SUCH A GOOD MAN. BY WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE. Authors of Ready-Money Mortiboy,' 'The Golden Butterfly,' 'By Celia's Arbour, etc., etc. TH CHAPTER I. THE CITY DINNER.. HE Master and his two Wardens are in the anteroom receiving the guests. They are surrounded by a Court consisting of officers, chaplain, and the Livery. It is not an ordinary Company dinner, but one of their great banquets. A foreign ambassador is present; a cabinet minister, who will give the dinner a political significance, and perhaps drop a hint in the matter of Eastern politics; there is the latest thing we have to show in the way of a soldier who has seen service, and actually commanded an army; there is one of the oldest extant specimens of the ancient British admiral, bluff and hearty; there is a bishop of pronounced Evangelical opinions, he of Bamborough; and there is a dean, who is declared by his enemies to have no opinions at all. There are also two or three of the City clergy, who perhaps rejoice to make of these banquets an occasion for fasting and mortification of the flesh. There is a man of science, on whom the clergy look askance, because he has lately uttered opinions which as yet they do not see their way out of; there are many rich men; there are no artists and no representatives of literature, because the Lord Mayor works off both these classes of humans in two dinners, which is, the Lord knows, sufficient honour for them, and City Companies know nothing about literature or that your balance at the bank, whose supposed exiguity has frequently given you so much anxiety, is in reality a splendid sum of five figures at least-else, how could you be in such company? that the suburban villa has no existence, and the pre-matrimonial dinginess of Gray's Inn, never, in plain fact, existed; that your whole life has always been spent in and naturally belongs to such palaces as this abode of the City Company; that your every-day dinner, your plain cut of mutton with a glass of thin claret, as you have always supposed it, has really been from the very beginning such a banquet as you are about to assist at ; and that doubt, insecurity, anxiety, necessity for work have no real existence at all in the order of things. Because the air that you breathe, the aspect of the guests, the sonorous names which ring like massive gold coins, and the place you are in fill you with the sense of the fatness which is stable and abiding. Guest after guest, they come crowding in singly and in pairs. His Highness of Hyderabad, Ek Rupiya Dao, ablaze with diamonds. His Excellency the Minister for the Republic of El Dorado: did his smiling and courteous Excellency, in his own tropical retreat beneath the palms of that much borrowing country, ever dream in his wildest moments of such a dinner as he is about to put away? and does he feel that his presence, recorded in the daily papers, will assist the new loan? The Ambassador of Two Eagle Land, said to be the most courteous minister ever sent to London-also said to be the greatest of-but that is calumny. The Archbishop of Kensington: doth monseigneur seek for new converts, or doth he desire to make up for the rigours of Lent, now happily finished and got through? and would he mind repeating for the general benefit that capital story which he told his companion just before his carriage stopped, its last smile still playing round lips too solid for austerity? The Lord Bishop of visit the dead and gone generations of his early centuries. Think how delightful it must have been for Methusalem to see again in the Champs Elysées the friends of his youth, remembered after so many hundred years. Even Old Parr must have had some such strange welcoming of long-forgotten friends and playmates who had been turned into dust, ere he began to feel old. Three hundred and sixty-five thousand pounds a year! And all got out of "ile," you said? Dear, dear! Really the atmosphere of this Hall is Celestial-Olympian. We are among pinnacles-Alps-of Greatness. A buzz of expectation: a whispering among the guests: a murmur which at the slightest provocation would turn into applause and shouts of acclamation: a craning forward of necks: a standing up on tip-toe of short-legged guests in the background: a putting up of eye-glasses. Hush! here he comes. SIR JACOB ESCOMB. The Master and the Wardens bow low: lower than when they received the Secretary of State for Internal Navigation: lower than for the Ambassador of Two Eagle Land: lower than for him of El Dorado: a great deal lower than for any bishop or clergyman: lower even than to that light and glory of the earth, the successful striker of Canadian "ile." Bamborough, our own prop, stay, and comfort in matters spiritual, regards his Roman Catholic Brother-Father (is that quite a correct way of putting the relationship?) with eyes of distrust, as if he feared to be converted on the spot by some Papistic trick and so be disgraced for ever. The Rev. Cyprian Chancel, who is about to suffer martyrdom through the new Act. He has prepared his face already, walks with his head on one side and his hands up, like a figure out of a church window, and looks as if he was about to go straight to a red-hot fire and blaze cheerfully, though slowly, round an iron stake. "I remember when they plucked Chancel at Cambridge for classical honours," whispers a voice at my right. His Reverence hears the remark and he winces. Touch a Ritualist on the subject of intellectual distinction, and you revive many old griefs of pluckings sore, which many times he bore, and a lowly degree taken ignobly among the common herd. This is a sad memory for one who has become a leader of-women, old and young. Mr. Gabriel Cassilis. The figure seems familiar to me. He is tall and rather bent; he carries a gold pince-nez, with which he taps his knuckles. The great financier, said to be worth, in the delightful metaphor of the last century, a couple of Plums at least. Happy Gabriel Cassilis ! Was there not some talk about his wife and a man named Lawrence Colquhoun? To be sure there He is a man of a commanding presence, was; and she married the old man after all, tall, portly, dignified in bearing; he is about and now Lawrence has come back again to fifty-five years of age, a time when dignity is London. Wonder if there will be any scan- at its best; he has a large head, held a little dal? Who is that with him? Mr. Gilead back; hair still abundant, though streaked P. Beck-hush--sh-sh! thin tall man, with grey; a big and prominent nose, great with lanky legs, shrewd face, full of curiosity. lips, and a long square chin. His eyes, you Lucky American who struck "ile" in Canada: might say, did you not know him to be such owner of Petroleaville: said to be worth a a good man, are rather hard. Altogether, it thousand pounds a day: goes where he likes is the face of a successful man, and of a man does what he likes: might marry whom he who knows how to get on in the world. The likes: some nonsense about selling himself to secret of that man is the secret which that the devil for a lucky butterfly. What a thing other philanthropist, Voltaire, discovered of course without the bargain with the Evil pretty early in life and published for the One, which no well-regulated mind would benefit of humanity-it is that some men are approve of or consent to-to have a thou- anvils and some hammers, that it is better to sand pounds a day! If nothing else, it be a hammer than an anvil; or, leaving the makes a man a law unto himself: he can do metaphorical method, that those who make what he likes. Wonder why it can't do money cannot pile it up fast unless they away with the laws of nature? With a thou make it out of the labours of other men. sand pounds a day, a man ought to be able Sir Jacob knows everybody of any disto live, in youth and vigour, till he grew tinction. He shakes hands not only with quite tired of things and became ready to re-, the Bishop of Bamborough, but also with SIR JACOB ESCOMB ! him of Kensington; he is acquainted with Mr. Cassilis and already knows Mr. Gilead P. Beck. Sir John Sells, Sir Solomon Goldbeater, Sir Samuel Ingot, the Indian prince, Ek Rupiya Dao, and the Rajah Jeldee Ag Lao are all known to him, and the clergy are to a man reckoned as his private and intimate friends. Therefore, for the brief space which remains before dinner is announced, there is a general press to shake hands with this greatest of great men. Those who cannot do so feel small; I am one of the small. Dinner! Welcome announcement. I am placed at the lower end of the hall, the end where those sit who have least money. Sir Jacob, naturally, is near the Master. In the open space between the two ends of the great horse-shoe table is a piano-a Grand, of course. In the corner of the hall separated from Us, the aristocratic diners, is a screen behind which you may hear, perhaps, the sounds of more plates and the voices of other guests. They are, in fact, the four singers and the pianoforteplayer, who are, after dinner, to give us a small selection of ballad and glee music (printed for us in a little book in green and gold) between the speeches. They dine at the same time as ourselves, that is allowed; but not, if you please, in our sight. We all draw the line somewhere. In the City the line is drawn at professional musicians, people who play and sing for hire. Grace, with a gratitude almost unctuous, from the chaplain. your foreign counts and excellencies-counts and excellencies! A beggarly lot at home, no doubt. Our great men, sir, the backbone of wealthy England, are such men as Sir Jacob Escomb. Self-made, practical, with an eye always open for the main chance, full of energy, the director of a dozen different concerns." "What are they, then?" I asked in my innocence, for though I had heard of this man, I knew not what soldiers call "his record." “He is an ironmaster at Dolmen-in-Ravendale, he has the principal share in a coalmine, he has a great office in the City, he is a gigantic contractor, he has built railways over half Europe." "Pardon," said a foreigner opposite; you are speaking of Sir Jacob Escomb? Would you point him out to me, this great man?" We indicate the distinguished Englishman with not unnatural pride in our country. "A-ha!" said the foreigner, putting up his glasses. "That is the Sir Jacob Escomb who made our railways for us. C'est très remarquable.” "Good railways, sir, no doubt," said the thin man. "You were very glad, I suppose, to get the great Sir Jacob?' "Good? I do not know." The foreigner shrugged his shoulders "They carry our troops, which was what we wanted. The cost was not many millions above the contract price. We borrowed all the millions for those railways from England. It is good of England to lend the world money to help carry troops, very good. I am glad to have seen this man-great in England." "And with all his wealth," the thin man went on, helping himself largely to salmon, "such a good man!" He shook his head with an expression of envy. Who could aspire to so much goodness? It was more than one man's share. Turtle, with punch. My next-door neighbour is a thin, tall man. From his general appearance, which suggests insatiable hunger, I am convinced that he is going to make a noble, an Enormous dinner. He does. He begins magnificently with three plates of turtle soup one after the other, and three glasses of iced punch. He has eaten and drunk enough at the very commencement of his dinner to keep an English labourer going I got no more conversation out of that thin the whole of one day, an Italian for two days, man, because for two hours and a half he cona Syrian for an entire week. What a great tinued to eat steadily, which gave him no country this is where the power of eating ex- time for talk. And to drink! Let us do pands with the means of procuring food! him justice. He drank with as much zeal After the third plate of turtle he turns to me, as he ate, and with equal impartiality put and begins talking about Sir Jacob Escomb. down champagne-the Hammerers' cham“There is a man, sir,” he says, "of whom pagne is not too dry-sauterne. chablis, mawe have reason to be proud. Don't talk to deira, hock, and sherry-they gave us manme of your lords-hereditary legislators: | zanilla. A glass of port with the cheeseyour bishops-ah ! backstairs influence and the port at the Hammerers' is generous and : fruity. More port with the desert: claret after that. Then more claret. He was indeed a truly zealous defender of City privileges, and ate and drank enough for twenty. I thought of poor old Ebenezer Grumbelow (whose history I have already narrated elsewhere), and how he would have envied this great and splendid appetite. Presently the end of dinner actually arrived. Then the harmonious Four came out from behind their screen, having also well eaten and much drunken, and began to tootle, and we all talked together. The thin man on my left looked much thinner after his enormous dinner than before. This is a physiological peculiarity with thin men which has never been explained. Fat men expand with dinner. Thin men contract. He seized a decanter of port, and, with a big bunch of grapes, settled down to quiet enjoyment. The foreign person with the eyeglasses looked about him and asked who the illustrious guests were and what each had done. "The Queen." There is no doubt about the Hammerers' loyalty. We are ready to die for our Sovereign to a man. The harmonious Four chant the Queen." "God save "The Army and the Navy," There is no doubt about the efficiency of both, because both the General, who has commanded an army, and the Admiral, who has hoisted his flag in the Mediterranean, both say so, and we receive their assurances with acclamation. "But your army is so very small," urges the person of foreign extraction, "and as for your fleet-why there are torpedoes. When you can put 500,000 men into the field, we shall begin to be a little afraid of you again. But, pardon me, nobody is afraid of England's little toy which she calls an army. Very odd that some foreign persons think so much of large armies and have such small belief in money. "Her Majesty's Government." Cabinet Minister-Secretary of State for Internal Navigation-in reply, assures us that all is going on perfectly with the best of all possible Governments. Never anybody so able as the Chief, never any man so adroit as the Foreign Office man, never anything managed with such diplomatic skill as the Eastern Question. War, unfortunately, could not be prevented, but we are out of it--so far. British interests will be maintained with a strong hand. Of that we may be quite sure. Meantime, we are preparing for the worst. Should the worst occur, which Heaven forbid !—he is perhaps revealing a State secret, but he may tell us that the forces are to be strengthened by five hundred men, and two new gunboats are now upon the stocks. (Rapturous applause.) We hammer the table, sure of our country. Says the foreign person, "The British interests mean, I think, whatever you can get people to give you without going to war. How long will you keep what you have got unless you fight for them. Two gunboats. Bah! Five hundred men. Bah!" The odd thing about foreigners is that they never appreciate the British belief in the honesty and generosity of their neighbours. That comes of being too civilised, perhaps. Other nations have to be educated up to the English level. "Our illustrious guest, the Ambassador for Two Eagle Land." Nothing, it appears, is more certain than the firm friendship which exists between England and the illustrious guest's own country. That is most reassuring. "Friendship between two nations," says the absurd foreign critic opposite me, whose name is surely Machiavelli, means that neither thinks itself strong enough to crush the other. You English," he goes on, " will always continue to be the friend of everybody, so long as you kindly submit everything to arbitration, because the arbitrators will always decide against you." It is very disagreeable, after dinner too, to hear such things spoken of one's country. The musicians give us, "All among the Barley." "The Church." The Bishop of Kensington bows courteously to him of Bamborough, as to an enemy whom one respects. The Bishop of Bamborough assures us of the surprising increase in the national love for the Church of England. We are overjoyed. This is a facer for Monseigneur of Kensington. Foreign person listens admiringly. "He is what you call 'Ritualist?'" he asks. "No; he is Evangelical." Ah! he does not understand these little distinctions. The Church does not interest him. "The industries of England." Applause is rapturous, when Sir Jacob Escomb slowly rises to reply, and solemnly looks round the hall. "So rich a man,' says my friend on the left, who has eaten his grapes, cleared off a semblage that Sir Jacob's philanthropic speech is loudly applauded. Only the dreadful foreign person lifts his hands and shakes his head. 66 "Sir," said the thin man on my left, who had now entered into the full enjoyment of his third decanter-this wine is really very generous and fruity, as I said before-probably wine of fifty-one-" he is more than great. There is no philanthropic, religious, or benevolent movement which is complete without Sir Jacob's name. There are many Englishmen of whom we are proud, because they have made so much money; but there is none of whom it may be said, as is said of Sir Jacob, not only that he is so rich, but that he is SUCH a good man.' plateful of early peaches, and is now tackling a dish of strawberries with his second decanter of port. He is thinner than ever. "So rich and such a good man!" "England," begins Sir Jacob, after a pre- 'By his cheque !" he repeats in admiraamble of modesty, "is deservedly proud, tion. "He will advance humanity-by his not only of her industries, but also, if I, an cheque. He will prevent wars-by his employer of labour, be permitted to say so, cheque. He will make us all good-by his of the men who have built up the edifice of cheque. He will convert nations-by his British wealth. And if this is cheque. He will reconcile parties--by his so, what, I ask, is England's duty? To cheque. He will make the priest love the civilise, by means of that wealth; to use that Voltairean-by his cheque. Enfin, he will gold in doing GOOD." (Hear, hear!) "And go to heaven-by his cheque. He is very how can the rich men of England do great, Sir Jacob Escomb-a very, very GOOD?" He lays tremendous emphasis on great man." the word good, so much emphasis that it must be printed in capitals. "Are they, for instance, to go up and down the lanes and by-ways seeking for fit objects of relief? No. That, my lords and gentlemen, were to make an ironclad do the work of the cap. tain's gig. Their business is, as I take it, to distribute cheques. Are people, anywhere, in suffering? Send a cheque. Are soldiers lying wounded on a field of battle? Shall we go to war with the lying and hypocritical Power which has caused the war, and prevent, if we can, a recurrence of the wickedness? No; that is not the mission of England Send a cheque. Is a society started for the Advancement of Humanity? I am glad to say that such a society is about to start, as I read in the papers,--for I have not myself any personal connection, as yet, with it,-under the presidency of that distinguished philanthropist, Lord Addlehede, whom I am proud to call my friend-send a cheque. The actual work of charity, philanthropy, and general civilisation is carried out for us, by proper officers, by the army of paid workmen, the secretaries, the curates, the surgeons, and such people. The man of wealth directs. Like the general, he does not lead the troops himself; he sends them into battle. I go even farther," Sir Jacob leans forward very solemnly, "I say that the actual sight of suffering, disease, poverty, sorrow, brutality, wickedness, hunger, dirt, want of civilization generally, is revoltingsimply revolting-to the man of wealth. His position must, and should, secure him from unpleasant sights. Let him hear of them; and let him alleviate-it is his mission and his privilege-by means of his cheque." There is so much benevolence in this as TH CHAPTER II. GLORY AND GREATNESS. HE breakfast-room of Sir Jacob Escomb's town house, one of the great houses on Campden Hill which stand in their own gardens, set about with trees, like houses a hundred miles away from the City, was a large and cheerful apartment, whose windows had a south aspect, while a conservatory on the east side intercepted the wind from that hateful quarter. It was furnished, like the whole of the house, with solidity. No new-fashioned gewgaws littered the rooms in Sir Jacob's house; nor did the pseudo-antique rubbish carry the imagination back to the straight-backed times of Queen Anne. There were heavy carpets, heavy chairs, heavy tables, very heavy pictures of game and fruit, a massive mirror, in an immense and richly-chased gold frame, and a sideboard which looked like one mass of solid mahogany, built up out of a giant trunk |