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Vivian Grey

T >> The Earl of Beaconsfield >> Vivian Grey




The note produced the desired effect, and an appointment was made for
Mr. Grey to call at Kenrich Lodge on the following morning.

Vivian, as he entered the room, took a rapid glance at its master. Mr.
Cleveland was tall and distinguished, with a fare which might have been
a model for manly beauty. He came forward to receive Vivian with a
Newfoundland dog on one side and a large black greyhound on the other;
and the two animals, after having elaborately examined the stranger,
divided between them the luxuries of the rug. The reception which Mr.
Cleveland gave our hero was cold and constrained; but it did not appear
to be purposely uncivil, and Vivian flattered himself that his manner
was not unusually stiff.

"I do not know whether I have the honour of addressing the son of Mr.
Horace Grey?" said Mr. Cleveland, with a frowning countenance, which was
intended to be courteous.

"I have that honour."

"Your father, sir, is a most amiable and able man. I had the pleasure of
his acquaintance when I was in London, many years ago, at a time when
Mr. Vivian Grey was not entrusted, I rather imagine, with missions 'of
importance.'" Although Mr. Cleveland smiled when he said this, his smile
was anything but a gracious one. The subdued satire of his keen eye
burst out for an instant, and he looked as if he would have said, "Who
is this yonker who is trespassing upon my retirement?"

Vivian had, unbidden, seated himself by the side of Mr. Cleveland's
library table; and, not knowing exactly how to proceed, was employing
himself by making a calculation whether there were more black than white
spots on the body of the old Newfoundland, who was now apparently
happily slumbering.

"Well, sir!" continued the Newfoundland's master, "the nature of your
communication? I am fond of coming to the point."

Now this was precisely the thing which Vivian had determined not to do;
and so he diplomatised, in order to gain time. "In stating, Mr.
Cleveland, that the communication which I had to make was one of
importance, I beg to be understood, that it was with reference merely to
my opinion of its nature that that phrase was used, and not as relative
to the possible, or, allow me to say, the probable, opinion of Mr.
Cleveland."

"Well, sir!" said that gentleman, with a somewhat disappointed air.

"As to the purport or nature of the communication it is," said Vivian,
with one of his sweetest cadences and looking up to Mr. Cleveland's face
with an eye expressive of all kindness, "it is of a political nature."

"Well, sir!" again exclaimed Cleveland, looking very anxious, and moving
restlessly on his library chair.

"When we take into consideration, Mr. Cleveland, the present aspect of
the political world, when we call to mind the present situation of the
two great political parties, you will not be surprised, I feel
confident, when I mention that certain personages have thought that the
season was at hand when a move might be made in the political world with
very considerable effect--"

"Mr. Grey, what am I to understand?" interrupted Mr. Cleveland, who
began to suspect that the envoy was no greenhorn.

"I feel confident, Mr. Cleveland, that I am doing very imperfect justice
to the mission with which I am entrusted; but, sir, you must be aware
that the delicate nature of such disclosures, and--"

"Mr. Grey, I feel confident that you do not doubt my honour; and, as for
the rest, the world has, I believe, some foolish tales about me; but,
believe me, you shall be listened to with patience. I am certain that,
whatever may be the communication, Mr. Vivian Grey is a gentleman who
will do its merits justice."

And now Vivian, having succeeded in exciting Cleveland's curiosity and
securing himself the certainty of a hearing, and having also made a
favourable impression, dropped the diplomatist altogether, and was
explicit enough for a Spartan.

"Certain Noblemen and Gentlemen of eminence and influence, hitherto
considered as props of the ---- party, are about to take a novel and
decided course next Session. It is to obtain the aid and personal
co-operation of Mr. Cleveland that I am now in Wales.

"Mr. Grey, I have promised to listen to you with patience: you are too
young a man to know much, perhaps, of the history of so insignificant a
personage as myself, otherwise you would have been aware that there is
no subject in the world on which I am less inclined to converse than
that of politics. If I were entitled to take such a liberty, I would
recommend you to think of them as little as I do; but enough of this.
Who is the mover of the party?"

"My Lord Courtown is a distinguished member of it."

"Courtown, Courtown; powerful enough: but surely the good Viscount's
skull is not exactly the head for the chief of a cabal?"

"There is my Lord Beaconsfield."

"Powerful, too; but a dolt."

"Well," thought Vivian, "it must out at last; and so to it boldly. And,
Mr. Cleveland, there is little fear that we may secure the great
influence and tried talents of the Marquess of Carabas."

"The Marquess of Carabas!" almost shrieked Mr. Cleveland, as be started
from his seat and paced the room with hurried steps; and the greyhound
and the Newfoundland jumped up from the rug, shook themselves, growled,
and then imitated their master in promenading the apartment, but with
more dignified and stately paces. "The Marquess of Carabas! Now, Mr.
Grey, speak to me with the frankness which one gentleman should use to
another; is the Marquess of Carabas privy to this application?"

"He himself proposed it."

"Then he is baser than even I conceived. Mr. Grey, I am a man spare of
my speech to those with whom I am unacquainted, and the world tails me a
soured, malicious man. And yet, when I think for a moment that one so
young as you are, endowed as I must suppose with no ordinary talents,
and actuated as I will believe with a pure and honourable spirit, should
be the dupe, or tool, or even present friend of such a creature as this
perjured Peer, it gives me pang."

"Mr. Cleveland," said Vivian, "I am grateful for your kindness; and
although we may probably part, in a few hours, never to meet again, I
will speak to you with the frankness which you have merited, and to
which I feel you are entitled. I am not the dupe of the Marquess of
Carabas; I am not, I trust, the dupe, or tool, of any one whatever.
Believe me, sir, there is that at work in England which, taken at the
tide, may lead on to fortune. I see this, sir; I, a young man,
uncommitted in political principles, unconnected in public life, feeling
some confidence, I confess, in my own abilities, but desirous of
availing myself, at the same time, of the powers of others. Thus
situated, I find myself working for the same end as my Lord Carabas and
twenty other men of similar calibre, mental and moral; and, sir, am I to
play the hermit in the drama of life because, perchance, my
fellow-actors may be sometimes fools, and occasionally knaves? If the
Marquess of Carabas has done you the ill-service which Fame says he
has, your sweetest revenge will be to make him your tool; your most
perfect triumph, to rise to power by his influence.

"I confess that I am desirous of finding in you the companion of my
career. Your splendid talents have long commanded my admiration; and, as
you have given me credit for something like good feeling, I will say
that my wish to find in you a colleague is greatly increased when I see
that those splendid talents are even the least estimable points in Mr.
Cleveland's character. But, sir, perhaps all this time I am in error;
perhaps Mr. Cleveland is, as the world reports him, no longer the
ambitious being who once commanded the admiration of a listening Senate;
perhaps, convinced of the vanity of human wishes, Mr. Cleveland would
rather devote his attention to the furtherance of the interests of his
immediate circle; and, having schooled his intellect in the Universities
of two nations, is probably content to pass the hours of his life in
mediating in the quarrels of a country village."

Vivian ceased. Cleveland heard him with his head resting on both his
arms. He started at the last expression, and something like a blush
suffused his cheek, but he did not reply. At last he jumped up and rang
the bell. "Come, Mr. Grey," said he, "I am in no humour for politics
this morning. You must not, at any rate, visit Wales for nothing.
Morris! send down to the village for this gentleman's luggage. Even we
cottagers have a bed for a friend, Mr. Grey: come, and I will introduce
you to my wife."




CHAPTER II


And Vivian was now an inmate of Kenrich Lodge. It would have been
difficult to have conceived a life of more pure happiness than that
which was apparently enjoyed by its gifted master. A beautiful wife and
lovely children, and a romantic situation, and an income sufficient not
only for their own but for the wants of their necessitous neighbours;
what more could man wish? Answer me, thou inexplicable myriad of
sensations which the world calls human nature!

Three days passed over in delightful converse. It was so long since
Cleveland had seen any one fresh from the former scenes of his life,
that the company of any one would have been agreeable; but here was a
companion who knew every one, everything, full of wit and anecdote, and
literature and fashion; and then so engaging in his manners, and with
such a winning voice.

The heart of Cleveland relented; his stern manner gave way; all his
former warm and generous feeling gained the ascendant; he was in turn
amusing, communicative, and engaging. Finding that he could please
another, he began to be pleased himself. The nature of the business upon
which Vivian was his guest rendered confidence necessary; confidence
begets kindness. In a few days Vivian necessarily became more acquainted
with Mr. Cleveland's disposition and situation than if they had been
acquainted for as many years; in short.

They talked with open heart and tongue,
Affectionate and true,
A pair of friends.

Vivian, for some time, dwelt upon everything but the immediate subject
of his mission; but when, after the experience of a few days, their
hearts were open to each other, and they had mutually begun to discover
that there was a most astonishing similarity in their principles, their
tastes, their feelings, then the magician poured forth his incantation,
and raised the once-laid ghost of Cleveland's ambition. The recluse
agreed to take the lead of the Carabas party. He was to leave Wales
immediately, and resign his place; in return for which the nephew of
Lord Courtown was immediately to give up, in his favour, an office of
considerable emolument; and, having thus provided some certainty for his
family, Frederick Cleveland prepared himself to combat for a more
important office.




CHAPTER III


"Is Mr. Cleveland handsome?" asked Mrs. Felix Lorraine of Vivian,
immediately on his return, "and what colour are his eyes?"

"Upon my honour, I have not the least recollection of ever looking at
them; but I believe he is not blind."

"How foolish you are! now tell me, pray, point de moquerie, is he
amusing?"

"What does Mrs. Felix Lorraine mean by amusing?" asked Vivian.

"Oh! you always tease me with your definitions; go away. I will quarrel
with you."

"By-the-bye, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, how is Colonel Delmington?"

Vivian redeemed his pledge: Mr. Cleveland arrived. It was the wish of
the Marquess, if possible, not to meet his old friend till dinner-time.
He thought that, surrounded by his guests, certain awkward senatorial
reminiscences might be got over. But, unfortunately, Mr. Cleveland
arrived about an hour before dinner, and, as it was a cold autumnal day,
most of the visitors who were staying at Château Desir were assembled in
the drawing-room. The Marquess sallied forward to receive his guest with
a most dignified countenance and a most aristocratic step; but, before
he got half-way, his coronation pace degenerated into a strut, and then
into a shamble, and with an awkward and confused countenance, half
impudent and half flinching, he held forward his left hand to his
newly-arrived visitor. Mr. Cleveland looked terrifically courteous and
amiably arrogant. He greeted the Marquess with a smile at once gracious
and grim, and looked something like Goliath, as you see the Philistine
depicted in some old German painting, looking down upon the pigmy
fighting men of Israel.

As is generally the custom when there is a great deal to be arranged and
many points to be settled, days flew over, and very little of the future
system of the party was matured. Vivian made one or two ineffectual
struggles to bring the Marquess to a business-like habit of mind, but
his Lordship never dared to trust himself alone with Cleveland, and,
indeed, almost lost the power of speech when in presence of the future
leader of his party; so, in the morning, the Marquess played off the two
Lords and Sir Berdmore against his former friend, and then, to
compensate for not meeting Mr. Cleveland in the morning, he was
particularly courteous to him at dinner-time, and asked him always "how
he liked his ride?" and invariably took wine with him. As for the rest
of the day, he had particularly requested his faithful counsellor, Mrs.
Felix Lorraine, "for God's sake to take this man off his shoulders;" and
so that lady, with her usual kindness, and merely to oblige his
Lordship, was good enough to patronise Mr. Cleveland, and on the fourth
day was taking a moonlit walk with him.

Mr. Cleveland had now been ten days at Château Desir, and was to take
his departure the next morning for Wales, in order to arrange everything
for his immediate settlement in the metropolis. Every point of
importance was postponed until their meeting in London. Mr. Cleveland
only agreed to take the lead of the party in the Commons, and received
the personal pledge of Lord Courtown as to the promised office.

It was a September day, and to escape from the excessive heat of the
sun, and at the same time to enjoy the freshness of the air, Vivian was
writing his letters in the conservatory, which opened into one of the
drawing-rooms. The numerous party which then honoured the Château with
their presence were out, as he conceived, on a picnic excursion to the
Elfin's Well, a beautiful spot about ten miles off; and among the
adventurers were, as he imagined, Mrs. Felix Lorraine and Mr. Cleveland.

Vivian was rather surprised at hearing voices in the adjoining room, and
he was still more so when, on looking round, he found that the sounds
proceeded from the very two individuals whom he thought were far away.
Some tall American plants concealed him from their view, but he observed
all that passed distinctly, and a singular scene it was. Mrs. Felix
Lorraine was on her knees at the feet of Mr. Cleveland; her countenance
indicated the most contrary passions, contending, as it were, for
mastery; supplication, anger, and, shall I call it, love? Her
companion's countenance was hid, but it was evident that it was not
wreathed with smiles: there were a few hurried sentences uttered, and
then both quitted the room at different doors, the lady in despair, and
the gentleman in disgust.




CHAPTER IV


And now Château Desir was almost deserted. Mrs. Million continued her
progress northward. The Courtowns, and the Beaconsfields, and the
Scropes quitted immediately after Mr. Cleveland; and when the families
that form the material of the visiting corps retire, the nameless
nothings that are always lounging about the country mansions of the
great, such as artists, tourists, authors, and other live stock, soon
disappear. Mr. Vivian Grey agreed to stay another fortnight, at the
particular request of the Marquess.

Very few days had passed ere Vivian was exceedingly struck at the
decided change which suddenly took place in his Lordship's general
demeanour towards him.

The Marquess grew reserved and uncommunicative, scarcely mentioning "the
great business" which had previously been the sole subject of his
conversation but to find fault with some arrangement, and exhibiting,
whenever his name was mentioned, a marked acrimony against Mr.
Cleveland. This rapid change alarmed as much as it astonished Vivian,
and he mentioned his feelings and observations to Mrs. Felix Lorraine.
That lady agreed with him that something certainly was wrong; but could
not, unfortunately, afford him any clue to the mystery. She expressed
the liveliest solicitude that any misunderstanding should be put an end
to, and offered her services for that purpose.

In spite, however, of her well-expressed anxiety, Vivian had his own
ideas on the subject; and, determined to unravel the affair, he had
recourse to the Marchioness.

"I hope your Ladyship is well to-day. I had a letter from Count Caumont
this morning. He tells me that he has got the prettiest poodle from
Paris that you can possibly conceive! waltzes like an angel, and acts
proverbs on its hind feet."

Her Ladyship's eyes glistened with admiration.

"I have told Caumont to send it me down immediately, and I shall then
have the pleasure of presenting it to your Ladyship."

Her Ladyship's eyes sparkled with delight.

"I think," continued Vivian, "I shall take a ride to-day. By-the-bye,
how is the Marquess? he seems in low spirits lately."

"Oh, Mr. Grey! I do not know what you have done to him," said her
Ladyship, settling at least a dozen bracelets; "but, but--"

"But what?"

"He thinks; he thinks."

"Thinks what, dear lady?"

"That you have entered into a combination, Mr. Grey."

"Entered into a combination!"

"Yes, Mr. Grey! a conspiracy, a conspiracy against the Marquess, with
Mr. Cleveland. He thinks that you have made him serve your purpose, and
now you are going to get rid of him."

"Well, that is excellent, and what else does he think?"

"He thinks you talk too loud," said the Marchioness, still working at
her bracelets.

"Well! that is shockingly vulgar! Allow me to recommend your Ladyship to
alter the order of those bracelets, and place the blue and silver
against the maroon. You may depend upon it, that is the true Vienna
order. And what else dues the Marquess say?"

"He thinks you are generally too authoritative. Not that I think so, Mr.
Grey: I am sure your conduct to me has been most courteous. The blue and
silver next to the maroon, did you say? Yes; certainly it does look
better. I have no doubt the Marquess is quite wrong, and I dare say you
will set things right immediately. You will remember the pretty poodle,
Mr. Grey? and you will not tell the Marquess I mentioned anything."

"Oh! certainly not. I will give orders for them to book an inside place
for the poodle, and send him down by the coach immediately, I must be
off now. Remember the blue and silver next to the maroon. Good morning
to your Ladyship."

"Mrs. Felix Lorraine, I am your most obedient slave," said Vivian Grey,
as he met that lady on the landing-place. "I can see no reason why I
should not drive you this bright day to the Elfin's Well; we have long
had an engagement to go there."

The lady smiled a gracious assent: the pony phaeton was immediately
ordered.

"How pleasant Lady Courtown and I used to discourse about martingales! I
think I invented one, did not I? Pray, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, can you tell
me what a martingale is? for upon my honour I have forgotten, or
never knew."

"If you found a martingale for the mother, Vivian, it had been well if
you had found a curb for the daughter. Poor Cynthia! I had intended once
to advise the Marchioness to interfere; but one forgets these things."

"One does. O, Mrs. Felix!" exclaimed Vivian, "I told your admirable
story of the Leyden Professor to Mrs. Cleveland. It is universally
agreed to be the best ghost-story extant. I think you said you knew the
Professor."

"Well! I have seen him often, and heard the story from his own lips.
And, as I mentioned before, far from being superstitious, he was an
esprit fort. Do you know, Mr. Grey, I have such an interesting packet
from Germany to-day; from my cousin, Baron Rodenstein. But I must keep
all the stories for the evening; come to my boudoir, and I will read
them to you. There is one tale which I am sure will make a convert even
of you. It happened to Rodenstein himself, and within these three
months," added the lady in a serious tone. "The Rodensteins are a
singular family. My mother was a Rodenstein. Do you think this
beautiful?" said Mrs. Felix, showing Vivian a small miniature which was
attached to a chain round her neck. It was the portrait of a youth
habited in the costume of a German student. His rich brown hair was
flowing over his shoulders, and his dark blue eyes beamed with such a
look of mysterious inspiration, that they might have befitted a
young prophet.

"Very, very beautiful!"

"'Tis Max, Max Rodenstein," said the lady, with a faltering voice. "He
was killed at Leipsic, at the head of a band of his friends and
fellow-students. O, Mr. Grey! this is a fair work of art, but if you had
but seen the prototype you would have gazed on this as on a dim and
washed-out drawing. There was one portrait, indeed, which did him more
justice; but then that portrait was not the production of
mortal pencil."

Vivian looked at his companion with a somewhat astonished air, but Mrs.
Felix Lorraine's countenance was as little indicative of jesting as that
of the young student whose miniature rested on her bosom.

"Did you say _not_ the production of a mortal hand, Mrs. Felix
Lorraine?"

"I am afraid I shall weary you with my stories, but the one I am about
to tell you is so well evidenced that I think even Mr. Vivian Grey will
hear it without a sneer."

"A sneer! O lady-love, do I ever sneer?"

"Max Rodenstein was the glory of his house. A being so beautiful in body
and in soul you cannot imagine, and I will not attempt to describe. This
miniature has given you some faint idea of his image, and yet this is
only the copy of a copy. The only wish of the Baroness Rodenstein, which
never could be accomplished, was the possession of a portrait of her
youngest son, for no consideration could induce Max to allow his
likeness to be taken. His old nurse had always told him that the moment
his portrait was taken he would die. The condition upon which such a
beautiful being was allowed to remain in the world was, she always said,
that his beauty should not be imitated. About three months before the
battle of Leipsic, when Max was absent at the University, which was
nearly four hundred miles from Rodenstein Castle, there arrived one
morning a large case directed to the Baroness. On opening it it was
found to contain a picture, the portrait of her son. The colouring was
so vivid, the general execution so miraculous, that for some moments
they forgot to wonder at the incident in their admiration of the work of
art. In one corner of the picture, in small characters yet fresh, was an
inscription, which on examining they found consisted of these words:
'Painted last night. Now, lady, thou hast thy wish.' My aunt sank into
the Baron's arms.

"In silence and in trembling the wonderful portrait was suspended over
the fireplace of my aunt's favourite apartment. The next day they
received letters from Max. He was quite well, but mentioned nothing of
the mysterious painting.

"Three months afterwards, as a lady was sitting alone in the Baroness's
room, and gazing on the portrait of him she loved right dearly, she
suddenly started from her seat, and would have shrieked, had not an
indefinable sensation prevented her. The eyes of the portrait moved. The
lady stood leaning on a chair, pale, and trembling like an aspen, but
gazing steadfastly on the animated portrait. It was no illusion of a
heated fancy; again the eyelids trembled, there was a melancholy smile,
and then they closed. The clock of Rodenstein Castle struck three.
Between astonishment and fear the lady was tearless. Three days
afterwards came the news of the battle of Leipsic, and at the very
moment that the eyes of the portrait closed Max Rodenstein had been
pierced by a Polish Lancer."

"And who was this wonderful lady, the witness of this wonderful
incident?" asked Vivian.

"That lady was myself."

There was something so singular in the tone of Mrs. Felix Lorraine's
voice, and so peculiar in the expression of her countenance, as she
uttered these words, that the jest died on Vivian's tongue; and, for
want of something better to do, he lashed the little ponies, which were
already scampering at their full speed.

The road to the Elfin's Well ran through the wildest parts of the park;
and after an hour and a half's drive they reached the fairy spot. It was
a beautiful and pellucid spring, that bubbled up in a small wild dell,
which, nurtured by the flowing stream, was singularly fresh and green.
Above the spring had been erected a Gothic arch of grey stone, round
which grew a few fine birch-trees. In short, nature had intended the
spot for picnics. There was fine water, and an interesting tradition;
and as the parties always bring, or always should bring, a trained
punster, champagne, and cold pasties, what more ought Nature to
have provided?

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