CHAPTER XXXIV.
IN WHICH THE HISTORY STILL HOVERS ABOUT FLEET-STREET
Captain Shandon, urged on by his wife, who seldom meddled in businessmatters, had stipulated that John Finucane, Esquire, of the UpperTemple, should be appointed sub-editor of the forthcoming "Pall-MallGazette," and this post was accordingly conferred upon Mr. Finucane bythe spirited proprietor of the Journal. Indeed he deserved any kindnessat the hands of Shandon, so fondly attached was he, as we have said,to the captain and his family, and so eager to do him a service. It wasin Finucane's chambers that Shandon used in former days to hide whendanger was near and bailiffs abroad: until at length his hiding-placewas known, and the sheriff's officers came as regularly to wait forthe captain on Finucane's stair-case as at his own door. It was toFinucane's chambers that poor Mrs. Shandon came often and often toexplain her troubles and griefs, and devise means of rescue for heradored captain. Many a meal did Finucane furnish for her and the childthere. It was an honor to his little rooms to be visited by such a lady;and as she went down the stair-case with her vail over her face, Finwould lean over the balustrade looking after her, to see that no TempleLovelace assailed her upon the road, perhaps hoping that some roguemight be induced to waylay her, so that he, Fin, might have the pleasureof rushing to her rescue, and breaking the rascal's bones. It was asincere pleasure to Mrs. Shandon when the arrangements were made bywhich her kind, honest champion was appointed her husband's aid-de-campin the newspaper.
He would have sate with Mrs. Shandon as late as the prison hourspermitted, and had indeed many a time witnessed the putting to bedof little Mary, who occupied a crib in the room; and to whose eveningprayers that God might bless papa, Finucane, although of the Romishfaith himself, had said Amen with a great deal of sympathy--but he hadan appointment with Mr. Bungay regarding the affairs of the paper whichthey were to discuss over a quiet dinner. So he went away at six o'clockfrom Mrs. Shandon, but made his accustomed appearance at the FleetPrison next morning, having arrayed himself in his best clothes andornaments, which, though cheap as to cost were very brilliant as tocolor and appearance, and having in his pocket four pounds two shillings,being the amount of his week's salary at the Daily Journal, minus twoshillings expended by him in the purchase of a pair of gloves on his wayto the prison.
He had cut his mutton with Mr. Bungay, as the latter gentleman phrasedit, and Mr. Trotter, Bungay's reader and literary man of business, atDick's Coffee-House on the previous day, and entered at large into hisviews respecting the conduct of the "Pall-Mall Gazette." In a masterlymanner he had pointed out what should be the sub-editorial arrangementsof the paper: what should be the type for the various articles: whoshould report the markets; who the turf and ring; who the Churchintelligence; and who the fashionable chit-chat. He was acquainted withgentlemen engaged in cultivating these various departments of knowledge,and in communicating them afterward to the public--in fine, JackFinucane was, as Shandon had said of him, and, as he proudly ownedhimself to be, one of the best sub-editors of a paper in London. He knewthe weekly earnings of every man connected with the Press, and was upto a thousand dodges, or ingenious economic contrivances, by whichmoney could be saved to spirited capitalists, who were going to set upa paper. He at once dazzled and mystified Mr. Bungay, who was slow ofcomprehension, by the rapidity of the calculations which he exhibitedon paper, as they sate in the box. And Bungay afterward owned to hissubordinate Mr. Trotter, that that Irishman seemed a clever fellow.
And now having succeeded in making this impression upon Mr. Bungay, thefaithful fellow worked round to the point which he had very near atheart, viz., the liberation from prison of his admired friend and chief,Captain Shandon. He knew to a shilling the amount of the detainerswhich were against the captain at the porter's lodge of the Fleet; and,indeed, professed to know all his debts, though this was impossible, forno man in England, certainly not the captain, himself, was acquaintedwith them. He pointed out what Shandon's engagements already were; andhow much better he would work if removed from confinement; (though thisMr. Bungay denied, for, "when the captain's locked up," he said, "weare sure to find him at home; whereas, when he's free, you can nevercatch hold of him;") finally, he so worked on Mr. Bungay's feelings,by describing Mrs. Shandon pining away in the prison, and the childsickening there, that the publisher was induced to promise that, if Mrs.Shandon would come to him in the morning, he would see what could bedone. And the colloquy ending at this time with the second round ofbrandy-and-water, although Finucane, who had four guineas in his pocket,would have discharged the tavern reckoning with delight, Bungay said,"No, sir,--this is my affair, sir, if you please. James, take the bill,and eighteen-pence for yourself," and he handed over the necessary fundsto the waiter. Thus it Was that Finucane who went to bed at the Templeafter the dinner at Dick's, found himself actually with his week'ssalary intact upon Saturday morning.
He gave Mrs. Shandon a wink so knowing and joyful, that that kindcreature knew some good news was in store for her, and hastened toget her bonnet and shawl, when Fin asked if he might have the honor oftaking her a walk, and giving her a little fresh air. And little Maryjumped for joy at the idea of this holiday, for Finucane never neglectedto give her a toy, or to take her to a show, and brought newspaperorders in his pocket for all sorts of London diversions to amuse thechild. Indeed, he loved them with all his heart, and would cheerfullyhave dashed out his rambling brains to do them, or his adored captain,a service.
"May I go, Charley? or shall I stay with you, for you're poorly, dear,this morning? He's got a headache, Mr. Finucane. He suffers fromheadaches, and I persuaded him to stay in bed," Mrs. Shandon said.
"Go along with you, and Polly. Jack, take care of 'em. Hand me over theBurton's Anatomy, and leave me to my abominable devices," Shandon said,with perfect good humor. He was writing, and not uncommonly took hisGreek and Latin quotations (of which he knew the use as a public writer)from that wonderful repertory of learning.
So Fin gave his arm to Mrs. Shandon, and Mary went skipping down thepassages of the prison, and through the gate into the free air. FromFleet-street to Paternoster Row is not very far. As the three reachedMr. Bungay's shop, Mrs. Bungay was also entering at the private door,holding in her hand a paper parcel and a manuscript volume bound in red,and, indeed, containing an account of her transactions with the butcherin the neighboring market. Mrs. Bungay was in a gorgeous shot silkdress, which flamed with red and purple; she wore a yellow shawl, andhad red flowers inside her bonnet, and a brilliant light blue parasol.Mrs. Shandon was in an old black watered silk; her bonnet had never seenvery brilliant days of prosperity any more than its owner, but she couldnot help looking like a lady, whatever her attire was. The two womencourtesied to each other, each according to her fashion.
"I hope you're pretty well, mum?" said Mrs. Bungay.
"It's a very fine day," said Mrs. Shandon.
"Won't you step in, mum?" said Mrs. Bungay, looking so hard at the childas almost to frighten her.
"I--I came about business with Mr. Bungay--I--I hope he's pretty well?"said timid Mrs. Shandon.
"If you go to see him in the counting-house, couldn't you--couldn't youleave your little _gurl_ with me?" said Mrs. Bungay, in a deep voice,and with a tragic look, as she held out one finger toward the child.
"I want to stay with mamma," cried little Mary, burying her face in hermother's dress.
"Go with this lady, Mary, my dear," said the mother.
"I'll show you some pretty pictures," said Mrs. Bungay, with the voiceof an ogress, "and some nice things besides; look here"--and opening herbrown paper parcel, Mrs. Bungay displayed some choice sweet biscuits,such as her Bungay loved after his wine. Little Mary followed after thisattraction, the whole party entering at the private entrance, from whicha side door led into Mr. Bungay's commercial apartments. Here, however,as the child was about to part from her mother, her courage againfailed her, and again she ran to the maternal petticoat; upon which thekind and gentle Mrs. Shandon, seeing the
look of disappointment in Mrs.Bungay's face, good-naturedly said, "If you will let me, I will comeup too, and sit for a few minutes," and so the three females ascendedthe stairs together. A second biscuit charmed little Mary into perfectconfidence, and in a minute or two she prattled away without the leastrestraint.
Faithful Finucane meanwhile found Mr. Bungay in a severer mood than hehad been on the night previous, when two-thirds of a bottle of port,and two large glasses of brandy-and-water, had warmed his soul intoenthusiasm, and made him generous in his promises toward CaptainShandon. His impetuous wife had rebuked him on his return home. Shehad ordered that he should give no relief to the captain; he was agood-for-nothing fellow, whom no money would help; she disapproved ofthe plan of the "Pall-Mall Gazette," and expected that Bungay would onlylose his money in it as they were losing over the way (she always calledher brother's establishment "over the way"), by the "Whitehall Journal."Let Shandon stop in prison and do his work; it was the best place forhim. In vain Finucane pleaded and promised and implored, for his friendBungay had had an hour's lecture in the morning and was inexorable.
But what honest Jack failed to do below stairs in the counting-house,the pretty faces and manners of the mother and child were effecting inthe drawing-room, where they were melting the fierce but really softMrs. Bungay. There was an artless sweetness in Mrs. Shandon's voice,and a winning frankness of manner, which made most people fond of her,and pity her: and taking courage by the rugged kindness with which herhostess received her, the captain's lady told her story, and describedher husband's goodness and virtues, and her child's failing health (shewas obliged to part with two of them, she said, and send them to school,for she could not have them in that horrid place)--that Mrs. Bungay,though as grim as Lady Macbeth, melted under the influence of thesimple tale, and said she would go down and speak to Bungay. Now in thishousehold to speak was to command, with Mrs. Bungay; and with Bungay, tohear was to obey.
It was just when poor Finucane was in despair about his negotiation,that the majestic Mrs. Bungay descended upon her spouse, politelyrequested Mr. Finucane to step up to his friends in her drawing-room,while she held a few minutes' conversation with Mr. B., and when thepair were alone the publisher's better half informed him of herintentions toward the captain's lady.
"What's in the wind now, my dear?" Maecenas asked, surprised at hiswife's altered tone. "You wouldn't hear of my doing any thing for thecaptain this morning: I wonder what has been a-changing of you."
"The captain is an Irishman," Mrs. Bungay replied; "and those IrishI have always said I couldn't abide. But his wife is a lady, as anyone can see; and a good woman, and a clergyman's daughter, and a westof England woman, B., which I am myself, by my mother's side--and, OMarmaduke! didn't you remark her little gurl?"
"Yes, Mrs. B., I saw the little girl."
"And didn't you see how like she was to our angel, Bessy, Mr. B.?"--andMrs. Bungay's thoughts flew back to a period eighteen years back, whenBacon and Bungay had just set up in business as small booksellers in acountry town, and when she had had a child, named Bessy, something likethe little Mary who had just moved her compassion.
"Well, well, my dear," Mr. Bungay said, seeing the little eyes of hiswife begin to twinkle and grow red; "the captain ain't in for much.There's only a hundred and thirty pound against him. Half the moneywill take him out of the Fleet, Finucane says, and we'll pay him halfsalaries till he has made the account square. When the little 'un said,'Why, don't you take Par out of pizn?' I did feel it, Elizabeth, upon myhonor I did, now." And the upshot of this conversation was, that Mr. andMrs. Bungay both ascended to the drawing-room, and Mr. Bungay made aheavy and clumsy speech, in which he announced to Mrs. Shandon, that,hearing sixty-five pounds would set her husband free, he was ready toadvance that sum of money, deducting it from the captain's salary, andthat he would give it to her on condition that she would personallysettle with the creditors regarding her husband's liberation.
I think this was the happiest day that Mrs. Shandon and Mr. Finucane hadhad for a long time. "Bedad, Bungay, you're a trump!" roared out Fin,in an overpowering brogue and emotion. "Give us your fist, old boy: andwon't we send the 'Pall-Mall Gazette' up to ten thousand a week, that'sall!" and he jumped about the room, and tossed up little Mary, with ahundred frantic antics.
"If I could drive you any where in my carriage, Mrs. Shandon--I'msure it's quite at your service," Mrs. Bungay said, looking out at aone-horsed vehicle which had just driven up, and in which this lady tookthe air considerably--and the two ladies, with little Mary between them(whose tiny hand Maecenas's wife kept fixed in her great grasp), with thedelighted Mr. Finucane on the back seat, drove away from PaternosterRow, as the owner of the vehicle threw triumphant glances at theopposite windows at Bacon's.
"It won't do the captain any good," thought Bungay, going back to hisdesk and accounts, "but Mrs. B. becomes reglar upset when she thinksabout her misfortune. The child would have been of age yesterday, ifshe'd lived. Bessy told me so:" and he wondered how women did rememberthings.
We are happy to say that Mrs. Shandon sped with very good success uponher errand. She who had had to mollify creditors when she had no moneyat all, and only tears and entreaties wherewith to soothe them, found nodifficulty in making them relent by means of a bribe of ten shillingsin the pound; and the next Sunday was the last, for some time at least,which the captain spent in prison.