Your father has ruined us��and a very pleasant morning's work, I am sure."
And she calmly rubs the nose of her youngest child who is near her, and too
young, and innocent, and careless, perhaps, of the world's censure as yet to
keep in a strict cleanliness her own dear little snub nose and dappled cheeks.
"We are only ruined, and shall be starving soon, my dears, and if the general
has bought a pony��as I dare say he has; he is quite capable of buying a pony
when we are starving��the best thing we can do is to eat the pony. M'Grigor,
don't laugh. Starvation is no laughing matter. When we were at Dumdum, in '36,
we ate some colt. Don't you remember Jubber's colt��Jubber of the Horse
Artillery, general? Never tasted anything more tender in all my life. Charlotte,
take Jany's hands out of the marmalade! We are all ruined, my dears, as sure as
our name is Baynes." Thus did the mother of the family prattle on in the midst
of her little ones, and announce to them the dreadful news of impending
starvation. "General Baynes, by his carelessness, had allowed Dr. Firmin to make
away with the money over which the general had been set as sentinel. Philip
might recover from the trustee, and no doubt would. Perhaps he would not press
his claim? My dear, what can you expect from the son of such a father? Depend on
it, Charlotte, no good fruit can come from a stock like that. The son is a bad
one, the father is a bad one, and your father, poor dear soul, is not fit to be
trusted to walk the street without some one to keep him from tumbling. Why did I
allow him to go to town without me? We were quartered at Colchester then: and I
could not move on account of your brother M'Grigor. 'Baynes,' I said to your
father, 'as sure as I let you go away to town without me, you will come to
mischief.' And go he did, and come to mischief he did. And through his folly I
and my poor children must go and beg our bread in the streets��I and my seven
poor, robbed, penniless little ones. Oh, it's cruel, cruel!"
Indeed, one cannot fancy a more dismal prospect for this worthy mother and wife
than to see her children without provision at the commencement of their lives,
and her luckless husband robbed of his life's earnings, and ruined just when he
was too old to work.
What was to become of them? Now poor Charlotte thought, with pangs of a keen
remorse, how idle she had been, and how she had snubbed her governesses, and how
little she knew, and how badly she played the piano. Oh, neglected
opportunities! Oh, remorse, now the time was past and irrecoverable! Does any
young lady read this who, perchance, ought to be doing her lessons? My dear, lay
down the story-book at once. Go up to your school-room, and practise your piano
for two hours this moment; so that you may be prepared to support your family,
should ruin in any case fall upon you. A great girl of sixteen, I pity Charlotte
Baynes's feelings of anguish. She can't write a very good hand; she can scarcely
answer any question to speak of in any educational books; her pianoforte playing
is very, very so-so indeed. If she is to go out and get a living for the family,
how, in the name of goodness, is she to set about it? What are they to do with
the boys, and the money that has been put away for Ochterlony when he goes to
college, and for Moira's commission? "Why, we can't afford to keep them at Dr.
Pybus's, where they were doing so well; and they were ever so much better and
more gentlemanlike than Colonel Chandler's boys; and to lose the army will break
Moira's heart, it will. And the little ones, my little blue-eyed Carrick, and my
darling Jany, and my Mary, that I nursed almost miraculously out of her scarlet
fever. God help them! God help us all!" thinks the poor mother. No wonder that
her nights are wakeful, and her heart in a tumult of alarm at the idea of the
impending danger.
And the father of the family?��the stout old general whose battles and campaigns
are over, who has come home to rest his war-worn limbs, and make his peace with
heaven ere it calls him away��what must be his feelings when he thinks that he
has been entrapped by a villain into committing an imprudence, which makes his
children penniless and himself dishonoured and a beggar? When he found what Dr.
Firmin had done, and how he had been cheated, he went away, aghast, to his
lawyer, who could give him no help. Philip's mother's trustee was answerable to
Philip for his property. It had been stolen through Baynes's own carelessness,
and the law bound him to replace it. General Baynes's man of business could not
help him out of his perplexity at all; and I hope my worthy reader is not going
to be too angry with the general for what I own he did. You never would, my dear
sir, I know. No power on earth would induce you to depart one inch from the path
of rectitude; or, having done an act of imprudence, to shrink from bearing the
consequence. The long and short of the matter is, that poor Baynes and his wife,
after holding agitated, stealthy councils together��after believing that every
strange face they saw was a bailiff's coming to arrest them on Philip's
account��after horrible days of remorse, misery, guilt��I say the long and the
short of the matter was, that these poor people determined to run away. They
would go and hide themselves anywhere��in an impenetrable pine forest in
Norway��up an inaccessible mountain in Switzerland. They would change their
names; dye their mustachios and honest old white hair; fly with their little
ones away, away, away, out of the reach of law and Philip; and the first flight
lands them on Boulogne Pier, and there is Mr. Philip holding out his hand and
actually eyeing them as they got out of the steamer! Eyeing them? It is the eye
of heaven that is on those criminals. Holding out his hand to them? It is the
hand of fate that is on their wretched shoulders. No wonder they shuddered and
turned pale. That which I took for sea-sickness, I am sorry to say, was a guilty
conscience: and where is the steward, my dear friends, who can relieve us of
that?
As this party came staggering out of the Customhouse, poor Baynes still found
Philip's hand stretched out to catch hold of him, and saluted him with a ghastly
cordiality. "These are your children, general, and this is Mrs. Baynes?" says
Philip, smiling, and taking off his hat.
"Oh, yes! I'm Mrs. General Baynes!" says the poor woman; "and these are the
children��yes, yes. Charlotte, this is Mr. Firmin, of whom you have heard us
speak; and these are my boys, Moira and Ochterlony."
"I have had the honour of meeting General Baynes at Old Parr Street. Don't you
remember, sir?" says Mr. Pendennis, with great affability to the general.
"What, another who knows me?" I daresay the poor wretch thinks; and glances of a
dreadful meaning pass between the guilty wife and the guilty husband.
"You are going to stay at any hotel?"
"H�tel des Bains!" "H�tel du Nord?" "H�tel d'Angleterre," here cry twenty
commissioners in a breath.
"Hotel? Oh, yes! That is, we have not made up our minds whether we shall go in
to-night or whether
we shall stay," say those guilty ones, looking at one
another, and then down to the ground; on which one of the children, with a roar,
says��
"Oh, ma, what a story! You said you'd stay to-night; and I was so sick in the
beastly boat, and I won't travel any more!" And tears choke his artless
utterance. "And you said Bang to the man who took your keys, you know you did,"
resumes the innocent, as soon as he can gasp a further remark.
"Who told you to speak?" cried mamma, giving the boy a shake.
"This is the way to the H�tel des Bains," says Philip, making Miss Baynes
another of his best bows. And Miss Baynes makes a curtsey, and her eyes look up
at the handsome young man��large brown honest eyes in a comely round face, on
each side of which depend two straight wisps of brown hair that were ringlets
when they left Folkestone a few hours since.
"Oh, I say, look at those women with the short petticoats! and wooden shoes, by
George! Oh! it's jolly, ain't it?" cries one young gentleman.
"By George, there's a man with earrings on! There is, Ocky, upon my word!" calls
out another. And the elder boy, turning round to his father, points to some
soldiers. "Did you ever see such little beggars?" he says, tossing his head up.
"They wouldn't take such fellows into our line."
"I am not at all tired, thank you," says Charlotte.
"I am accustomed to carry him." I forgot to say that the young lady had one of
the children asleep on her shoulder: and another was toddling at her side,
holding by his sister's dress, and admiring Mr. Firmin's whiskers, that flamed
and curled very luminously and gloriously, like to the rays of the setting sun.
"I am very glad we met, sir," says Philip, in the most friendly manner, taking
leave of the general at the gate of his hotel. "I hope you won't go away
to-morrow, and that I may come and pay my respects to Mrs. Baynes." Again he
salutes that lady with a coup de chapeau. Again he bows to Miss Baynes. She
makes a pretty curtsey enough, considering that she has a baby asleep on her
shoulder. And they enter the hotel, the excellent Marie marshalling them to
fitting apartments, where some of them, I have no doubt, will sleep very
they known what were Philip's feelings regarding them!
We both admired Charlotte, the tall girl who carried her little brother, and
around whom the others clung. And we spoke loudly in Miss Charlotte's praises to
Mrs. Pendennis, when we joined that lady at dinner. In the praise of Mrs. Baynes
we had not a great deal to say, further than that she seemed to take command of
the whole expedition, including the general officer, her husband.
Though Marie's beds at the H�tel des Bains are as comfortable as any beds in
Europe, you see that admirable chambermaid cannot lay out a clean, easy
conscience upon the clean, fragrant pillow-case; and General and Mrs. Baynes
owned, in after days, that one of the most dreadful nights they ever passed was
that of their first landing in France. What refugee from his country can fly
from himself? Railways were not as yet in that part of France. The general was
too poor to fly with a couple of private carriages, which he must have had for
his family of "noof," his governess, and two servants. Encumbered with such a
train, his enemy would speedily have pursued and overtaken him. It is a fact
that, immediately after landing at his hotel, he and his commanding officer went
off to see when they could get places for��never mind the name of the place
where they really thought of taking refuge. They never told, but Mrs. General
Baynes had a sister, Mrs. Major MacWhirter (married to MacW. of the Bengal
Cavalry), and the sisters loved each other very affectionately, especially by
letter, for it must be owned that they quarrelled frightfully when together; and
Mrs. Mac Whirter never could bear that her younger sister should be taken out to
dinner before her, because she was married to a superior officer. Well, their
little differences were forgotten when the two ladies were apart. The sisters
wrote to each other prodigious long letters, in which household affairs, the
children's puerile diseases, the relative prices of veal, eggs, chickens, the
rent of lodging and houses in various places, were fully discussed. And as Mrs.
Baynes showed a surprising knowledge of Tours, the markets, rents, clergymen,
society there, and as Major and Mrs. Mac were staying there, I have little
doubt, for my part, from this and another not unimportant circumstance, that it
was to that fair city our fugitives were wending their way, when events occurred
which must now be narrated, and which caused General Baynes at the head of his
domestic regiment to do what the King of France with twenty thousand men is said
to have done in old times.
Philip was greatly interested about the family. The truth is, we were all very
much bored at Boulogne. We read the feeblest London papers at the reading-room
with frantic assiduity. We saw all the boats come in: and the day was lost when
we missed the Folkestone boat or the London boat. We consumed much time and
absinthe at caf�s; and tramped leagues upon that old pier every day. Well,
Philip was at the H�tel des Bains at a very early hour next morning, and there
he saw the general, with a woe-worn face, leaning on his stick, and looking at
his luggage, as it lay piled in the porte-coch�re of the hotel. There they lay,
thirty-seven packages in all, including washing-tubes, and a child's India
sleeping-cot; and all these packages were ticketed M. le G�n�ral Baynes,
Officier Anglais, Tours, Touraine, France. I say, putting two and two together;
calling to mind Mrs. General's singular knowledge of Tours and familiarity with
the place and its prices; remembering that her sister Emily��Mrs. Major
MacWhirter, in fact��was there; and seeing thirty-seven trunks, bags and
portmanteaus, all directed "M. le G�n�ral Baynes, Officier Anglais, Tours,
Touraine," am I wrong in supposing that Tours was the general's destination? On
the other hand, we have the old officer's declaration to Philip that he did not
know where he was going. Oh, you sly old man! Oh, you grey old fox, beginning to
double and to turn at sixty-seven years of age! Well? The general was in
retreat, and he did not wish the enemy to know upon what lines he was
retreating. What is the harm of that, pray? Besides, he was under the orders of
his commanding officer, and when Mrs. General gave her orders, I should have
liked to see any officer of hers disobey.
"What a pyramid of portmanteaus! You are not thinking of moving to-day,
general?" says Philip.
"It is Sunday, sir," says the general; which you will perceive was not answering
the question; but, in truth, except for a very great emergency, the good general
would not travel on that day.
"Thank you. My wife is an old sailor, and has made two voyages out and home to
India." Here, you understand, the old man is again eluding his interlocutor's
artless queries.
"I should like to have some talk with you, sir, when you are free," continues
Philip, not having leisure as yet to be surprised at the other's demeanour.
"There are other days besides Sunday for talk on business," says that piteous
sly-boots of an old officer. Ah, conscience! conscience! Twenty-four Sikhs,
sword in hand, two dozen Pindarries, Mahrattas, Ghoorkas, what you please��that
old man felt that he would rather have met them than Philip's unsuspecting blue
eyes. These, however, now lighted up with rather an angry, "Well, sir, as you
don't talk business on Sunday, may I call on you to-morrow morning."
And what advantage had the poor old fellow got by all this doubling and
hesitating and artfulness?��a respite until to-morrow morning! Another night of
horrible wakefulness and hopeless guilt, and Philip waiting ready the next
morning with his little bill, and "Please pay me the thirty thousand which my
father spent and you owe me. Please turn out into the streets with your wife and
family, and beg and starve. Have the goodness to hand me out your last rupee. Be
kind enough to sell your children's clothes and your wife's jewels, and hand
over the proceeds to me. I'll call to-morrow. Bye, bye."
Here there came tripping over the marble pavement of the hall of the hotel a
tall young lady in a brown silk dress and rich curling ringlets falling upon her
fair young neck��(beautiful brown curling ringlets, vous comprenez, not wisps of
moistened hair,) and a broad clear forehead, and two honest eyes shining below
it, and cheeks not pale as they were yesterday; and lips redder still; and she
says, "Papa, papa, won't you come to breakfast? The tea is��" What the precise
state of the tea is I don't know��none of us ever shall��for here she says, "Oh,
Mr. Firmin!" and makes a curtsey.
To which remark Philip replied, "Miss Baynes, I hope you are very well this
morning, and not the worse for yesterday's rough weather."
"I am quite well, thank you," was Miss Baynes' instant reply. The answer was not
witty, to be sure; but I don't know that under the circumstances she could have
said anything more appropriate. Indeed, never was a pleasanter picture of health
and good-humour than the young lady presented: a difference more pleasant to
note than Miss Charlotte's face pale from the steamboat on Saturday, and
shining, rosy, happy, and innocent in the cloudless Sabbath morn.
"A Madame,
"Madame le Major MacWhirter,
"� Tours,
"Touraine,
"France.
"Tintelleries, Boulogne-sur-Mer,
"Dearest Emily,
"Wednesday, August 24, 18��.
"After suffering more dreadfully in the two hours' passage from Folkestone to
this place than I have in four passages out and home from India, except in that
terrible storm off the Cape, in September, 1824, when I certainly did suffer
most cruelly on board that horrible troop-ship; we reached this place last
Saturday evening, having a full determination to proceed immediately on our
route. Now, you will perceive that our minds are changed. We found this place
pleasant, and the lodgings besides most neat, comfortable, and well found in
everything, more reasonable than you proposed to get for us at Tours, which I am
told also is damp, and might bring on the general's jungle fever again. Owing to
the hooping-cough having just been in the house, which, praised be mercy, all my
dear ones have had it, including dear baby, who is quite well through it, and
recommended sea air, we got this house more reasonable than prices you mention
at Tours. A whole house: little room for two boys; nursery; nice little room for
Charlotte, and a den for the general. I don't know how ever we should have
brought our party safe all the way to Tours. Thirty-seven articles of luggage,
and Miss Flixby, who announced herself as perfect French governess, acquired at
Paris��perfect, but perfectly useless. She can't understand the French people