"THE NEW COURT CHRONICLE"
Mr. Binney embarked on his second term at Cambridge with the full
intention of acquitting himself with credit and freeing his character
from the suspicion of unruliness which had unfortunately become
attached to it. He was very much in earnest about his work, and mapped
out a course of arduous study which was to be continued right up to the
following June, when he hoped to make up for his first failure by
taking a high class in both parts of the Little-go. The Union he was
determined to let severely alone. His pride had had a severe rebuff
from the indignity which had been put upon him in the elections. "They
can do without _me_," said Mr. Binney to his fellow-aspirant, M'Gee.
"Very well, then, I will show them that I can do without _them_."
"Toch! man, have another try," said the indomitable M'Gee. "Rome
wasn't built in a day." But he said it without enthusiasm, for the
path to success, according to his ideas, did not lie through the
follies and extravagances to which Mr. Binney had treated his audience
during the previous term.
"I shall never speak at the Union again, M'Gee," said Mr. Binney
firmly. And he kept his word.
He was a little troubled as to what course he should adopt with Howden
and the rest of his athletic friends. He did not want to drop them
altogether, but he wanted to make it clearly understood that the open
restaurant which he had previously conducted for their benefit was now
closed, and he had a suspicion that its closing might mean the
discontinuance of their favour, and a consequent loss of prestige to
himself. He gave a dinner on the second evening of the term, or
perhaps it would be more correct to say that Howden, who professed
himself delighted to meet his old friend once more after five weeks'
absence, gave it for him in his rooms, and Mr. Binney paid the bill.
It was quite as noisy as any that had gone before it, but Mr. Binney
did not add to the gaiety. He made a speech in the course of the
evening--he was rather fond of making speeches--in which he informed
his friends that he was about to embark on a severe course of study and
found he would not be able to have the pleasure of entertaining them
quite so often as before on account of the time that was thrown away
over these festivities. What he said was cheered to the echo, which
gratified him not a little, but Howden, who followed him, did not
appear to have taken his remarks in the least seriously, and assured
him in a voice broken with emotion, that they would all stick by him
and never forsake him. This was not quite what Mr. Binney wanted, but
Howden's affecting periods caused such an outburst of enthusiasm that
he succumbed to the general goodwill and allowed the matter to stand
over for the present.
On the next afternoon, however, it was decided for him. He was sitting
over his books for an hour before hall when he received a call from
Mirrilees, the Captain of the First Trinity Boat Club. Mirrilees was
an acquaintance of whom Mr. Binney might reasonably have been proud if
he had ever shown the slightest wish to have anything to do with our
hero apart from his official position as captain of the boat club to
which Mr. Binney belonged. He was tall and well set up, a really fine
oar and a thoroughly good fellow in the best sense of that misused
term. He was not everybody's friend, even in the exceedingly tolerant
atmosphere of undergraduate Cambridge, and athletes of the type of
Howden disliked him, and said so freely; but Mr. Binney had kept his
own opinion on this point, and if there was one man in Cambridge whom
he respected with all the force of the hero-worship which was a part of
his still undeveloped character, it was Mirrilees. He therefore rose
to his feet, and showed by his nervousness of manner that he fully
appreciated the honour done to him.
Mirrilees sat down on the sofa and refused the proffered suggestion of
refreshment. His keen eyes glanced round the room and then rested on
Mr. Binney.
"I told you last term," he said, "that we might want you to steer the
first Lent boat. You're a light weight and you've got a head on your
shoulders. At least you haven't lost it yet on the river, although you
seem to have done so occasionally elsewhere."
What Mr. Binney suffered at that instant in the way of remorse is
beyond description. This was a very different thing to Mr. Rimington's
strictures on his conduct. He made no reply, but hung his head.
"Now I've come to offer you the place----" Mr. Binney revived a
little--"but on certain conditions. I am not going to have the cox of
any boat I've got anything to do with making himself more ridiculous
than he is by nature. We shall be laughed at, of course, for having a
man of your age in the boats at all. I don't mind that as long as
that's all there is to laugh at. What I'm not going to stand is your
making yourself the butt and crony of every drunken rowdy in Cambridge.
I say what I've got to say perfectly straight as captain of the club to
one of its members who may turn out useful to it. If you lay it to
heart and don't take offence I shall have done what I wanted to do. If
you don't like such plain speaking, say so, and I'll clear out, and we
need never speak to one another again."
Mr. Binney's choler had shown signs of rising during this very plain
and unvarnished statement of the light in which Mirrilees regarded him,
but the hint with which the address had closed brought it down again.
"I don't take offence," he said slowly, "though I'm not used to--to----"
"Well, perhaps I put it a bit too strong," said Mirrilees, "but if I
were you I shouldn't have anything more to do with Howden and that lot.
I hear that they were all here last night again as usual, and that's
why I'm talking to you now. They're only sponging on you and making
you appear a fool all the time. If you steer the first Lent boat this
term--and mind, though I make no promises, that's intended to mean the
first May boat _next_ term--you'll have to train with the rest, and
that will mean knocking off all these diversions; and you'll find
plenty of good chaps in the boat club without running after
footballers, amongst whom you can't exactly expect to shine."
"I'm very grateful to you, Mirrilees, for your kind advice," said Mr.
Binney. "I shall certainly take it, and you may rely upon me to do my
best for the honour of the club."
"That's all right then," said Mirrilees, rising. "Walters is captain
of your boat, as you know, but I thought I'd just come round and settle
things up. Good-night!"
Outside in the darkness of Jesus Lane, Mirrilees smiled continuously.
"Good Lord!" he said to himself. "Fancy talking like that to the
father of one of your pals! But it was the only way, and I thought
he'd stand it somehow. I rather fancy I've done Lucy a good turn. But
I hope he'll never know."
He left Mr. Binney in a fervour of amended ambitions. What a grand
thing it would be to have a friend like Mirrilees, a man whom most
people turned round to look at if they passed him in the street, a man
who had already rowed two years in the University boat and would
probably row two years more before he left Cambridge, a man whose name
was known all over England. Why, it was almost as good as knowing
Muttlebury or Guy Nickalls. Lucius knew him, of course, lucky young
beggar. He wondered whether it was worth while making another attempt
to make acquaintances through his son, but the memory of Blathgowrie
and others deterred him, for Lucius's friends were not all Mirrilees's,
and he made up his mind to deserve the great man's favour by a
brilliant career as a cox, and extreme carefulness as to his behaviour
both on the river and away from it.
And so for the best part of that term Mr. Binney's behaviour was
irreproachable. He never missed a lecture or an appointment with his
Coach, and the amount of work he got through in the privacy of his
rooms was little short of marvellous. He was on the river, of course,
every afternoon, and suffered greatly from the exposure to the cold as
he sat in his narrow seat, fumbling with numbed hands at the rudder
lines, and was carried swiftly along by the combined exertions of the
eight stalwart men who faced him. His appearance always caused some
merriment on the tow-path, and the town urchins were a great trial to
him with their coarse banter, but the men of the First Trinity Boat
Club, as a rule, treated him with the respect due to his years, and, if
they did show a slight disinclination to walk up from the boats with
him, or to admit him into very close intimacy with them, he made up his
mind to bear the deprivation, trusting that it would disappear in time,
rather than fall again into the mistake he had made in trying to force
himself upon Blathgowrie and his friends. As for Howden, there was not
so much trouble with him as Mr. Binney had expected. For one thing, he
played Rugby football regularly for the University, and, although no
such arduous course of training is expected from a football player as
is necessary in the case of an oarsman, still a continuous course of
hilarious dinners is not regarded with favour by those in authority,
and Howden did not apply so often as before for sustenance at Mr.
Binney's table. Mr. Binney also conceived the idea of employing Howden
himself to keep his friends off him. He got him to talk about his
financial troubles one morning, a subject which he had before
instinctively avoided. Howden was nothing loth, and poured out a
dismal tale of debts and duns. Mr. Binney then afforded him temporary
pecuniary relief, and asked, as a favour, that Howden should inform his
friends that he, Mr. Binney, was very busy this term and would not be
able to see quite so much of them as before. Howden accepted the
responsibility, and discharged it satisfactorily, and Mr. Binney was
left in peace to carry out his reformation.
But, alas! the old proverb still holds true: "Give a dog a bad name and
hang him." Mr. Binney was now an exemplary character, but nobody would
believe it. When his guests left his rooms after the evening already
alluded to, they got into trouble with the Proctors. It was the usual
offence of smoking in cap and gown, but Howden added to it by running
away from avenging justice. Neither Proctor nor Bull-dogs could hope
to equal him at that game, so they made no attempt to enter into
competition, but entered up his name, which was perfectly familiar to
all three of them, instead. So the only thing Howden got by his little
sprint was the exercise, which he did not require, and a double fine
the next morning, which he could ill afford to pay. His escapade also
came to the ears of his tutor, Mr. Rimington. He would not have taken
notice of such a comparatively slight offence, if such offences had not
been of frequent occurrence with Howden. As it was, he sent for him
and talked to him, and then it came out that Howden had been dining
with Mr. Binney. It will be remembered that Mr. Rimington had
expostulated with Mr. Binney on the last day of the previous term, and
this occurrence had taken place on the second day of the present term.
Mr. Rimington may therefore be excused for coming to the conclusion
that his expostulations had had very little effect, and that Mr. Binney
was proceeding on the reckless career which had made him such a
nuisance to those responsible for the order of the college. He said
nothing on this occasion, but continued to regard Mr. Binney with
feelings of strong disfavour.
Mr. Binney might have lived down his reputation in time had it not been
artificially sustained for him by the journal to which we have already
referred, the _New Court Chronicle_. The editor of that enterprising
publication had found that Mr. Binney's eccentricities made very good
copy for him in the previous term, and confidently looked forward to
keeping up his circulation by exploiting our hero to a considerable
extent as long as his paper should continue to run. He had had an
altercation with Lucius one night in the Great Court upon one of those
occasions when two factions meet and mutually disagree, and although,
or probably because, he had been in the wrong, the editor of the _New
Court Chronicle_ bore Lucius a grudge and was not above paying it off
by ridiculing his father. He had also been one of the band whom Howden
had frequently invited to partake of Mr. Binney's hospitality, with
which he had made so free that Mr. Binney had decided that in his case
at least he would give the cold shoulder himself and not entrust the
work entirely to Howden. The journalistic gentleman had not taken this
very kindly, and a flavour of malice had crept into his witticisms,
where before there had only been good-humoured chaff. As Mr. Binney
gave him very little occasion now for humorous writing, he allowed
himself a freer hand, and invented stories against him instead of
merely repeating them.
In order to provide a fitting framework for his humour, he published
each week a correspondence between Mr. Binney in Cambridge and an
imaginary mother in London, in which the former recounted his exploits,
and the latter commented upon them. The idea was carried out with some
humour and proved to be an acceptable feature of the paper.
Unfortunately the editor had hit upon the name of "Martha" for Mr.
Binney's supposed mother, and her letters were not so unlike Mrs.
Higginbotham's in style as quite to relieve Mr. Binney of the suspicion
that the story of his wooing of that good woman had reached Cambridge.
The only two people who could possibly be suspected of divulging it
were Lucius and Dizzy, and after the issue of the first instalment he
went angrily round to his son's rooms to see if the offence could be
brought home to him. Lucius was out, but seated comfortably in his
armchair and smoking one of his cigars was Dizzy, who must have been
the culprit, if Lucius were not, thought Mr. Binney.
"Ah, Mr. Binney, pleased to see you again," said Dizzy genially. "How
are you feeling! Pretty toll-lollish?"
"No, Stubbs, I am not feeling particularly 'toll-lollish' just at
present--I thank you all the same," said Mr. Binney severely. "I don't
know whether this publication has come to your notice yet?" Mr. Binney
put a copy of the _New Court Chronicle_ on the table, which Dizzy took
up and glanced through with interest.
"It ain't bad," he said, "though it's got up by a set of rotters.
Hullo, what's this--something about you, Mr. Binney, eh?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Binney angrily, "and a most scurrilous piece of
work it is. My dear mother, sir, has lain in her grave these twenty
years. It is a scandalous thing that contempt should be poured on her
memory in this indecent fashion."
"It is," said Dizzy warmly. "A most preposterous thing! I quite agree
with you. These fellows ought to be kicked, every one of them. And if
they treated my old mater in that way I'd--I'd pay somebody to do it."
"But that is not all, sir," continued Mr. Binney. "I don't know
whether you recollect meeting a lady of the name of Higginbotham at my
table?"
"Mrs. Higginbotham!" exclaimed Dizzy. "Why, of course I do. And a
most engaging old lady she was too. Don't know when I've met a nicer."
"I'm obliged for your good opinion sir," said Mr. Binney stiffly,
"although I confess the idea of Mrs. Higginbotham as an _old_ lady is a
new one to me. You are probably aware that her Christian name is
Martha."
"First I've heard of it," said Dizzy, "but it's an excellent name. I
had an old aunt called Martha, and I thought she was going to leave me
a lot of money; but she didn't."
"You are _sure_ that you didn't know that Mrs. Higginbotham's name was
Martha?" asked Mr. Binney suspiciously.
"'Pon my word I hadn't the slightest idea of it, Mr. Binney," said
Dizzy. "I shouldn't have had a word to say if you'd told me it was
Mary. But why do you ask?"
"Never mind," said Mr. Binney. "If you give me your word of honour as
a gentleman that the fact is new to you, I accept your assurance, and
there let the matter end. Here is Lucius. I should like to have a
word alone with him, if you will permit me, Stubbs."
"Certainly," said the obliging Dizzy, rising instantly. "Come round
and give me a look in presently, Lucy. I'll take another of those
weeds of yours if I may."
When he had got outside, Mr. Binney turned to his son, with, "Now, sir,
what is the meaning of this?"
Lucius glanced at the paper to which his father pointed.
"Oh, I've read the rubbish," he said wearily. "It makes me sick."
"Read it," said Mr. Binney. "Yes, I've no doubt you've read it, sir.
What I should like to know is how much you wrote of it."
"I don't know what you mean," said Lucius. "I've had quite enough mud
thrown at me since you've been up here, father. It isn't likely I
should take to throwing it at myself."
"Don't prevaricate, sir," said Mr. Binney, his voice rising. "Did you
write it, or did you not?"
"I'm not going to answer such a ridiculous question," said Lucius
sulkily.
"Then I will answer it for you," said Mr. Binney. "You _did_ write it.
I know you have always nourished evil feelings against that excellent
woman Martha Higginbotham, who I hope will one day do you the honour of
becoming your mother. Not content with wreaking your unfilial spite
against your own father who begat you, you must smirch the good name of
a lady who has always loaded you with kindness. Out upon such conduct,
I say."
Lucius held his head in his hands. "I suppose I shall understand it
all soon," he said. "At present it sounds like one of Dr. Toller's
sermons. Is there anything about you and Mrs. Higginbotham in the
advertisements, father? I've read all the rest of the rag and I don't
remember her name being mentioned."
"What is that name, sir?" asked Mr. Binney, pointing to the signature
of his imaginary mother's letters.
"Martha Binney," read Lucius.
"Yes, Martha Binney," echoed his father. "And in two years and a half
from now, Martha Higginbotham will change her name for Martha Binney,
if we're both spared."
"It'll be a change for the better then, as far as she's concerned,"
said Lucius. "But what _are_ you driving at, father? You can't really
think I wrote that or had anything to do with it. I'm not such a scug
as all that."
"And pray who else up here but you knows that Mrs. Higginbotham's name
is Martha?" inquired Mr. Binney. "That's my point."
"Well, I don't think it's much of a point," said Lucius. "It's a
fluke, their happening to hit upon that name. But, look here, can't
you stop this sort of thing? It's really awful the way things are
going on. I don't suppose there's anybody ever been up here who's had
such a miserable time as I'm having. Other fellows respect their
fathers. You simply don't give me a chance."
This touched Mr. Binney to the quick. He was very susceptible to
criticism since Mirrilees had spoken to him so plainly. "I'm afraid I
have given you some reason to say that, my boy," he said. "I--I was
led away last term. I was under a wrong impression of what was the
thing and what wasn't the thing. But that is all changed now. I have
become a reading man and a boating man. I have turned the page on
everything else."
"There was that dinner with Howden and the rest of them the very night
after we came up," said Lucius.
"It was the last dinner that Howden will get out of me," said Mr.
Binney. "I have done with him--at least I hope so."
"Well, then, there's some hope," said Lucius. "And, look here, father,
if you've really given up that sort of thing there's a much better
chance of your getting on with the fellows worth knowing. I shouldn't
take any notice of that business, if I were you. It will die down in
time. Would you care to come to lunch to-morrow? Mirrilees is coming.
He's a good chap, you'll like to meet him."
"Oh, I know him well. He was in my rooms a few days ago," said Mr.
Binney. "But I should like to meet him again very much. Yes, I'll
come, Lucius," and Mr. Binney went away feeling that the reward of good
behaviour had already come, in spite of the _New Court Chronicle_.
But, alas! Mr. Binney's reputation proved harder matter to live down
than he had anticipated. The men whom he met on the river fought
rather shy of him, for to tell the truth, there was very little to
recommend the poor little gentleman as a companion for youth if he was
to be taken seriously as he now seemed to desire. Howden and Co. had
only put up with him because of his dinners, and because, at the time
he had consorted with them, he had apparently not objected to being
made the butt of their not over-refined pleasantries. He now led a
very dull and dejected life, but his work kept him employed, and the
prospects of his boat in the Lent races gave him something to look
forward to with keen expectation. The First Trinity first Lent boat
had fallen to the fourth place on the river, but this year it was by
far the best crew practising, with the possible exception of the head
boat. It was expected to make its first three bumps with comparative
ease, and to row an exciting race with Trinity Hall in the last night
of the races for the head place on the river. Whenever Mr. Binney felt
inclined to get down-hearted at the thought of his unpopularity he
would buoy himself up with the anticipation of the glory that would
accrue to him if his hopes were realised.
Unfortunately the editor of the _New Court Chronicle_ found his
journalistic ingenuity increasing with practice, and spent such pains
over "The Binney Correspondence," that that feature of his paper soon
became the talk of Cambridge. After the third number Mr. Binney wrote
him a letter of expostulation, which he published with appropriate
comment, but of which he took no further notice. That week's
instalment of the Correspondence contained an account from "Your
repentant son, Peter Binney," of how he had been asked to dine with the
Vice-Chancellor, had disgraced himself by drinking too much wine, and
had been escorted home by the two Esquire Bedells with their silver
pokers, while he raised the town with a spirited rendering of "Rule
Britannia." Mrs. Binney, the mother, expressed herself heart-broken at
the news, and announced her intention of coming up to Cambridge to
implore the Vice-Chancellor to overlook the offence, and give her
erring boy another chance. She also alluded to her grand-daughter
Lucy, who was supposed to be studying at Girton College. "She is a
good girl," wrote the old lady, "and would be ashamed to carry on in
the way you do, Peter, but the dear child tells me she wishes she had
been sent to Newnham College. She likes the students there so much
better."
Poor little Mr. Binney went round to his son's rooms almost in tears.
He found Lucius still more angry than himself, for, although his
admiration of the Newnham girl was well known among his immediate
friends, and he did not take a mild degree of chaff on the subject at
all ill, the vulgar publicity now given to it goaded him to the verge
of desperation.
"Oh, it's you, father," he said. "I'm going round to that fellow Piper
to tell him if this business isn't stopped I'll knock his teeth down
his throat."
"Ah, Lucius," said Mr. Binney plaintively. "I wish I was big and
strong like you. I'd have done that long ago. But you're a good boy
to stick up for your poor father. I'm going to increase your allowance
by L10 for asking me to lunch to meet Mirrilees, and if you get these
disgraceful attacks stopped I'll add another L20. You'll get back to
the old figure if you're careful, and even beyond it."
"Thanks, father," said Lucius, "but I don't want paying for doing a
thing like that. I've got a little score of my own against Mr. Piper,
and I'm going to pay it off now." And Lucius took up his cap and left
the room.