VOLUME I
CHAPTER 1
Ā Ā FERDINAND LOPEZ.
Ā Ā It is a certainty of service to a man to know who
were his grandfathers and who were his grandmothers if he entertain
an ambition to move in the upper circles of society, and also of
service to be able to speak of them as of persons who were
themselves somebodies in their time. No doubt we all entertain
great respect for those who by their own energies have raised
themselves in the world; and when we hear that the son of a
washerwoman has become Lord Chancellor or Archbishop of Canterbury
we do, theoretically and abstractedly, feel a higher reverence for
such self-made magnate than for one who has been as it were born
into forensic or ecclesiastical purple. But not the less must the
offspring of the washerwoman have had very much trouble on the
subject of his birth, unless he has been, when young as well as
when old, a very great man indeed. After the goal has been
absolutely reached, and the honour and the titles and the wealth
actually won, a man may talk with some humour, even with some
affection, of the maternal tub; - but while the struggle is going
on, with the conviction strong upon the struggler that he cannot be
altogether successful unless he be esteemed a gentleman, not to be
ashamed, not to conceal the old family circumstances, not at any
rate to be silent, is difficult. And the difficulty is certainly
not less if fortunate circumstances rather than hard work and
intrinsic merit have raised above his natural place an aspirant to
high social position. Can it be expected that such a one when
dining with a duchess shall speak of his father's small shop, or
bring into the light of day his grandfather's cobbler's awl? And
yet it is so difficult to be altogether silent! It may not be
necessary for any of us to be always talking of our own parentage.
We may be generally reticent as to our uncles and aunts, and may
drop even our brothers and sisters in our ordinary conversation.
But if a man never mentions his belongings among those with whom he
lives, he becomes mysterious, and almost open to suspicion. It
begins to be known that nobody knows anything of such a man, and
even friends become afraid. It is certainly convenient to be able
to allude, if it be but once in a year, to some blood relation.
Ā Ā Ferdinand Lopez, who in other respects had much in
his circumstances on which to congratulate himself, suffered
trouble in his mind respecting his ancestors such as I have
endeavoured to describe. He did not know very much himself, but
what little he did know he kept altogether to himself. He had no
father or mother, no uncle, aunt, brother or sister, no cousin even
whom he could mention in a cursory way to his dearest friend. He
suffered no doubt; - but with Spartan consistency he so hid his
trouble from the world that no one knew that he suffered. Those
with whom he lived, and who speculated often and wondered much as
to who he was never dreamed that the silent man's reticence was a
burden to himself. At no special conjuncture of his life, at no
period which could be marked with the finger of the observer, did
he glaringly abstain from any statement which at the moment might
be natural. He never hesitated, blushed, or palpably laboured at
concealment; but the fact remained that though a great many men and
not a few women knew Ferdinand Lopez very well, none of them knew
whence he had come, or what was his family.
Ā Ā He was a man, however, naturally reticent, who never
alluded to his own affairs unless in pursuit of some object the way
to which was clear before his eyes. Silence therefore on a matter
which is common in the mouths of most men was less difficult to him
than to another, and the result less embarrassing. Dear old Jones,
who tells his friends at the club of every pound that he loses or
wins at the races, who boasts of Mary's favours and mourns over
Lucy's coldness almost in public, who issues bulletins on the state
of his purse, his stomach, his stable, and his debts, could not
with any amount of care keep from us the fact that his father was
an attorney's clerk, and made his first money by discounting small
bills. Everybody knows it, and Jones, who like popularity, grieves
at the unfortunate publicity. But Jones is relieved from a burden
which would have broken his poor shoulders, and which even
Ferdinand Lopez, who is a strong man, often finds it hard to bear
without wincing.
Ā Ā It was admitted on all sides that Ferdinand Lopez
was a 'gentleman'. Johnson says that any other derivation of this
difficult word than that which causes it to signify 'a man of
ancestry' is whimsical. There are many who, in defining the term
for their own use, still adhere to Johnson's dictum; - but they
adhere to it with certain unexpressed allowances for possible
exceptions. The chances are very much in favour of the well-born
man, but exceptions may exist. It was not generally believed that
Ferdinand Lopez was well born; - but he was a gentleman. And this
most precious rank was acceded to him although he was employed, -
or at least had been employed, - on business which does not of
itself give such a warrant of position as is supposed to be
afforded by the bar and the church, by the military services and by
physic. He had been on the Stock Exchange, and still in some
manner, not clearly understood by his friends, did business in the
City.
Ā Ā At the time with which we are now concerned
Ferdinand Lopez was thirty-three years old, and as he had begun
life early he had been long before the world. It was known of him
that he had been at a good English private school, and it was
reported, on the solitary evidence of one of who had been there as
his schoolfellow, that a rumour was current in the school that his
school bills were paid by an old gentleman who was not related to
him. Thence, at the age of seventeen, he had been sent to a German
university, and at the age of twenty-one had appeared in London, in
a stockbroker's office, where he was soon known as an accomplished
linguist, and as a very clever fellow, - precocious, not given to
many pleasures, apt for work, but considered hardly trustworthy by
employers, not as being dishonest, but as having a taste for being
a master rather than a servant. Indeed his period of servitude was
very short. It was not in his nature to be active on behalf of
others. He was soon active for himself, and at one time it was
supposed that he was making a fortune. Then it was known that he
had left his regular business, and it was supposed that he had lost
all that he had ever made or had ever possessed. But nobody, not
even his own bankers, or his own lawyer, - not even the old woman
who looked after his linen, - ever really knew the state of his
affairs.
Ā Ā He was certainly a handsome man, - his beauty being
of a sort which men are apt to deny and women to admit lavishly. He
was nearly six feet tall, very dark and very thin, with regular
well- cut features, indicating little to the physiognomist unless
it be the great gift of self-possession. His hair was cut short,
and he wore no beard beyond an absolutely black moustache. His
teeth were perfect, in form and in whiteness, - a characteristic
which though it may be a valued item in a general catalogue of
personal attraction, does not generally recommend a man to the
unconscious judgment of his acquaintance. But about the mouth and
chin of this man there was a something of a softness, perhaps in
the play of his lips, perhaps in the dimple, which in some degree
lessened the feeling of hardness which was produced by the square
brow and bold, unflinching, combative eyes. They who knew him and
like him were reconciled by the lower face. The greater number who
knew him and did not like him, felt and resented, - even though in
nine cases out of ten they might, express no resentment even to
themselves, - the pugnacity of his steady glance.
Ā Ā For he was essentially one of those men who are
always, in the inner workings of their minds, defending themselves
and attacking others. He could not give a penny to a woman at a
crossing without a look which argued at full length her injustice
in making her demand, and his freedom from all liability let him
walk the crossing as often as he might. He could not seat himself
in a railway carriage without a lesson to his opposite neighbour
that in all the mutual affairs of travelling, arrangement of feet,
disposition of bags, and opening of windows, it would be that
neighbour's duty to submit and his to exact. It was, however, for
the spirit rather than for the thing itself that he combatted. The
woman with the broom got her penny. The opposite gentleman when
once by a glance he had expressed submission was allowed his own
way with the legs and with the window. I would not say that
Ferdinand Lopez was prone to do ill-natured things; but he was
imperious, and he had learned to carry his empire in his eye.
Ā Ā The reader must submit to be told one or two further
and still smaller details respecting the man, and then the man
shall be allowed to make his own way. No one of those around him
knew how much care he took to dress himself well, or how careful he
was that no one should know it. His very tailor regarded him as
being simply extravagant in the number of his coats and trousers,
and his friends looked upon him as one of those fortunate beings to
whose nature belongs a facility of being well dressed, or almost an
impossibility of being ill dressed. We all know the man, - a little
man generally, who moves seldom and softly, - who looks always as
though he had just been sent home in a bandbox. Ferdinand Lopez was
not a little man, and moved freely enough; but never, at any
moment, - going into the city or coming out of it, on horseback or
on foot, at home over his book or after the mazes of the dance, -
was he dressed otherwise than with perfect care. Money and time did
it, but folk thought that it grew with him, as did his hair and his
nails. And he always rode a horse which charmed good judges of what
a park nag should be; - not a prancing, restless, giggling,
sideway-going, useless garran, but an animal well made, well
bitted, with perfect paces, on whom a rider if it pleased him could
be as quiet as a statue in a monument. It often did please
Ferdinand Lopez to be quiet on horseback; and yet he did not look
like a statue, for it was acknowledged through all London that he
was a good horseman. He lived luxuriously too, - though whether at
his ease or not nobody knew, - for he kept a brougham of his own,
and during the hunting season, he had two horses down at Leighton.
There had once been a belief abroad that he was ruined, but they
who interest themselves in such matters had found out, - or at any
rate believed that they had found out, - that he paid his tailor
regularly: and now there prevailed an opinion that Ferdinand Lopez
was a monied man.
Ā Ā It was known to some few that he occupied rooms in a
flat at Westminster, - but to very few exactly where the rooms were
situate. Among all his friends no one was known to have entered
them. In a moderate way he was given to hospitality, - that is to
infrequent but when the occasion came, to graceful hospitality.
Some club, however, or tavern perhaps, in the summer, some river
bank would be chosen as the scene of these festivities. To a few, -
if, as suggested, amidst summer flowers on the water's edge to men
and women mixed, - he would be a courtly and efficient host; for he
had the rare gift of doing such things well.
Ā Ā Hunting was over, and the east wind was still
blowing, and a great portion of the London world was out of town
taking its Easter holiday, when on an unpleasant morning, Ferdinand
Lopez travelled into the city by the Metropolitan railway from
Westminster Bridge. It was his custom to go thither when he did go,
- not daily like a man of business, but as chance might require,
like a capitalist or a man of pleasure, - in his own brougham. But
on this occasion he walked down the river side, and then walked
from the Mansion House into a dingy little court called Little
Tankard Yard, near the Bank of England, and going through a narrow
dark long passage got into a little office at the back of a
building, in which there sat at a desk a greasy gentleman with a
new hat on one side of his head, who might perhaps be about forty
years old. The place was very dark, and the man was turning over
the leaves of a ledger. A stranger to city ways might probably have
said that he was idle, but he was no doubt filling his mind with
that erudition which would enable him to earn his bread. On the
other side of the desk there was a little boy copying letters.
These were Mr Sextus Parker, - commonly called Sexty Parker, - his
clerk. Mr Parker was a gentleman very well known and at the present
moment favourably esteemed on the Stock Exchange. 'What, Lopez!'
said he. 'Uncommon glad to see you. What can I do for you?'
Ā Ā 'Just come inside, - will you?' said Lopez. Now
within Mr Parker's very small office there was a smaller office, in
which there were a safe, a small rickety Pembroke table, two
chairs, and an old washing-stand with a tumbled towel. Lopez led
the way into this sanctum as though he knew the place well, and
Sexty Parker followed him.
Ā Ā 'Beastly day, isn't it?' said Sexty.
Ā Ā 'Yes, - a nasty east wind.'
Ā Ā 'Cutting one in two, with a hot sun at the same
time. One ought to hybernate at this time of the year.'
Ā Ā 'Then why don't you hybernate?' said Lopez.
Ā Ā 'Business is too good. That's about it. A man has to
stick to it when it does come. Everybody can't do like you; - give
up regular work, and make a better thing of an hour now and an hour
then, just as it pleases you. I shouldn't dare go in for that kind
of thing.
Ā Ā 'I don't suppose you or any one else know what I go
in for,' said Lopez, with a look that indicated offence.
Ā Ā 'Nor don't care,' said Sexty; - 'only hope it's
something good, for your sake.' Sexty Parker had known Mr Lopez
well, now for some years, and being an overbearing man himself, -
somewhat even of a bully if the truth be spoken, - and by no means
apt to give way unless hard pressed, had often tried his 'hand' on
his friend, as he himself would have said. But I doubt whether he
could remember any instance in which he could congratulate himself
on success. He was trying his hand again now, but did it with a
faltering voice, having caught a glance of his friend's eye.
Ā Ā 'I dare say not,' said Lopez. Then he continued
without changing his voice or the nature of his eye. 'I'll tell you
what I want you to do now. I want your name to this bill for three
months.'
Ā Ā Sexty Parker opened his mouth and his eyes, and took
the bit of paper that was tendered to him. It was a promissory note
for 750 pounds, which, if signed by him, would at the end of the
specified period make him liable for that sum were it not otherwise
paid. His friend Mr Lopez was indeed applying to him for the
assistance of his name in raising a loan to the amount of the sum
named. This was a kind of favour which a man should ask almost on
his knees, - and which, if so asked, Mr Sextus Parker would
certainly refuse. And here was Ferdinand Lopez asking it, who,
Sextus Parker had latterly regarded as an opulent man, - and asking
it not at all on his knees, but, as one might say, at the muzzle of
a pistol. 'Accommodation bill!' said Sexty. 'Why, you ain't hard
up, are you?'
Ā Ā 'I'm not going just at present to tell you much
about my affairs, and yet I expect you to do what I ask you. I
don't suppose you doubt my ability to raise 750 pounds.'
Ā Ā 'Oh, dear, no,' said Sexty, who had been looked at
and who had not borne the inspection well.
Ā Ā 'And I don't suppose you would refuse me even if I
were hard up, as you call it.' There had been affairs before
between the two men in which Lopez had probably been the stronger,
and the memory of them, added to the inspection which was still
going on, was heavy upon poor Sexty.
Ā Ā 'Oh, dear, no; - I wasn't thinking of refusing, I
suppose a fellow may be a little surprised at such a thing.'
Ā Ā 'I don't know why you should be surprised, as such
things are very common. I happen to have taken a share in a loan a
little beyond my immediate means, and therefore want a few
hundreds. There is no one I can ask with a better grace than you.
If you ain't - afraid about it, just sign it.'
Ā Ā 'Oh, I ain't afraid,' said Sexty, taking his pen and
writing his name across the bill. But even before the signature was
finished, when his eye was taken away from the face of his
companion and fixed upon the disagreeable piece of paper beneath
his hand, he repented of what he was doing. He almost arrested his
signature half-way. He did hesitate, but had not pluck enough to
stop his hand. 'It does seem to be an odd transaction all the
same,' he said as he leaned back in his chair.
Ā Ā 'It's the commonest thing in the world,' said Lopez
picking up the bill in a leisurely way, folding it and putting it
into his pocket-book. 'Have our names never been together on a bit
of paper before?'
Ā Ā 'When we both had something to make by it.'
Ā Ā 'You've nothing to make and nothing to lose by this.
Good day and many thanks, - though I don't think so much of the
affair as you seem to do.' Then Ferdinand Lopez took his departure,
and Sexty Parker was left alone in bewilderment.
Ā Ā 'By George, - that's queer,' he said to himself.
'Who'd have thought of Lopez being hard up for a few hundred
pounds? But it must be all right. He wouldn't have come in that
fashion, if it hadn't been all right. I oughtn't to have done it
though! A man ought never to do that kind of thing, - never, -
never!' And Mr Sextus Parker was much discontented with himself, so
that when he got home that evening to the wife of his bosom and his
little family at Ponders End, he by no means made himself agreeable
to them. For that sum of 750 pounds sat upon his bosom as he ate
his supper, and lay upon his chest as he slept, - like a
nightmare.
CHAPTER 2
EVERETT WHARTON.
On that same day Lopez dined with his friend Everett Wharton at a new club, called the Progress, of which they were both members. The Progress was certainly a new club, having as yet been open hardly more than three years; but still it was old enough to have seen many of the hopes of its early youth become dim with age and inaction. For the Progress had intended to do great things for the Liberal Party, - or rather for political liberality in general, - and had in truth done little or nothing. It had been got up with considerable enthusiasm, and for a while certain fiery politicians had believed that through the instrumentality of this institution men of genius and spirit, and natural power, but without wealth, - meaning always themselves, - would be supplied with sure seats in Parliament and a probably share in the Government. But no such results had been achieved. There had been a want of something, - some deficiency felt but not yet defined, - which had hitherto been fatal. The young men said it was because no old stager who knew the way of pulling the wires would come forward and put the club in the proper groove. The old men said it was because the young men were pretentious puppies. It was, however, not to be doubted that the party of Progress had become slack, and that the Liberal politicians of the country, although a special new club had been opened for the furtherance of their views, were not at present making much way. 'What we want is organization,' said one of the leading young men. But the organization was not as yet forthcoming.
The club, nevertheless, went on its way, like other clubs, and men dined and smoked and played billiards and pretended to read. Some few energetic members still hoped that a good day would come in which their grand ideas might be realized, - but as regarded the members generally, they were content to eat and drink and play billiards. It was a fairly good club, - with a sprinkling of Liberal lordlings, a couple of dozen of members of Parliament who had been made to believe that they would neglect their party duties unless they paid their money, and the usual assortment of barristers, attorneys, city merchants, and idle men. It was good enough, at any rate, for Ferdinand Lopez, who was particular about his dinner, and had an opinion of his own about wines. He had been heard to assert that, for real quiet comfort, there was not a club in London equal to it, but his hearers were not aware that in the past days he had been black-balled at the T and the G. These were accidents which Lopez had a gift of keeping in the background. His prese...