entertained at dinner that did not ask the above question
regarding them. The novelist, it has been said before,
knows everything, and as I am in a situation to be
able to tell the public how Crawley and his wife lived
without any income, may I entreat the public newspapers
which are in the habit of extracting portions of the
various periodical works now published not to reprint
the following exact narrative and calculations--of which
I ought, as the discoverer (and at some expense, too),
to have the benefit? My son, I would say, were I blessed
with a child--you may by deep inquiry and constant
intercourse with him learn how a man lives comfortably
on nothing a year. But it is best not to be intimate with
gentlemen of this profession and to take the calculations
at second hand, as you do logarithms, for to work
them yourself, depend upon it, will cost you something
considerable.
On nothing per annum then, and during a course of
some two or three years, of which we can afford to
give but a very brief history, Crawley and his wife lived
very happily and comfortably at Paris. It was in this
period that he quitted the Guards and sold out of the
army. When we find him again, his mustachios and the
title of Colonel on his card are the only relics of his
military profession.
It has been mentioned that Rebecca, soon after her
arrival in Paris, took a very smart and leading position in
the society of that capital, and was welcomed at some
of the most distinguished houses of the restored French
nobility. The English men of fashion in Paris courted her,
too, to the disgust of the ladies their wives, who could
not bear the parvenue. For some months the salons
of the Faubourg St. Germain, in which her place was
secured, and the splendours of the new Court, where she
was received with much distinction, delighted and
perhaps a little intoxicated Mrs. Crawley, who may have
been disposed during this period of elation to slight the
people--honest young military men mostly--who formed
her husband's chief society.
But the Colonel yawned sadly among the Duchesses
and great ladies of the Court. The old women who
played ecarte made such a noise about a five-franc
piece that it was not worth Colonel Crawley's while to
sit down at a card-table. The wit of their conversation he
could not appreciate, being ignorant of their language.
And what good could his wife get, he urged, by making
curtsies every night to a whole circle of Princesses? He
left Rebecca presently to frequent these parties alone,
resuming his own simple pursuits and amusements
amongst the amiable friends of his own choice.
The truth is, when we say of a gentleman that he
lives elegantly on nothing a year, we use the word
"nothing" to signify something unknown; meaning, simply,
that we don't know how the gentleman in question defrays
the expenses of his establishment. Now, our friend the
Colonel had a great aptitude for all games of chance:
and exercising himself, as he continually did, with the
cards, the dice-box, or the cue, it is natural to suppose
that he attained a much greater skill in the use of these
articles than men can possess who only occasionally
handle them. To use a cue at billiards well is like using a
pencil, or a German flute, or a small-sword--you cannot
master any one of these implements at first, and it is only
by repeated study and perseverance, joined to a natural
taste, that a man can excel in the handling of either.
Now Crawley, from being only a brilliant amateur, had
grown to be a consummate master of billiards. Like a
great General, his genius used to rise with the danger,
and when the luck had been unfavourable to him for a
whole game, and the bets were consequently against him,
he would, with consummate skill and boldness, make
some prodigious hits which would restore the battle, and
come in a victor at the end, to the astonishment of
everybody--of everybody, that is, who was a stranger to his
play. Those who were accustomed to see it were cautious
how they staked their money against a man of such
sudden resources and brilliant and overpowering skill.
At games of cards he was equally skilful; for though
he would constantly lose money at the commencement
of an evening, playing so carelessly and making such
blunders, that newcomers were often inclined to think
meanly of his talent; yet when roused to action and
awakened to caution by repeated small losses, it was
remarked that Crawley's play became quite different, and
that he was pretty sure of beating his enemy thoroughly
before the night was over. Indeed, very few men could
say that they ever had the better of him.
His successes were so repeated that no wonder the
envious and the vanquished spoke sometimes with
bitterness regarding them. And as the French say of the
Duke of Wellington, who never suffered a defeat, that
only an astonishing series of lucky accidents enabled him
to be an invariable winner; yet even they allow that he
cheated at Waterloo, and was enabled to win the last
great trick: so it was hinted at headquarters in England
that some foul play must have taken place in order to
account for the continuous successes of Colonel Crawley.
Though Frascati's and the Salon were open at that time
in Paris, the mania for play was so widely spread that
the public gambling-rooms did not suffice for the general
ardour, and gambling went on in private houses as
much as if there had been no public means for gratifying
the passion. At Crawley's charming little reunions of an
evening this fatal amusement commonly was practised--
much to good-natured little Mrs. Crawley's annoyance.
She spoke about her husband's passion for dice with the
deepest grief; she bewailed it to everybody who came to
her house. She besought the young fellows never, never
to touch a box; and when young Green, of the Rifles,
lost a very considerable sum of money, Rebecca passed a
whole night in tears, as the servant told the unfortunate
young gentleman, and actually went on her knees to her
husband to beseech him to remit the debt, and burn the
acknowledgement. How could he? He had lost just as
much himself to Blackstone of the Hussars, and Count
Punter of the Hanoverian Cavalry. Green might have any
decent time; but pay?--of course he must pay; to talk
of burning IOU's was child's play.
Other officers, chiefly young--for the young fellows
gathered round Mrs. Crawley--came from her parties
with long faces, having dropped more or less money at
her fatal card-tables. Her house began to have an
unfortunate reputation. The old hands warned the less
experienced of their danger. Colonel O'Dowd, of the --th
regiment, one of those occupying in Paris, warned
Lieutenant Spooney of that corps. A loud and violent fracas
took place between the infantry Colonel and his lady,
who were dining at the Cafe de Paris, and Colonel and
Mrs. Crawley; who were also taking their meal there.
The ladies engaged on both sides. Mrs. O'Dowd snapped
her fingers in Mrs. Crawley's face and called her
husband "no betther than a black-leg." Colonel Crawley
challenged Colonel O'Dowd, C.B. The Commander-in-Chief
hearing of the dispute sent for Colonel Crawley, who was
getting ready the same pistols "which he shot Captain
Marker," and had such a conversation with him that no
duel took place. If Rebecca had not gone on her knees
to General Tufto, Crawley would have been sent back
to England; and he did not play, except with civilians,
for some weeks after.
But, in spite of Rawdon's undoubted skill and constant
successes, it became evident to Rebecca, considering
these things, that their position was but a precarious
one, and that, even although they paid scarcely anybody,
their little capital would end one day by dwindling into
zero. "Gambling," she would say, "dear, is good to help
your income, but not as an income itself. Some day
people may be tired of play, and then where are we?"
Rawdon acquiesced in the justice of her opinion; and in
truth he had remarked that after a few nights of his
little suppers, &c., gentlemen were tired of play with him,
and, in spite of Rebecca's charms, did not present
themselves very eagerly.
Easy and pleasant as their life at Paris was, it was
after all only an idle dalliance and amiable trifling; and
Rebecca saw that she must push Rawdon's fortune in
their own country. She must get him a place or appointment
at home or in the colonies, and she determined to
make a move upon England as soon as the way could be
cleared for her. As a first step she had made Crawley
sell out of the Guards and go on half-pay. His function
as aide-de-camp to General Tufto had ceased previously.
Rebecca laughed in all companies at that officer, at his
toupee (which he mounted on coming to Paris), at his
waistband, at his false teeth, at his pretensions to be a
lady-killer above all, and his absurd vanity in fancying
every woman whom he came near was in love with
him. It was to Mrs. Brent, the beetle-browed wife of
Mr. Commissary Brent, to whom the general transferred
his attentions now--his bouquets, his dinners at the
restaurateurs', his opera-boxes, and his knick-knacks. Poor
Mrs. Tufto was no more happy than before, and had still
to pass long evenings alone with her daughters, knowing
that her General was gone off scented and curled to
stand behind Mrs. Brent's chair at the play. Becky had a
dozen admirers in his place, to be sure, and could cut
her rival to pieces with her wit. But, as we have said, she.
was growing tired of this idle social life: opera-boxes and
restaurateur dinners palled upon her: nosegays could not
be laid by as a provision for future years: and she could
not live upon knick-knacks, laced handkerchiefs, and kid
gloves. She felt the frivolity of pleasure and longed for
more substantial benefits.
At this juncture news arrived which was spread among
the many creditors of the Colonel at Paris, and which
caused them great satisfaction. Miss Crawley, the rich
aunt from whom he expected his immense inheritance,
was dying; the Colonel must haste to her bedside. Mrs.
Crawley and her child would remain behind until he
came to reclaim them. He departed for Calais, and having
reached that place in safety, it might have been
supposed that he went to Dover; but instead he took the
diligence to Dunkirk, and thence travelled to Brussels,
for which place he had a former predilection. The fact
is, he owed more money at London than at Paris; and he
preferred the quiet little Belgian city to either of the more
noisy capitals.
Her aunt was dead. Mrs. Crawley ordered the most
intense mourning for herself and little Rawdon. The Colonel
was busy arranging the affairs of the inheritance. They
could take the premier now, instead of the little entresol
of the hotel which they occupied. Mrs. Crawley and the
landlord had a consultation about the new hangings,
an amicable wrangle about the carpets, and a final adjustment
of everything except the bill. She went off in one
of his carriages; her French bonne with her; the child
by her side; the admirable landlord and landlady smiling
farewell to her from the gate. General Tufto was furious
when he heard she was gone, and Mrs. Brent furious
with him for being furious; Lieutenant Spooney was cut
to the heart; and the landlord got ready his best apartments
previous to the return of the fascinating little
woman and her husband. He serred the trunks which
she left in his charge with the greatest care. They had been
especially recommended to him by Madame Crawley. They
were not, however, found to be particularly valuable
when opened some time after.
But before she went to join her husband in the Belgic
capital, Mrs. Crawley made an expedition into England,
leaving behind her her little son upon the continent,
under the care of her French maid.
The parting between Rebecca and the little Rawdon did
not cause either party much pain. She had not, to say
truth, seen much of the young gentleman since his birth.
After the amiable fashion of French mothers, she had
placed him out at nurse in a village in the neighbourhood
of Paris, where little Rawdon passed the first months of
his life, not unhappily, with a numerous family of
foster-brothers in wooden shoes. His father would ride over
many a time to see him here, and the elder Rawdon's
paternal heart glowed to see him rosy and dirty,
shouting lustily, and happy in the making of mud-pies
under the superintendence of the gardener's wife, his
nurse.
Rebecca did not care much to go and see the son
and heir. Once he spoiled a new dove-coloured pelisse
of hers. He preferred his nurse's caresses to his mamma's,
and when finally he quitted that jolly nurse and almost
parent, he cried loudly for hours. He was only consoled
by his mother's promise that he should return to his nurse
the next day; indeed the nurse herself, who probably
would have been pained at the parting too, was told that
the child would immediately be restored to her, and for
some time awaited quite anxiously his return.
In fact, our friends may be said to have been among
the first of that brood of hardy English adventurers who
have subsequently invaded the Continent and swindled
in all the capitals of Europe. The respect in those happy
days of 1817-18 was very great for the wealth and
honour of Britons. They had not then learned, as I am
told, to haggle for bargains with the pertinacity which
now distinguishes them. The great cities of Europe had
not been as yet open to the enterprise of our rascals.
And whereas there is now hardly a town of France or
Italy in which you shall not see some noble countryman
of our own, with that happy swagger and insolence
