CHAPTER LXVI. In which Pen begins his Canvass
Melancholy as the great house at Clavering Park had been in the daysbefore his marriage, when its bankrupt proprietor was a refugee inforeign lands, it was not much more cheerful now when Sir FrancisClavering came to inhabit it. The greater part of the mansion was shutup, and the Baronet only occupied a few of the rooms on the groundfloor, where his housekeeper and her assistant from the lodge-gatewaited upon the luckless gentleman in his forced retreat, and cookeda part of the game which he spent the dreary mornings in shooting.Lightfoot, his man, had passed over to my Lady's service; and, as Penwas informed in a letter from Mr. Smirke, who performed the ceremony,had executed his prudent intention of marrying Mrs. Bonner, my Lady'swoman, who, in her mature years, was stricken with the charms of theyouth, and endowed him with her savings and her mature person.
To be landlord and landlady of the Clavering Arms was the ambitionof both of them; and it was agreed that they were to remain in LadyClavering's service until quarter-day arrived, when they were to takepossession of their hotel. Pen graciously promised that he would givehis election dinner there, when the Baronet should vacate his seat inthe young man's favour; and, as it had been agreed by his uncle, towhom Clavering seemed to be able to refuse nothing, Arthur came down inSeptember on a visit to Clavering Park, the owner of which was very gladto have a companion who would relieve his loneliness, and perhaps wouldlend him a little ready money.
Pen furnished his host with these desirable supplies a couple of daysafter he had made his appearance at Clavering: and no sooner werethese small funds in Sir Francis's pocket, than the latter found hehad business at Chatteris and at the neighbouring watering-places, ofwhich------shire boasts many, and went off to see to his affairs, whichwere transacted, as might be supposed, at the county race-grounds andbilliard-rooms. Arthur could live alone well enough, having many mentalresources and amusements which did not require other persons' company:he could walk with the gamekeeper of a morning, and for the eveningsthere was a plenty of books and occupation for a literary genius likeMr. Arthur, who required but a cigar and a sheet of paper or two to makethe night pass away pleasantly. In truth, in two or three days he hadfound the society of Sir Francis Clavering perfectly intolerable; andit was with a mischievous eagerness and satisfaction that he offeredClavering the little pecuniary aid which the latter according to hiscustom solicited, and supplied him with the means of taking flight fromhis own house.
Besides, our ingenious friend had to ingratiate himself with thetownspeople of Clavering, and with the voters of the borough which hehoped to represent; and he set himself to this task with only the moreeagerness, remembering how unpopular he had before been in Clavering,and determined to vanquish the odium which he had inspired amongst thesimple people there. His sense of humour made him delight in this task.Naturally rather reserved and silent in public, he became on a sudden asfrank, easy, and jovial as Captain Strong. He laughed with everybody whowould exchange a laugh with him, shook hands right and left, with whatmay be certainly called a dexterous cordiality; made his appearance atthe market-day and the farmers' ordinary; and, in fine, acted like aconsummate hypocrite, and as gentlemen of the highest birth and mostspotless integrity act when they wish to make themselves agreeable totheir constituents, and have some end to gain of the country-folks. Howis it that we allow ourselves not to be deceived, but to be ingratiatedso readily by a glib tongue, a ready laugh, and a frank manner? We know,for the most part, that it is false coin, and we take it we know that itis flattery, which it costs nothing to distribute to everybody, andwe had rather have it than be without it. Friend Pen went aboutat Clavering, laboriously simple and adroitly pleased, and quite adifferent being from the scornful and rather sulky young dandy whom theinhabitants remembered ten years ago.
The Rectory was shut up. Doctor Portman was gone, with his gout and hisfamily, to Harrogate,--an event which Pen deplored very much in a letterto the Doctor, in which, in a few kind and simple words, he expressedhis regret at not seeing his old friend, whose advice he wanted andwhose aid he might require some day: but Pen consoled himself for theDoctor's absence by making acquaintance with Mr. Simcoe, the oppositionpreacher, and with the two partners of the cloth-factory at Chatteris,and with the Independent preacher there, all of whom he met at ClaveringAthenaeum, which the Liberal party had set up in accordance withthe advanced spirit of the age, and perhaps in opposition to thearistocratic old reading-room, into which the Edinburgh Review hadonce scarcely got an admission, and where no tradesmen were allowed anentrance. He propitiated the younger partner of the cloth-factory, byasking him to dine in a friendly way at the Park; he complimented theHonourable Mrs. Simcoe with hares and partridges from the same quarter,and a request to read her husband's last sermon; and being a littleunwell one day, the rascal took advantage of the circumstance to showhis tongue to Mr. Huxter, who sent him medicines and called the nextmorning. How delighted old Pendennis would have been with his pupil!Pen himself was amused with the sport in which he was engaged, and hissuccess inspired him with a wicked good-humour.
And yet, as he walked out of Clavering of a night, after "presiding"at a meeting of the Athenaeum, or working through an evening withMrs. Simcoe, who, with her husband, was awed by the young Londoner'sreputation, and had heard of his social successes; as he passed over theold familiar bridge of the rushing Brawl, and heard that well-rememberedsound of waters beneath, and saw his own cottage of Fairoaks among thetrees, their darkling outlines clear against the starlit sky, differentthoughts no doubt came to the young man's mind, and awakened pangs ofgrief and shame there. There still used to be a light in the windows ofthe room which he remembered so well, and in which the Saint who lovedhim had passed so many hours of care and yearning and prayer. He turnedaway his gaze from the faint light which seemed to pursue him with itswan reproachful gaze, as though it was his mother's spirit watchingand warning. How clear the night was! How keen the stars shone! howceaseless the rush of the flowing waters! the old home trees whispered,and waved gently their dark heads and branches over the cottage roof.Yonder, in the faint starlight glimmer, was the terrace where, as a boy,he walked of summer evenings, ardent and trustful, unspotted, untried,ignorant of doubts or passions; sheltered as yet from the world'scontamination in the pure and anxious bosom of love. The clock ofthe near town tolling midnight, with a clang, disturbs our wanderer'sreverie, and sends him onwards towards his night's resting-place,through the lodge into Clavering avenue, and under the dark arcades ofthe rustling limes.
When he sees the cottage the next time, it is smiling in sunset; thosebedroom windows are open where the light was burning the night before;and Pen's tenant, Captain Stokes, of the Bombay Artillery (whose mother,old Mrs. Stokes, lives in Clavering), receives his landlord's visit withgreat cordiality: shows him over the grounds and the new pond he hasmade in the back-garden from the stables; talks to him confidentiallyabout the roof and chimneys, and begs Mr. Pendennis to name a day whenhe will do himself and Mrs. Stokes the pleasure to, etc. Pen, who hasbeen a fortnight in the country, excuses himself for not having calledsooner upon the Captain by frankly owning that he had not the heart todo it. "I understand you, sir," the Captain says; and Mrs. Stokes, whohad slipped away at the ring of the bell (how odd it seemed to Pento ring the bell!), comes down in her best gown, surrounded by herchildren. The young ones clamb about Stokes: the boy jumps into anarm-chair. It was Pen's father's arm-chair; and Arthur remembers thedays when he would as soon have thought of mounting the king's throne asof seating himself in that arm-chair. He asks if Miss Stokes--she is thevery image of her mamma--if she can play? He should like to hear a tuneon that piano. She plays. He hears the notes of the old piano once more,enfeebled by age, but he does not listen to the player. He is listeningto Laura singing as in the days of their youth, and sees his motherbending and beating time over the shoulder of the girl.
The dinner at Fairoaks given in Pen's honour by his tenant, and at whichold Mrs. Stokes, Captain
Glanders, Squire Hobnel and the clergyman andhis lady from Tinckleton, were present, was very stupid and melancholyfor Pen, until the waiter from Clavering (who aided the captain'sstable-boy and Mrs. Stokes's butler) whom Pen remembered as a streetboy, and who was now indeed barber in that place, dropped a plate overPen's shoulder, on which Mr. Hobnell (who also employed him) remarked,"I suppose, Hodson, your hands are slippery with bear's-grease. He'salways dropping the crockery about, that Hodson is--haw, haw!" On whichHodson blushed, and looked so disconcerted, that Pen burst out laughing;and good-humour and hilarity were the order of the evening. For thesecond course, there was a hare and partridges top and bottom, andwhen after the withdrawal of the servants Pen said to the Vicar ofTinckleton, "I think, Mr. Stooks, you should have asked Hodson tocut the hare," the joke was taken instantly by the clergyman, who wasfollowed in the course of a few minutes by Captains Stokes and Glanders,and by Mr. Hobnell, who arrived rather late, but with an immense guffaw.
* * * * * *
While Mr. Pen was engaged in the country in the above schemes, ithappened that the lady of his choice, if not of his affections, came upto London from the Tunbridge villa bound upon shopping expeditions orimportant business, and in company of old Mrs. Bonner, her mother'smaid, who had lived and quarrelled with Blanche many times since she wasan infant, and who now being about to quit Lady Clavering's service forthe hymeneal state, was anxious like a good soul to bestow some token ofrespectful kindness upon her old and young mistress before she quittedthem altogether, to take her post as the wife of Lightfoot, and landladyof the Clavering Arms.
The honest woman took the benefit of Miss Amory's taste to make thepurchase which she intended to offer her ladyship; and, requested thefair Blanche to choose something for herself that should be to herliking, and remind her of her old nurse who had attended her throughmany a wakeful night, and eventful teething, and childish fever, and wholoved her like a child of her own a'most. These purchases were made, andas the nurse insisted on buying an immense Bible for Blanche, the younglady suggested that Bonner should purchase a large Johnson's Dictionaryfor her mamma. Each of the two women might certainly profit by thepresent made to her.
Then Mrs. Bonner invested money in some bargains in linen-drapery,which might be useful at the Clavering Arms, and bought a red and yellowneck-handkerchief, which Blanche could see at once was intended for Mr.Lightfoot. Younger than herself by at least five-and-twenty years,Mrs. Bonner regarded that youth with a fondness at once parental andconjugal, and loved to lavish ornaments on his person, which alreadyglittered with pins, rings, shirt-studs, and chains and seals, purchasedat the good creature's expense.
It was in the Strand that Mrs. Bonner made her purchases, aided by MissBlanche, who liked the fun very well; and when the old lady had boughteverything that she desired, and was leaving the shop, Blanche, with asmiling face, and a sweet bow to one of the shopmen, said, "Pray, sir,will you have the kindness to show us the way to Shepherd's Inn?"
Shepherd's Inn was but a few score of yards off, Old Castle Street wasclose by, the elegant young shopman pointed out the turning which theyoung lady was to take, and she and her companion walked off together.
"Shepherd's Inn! what can you want in Shepherd's Inn, Miss Blanche?"Bonner inquired. "Mr. Strong lives there. Do you want to go and see theCaptain?"
"I should like to see the Captain very well. I like the Captain; but itis not him I want. I want to see a dear little good girl, who was verykind to--to Mr. Arthur when he was so ill last year, and saved his lifealmost; and I want to thank her and ask her if she would like anything.I looked out several of my dresses on purpose this morning, Bonner!"and she looked at Bonner as if she had a right to admiration, and hadperformed an act of remarkable virtue. Blanche, indeed, was very fondof sugar-plums; she would have fed the poor upon them, when she had hadenough, and given a country girl a ball-dress, when she had worn it andwas tired of it.
"Pretty girl--pretty young woman!" mumbled Mrs. Bonner. "I know I wantno pretty young women to come about Lightfoot," and in imagination shepeopled the Clavering Arms with a harem of the most hideous chambermaidsand barmaids.
Blanche, with pink and blue, and feathers, and flowers, and trinkets(that wondrous invention, a chatelaine, was not extant yet, or she wouldhave had one, we may be sure), and a shot-silk dress, and a wonderfulmantle, and a charming parasol, presented a vision of elegance andbeauty such as bewildered the eyes of Mrs. Bolton, who was scrubbing thelodge-floor of Shepherd's Inn and caused Betsy-Jane and Ameliar-Ann tolook with delight.
Blanche looked on them with a smile of ineffable sweetness andprotection; like Rowena going to see Rebecca; like Marie Antoinettevisiting the poor in the famine; like the Marchioness of Carabasalighting from her carriage-and-four at a pauper-tenant's door, andtaking from John No II. the packet of Epsom salts for theinvalid's benefit, carrying it with her own imperial hand into thesick-room--Blanche felt a queen stepping down from her throne to visit asubject, and enjoyed all the bland consciousness of doing a good action.
"My good woman! I want to see Fanny--Fanny Bolton; is she here?"
Mrs. Bolton had a sudden suspicion, from the splendour of Blanche'sappearance, that it must be a play-actor, or something worse.
"What do you want with Fanny, pray?" she asked.
"I am Lady Clavering's daughter--you have heard of Sir FrancisClavering? And I wish very much indeed to see Fanny Bolton."
"Pray step in, miss.--Betsy-Jane, where's Fanny?"
Betsy-Jane said Fanny had gone into No. 3 staircase, on which Mrs.Bolton said she was probably in Strong's rooms, and bade the child goand see if she was there.
"In Captain Strong's rooms! oh, let us go to Captain Strong's rooms,"cried out Miss Blanche. "I know him very well. You dearest little girl,show us the way to Captain Strong!" cried out Miss Blanche, for thefloor reeked with the recent scrubbing, and the goddess did not like thesmell of brown-soap.
And as they passed up the stairs, a gentleman by the name of Costigan,who happened to be swaggering about the court, and gave a very knowinglook with his "oi" under Blanche's bonnet, remarked to himself, "That'sa devilish foine gyurll, bedad, goan up to Sthrong and Altamont: they'realways having foine gyurlls up their stairs."
"Hallo--hwhat's that?" he presently said, looking up at the windows:from which some piercing shrieks issued.
At the sound of the voice of a distressed female the intrepid Cos rushedup the stairs as fast as his old legs would carry him, being nearlyoverthrown by Strong's servant, who was descending the stair. Cos foundthe outer door of Strong's chambers opened, and began to thunder atthe knocker. After many and fierce knocks, the inner door was partiallyunclosed, and Strong's head appeared.
"It's oi, me boy. Hwhat's that noise, Sthrong?" asked Costigan.
"Go to the d----!" was the only answer, and the door was shut on Cos'svenerable red nose: and he went downstairs muttering threats at theindignity offered to him, and vowing that he would have satisfaction.In the meanwhile the reader, more lucky than Captain Costigan, willhave the privilege of being made acquainted with the secret which waswithheld from that officer.
It has been said of how generous a disposition Mr. Altamont was, andwhen he was well supplied with funds how liberally he spent them. Ofa hospitable turn, he had no greater pleasure than drinking in companywith other people; so that there was no man more welcome at Greenwichand Richmond than the Emissary of the Nawaub of Lucknow.
Now it chanced that on the day when Blanche and Mrs. Bonner ascended thestaircase to Strong's room in Shepherd's Inn, the Colonel had invitedMiss Delaval of the ------ Theatre Royal, and her mother, Mrs. Hodge, toa little party down the river, and it had been agreed that they wereto meet at Chambers, and thence walk down to a port in the neighbouringStrand to take water. So that when Mrs. Bonner and Mes Larmes came tothe door, where Grady, Altamont's servant, was standing, the domesticsaid, "Walk in, ladies," with the utmost affability, and led them intothe room, which was arran
ged as if they had been expected there. Indeed,two bouquets of flowers, bought at Covent Garden that morning, andinstances of the tender gallantry of Altamont, were awaiting his guestsupon the table. Blanche smelt at the bouquet, and put her pretty littledainty nose into it, and tripped about the room, and looked behind thecurtains, and at the books and prints, and at the plan of Claveringestate hanging up on the wall; and had asked the servant for CaptainStrong, and had almost forgotten his existence and the errand aboutwhich she had come, namely, to visit Fanny Bolton; so pleased was shewith the new adventure, and the odd, strange, delightful, droll littleidea of being in a bachelor's chambers in a queer old place in the city!
Grady meanwhile, with a pair of ample varnished boots, had disappearedinto his master's room. Blanche had hardly the leisure to remark how bigthe boots were, and how unlike Mr. Strong's.
"The women's come," said Grady, helping his master to the boots.
"Did you ask 'em if they would take a glass of anything?" askedAltamont.
Grady came out--"He says, will you take anything to drink?" the domesticasked of them; at which Blanche, amused with the artless question, brokeout into a pretty little laugh, and asked of Mrs. Bonner, "Shall we takeanything to drink?"
"Well, you may take it or lave it," said Mr. Grady, who thought hisoffer slighted, and did not like the contemptuous manners of thenew-comers, and so left them.
"Will we take anything to drink?" Blanche asked again: and again beganto laugh.
"Grady," bawled out a voice from the chamber within:--a voice that madeMrs. Bonner start.
Grady did not answer: his song was heard from afar off, from thekitchen, his upper room, where Grady was singing at his work.
"Grady, my coat!" again roared the voice from within.
"Why, that is not Mr. Strong's voice," said the Sylphide, still halflaughing. "Grady my coat!--Bonner, who is Grady my coat? We ought to goaway."
Bonner still looked quite puzzled at the sound of the voice which shehad heard.
The bedroom door here opened and the individual who had called out"Grady, my coat," appeared without the garment in question.
He nodded to the women, and walked across the room. "I beg your pardon,ladies. Grady, bring my coat down, sir! Well, my dears, it's a fine day,and we'll have a jolly lark at----"
He said no more; for here Mrs. Bonner, who had been looking at himwith scared eyes, suddenly shrieked out, "Amory! Amory!" and fell backscreaming and fainting in her chair.
The man, so apostrophised, looked at the woman an instant, and, rushingup to Blanche, seized her and kissed her. "Yes, Betsy," he said, "byG--it is me. Mary Bonner knew me. What a fine gal we've grown! But it'sa secret, mind. I'm dead, though I'm your father. Your poor motherdon't know it. What a pretty gal we've grown! Kiss me--kiss me close, myBetsy? D---- it, I love you: I'm your old father."
Betsy or Blanche looked quite bewildered, and began to scream too--once,twice, thrice; and it was her piercing shrieks which Captain Costiganheard as he walked the court below.
At the sound of these shrieks the perplexed parent clasped his hands(his wristbands were open, and on one brawny arm you could see letterstattooed in blue), and, rushing to his apartment, came back with aneau-de-Cologne bottle from his grand silver dressing-case, with thefragrant contents of which he began liberally to sprinkle Bonner andBlanche.
The screams of these women brought the other occupants of the chambersinto the room: Grady from his kitchen, and Strong from his apartment inthe upper story. The latter at once saw from the aspect of the two womenwhat had occurred.
"Grady, go and wait in the court," he said, "and if anybody comes--youunderstand me."
"Is it the play-actress and her mother?" said Grady.
"Yes--confound you--say that there's nobody in chambers, and the party'soff for to-day."
"Shall I say that, sir? and after I bought them bokays?" asked Grady ofhis master.
"Yes," said Amory, with a stamp of his foot; and Strong going to thedoor, too, reached it just in time to prevent the entrance of CaptainCostigan, who had mounted the stair.
The ladies from the theatre did not have their treat to Greenwich, nordid Blanche pay her visit to Fanny Bolton on that day. And Cos, who tookoccasion majestically to inquire of Grady what the mischief was, andwho was crying?--had for answer that 'twas a woman, another of them, andthat they were, in Grady's opinion, the cause of 'most all the mischiefin the world.
The History of Pendennis Page 68
