Richard Carvel — Complete

  CHAPTER XXII. ON THE ROAD

  Many were the ludicrous incidents we encountered on our journey toLondon. As long as I live, I shall never forget John Paul's alightingupon the bridge of the Sark to rid himself of a mighty farewell addressto Scotland he had been composing upon the road. And this he deliveredwith such appalling voice and gesture as to frighten to a standstill achaise on the English side of the stream, containing a young gentlemanin a scarlet coat and a laced hat, and a young lady who sobbed as wepassed them. They were, no doubt, running to Gretna Green to be married.

  Captain Paul, as I have said, was a man of moods, and strangely affectedby ridicule. And this we had in plenty upon the road. Landlords, grooms,and'ostlers, and even our own post-boys, laughed and jested coarselyat his sky-blue frock, and their sallies angered him beyond all reason,while they afforded me so great an amusement that more than once I wason the edge of a serious falling-out with him as a consequence of mymerriment. Usually, when we alighted from our vehicle, the expressionof mine host would sour, and his sir would shift to a master; while hisservants would go trooping in again, with many a coarse fling that theywould get no vails from such as we. And once we were invited into thekitchen. He would be soar for half a day at a spell after a piece ofinsolence out of the common, and then deliver me a solemn lecture uponthe advantages of birth in a manor. Then his natural buoyancy wouldlift him again, and he would be in childish ecstasies at the prospect ofgetting to London, and seeing the great world; and I began to think thathe secretly cherished the hope of meeting some of its votaries. ForI had told him, casually as possible, that I had friends in ArlingtonStreet, where I remembered the Manners were established.

  "Arlington Street!" he repeated, rolling the words over his tongue; "ithas a fine sound, laddie, a fine sound. That street must be the veryacme of fashion."

  I laughed, and replied that I did not know. And at the ordinary of thenext inn we came to, he took occasion to mention to me, in a loudervoice than was necessary, that I would do well to call in ArlingtonStreet as we went into town. So far as I could see, the remark did notcompel any increase of respect from our fellow-diners.

  Upon more than one point I was worried. Often and often I reflected thatsome hitch might occur to prevent my getting money promptly from Mr.Dix. Days would perchance elapse before I could find the man in sucha great city as London; he might be out of town at this season, Easterbeing less than a se'nnight away. For I had heard my grandfather saythat the elder Mr. Dix had a house in some merchant's suburb, and lovedto play at being a squire before he died. Again (my heart stood atthe thought), the Manners might be gone back to America. I cursed thestubborn pride which had led the captain to hire a post-chaise, whenthe wagon had served us so much better, and besides relieved him ofthe fusillade of ridicule he got travelling as a gentleman. But suchreflections always ended in my upbraiding myself for blaming him whosegenerosity had rescued me from perhaps a life-long misery.

  But, on the whole, we rolled southward happily, between high walls andhedges, past trim gardens and fields and meadows, and I marvelled atthe regular, park-like look of the country, as though stamped from onedesign continually recurring, like our butter at Carvel Hall. The roadswere sometimes good, and sometimes as execrable as a colonial byway inwinter, with mud up to the axles. And yet, my heart went out to thiscountry, the home of my ancestors. Spring was at hand; the ploughboyswhistled between the furrows, the larks circled overhead, and the lilacswere cautiously pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with theperfume of living things.

  The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scantyindeed, and more than once we were told to go farther down the street,that the inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind wastroubled about John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to thebest hotels in the larger towns, declaring that there we should meet thepeople of fashion. Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered thatsuch people never came to the ordinary, but were served in their ownrooms by their own servants.

  "I shall know them yet," he would vow, as we started off of a morning,after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. "AmI not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a difficultymany before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the history, andthe poets. And the French language, though I have never made the grandtour. I flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By the help of yourfriends, I shall have a title or two for acquaintances before I leaveLondon; and when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I know of whowill give me employment, if I have not obtained preferment."

  The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And Ihad not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was,I knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier fora camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross thethresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers ishard, and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name.

  "We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul," I said, "and waste notime upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James'sand the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchancehis Majesty himself," I added, attempting merriment, for the notionof seeing Dolly only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knewnothing of Dolly.

  "So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you," he said reproachfully."Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can makefriends without going to Arlington Street."

  I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech.

  "And a time will come when they shall know me," he went on. "If theyinsult me now they shall pay dearly for it."

  "My dear captain," I cried; "nobody will insult you, and least of all myfriends, the Manners." I had my misgivings about little Mr. Marmaduke."But we are, neither of us, equipped for a London season. I am but anunknown provincial, and you--" I paused for words.

  For a sudden realization had come upon me that our positions were nowreversed. It seemed strange that I should be interpreting the world tothis man of power.

  "And I?" he repeated bitterly.

  "You have first to become an admiral," I replied, with inspiration;"Drake was once a common seaman."

  He did not answer. But that evening as we came into Windsor, I perceivedthat he had not abandoned his intentions. The long light flashed onthe peaceful Thames, and the great, grim castle was gilded all over itswestern side.

  The captain leaned out of the window.

  "Postilion," he called, "which inn here is most favoured by gentlemen?"

  "The Castle," said the boy, turning in his saddle to grin at me. "But ifI might be so bold as to advise your honour, the 'Swan' is a comfortablehouse, and well attended."

  "Know your place, sirrah," shouted the captain, angrily, "and drive usto the 'Castle.'"

  The boy snapped his whip disdainfully, and presently pulled us up at theinn, our chaise covered with the mud of three particular showers we hadrun through that day. And, as usual, the landlord, thinking he was aboutto receive quality, came scraping to the chaise door, only to turn witha gesture of disgust when he perceived John Paul's sea-boxes tied onbehind, and the costume of that hero, as well as my own.

  The captain demanded a room. But mine host had turned his back, whensuddenly a thought must have struck him, for he wheeled again.

  "Stay," he cried, glancing suspiciously at the sky-blue frock; "if youare Mr. Dyson's courier, I have reserved a suite."

  This same John Paul, who was like iron with mob and mutiny, was pitiablyhelpless before such a prop of the aristocracy. He flew into a rage,and rated the landlord in Scotch and English, and I was fain to put mytongue in my cheek and turn my back that my laughter might not anger himthe more.

  And so I came face to face with another smile, behind a spying-glass,--asmile so cynical and unpleasant withal that my own was smothered. Atall and thin gentleman, who had come out of the inn without a hat, wassurveying the dispute with a keen delight. He was past the mid
dle age.His clothes bore that mark which distinguishes his world from the other,but his features were so striking as to hold my attention unwittingly.

  After a while he withdrew his glass, cast one look at me which mighthave meant anything, and spoke up.

  "Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting agentleman to your house?"

  I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, orI. Goble bowed at the speaker.

  "A gentleman, your honour!" he gasped. "Your honour is joking again.Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor thelongshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan.'"

  "Jews' finery!" shouted the captain, with his fingers on his sword.

  But the stranger held up a hand deprecatingly.

  "'Pon my oath, Goble, I gave you credit for more penetration," hedrawled; "you may be right about the Scotchman, but your longshore louthas had both birth and breeding, or I know nothing."

  John Paul, who was in the act of bowing to the speaker, remainedpetrified with his hand upon his heart, entirely discomfited. Thelandlord forsook him instantly for me, then stole a glance at his guestto test his seriousness, and looked at my face to see how greatly itwere at variance with my clothes. The temptation to lay hands on thecringing little toadeater grew too strong for me, and I picked him upby the scruff of the collar,--he was all skin and bones,--and spun himround like a corpse upon a gibbet, while he cried mercy in a voice towake the dead. The slim gentleman under the sign laughed until he heldhis sides, with a heartiness that jarred upon me. It did not seem to fithim.

  "By Hercules and Vulcan," he cried, when at last I had set the landlorddown, "what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in thehouse, Goble, and sup with me."

  Goble pulled himself together.

  "And he is your honour's friend," he began, with a scowl.

  "Ay, he is my friend, I tell you," retorted the important personage,impatiently.

  The innkeeper, sulky, half-satisfied, yet fearing to offend, welcomed uswith what grace he could muster, and we were shown to "The Fox and theGrapes," a large room in the rear of the house.

  John Paul had not spoken since the slim gentleman had drawn thedistinction between us, and I knew that the affront was rankling in hisbreast. He cast himself into a chair with such an air of dejection asmade me pity him from my heart. But I had no consolation to offer. Hisfirst words, far from being the torrent of protest I looked for, almoststartled me into laughter.

  "He can be nothing less than a duke," said the captain. "Ah, Richard,see what it is to be a gentleman!"

  "Fiddlesticks! I had rather own your powers than the best title inEngland," I retorted sharply.

  He shook his head sorrowfully, which made me wonder the more that a manof his ability should be unhappy without this one bauble attainment.

  "I shall begin to believe the philosophers have the right of it," heremarked presently. "Have you ever read anything of Monsieur Rousseau's,Richard?"

  The words were scarce out of his mouth when we heard a loud rap on thedoor, which I opened to discover a Swiss fellow in a private livery,come to say that his master begged the young gentleman would sup withhim. The man stood immovable while he delivered this message, and put animpudent emphasis upon the gentleman.

  "Say to your master, whoever he may be," I replied, in some heat atthe man's sneer, "that I am travelling with Captain Paul. That anyinvitation to me must include him."

  The lackey stood astounded at my answer, as though he had not heardaright. Then he retired with less assurance than he had come, and JohnPaul sprang to his feet and laid his hands upon my shoulders, as was hiswont when affected. He reproached himself for having misjudged me, andadded a deal more that I have forgotten.

  "And to think," he cried, "that you have forgone supping with a noblemanon my account!"

  "Pish, captain, 'tis no great denial. His Lordship--if Lordship heis--is stranded in an inn, overcome with ennui, and must be amused. Thatis all."

  Nevertheless I think the good captain was distinctly disappointed, notalone because I gave up what in his opinion was a great advantage, butlikewise because I could have regaled him on my return with an accountof the meal. For it must be borne in mind, my dears, that those daysare not these, nor that country this one. And in judging Captain Paulit must be remembered that rank inspired a vast respect when King Georgecame to the throne. It can never be said of John Paul that he lackedeither independence or spirit. But a nobleman was a nobleman then.

  So when presently the gentleman himself appeared smiling at our door,which his servant had left open, we both of us rose up in astonishmentand bowed very respectfully, and my face burned at the thought of themessage I had sent him. For, after all, the captain was but twenty-oneand I nineteen, and the distinguished unknown at least fifty. He took apinch of snuff and brushed his waistcoat before he spoke.

  "Egad," said he, with good nature, looking up at me, "Mohammed was aphilosopher, and so am I, and come to the mountain. 'Tis worth crossingan inn in these times to see a young man whose strength has not beenwasted upon foppery. May I ask your name, sir?"

  "Richard Carvel," I answered, much put aback.

  "Ah, Carvel," he repeated; "I know three or four of that name. Perhapsyou are Robert Carvel's son, of Yorkshire. But what the devil do you doin such clothes? I was resolved to have you though I am forced to take adozen watchet-blue mountebanks in the bargain."

  "Sir, I warn you not to insult my friend," I cried, in a temper again.

  "There, there, not so loud, I beg you," said he, with a gesture. "Hot aspounded pepper,--but all things are the better for a touch of it. I hadno intention of insulting the worthy man, I give my word. I must have myjoke, sir. No harm meant." And he nodded at John Paul, who looked as ifhe would sink through the floor. "Robert Carvel is as testy as the devilwith the gout, and you are not unlike him in feature."

  "He is no relation of mine," I replied, undecided whether to laugh orbe angry. And then I added, for I was very young, "I am an American, andheir to Carvel Hall in Maryland."

  "Lord, lord, I might have known," exclaimed he. "Once I had the honourof dining with your Dr. Franklin, from Pennsylvania. He dresses for allthe world like you, only worse, and wears a hat I would not be caughtunder at Bagnigge Wells, were I so imprudent as to go there."

  "Dr. Franklin has weightier matters than hats to occupy him, sir," Iretorted. For I was determined to hold my own.

  He made a French gesture, a shrug of his thin shoulders, which caused meto suspect he was not always so good-natured.

  "Dr. Franklin would better have stuck to his newspaper, my youngfriend," said he. "But I like your appearance too well to quarrel withyou, and we'll have no politics before eating. Come, gentlemen, come!Let us see what Goble has left after his shaking."

  He struck off with something of a painful gait, which he explained wasfrom the gout. And presently we arrived at his parlour, where supper wasset out for us. I had not tasted its equal since I left Maryland. We satdown to a capon stuffed with eggs, and dainty sausages, and hot rolls,such as we had at home; and a wine which had cobwebbed and mellowedunder the Castle Inn for better than twenty years. The personage did notdrink wine. He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble because he had notbeen given iced water. While he was tapping on the table I took occasionto observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike the stranger, not byreason of its nobility, but because of its oddity. He had a prodigiouslength of face, the nose long in proportion, but not prominent. The eyeswere dark, very bright, and wide apart, with little eyebrows dabbed overthem at a slanting angle. The thin-lipped mouth rather pursed up, whichmade his smile the contradiction it was. In short, my dears, while Ido not lay claim to the reading of character, it required no greatastuteness to perceive the scholar, the man of the world, and theascetic--and all affected. His conversation bore out the summary. Itastonished us. It encircled the earth, embraced history and letterssince the world began. And added to all thi
s, he had a thousandanecdotes on his tongue's tip. His words he chose with too great anicety; his sentences were of a foreign formation, twisted around; andhis stories were illustrated with French gesticulations. He threw inquotations galore, in Latin, and French, and English, until the captainbegan casting me odd, uncomfortable looks, as though he wished himselfwell out of the entertainment. Indeed, poor John Paul's perturbationamused me more than the gentleman's anecdotes. To be ill at ease isdiscouraging to any one, but it was peculiarly fatal with the captain.This arch-aristocrat dazzled him. When he attempted to follow in thesame vein he would get lost. And his really considerable learningcounted for nothing. He reached the height of his mortification whenthe slim gentleman dropped his eyelids and began to yawn. I was wickedlydelighted. He could not have been better met. Another such encounter,and I would warrant the captain's illusions concerning the gentry to goup in smoke. Then he might come to some notion of his own true powers.As for me, I enjoyed the supper which our host had insisted upon ourpartaking, drank his wine, and paid him very little attention.

  "May I make so bold as to ask, sir, whether you are a patron ofliterature?" said the captain, at length.

  "A very poor patron, my dear man," was the answer. "Merely a humbleworshipper at the shrine. And I might say that I partake of its benefitsas much as a gentleman may. And yet," he added, with a laugh and acough, "those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me aliterary man."

  "And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is comingon," said he, "perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr.Carvel, and of your friend, Captain Paul. And how you come to be so farfrom home." And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man whohas bought his right to an opera box.

  Here was my chance. And I resolved that if I did not further enlightenJohn Paul, it would be no fault of mine.

  "Sir," I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, "I waskidnapped by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony,who had designs upon my grandfather's fortune. I was taken abroad in aslaver and carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discoveredthat the captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates. For oneday all hands got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captainraised the skull and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest. Iwas forced to climb the main rigging in order to escape being hacked topieces."

  He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half aninch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity. John Paulwas no less astonished at my little ruse.

  "Holy Saint Clement!" exclaimed our host; "pirates! This begins tohave a flavour indeed. And yet you do not seem to be a lad with animagination. Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say,with Alceste: 'Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.' Butpray go on, sir. You have but to call for pen and ink to rival Mr.Fielding."

  With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him abow. And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same.

  "I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir," I said. "Sir, yourhumble servant. I wish you a very good evening." He rose precipitately,crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm.

  "Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated," he said, in some agitation."Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyeson you until to-night. Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery?But I should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit.Pray be seated, captain."

  I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored mypoint, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism. Itold my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listenedwith every mark of attention and interest. Indeed, to my surprise, hebegan to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed himcapable.

  "What a find! what a find!" he continued to exclaim, when I hadfinished. "And true. You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?"

  "Sir!" I replied, "I thought we had thrashed that out."

  "Yes, yes, to be sure. I beg pardon," said he. And then to his servant:"Colomb, is my writing-tablet unpacked?"

  I was more mystified than ever as to his identity. Was he going to putthe story in a magazine?

  After that he seemed plainly anxious to be rid of us. I bade him goodnight, and he grasped my hand warmly enough. Then he turned to thecaptain in his most condescending manner. But a great change had comeover John Paul. He was ever quick to see and to learn, and I rejoicedto remark that he did not bow over the hand, as he might have done twohours since. He was again Captain Paul, the man, who fought his way onhis own merits. He held himself as tho' he was once more pacing the deckof the John.

  The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass,soused it with water, and held it up.

  "Here's to your future, my good captain," he said, "and to Mr. Carvel'ssafe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail togo to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and lethim remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And putup at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have friendsin London."

  I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry.

  "You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel,"he added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. "A strange yarnindeed, captain."

  "And therefore," said the captain, coolly, "as a stranger give itwelcome.

  "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

  Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been moretaken aback.

  "What! What's this?" he cried. "You quote Hamlet! And who the devil areyou, sir, that you know my name?"

  "Your name, sir!" exclaims the captain, in astonishment.

  "Well, well," he said, stepping back and eying us closely, "'tis nomatter. Good night, gentlemen, good night."

  And we went to bed with many a laugh over the incident.

  "His name must be Horatio. We'll discover it in the morning," said JohnPaul.