E-text prepared by Mike Mariano from page images generously made available
by the Making of America Collection of the Cornell University Library
(http://cdl.library.cornell.edu/moa/)
and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., using illustrations generously
made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org).
Editorial note:
_The Claverings_ was published first in serial form in _The
Cornhill Magazine_ from February, 1866, to May, 1867, and
then in book form by Smith, Elder and Co. in 1867.
The _Cornhill_ version contained 16 full-page illustrations
and 16 quarter-page vignettes by Mary Ellen Edwards, a
respected and successful illustrator. The Smith, Elder first
edition contained only the full-page illustrations. Both the
full-page illustrations and the vignettes are included in
this e-book. They can be seen by viewing the HTML version of
this file. See 15766-h.htm or 15766-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/15766/pg15766-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/15766/15766-h.zip)
Images of the original illustrations are available through
Internet Archive.
For Chapters I-XV see
https://archive.org/details/claverings01trolrich
Chapters XVI-XXXIII see
https://archive.org/details/claverings02trolrich
and Chapters XXXIV-XLVIII see
https://archive.org/details/claverings03trolrich
THE CLAVERINGS
by
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
CONTENTS
I. JULIA BRABAZON.
II. HARRY CLAVERING CHOOSES HIS PROFESSION.
III. LORD ONGAR.
IV. FLORENCE BURTON.
V. LADY ONGAR'S RETURN.
VI. THE REV. SAMUEL SAUL.
VII. SOME SCENES IN THE LIFE OF A COUNTESS.
VIII. THE HOUSE IN ONSLOW CRESCENT.
IX. TOO PRUDENT BY HALF.
X. FLORENCE BURTON AT THE RECTORY.
XI. SIR HUGH AND HIS BROTHER ARCHIE.
XII. LADY ONGAR TAKES POSSESSION.
XIII. A VISITOR CALLS AT ONGAR PARK.
XIV. COUNT PATEROFF AND HIS SISTER.
XV. AN EVENING IN BOLTON STREET.
XVI. THE RIVALS.
XVII. "LET HER KNOW THAT YOU'RE THERE."
XVIII. CAPTAIN CLAVERING MAKES HIS FIRST ATTEMPT.
XIX. THE BLUE POSTS.
XX. DESOLATION.
XXI. YES; WRONG;--CERTAINLY WRONG.
XXII. THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL.
XXIII. CUMBERLY LANE WITHOUT THE MUD.
XXIV. THE RUSSIAN SPY.
XXV. "WHAT WOULD MEN SAY OF YOU?"
XXVI. THE MAN WHO DUSTED HIS BOOTS WITH HIS HANDKERCHIEF.
XXVII. FRESHWATER GATE.
XXVIII. WHAT CECILIA BURTON DID FOR HER SISTER-IN-LAW.
XXIX. HOW DAMON PARTED FROM PYTHIAS.
XXX. DOODLES IN MOUNT STREET.
XXXI. HARRY CLAVERING'S CONFESSION.
XXXII. FLORENCE BURTON PACKS UP A PACKET.
XXXIII. SHOWING WHY HARRY CLAVERING WAS WANTED AT THE RECTORY.
XXXIV. MR. SAUL'S ABODE.
XXXV. PARTING.
XXXVI. CAPTAIN CLAVERING MAKES HIS LAST ATTEMPT.
XXXVII. WHAT LADY ONGAR THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
XXXVIII. HOW TO DISPOSE OF A WIFE.
XXXIX. FAREWELL TO DOODLES.
XL. SHEWING HOW MRS. BURTON FOUGHT HER BATTLE.
XLI. THE SHEEP RETURNS TO THE FOLD.
XLII. RESTITUTION.
XLIII. LADY ONGAR'S REVENGE.
XLIV. SHEWING WHAT HAPPENED OFF HELIGOLAND.
XLV. IS SHE MAD?
XLVI. MADAME GORDELOUP RETIRES FROM BRITISH DIPLOMACY.
XLVII. SHOWING HOW THINGS SETTLED THEMSELVES AT THE RECTORY.
XLVIII. CONCLUSION.
ILLUSTRATIONS
"A PUIR FECKLESS THING, TOTTERING ALONG LIKE,--" CHAPTER III.
MR. SAUL PROPOSES. CHAPTER VI.
A FRIENDLY TALK. CHAPTER VII.
WAS NOT THE PRICE IN HER HAND? CHAPTER XII.
"DID HE NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST HER?" CHAPTER XIV.
CAPTAIN CLAVERING MAKES HIS FIRST ATTEMPT. CHAPTER XVIII.
"THE LORD GIVETH, AND THE LORD TAKETH AWAY." CHAPTER XX.
"HARRY," SHE SAID, "THERE IS NOTHING WRONG
BETWEEN YOU AND FLORENCE?" CHAPTER XXII.
"LADY ONGAR, ARE YOU NOT RATHER NEAR THE EDGE?" CHAPTER XXVII.
HOW DAMON PARTED FROM PYTHIAS. CHAPTER XXIX.
FLORENCE BURTON MAKES UP A PACKET. CHAPTER XXXII.
HUSBAND AND WIFE. CHAPTER XXXV.
A PLEA FOR MERCY. CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE SHEEP RETURNS TO THE FOLD. CHAPTER XLI.
HARRY SAT BETWEEN THEM, LIKE A SHEEP AS HE WAS,
VERY MEEKLY. CHAPTER XLIII.
LADY ONGAR AND FLORENCE. CHAPTER XLVII.
CHAPTER I.
JULIA BRABAZON.
[Illustration.]
The gardens of Clavering Park were removed some three hundred yards
from the large, square, sombre-looking stone mansion which was
the country-house of Sir Hugh Clavering, the eleventh baronet of
that name; and in these gardens, which had but little of beauty to
recommend them, I will introduce my readers to two of the personages
with whom I wish to make them acquainted in the following story. It
was now the end of August, and the parterres, beds, and bits of lawn
were dry, disfigured, and almost ugly, from the effects of a long
drought. In gardens to which care and labour are given abundantly,
flower-beds will be pretty, and grass will be green, let the weather
be what it may; but care and labour were but scantily bestowed on the
Clavering Gardens, and everything was yellow, adust, harsh, and dry.
Over the burnt turf towards a gate that led to the house, a lady was
walking, and by her side there walked a gentleman.
"You are going in, then, Miss Brabazon," said the gentleman, and it
was very manifest from his tone that he intended to convey some deep
reproach in his words.
"Of course I am going in," said the lady. "You asked me to walk with
you, and I refused. You have now waylaid me, and therefore I shall
escape,--unless I am prevented by violence." As she spoke she stood
still for a moment, and looked into his face with a smile which
seemed to indicate that if such violence were used, within rational
bounds, she would not feel herself driven to great anger.
But though she might be inclined to be playful, he was by no means in
that mood. "And why did you refuse me when I asked you?" said he.
"For two reasons, partly because I thought it better to avoid any
conversation with you."
"That is civil to an old friend."
"But chiefly,"--and now as she spoke she drew herself up, and
dismissed the smile from her face, and allowed her eyes to fall upon
the ground;--"but chiefly because I thought that Lord Ongar would
prefer that I should not roam alone about Clavering Park with any
young gentleman while I am down here; and that he might specially
object to my roaming with you, were he to know that you and I
were--old acquaintances. Now I have been very frank, Mr. Clavering,
and I think that that ought to be enough."
"You are afraid of him already, then?"
"I am afraid of offending any one whom I love, and especially any one
to whom I owe any duty."
"Enough! Indeed it is not. From what you know of me do you think it
likely that that will be enough?" He was now standing in front of
her, between her and the gate, and she made no effort to leave him.
"And what is it you want? I suppose you do not mean to fight Lord
Ongar, and that if you did you would not come to me."
"Fight him! No; I have no quarrel with him. Fighting him would do no
good."
"None in the least; and he would not fight if you were to ask him;
and you could not ask him without being false to me."
"I should have had an example for that, at any rate."
"That's nonsense, Mr. Clavering. My falsehood, if you should choose
to call me false, is of a very different nature, and is pardonable by
all laws known to the world."
"You are a jilt,--that is all."
"Come, Harry, don't use hard words,"--and she put her hand kindly
upon his arm. "Look at me, such as I am, and at yourself, and then
say whether anything but misery could come of a match between you
and me. Our ages by the register are the same, but I am ten years
older than you by the world. I have two hundred a year, and I owe at
this moment six hundred pounds. You have, perhaps, double as much,
and would lose half of that if you married. You are an usher at a
school."
"No, madam, I am not an usher at a school."
"Well, well, you know I don't mean to make you angry."
"At the present moment, I am a schoolmaster, and if I remained so, I
might fairly look forward to a liberal income. But I am going to give
that up."
"You will not be more fit for matrimony because you are going to give
up your profession. Now Lord Ongar has--heaven knows what;--perhaps
sixty thousand a year."
"In all my life I never heard such effrontery,--such barefaced,
shameless worldliness!"
"Why should I not love a man with a large income?"
"He is old enough to be your father."
"He is thirty-six, and I am twenty-four."
"Thirty-six!"
"There is the Peerage for you to look at. But, my dear Harry, do you
not know that you are perplexing me and yourself too, for nothing?
I was fool enough when I came here from Nice, after papa's death, to
let you talk nonsense to me for a month or two."
"Did you or did you not swear that you loved me?"
"Oh, Mr. Clavering, I did not imagine that your strength would have
condescended to take such advantage over the weakness of a woman.
I remember no oaths of any kind, and what foolish assertions I may
have made, I am not going to repeat. It must have become manifest to
you during these two years that all that was a romance. If it be a
pleasure to you to look back to it, of that pleasure I cannot deprive
you. Perhaps I also may sometimes look back. But I shall never speak
of that time again; and you, if you are as noble as I take you to be,
will not speak of it either. I know you would not wish to injure me."
"I would wish to save you from the misery you are bringing on
yourself."
"In that you must allow me to look after myself. Lord Ongar certainly
wants a wife, and I intend to be true to him,--and useful."
"How about love?"
"And to love him, sir. Do you think that no man can win a woman's
love, unless he is filled to the brim with poetry, and has a neck
like Lord Byron, and is handsome like your worship? You are very
handsome, Harry, and you, too, should go into the market and make the
best of yourself. Why should you not learn to love some nice girl
that has money to assist you?"
"Julia!"
"No, sir; I will not be called Julia. If you do, I will be insulted,
and leave you instantly. I may call you Harry, as being so much
younger,--though we were born in the same month,--and as a sort of
cousin. But I shall never do that after to-day."
"You have courage enough, then, to tell me that you have not ill-used
me?"
"Certainly I have. Why, what a fool you would have me be! Look at me,
and tell me whether I am fit to be the wife of such a one as you. By
the time you are entering the world, I shall be an old woman, and
shall have lived my life. Even if I were fit to be your mate when
we were living here together, am I fit, after what I have done and
seen during the last two years? Do you think it would really do
any good to any one if I were to jilt, as you call it, Lord Ongar,
and tell them all,--your cousin, Sir Hugh, and my sister, and your
father,--that I was going to keep myself up, and marry you when you
were ready for me?"
"You mean to say that the evil is done."
"No, indeed. At the present moment I owe six hundred pounds, and I
don't know where to turn for it, so that my husband may not be dunned
for my debts as soon as he has married me. What a wife I should have
been for you;--should I not?"
"I could pay the six hundred pounds for you with money that I have
earned myself,--though you do call me an usher;--and perhaps would
ask fewer questions about it than Lord Ongar will do with all his
thousands."
"Dear Harry, I beg your pardon about the usher. Of course, I know
that you are a fellow of your college, and that St. Cuthbert's, where
you teach the boys, is one of the grandest schools in England; and I
hope you'll be a bishop; nay,--I think you will, if you make up your
mind to try for it."
"I have given up all idea of going into the church."
"Then you'll be a judge. I know you'll be great and distinguished,
and that you'll do it all yourself. You are distinguished already. If
you could only know how infinitely I should prefer your lot to mine!
Oh, Harry, I envy you! I do envy you! You have got the ball at your
feet, and the world before you, and can win everything for yourself."
"But nothing is anything without your love."
"Psha! Love, indeed. What could I do for you but ruin you? You know
it as well as I do; but you are selfish enough to wish to continue a
romance which would be absolutely destructive to me, though for a
while it might afford a pleasant relaxation to your graver studies.
Harry, you can choose in the world. You have divinity, and law, and
literature, and art. And if debarred from love now by the exigencies
of labour, you will be as fit for love in ten years' time as you are
at present."
"But I do love now."
"Be a man, then, and keep it to yourself. Love is not to be our
master. You can choose, as I say; but I have had no choice,--no
choice but to be married well, or to go out like a snuff of a candle.
I don't like the snuff of a candle, and, therefore, I am going to be
married well."
"And that suffices?"
"It must suffice. And why should it not suffice? You are very
uncivil, cousin, and very unlike the rest of the world. Everybody
compliments me on my marriage. Lord Ongar is not only rich, but he is
a man of fashion, and a man of talent."
"Are you fond of race-horses yourself?"
"Very fond of them."
"And of that kind of life?"
"Very fond of it. I mean to be fond of everything that Lord Ongar
likes. I know that I can't change him, and, therefore, I shall not
try."
"You are right there, Miss Brabazon."
"You mean to be impertinent, sir; but I will not take it so. This is
to be our last meeting in private, and I won't acknowledge that I am
insulted. But it must be over now, Harry; and here I have been pacing
round and round the garden with you, in spite of my refusal just now.
It must not be repeated, or things will be said which I do not mean
to have ever said of me. Good-by, Harry."
"Good-by, Julia."
"Well, for that once let it pass. And remember this: I have told you
all my hopes, and my one trouble. I have been thus open with you
because I thought it might serve to make you look at things in a
right light. I trust to your honour as a gentleman to repeat nothing
that I have said to you."
"I am not given to repeat such things as those."
"I'm sure you are not. And I hope you will not misunderstand the
spirit in which they have been spoken. I shall never regret what I
have told you now, if it tends to make you perceive that we must both
regard our past acquaintance as a romance, which must, from the stern
necessity of things, be treated as a dream which we have dreamt, or a
poem which we have read."
"You can treat it as you please."
"God bless you, Harry; and I will always hope for your welfare, and
hear of your success with joy. Will you come up and shoot with them
on Thursday?"
"What, with Hugh? No; Hugh and I do not hit it off together. If I
shot at Clavering I should have to do it as a sort of head-keeper.
It's a higher position, I know, than that of an usher, but it doesn't
suit me."
"Oh, Harry! that is so cruel! But you will come up to the house. Lord
Ongar will be there on the thirty-first; the day after to-morrow, you
know."
"I must decline even that temptation. I never go into the house when
Hugh is there, except about twice a year on solemn invitation--just
to prevent there being a family quarrel."
"Good-by, then," and she offered him her hand.
"Good-by, if it must be so."
"I don't know whether you mean to grace my marriage?"
"Certainly not. I shall be away from Clavering, so that the marriage
bells may not wound my ears. For the matter of that, I shall be at
the school."
"I suppose we shall meet some day in town."
"Most probably not. My ways and Lord Ongar's will be altogether
different, even if I should succeed in getting up to London. If you
ever come to see Hermione here, I may chance to meet you in the
house. But you will not do that often, the place is so dull and
unattractive."
"It is the dearest old park."
"You won't care much for old parks as Lady Ongar."
"You don't know what I may care about as Lady Ongar; but as Julia
Brabazon I will now say good-by for the last time." Then they parted,
and the lady returned to the great house, while Harry Clavering made
his way across the park towards the rectory.
Three years before this scene in the gardens at Clavering Park, Lord
Brabazon had died at Nice, leaving one unmarried daughter, the lady
to whom the reader has just been introduced. One other daughter he
had, who was then already married to Sir Hugh Clavering, and Lady
Clavering was the Hermione of whom mention has already been made.
Lord Brabazon, whose peerage had descended to him in a direct line
from the time of the Plantagenets, was one of those unfortunate
nobles of whom England is burdened with but few, who have no means
equal to their rank. He had married late in life, and had died
without a male heir. The title which had come from the Plantagenets
was now lapsed; and when the last lord died, about four hundred a
year was divided between his two daughters. The elder had already
made an excellent match, as regarded fortune, in marrying Sir Hugh
Clavering; and the younger was now about to make a much more splendid
match in her alliance with Lord Ongar. Of them I do not know that it
is necessary to say much more at present.
And of Harry Clavering it perhaps may not be necessary to say much
in the way of description. The attentive reader will have already
gathered nearly all that should be known of him before he makes
himself known by his own deeds. He was the only son of the Reverend
Henry Clavering, rector of Clavering, uncle of the present Sir Hugh
Clavering, and brother of the last Sir Hugh. The Reverend Henry
Clavering, and Mrs. Clavering his wife, and his two daughters, Mary
and Fanny Clavering, lived always at Clavering Rectory, on the
outskirts of Clavering Park, at a full mile's distance from the
house. The church stood in the park, about midway between the two
residences. When I have named one more Clavering, Captain Clavering,
Captain Archibald Clavering, Sir Hugh's brother, and when I shall
have said also that both Sir Hugh and Captain Clavering were men fond
of pleasure and fond of money, I shall have said all that I need now
say about the Clavering family at large.
Julia Brabazon had indulged in some reminiscence of the romance of
her past poetic life when she talked of cousinship between her and
Harry Clavering. Her sister was the wife of Harry Clavering's first
cousin, but between her and Harry there was no relationship whatever.
When old Lord Brabazon had died at Nice she had come to Clavering
Park, and had created some astonishment among those who knew Sir
Hugh by making good her footing in his establishment. He was not
the man to take up a wife's sister, and make his house her home,
out of charity or from domestic love. Lady Clavering, who had been
a handsome woman and fashionable withal, no doubt may have had some
influence; but Sir Hugh was a man much prone to follow his own
courses. It must be presumed that Julia Brabazon had made herself
agreeable in the house, and also probably useful. She had been taken
to London through two seasons, and had there held up her head among
the bravest. And she had been taken abroad,--for Sir Hugh did not
love Clavering Park, except during six weeks of partridge shooting;
and she had been at Newmarket with them, and at the house of a
certain fast hunting duke with whom Sir Hugh was intimate; and at
Brighton with her sister, when it suited Sir Hugh to remain alone at
the duke's; and then again up in London, where she finally arranged
matters with Lord Ongar. It was acknowledged by all the friends
of the two families, and indeed I may say of the three families
now--among the Brabazon people, and the Clavering people, and the
Courton people,--Lord Ongar's family name was Courton,--that Julia
Brabazon had been very clever. Of her and Harry Clavering together no
one had ever said a word. If any words had been spoken between her
and Hermione on the subject, the two sisters had been discreet enough
to manage that they should go no further. In those short months of
Julia's romance Sir Hugh had been away from Clavering, and Hermione
had been much occupied in giving birth to an heir. Julia had now
lived past her one short spell of poetry, had written her one sonnet,
and was prepared for the business of the world.