Walter Besant
The Lady of Lynn
CHAPTER X
"OF THE NICEST HONOUR"
Last of all came the prince of this company, whom I now know was the arch villain, Lord Fylingdale himself.
We were prepared for his arrival by a letter from Sam Semple. He wrote to the doctor informing him that my lord was about to undertake his journey to Lynn, that he hoped to complete it in three days, and that he would probably arrive on such a day. He further stated that the best rooms at the Crown Inn were to be engaged, and that he, himself, namely, Sam, would accompany his lordship in the capacity of private secretary and, as he put it, confidential companion. To write such a letter to the doctor was to proclaim it as from the house-top. In fact, the good doctor made haste to read it aloud in the pump room and to communicate the news to the mayor and aldermen.
Sir Harry, being asked if he knew his lordship, shook his head. "We of the gay world," he said, speaking as a young man, "do not commonly include Lord Fylingdale among the beaux and bucks. There is in him a certain haughtiness which forbids the familiarities common among ourselves."
"Is he, then, a saint?"
"Why, sir, I know nothing about saints. There are none, I believe, among my friends. I have, however, seen Lord Fylingdale on the race-course at Newmarket, and I have seen him at the tables when the game of hazard was played. And I have never yet seen saint or angel at either place."
"Then how is Lord Fylingdale distinguished?"
"Partly by his rank, but that is not everything. Partly by his wealth, but that is not everything. Partly by his superiority, which is undoubted. For he has none of the foibles of other men; if he sits down to a bottle he does not call for t'other; if he plays cards he wins or he loses with equal composure, caring little which it may turn out; his name has never been mentioned with that of any woman. Yet the world is eager after scandal, and would rejoice to whisper something concerning him."
"He will condescend to despise us, then," said the vicar of St. Margaret's, "seeing that our world is wholly addicted to sport, and takes fortune with heat and passion."
"Not so, reverend sir. He will, perhaps, attend our entertainments, but his mind is set above such vanities. As for me, sir, I own that I live for them. But my Lord Fylingdale lives for other things."
"He is ambitious, perhaps. Has he thoughts of place and of the ministry?"
Sir Harry took snuff. "Pardon me, sir. The world talks. I love the world, but I do not always talk with the world. It may be that there are reasons of state which bring him to this neighbourhood. I say nothing." But he pointed over his shoulder and nodded his head with meaning.
It will be remembered that Houghton, the seat of Sir Robert Walpole, then the minister all powerful, is but a few miles from Lynn. The crowd heard and whispered, and the rumour ran that under pretence of seeking health, Lord Fylingdale was coming to Lynn in order … here the voice dropped, and the rest fell into the nearest ear.
The Rev. Mr. Purdon was more eloquent. "What?" he cried, "Lord Fylingdale coming here? Lord Fylingdale? Why, what can his lordship want at Lynn?"
"We have heard that he is sent here to drink the waters."
Mr. Purdon shook his head wisely. "It may be. I do not say that… There is perhaps gout in the family… But with a personage – a personage, I say, there are many reasons which prompt to action. However – "
"Pray, sir, if you know him, inform us further as to his lordship."
"Madam, I was his tutor. I accompanied him on the grand tour. I therefore knew him intimately when he was a young man of eighteen. I have been privileged with his condescension since that time. He is at once a scholar, a critic, and a connoisseur; he hath a pretty taste in verse and can discourse of medals and of cameos. He is also a man of fashion who can adorn an assembly just as he adorns, when it pleases him, the House of Lords. Yet not a fribble like certain persons" – he looked at Sir Harry – "nor a beau, nor a profligate Mohock. Pride he has, I allow. What do you expect of a man with such birth and such ancestry? His pride becomes him. Lesser men can be familiar. He is said to be cold towards the fair sex – I can contradict that calumny. Not coldness but fastidiousness is his fault. 'My Lord,' I have said to him often, 'to expect the genius of Sappho, the beauty of Helen, and the charms of Cleopatra, is to ask too much. Not once in an age is such a woman created. Be content, therefore,' I ventured to add. 'Genius will smile upon you; loveliness will languish for you; dignity will willingly humble herself at your feet.' But I have spoken in vain. He is fastidious. Ladies, if I were young; if I were a noble lord; if I were rich; it is to Norfolk, believe me, that I should fly, contented with the conquests awaiting me here. This is truly a land of freedom where to be in chains and slavery is the happy lot."
This was the kind of talk with which we were prepared to await the coming of this paladin.
He arrived. Late in the day about seven o'clock, there came into the town, side by side, his lordship's running footmen. They were known by the white holland waistcoat and drawers belonging to their calling, the white thread stockings, white caps, and blue satin fringed with velvet. In their hands they carried a porter's staff tipped with a silver ball, in which I suppose was carried a lemon. The rogues trotted in, without haste, for the roads were bad behind them, and placed themselves at the door of the Crown Inn, one on each side. The landlord stood in the open door, his wife behind him; and speedily half the town gathered together to witness the arrival of the great man.
His carriage came lumbering heavily along the narrow streets. Within, beside his lordship, sat, as grand as you please, our poet Sam Semple. It was admirable to remark the air with which he sprang out of the carriage, offered his arm for the descent of his patron, followed him into the inn, demanded the best rooms, ordered a noble supper, and looked about him with the manner of a stranger and a gentleman, as if the host of the "Crown" had never boxed his ears for an idle good-for-nothing who could not even make out a bill aright. The bells were set ringing for Lord Fylingdale as they had been for the Lady Anastasia; in the morning the horns saluted the illustrious visitor; and about eleven o'clock, when his lordship was dressed, the mayor and aldermen, preceded by the bearer of the mace and accompanied by the clergy of the town and the doctor, offered a visit of welcome and congratulation.
They retired overwhelmed by the condescension of their guests. "One does not expect," said the doctor, "the gracious sweetness of a lady; but we received every possible mark of politeness and of consideration. As for the mayor, his lordship treated him as if he were the lord mayor of London itself. And for my own part, when I remained on the departure of the rest, I can only say that I was overwhelmed with the confidence bestowed upon me. There has been talk in this pump room," he looked around him, "of other reasons – reasons of state – and of pretended sickness. The company may take it from me – from me, I say – that whatever may be the reasons of state, it is not for us to offer any opinion as to those reasons, the symptoms which have been imparted to me in confidence are such that a visit to the spa is imperative; and treatment, with drinking of the waters, is absolutely necessary."
"This Lord Fylingdale, Jack," said Captain Crowle, who was one of the deputation, "is a mighty fine gentleman, well favoured and well mannered. I have not yet learned more about him. They say at the pump room many things. He received us with condescension and was good enough to promise attendance at our assembly, though, he said, these occasions do not afford him so much pleasure as other pursuits. 'Tis a fine thing, Jack, to be a nobleman and to have so much dignity; since I have spoken with the Lady Anastasia I find myself trying to look condescending. But the quarter-deck is one place and the House of Lords is another. The captain of a ship, Jack, if he were affable, would very quickly get knocked o' the head by his crew."
Meantime Sam Semple showed good sense in going round to visit his old friends. Among others he called upon Captain Crowle, to whom he behaved, with singular discernment, in such a way as would please the old man. For on board ship we like a cheerful sailor, one who takes punishment without snivelling, and bears no malice thereafter. A ship is like a boys' school, where a flogging wipes out the offence, and master and boy become good friends after it, whatever the heinousness of the crime.
"Sir," said Sam, standing before the captain, modestly, "you will understand, first of all, that I am reminded, in coming here, of the last time that I saw you."
"Ay, my lad, I have not forgotten." The captain did not rise from his armchair, nor did he offer Sam his hand. He waited to learn in what spirit the young man approached him.
"Believe me, sir," said Sam, "I am not unmindful of a certain lesson, rough perhaps, but deserved. The presumption of youth, ignorance of the world, ignorance of the prize to which I aspired, may be my excuse – if any were needed. I was then both young and ignorant." It must be admitted that Sam possessed the gift of words. "Indeed, I was too young to understand the humble nature of my origin and my position, and too ignorant to understand my own presumption. Therefore, sir, before I say anything more, I beg your forgiveness. That presumption, sir, can never, I assure you, be repeated. I know, at least, my own place, and the distance between a certain young lady and myself."
"Why, my lad," said the captain, "since you talk in that modest way, I bear no malice – none. Wherefore, here is my hand in token of forgiveness. And so, on that head we will speak no more."
He extended his hand, which Sam took, still in humble attitude.
"I am deeply grateful, captain," he said. "You will, perhaps, before long find out how grateful I can be." Time, in fact, did show the depth of his gratitude. "Well, sir, I am now in high favour with my Lord Fylingdale, on whom you waited this morning."
"I hope his favour will end in a snug place, Sam. Forget not the main point. Well, your patron is a goodly and a proper man to look at. Sit down, Sam. Take a glass of home brewed – you must want it after the ale of London, which is, so far as I remember, but poor stuff. Well, now, about your noble lord. He is a married man, I suppose?"
"Unfortunately, no. He is difficult to please."
"Ah! and, I suppose, like most young noblemen, something of a profligate – eh, Sam? Or a gambler, likely! one who has ruined many innocents. Eh?" The captain looked mighty cunning.
"Sir, sir!" Sam spread out his hands in expostulation. "You distress me. Lord Fylingdale a profligate? Lord Fylingdale a gambler? Lord Fylingdale a libertine? Sir! – Captain Crowle!" He spoke very earnestly; the tears came into his eyes; he laid his hand upon the captain's knee. "Sir, I assure you, he is, on the contrary, the best of men. There is no more virtuous nobleman in the country. My tongue is tied as his lordship's secretary, else would I tell of good deeds. Truly, his right hand knoweth not what his left hand doeth. My lord is all goodness."
"Ay, ay? This is good hearing indeed."
"Lord Fylingdale a gambler? Why he may take part at a table; but a gambler? No man is less a gambler. What doth it matter to him if he wins or loses a little? He neither desires to win, nor does he fear to lose. You will, I dare say, see him in the card room, just to encourage the spirit of the company."
"A very noble gentleman, indeed." The captain drank a glass of his home brewed, "a very noble gentleman truly. Go on, Samuel."
"Also, he is one who, captain, if there is one thing in the world that my patron abhors, it is the man who ruins innocency and leaves his victim to starve. No, sir; his lordship is a man of the nicest honour and the highest principle."
"He has a secretary who is grateful, at least," observed the captain.
"His sword is ever ready to defend the helpless and to uphold the virtuous. Would to heaven there were more like the right honourable the Earl of Fylingdale!"
"Look ye, Master Sam," said the captain. "Your good opinion of your patron does you credit. I honour you for your generous words. I have never so far, and I am now past seventy, encountered any man who was either saint or angel, but in every man have I always found some flaw, whether of temper or of conduct. So that I do not pretend to believe all that you make out."
Sam Semple sighed and rose. "I ask not for your entire belief, sir. It will be sufficient if you learn, as I have learned, the great worth of this exalted and incomparable nobleman. As for flaws, we are all human; but I know of none. So I take my leave. I venture to hope, sir, that your good lady and your lovely ward – I use the word with due respect – are in good health."
So he departed, leaving the captain thoughtful.
And now they were all among us, the vile crew brought together for our undoing by this lord so noble and so exalted. And we were already entangled in a whole mesh of lies and conspiracies, the result of which you have now to learn.
CHAPTER XI
THE HUMOURS OF THE SPA
And now began that famous month – it lasted very little more – when the once godly town of Lynn was delivered over to the devil and all his crew. We who are natives of the place speak of that time and the misfortunes which followed with reluctance; we would fain forget that it ever fell upon us. To begin with, the place was full of people. They came from all the country round; not only did the gentlefolk crowd into the town and the clergy from the cathedral towns and the colleges, but there were also their servants, hulking footmen, pert lady's maids, with the people who flock after them, creatures more women than men; the hairdressers, barbers, milliners, dressmakers, and the creatures who deal in things which a fashionable woman cannot do without, those who provide the powder, patches, cosmetics, eau de Chypre, and washes for the complexion, the teeth, the hands, and the face; the jewellers and those who deal in gold and silver ornaments; the sellers of lace, ribbons, gloves, fans, and embroidery of all kinds. Our shops, humble enough to look upon from the outside, became treasure houses when one entered; and I verily believe that the ladies of the spa took greater pleasure in turning over the things hidden away behind the shop windows, and not exposed to the vulgar gaze, than in any of the entertainments offered them.
Every other house in Mercer Street and Chequer Row was converted into a shop for the sale of finery; at the door of each stood the shopman or the shopwoman, all civility and assurance, inviting an entrance. "Madam," said one, "I have this day received by the London waggon a consignment of silks which it would do you good only to see and to feel. Enter, madam; the mere sight is better for the vapours than all the waters of the pump room. Look at these silks before they are all sold. John, the newly arrived silks for their ladyships," and so on, all along the streets while the ladies walked slowly over the rough paving stones, followed by their footmen with their long sticks, and their insolent bearing. Indeed, I know not which more attracted the curiosity of the countrywomen – the fine ladies or the fine footmen. These gallant creatures, the footmen with their worsted epaulettes and their brave liveries, did not venture into the streets by the riverside – Pudding Lane, Common Stath Lane, or the like – the resort of the sailors, where the reception of those who did venture was warmer and less polite than they expected.
For the gentlemen there were the taverns; every house round the market-place became a tavern, where an ordinary was held at twelve.
And the gentlemen sat drinking all the afternoon. Nay, they began in the morning making breakfast of a pint of Canary with a pennyworth of bread, a slice of cheese, and after the meal a penny roll of tobacco. These were the gentlemen belonging to the country families. The attractions of the spa to them were the tavern, the cockpit, the field where they raced their horses, the badger baiting, and sport of all these kinds that can be obtained in the spring and summer, when there is no shooting of starlings in the reeds of marshland, and the decoy of ducks, for which this country is famous.
Rooms had to be found for the servants; a profligate and deboshed crew they were, of whose manners it may be said that they were insolent, and of their morals, that they had none. Two or three of them, however, getting a drubbing from our sailors, the rest went in some terror.
It was as if the birds of the air had carried the news of this great discovery north and south, east and west, so that not only was a great multitude attracted to the place in search of health and pleasure, but also another multitude of those who came to supply every kind of want, real or imaginary. A thousand wants were invented, especially for the ladies, so that whereas many of the damsels from quiet country houses had been content with homespun, linsey woolsey, or, at best, with sarcenet, a few ribbons for their straw hats, and thread for their gloves, now found themselves unable to appear abroad except with heads made up on wires and round rolls, their hair powdered and pinned to large puff caps, with gowns of silk, flounced sleeves, and a laced tippet. And when they went home they were no longer contented with the things of their own making, the cordials of ginger, cherries, and so forth, the distilled waters, the home-brewed ale, the small beer, the wines made with raspberries, currants and blackberries. They murmured after tea and coffee, the wine of Lisbon and Canary, the rosolio and the ratafia, the macaroons, the chocolate, the perfumes, and the many gauds of the dressing-table. And they scorned the honest red and brown of cheek and hands that cared nothing for the sun, as if they would be more beautiful in the eyes of their lovers by having cheeks of a pale white with a smudge of paint, and hands as white as if just out of bed and a long illness.
The way of the company was as follows:
They met at the pump room about ten; they called for the water; they exchanged the latest scandal; they talked about dress; they bemoaned their losses at cards; they then walked off to morning prayers, chiefly at St. Nicholas's, where, as you have heard, Mr. Benjamin Purdon read them with honeyed words and rolling voice. From the church they repaired to a confectioner's called Jonathan's – I know not why – where they all devoured a certain cake made expressly for them; from the confectioner's some went to the draper, the milliner, or the haberdasher; some to the long room, where there were generally public breakfasts of tea, chocolate, and coffee; a few, but these were mostly men, went to the bookseller's, where, for half-a-crown a month, they could read all day long and what they pleased. The bookseller came from Norwich, and when the season ended went back to Norwich. Dinner was served at twelve or one. At five o'clock or thereabouts the company began to arrive at the gardens and the long room, where, with music, cards, conversation, and walking among the coloured lamps, the evening was quickly spent. Twice a week there was an assembly for dancing, when refreshments were provided at the cost of the gentlemen.
For the gentlemen there were also the coffee houses, of which two at least sprang into existence. One laid down twopence on entering, and could call for a dish of tea, a cup of coffee, or one of chocolate. In one of them were found the clergy, the lawyers, and the justices of the peace; they settled the affairs of the nation and decided the characters of the ministers. In the other were those who affected to be beaux and wits. Among the latter set one found Sam Semple, now a person of great authority, as the secretary of Lord Fylingdale and the author of a book of verse. He pretended to be an arbiter. "Sir," he would say, "by your leave. The case is quite otherwise. The matter was lately discussed at Will's. A certain distinguished poet, who shall be nameless, whose opinion carries weight even in that august assemblage, was of opinion that…" And so forth, with an air of profound wisdom. As regards wit in conversation, it consists, I believe, in finding different ways, all unexpected, of saying: "You are a fool. You are an ass. You are a jackanapes. You are an ignorant clown. You are a low-born upstart." This kind of wit was cultivated with some success at first, but as it was not always relished by those to whom it was directed, it led to the pulling of noses and the discharge of coffee or tea in the face of the ingenious author of the unexpected epigram. So that its practice languished and presently died out altogether.
The most astonishing change, however, was in the market-place. Here, instead of one market day in the week, there was a market day all the week long. The stalls were never removed; every day the country people crowded into the town – some riding, some walking, some in boats, some in barges, bringing poultry, ducks, eggs, butter, cream, milk, cheese, honey, lettuce for sallet, and everything that a farm, a dairy, and a stillroom can provide. Some sat on upturned baskets, their wares spread out before them; some stood at stalls with white hangings to keep off the sun; the fine ladies went about among them chaffering and bargaining, their maids following with baskets. It was a pretty sight, and to my mind the rustic damsels, for good looks, got the better of the fine ladies and their maids. Many of the beaux and young bloods were of the same opinion, apparently, for they, too, went round among the stalls, with compliments not doubtful, and talk more free than polite, chucking the girls under the chin and pinching their cheeks. To be sure these freedoms do a body no harm, and I believe our Norfolk girls can look after themselves as well as any.
And every day outside the stalls there assembled such a motley crowd as had never before been seen in Lynn. It was a perpetual fair, at which you could buy anything. Gipsies went about leading horses for sale, the cheap Jack stood on the footboard of his cart and bawled his wares; the rogue stood up, with voice and cheeks of brass, and offered his caps, knives, scissors, cups and saucers, frying pans, saucepans, kettles, every morning. His store could never be exhausted; he took a quarter of what he asked; and he went on day after day. Nor must we forget the travelling quack, the learned doctor in a huge wig and black velvet; as like to Dr. Worship himself as one pea is like another. He had his stage and his tumbling clown, who twisted himself upon the tight-rope, turned somersaults, walked on his head, grinned and made mouths and was as merry a rogue as his master was grave. After the Tom Fool had collected a crowd and made them merry, the doctor advanced, his face full of wisdom, and explained that he came among them newly arrived from Persia, that land famous for its learned physicians; that he was not an ordinary physician, seeking to make money by his science; that, on the other hand, what he offered was given, rather than sold, the charge made being barely sufficient to pay for the costly ingredients used in the making of these sovereign remedies. He had his pills and his draughts; his balsams and his electuary; he had his plaster against rheumatism; his famous Pulvis Catharticus against fever; his Carduus Benedictus against ague; and, in a word, his infallible remedies against all the ills to which flesh is liable. So he played his part, not every day, but often, for the crowd in the market-place changed continually, and every change brought him new patients.
Or there was the tooth drawer. You knew him by the string of teeth which hung round his neck like a string of pearls over the neck of a lady or a collar of SS. round the neck of the worshipful the mayor. He pulled teeth at half a crown each, and if that was too much, at a shilling. Not only did he bawl his calling among the crowd, but he went through the streets from house to house asking if his services were wanted.
The town crier added to the noise and the animation of the scene. Almost every day he had something to bawl. He was known by his dress and his bell. He wore a green coat with brass buttons; a broad laced hat, he had a broad badge with the arms of the town upon his arm; in one hand he carried a staff and in the other his big bell. And being by nature endowed with a loud voice, and a good opinion of himself, he magnified his office by ringing more loudly and longer than was necessary, by repeating his "O yes! O yes! O yes!" at the end as well as the beginning of his announcement, and by proclaiming this twice over.
Towards the hour of noon, when every tavern had its ordinary, and the sausages and black puddings were hissing in the cooks' stalls, there arose a fragrance – call it an incense of gratitude – which pleasantly engaged the senses. It was a hogo of frying fish, chops, steaks, sausages, bacon, ham and onions; it included the smell of gosling and duckling and chicken, roasted rabbit fricasseed; of roast pork, lamb, mutton, and beef; of baked pies – all kinds of pies – custards, cheese cakes, dumplings, hasty pudding. Then the feet of those who could afford it turned to the tavern; those who could not pay the ordinary at two shillings, or that at one shilling, dived into the cellar, where they could dine for sixpence, or stood about the stalls where they fried the sausages; those who brought their dinner with them sat on their baskets and devoured their food, or bought of the street criers who now went up and down ringing bells and crying:
Hot black puddings, hot,
Smoking hot,
Just come out of the pot.
or,
Here, dainty brave cheese cakes,
Come, buy 'em of me;
Two for twopence,
One for a penny;
Come along, customers, if you'll buy any.
It pleased me to recall the humours of the town at that time. Except for the rows of booths, one would have thought it Stourbridge Fair at Cambridge, which once I saw. The weather was fine and clear, the cold east winds gone. There was so much money flying about that everybody was buying as well as selling; in spite of all that was brought into the town by the visitors, nothing was left when they went away, because all had been spent. We thought that the harvest would last forever. We looked to a season like that of Bath, which goes on all the year round. If our people took more money in one day than they had before taken in a whole month, they thought that it would go on day after day, and they spent it all without restraint. Nay, the wives and daughters of those who had kept humble shops and been content with fat bacon and hot milk for breakfast, and more bacon for dinner; who had been clad in homespun, now drank tea with bread and butter for breakfast like the Lady Anastasia herself; dined off ducks and goslings; drank fine ale and even Canary and Lisbon; and ventured to attend the assembly where they stood up to the country dance in silk like any gentlewoman.
I have mentioned the company of players; they acted three times a week. We who work for our living are apt to despise these mummers and their calling; to pretend every day to be some one else is not, we think, an occupation worthy of a man, while the painting, the disguise, the representation, either in dumb show or in words, of all the passions in turn, must surely leave the actor no real passions of his own. Yet I heard, while this company was with us, cases of such generosity and Christian charity one towards the other when the money ceased to come in, that I am constrained to allow them at least the great Christian virtue of love for one another.
Besides the players, there were the singers and the musicians of the spa; and there were jugglers, mountebanks, tumblers, tight-rope dancers, ballad-singers, fortune-tellers, conjurers, pedlars and hawkers of all kinds. The town of Lynn, formerly so quiet and retired, with no other disturbance than that caused by a brawl among drunken sailors, became suddenly transformed into the abode of all the devils disengaged at the moment. There were sharpers busy at the races and the cocking; men who laid bets, and if they lost, ran away, but loudly demanded their money when they won; there was gambling; there was drinking; there was fighting; the servants were as corrupt as their masters; there were fresh scandals continually; a reputation lost every day; there were duels fought over drunken quarrels, about women, about bets and wagers; the clerks of the counting-houses were filled with the new spirit of gambling; there were lotteries and raffles in which everybody took tickets, even if they got the money for them dishonestly. In a word, the pursuits of pleasure proved a mad race, down a broad and flowery path, on each side of which were drinking booths, and music, and dancing, while at the end there opened wide… You shall speedily learn what this was.
