The elder Mr. Tyss had always considered it a bad omen that Peregrine, as a little child, should prefer counters to ducats, and next should manifest a decided abhorrence of moneybags, ledgers, and waste books. But what seemed most singular was that he never could hear the word “bill of exchange” pronounced without having his teeth set on edge, and he assured them that he felt at the sound as if someone was scratching up and down a pane of glass with the point of a knife. Mr. Tyss, therefore, could not help seeing that his son was spoilt for a merchant, and however he might wish to have him treading in his footsteps, yet he readily gave up this desire, under the idea that Peregrine would apply himself to some decided occupation. It was a maxim of his, that the richest man ought to have an employment, and thereby a settled station in life. People with no occupation were an abomination to him, and it was precisely to this No-occupation that his son was entirely devoted, with all the knowledge which he had picked up in his own way, and which lay chaotically confounded in his brain. This was now the greatest and most pressing anxiety of Mr. Tyss. Peregrine wished to know nothing of the actual world; the old man lived in that only—from which contradiction it could not but be that the older Peregrine grew, the worse became the discord between father and son, to the no little sorrow of the mother. She cordially conceded to Peregrine—who was otherwise the best of sons—his mode of life, in mere dreams and fancies, though to her indeed unintelligible, and she could not conceive why her husband would positively impose upon him a decided occupation.
By the advice of tried friends, Tyss sent his son to the university of Jena, but when, after three years, he returned, the old man exclaimed, full of wrath and vexation, “Did I not think so? Hans the dreamer he went away, Hans the dreamer he comes back again.” And so far he was quite right, for the student was substantially unaltered. Still, he did not give up all hope of bringing the degenerate Peregrine to reason, thinking that if he were once forced into some employment, he might, perhaps, change his mind in the end, and take a pleasure in it. With this view he sent him to Hamburg, with commissions that did not require any particular knowledge of business, and moreover commended him to a friend there, who was to assist him faithfully in all things.
Peregrine arrived at Hamburg, where he gave into the hands of his father’s friend not only his letter of recommendation, but all the papers too that related to his commissions, and immediately disappeared, no one knew whither. Hereupon the friend wrote to Mr. Tyss:
“I have punctually received your honoured letter of the ⸻ by the hands of your son. The same, however, has not shown himself since, but set off from Hamburg immediately, without leaving any commission. In peppers we are doing little; cotton goes off heavily; in coffee, the middle sort only is inquired after, but on the other hand molasses maintain their price pleasantly, and in indigo there is not much fluctuation. I have the honour,” etc.
This letter would have plunged Mr. Tyss and his spouse into no little alarm, if by the very same post another had not arrived from the lost son, wherein he excused himself, with the most melancholy expressions, saying that it had been utterly impossible for him to execute the received commissions, according to his father’s wishes, and that he found himself irresistibly attracted to foreign countries, from which he hoped to return home in a year’s time with a happier and more cheerful disposition.
“It is well,” said the old man, “that the youngster should look about him in the world; he may get shaken out of his daydreams.” And when Peregrine’s mother expressed an anxiety lest he should want money for his long journey, and that, therefore, his carelessness was much to be blamed in not having written to tell them where he was going, the old gentleman replied laughing, “If the lad be in want of money, he will the sooner get acquainted with the real world, and if he have not said which way he is going, still he knows where his letters will find us.”
It has always remained unknown which way his journey really was directed: some maintain that he had been to the distant Indies; others declare that he had only fancied it. This much, however, is certain: he must have travelled a great way, for it was not in a year’s time, as he had promised his parents, but after the lapse of full three years, that Peregrine returned to Frankfurt on foot, and in a tolerably poor condition.
He found his father’s mansion fast shut up and no one stirred within, let him ring and knock as much as he would. At last there came by a neighbour from ’Change, of whom he immediately inquired whether Mr. Tyss had gone abroad? At this question the neighbour started back, terrified, and cried, “Mr. Peregrine Tyss! Is it you? Are you come at last? Don’t you then know it?”
Enough—Peregrine learned that, during his absence, both parents had died, one after the other; that the authorities had taken possession of the inheritance, and had publicly summoned him, whose abode was altogether unknown, to return to Frankfurt and receive the property of his father.
Peregrine continued to stand before his neighbour without the power of utterance. For the first time the pain of life crossed his heart, and he saw in ruins the beautiful bright world wherein, till now, he had dwelt with so much delight. The neighbour soon perceived that he was utterly incapable of setting about the least thing that the occasion called for; he therefore took him to his own house, and himself arranged everything with all possible expedition, so that on
