CHAPTER XXII.
CONVERSATIONS.
Our good-natured Begum was at first so much enraged at this lastinstance of her husband's duplicity and folly, that she refused togive Sir Francis Clavering any aid in order to meet his debts ofhonor, and declared that she would separate from him, and leave him tothe consequences of his incorrigible weakness and waste. After thatfatal day's transactions at the Derby, the unlucky gambler was in sucha condition of mind that he was disposed to avoid every body--alikehis turf-associates with whom he had made debts which he trembled lesthe should not have the means of paying, and his wife, hislong-suffering banker, on whom he reasonably doubted whether he shouldbe allowed any longer to draw. When Lady Clavering asked the nextmorning whether Sir Francis was in the house, she received answer thathe had not returned that night, but had sent a messenger to his valet,ordering him to forward clothes and letters by the bearer. Strong knewthat he should have a visit or a message from him in the course ofthat or the subsequent day, and accordingly got a note beseeching himto call upon his distracted friend F. C., at Short's Hotel,Blackfriars, and ask for Mr. Francis there. For the baronet was agentleman of that peculiarity of mind that he would rather tell a liethan not, and always began a contest with fortune by running away andhiding himself. The boots of Mr. Short's establishment, who carriedClavering's message to Grosvenor-place, and brought back hiscarpet-bag, was instantly aware who was the owner of the bag, and heimparted his information to the footman who was laying thebreakfast-table, who carried down the news to the servant's hall, whotook it to Mrs. Bonner, my lady's housekeeper and confidential maid,who carried it to my lady. And thus every single person in theGrosvenor-place establishment knew that Sir Francis was in hiding,under the name of Francis, at an inn in the Blackfriar's-road. And SirFrancis's coachman told the news to other gentlemen's coachmen, whocarried it to their masters, and to the neighboring Tattersall's,where very gloomy anticipations were formed that Sir Francis Claveringwas about to make a tour in the Levant.
In the course of that day the number of letters addressed to SirFrancis Clavering, Bart., which found their way to his hall table, wasquite remarkable. The French cook sent in his account to my lady; thetradesmen who supplied her ladyship's table, and Messrs. Finer andGimcrack, the mercers and ornamental dealers, and Madame Crinoline,the eminent milliner, also forwarded their little bills to herladyship in company with Miss Amory's private, and by no meansinconsiderable, account at each establishment.
In the afternoon of the day after the Derby, when Strong (after acolloquy with his principal at Short's hotel, whom he found crying anddrinking Curacoa) called to transact business according to his customat Grosvenor-place, he found all these suspicious documents ranged inthe baronet's study; and began to open them and examine them with arueful countenance.
Mrs. Bonner, my lady's maid and housekeeper, came down upon him whileengaged in this occupation. Mrs. Bonner, a part of the family, and asnecessary to her mistress as the chevalier was to Sir Francis, was ofcourse on Lady Clavering's side in the dispute between her and herhusband, and as by duty bound even more angry than her ladyship herself.
"She won't pay if she takes my advice," Mrs. Bonner said. "You'llplease to go back to Sir Francis, Captain--and he lurking about in alow public-house and don't dare to face his wife like a man;--and saythat we won't pay his debts no longer. We made a man of him, we tookhim out of jail (and other folks too perhaps), we've paid his debtsover and over again--we set him up in Parliament and gave him a housein town and country, and where he don't dare to show his face, theshabby sneak! We've given him the horse he rides, and the dinner heeats, and the very clothes he has on his back; and we will give him nomore. Our fortune, such as is left of it, is left to ourselves, and wewont waste any more of it on this ungrateful man. We'll give himenough to live upon and leave him, that's what we'll do: and that'swhat you may tell him from Susan Bonner."
Susan Bonner's mistress hearing of Strong's arrival sent for him atthis juncture, and the chevalier went up to her ladyship not withouthopes that he should find her more tractable than her factotum Mrs.Bonner. Many a time before had he pleaded his client's cause with LadyClavering and caused her good-nature to relent. He tried again oncemore. He painted in dismal colors the situation in which he had foundSir Francis: and would not answer for any consequences which mightensue if he could not find means of meeting his engagements. "Killhisself," laughed Mrs. Bonner, "kill hisself, will he? Dying's thebest thing he could do." Strong vowed that he had found him with therazors on the table; but at this, in her turn, Lady Clavering laughedbitterly. "He'll do himself no harm, as long as there's a shillingleft of which he can rob a poor woman. His life's quite safe, captain:you may depend upon that. Ah! it was a bad day that ever I set eyeson him."
"He's worse than the first man," cried out my lady's aid-de-camp. "Hewas a man, he was--a wild devil, but he had the courage of aman--whereas this fellow--what's the use of my lady paying his bills,and selling her diamonds, and forgiving him? He'll be as bad againnext year. The very next chance he has he'll be a cheating of her, androbbing of her; and her money will go to keep a pack of rogues andswindlers--I don't mean you, captain--you've been a good friend to usenough, bating we wish we'd never set eyes on you."
The chevalier saw from the words which Mrs. Bonner had let slipregarding the diamonds, that the kind Begum was disposed to relentonce more at least, and that there were hopes still for his principal.
"Upon my word, ma'am," he said, with a real feeling of sympathy forLady Clavering's troubles, and admiration for her untiringgood-nature, and with a show of enthusiasm which advanced not a littlehis graceless patron's cause--"any thing you say against Clavering, orMrs. Bonner here cries out against me, is no better than we deserve,both of us, and it was an unlucky day for you when you saw either. Hehas behaved cruelly to you; and if you were not the most generous andforgiving woman in the world, I know there would be no chance for him.But you can't let the father of your son be a disgraced man, and sendlittle Frank into the world with such a stain upon him. Tie him down;bind him by any promises you like: I vouch for him that he willsubscribe them."
"And break 'em," said Mrs. Bonner.
"And keep 'em this time," cried out Strong. "He must keep them. If youcould have seen how he wept, ma'am! 'Oh, Strong,' he said to me, 'it'snot for myself I feel now: it's for my boy--it's for the best woman inEngland, whom I have treated basely--I know I have.' He didn't intendto bet upon this race, ma'am--indeed he didn't. He was cheated intoit: all the ring was taken in. He thought he might make the bet quitesafely, without the least risk. And it will be a lesson to him for allhis life long. To see a man cry--Oh, it's dreadful."
"He don't think much of making my dear missus cry," said Mrs.Bonner--"poor dear soul!--look if he does, captain."
"If you've the soul of a man, Clavering," Strong said to hisprincipal, when he recounted this scene to him, "you'll keep yourpromise this time: and, so help me Heaven! if you break word with her,I'll turn against you, and tell all."
"What, all?" cried Mr. Francis, to whom his embassador brought thenews back at Short's hotel, where Strong found the baronet crying anddrinking Curacoa.
"Psha! Do you suppose I am a fool?" burst out Strong. "Do you supposeI could have lived so long in the world, Frank Clavering, with outhaving my eyes about me? You know I have but to speak, and you are abeggar to-morrow. And I am not the only man who knows your secret."
"Who else does?" gasped Clavering.
"Old Pendennis does, or I am very much mistaken. He recognized the manthe first night he saw him, when he came drunk into your house."
"He knows it, does he?" shrieked out Clavering. "Damn him--kill him."
"You'd like to kill us all, wouldn't you old boy?" said Strong, with asneer, puffing his cigar.
The baronet dashed his weak hand against his forehead; perhaps theother had interpreted his wish rightly. "Oh, Strong!" he cried, "if Idared, I'd put an end to myself, for I'm the d--est miserable dog inal
l England. It's that that makes me so wild and reckless. It's thatwhich makes me take to drink (and he drank, with a trembling hand, abumper of his fortifier--the Curacoa), and to live about with thesethieves. I know they're thieves, every one of em, d--d thieves.And--and how can I help it?--and I didn't know it, you know--and, bygad, I'm innocent--and until I saw the d--d scoundrel first, I knew nomore about it than the dead--and I'll fly, and I'll go abroad out ofthe reach of the confounded hells, and I'll bury myself in a forest,by gad! and hang myself up to a tree--and, oh--I'm the most miserablebeggar in all England!" And so with more tears, shrieks, and curses,the impotent wretch vented his grief and deplored his unhappy fate;and, in the midst of groans and despair and blasphemy, vowed hismiserable repentance.
The honored proverb which declares that to be an ill wind which blowsgood to nobody, was verified in the case of Sir Francis Clavering, andanother of the occupants of Mr. Strong's chambers in Shepherd's Inn.The man was "good," by a lucky hap, with whom Colonel Altamont madehis bet; and on the settling day of the Derby--as Captain Clinker, whowas appointed to settle Sir Francis Clavering's book for him (for LadyClavering, by the advice of Major Pendennis, would not allow thebaronet to liquidate his own money transactions), paid over the notesto the baronet's many creditors--Colonel Altamont had the satisfactionof receiving the odds of thirty to one in fifties, which he had takenagainst the winning horse of the day.
Numbers of the colonel's friends were present on the occasion tocongratulate him on his luck--all Altamont's own set, and the gentswho met in the private parlor of the convivial Wheeler, my host of theHarlequin's Head, came to witness their comrade's good fortune, andwould have liked, with a generous sympathy for success, to share init. "Now was the time," Tom Driver had suggested to the colonel, "tohave up the specie ship that was sunk in the Gulf of Mexico, with thethree hundred and eighty thousand dollars on board, besides bars anddoubloons." "The Tredyddlums were very low--to be bought for an oldsong--never was such an opportunity for buying shares," Mr. Keightleyinsinuated; and Jack Holt pressed forward his tobacco-smugglingscheme, the audacity of which pleased the colonel more than any otherof the speculations proposed to him. Then of the Harlequin's Headboys: there was Jack Hackstraw, who knew of a pair of horses which thecolonel must buy; Tom Fleet, whose satirical paper, "The Swell,"wanted but two hundred pounds of capital to be worth a thousand a yearto any man--"with such a power and influence, colonel, you rogue, andthe _entree_ of all the green-rooms in London," Tom urged; whilelittle Moss Abrams entreated the colonel not to listen to these absurdfellows with their humbugging speculations, but to invest his money insome good bills which Moss could get for him, and which would returnhim fifty per cent, as safe as the Bank of England.
Each and all of these worthies came round the colonel with theirvarious blandishments; but he had courage enough to resist them, andto button up his notes in the pocket of his coat, and go home toStrong, and "sport" the outer door of the chambers. Honest Strong hadgiven his fellow-lodger good advice about all his acquaintances; andthough, when pressed, he did not mind frankly taking twenty poundshimself out of the colonel's winnings, Strong was a great deal tooupright to let others cheat him.
He was not a bad fellow when in good fortune, this Altamont. Heordered a smart livery for Grady, and made poor old Costigan shedtears of quickly dried gratitude by giving him a five-pound note aftera snug dinner at the Back-Kitchen, and he bought a green shawl forMrs. Bolton, and a yellow one for Fanny: the most brilliant"sacrifices" of a Regent-street haberdasher's window. And a short timeafter this, upon her birth-day, which happened in the month of June,Miss Amory received from "a friend" a parcel containing an enormousbrass-inlaid writing-desk, in which there was a set of amethysts, themost hideous eyes ever looked upon--a musical snuff-box, and twokeepsakes of the year before last, and accompanied with a couple ofgown-pieces of the most astounding colors, the receipt of which goodsmade the Sylphide laugh and wonder immoderately. Now it is a fact thatColonel Altamont had made a purchase of cigars and French silks fromsome duffers in Fleet-street about this period; and he was found byStrong in the open Auction-room, in Cheapside, having invested somemoney in two desks, several pairs of richly-plated candlesticks, adinner epergne and a bagatelle-board. The dinner epergne remained atchambers and figured at the banquets there, which the colonel gavepretty freely. It seemed beautiful in his eyes, until Jack Holt saidit looked as if it had been taken in "a bill." And Jack Holtcertainly knew.
The dinners were pretty frequent at chambers, and Sir Francis Claveringcondescended to partake of them constantly. His own house wasshut up; the successor of Mirobolant, who had sent in his bills soprematurely, was dismissed by the indignant Lady Clavering; theluxuriance of the establishment was greatly pruned and reduced. One ofthe large footmen was cashiered, upon which the other gave warning,not liking to serve without his mate, or in a family where on'y onefootman was kep'. General and severe economical reforms were practicedby the Begum in her whole household, in consequence of theextravagance of which her graceless husband had been guilty. Themajor, as her ladyship's friend; Strong, on the part of poorClavering; her ladyship's lawyer, and the honest Begum herself,executed these reforms with promptitude and severity. After paying thebaronet's debts, the settlement of which occasioned considerablepublic scandal, and caused the baronet to sink even lower in theworld's estimation than he had been before, Lady Clavering quittedLondon for Tunbridge Wells in high dudgeon, refusing to see herreprobate husband, whom nobody pitied. Clavering remained in Londonpatiently, by no means anxious to meet his wife's just indignation,and sneaked in and out of the House of Commons, whence he and CaptainRaff and Mr. Marker would go to have a game at billiards and a cigar:or showed in the sporting public-houses; or might be seen lurkingabout Lincoln's Inn and his lawyers', where the principals kept himfor hours waiting, and the clerks winked at each other, as he sat intheir office. No wonder that he relished the dinners at Shepherd'sInn, and was perfectly resigned there: resigned? he was so happynowhere else; he was wretched among his equals, who scorned him; buthere he was the chief guest at the table, where they continuallyaddressed him with "Yes, Sir Francis," and "No, Sir Francis," where hetold his wretched jokes, and where he quavered his dreary littleFrench song, after Strong had sung his jovial chorus, and honestCostigan had piped his Irish ditties. Such a jolly menage as Strong's,with Grady's Irish stew, and the chevalier's brew of punch afterdinner, would have been welcome to many a better man than Clavering,the solitude of whose great house at home frightened him, where he wasattended only by the old woman who kept the house, and his valet whosneered at him.
"Yes, dammit," said he, to his friends in Shepherd's Inn. "That fellowof mine, I must turn him away, only I owe him two years' wages, cursehim, and can't ask my lady. He brings me my tea cold of a morning,with a dem'd leaden tea-spoon, and he says my lady's sent all theplate to the banker's because it ain't safe. Now ain't it hard thatshe won't trust me with a single tea-spoon--ain't it ungentlemanlike,Altamont? You know my lady's of low birth--that is--I beg yourpardon--hem--that is, it's most cruel of her not to show moreconfidence in me. And the very servants begin to laugh--the damscoundrels! I'll break every bone in their great hulking bodies, curse'em, I will. They don't answer my bell: and--and, my man was atVauxhall last night with one of my dress shirts and my velvetwaistcoat on, I know it was mine--the confounded impudentblackguard--and he went on dancing before my eyes, confound him; I'msure he'll live to be hanged--he deserves to be hanged--all thoseinfernal rascals of valets."
He was very kind to Altamont now: he listened to the colonel's loudstories when Altamont described how--when he was working his way homeonce from New Zealand, where he had been on a whaling expedition--heand his comrades had been obliged to shirk on board at night, toescape from their wives, by Jove--and how the poor devils put out intheir canoes when they saw the ship under sail, and paddled madlyafter her: how he had been lost in the bush once for three months inNew South Wales, when he was there once on a trading speculation:
howhe had seen Boney at Saint Helena, and been presented to him with therest of the officers of the Indiaman of which he was a mate--to allthese tales (and over his cups Altamont told many of them; and, itmust be owned, lied and bragged a great deal) Sir Francis now listenedwith great attention; making a point of drinking wine with Altamont atdinner and of treating him with every distinction.
"Leave him alone, I know what he's a-coming to," Altamont said,laughing to Strong, who remonstrated with him, "and leave me alone; Iknow what I'm a-telling, very well. I was officer on board anIndiaman, so I was; I traded to New South Wales, so I did, in a shipof my own, and lost her. I became officer to the Nawaub, so I did;only me and my royal master have had a difference, Strong--that's it.Who's the better or the worse for what I tell? or knows any thingabout me? The other chap is dead--shot in the bush, and his bodyreckonized at Sydney. If I thought any body would split, do you thinkI wouldn't wring his neck? I've done as good before now, Strong--Itold you how I did for the overseer before I took leave--but in fairfight, I mean--in fair fight; or, rayther, he had the best of it. Hehad his gun and bay'net, and I had only an ax. Fifty of 'em sawit--ay, and cheered me when I did it--and I'd do it again,--him,wouldn't I? I ain't afraid of any body; and I'd have the life of theman who split upon me. That's my maxim, and pass me the liquor--_You_wouldn't turn on a man. I know you. You're an honest feller, and willstand by a feller, and have looked death in the face like a man. Butas for that lily-livered sneak--that poor lyin', swindlin', cringin'cur of a Clavering--who stands in my shoes--stands in my shoes, hanghim! I'll make him pull my boots off and clean 'em, I will. Ha, ha!"Here he burst out into a wild laugh, at which Strong got up and putaway the brandy-bottle. The other still laughed good-humoredly."You're right, old boy," he said; "you always keep your head cool, youdo--and when I begin to talk too much--I say, when I begin to _pitch_,I authorize you, and order you, and command you, to put away therum-bottle."
"Take my counsel, Altamont," Strong said, gravely, "and mind how youdeal with that man. Don't make it too much his interest to get rid ofyou; or who knows what he may do?"
The event for which, with cynical enjoyment, Altamont had been on thelook-out, came very speedily. One day, Strong being absent upon anerrand for his principal, Sir Francis made his appearance in thechambers, and found the envoy of the Nawaub alone. He abused the worldin general for being heartless and unkind to him: he abused his wifefor being ungenerous to him: he abused Strong for beingungrateful--hundreds of pounds had he given Ned Strong--been hisfriend for life and kept him out of jail, by Jove--and now Ned wastaking her ladyship's side against him and abetting her in herinfernal, unkind treatment of him. "They've entered into a conspiracyto keep me penniless, Altamont," the baronet said: "they don't give meas much pocket-money as Frank has at school."
"Why don't you go down to Richmond and borrow of him, Clavering?"Altamont broke out with a savage laugh. "He wouldn't see his poor oldbeggar of a father without pocket-money, would he?"
"I tell you, I've been obliged to humiliate myself cruelly," Claveringsaid. "Look here, sir--look here, at these pawn-tickets! Fancy amember of Parliament and an old English baronet, by gad! obliged toput a drawing-room clock and a Buhl inkstand up the spout; and a goldduck's head paper-holder, that I dare say cost my wife five pound, forwhich they'd only give me fifteen-and-six! Oh, it's a humiliatingthing, sir, poverty to a man of my habits; and it's made me shedtears, sir--tears; and that d--d valet of mine--curse him, I wish hewas hanged!--has had the confounded impudence to threaten to tell mylady: as if the things in my own house weren't my own, to sell or tokeep, or to fling out of window if I chose--by gad! the confoundedscoundrel."
"Cry a little; don't mind cryin' before me--it'll relieve you,Clavering" the other said. "Why, I say, old feller, what a happyfeller I once thought you, and what a miserable son of a gun youreally are!"
"It's a shame that they treat me so, ain't it," Clavering wenton--for, though ordinarily silent and apathetic, about his own griefsthe baronet could whine for an hour at a time. "And--and, by gad, sir,I haven't got the money to pay the very cab that's waiting for me atthe door; and the porteress, that Mrs. Bolton, lent me threeshillin's, and I don't like to ask her for any more: and I asked thatd--d old Costigan, the confounded old penniless Irish miscreant, andhe hadn't got a shillin', the beggar; and Campion's out of town, orelse he'd do a little bill for me, I know he would."
"I thought you swore on your honor to your wife that you wouldn't putyour name to paper," said Mr. Altamont, puffing at his cigar.
"Why does she leave me without pocket-money then? Damme, I must havemoney," cried out the baronet. "Oh, Am--, Oh, Altamont, I'm the mostmiserable beggar alive."
"You'd like a chap to lend you a twenty-pound-note, wouldn't you now?"the other asked.
"If you would, I'd be grateful to you forever--forever, my dearestfriend," cried Clavering. "How much would you give? Will you give afifty-pound bill, at six months, for half down and half in plate,"asked Altamont.
"Yes, I would, so help me--, and pay it on the day," screamedClavering. "I'll make it payable at my banker's: I'll do any thingyou like."
"Well, I was only chaffing you. I'll _give_ you twenty pound."
"You said a pony," interposed Clavering; "my dear fellow, you said apony, and I'll be eternally obliged to you; and I'll not take it as agift--only as a loan, and pay you back in six months. I take my oathI will."
"Well--well--there's the money, Sir Francis Clavering. I ain't a badfellow. When I've money in my pocket, dammy, I spend it like a man.Here's five-and-twenty for you. Don't be losing it at the hells now.Don't be making a fool of yourself. Go down to Clavering Park, andit'll keep you ever so long. You needn't 'ave butchers' meat: there'spigs I dare say on the premises: and you can shoot rabbits for dinner,you know, every day till the game comes in. Besides, the neighborswill ask you about to dinner, you know, sometimes: for you _are_ abaronet, though you have outrun the constable. And you've got thiscomfort, that _I'm_ off your shoulders for a good bit to come--p'rapsthis two years--if I don't play; and I don't intend to touch theconfounded black and red: and by that time my lady, as you call her--Jimmy, I used to say--will have come round again; and you'll be readyfor me, you know, and come down handsomely to yours truly."
At this juncture of their conversation Strong returned, nor did thebaronet care much about prolonging the talk, having got the money: andhe made his way from Shepherd's Inn, and went home and bullied hisservant in a manner so unusually brisk and insolent, that the manconcluded his master must have pawned some more of the housefurniture, or at any rate, have come into possession of someready money.
"And yet I've looked over the house, Morgan, and I don't think he hastook any more of the things," Sir Francis's valet said to MajorPendennis's man, as they met at their club soon after. "My lady lockedup a'most all the befews afore she went away, and he couldn't takeaway the picters and looking-glasses in a cab: and he wouldn't spoutthe fenders and fire-irons--he ain't so bad as that. But he's gotmoney somehow. He's so dam'd imperent when he have. A few nights ago Isor him at Vauxhall, where I was a polkin with Lady Hemly Babewood'sgals--a wery pleasant room that is, and an uncommon good lot in it,hall except the 'ousekeeper, and she's methodisticle--I was apolkin--you're too old a cove to polk, Mr. Morgan--and 'ere's your'ealth--and I 'appened to 'ave on some of Clavering's _abberdashery_,and he sor it too; and he didn't dare so much as speak a word."
"How about the house in St. John's Wood?" Mr. Morgan asked.
"Execution in it.--Sold up hevery thing: ponies and pianna, andBrougham, and all. Mrs. Montague Rivers hoff to Boulogne--non estinwentus, Mr. Morgan. It's my belief she put the execution in herself:and was tired of him."
"Play much?" asked Morgan.
"Not since the smash. When your governor, and the lawyers, and my ladyand him had that tremenduous scene: he went down on his knees, my ladytold Mrs. Bonner, as told me--and swoar as he never more would touch acard or a dice, or put his name to a bit of paper; and my
lady wasa-goin' to give him the notes down to pay his liabilities after therace: only your governor said (which he wrote it on a piece of paper,and passed it across the table to the lawyer and my lady), that someone else had better book up for him, for he'd have kep' some of themoney. He's a sly old cove, your gov'nor." The expression of "oldcove," thus flippantly applied by the younger gentleman to himself andhis master, displeased Mr. Morgan exceedingly. On the first occasion,when Mr. Lightfoot used the obnoxious expression, his comrade's angerwas only indicated by a silent frown; but on the second offense,Morgan, who was smoking his cigar elegantly, and holding it on the tipof his penknife, withdrew the cigar from his lips, and took his youngfriend to task.
"Don't call Major Pendennis an old cove, if you'll 'ave the goodness,Lightfoot, and don't call _me_ an old cove, nether. Such wordsain't used in society; and we have lived in the fust society, both at'ome and foring. We've been intimate with the fust statesmen ofEurope. When we go abroad we dine with Prince Metternitch and LouyPhilup reg'lar. We go here to the best houses, the tip-tops, I tellyou. We ride with Lord John and the noble Whycount at the edd ofForing Affairs. We dine with the Earl of Burgrave, and are consultedby the Marquis of Steyne in every think. We _ought_ to know athing or two, Mr. Lightfoot. You're a young man, I'm an old cove, asyou say. We've both seen the world, and we both know that it ain'tmoney, nor bein' a baronet, nor 'avin' a town and country 'ouse, nor apaltry five or six thousand a year."
"It's ten, Mr. Morgan," cried Mr. Lightfoot, with great animation.
"It _may_ have been, sir," Morgan said, with calm severity; "itmay have been Mr. Lightfoot, but it ain't six now, nor five, sir. It'sbeen doosedly dipped and cut into, sir, by the confounded extravyganceof your master, with his helbow-shakin' and his bill discountin', andhis cottage in the Regency Park, and his many wickednesses. He's a badun, Mr. Lightfoot--a bad lot, sir, and that you know. And it ain'tmoney, sir--not such money as that, at any rate, come from a Calcuttarattorney, and I dessay wrung out of the pore starving blacks--thatwill give a pusson position in society, as you know very well. We'veno money, but we go every where; there's not a housekeeper's room,sir, in this town of any consiquince, where James Morgan ain'twelcome. And it was me who got you into this club, Lightfoot, as youvery well know, though I am an old cove, and they would haveblackballed you without me, as sure as your name is Frederic."
"I know they would, Mr. Morgan," said the other, with much humility.
"Well, then, don't call me an old cove, sir. It ain't gentlemanlike,Frederic Lightfoot, which I knew you when you was a cab-boy, and whenyour father was in trouble, and got you the place you have now whenthe Frenchman went away. And if you think, sir, that because you'remaking up to Mrs. Bonner, who may have saved her two thousandpound--and I dare say she has in five-and-twenty years as she havelived confidential maid to Lady Clavering--yet, sir, you must rememberwho put you into that service, and who knows what you were before,sir, and it don't become you, Frederic Lightfoot, to call me anold cove."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Morgan--I can't do more than make anapology--will you have a glass, sir, and let me drink your 'ealth?""You know I don't take sperrits, Lightfoot," replied Morgan, appeased."And so you and Mrs. Bonner is going to put up together, are you?"
"She's old, but two thousand pound's a good bit, you see, Mr. Morgan.And we'll get the 'Clavering Arms' for a very little; and that'll beno bad thing when the railroad runs through Clavering. And when we arethere, I hope you'll come and see us, Mr. Morgan."
"It's a stoopid place, and no society," said Mr. Morgan. "I know itwell. In Mrs. Pendennis's time we used to go down reg'lar, and thehair refreshed me after the London racket."
"The railroad will improve Mr. Arthur's property," remarked Lightfoot."What's about the figure of it, should you say, sir?"
"Under fifteen hundred, sir," answered Morgan; at which the other, whoknew the extent of poor Arthur's acres, thrust his tongue in hischeek, but remained wisely silent.
"Is his man any good, Mr. Morgan?" Lightfoot resumed.
"Pigeon ain't used to society as yet; but he's young and has goodtalents, and has read a good deal, and I dessay he will do very well,"replied Morgan. "He wouldn't quite do for _this_ kind of thing,Lightfoot, for he ain't seen the world yet."
When the pint of sherry for which Mr. Lightfoot called, upon Mr.Morgan's announcement that he declined to drink spirits, had beendiscussed by the two gentlemen, who held the wine up to the light, andsmacked their lips, and winked their eyes at it, and rallied thelandlord as to the vintage, in the most approved manner ofconnoisseurs, Morgan's ruffled equanimity was quite restored, and hewas prepared to treat his young friend with perfect good-humor.
"What d'you think about Miss Amory, Lightfoot?--tell us in confidence,now--do you think we should do well--you understand--if we make MissA. into Mrs. A. P.? _Comprendy vous_?"
"She and her ma's always quarrelin'," said Mr. Lightfoot. "Bonner ismore than a match for the old lady, and treats Sir Francis like that--likethis year spill, which I fling into the grate. But she daren'tsay a word to Miss Amory. No more dare none of us. When a visitorcomes in, she smiles and languishes, you'd think that butter wouldn'tmelt in her mouth: and the minute he is gone, very likely, she flaresup like a little demon, and says things fit to send you wild. If Mr.Arthur comes, it's 'Do let's sing that there delightful song!' or,'Come and write me them pooty verses in this halbum!' and very likelyshe's been a rilin' her mother, or sticking pins into her maid, aminute before. She do stick pins into her and pinch her. Mary Hannshowed me one of her arms quite black and blue; and I recklect Mrs.Bonner, who's as jealous of me as a old cat, boxed her ears forshowing me. And then you should see Miss at luncheon, when there'snobody but the family! She makes b'leave she never eats, and my! youshould only jest see her. She has Mary Hann to bring her up plum-cakesand creams into her bedroom; and the cook's the only man in the houseshe's civil to. Bonner says, how, the second season in London,Mr. Soppington was a-goin' to propose for her, and actially came oneday, and sor her fling a book into the fire, and scold her mother so,that he went down softly by the back droring-room door, which he camein by; and next thing we heard of him was, he was married to MissRider. Oh, she's a devil, that little Blanche, and that's my candigapinium, Mr. Morgan."
"Apinion, not apinium, Lightfoot, my good fellow," Mr. Morgan said,with parental kindness, and then asked of his own bosom with a sigh,why the deuce does my governor want Master Arthur to marry such a girlas this? and the _tete-a-tete_ of the two gentlemen was broken up bythe entry of other gentlemen, members of the club--when fashionabletown-talk, politics, cribbage, and other amusements ensued, and theconversation became general.
The Gentleman's Club was held in the parlor of the Wheel of Fortunepublic-house, in a snug little by-lane, leading out of one of thegreat streets of May Fair, and frequented by some of the most selectgentlemen about town. Their masters' affairs, debts, intrigues,adventures; their ladies' good and bad qualities and quarrels withtheir husbands; all the family secrets were here discussed withperfect freedom and confidence, and here, when about to enter into anew situation, a gentleman was enabled to get every requisiteinformation regarding the family of which he proposed to become amember. Liveries it may be imagined were excluded from this selectprecinct; and the powdered heads of the largest metropolitan footmenmight bow down in vain, entreating admission into the Gentleman'sClub. These outcast giants in plush took their beer in an outerapartment of the Wheel of Fortune, and could no more get an entry intothe club room than a Pall Mall tradesman or a Lincoln's Inn attorneycould get admission into Bay's or Spratt's. And it is because theconversation which we have been permitted to overhear here, in somemeasure explains the characters and bearings of our story, that wehave ventured to introduce the reader into a society so exclusive.
The History of Pendennis, Volume 2 Page 22
