The Adventures of Philip

when they speak to her, and goes about the house in a most bewildering way. I am

  the interpreter; poor Charlotte is much too timid to speak when I am by. I have

  rubbed up the old French which we learned at Chiswick at Miss Pinkerton's; and I

  find my Hindostanee of great help: which I use it when we are at a loss for a

  word, and it answers extremely well. We pay for lodgings, the whole

  house??francs per month. Butchers' meat and poultry plentiful but dear. A grocer

  in the Grande Rue sell excellent wine at fifteenpence per bottle; and groceries

  pretty much at English prices. Mr. Blowman at the English chapel of the

  Tintelleries has a fine voice, and appears to be a most excellent clergyman. I

  have heard him only once, however, on Sunday evening, when I was so agitated and

  so unhappy in my mind that I own I took little note of his sermon.

  "The cause of that agitation you know, having imparted it to you in my letters

  of July, June, and 24th of May, ult. My poor simple, guileless Baynes was

  trustee to Mrs. Dr. Firmin, before she married that most unprincipled man. When

  we were at home last, and exchanged to the 120th from the 99th, my poor husband

  was inveigled by the horrid man into signing a paper which put the doctor in

  possession of all his wife's property; whereas Charles thought he was only

  signing a power of attorney, enabling him to receive his son's dividends. Dr.

  F., after the most atrocious deceit, forgery, and criminality of every kind,

  fled the country; and Hunt and Pegler, our solicitors, informed us that the

  general was answerable for the wickedness of this miscreant. He is so weak that

  he has been many and many times on the point of going to young Mr. F. and giving

  up everything. It was only by my prayers, by my commands, that I have been

  enabled to keep him quiet; and, indeed, Emily, the effort has almost killed him.

  Brandy repeatedly I was obliged to administer on the dreadful night of our

  arrival here.

  "For the first person we met on landing was Mr. Philip Firmin, with a pert

  friend of his, Mr. Pendennis, whom I don't at all like, though his wife is an

  amiable person like Emma Fletcher of the Horse Artillery: not with Emma's style,

  however, but still amiable, and disposed to be most civil. Charlotte has taken a

  great fancy to her, as she always does to every new person. Well, fancy our

  state on landing, when a young gentleman calls out, 'How do you do, general?'

  and turns out to be Mr. Firmin! I thought I should have lost Charles in the

  night. I have seen him before going into action, as calm, and sleep and smile as

  sweet, as any babe. It was all I could do to keep up his courage: and, but for

  me, but for my prayers, but for my agonies, I think he would have jumped out of

  bed, and gone to Mr. F. that night, and said, 'Take everything I have.'

  "The young man I own has behaved in the most honourable way. He came to see us

  before breakfast on Sunday, when the poor general was so ill that I thought he

  would have fainted over his tea. He was too ill to go to church, where I went

  alone, with my dear ones, having, as I own, but very small comfort in the

  sermon: but oh, Emily, fancy, on our return, when I went into our room, I found

  my general on his knees with his Church service before him, crying, crying like

  a baby! You know I am hasty in my temper sometimes, and his is indeed an

  angel's??and I said to him, 'Charles Baynes, be a man, and don't cry like a

  child!' 'Ah,' says he, 'Eliza, do you kneel, and thank God too;' on which I said

  that I thought I did not require instruction in my religion from him or any man,

  except a clergyman, and many of these are but poor instructors, as you know.

  "'He has been here,' says Charles; when I said, 'Who has been here?' 'That noble

  young fellow,' says my general; 'that noble, noble Philip Firmin.' Which noble

  his conduct I own it has been. 'Whilst you were at church he came again??here

  into this very room, where I was sitting, doubting and despairing, with the Holy

  Book before my eyes, and no comfort out of it. And he said to me, "General, I

  want to talk to you about my grandfather's will. You don't suppose that because

  my father has deceived you and ruined me, I will carry the ruin farther, and

  visit his wrong upon children and innocent people?" Those were the young man's

  words,' my general said; and, 'oh, Eliza!' says he, 'what pangs of remorse I

  felt when I remembered we had used hard words about him,' which I own we had,

  for his manners are rough and haughty, and I have heard things of him which I do

  believe now can't be true.

  "All Monday my poor man was obliged to keep his bed with a smart attack of his

  fever. But yesterday he was quite bright and well again, and the Pendennis party

  took Charlotte for a drive, and showed themselves most polite. She reminds me of

  Mrs. Tom Fletcher of the Horse Artillery, but that I think I have mentioned

  before. My paper is full; and with our best to MacWhirter and the children, I am

  always my dearest Emily's affectionate sister,

  "Eliza Baynes."

  VOL. II.

  CHAPTER I. BREVIS ESSE LABORO.

  Never, General Baynes afterwards declared, did fever come and go so pleasantly

  as that attack to which we have seen Mrs. General advert in her letter to her

  sister, Mrs. Major MacWhirter. The cold fit was merely a lively, pleasant

  chatter and rattle of the teeth; the hot fit an agreeable warmth; and though the

  ensuing sleep, with which I believe such aguish attacks are usually concluded,

  was enlivened by several dreams of death, demons, and torture, how felicitous it

  was to wake and find that dreadful thought of ruin removed which had always, for

  the last few months, ever since Dr. Firmin's flight and the knowledge of his own

  imprudence, pursued the good-natured gentleman! What, this boy might go to

  college, and that get his commission; and their meals need be embittered by no

  more dreadful thoughts of the morrow, and their walks no longer were dogged by

  imaginary baliffs, or presented a gaol in the vista? It was too much bliss; and

  again and again the old soldier said his thankful prayers, and blessed his

  benefactor.

  Philip thought no more of his act of kindness, except to be very grateful, and

  very happy that he had rendered other people so. He could no more have taken the

  old man's all, and plunged that innocent family into poverty, than he could have

  stolen the forks off my table. But other folks were disposed to rate his virtue

  much more highly; and amongst these was my wife, who chose positively to worship

  this young gentleman, and I believe would have let him smoke in her drawing-room

  if he had been so minded, and though her genteelest acquaintances were in the

  room. Goodness knows what a noise and what piteous looks are produced if ever

  the master of the house chooses to indulge in a cigar after dinner; but then,

  you understand, I have never declined to claim mine and my children's right

  because an old gentleman would be inconvenienced: and this is what I tell Mrs.

  Pen. If I order a coat from my tailor, must I refuse to pay him because a rogue

  steals it, and ought I to expect to be let off? Wome
n won't see matters of fact

  in a matter-of-fact point of view; and justice, unless it is tinged with a

  little romance, gets no respect from them.

  So, forsooth, because Philip has performed this certainly most generous, most

  dashing, most reckless piece of extravagance, he is to be held up as a perfect

  preux chevalier. The most riotous dinners are ordered for him. We are to wait

  until he comes to breakfast, and he is pretty nearly always late. The children

  are to be sent round to kiss uncle Philip, as he is now called. The children? I

  wonder the mother did not jump up and kiss him too. Elle en ?tait capable. As

  for the osculations which took place between Mrs. Pendennis and her new-found

  young friend, Miss Charlotte Baynes, they were perfectly ridiculous; two school

  children could not have behaved more absurdly; and I don't know which seemed to

  be the younger of these two. There were colloquies, assignations, meetings on

  the ramparts, on the pier, where know I???and the servants and little children

  of the two establishments were perpetually trotting to and fro with letters from

  dearest Laura to dearest Charlotte, and dearest Charlotte to her dearest Mrs.

  Pendennis. Why, my wife absolutely went the length of saying that dearest

  Charlotte's mother, Mrs. Baynes, was a worthy, clever woman, and a good

  mother??a woman whose tongue never ceased clacking about the regiment, and all

  the officers and all the officers' wives, of whom, by the way, she had very

  little good to tell.

  "A worthy mother, is she, my dear?" I say. "But, oh, mercy! Mrs. Baynes would be

  an awful mother in-law!"

  I shuddered at the thought of having such a commonplace, hard, ill-bred woman in

  a state of quasi authority over me.

  On this Mrs. Laura must break out in quite a petulant tone??"Oh, how stale this

  kind of thing is Arthur, from a man qui veut passer pour un homme d'esprit! You

  are always attacking mothers-in-law!"

  "Witness Mrs. Mackenzie, my love??Clive Newcome's mother-in-law. That's a nice

  creature; not selfish, not wicked, not??"

  "Not nonsense, Arthur!"

  "Mrs. Baynes knew Mrs. Mackenzie in the West Indies, as she knew all the female

  army. She considers Mrs. Mackenzie was a most elegant, handsome, dashing

  woman??only a little too fond of the admiration of our sex. There was, I own, a

  fascination about Captain Goby. Do you remember, my love, that man with the

  stays and dyed hair, who??"

  "Oh, Arthur! When our girls marry, I suppose you will teach their husbands to

  abuse, and scorn, and mistrust their mother-in-law. Will he, my darlings? will

  he, my blessings?" (This apart to the children, if you please.) "Go! I have no

  patience with such talk!"

  "Well, my love, Mrs. Baynes is a most agreeable woman; and when I have heard

  that story about the Highlanders at the Cape of Good Hope a few times more" (I

  do not tell it here, for it has nothing to do with the present history), "I

  daresay I shall begin to be amused by it."

  "Ah! here comes Charlotte, I'm glad to say. How pretty she is! What a colour!

  What a dear creature!"

  To all which, of course, I could not say a contradictory word, for a prettier,

  fresher lass than Miss Baynes, with a sweeter voice, face, laughter, it was

  difficult to see.

  "Why does mamma like Charlotte better than she likes us?" says our dear and

  justly indignant eldest girl. "I could not love her better if I were her

  mother-in-law," says Laura, running to her young friend, casting a glance at me

  over her shoulder; and that kissing nonsense begins between the two young

  ladies. To be sure, the girl looks uncommonly bright and pretty with her pink

  cheeks, her bright eyes, her slim form, and that charming white India shawl

  which her father brought home for her.

  To this osculatory party enters presently Mr. Philip Firmin, who has been

  dawdling about the ramparts ever since breakfast. He says he has been reading

  law there. He has found a jolly quiet place to read. Law, has he? And much good

  may it do him! Why has he not gone back to his law, and his reviewing?

  "You must??you must stay on a little longer. You have only been here five days.

  Do, Charlotte, ask Philip to stay a little."

  All the children sing in a chorus, "Oh, do, uncle Philip, stay a little longer!"

  Miss Baynes says, "I hope you will stay, Mr. Firmin," and looks at him.

  "Five days has he been here? Five years. Five lives. Five hundred years. What do

  you mean? In that little time of??let me see, a hundred and twenty hours, and at

  least a half of them for sleep and dinner (for Philip's appetite was very

  fine)??do you mean that in that little time his heart, cruelly stabbed by a

  previous monster in female shape, has healed, got quite well, and actually begun

  to be wounded again? Have two walks on the pier, as many visits to the

  Tintelleries (where he hears the story of the Highlanders at the Cape of Good

  Hope with respectful interest), a word or two about the weather, a look or two,

  a squeezekin, perhaps, of a little handykin??I say, do you mean that this absurd

  young idiot, and that little round-faced girl, pretty, certainly, but only just

  out of the school-room?? do you mean to say that they have??Upon my word, Laura,

  this is too bad. Why, Philip has not a penny-piece in the world."

  "Yes, he has two hundred pounds, and expects to sell his mare for ninety at

  least. He has excellent talents. He can easily write three articles a week in

  the Pall Mall Gazette. I am sure no one writes so well, and it is much better

  done and more amusing than it used to be. That is three hundred a year. Lord

  Ringwood must be applied to, and must and shall get him something. Don't you

  know that Captain Baynes stood by Colonel Ringwood's side at Busaco, and that

  they were the closest friends? And pray, how did we get on, I should like to

  know? How did we get on, baby?"

  "How did we det on?" says the baby.

  "Oh, woman! woman!" yells the father of the family. "Why, Philip Firmin has all

  the habits of a rich man with the pay of a mechanic. Do you suppose he ever sate

  in a second-class carriage in his life, or denied himself any pleasure to which

  he had a mind? He gave five francs to a beggar girl yesterday."

  "He had always a noble heart," says my wife. "He gave a fortune to a whole

  family a week ago; and" (out comes the pocket-handkerchief??oh, of course, the

  pocket-handkerchief)??"and??'God loves a cheerful giver!'"

  "He is careless; he is extravagant; he is lazy;??I do not know that he is

  remarkably clever??"

  "Oh, yes! he is your friend, of course. Now, abuse him??do, Arthur!"

  "And, pray, when did you become acquainted with this astounding piece of news?"

  I inquire.

  "When? From the very first moment when I saw Charlotte looking at him, to be

  sure. The poor child said to me only yesterday, 'Oh, Laura! he is our

  preserver!' And their preserver he has been, under heaven."

  "Yes. But he has not got a five-pound note!" I cry.

  "Arthur, I am surprised at you. Oh, men, men are awfully worldly! Do you suppose

  heaven will not send hi
m help at its good time, and be kind to him who has

  rescued so many from ruin? Do you suppose the prayers, the blessings of that

  father, of those little ones, of that dear child, will not avail him? Suppose he

  has to wait a year, ten years, have they not time, and will not the good day

  come?"

  Yes. This was actually the talk of a woman of sense and discernment when her

  prejudices and romance were not in the way, and she looked forward to the

  marriage of these folks, some ten years hence, as confidently as if they were

  both rich, and going to St. George's tomorrow.

  As for making a romantic story of it, or spinning out love conversation between

  Jenny and Jessamy, or describing moonlight raptures and passionate outpourings

  of two young hearts and so forth??excuse me, s'il vous plait. I am a man of the

  world, and of a certain age. Let the young people fill in this outline, and

  colour it as they please. Let the old folks who read, lay down the book a

  minute, and remember. It is well remembered, isn't it, that time? Yes, good John

  Anderson, and Mrs. John. Yes, good Darby and Joan. The lips won't tell now what

  they did once. To-day is for the happy, and to-morrow for the young, and

  yesterday, is not that dear and here too?

  I was in the company of an elderly gentleman, not very long since, who was

  perfectly sober, who is not particularly handsome, or healthy, or wealthy, or

  witty; and who, speaking of his past life, volunteered to declare that he would

  gladly live every minute of it over again. Is a man, who can say that, a

  hardened sinner, not aware how miserable he ought to be by rights, and therefore

  really in a most desperate and deplorable condition; or is he fortunatus nimium,

  and ought his statue to be put up in the most splendid and crowded thoroughfare

  of the town? Would you, who are reading this, for example, like to live your

  life over again? What has been its chief joy? What are to-day's pleasures? Are

  they so exquisite that you would prolong them for ever? Would you like to have

  the roast beef on which you have dined brought back again to table, and have

  more beef, and more, and more? Would you like to hear yesterday's sermon over

  and over again??eternally voluble? Would you like to get on the Edinburgh mail,

  and travel outside for fifty hours as you did in your youth? You might as well

  say you would like to go into the flogging-room, and take a turn under the rods:

  you would like to be thrashed over again by your bully at school: you would like

  to go to the dentist's, where your dear parents were in the habit of taking you:

  you would like to be taking hot Epsom salts, with a piece of dry bread to take

  away the taste: you would like to be jilted by your first love: you would like

  to be going in to your father to tell him you had contracted debts to the amount

  of x + y + z, whilst you were at the university. As I consider the passionate

  griefs of childhood, the weariness and sameness of shaving, the agony of corns,

  and the thousand other ills to which flesh is heir, I cheerfully say for one, I

  am not anxious to wear it for ever. No. I do not want to go to school again. I

  do not want to hear Trotman's sermon over again. Take me out and finish me. Give

  me the cup of hemlock at once. Here's a health to you, my lads. Don't weep, my

  Simmias. Be cheerful, my Ph?don. Ha! I feel the co-o-ld stealing, stealing

  upwards. Now it is in my ancles??no more gout in my foot: now my knees are numb.

  What, is??is that poor executioner crying too? Good-by. Sacrifice a cock to

  ?scu??to ?scula??... Have you ever read the chapter in Grote's History? Ah? When

  the Sacred Ship returns from Delos, and is telegraphed as entering into port,

  may we be at peace and ready!

  What is this funeral chant, when the pipes should be playing gaily, as Love, and

  Youth, and Spring, and Joy are dancing under the windows? Look you. Men not so