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Wallace D. Wattles Ultimate Collection — Chapter-57: Hellfire Harrison Chapter One
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- Note: Work: Hellfire Harrison, section 1 of 8. Includes the work's title page.
Hellfire Harrison (A Novel) Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Commencement Days The Court of Lucifer Ailmeny of the Orchard A Cavalier of Virginia The Lead of honour My heart and Stephanie
Chapter One Table of Contents THEY were tremendous times. Governments were going to pieces, and kings and queens were losing their crowns, and sometimes their heads also; the many- headed beast was giving his keepers an immense amount of trouble. The air quivered with revolution, and politics was a warfare of the gods; the greatest figures in the world's history were on the stage, and acting mighty parts. England was on the verge of anarchy, and highwaymen plied their trade as actively on the streets of: London as on lonely country roads; the, hardest-working man in the United., Kingdom was the hangman, and his labors were in vain so far as increasing the safety of life or property was the object. The tide of religious sentiment had reached its lowest ebb, and it was said that zeal for godliness would look as oddly upon a man as the clothing of his great-grandfather. Sincere men, recoiling from the emptiness of ecclesiastical officialism, became sceptics and stoics; they organized hell-fire clubs and made it their fashion to repress every sign of human interest or feeling, pretending to believe in nothing but themselves, and to consider themselves as not worth believing in. Duels were of daily occurrence; every man carried his life in his hand. Yes, they were certainly tremendous times; and it was during the maddest stage of this terrific period that Harrison came from Virginia to England to see his son, who had wintered in the mother country; and so it came about that for the first time in thirty years he visited Wycherly Castle, his birthplace and the ancestral home of his family. He left his coach to wait at the gate and walked in through the grounds alone. He had given his elder brother, Lord Wycherly, no intimation of his coming, which was a proceeding quite in keeping with his usual ways. Mr. Gerald Harrison, tobacco planter and member of the Congress of a certain very small but very pugnacious and self-respecting republic, was an uncommonly handsome man of fifty-two; straight as an arrow, of powerful build, and with the suppleness and activity of a youth. He was faultlessly dressed in the
fashion of the time, from the silver buckles on his shoes to the crown of his three-cornered hat. Every garment that he wore was a triumph of the tailor's art; his hair was freshly powdered, his cheek was smooth and rosy, and his eye was very bright; his smile, although a trifle cynical and scornful, was good to see withal. He scanned the castle curiously as he drew near to its weather-beaten front, and laughed aloud. “A little dirtier and more ruinous without,” said he, “and I doubt not, a little draughtier and chillier within. Gad, what a place to pass away one's life in; I would rather live in jail! Thank the kind fates for making me the younger son!” He drew a handsome box from his pocket and took snuff, using great care lest any should fall upon his spotless waistcoat, or on the ruffled bosom of his shirt; and then he walked up the steps and plied the great iron knocker lustily. “Tell Lord Wycherly,” said he to the liveried footman who opened the door,” that his brother waits.” The man gasped with astonishment, then showed him into a room and went away; presently he came back and bade him follow. In a great upper chamber he found Lord Wycherly, who arose and came across the room to greet him; and though they were the only children of their father, and had not looked into each other's faces for thirty years, they shook hands as calmly as if they had parted but the day before. After the fashion of the cynical cult to which they both belonged, it was their pride to show neither feeling or affection ; neither of the pair would, under any consideration, have betrayed emotion in greeting the other, especially in the presence of the footman, who was just leaving the room. Lord Wycherly was two years the elder, but, though very like his younger brother, he showed his age far more; his face was wrinkled and careworn. “Time has used you well, Gerald,” he said, admiringly, after they had talked awhile. “Egad, you look but little older than your son. A fine boy that; you should be proud of him.” “I should be proud to remember his mother, rather,” said Harrison, “for his bringing-up was more her work than mine. And I believe he is a passable young fellow.” “He is like you, and yet not like you,” said Lord Wycherly. “He has little of the dare-devil disposition you showed at his age; and which, if half we hear is to be
credited, you have not entirely outgrown. Some strange stories have come to London of the doings of a Virginia planter whom they call Hell-fire Harrison.” He shot a single keen glance at his brother's smiling face. “The name comes from a time some years back,” said Harrison calmly, “when a few of us heard that Hellfire clubs were the fashion over here, and we must needs organize one. I was active in it, and the more straitlaced of our godly neighbors gave the name to me; and it has clung.” “I can readily believe that it has,” said Wycherly grimly, “and that it has not, in all ways, been amiss. Yours has been the easiest lot, after all, Gerald; you have had the best of me. New soil, new people, new methods, and liberty to take your own way; while I have had to uphold the family name on these exhausted acres, so hampered by silly traditions that I dare not leave the old rut, or change the antiquated system in any part. Richard tells me that your plantation brings you more than all my rent-rolls bring to me, and you can do what I have never done; live as you please! Well, we could not both have the luck to be younger sons, but if ‘twas to be done over, I should try to wait and let you make your advent first. I see you still wear the old sword. Let me look at it again?” Harrison drew his sword, and gave it to his brother, without speaking; and the other inspected it with a curious smile, making the flexible blade whistle through the air with a dextrous movement of his wrist. The weapon was a rapier, of unusual, and evidently of Oriental design, somewhat heavier than the dress swords generally worn by gentlemen in those days, double-edged for a little distance back from the point, and sharp as a razor; a tool made for service, not for show. “Our father loved it,” said Wycherly quietly, " because of the family traditions attached to it. I hardly know whether he was most pleased or sorry when you asked for it on going away. But it was yours by right; your equal in handling it never lived. Has your hand lost any of its juggler's cunning with the sword?” Harrison took the weapon without answering, and stepped toward the great window, formed of many small panes of glass. On one of these, at about the level of his face, a blue-bottle fly was slowly crawling; he indicated it to his brother by a gesture. Then he held the sword at half arm's length before him, with the blade pointing straight upward, and with a slight but powerful movement of the wrist, caused it to bend forward with a hissing sweep. The keen
point flicked the fly from the pane without a sound to show that the glass had been touched. Harrison sheathed his sword and sat down, and the brothers took snuff, smiling at each other; for an instant the bars of their cynical pretence were down, and they looked into each other's hearts; but only for an instant. “I remember well,” said the elder, “the night you cut the French Count's nose in half with that same stroke.” They talked on for some time, exchanging reminiscences of their younger days, and then Harrison said: “I saw your coach made ready as I came up the drive; were you about to go away?” " I was for London; the house sits to-night. But now that you are here —” “You will go right on, Richard. My own coach waits at the gate. I am going on to Farnham to see Alicia.” “Hah,” said Lord Wycherly. “Yes. Alicia will be glad to see you, Gerald. She lives alone with her servants at Farnham Court; and you will find that she shows her years even more than I show mine. After her husband died she fixed her whole heart on her son; and he grew up a fine fellow, very like your boy. But he was killed, unfortunately, in his first duel. Yes, go and see her; she always liked you. I remember that we thought at one time you were going to make a match of it.” “She never thought so,” said Harrison smiling, " nor did I. We were only the best of friends. Yes, I think she would be pleased to see me, and I need not keep you from your seat among the lords; I know there are great matters pending. I will go on to Farnham, and we will meet later.” And presently the brothers parted at the door, with a farewell pinch of snuff, a few courteous phrases, and an air of calm indifference.