The Meaning of Night

enarched throughout issuant from the dexter base gules; 2nd, Per pale indented ermine and ermines on a chevron per pale indented or and argent five roses gules barbed and seeded proper; 3rd, Argent gutty d’huile a lion’s rear gamb erased azure and transfixed through the thigh by a sword in bend sinister proper hilted pommelled and quilloned or. Crest—A demi man crowned royally proper crined and bearded argent vested in a robe gules lined ermine holding in his dexter hand a sceptre and in his sinister an orb gold. Supporters—Two lion-sagittarii each drawing a bow and arrow proper and banded about the temples with a fillet azure. Motto—FORTITUDINE VINCIMUS.

The Tansor arms were illustrated at the head of the entry. Contemplating the unusual device of the lion- sagittarii,^* I knew, with redoubled certainty, that what I had inferred from my mother’s journals was the truth. On the wooden box that had once contained my two hundred sovereigns were displayed the same arms.

Fortitudine Vincimus^† was the Tansor motto. It would now be mine.

From time to time, Tom would call and we would talk desultorily for half and hour or so. But I could see his dismay as he surveyed the sea of paper spreading across the work-table and spilling over onto the floor; and I also saw that he had observed the darting look of wild absorption in my eyes, which all too obviously signalled an eagerness to return to my work – to which I never attached any specific character—as quickly as possible. He had not entirely forgiven me for passing over the opportunity to go to Mesopotamia with Professor S—, and was concerned, I could see, that I was making no attempt to secure any other form of employment. My capital had diminished more quickly than I had anticipated, largely as a result of my years abroad; debts left by my mother, which she had been keeping at bay with her writing, had also been paid out of it, and it was now becoming imperative for me to find a source of regular income.

‘What’s happening to you, Ned?’ Tom asked one March morning, as I was walking him to the door. ‘It pains me to see you like this, shut up here day after day, with no firm prospect in view.’

I could not tell him that I had in fact formed the clearest possible ambition. Instead, I prevaricated by saying that I planned to go to London to find some suitable temporary position until a permanent course of action presented itself.

He looked at me doubtfully. ‘That is not a plan, Ned,’ he said, ‘but you must do what you think best. London, certainly, will offer many more opportunities than Sandchurch, and I would urge you to make your move soon. The longer you stay cooped up here, the harder it will be for you to break away.’

The following week, he called again and insisted that I leave the house and take some air, for in truth I had not stepped outside for several days.

We walked along the undercliff, and then down to the smooth area of wet sand washed by the waves. The sky was a perfect blue – the blue of my Heidelberg memories – and the sun shone in brilliant majesty, throwing down glancing points of light onto the ever-swelling wave-tops, as if God himself were casting a myriad new-born stars across the face of the waters.

We walked some distance in silence.

‘Are you happy, Ned?’ Tom suddenly asked.

We stopped, and I looked out across the dancing waves to where the vault of heaven met the shimmering horizon.

‘No, Tom,’ I replied, ‘I am not happy and, indeed, cannot say where happiness can be found in my life. But I am resolved.’ I turned to him and smiled. ‘This has done me good, Tom, as you knew very well that it would. You are right. I have immured myself here for too long. I have another life to lead.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say so,’ he said, grasping my hand. ‘I shall miss you, God knows. The best pupil I ever had – and the best friend. But it would grieve me more if you were to waste away here, and make no mark upon the world.’

‘Oh, I intend to make a mark on the world, Tom, have no fear. From this moment I am reborn.’

It was true. I had felt a surge of energy as I gazed out at the mighty rolling ocean, alive with sunlight – a new consciousness that my life now had purpose and definition. I had made my decision. I would go to London, and from there I would begin my great enterprise.

My restoration.

^*[‘Labour conquers’. Ed.]

^*[James Bell (1769–1833), A New and Comprehensive Gazetteer of England and Wales (1833–4). William Cobbett (1763–1835), A Geographical Dictionary of England and Wales (1832). Ed.]

^*[John Burke (1787–1848), A General and Heraldic Dictionary of the Peerage and Baronetage of the British Empire, first published by Henry Colburn in 1826, and now generally known as Burke’s Peerage. The 1830 edition was the third. Ed.]

^*[Charles Duport (1648–1711) was created a Duke in the Jacobite peerage – a title without legal existence in England. His son, Robert Duport (1679–1741), a stout Protestant, inherited only the Barony. Ed.]

^*[i.e. sagittarius-lions, half-men, half-lions. Ed.]

^†[‘By Endurance We Conquer’. Ed.]

17

Alea iacta est^*

The only person whom I knew in London was my old school-friend and travelling companion, Willoughby Le Grice, to whom I immediately wrote to ask whether he could recommend suitable lodgings. He replied by return to say that a fellow at his Club had suggested I should write to a Signor Prospero Gallini, a former fencing master, who, by all accounts, now kept a good house in Camberwell.

I had taken the decision to abandon my given name of Glyver, except of course with respect to those few, like Le Grice and Tom Grexby, who already knew me. It was not mine by birth but was a kind of alias, imposed on me, without my knowledge or consent, by others. What loyalty did I owe the name of Glyver? None. Captain Glyver was not my father. Why, then, should I bear his name? I was who I was, whatever I chose to call myself; and so, until I could redeem my rightful name and title, I would put on whatever pseudonym suited my present purposes. My whole life would be a disguise, a daily change of dress and character. I would inhabit a costumed world, entering