Our good-natured Begum was at first so much enraged at this lastinstance of her husband's duplicity and folly, that she refused to giveSir Francis Clavering any aid in order to meet his debts of honour,and declared that she would separate from him, and leave him to theconsequences of his incorrigible weakness and waste. After that fatalday's transactions at the Derby, the unlucky gambler was in such acondition of mind that he was disposed to avoid everybody; alike histurf-associates with whom he had made the debts which he trembled lesthe should not have the means of paying, and his wife, his long-sufferingbanker, on whom he reasonably doubted whether he should be allowed anylonger to draw. When Lady Clavering asked the next morning whether SirFrancis was in the house, she received answer that he had not returnedthat night, but had sent a messenger to his valet, ordering him toforward clothes and letters by the bearer. Strong knew that he shouldhave a visit or a message from him in the course of that or thesubsequent day, and accordingly got a note beseeching him to call uponhis distracted friend F. C. at Short Hotel, Blackfriars, and ask for Mr.Francis there. For the Baronet was a gentleman of that peculiarityof mind that he would rather tell a lie than not, and always began acontest with fortune by running away and hiding himself. The Boots ofMr. Short's establishment, who carried Clavering's message to GrosvenorPlace, and brought back his carpet-bag, was instantly aware who was theowner of the bag, and he imparted his information to the footman whowas laying the breakfast-table, who carried down the news to theservants'-hall, who took it to Mrs. Bonner, my lady's housekeeper andconfidential maid, who carried it to my lady. And thus every singleperson in the Grosvenor Place establishment knew that Sir Francis wasin hiding, under the name of Francis, at an inn in the Blackfriars Road.And Sir Francis's coachman told the news to other gentlemen's coachmen,who carried it to their masters, and to the neighbouring 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 Sir FrancisClavering, Bart., which found their way to his hall-table, was quiteremarkable. 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, theeminent milliner, also forwarded their little bills to her ladyship,in company with Miss Amory's private, and by no means inconsiderable,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 custom atGrosvenor Place, he found all these suspicious documents ranged in theBaronet's study; and began to open them and examine them with a ruefulcountenance.
Mrs. Bonner, my lady's maid and housekeeper, came down upon him whilstengaged in this occupation. Mrs. Bonner, a part of the family and asnecessary to her mistress as the Chevalier was to Sir Francis, wasof course 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 a lowpublic-house and don't dare to face his wife like a man!--and say thatwe won't pay his debts no longer. We made a man of him, we took him outof gaol (and other folks too perhaps), we've paid his debts over andover again--we set him up in Parliament and gave him a house in town andcountry, and where he don't dare show his face, the shabby sneak! We'vegiven him the horse he rides and the dinner he eats and the very clotheshe has on his back; and we will give him no more. Our fortune, such asis left of it, is left to ourselves, and we won't waste any more of iton this ungrateful man. We'll give him enough to live upon and leavehim, that's what we'll do: and that's what you may tell him from SusanBonner."
Susan Bonner's mistress hearing of Strong's arrival sent for him at thisjuncture, and the Chevalier went up to her ladyship not without hopesthat he should find her more tractable than her factotum Mrs. Bonner.Many a time before had he pleaded his client's cause with Lady Claveringand caused her good-nature to relent. He tried again once more. Hepainted in dismal colours the situation in which he had found SirFrancis: and would not answer for any consequences which might ensue ifhe could not find means of meeting his engagements.
"Kill hisself," laughed Mrs. Bonner, "kill hisself, will he? Dying'sthe best 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 shilling leftof which he can rob a poor woman. His life's quite safe, Captain: youmay depend upon that. Ah! it was a bad day that ever I set eyes on him."
"He's worse than the first man," cried out my lady's aide-de-camp."He was 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,and robbing 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 relent oncemore at least, and that there were hopes still for his principal.
"Upon my word, ma'am," he said, with a real feeling of sympathy for LadyClavering's troubles, and admiration for her untiring good-nature, andwith a show of enthusiasm which advanced not a little his gracelesspatron's cause--"anything you say against Clavering, or Mrs. Bonner herecries out against me, is no better than we deserve, both of us, and itwas an unlucky day for you when you saw either. He has behaved cruellyto you and if you were not the most generous and forgiving woman in theworld, I know there would be no chance for him. But you can't let thefather of your son be a disgraced man, and send little Frank into theworld with such a stain upon him. Tie him down; bind him by any promisesyou like: I vouch for him that he will subscribe 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 intend tobet upon this race, ma'am--indeed he didn't. He was cheated into it: allthe ring was taken in. He thought he might make the bet quite safely,without the least risk. And it will be a lesson to him for all his lifelong. 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 his principal,when he recounted this scene to him, "you'll keep your promise thistime: and, so help me Heaven! if you break word with her, I'll turnagainst you, and tell all."
"What all?" cried Mr. Francis, to whom his ambassador 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 suppose Icould have lived so long in the world, Frank Clavering, without havingmy eyes about me? You know I have but to speak and you are a beggarto-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 recognised 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 the otherhad interpreted his wish rightly. "Oh, Strong!" he cried, "if I dared,I'd put an end to myself, for I'm the d-----est mi
serable dog in allEngland. It's that that makes me so wild and reckless. It's that whichmakes me take to drink" (and he drank, with a trembling hand, a bumperof his fortifier--the curacoa), "and to live about with these thieves. Iknow they're thieves, every one of 'em, d----d thieves. And--and howcan I help it?--and I didn't know it, you know--and, by Gad, I'minnocent--and until I saw the d----d scoundrel first, I knew no moreabout it than the dead--and I'll fly, and I'll go abroad out of thereach 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 miserable beggar inall England!" And so with more tears, shrieks, and curses, the impotentwretch vented his grief and deplored his unhappy fate; and, in the midstof groans and despair and blasphemy, vowed his miserable repentance.
The honoured 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. Theman was "good," by a lucky hap, with whom Colonel Altamont made hisbet; 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 the Baronetto liquidate his own money transactions), paid over the notes to theBaronet's many creditors--Colonel Altamont had the satisfaction ofreceiving 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 parlour of the convivial Wheeler, my host ofthe Harlequin's Head, came to witness their comrade's good fortune, andwould have liked, with a generous sympathy for success, to share in it."Now was the time," Tom Driver had suggested to the Colonel, "to haveup 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-smuggling scheme,the audacity of which pleased the Colonel more than any other of thespeculations proposed to him. Then of the Harlequin's Head boys: therewas Jack Rackstraw, who knew of a pair of horses which the Colonel mustbuy; Tom Fleet, whose satirical paper, The Swell, wanted but two hundredpounds of capital to be worth a thousand a year to any man--"with sucha power and influence, Colonel, you rogue, and the entree of thegreen-rooms in London," Tom urged; whilst little Moss Abiams entreatedthe Colonel not to listen to these absurd fellows with their humbuggingspeculations, but to invest his money in some good bills which Mosscould get for him, and which would return him fifty per cent as safe asthe Bank of England.
Each and all of these worthies came round the Colonel with their variousblandishments; but he had courage enough to resist them, and to buttonup his notes in the pocket of his coat, and go home to Strong, and"sport" the outer door of the chambers. Honest Strong had given hisfellow-lodger good advice about all his acquaintances; and though, whenpressed, he did not mind frankly taking twenty pounds himself out of theColonel's winnings, Strong was a great deal too upright to let otherscheat him.
He was not a bad fellow when in good fortune, this Altamont. He ordereda smart livery for Grady, and made poor old Costigan shed tears ofquickly dried gratitude by giving him a five-pound note after a snugdinner at the Back Kitchen, and he bought a green shawl for Mrs. Bolton,and a yellow one for Fanny: the most brilliant "sacrifices" of a RegentStreet haberdasher's window. And a short time after this, upon herbirthday, which happened in the month of June, Miss Amory received from"a friend" a parcel containing an enormous brass inlaid writing-desk,in which there was a set of amethysts, the most hideous eyes ever lookedupon,--a musical snuff-box, and two Keepsakes of the year before last,and accompanied with a couple of gown pieces of the most astoundingcolours, the receipt of which goods made the Sylphide laugh and wonderimmoderately. Now it is a fact that Colonel Altamont had made a purchaseof cigars and French silks from some duffers in Fleet Street aboutthis period; and he was found by Strong in the open Auction Room inCheapside, having invested some money in two desks, several pairs ofrichly-plated candlesticks, a dinner epergne, and a bagatelle-board. Thedinner epergne remained at chambers, and figured at the banquets there,which the Colonel gave pretty freely. It seemed beautiful in his eyes,until Jack Holt said it looked as if it had been taken "in a bill." AndJack Holt certainly knew.
The dinners were pretty frequent at chambers, and Sir Francis Claveringcondescended to partake of them constantly. His own house was shut up:the successor of Mirobolant, who had sent in his bills so prematurely,was dismissed by the indignant Lady Clavering: the luxuriance of theestablishment was greatly pruned and reduced. One of the large footmenwas cashiered, upon which the other gave warning, not liking to servewithout his mate, or in a family where on'y one footman was kep'.General and severe economical reforms were practised by the Begum inher whole household, in consequence of the extravagance of which hergraceless husband had been guilty. The Major, as her ladyship's friend;Strong, on the part of poor Clavering; her ladyship's lawyer, andthe honest Begum herself, executed these reforms with promptitude andseverity. After paying the Baronet's debts, the settlement of whichoccasioned considerable public scandal, and caused the Baronet to sinkeven lower in the world's estimation than he had been before, LadyClavering quitted London for Tunbridge Wells in high dudgeon, refusingto see her reprobate husband, whom nobody pitied. Clavering remainedin London patiently, by no means anxious to meet his wife's justindignation, and sneaked in and out of the House of Commons, whence heand Captain Raff and Mr. Marker would go to have a game at billiardsand a cigar or showed in the sporting public-houses; or might be seenlurking about Lincoln's Inn and his lawyers', where the principals kepthim for hours waiting, and the clerks winked at each other, as he satein their office. No wonder that he relished the dinners at Shepherd'sInn, and was perfectly resigned there: resigned? he was so happy nowhereelse; he was wretched amongst his equals, who scorned him--but here hewas the chief guest at the table, where they continually addressedhim with "Yes, Sir Francis" and "No, Sir Francis," where he told hiswretched jokes, and where he quavered his dreary little French song,after Strong had sung his Jovial chorus, and honest Costigan hadpiped his Irish ditties. Such a jolly menage as Strong's, with Grady'sIrish-stew, and the Chevalier's brew of punch after dinner, would havebeen welcome to many a better man than Clavering, the solitude of whosegreat house at home frightened him, where he was attended only by theold woman who kept the house, and his valet who sneered at him.
"Yes, dammit," said he to his friends in Shepherd's Inn, "that fellow ofmine, I must turn him away, only I owe him two years' wages, curse him,and can't ask my lady. He brings me my tea cold of a morning, with adem'd leaden teaspoon, and he says my lady's sent all the plate to thebanker's because it ain't safe.--Now ain't it hard that she won't trustme with a single teaspoon; ain't it ungentlemanlike, Altamont? You knowmy lady's of low birth--that is--I beg your pardon--hem--that is,it's most cruel of her not to show more confidence in me. And the veryservants begin to laugh--the damn scoundrels! I break every bone intheir great hulking bodies, curse 'em, I will.--They don't answermy bell: and--and my man was at Vauxhall last night with one of mydress-shirts and my velvet waistcoat on, I know it was mine--theconfounded impudent blackguard--and he went on dancing before my eyesconfound him! I'm sure he'll live to be hanged--he deserves to behanged--all those infernal 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--he andhis comrades had been obliged to slink on board at night, to escape fromtheir wives, by Jove--and how the poor devils put out in their canoeswhen they saw the ship under sail, and paddled madly after her: how hehad been lost in the bush once for three months in New South Wales, whenhe was there once on a t
rading speculation: how he had seen Boney atSaint Helena, and been presented to him with the rest of the officersof the Indiaman of which he was a mate--to all these tales (and over hiscups Altamont told many of them; and, it must be owned, lied and braggeda great deal) Sir Francis now listened with great attention; making apoint of drinking wine with Altamont at dinner and of treating him withevery distinction.
"Leave him alone, I know what he's a-coming to," Altamont said, laughingto Strong, who remonstrated with him, "and leave me alone; I know whatI'm a-telling, very well. I was officer on board an Indiaman, so I was;I traded to New South Wales, so I did, in a ship of my own, and losther. I became officer to the Nawaub, so I did; only me and my royalmaster have had a difference, Strong--that's it. Who's the better orthe worse for what I tell? or knows anything about me? The other chap isdead--shot in the bush, and his body reckonised at Sydney. If I thoughtanybody would split, do you think I wouldn't wring his neck? I've doneas good before now, Strong--I told you how I did for the overseer beforeI took leave--but in fair fight, I mean--in fair fight; or, rayther, hehad the best of it. He had his gun and bay'net, and I had only an axe.Fifty of 'em saw it--ay, and cheered me when I did it--and I'd do itagain,--him, wouldn't I? I ain't afraid of anybody; and I'd have thelife of the man who split upon me. That's my maxim, and pass me theliquor.--You wouldn't turn on a man. I know you. You're an honestfeller, and will stand by a feller, and have looked death in theface like a man. But as for that lily-livered sneak--that poor lyin'swindlin' cringin' cur of a Clavering--who stands in my shoes--standsin my shoes, hang him! I'll make him pull my boots off and clean 'em, Iwill. Ha, ha!" Here he burst out into a wild laugh, at which Stronggot up and put away the brandy-bottle. The other still laughedgood-humouredly. "You're right, old boy," he said; "you always keepyour head cool, you do--and when I begin to talk too much--I say, when Ibegin to pitch, I authorise you, and order you, and command you, to putaway the rum-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 wife forbeing ungenerous to him; he abused Strong for being ungrateful--hundredsof pounds had he given Ned Strong--been his friend for life and kepthim out of gaol, by Jove,--and now Ned was taking her ladyship's sideagainst him and abetting her in her infernal unkind treatment of him."They've entered into a conspiracy to keep me penniless, Altamont," theBaronet said: "they don't give me as much pocket money as Frank has atschool."
"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 a Memberof Parliament and an old English Baronet, by Gad! obliged to puta 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 shed tears,sir,--tears; and that d----d valet of mine--curse him, I wish he washanged!--he had the confounded impudence to threaten to tell my lady: asthe things in my own house weren't my own, to sell or to keep, or flingout of window if I chose--by Gad! the confounded scoundrel.
"Cry a little; don't mind cryin' before me--it'll relieve youClavering," the other said. "Why, I say, old feller, what a happy fellerI once thought you, and what a miserable son of a gun you really are!"
"It's a shame that they treat me so, ain't it?" Clavering went on,--for,though ordinarily silent and apathetic, about his own griefs the Baronetcould whine for an hour at a time. "And--and, by Gad, sir, I haven't gotthe money to pay the very cab that's waiting for me at the door; and theporteress, that Mrs. Bolton, lent me three shillin's, and I don't liketo ask her for any more: and I asked that d----d old Costigan, theconfounded old penniless Irish miscreant, and he hadn't got a shillin',the beggar; and Campion's out of town, or else he'd do a little bill forme, I know he would."
"I thought you swore on your honour 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 for ever--for ever, my dearestfriend," cried Clavering.
"How much would you give? Will you give a fifty-pound bill, at sixmonths, 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 anything youlike."
"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 oath, Iwill."
"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, and it'llkeep you ever so long. You needn't 'ave butchers' meat: there's pigs,I dare say, on the premises: and you can shoot rabbits for dinner, youknow, every day till the game comes in. Besides, the neighbours will askyou about to dinner, you know, sometimes: for you are a Baronet, thoughyou have outrun the constable. And you've got this comfort, that I'm offyour shoulders for a good bit to come--p'raps this two years--if I don'tplay; and I don't intend to touch the confounded black and red: and bythat time my lady, as you call her--Jimmy, I used to say--will havecome round again; and you'll be ready for me, you know, and come downhandsomely to yours truly."
At this juncture of their conversation Strong returned, nor did theBaronet care much about prolonging the talk, having got the money:and he made his way from Shepherd's Inn, and went home and bulliedhis servant in a manner so unusually brisk and insolent that the manconcluded his master must have pawned some more of the house furniture,or, at any rate, have come into possession of some ready money.
* * * * * *
"And yet I've looked over the house, Morgan, and I don't thin hehas took 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 bejews 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 got moneysomehow. He's so dam'd imperent when he have. A few nights ago I sorhim at Vauxhall, where I was a-polkin with Lady Hemly Babewood's gals--awery pleasant room that is, and an uncommon good lot in it, hall exceptthe 'ousekeeper, and she's methodisticle--I was a-polkin--you're too olda 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 hedidn'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 heverythin: ponies, and pianna, and brougham,and all. Mrs. Montague were hoff to Boulogne,--non est inwentus, Mr.Morgan. It's my belief she put the execution in herself: and was tiredof him."
"Play much?" asked Morgan.
"Not since the smash. When your Governor, and the lawyers, and my ladyand him had that tremendous scene: he went down on his knees, my ladytold Mrs. Bonner, as told me,--and s
wear as he never more would toucha card 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 some oneelse had better book up for him, for he'd have kep' some of the money.He's a sly old cove, your Gov'nor."
The expression of "old cove," thus flippantly applied by the youngergentleman to himself and his master, displeased Mr. Morgan exceedingly.On the first occasion, when Mr. Lightfoot used the obnoxious expression,his comrade's anger was only indicated by a silent frown; but on thesecond offence, Morgan, who was smoking his cigar elegantly, and holdingit on the tip of his penknife, withdrew the cigar from his lips, andtook his young friend 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 words ain't usedin society; and we have lived in the fust society, both at 'ome andforing. We've been intimate with the fust statesmen of Europe. When wego abroad we dine with Prince Metternitch and Louy Philup reg'lar. Wego here to the best houses, the tip-tops, I tell you. We ride with LordJohn and the noble Whycount at the edd of Foring Affairs. We dine withthe Hearl of Burgrave, and are consulted by the Marquis of Steyne ineverythink. We ought to know a thing or two, Mr. Lightfoot. You're ayoung man, I'm an old cove, as you say. We've both seen the world, andwe both know that it ain't money, nor bein' a Baronet, nor 'avin' a townand country 'ouse, nor a paltry 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; "it may havebeen, Mr. Lightfoot, but it ain't six now, nor five, sir. It's beendoosedly dipped and cut into, sir, by the confounded extravygance ofyour master, with his helbow shakin', and his bill discountin', and hiscottage in the Regency Park, and his many wickednesses. He's a bad un,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 dussay wrung out of the pore starving blacks--thatwill give a pusson position in society, as you know very well. We've nomoney, but we go everywhere; there's not a housekeeper's room, sir, inthis town of any consiquince, where James Morgan ain't welcome. And itwas me who got you into this Club, Lightfoot, as you very well know,though I am an old cove, and they would have blackballed you without meas 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 when theFrenchman went away. And if you think, sir, that because you're makingup to Mrs. Bonner, who may have saved her two thousand pound--and I daresay she has in five-and-twenty years as she have lived confidential maidto Lady Clavering--yet, sir, you must remember who put you into thatservice; and who knows what you were before, sir, and it don't becomeyou, Frederic Lightfoot, to call me an old 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. Andwe'll get the 'Clavering Arms' for a very little; and that'll be no badthing when the railroad runs through Clavering. And when we are there, Ihope 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 the hairrefreshed 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 his cheek,but remained wisely silent.
"Is his man any good, Mr. Morgan?" Lightfoot resumed.
"Pidgeon 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,and smacked their lips, and winked their eyes at it, and rallied thelandlord as to the vintage, in the most approved manner of connoisseurs,Morgan's ruffled equanimity was quite restored, and he was prepared totreat his young friend with perfect good-humour.
"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 Miss A.into Mrs. A. P., comprendy vous?"
"She and her Ma's always quarrellin'," said Mr. Lightfoot. "Bonneris more than a match for the old lady, and treats Sir Francis likethat--like this year spill, which I fling into the grate. But shedaren't say a word to Miss Amory. No more dare none of us. When avisitor comes in, she smiles and languishes, you'd think that butterwouldn't melt in her mouth: and the minute he is gone, very likely, sheflares up like a little demon, and says things fit to send you wild. IfMr. 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, a minutebefore. She do stick pins into her and pinch her. Mary Hann showed meone of her arms quite black and blue; and I recklect Mrs. Bonner, who'sas jealous of me as a old cat, boxed her ears for showing me. And thenyou should see Miss at luncheon, when there's nobody but the family! Shemakes b'leave she never heats, and my! you should only jest see her. Shehas Mary Hann to bring her up plum-cakes and creams into her bedroom;and the cook's the only man in the house she's civil to. Bonner says,how, the second season in London, Mr. Soppington was a-goin' to proposefor her, and actially came one day, and sor her fling a book into thefire, and scold her mother so, that he went down softly by the backdroring-room door, which he came in by; and next thing we heard ofhim was, he was married to Miss Rider. Oh, she's a devil, that littleBlanche, and that's my candig apinium, Mr. Morgan."
"Apinion, not apinium, Lightfoot, my good fellow," Mr. Morgan said, withparental kindness, and then asked of his own bosom with a sigh, why thedeuce does my Governor want Master Arthur to marry such a girl as this?and the tete-a-tete of the two gentlemen was broken up by the entryof other gentlemen, members of the Club--when fashionable town-talk,politics, cribbage, and other amusements ensued, and the conversationbecame general.
The Gentleman's Club was held in the parlour of the Wheel of Fortunepublic-house, in a snug little by-lane, leading out of one of the greatstreets of Mayfair, and frequented by some of the most select gentlemenabout town. Their masters' affairs, debts, intrigues, adventures; theirladies' good and bad qualities and quarrels with their husbands; all thefamily secrets were here discussed with perfect freedom and confidence,and here, when about to enter into a new situation, a gentleman wasenabled to get every requisite information regarding the family ofwhich he proposed to become a member. Liveries it may be imaginedwere excluded from this select precinct; and the powdered heads of thelargest metropolitan footmen might bow down in vain entreating admissioninto the Gentleman's Club. These outcast giants in plush took their beerin an outer apartment of the Wheel of Fortune, and could no more get anentry into the Clubroom than a Pall Mall tradesman or a Lincoln's Innattorney could get admission into Bays's or Spratt's. And it is becausethe conversation which we have permitted to overhear here, in somemeasure explains the characters and bearings of our story, that we haveventured to introduce the reader into a society so exclusive.
The History of Pendennis Page 63
