many were retail shopkeepers. She even frequented the little branch
Ebenezer, on Rosebury Green; and it was only by her charities and
kindness at Christmas-time, that the Rev. Dr. Potter, the rector at
Rosebury, knew her. The old clergy, you see, live with the county
families. Good little Madame de Florac was pitied and patronised by the
Doctor, treated with no little superciliousness by Mrs. Potter, and the
young ladies, who only kept the first society. Even when her rich brother
died, and she got her share of all that money Mrs. Potter said poor
Madame de Florac did well in not trying to move out of her natural sphere
(Mrs. P. was the daughter of a bankrupt hatter in London, and had herself
been governess in a noble family, out of which she married Mr. P., who
was private tutor). Madame de Florac did well, she said, not to endeavour
to leave her natural sphere, and that The County never would receive her.
Tom Potter, the rector's son, with whom I had the good fortune to be a
fellow-student at Saint Boniface College, Oxbridge--a rattling, forward,
and it must be owned, vulgar youth--asked me whether Florac was not a
billiard-marker by profession? and was even so kind as to caution his
sisters not to speak of billiards before the lady of Rosebury. Tom was
surprised to learn that Monsieur Paul de Florac was a gentleman of
lineage incomparably better than that of any, except two or three
families in England (including your own, my dear and respected reader, of
course, if you hold to your pedigree). But the truth is, heraldically
speaking, that union with the Higgs of Manchester was the first
misalliance which the Florac family had made for long long years. Not
that I would wish for a moment to insinuate that any nobleman is equal to
an English nobleman; nay, that an English snob, with a coat-of-arms
bought yesterday, or stolen out of Edmonton, or a pedigree purchased from
a peerage-maker, has not a right to look down upon any of your paltry
foreign nobility.
One day the carriage-and-four came in state from Newcome Park, with the
well-known chaste liveries of the Newcomes, and drove up Rosebury Green,
towards the parsonage gate, when Mrs. and the Miss Potters happened to be
standing, cheapening fish from a donkey-man, with whom they were in the
habit of dealing. The ladies were in their pokiest old head-gear and most
dingy gowns, when they perceived the carriage approaching; and
considering, of course, that the visit of the Park people was intended
for them, dashed into the rectory to change their clothes, leaving
Rowkins, the costermonger, in the very midst of the negotiation about the
three mackerel. Mamma got that new bonnet out of the bandbox; Lizzy and
Liddy skipped up to their bedroom, and brought out those dresses which
they wore at the dejeuner at the Newcome Athenaeum, when Lord Leveret
came down to lecture; into which they no sooner had hooked their lovely
shoulders, than they reflected with terror that mamma had been altering
one of papa's flannel waistcoats and had left it in the drawing-room,
when they were called out by the song of Rowkins, and the appearance of
his donkey's ears over the green gate of the rectory. To think of the
Park people coming, and the drawing-room in that dreadful state!
But when they came downstairs the Park people were not in the room--the
woollen garment was still on the table (how they plunged it into the
chiffonier!)--and the only visitor was Rowkins, the costermonger,
grinning at the open French windows, with the three mackerel, and crying,
"Make it sixpence, miss--don't say fippens, maam, to a pore fellow that
has a wife and family." So that the young ladies had to cry--"Impudence!"
"Get away, you vulgar insolent creature!--Go round, sir, to the back
door!" "How dare you?" and the like; fearing lest Lady Anne Newcome, and
Young Ethel, and Barnes should enter in the midst of this ignoble
controversy.
They never came at all--those Park people. How very odd! They passed the
rectory gate; they drove on to Madame de Florac's lodge. They went in.
They stayed for half an hour; the horses driving round and round the
gravel road before the house; and Mrs. Potter and the girls speedily
going to the upper chambers, and looking out of the room where the maids
slept, saw Lady Anne, Ethel, and Barnes walking with Madame de Florac,
going into the conservatories, issuing thence with MacWhirter, the
gardener, bearing huge bunches of grapes and large fasces of flowers;
they saw Barnes talking in the most respectful manner to Madame de
Florac: and when they went downstairs and had their work before them--
scarlet cloak for one of the old women--they had the agony of seeing the
barouche over the railings whisk by, with the Park people inside, and
Barnes driving the four horses.
It was on that day when Barnes had determined to take up Madame de
Florac; when he was bent upon reconciling her to her husband. In spite of
all Mrs. Potter's predictions, the county families did come and visit the
manufacturer's daughter; and when Madame de Florac became Madame la
Princesse de Moncontour, when it was announced that she was coming to
stay at Rosebury for Christmas, I leave you to imagine whether the
circumstance was or was not mentioned in the Newcome Sentinel and the
Newcome Independent; and whether Rev. G. Potter, D.D., and Mrs. Potter
did or did not call on the Prince and Princess. I leave you to imagine
whether the lady did or did not inspect all the alterations which
Vineer's people from Newcome were making at Rosebury House--the chaste
yellow satin and gold of the drawing-room--the carved oak for the
dining-room--the chintz for the bedrooms--the Princess's apartment--the
Prince's apartment--the guests' apartments--the smoking-room, gracious
goodness!--the stables (these were under Tom Potter's superintendence),
"and I'm finished," says he one day, "if here doesn't come a
billiard-table!"
The house was most comfortably and snugly appointed from top to bottom;
and thus it will be seen that Mr. and Mrs. Pendennis were likely to be in
very good quarters for Christmas of 184-.
Tom Potter was so kind as to call on me two days after our arrival; and
to greet me in the Princess's pew at church on the previous day. Before
desiring to be introduced to my wife, he requested me to present him to
my friend the Prince. He called him your Highness. His Highness, who had
behaved with exemplary gravity, save once when he shrieked an "ah!" as
Miss Liddy led off the children in the organ-loft in a hymn, and the
whole pack went woefully out of tune, complimented Monsieur Tom on the
sermon of monsieur his father. Tom walked with us to Rosebury lodge-gate.
"Will you not come in, and make a party of billiard with me?" says His
Highness. "Ah Pardon! I forgot, you do not play the billiard the Sunday!"
"Any other day, Prince, I shall be delighted," says Tom; and squeezed His
Highness's hand tenderly at parting. "Your comrade of college was he?"
as
ks Florac. "My dear, what men are these comrades of college! What men
are you English! My word of honour, there are some of them here--if I
were to say to them wax my boots, they would take them and wax them!
Didst thou see how the Reverend eyed us during the sermon? He regarded us
over his book, my word of honour!"
Madame de Florac said simply, she wished the Prince would go and hear Mr.
Jacob at the Ebenezer. Mr. Potter was not a good preacher, certainly.
"Savez-vows qu'elle est furieusement belle, la fille du Reverend?"
whispered His Highness to me. "I have made eyes at her during the sermon.
They will be of pretty neighbours these meess!" and Paul looked
unutterably roguish and victorious as he spoke. To my wife, I am bound to
say, Monsieur de Moncontour showed a courtesy, a respect and kindness,
that could not be exceeded. He admired her. He paid her compliments
innumerable, and gave me I am sure sincere congratulations at possessing
such a treasure. I do not think he doubted about his power of conquering
her, or any other of the daughters of women. But I was the friend of his
misfortunes--his guest; and he spared me.
I have seen nothing more amusing, odd, and pleasant than Florac at this
time of his prosperity. We arrived, as this veracious chronicle has
already asserted, on a Saturday evening. We were conducted to our most
comfortable apartments; with crackling fires blazing on the hearths, and
every warmth of welcome. Florac expanded and beamed with good-nature. He
shook me many times by the hand; he patted me; he called me his good--his
brave.
He cried to his maitre d'hotel, "Frederic, remember monsieur is master
here! Run before his orders. Prostrate thyself to him. He was good to me
in the days of my misfortune. Hearest thou, Frederic? See that everything
be done for Monsieur Pendennis--for madame sa charmante lady--for her
angelic infant, and the bonne. None of thy garrison tricks with that
young person, Frederic! vieux scelerat! Garde-toi de la, Frederic; si
"En Angleterre je me fais Anglais, vois-tu, mon ami," continued the
Prince. "Demain c'est Sunday, et tu vas voir! I hear the bell, dress
thyself for the dinner--my friend!"; Here there was another squeeze of
both hands from the good-natured fellow. "It do good to my art to ave you
in my ouse! Heuh!" He hugged his guest; he had tears in his eyes as he
performed this droll, this kind embrace. Not less kind in her way, though
less expensive and embracive, was Madame de Moncontour to my wife, as I
found on comparing notes with that young woman, when the day's
hospitalities were ended. The little Princess trotted from bedchamber to
nursery to see that everything was made comfortable for her guests. She
sate and saw the child washed and put to bed. She had never beheld such a
little angel. She brought it a fine toy to play with. She and her grim
old maid frightened the little creature at first, but it was very
speedily reconciled to their countenances. She was in the nursery almost
as early as the child's mother. "Ah!" sighed the poor little woman, "how
happy you must be to have one!" In fine, my wife was quite overcome by
her goodness and welcome.
Sunday morning arrived in the course of time, and then Florac appeared as
a most wonderful Briton indeed! He wore top-boots and buckskins; and
after breakfast, when we went to church, a white great-coat with a little
cape, in which garment he felt that his similarity to an English
gentleman was perfect. In conversation with his grooms and servants he
swore freely,--not that he was accustomed to employ oaths in his own
private talk, but he thought the employment of these expletives necessary
as an English country gentleman. He never dined without a roast-beef, and
insisted that the piece of meat should be bleeding, "as you love it, you
others." He got up boxing-matches: and kept birds for combats of cock. He
assumed the sporting language with admirable enthusiasm--drove over to
cover with a steppere--rode across countri like a good one--was splendid
in the hunting-field in his velvet cap and Napoleon boots, and made the
Hunt welcome at Rosebury where his good-natured little wife was as kind
to the gentlemen in scarlet as she used to be of old to the stout
Dissenting gentlemen in black, who sang hymns and spake sermons on her
lawn. These folks, scared at the change which had taken place in the
little Princess's habits of life, lamented her falling away: but in the
county she and her husband got a great popularity, and in Newcome town
itself they were not less liked, for her benefactions were unceasing, and
Paul's affability the theme of all praise. The Newcome Independent and
the Newcome Sentinel both paid him compliments; the former journal
contrasting his behaviour with that of Sir Barnes, their member. Florac's
pleasure was to drive his Princess with four horses into Newcome. He
called his carriage his "trappe," his "drague." The street-boys cheered
and hurrayed the Prince as he passed through the town. One haberdasher
had a yellow stock called the "Moncontour" displayed in his windows;
another had a pink one marked "The Princely," and as such recommended it
to the young Newcome gents.
The drague conveyed us once to the neighbouring house of Newcome, whither
my wife accompanied Madame de Moncontour at that lady's own request, to
whom Laura very properly did not think fit to confide her antipathy for
Lady Clara Newcome. Coming away from a great house, how often she and I,
egotistical philosophers, thanked our fates that our own home was a small
one! How long will great houses last in this world? Do not their owners
now prefer a lodging at Brighton, or a little entresol on the Boulevard,
to the solitary ancestral palace in a park barred round with snow? We
were as glad to get out of Newcome as out of a prison. My wife and our
hostess skipped into the carriage, and began to talk freely as the
lodge-gates closed after us. Would we be lords of such a place under the
penalty of living in it? We agreed that the little angle of earth called
Fairoaks was dearer to us than the clumsy Newcome-pile of Tudor masonry.
The house had been fitted up in the time of George IV. and the
quasi-Gothic revival. We were made to pass through Gothic dining-rooms,
where there was now no hospitality,--Gothic drawing-rooms shrouded in
brown hollands, to one little room at the end of the dusky suite, where
Lady Clara sate alone, or in the company of the nurses and children. The
blank gloom of the place had fallen upon the poor lady. Even when my wife
talked about children (good-natured Madame de Moncontour vaunting ours as
a prodigy) Lady Clara did not brighten up! Her pair of young ones was
exhibited and withdrawn. A something weighed upon the woman. We talked
about Ethel's marriage. She said it was fixed for the new year, she
believed. She did not know whether Glenlivat had been very handsomely
fitted up. She had not seen Lord Farintosh's house in London. Sir Barnes
came down once--twi
ce--of a Saturday sometimes, for three or four days to
hunt, to amuse himself, as all men do she supposed. She did not know when
he was coming again. She rang languidly when we rose to take leave, and
sank back on her sofa, where lay a heap of French novels. "She has chosen
some pretty books," says Paul, as we drove through the sombre avenues
through the grey park, mists lying about the melancholy ornamental
waters, dingy herds of huddled sheep speckling the grass here and there;
no smoke rising up from the great stacks of chimneys of the building we
were leaving behind us, save one little feeble thread of white which we
knew came from the fire by which the lonely mistress of Newcome was
seated. "Ouf!" cries Florac, playing his whip, as the lodge-gates closed
on us, and his team of horses rattled merrily along the road, "what a
blessing it is to be out of that vault of a place! There is something
fatal in this house--in this woman. One smells misfortune there."
The hotel which our friend Florac patronised on occasion of his visits to
Newcome was the King's Arms, and it happened, one day, as we entered that
place of entertainment in company, that a visitor of the house was
issuing through the hall, to whom Florac seemed as if he would administer
one of his customary embraces, and to whom the Prince called out "Jack,"
with great warmth and kindness as he ran towards the stranger.
Jack did not appear to be particularly well pleased on beholding us; he
rather retreated from before the Frenchman's advances.
"My dear Jack, my good, my brave Ighgate! I am delighted to see you!"
Florac continues, regardless of the stranger's reception, or of the
landlord's looks towards us, who was bowing the Prince into his very best
room.
"How do you do, Monsieur de Florac?" growls the new comer, surlily; and
was for moving on after this brief salutation; but having a second
thought seemingly, turned back and followed Florac into the apartment
where our host conducted us. "A la bonne heure!" Florac renewed his
cordial greetings to Lord Highgate. "I knew not, mon bon, what fly had
stung you," says he to my lord. The landlord, rubbing his hands, smirking
and bowing, was anxious to know whether the Prince would take anything
after his drive. As the Prince's attendant and friend, the lustre of his
reception partially illuminated me. When the chief was not by, I was
treated with great attention (mingled with a certain degree of
familiarity) by my landlord.
Lord Highgate waited until Mr. Taplow was out of the room; and then said
to Florac, "Don't call me by my name here, please, Florac, I am here
incog."
"Plait-il?" asks Florac. "Where is incog.?" He laughed when the word was
interpreted to him. Lord Highgate had turned to me. "There was no
rudeness, you understand, intended, Mr. Pendennis, but I am down here on
some business, and don't care to wear the handle to my name. Fellows work
it so, don't you understand? never leave you at rest in a country town--
that sort of thing. Heard of our friend Clive lately?"
"Whether you ave andle or no andle, Jack, you are always the bien venu to
me. What is thy affair? Old monster! I wager----"
"No, no, no such nonsense," says Jack, rather eagerly. "I give you my
honour, I--I want to--to raise a sum of money--that is, to invest some in
a speculation down here--deuced good the speculations down here; and, by
the way, if the landlord asks you, I'm Mr. Harris--I'm a civil engineer--
I'm waiting for the arrival of the Canada at Liverpool from America, and
very uneasy about my brother who is on board."
"What does he recount to us there? Keep these stories for the landlord,
Jack; to us 'tis not the pain to lie. My good Mr. Harris, why have we not
seen you at Rosebury? The Princess will scold me if you do not come; and
you must bring your dear brother when he arrive too. Do you hear?" The