English
AmongthemostrespectedofthenamesbeginninginCwhichtheCourt-Guidecontained,intheyear18—,wasthatofCrawley,SirPitt,Baronet,GreatGauntStreet,andQueen’sCrawley,Hants.
ThishonourablenamehadfiguredconstantlyalsointheParliamentarylistformanyyears,inconjunctionwiththatofanumberofotherworthygentlemenwhosatinturnsfortheborough.
Itisrelated,withregardtotheboroughofQueen’sCrawley,thatQueenElizabethinoneofherprogresses,stoppingatCrawleytobreakfast,wassodelightedwithsomeremarkablyfineHampshirebeerwhichwasthenpresentedtoherbytheCrawleyoftheday(ahandsomegentlemanwithatrimbeardandagoodleg),thatsheforthwitherectedCrawleyintoaboroughtosendtwomemberstoParliament;andtheplace,fromthedayofthatillustriousvisit,tookthenameofQueen’sCrawley,whichitholdsuptothepresentmoment.
Andthough,bythelapseoftime,andthosemutationswhichageproducesinempires,cities,andboroughs,Queen’sCrawleywasnolongersopopulousaplaceasithadbeeninQueenBess’stime—nay,wascomedowntothatconditionofboroughwhichusedtobedenominatedrotten—yet,asSirPittCrawleywouldsaywithperfectjusticeinhiselegantway,“Rotten!
behanged—itproducesmeagoodfifteenhundredayear.”
SirPittCrawley(namedafterthegreatCommoner)wasthesonofWalpoleCrawley,firstBaronet,oftheTapeandSealing-WaxOfficeinthereignofGeorgeII.,whenhewasimpeachedforpeculation,aswereagreatnumberofotherhonestgentlemenofthosedays;andWalpoleCrawleywas,asneedscarcelybesaid,sonofJohnChurchillCrawley,namedafterthecelebratedmilitarycommanderofthereignofQueenAnne.
Thefamilytree(whichhangsupatQueen’sCrawley)furthermorementionsCharlesStuart,afterwardscalledBarebonesCrawley,sonoftheCrawleyofJamestheFirst’stime;andfinally,QueenElizabeth’sCrawley,whoisrepresentedastheforegroundofthepictureinhisforkedbeardandarmour.
Outofhiswaistcoat,asusual,growsatree,onthemainbranchesofwhichtheaboveillustriousnamesareinscribed.
ClosebythenameofSirPittCrawley,Baronet(thesubjectofthepresentmemoir),arewrittenthatofhisbrother,theReverendButeCrawley(thegreatCommonerwasindisgracewhenthereverendgentlemanwasborn),rectorofCrawley-cum-Snailby,andofvariousothermaleandfemalemembersoftheCrawleyfamily.
SirPittwasfirstmarriedtoGrizzel,sixthdaughterofMungoBinkie,LordBinkie,andcousin,inconsequence,ofMr.Dundas.
Shebroughthimtwosons:Pitt,namednotsomuchafterhisfatherasaftertheheaven-bornminister;andRawdonCrawley,fromthePrinceofWales’sfriend,whomhisMajestyGeorgeIVforgotsocompletely.
Manyyearsafterherladyship’sdemise,SirPittledtothealtarRosa,daughterofMr.G.Dawson,ofMudbury,bywhomhehadtwodaughters,forwhosebenefitMissRebeccaSharpwasnowengagedasgoverness.
Itwillbeseenthattheyoungladywascomeintoafamilyofverygenteelconnexions,andwasabouttomoveinamuchmoredistinguishedcirclethanthathumbleonewhichshehadjustquittedinRussellSquare.
Shehadreceivedherorderstojoinherpupils,inanotewhichwaswrittenuponanoldenvelope,andwhichcontainedthefollowingwords:
SirPittCrawleybegsMissSharpandbaggidgemaybehearonTuesday,asIleafforQueen’sCrawleyto-morrowmorningERLY.
GreatGauntStreet.
RebeccahadneverseenaBaronet,asfarassheknew,andassoonasshehadtakenleaveofAmelia,andcountedtheguineaswhichgood-naturedMr.Sedleyhadputintoapurseforher,andassoonasshehaddonewipinghereyeswithherhandkerchief(whichoperationsheconcludedtheverymomentthecarriagehadturnedthecornerofthestreet),shebegantodepictinherownmindwhataBaronetmustbe.
“Iwonder,doeshewearastar?”
thoughtshe,“orisitonlylordsthatwearstars?
Buthewillbeveryhandsomelydressedinacourtsuit,withruffles,andhishairalittlepowdered,likeMr.WroughtonatCoventGarden.
Isupposehewillbeawfullyproud,andthatIshallbetreatedmostcontemptuously.
StillImustbearmyhardlotaswellasIcan—atleast,IshallbeamongstGENTLEFOLKS,andnotwithvulgarcitypeople”:andshefelltothinkingofherRussellSquarefriendswiththatverysamephilosophicalbitternesswithwhich,inacertainapologue,thefoxisrepresentedasspeakingofthegrapes.
HavingpassedthroughGauntSquareintoGreatGauntStreet,thecarriageatlengthstoppedatatallgloomyhousebetweentwoothertallgloomyhouses,eachwithahatchmentoverthemiddledrawing-roomwindow;asisthecustomofhousesinGreatGauntStreet,inwhichgloomylocalitydeathseemstoreignperpetual.
Theshuttersofthefirst-floorwindowsofSirPitt’smansionwereclosed—thoseofthedining-roomwerepartiallyopen,andtheblindsneatlycoveredupinoldnewspapers.
John,thegroom,whohaddriventhecarriagealone,didnotcaretodescendtoringthebell;andsoprayedapassingmilk-boytoperformthatofficeforhim.
Whenthebellwasrung,aheadappearedbetweentheintersticesofthedining-roomshutters,andthedoorwasopenedbyamanindrabbreechesandgaiters,withadirtyoldcoat,afouloldneckclothlashedroundhisbristlyneck,ashiningbaldhead,aleeringredface,apairoftwinklinggreyeyes,andamouthperpetuallyonthegrin.
“ThisSirPittCrawley’s?”saysJohn,fromthebox.
“Ees,”saysthemanatthedoor,withanod.
“Handdownthese‘eretrunksthen,”saidJohn.
“Hand‘ndownyourself,”saidtheporter.
“Don’tyouseeIcan’tleavemyhosses?Come,bearahand,myfinefeller,andMisswillgiveyousomebeer,”saidJohn,withahorse-laugh,forhewasnolongerrespectfultoMissSharp,asherconnexionwiththefamilywasbrokenoff,andasshehadgivennothingtotheservantsoncomingaway.
Thebald-headedman,takinghishandsoutofhisbreechespockets,advancedonthissummons,andthrowingMissSharp’strunkoverhisshoulder,carrieditintothehouse.
“Takethisbasketandshawl,ifyouplease,andopenthedoor,”saidMissSharp,anddescendedfromthecarriageinmuchindignation.
“IshallwritetoMr.Sedleyandinformhimofyourconduct,”saidshetothegroom.
“Don’t,”repliedthatfunctionary.“Ihopeyou’veforgotnothink?
Miss‘Melia’sgownds—haveyougotthem—asthelady’smaidwastohave‘ad?Ihopethey’llfityou.
Shutthedoor,Jim,you’llgetnogoodoutof‘ER,”continuedJohn,pointingwithhisthumbtowardsMissSharp:“abadlot,Itellyou,abadlot,”andsosaying,Mr.Sedley’sgroomdroveaway.
Thetruthis,hewasattachedtothelady’smaidinquestion,andindignantthatsheshouldhavebeenrobbedofherperquisites.
Onenteringthedining-room,bytheordersoftheindividualingaiters,Rebeccafoundthatapartmentnotmorecheerfulthansuchroomsusuallyare,whengenteelfamiliesareoutoftown.
Thefaithfulchambersseem,asitwere,tomourntheabsenceoftheirmasters.
Theturkeycarpethasrolleditselfup,andretiredsulkilyunderthesideboard:thepictureshavehiddentheirfacesbehindoldsheetsofbrownpaper:theceilinglampismuffledupinadismalsackofbrownholland:thewindow-curtainshavedisappearedunderallsortsofshabbyenvelopes:themarblebustofSirWalpoleCrawleyislookingfromitsblackcorneratthebareboardsandtheoiledfire-irons,andtheemptycard-racksoverthemantelpiece:thecellarethaslurkedawaybehindthecarpet:thechairsareturnedupheadsandtailsalongthewalls:andinthedarkcorneroppositethestatue,isanold-fashionedcrabbedknife-box,lockedandsittingonadumbwaiter.
Twokitchenchairs,andaroundtable,andanattenuatedoldpokerandtongswere,however,gatheredroundthefire-place,aswasasaucepanoverafeeblesputteringfire.
Therewasabitofcheeseandbread,andatincandlestickonthetable,andalittleblackporterinapint-pot.
“Hadyourdinner,Isuppose?Itisnottoowarmforyou?Likeadropofbeer?”
“WhereisSirPittCrawley?”saidMissSharpmajestically.
“He,he!I’mSirPittCrawley.Reklectyouowemeapintforbringingdownyourluggage.He,he!AskTinkerifIaynt.Mrs.Tinker,MissSharp;MissGoverness,Mrs.Charwoman.Ho,ho!”
TheladyaddressedasMrs.Tinkeratthismomentmadeherappearancewithapipeandapaperoftobacco,forwhichshehadbeendespatchedaminutebeforeMissSharp’sarrival;andshehandedthearticlesovertoSirPitt,whohadtakenhisseatbythefire.
“Where’sthefarden?”saidhe.“Igaveyouthreehalfpence.Where’sthechange,oldTinker?”
“There!”repliedMrs.Tinker,flingingdownthecoin;it’sonlybaronetsascaresaboutfarthings.”
“Afarthingadayissevenshillingsayear,”answeredtheM.P.;“sevenshillingsayearistheinterestofsevenguineas.
Takecareofyourfarthings,oldTinker,andyourguineaswillcomequitenat’ral.”
“Youmaybesureit’sSirPittCrawley,youngwoman,”saidMrs.Tinker,surlily;“becausehelookstohisfarthings.You’llknowhimbetteraforelong.”
“Andlikemenonetheworse,MissSharp,”saidtheoldgentleman,withanairalmostofpoliteness.“ImustbejustbeforeI’mgenerous.”
“Henevergaveawayafarthinginhislife,”growledTinker.
“Never,andneverwill:it’sagainstmyprinciple.Goandgetanotherchairfromthekitchen,Tinker,ifyouwanttositdown;andthenwe’llhaveabitofsupper.”
Presentlythebaronetplungedaforkintothesaucepanonthefire,andwithdrewfromthepotapieceoftripeandanonion,whichhedividedintoprettyequalportions,andofwhichhepartookwithMrs.Tinker.
“Yousee,MissSharp,whenI’mnothereTinker’sonboardwages:whenI’mintownshedineswiththefamily.Haw!haw!
I’mgladMissSharp’snothungry,ain’tyou,Tink?”
Andtheyfelltoupontheirfrugalsupper.
AftersupperSirPittCrawleybegantosmokehispipe;andwhenitbecamequitedark,helightedtherushlightinthetincandlestick,andproducingfromaninterminablepocketahugemassofpapers,beganreadingthem,andputtingtheminorder.
“I’mhereonlawbusiness,mydear,andthat’showithappensthatIshallhavethepleasureofsuchaprettytravellingcompanionto-morrow.”
“He’salwaysatlawbusiness,”saidMrs.Tinker,takingupthepotofporter.
“Drinkanddrinkabout,”saidtheBaronet.
“Yes;mydear,Tinkerisquiteright:I’velostandwonmorelawsuitsthananymaninEngland.LookhereatCrawley,Bart.v.Snaffle.
I’llthrowhimover,ormyname’snotPittCrawley.
PodderandanotherversusCrawley,Bart.
OverseersofSnailyparishagainstCrawley,Bart.
Theycan’tproveit’scommon:I’lldefy‘em;theland’smine.
ItnomorebelongstotheparishthanitdoestoyouorTinkerhere.
I’llbeat‘em,ifitcostmeathousandguineas.
Lookoverthepapers;youmayifyoulike,mydear.Doyouwriteagoodhand?
I’llmakeyouusefulwhenwe’reatQueen’sCrawley,dependonit,MissSharp.
Nowthedowager’sdeadIwantsomeone.”
“Shewasasbadashe,”saidTinker.“Shetookthelawofeveryoneofhertradesmen;andturnedawayforty-eightfootmeninfouryear.”
“Shewasclose—veryclose,”saidtheBaronet,simply;“butshewasavalyblewomantome,andsavedmeasteward.”
—Andinthisconfidentialstrain,andmuchtotheamusementofthenew-comer,theconversationcontinuedforaconsiderabletime.
WhateverSirPittCrawley’squalitiesmightbe,goodorbad,hedidnotmaketheleastdisguiseofthem.
Hetalkedofhimselfincessantly,sometimesinthecoarsestandvulgarestHampshireaccent;sometimesadoptingthetoneofamanoftheworld.
Andso,withinjunctionstoMissSharptobereadyatfiveinthemorning,hebadehergoodnight.
“You’llsleepwithTinkerto-night,”hesaid;“it’sabigbed,andthere’sroomfortwo.LadyCrawleydiedinit.Goodnight.”
SirPittwentoffafterthisbenediction,andthesolemnTinker,rushlightinhand,ledthewayupthegreatbleakstonestairs,pastthegreatdrearydrawing-roomdoors,withthehandlesmuffledupinpaper,intothegreatfrontbedroom,whereLadyCrawleyhadsleptherlast.
Thebedandchamberweresofunerealandgloomy,youmighthavefancied,notonlythatLadyCrawleydiedintheroom,butthatherghostinhabitedit.
Rebeccasprangabouttheapartment,however,withthegreatestliveliness,andhadpeepedintothehugewardrobes,andtheclosets,andthecupboards,andtriedthedrawerswhichwerelocked,andexaminedthedrearypicturesandtoiletteappointments,whiletheoldcharwomanwassayingherprayers.
“Ishouldn’tliketosleepinthisyeerbedwithoutagoodconscience,Miss,”saidtheoldwoman.
“There’sroomforusandahalf-dozenofghostsinit,”saysRebecca.
“TellmeallaboutLadyCrawleyandSirPittCrawley,andeverybody,myDEARMrs.Tinker.”
ButoldTinkerwasnottobepumpedbythislittlecross-questioner;andsignifyingtoherthatbedwasaplaceforsleeping,notconversation,setupinhercornerofthebedsuchasnoreasonlythenoseofinnocencecanproduce.
Rebeccalayawakeforalong,longtime,thinkingofthemorrow,andofthenewworldintowhichshewasgoing,andofherchancesofsuccessthere.Therushlightflickeredinthebasin.
Themantelpiececastupagreatblackshadow,overhalfofamouldyoldsampler,whichherdefunctladyshiphadworked,nodoubt,andovertwolittlefamilypicturesofyounglads,oneinacollegegown,andtheotherinaredjacketlikeasoldier.
Whenshewenttosleep,Rebeccachosethatonetodreamabout.
Atfouro’clock,onsucharoseatesummer’smorningasevenmadeGreatGauntStreetlookcheerful,thefaithfulTinker,havingwakenedherbedfellow,andbidherpreparefordeparture,unbarredandunboltedthegreathalldoor(theclangingandclappingwhereofstartledthesleepingechoesinthestreet),andtakingherwayintoOxfordStreet,summonedacoachfromastandthere.
Itisneedlesstoparticularizethenumberofthevehicle,ortostatethatthedriverwasstationedthusearlyintheneighbourhoodofSwallowStreet,inhopesthatsomeyoungbuck,reelinghomewardfromthetavern,mightneedtheaidofhisvehicle,andpayhimwiththegenerosityofintoxication.
Itislikewiseneedlesstosaythatthedriver,ifhehadanysuchhopesasthoseabovestated,wasgrosslydisappointed;andthattheworthyBaronetwhomhedrovetotheCitydidnotgivehimonesinglepennymorethanhisfare.
ItwasinvainthatJehuappealedandstormed;thatheflungdownMissSharp’sbandboxesinthegutteratthe‘Necks,andsworehewouldtakethelawofhisfare.
“You’dbetternot,”saidoneoftheostlers;“it’sSirPittCrawley.”
“Soitis,Joe,”criedtheBaronet,approvingly;“andI’dliketoseethemancandome.”
“Soshouldoi,”saidJoe,grinningsulkily,andmountingtheBaronet’sbaggageontheroofofthecoach.
“Keeptheboxforme,Leader,”exclaimstheMemberofParliamenttothecoachman;whoreplied,“Yes,SirPitt,”withatouchofhishat,andrageinhissoul(forhehadpromisedtheboxtoayounggentlemanfromCambridge,whowouldhavegivenacrowntoacertainty),andMissSharpwasaccommodatedwithabackseatinsidethecarriage,whichmightbesaidtobecarryingherintothewideworld.
HowtheyoungmanfromCambridgesulkilyputhisfivegreat-coatsinfront;butwasreconciledwhenlittleMissSharpwasmadetoquitthecarriage,andmountupbesidehim—whenhecoveredherupinoneofhisBenjamins,andbecameperfectlygood-humoured—howtheasthmaticgentleman,theprimlady,whodeclareduponhersacredhonourshehadnevertravelledinapubliccarriagebefore(thereisalwayssuchaladyinacoach—Alas!
was;forthecoaches,wherearethey?)
,andthefatwidowwiththebrandy-bottle,tooktheirplacesinside—howtheporteraskedthemallformoney,andgotsixpencefromthegentlemanandfivegreasyhalfpencefromthefatwidow—andhowthecarriageatlengthdroveaway—nowthreadingthedarklanesofAldersgate,anonclatteringbytheBlueCupolaofSt.Paul’s,jinglingrapidlybythestrangers’entryofFleet-Market,which,withExeter‘Change,hasnowdepartedtotheworldofshadows—howtheypassedtheWhiteBearinPiccadilly,andsawthedewrisingupfromthemarket-gardensofKnightsbridge—howTurnhamgreen,Brentwood,Bagshot,werepassed—neednotbetoldhere.
Butthewriterofthesepages,whohaspursuedinformerdays,andinthesamebrightweather,thesameremarkablejourney,cannotbutthinkofitwithasweetandtenderregret.
Whereistheroadnow,anditsmerryincidentsoflife?
IstherenoChelseaorGreenwichfortheoldhonestpimple-nosedcoachmen?
Iwonderwherearethey,thosegoodfellows?IsoldWelleraliveordead?
andthewaiters,yea,andtheinnsatwhichtheywaited,andthecoldroundsofbeefinside,andthestuntedostler,withhisbluenoseandclinkingpail,whereishe,andwhereishisgeneration?
Tothosegreatgeniusesnowinpetticoats,whoshallwritenovelsforthebelovedreader’schildren,thesemenandthingswillbeasmuchlegendandhistoryasNineveh,orCoeurdeLion,orJackSheppard.
Forthemstage-coacheswillhavebecomeromances—ateamoffourbaysasfabulousasBucephalusorBlackBess.
Ah,howtheircoatsshone,asthestable-menpulledtheirclothesoff,andawaytheywent—ah,howtheirtailsshook,aswithsmokingsidesatthestage’sendtheydemurelywalkedawayintotheinn-yard.Alas!
weshallneverhearthehornsingatmidnight,orseethepike-gatesflyopenanymore.
Whither,however,isthelightfour-insideTrafalgarcoachcarryingus?
LetusbesetdownatQueen’sCrawleywithoutfurtherdivagation,andseehowMissRebeccaSharpspeedsthere.
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