Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 54, No. 338, December 1843

Mrs Brammel looked up from her newspaper and giggled.

"I cannot tell you, Mr Brammel," said Allcraft in a serious tone, "how surprised I am to find you here. Are you aware, sir, that neither your father, nor any one of your partners, have the least knowledge of your movements. You were supposed to be in England. You gave your word to return to business within a month of your departure. You have not written or given the slightest account of yourself."

"Come, that's very good, Mister. Given an account of myself, indeed! Pray, whom am I accountable to?"

"To those, sir," replied Allcraft, quickly and angrily, "with whom you are associated in business, and who have an interest in your good conduct—who suffer by your acts, and will be blamed for your folly and indiscretion."

"Come, I say, that's all very fine in you, Mr Allcraft; but what brings you here, I should like to know? Haven't I as much right to bring my wife to Paris as you have? Give and take, if you please"——

"No, bless-ed," sagely and sarcastically interposed Mrs Brammel, "I ain't so rich as Mrs Allcraft; I can't dress so fine; we ain't sich gentle-folks"——

"Mr Brammel, pray let us have no more recrimination. I have met you here by the merest chance. It is my duty to speak to you at once, and very seriously, on your position. You are mistaken if you suppose that my own pleasure has brought me here; business—important, weighty business—is the sole cause, I can assure you."

"Ally—ally," answered Brammel with a knowing leer, attempting a little facetiæ in French.

"I tell you the truth, sir," continued Michael, reddening with anger, "and I warn you in good time to look to yourself, and to your course of conduct. You may bring infamy upon yourself, as you have brought sorrow and anguish upon the head of your aged father; but you shall not with impunity involve and disgrace others who are strangers to you, although unfortunately connected with you by their occupation. Depend upon it, you shall not."

"My aged father, as you call him, didn't stump up all that money, I'm thinking, Mr Allcraft, to bind me apprentice. Perhaps you'd like to kick me next. I am as much a partner in that concern as you are; and if I think proper to take my lady abroad, I am at liberty to do it as well as you. You ain't the first man because you married a rich widow, and because your name begins with A. Certainly not, monsweer."

"In course not, bless-ed. Besides, ducky, your name begins with B—and that's A's next door neighbour."

"You shall take your own course, sir," proceeded Michael; "but it shall be at your own peril, and with your eyes opened. It is my part to give you good counsel. I shall do so. You may act as you then think fit."

"I haven't done any thing to disgrace you, as you call it. It is cursed impudent in you to say so."

"You have. You disgraced yourself and me, and every one associated with you, only last night, when you were pleased to exhibit to the world as a public gamester. (Augustus Theodore changed colour.) You see that your actions are observed; they will become more so. The house shall not lose its good name through your misconduct, sir. Assure yourself of that. There are means to rid ourselves of a nuisance, and to punish severely, if we choose to use them."

"What do you mean by punish?" asked Augustus, unfeignedly alarmed by his partner's threat, and yet not liking to be bullied. "Don't you insult me, sir, in my own room; better not, I can tell you."

"Pshaw, you are an idiot;" exclaimed Michael most contemptuously.

"I'll just thank you to go, sir, and not call my husband names," said Mrs Brammel, rising from her chair. "You are a nasty ill-bred fellow, I'm sure. Talk of high people! I never see sich airs in all my life. If your wife ain't no better behaved, there's a nice pair of you, I don't think. Never mind him, ducky dear—don't you fret. We are as good as them any day. Let's go up stairs, there's a bless-ed. Call the garsoon."

Poor Michael knew not what step to take, what language to employ, in order to effect his purpose. He could not think of quitting Paris, leaving his partner behind him, open to the seductions of the city, and eager to avail himself of every license and indulgence. He had hoped to frighten him into better behaviour, and perhaps he would have succeeded but for the presence of the lady, whose appearance and demeanour, more than any thing else, confounded and annoyed him. He remained silent for a few seconds, and then, in a quieter tone, he asked Brammel when he really thought of getting back to business.

"Why, very soon," replied the youth, himself reduced to civility by Michael's more peaceful aspect; "and I should have been back before now, if I hadn't been bothered about a lot of things. If you hadn't come in blustering, I should have told you so. I shall be all right enough, don't you fear, when I get home. I promised father I should settle, and so I mean—but a wedding trip is a wedding trip, and ladies mustn't be baulked."

"Certainly not," answered Allcraft, grateful for as much as this—"then, when do you think of reaching home?"

"Oh, before you, I'll wager! We haven't got much more to see. We went to the Jordan de Plants yesterday. We are going to the Pantheon to-morrow. We shall soon get done. Make your mind easy."

"As soon as you have visited these places, I am to understand, then, that you return to business?"

"Exactly so."

"And may I venture to intreat you to abstain from visiting the gambling-house again?"

"Oh, don't you worry yourself! If you had only spoken at first like a gentleman, I should have promised you without being asked."

"Both you and Mrs Brammel must see, I am sure, the very great propriety of avoiding all such scenes."

"Yes," answered Mary Anne; and then repeating her husband's words, "but if you had only spoken at first like a gentleman!"

"Perhaps I was too hasty, madam. It is a fault that I have. We shall understand one another much better for the future. You will be at home in about—ten days we'll say, from the present time, at latest."

"Oh, don't fix days, I never could bear it! We shall be all right. Will you stay breakfast?"

Michael excused himself, and, having done all that was permitted him, departed. With a sad spirit he encountered his lady, and with gloomy forebodings his mind was filled that day. Augustus Brammel was destined to be his thorn, his trial, and his punishment. He could see it already. His house, otherwise so stable, so promising, and so prosperous, would receive a mortal blow from this one threatening point. It must be warded off. The hurtful limb must by degrees be got away. He must, from this time forward, engage himself in its removal. It was, after all, a consolation to have met the pair, and to have succeeded so far in frightening them home again, as he fully believed he had. For a time at least, he conceived that Brammel was still safe. This conviction gave him courage, and carried him on his road to Lyons, with a heart not altogether ill at ease, and without good hope. In the meanwhile Mrs Brammel had inveighed, in the most unmeasured terms, against the insolent behaviour of Mr Allcraft, the pride and arrogance of his wife, whom she had never seen—the marked, unpardonable insult she had offered her in not accompanying Allcraft on his visit; and had succeeded, in short, in effectually driving from her husband's mind the little good effect which had been produced by the partner's just remonstrance. Ignorant and vulgar as she was, the woman had unbounded influence and power. How much, may be guessed from the fact, that before Michael Allcraft was ten miles on his journey to Lyons, she had prevailed upon her husband to draw his first cheque upon his house to the tune of £500, and to prolong their holiday by visiting in succession the south of France, Switzerland, and Italy. The fool, after an inane resistance, consented; his cheque was converted to money—the horses were ordered—and on they dashed.

CHAPTER IV.

A SPECULATION

"When the cat is away, the mice begin to play." It is an old and a true saying, and Michael, had he been an experienced mouser, would have remembered it to his advantage, when he thought of leaving the banking-house to the tender mercies of his colleagues. His confidence in Planner was very great, and I will not say undeserved; still some account should have been taken of his previous habits, and the positive abiding infirmity of human nature. It was surely dangerous to surround a man so fickle, and so easily led by the delusions of his sanguine spirit, with every temptation to walk astray, and to remove every check that had hitherto kept down the capricious movements of his most unsteady will. The daily, almost hourly presence of Allcraft, his vigorous and immediate superintendence of affairs, had subdued the speculative soul of Planner, and rendered him a useful man of business. He was, in truth, a good accountant, ardent in his pursuits, a faithful friend, an honest man. With the needful restraints upon him, he proved, as Allcraft had believed he would, a warm and active partisan. Had those restraints been continued for any time—had he been trained, and so reconciled and accustomed to his yoke, all might have prospered and been well with him. His own happiness might have been secured, and the hopes of his friend and patron would not have been blasted. It was the misfortune of Allcraft, with all his long-sightedness, not to see far enough. He was to blame, deeply to blame, for the desertion of a man whom he knew to be at the mercy of his own wayward spirit, and utterly incapable of self-defence. Yet, called abroad, what could he do? It is the fate of cunning, as it is of suspicion and other mortal weaknesses, to fall into toils of its own weaving. Michael too soon was called to pay the penalty. Allcraft had been in France a fortnight, when Planner received a fatal visit at the bank from a very old friend and stanch ally—a creature as excitable and sanguine as himself, as full of projects, and as unsuccessful. They had known each other in the early and distant days of their prosperity—they had grown poor together—they were united by the uniformity of their fortunes as by the similarity of their natures. They had both for years regarded themselves as the persecuted and injured of society—and both were satisfied of their ability to achieve miracles, time and the occasion serving. It is not for speculative spirits to be disheartened by failure, but rather to be encouraged by ill success to fresh extravagance, else had the poor result of all their schemes long since extinguished the fire at work within them. Not one of their innumerable plans had shown a gleam, a spark, of reality and life. One morning, about five years before the present visit, Mr William Wedge rose from bed with the pleasing notion that he would ruin all the public gaming-houses in the world. He had suddenly discovered the secret of their success—the cause of their enormous gains—and had arranged, with minutest care and skill, a systematic course of play to bring against them. It was with difficulty that he contained himself until he mentioned his good fortune to his friend. They met time after time in secret, grew fearfully mysterious—closed their windows in the open day—played cards from morning till night, and sometimes through the night—with no other eye upon them than the very feeble, faint-glimmering one of their farthing rushlight;—they carried directions in their pocket—learnt them off—repeated them until they grew familiar as their oaths, and more familiar than their prayers. To realize between them a standing capital of five pounds, a sum essential to their operations, they pawned all the available clothing they possessed; and on the very night that they obtained the cash, they sallied forth to carry devastation and affright throughout the camps of innocent and unsuspecting blacklegs. As might be expected, it took about as many minutes as they had pounds to effect the ruin of the adventurers. Did they despond? Not they; a flaw existed in their calculations. They looked for it with care, and were torn from their employment only by the exigencies of the time, and the pressing demands of nature for immediate bread. Mr Wedge had from this period struggled on, living as he knew how, and nobody could tell, until Planner's unexpected good fortune and ascent provided him with an allowance and a quiet mind to follow out his views. Since Planner's introduction into the bank, he had behaved faithfully and well to his ancient crony; in addition to a pension, paid weekly and in advance, he gave him a right of entrée to his rooms after the hours of business, a certain supper three times a-week, and an uncertain quantity of brandy and water on the same occasions. One stipulation only he deemed necessary for his protection. He had given his word to Allcraft to avoid all trading unconnected with the bank—to abstain from speculation. Weak at the best of times, he knew himself to be literally helpless with the ignis fatuus of a hopeful project before his eyes; and he made a condition of Wedge's visits—his silence upon matters of business, private or public. It was a wise resolution, nobly formed, and for a season well carried out. Wedge promised to be cautious, and did not break his word. Peace of mind, a regular diet, and a full stomach, were such extraordinary circumstances in the daily doings of the latter, that the restraint upon his tongue was, in the first month or two of the new excitement, scarcely felt as an inconvenience. Planner himself, with the eye of Allcraft upon him, kept his natural inclination safely in the rear of his promise, and so the days and nights passed pleasantly. On the evening above alluded to—that is to say, just a fortnight after Michael's departure—Wedge came as usual for his supper, grog, and conversation. The clock had just struck eleven—the friends were sitting together, their feet upon the fender, their hands upon their tumblers. As was usual with them, they discussed the doings of the nation, and called in question the proceedings of the existing government. One subject after another was dismissed—politics, law, love, and religion—they abused every thing, and agreed marvellously. It was getting very near midnight, the hour at which, it is said, devils are let loose upon earth for mischief—when a rascally little imp crawled up to Planner's ear, and put it into his head to talk about the amusements of the poor, and their effects upon the rising generation.

"They will be sorry for it, Wedge—mark my words. All this stabbing and killing comes from too much work and no play. Jack's at his tools for ever—gets a dull boy—and then stabs and cuts about him for the sake of getting lively. Government should have playgrounds in every parish. They would save the expense in the rapid diminution of the standing army. I wrote a letter once to the prime minister"——

Wedge sighed.

"What do you mean by that, Wedge? Ah, quite right—I see! You are a good fellow, Wedge. You have kept the compact. I won't be the first to break it. Let us change the subject. I burnt all my letters and papers the day I got here. What was the good of keeping them? This is an ungrateful country, Wedge!"

Wedge sipped his grog, and sighed again.

"What is the matter, boy?" enquired his patron. "Speak your mind—relieve your heart."

"No, I won't, Planner—I won't be the first. You sha'n't say it is me. I don't mean to be blamed, that's a fact—but if I dared, oh, that's all!"

"Is it any thing very good?"

"Good! Good, did you say? Well, an agreement's an agreement, Planner. It isn't for me to introduce the subject; but I could tell you something, if we were differently situated, that would be a fortune to you. Ah, Planner, I sha'n't be a burden upon you long! I have hit upon a thing at last—I am a made man!"

"Now I tell you what, Wedge," said Planner, pulling out his watch, and looking very serious, "we'll have just five minutes' private conversation on this matter, and then have done with it. Only five minutes, mind you, by the watch. If we mutually agree to lay aside our compact for a minute or so, there's no great harm done, provided it isn't made a precedent. I should like to see you set a-going, Wedge. You may open your mind to me, and be sure of good advice. It's now seven minutes to twelve. Till twelve, Wedge, you are at liberty to talk on business."

"What were you saying just now about amusements, Planner? Do you recollect."

"I do."

"I have thought about it for the last six months. We have formed a company."

"A company!"

Wedge was as full of mystery as an Oxford tractman. He rose on tiptoe from his chair, proceeded to the passage, listened on the stairs, returned as carefully, closed the door, resumed his seat.

"A company!" repeated Planner.

"Such an undertaking!" proceeded the ungagged and self-deluded Wedge. "It's the finest thing that has been thought of for these hundred years. I am surprised it never once occurred to you. Your mind, Planner, should have grasped it."

"What can it be?"

"We mean to call it the Pantamorphica, because it takes all shapes. We are in treaty now for a hundred acres of land within three miles of London. We are to have a race-course—public gardens with fountains and promenades—a gymnasium for callisthenic and other exercises—boating—a menagerie—a library—lecture-rooms—conservatories"——

"By Jove, I see!" ejaculated Planner. "Capital!—a universal playground; trust me, I have thought of it before. Go on."

"These are for the daylight. At night we have a concert-room—a theatre—saloons for dancing—halls for refreshment—museums for converzatione. In the centre of the public walks we have a synagogue, a church, and chapel for Sabbath visitors. Then we shall have aviaries—apiaries—caves—alpine scenery"——

"Upon my soul, Wedge, it's a grand conception!" There was a large clock at the bottom of the stairs which struck twelve, loud enough to awake the sleeping household; but, strange to say, neither Planner nor his friend heard a single chime. "Who are your men?" continued Planner.

"Oh, first-rate men! Three of the first London bankers, two of the chief architects, the richest capitalist in England"——

"What, have you got them all?"

"No, but we mean to ask them to take shares, and to take part in the direction. They'll jump, sir, at the offer."

"Ah, that they will! What's your capital?"

"Half a million—five thousand shares of a hundred each. It's nothing at all!"

"No, nothing really. What is your appointment?"

"I am secretary; and I am to have a bonus of five thousand pounds when the thing is fairly started."

"You well deserve it, Wedge. Ah, sir, I have dreamt of this before!"

"No—have you?"

"It must do, Wedge. It can't help itself. People will be amused—people will pay for it. Amuse them from morning till night—change the scene every hour of the day—vary the pleasures. Wedge, you are a national benefactor."

"It is past twelve," said Wedge hesitatingly, looking at the watch.

"No—is it?" asked Planner, looking at it likewise. "There must be some mistake. Have you heard the clock strike?"

"No."

"Nor I; my watch is out of order—too fast a great deal. Let us go by the big clock. Now, when that strikes twelve, Wedge, you shall go home, and I'll to bed—an understanding is an understanding, Wedge."

"And so you like it, Planner—eh?"

"Like it, sir"——

It was exactly a quarter to four o'clock when Planner put out his bedroom candle, and Wedge tucked himself up as well as he could on the hard horsehair sofa in Planner's sitting-room. Having enlarged upon the Pantamorphica speculation until the above unreasonable hour, it was not deemed respectable for Mr Wedge to quit the banking-house on the dark side of sunrise. The latter gentleman had worked himself up to such a pitch of excitement in blowing out his bubble, that it was very nearly six o'clock before he could be pronounced in a condition to say his prayers like a rational being, and go to sleep. As for Planner, he had heard too much to be quiet. He tossed his head on his pillow—turned from side to side—sat up and lay down again at intervals, until the break of day. He had resolved to take an active interest in this glorious undertaking. Nothing should hinder him. Its returns must necessarily be immense. He had promised Allcraft to enter into no business foreign to the banking-house. But what of that? He should be without an excuse for his blindness if he closed his eyes to the advantages which stared him in the face. He would not be selfish. Allcraft should share in the reward. He, who had acted so friendly a part to him, should be repaid for his noble conduct. "Share and share alike," should be his motto. And he would not hesitate or postpone his intentions. He would look thoroughly into the affair at once, and go boldly forward. It should be his pleasure and his pride to greet and surprise his partner with the unexpected news the instant he returned. Sweet are the visions of life, sleeping or waking. It is the substance and the truth that pass like iron to the soul, and kill it. Poor Planner!

CHAPTER V.

A LANDED PROPRIETOR

After Michael had spent a month in France, he discovered that he must still travel on, and still sacrifice time and exertion, if he hoped to bring his unfortunate parent's affairs to a satisfactory issue. Many things had happened since his arrival to give him great pain and annoyance. In the first place, he had learned, with a sickening heart, that the private debts of his father considerably exceeded in amount those which had appeared in the testamentary memorandum. He had seen with his own eyes his father's acknowledgment of liabilities, the existence of which was thus revealed to him for the first time. In his immediate and violent disgust, he burned to expose his parent's cupidity and dishonesty, and to rid himself of the burden which he had voluntarily taken as his own; but pride, shame, and other low incentives, came between him and the fulfilment of a rash resolution, and he had nothing to do but to look his difficulty fully and bravely in the face. In addition to this trial, he found it necessary to proceed without delay as far eastward as Vienna; for thither his chief creditor had taken himself on urgent business, which threatened to detain him on the spot until the following year. Nor was this all; a Lyonese merchant, who held old Allcraft's note of hand for a considerable sum, advanced under assurances of early payment, had grown obstinate and restive with disappointment and anxiety. He insisted upon the instant discharge of his claim, and refused to give another hour's grace. To rid himself of this plague, Michael had not hesitated to draw upon his house for a sum somewhat greater than five thousand pounds. The act had not been committed without some distress of mind—some murmurings of conscience; but the necessity was great—the compulsion not to be avoided. To put an end to all further and importunate demands, he posted into Austria fast as he could be conveyed. The chief creditor was destined to be Michael's chief misery. He was an obdurate, unyielding man, and, after days of negotiation, would finally listen to nothing but the chink of the gold that was due to him. And how much that was, Michael dared not trust himself to think. Now, what was to be done? To draw again upon the bank—to become himself, to his partners, an example of recklessness and extravagance, was out of the question. He had but one course before him, and it was one which he had solemnly vowed never to adopt. To beg a loan from his wife so early in the morning of their union, seemed a thing impossible—at least it seemed so in the outset, when the thought first blushed upon him, and there remained a chance, a hope, of escaping from the miserable alternative. But as the creditor got clamorous, and every prospect of satisfying his demand—every means save one—grew dim, and shadowy, and blank, the wrongfulness, the impropriety of making an appeal to her, whose heart was willing as her hand was able to release him from despair, became less evident, and by degrees not evident at all. It would have been well for Allcraft, and for Margaret too, had the latter resisted his demand, or opposed it with one kind word of remonstrance. Michael was prepared for this, and the gentlest opposition would have saved them both. But what did Margaret possess, which she wished not to share with him who was her idol—dearer to her than her life—the joy and light of life! He hinted his request; she hardly suffered him to hint it. She placed her substance at his command, and bade him use it. Like a guilty man—one guilty of his first but heavy fault—blushing and faltering, Allcraft thanked his Margaret for the loan, promised speedy payment, and vowed that he would beg no more. Fond Margaret! she kissed the vow away, and bade him clear his brow, smile, and be happy. It was a woman's part, who loves not wisely, but too well. The day that gave him the means of satisfying the claims of one great creditor, bound Allcraft more seriously to another; but he rejoiced at his success, which brought him temporary ease, and he congratulated himself upon his deliverance from failure and exposure. There was little to do. The lady's broker was written to; the legal adviser of the gentleman, at Michael's own request, prepared an instrument to secure repayment of the loan; the money came—the debts of Allcraft senior to the last farthing were discharged, and scarcely discharged before Michael, eager and anxious to be at home, quitted Vienna, ready to travel by night and day, and longing to feel his footing safely in the banking-house again.