Respectability has spread its leaden mantle over the whole country . . . and the man wins the race who can worship that great goddess with the most un-divided devotion.
Leslie Stephen, Sketches from Cambridge
The bourgeoisie . . . compels all nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of produc-tion; it compels them to introduce what it calls civil-ization into their midst, that is, to become bourgeois themselves. In one word, it creates a world after its own image.
Marx, Communist Manifesto
Charles’s second formal interview with Ernestina’s father was a good deal less pleasant than the first, though that was in no way the fault of Mr. Freeman. In spite of his secret feeling about the aristocracy—that they were so many drones—he was, in the more outward aspects of his life, a snob. He made it his business—and one he looked after as well as his flourishing other business—to seem in all ways a gentleman. Consciously he believed he was a perfect gentleman; and perhaps it was only in his obsessive determination to appear one that we can detect a certain inner doubt.
These new recruits to the upper middle class were in a tiresome position. If they sensed themselves recruits socially, they knew very well that they were powerful captains in their own world of commerce. Some chose another version of cryptic coloration and went in very comprehensively (like Mr. Jorrocks) for the pursuits, property and manners of the true country gentleman. Others—like Mr. Freeman—tried to re-define the term. Mr. Freeman had a newly built mansion in the Surrey pinewoods, but his wife and daughter lived there a good deal more frequently than he did. He was in his way a forerunner of the modern rich commuter, except that he spent only his weekends there—and then rarely but in sum-mer. And where his modern homologue goes in for golf, or roses, or gin and adultery, Mr. Freeman went in for earnest-ness.
Indeed, Profit and Earnestness (in that order) might have been his motto. He had thrived on the great social-economic change that took place between 1850 and 1870—the shift of accent from manufactory to shop, from producer to custom-er. That first great wave of conspicuous consumption had suited his accounting books very nicely; and by way of compensation—and in imitation of an earlier generation of Puritan profiteers, who had also preferred hunting sin to hunting the fox—he had become excessively earnest and Christian in his private life. Just as some tycoons of our own time go in for collecting art, covering excellent investment with a nice patina of philanthropy, Mr. Freeman contributed handsomely to the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge and similar militant charities. His apprentices, improvers and the rest were atrociously lodged and exploited by our standards; but by those of 1867, Freeman’s was an exceptionally advanced establishment, a model of its kind. When he went to heaven, he would have a happy labor force behind him; and his heirs would have the profit therefrom.
He was a grave headmasterly man, with intense gray eyes, whose shrewdness rather tended to make all who came under their survey feel like an inferior piece of Manchester goods. He listened to Charles’s news, however, without any sign of emotion, though he nodded gravely when Charles came to the end of his explanation. A silence followed. The interview took place in Mr. Freeman’s study in the Hyde Park house. It gave no hint of his profession. The walls were lined by suitably solemn-looking books; a bust of Marcus Aurelius (or was it Lord Palmerston in his bath?); one or two large but indeterminate engravings, whether of carnivals or battles it was hard to establish, though they managed to give the impression of an inchoate humanity a very great distance from present surroundings.
Mr. Freeman cleared his throat and stared at the red and gilt morocco of his desk; he seemed about to pronounce, but changed his mind.
This is most surprising. Most surprising.
More silence followed, in which Charles felt half irritated and half amused. He saw he was in for a dose of the solemn papa. But since he had invited it, he could only suffer in the silence that followed, and swallowed, that unsatisfactory re-sponse. Mr. Freeman’s private reaction had in fact been more that of a businessman than of a gentleman, for the thought which had flashed immediately through his mind was that Charles had come to ask for an increase in the marriage portion. That he could easily afford; but a terrible possibility had simultaneously occurred to him—that Charles had known all along of his uncle’s probable marriage. The one thing he loathed was to be worsted in an important business deal—and this, after all, was one that concerned the object he most cherished.
Charles at last broke the silence. “I need hardly add that this decision of my uncle’s comes as a very great surprise to myself as well.
Of course, of course.
But I felt it my duty to apprise you of it at once—and in person.
Most correct of you. And Ernestina ... she knows
She was the first I told. She is naturally influenced by the affections she has done me the honor of bestowing on me.” Charles hesitated, then felt in his pocket. “I bear a letter to you from her.” He stood and placed it on the desk, where Mr. Freeman stared at it with those shrewd gray eyes, evidently preoccupied with other thoughts.
You have still a very fair private income, have you not
I cannot pretend to have been left a pauper.
To which we must add the possibility that your uncle may not be so fortunate as eventually to have an heir
That is so.
And the certainty that Ernestina does not come to you without due provision
You have been most generous.
And one day I shall be called to eternal rest.
My dear sir, I
The gentleman had won. Mr. Freeman stood. “Between ourselves we may say these things. I shall be very frank with you, my dear Charles. My principal consideration is my daughter’s happiness. But I do not need to tell you of the prize she represents in financial terms. When you asked my permission to solicit her hand, not the least of your recom-mendations in my eyes was my assurance that the alliance would be mutual respect and mutual worth. I have your assurance that your changed circumstances have come on you like a bolt from the blue. No stranger to your moral rectitude could possibly impute to you an ignoble motive. That is my only concern.
As it is most emphatically mine, sir.
More silence followed. Both knew what was really being said: that malicious gossip must now surround the marriage. Charles would be declared to have had wind of his loss of prospects before his proposal; Ernestina would be sneered at for having lost the title she could so easily have bought elsewhere.
I had better read the letter. Pray excuse me.” He raised his solid gold letter-knife and slit the envelope open. Charles went to a window and stared out at the trees of Hyde Park. There beyond the chain of carriages in the Bayswater Road, he saw a girl—a shopgirl or maid by the look of her—waiting on a bench before the railings; and even as he watched a red-jacketed soldier came up. He saluted— and she turned. It was too far to see her face, but the eagerness of her turn made it clear that the two were lovers. The soldier took her hand and pressed it momentarily to his heart. Something was said. Then she slipped her hand under his arm and they began to walk slowly towards Oxford Street. Charles became lost in this little scene; and started when Mr. Freeman came beside him, the letter in hand. He was smiling.
Perhaps I should read what she says in a postscript.” He adjusted his silver-rimmed spectacles. “ ‘If you listen to Charles’s nonsense for one moment, I shall make him elope with me to Paris.’” He looked drily up at Charles. “It seems we are given no alternative.
Charles smiled faintly. “But if you should wish for further time to reflect ...
Mr. Freeman placed his hand on the scrupulous one’s shoulder. “I shall tell her that I find her intended even more admirable in adversity than in good fortune. And I think the sooner you return to Lyme the better it will be.” “You do me great kindness.
In making my daughter so happy, you do me an even greater one. Her letter is not all in such frivolous terms.” He took Charles by the arm and led him back into the room. “And my dear Charles ...” this phrase gave Mr. Freeman a certain pleasure, “... I do not think the necessity to regulate one’s expenditure a little when first married is altogether a bad thing. But should circumstances ... you know what I mean.
Most kind ...” “Let us say no more.
Mr. Freeman took out his keychain and opened a drawer of his desk and placed his daughter’s letter inside, as if it were some precious state document; or perhaps he knew rather more about servants than most Victorian employers. As he relocked the desk he looked up at Charles, who now had the disagreeable impression that he had himself become an employee—a favored one, to be sure, but somehow now in this commercial giant’s disposal. Worse was to follow; perhaps, after all, the gentleman had not alone determined Mr. Freeman’s kindness.
May I now, since the moment is convenient, open my heart to you on another matter that concerns Ernestina and yourself
Charles bowed in polite assent, but Mr. Freeman seemed for a moment at a loss for words. He rather fussily replaced his letter-knife in its appointed place, then went to the window they had so recently left. Then he turned.
My dear Charles, I count myself a fortunate man in every respect. Except one.” He addressed the carpet. “I have no son.” He stopped again, then gave his son-in-law a probing look. “I understand that commerce must seem abhorrent to you. It is not a gentleman’s occupation.
That is mere cant, sir. You are yourself a living proof that it is so.
Do you mean that? Or are you perhaps but giving me another form of cant
The iron-gray eyes were suddenly very direct. Charles was at a loss for a moment. He opened his hands. “I see what any intelligent man must—the great utility of commerce, its es-sential place in our nation’s
Ah yes. That is just what every politician says. They have to, because the prosperity of our country depends on it. But would you like it to be said of you that you were ... in trade
The possibility has never arisen.
But say it should arise
You mean ... I...
At last he realized what his father-in-law was driving at; and seeing his shock, the father-in-law hastily made way for the gentleman.
Of course I don’t mean that you should bother yourself with the day-to-day affairs of my enterprise. That is the duty of my superintendents, my clerks, and the rest. But my business is prospering, Charles. Next year we shall open emporia in Bristol and Birmingham. They are but the begin-ning. I cannot offer you a geographical or political empire. But I am convinced that one day an empire of sorts will come to Ernestina and yourself.” Mr. Freeman began to walk up and down. “When it seemed clear that your future duties lay in the administration of your uncle’s estate I said nothing. But you have energy, education, great ability ...
But my ignorance of what you so kindly suggest is ... well, very nearly total.
Mr. Freeman waved the objection aside. “Matters like probity, the capacity to command respect, to judge men shrewdly—all those are of far greater import. And I do not believe you poor in such qualities.
I’m not sure I know fully what you are suggesting.
I suggest nothing immediate. In any case for the next year or two you have your marriage to think of. You will not want outside cares and interests at such a time. But should a day come when it would ... amuse you to know more of the great commerce you will one day inherit through Ernestina, nothing would bring me ... or my wife, may I add ... greater pleasure than to further that interest.
The last thing I wish is to appear ungrateful, but ... that is, it seems so disconsonant with my natural proclivities, what small talents I have ...
I am suggesting no more than a partnership. In practical terms, nothing more onerous to begin with than an occasion-al visit to the office of management, a most general supervi-sion of what is going on. I think you would be surprised at the type of man I now employ in the more responsible positions. One need be by no means ashamed to know them.
I assure you my hesitation is in no way due to social considerations.
Then it can only be caused by your modesty. And there, my dear young man, you misjudge yourself. That day I mentioned must come—I shall be no longer there. To be sure, you may dispose of what I have spent my life building up. You may find good managers to look after it for you. But I know what I am talking about. A successful enterprise needs an active owner just as much as a good army needs a general. Not all the good soldiers in the world will help unless he is there to command the battle.
Charles felt himself, under the first impact of this attrac-tive comparison, like Jesus of Nazareth tempted by Satan. He too had had his days in the wilderness to make the proposi-tion more tempting. But he was a gentleman; and gentlemen cannot go into trade. He sought for a way of saying so; and failed. In a business discussion indecision is a sign of weak-ness. Mr. Freeman seized his chance.
You will never get me to agree that we are all descended from monkeys. I find that notion blasphemous. But I thought much on some of the things you said during our little dis-agreement. I would have you repeat what you said, what was it, about the purpose of this theory of evolution. A species must change ...
In order to survive. It must adapt itself to changes in the environment.
Just so. Now that I can believe. I am twenty years older than you. Moreover, I have spent my life in a situation where if one does not—and very smartly—change oneself to meet the taste of the day, then one does not survive. One goes bankrupt. Times are changing, you know. This is a great age of progress. And progress is like a lively horse. Either one rides it, or it rides one. Heaven forbid I should suggest that being a gentleman is an insufficient pursuit in life. That it can never be. But this is an age of doing, great doing, Charles. You may say these things do not concern you—are beneath you. But ask yourself whether they ought to concern you. That is all I propose. You must reflect on this. There is no need for a decision yet. No need at all.” He paused. “But you will not reject the idea out of hand
Charles did indeed by this time feel like a badly stitched sample napkin, in all ways a victim of evolution. Those old doubts about the futility of his existence were only too easily reawakened. He guessed now what Mr. Freeman really thought of him: he was an idler. And what he proposed for him: that he should earn his wife’s dowry. He would have liked to be discreetly cold, but there was a warmth in Mr. Freeman’s voice behind the vehemence, an assumption of relationship. It was to Charles as if he had traveled all his life among pleasant hills; and now came to a vast plain of tedium—and unlike the more famous pilgrim, he saw only Duty and Humiliation down there below—most certainly not Happiness or Progress.
He managed a look into those waiting, and penetrating, commercial eyes.
I confess myself somewhat overwhelmed.
I ask no more than that you should give the matter thought.
Most certainly. Of course. Most serious thought.
Mr. Freeman went and opened the door. He smiled. “I fear you have one more ordeal. Mrs. Freeman awaits us, agog for all the latest tittle-tattle of Lyme.
A few moments later the two men were moving down a wide corridor to the spacious landing that overlooked the grand hall of the house. Little in it was not in the best of contemporary taste. Yet as they descended the sweep of stairs towards the attendant footman, Charles felt obscurely debased; a lion caged. He had, with an acute unexpectedness, a poignant flash of love for Winsyatt, for its “wretched” old paintings and furniture; its age, its security, its savoir-vivre. The abstract idea of evolution was entrancing; but its practice seemed as fraught with ostentatious vulgarity as the freshly gilded Corinthian columns that framed the door on whose threshold he and his tormentor now paused a second— “Mr. Charles Smithson, madam”—before entering.
