Thomas Marston

“ I began to Marston.
"But at this time of the year," interrupted the Countess immediately, "Lukstein has no rival. Cornfields redden below it, beeches are marshalled green up the hillside behind it, gentian picks out a mosaic on the grass, and night and day waterfalls tumble their music through the air. Yet even in winter, when the ice binds it and gags its voices, it has a quiet charm of silence whereof the memory makes one homesick." ”

“ He knew the hour we were to start, and we had sent a man out to him with a vacuum bottle full of coffee and half a dozen buttered rolls for his breakfast. The messenger was standing alongside his car, smoking a cigaret.
I galloped over to George William, followed in order by Les and Bailey. Marston should have had the canvas covers off motors and cockpits, and everything ready for the warmup.
“Sorry to disturb your rest, Marston,” I told him as we came within a few feet of him. “It’s a shame to get you up before noon, but you can get your beauty sleep back at Langham.” ”

“ My father was a very firm man. I am not Sir Matthew Marston's son, and I do not scruple to describe him as an obstinate man. But in this world the people who say "yes" generally beat the people who say "no"—hence comes progress or decadence, which you will—and although both Sir Matthew and my father insisted that the acquaintance between Miss Marston and myself should not continue, the acquaintance did continue. ”

“ Gloss declared he had never found any man so open to conviction, and Sir Walter vowed that old Marston was the only Radical that ever listened to reason.
When I visited Marston Hall two months ago, on my road to Penzance, matters were strangely altered in the establishment. I found the old gentleman sitting in his library with a huge bundle of printed placards before him, and a quantity of scribbled paper lying on his table. The County Meeting was in agitation; and Mr. Marston, to the astonishment of every one, had determined to take the field against bigotry and persecution. ”

“ Miss Marston was, in fact, a mere name to me; and since consequently she held no place in my thoughts, it had not occurred to me to connect her in any way with this chance acquaintance of the gaming-table. Now, however, the relationship struck me with a peculiar and even menacing significance. It recalled to me the few words Marston had spoken in the window; and, lo! not half an hour after their utterance, here was, as it were, a guarantee of their fulfilment. ”

“ Marston was still standing as if concrete had set in his backbone.
“Sit down, Major,” I told him, and I’ll swear the “Major” just slipped out naturally.
He relaxed, but did not subside on the tool chest next to him. His eyes, which popped out so far they could have been knocked off with a stick, met mine steadily. We had instinctively hated each other, I think, from the first time we met.
“Well, this is a rather peculiar situation, Marston,” I told him as I ignited a cheroot. “The man that tried to break me is now under me.”
“And about to be broken himself,” Marston interrupted me. ”

“ He loitered slowly on, by the same old road, into Castle Street, the high-street of the quaint little town of steep roofs and many gables. The hall-door of the "Verney Arms" was open, and the light of the lamp glowed softly on the pavement.
Mr. Marston hated suspense. He would rather make a bad bargain, off-hand, than endure the torture of a long negotiation. He would stride out to meet a catastrophe rather than await its slow, sidelong approaches. This intolerance of uncertainty made him often sudden in action. ”

“ He uncrossed his legs as he spoke, and the scabbard of his sword rattled against the frame of the bed. The sound, chiming appositely to my thoughts, urged me to embrace my plan, and I did embrace it, though reluctantly. After all, I thought, 'twas a dishonourable wooing that Marston was about. So I said, with a sneer:
"Men have been called snivelling curs for better conduct than yours." ”

“ He called two of the crew and ordered the gangway steps down and the port dinghy cleared and lowered. Then he went to the chart-room and sat on a locker and tried to figure out whether he was wonderfully happy or supremely miserable.
Marston promptly closeted himself with his three wise men of business after he went aft. “We'll frame up those telegrams now and get them off,” he told them. “I thought I'd better wait until I had worked the bile out of my system. Never try to do sane and safe business when you're angry, gentlemen! ”

“ Ilga bent forward hurriedly.
"You do not know the man!" and in a whisper she added: "For my sake--you do not!"
There were only four steps between us. I took them all in one spring.
"For your sake, is it?" and I caught her hand.
"Hush!" she said, disengaging herself. Marston's voice sounded in the entrance. "You do not know! Oh, you do not!" she beseeched in shaking tones. Then she drew back quickly, and leaned against the balustrade. ”

“ After all, Marston was the safer man of business, even from the worldly point of view. Alone, it is true, he would hardly have made money, but he would have got through, and would have left his daughter the means of getting through also; for he would have left her in possession of her own peace and the confidence of her friends, which will always prove enough for those who confess themselves to be strangers and pilgrims on the earth—those who regard it as a grand staircase they have to climb, not a plain on which to build their houses and plant their vineyards. ”

“ Marston rose, throwing, as he did so, a guilty and furious glance at the young Frenchwoman, and walked a step or two toward the door; he hesitated, however, and turned, just as mademoiselle, bursting into tears, threw her arms round Mrs. Marston's neck, and passionately exclaimed, "Protect me, madame, I implore, from the insults and suspicions of your husband."
Marston stood a little behind his wife, and he and the governess exchanged a glance of keen significance, as the latter sank, sobbing, like an injured child into its mother's embrace, upon the poor lady's tortured bosom. ”

“ Marston, so far as morals were considered, might have been almost anything: you saw it in his curious eyes, with their pale irises, the flat, dead color of his skin, like the belly of a snake; in the grim, traplike mouth. Quarrier had never deceived himself as to the President of Intervale Steel. The thing was fantastic, unreal—and yet. It might easily be a trap, and worse. Peril, the more subtile because unknown, was all about him; he felt it, like an emanation. What was it that the psychological sharps would call it? An aura, as of some invisible and deadly presence, seeing, although unseen. ”

“ But his invective by its general tone, goes far to justify Mr W. J. Courthope’s [1] judgment that “it is likely enough that in seeming to satirize the world without him, he is usually holding up the mirror to his own prurient mind.”
On the 28th of September 1599 Henslowe notices in his diary that he lent “unto Mr Maxton, the new poete, the sum of forty shillings,” as an advance on a play which is not named. Another hand has amended “Maxton” to “Mastone.” The earliest plays to which Marston’s name is attached are The History of Antonio and Mellida. The First Part ”

“ The representative of this noble house resided at the family mansion in Sussex, and the cadet, whose fortunes we mean to sketch in these pages, lived upon the narrow margin of an encumbered income, in a reserved and unsocial discontent, deep among the solemn shadows of the old woods of Gray Forest.
The Hon. Richard Marston was now somewhere between forty and fifty years of age—perhaps nearer the latter; he still, however, retained, in an eminent degree, the traits of manly beauty, not the less remarkable for its unquestionably haughty and passionate character. ”

“ But Charles Marston and I are certainly the two rudest people in the world: do you not think so, Colonel Middleton, now that you know us both?"
"No, indeed," replied Henry; "I do not think the term applicable in either case. Marston is certainly not a man of ceremonies, and I have not yet----"
"Oh! fine speeches! fine speeches!" exclaimed Lady Anne; "when will men have done with fine speeches? ”

“ Marston had learned much in America, and he saw a way to utilize his experience.
High-art crime has been developed rapidly in these latter days. Edward Marston was one of its pioneers. He brought to the ‘business’ in which he embarked education, skill, ingenuity, and a knowledge of the world.
As he sits this morning in his newly furnished villa in the Camden Road his plans are formed, his capital is invested, he is at the head of an obedient and well-organized staff, and he is about to embark on the perilous and daring enterprise. His capital is the £500 Birnie had repaid him. ”

“ I knew Heckett watched me here last night, and I didn’t tell you, because I saw you were nervous already. I formed my scheme on that, and played my cards so as to force him up here to-night. It was the best place for a sham arrest I could think of. But bring a light and some water, and show us the way into the garden. I don’t want the poor devil outside to bleed to death.’
Marston led the way below like a man in a dream. ”

“ John Marston (1575–1634) was born at Coventry, was educated there and at Oxford, became a literary figure in London, and later took orders. Latterly he resigned his living in Hampshire, and died in London.
Marston specialized in violent and melodramatic tragedies, which do not lack a certain impressiveness, but which are easily parodied and no less easily lead to abuse. They impressed his own generation, who rated him with Jonson. For a later age they are spoiled to a great extent by exaggeration, rant, and excessive speeches. ”

“ Even such a one was my Antonio.
[The cornets sound a senet.
Ros. By my nine and thirtieth servant, sweet,
Thou art in love; but stand on tiptoe, [63] fair;
Here comes Saint Tristram Tirlery Whiffe, i’faith.
Enter Matzagente; Piero meets him, embraceth; at which the cornets sound a flourish: they two stand, using seeming compliments, whilst the scene passeth above.
Mel. St. Mark, St. Mark! what kind of thing appears?
Ros. For fancy’s passion, spit upon him! Fie,
His face is varnish’d. In the name of love,
What country bred that creature?
Mel. What is he, Flavia? 120
Fla. ”

“ You are very closely concerned in the old gentleman’s death.’
‘What!’
Marston leapt from his chair as though he had been shot. The professional gentleman was astonished, but he didn’t show it. Professional gentlemen never do.
‘Yes, my dear sir, you are indeed concerned in his death, but pleasantly’ (rubbing his hands) —‘very pleasantly indeed. By a will dated some time previous to the painful affair the whole of his property is left to a lady, the daughter of Mr. John Adrian.’
Marston could hardly believe his ears. ‘Ruth an heiress!’ he exclaimed. ‘I really don’t understand. ”

“ He was doing his best, Marston was, and he was having trouble—as every man should. And that trouble I knew even better than he, for I had once known a Southern girl who was so tender of heart that she could refuse no man who really loved her she accepted him and sent him to her father, who did all of her refusing for her. And I knew no man would know that he had won the Blight until he had her at the altar and the priestly hand of benediction was above her head. ”

“ I had always been too busy upbraiding myself upon that very score. Yet I could not but realise now how plausible the notion appeared. 'Twas plain that Marston believed I had been carefully playing a part; and I wondered: Would Ilga imagine that, too, when I told her my story? Would she believe that my deference and hesitation had been assumed to beguile her? I gazed at Marston, horror-stricken by the conjecture.
"Ay!" said he, nodding an answer to my look, "we have found each other out. Come, let us be frank! We are just a couple of dishonest scoundrels, and preaching befits neither of us." ”

“ The servant who had been sent on to Dumont before Monsieur de Villardin and myself, had, amongst other pieces of news, communicated to the whole household my new dignity as Baron de Juvigny, and, as soon as Jacques Marlot beheld me, he made me a lowly reverence, in compliment to my new dignity, though with the solemnity which pervaded his salutation there was mixed a certain touch of droll humour, which showed that he had not quite forgot the John Marston Hall whom he had formerly known. ”

“ Marston was a generous fellow, beloved by those who knew him, but quarantined by his morbid reserve from wide acquaintanceship. Temperament—ah, that is a wonderful thing! It is to a man what clouds and mists are to a land! Without them, there is only arid desert—with too many, there are storm and endless rain and dreary winds. He had the storms and rain and winds in his life—but over all he had the genius! The masters knew that before they had criticized [Pg 232] him six months. In a year, they stood abashed before him.”
“Go on, please!” prompted Duska, in a soft voice of sympathetic interest. ”

“ In 1878 he was bereaved with equal suddenness of his sister Cicely, to whom one of his most beautiful poems is addressed, and whose devotion to him was absolute. His surviving sister, Eleanor, died early in the following year; her husband, Arthur O'Shaughnessy [q. v.] , followed shortly, and a few years later Marston lost a sincere friend and literary comrade in the gifted and unhappy James Thomson [q. v.] ”