CHAPTER II.

  THE WAIF KNOWS ITS OWN COURSE.

  All this had occurred owing to the circumstance of a soldier havingfound a bottle on the beach. We will relate the facts. In all factsthere are wheels within wheels.

  One day one of the four gunners composing the garrison of Castle Calshorpicked up on the sand at low water a flask covered with wicker, whichhad been cast up by the tide. This flask, covered with mould, was corkedby a tarred bung. The soldier carried the waif to the colonel of thecastle, and the colonel sent it to the High Admiral of England. TheAdmiral meant the Admiralty; with waifs, the Admiralty meantBarkilphedro.

  Barkilphedro, having uncorked and emptied the bottle, carried it to thequeen. The queen immediately took the matter into consideration.

  Two weighty counsellors were instructed and consulted--namely, the LordChancellor, who is by law the guardian of the king's conscience; and theLord Marshal, who is referee in Heraldry and in the pedigrees of thenobility. Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, a Catholic peer, who ishereditary Earl Marshal of England, had sent word by his deputy EarlMarshal, Henry Howard, Earl Bindon, that he would agree with the LordChancellor. The Lord Chancellor was William Cowper. We must not confoundthis chancellor with his namesake and contemporary William Cowper, theanatomist and commentator on Bidloo, who published a treatise onmuscles, in England, at the very time that Etienne Abeille published ahistory of bones, in France. A surgeon is a very different thing from alord. Lord William Cowper is celebrated for having, with reference tothe affair of Talbot Yelverton, Viscount Longueville, propounded thisopinion: That in the English constitution the restoration of a peer ismore important than the restoration of a king. The flask found atCalshor had awakened his interest in the highest degree. The author of amaxim delights in opportunities to which it may be applied. Here was acase of the restoration of a peer. Search was made. Gwynplaine, by theinscription over his door, was soon found. Neither was Hardquanonnedead. A prison rots a man, but preserves him--if to keep is to preserve.People placed in Bastiles were rarely removed. There is little morechange in the dungeon than in the tomb. Hardquanonne was still in prisonat Chatham. They had only to put their hands on him. He was transferredfrom Chatham to London. In the meantime information was sought inSwitzerland. The facts were found to be correct. They obtained from thelocal archives at Vevey, at Lausanne, the certificate of Lord Linnaeus'smarriage in exile, the certificate of his child's birth, the certificateof the decease of the father and mother; and they had duplicates, dulyauthenticated, made to answer all necessary requirements.

  All this was done with the most rigid secrecy, with what is called royalpromptitude, and with that mole-like silence recommended and practisedby Bacon, and later on made law by Blackstone, for affairs connectedwith the Chancellorship and the state, and in matters termedparliamentary. The _jussu regis_ and the signature _Jeffreys_ wereauthenticated. To those who have studied pathologically the cases ofcaprice called "our good will and pleasure," this _jussu regis_ is verysimple. Why should James II., whose credit required the concealment ofsuch acts, have allowed that to be written which endangered theirsuccess? The answer is, cynicism--haughty indifference. Oh! you believethat effrontery is confined to abandoned women? The _raison d'etat_ isequally abandoned. _Et se cupit ante videri_. To commit a crime andemblazon it, there is the sum total of history. The king tattooeshimself like the convict. Often when it would be to a man's greatestadvantage to escape from the hands of the police or the records ofhistory, he would seem to regret the escape so great is the love ofnotoriety. Look at my arm! Observe the design! _I_ am Lacenaire! See, atemple of love and a burning heart pierced through with an arrow! _Jussuregis_. It is I, James the Second. A man commits a bad action, andplaces his mark upon it. To fill up the measure of crime by effrontery,to denounce himself, to cling to his misdeeds, is the insolent bravadoof the criminal. Christina seized Monaldeschi, had him confessed andassassinated, and said,--

  "I am the Queen of Sweden, in the palace of the King of France."

  There is the tyrant who conceals himself, like Tiberius; and the tyrantwho displays himself, like Philip II. One has the attributes of thescorpion, the other those rather of the leopard. James II. was of thislatter variety. He had, we know, a gay and open countenance, differingso far from Philip. Philip was sullen, James jovial. Both were equallyferocious. James II. was an easy-minded tiger; like Philip II., hiscrimes lay light upon his conscience. He was a monster by the grace ofGod. Therefore he had nothing to dissimulate nor to extenuate, and hisassassinations were by divine right. He, too, would not have mindedleaving behind him those archives of Simancas, with all his misdeedsdated, classified, labelled, and put in order, each in its compartment,like poisons in the cabinet of a chemist. To set the sign-manual tocrimes is right royal.

  Every deed done is a draft drawn on the great invisible paymaster. Abill had just come due with the ominous endorsement, _Jussu regis_.

  Queen Anne, in one particular unfeminine, seeing that she could keep asecret, demanded a confidential report of so grave a matter from theLord Chancellor--one of the kind specified as "report to the royal ear."Reports of this kind have been common in all monarchies. At Vienna therewas "a counsellor of the ear"--an aulic dignitary. It was an ancientCarlovingian office--the _auricularius_ of the old palatine deeds. Hewho whispers to the emperor.

  William, Baron Cowper, Chancellor of England, whom the queen believed inbecause he was short-sighted like herself, or even more so, hadcommitted to writing a memorandum commencing thus: "Two birds weresubject to Solomon--a lapwing, the hudbud, who could speak alllanguages; and an eagle, the simourganka, who covered with the shadow ofhis wings a caravan of twenty thousand men. Thus, under another form,Providence," etc. The Lord Chancellor proved the fact that the heir to apeerage had been carried off, mutilated, and then restored. He did notblame James II., who was, after all, the queen's father. He even went sofar as to justify him. First, there are ancient monarchical maxims. _Esenioratu eripimus. In roturagio cadat_. Secondly, there is a royalright of mutilation. Chamberlayne asserts the fact.[19] _Corpora et bonanostrorum subjectorum nostra sunt_, said James I., of glorious andlearned memory. The eyes of dukes of the blood royal have been pluckedout for the good of the kingdom. Certain princes, too near to thethrone, have been conveniently stifled between mattresses, the cause ofdeath being given out as apoplexy. Now to stifle is worse than tomutilate. The King of Tunis tore out the eyes of his father, MuleyAssem, and his ambassadors have not been the less favourably received bythe emperor. Hence the king may order the suppression of a limb like thesuppression of a state, etc. It is legal. But one law does not destroyanother. "If a drowned man is cast up by the water, and is not dead, itis an act of God readjusting one of the king. If the heir be found, letthe coronet be given back to him. Thus was it done for Lord Alla, Kingof Northumberland, who was also a mountebank. Thus should be done toGwynplaine, who is also a king, seeing that he is a peer. The lowness ofthe occupation which he has been obliged to follow, under constraint ofsuperior power, does not tarnish the blazon: as in the case ofAbdolmumen, who was a king, although he had been a gardener; that ofJoseph, who was a saint, although he had been a carpenter; that ofApollo, who was a god, although he had been a shepherd."

  In short, the learned chancellor concluded by advising thereinstatement, in all his estates and dignities, of Lord FermainClancharlie, miscalled Gwynplaine, on the sole condition that he shouldbe confronted with the criminal Hardquanonne, and identified by thesame. And on this point the chancellor, as constitutional keeper of theroyal conscience, based the royal decision. The Lord Chancellor added ina postscript that if Hardquanonne refused to answer he should besubjected to the _peine forte et dure_, until the period called the_frodmortell_, according to the statute of King Athelstane, which ordersthe confrontation to take place on the fourth day. In this there is acertain inconvenience, for if the prisoner dies on the second or thirdday the confrontation becomes difficult; still the law must be obeyed.The inconvenience of
the law makes part and parcel of it. In the mind ofthe Lord Chancellor, however, the recognition of Gwynplaine byHardquanonne was indubitable.

  Anne, having been made aware of the deformity of Gwynplaine, and notwishing to wrong her sister, on whom had been bestowed the estates ofClancharlie, graciously decided that the Duchess Josiana should beespoused by the new lord--that is to say, by Gwynplaine.

  The reinstatement of Lord Fermain Clancharlie was, moreover, a verysimple affair, the heir being legitimate, and in the direct line.

  In cases of doubtful descent, and of peerages in abeyance claimed bycollaterals, the House of Lords must be consulted. This (to go nofurther back) was done in 1782, in the case of the barony of Sydney,claimed by Elizabeth Perry; in 1798, in that of the barony of Beaumont,claimed by Thomas Stapleton; in 1803, in that of the barony ofStapleton; in 1803, in that of the barony of Chandos, claimed by theReverend Tymewell Brydges; in 1813, in that of the earldom of Banbury,claimed by General Knollys, etc., etc. But the present was no similarcase. Here there was no pretence for litigation; the legitimacy wasundoubted, the right clear and certain. There was no point to submit tothe House, and the Queen, assisted by the Lord Chancellor, had power torecognize and admit the new peer.

  Barkilphedro managed everything.

  The affair, thanks to him, was kept so close, the secret was sohermetically sealed, that neither Josiana nor Lord David caught sight ofthe fearful abyss which was being dug under them. It was easy to deceiveJosiana, entrenched as she was behind a rampart of pride. She wasself-isolated. As to Lord David, they sent him to sea, off the coast ofFlanders. He was going to lose his peerage, and had no suspicion of it.One circumstance is noteworthy.

  It happened that at six leagues from the anchorage of the naval stationcommanded by Lord David, a captain called Halyburton broke through theFrench fleet. The Earl of Pembroke, President of the Council, proposedthat this Captain Halyburton should be made vice-admiral. Anne struckout Halyburton's name, and put Lord David Dirry-Moir's in its place,that he might, when no longer a peer, have the satisfaction of being avice-admiral.

  Anne was well pleased. A hideous husband for her sister, and a fine stepfor Lord David. Mischief and kindness combined.

  Her Majesty was going to enjoy a comedy. Besides, she argued to herselfthat she was repairing an abuse of power committed by her august father.She was reinstating a member of the peerage. She was acting like agreat queen; she was protecting innocence according to the will of Godthat Providence in its holy and impenetrable ways, etc., etc. It is verysweet to do a just action which is disagreeable to those whom we do notlike.

  To know that the future husband of her sister was deformed, sufficed thequeen. In what manner Gwynplaine was deformed, and by what kind ofugliness, Barkilphedro had not communicated to the queen, and Anne hadnot deigned to inquire. She was proudly and royally disdainful. Besides,what could it matter? The House of Lords could not but be grateful. TheLord Chancellor, its oracle, had approved. To restore a peer is torestore the peerage. Royalty on this occasion had shown itself a goodand scrupulous guardian of the privileges of the peerage. Whatever mightbe the face of the new lord, a face cannot be urged in objection to aright. Anne said all this to herself, or something like it, and wentstraight to her object, an object at once grand, womanlike, andregal--namely, to give herself a pleasure.

  The queen was then at Windsor--a circumstance which placed a certaindistance between the intrigues of the court and the public. Only suchpersons as were absolutely necessary to the plan were in the secret ofwhat was taking place. As to Barkilphedro, he was joyful--a circumstancewhich gave a lugubrious expression to his face. If there be one thing inthe world which can be more hideous than another, 'tis joy.

  He had had the delight of being the first to taste the contents ofHardquanonne's flask. He seemed but little surprised, for astonishmentis the attribute of a little mind. Besides, was it not all due to him,who had waited so long on duty at the gate of chance? Knowing how towait, he had fairly won his reward.

  This _nil admirari_ was an expression of face. At heart we may admitthat he was very much astonished. Any one who could have lifted the maskwith which he covered his inmost heart even before God would havediscovered this: that at the very time Barkilphedro had begun to feelfinally convinced that it would be impossible--even to him, the intimateand most infinitesimal enemy of Josiana--to find a vulnerable point inher lofty life. Hence an access of savage animosity lurked in his mind.He had reached the paroxysm which is called discouragement. He was allthe more furious, because despairing. To gnaw one's chain--how tragicand appropriate the expression! A villain gnawing at his ownpowerlessness!

  Barkilphedro was perhaps just on the point of renouncing not his desireto do evil to Josiana, but his hope of doing it; not the rage, but theeffort. But how degrading to be thus baffled! To keep hate thenceforthin a case, like a dagger in a museum! How bitter the humiliation!

  All at once to a certain goal--Chance, immense and universal, loves tobring such coincidences about--the flask of Hardquanonne came, drivenfrom wave to wave, into Barkilphedro's hands. There is in the unknown anindescribable fealty which seems to be at the beck and call of evil.Barkilphedro, assisted by two chance witnesses, disinterested jurors ofthe Admiralty, uncorked the flask, found the parchment, unfolded, readit. What words could express his devilish delight!

  It is strange to think that the sea, the wind, space, the ebb and flowof the tide, storms, calms, breezes, should have given themselves somuch trouble to bestow happiness on a scoundrel. That co-operation hadcontinued for fifteen years. Mysterious efforts! During fifteen yearsthe ocean had never for an instant ceased from its labours. The wavestransmitted from one to another the floating bottle. The shelving rockshad shunned the brittle glass; no crack had yawned in the flask; nofriction had displaced the cork; the sea-weeds had not rotted the osier;the shells had not eaten out the word "Hardquanonne;" the water had notpenetrated into the waif; the mould had not rotted the parchment; thewet had hot effaced the writing. What trouble the abyss must have taken!Thus that which Gernardus had flung into darkness, darkness had handedback to Barkilphedro. The message sent to God had reached the devil.Space had committed an abuse of confidence, and a lurking sarcasm whichmingles with events had so arranged that it had complicated the loyaltriumph of the lost child's becoming Lord Clancharlie with a venomousvictory: in doing a good action, it had mischievously placed justice atthe service of iniquity. To save the victim of James II. was to give aprey to Barkilphedro. To reinstate Gwynplaine was to crush Josiana.Barkilphedro had succeeded, and it was for this that for so many yearsthe waves, the surge, the squalls had buffeted, shaken, thrown, pushed,tormented, and respected this bubble of glass, which bore within it somany commingled fates. It was for this that there had been a cordialco-operation between the winds, the tides, and the tempests--a vastagitation of all prodigies for the pleasure of a scoundrel; the infiniteco-operating with an earthworm! Destiny is subject to such grimcaprices.

  Barkilphedro was struck by a flash of Titanic pride. He said to himselfthat it had all been done to fulfil his intentions. He felt that he wasthe object and the instrument.

  But he was wrong. Let us clear the character of chance.

  Such was not the real meaning of the remarkable circumstance of whichthe hatred of Barkilphedro was to profit. Ocean had made itself fatherand mother to an orphan, had sent the hurricane against hisexecutioners, had wrecked the vessel which had repulsed the child, hadswallowed up the clasped hands of the storm-beaten sailors, refusingtheir supplications and accepting only their repentance; the tempestreceived a deposit from the hands of death. The strong vessel containingthe crime was replaced by the fragile phial containing the reparation.The sea changed its character, and, like a panther turning nurse, beganto rock the cradle, not of the child, but of his destiny, whilst he grewup ignorant of all that the depths of ocean were doing for him.

  The waves to which this flask had been flung watching over that pastwhich contained a future
; the whirlwind breathing kindly on it; thecurrents directing the frail waif across the fathomless wastes of water;the caution exercised by seaweed, the swells, the rocks; the vast frothof the abyss, taking under its protection an innocent child; the waveimperturbable as a conscience; chaos re-establishing order; theworldwide shadows ending in radiance; darkness employed to bring tolight the star of truth; the exile consoled in his tomb; the heir givenback to his inheritance; the crime of the king repaired; divinepremeditation obeyed; the little, the weak, the deserted child withinfinity for a guardian--all this Barkilphedro might have seen in theevent on which he triumphed. This is what he did not see. He did notbelieve that it had all been done for Gwynplaine. He fancied that it hadbeen effected for Barkilphedro, and that he was well worth the trouble.Thus it is ever with Satan.

  Moreover, ere we feel astonished that a waif so fragile should havefloated for fifteen years undamaged, we should seek to understand thetender care of the ocean. Fifteen years is nothing. On the 4th ofOctober 1867, on the coast of Morbihan, between the Isle de Croix, theextremity of the peninsula de Gavres, and the Rocher des Errants, thefishermen of Port Louis found a Roman amphora of the fourth century,covered with arabesques by the incrustations of the sea. That amphorahad been floating fifteen hundred years.

  Whatever appearance of indifference Barkilphedro tried to exhibit, hiswonder had equalled his joy. Everything he could desire was there to hishand. All seemed ready made. The fragments of the event which was tosatisfy his hate were spread out within his reach. He had nothing to dobut to pick them up and fit them together--a repair which it was anamusement to execute. He was the artificer.

  Gwynplaine! He knew the name. _Masca ridens_. Like every one else, hehad been to see the Laughing Man. He had read the sign nailed up againstthe Tadcaster Inn as one reads a play-bill that attracts a crowd. He hadnoted it. He remembered it directly in its most minute details; and, inany case, it was easy to compare them with the original. That notice, inthe electrical summons which arose in his memory, appeared in the depthsof his mind, and placed itself by the side of the parchment signed bythe shipwrecked crew, like an answer following a question, like thesolution following an enigma; and the lines--"Here is to be seenGwynplaine, deserted at the age of ten, on the 29th of January, 1690, onthe coast at Portland"--suddenly appeared to his eyes in the splendourof an apocalypse. His vision was the light of _Mene, Tekel, Upharsin_,outside a booth. Here was the destruction of the edifice which made theexistence of Josiana. A sudden earthquake. The lost child was found.There was a Lord Clancharlie; David Dirry-Moir was nobody. Peerage,riches, power, rank--all these things left Lord David and enteredGwynplaine. All the castles, parks, forests, town houses, palaces,domains, Josiana included, belonged to Gwynplaine. And what a climax forJosiana! What had she now before her? Illustrious and haughty, a player;beautiful, a monster. Who could have hoped for this? The truth was thatthe joy of Barkilphedro had become enthusiastic. The most hatefulcombinations are surpassed by the infernal munificence of theunforeseen. When reality likes, it works masterpieces. Barkilphedrofound that all his dreams had been nonsense; reality were better.

  The change he was about to work would not have seemed less desirable hadit been detrimental to him. Insects exist which are so savagelydisinterested that they sting, knowing that to sting is to die.Barkilphedro was like such vermin.

  But this time he had not the merit of being disinterested. Lord DavidDirry-Moir owed him nothing, and Lord Fermain Clancharlie was about toowe him everything. From being a _protege_ Barkilphedro was about tobecome a protector. Protector of whom? Of a peer of England. He wasgoing to have a lord of his own, and a lord who would be his creature.Barkilphedro counted on giving him his first impressions. His peer wouldbe the morganatic brother-in-law of the queen. His ugliness would pleasethe queen in the same proportion as it displeased Josiana. Advancing bysuch favour, and assuming grave and modest airs, Barkilphedro mightbecome a somebody. He had always been destined for the church. He had avague longing to be a bishop.

  Meanwhile he was happy.

  Oh, what a great success! and what a deal of useful work had chanceaccomplished for him! His vengeance--for he called it his vengeance--hadbeen softly brought to him by the waves. He had not lain in ambush invain.

  He was the rock, Josiana was the waif. Josiana was about to be dashedagainst Barkilphedro, to his intense villainous ecstasy.

  He was clever in the art of suggestion, which consists in making in theminds of others a little incision into which you put an idea of yourown. Holding himself aloof, and without appearing to mix himself up inthe matter, it was he who arranged that Josiana should go to the GreenBox and see Gwynplaine. It could do no harm. The appearance of themountebank, in his low estate, would be a good ingredient in thecombination; later on it would season it.

  He had quietly prepared everything beforehand. What he most desired wassomething unspeakably abrupt. The work on which he was engaged couldonly be expressed in these strange words--the construction of athunderbolt.

  All preliminaries being complete, he had watched till all the necessarylegal formalities had been accomplished. The secret had not oozed out,silence being an element of law.

  The confrontation of Hardquanonne with Gwynplaine had taken place.Barkilphedro had been present. We have seen the result.

  The same day a post-chaise belonging to the royal household was suddenlysent by her Majesty to fetch Lady Josiana from London to Windsor, wherethe queen was at the time residing.

  Josiana, for reasons of her own, would have been very glad to disobey,or at least to delay obedience, and put off her departure till next day;but court life does not permit of these objections. She was obliged toset out at once, and to leave her residence in London, HunkervilleHouse, for her residence at Windsor, Corleone Lodge.

  The Duchess Josiana left London at the very moment that the wapentakeappeared at the Tadcaster Inn to arrest Gwynplaine and take him to thetorture cell of Southwark.

  When she arrived at Windsor, the Usher of the Black Rod, who guards thedoor of the presence chamber, informed her that her Majesty was inaudience with the Lord Chancellor, and could not receive her until thenext day; that, consequently, she was to remain at Corleone Lodge, atthe orders of her Majesty; and that she should receive the queen'scommands direct, when her Majesty awoke the next morning. Josianaentered her house feeling very spiteful, supped in a bad humour, had thespleen, dismissed every one except her page, then dismissed him, andwent to bed while it was yet daylight.

  When she arrived she had learned that Lord David Dirry-Moir was expectedat Windsor the next day, owing to his having, whilst at sea, receivedorders to return immediately and receive her Majesty's commands.