The Bedford Row Conspiracy
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William Makepeace Thackeray >> The Bedford Row Conspiracy
The young lady smilingly agreed. The great example of Scully and
Lady Gorgon was followed by all dancing men and women. Political
enmities were forgotten. Whig voters invited Tory voters' wives to
the dance. The daughters of Reform accepted the hands of the sons
of Conservatism. The reconciliation of the Romans and Sabines was
not more touching than this sweet fusion. Whack--whack! Springer
clapped his hands; and the fiddlers adroitly obeying the cheerful
signal, began playing "Sir Roger de Coverley" louder than ever.
I do not know by what extraordinary charm (nescio qua praeter
solitum, etc.), but young Perkins, who all his life had hated
country-dances, was delighted with this one, and skipped and
laughed, poussetting, crossing, down-the-middling, with his merry
little partner, till every one of the bettermost sort of the
thirty-nine couples had dropped panting away, and till the youngest
Miss Gorgon, coming up to his partner, said in a loud hissing
scornful whisper, "Lucy, Mamma thinks you have danced quite enough
with this--this person." And Lucy, blushing, starting back, and
looking at Perkins in a very melancholy way, made him a little
curtsey, and went off to the Gorgonian party with her cousin.
Perkins was too frightened to lead her back to her place--too
frightened at first, and then too angry. "Person!" said he: his
soul swelled with a desperate republicanism: he went back to his
patron more of a Radical than ever.
He found that gentleman in the solitary tea-room, pacing up and down
before the observant landlady and handmaidens of the "Gorgon Arms,"
wiping his brows, gnawing his fingers--his ears looming over his
stiff white shirt-collar as red as fire. Once more the great man
seized John Perkins's hand as the latter came up.
"D----- the aristocrats!" roared the ex-follower of Squaretoes.
"And so say I! but what's the matter, sir?"
"What's the matter?--Why, that woman--that infernal, haughty,
straitlaced, cold-blooded brewer's daughter! I loved that woman,
sir--I KISSED that woman, sir, twenty years ago: we were all but
engaged, sir: we've walked for hours and hours, sir--us and the
governess--I've got a lock of her hair, sir, among my papers now;
and to-night, would you believe it?--as soon as she got to the
bottom of the set, away she went--not one word would she speak to me
all the way down: and when I wanted to lead her to her place, and
asked her if she would have a glass of negus, 'Sir,' says she, 'I
have done my duty; I bear no malice: but I consider you a traitor
to Sir George Gorgon's family--a traitor and an upstart! I consider
your speaking to me as a piece of insolent vulgarity, and beg you
will leave me to myself!' There's her speech, sir. Twenty people
heard it, and all of her Tory set too. I'll tell you what, Jack:
at the next election I'll put YOU up. Oh that woman! that woman!-
-and to think that I love her still!" Here Mr. Scully paused, and
fiercely consoled himself by swallowing three cups of Mrs. Rincer's
green tea.
The fact is, that Lady Gorgon's passion had completely got the
better of her reason. Her Ladyship was naturally cold, and
artificially extremely squeamish; and when this great red-faced
enemy of hers looked tenderly at her through his red little eyes,
and squeezed her hand and attempted to renew old acquaintance, she
felt such an intolerable disgust at his triumph, at his familiarity,
and at the remembrance of her own former liking for him, that she
gave utterance to the speech above correctly reported. The Tories
were delighted with her spirit, and Cornet Fitch, with much glee,
told the story to the General; but that officer, who was at whist
with some of his friends, flung down his cards, and coming up to his
lady, said briefly,--
"Madam, you are a fool!"
"I will NOT stay here to be bearded by that disgusting man!--Mr.
Fitch, call my people.--Henrietta, bring Miss Lucy from that
linendraper with whom she is dancing. I will not stay, General,
once for all."
Henrietta ran--she hated her cousin: Cornet Fitch was departing.
"Stop, Fitch," said Sir George, seizing him by the arm. "You are a
fool, Lady Gorgon," said he, "and I repeat it--a ----- fool! This
fellow Scully is carrying all before him: he has talked with
everybody, laughed with everybody--and you, with your infernal
airs--a brewer's daughter, by -----, must sit like a queen and not
speak to a soul! You've lost me one seat of my borough, with your
infernal pride--fifteen hundred a year, by Jove!--and you think you
will bully me out of another. No, madam, you SHALL stay, and stay
supper too;--and the girls shall dance with every cursed
chimney-sweep and butcher in the room: they shall--confound me!"
Her Ladyship saw that it was necessary to submit; and Mr. Springer,
the master of the ceremonies, was called, and requested to point out
some eligible partners for the young ladies. One went off with a
Whig auctioneer; another figured in a quadrille with a very Liberal
apothecary; and the third, Miss Henrietta, remained.
"Hallo you, sir!" roared the little General to John Perkins, who was
passing by. John turned round and faced him.
"You were dancing with my niece just now--show us your skill now,
and dance with one of my daughters. Stand up, Miss Henrietta
Gorgon--Mr. What's-your-name?"
"My name," said John, with marked and majestic emphasis, "is
PERKINS." And he looked towards Lucy, who dared not look again.
"Miss Gorgon--Mr. Perkins. There, now go and dance."
"Mr. Perkins regrets, madam," said John, making a bow to Miss
Henrietta, "that he is not able to dance this evening. I am this
moment obliged to look to the supper; but you will find, no doubt,
some other PERSON who will have much pleasure."
"Go to -----, sir!" screamed the General, starting up, and shaking
his cane.
"Calm yourself, dearest George," said Lady Gorgon, clinging fondly
to him. Fitch twiddled his moustaches. Miss Henrietta Gorgon
stared with open mouth. The silks of the surrounding dowagers
rustled--the countenances of all looked grave.
"I will follow you, sir, wherever you please; and you may hear of me
whenever you like," said Mr. Perkins, bowing and retiring. He heard
little Lucy sobbing in a corner. He was lost at once--lost in love;
he felt as if he could combat fifty generals! he never was so happy
in his life.
The supper came; but as that meal cost five shillings a head,
General Gorgon dismissed the four spinsters of his family homewards
in the carriage, and so saved himself a pound. This added to Jack
Perkins's wrath; he had hoped to have seen Miss Lucy once more. He
was a steward, and, in the General's teeth, would have done his
duty. He was thinking how he would have helped her to the most
delicate chicken-wings and blancmanges, how he WOULD have made her
take champagne. Under the noses of indignant aunt and uncle, what
glorious fun it would have been!
Out of place as Mr. Scully's present was, and though Lady Gorgon and
her party sneered at the vulgar notion of venison and turtle for
supper, all the world at Oldborough ate very greedily of those two
substantial dishes; and the Mayor's wife became from that day forth
a mortal enemy of the Gorgons: for, sitting near her Ladyship, who
refused the proffered soup and meat, the Mayoress thought herself
obliged to follow this disagreeable example. She sent away the
plate of turtle with a sigh, saying, however, to the baronet's lady,
"I thought, mem, that the LORD MAYOR OF LONDON always had turtle to
his supper?"
"And what if he didn't, Biddy?" said his Honour the Mayor; "a good
thing's a good thing, and here goes!" wherewith he plunged his spoon
into the savoury mess. The Mayoress, as we have said, dared not;
but she hated Lady Gorgon, and remembered it at the next election.
The pride, in fact, and insolence of the Gorgon party rendered every
person in the room hostile to them; so soon as, gorged with meat,
they began to find that courage which Britons invariably derive from
their victuals. The show of the Gorgon plate seemed to offend the
people. The Gorgon champagne was a long time, too, in making its
appearance. Arrive, however, it did. The people were waiting for
it; the young ladies, not accustomed to that drink, declined
pledging their admirers until it was produced; the men, too,
despised the bucellas and sherry, and were looking continually
towards the door. At last, Mr. Rincer, the landlord, Mr. Hock, Sir
George's butler, and sundry others entered the room. Bang! went the
corks--fizz the foamy liquor sparkled into all sorts of glasses that
were held out for its reception. Mr. Hock helped Sir George and his
party, who drank with great gusto; the wine which was administered
to the persons immediately around Mr. Scully was likewise pronounced
to be good. But Mr. Perkins, who had taken his seat among the
humbler individuals, and in the very middle of the table, observed
that all these persons, after drinking, made to each other very wry
and ominous faces, and whispered much. He tasted his wine: it was
a villanous compound of sugar, vitriol, soda-water, and green
gooseberries. At this moment a great clatter of forks was made by
the president's and vice-president's party. Silence for a
toast--'twas silence all.
"Landlord," said Mr. Perkins, starting up (the rogue, where did his
impudence come from?) "have you any champagne of YOUR OWN?"
"Silence! down!" roared the Tories, the ladies looking aghast.
"Silence, sit down you!" shrieked the well-known voice of the
General.
"I beg your pardon, General," said young John Perkins; "but where
COULD you have bought this champagne? My worthy friend I know is
going to propose the ladies; let us at any rate drink such a toast
in good wine." ("Hear, hear!") "Drink her Ladyship's health in
THIS stuff? I declare to goodness I would sooner drink it in beer!"
No pen can describe the uproar which arose: the anguish of the
Gorgonites--the shrieks, jeers, cheers, ironic cries of "Swipes!"
etc., which proceeded from the less genteel but more enthusiastic
Scullyites.
"This vulgarity is too much," said Lady Gorgon, rising; and Mrs.
Mayoress and the ladies of the party did so too.
The General, two squires, the clergyman, the Gorgon apothecary and
attorney, with their respective ladies, followed her: they were
plainly beaten from the field. Such of the Tories as dared
remained, and in inglorious compromise shared the jovial Whig feast.
"Gentlemen and ladies," hiccupped Mr. Heeltap, "I'll give you a
toast. 'Champagne to our real--hic--friends,' no, 'Real champagne
to our friends,' and--hic--pooh! 'Champagne to our friends, and real
pain to our enemies,'--huzzay!"
The Scully faction on this day bore the victory away, and if the
polite reader has been shocked by certain vulgarities on the part of
Mr. Scully and his friends, he must remember imprimis that
Oldborough was an inconsiderable place--that the inhabitants thereof
were chiefly tradespeople, not of refined habits--that Mr. Scully
himself had only for three months mingled among the aristocracy-
-that his young friend Perkins was violently angry--and finally, and
to conclude, that the proud vulgarity of the great Sir George Gorgon
and his family was infinitely more odious and contemptible than the
mean vulgarity of the Scullyites and their leader.
Immediately after this event, Mr. Scully and his young friend
Perkins returned to town; the latter to his garrets in Bedford Row--
the former to his apartments on the first floor of the same house.
He lived here to superintend his legal business: his London agents,
Messrs. Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick, occupying the ground floor;
the junior partner, Mr. Gustavus Blatherwick, the second flat of the
house. Scully made no secret of his profession or residence: he
was an attorney, and proud of it; he was the grandson of a labourer,
and thanked God for it; he had made his fortune by his own honest
labour, and why should he be ashamed of it?
And now, having explained at full length who the several heroes and
heroines of this history were, and how they conducted themselves in
the country, let us describe their behaviour in London, and the
great events which occurred there.
You must know that Mr. Perkins bore away the tenderest recollections
of the young lady with whom he had danced at the Oldborough ball,
and, having taken particular care to find out where she dwelt when
in the metropolis, managed soon to become acquainted with Aunt
Biggs, and made himself so amiable to that lady, that she begged he
would pass all his disengaged evenings at her lodgings in Caroline
Place. Mrs. Biggs was perfectly aware that the young gentleman did
not come for her bohea and muffins, so much as for the sweeter
conversation of her niece, Miss Gorgon; but seeing that these two
young people were of an age when ideas of love and marriage will
spring up, do what you will; seeing that her niece had a fortune,
and Mr. Perkins had the prospect of a place, and was moreover a very
amiable and well-disposed young fellow, she thought her niece could
not do better than marry him; and Miss Gorgon thought so too. Now
the public will be able to understand the meaning of that important
conversation which is recorded at the very commencement of this
history.
Lady Gorgon and her family were likewise in town; but, when in the
metropolis, they never took notice of their relative, Miss Lucy:
the idea of acknowledging an ex-schoolmistress living in
Mecklenburgh Square being much too preposterous for a person of my
Lady Gorgon's breeding and fashion. She did not, therefore, know of
the progress which sly Perkins was making all this while; for Lucy
Gorgon did not think it was at all necessary to inform her Ladyship
how deeply she was smitten by the wicked young gentleman who had
made all the disturbance at the Oldborough ball.
The intimacy of these young persons had, in fact, become so close,
that on a certain sunshiny Sunday in December, after having
accompanied Aunt Biggs to church, they had pursued their walk as far
as that rendezvous of lovers, the Regent's Park, and were talking of
their coming marriage, with much confidential tenderness, before the
bears in the Zoological Gardens.
Miss Lucy was ever and anon feeding those interesting animals with
buns, to perform which act of charity she had clambered up on the
parapet which surrounds their den. Mr. Perkins was below; and Miss
Lucy, having distributed her buns, was on the point of
following,--but whether from timidity, or whether from a desire to
do young Perkins an essential service, I know not: however, she
found herself quite unwilling to jump down unaided.
"My dearest John," said she, "I never can jump that."
Whereupon John stepped up, put one hand round Lucy's waist; and as
one of hers gently fell upon his shoulder, Mr. Perkins took the
other and said,--
"Now jump."
Hoop! jump she did, and so excessively active and clever was Mr.
John Perkins, that he jumped Miss Lucy plump into the middle of a
group formed of--
Lady Gorgon;
The Misses Gorgon;
Master George Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon;
And a footman, poodle, and French governess: who had all been for
two or three minutes listening to the billings and cooings of these
imprudent young lovers.
CHAPTER II.
SHOWS HOW THE PLOT BEGAN TO THICKEN IN OR ABOUT BEDFORD ROW.
"Miss Lucy!"
"Upon my word!"
"I'm hanged if it arn't Lucy! How do, Lucy?" uttered Lady, the
Misses, and Master Gorgon in a breath.
Lucy came forward, bending down her ambrosial curls, and blushing,
as a modest young woman should: for, in truth, the scrape was very
awkward. And as for John Perkins, he made a start, and then a step
forwards, and then two backwards, and then began laying hands upon
his black satin stock--in short, the sun did not shine at that
moment upon a man who looked so exquisitely foolish.
"Miss Lucy Gorgon, is your aunt--is Mrs. Briggs here?" said Lady
Gorgon, drawing herself up with much state.
"Mrs. Biggs, Aunt?" said Lucy demurely.
"Biggs or Briggs, madam, it is not of the slightest consequence. I
presume that persons in my rank of life are not expected to know
everybody's name in Magdeburg Square?" (Lady Gorgon had a house in
Baker Street, and a dismal house it was.) "NOT here," continued
she, rightly interpreting Lucy's silence, "NOT here?--and may I ask
how long is it that young ladies have been allowed to walk abroad
without chaperons, and to--to take a part in such scenes as that
which we have just seen acted?"
To this question--and indeed it was rather difficult to answer--Miss
Gorgon had no reply. There were the six grey eyes of her cousins
glowering at her; there was George Augustus Frederick examining her
with an air of extreme wonder, Mademoiselle the governess turning
her looks demurely away, and awful Lady Gorgon glancing fiercely at
her in front. Not mentioning the footman and poodle, what could a
poor modest timid girl plead before such an inquisition, especially
when she was clearly guilty? Add to this, that as Lady Gorgon, that
majestic woman, always remarkable for her size and insolence of
demeanour, had planted herself in the middle of the path, and spoke
at the extreme pitch of her voice, many persons walking in the
neighbourhood had heard her Ladyship's speech and stopped, and
seemed disposed to await the rejoinder.
"For Heaven's sake, Aunt, don't draw a crowd around us," said Lucy,
who, indeed, was glad of the only escape that lay in her power. "I
will tell you of the--of the circumstances of--of my engagement with
this gentleman--with Mr. Perkins," added she, in a softer tone--so
soft that the 'ERKINS was quite inaudible.
"A Mr. What? An engagement without consulting your guardians!"
screamed her Ladyship. "This must be looked to! Jerningham, call
round my carriage. Mademoiselle, you will have the goodness to walk
home with Master Gorgon, and carry him, if you please, where there
is wet; and, girls, as the day is fine, you will do likewise.
Jerningham, you will attend the young ladies. Miss Gorgon, I will
thank you to follow me immediately." And so saying, and looking at
the crowd with ineffable scorn, and at Mr. Perkins not at all, the
lady bustled away forwards, the files of Gorgon daughters and
governess closing round and enveloping poor Lucy, who found herself
carried forward against her will, and in a minute seated in her
aunt's coach, along with that tremendous person.
Her case was bad enough, but what was it to Perkins's? Fancy his
blank surprise and rage at having his love thus suddenly ravished
from him, and his delicious tete-a-tete interrupted. He managed, in
an inconceivably short space of time, to conjure up half-a-million
obstacles to his union. What should he do? he would rush on to
Baker Street, and wait there until his Lucy left Lady Gorgon's
house.
He could find no vehicle in the Regent's Park, and was in
consequence obliged to make his journey on foot. Of course, he
nearly killed himself with running, and ran so quick, that he was
just in time to see the two ladies step out of Lady Gorgon's
carriage at her own house, and to hear Jerningham's fellow-footman
roar to the Gorgonian coachman, "Half-past seven!" at which hour we
are, to this day, convinced that Lady Gorgon was going out to dine.
Mr. Jerningham's associate having banged to the door, with an
insolent look towards Perkins, who was prying in with the most
suspicious and indecent curiosity, retired, exclaiming, "That chap
has a hi to our great-coats, I reckon!" and left John Perkins to
pace the street and be miserable.
John Perkins then walked resolutely up and down dismal Baker Street,
determined on an eclaircissement. He was for some time occupied in
thinking how it was that the Gorgons were not at church, they who
made such a parade of piety; and John Perkins smiled as he passed
the chapel, and saw that two CHARITY SERMONS were to be preached
that day--and therefore it was that General Gorgon read prayers to
his family at home in the morning.
Perkins, at last, saw that little General, in blue frock-coat and
spotless buff gloves, saunter scowling home; and half an hour before
his arrival had witnessed the entrance of Jerningham, and the three
gaunt Miss Gorgons, poodle, son-and-heir, and French governess,
protected by him, into Sir George's mansion.
"Can she be going to stay all night?" mused poor John, after being
on the watch for three hours: when presently, to his inexpressible
delight, he saw a very dirty hackney-coach clatter up to the Gorgon
door, out of which first issued the ruby plush breeches and stalwart
calves of Mr. Jerningham; these were followed by his body, and then
the gentleman, ringing modestly, was admitted.
Again the door opened: a lady came out, nor was she followed by the
footman, who crossed his legs at the door-post and allowed her to
mount the jingling vehicle as best she might. Mr. Jerningham had
witnessed the scene in the Park Gardens, had listened to the
altercation through the library keyhole, and had been mighty sulky
at being ordered to call a coach for this young woman. He did not
therefore deign to assist her to mount.
But there was ONE who did! Perkins was by the side of his Lucy: he
had seen her start back and cry, "La, John!"--had felt her squeeze
his arm--had mounted with her into the coach, and then shouted with
a voice of thunder to the coachman, "Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh
Square."
But Mr. Jerningham would have been much more surprised and puzzled
if he had waited one minute longer, and seen this Mr. Perkins, who
had so gallantly escaladed the hackney-coach, step out of it with
the most mortified, miserable, chap-fallen countenance possible.
The fact is, he had found poor Lucy sobbing fit to break her heart,
and instead of consoling her, as he expected, he only seemed to
irritate her further: for she said, "Mr. Perkins--I beg--I insist,
that you leave the carriage." And when Perkins made some movement
(which, not being in the vehicle at the time, we have never been
able to comprehend), she suddenly sprang from the back-seat and
began pulling at a large piece of cord which communicated with the
wrist of the gentleman driving; and, screaming to him at the top of
her voice, bade him immediately stop.
This Mr. Coachman did, with a curious, puzzled, grinning air.
Perkins descended, and on being asked, "Vere ham I to drive the
young 'oman, sir?" I am sorry to say muttered something like an
oath, and uttered the above-mentioned words, "Caroline Place,
Mecklenburgh Square," in a tone which I should be inclined to
describe as both dogged and sheepish--very different from that
cheery voice which he had used when he first gave the order.
Poor Lucy, in the course of those fatal three hours which had passed
while Mr. Perkins was pacing up and down Baker Street, had received
a lecture which lasted exactly one hundred and eighty minutes--from
her aunt first, then from her uncle, whom we have seen marching
homewards, and often from both together.
Sir George Gorgon and his lady poured out such a flood of advice and
abuse against the poor girl, that she came away from the interview
quite timid and cowering; and when she saw John Perkins (the sly
rogue! how well he thought he had managed the trick!) she shrank
from him as if he had been a demon of wickedness, ordered him out of
the carriage, and went home by herself, convinced that she had
committed some tremendous sin.
While, then, her coach jingled away to Caroline Place, Perkins, once
more alone, bent his steps in the same direction. A desperate,
heart-stricken man, he passed by the beloved's door, saw lights in
the front drawing-room, felt probably that she was there; but he
could not go in. Moodily he paced down Doughty Street, and turning
abruptly into Bedford Row, rushed into his own chambers, where Mrs.
Snooks, the laundress, had prepared his humble Sabbath meal.
A cheerful fire blazed in his garret, and Mrs. Snooks had prepared
for him the favourite blade-bone he loved (blest four-days' dinner
for a bachelor--roast, cold, hashed, grilled bladebone, the fourth
being better than the first); but although he usually did rejoice in
this meal--ordinarily, indeed, grumbling that there was not enough
to satisfy him--he, on this occasion, after two mouthfuls, flung
down his knife and fork, and buried his two claws in his hair.
"Snooks," said he at last, very moodily, "remove this d---- mutton,
give me my writing things, and some hot brandy-and-water."
This was done without much alarm: for you must know that Perkins
used to dabble in poetry, and ordinarily prepare himself for
composition by this kind of stimulus.
He wrote hastily a few lines.
"Snooks, put on your bonnet," said he, "and carry this--YOU KNOW
WHERE!" he added, in a hollow, heart-breaking tone of voice, that
affected poor Snooks almost to tears. She went, however, with the
note, which was to this purpose:--