The Bedford Row Conspiracy
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William Makepeace Thackeray >> The Bedford Row Conspiracy
This etext was prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
Contents.
I. Of the loves of Mr. Perkins and Miss Gorgon, and of the two
great factions in the town of Oldborough.
II. Shows how the plot began to thicken in or about Bedford Row.
III. Behind the scenes.
Footnote:
A story of Charles de Bernard furnished the plot of
"The Bedford-Row Conspiracy."
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
CHAPTER I.
OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON, AND OF THE TWO GREAT
FACTIONS IN THE TOWN OF OLDBOROUGH.
"My dear John," cried Lucy, with a very wise look indeed, "it must
and shall be so. As for Doughty Street, with our means, a house is
out of the question. We must keep three servants, and Aunt Biggs
says the taxes are one-and-twenty pounds a year."
"I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John: "Paradise
Row, No. 17,--garden--greenhouse--fifty pounds a year--omnibus to
town within a mile."
"What! that I may be left alone all day, and you spend a fortune in
driving backward and forward in those horrid breakneck cabs? My
darling, I should die there--die of fright, I know I should. Did
you not say yourself that the road was not as yet lighted, and that
the place swarmed with public-houses and dreadful tipsy Irish
bricklayers? Would you kill me, John?"
"My da-arling," said John, with tremendous fondness, clutching Miss
Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rapping the hand of that young
person violently against his waistcoat,--"My da-arling, don't say
such things, even in a joke. If I objected to the chambers, it is
only because you, my love, with your birth and connections, ought to
have a house of your own. The chambers are quite large enough and
certainly quite good enough for me." And so, after some more sweet
parley on the part of these young people, it was agreed that they
should take up their abode, when married, in a part of the House
number One hundred and something, Bedford Row.
It will be necessary to explain to the reader that John was no other
than John Perkins, Esquire, of the Middle Temple, barrister-at-law,
and that Miss Lucy was the daughter of the late Captain Gorgon, and
Marianne Biggs, his wife. The Captain being of noble connections,
younger son of a baronet, cousin to Lord X----, and related to the
Y---- family, had angered all his relatives by marrying a very silly
pretty young woman, who kept a ladies'-school at Canterbury. She
had six hundred pounds to her fortune, which the Captain laid out in
the purchase of a sweet travelling-carriage and dressing-case for
himself; and going abroad with his lady, spent several years in the
principal prisons of Europe, in one of which he died. His wife and
daughter were meantime supported by the contributions of Mrs. Jemima
Biggs, who still kept the ladies'-school.
At last a dear old relative--such a one as one reads of in
romances--died and left seven thousand pounds apiece to the two
sisters, whereupon the elder gave up schooling and retired to
London; and the younger managed to live with some comfort and
decency at Brussels, upon two hundred and ten pounds per annum.
Mrs. Gorgon never touched a shilling of her capital, for the very
good reason that it was placed entirely out of her reach; so that
when she died, her daughter found herself in possession of a sum of
money that is not always to be met with in this world.
Her aunt the baronet's lady, and her aunt the ex-schoolmistress,
both wrote very pressing invitations to her, and she resided with
each for six months after her arrival in England. Now, for a second
time, she had come to Mrs. Biggs, Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh
Square. It was under the roof of that respectable old lady that
John Perkins, Esquire, being invited to take tea, wooed and won Miss
Gorgon.
Having thus described the circumstances of Miss Gorgon's life, let
us pass for a moment from that young lady, and lift up the veil of
mystery which envelopes the deeds and character of Perkins.
Perkins, too, was an orphan; and he and his Lucy, of summer
evenings, when Sol descending lingered fondly yet about the minarets
of the Foundling, and gilded the grassplots of Mecklenburgh
Square--Perkins, I say, and Lucy would often sit together in the
summer-house of that pleasure-ground, and muse upon the strange
coincidences of their life. Lucy was motherless and fatherless; so
too was Perkins. If Perkins was brotherless and sisterless, was not
Lucy likewise an only child? Perkins was twenty-three: his age and
Lucy's united, amounted to forty-six; and it was to be remarked, as
a fact still more extraordinary, that while Lucy's relatives were
AUNTS, John's were UNCLES. Mysterious spirit of love! let us treat
thee with respect and whisper not too many of thy secrets. The fact
is, John and Lucy were a pair of fools (as every young couple OUGHT
to be who have hearts that are worth a farthing), and were ready to
find coincidences, sympathies, hidden gushes of feeling, mystic
unions of the soul, and what not, in every single circumstance that
occurred from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, and
in the intervals. Bedford Row, where Perkins lived, is not very far
from Mecklenburgh Square; and John used to say that he felt a
comfort that his house and Lucy's were served by the same
muffin-man.
Further comment is needless. A more honest, simple, clever,
warm-hearted, soft, whimsical, romantical, high-spirited young
fellow than John Perkins did not exist. When his father, Doctor
Perkins, died, this, his only son, was placed under the care of John
Perkins, Esquire, of the house of Perkins, Scully, and Perkins,
those celebrated attorneys in the trading town of Oldborough, which
the second partner, William Pitt Scully, Esquire, represented in
Parliament and in London.
All John's fortune was the house in Bedford Row, which, at his
father's death, was let out into chambers, and brought in a clear
hundred a year. Under his uncle's roof at Oldborough, where he
lived with thirteen red-haired male and female cousins, he was only
charged fifty pounds for board, clothes, and pocket-money, and the
remainder of his rents was carefully put by for him until his
majority. When he approached that period--when he came to belong to
two spouting-clubs at Oldborough, among the young merchants and
lawyers'-clerks--to blow the flute nicely, and play a good game at
billiards--to have written one or two smart things in the Oldborough
Sentinel--to be fond of smoking (in which act he was discovered by
his fainting aunt at three o'clock one morning)--in one word, when
John Perkins arrived at manhood, he discovered that he was quite
unfit to be an attorney, that he detested all the ways of his
uncle's stern, dull, vulgar, regular, red-headed family, and he
vowed that he would go to London and make his fortune. Thither he
went, his aunt and cousins, who were all "serious," vowing that he
was a lost boy; and when his history opens, John had been two years
in the metropolis, inhabiting his own garrets; and a very nice
compact set of apartments, looking into the back-garden, at this
moment falling vacant, the prudent Lucy Gorgon had visited them, and
vowed that she and her John should there commence housekeeping.
All these explanations are tedious, but necessary; and furthermore,
it must be said, that as John's uncle's partner was the Liberal
member for Oldborough, so Lucy's uncle was its Ministerial
representative.
This gentleman, the brother of the deceased Captain Gorgon, lived at
the paternal mansion of Gorgon Castle, and rejoiced in the name and
title of Sir George Grimsby Gorgon.
He, too, like his younger brother, had married a lady beneath his
own rank in life; having espoused the daughter and heiress of Mr.
Hicks, the great brewer at Oldborough, who held numerous mortgages
on the Gorgon property, all of which he yielded up, together with
his daughter Juliana, to the care of the baronet.
What Lady Gorgon was in character, this history will show. In
person, if she may be compared to any vulgar animal, one of her
father's heavy, healthy, broad-flanked, Roman-nosed white
dray-horses might, to the poetic mind, appear to resemble her. At
twenty she was a splendid creature, and though not at her full
growth, yet remarkable for strength and sinew; at forty-five she was
as fine a woman as any in His Majesty's dominions. Five feet seven
in height, thirteen stone, her own teeth and hair, she looked as if
she were the mother of a regiment of Grenadier Guards. She had
three daughters of her own size, and at length, ten years after the
birth of the last of the young ladies, a son--one son--George
Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, the godson of a royal duke, whose
steady officer in waiting Sir George had been for many years.
It is needless to say, after entering so largely into a description
of Lady Gorgon, that her husband was a little shrivelled wizen-faced
creature, eight inches shorter than her Ladyship. This is the way
of the world, as every single reader of this book must have
remarked; for frolic love delights to join giants and pigmies of
different sexes in the bonds of matrimony. When you saw her
Ladyship in flame-coloured satin and gorgeous toque and feathers,
entering the drawing-room, as footmen along the stairs shouted
melodiously, "Sir George and Lady Gorgon," you beheld in her company
a small withered old gentleman, with powder and large royal
household buttons, who tripped at her elbow as a little weak-legged
colt does at the side of a stout mare.
The little General had been present at about a hundred and twenty
pitched battles on Hounslow Heath and Wormwood Scrubs, but had never
drawn his sword against an enemy. As might be expected, therefore,
his talk and tenue were outrageously military. He had the whole
Army List by heart--that is, as far as the field-officers: all
below them he scorned. A bugle at Gorgon Castle always sounded at
breakfast, and dinner: a gun announced sunset. He clung to his
pigtail for many years after the army had forsaken that ornament,
and could never be brought to think much of the Peninsular men for
giving it up. When he spoke of the Duke, he used to call him "MY
LORD WELLINGTON--I RECOLLECT HIM AS CAPTAIN WELLESLEY." He swore
fearfully in conversation, was most regular at church, and regularly
read to his family and domestics the morning and evening prayer; he
bullied his daughters, seemed to bully his wife, who led him whither
she chose; gave grand entertainments, and never asked a friend by
chance; had splendid liveries, and starved his people; and was as
dull, stingy, pompous, insolent, cringing, ill-tempered a little
creature as ever was known.
With such qualities you may fancy that he was generally admired in
society and by his country. So he was: and I never knew a man so
endowed whose way through life was not safe--who had fewer pangs of
conscience--more positive enjoyments--more respect shown to
him--more favours granted to him, than such a one as my friend the
General.
Her Ladyship was just suited to him, and they did in reality admire
each other hugely. Previously to her marriage with the baronet,
many love-passages had passed between her and William Pitt Scully,
Esquire, the attorney; and there was especially one story, a propos
of certain syllabubs and Sally-Lunn cakes, which seemed to show that
matters had gone very far. Be this as it may, no sooner did the
General (Major Gorgon he was then) cast an eye on her, than Scully's
five years' fabric of love was instantly dashed to the ground. She
cut him pitilessly, cut Sally Scully, his sister, her dearest friend
and confidante, and bestowed her big person upon the little
aide-de-camp at the end of a fortnight's wooing. In the course of
time their mutual fathers died; the Gorgon estates were
unencumbered: patron of both the seats in the borough of
Oldborough, and occupant of one, Sir George Grimsby Gorgon, Baronet,
was a personage of no small importance.
He was, it scarcely need to be said, a Tory; and this was the reason
why William Pitt Scully, Esquire, of the firm of Perkins and Scully,
deserted those principles in which he had been bred and christened;
deserted that church which he had frequented, for he could not bear
to see Sir George and my Lady flaunting in their grand
pew;--deserted, I say, the church, adopted the conventicle, and
became one of the most zealous and eloquent supporters that Freedom
has known in our time. Scully, of the house of Scully and Perkins,
was a dangerous enemy. In five years from that marriage, which
snatched from the jilted solicitor his heart's young affections, Sir
George Gorgon found that he must actually spend seven hundred pounds
to keep his two seats. At the next election, a Liberal was set up
against his man, and actually ran him hard; and finally, at the end
of eighteen years, the rejected Scully--the mean attorney--was
actually the FIRST Member for Oldborough, Sir George Grimsby Gorgon,
Baronet, being only the second!
The agony of that day cannot be imagined--the dreadful curses of Sir
George, who saw fifteen hundred a year robbed from under his very
nose--the religious resignation of my Lady--the hideous
window-smashing that took place at the "Gorgon Arms," and the
discomfiture of the pelted Mayor and Corporation. The very next
Sunday, Scully was reconciled to the church (or attended it in the
morning, and the meeting twice in the afternoon), and as Doctor
Snorter uttered the prayer for the High Court of Parliament, his
eye, the eye of his whole party--turned towards Lady Gorgon and Sir
George in a most unholy triumph. Sir George (who always stood
during prayers, like a military man) fairly sank down among the
hassocks, and Lady Gorgon was heard to sob as audibly as ever did
little beadle-belaboured urchin.
Scully, when at Oldborough, came from that day forth to church.
"What," said he, "was it to him? were we not all brethren?" Old
Perkins, however, kept religiously to the Squaretoes congregation.
In fact, to tell the truth, this subject had been debated between
the partners, who saw the advantage of courting both the
Establishment and the Dissenters--a manoeuvre which, I need not say,
is repeated in almost every country town in England, where a
solicitor's house has this kind of power and connection.
Three months after this election came the races at Oldborough, and
the race-ball. Gorgon was so infuriated by his defeat, that he gave
"the Gorgon cup and cover," a matter of fifteen pounds. Scully,
"although anxious," as he wrote from town, "anxious beyond measure
to preserve the breed of horses for which our beloved country has
ever been famous, could attend no such sports as these, which but
too often degenerated into vice." It was voted a shabby excuse.
Lady Gorgon was radiant in her barouche and four, and gladly became
the patroness of the ball that was to ensue; and which all the
gentry and townspeople, Tory and Whig, were in the custom of
attending. The ball took place on the last day of the races. On
that day, the walls of the market-house, the principal public
buildings, and the "Gorgon Arms Hotel" itself, were plastered with
the following:--
"Letter from our distinguished representative, William P. Scully,
Esquire, etc., etc.
"HOUSE OF COMMONS: June 1, 18--.
"MY DEAR HEELTAP,--You know my opinion about horseracing, and though
I blame neither you nor any brother Englishman who enjoys that manly
sport, you will, I am sure, appreciate the conscientious motives
which induce me not to appear among my friends and constituents on
the festival of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th instant. If _I_, however,
cannot allow my name to appear among your list of stewards, ONE at
least of the representatives of Oldborough has no such scruples.
Sir George Gorgon is among you: and though I differ from that
honourable Baronet on more than ONE VITAL POINT, I am glad to think
that he is with you. A gentleman, a soldier, a man of property in
the county, how can he be better employed than in forwarding the
county's amusements, and in forwarding the happiness of all?
"Had I no such scruples as those to which I have just alluded, I
must still have refrained from coming among you. Your great
Oldborough common-drainage and inclosure bill comes on to-morrow,
and I shall be AT MY POST. I am sure, if Sir George Gorgon were
here, he and I should on this occasion vote side by side, and that
party strife would be forgotten in the object of our common
interest--OUR DEAR NATIVE TOWN.
"There is, however, another occasion at hand, in which I shall be
proud to meet him. Your ball is on the night of the 6th. Party
forgotten--brotherly union--innocent mirth--beauty, OUR DEAR TOWN'S
BEAUTY, our daughters in the joy of their expanding loveliness, our
matrons in the exquisite contemplation of their children's bliss--
can you, can I, can Whig or Tory, can any Briton be indifferent to a
scene like this, or refuse to join in this heart-stirring festival?
If there BE such let them pardon me--I, for one, my dear Heeltap,
will be among you on Friday night--ay, and hereby invite all pretty
Tory Misses, who are in want of a partner.
"I am here in the very midst of good things, you know, and we old
folks like A SUPPER after a dance. Please to accept a brace of
bucks and a turtle, which come herewith. My worthy colleague, who
was so liberal last year of his soup to the poor, will not, I trust,
refuse to taste a little of Alderman Birch's--'tis offered on my
part with hearty goodwill. Hey for the 6th, and vive la joie!
"Ever, my dear Heeltap, your faithful
"W. PITT SCULLY.
"P.S.--Of course this letter is STRICTLY PRIVATE. Say that the
venison, etc. came from a WELL-WISHER TO OLDBOROUGH."
This amazing letter was published, in defiance of Mr. Scully's
injunctions, by the enthusiastic Heeltap, who said, bluntly, in a
preface, "that he saw no reason why Mr. Scully should be ashamed of
his action, and he, for his part, was glad to let all friends at
Oldborough know of it."
The allusion about the Gorgon soup was killing: thirteen paupers in
Oldborough had, it was confidently asserted, died of it. Lady
Gorgon, on the reading of this letter, was struck completely dumb;
Sir George Gorgon was wild. Ten dozen of champagne was he obliged
to send down to the "Gorgon Arms," to be added to the festival. He
would have stayed away if he could, but he dared not.
At nine o'clock, he in general's uniform; his wife in blue satin and
diamonds; his daughters in blue crape and white roses; his niece,
Lucy Gorgon, in white muslin; his son, George Augustus Frederick
Grimsby Gorgon, in a blue velvet jacket, sugar-loaf buttons, and
nankeens, entered the north door of the ballroom, to much cheering,
and the sound of "God save the King!"
At that very same moment, and from the south door, issued William
Pitt Scully, Esquire, M.P., and his staff. Mr. Scully had a
brand-new blue coat and brass buttons, buff waistcoat, white
kerseymere tights, pumps with large rosettes, and pink silk
stockings.
"This wool," said he to a friend, "was grown on Oldborough sheep,
this cloth was spun in Oldborough looms, these buttons were cast in
an Oldborough manufactory, these shoes were made by an Oldborough
tradesman, this HEART first beat in Oldborough town, and pray Heaven
may be buried there!"
Could anything resist a man like this? John Perkins, who had come
down as one of Scully's aides-de-camp, in a fit of generous
enthusiasm, leaped on a whist-table, flung up a pocket-handkerchief,
and shrieked--"SCULLY FOR EVER!"
Heeltap, who was generally drunk, fairly burst into tears, and the
grave tradesmen and Whig gentry, who had dined with the Member at
his inn, and accompanied him thence to the "Gorgon Arms," lifted
their deep voices and shouted "Hear!" "Good!" "Bravo!" "Noble!"
"Scully for ever!" "God bless him!" and "Hurrah!"
The scene was tumultuously affecting; and when young Perkins sprang
down from the table and came blushing up to the Member, that
gentleman said, "Thank you, Jack! THANK you, my boy! THANK you,"
in a way which made Perkins think that his supreme cup of bliss was
quaffed; that he had but to die: for that life had no other such
joy in store for him. Scully was Perkins's Napoleon--he yielded
himself up to the attorney, body and soul.
Whilst this scene was going on under one chandelier of the ballroom,
beneath the other scarlet little General Gorgon, sumptuous Lady
Gorgon, the daughters and niece Gorgons, were standing surrounded by
their Tory court, who affected to sneer and titter at the Whig
demonstrations which were taking place.
"What a howwid thmell of whithkey!" lisped Cornet Fitch, of the
Dragoons, to Miss Lucy, confidentially. "And thethe are what they
call Whigth, are they? He! he!"
"They are drunk, ----- me,--drunk, by -----!" said the General to
the Mayor.
"WHICH is Scully?" said Lady Gorgon, lifting her glass gravely (she
was at that very moment thinking of the syllabubs). "Is it that
tipsy man in the green coat, or that vulgar creature in the blue
one?"
"Law, my Lady," said the Mayoress, "have you forgotten him? Why,
that's him in blue and buff."
"And a monthous fine man, too," said Cornet Fitch. "I wish we had
him in our twoop--he'th thix feet thwee, if he'th an inch; ain't he,
Genewal?"
No reply.
"And heavens! Mamma," shrieked the three Gorgons in a breath, "see,
one creature is on the whist-table. Oh, the wretch!
"I'm sure he's very good-looking," said Lucy, simply.
Lady Gorgon darted at her an angry look, and was about to say
something very contemptuous, when, at that instant, John Perkins's
shout taking effect, Master George Augustus Frederick Grimsby
Gorgon, not knowing better, incontinently raised a small shout on
his side.
"Hear! good! bravo!" exclaimed he; "Scully for ever! Hurra-a-a-ay!"
and fell skipping about like the Whigs opposite.
"Silence, you brute you!" groaned Lady Gorgon; and seizing him by
the shirt-frill and coat-collar, carried him away to his nurse, who,
with many other maids of the Whig and Tory parties, stood giggling
and peeping at the landing-place.
Fancy how all these small incidents augmented the heap of Lady
Gorgon's anger and injuries! She was a dull phlegmatic woman for
the most part, and contented herself generally with merely despising
her neighbours; but oh! what a fine active hatred raged in her bosom
for victorious Scully! At this moment Mr. Perkins had finished
shaking hands with his Napoleon--Napoleon seemed bent upon some
tremendous enterprise. He was looking at Lady Gorgon very hard.
"She's a fine woman," said Scully, thoughtfully; he was still
holding the hand of Perkins. And then, after a pause, "Gad! I think
I'll try."
"Try what, sir?"
"She's a DEUCED fine woman!" burst out again the tender solicitor.
"I WILL go. Springer, tell the fiddlers to strike up."
Springer scuttled across the room, and gave the leader of the band a
knowing nod. Suddenly, "God save the King" ceased, and "Sir Roger
de Coverley" began. The rival forces eyed each other; Mr. Scully,
accompanied by his friend, came forward, looking very red, and
fumbling two large kid gloves.
"HE'S GOING TO ASK ME TO DANCE," hissed out Lady Gorgon, with a
dreadful intuition, and she drew back behind her lord.
"D--- it, madam, THEN DANCE with him!" said the General. "Don't you
see that the scoundrel is carrying it all his own way! ----- him!
and ----- him! and ----- him!" (All of which dashes the reader may
fill up with oaths of such strength as may be requisite).
"General!" cried Lady Gorgon, but could say no more. Scully was
before her.
"Madam!" exclaimed the Liberal Member for Oldborough, "in a moment
like this--I say--that is--that on the present occasion--your
Ladyship--unaccustomed as I am--pooh, psha--WILL your Ladyship give
me the distinguished honour and pleasure of going down the
country-dance with your Ladyship?"
An immense heave of her Ladyship's ample chest was perceptible.
Yards of blond lace, which might be compared to a foam of the sea,
were agitated at the same moment, and by the same mighty emotion.
The river of diamonds which flowed round her Ladyship's neck, seemed
to swell and to shine more than ever. The tall plumes on her
ambrosial head bowed down beneath the storm. In other words, Lady
Gorgon, in a furious rage, which she was compelled to restrain,
trembled, drew up, and bowing majestically, said,--
"Sir, I shall have much pleasure." With this, she extended her
hand. Scully, trembling, thrust forward one of his huge kid-gloves,
and led her to the head of the country-dance. John Perkins--who I
presume had been drinking pretty freely, so as to have forgotten his
ordinary bashfulness--looked at the three Gorgons in blue, then at
the pretty smiling one in white, and stepping up to her, without the
smallest hesitation, asked her if she would dance with him.