CHAPTER LXV. Temptation
Easy and frank-spoken as Pendennis commonly was with Warrington, howcame it that Arthur did not inform the friend and depository of all hissecrets, of the little circumstances which had taken place at the villanear Tunbridge Wells? He talked about the discovery of his old tutorSmirke, freely enough, and of his wife, and of his Anglo-Norman church,and of his departure from Clapha to Rome; but, when asked about Blanche,his answers were evasive or general: he said she was a good-naturedclever little thing, that rightly guided she make no such bad wife afterall, but that he had for the moment no intention of marriage, that hisdays of romance were over, that he was contented with his present lot,and so forth.
In the meantime there came occasionally to Lamb Court, Temple, prettylittle satin envelopes, superscribed in the neatest handwriting, andsealed with one of those admirable ciphers, which, if Warrington hadbeen curious enough to watch his friend's letters, or indeed if thecipher had been decipherable, would have shown George that Mr. Arthurwas in correspondence with a young lady whose initials were B. A.To these pretty little compositions Mr. Pen replied in his best andgallantest manner; with jokes, with news of the town, with pointsof wit, nay, with pretty little verses very likely, in reply to theversicles of the Muse of 'Mes Larmes.' Blanche we know rhymes with"branch," and "stanch," and "launch," and no doubt a gentleman of Pen'singenuity would not forgo these advantages of position, and would ringthe pretty little changes upon these pleasing notes. Indeed we believethat those love-verses of Mr. Pen's, which had such a pleasing successin the 'Roseleaves,' that charming Annual edited by Lady Violet Lebas,and illustrated by portraits of the female nobility by the famous artistPinkney, were composed at this period of our hero's life; and were firstaddressed to Blanche per post, before they figured in print, cornets asit were to Pinkney's pictorial garland.
"Verses are all very well," the elder Pendennis said, who found Penscratching down one of these artless effusions at the Club as he waswaiting for his dinner; "and letter-writing if mamma allows it,and between such old country friends of course there may be acorrespondence, and that sort of thing--but mind, Pen, and don't commityourself, my boy. For who knows what the doose may happen? The best wayis to make your letters safe. I never wrote a letter in all my life thatwould commit me, and demmy, sir, I have had some experience of women."And the worthy gentleman, growing more garrulous and confidential withhis nephew as he grew older, told many affecting instances of theevil results consequent upon this want of caution to many persons in"Society;"--how from using too ardent expressions in some poetical notesto the widow Naylor, young Spoony had subjected himself to a visit ofremonstrance from the widow's brother, Colonel Flint; and thus had beenforced into a marriage with a woman old enough to be his mother: howwhen Louisa Salter had at length succeeded in securing young Sir JohnBird, Hopwood, of the Blues, produced some letters which Miss S. hadwritten to him, and caused a withdrawal on Bird's part, who afterwardswas united to Miss Stickney, of Lyme Regis, etc. The Major, if he hadnot reading, had plenty of observation, and could back his wise sawswith a multitude of modern instances, which he had acquired in a longand careful perusal of the great book of the world.
Pen laughed at the examples, and blushing a little at his uncle'sremonstrances, said that he would bear them in mind and be cautious.He blushed, perhaps, because he had borne them in mind; because he wascautious: because in his letters to Miss Blanche he had from instinct,or honesty perhaps, refrained from any avowals which might compromisehim. "Don't you remember the lesson I had, sir, in Lady Mirabel's--MissFotheringay's affair? I am not to be caught again, uncle," Arthur saidwith mock frankness and humility. Old Pendennis congratulated himselfand his nephew heartily on the latter's prudence and progress, and waspleased at the position which Arthur was taking as a man of the world.
No doubt, if Warrington had been consulted, his opinion would have beendifferent: and he would have told Pen that the boy's foolish letterswere better than the man's adroit compliments and slippery gallantries;that to win the woman he loves, only a knave or a coward advances undercover, with subterfuges, and a retreat secured behind him: but Pen spokenot on this matter to Mr. Warrington, knowing pretty well that he wasguilty, and what his friend's verdict would be.
Colonel Altamont had not been for many weeks absent on his foreign tour,Sir Francis Clavering having retired meanwhile into the country pursuantto his agreement with Major Pendennis, when the ills of fate began tofall rather suddenly and heavily upon the sole remaining partner of thelittle firm of Shepherd's Inn. When Strong, at parting with Altamont,refused the loan proffered by the latter in the fulness of his purse andthe generosity of his heart, he made such a sacrifice to conscience anddelicacy as caused him many an after twinge and pang; and he felt--itwas not very many hours in his life he had experienced the feeling--thatin this juncture of his affairs he had been too delicate and tooscrupulous. Why should a fellow in want refuse a kind offer kindly made?Why should a thirsty man decline a pitcher of water from a friendlyhand, because it was a little soiled? Strong's conscience smote him forrefusing what the other had fairly come by, and generously proffered:and he thought ruefully, now it was too late, that Altamont's cashwould have been as well in his pocket as in that of the gambling--houseproprietor at Baden or Ems, with whom his Excellency would infalliblyleave his Derby winnings. It was whispered among the tradesmen,bill-discounters, and others who had commercial dealings with CaptainStrong, that he and the Baronet had parted company, and that theCaptain's "paper" was henceforth of no value. The tradesmen, who had puta wonderful confidence in him hitherto,--for who could resist Strong'sjolly face and frank and honest demeanour?--now began to pour intheir bills with a cowardly mistrust and unanimity. The knocks at theShepherd's Inn chambers door were constant, and tailors, bootmakers,pastrycooks who had furnished dinners, in their own persons, or by theboys their representatives, held levees on Strong's stairs. To thesewere added one or two persons of a less clamorous but far more sly anddangerous sort,--the young clerks of lawyers, namely, who lurked aboutthe Inn, or concerted with Mr. Campion's young man in the chambers hardby, having in their dismal pocketbooks copies of writs to be served onEdward Strong, requiring him to appear on an early day next term beforeour Sovereign Lady the Queen, and answer to, etc. etc.
From this invasion of creditors, poor Strong, who had not a guineain his pocket, had, of course, no refuge but that of the Englishman'scastle, into which he retired, shutting the outer and inner door uponthe enemy, and not quitting his stronghold until after nightfall.Against this outer barrier the foe used to come and knock and curse invain, whilst the Chevalier peeped at them from behind the little curtainwhich he had put over the orifice of his letter-box; and had the dismalsatisfaction of seeing the faces of furious clerk and fiery dun, as theydashed up against the door and retreated from it. But as they could notbe always at his gate, or sleep on his staircase, the enemies of theChevalier sometimes left him free.
Strong, when so pressed by his commercial antagonists, was not quitealone in his defence against them, but had secured for himself an allyor two. His friends were instructed to communicate with him by a systemof private signals: and they thus kept the garrison from starving bybringing in necessary supplies, and kept up Strong's heart and preventedhim from surrendering by visiting him and cheering him in his retreat.Two of Ned's most faithful allies were Huxter and Miss Fanny Bolton:when hostile visitors were prowling about the Inn, Fanny's littlesisters were taught a particular cry or jodel, which they innocentlywhooped in the court: when Fanny and Huxter came up to visit Strong,they archly sang this same note at his door; when that barrier wasstraightway opened, the honest garrison came out smiling, the provisionsand the pot of porter were brought in, and in the society of hisfaithful friends the beleaguered one passed a comfortable night. Thereare some men who could not live under this excitement, but Strong was abrave man, as we have said, who had seen service and never lost heart inperil.
But besides allies, our general
had secured for himself, underdifficulties, that still more necessary aid, a retreat. It has beenmentioned in a former part of this history, how Messrs. Costigan andBows lived in the house next door to Captain Strong, and that the windowof one of their rooms was not very far off the kitchen-window which wassituated in the upper story of Strong's chambers. A leaden water-pipeand gutter served for the two; and Strong, looking out from his kitchenone day, saw that he could spring with great ease up to the sill of hisneighbour's window, and clamber up the pipe which communicated from oneto the other. He had laughingly shown this refuge to his chum, Altamont;and they had agreed that it would be as well not to mention thecircumstance to Captain Costigan, whose duns were numerous, and whowould be constantly flying down the pipe into their apartments if thisway of escape were shown to him.
But now that the evil days were come, Strong made use of the passage,and one afternoon burst in upon Bows and Costigan with his jolly face,and explained that the enemy was in waiting on his staircase, and thathe had taken this means of giving them the slip. So while Mr. Marks'saides-de-camp were in waiting in the passage of No. 3, Strong walkeddown the steps of No. 4, dined at the Albion, went to the play, andreturned home at midnight, to the astonishment of Mrs. Bolton and Fanny,who had not seen him quit his chambers and could not conceive how hecould have passed the line of sentries.
Strong bore this siege for some weeks with admirable spirit andresolution, and as only such an old and brave soldier would, for thepains and privations which he had to endure were enough to depress anyman of ordinary courage; and what vexed and riled him (to use his ownexpression) was the infernal indifference and cowardly ingratitude ofClavering, to whom he wrote letter after letter, which the Baronet neveracknowledged by a single word, or by the smallest remittance, though afive-pound note, as Strong said, at that time would have been a fortuneto him.
But better days were in store for the Chevalier, and in the midst of hisdespondency and perplexities there came to him a most welcome aid. "Yes,if it hadn't been for this good fellow here," said Strong,--"for a goodfellow you are, Altamont, my boy, and hang me if I don't stand by you aslong as I live,--I think, Pendennis, it would have been all up with NedStrong. I was the fifth week of my being kept a prisoner, for I couldn'tbe always risking my neck across that water-pipe, and taking my walksabroad through poor old Cos's window, and my spirit was quite broken,sir--dammy, quite beat, and I was thinking of putting an end to myself,and should have done it in another week, when who should drop down fromheaven but Altamont!"
"Heaven ain't exactly the place, Ned," said Altamont. "I came fromBaden-Baden," said he, "and I'd had a deuced lucky month there, that'sall."
"Well, sir, he took up Marks's bill, and he paid the other fellowsthat were upon me, like a man, sir, that he did," said Strong,enthusiastically.
"And I shall be very happy to stand a bottle of claret for this company,and as many more as the company chooses," said Mr. Altamont, with ablush. "Hallo! waiter, bring us a magnum of the right sort, do you hear?And we'll drink our healths all round, sir--and may every good fellowlike Strong find another good fellow to stand by him at a pinch. That'smy sentiment, Mr. Pendennis, though I don't like your name."
"No! And why?" asked Arthur.
Strong pressed the Colonel's foot under the table here; and Altamont,rather excited, filled up another bumper, nodded to Pen, drank off hiswine, and said, "He was a gentleman, and that was sufficient, and theywere all gentlemen."
The meeting between these "all gentlemen" took place at Richmond,whither Pendennis had gone to dinner, and where he found the Chevalierand his friend at table in the coffee-room. Both of the latter wereexceedingly hilarious, talkative, and excited by wine; and Strong, whowas an admirable story-teller, told the story of his own siege, andadventures, and escapes with great liveliness and humour, and describedthe talk of the sheriff's officers at his door, the pretty littlesignals of Fanny, the grotesque exclamations of Costigan when theChevalier burst in at his window, and his final rescue by Altamont, in amost graphic manner, and so as greatly to interest his hearers.
"As for me, it's nothing," Altamont said. "When a ship's paid off, achap spends his money, you know. And it's the fellers at the black andred at Baden-Baden that did it. I won a good bit of money there, andintend to win a good bit more, don't I, Strong? I'm going to take himwith me. I've got a system. I'll make his fortune, I tell you. I'll makeyour fortune, if you like--dammy, everybody's fortune. But what I'll do,and no mistake, boys, I promise you. I'll put in for that little Fanny.Dammy, sir, what do you think she did? She had two pound, and I'm blestif she didn't go and lend it to Ned Strong! Didn't she, Ned? Let's drinkher health."
"With all my heart," said Arthur, and pledged this toast with thegreatest cordiality.
Mr. Altamont then began, with the greatest volubility, at great length,to describe his system. He said that it was infallible, if played withcoolness; that he had it from a chap at Baden, who had lost by it, itwas true, but because he had not enough capital; if he could have stoodone more turn of the wheel, he would have had all his money back; thathe and several more chaps were going to make a bank, and try it; andthat he would put every shilling he was worth into it, and had come backto the country for the express purpose of fetching away his money, andCaptain Strong; that Strong should play for him; that he could trustStrong and his temper much better than he could his own; and much betterthan Bloundell-Bloundell or the Italian that "stood in." As he emptiedhis bottle, the Colonel described at full length all his plans andprospects to Pen, who was interested in listening to his story, and theconfessions of his daring and lawless good-humour.
"I met that queer fellow Altamont the other day," Pen said to his uncle,a day or two afterwards.
"Altamont? What Altamont? There's Lord Westport's son," said the Major.
"No, no; the fellow who came tipsy into Clavering's dining-room one daywhen we were there," said the nephew, laughing, "he said he did not likethe name of Pendennis, though he did me the honour to think that I was agood fellow."
"I don't know any man of the name of Altamont, I give you my honour,"said the impenetrable Major; "and as for your acquaintance, I think theless you have to do with him the better, Arthur."
Arthur laughed again. "He is going to quit the country, and make hisfortune by a gambling system. He and my amiable college acquaintance,Bloundell, are partners, and the Colonel takes out Strong with himas aide-de-camp. What is it that binds the Chevalier and Clavering, Iwonder?"
"I should think, mind you, Pen, I should think, but of course I haveonly the idea, that there has been something in Clavering's previouslife which gives these fellows and some others a certain power over him;and if there should be no such a secret, which affair of ours, my boy,dammy, I say, it ought to be a lesson to a man to keep himself straightin life, and not to give any man a chance over him."
"Why, I think you have some means of persuasion over Clavering, uncle,or why should he give me that seat in Parlament?"
"Clavering thinks he ain't fit for Parliament," the Major answered. "Nomore he is. What's to prevent him from putting you or anybody else intohis place if he likes? Do you think that Government or the Oppositionwould make any bones about accepting the seat if he offered it tothem! Why should you be more squeamish than the first men, and themost honourable men, and men of the highest birth and position in thecountry, begad?" The Major had an answer of this kind to most of Pen'sobjections, and Pen accepted his uncle's replies, not so much becausehe believed them, but because he wished to believe them. We do athing--which of us has not?--not because "everybody does it," butbecause we like it; and our acquiescence, alas! proves not thateverybody is right, but that we and the rest of the world are poorcreatures alike.
At his next visit to Tunbridge, Mr. Pen did not forget to amuse MissBlanche with the history which he had learned at Richmond of theChevalier's imprisonment, and of Altamont's gallant rescue. And after hehad told his tale in his usual satirical way, he mentioned with praiseand e
motion little Fanny's generous behaviour to the Chevalier, andAltamont's enthusiasm in her behalf.
Miss Blanche was somewhat jealous, and a good deal piqued and curiousabout Fanny. Among the many confidential little communications whichArthur made to Miss Amory in the course of their delightful rural drivesand their sweet evening walks, it may be supposed that our hero wouldnot forget a story so interesting to himself and so likely to beinteresting to her, as that of the passion and cure of the poor littleAriadne of Shepherd's Inn. His own part in that drama he described, todo him justice, with becoming modesty; the moral which he wished to drawfrom the tale being one in accordance with his usual satirical mood,viz., that women get over their first loves quite as easily as men do(for the fair Blanche, in their intimes conversations, did not cease totwit Mr. Pen about his notorious failure in his own virgin attachment tothe Fotheringay), and, number one being withdrawn, transfer themselvesto number two without much difficulty. And poor little Fanny was offeredup in sacrifice as an instance to prove this theory. What griefs she hadendured and surmounted, what bitter pangs of hopeless attachment she hadgone through, what time it had taken to heal those wounds of the tenderlittle bleeding heart, Mr. Pen did not know, or perhaps did not chooseto know; for he was at once modest and doubtful about his capabilitiesas a conqueror of hearts, and averse to believe that he had executed anydangerous ravages on that particular one, though his own instance andargument told against himself in this case; for if, as he said, MissFanny was by this time in love with her surgical adorer, who had neithergood looks, nor good manners, nor wit, nor anything but ardour andfidelity to recommend him, must she not in her first sickness of thelove-complaint have had a serious attack, and suffered keenly for aman who had certainly a number of the showy qualities which Mr. Huxterwanted?
"You wicked odious creature," Miss Blanche said, "I believe that you areenraged with Fanny for being so impudent as to forget you, and that youare actually jealous of Mr. Huxter." Perhaps Miss Amory was right, asthe blush which came in spite of himself and tingled upon Pendennis'scheek (one of those blows with which a man's vanity is constantlyslapping his face) proved to Pen that he was angry to think he hadbeen superseded by such a rival. By such a fellow as that! without anyconceivable good quality! O Mr. Pendennis! (although this remark doesnot apply to such a smart fellow as you) if Nature had not made thatprovision for each sex in the credulity of the other, which sees goodqualities where none exist, good looks in donkeys' ears, wit in theirnumskulls, and music in their bray, there would not have been near somuch marrying and giving in marriage as now obtains, and as is necessaryfor the due propagation and continuance of the noble race to which webelong.
"Jealous or not," Pen said, "and, Blanche, I don't say no, I shouldhave liked Fanny to have come to a better end than that. I don't likehistories that end in that cynical way; and when we arrive at theconclusion of the story of a pretty girl's passion, to find such afigure as Huxter's at the last page of the tale. Is a life a compromise,my lady fair, and the end of the battle of love an ignoble surrender?Is the search for the Cupid which my poor little Psyche pursued in thedarkness--the god of her soul's longing--the god of the blooming cheekand rainbow pinions,--to result in Huxter smelling of tobacco andgallypots? I wish, though I don't see it in life, that people couldbe like Jenny and Jessamy, or my Lord and Lady Clementina in thestory-books and fashionable novels, and at once under the ceremony, and,as it were, at the parson's benediction, become perfectly handsome andgood and happy ever after."
"And don't you intend to be good and happy, pray, Monsieur leMisanthrope--and are you very discontented with your lot--and will yourmarriage be a compromise"--(asked the author of 'Mes Larmes,' with acharming moue)--"and is your Psyche an odious vulgar wretch? You wickedsatirical creature, I can't abide you! You take the hearts of youngthings, play with them, and fling them away with scorn. You ask for loveand trample on it. You--you make me cry, that you do, Arthur, and--anddon't--and I won't be consoled in that way--and I think Fanny was quiteright in leaving such a heartless creature."
"Again, I don't say no," said Pen, looking very gloomily at Blanche, andnot offering by any means to repeat the attempt at consolation, whichhad elicited that sweet monosyllable "don't" from the young lady. "Idon't think I have much of what people call heart; but I don't professit. I made my venture when I was eighteen, and lighted my lamp andwent in search of Cupid. And what was my discovery of love?--a vulgardancing-woman! I failed, as everybody does, almost everybody; only it isluckier to fail before marriage than after."
"Merci du choix, Monsieur," said the Sylphide, making a curtsey.
"Look, my little Blanche," said Pen, taking her hand, and with his voiceof sad good-humour; "at least I stoop to no flatteries."
"Quite the contrary," said Miss Blanche.
"And tell you no foolish lies, as vulgar men do. Why should you and I,with our experience, ape romance and dissemble passion? I do not believeMiss Blanche Amory to be peerless among the beautiful, nor the greatestpoetess, nor the most surpassing musician, any more than I believe youto be the tallest woman in the whole world--like the giantess whosepicture we saw as we rode through the fair yesterday. But if I don't setyou up as a heroine, neither do I offer you your very humble servantas a hero. But I think you are--well, there, I think you are verysufficiently good-looking."
"Merci," Miss Blanche said, with another curtsey.
"I think you sing charmingly. I'm sure you're clever. I hope and believethat you are good-natured, and that you will be companionable."
"And so, provided I bring you a certain sum of money and a seatin Parliament, you condescend to fling to me your royalpocket-handkerchief," said Blanche. "Que d'honneur! We used to call yourHighness the Prince of Fairoaks. What an honour to think that I am tobe elevated to the throne, and to bring the seat in Parliament asbacksheesh to the sultan! I am glad I am clever, and that I can play andsing to your liking; my songs will amuse my lord's leisure."
"And if thieves are about the house," said Pen, grimly pursuing thesimile, "forty besetting thieves in the shape of lurking cares andenemies in ambush and passions in arms, my Morgiana will dance roundme with a tambourine, and kill all my rogues and thieves with a smile.Won't she?" But Pen looked as if he did not believe that she would. "Ah,Blanche," he continued after a pause, "don't be angry; don't be hurt atmy truth-telling.--Don't you see that I always take you at your word?You say you will be a slave and dance--I say, dance. You say, 'I takeyou with what you bring:' I say, 'I take you with what you bring.' Tothe necessary deceits and hypocrisies of our life, why add any that areuseless and unnecessary? If I offer myself to you because I think wehave a fair chance of being happy together, and because by your help Imay get for both of us a good place and a not undistinguished name, whyask me to feign raptures and counterfeit romance, in which neither ofus believe? Do you want me to come wooing in a Prince Prettyman's dressfrom the masquerade warehouse, and to pay you compliments like SirCharles Grandison? Do you want me to make you verses as in the days whenwe were--when we were children? I will if you like, and sell themto Bacon and Bungay afterwards. Shall I feed my pretty princess withbonbons?"
"Mais j'adore les bonbons, moi," said the little Sylphide, with a queerpiteous look.
"I can buy a hatful at Fortnum and Mason's for a guinea. And it shallhave its bonbons, its pooty little sugar-plums, that it shall," Pensaid with a bitter smile. "Nay, my dear, nay, my dearest little Blanche,don't cry. Dry the pretty eyes, I can't bear that;" and he proceeded tooffer that consolation which the circumstance required, and which thetears, the genuine tears of vexation, which now sprang from the angryeyes of the author of 'Mes Larmes' demanded.
The scornful and sarcastic tone of Pendennis quite frightened andovercame the girl. "I--I don't want your consolation. I--I neverwas--so--spoken to before--by any of my--my--by anybody"--she sobbedout, with much simplicity.
"Anybody!" shouted out Pen, with a savage burst of laughter, andBlanche blushed one of the most genuine blushes which
her cheek had everexhibited, and she cried out, "O Arthur, vous etes un homme terrible!"She felt bewildered, frightened, oppressed, the worldly little flirt whohad been playing at love for the last dozen years of her life, and yetnot displeased at meeting a master.
"Tell me, Arthur," she said, after a pause in this strange love-making."Why does Sir Francis Clavering give up his seat in Parliament?"
"Au fait, why does he give it to me?" asked Arthur, now blushing in histurn.
"You always mock me, sir," she said. "If it is good to be in Parliament,why does Sir Francis go out?"
"My uncle has talked him over. He always said that you were notsufficiently provided for. In the--the family disputes, when yourmamma paid his debts so liberally, it was stipulated, I suppose, thatyou--that is, that I--that is, upon my word, I don't know why he goesout of Parliament," Pen said, with rather a forced laugh. "You see,Blanche, that you and I are two good little children, and that thismarriage has been arranged for us by our mammas and uncles, and that wemust be obedient, like a good little boy and girl."
So, when Pen went to London, he sent Blanche a box of bonbons, eachsugar-plum of which was wrapped up in ready-made French verses, of themost tender kind; and, besides, despatched to her some poems of his ownmanufacture, quite as artless and authentic; and it was no wonder thathe did not tell Warrington what his conversations with Miss Amoryhad been, of so delicate a sentiment were they, and of a nature sonecessarily private.
And if, like many a worse and better man, Arthur Pendennis, the widow'sson, was meditating an apostasy, and going to sell himself to--we allknow whom,--at least the renegade did not pretend to be a believer inthe creed to which he was ready to swear. And if every woman and man inthis kingdom, who has sold her or himself for money or position, as Mr.Pendennis was about to do, would but purchase a copy of his memoirs,what tons of volumes Messrs. Bradbury and Evans would sell!
The History of Pendennis Page 67
