page after page of newspapers, French and German; took an occasional turn at the
Chamber of Deputies, and gave an account of a sitting of importance, and made
himself quite an active lieutenant. He began positively to save money. He wore
dreadfully shabby clothes, to be sure: for Charlotte could not go to his chamber
and mend his rags as the Little Sister had done: but when Mrs. Baynes abused him
for his shabby appearance??and indeed it must have been mortifying sometimes to
see the fellow in his old clothes swaggering about in Madame Smolensk's
apartments, talking loud, contradicting and laying down the law?? Charlotte
defended her maligned Philip. "Do you know why Monsieur Philip has those shabby
clothes?" she asked of Madame de Smolensk. "Because he has been sending money to
his father in America." And Smolensk said that Monsieur Philip was a brave young
man, and that he might come dressed like an Iroquois to her soir?e, and he
should be welcome. And Mrs. Baynes was rude to Philip when he was present, and
scornful in her remarks when he was absent. And Philip trembled before Mrs.
Baynes; and he took her boxes on the ear with much meekness; for was not his
Charlotte a hostage in her mother's hands, and might not Mrs. General B. make
that poor little creature suffer?
One or two Indian ladies of Mrs. Baynes' acquaintance happened to pass this
winter in Paris, and these persons, who had furnished lodgings in the Faubourg
St. Honor?, or the Champs Elys?es, and rode in their carriages with, very
likely, a footman on the box, rather looked down upon Mrs. Baynes for living in
a boarding-house, and keeping no equipage. No woman likes to be looked down upon
by any other woman, especially by such a creature as Mrs. Batters, the lawyer's
wife, from Calcutta, who was not in society, and did not go to Government House,
and here was driving about in the Champs Elys?es, and giving herself such airs,
indeed! So was Mrs. Doctor Macoon, with her lady's-maid, and her man-cook, and
her open carriage, and her close carriage. (Pray read these words with the most
withering emphasis which you can lay upon them.) And who was Mrs. Macoon, pray?
Madame B?ret, the French milliner's daughter, neither more nor less. And this
creature must scatter her mud over her betters who went on foot. "I am telling
my poor girls, madame," she would say to Madame Smolensk, "that if I had been a
milliner's girl, or their father had been a pettifogging attorney, and not a
soldier, who has served his sovereign in every quarter of the world, they would
be better dressed than they are now, poor chicks!??we might have a fine
apartment in the Faubourg St. Honor闗 we need not live at a boarding-house."
"And if I had been a milliner, Madame la G?n?rale," cried Smolensk, with spirit,
"perhaps I should not have had need to keep a boarding-house. My father was a
general officer, and served his emperor too. But what will you? We have all to
do disagreeable things, and to live with disagreeable people, madame!" And with
this Smolensk makes Mrs. General Baynes a fine curtsey, and goes off to other
affairs or guests. She was of the opinion of many of Philip's friends. "Ah,
Monsieur Philip," she said to him, "when you are married, you will live far from
that woman; is it not?"
Hearing that Mrs. Batters was going to the Tuileries, I am sorry to say a
violent emulation inspired Mrs. Baynes, and she never was easy until she
persuaded her general to take her to the ambassador's, and to the entertainments
of the citizen king who governed France in those days. It would cost little or
nothing. Charlotte must be brought out. Her aunt, McWhirter, from Tours, had
sent Charlotte a present of money for a dress. To do Mrs. Baynes justice, she
spent very little money upon her own raiment, and extracted from one of her
trunks a costume which had done duty at Barrackpore and Calcutta. "After hearing
that Mrs. Batters went, I knew she never would be easy," General Baynes said,
with a sigh. His wife denied the accusation as an outrage, said that men always
imputed the worst motives to women, whereas her wish, heaven knows, was only to
see her darling child properly presented, and her husband in his proper rank in
the world. And Charlotte looked lovely, upon the evening of the ball; and Madame
Smolensk dressed Charlotte's hair very prettily, and offered to lend Auguste to
accompany the general's carriage; but Ogoost revolted, and said, "Non, merci! he
would do anything for the general and Miss Charlotte??but for the g?n?rale, no,
no, no!" and he made signs of violent abnegation. And though Charlotte looked as
sweet as a rosebud, she had little pleasure in her ball, Philip not being
present. And how could he be present, who had but one old coat, and holes in his
boots?
So, you see, after a sunny autumn, a cold winter comes, when the wind is bad for
delicate chests, and muddy for little shoes. How could Charlotte come out at
eight o'clock through mud or snow of a winter's morning, if she had been out at
an evening party late over night? Mrs. General Baynes began to go out a good
deal to the Paris evening parties??I mean to the parties of us Trojans??parties
where there are forty English people, three Frenchmen, and a German who plays
the piano. Charlotte was very much admired. The fame of her good looks spread
abroad. I promise you that there were persons of much more importance than the
poor Vicomte de Gar?on-boutique, who were charmed by her bright eyes, her bright
smiles, her artless, rosy beauty. Why, little Hely of the Embassy actually
invited himself to Mrs. Doctor Macoon's, in order to see this young beauty, and
danced with her without ceasing. Mr. Hely, who was the pink of fashion, you
know; who danced with the royal princesses; and was at all the grand parties of
the Faubourg St. Germain. He saw her to her carriage, a very shabby fly, it must
be confessed; but Mrs. Baynes told him they had been accustomed to a very
different kind of equipage in India. He actually called at the boarding-house,
and left his card, M. Walsingham Hely, attach? ? l'Ambassade de S. M.
Britannique, for General Baynes and his lady. To what balls would Mrs. Baynes
like to go? to the Tuileries? to the Embassy? to the Faubourg St. Germain? to
the Faubourg St. Honor?? I could name many more persons of distinction who were
fascinated by pretty Miss Charlotte. Her mother felt more and more ashamed of
the shabby fly, in which our young lady was conveyed to and from her
parties;??of the shabby fly, and of that shabby cavalier who was in waiting
sometimes to put Miss Charlotte into her carriage. Charlotte's mother's ears
were only too acute when disparaging remarks were made about that cavalier.
What? engaged to that queer redbearded fellow, with the ragged shirt-collars,
who trod upon everybody in the polka? A newspaper writer, was he? The son of
that doctor who ran away after cheating everybody? What a very odd thing of
General Baynes to think of engaging his daughter to such a person!
So Mr. Firmin was not asked to many distinguished houses, where his Charlotte
was made welcome; where there was dancing in
the saloon, very mild negus and
cakes in the salle-?-manger, and cards in the lady's bed-room. And he did not
care to be asked; and he made himself very arrogant and disagreeable when he was
asked; and he would upset tea-trays, and burst out into roars of laughter at all
times, and swagger about the drawing-room as if he was a man of importance??he
indeed??giving himself such airs, because his grandfather's brother was an earl!
And what had the earl done for him, pray? And what right had he to burst out
laughing when Miss Crackley sang a little out of tune? What could General Baynes
mean by selecting such a husband for that nice, modest young girl?
The old general sitting in the best bed-room, placidly playing at whist with the
other British fogies, does not hear these remarks, perhaps, but little Mrs.
Baynes with her eager eyes and ears sees and knows everything. Many people have
told her that Philip is a bad match for his daughter. She has heard him
contradict calmly quite wealthy people. Mr. Hobday, who has a house in Carlton
Terrace, London, and goes to the first houses in Paris, Philip has contradicted
him point blank, until Mr. Hobday turned quite red, and Mrs. Hobday didn't know
where to look. Mr. Peplow, a clergyman and a baronet's eldest son, who will be
one day the Rev. Sir Charles Peplow of Peplow Manor, was praising Tomlinson's
poems, and offered to read out at Mr. Badger's??and he reads very finely, though
a little perhaps through his nose??and when he was going to begin, Mr. Firmin
said, "My dear Peplow, for heaven's sake don't give us any of that rot. I would
as soon hear one of your own prize poems." Rot, indeed! What an expression! Of
course Mr. Peplow was very much annoyed. And this from a mere newspaper writer.
Never heard of such rudeness! Mrs. Tuffin said she took her line at once after
seeing this Mr. Firmin. "He may be an earl's grand-nephew, for what I care. He
may have been at college, he has not learned good manners there. He may be
clever, I don't profess to be a judge. But he is most overbearing, clumsy and
disagreeable. I shall not ask him to my Tuesdays; and Emma, if he asks you to
dance, I beg you will do no such thing!" A bull, you understand, in a meadow, or
on a prairie with a herd of other buffalos, is a noble animal: but a bull in a
china-shop is out of place; and even so was Philip amongst the crockery of those
little simple tea-parties, where his mane, and hoofs, and roar, caused endless
disturbance.
These remarks concerning the accepted son-in-law Mrs. Baynes heard and, at
proper moments, repeated. She ruled Baynes; but was very cautious, and secretly
afraid of him. Once or twice she had gone too far in her dealings with the quiet
old man, and he had revolted, put her down and never forgiven her. Beyond a
certain point, she dared not provoke her husband. She would say, "Well, Baynes,
marriage is a lottery: and I am afraid our poor Charlotte has not pulled a
prize:" on which the general would reply, "No more have others, my dear!" and so
drop the subject for the time being. On another occasion it would be, "You heard
how rude Philip Firmin was to Mr. Hobday?" And the general would answer, "I was
at cards, my dear." Again she might say, "Mrs. Tuffin says she will not have
Philip Firmin to her Tuesdays, my dear:" and the general's rejoinder would be,
"Begad, so much the better for him!" "Ah!" she groans, "he's always offending
some one!" "I don't think he seems to please you much, Eliza!" responds the
general: and she answers, "No, he don't, and that I confess; and I don't like to
think, Baynes, of my sweet child given up to certain poverty, and such a man!"
At which the general with some of his garrison pharses would break out with a
"Hang, it, Eliza, do you suppose I think it is a very good match?" and turn to
the wall, and, I hope, to sleep.
As for poor little Charlotte, her mother is not afraid of little Charlotte: and
when the two are alone the poor child knows she is to be made wretched by her
mother's assaults upon Philip. Was there ever anything so bad as his behaviour,
to burst out laughing when Miss Crackley was singing? Was he called upon to
contradict Sir Charles Peplow in that abrupt way, and as good as tell him he was
a fool? It was very wrong certainly, and poor Charlotte thinks, with a blush,
perhaps, how she was just at the point of admiring Sir Charles Peplow's reading
very much, and had been prepared to think Tomlinson's poems delightful, until
Philip ordered her to adopt a contemptuous opinion of the poet. And did you see
how he was dressed? a button wanting on his waistcoat, and a hole in his boot?
"Mamma!" cries Charlotte, turning very red. "He might have been better
dressed??if??if??"
"That is, you would like your own father to be in prison, your mother to beg her
bread, your sisters to go in rags, and your brothers to starve, Charlotte, in
order that we should pay Philip Firmin back the money of which his father robbed
him! Yes. That's your meaning. You needn't explain yourself. I can understand
quite well, thank you. Good-night. I hope you'll sleep well. I shan't, after
this conversation. Goodnight, Charlotte!" Ah, me! O course of true love, didst
thou ever run smooth? As we peep into that boarding-house; whereof I have
already described the mistress as wakeful with racking care regarding the
morrow; wherein lie the Miss Bolderos, who must naturally be very uncomfortable,
being on sufferance, and as it were in pain, as they lie on their beds;??what
sorrows do we not perceive brooding over the nightcaps? There is poor Charlotte
who has said her prayer for her Philip; and as she lays her young eyes on the
pillow, they wet it with their tears. Why does her mother for ever and for ever
speak against him? Why is her father so cold when Philip's name is mentioned?
Could Charlotte ever think of any but him? Oh, never, never! And so the wet eyes
are veiled at last; and close in doubt and fear and care. And in the next room
to Charlotte's, a little yellow old woman lies stark awake; and in the bed by
her side an old gentleman can't close his eyes for thinking??my poor girl is
promised to a beggar. All the fine hopes which we had of his getting a legacy
from that lord are over. Poor child, poor child, what will become of her?
Now, Two Sticks, let us fly over the river Seine to Mr. Philip Firmin's
quarters: to Philip's house, who has not got a penny; to Philip's bed, who has
made himself so rude and disagreeable at that tea-party. He has no idea that he
has offended anybody. He has gone home perfectly well pleased. He has kicked off
the tattered boot. He has found a little fire lingering in his stove, by which
he has smoked the pipe of thought. Ere he has jumped into his bed he has knelt a
moment beside it; and with all his heart??oh! with all his heart and soul??has
committed the dearest one to heaven's loving protection! And now he sleeps like
a child.
CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH WE STILL HOVER ABOUT THE ELYSIAN FIELDS.
The describer and biographer of my friend Mr. Philip Firmin has tried to
extenuate nothing; and, I hope, has set down nau
ght in malice. If Philip's boots
had holes in them, I have written that he had holes in his boots. If he had a
red beard, there it is red in this story. I might have oiled it with a tinge of
brown, and painted it a rich auburn. Towards modest people he was very gentle
and tender; but I must own that in general society he was not always an
agreeable companion. He was often haughty and arrogant: he was impatient of old
stories: he was intolerant of commonplaces. Mrs. Baynes' anecdotes of her
garrison experiences in India and Europe got a very impatient hearing from Mr.
Philip; and though little Charlotte gently remonstrated with him, saying, "Do,
do let mamma tell her story out; and don't turn away and talk about something
else in the midst of it; and don't tell her you have heard the story before, you
rude man! If she is not pleased with you, she is angry with me, and I have to
suffer when you are gone away,"??Miss Charlotte did not say how much she had to
suffer when Philip was absent; how constantly her mother found fault with him;
what a sad life, in consequence of her attachment to him, the young maiden had
to lead; and I fear that clumsy Philip, in his selfish thoughtlessness, did not
take enough count of the sufferings which his behaviour brought on the girl. You
see I am acknowledging that there were many faults on his side, which, perhaps,
may in some degree excuse or account for those which Mrs. General Baynes
certainly committed towards him. She did not love Philip naturally; and do you
suppose she loved him because she was under great obligations to him? Do you
love your creditor because you owe him more than you can ever pay? If I never
paid my tailor, should I be on good terms with him? I might go, on ordering
suits of clothes from now to the year nineteen hundred; but I should hate him
worse year after year. I should find fault with his cut and his cloth: I daresay
I should end by thinking his bills extortionate, though I never paid them.
Kindness is very indigestible. It disagrees with very proud stomachs. I wonder
was that traveller who fell among the thieves grateful afterwards to the
Samaritan who rescued him? He gave money certainly; but he didn't miss it. The
religious opinions of Samaritans are lamentably heterodox. O brother! may we
help the fallen still though they never pay us, and may we lend without exacting
the usury of gratitude!
Of this I am determined, that whenever I go courting again, I will not pay my
addresses to my dear creature ??day after day, and from year's end to year's
end, very likely, with the dear girl's mother, father, and half a dozen young
brothers and sisters in the room. I shall begin by being civil to the old lady,
of course. She is flattered at first by having a young fellow coming courting to
her daughter. She calls me "dear Edward;" works me a pair of braces; writes to
mamma and sisters, and so forth. Old gentleman says, "Brown, my boy" (I am here
fondly imagining myself to be a young fellow named Edward Brown, attached, let
us say, to Miss Kate Thompson)??Thompson, I say, says, "Brown, my boy, come to
dinner at seven. Cover laid for you always;" and of course, delicious thought!
that cover is by dearest Kate's side. But the dinner is bad sometimes. Sometimes
I come late. Sometimes things are going badly in the city. Sometimes Mrs.
Thompson is out of humour;??she always thought Kate might have done better. And
in the midst of these doubts and delays, suppose Jones appears, who is older,
but of a better temper, a better family, and??plague on him!?? twice as rich?
What are engagements? What are promises? It is sometimes an affectionate
mother's Duty to break her promise, and that duty the resolute matron will do.
Then Edward is Edward no more, but Mr. Brown; or, worse still, nameless in the