NOUVEAUX RICHES.
Eleanor Irvine spoke with perfect truth when she said that her
brother-in-law, Mr. Chadwick, was a very rich man. Boiler-making and
engine-supplying, when you have secured almost a monopoly of the
business, are very paying concerns; and very few of the large
steam-shipping companies, not only in England but on the Continent,
did not procure their propelling apparatus from Chadwick and Co. In
the United States, too, the firm was well known and largely employed.
Some of the largest grain elevators in Chicago had been supplied by
them, and the lifts which convey you to your bedroom on the tenth
story at the Jefferson House, Saratoga, or the Great Atlantic Hotel,
Newport, N.J., bear the familiar name. This preëminence in his trade
had all been achieved by Mr. Chadwick himself. He was a very poor boy,
with but a smattering of education, when he first went in as an
apprentice to the drawing-office of the works at Newcastle, the
manager having taken him on out of friendship for his father, then
recently dead; but he went through the whole routine of that
establishment, from the hardest hand-labour to the highest head-work,
until he emerged from it as its owner, and now held it as a kind of
adjunct to his larger and more important establishment on the Thames.
Mr. Chadwick was not a speculative man, and was never tempted to put
out any of his capital with the perspective hope of large interests in
Baratarian loans or investments in the enormous silver mines of Grass
Valley, Colorado. He held a certain number of shares, just sufficient
to make the directors regard it as good policy to keep well with him,
in such steam-shipping companies as he supplied with engines, but he
found that the profits derived from his legitimate undertaking brought
him in income sufficient to satisfy all his wants.
This income enabled him to maintain a handsome residence in
Fairfax-gardens; to entertain company constantly, and with more than
ordinary hospitality; to allow his wife to commit any extravagances
she pleased at the milliner's and the jeweller's, and to have all the
carriages and horses she chose. It gave him a villa on the Thames, and
a shooting-box in Aberdeenshire; and if it did not make him happy,
there were plenty of people who said it ought to have done so, and who
passed their lives in envying him and wishing to be in his place.
On the whole, however, Mr. Chadwick is a happy man. He has an
imperturbably good temper, which no amount of business worry can
upset, and he is very proud of his wife. There were plenty of men of
birth and breeding whom Mr. Chadwick had met in business, and who,
knowing his wealth and the value of a connection with him, would have
been only too glad to introduce the rich boiler-maker to their sisters
and daughters, and to use all their influence to induce those female
members of their family to secure his hand. But Mr. Chadwick, in his
own frank phraseology, 'did not go in for swells;' and though in later
days he was pleased to see a large number of smart people at his
house, and to read their names and titles duly set forth in the next
morning's paper, it was because he knew this gave pleasure to his
wife, whose every wish he delighted in forestalling. When Mr. Chadwick
first saw Miss Irvine, with a rose in her hair and a piece of music in
her hand, in front of the orchestra at the St. James's Hall, and heard
her warble 'Coming through the Rye,' he determined that, if possible,
she should be his wife. The difficulty was not great; the young lady
was ambitious, her father was mercenary; and from the day on which
they were married, 'my Fan' was Mr. Chadwick's first consideration,
ranking even before 'the works,' which up to that time had held
possession of his mind, to the exclusion almost of any other subject.
Mrs. Chadwick was what is called 'an elegant-looking woman,' with dark
complexion, regular features, and a slight figure; her manners were
good, she spoke French and Italian with fluency, had sufficient
shrewdness to catch the pervading tone, and was altogether quite
presentable in society. She had been ambitious when she was only a
concert-singer, and dependent on her own resources. Now that she had a
large income at her command she determined to make her mark; to be
talked of, renowned, the object of curiosity, and the subject of
gossip, was her dearest wish. She could have obtained the notoriety
she wanted in one season, by entering into a desperate flirtation--for
there would have been no lack of men willing to flirt to any extent
with her, some for mere fun, and others in the hope of making a good
thing of it--and there are always plenty of persons ready to spread
scandal and slander. But Mrs. Chadwick had no intention of entering
upon any flirtation, even of the mildest kind; she said she was 'not
naturally given that way,' and moreover she had seen quite enough of
poverty and precarious existence to prevent her from compromising the
very excellent position which fate had assigned her; so she sat
herself calmly down at the foot of the social ladder, determined to
scale it by entertainments given to the best people whom she could
induce to accept her invitations. She began by inviting the wives of
the baronets and members of parliament with whom Mr. Chadwick was
concerned in various business matters; and though these ladies, who
were for the most part intensely respectable, at first hung back,
having heard rumours of Mrs. Chadwick's ante-nuptial professional
experiences, and having a vague idea that she had been 'on the stage,'
their husbands, to whom the business connection with Mr. Chadwick was
valuable, insisted on their not merely accepting the invitation, but
on their behaving themselves without the stiffness and frigidity which
they delighted to display whenever they thought they could safely do
so.
The step thus made was satisfactory, but the society obtained by it
was rather poor. It began to improve when some of the younger members
of the House, and the private secretaries of ministers whom Mr.
Chadwick had now and then occasion to wait upon, found out and
appreciated the excellence of the cuisine and the cellar in
Fairfax-gardens, and not only came themselves when asked, but brought
their friends--guardsmen, Foreign-office clerks, and men about town of
various ages and degrees. So far as the men were concerned, this was
all very well; but Mrs. Chadwick saw with regret that, with the ladies
she had made very little way. The extremely proper and generally
plain-headed wives of the commercial baronets and M.P.s turned up
their eyes at each other in horror at some of the male company, whose
loose living was notorious, and whom they saw dancing attendance in
Fairfax-gardens; dear Lord George never brought dear Lady George, the
Marquis never so much as mentioned the Marchioness, although Mrs.
Chadwick gave him frequent opportunities for doing so; and though
several of the private secretaries chattered volubly enough about
their sisters, no cards from those ladies were ever delivered in
Fairfax-gardens.
Mrs. Chadwick suffered deeply under this social ban; she could not see
the way to fight against it herself, and at last took Charley Ormerod,
one of the private secretaries, and the best leader of a _cotillon_ in
London, into her confidence. Charley was very frank in deed upon the
point. 'If you want to get hold of this sort of people, my dear Mrs.
Chadwick,' said he, 'and 'pon my word I don't see why--you being so
very charming yourself, and all that sort of thing--you will find it
uncommonly difficult. There is so much going on in their own set, that
they won't go anywhere, don't you know, unless it is to meet some
particular person or to see some particular thing. Now your cook is
first class, and Chadwick has some dry champagne that is really A1,
and if there were nothing so good elsewhere in both those ways, they
would come for that; but there is, and so they won't. You will ask how
it is that Madame Schottenberger and Mrs. Stutterheim go into society
when their position is no better than yours, and their houses, I
think, nothing like so nice; but then, you see, both Schottenberger
and Stutterheim are in the City, and they are able, don't you know, to
give these people what one may call a leg-up in the way of making a
little premium on shares. Mr. Chadwick is not in that line; he is the
last man who would think of doing anything of that sort if he were.
Now if you could only give them some specialty. There is that fine
billiard-room at the back; what do you say to turning it into a
theatre, having a stage at the end, and that sort of thing? And there
are lots of amateurs who would be only too delighted to come and act;
or you could get up tableaux, don't you know, with pretty girls, and
have Eardley or some of those fellows to pose them, and then supper,
don't you know, and that sort of thing; if you could do one, and just
get it talked about, everybody would be wild to come to the next.'
Mrs. Chadwick ponders over this idea, but is afraid it will not do, at
least so far as dramatic representation is concerned. The tableaux
might be managed quietly at some future time; but Mr. Chadwick, whose
childhood was passed among strict dissenters in the North, has a
strong objection to theatrical entertainments, and his wife thinks
best to give him no cause for complaint. Nevertheless, the attempt to
secure superior society must be made; and it is first made with
concerts. Mrs. Chadwick drives round to some of those whom she used to
know in her professional days; old Sir Gottlieb Moto, the famous
music-master, who smiles and rubs his hands, and will give her all the
assistance in his power, and Mr. Bluck, the well-known _entrepreneur_
of the Ante-Chamber Concerts, who every year produces such a wonderful
prospectus, and who knows far too much about music to attempt to play
or sing. By the aid of these gentlemen a very excellent concert was
given, at which all the noted singers of the day were present, and
were exceptionally treated in being asked to remain after their
labours were over, and mingle with the company. Mrs. Chadwick made a
great point of this, and went about murmuring to the wives and
daughters of the baronets and M.P.s that she did not forget the time
when she herself was in a similar position, and that she would always
be glad to welcome her brothers and sisters in art; at which the wives
and daughters muttered 'How charming!' to her face, and shrugged their
shoulders and raised their eyebrows to each other when her back was
turned.
All those who were present congratulated Mrs. Chadwick on her
delightful concert, but she was shrewd enough to see that she was no
nearer the end she had proposed to herself--the entertainment of a
better class of society; so Charley Ormerod was again called into
consultation, with the result that the tableaux were determined
upon, and set about in earnest. There was no difficulty in finding
good-looking young people to volunteer for the different characters so
soon as the idea was promulgated, and it was understood that the thing
was to be carried out without reference to expense. The sisters of two
or three of the private secretaries, who knew the fascination of
dishevelled hair and bare arms, and who saw their way to Andromache
lamenting over the dead body of Hector, or Jephtha's daughter in her
solitude amongst the mountain fastnesses, induced their brothers to
propose them at once; and amongst Mr. Chadwick's plutocratic Tyburnian
connection there were many pretty girls only too glad to be utilised.
The committee of management was composed of men of the highest
artistic repute in London. Old Mr. Tabardy, who passed his early
life in writing burlesques, and whose latter days are spent in even a
more comic way in the manufacture of pedigrees and the search for
coats-of-arms for parvenus, came up from the Heralds' College, bearing
two elaborate books of costume pictures; Mr. Eardley, R.A., who looks
like Glaucus the Athenian, was there to superintend the embodiment of
one of his own dreamy sensuous creations; and Mr. Gurth, who would be
Eardley's shadow if he had not a large body and capable brain of his
own, was of course there also. Mogg, R.A., came (of course in his
worsted comforter, though the month was June), and gave excellent
advice and assistance in preparing a tableau of the days of Charles
II.; and Ghoule, the great tragedian, who was never before seen in the
daylight, 'made up' the gentleman who was to portray the dead body of
Hector in the most approved charnel-house fashion. Each tableau was to
be ushered in by music, and the choice of that music and its direction
was left to Mr. Shamus O'Voca, who is as popular in society as he is
clever in his art. Auguste and Nathan were nearly worried out of their
lives; and in addition to them, by favour of the managers, various
theatrical tailors were busily engaged in the preparation of costumes.
All this preparation began to be talked of in those circles amongst
which Mrs. Chadwick most wanted it made known; faint wishes for
invitations were heard, which, after the full-dress rehearsal
carefully arranged for by Charley Ormerod and duly notified in the
newspapers, grew into furious desire. Under Charley's advice, Mrs.
Chadwick at first stood firm, and issued very few cards to persons
whom she had not previously known. 'There would be another
representation later on,' she said to those asking on behalf of their
friends, 'and they could come then.' This reply, of course, fanned the
flame--they must come the first time, nothing could prevent them; and
eventually, by what Charley called 'jockey-ship' And Mrs. Chadwick
'diplomacy,' the boilermaker's wife had the pleasure of receiving one
duchess, two marchionesses, four countesses, and a great number of
lords and ladies at the first representation of her tableaux.
From that time forth Mrs. Chadwick's course was easy. After her second
season, now just concluded, she was honoured by the presence of
royalty at her tableaux, and a garden-party which she gave at the
villa on the Thames was pronounced the most perfect fête seen for many
years; the description of it and of the company assembled filled a
column of the _Sluice_, a journal not generally given to reporting
such matters; and old Lord Quoch wrote a poem about it, which was made
to do duty as letter-press to a fanciful river-side illustration, and
published in the _Albert-gate Magazine_. By this means Mrs. Chadwick
was fully established as one of the personages of the day, and her
movements were duly chronicled among the 'fashionable arrangements'
advertised by the fashionable journal.
With all her frivolity and her hankering after great society, the
woman was kindhearted, as she had proved by her treatment of her
sister. When in the days gone by it was proposed by Mr. Irvine that
Eleanor should be sent upon the stage, the plan was rather approved of
than otherwise by Fanny, who thought it time that her sister should be
earning her own livelihood, and saw nothing to be complained of in the
means by which it was proposed she should do so. After her marriage,
indeed, while enlarging on her own experiences in the concert-rooms,
she would aver it to be a very different arena from the stage, would
shake her head at the mention of ladies of the theatrical profession,
of whom not more than two (who were supposed to have certificates of
character from the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Editor of _Punch_)
were admitted into Mrs. Chadwick's society. But formerly, when there
had seemed to be a chance of thirty shillings a week being added to
the general income, Fanny not merely had felt no scruple at Eleanor's
following this despised profession, but had rated her sister soundly
when the girl expressed her horror at the career in store for her; nor
while she was still toiling in concert-rooms was she best pleased that
Eleanor should be leading a comparatively easy life in that very
society to which she, Fanny, had always aspired. After her marriage,
however, all was very different. Mrs. Chadwick then thought it
scarcely right that her sister should be 'dependent on a fine lady,'
more especially a fine lady who could not be induced to take any
notice of Mrs. Chadwick, although that worthy woman had what children
call 'spelled' for it in every possible way; and when Mr. Irvine died,
Fanny took her sister from her father's poor lodging, to which she had
returned after May Dunmow's marriage, and bade her be happy at
Fairfax-gardens until she should possess a home of her own.
At Fairfax-gardens Eleanor lived happily enough until this question of
her marriage arose to cause her annoyance. Occasions of difference
between the sisters had previously been slight and few, for Eleanor
was in the habit of giving way to her sister's whims, and save when
she was requested to give up her black dress at the end of six
months--a period which Mrs. Chadwick thought quite long enough to show
any outward signs of lamentation for her deceased father--she had but
little difficulty in doing so. On that point, however, she was firm;
and as it would have been impossible for her in her mourning attire to
take part in the festivities which commenced so soon as the prescribed
time was over, Eleanor did not mix with the general society, but only
saw those who were intimate friends at the house. Amongst the latter
was Mr. Spiridion Pratt, a dilettante gentleman of five or six and
thirty, who, having an excellent fortune and a cultivated taste, chose
to pass the 'fallow leisure of his life' with painters, sculptors,
writers, musicians, and actors, and to attempt himself to shine a
little in each of those vocations in which his friends were
proficient. Poems signed 'S.P.' were not uncommon in the pages of the
fashionable magazines; the President of the Royal Academy (remembering
a commission which he had received and executed for painting an
equestrian portrait of the late Mr. Pratt for presentation to the
Muffletubbe Hunt, of which he had been M.F.H.) had made a very
graceful allusion at one of the annual banquets to 'an amateur
contribution of great merit which graces our walls,' and all the
R.A.s of Spiridion's acquaintance, who were in the habit of dining
with him very often, tried to catch his downcast eyes, and in their
after-dinner perambulations through the room nudged each other as they
pointed out a rather gloomy canvas representing a Rhenish wineglass, a
bunch of grapes, half a cut orange, and two boiled prawns, which,
under the title of 'Still Life,' had been S.P.'s contribution to the
exhibition. It is needless to say that 'Ballads of the Blighted,'
words and music by Spiridion Pratt, Esq., are on every piano, and that
two of them, 'My Muffineer' and 'Take, O take the toast away,' have
achieved an unparalleled success.
With all these social advantages, and with a certain amount of good
looks of the black-eyed, straight-nosed, hairdresser's-dummy style,
Mr. Pratt was naturally a favourite with the ladies, and certain
_affaires_ with which his name was mixed up had been freely discussed
in society. These _affaires_ Mrs. Chadwick professed to look upon as
mere trifles, though one of them had lasted for a considerable time,
and was supposed to be even then in existence. Any discreditable
connection of the kind, however, could not possibly be known to a lady
of Mrs. Chadwick's virtue, and wholly ignoring it, she laid plans for
making a match between her sister and the accomplished Spiridion.
Eleanor, as we have seen, was by no means pleased at the idea; but Mr.
Pratt was not merely much struck by the girl's beauty, but thought it
would be very delightful to have the moulding of such a young and
ingenuous creature, and to undertake the formation of her character on
a plan peculiarly his own. The already existing connection threatened
to prove an obstacle; but that connection must be broken at some time
or other, and Spiridion thought he would have little chance of finding
a better excuse than Eleanor Irvine.
Such was the state of affairs at the time when Eleanor was paying her
stolen visits to Lady Forestfield; necessarily stolen, because Mrs.
Chadwick imagined that all connection between Eleanor and her quondam
patroness had ceased, and would have been horribly scandalised at the
notion that her sister was in the habit of seeing one 'who had so
painfully forgotten herself.' Fanny had never had any liking for Lord
Stortford's family, and the fact that her younger sister had been
preferred to her for adoption in the Grosvenor-square household had
never ceased to rankle in her mind. When, therefore, the story of Lady
Forestfield's disgrace became known, Mrs. Chadwick made it the theme
of many bitter discourses, with which she improved the occasion, and
inflicted the deepest pain on her sister when kindness was needed.
When she left Podbury-street after the conversation recorded in the
last chapter, Eleanor found herself suffering from unusual depression.
Something in Lady Forestfield's manner when speaking about Spiridion
Pratt convinced the girl that May knew more than she was willing to
tell. So far as Mr. Pratt himself was concerned Eleanor had no feeling
in the matter, and had she regarded him in the light of a common
acquaintance she would have pronounced him to be a gentleman, but
rather a vain and silly man. She knew, however, that Mrs. Chadwick's
project had not been lightly conceived, and would not be easily
departed from, and objectionable as the idea of, marriage with Mr.
Pratt had been before, since she had discussed it with her friend
the vague dread with which May Forestfield's words had inspired
her made her regard it with increased aversion. On her arrival at
Fairfax-gardens she found her sister just returned from her drive, and
looking through the cards which had been left during her absence.
'"P.P.C." on nearly all of them,' said Mrs. Chadwick, looking up.
'There was quite a thin Park, and there is not the smallest doubt that
everybody is leaving town; and it was only this morning that James
told me there was no possibility of our getting away for another
month. That won't matter to you, Eleanor, I suppose,' she said as she
seated herself; 'for you don't seem to me to care whether it is the
season or not--indeed, I think you are rather happier when nobody
comes.'
'I am sure of it,' said Eleanor quietly.
'Well, my dear child, you really must get out of these moping ways,'
said Fanny. 'As I have told you so many times, you should leave off
your mourning and come out with me; a drive in the Park would have
done you infinitely more good than sitting with that invalid
schoolfellow of yours; for I suppose that is where you have been all
the day?'
'Yes,' said Eleanor, with a slight blush; 'that is where I have been.'
'I can't understand it; for my part,' said Mrs. Chadwick, 'I don't
believe I should be alive if I did not have a drive every day, and I
was just looking forward to Scotland to revive me. However, I daresay
we shall do tolerably well; there are sure to be some people left in
town, and we shall be more thrown together with them than is possible
when all the world has to be attended to. It is time to dress now,
dear; and will you please make yourself look particularly nice?'
'Why?' asked Eleanor.
'For my sake,' said Fanny. Then stepping to her sister she said, in
what she intended to be an arch voice, but what was really a somewhat
angular manner, 'Spiridion Pratt is coming to dinner.'