A Strange, Cruel Fascination To Every Scornful Or Curious Face Upon The

Street, So Now He Began To Feel A Morbid Desire To Know Just What People

Were Saying and Thinking Of Him. He Purchased both That Day'S Papers And

Those Of The Previous Day, And, Finding a Little Out-Of-The-Way

Restaurant Kept By A Foreigner, He "Supped full With"--What Were To Him

Emphatically--"Horrors"; The Dinner And Supper Combined, Which He Had

Ordered, Growing Cold, In the Meantime, And As Uninviting as The Place

In Which It Was Served.

 

 

 

His Eyes Dwelt Longest Upon Those Sentences Which Were The Most

Unmercifully Severe, And They Seemed to Burn Their Way Into His Very

Soul. Was He In truth Such A Miscreant As The "Courier" Described? Mrs.

Arnot Had Not Shrunk From Him As From Contamination; But She Was

Different From All Other People That He Had Known; And He Now

Remembered, Also, That Even She Always Referred to His Act In a Grave,

Troubled way, As If Both Its Character And Consequences Were Serious

Indeed.

 

 

 

There Was Such A Cold, Leaden Despondency Burdening His Heart That He

Felt That He Must Have Relief Of Some Kind. Although Remembering His

Rash Invocation Of Fatal Consequences To Himself Should He Touch Again

That Which Had Brought Him So Much Evil, He Now, With A Reckless Oath,

Muttered that He "Needed some Liquor, And Would Have It."

 

 

 

Having Finished a Repast From Which He Would Have Turned in disgust

Before His Fortunes Had So Greatly Altered, And Having Gained a Little

Temporary Courage From The More Than Doubtful Brandy Served in such A

Place, He Obtained permission To Sit By The Fire And Smoke Away The

Blustering Evening, For He Felt No Disposition To Face The World Again

That Day. The German Proprietor And His Beer-Drinking Patrons Paid No

Attention To The Stranger, And As He Sat Off On One Side By Himself At A

Table, With A Mug Of Lager Before Him, He Was Practically As Much Alone,

And As Lonely, As If In a Desert.

 

 

 

In A Dull, Vague Way It Occurred to Him That It Was Very Fitting That

Those Present Should Speak In a Foreign And Unknown Tongue, And Act And

Look Differently From All Classes Of People Formerly Known To Him. He

Was In a Different World, And It Was Appropriate That Everything Should

Appear Strange And Unfamiliar.

 

 

 

Finding That He Could Have A Room In this Same Little, Dingy

Restaurant-Hotel, Where He Had Obtained his Supper, He Resolved that He

Would Torture Himself No More That Night With Thoughts Of The Past Or

Future, But Slowly Stupefy Himself Into Sleep.

 

Chapter XIX (The World'S Best Offer--A Prison)

After A Walk In the Sweet April Sunshine The Following Morning, A Hearty

Breakfast, And A General Rallying Of The Elastic Forces Of Youth,

Haldane Felt That He Had Not Yet Reached the "Brink Of Dark Despair."

 

 

 

Indeed, He Had An Odd Sense Of Pride That He Had Survived the Ordeal Of

The Last Two Days, And Still Felt As Well As He Did. Although It Was But

An Arab'S Life, In which Every Man'S Hand Seemed against Him, Yet He

Still Lived, And Concluded that He Could Continue To Live Indefinitely.

 

 

 

He Did Not Go Out Again, As On The Previous Day, To Seek Employment, But

Sat Down And Tried to Think His Way Into The Future Somewhat.

 

 

 

The First Question That Presented itself Was, Should He In any

Contingency Return Home To His Mother?

 

 

 

He Was Not Long In deciding adversely, For It Seemed to Him To Involve

Such A Bitter Mortification That He Felt He Would Rather Starve.

 

 

 

Should He Send To Her For Money?

 

 

 

That Would Be Scarcely Less Humiliating, For It Was Equivalent To A

Confession That He Could Not Even Take Care Of Himself, Much Less

Achieve All The Brave Things He Had Intimated. He Was Still More Averse

To Going To Mrs. Arnot For What Would Seem Charity To Her Husband And To

Every One Else Who Might Hear Of It. The Probability, Also, That Laura

Would Learn Of Such An Appeal For Aid Made Him Scout The Very Thought.

 

 

 

Should He Go Away Among Strangers, Change His Name, And Commence Life

Anew, Unburdened by The Weight Which Now Dragged him Down?

 

 

 

The Thought Of Cutting Himself Off Utterly From All Whom He Knew, Or Who

Cared for Him, Caused a Cold, Shivering Sense Of Dread. It Would, Also,

Be A Confession Of Defeat, An Acknowledgment That He Could Not

Accomplish What He Had Promised to Himself And To Others. He Had,

Moreover, Sufficient Forethought To Perceive That Any Success Which He

Might Achieve Elsewhere, And Under Another Name, Would Be Such A Slight

And Baseless Fabric That A Breath From One Who Now Knew Him Could

Overturn It. He Might Lead An Honorable Life For Years, And Yet No One

Would Believe Him Honorable After Discovering That He Was Living Under

An _Alias_ And Concealing a Crime. If He Could Build Himself Up In

Hillaton He Would Be Founded on The Rock Of Truth, And Need fear No

Disastrous Reverses From Causes Against Which He Could Not Guard.

 

 

 

Few Can Be More Miserable Than Those Who Hold Their Fortunes And Good

Name On Sufferance--Safe Only In the Power And Disposition Of Others To

Keep Some Wretched secret; And He Is But Little Better Off Who Fears

That Every Stranger Arriving In town May Recognize In his Face The

Features Of One That, Years Before, By Reason Of Some Disgraceful Act,

Fled from Himself And All Who Knew Him. The More Haldane Thought Upon

The Scheme Of Losing His Identity, And Of Becoming That Vague, And, As

Yet, Unnamed stranger, Who After Years Of Exile Would Still Be Himself,

Though To The World Not Himself, The Less Attractive It Became.

 

 

 

He Finally Concluded that, As He Had Resolved to Remain In hillaton, He

Would Keep His Resolution, And That, As He Had Plainly Stated his

Purpose To Lift Himself Up By His Own Unaided efforts, He Would Do So If

It Were Possible; And If It Were Not, He Would Live The Life Of A

Laborer--A Tramp, Even--Rather Than "Skulk Back," As He Expressed it, To

Those Who Were Once Kindred and Companions.

 

 

 

"If I Cannot Walk Erect To Their Front Doors, I Will Never Crawl Around

To The Back Entrances. If I Ever Must Take To Keep From Starving, It

Will Be From Strangers. I Shall Never Inflict Myself As A Dead Weight

And A Painfully Tolerated infamy On Any One. I Was Able To Get Myself

Into This Disgusting Slough, And If I Haven'T Brains And Pluck Enough To

Get Myself Out, I Will Remain At This, My Level, To Which I Have

Fallen."

 

 

 

Thus Pride Still Counselled and Controlled, And Yet It Was A Kind Of

Pride That Inspires Something Like Respect. It Proved that There Was

Much Good Metal In the Crude, Misshapen Ore Of His Nature.

 

 

 

But The Necessity Of Doing Something Was Urgent, For The Sum He Had Been

Willing To Receive From His Mother Was Small, And Rapidly Diminishing.

 

 

 

Among The Possible Activities In which He Might Engage, That Of Writing

For Papers And Magazines Occurred to Him, And The Thought At Once Caught

And Fired his Imagination. The Mysteries Of The Literary World Were The

Least Known To Him, And Therefore It Offered the Greatest Amount Of

Vague Promise And Indefinite Hope. Here A Path Might Open To Both Fame

And Fortune. The More He Dwelt On The Possibility The More It Seemed to

Take The Aspect Of Probability. Under The Signature Of E. H. He Would

Write