The burnt million

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Chapter I. Josh

In the old Court suburb, Kensington, there are still a few fine old houses standing back from the road, with gardens attached to them of considerable size, and adorned with noble trees, especially the cedar. Its “ layers of shade/’ though deadly to the turf beneath them, are welcome indeed to the Londoner during the summer heats. As he sits on his rocking-chair, shut out from all the din and dust of the streets, and with only the muffled roar of the great city breaking on his ear like a distant sea — yet within reach of all that makes life worth living — he combines, as few can do, the advantages of town and country ; the knowledge that the eye of the capitalist and the enterprising builder is on him, and that such pleasures will be short-lived, may decrease his enjoyment, but not in all cases.

In that of Mr. Joseph Tremenhere, for example, the tenant of Lebanon Lodge, who is thus enjoying a cigar of the finest brand and of the size of a sausage, this reflection is rather soothing than otherwise. He is a man who is not displeased with the notion of a transitory pleasure so long as it will last his time. As his lease has still to run for twenty years, and he is sixty-five years of age, this he thinks may be reckoned upon ; and Mr. Tremenhere’s calculations are generally correct.

He may have made one or two mistakes in life (though it would be difficult to convince him of it), but not in figures. He may not be good at music and the fine arts — though they are both in a sense at his service, in common with everything else that money can buy — but at

“ totting up,” as he playfully terms it, he has no rival. He has totted up his own fortune, from the proverbial halfcrown, with which as a friendless boy he came to London, to something like a million of money. It is difficult to appreciate the magnitude of this sum, though a master of numbers has helped us to do so, by pointing out that the bunches of chestnut blossoms on one side of the long drive in Bushy Park — which seem to the unscientific eye innumerable — may be considered to “ tot up ” to that amount. “ Sell them for a sovereign apiece,” as Josh would say, “and there you are.” Mr. Joseph Tremenhere, notwithstanding the great respect in which he is held by the world at large, is familiarly known by it as “ Josh,” and even called so by his more audacious clients to his face, and without rebuke. Indeed, supposing their rank is sufficiently high to justify it, he rather likes it; for it shows that he is hand and glove with them. Dukes have taken that pudgy hand of his with heartfelt, if transitory, gratitude, for he has dragged their graces out of many a hole. Its stumpy but scrupulously clean fingers sparkle with costly rings that have been bestowed upon him by noble lords in return for the assistance which Jews and lawyers have alike denied to them ; they come to him as a last resort, and often express a genuine regret that they have not earlier applied to such a benefactor of their species ; often, we say, but, it must be confessed, not always.

They are welcomed by him, without exception, with courtesy and goodwill ; if they are but frank with him, it is ten to one that they v/ill not repent it ; he finds meat on their bones, where others have assured them there is no meat ; but in cases where there is so very little of it that it hardly repays Mr. Joseph Tremenhere for his trouble in discovering it, he naturally keeps it for himself. He is not going to set noblemen and gentlemen on their legs merely to walk away without fee ; and their skeletons become his detractors. But who cares for what people say who have neither money nor credit? Certainly not Mr. Joseph Tremenhere. His own review of his past is as favorable as any one could expect — much more so than most reviews. Josh’s temper is something angelic ; he has stood things which very few people, even philosophers, could have borne without indignation ; and his conscience is even more under control. Its still small voice was always the reverse of importunate, and Josh is growing a little deaf. One may almost say that it never troubles him. When he looks back upon his life, he is astonished, like the great shaker of the pagoda tree, at his own moderation. He has done pretty well for himself, no doubt, but in some cases he might (as he reflects with a sigh) have done even better. He thinks over his feats of finance with a pardonable pride, for indeed they have been unparalleled. He has rushed in where lawyers have feared to tread, and snatched from ruin scores of great estates, or at all events portions of them. He has stood in the way between them and hundreds of grasping greedy creditors, and defied them ; whip in hand, he has gone down among the snarling crowd, and slashed their faces for them ; nay, he has done far more dangerous things — trodden on the very confines of the criminal law — the crust of the volcano — and yet saved both himself and his client.

His future, so far as he concerns himself with such a matter, is assured to him. If he has to live on his principal, which would, however, seem to him a very monstrous notion, much as the idea of living by theft would seem to the intelligent and doubtless honest reader, he could still live all the rest of his life in great prosperity, or, as he himself would have expresssed it, “ like a fighting cock.”

It is indeed the vast amount of money he has made, strange as it may seem, which troubles him.

“ What will become of it when I am gone ? ” is the question he is always putting to himself. How to preserve it to his children ; how to prevent them from doing away with it themselves, and especially other people from doing away with it for them. He does not want them to be coming cap in hand to some other “ Josh,” to entreat him to save something of his property out of the fire for them. He has a bad opinion of other “ Joshes,” if indeed there is one in all Christendom worthy to be called by his great name. In Judea there certainly is not. Mr. Joseph Tremenhere is a Jew himself (though some people call him a Samaritan), but a very “ wet ” Jew ; not at all solicitous about the weightier matters of the law, much less the smaller ones, and seldom seen at synagogue. He has fought and conquered his brethren of Israel many times, and none of them, as well they know, can stand against him ; it is something to be the greatest money lender that

London has ever produced ; but Mr. Joseph Tremenhere is far more than that. He is a money-maker. Out of estates mortgaged to the hilt, out of fortunes sunk in the sand, he has wrung the red gold.

Just at present, however, he is thinking of none of these things, but of his daughter, little Grace, for it is her birthday. She is now coming to him down the lawn, with her straw hat in both her hands, the sun shining on her blue-black hair, and lighting up every line of her Spanish-looking face with beauty. She is slight, and not very tall ; but her figure is exquisitely graceful ; she has passed the brook of childhood, for she is seventeen, yet still seems to be standing on the hither brink of it ; her father calls her “ his little fairy,” which requires no great stretch of imagination, for she in truth resembles one ; her eyes are so bright, and her face so full of glee, that under the dark cedar she moves like sunshine.

“ You naughty, naughty girl ! ” murmurs her proud father lovingly ; “ why are you without your hat ? You will have a sunstroke.”

“ But see what I have got in my hat, papa ! ”

He has been so entranced by his darling’s beauty, that he has not looked at her hat, which he now perceives to be full of the most lovely flowers, all white ones.

His face clouds over in a moment ; perhaps the idea that such flowers are used at funerals occurs to his mind, and connects this fragile little creature — the child of his old age — with the grave.

“ Who has sent you these ? ” he inquires gravely, almost sternly.

“ I don’t know ; they have just come, with nothing but this card with them, ‘ To Fairy on her birthday ; ’ is it not kind of somebody? ”

Mr. Joseph Tremenhere takes the card and examines the handwriting carefully, and by no means with a pleased expression of countenance.

“ Do you know who it is, papa ? Oh, do tell me, that I may thank him when he comes this afternoon.”

“ How do you know it’s a him ? ” he inquires sharply.

“ Well, of course, it may be a lady, but we know so few ladies ! ”

This was very true ; the female visitors at Lebanon Lodge were not numerous i nor were many of them likely

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to have sent bridal flowers ( for that was the view of them Mr. Tremenhere had taken) to Grace ; they had a wholesome fear of her father, and would have been careful not to put such things (as matrimony) into his daughter’s head.

“ It must be some gentleman friend of yours, papa,” continued the girl ; “ you have so many friends.”

“ Have I ? ” he said, with a queer smile.

“ Well, of course ; have I not seen them ? Shall I not see them to-day ? men of the highest rank, some of them, and all (under petence of saying * Many happy returns ’ to poor little me) coming to do you honor.”

“You think that, do you, little one?” he answered, taking her small hand in his, and speaking with gentle gravity.

“ Thtnk it ? I know it. Have you not told me yourself how you have helped this, that, and the other in their difficulties ? And have I not seen with my own eyes how grateful they are to you ? I am no longer a child, papa, though I believe you think so, and I know very well that, though of course we are very rich ”

“ What ! you are rich, are you ? ” he interrupted.

“ Well, of course ; that is, you are, which is the same thing. Agnes and Philippa always say we are very rich.”

“ They do, do they ? ” He smoked at his cigar in rapid puffs — a sign, as she well knew, that he was displeased.

“ Is it wrong, then ? or right for them and wrong forme to say so, papa? I am very sorry. They are much older, of course ”

“ Tut, tut ! They are not much wiser, at all events” he put in kindly. “ Yes, you are quite right in supposing that your position is as good as theirs. Like them, you are my daughter, though there the likeness ends. You have not offended me at all, little one. It is highly improper that there should be a ear in your pretty eyes on your birthday ; let me kiss it away. You were saying that, though we were so rich, something happens or does not happen, which was it? ”

“ But perhaps I ought not to have said anything about it, papa ? ”

“ Yes, you ought ; I like to hear my Fairy talk just as she feels, just as she thinks.”

“ Well, then, I was thinking that other people — Mr,

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Abraham, for instance, and Mr. Isaacs — who are almost as rich as you are, do not have the same friends, neither so many nor such great ones as you have. Miss Abraham does not know a single lord, she says except one who is unhappily obliged to live abroad.”

“ Very likely,” said Mr. Tremenhere with a smile — this time a humorous one. “Well, and we know a dozen or so of these noble personages, don’t we, Grace ? And you wonder how that comes about ? ”

“ No, I don’t wonder, papa, because I know” she answered gravely. “It is because you have been so generous to them, and helped them out of all their troubles. How nice it must be to be so good and kind, and also so powerful ! It is easy enough to wish to do good. I can get that far myself ; but I am not a fairy, though you call me so. Now, you are like one of those nice enchanters that one reads of in the Eastern tale, who makes it his business to undo the work of wicked magicians, and protect the weak against the strong.”

“ I am, am I ? ” Josh had taken his cigar from between his lips with one hand, and was covering his mouth with the other ; there was something there he did not wish his child to see.

“ Well, of course you are ; everybody knows it. Mr. Roscoe said when I was talking to him about you the other day, that you are just as kind to animals, since he has often seen you help a lame dog over a stile. But, now that I have shown you my flowers, I must go and dress, dear papa, before the company come ; there is just time to give you a kiss before your cigar goes out for want of puffing ; ” and she kissed him and tripped away.

Mr. Tremenhere was very stout ; he was a large man from many points of view, and there were no wrinkles in his fair fat face, but it had suddenly become very grey and worn. On his brow, too, there now sat a heavy frown. His little daughter, who was all truth and trust, the only human being he knew of whom he could say as much, believed him to be a disinterested and kindly man. He knew a good deal about getting money under false pretences, but this acquisition of tender regard — a young girl’s reverence — was something new and strange to him. He had imagined that, somehow or other, his little Fairy loved him for his own sake, though she had understood, however

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vaguely, what he was. But now it seemed that she had been all along in a Fool’s Paradise. How long, he wondered, would she remain in it? It must needs be that, sooner or later, she would be undeceived ; but woe to him that should wake her from her innocent dreams ! Roscoe, of all the men in the world, had contrived to amuse himself with her simplicity, had he ? Roscoe, his right-hand man, who knew more of his secrets than anybody, and could tell more things of him. If he had dared to presume upon that fact But here Mr. Joseph Tremen-

here’s indignation became too much for him, and he rapped out an oath that would be quite unintelligible to the gentle reader. What it meant was, that if the circumstance in question did happen, Mr. Edward Roscoe should learn to his cost, and with a vengeance, the difference between master and man.

Chapter II. Lord Cheribert

An hour later, the grounds of Lebanon Lodge were filling with gay company. Ladies, mostly matrons, of dark complexion and ample proportions, perhaps a trifle overdressed. Daughters of Judah, who, if they made no “tinkling with theirfeet,” exhibited elsewhere aconsiderable amount of personal jewellery. Young ones also, though much fewer, were to be seen about the garden fountain and its fishpond — full of swimming bullion — like so many Rebekahs at the well, waiting, in most cases in vain, for their Isaacs. For of Isaacs, unless old ones, there were very few. The males of the company, who far outnumbered the ladies, were professing Christians, and in most cases had no other profession. Aristocrats of noble race, but who had somewhat slipped out of their order. The Marquis of Baccarat, who was hardly seen at any social gathering, save those rare ones at Lebanon Lodge ; Lord Petronel, Lord Shotover, Lord Cambalio, all three of whom would have recently appeared in a court much less highly thought of than that of St. James’ but for the kind interest which Mr. Tremenhere had taken in their lO affairs. General St. Gatien, once, but not very recently,, of the Guards. The band of his old regiment, playing on the lawn, was by no means incited to strike up “ See the Conquering Hero comes,’ ’ on recognizing him ; he was associated in their minds with a piece of music of quite another kind — a march. Sir Tattenham Corner, and many other celebrities of the turf and of the Band of Green Cloth.

Some of these eminent guests — for they had all achieved distinction for themselves, and, if not exactly public benefactors, had like ill winds blown some people good, and laid the social journalists in particular under especial obligations — were still young in years ; but their appearance had lost some of the freshness of youth. They had the delicate and ascetic air of young monks of the cloister, or of too diligent students, though it had not been produced by the same means ; they too, indeed, had burned the midnight oil, but not “with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books;” they had given their attention only to the books they had made themselves, which, though not published at their own expense, had cost them dearly. Their heavy eyes were sunk in their wan cheeks, and had semicircles of black under them which were not, however, to judge by the looks that were cast at them by the other sex, altogether unattractive. They were undoubtedly distinguished-looking young fellows ; but to persons who were acquainted with what is confidently believed by some people to be “life,” they suggested the deleterious habit of taking green cura^oa and pickled walnuts for their breakfasts. There was, however, one marked exception to them in the person of Viscount Cheribert. This nobleman was but just of age, and looked much younger (his father, Lord Morelia, was not only alive, but had barely reached middle life, which, to a young man who lives on post obits, is a very serious and expensive matter) ; there was no more hair on his fresh young face than on that of an Eton boy in the Lower School; his complexion was brilliant, but far from hectic ■ — it was perfectly healthy. If teeth are injured by smoking, it must be — to judge by those of Lord Cheribert — because a little smoking, like learning, is a dangerous thing; a cigar was never out of his mouth — it was whispered that he even smoked in bed — and yet his teeth were pearls. His figure, though slight, was perfect ; he was an adept in

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ii all manly games and exercises, but had devoted himself (and many a paternal acre) to piquet. He was an admirable player, but, as is generally the case with games, he had met with men who played better; it was said that before he was nineteen he had lost eleven thousand pounds at it — without counting what the cards cost, which was a pretty penny — at a single sitting, One can’t help admiring a young fellow who can point to such an item — though unfortunately a deficit — in his accounts as that. Josh had a genuine regard for him, independent of the gigantic losses which in his eyes surrounded this juvenile spendthrift with an auriferous halo. The great money-spinner had a tenderness for the great money-spender ; the Napoleon of Finance a sort of pity for this gay young Blucher, who, though always defeated, never seemed to know that he had been beaten. More than once Josh had faced his father for him — and Lord Morelia was not a pleasant man to face under such circumstances — and pleaded, though not of course on sentimental grounds, for his prodigal son.

Youth and good looks, especially when accompanied by good manners, weigh with every one who is not absolutely destitute of tenderness, which was by no means the case, as we know, with Mr. Joseph Tremenhere ; the interests, moreover, of the two men were (or seemed to be) identical ; but what, perhaps, attached Josh to the young fellow more than all was that he perceived in him, notwithstanding his mad ways, a genuine stanchness ; that though his money and he were so easily parted, Lord Cheribert was not a fool. Josh thought it just within the range of possibility — though no one else thought it — that the young man might one day become a decent member of society. Respectability was in his blood. It was true he was going to the devil (Josh’s devil — Poverty) faster than any young fellow of his means had ever ridden; but there was a chance, just a chance, that he might suddenly pull up ; and if he did pull up, it was Josh’s opinion that it would be for good and all. He might even become another Lord Morelia. To the outside world this forecast would have seemed rank folly ; but Joseph Tremenhere, though utterly ignorant of book-learning, had studied the pages of human life to some purpose. “ In every spendthrift,” he was wont to say (though only to himself), “ there lives a miser.” If for one single instant Lord Cheribert could be brought to see his position (as every one else saw it) — the gulf of ruin on which he stood, and, above all, himself the laughingstock of every knave who had helped to bring him there — Josh believed he might be saved ; and if saved (of this Josh felt sure), every farthing which remained out of the wreck of his fortunes would be saved with him. Whatever was left to him he would stick to like a limpet to his rock ; and whatever might accrue to him from thenceforth would be as safe as though it were in his (Mr. Tremenhere’s) own strong box.

Each guest, as he arrived, came up to his host under the cedar tree, and said a word or two. “ His little Fairy ” stood by his side, and sometimes he introduced them to her, and sometimes he did not. He was not the sort of person to whom any man (who knew him) was likely to say, “You have omitted to introduce me to your daughter, Mr. Tremenhere.” It was quite possible that he might presently have told him, and with much plainness of speech, why he had omitted that act of politeness.

To some he held out a couple of fingers — difficult, but by none found impossible — to hook ; to others three, to others four. When Lord Cheribert came up smiling — some called him “ Lucifer, son of the morning,” in allusion to his naughty ways and the freshness of his appearance — the host offered his whole hand.

“ How are you. Josh ? ” was the familiar salutation upon the young man’s lips ; but at the sight of Gracie it became “ How are you, Tremenhere ? ” — an alteration which other sprigs of nobility had not thought it worth their while to make.

“ As well as an old man has any right to be, my lord,” he said ; and then with a wave of his hand, “ My daughter, Grace.”

“This is a very auspicious occasion, I understand,” said the young fellow ; “ I wish you many happy returns of the day, Miss Tremenhere.”

His tone was so natural and buoyant that it almost seemed as thought a child was speaking to a child.

“ Cheribert has the best manners and the worst morals of any man of his age in Christendom,” General St. Gatien was wont to say, in strange forgetfulness, as regards one part of the verdict at least, of his own far-off youth.

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Grace was put at her ease at once, and thanked him prettily.

“What. a day for a birthday you have got 1 ” he went on ; “ but then, I feel sure you deserve it. Now my last birthday was all wind and rain ; you recollect my coming of age, Tremenhere, for you were so good as to dine with me on that occasion.’’

“ I remember it was a very wet evening,” said Josh with humorous gravity.

Lord Cheribert laughed as lightly as the fountain played. “ What a charming scene this is ! There are very few gardens like this in London, where the band does not seem too big for it. You like the country better than the town, of course, Miss Tremenhere ? ”

“ Indeed I do.”

“ I wish I were your age,” murmured his lordship with a genuine sigh. He was only five years older than the young lady but, on the other hand, he had spent, or at all events he owed it, 100,000/. in the interval.

“ Oh, but papa likes it better too,” said Grace gravely, “ if one could get him to own it.”

“ Really? Are you so purely pastoral, Tremenhere ? ”

u I like my own place in Cumberland, and the fishing,” said the money-lender stiffly. He did not like to be chaffed about his pursuits just now, even ever so little, though, as a general rule, he welcomed chaff : he made grain out of it.

“And whereabouts is your Cumberland home, Miss Tremenhere ? ”

“Well, it is rather difficult to describe, for it is quite up among the mountains, and away from everywhere, on Halswater.”

“ I suppose your father wishes to keep it a dead secret,” said Lord Cheribert, laughing, “ as the way over the fells to Muncaster Castle used to be kept. He has never asked me , at all events, to come and see him there.”

“ I am afraid life at Halswater Hall would not be much in your line, my lord,” said the money-lender with a gathering frown.

“ Don’t be hard on me before Miss Grace,” said Lord Cheribert gently. “ Why need you tell her that I have no taste for the picturesque, no love for the beauties of nature, ho time now for wholesome pleasure such as fishing ”

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“ Oh, but I am sure papa didn’t mean that,” interposed Grace quickly ; she felt really sorry for this innocent and bright young fellow, who imagined himself the subject of such severe reproof ; “ I am sure you could not help liking Hals water.”

“ Still your father doesn’t ask me there,” observed his lordship with humorous persistence. “ My dear Tremenhere, I dote on fishing.”

“ I was not aware of it, my lord, though I see you are fishing now,” was the host’s grim reply ; “ but it’s too bright a day for catching anything, even an invitation. Grace, dear, Agnes is calling you.”

“So I am not to be asked, Josh, to this country house of yours ? ” said Lord Cheribert. His tone had no longer its pretence of pleading ; he had exchanged it for a good-natured familiarity, in which there lurked, nevertheless, a certain seriousness.

“ No, my lord, you must not come to Halswater.”

“ Indeed ! The lake is not private property, I conclude,” returned the young man with a slight flush ; “ the river, I suppose, is open to anglers ? ”

“ You have asked me a question, and you have had my answer, Lord Cheribert,” was the cold reply.

“Perhaps you will kindly furnish me with a map of England, Mr. Tremenhere, with the places marked in red ink which I am not to visit? ”

“ It is not at all impossible that at no distant date you will find the whole island marked out in that way for you, my lord,” was the quiet rejoinder, “and by less friendly hands than mine.”

The young man lifted his hat — not only in sign of departure ; it was a trick he had on the rare occasions when the sense of his true position came over him, the instinct to remove a weight from his brow — and turned away without a word.

“ Agnes, come here ! ” continued the money-lender.

His eldest daughter, who was still talking with Grace, at once left her to obey his summons. She was a tall, fair woman of thirty years of age, but looked older ; her features were good, and even classical, but her lips were thin and straight ; her hair resembled hay, and there was not a luxuriant crop of it ; her eyes were a cold blue, usually lustreless ; her eyebrows so faint that through them could