Beyond the Curtain.

Tuapeka Times, Volume V, Issue 222, 2 May 1872, Page 9

Beyond the Curtain.

By Tom Hood.

I have been a dreamer all my life. Mind, I do not mean that I have not been a worker ; for few men have had stveh a hand-to-hand struggle as I have been a dreamer literally and actually.

What is more strange still, is that my dreams are not all of the same character. Sometimes they foretell events by portraying them beforehand exactly as they are to happen. Sometimes my visions are allegorical. This makes me rather puzzled at times ; for of course. I cannot always feel sure whether the dream is a metaphorical or an actual foreshadowing. This peculiarity would seem to be hereditary. It has been a tradition of my family for many a generation. Before the race was impoverished, and while Dewsboroughs of Deepdale were lords of broad lands and boasted full coffers, they were spoken of throughout the whole country side as the "Dreaming Dewsboroughs." Even so late as my great grandfather's time, though the ancient line was sorely impoverished then, and Deepdale had passed to strangers, the farmers used to come and consult the old gentleman as to the time for hay-harvest and the chances of the crops. And the old gentleman, as a rule, could tell them, though how he managed is not recorded.

At one time came a new incumbent to the- village, and he set his face against the superstitious customs of the place. He sneered at the old squire's prophetic powers, and determined to give them a practical refutation. So, on one occasion, when my grandfather had predicted rain in three days — a prediction . dead in the teeth of signs" " generally held by the weather-wise to denote a long, warm, dry season for harvest — the parson had- his hay cut. , You may guess he was not a 'little discomfited when h.e awoke two mornings after, and heard the rain pattering on the windows, and saw the water standing in the hollows in the meadows. My grandfather—who helped the failing fortunes of his house down-hill at a rapid pace — tried to turn the family gift to good acoount. He kept a stud of racers, anil betted heavily. But, strangely enough, in this case ; the family oracle went to the bad altogether. He dreamt and dreamt abo.ut races, but when he woke, he never could, for the life of him, remember the name of the winner. He never made a befc that he did not lose, or ran a lioi'se that did not break down in some way. Indeed, it is a peculiar thing to note of this peculiar gift of ours, that we seldom or never benefited ourselves by it. It was an undoubted blessing to our neighbours — a questionable boon to us. In my father's case, it developed itself in a very strange way. I.will tell you how, for it will explain what I meant by a "questionable boon." My mother, who had rather an awe of his dreaming powers, used generally to question him of a morning as to his visions of the . previous night. O*ne day, in answer to her enquiries, he said he had dreamt he was going on a visit to a splendid mansion. A more magnificent park he had never seen, he said, and the exterior of the mansion was in keepiug with the beauty of its surroundings, ily mother, with the instincts of a woman, asked him what he thought of the inside. " I have not seen it, my dear," was his answer, " for just as I reached the door, I awoke." After a little more chat" on the subject, the conversation took another turn. The next morning brought the same question, and answer. My father had dreamt exactly the same dream again, and, us before, he awakened just as he reached the entrance. The next day and the next it was the same. The dream about the mansion was invariably presented to his eyes jnst before he awoke. Afc last, it got to be quite a joke with my father and mother. " I can't even get as far as. the mat," he ustfd to say; "it is what I call inhospitable of my dreamland friend." However, as time went on, and the same dream was constantly repeated, it became at last so familiar that my father never bestowed a second thought npon it. It was a part of- the routine of his life, like putting on his boots, or cleaning his teeth. ■ ■ One evening, an old friend of my father's, who had a snug berth in the House of Peers, called to see him. The conversation turned to Parliamentary matters ; and the official, chancing to ask n«y father if he had ever heard a debate in the House of Lords, and being answered in the negative, proposed to go to Westminster, -and get him into the gallery. When the debate was over,, and the Peers were . leaving, my" father was chatting to , his friend before bidding him good-night, when a tall, handsome old nobleman 'passed by. " Who is thatr said my father, with a start. His friend told him. ''I must speak with him." And before Tiis friend could stop him, he had overtaken the -feer^and asked for a few .minutes' conversation.- v - Lord courteously assented ; whereupon my. fatfier asked him if his estate in Ireland was not so-and-so- — 4escribin|r it acctara'tely; though he had .never set his waking eyes on it in his life. His lordship admitted the correctness of the description. My father th<p describ^^jtbie^fYag^s^jaAidat }ast

wound up by telling Lord of the family gift of dreaming, and warned him that one of the grooms and a footman were in league with a blacksrrich to rob the house, in which there were quantities of valuable plate and jewellery.

His lordship was a little inclined to pooh-pooh the matter at first, but my father's description was so accurate, that he was gradually convinced. To make a long story short, he determined to test the truth of the prophecy, and sent over a detective, who was to pass for an additional stable-help ; and the result was,- that the robbers were caught exactly as my father bad said.

His lordship was greatly impressed with the extraordinary nature of my father's prophetic dreaming. Nor was he less grateful to him for saving the plate and jewels. When Parliament was over, and the season ended, his lordship invited my father and mother to stay with him for a month in the country. He had taken Carruellan Castle, in the West of England — a magnificent estate which had belonged to Lord Grlenlyon, then recently deceased, and was let on a lease by the trustees of the heir to the title, a mere lad, who was at Eton.

My father.was only too delighted to accept the invitation, for he had not been very well, and felt the change would do him good. My mother and he went down by rail to the nearest station, where his lordship came to meet them.

As they came to the lodge gates, my fathpr recognised the park of his oftrepeated dream, and told my mother so. Hislordshipenquiring what he meant, he told him, as they drove along, of che unsatisfactory nature of the recurring vision. "Ho vvever, ' ' said he, laughingly, as the carriage drew up at the gate, and he stepped out of it, " now I shall see the vest of it," and be put out his hand to opeu the door. But, as his hand was just on the handle, my mother saw him totter.

The door was opened by one of the servants inside, and as it opened, my father fell forward on his' face on the threshold — dead 1 A post viortem examination revealed long-standing disease of the heart, which the excitement and exertion of getting out of the carriage had rendered fatal. So, you S3e, as 1 said, this gift to the Dewsboroughs is a very questionable boon.

But it is time I left off telling you of its effects on others. Let me give you one of my own experiences. Lord , who was greatly shocked at my father's sudden death, took a great interest in me, his ouly son ; and, as I exhibited some taste for the fine arts, and especially for sculpture, he sent me to Kome to study. I had a handsome allowance, thanks to his lordship's generosity, and I had many pleasant friends and acquaintances, and I laboured at my art with enthusiasm.

Mine was a happy life, indeed. For a while it was sunshine. I dreamed, but my dreams did not disturb me. The future was nothing to me, while the present was too full of sunshine. The strange gift, which came to me by my birth, sat lightly on me. But it was not to be halcyon weather very long. The fatal power was not to lie idle and disregarded.

I became much attached to .one of my fellow-students, a young Italian, who worked iv the same atelier. I was his English master, and he taught me Italiar. Our tastes coincided, and our sympathies were strong. On one point, especially, we had. a common feeling — in a desire to see Italy freed from foreign dominion. We were enthusiasts, and therefore indiscreet. We became " suspect," and were under the espionage of the police. One night I dreamt that. I saw a body of our hated spies come up through a trap-door in the studio, and destroy a clay model on which Tito had been working.

When I got up in the morning, to my surprise, I 'found Tito at work ou the very figure'of my dream. It was a female figure, starting to its feet, with fetters .falling from its wrists. I knew that it was an embodiment.

In a few words, after congratulatiug him on his success, I told Tito my dream, and pointed out the hidden trap-door. I had often told him of my iuherited gift, but this was the first time he had ever seen any practical result. We examined the floor of the studio, in the place revealed in my dream, and sure enough found the trap door there. ' ' -' , - We were sinokirg a quiet cigarette, arrd revolving plans in our heads, when a visitor, and a most unexpected one, arrived. I need hardly say that my 6wn plans were of the maddest description the' most reasonable being a suggestion that we should move a great block of marble to the side of the trap-door (which we did not venture to raise), and to tilt it in such a way that when the trap was opened a touch from us (we .were to conceal ourselves behind it) would send it crashing down on, the heads of those below. But the arrival of onr visitors — or, rather' say, visitor — suggested -to me a better scheme. My kind patron had written to"' ask the nobleman who was the actual, though officially unrecognised, British resident, .to visit my studio. And it was her Majesty's representative,,)^ fact, though not by title, who came in upon us ai we were plotting. When I learnt who he was, and the very moment the idea flashed on' me, I gave Tito a sign to be silent, and took his' lordship over, to Tito'B model, t

explained to him that I bad been at work on it for sometime, and hoped to get his influence to bring it to tlie notice of his Holiness, for it was intended for " the Christian Soul breaking the bonds of Sin." His lordship promised his interest, praised the work, and after inspecting the other things in the studio, left us, expressing an intention of coming again.

As soon as he was gone, I explained my plan to Tito, who was delighted. We went to bed early that evening, in order to leave the coast clear for our friends the spies, should they visit us.

JSText morning, it was plain enough that they had made a descent. A shapeless mass of clay was all that was left of " the Christian Soul breaking the bonds of Sin." The police had quicker eyes that his lordship the resident, and had divined the political meaning of the figure. In another hour I had laid my complaint before the resident. He came to the studio, and was as angry as if he had modelled the figure himself.

And now I became acquainted with Tito's mother and sister. They began my torture. I had by long habit contrived to get my gift of dreaming so far under command that I qould, by thinking fixedly on any subject before going to sleep, almost ensure dreams of it — and dreams with me means prophecies. • Of course, when I began to love Bianca, she was first and last in my thoughts ; and as a result I dreamt about her. At last I ventured to breathe ray love to her. She shrank from me timidly at first, and said " it was impossible."

After much pressing. I got her to admit that she loved me — a little. But I was leading her dear Tito into danger ; and while I did that, she should hate me. I asked for an explanation, and then she told me that Tito belonged to a secret society of Carbonari, and that his connection with it was more than suspected by the police. That since I had known him he had become more reckless, from the force of example. But, alas! I was an Englishman, and safe ; whereas he was an Italian.

I saw the justice of her anxiety, and the folly I had been guilty of, and swore to extricate her brother from the dangerous position in which T .had so unwittingly placed him. And I had a rich reward ; for when she had thanked me — ali, how eloquent with eyes and lips ! for my promise to save him, she hid her face on ray shoulder, and murmured softly, that most exquisite of all confessions in any language, but, beyond all expression, sweetest in Italian — " I love thee. "

My happiness kept me awakp for some time that night ; but in apiteof it, I kept resolutely thinking of Tito's danger. As a result, I dreamt of him. I found myself in a dimly-lighted chamber, the. atmosphere of which had that damp, earthy smell, wheihis inseparable from a subterranean locality I was. possibly in a remote portion of. the Catacombs, but the lights we?e so screened as to give but small aid to any attempt to ascertain the location of the spot. An assemblage of cloaked figures occupied the immediate neighbourhood of the shaded lamps, and wore cou versing in whispers. Presently, an urn was produced, into which a number of folded slips of paper were cast. Then one of the members bore it round, and each drew forth a lot, while the president, or some one who seemed to occupy the leading .position, drew from a second urn a slip of paper, on which was inscribed a name. All was done with subdued voice and hushed movements. At length, one of the crowd drew a slip, which, on being opened, was found to be marked with a red cross. At the same moment the president read aloud the name on the slip which he had just taken. "Tito!" There was a pause. Then a voice said he had not arrived.

" Let this be conveyed to him. He will understand its purpose, " said the president, as he drew from beneath his cloak the peculiar-shaped dagger, which, in my dream about Bianea, I had seen plunged in her boaom. The next moment there was a cry of terror. The meeting was surrounded by police. Whence they had come was a mystery, but they were there in sufficient force to make short work 'of the resistance offered by the surprised Carbonari. As soon as I awoke I recalled my dream. I remember even the watchword given by those who came into the' subterranean chamber. "What is our lot?" was the question. '.'Patience," was the reply; whereon. the first speaker again said, " But what patience ? " and the response was " Patience, but not in action."

When Tito came I told him what I had dreamt, with the exception of the arrival of the police. I felt that if I told him of that he Would feel bound to go to the meeting, and share the peril with his associates. I tried hard to persuade him to stay away, but in vain. He laughed, and said he would go, if only-to disprove my vision, which cast a slur on his fidelity to the society, by describing him as absent. As he did. so a gleam, of eonsol a fcicm flashed in on my mind; He would not be there, for the dream had said so. I visited Bidnca that morning, and told her of my dream and of my conversation with her brother.

'' That dagger ! Ah, then he will be sent forth a martyr for our poor country. The mission, even if he should succeed, is certain death. Bqt yon will prevent him ?" "

"How can I?" -" By force, if nothing else will keep him back from his destruction. " " Force ! But now 1 and then the wholo thing flashed across me in a moment. The Hon. Ashton , the son of my generous patron, was in Rome for a. few days. He had come for a little yachting in the Mediterranean, and •had his boat's crew with him in the city. I would take him into my confidence, and get him to assist me in kidnapping Tito, and getting him out of danger's way. He agreed. More than that, he visited the Resident, and asked him to keep a watchful eye over me, telling him that he had reason to know that the police suspected me of dealings with a secret society, and that I might therefore need his protection,

On the night when the meeting was to be held, and before the appointed hour, we had made a capture of Tito — not without a struggle — and had carried him oft' to the boat, which was soon on its way .down the Tiber. "When! I returned to the studio, to my great surprise, 1 found the. mysterious poniai'd stuck in the door, inside my room. As the door had been locked, it was not very easy to see how it got there. I did not touch it, for I had rather a horror of the unpleasant instrument of secret assassination. Ton?y English nature, such means could not be lowed by thenaine of liberty; though, to an Italian there seemed no harm in such a course. I went to be bed and slept soundly. No doubt, during the night, the police paid me a. visit; for when I rose next day the dagger was gone. About an hour after breakfast, the Resident came, looking very grave 'and anxious.

" This is a worse matter than I expected," said he ; " you seem to have got mixed up with some very bloodthirsty desperadoes. The dagger— of a peculiar ibrm, but well known, fo the police— the instrument, in short, of the secret society, -was found in this studio. I have done all I can ; but you will have io quit Home." I did quit Italy, but not alone. Bianca and her mother accompanied me. We joined Tito on board^the yacht. He was too angry for some time to listen to reason ; but when I told him that the police" had surprised the society, and that all its members were in prison, he seemed to say that he would have done the cause of Italy no good by being caught and caged.

We talked late that night and naturally enough the conversation turned chiefly on the future of Italy. That night I had a strange dream. I saw a little, irregular band of insurgents drive an army of disciplined troops before them. I saw the tricolor of Italy floating on many a battle-field. I heard the shouts of an emancipated nation. Last of all,- I had a vision of a little island in the Mediterranean. On it I saw a grey-headed man in a red shirt. He looked less like an Italian than a Highland shepherd, but carried a crutch instead of a crook. And somebody who stood near me said, "That simple hero is greater than a king, for he has* refused a crown ! "

When I woke in the morning, I described my visions to Tito, who shook his head, and said the prospect was too bright to be true.

Presently the yacht passed by a little island, in which I recognised the island of ray dream.

" What place is that ? " I asked. An Italian servant said, " That ? Oh, Caprera — a beggarly little place, that produces but little."

"It will produce something very great some day," said I. The yacht took us to Marseilles, and thence we travelled to London — for I had studied long enough at Rome, and Tito, of course, could not return. Thanks to my generous patron, we soon got commissions, and took our place among the sculptors of the day. Tito, poor fellow, has been dead for some time now. But he lived long enough to see the dawn of freedom break over. Italy. That silver-haired lady, whom I led under the inisletoe just now, is called Bianca Dewsborough. I am grey, too ; and I dream no longer, for I am getting near that sleep that shall not be disturbed by visions.