Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER VI.

  "BUT HE IS;--HE IS."

  George Roden had come to a decision as to his title, and hadtold every one concerned that he meant to be as he always hadbeen,--George Roden, a clerk in the Post Office. When spokento, on this side and the other, as to the propriety,--or ratherimpropriety,--of his decision, he had smiled for the most part, andhad said but little, but had been very confident in himself. To noneof the arguments used against him would he yield in the least. Asto his mother's name, he said, no one had doubted, and no one woulddoubt it for a moment. His mother's name had been settled by herself,and she had borne it for a quarter of a century. She had not herselfthought of changing it. For her to blaze out into the world as aDuchess,--it would be contrary to her feelings, to her taste, and toher comfort! She would have no means of maintaining the title,--andwould be reduced to the necessity of still living in Paradise Row,with the simple addition of an absurd nickname. As to that, noquestion had been raised. It was only for him that she required thenew appellation.

  As for herself, the whole thing had been settled at once by her owngood judgment.

  As for himself, he said, the arguments were still stronger againstthe absurd use of the grand title. It was imperative on him to earnhis bread, and his only means of doing so was by doing his work as aclerk in the Post Office. Everybody admitted that it would not bebecoming that a Duke should be a clerk in the Post Office. It wouldbe so unbecoming, he declared, that he doubted whether any man couldbe found brave enough to go through the world with such a fool'scap on his head. At any rate he had no such courage. Moreover, noEnglishman, as he had been told, could at his own will and pleasurecall himself by a foreign title. It was his pleasure to be anEnglishman. He had always been an Englishman. As an inhabitant ofHolloway he had voted for two Radical members for the Borough ofIslington. He would not stultify his own proceedings, and declarethat everything which he had done was wrong. It was thus that heargued the matter; and, as it seemed, no one could take upon himselfto prove that he was an Italian, or to prove that he was a Duke.

  But, though he seemed to be, if not logical, at any rate rational,the world generally did not agree with him. Wherever he wasencountered there seemed to be an opinion that he ought to assumewhatever name and whatever rights belonged to his father. Even at thePost Office the world was against him.

  "I don't quite know why you couldn't do it," said Sir Boreas, whenRoden put it to him whether it would be practicable that a young mancalling himself Duca di Crinola should take his place as a clerkin Mr. Jerningham's room. It may be remembered that Sir Boreas hadhimself expressed some difficulty in the matter. He had told Mr.Jerningham that he did not think that they could get on very wellwith a real Duke among them. It was thus that the matter had at firststruck him. But he was a brave man, and, when he came to look at itall round, he did not see that there would be any impossibility. Itwould be a nine days' wonder, no doubt. But the man would be therejust the same,--the Post Office clerk inside the Duke. The workwould be done, and after a little time even he would become used tohaving a Duke among his subordinates. As to whether the Duke were aforeigner or an Englishman,--that, he declared, would not matter inthe least, as far as the Post Office was concerned. "I really don'tsee why you shouldn't try it," said Sir Boreas.

  "The absurdity would be so great that it would crush me, sir. Ishouldn't be worth my salt," said Roden.

  "That's a kind of thing that wears itself out very quickly. You wouldfeel odd at first,--and so would the other men, and the messengers.I should feel a little odd when I asked some one to send the Duca diCrinola to me, for we are not in the habit of sending for Dukes. Butthere is nothing that you can't get used to. If your father had beena Prince I don't think I should break down under it after the firstmonth."

  "What good would it do me, Sir Boreas?"

  "I think it would do you good. It is difficult to explain thegood,--particularly to a man who is so violently opposed as you toall ideas of rank. But--."

  "You mean that I should get promoted quicker because of my title?"

  "I think it probable that the Civil Service generally would finditself able to do something more for a good officer with a high namethan for a good officer without one."

  "Then, Sir Boreas, the Civil Service ought to be ashamed of itself."

  "Perhaps so;--but such would be the fact. Somebody would interfere toprevent the anomaly of the Duca di Crinola sitting at the same tablewith Mr. Crocker. I will not dispute it with you,--whether it oughtto be so;--but, if it be probable, there is no reason why you shouldnot take advantage of your good fortune, if you have capacity andcourage enough to act up to it. Of course what we all want in lifeis success. If a chance comes in your way I don't see why you shouldfling it away." This was the wisdom of Sir Boreas; but Roden wouldnot take advantage of it. He thanked the great man for his kindnessand sympathy, but declined to reconsider his decision.

  In the outer office,--in the room, for instance, in which Mr.Jerningham sat with Crocker and Bobbin and Geraghty, the feelingwas very much stronger in favour of the title, and was expressed instronger language. Crocker could not contain himself when he heardthat there was a doubt upon the subject. On Roden's first arrival atthe office Crocker almost flung himself into his friend's arms, withjust a single exclamation. "Duca, Duca, Duca!" he had said, and hadthen fallen back into his own seat overcome by his emotions. Rodenhad passed this by without remark. It was very distasteful to him,and disgusting. He would fain have been able to sit down at his owndesk, and go on with his own work, without any special notice of theoccasion, other than the ordinary greeting occasioned by his return.It was distressing to him that anything should have been known abouthis father and his father's title. But that it should be knownwas natural. The world had heard of it. The world had put it intothe newspapers, and the world had talked about it. Of course Mr.Jerningham also would talk of it, and the two younger clerks,--andCrocker. Crocker would of course talk of it louder than any one else.That was to be expected. A certain amount of misconduct was to beexpected from Crocker, and must be forgiven. Therefore he passed overthe ecstatic and almost hysterical repetition of the title whichhis father had borne, hoping that Crocker might be overcome by theeffort, and be tranquil. But Crocker was not so easily overcome. Hedid sit for a moment or two on his seat with his mouth open; but hewas only preparing himself for his great demonstration.

  "We are very glad to see you again,--sir," said Mr. Jerningham;not at first quite knowing how it would become him to address hisfellow-clerk.

  "Thank you, Mr. Jerningham. I have got back again safe."

  "I am sure we are all delighted to hear--what we have heard," saidMr. Jerningham cautiously.

  "By George, yes," said Bobbin. "I suppose it's true; isn't it? Such abeautiful name!"

  "There are so many things are true, and so many are false, that Idon't quite know how to answer you," said Roden.

  "But you are--?" asked Geraghty; and then he stopped, not quitedaring to trust himself with the grand title.

  "No;--that's just what I'm not," replied the other.

  "But he is," shouted Crocker, jumping from his seat. "He is! He is!It's quite true. He is Duca di Crinola. Of course we'll call him so,Mr. Jerningham;--eh?"

  "I am sure I don't know," said Mr. Jerningham with great caution.

  "You'll allow me to know my own name," said Roden.

  "No! no!" continued Crocker. "It's all very well for your modesty,but it's a kind of thing which your friends can't stand. We arequite sure that you're the Duca." There was something in the Italiantitle which was peculiarly soothing to Crocker's ears. "A manhas to be called by what he is, not by what he chooses. If theDuke of Middlesex called himself Mr. Smith, he'd be Duke all thesame;--wouldn't he, Mr. Jerningham? All the world would call himDuke. So it must be with you. I wouldn't call your Grace Mr. ----;you know what I mean, but I won't pronounce it ever again;--not forever so much." Roden's brow became very black as he found himselfsubjected to the effects of t
he man's folly. "I call upon the wholeoffice," continued Crocker, "for the sake of its own honour, to giveour dear and highly-esteemed friend his proper name on all occasions.Here's to the health of the Duca di Crinola!" Just at that momentCrocker's lunch had been brought in, consisting of bread and cheeseand a pint of stout. The pewter pot was put to his mouth and thetoast was drank to the honour and glory of the drinker's noble friendwith no feeling of intended ridicule. It was a grand thing to Crockerto have been brought into contact with a man possessed of so noblea title. In his heart of hearts he reverenced "The Duca." He wouldwillingly have stayed there till six or seven o'clock and have doneall the Duca's work for him,--because the Duca was a Duca. He wouldnot have done it satisfactorily, because it was not in his nature todo any work well, but he would have done it as well as he did hisown. He hated work; but he would have sooner worked all night thansee a Duca do it,--so great was his reverence for the aristocracygenerally.

  "Mr. Crocker," said Mr. Jerningham severely, "you are making yourselfa nuisance. You generally do."

  "A nuisance!"

  "Yes; a nuisance. When you see that a gentleman doesn't wish a thing,you oughtn't to do it."

  "But when a man's name is his name!"

  "Never mind. When he doesn't wish it, you oughtn't to do it!"

  "If it's a man's own real name!"

  "Never mind," said Mr. Jerningham.

  "If it shoots a gintleman to be incognito, why isn't he to do as heplaises?" asked Geraghty.

  "If the Duke of Middlesex did call himself Mr. Smith," said Bobbin,"any gentleman that was a gentleman would fall in with his views."Crocker, not conquered, but for the moment silenced, seated himselfin a dudgeon at his desk. It might do very well for poor fellows,weak creatures like Jerningham, Bobbin, and Geraghty, thus to be doneout of their prey;--but he would not be cheated in that way. The Ducadi Crinola should be Duca di Crinola as far as he, Crocker, couldmake his voice heard; and all that heard him should know that theDuca was his own old peculiar friend.

  In Paradise Row the world was decidedly against Roden; and not onlywere the Demijohns and Duffers against him, but also his own motherand her friend Mrs. Vincent. On the first Monday after Mrs. Roden'sreturn Mrs. Vincent came to the Row as usual,--on this occasion towelcome her cousin, and to hear all the news of the family as ithad been at last brought back from Italy. There was a great deal tobe told. Many things had been brought to light which had had theircommencement in Mrs. Vincent's days. There was something of thecontinuation of a mild triumph for her in every word that was spoken.She had been against the Di Crinola marriage, when it had beenfirst discussed more than a quarter of a century ago. She had neverbelieved in the Duca di Crinola, and her want of faith had beenaltogether justified. She did not, after all those years, bear hardlyon her friend,--but there was still that well-known tone of gentlecensure and of gentle self-applause. "I told you so," said the eldercrow to the younger crow. When does the old crow cease to remind theyounger crow that it was so? "A sad, sad story," said Mrs. Vincent,shaking her head.

  "All our stories I suppose have much in them that is sad. I have gotmy son, and no mother can have more reason to be proud of a son."Mrs. Vincent shook her head. "I say it is so," repeated the mother;"and having such a son, I will not admit that it has all been sad."

  "I wish he were more ready to perform his religious duties," saidMrs. Vincent.

  "We cannot all agree about everything. I do not know that that needbe brought up now."

  "It is a matter that should be brought up every hour and every day,Mary,--if the bringing of it up is to do any good."

  But it was not on this matter that Mrs. Roden now wished to getassistance from her cousin;--certainly not with any present viewtowards the amelioration of her son's religious faith. That mightcome afterwards perhaps. But it was her present object to induceher cousin to agree with her, that her son should permit himself tobe called by his father's title. "But you think he should take hisfather's name?" she asked. Mrs. Vincent shook her head and tried tolook wise. The question was one on which her feelings were very muchdivided. It was of course proper that the son should be called byhis father's name. All the proprieties of the world, as known to Mrs.Vincent, declared that it should be so. She was a woman, too, who byno means despised rank, and who considered that much reverence wasdue to those who were privileged to carry titles. Dukes and lordswere certainly very great in her estimation, and even the humblestknight was respected by her, as having been in some degree liftedabove the community by the will of his Sovereign. And though shewas always in some degree hostile to George Roden, because of theliberties he took in regard to certain religious matters, yet she wasgood enough and kind enough to wish well to her own cousin. Had therebeen a question in regard to an English title she certainly would nothave shaken her head. But as to this outlandish Italian title, shehad her doubts. It did not seem to her to be right that an Englishmanshould be called a Duca. If it had been Baron, or even Count, thename would have been less offensive. And then to her mind hereditarytitles, as she had known them, had been recommended by hereditarypossessions. There was something to her almost irreligious in theidea of a Duke without an acre. She could therefore only again shakeher head. "He has as much right to it," continued Mrs. Roden, "as hasthe eldest son of the greatest peer in England."

  "I dare say he has, my dear, but--."

  "But what?"

  "I dare say you're right, only--; only it's not just like an Englishpeer, you know."

  "The privilege of succession is the same."

  "He never could sit in the House of Lords, my dear."

  "Of course not. He would assume only what is his own. Why should hebe ashamed to take an Italian title any more than his friend LordHampstead is to take an English one? It is not as though it wouldprevent his living here. Many foreign noblemen live in England."

  "I suppose he could live here," said Mrs. Vincent as though she weremaking a great admission. "I don't think that there would be any lawto turn him out of the country."

  "Nor out of the Post Office, if he chooses to remain there," saidMrs. Roden.

  "I don't know how that may be."

  "Even if they did, I should prefer that it should be so. According tomy thinking, no man should fling away a privilege that is his own, orshould be ashamed of assuming a nobility that belongs to him. If notfor his own sake, he should do it for the sake of his children. Heat any rate has nothing to be ashamed of in the name. It belonged tohis father and to his grandfather, and to his ancestors through manygenerations. Think how men fight for a title in this country; howthey struggle for it when there is a doubt as to who may properlyhave inherited it! Here there is no doubt. Here there need be nostruggle." Convinced by the weight of this argument Mrs. Vincent gavein her adhesion, and at last expressed an opinion that her cousinshould at once call himself by his father's name.