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Major Vigoureux, a novel by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch |
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Chapter 16. The Lord Proprietor's Audience |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. THE LORD PROPRIETOR'S AUDIENCE
The reader may ask with some surprise how such a man, accustomed all his life to the bustle and traffic of Finsbury Pavement, E. C., could choose, in his middle age, to turn his back on these and purchase an exile out in the Atlantic, where no one bought or sold shares, and where only Mr. Fossell, perhaps--and he from a week-old newspaper--caught an echo of the world's markets, whether they rose or fell. But, in truth, Sir Caesar had chosen carefully, deliberately. He had always intended to enjoy in later life the wealth for which he had worked hard in his prime; and as soon as his fortune was assured, he had made several cautious but determined experiments to discover where enjoyment might abide. He had, for instance, rented a grouse-moor, and invited a large company to help him, by shooting the birds, to feel that he was getting a return for his money. But somehow his guests, though very good fellows in London, did not harmonize (to his mind) with the highland wastes. He was glad when they departed; the scenery improved at once--at any rate, he took more pleasure in it. He tried a deer forest and found this tolerable, but he soon made the further discovery that shooting bored him, that is to say, all shooting of higher rank that the potting of rabbits. He was one of those enviable persons who "know what they like." If he made trial of these expensive recreations, it was simply because he saw men ambitious for them, and supposed they would certainly yield some gratification to explain it; but, having made trial for himself and missed the gratification, he abandoned them without a sigh. Hence his wardrobe had come to include a pair of deer-stalking breeches, very little the worse for wear. (He had never anticipated any satisfaction in wearing a kilt). At another time he had owned a steam yacht; and this had taught him that he liked the sea and suffered no inconvenience from its motion. But from the yacht itself he derived small satisfaction after he had shown it to his friends, and been envied by poorer men for possessing such a toy. It might have been amusing to carry these admirers about with him in extended cruises; but they, being poor, were busy and could not afford the time, while his rich acquaintances owned steam yachts of their own. Moreover, though unaccustomed to sport, he had always taken a fair amount of exercise; his liver required it; and at yachting--that is to say, sitting on deck in a comfortable chair--he put on flesh at an alarming rate. Therefore, from this pastime also he retired. Though these experiments were in themselves uniformly unsuccessful, he had not made them in vain; but, keeping his wits about him, had arrived by a process of exhaustion at some of the essentials of pleasure; and this, after all, was not so bad for a man who had started with no knowledge concerning it and with a deal of false information. He knew now that he required exercise, that he could be happy in solitude, and that his landscape would be all the better if it neighboured on the sea. (Of his immunity from sea-sickness he was honestly prouder than of anything his money had been able, as yet, to purchase.) He had scarcely made these discoveries when the lease of the Islands came into the market. Then, as he read the advertisement in the _Times_ newspaper, in a flash he had divined his opportunity, had seen a happy future unrolled before him. His error hitherto had lain, not in exchanging Finsbury Pavement for scenes where the free elements had play, but in seeking to change himself and do violence to his own habits of mind and body. In the Islands he could practice, as a benevolent despot, that mastery of men which had given him power in the city; he could devote uncontradicted to the cause of philanthropy--or with only so much contradiction as lent a spice to triumph--those faculties which he had been sharpening all his life in quest of money. They remained sharp as ever, though the old appetite had been dulled. He was a widower. He had no ambition but his own to consult; he alone would suffer if he made a mistake--and he felt sure he was not making a mistake. Though not given to day-dreams (Finsbury Pavement discouraged him), he had an ounce of imagination distributed about his brain (few, even among money-making men, succeed with less), and it had once or twice occurred to him that a king's must be, in spite of drawbacks, a highly enviable lot--at any rate in countries west of Russia. Well, here was his chance. He took it boldly; and to-day, had you asked him, he would have acknowledged with a smile that he did not repent. All kings, to be sure, have their worries. The army had not shown itself too well affected towards the new reign. But when an army consists of three soldiers.... The Lord Proprietor, gazing down from his terrace upon the twinkling waters of the roadstead, caught sight of a row-boat coming across from St. Lide's, and as it drew near, recognised its sole occupant for Sergeant Archelaus. He felt for his cigar case, chose and lit a cigar, and rested his elbows on the balustrade of the terrace, watching, while the old man brought his boat to the landing-quay, landed leisurely, and crossed the meadow to the foot of the gardens, where, at the pace he was keeping, one might allow him a couple of minutes at least before he re-emerged into view at the foot of the steps leading up to the terrace. But, as it happened, a bare fifty seconds elapsed before he came darting out of the boscage and scrambled up the stairway in a sweating hurry, two steps at a time. "You shouldn't, Sergeant; you really shouldn't--at your time of life," expostulated the Lord Proprietor, kindly, withdrawing the cigar from his mouth. "Then you shouldn't keep ostriches," retorted Sergeant Archelaus, as he gained the topmost step and, after a fearful glance behind him, sank against a pilaster and mopped his brow. "Take care of that urn!" cried the Lord Proprietor, in a warning voice. "It contains a _Phormium tenax_ that I wouldn't lose on any account." "A what?" "A New Zealand Flax.... The ostriches chased you, did they?" "They did--the pair of 'em. It goes against a man's stomach, too, being chased by a bird." "To me," said the Lord Proprietor, "it is gratifying evidence that they are recovering their spirits, which were hipped after the long voyage from Cape Town. But here, in the Gulf Stream, my theory is that we can acclimatise almost anything, animal or vegetable. Already they begin to feel its invigorating influence." "Talking of vegetables, sir"--Archelaus shifted a canvas bag from his shoulders to the ground and began to untie the string which bound its neck. "Pray take breath," suggested the Lord Proprietor. "At your age--and with the little exercise you get on Garrison Hill----" "We don't keep ostriches," said Archelaus, curtly. "But, talking of vegetables, the Governor sends his compliments to you, sir, and begs your acceptance of a few choice plants in return for the small clothes you lent me." "'Lent' you, Archelaus? 'Gave,' you mean." "Oh, sir, but--excuse me--I couldn't--there was them ostriches to be considered." "It has occurred to me," went on the Lord Proprietor, who was in the best of moods this morning, "that those--er--breeches might be a trifle conspicuous--a shade too highly pronounced in pattern--to be worn with uniform." "As for that, sir," answered Archelaus, tactfully, "life on the Islands isn't like active service, where a man has to be careful about exposing himself to marksmanship." "In Inverness a pattern like that would excite no comment." "I've never been there," said Archelaus. "It--er--harmonises, as it were, with the natural surroundings: with the loch, the glen, the strath. So with those curious tartans to which the Scottish highlanders are--er--addicted. Seen by themselves, and to a sensitive, artistic eye, they appear crude and almost violent in their contrast of colours; but seen in conjunction with the expanse of native moorland, the undulating stretches of the heather----" "'Tis but niggling scenery we have in these parts, to be sure," agreed Archelaus. "I have sometimes thought that _mutatis mutandis_ the same may be true of the bagpipes, the strains of which--'skirl,' I believe, is the proper expression--are not altogether discordant with the moaning of the wind over those desolate moors or the cries uttered by their wilder denizens; though, speaking personally, I never could endure the instrument." "Me either," agreed Archelaus again, shuffling a little on his feet, as the dreadful truth began to dawn on him, that the Lord Proprietor meant to present him with yet another pair of trousers. Sir Caesar, however, chose to play for a minute with his benevolent design. "There is no more delicate study," he went on, "than that of acclimatisation. None which requires a nicer union of artistic daring with artistic judgment, patience, with decision.... I propose to go in for it pretty extensively on Inniscaw." "Yes, sir?" "The ostriches have been a great encouragement." "I suppose, now, when you get accustomed to 'em----" "Though I have yet to prove that they will breed here. Yet, why not? The Gulf Stream, I am assured, has a stimulating influence upon all forms of organic life, animal as well as vegetable. It may be compared with that inward volcanic heat which, in and around the Bay of Naples, clothes the shore with verdure, and is not without responsibility for the passions of the inhabitants.... But, as I was saying, a man must use judgment. A plant may thrive when transferred across a thousand miles of ocean, may propagate itself even more freely than in its native habitat, and yet, to the artistic eye, be never truly at home. Its colour, of flower or foliage, refuses to blend with our landscape, to adapt itself to our Atlantic skies. It is my hobby, Sergeant, to discover not only what imported plants will flourish with our soil and climate, but what particular one is worthiest of cultivation; and, having discovered that, I propose to bend all my best energies upon it.... Eh? But where did you get those remarkably fine bulbs?" Archelaus held out three in the palm of his hand. "From the garrison garden, sir; with the Governor's compliments, and understanding you to take an interest in bulbs." "Daffodils? Some species of narcissus, at any rate." The Lord Proprietor took one of the bulbs and examined it, turning it over. "I had no idea that Major Vigoureux--er--went in for this sort of thing, or I'd have done myself the pleasure of visiting his garden." "You wouldn't find much in it, sir," said Archelaus, hastily, remembering yesterday's adventure. "At least not much to interest you. To tell the truth, the Governor sets very little store by these, though they look pretty enough in March month. But wanting to show his feelings in the matter of those trousers----" "You shall have another pair!" "Oh!" said Archelaus, in spite of himself, and though he had miserably foreseen the offer for ten minutes past. "And you may take back my thanks to the Commandant, and tell him that I hope, within the next few days, to pay him a call." Archelaus touched his forelock, bringing up his palm at the right military salute--in those days a complicated operation. To himself he breathed a thanksgiving that the Fair Lady (as he and the Treachers called Vashti) had taken her departure from Garrison Hill overnight. Ever since breakfast he had been feeling sadly dejected about it and so (if appearances might be trusted) had his master. There is a fearful joy, after all, in living on a volcano. But, alas, for Sergeant Archelaus! He was at this moment standing on the crust of a volcano, and that crust was momentarily wearing thinner. The shore beneath the great house of Inniscaw has two landing quays, of which the eastern (Archelaus had used the western) lies hidden from view of the terrace, and can be approached by a boat keeping close under St. Lide's shore. Engrossed in his lecture upon acclimatisation, the Lord Proprietor had missed to perceive a boat making for this eastern quay; and so had Archelaus, for the simpler reason that he stood with his back to the view. "Step into the house with me, and you shall make your choice between half-a-dozen pairs," the Lord Proprietor invited him. "If you are sure it's not troubling you," said Archelaus. "My good man--" began the Lord Proprietor, leading the way; and with that he turned about, surprised that Archelaus was not following. "Eh? What's the matter?" But Archelaus, speechless, was staring along the terrace to its eastern end, where, at the head of a flight of steps leading down among the shrubberies, a head had suddenly uprisen into view--a head in a gray bonnet with trimmings of subdued violet--the head of Miss Gabriel. "H'm!" said Miss Gabriel, and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Pope, who were mounting the stairway at her heels. _ |
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