“It is the story of an humble man, a village cobbler, who becomes by an accident of fortune suddenly rich. Now, the author, instead of describing the incidents of life and the vicissitudes that encounter him, leaves us only to guess, or rather to supply them for ourselves, by simply dwelling upon all the 'Gedänkskriege,' or mental conflicts, that are the consequences of his altered position. The notion is ingenious, and if not overlayed with a certain dreamy mysticism, would be very interesting.”
“I,” said Dan, “would far rather hear of his acts than his reflections. What he did would amuse me more to know than to learn why.”
“But how easy to imagine the one!” exclaimed Raper. “Wealth has its habits all stereotyped: from Dives to our own days the catalogue has been ever the same, 'purple and fine linen.' And if some have added to the mere sensual pleasures the higher enjoyments derivable from objects of art and the cultivation of letters, has it not been because their own natures were more elevated, and required such refinements as daily necessaries? The humble man, suddenly enriched, lives no longer in the sphere of his former associates, but ascends into one of whose habits he knows nothing; and Jean Paul condemns him for this, and reminds him that when a river is swollen by autumn rains it does not desert its ancient channel, but enlarges the sphere of its utility, by spreading fertilization on each side of it, seeming to think: I may, by the accidents of life, grow small and humble again; it is as well that I should not quit the tiny course I have followed in my humble fortunes.”
“And do you agree with him?” asked Dan, more amazed by the enthusiasm of his companion than by the theme that suggested it.
“I do so in everything; I speak, of course, as one who knows nothing of those ambitions by which wealthy men are encompassed; I am not in the position of one who has seen and felt these fascinations, and who emerges from his poverty to re-assume a former station. Take the case of Mr. Curtis, for instance.”
“What! old Curtis—Joe Curtis?” asked Dan, eagerly.
“Yes, Curtis, formerly of Meagh-valley. Well, if his claim be as good as they suppose, he 'll not only inherit the great Wicklow estates, but the Western property so long in Chancery.”
MacNaghten saw that Raper was pouring forth this knowledge without being conscious that he was making an important revelation, and gave a dry, commonplace assent.
“Who can say what may not be his income?” exclaimed Raper, thoughtfully; “twenty thousand a-year, at the least.”
“And his prospects are good, you say,—his chances of success?”