Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 419, New Series, January 10, 1852 by Various
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Various >> Chambers\'s Edinburgh Journal, No. 419, New Series, January 10, 1852
This judge, whose name was Marino, appears to have been a just man,
and to have felt some dissatisfaction with the evidence against
Ripa; inasmuch as Mendez, who, when first questioned, had spoken
confidently as to his identity, had since faltered when he came to
give his evidence in public, and seemed unable to afford any
positive testimony on the subject. The presumption against the
prisoner, without the evidence of the Spaniard, was considered by
the other judges strong enough to convict him; but Marino had
objected that since the attack was made by daylight--for it was in
the summer, and the evenings were quite light--it seemed
extraordinary that Mendez could give no more certain indications of
his assailant. Added to this, although every means had been used to
obtain a confession--such means as are permitted on the continent,
but illegal in this country--Giuseppe persisted in his innocence.
Moreover, as no money had been found about him, and Faustina Malfi
was exceedingly desirous of recovering what had been lost, she
exerted herself to obtain mercy to at least the extent that hopes of
a commutation of his sentence should be held out to the prisoner,
provided he would reveal where he had concealed the bagful of silver
he had taken from her brother. But in vain. Ripa was either
guiltless or obstinate, for nothing could be extracted from him but
repeated declarations of his innocence.
In the meantime Bianca had been undergoing a terrible persecution
from her father on the subject of Mendez, who had returned from
Florence and taken up his abode, as formerly, at Forni. Her former
lover was a condemned man, and altogether _hors de combat_: she
might regret him as she would, and lament his fate to her heart's
content, but he could never be her husband; and there was the
Spaniard, rich and ready; whilst the increasing age and poverty of
her parent rendered a good match of the greatest importance. In
short, under the circumstances of the case, it was urged upon her on
all hands, that she was bound both by her duty to her father and to
evince her abhorrence of Ripa's crime--which otherwise it might be
supposed she had instigated--to marry Mendez without delay.
Persuaded of Giuseppe's innocence, and half believing that the
accusation was prompted by jealousy, it may be imagined how
unwelcome these importunities were, and for a considerable time she
resisted them; indeed she seems only to have been overcome at last
by a ruse. A rumour being set afloat that the day was about to be
appointed for Ripa's execution, a hint was thrown out that it lay in
her power to save his life: she had only to become the wife of
Mendez, and her lover's sentence should be commuted from death to
banishment. This last argument prevailed, and poor Bianca, with a
heavy heart, consented to become the mistress of Forni. The Malfis,
however, do not seem to have been amongst those who desired the
match; and it would appear that they even made some attempts to
prevent its taking place, by circulating a report that she had been
privy to the assault and robbery. Perhaps they hoped, if Gaspar
remained unmarried, to inherit his property themselves; but however
that may be, their opposition was of no avail, and an early period
was fixed for the wedding.
The year had now come round to the summer season again, and it
happened, by mere accident, that the day appointed for the marriage
was the anniversary of that on which Mendez had been robbed and
wounded. Nobody, however, appears to have thought of this
coincidence, till Mendez himself, observing the day of the month,
requested that the ceremony might be postponed till the day after:
'Because,' said he, 'I have business which will take me to Aquila on
the 7th, so the marriage had better take place on the 8th.' And thus
it was arranged.
This alteration was made about ten days before the appointed period,
and nothing seems to have occurred in the interval worth recording,
except that as the hour of sacrifice drew nigh, the unwillingness of
the victim became more evident. We must conclude, however, that
Mendez, whose object in marrying her appears to have been fully as
much the soothing of his pride as the gratification of his love, was
not influenced by her disinclination, for when he started for Aquila
on the 7th, every preparation had been made for the wedding on the
following day.
The object of his journey was to receive the rents before named,
which became due at this period, and also to purchase a
wedding-present for his bride. On this occasion Alessandro Malfi was
to have accompanied him; but when Mendez stopped at his door to
inquire if he was ready, Malfi came down stairs half-dressed, saying
that he had been up all night with his wife, who was ill, and that
as she had now fallen asleep, he was going to lie down himself, and
try to get a little rest. This occurred early in the morning; and
Mendez rode on, saying that he should call as he came back in the
evening, to inquire how his sister was. Upon this Malfi went to bed,
where he remained some hours--indeed till he received a message from
his wife, begging him to go to her. When he entered the room, the
first question she asked was whether Gaspar was gone to Aquila; and
on being told that he was, she said she was very sorry for it, for
that she had dreamed she saw a man with a mask lying in wait to rob
him.
'I saw the man as distinctly as possible,' she said, 'but I could
not see his face for the mask; and I saw the place, so that I'm sure
if I were taken there I should recognise it.'
Her husband told her not to mind her dreams, and that this one was
doubtless suggested by the circumstance that had occurred the year
before. 'But,' said he, 'Ripa's safely locked up in jail now, and
there's no danger.'
Nevertheless the dream appears to have made so deep an impression on
the sick woman's fancy, that she never let her husband rest till he
promised to go with his own farm-servant to meet her brother--a
compliance which was at length won from him by her saying that she
had seen the man crouching behind a low wall that surrounded a
half-built church; 'and close by,' she added, 'there was a
direction-post with something written on it, but I could not read
what it was.'
Now it happened that on the horse-road to Aquila, which Faustina
herself had never travelled, there was exactly such a spot as that
she described. Malfi knew it well. Struck by the circumstance, he
desired to have his dinner immediately, and then, accompanied by his
hind, he set off to meet Gaspar.
In the meanwhile the Spaniard had got his money and made his
purchases in good time, not wishing to be late on the road, so that
they had scarcely got a mile beyond the church when they met him;
and in answer to his inquiries what had brought them there, Malfi
related his wife's dream, adding that he might have spared himself
the ride, for he had looked over the wall, and saw nobody there. 'I
told her it was nonsense,' he said, 'whilst we know your enemy's
under such good keeping at Aquila; but she wouldn't be satisfied
till I came.'
Mendez, however, appeared exceedingly struck with the dream,
inquired the particulars more in detail, and asked if they were sure
there was nobody concealed in the place Faustina indicated. Malfi
answered that he did not alight, but he looked over the wall and saw
nobody. During the course of this conversation they had turned their
horses' heads, and were riding back towards the church, Malfi
talking about Ripa's affair, remarking on the impropriety of
deferring his execution so long; Mendez more than usually silent and
serious, and the servant riding beside them, when, as they
approached the spot, they saw coming towards them on foot a man,
whom they all three recognised as Antonio Guerra, the Spaniard's
late servant. As this person was supposed to have gone to another
part of the country after quitting Gaspar's service, Malfi expressed
some surprise at seeing him; whilst Mendez turned very pale, making
at the same time some exclamation that attracted the attention of
his brother-in-law, who, however, drew up his horse to ask Guerra
what had brought him back, and if he was out of a situation, adding
that a neighbour of his, whom he named, was in want of a servant.
Guerra, who looked poorly dressed, and by no means in such good case
as formerly, answered that he should be very glad if Malfi would
recommend him.
'You had better turn about, then, and come on with us,' said Malfi,
as he rode forward. During this conversation Mendez had sat by
saying nothing; and if he was grave and silent before, he was still
more so now, insomuch that his behaviour drew the attention of his
brother-in-law, who asked him if there was anything wrong with him.
'Surely it's not Faustina's dream you are thinking of?' he said;
adding, 'that the meeting with Guerra had put it out of his head, or
he would have examined the place more narrowly.'
Mendez entered into no explanation; and as the servant, who was
acquainted with Guerra, took him up behind him, they all arrived at
their journey's end nearly together: Mendez, instead of proceeding
homewards, turning off with the others to Malfi's house, where the
first thing he did after his arrival was to visit his sister, whom
he found better; whilst she, on the contrary, was struck with the
pallor of his features and the agitation of his manner--a disorder
which, like her husband, she attributed to the shock of her dream,
acting upon a mind prepared by the affair of the preceding year to
take alarm. In order to remove the impression, she laughed at the
fright she had been in; but it was evident he could not share her
merriment, and he quickly left her, saying he had a message to send
to Rocca, which was the village where Bianca and her father resided,
and that he must go below and write a note, which he did, giving it
to Malfi's servant to take.
It appeared afterwards that this man, having other work in hand,
gave the note to Guerra, who willingly undertook the commission, and
who, to satisfy his own curiosity, broke the seal on the way, and
possessed himself of its contents before he delivered it. These
were, however, only a request that Bianca and her father would come
over to Malfi's house that evening and bring the notary of the
village with them, he (Mendez) being too tired to go to Rocca to
sign the contract, as had been arranged.
It being between six and seven o'clock when this dispatch arrived,
Bianca, who was very little inclined to sign the contract at all,
objected to going; but her father insisting on her compliance, they
set off in company with Guerra and the notary, who, according to
appointment, was already in waiting. They had nearly three miles to
go, and as Venoni had no horse, the notary gave Bianca a seat on
his, and the old man rode double with Guerra.
When they arrived, Mendez was standing at the door waiting for them,
accompanied by Malfi, his servant, a priest, and two or three other
persons of the neighbourhood; some of whom advanced to assist Bianca
and her father to alight, whilst the others surrounded Guerra as he
set his foot on the ground, pinioning his arms and plunging their
hands into his pockets, from whence they drew two small pistols and
a black mask, such as was worn at the carnivals; besides these
weapons, he carried a stiletto in his bosom.
Whilst the last comers were gaping with amazement at this unexpected
scene, the new-made prisoner was led away to a place of security,
and the company proceeded into the house, where the notary produced
the contract and laid it on the table, inquiring at the same time
what Guerra had done to be so treated.
Then Mendez rose, and taking hold of the contract, he tore it in two
and flung it on the ground; at which sight Venoni started up with a
cry, or rather a howl--an expression of rage and disappointment
truly Italian, and of which no Englishman who has not heard it can
have an idea.
'_Peccato!_ I have sinned!' said the Spaniard haughtily; 'but I have
made my confession to the padre; and why I have torn that paper my
brother-in-law, Alessandro, will presently tell you!' He then
offered his hand to Bianca, who, no less pleased than astonished to
see the contract destroyed, willingly responded to this token of
good-will by giving him hers, which he kissed, asking her pardon for
any pain he had occasioned her; after which, bowing to the company,
he quitted the room, mounted his horse, and rode off to Forni.
When the sound of the animal's feet had died away, and the parties
concerned were sufficiently composed to listen to him, Malfi
proceeded to make the communication he had been charged with;
whereby it appeared that Ripa had been unjustly accused, and that
Antonio Guerra was the real criminal. Mendez knew this very well,
and would not have thought of accusing his rival had not his brother
and sister, and indeed everybody else, assumed Ripa's guilt as an
unquestionable fact. The temptation was too strong for him, and
after he had once admitted it, pride would not allow him to retract.
At the same time he declared that he would never have permitted the
execution to take place, and that after the marriage with Bianca he
intended to use every effort to procure the innocent man's
liberation, on the condition of his quitting that part of the
country. Of course it was he who wrote the letter to Marino, and he
had used the precaution of placing a sealed packet, containing a
confession of the truth, in the hands of a notary at Aquila, with
strict directions to deliver it to Ripa if the authorities should
appear disposed to carry his sentence into execution.
He had nevertheless suffered considerable qualms of conscience about
the whole affair; and the moment he saw Guerra on the road that
night, he felt certain that he had come with the intention of
waylaying him as before--the man being well aware that it was on
that day he usually received his rents. He perceived that he should
never be safe as long as this villain was free, and that he must
either henceforth live in continual terror of assassination, or
confront the mortification of a confession whilst the fellow was in
his power.
With respect to Guerra himself, he made but feeble resistance when
he was seized. He had, in the first instance, left Mendez for dead;
and he would have immediately fled when he heard he was alive, had
not the news been accompanied with the further information that the
Spaniard had pointed out Ripa as his assailant. He was exceedingly
surprised, for he could scarcely believe that he had not been
recognised. Nevertheless it was possible; and whether it were so or
not, he did not doubt that what Mendez had once asserted he would
adhere to. On receiving his dismissal, he had gone to some distance
from the scene of his crime; but having, whilst the money lasted,
acquired habits of idleness and dissipation that could not be
maintained without a further supply, these necessities had provoked
this last enterprise.
He had really been concealed behind the wall when Malfi and his
servant passed; but concluding that they were going to meet Mendez,
and that his scheme was defeated, he had thought it both useless and
dangerous to remain, and was intending to make off in another
direction, when their sudden return surprised him.
A few hours more saw Antonio Guerra in Giuseppe Ripa's cell; and
whilst the first paid the penalty of his crimes, the latter was
rewarded for his sufferings by the hand of Bianca, to whom the
Spaniard gave a small marriage-portion before finally quitting the
country, which he did immediately after Antonio's trial.
Ripa said he had always had a strong persuasion that Guerra was the
real criminal from two circumstances: the first was the hurried
manner in which he was walking on the evening he met him at the gate
of Forni, and some strange expression of countenance which he had
afterwards recalled. The second was his answering them from the
window when he and Malfi went to inquire for Mendez. If he thought
it was his master, as he said, why had he not come down at once to
admit him?
It is remarkable that the enmity of the Spaniard was not directed
against the man that had aimed at his life, but against him who had
wounded his pride.
INFLUENCES OF THE RAILWAY SYSTEM.
While there are many machines which contribute much more directly to
the rapid accumulation of wealth in the persons of individuals, than
does the railway locomotive, there is probably none which tends more
to enrich a community. Unlike most other mechanical contrivances for
the abridgment of labour, the railway locomotive unites in the
effects which it produces the elements of social as well as
commercial improvement. Like the steamship, the railway is
cosmopolitan in its character. The range of its operations may be as
extensive as the globe itself; and throughout that sphere of
activity, be it what it may, the locomotive engine is scattering
thickly the seeds of civilisation, as well as of wealth.
By the application of steam as a motive agent an immense saving has
been effected in the outlay required to be made in producing a given
result in locomotion. This is the combined product of two causes.
Such perfection has been attained in the construction of machinery,
that by the aid of steam there can thence be obtained a continuity,
combined with a rapidity of motion, which far exceeds what can be
produced by any other means at present known to us. The fleetest
racer equipped for speed alone, cannot equal, even for a single
mile, the rate at which the locomotive engine, dragging after it a
load of eighty tons, can, for hours together, be driven with ease
and safety along its iron path. And this twofold result can be
secured at a comparatively small cost. Coal, iron, wood--substances
all to be easily obtained in nearly every quarter of the globe--can
be, and daily are, fashioned into working agents not merely fleeter,
stronger, and more docile than any endowed with animal life, but
agents likewise which it is far less costly to sustain in active
usefulness. The food, medicines, and attention which animal life
demands, form very serious items of expense in the case of beasts of
burden, and so very materially impair their utility. It is otherwise
with the locomotive engine. Money, ingenuity, and toil require
undoubtedly to be expended in its original construction, attention
and care must be given to avert or repair accident, and food of its
own peculiar kind it does unquestionably consume; yet when all the
original and working expenses of a locomotive are summed up, it is
found that, compared with the income it produces, it is the cheapest
of all motive agents.
No doubt the items of railway expenditure now mentioned do not
nearly exhaust the amount of money required in their construction.
In addition to expensive engines, there require carriages to be
supplied for the transport of goods and passengers, houses and sheds
to be built for their temporary accommodation, salaries to be paid
for management and service; and in addition to all this, there must
further be expended in the construction of the line itself sums far
greater in amount than those spent in the formation and repair of
roads and highways. All this is true; but in estimating the
comparative costliness of the old and new methods of
land-locomotion, regard must be had to the amount of their produce
as well as of their outlay; and an opinion regarding their
respective merits, in an economical point of view, must be formed by
striking a balance between these two sides of the account. The
result of such a comparison proves that in point of economy, not
less than of speed and endurance, railways take precedence over all
other known means of locomotion. This combined result of rapidity
and cheapness of transit produces a double effect upon a mercantile
community: it at once enables merchants to realise the fruits of a
given speculation more quickly, which is nothing else than
transacting more business in a shorter period than before; and it
also enables them to do this increased amount of business with a
smaller amount of actual outlay--that is, to extend with safety and
profit the field of their operations beyond those boundaries which
prudence formerly marked out as the proper limits of speculation.
When we consider the amount of travelling within the island which is
requisite for carrying on the mercantile and general business of the
country, and the double saving, therefore, of time on the one hand,
and of money on the other, which is effected by means of railways,
we cannot fail to perceive that even did this new system of
locomotion economise time and labour in no other way than this
alone, its effects upon commercial transactions and on business
generally would be immense. But when we reflect that this system is
exerting the very same influence upon trade--and in a much higher
degree, so far as the outlay of money is concerned--in reference to
the carriage of goods, as in regard to that of passengers, we then
come to comprehend in some measure how fertile the railway
locomotive is in the production of the fruits of industry.
Another commercial effect of the railway system has been to equalise
the value of land, and promote the cultivation of those districts of
a country which lie considerably removed from large towns. Every one
knows that distance from market forms, as regards the cultivation of
many vegetable and animal productions, a very serious drawback.
Hence it arises that lands lying immediately around large cities
bring a far larger price than portions of ground of equal extent and
fertility would do situated at a greater distance. This is
peculiarly the case with kitchen-gardens, and pasture-land suited
for the purposes of fattening cattle, or feeding such as are
required for the dairy. In all these cases, and others which might
be mentioned, the performance of a long journey affects very
injuriously the quality and value of the several articles, and hence
the demand for farms and fields not exposed to this drawback has
naturally raised their value. Now railways, as they abridge space by
means of speed, have had a tendency to increase the value of pasture
and garden ground lying at, comparatively speaking, a very great
distance around cities. It is now no unusual thing for the
inhabitants of cities such as London, Liverpool, and Manchester, to
use at breakfast milk or cream which has travelled thirty or forty
miles the very morning it is consumed, and at dinner to partake of
vegetables whose place of growth was more than a hundred miles
removed from the stall at which they were sold.
The railway system has had a marked effect upon the state of the
money-market of the commercial world in general, and of this country
in particular. From the successful experiment made in 1830 in steam
locomotion between Liverpool and Manchester, this new method of
transit has been developing itself with a rapidity to which no
parallel is to be found in the history of mercantile enterprise.
Keeping out of view entirely the large sums which were recklessly
squandered during the railway mania in mere gambling transactions
and bubble schemes, there has been actually sunk in the construction
and working of lines up to the present time more than L.200,000,000
sterling. Before railways were called into existence, by far the
larger portion of this enormous capital was divided into a great
number of comparatively small sums, invested in a corresponding
number of different speculations. From causes which it would be
easy, but foreign to our present purpose, to explain, the profits
arising from these various speculations were not only in the
aggregate larger than those hitherto derived from railways, but the
former speculations or investments being more temporary and
convertible in their nature, secured to the parties engaging in them
a far greater command over the capital employed in them. By
diverting, as the railway system has done, so much money from the
ordinary channels of mercantile enterprise, in which large profits
were made, and--what is of more importance to the present
remarks--when that money was well within the command and subject to
the recall of its owners; and by taking, so to speak, and locking it
up in a repository which could not be opened, the circulating medium
of exchange soon became a scarce commodity to those who but lately
had possessed it in abundance.
But it would be very false to infer because extensive bankruptcies,
and periods of severe pecuniary embarrassment, have accompanied, if
not indeed been caused by the development of the railway system,
that therefore that system must be an unsound and unremunerative
one. These monetary difficulties were in a great measure the
consequence of over-speculation, and therefore form no sounder
evidence against the utility of railways, than does over-speculation
in tea condemn the prudent employment of capital in the tea-trade.
Besides which, it must ever be remembered that the judiciousness of
an undertaking is not always to be judged of by its immediate
results. All investments of capital which are from their nature
permanent, require time for the development of their effects, and
may, as regards many of their immediate results, prove rather
injurious than beneficial. To this class of speculations railways
belong. Introduced for the purpose of facilitating locomotion, and
thus improving the industry of the country, this new system of
transit was calculated to produce rather an eventual and permanent,
than an immediate benefit to the empire. So long as Great Britain
retains and cultivates the resources of trade and manufactures now
at her disposal, and provided no new method of locomotion be
invented which shall supersede railways, there is every reason to
believe that railways will continue to form an ever-increasing
source of wealth to the nation. That this is an opinion very
generally entertained is proved from the vast sums of money which
are now lent out on the faith that this result will be realised. The
railway system has not only created a new field for speculation, but
likewise a new security for monetary investments. At the close of
1848, upwards of L.43,000,000 was lent upon railways. There is every
reason to believe that debenture-holding is much greater now than it
was then; but as no official report of its amount, so far as we
know, has been published since 1848, we, for accuracy's sake, quote
the return made in that year.