The Quest for Corvo: An Experiment in Biography (Valancourt eClassics) by A.J.A. Symons Read Free Book Online Page B

to Tripoli and photograph the sunken H.M.S. Victoria.
     
    As I have said, it is not my intention to transcribe the whole of the attack on Rolfe. Its compiler was industrious in recording every minor misdeed of his subject, and in giving actions which would have been ordinary enough when performed by ordinary people a sinister colour when performed by Rolfe. Some of the stories set out are, it must be admitted, definitely discreditable. The Baron tendered a cheque for £5 in settlement of some purchases, the balance to be paid to him in cash; but on inquiry the cheque was found to be, ‘to say the least of it, very far from satisfactory’. On the other hand, his efforts to sell his paintings ‘in the mediaeval style’ to the inappreciative people of Aberdeen were pathetic in their futility. After beseeching the interest of all the leading Catholics in Aberdeen, he offered them to the Lord Provost with the ingenuous yet ironical recommendation, ‘I venture, My Lord Provost, to suggest their appropriateness as a gift in connection with the Royal wedding, especially as they are the work of an artist who has settled in Aberdeen because of its exquisite suitability for his work’. But even that failed to draw.
    There is a certain humour in even the gloomiest of Rolfe’s adventures in the North. I quote again:
     
    The Baron continued to reside with [a] family in Skene Street from October 1892 until the beginning of August 1893. The head of the family was a hardworking tradesman, and he and his wife had taken a largish house with a view to keeping a superior class of boarders. Mr Rolfe was their chiefest venture in that direction; and when ultimately they got rid of him – in a highly dramatic way – he was due them the sum of £37.2.9 ½ . . . . At length the Baron’s landlord and landlady realised that the hope to which they had clung of receiving payment of his board and lodging in a lump sum was utterly baseless. They had taken no end of trouble with him. He was a vegetarian and a perfect epicure in the matter of his diet, making out each day from a cookery book the recipes for the day’s meals. . . . But, as already said, the people resolved to get rid of him. When the Baron realised that it was literally coming to a push, he would not stir out of the house: in the end he would not get out of bed lest, peradventure, he should be thrust forth. One evening about 6 o’clock the landlord besought the aid of a fellow-workman. They entered the Baron’s bedroom, and the Baron was given ten minutes to dress and clear out. He refused to move and when the ten minutes was up he seized hold of the iron bedstead and clung for dear life. He was dragged forth, wearing only his pyjamas, out to the staircase, where he caught hold of the banisters, and another struggle ensued. Thence he was carried down the long staircase and was shot on to the pavement, as he stood, to the wonderment of the passers-by. His clothing was thrown after him, which he ultimately donned – and that was the last of Baron Corvo in that particular locality.
     
    Poor Rolfe! His detractor calls this a ‘quaint experience’, but no doubt it was more miserable than ‘quaint’ to the man who suffered by it. On his ejectment he went to the Bishop, who enabled him to get supper and shelter for the night. Two months later, doubtless in desperation, the wretched outcast asked the House Surgeon at the Royal Infirmary to certify him as insane, in order that he might have free quarters, if only in the asylum. He besought recommendations so that he might try for the post of Librarian to Aberdeen University, but failed again. Then (according to the merciless record of his sufferings) the ‘Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor in Aberdeen’ took him up. The would-be photographer was given chemicals with which to carry out his experiments, and even money. From the 2nd September 1893 to the 16th November he received as gift the total of £5 19s.