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"V5\0'^^*'+°

HARVARD UNIVERSITY

LIBRARY OF THE

Department of Education

COLLECTION OF TEXT-BOOKS

TRANSFERRED

3 2044 097 042 063

iDDlS(
W;

D
Byro

1

Coi
Fr.

G

OF ENGLISH TEXTS
GENERAL EDITOR

HENRY VAN DYKE

DDisoN's Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Professor C. T.
Winchester, Wesleyan University. 40 cents.

URKE's Speech on Conciliation. Professor William Mac-
Donald, Brown University. 35 cents.

yron, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, and Browning. Pro-
fessor C. T. Copeland, Harvard University.

lARLYLE'S Essay on Burns. Professor Edwin Mims, Trinity Col-
lege, North Carolina. 35 cents.

lOLERiDGE'S THE ANCIENT MARINER. Professor George E. Wood-
berry, Columbia University. 30 cents.

Emerson's Essays. Henry van Dyke. 35 cents.

'RANKLIN'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Professor Albert Henry Smyth, Cen-
tral High School, Philadelphia.

jASKELL'S Cranford. Professor Charles E. Rhodes, Lafayette High
School, Buffalo. 40 cents.

jEORGE Eliot's Silas Marner. Professor W. L. Cross, Yale
University. 40 cents.

Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Professor James A. Tufts,
Phillips Exeter Academy. 45 cents.

Lamb's Essays of Elia. Professor John F. Genung, Amherst
College.

Macaulay's Addison. Professor Charles F. McClumpha, University
of Minnesota. 35 cents.

Macaulay's Life of Johnson. Professor J. S. Clark, Northwestern
University. 35 cents.

Gateway Series

Macaulay's Addison and Johnson. In one volume. (McClumpha
and Clark). 45 cents.

Macaulay's Milton. Rev. E. L. Gulick, Lawrenceville School.
35 cents.

Milton's Minor Poems. Professor Mary A. Jordan, Smith College.
35 cents.

Scott's Ivanhoe. Professor Francis H. Stoddard, New York Uni-
versity. 50 cents.

Scott's Lady of the Lake. Professor R. M. Alden, Leland Stan-
ford Jr. University. 40 cents.

Shakespeare's As You Like It. Professor Isaac N. Demmon,
University of Michigan.

Shakespeare's Julius Cjesak. Dr. Hamilton W. Mabie, "The
Outlook." 35 cents.

Shakespeare's Macbeth. Professor T. M. Parrott, Princeton Uni-
versity. 40 cents.

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Professor Felix E. Schel-
ling, University of Pennsylvania. 35 cents.

Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, Lancelot and Elaine, and
The Passing of Arthur. Henry van Dyke. 35 cents.

Tennyson's Princess. Professor Katharine Lee Bates, Wellesley
College. 40 cents.

Washington's Farewell Address, and Webster's First Bunker
Hill Oration. Professor Charles W. Kent, University of
Virginia.

MRS. UASKELI.

O^TEIVAY SERIES

CRANFORD

MRS. GASKELL

EDITED BV

CHARLES ELBERT RHODES, A.M. (Princeton)

BUFFAW, N.V.

NEW YORK-:-CINaNNATI-:-CHICAGO

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

ntr

Harvaid Universityi

Oepb oF Education Ubrsiy,

V 'ft of the Publishers,

TRANSFEaaED TO
HARVARD COLlEee LIBRARY

J UN 13 1921

Copyright, 1907, by
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.

CKANFORD.
W. P. I

PREFACE BY THE GENERAL

EDITOR

This series of books aims, first, to give the English
texts required for entrance to college in a form which
shall make them clear, interesting, and helpful to those
who are beginning the study of literature ; and, second,
to supply the knowledge which the student needs to
pass the entrance examination. For these two reasons
it is called The Gateway Series,

The poems, plays, essays, and stories in these small
volumes are treated, first of all, as works of literature,
which were written to be read and enjoyed, not to be
parsed and scanned and pulled to pieces. A short life
of the author is given, and a portrait, in order to help
the student to know the real person who wrote the
book. The introduction tells what it is about, and
how it was written, and where the author got the idea,
and what it means. The notes at the foot of the page
are simply to give the sense of the hard words so that
the student can read straight on without turning to a
dictionary. The other notes, at the end of the book,
explain difficulties and allusions and fine points.

5

6 Preface by the General Editor

The editors are chosen because of their thorough
training and special fitness to deal with the books
committed to them, and because they agree with this
idea of what a Gateway Series ought to be. They
express, in each case, their own views of the books
which they edit. Simplicity, thoroughness, shortness,
and clearness, — these, we hope, will be the marks of
the series.

HENRY VAN DYKE.

PREFACE

In this edition of Cranford the text is from the latest
English edition by Smith, Elder & Co. The portrait
is from a drawing, by G. Richmond, R.A., in possession
of Miss Gaskell of Manchester. In the introduction I
have sought to arouse the interest of the pupil and to
stimulate him to further study without attempting to
do what he might better do for himself.

While I regret that my work has been done too soon
to profit by the forthcoming and first life of Mrs. Gas-
kell, by Mr. Clement Shorter, still I hope that the
accompanying outline is sufficient to enable the student
to enter into the spirit of Cranford and read with a
mind alert to its merits.

I would further recommend that all students seek the
aid and delight to be had from any edition containing
the Hugh Thomson illustrations, which are to Cran-
ford what the Cruikshank drawings are to the works
of Dickens. The best American edition containing
these illustrations is that by the Macmillan Company.

A quotation from Mrs. Anne Thackeray Ritchie,
giving an interesting account of Knutsford, has been
added as an appendix ; such allusions as need explana-

7

8 Preface

tion have been treated in the notes; and a series of
suggestive questions for review follows the notes, — it
having been decided to furnish such questions in all
subsequent editions of the Gateway Series.

I cannot but express the hope that my editorial work,
the results of which are here presented, may help those
who study its pages to love, as I love, Cranford,

CHARLES ELBERT RHODES.
Buffalo Lafayette High Schoou

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction ii

CHAPTER

I. Our Socitrrv 27

II. The Captain 42

III. A Love Affair of Long Ago .... 63

. IV. A Visit to an Old Bachelor .... 76

V. Old Letters 92

VI. Poor Peter 107

VII. Visiting 124

VIII. "Your Ladyship" 139

IX. SiGNOR Brunoni 158

X. The Panic 172

XI. Samuel Brown 192

XII. Engaged to be Married 208

XIII. Stopped Payment 220

XIV. Friends in Need 236

XV. A Happy Return . 261

XVI. Peace to Cranford 279

Appendix 290

Notes 293

Test Questions for Review 311

9

INTRODUCTION

I. Mrs. Gaskell

Appearance. — Rarely has an artist caught the inner
spirit so well as in the accompanying likeness of Mrs.
Gaskell. You can read her character in this portrait. It
is one of those which, once seen, are not easily forgotten.
In the dehcacy of feature we discern a rare refinement ;
in the brow evidences of nobleness ; and in the mouth
firmness tempered with kindness. The long, bright eye
suggests a hidden smile. In the poise of the head we
discover the grace and dignity of bearing for which she
was noted. Such a face cannot fail to impress one with
the beauty of character and fineness of intellect which ani-
mate every feature to an extraordinary degree. We are
not surprised that, while a young woman, she was much
sought by the painters and sculptors of Edinburgh.

Early Life and Education. — Elizabeth Cleghom
Stevenson was born in London, in Lindsay Row, now a
part of Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, September 29, 18 10. Her
father, William Stevenson, was a Unitarian ex-minister of
no small literary ability, and was at the time " Keeper of
the Records to the Treasury in Ix>ndon." Left motherless
before she was a month old, she was taken under the care
of her mother's sister, Mrs. Lumb, who lived at Knuts-

II

1 2 Cranford

ford ("Cranford") in Cheshire, a village some fifteen
miles from Manchester, the "Drumble" of Cranford,
There, amid rather doleful surroundings, her child-
hood and most of her girlhood were spent. She stud-
ied for two years at Stratford-on-Avon, learning Latin,
French, and Italian, amusing herself by frequently roam-
ing through the beautiful fields roundabout and often
visiting the church where Shakespeare is buried. A few
somewhat long visits to London, Edinburgh, and New-
castle-on-Tyne complete the list of important facts con-
cerning her early life.

Married Life. — Miss Stevenson was married in 1832,
when twenty- two years old, to the Rev. William Gaskell
in the Parish Church at Knutsford, for in those days even
the marriages of Dissenters had to be solemnized in the
Parish Church. Mr. Gaskell was the minister of the
Cross Street Unitarian Chapel at Manchester, where the
newly wedded couple set up their home. The first ten
years of their married life were uneventful, Mrs. Gaskell
devoting herself to domestic duties and to charitable work
in co-operation with her husband, among the mill hands.
Several children were born to them, and theirs was in
every way an ideally happy home life.

A Great Sorrow and Its Significance. — In 1840 Mrs.
Gaskell had contributed an account of Crofton Hall, near
Stratford-on-Avon, to Mr. William Howitt*s Visits to Re-
markable Places y but she had no idea of devoting herself
to writing.

In 1844, however, there came a great sorrow in the
death of the only son, Willie. Her husband suggested

Introduction 13

that she try writing as a means of relief; she took the
suggestion, and Mrs. Gaskell's literary work has been
called a monument to the memory of ten-months-old
Willie Gaskell.

Already familiar, through her charitable activities, with
the extreme poverty and other hardships of the Manches-
ter labourers, she studied Adam Smith and other authori-
ties on Political Economy to prepare herself for her work,
and soon began Mary Barton^ which was finished in
1847, offered to several publishers, finally sold to Chap-
man and Hall for the equivalent of five hundred dollars,
and published anonymously in 1848. The book dealt
with the industrial distresses of that critical period, en-
joyed a widespread reputation, was heartily praised by
Miss Edgeworth, Carlyle, and Walter Savage Landor, was
translated into French, German, Finnish, and other lan-
guages, and, after many years, was successfully drama-
tized. As was to be expected, Mary Barton also aroused
the manufacturers, who accused its author of maligning
them ; nevertheless, like Kingsley's Alton Locke ^ the book
inspired sentiments which have helped to improve indus-
trial conditions.

II. Lfterarv AcTivrnES

The effect of the success of Mary Barton was notable.
It introduced Mrs. Gaskell to the literary world in a most
flattering manner. Dickens eagerly welcomed her by
inviting her to a dinner with Carlyle, Thackeray, and him-
self in London, in 1849. Soon after, she met Forster,

14 Cranford

Richard Monckton Milnes, afterwards Lord Houghton,
Mrs. Jameson, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Ruskin ;
while it was only a little later, among the lakes of
Westmoreland, that her close friendship with Charlotte
Bronte began, a friendship never marred by the slightest
taint of jealousy and which so well prepared the way for
Mrs. Gaskell's great life of the author of Jane Eyre
and Shirley,

Dickens, in most complimentary terms, invited Mrs.
Gaskell to contribute to his new literary venture. House-
hold Words ^ and she accepted. From that time on she
never had difficulty in disposing of her manuscripts, and
her literary career was assured.

Ruth, dealing with a difficult ethical problem, was her
second novel and appeared in 1850; then came Cran-
fordy serially, from 1851 to 1853 ; North and South two
years later, a companion story to Mary Barton y dealing
with the master's side of the industrial question ; Syhnd^s
Lovers y depicting the " press gangs " ; Cousin Phillis,
noted for its charm of humour and pathos and its perfec-
tion of execution ; and, finally, Wives and Daughters, her
ripest effort, in which the village of " Cranford " also
appears as " Hollingsford, " but which she did not live to
finish. Besides, there were numerous minor works.

In most of her works, excepting Cranford and My
Lady Ludlow, which is much like it, Mrs. Gaskell's pur-
pose was to reveal and to improve the conditions among
the mill workers, — men, women, and children, — whose
burdens she had learned to bear during her personal
work among them.

Introduction 15

III. Concluding Survey

This quiet, retiring woman, through love for humanity,
became a social reformer, and her noble, self-sacrificing
life made her a peacemaker in those troublous times.
She wrote as she lived. During the great cotton famine
of 1862 many poor working girls were thrown out of
work, and the sentimental sympathy of many people was
doubtless aroused. But Mrs. Gaskell did not stop with
sentimental sympathy; then it was that her practical
wisdom revealed itself, for she instituted sewing schools
for the girls, and from those schools grew the system of
public relief afterward adopted. She became the con-
fidante of many a girl whose life was thereby reclaimed,
and through her co-operation with the prison philanthro-
pist, Thomas Wright, she found and used many an oppor-
tunity to befriend young girls when they were discharged
fi*om prison and to find work for them. Such was the
practical Mrs. Gaskell.

A brilliant conversationalist and charming correspond-
ent, she was sought by all the literary people of the
day, even including such scholars as Jowett and Stan-
ley. She early discovered the genius of George Eliot,
who acknowledged her indebtedness to the author of
Cranfordy and whose Scenes from Clerical Life and
Adam Bede were credited to Mrs. Gaskell when they ap-
peared under the then unknown name of George Eliot.
But, with all her popularity, she dreaded being lionized,
preferring to work on in her modest way, trying to make
the world a sunnier place by helping all sorts of people

1 6 Cranford

through her books and her personal influence to find
what life really is.

Mrs. Gaskell died, without a moment's notice, No-
vember 12, 1865, at Holybourne, the summer home in
Hampshire which she had bought with the proceeds of
her latest book and which she intended to present, as a
surprise, to her husband. She was buried in the sloping
little cemetery beside the old Unitarian Chapel at Knuts-
ford which she loved so well, and where, after many years,
her husband was laid beside her. They are also com-
memorated by mural inscriptions in the Cross Street
Chapel at Manchester, where they had laboured so long
and so lovingly.

A little before Mrs. Gaskeirs death, George Sand wrote
to Lord Houghton, " Mrs. Gaskell has done what neither
I nor any other woman writer in France can accomplish ;
she has written novels which excite the deepest interest
in men of the world and yet which every girl will be
the better for reading. "

IV. Cranford

The Theme. — We have all been at "Cranford,"
not that quaint place in Cheshire, but some quiet old
country village where there is no hurry, where the railroad
does not molest, and even the mails are infrequent ; where
there is leisure and peace and good-will. Cranford has
come to stand, in the minds of its thousands of admir-
ers, for old-fashioned ways of old-fashioned people in
old-fashioned places. We might call it The Annals of a

Introduction 17

Quiet Neighbourhood^ but George Macdonald used that
title for one of his books. We might name it A Story of
Old-fashioned Village Life, but that is the way George
Eliot once described Silas Marner, and, besides, Cranford
is far less of a story than that of the weaver of Raveloe.

We have here no plot, only a slight thread of story
connecting a series of character sketches and delightful
pictures of country life in a place " given over to the
Amazons," that is, to spinsters and widows with memories '
of the better times that had been, and where men were
only tolerated. The pictures are in miniature, but they
are executed with a touch so true and a sympathy so
exquisite as to make us live with the people at " Cran-
ford,'' rejoicing when they rejoice, and sorrowing when
they sorrow.

One of Mrs. GaskelVs friends. Lord Houghton, called
Cranford ^^'Wi^ purest piece of humoristic description . . .
since Charles Lamb." It is that and much more. It is
a favourite with those who can do without plot and thrill-
ing incident, because they can appreciate a charming
style, delicate humour, and tender pathos.

In a word, the theme of the book is the truth that even
among the narrowest surroundings and with the most
trivial circumstances souls may be poetic, noble, and
sometimes sublime.

The Style. — When Mrs. Gaskell had served her
apprenticeship by writing numerous stories and miscel-
laneous articles for Household Words y Dickens suggested
a series of papers on country life and even went so far
as to offer some chapter headings. Cranford was the

CRANFORD — 2

i 8 Cranford

result. At irregular intervals for two years the sketches
came out, each one a complete short story in itself. A
year later, contrary to first intentions, most of the chap-
ters were collected in book form and so published. The
most notable omission was a very amusing account of
" The Cage at Cranford."

Mrs. Gaskell relates her incidents and draws her pic-
tures of fifty years ago in the person of Mary Smith, a
Manchester (" Drumble ") girl who loves and often visits
among the Cranfordians. The style and diction are

ft

simple as befits the subject.

• Mrs. Gaskell uses the first person singular to perfection
in relating the annals of " Cranford," without any of the
assumed omniscience which mars the art of many gifted
story-tellers. Mary Smith records nothing which might
not naturally be observed by a vivacious and loving par-
ticipant in the doings of the little circle.

Description is used sparingly, without minute details.
The various people tell their own stories in their own
way and so well that we soon know them far better
than we possibly could through any description, however
elaborate.

The use of dialogue, too, is most masterful ; no speech
is forced, and each is so characteristic that the reader
can easily tell which of the quaint group is the speaker,
even though she be the humblest.

What might be a dull tale is given an imperishable
charm by the presence of a delicate vein of humour and
by touches of tender pathos. Humour and pathos are not
always well blended : here they are, and the one relieves

Introduction 19

the other so that the effect produced is altogether whole-
some, like the society of those who appreciate the lighter
things of life without frivolity, and who have been softened
by sorrow and sweetened by trials overcome.

Mrs. Gaskell has created no consciously funny char-
acters, no professional wits, no rollicking clowns, yet
there are a few purely amusing passages. Who can for-
get Betty Barker's cow dressed in flannel ; the pathway of
newspapers over the new carpet, from chair to chair
or over the spots where the sun's rays could strike
it ; Miss Matty's custom of roUing a ball under her bed to
see if there was a man hiding there ; placing the sign of
Miss Matty's tea store where people could not see it, and
the many allusions to " followers " and to men in general?
The charm, however, of the Cranford humour is that those
who manifest it are entirely unconscious of the fact, often
most serious about it. Take Betty Barker's party. It
might easily be spoiled in the narrative, for it must have
been an exceedingly dull affair, but Mrs. Gaskell makes
us jubilant as we read, and with real genius which does not
stoop to label a joke, lets us into the secret of the humour
which she herself sees. Miss Betty is so elated at having
the sleeping Honourable Mrs. Jamieson favour her with
her presence ! " Hush, ladies ! if you please, hush ! Mrs.
Jamieson is asleep." And then Mary Smith adds: "It
was very difficult to steer clear between Mrs. Forrester's
deafness and Mrs. Jamieson's sleepiness. But Miss
Barker managed her arduous task well . . . and mur-
mured to herself ' very gratifying indeed ; I wish my poor
sister had been alive to see this day.* "

20 Cranford

Then there was the five o'clock tea at Mrs. Forrester's in
honour of her wedding anniversary. The excitement over
the great robber panic is narrated in inimitable mock heroic
style. The poor ladies fall naturally to teUing ghost stories,
forgetting that, on their way home, they must pass through
Darkness Lane, for all of two hundred yards. The fears
of all, including the boastfully brave Miss Pole, are so set
forth as to form a fitting climax for the chapter on " The
Panic at Cranford."

There is true pathos, too, in the most delicately handled
account of the death of good Captain Brown and of his
daughter ; in Miss Matty's guarded references to the "love
affair of long ago " ; in the sorrow in the Jenkyns family
for the lost Peter ; in the heroic manner in which Miss
Matty adjusted herself, with the aid of her friends, to the
changed circumstances caused by the bank failure ; and
in the narrative of Mrs. Samuel Brown's long journey
with her last surviving child to Calcutta.

A Few Cranf ordians. — Mrs. Gaskell's character crea-
tions are not only lifelike but consistent and well sustained,
even to the end ; they do what we would expect them to do,
and yet there is no end of variety in the manner of the
doing. Throughout, there are frequent touches of nature
which make the whole world kin.

There can be little doubt that Mrs. Gaskell, Addison-
like, meant mildly to satirize the pretensions of aristocracy
in the frequent references to the Arleys whose names were
in the Peerage, but there is no bitterness in the satire.

We are indulgent to the prudery of Miss Matty, will-
ing to forgive it because she is so simple, so sincere, so

Introduction li

ingenuous. Her loneliness appeals to us, her yearning
tenderness toward little children, her need of the love
which she sacrificed to the pride of her family, and the
prudish training of her environment. We honour her
loyalty to the departed Deborah, and even condone her
slavish deference to the latter's most eccentric whims.
Gentle, unsophisticated Miss Matty, always burying her
own interests in those of others, is the heroine of the
book. When the crisis comes she meets it with her
simple goodness as well and as bravely as one with more
heroic virtues could do. In the words of the cold busi-
ness man, Mr. Smith, we find voiced the theme of the
story : " See, Mary, how a good innocent life makes
friends all around. Confound it ! I could make a good
lesson out of it if I were a parson ; but, as it is, I can't
get a tail to my sentences — only I'm sure you feel what
I want to say."

Miss Pole, the positive one, who could, all unabashed,
easily be as positive on the opposite side, is the most
gossipy one of the group and, withal, the cynic among
them, but even her cynicism is alleviated by her better
qualities. " Poor Peter " is the practical joker from first
to last and, like most practical jokers, is often misunder-
stood and the unconscious cause of untold sorrow. The
Honourable Mrs. Jamieson is the type of a lady of quality,
whose own estimate of her quality is so exaggerated as to
make her a vulgar snob. Dr. Hoggins, whose name, as
was suggested, would not have been greatly improved if
changed to Piggins, is far better than he seemed to the
Cranford aristocracy, for did not Miss Matty say, "he

22 Cranford

is very good-tempered and kind-hearted"? Mr. Hol-
brook, the genial old bachelor farmer with literary tastes
and Miss Matty's one-time lover, touches our hearts with
his loneliness and his genuineness ; while Martha, the
maid-of-all-work, throws such light on the house- servant
problem, as to make many a housewife long to live again
in old Cranford, and Mary Smith, who, with unpretended
kindness, enters into the joys and the sorrows of the
Cranfordians, reminds us of Mrs. Gaskell herself.

Mrs. Gaskell gives no stale copies of old Knutsford
people in Cranford; she does far better by letting her
creative imagination have full play among the scenes and
incidents of her early years. Mr. Green, in a book on
Knutsfordy says : " Cranford is all around Knutsford;

my old mistress Miss is mentioned in it, and our

poor cow, she did go to the field in a large flannel waist-
coat, because she had burned herself in a lime pit."
The bank failure, which is so sympathetically handled
and was such a tragic test of Miss Matty's character,
was suggested by a real bank failure at Mecclesfield,
which ruined many Knutsford families. Nor can there
be any doubt that the disappearance of Mrs. GaskelFs
only brother, John Stevenson, on a voyage as lieutenant
in the Merchant Navy in 1827, lent colour to the account
of Peter's long and mysterious absence.

Fidelity to Life. — The secret of the still growing
popularity and of the increasing appreciation of the
classic merits of Cranford is that it has the touch of life
on every page. It is never overdrawn, never stilted
nor insipid, never vulgar and never unsympathetic nor

Introduction 23

unkindly critical. We seem to have known the Cranford
folk always and we love them. They live real lives and
make the most of their limited circumstances, manifest-
ing their peculiarities, to be sure, but still more manifest-
ing their pureness of heart and their trae content with
their "genteel poverty," which necessitated so many
"elegant economies." They show us how all sorts of
people, differing as they must, can yet live together in
perfect harmony. Dark shadows and brilliant lights are
not essential to an interesting story, provided such
interesting people as meet us in Cranford are delineated
by one who knows them, knows life herself, and puts
herself into her writing. And Mrs. Gaskell has put
herself into Cranford more than into any other book ;
here she shows her deep reverence for humanity and how
she dared to be true to her loftiest ideals, and here she
gives the proper emphasis to true worth, however hum-
ble, and teaches us to look with kindness upon the
peculiarities of others.

Cranford, a Classic. — Living, as she did, during
the richest period in the history of English fiction,
winning the admiration of all, — from Maria Edgeworth,
one of the earliest novelists, to George Eliot, the last of
the great ones of the period, — Mrs. Gaskell is measured
by the highest standards. This fact must be kept in mind.
Because of her modesty she did not attempt such am-
bitious work as some of her contemporaries, and her
most pretentious work, because it deals with problems
of temporary interest, has lost some of its charm for our
day. Hence, judging her by her work as a whole, we

24 Cranford

must place her in the second rather than in the highest
rank of novelists. But this fact must not prejudice us in
estimating Cranford.

Cranford is a classic ; it has the qualities which con-
stitute enduring literature. Judged by Cranford alone,
its author would hold a foremost place. Its lifelikeness,
its sane philosophy of life, its depth of tenderness, its
dealing with the emotions, its simple and natural style,
make it speak to all ages with the clear voice of truth.
It stands the test, the highest test, of good literature ;
it can be read and re-read with increasing interest and
pleasure. Moreover, it has been translated into several
other languages. In it we find ourselves, and better
still, we find what we ought to be, — another test of true
literature. It reveals a finer touch and a deeper sym-
pathy than even the works of Jane Austen. In it we find
a foreshadowing of the psychological novel which George
Eliot perfected, for Mrs. Gaskell analyzes her characters*
motives, and they are valued more for what they are than
because they live in a certain rank of society or under a
certain system.

It is a hopeful sign for the literary taste of the future
that Cranford is to be brought to the attention of the
young, who, with proper guidance, will early come to
appreciate its merits and to catch its spirit.

There is more than a grain of good literary sense in
the statement of a certain woman that she always judges
people's literary tastes according to their estimate of
Cranford; and when our boys and girls know Cranford
and love it as they then must, they will have advanced to

Introduction 25

a higher plane of literary appreciation, they will know a
classic when they see it, and their choice of books will be
better, for they will look for the real touch of life more
than for exciting plot, impossible adventures, and thrill-
ing incidents with hair-breadth escapes.

CHAPTER I

OUR SOCIETY

In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the
Amazons ; all the holders of houses above a certain rent
are women. If a married couple come to settle in the
town, somehow the gentleman disappears ; he is either
fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the 5
Cranford evening parties, or he is accounted for by being
with his regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business
all the week in the great neighbouring commercial town of
Drumble,^ distant only twenty miles on a railroad. In
short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are 10
not at Cranford. What could they do if they were there ?
The surgeon has his round of thirty miles, and sleeps at
Cranford ; but every man cannot be a surgeon. For
keeping the trim gardens full of choice flowers without a
weed to speck them ; for frightening away little boys who 15
look wistfully at the said flowers through the railings ; for
rushing out at the geese that occasionally venture into
the gardens if the gates are left open ; for deciding all
questions of literature and politics without troubling
themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments; for 20
obtaining clear and correct knowledge of everybody's
affairs in the parish ; for keeping their neat maid-servants

^ Manchester.
27

28 Cranford

in admirable order ; for kindness (somewhat dictatorial) to
the poor, and real tender good offices to each other when-
ever they are in distress, the ladies of Cranford are quite
sufficient. " A man," as one of them observed to me
5 once " is so in the way in the house ! " Although the
ladies of Cranford know all each other's proceedings,
they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions.
Indeed as each has her own individuality, not to say
eccentricity,^ pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy

lo as verbal retaliation ; ? but, somehow, goodwill reigns
among them to a considerable degree.

The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little
quarrel, spirted out in a few peppery words and angry
jerks of the head; just enough to prevent the even tenor

15 of their lives from becoming too flat. Their dress is
very independent of fashion ; as they observe, " What
does it signify how we dress here at Cranford, where
everybody knows us? " And if they go from home, their
reason is equally cogent,® " What does it signify how we

20 dress here, where nobody knows us?" The materials
of their clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most
of them are nearly as scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly
memory ; but I will answer for it, the last gigot,* the last
tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England, was seen

25 in Cranford — and seen without a smile.

I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella,
under which a gentle little spinster, left alone of many
brothers and sisters, used to patter to church on rainy

1 Oddity. ^ Returning like for like.

8 Forcible. * Leg-of-mutton sleeve.

Cranford 29

days. Have you any red silk umbrellas in London?
We had a tradition of the first that had ever been seen in
Cranford ; and the little boys mobbed it, and called it
" a stick in petticoats." It might have been the very red
silk one I have described, held by a strong father over 5
a troop of little ones; the poor little lady — the survivor
of all — could scarcely carry it.

Then there were^ rules and regulations for visiting and
calls ; and they were announced to any young people who
might be staying in the town, with all the solemnity with 10
which the old Manx ^ laws were read once a year on the
Tynewald Mount.

*' Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after
your journey to-night, my dear " (fifteen miles in a gen-
tleman's carriage). "They will give you some rest to- 15
morrow ; but the next day, I have no doubt, they will
call ; so be at liberty after twelve — firom twelve to three
are our calling hours."

Then, after they had called —

" It is the third day ; I dare say your mamma has told 20
you, my dear, never to let more than three days elapse
between receiving a call and returning it; and also, that
you are never to stay longer than a quarter of an hour."

** But am I to look at my watch ? How am I to find
out when a quarter of an hour has passed ? " 25

"You must keep thinking about the time, my dear,
and not allow yourself to forget it in conversation."

As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether
they received or paid a call, of course no absorbing

1 Of Isle of Man.

JO Cranford

subject was ever spoken about. We kept ourselves to
short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to our
time.

I imagine that a few of the gentlefolks of Cranford
5 were poor, and had some difficulty in making both ends
meet; but they were like the Spartans, and concealed
their smart under a smiling face. We none of us spoke
of money, because that subject savoured^ of commerce
and trade, and though some might be poor, we were all

lo aristocratic. The Cranfordians had that kindly esprit
de corps ^ which made them overlook all deficiencies in
success when some among them tried to conceal their
poverty. When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a
party in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little

15 maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request
that she might get the tea-tray out from underneath,
every one took this novel proceeding as the most natural
thing in the world, and talked on about household forms
and ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had

20 a regular servants* hall, second table, with housekeeper and
steward, instead of the one little charity-school maiden,
whose short ruddy arms could never have been strong
enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had not been
assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state,

25 pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though
she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew,
and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had
been busy all the morning making tea-bread and sponge-
cakes.

^ Smelt. ^ Animating spirit of a collective body.

Cranford 3 1

There were one or two consequences arising from
this general but unacknowledged poverty, and this very
much acknowledged gentility ^ which were not amiss, and
which might be introduced into many circles of society
to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabit- 5
ants of Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in
their pattens^ under the guidance of a lantern-bearer,
about nine o'clock at night ; and the whole town was
abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover, it was con-
sidered " vulgar " (a tremendous word in Cranford) to 10
give anything expensive, in the way of eatable or drink-
able, at the evening entertainments. Wafer bread-and-
butter and sponge-biscuits were all that the Honourable
Mrs. Jamieson gave ; and she was sister-in-law to the
late Earl of Glenmire, although she did practise such 15
" elegant economy."

" Elegant economy ! '* How naturally one falls back
into the phraseology of Cranford ! There, economy was
always "elegant," and money-spending always "vulgar
and ostentatious " ; a sort of sour-grapeism which made us 20
very peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay
felt when a certain Captain Brown came to live at Cran-
ford, and openly spoke about his being poor — not in a
whisper to an intimate friend, the doors and windows be-
ing previously closed, but in the public street ! in a loud 25
military voice ! alleging his poverty as a reason for not
taking a particular house. The ladies of Cranford were
already rather moaning over the invasion of their terri-
tories by a man and a gentleman. He was a half-pay

^ Politeness of manner. ^ Wooden-soled shoes.

32 Cranford

captain/ and had obtained some situation on a neighbour-
ing railroad, which had been vehemently petitioned against
by the little town ; and if, in addition to his masculine
gender, and his connexion with the obnoxious railroad,
5 he was so brazen as to talk of being poor — why, then,
indeed, he must be sent to Coventry. Death was as
true and as common as poverty ; yet people never spoke
about that, loud out in the streets. It was a word not to
be mentioned to ears polite. We had tacitly agreed to

10 ignore that any with whom we associated on terms of vis-
iting equality could ever be prevented by poverty from
doing anything that they wished. If we walked to or
from a party, it was because the night was so fine, or the
air so refreshing, not because sedan-chairs ^ were expen-

15 sive. If we wore prints, instead of summer silks, it was
because we preferred a washing material ; and so on, till
we blinded ourselves to the vulgar fact that we were, all
of us, people of very moderate means. Of course, then,
we did not know what to make of a man who could speak

20 of poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow.
Captain Brown made himself respected in Cranford, and
was called upon, in spite of all resolutions to the contrary.
I was surprised to hear his opinions quoted as authority
at a visit which I paid to Cranford about a year after he

25 had settled in the town. My own friends had been among
the bitterest opponents of any proposal to visit the Cap-
tain and his daughters, only twelve months before ; and
now he was even admitted in the tabooed^ hours before

1 Retired on half-pay.
2 A covered chair borne on poles by two men. * Forbidden.

Cranford 22

twelve. True, it was to discover the cause of a smoking
chimney, before the fire was lighted; but still Captain
Brown walked upstairs, nothing daunted, spoke in a voice
too large for the room, and joked quite in the way of a
tame man about the house. He had been blind to all 5
the small slights, and omissions of trivial ceremonies, with
which he had been received. He had been friendly,
though the Cranford ladies had been cool ; he had an-
swered small sarcastic compliments in good faith; and
with his manly frankness had overpowered all the shrink- 10
ing which met him as a man who was not ashamed to be
poor. And, at last, his excellent masculine common sense,
and his faciUty in devising expedients to overcome domes-
tic dilemmas, had gained him an extraordinary place as
authority among the Cranford ladies. He himself went 15
on in his course, as unaware of his popularity as he had
been of the reverse ; and I am sure he was startled one
day when he found his advice so highly esteemed as to
make some counsel which he had given in jest to be taken
in sober, serious earnest. 20

It was on this subject : An old lady had an Alderney^
cow, which she looked upon as a daughter. You could
not pay the short quarter of an hour call without being
told of the wonderful milk or wonderful intelligence of
this animal. The whole town knew and kindly regarded 25
Miss Betsy Barker's Alderney; therefore great was the
sympathy and regret when, in an unguarded moment, the
poor cow tumbled into a lime-pit. She moaned so loudly
that she was soon heard and rescued ; but meanwhile the

^ An island noted for its breed of cows.
CRANFORD — 3

34 Cranford

poor beast had lost most of her hair, and came out look-
ing naked, cold, and miserable, in a bare skin. Every-
body pitied the animal, though a few could not restrain
their smiles at her droll appearance. Miss Betsy Barker
5 absolutely cried with sorrow and dismay ; and it was said
she thought of trying a bath of oil. This remedy, perhaps,
was recommended by some one of the number whose ad-
vice she asked ; but the proposal, if ever it was made,
was knocked on the head by Captain Brown's decided

10 " Get her a flannel waistcoat and flannel drawers, ma'am,
if you wish to keep her alive. But my advice is, kill the
poor creature at once."

Miss Betsy Barker dried her eyes, and thanked the
Captain heartily ; she set to work, and by-and-by all the

15 town turned out to see the Alderney meekly going to her
pasture, clad in dark grey flannel. I have watched her
myself many a time. Do you ever see cows dressed in
grey flannel in London?

Captain Brown had taken a small house on the outskirts

floof the town, where he lived with his two daughters. He
must have been upwards of sixty at the time of the first
visit I paid to Cranford after I had left it as a residence.
But he had a wiry, well-trained, elastic figure, a stifl* mili-
tary throw-back of his head, and a springing step, which

2$ made him appear much younger than he was. His eldest
daughter looked almost as old as himself, and betrayed
the fact that his real was more than his apparent age.
Miss Brown must have been forty; she had a sickly,
pained, careworn expression on her face, and looked as if

30 the gaiety of youth had long faded out of sight. Even

I

Cranford 35

when young she must have been plain and hard-
featured. Miss Jessie Brown was ten years younger than
her sister, and twenty shades prettier. Her face was
round and dimpled. Miss Jenkyns once said, in a passion
against Captain Brown (the cause of which I will tell you 5
presently), " that she thought it was time for Miss Jessie
to leave off her dimples, and not always to be trying to
look like a child." It was true there was something child-
like in her face; and there will be, I think, till she dies,
though she should live to a hundred. Her eyes were 10
large blue wondering eyes, looking straight at you ; her
nose was unformed and snub, and her lips were red and
dewy ; she wore her hair, too, in little rows of curls, which
heightened this appearance. I do not know whether she
was pretty or not ; but I liked her face, and so did every- 15
body, and I do not think she could help her dimples. She
had something of her father's jauntiness of gait and man-
ner ; and any female observer might detect a slight differ-
ence in the attire of the two sisters — that of Miss Jessie
being about two pounds per annum more expensive than 20
Miss Brown's. Two pounds was a large sum in Captain
Brown's annual disbursements.

Such was the impression made upon me by the Brown
family when I first saw them all together in Cranford
Church. The captain I had met before — on the occa- 25
sion of the smoky chimney, which he had cured by some
simple alteration in the flue. In church, he held his
double eye-glass to his eyes during the Morning Hymn,
and then lifted up his head erect and sang out loud and
joyfully. He made the responses louder than the clerk — 30

^6 Cranford

an old man witji a piping feeble voice, who, I think, felt
aggrieved at the Captain's sonorous ^ bass, and quavered
higher and higher in consequence.

On coming out of church, the brisk Captain paid

5 the most gallant attention to his two daughters. He
nodded and smiled to his acquaintances ; but he shook
hands with none until he had helped Miss Brown to
unfurl her umbrella, had relieved her of her prayer-book,
and had waited patiently till she, with trembhng nervous

10 hands, had taken up her gown to walk through the wet
iroads.

I wondered what the Cranford ladies did with Captain
Brown at their parties. We had often rejoiced, in for-
mer days, that there was no gentleman to be attended to,

15 and to find conversation for, at the card-parties. We
had congratulated ourselves upon the snugness of the
evenings ; and, in our love for gentility, and distaste of
mankind, we had almost persuaded ourselves that to be
a man was to be " vulgar " ; so that when I found my

20 friend and hostess, Miss Jenkyns, was going to have a
party in my honour, and that Captain and the Miss
Browns were invited, I wondered much what would be
the course of the evening. Card- tables, with green baize
tops, were set out by daylight, just as usual ; it was the

25 third week in November, so the evenings closed in about
four. Candles and clean packs of cards were arranged
on each table. The fire was made up ; the neat maid-
servant had received her last directions ; and there we
stoody dressed in our best, each with a candle -lighter in

1 Loud sounding.

Cranford 37

our hands, ready to dart at the candles as soon as the
first knock came. Parties in Cranford were solemn
festivities, making the ladies feel gravely elated as they
sat together in their best dresses. As soon as three had
arrived, we sat down to " Preference," I being the unlucky 5
fourth. The next four comers were put down immedi-
ately to another table ; and presently the tea-trays, which
I had seen set out in the store-room as I passed in the
morning, were placed each on the middle of a card-table.
The china was deHcate egg-shell ; the old-fashioned 10
silver glittered with polishing ; but the eatables were of
the slightest description. While the trays were yet on
the tables, Captain and the Miss Browns came in ; and
I could see that, somehow or other, the Captain was a
favourite with all the ladies present. Ruffled brows were 15
smoothed, sharp voices lowered at his approach. Miss
Brown looked ill, and depressed almost to gloom. Miss
Jessie smiled as usual, and seemed nearly as popular as
her father. He immediately and quietly assumed the
man's place in the room ; attended to every one's wants, 20
lessened the pretty maid -servant's labour by waiting on
empty cups and bread-and-butterless ladies ; and yet
did it all in so easy and dignified a manner, and so much
as if it were a matter of course for the strong to attend to
the weak, that he was a true man throughout. He played 25
for threepenny points with as grave an interest as if they
had been pounds ; and yet in all his attention to strangers,
he had an eye on his suffering daughter — for suffering I
was sure she was, though to many eyes she might only
appear to be irritable. Miss Jessie could not play cards ; 30

3 8 Cranford

but she talked to the sitters-out/ who, before her coming,
had been rather inclined to be cross. She sang, too, to an
old cracked piano, which I think had been a spinet ^ in
its youth. Miss Jessie sang "Jock of Hazeldean " a

5 little out of tune ; but we were none of us musical, though
Miss Jenkyns beat time, out of time, by way of appear-
ing to be so.

It was very good of Miss Jenkyns to do this ; for I
had seen that, a little before, she had been a good deal

10 annoyed by Miss Jessie Brown's unguarded admission
(a propos ^ of Shetland wool) that she had an uncle, her
mother's brother, who was a shopkeeper in Edinburgh.
Miss Jenkyns tried to drown this confession by a
terrible cough — for the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson

15 was sitting at the card-table nearest Miss Jessie,
and what would she say or think if she found out she
Was in the same room with a shopkeeper's niece ! But
Miss Jessie Brown (who had no tact, as we all agreed
the next morning) would repeat the information, and

20 assure Miss Pole she could easily get her the identical
Shetland wool required, " through my uncle, who has the
best assortment of Shetland goods of any one in
Edinbro'." It was to take the taste of this out of our
mouths, and the sound of this out of our ears, that Miss

25 Jenkyns proposed music ; so I say again, it was very good
of her to beat time to the song.

When the trays reappeared with biscuits and wine,

1 ITiose who did not play.

'^ Musical instrument resembling harpsichord, superseded by
piano. ^ To the point.

Cranford 39

punctually at a quarter to nine, there was conversation,
comparing of cards, and talking over tricks ; but by-and-
by Captain Brown sported ^ a bit of literature.

" Have you seen any numbers of * The Pickwick
Papers'?" said he. (They were then publishing ins
parts. ) " Capital thing ! "

Now Miss Jenkyns was daughter of a deceased rector
of Cranford ; and, on the strength of a number of manu-
script sermons, and a pretty good library of divinity,*
considered herself literary, and looked upon any conver- 10
sation about books as a challenge to her. So she
answered and said, " Yes, she had seen them ; indeed,
she might say she had read them."

"And what do you think of them?" exclaimed
Captain Brown. " Aren't they famously good? " 15

So urged, Miss Jenkyns could not but speak.

" I must say, I don't think they are by any means
equal to Dr. Johnson. Still, perhaps, the author is
young. Let him persevere, and who knows what he
may become if he will take the great Doctor for his 20
model?" This was evidently too much for Captain
Brown to take placidly ; and I saw the words on the
tip of his tongue before Miss Jenkyns had finished her
sentence.

" It is quite a different sort of thing, my dear madam," 25
he began.

" I am quite aware of that," returned she. " And I
make allowances, Captain Brown."

" Just allow me to read you a scene out of this month's
1 Brought out in public. 2 Theology.

40 Cranford

number," pleaded he. " I had it only this morning, and
I don't think the company can have read it yet."

" As you please," said she, settHng herself with an air
of resignation. He read the account of the " swarry " ^
5 which Sam Weller gave at Bath. Some of us laughed
heartily. / did not dare, because I was staying in the
house. Miss Jenkyns sat in patient gravity. When it
was ended, she turned to me, and said with mild
dignity -r-
10 " Fetch me * Rasselas,* ray dear, out of the bookroom."

When I brought it to her, she turned to Captain
Brown —

"Now allow me to read you a scene, and then the
present company can judge between your favourite, Mr.
15 Boz, and Dr. Johnson."

She read one of the conversations between Rasselas
and Imlac, in a high-pitched majestic voice ; and when
she had ended, she said, " I imagine I am now justified
in my preference of Dr. Johnson as a writer of fiction."
20 The Captain screwed his lips up, and drummed on the
table, but he did not speak. She thought she would give
a finishing blow or two.

" I consider it vulgar, and below the dignity of litera-
ture, to publish in numbers."
25 "How was the Rambler published, ma'am?" asked
Captain Brown in a low voice, which I think Miss Jenkyns
could not have heard.

" Dr. Johnson's style is a model for young beginners.
My father recommended it to me when I began to write
1 Dialectical for soiree — an evening party.

Cranford 41

letters — I have formed my own style upon it ; I recom-
mend it to your favourite."

" I should be very sorry for him to exchange his style
for any such pompous writing," said Captain Brown.

Miss Jenkyns felt this as a personal affront, in a way of 5
which the Captain had not dreamed. Epistolary^ writing
she and her friends considered as htx forte? Many a
copy of many a letter have I seen written and corrected
on the slate, before she " seized the half-hour just pre-
vious to post-time to assure " her friends of this or that ; 10
and Dr. Johnson was, as she said, her model in these
compositions. She drew herself up with dignity, and only
replied to Captain Brown's last remark by saying, with
marked emphasis on every syllable, " I prefer Dr. Johnson
to Mr. Boz." 15

It is said — I won't vouch for the fact — that Captain
Brown was heard to say, sotto voce^ " D — n Dr. John-
son ! " If he did, he was penitent afterwards, as he
showed by going to stand near Miss Jenkyns's armchair,
and endeavouring to beguile her into conversation on 20
some more pleasing subject. But she was inexorable.*
The next day she made the remark I have mentioned
about Miss Jessie's dimples.

1 Pertaining to letters. 2 Strong point.

* In low voice. * Not to be persuaded.

CHAPTER II

THE CAPTAIN

It was impossible to live a month at Cranford and not
know the daily habits of each resident ; and long before
my visit was ended I knew much concerning the whole
Brown trio. There was nothing new to be discovered re-

5 specting their poverty ; for they had spoken simply and
openly about that from the very first. They made no
mystery of the necessity for their being economical. All
that remained to be discovered was the Captain's infinite
kindness of heart, and the various modes in which, uncon-

10 sciously to himself, he manifested it. Some little anec-
dotes were talked about for some time after they occurred.
As we did not read much, and as all the ladies were pretty
well suited with servants, there was a dearth of subjects
for conversation. We therefore discussed the circum-

15 stance of the Captain taking a poor old woman's dinner
out of her hands one very slippery Sunday. He had met
her returning from the bakehouse as he came from church,
and noticed her precarious footing ; and, with the grave
dignity with which he did everything, he relieved her of

20 her burden, and steered along the street by her side,
carrying her baked mutton and potatoes safely home.
This was thought very eccentric ; and it was rather ex-
pected that he would pay a round of calls, on the Monday

42

Cranford 43

morning, to explain and apologize to the Cranford sense
of propriety : but he did no such thing : and then it was
decided that he was ashamed, and was keeping out of
sight. In a kindly pity for him, we began to say, " After
all, the Sunday morning's occurrence showed great good- 5
ness of heart," and it was resolved that he should be com-
forted on his next appearance amongst us ; but, lo ! he
came down upon us, untouched by any sense of shame,
speaking loud and bass as ever, his head thrown back,
his wig as jaunty and well-curled as usual, and we were 10
obliged to conclude he had forgotten all about Sunday.

Miss Pole and Miss Jessie Brown had set up a kind of
intimacy on the strength of the Shetland wool and the
new knitting stitches ; so it happened that when I went
to visit Miss Pole I saw more of the Browns than I had 15
done while staying with Miss Jenkyns, who had never got
over what she called Captain Brown's disparaging remarks
upon Dr. Johnson as a writer of light and agreeable fic-
tion. I found that Miss Brown was seriously ill of some
lingering, incurable complaint, the pain occasioned by 20
which gave the uneasy expression to her face that I had
taken for unmitigated^ crossness. Cross, too, she was at
times, when the nervous irritability occasioned by her dis-
ease became past endurance. Miss Jessie bore with her
at these times, even more patiently than she did with the 25
bitter self-upbraidings by which they were invariably suc-
ceeded. Miss Brown used to accuse herself, not merely of
hasty and irritable temper, but also of being the cause why her
father and sister were obliged to pinch, in order to allow her

1 Unlimited.

44 Cranford

the small luxuries which were necessaries in her condition.
She would so fain^ have made sacrifices for them, and have
lightened their cares, that the original generosity of her dis-
position added acerbity ^ to her temper. All this was
5 borne by Miss Jessie and her father with more than pla-
cidity — with absolute tenderness. I forgave Miss Jessie
her singing out of tune, and her juvenility of dress, when
I saw her at home. I came to perceive that Captain
Brown's dark Brutus wig and padded coat (alas ! too

10 often threadbare) were remnants of the military smartness
of his youth, which he now wore unconsciously. He was
a man of infinite resources, gained in his barrack experi-
ence. As he confessed, no one could black his boots to
please him except himself; but, indeed, he was not above

15 saving the little maid- servant's labours in every way —
knowing, most likely, that his daughter's illness made the
place a hard one.

He endeavoured to make peace with Miss Jenkyns soon
after the memorable dispute I have named, by a present

20 of a wooden fire-shovel (his own making), having heard
her say how much the grating of an iron one annoyed
her. She received the present with cool gratitude, and
thanked him formally. When he was gone, she bade me
put it away in the lumber-room ; feeling, probably, that

25 no present from a man who preferred Mr. Boz to Dr.
Johnson could be less jarring than an iron fire-shovel.
Such was the state of things when I left Cranford and
went to Drumble. I had, however, several correspond-
ents, who kept me aufait^ as to the proceedings of the
1 Gladly. 2 Bitterness. » Well instructed.

Cranford 45

dear little town. There was Miss Pole, who was becom-
ing as much absorbed in crochet as she had been once in
knitting, and the burden of whose letter was something
like, " But don't you forget the white worsted at Flint's "
of the old song ; for at the end of every sentence of news 5
came a fresh direction as to some crochet commission
which I was to execute for her. Miss Matilda Jenkyns
(who did not mind being called Miss Matty, when Miss
Jenkyns was not by) wrote nice, kind, rambling letters,
now and then venturing into an opinion of her own ; but 10
suddenly pulling herself up, and either begging me not to
name what she had said, as Deborah thought differently,
and she knew, or else putting in a postscript to the effect
that, since writing the above, she had been talking over
the subject with Deborah, and was quite convinced that, 15
&c. — (here probably followed a recantation of every
opinion she had given in the letter). Then came Miss
Jenkyns — Deb5rah, as she liked Miss Matty to call her,
her father having once said that the Hebrew name ought
to be so pronounced. I secretly think she took theao
Hebrew prophetess for a model in character; and, in-
deed, she was not unlike the stern prophetess in some
ways, making allowance, of course, for modern customs
and difference in dress. Miss Jenkyns wore a cravat, and
a little bonnet Hke a jockey-cap, and altogether had the 25
appearance of a strong-minded woman ; although she
would have despised the modern idea of women being
equal to men. Equal, indeed ! she knew they were
superior. But to return to her letters. Everything in
them was stately and grand like herself. I have been 30

46 Cranford

looking them over (dear Miss Jenkyns, how I honoured
her !), and I will give an extract, more especially because
it relates to our friend Captain Brown : —

" The Honourable Mrs. Jamieson has only just quitted

5 me ; and, in the course of conversation, she communi-
cated to me the intelligence that she had yesterday re-
ceived a call from her revered husband's quondam^ friend.
Lord Mauleverer. You will not easily conjecture what
brought his lordship within the precincts of our little

10 town. It was to see Captain Brown, with whom, it ap-
pears, his lordship was acquainted in the 'plumed wars,'
and who had the privilege of averting destruction from
his lordship's head when some great peril was impending
over it, off the misnomered Cape of Good Hope. You

15 know our friend the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson's deficiency
in the spirit of innocent curiosity; and you will therefore
not be so much surprised when I tell you she was quite
unable to disclose to me the exact nature of the peril in
question. I was anxious, I confess, to ascertain in

20 what manner Captain Brown, with his limited establish-
ment, could receive so distinguished a guest; and I
discovered that his lordship retired to rest, and, let us
hope, to refreshing slumbers, at the Angel Hotel ; but
shared the Brunonian ^ meals during the two days that he

25 honoured Cranford with his august presence. Mrs. John-
son, our civil butcher's wife, informs me that Miss Jessie
purchased a leg of lamb ; but, besides this, I can hear of
no preparation whatever to give a suitable reception to
so distinguished a visitor. Perhaps they entertained him
1 Former. ? Of the brown's.

Cranford 47

with * the feast of reason and the flow of soul ' ; and to us
who are acquainted with Captain Brown's sad want of
relish for ' the pure wells of English undefiled/ it may be
matter for congratulation that he has had the opportu-
nity of improving his taste by holding converse with an 5
elegant and refined member of the British aristocracy.
But from some mundane ^ failings who is altogether
free?"

Miss Pole and Miss Matty wrote to me by the same
post. Such a piece of news as Lord Mauleverer's visit 10
was not to be lost on the Cranford letter-writers : they
made the most of it. Miss Matty humbly apologized for
writing at the same time as her sister, who was so much
more capable than she to describe the honour done to
Cranford ; but in spite of a little bad spelling, Miss 15
Matty's account gave me the best idea of the com-
motion occasioned by his lordship's visit, after it had
occurred ; for, except the people at the Angel, the Browns,
Mrs. Jamieson, and a little lad his lordship had sworn at
for driving a dirty hoop against the aristocratic legs, 1 20
could not hear of any one with whom his lordship had
held conversation.

My next visit to Cranford was in the summer. There
had been neither births, deaths, nor marriages since I
was there lalst. Everybody lived in the same house, and 25
wore pretty nearly the same well-preserved, old-fashioned
clothes. The greatest event was, that the Miss Jenkynses
had purchased a new carpet for the drawing-room. Oh,
the busy work Miss Matty and I had in chasing the sun-

1 Worldly.

48 Cranford

beams, as they fell in an afternoon right down on this carpet
through the bUndless window! We spread newspapers
over the places, and sat down to our book or our work ;
and, lo ! in a quarter of an hour the sun had moved, and
5 was. blazing away on a fresh spot ; and down again we
went on our knees to alter the position of the news-
papers. We were very busy, too, one whole morning,
before Miss Jenkyns gave her party, in following her
directions, and in cutting out and stitching together

10 pieces of newspaper so as to form little paths to every

chair set for the expected visitors, lest their shoes might

dirty or defile the purity of the carpet. Do you make

paper paths for every guest to walk upon in London ?

Captain Brown and Miss Jenkyns were not very cor-

15 dial to each other. The literary dispute, of which I had
seen the beginning, was a "raw,"^ the slightest touch on
which made them wince. It was the only difference of
opinion they had ever had; but that difference was
enough. Miss Jenkyns could not refrain from talking at

20 Captain Brown; and, though he did not reply, he
drummed with his fingers, which action she felt and
resented as very disparaging to Dr. Johnson. He was
rather ostentatious ^ in. his preference of the writings of
Mr. Boz ; would walk through the streets so absorbed in

25 them that he all but ran against Miss Jenkyns ; and though
his apologies were earnest and sincere, and though he did
not, in fact, do more than startle her and himself, she
owned to me she had rather he had knocked her down,
if he had only been reading a higher style of literature.
1 Open sore. ^ Spectacular, purposely showy.

Cranford 49

The poor, brave Captain ! he looked older, and more
worn, and his clothes were very threadbare. But he
seemed as bright and cheerful as ever, unless he was
asked about his daughter's health.

" She suffers a great deal,- and she must suffer more : 5
we do what we can to alleviate her pain ; — God's will
be done ! " He took off his hat at these last words.
I found, from Miss Matty, that everything had been
done, in fact. A medical man, of high repute in that
country neighbourhood, had been sent for, and every 10
injunction he had given was attended to, regardless of
expense. Miss Matty was sure they denied themselves
many things in order to make the invaUd comfortable ;
but they never spoke about it; and as for Miss Jessie ! —
" I really think she's an angel," said poor Miss Matty, 15
quite overcome. " To see her way of bearing with Miss
Brown's crossness, and the bright face she puts on after
she's been sitting up a whole night and scolded above
half of it, is quite beautiful. Yet she looks as neat and
as ready to welcome the Captain at breakfast-time as if 20
she had been asleep in the Queen's bed all night. My
dear ! you could never laugh at her prim little curls or
her pink bows again if you saw her as I have done." I
could only feel very penitent, and greet Miss Jessie with
double respect when I met her next. She looked faded 25
and pinched ; and her lips began to quiver, as if she was
very weak, when she spoke of her sister. But she bright-
ened, and sent back the tears that were glittering in her
pretty eyes, as she said —

" But, to be sure, what a town Cranford is for kind- 30

CRANFORD — 4

50 Cranford

ness ! I don't suppose any one has a better dinner than
usual cooked, but the best part of all comes in a little
covered basin for my sister. The poor people will leave
their earliest vegetables at our door for her. They speak

5 short and gruff, as if they were ashamed of it ; but I am
sure it often goes to my heart to see their though tfulness.**
The tears now came back and overflowed ; but after a
minute or two she began to scold herself, and ended by
going away the same cheerful Miss Jessie as ever.

10 " But why does not this Lord Mauleverer do some-
thing for the man who saved his life ? " said I.

" Why, you see, unless Captain Brown has some reason
for it, he never speaks about being poor ; and he walked
along by his lordship looking as happy and cheerful as a

15 prince ; and as they never called attention to their din-
ner by apologies, and as Miss Brown was better that day,
and all seemed bright, I dare say his lordship never knew
how much care there was in the background. He did
send game in the winter pretty often, but now he is gone

20 abroad."

I had often occasion to notice the use that was made
of fragments and small opportunities in Cranford ; the
rose-leaves that were gathered ere they fell to make into
a pot-pourri ^ for some one who had no garden ; the little

25 bundles of lavender flowers sent to strew the drawers of
some town-dweller, or to burn in the chamber of some
invalid. Things that many would despise, and actions
which it seemed scarcely worth while to perform, were
all attended to in Cranford. Miss Jenkyns stuck an

1 Vase of flower leaves.

Cranford 5 1

apple foil of cloves, to be heated and smell pleasantly in
Miss Brown's room ; and as she put in each clove she
uttered a Johnsonian ^ sentence. Indeed, she never could
think of the Browns without talking Johnson ; and, as
they were seldom absent from her thoughts just then, 1 5
heard many a rolling, three-piled* sentence.

Captain Brown called one day to thank Miss Jenkyns
for many little kindnesses, which I did not know until
then that she had rendered. He had suddenly become
like an old man ; his deep bass voice had a quavering in 10
it, his eyes looked dim, and the lines on his face were
deep. He did not — could not — speak cheerfully of his
daughter's state, but he talked with manly, pious resigna-
tion, and not much. Twice over he said, " What Jessie
has been to us, God only knows ! " and after the second «5
time, he got up hastily, shook hands all round without
speaking, and left the room.

That afternoon we perceived little groups in the street,
all listening with faces aghast to some tale or other.
Miss Jenkyns wondered what could be the matter for 20
some time before she took the undignified step of send-
ing Jenny out to inquire.

Jenny came back with a white face of terror. " Oh,
ma'am ! oh, Miss Jenkyns, ma'am ! Captain Brown is
killed by them nasty cruel railroads ! " and she burst 25
into tears. She, along with many others, had experi-
enced the poor Captain's kindness.

" How ? — where — where ? Good God ! Jenny, don't

1 In the ponderous style of Dr. Samuel Johnson.
9 Clauses piled one upon another.

52 Cranford

waste time in crying, but tell us something." Miss
Matty rushed out into the street at once, and collared
the man who was telling the tale.

" Come in — come to my sister at once, Miss Jenkyns,
5 the rector's daughter. Oh, man, man ! say it is not
true," she cried, as she brought the affrighted carter,
sleeking down his hair, into the drawing-room, where
he stood with his wet boots on the new carpet, and no
one regarded it.

10 " Please, mum, it is true. I seed it myself," and he
shuddered at the recollection. "The Captain was a-
reading some new book as he was deep in, a-waiting for
the down train ; and there was a little lass as wanted to
come to its mammy, and gave its sister the slip, and came

15 toddling across the line.^ And he looked up sudden, at
the sound of the train coming, and seed the child, and he
darted on the line and cotched it up, and his foot slipped,
and the train came over him in no time. O Lord, Lord !
Mum, it's quite true — and they've come over to tell his

20 daughters. The child's safe, though, with only a bang on
its shoulder as he threw it to its mammy. Poor Captain
would be glad of that, mum, wouldn't he? God bless
him ! " The great rough carter puckered up his manly
face, and turned away to hide his tears. I turned to

25 Miss Jenkyns. She looked very ill, as if she were going
to faint, and signed to me to open the window.

" Matilda, bring me my bonnet. I must go to those
girls. God pardon me, if ever I have spoken con-
temptuously to the Captain ! "

^ The railroad tracks.

Cranford 53

Miss Jenk3nis arrayed herself to go out, telling Miss
Matilda to give the man a glass of wine. While she
was away, Miss Matty and I huddled over the fire,
talking in a low and awestruck voice. I know we cried
quietly all the time. 5

Miss Jenkyns came home in a silent mood, and we
durst not ask her many questions. She told us that
Miss Jessie had fainted, and that she and Miss Pole
had had some difficulty in bringing her round ; but
that, as soon as she recovered, she begged one of them 10
to go and sit with her sister.

" Mr. Hoggins says she cannot live many days, and
she shall be spared this shock," said Miss Jessie,
shivering with feelings to which she dared not give
way. 15

" But how can you manage, my dear ? " asked Miss
Jenkyns; "you cannot bear up; she must see your
tears."

" God will help me — I will not give way — she was
asleep when the news came ; she may be asleep yet. 20
She would be so utterly miserable, not merely at my
father's death, but to think of what would become of
me ; she is so good to me." She looked up earnestly
in their faces with her soft true eyes, and Miss Pole
told Miss Jenkyns afterwards she could hardly bear 25
it, knowing, as she did, how Miss Brown treated her
sister..

However, it was settled according to Miss Jessie's
wish. Miss Brown was to be told her father had been
summoned to take a short journey on railway business. 30

54 Cranford

They had managed it in some way — Miss Jenkyns
could not exactly say how. Miss Pole was to stop
with Miss Jessie. Mrs. Jamieson had sent to inquire.
And this was all we heard that night; and a sorrow-

5 ftil night it was. The next day a full account of the
fatal accident was in the county paper which Miss
Jenkyns took in. Her eyes were very weak, she said,
and she asked me to read it. When I came to the
"gallant gentleman was deeply engaged in the perusal

10 of a number of ' Pickwick,^ which he had just received,"
Miss Jenkyns shook her head long and solemnly, and
then sighed out, *' Poor, dear, infatuated ^ man ! "

The corpse was to be taken from the station to the
parish church, there to be interred. Miss Jessie had

15 set her heart on following it to the grave ; and no
dissuasives^ could alter her resolve. Her restraint upon
herself made her almost obstinate; she resisted all
Miss Pole's entreaties and Miss Jenkyns's advice. At
last Miss Jenkyns gave up the point ; and after a silence,

20 which I feared portended ^ some deep displeasure against
Miss Jessie, Miss Jenkyns said she should accompany
the latter to the funeral.

" It is not fit for you to go alone. It would be against
both propriety and humanity were I to allow it."

25 Miss Jessie seemed as if she did not half like this
arrangement ; but her obstinacy, if she had any, had
been exhausted in her determination to go to the . inter-
ment. She longed, poor thing, I have no doubt, to cry

1 Overcome by a foolish desire.
2 Arguments against it. ^ Predicted.

Cranford 55

alone over the grave of the dear father to whom she had
been all in all, and to give way, for one little half- hour,
uninterrupted by sympathy and unobserved by friend-
ship. But it was not to be. That afternoon Miss
Jenkyns sent out for a yard of black crape, and em- 5
ployed herself busily in trimming the little black silk
bonnet I have spoken about. When it was finished
she put it on, and looked at us for approbation — admi-
ration she despised. I was full of sorrow, but, by one of
those whimsical thoughts which come unbidden into our 10
heads, in times of deepest grief, I no sooner saw the
bonnet than I was reminded of a helmet ; and in that
hybrid ^ bonnet, half helmet, half jockey-cap, did Miss
Jenkyns attend Captain Brown's funeral, and, I believe,
supported Miss Jessie with a tender, indulgent firmness 15
which was invaluable, allowing her to weep her pas-
sionate fill before they left.

Miss Pole, Miss Matty, and I, meanwhile, attended
to Miss Brown: and hard work we found it to relieve
her querulous ^ and never-ending complaints. But if we 20
were so weary and dispirited, what must Miss Jessie have
been ! Yet she came back almost calm, as if she had
gained a new strength. She put off her mourning dress,
and came in, looking pale and gentle, thanking us each
with a soft long pressure of the hand. She could even 25
smile — a faint, sweet, wintry smile — as if to reassure
us of her power to endure ; but her look made our eyes
fill suddenly with tears, more than if she had cried out-
right.

^ Mixture of two species. ^ Quarrelsome.

56 Cranford

It was settled that Miss Pole was to remain with her
all the watching livelong night ; and that Miss Matty and
I were to return in the morning to relieve them, and
give Miss Jessie the opportunity for a few hours of sleep.
5 But when the morning came, Miss Jenkyns appeared at
the breakfast-table, equipped in her helmet-bonnet, and
ordered Miss Matty to stay at home, as she meant to go
and help to nurse. She was evidently in a state of
great friendly excitement, which she showed by eating

10 her breakfast standing, and scolding the household all
round.

No nursing — no energetic strong-minded woman

' could help Miss Brown now. There was that in the

room as we entered which was stronger than us all, and

15 made us shrink into solemn awestruck helplessness.
Miss Brown was dying. We hardly knew her voice, it
was so devoid of the complaining tone we had always
associated with it. Miss Jessie told me afterwards that
it, and her face too, were just what they had been

20 formerly, when her mother's death left her the young
anxious head of the family, of whom only Miss Jessie
survived.

She was conscious of her sister's presence, though not,
I think, of ours. We stood a little behind the curtain :

25 Miss Jessie knelt with her face near her sister's, in order
to catch the last soft awfiil whispers.

" O Jessie ! Jessie ! How selfish I have been ! God
forgive me for letting you sacrifice yourself for me as you
did ! I have so loved you — and yet I have thought

30 only of myself God forgive me ! "

Cranford 57

" Hush, love ! hush ! " said Miss Jessie, sobbing.

" And my father ! my dear, dear father ! 1 will not
complain now, if God will give me strength to be patient.
But, oh, Jessie ! tell my father how I longed and yearned
to see him at last, and to ask his forgiveness. He can 5
never know now how I loved him — oh ! if I might but tell
him, before I die ! What a life of sorrow his has been,
and I have done so little to cheer him ! "

A light came into Miss Jessie's face. " Would it com-
fort you, dearest, to think that he does know? — would it 10
comfort you, love, to know that his cares, his sorrows

" Her voice quivered, but she steadied it into

calmness — " Mary ! he has gone before you to the place
where the weary are at rest. He knows now how you
loved him." 15

A strange look, which was not distress, came over
Miss Brown's face. She did not speak for some time,
but then we saw her lips form the words, rather than
heard the sound — "Father, mother, Harry, Archy;"

— then, as if it were a new idea throwing a filmy shadow 20
over her darkened mind — "But you will be alone,
Jessie ! "

Miss Jessie had been feeling this all during the silence,
I think ; for the tears rolled down her cheeks like rain,
at these words, and she could not answer at first. Then 25
she put her hands together tight, and Hfted them up, and
said — but not to us —

" Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."

In a few moments more Miss Brown lay calm and still

— never to sorrow or murmur more. 30

58 Cranford

After this second funeral, Miss Jenkyns insisted that
Miss Jessie should come to stay with her rather than go
back to the desolate house, which, in fact, we learned
from Miss Jessie, must now be given up, as she had not
5 wherewithal to maintain it. She had something above
twenty pounds a year, besides the interest of the money
for which the furniture would sell; but she could not
live upon that : and so we talked over her qualifications
for earning money.

10 " I can sew neatly," said she, " and I like nursing. I
think, too, I could manage a house, if any one would
try me as housekeeper ; or I would go into a shop, as
saleswoman, if they would have patience with me at
first."

15 Miss Jenkyns declared, in an angry voice, that she
should do no such thing; and talked to herself about
"some people having no idea of their rank as a captain's
daughter," nearly an hour afterwards, when she brought
Miss Jessie up a basin of delicately made arrowroot, and

20 stood over her like a dragoon ^ until the last spoonful was
finished : then she disappeared. Miss Jessie began to
tell me some more of the plans which had suggested
themselves to her, and insensibly fell into talking of the
days that were past and gone, and interested me so much

25 1 neither knew nor heeded how time passed. We were
both startled when Miss Jenkyns reappeared, and caught
us crying. I was afraid lest she would be displeased, as
she often said that crying hindered digestion, and I knew

1 A soldier trained and armed to serve on foot or horseback, as
occasion may require.

Cranford 59

she wanted Miss Jessie to get strong ; but, instead, she
looked queer and excited, and fidgeted round us without
saying anything. At last she spoke.

" I have been so much startled — no, IVe not been at
all startled — don't mind me, my dear Miss Jessie — IVe 5
been very much surprised — in fact, IVe had a caller,
whom you knew once, my dear Miss Jessie "

Miss Jessie went very white, then flushed scarlet, and
looked eagerly at Miss Jenkyns.

" A gentleman, my dear, who wants to know if you 10
would see him."

"Is it? — it is not" — stammered out Miss Jessie —
and got no farther.

"This is his card," said Miss Jenkyns, giving it to
Miss Jessie ; and while her head was bent over it. Miss 15
Jenkyns went through a series of winks and odd faces to
me, and formed her lips into a long sentence, of which,
of course, I could not understand a word.

" May he come up ? " asked Miss Jenkyns, at last.

" Oh yes ! certainly ! " said Miss Jessie, as much as to 20
say, this is your house, you may show any visitor where
you like. She took up some knitting of Miss Matty's
and began to be very busy, though I could see how she
trembled all over.

Miss Jenkyns rang the bell, and told the servant who 25
answered it to show Major Gordon upstairs ; and, pres-
ently, in walked a tall, fine, frank-looking man of forty
or upwards. He shook hands with Miss Jessie ; but he
could not see her eyes, she kept them so fixed on the
ground. Miss Jenkyns asked me if I would come and 30

6o Cranford

help her to tie up the preserves in the store-room ; and,
though Miss Jessie plucked at my gown, and even looked
up at me with begging eye, I durst not refuse to go where
Miss Jenkyns asked. Instead of tying up preserves in
5 the store-room, however, we went to talk in the dining-
room ; and there Miss Jenkyns told me what Major
Gordon had told her ; how he had served in the same
regiment with Captain Brown, and had become acquainted
with Miss Jessie, then a sweet-looking, blooming girl of

10 eighteen ; how the acquaintance had grown into love on
his part, though it had been some years before he had
spoken ; how, on becoming possessed, through the will
of an uncle, of a good estate in Scotland, he had offered
and been refused, though with so much agitation and

15 evident distress that he was sure she was not indifferent
to him ; and how he had discovered that the obstacle
was the felP disease which was, even then, too surely
threatening her sister. She had mentioned that the sur-
geons foretold intense suffering ; and there was no one

20 but herself to nurse her poor Mary, or cheer and comfort
her father during the time of illness. They had had long
discussions ; and on her refusal to pledge herself to him
as his wife when all should be over, he had grown angry,
and broken off entirely, and gone abroad, believing that

25 she was a cold hearted person whom he would do well
id forget. He had been travelling in the East, and was
on his return home when, at Rome, he saw the account
of Captain Brown's death in GalignanL

Just then Miss Matty, who had been out all the morn-

1 Cruel.

Cranford 6 1

ing, and had only lately returned to the house, burst in
with a face of dismay and outraged propriety.

" Oh, goodness me ! " she said. " Deborah, there's a
gentleman sitting in the drawing-room with his arm
round Miss Jessie's waist ! " Miss Matty's eyes looked 5
large with terror.

Miss Jenkyns snubbed her down in an instant.

" The most proper place in the world for his arm to
be in. Go away, Matilda, and mind your own business."
This from her sister, who had hitherto been a model of 10
feminine decorum,^ was a blow for poor Miss Matty, and
with a double shock she left the room.

The last time I ever saw poor Miss Jenkyns was many
years after this. Mrs. Gordon had kept up a warm and
affectionate intercourse with all at Cranford. Miss Jen- 15
kyns. Miss Matty, and Miss Pole had all been to visit her,
and returned with wonderful accounts of her house, her
husband, her dress, and her looks. For, with happiness,
something of her early bloom returned; she had been
a year or two younger than we had taken her for. Her 20
eyes were always lovely, and, as Mrs. Gordon, her dimples
were not out of place. At the time to which I have re-
ferred, when I last saw Miss Jenkyns, that lady was old
and feeble, and had lost something of her strong mind.
Little Flora Gordon was staying with the Misses Jenkyns, 25
and when I came in she was reading aloud to Miss Jen-
kyus, who lay feeble and changed on the sofa. Flora
put down the Rambler when I came in.

"Ah 1" said Miss Jenkyns, " you find me changed, my

1 Behaviour.

62 Cranford

dear. I can't see as I used to do. If Flora were not
here to read to me, I hardly know how I should get
through the day. Did you ever read the Rambler ? It's a
wonderful book — wonderful ! and the most improving
5 reading for Flora " (which I dare say it would have been,
if she could have read half the words without spelling,
and could have understood the meaning of a third),
" better than that strange old book, with the queer name,
poor Captain Brown was killed for reading — that book
10 by Mr. Boz, you know — ' Old Poz ' ; when I was a girl —
but that's a long time ago — I acted Lucy in * Old
Poz.' " She babbled on long enough for Flora to get a
good long spell at the '* Christmas Carol," which Miss
Matty had left on the table.

CHAPTER III

A LOVE AFFAIR OF LONG AGO

I THOUGHT that probably my connexion with Cranford
would cease after Miss Jenk5nis*s death ; at least, that it
would have to be kept up by correspondence, which bears
much the same relation to personal intercourse that the
books of dried plants I sometimes see (" Hortus Siccus,"^ 5
I think they call the thing) do to the living and fresh
flowers in the lanes and meadows. I was pleasantly sur-
prised, therefore, by receiving a letter from Miss Pole
(who had always come in for a supplementary week after
my annual visit to Miss Jenkyns) proposing that I should lo
go and stay with her ; and then, in a couple of days after
my acceptance, came a note from Miss Matty, in which,
in a rather circuitous and very humble manner, she told
me how much pleasure I should confer if I could spend
a week or two with her, either before or after I had been 15
at Miss Pole's ; " for," she said, " since my dear sister's
death I am well aware I have no attractions to offer ; it
is only to the kindness of my friends that I can owe their
company."

Of course I promised to come to dear Miss Matty as 20
soon as I had ended my visit to Miss Pole ; and the day
after my arrival at Cranford I went to see her, much

^ A collection of specimens of plants dried and preserved.

63

64 Cranford

wondering what the house would be like without Miss
Jenkyns, and rather dreading the changed aspect of
things. Miss Matty began to cry as soon as she saw me.
She was evidently nervous from having anticipated my
5 call. I comforted her as well as I could ; and I found
the best consolation I could give was the honest praise
that came from my heart as I spoke of the deceased.
Miss Matty slowly shook her head over each virtue as it
was named and attributed to her sister ; and at last she

10 could not restrain the tears which had long been silently
flowing, but hid her face behind her handkerchief and
sobbed aloud.

" Dear Miss Matty," said I, taking her hand — for
indeed I did not know in what way to tell her how sorry

15 I was for her, left deserted in the world. She put down
her handkerchief and said —

" My dear, I'd rather you did not call me Matty. She
did not like it ; but I did many a thing she did not like,
I^m afraid — and now she's gone! If you please, my

20 love, will you call me Matilda? "

I promised faithfully, and began to practise the new
name with Miss Pole that very day ; and, by degrees,
Miss Matilda's feeling on the subject was known through
Cranford, and we all tried to drop the more familiar

25 name, but with so little success that by-and-by we gave
up the attempt.

My visit to Miss Pole was very quiet. Miss Jenkyns
had so long taken the lead in Cranford that, now she was
gone, they hardly knew how to give a party. The Hon-

30 curable Mrs. Jamieson, to whom Miss Jenkyns herself

Cranford 65

had always yielded the post of honour, was fat and inert,^
and very much at the mercy of her old servants. If they
chose that she should give a party, they reminded her of
the necessity for so doing : if not, she let it alone. There
was all the more time for me to hear old-world stories 5
from Miss Pole, while she sat knitting, and I making my
father*s shirts. I always took a quantity of plain sewing
to Cranford ; for, as we did not read much, or walk
much, I found it a capital time to get through my work.
One of Miss Pole's stories related to a shadow of a love 10
affair that was dimly perceived or suspected long years
before.

Presently, the time arrived when I was to remove to
Miss Matilda's house. I found her timid and anxious
about the arrangements for my comfort. Many a time, 15
while I was unpacking, did she come backwards and for-
wards to stir the fire, which burned all the worse for being
so frequently poked.

*' Have you drawers enough, dear?" asked she. "I
don't know exactly how my sister used to arrange them. 20
She had capital methods. I am sure she would have
trained a servant in a week to make a better fire than
this, and Fanny has been with me four months."

This subject of servants was a standing grievance, and
I could not wonder much at it ; for if gentlemen were 25
scarce, and almost unheard of in the " genteel society "
of Cranford, they or their counterparts — handsome young
men — abounded in the lower classes. The pretty neat
servant-maids had their choice of desirable "followers"^;

1 Inactive. ^ Suitors.

CRANFORD — 5

66 Cranford

and their mistresses, without having the sort of mysteri-
ous dread of men and matrimony that Miss Matilda had,
might well feel a little anxious lest the heads of their
comely maids should be turned by the joiner,^ or the

5 butcher, or the gardener, who were obliged, by their call-
ings, to come to the house, and who, as ill-luck would
have it, were generally handsome and unmarried. Fanny's
lovers, if she had any — and Miss Matilda suspected her
of so many flirtations that, if she had not been very

10 pretty, I should have doubted her having one — were a
constant anxiety to her mistress. She was forbidden, by
the articles ^ of her engagement, to have " followers " ;
and though she had answered, innocently enough, doub-
ling up the hem of her apron as she spoke, " Please,

15 ma'am, I never had more than one at a time," Miss Matty
prohibited that one. But a vision of a man seemed to
haunt the kitchen. Fanny assured me that it was all
fancy, or else I should have said myself that I had seen a
man's coat-tails whisk into the scullery* once, when I

20 went on an errand into the store-room at night; and
another evening, when, our watches having stopped, I
went to look at the clock, there was a very odd appear-
ance, singularly like a young man squeezed up between
the clock and the back of the open kitchen-door : and I

25 thought Fanny snatched up the candle very hastily, so as
to throw the shadow on the clock face, while she very
positively told me the time half-an-hour too early, as we
found out afterwards by the church clock. But I did not

1 Carpenter. ^ Agreement when hired.

^ Place where kettles, etc., are kept.

Cranford 67

add to Miss Matty's anxieties by naming my suspicions,
especially as Fanny said to me, the next day, that it was
such a queer kitchen for having odd shadows about it,
she really was almost afraid to stay; "for you know,
miss," she added, " I don*t see a creature from six 5
o'clock tea, till Missus rings the bell for prayers at ten."
However, it so fell out that Fanny had to leave;
and Miss Matilda begged me to stay and " settle her "
with the new maid; to which I consented, after I had
heard from my father that he did not want me at 10
home. The new servant was a rough, honest-looking,
country girl, who had only lived in a farm place before ;
but I liked her looks when she came to be hired ; and
I promised Miss Matilda to put her in the ways of the
house. The said ways were religiously such as Miss 15
Matilda thought her sister would approve. Many a
domestic rule and regulation had been a subject of
plaintive whispered murmur to me during Miss Jenkyns's
life ; but now that she was gone, I do not think that
even I, who was a favourite, durst have suggested an 20
alteration. To give an instance : we constantly adhered
to the forms which were observed, at meal-times, in
" my father, the rector's house." Accordingly, we had
always wine and dessert ; but the decanters were only
filled when there was a party, and what remained was 25
seldom touched, though we had two wine-glasses apiece
every day after dinner, until the next festive occasion
arrived, when the state of the remainder^ wine was
examined into in a family council. The dregs were

1 Left over.

68 Cranford

often given to the poor : bat occasionaDy, when a good
deal had been left at the last party (^five months ago,
it might be;, it was added to some of a fresh bottle,
brought up from the cellar. I famcj poor Captain Brown
5 did not much like wine, for I noticed he never finished
his first glass, and most military men take several.
Then, as to our dessert. Miss Jenkyns used to gather
currants and gooseberries for it herself, which I some-
times thought would have tasted better fresh from the
10 trees; but then, as Miss Jenkyns observed, there would
have been nothing for dessert in summer time. As it
was, we felt vfery genteel with our two glasses apiece,
and a dish of gooseberries at the top, of currants and
biscuits at the sides, and two decanters at the bottom.^
15 When oranges came in, a curious proceeding was gone
through. Miss Jenkyns did not like to cut the fruit ;
for, as she observed, the juice all ran out nobody knew
where ; sucking (only I think she used some more
recondite^ word) was in fact the only way of enjoying
ao oranges ; but then there was the unpleasant association
with a ceremony frequently gone through by little
babies ; and so, after dessert, in orange season. Miss
Jenkyns and Miss Matty used to rise up, possess them-
selves each of an orange in silence, and withdraw to
as the privacy of their own rooms to indulge in sucking

oranges.

I had once or twice tried, on such occasions, to
prevail on Miss Matty to stay, and had succeeded in
her sister's lifetime. I held up a screen, and did not
1 Foot of the table. ^ Learned.

Cranford 69

look, and, as she said, she tried not to make the noise
very offensive ; but now that she was left alone, she
seemed quite horrified when I begged her to remain
with me in the warm dining-parlour, and enjoy her
orange as she liked best. And so it was in everything. 5
Miss Jenkyns's rules were made more stringent than
ever, because the framer of them was gone where there
could be no appeal. In all things else Miss Matilda
was meek and undecided to a fault. I have heard
Fanny turn her round twenty times in a morning about 10
dinner, just as the little hussy * chose ; and I sometimes
fancied she worked on Miss Matilda's weakness in order
to bewilder her, and to make her feel more in the
power of her clever servant. I determined that I
would not leave her till I had seen what sort of a 15
person Martha was ; and, if I found her trustworthy,
I would tell her not to trouble her mistress with every
little decision.

Martha was blunt and plain-spoken to a fault ; other-
wise she was a brisk, well-meaning, but very ignorant 20
girl. She had not been with us a week before Miss Ma-
tilda and I were astounded one morning by the receipt
of a letter from a cousin of hers, who had been twenty
or thirty years in India, and who had lately, as we had
seen by the "Army List," returned to England, bringing 25
with him an invalid wife who had never been introduced
to her English relations. Major Jenkyns wrote to pro-
pose that he and his wife should spend a night at Cran-
ford, on his way to Scotland — at the inn, if it did not

1 An ill-behaved girl.

yo Cranford

suit Miss Matilda to receive them into her house ; in which
case they should hope to be with her as much as possible
during the day. Of course it must suit her, as she said ;
for all Cranford knew that she had her sister's bedroom
5 at Hberty ; but I am sure she wished the Major had
stopped in India and forgotten his cousins out and out.

"Oh! how must I manage?" asked she helplessly.
" If Deborah had been alive she would have known what
to do with a gentleman-visitor. Must I put razors in his

10 dressing-room ? Dear! dear! and I Ve got none. Deb-
orah would have had them. And slippers, and coat-
brushes ? " I suggested that probably he would bring
all these things with him. " And after dinner, how am I
to know when to get up and leave him to his wine ? Deb-

15 orah would have done it so well ; she would have been
quite in her element. Will he want coffee, do you think? "
I undertook the management of the coffee, and told her
I would instruct Martha in the art of waiting ^ — in which
it must be owned she was terribly deficient — and that I

20 had no doubt Major and Mrs. Jenkyns would understand
the quiet mode in which a lady lived by herself in a coun-
try town. But she was sadly fluttered. I made her empty
her decanters and bring up two fresh bottles of wine.
I wished I could have prevented her from being present

25 at my instructions to Martha, for she frequently cut in
with some fresh direction, muddling the poor girl's mind,
as she stood open-mouthed, listening to us both.

" Hand the vegetables round, " said I (foolishly, I see
now — for it was aiming at more than we could accom-

^ Serving at table.

Cranford 7 1

plish with quietness and simplicity) ; and then, seeing her
look bewildered, I added, " take the vegetables round to
people, and let them help themselves."

" And mind you go first to the ladies, " put in Miss
Matilda. " Always go to the ladies before gentlemen 5
when you are waiting/'

" ru do it as you tell me, ma'am, " said Martha ; " but
I like lads best."

We felt very uncomfortable and shocked at this speech
of Martha's, yet I don't think she meant any harm ; and, 10
on the whole, she attended very well to our directions, ex-
cept that she " nudged" the Major when he did not help
himself as soon as she expected to the potatoes, while
she was handing them round.

The Major and his wife were quiet, unpretending peo- 15
pie enough when they did come ; languid, as all East
Indians are, I suppose. We were rather dismayed at their
bringing two servants with them, a Hindoo body-servant*
for the Major, and a steady elderly maid for his wife : but
they slept at the inn, and took off a good deal of the re- 20
sponsibility by attending carefully to their master's and
mistress's comfort. Martha, to be sure, had never ended
her staring at the East Indian's white turban and brown
complexion, and I saw that Miss Matilda shrunk away
from him a little as he waited at dinner. Indeed, sheas
asked me, when they were gone, if he did not remind me
of Blue Beard ? On the whole, the visit was most satis-
factory, and is a subject of conversation even now with
Miss Matilda ; at the time it greatly excited Cranford,

^ A personal servant, a valet.

72 Cranford

and even stirred up the apathetic and Honourable Mrs.
Jamieson to some expression of interest, when I went to
call and thank her for the kind answers she had vouch-
safed ^ to Miss Matilda's inquiries as to the arrangement
5 of a gentleman's dressing-room — answers which I must
confess she had given in the wearied manner of the
Scandinavian prophetess —

" Leave me, leave me to repose."

And now I come to the love affair.

10 It seems that Miss Pole had a cousin, once or twice re-
moved, who had offered^ to Miss Matty long ago. Now
this cousin lived four or five miles from Cranford on his
own estate ; but his property was not large enough to en-
title him to rank higher than a yeoman ; or rather, with

15 something of the " pride which apes humility," he had
refused to push himself on, as so many of his class had
done, into the ranks of the squires. He would not allow
himself to be called Thomas Holbrook, Esq, /he even
sent back letters with this address, telling the postmis-

20 tress at Cranford that his name was Mr, Thomas Hol-
brook, yeoman. He rejected all domestic innovations \
he would have the house door stand open in summer and
shut in winter, without knocker or bell to summon a ser-
vant. The closed fist or the knob of the stick did this

25 office for him if he found the door locked. He despised

every refinement which had not its root deep down in

humanity. If people were not ill, he saw no necessity

for moderating his voice. He spoke the dialect of the

1 Condescended to grant* ^ Offered biinself in marriage.

Cranford 73

country in perfection, and constantly used it in conversa-
tion ; although Miss Pole (who gave me these particulars)
added, that he read aloud more beautifully and with more
feeling than any one she had ever heard, except the late
rector. 5

"And how came Miss Matilda not to marry him?"
asked I.

" Oh, I don't know. She was willing enough, I think ;
but you know Cousin Thomas would not have been enough
of a gentleman for the rector and Miss Jenkyns." 10

" Well ! but they were not to marry him," said I im-
patiently.

" No ; but they did not like Miss Matty to marry be-
low her rank. You know she was the rector's daughter,
and somehow they are related to Sir Peter Arley ; Miss 15
Jenkyns thought a deal of that."

" Poor Miss Matty! " said I.

" Nay, now, I don't know anything more than that he
offered and was refused. Miss Matty might not like him
— and Miss Jenkyns might never have said a word — it 20
is only a guess of mine."

" Has she never seen him since ? "

" No, I think not. You see Woodley, cousin Thomas's
house, lies half-way between Cranford and Misselton ; and
I know he made Misselton his market-town very soon 25
after he had offered to Miss Matty ; and I don't think he
has been into Cranford above once or twice since — once,
when I was walking with Miss Matty, in High Street, and
suddenly she darted from me, and went up Shire Lane. A
few minutes after I was startled by meeting cousin Thomas." 30

74 Cranford

"How old is he?" I asked, after a pause of castle-
building.

" He must be about seventy, I think, my dear," said
Miss Pole, blowing up my castle, as if by gunpowder, into

5 small fragments.

Very soon after — at least during my long visit to Miss
Matilda — I had the opportunity of seeing Mr. Holbrook ;
seeing, too, his first encounter with his former love, after
thirty or forty years* separation. I was helping to decide

10 whether any of the new assortment of coloured silks which
they had just received at the shop would do to match a
grey and black mousseline-de-laine ^ that wanted a new
breadth, when a tall, thin, Don Quixote-looking ^ old man
came into the shop for some woollen gloves. I had never

15 seen the person (who was rather striking) before, and I
watched him rather attentively while Miss Matty listened
to the shopman. The stranger wore a blue coat with
brass buttons, drab breeches, and gaiters, and drummed
with his fingers on the counter until he was attended to.

20 When he answered the shop-boy's question, " What can
I have the pleasure of showing you to-day, sir ? " I saw
Miss Matilda start, and then suddenly sit down ; and in-
stantly I guessed who it was. She had made some inquiry
which had to be carried round to the other shopman.

25 " Miss Jenkyns wants the black sarsenet' two-and-two-
pence the yard ; " and Mr. Holbrook had caught the name,
and was across the shop in two strides.

1 Untwilled woollen cloth made in various colours and printed in
various patterns.

'^ Extravagantly romantic. ^ A thin-woven silk.

Cranford 75

" Matty — Miss Matilda — Miss Jenkyns ! God bless
my soul ! I should not have known you. How are you ?
how are you?" He kept shaking her hand in away
which proved the warmth of his friendship ; but he re-
peated so often, as if to himself, " I should not have 5
known you ! " that any sentimental romance which I
might be inclined to build was quite done away with by
his manner.

However, he kept talking to us all the time we were in the
shop ; and then waving the shopman with the unpurchased 10
gloves on one side, with " Another time, sir ! another
time 1 " he walked home with us. I am happy to say my
client,^ Miss Matilda, also left the shop in an equally
bewildered state, not having purchased either green or
red silk. Mr. Holbrook was evidently full with honest 15
loud-spoken joy at meeting his old love again ; he touched
on the changes that had taken place ; he even spoke of
Miss Jenkyns as " Your poor sister ! Well, well I we
have all our faults ; " and bade us good-bye with many a
hope that he should soon see Miss Matty again. She 20
went straight to her room, and never came back till our
early tea-time, when I thought she looked as if she had
been crying.

^ Dependant.

CHAPTER IV

A VISIT TO AN OLD BACHELOR

A FEW days after, a note came from Mr. Holbrook,
asking us, — impartially asking both of us — in a formal,
old-fashioned style, to spend a day at his house — a long
June day — for it was June now. He named that he
5 had also invited his cousin. Miss Pole ; so that we might
join in a fly,^ which could be put up at his house.

I expected Miss Matty to jump at this invitation ; but,
no ! Miss Pole and I had the greatest difficulty in per-
suading her to go. She thought it was improper ; and

10 was even half annoyed when we utterly ignored the idea
of any impropriety in her going with two other ladies to
see her old lover. Then came a more serious difficulty.
She did not think Deborah would have liked her to go.
This took us half a day's good hard talking to get over ;

15 but, at the first sentence of relenting, I seized the oppor-
tunity, and wrote and dispatched an acceptance in her
name — fixing day and hour, that all might be decided
and done with.

The next morning she asked me if I would go down to

20 the shop with her ; and there, after much hesitation, we
chose out three caps to be sent home and tried on, that

^ A light carriage.

76

Cranford 77

the most becoming might be selected to take with us on
Thursday.

She was in a state of silent agitation all the way to
Woodley. She had evidently never been there before ;
and, although she little dreamt I knew anything of her 5
early story, I could perceive she was in a tremor at the
thought of seeing the place which might have been her
home, and round which it is probable that many of her
innocent: girlish imaginations had clustered. It was a
long drive there, through paved jolting lanes. Miss 10
Matilda sat bolt upright, and looked wistfully out of the
windows as we drew near the end of our journey. The
aspect of the country was quiet and pastoral. Woodley
stood among fields ; and there was an old-fashioned gar-
den where roses and currant-bushes touched each other, 15
and where the feathery asparagus formed a pretty back-
ground to the pinks and gillyflowers ; there was no drive
up to the door. We got out at a little gate, and walked
up a straight box-edged path.

"My cousin might make a drive,^ I think," said Miss 20
Pole, who was afraid of earache, and had only her cap on.

" I think it is very pretty," said Miss Matty, with a
soft plaintiveness in her voice, and almost in a whisper,
for just then Mr. Holbrook appeared at the door, rub-
bing his hands in very effervescence ^ of hospitality. He 25
looked more like my idea of Don Quixote than ever,
and yet the likeness was only external. His respectable
housekeeper stood modestly at the door to bid us wel-
come; and, while she led the elder ladies upstairs to a
^ Driveway, ^ Irrepressed exhibition of feeling.

7 8 Cranford

bedroom, I begged to look about the garden. My re-
quest evidently pleased the old gentleman, who took me
all round the place and showed me his six-and-twenty
cows, named after the different letters of the alphabet.
5 As we went along, he surprised me occasionally by re-
peating apt and beautiful quotations from the poets,
ranging easily from Shakespeare and George Herbert to
those of our own day. He did this as naturally as if he
were thinking aloud, and their true and beautiful words

10 were the best expression he could find for what he was
thinking or feeling. To be sure he called Byron *' my
Lord Byrron," and pronounced the name of Goethe
strictly in accordance with the Enghsh sound of the
letters — " As Goethe says, * Ye ever-verdant palaces,' "

15 &c. Altogether, I never met with a man, before or since,
who had spent so long a life in a secluded and not im-
pressive country, with ever-increasing delight in the
daily and yearly change of season and beauty.

When he and I went in, we found that dinner was

20 nearly ready in the kitchen — for so I suppose the room
ought to be called, as there were oak dressers and cup-
boards all round, all over by the side of the fireplace, and
only a small Turkey carpet in the middle of the flag-
floor.^ The room might have been easily made into a

25 handsome dark oak dining-parlour by removing the oven
and a few other appurtenances ^ of a kitchen, which were
evidently never used, the real cooking-place being at some
distance. The room in which we were expected to sit
was a stiffly- furnished, ugly apartment ; but that in which
1 Floor of flat stones. 2 Things belonging to.

Cranford 79

we did sit was what Mr. Hoi brook called the counting-
house, when he paid his labourers their weekly wages at
a great desk near the door. The rest of the pretty sitting-
room — looking into the orchard, and all covered over
with dancing tree-shadows — was filled with books. They 5
lay on the ground, they covered the walls, they strewed
the table. He was evidently half ashamed and half proud
of his extravagance in this respect. They were of all
kinds — poetry and wild weird tales prevailing. He
evidently chose his books in accordance with his own 10
tastes, not because such and such were classical or estab-
lished favourites.

"Ah ! " he said, "we farmers ought not to have much
time for reading ; yet somehow one can't help it."

" What a pretty room ! " said Miss Matty, sotto voce, 15

"What a pleasant place ! '' said I, aloud, almost simul-
taneously.

" Nay ! if you like it," replied he ; " but can you sit on
these great, black leather, three-cornered chairs? I like
it better than the best parlour; but I thought ladies 20
would take that for the smarter place."

It was the smarter place, but, like most smart things,
not at all pretty, or pleasant, or home-like ; so, while we
were at dinner, the servant- girl dusted and scrubbed the
counting-room chairs, and we sat there all the rest of 25
the day.

We had pudding before meat; and I thought Mr.
Holbrook was going to make some apology for his old-
^shioned ways, for he began —

" I don't know whether you like new-fangled ways." 30

8o Cranford

" Oh, not at all ! " said Miss Matty.
" No more do I," said he. " My housekeeper Tvill
have these in her new fashion; or else I tell her that,
when 1 was a young man, we used to keep strictly to my
5 father's rule, * No broth, no ball ; no ball, no beef; ' and
always began dinner with broth. Then we had suet
puddings, boiled in the broth with the beef; and then
the meat itself If we did not sup our broth, we had no
ball, which we liked a deal better ; and the beef came

10 last of all, and only those had it who had done justice
to the broth and the ball. Now folks begin with sweet
things, and turn their dinners topsy-turvy."

When the ducks and green peas came, we looked at
each other in dismay ; we had only two- pronged, black-

15 handled forks. It is true the steel was as bright as
silver; but what were we to do? Miss Matty picked up
her peas, one by one, on the point of the prongs, much
as Amin^ ate her grains of rice after her previous feast
with the Ghoul. Miss Pole sighed over her delicate

20 young peas as she left them on one side of her plate un-
tasted, for they would drop between the prongs. I looked
at my host : the peas were going wholesale into his
capacious mouth, shovelled up by his large, round-ended
knife. I saw, I imitated, I survived ! My friends, in

25 spite of my precedent, could not muster up courage

enough to do an ungenteel thing ; and, if Mr. Holbrook

had not been so heartily hungry, he would probably have

seen that the good peas went away almost untouched.

After dinner, a clay pipe was brought in, and a

30 spittoon ; and, asking us to retire to another room, where

Cranford 8 1

he would soon join us, if we disliked tobacco-smoke, he
presented his pipe to Miss Matty, and requested her to
fill the bowl. This was a compliment to a lady in his
youth ; but it was rather inappropriate to propose it as an
honour to Miss Matty, who had been trained by her sister 5
to hold smoking of every kind in utter abhorrence. But
if it was a shock to her refinement, it was also a grati-
fication to her feelings to be thus selected ; so she daintily
stuffed the strong tobacco into the pipe, and then we
withdrew. 10

" It is very pleasant dining with a bachelor," said
Miss Matty softly, as we settled ourselves in the count-
ing-house. " I only hope it is not improper ; so many
pleasant things are ! "

" What a number of books he has ! " said Miss Pole, 15
looking round the room. " And how dusty they are ! "

" 1 think it must be Hke one of the great Dr. Johnson's
rooms," said Miss Matty. " What a superior man your
cousin must be 1 "

"Yes ! " said Miss Pole, " he's a great reader; but 1 20
am afraid he has got into very uncouth ^ habits with
living alone."

" Oh I uncouth is too hard a word. I should call him
eccentric ; very clever people always are 1" replied Miss
Matty. 25

When Mr. Holbrook returned, he proposed a walk in
the fields ; but the two elder ladies were afraid of damp,
and dirt, and had only very unbecoming calashes * to put
on over their caps ; so they declined, and I was again his

1 Boorish, awkward. ^ Hoods (p. 132, lines 3-5),

CRANFORD — 6

8 2 Cranford

companion in a turn which he said he was obliged to
take to see after his men. He strode along, either wholly
forgetting my existence, or soothed into silence by his
pipe — and yet it was not silence exactly. He walked

5 before me with a stooping gait, his hands clasped behind
him ; and, as some tree or cloud, or glimpse of distant
upland pastures, struck him, he quoted poetry to himself,
saying it out loud in a grand, sonorous voice, with just
the emphasis that true feeling and appreciation give.

10 We came upon an old cedar tree, which stood at one end
of the house —

" The cedar spreads his dark-green layers of shade."

" Capital term — * layers ' ! Wonderful man I " I did

not know whether he was speaking to me or not ; but I

15 put in an assenting " wonderful," although I knew nothing

about it, just because I was tired of being forgotten, and

of being consequently silent.

He turned sharp round. " Ay ! you may say * wonder-
ful.' Why, when I saw the review of his poems in Black-
20 wood, I set off within an hour, and walked seven miles to
Missel ton (for the horses were not in the way) and or-
dered them. Now, what colour are ashbuds in March? "

Is the man going mad? thought I. He is very hke
Don Quixote.
25 "What colour are they, I say?" repeated he vehe-
mently.

" I am sure I don't know, sir," said I, with the meek-
ness of ignorance.

"I knew you didn't. No more did I — an old fool

Cranford 83

that I am ! — till this young man comes and tells me.
Black as ashbuds in March. And I've lived all my life
in the country ; more shame for me not to know. Black :
they are jet-black, madam." And he went off again,
swinging along to the music of some rhyme he had got 5
hold of.

When we came back, nothing would serve him but he
must read us the poems he had been speaking of; and
Miss Pole encouraged him in his proposal, I thought,
because she wished me to hear his beautiful reading, of 10
which she had boasted ; but she afterwards said it was
because she had got to a difficult part of her crochet,
and wanted to count her stitches without having to talk.
Whatever he had proposed would have been right to Miss
Matty; although she did fall sound asleep within five 15
minutes after he had begun a long poem, called " Locks-
ley Hall," and had a comfortable nap, unobserved, till he
ended ; when the cessation of his voice wakened her up,
and she said, feeling that something was expected, and
that Miss Pole was counting — 20

What a pretty book ! "

Pretty, madam ! it's beautiful ! Pretty, indeed ! "
Oh yes ! I meant beautiful 1 " said she, fluttered
at his disapproval of her word. "It is so like that
beautiful poem of Dr. Johnson's my sister used to read 25
— I forget the name of it; what was it, my dear?"
turning to me.

"Which do you mean, ma'am? What was it about?"

" I don't remember what it was about, and I've quite

forgotten what the name of it was ; but it was written by 30

84 Cranford

Dr. Johnson, and was very beautiful, and very like what
Mr. Holbrook has just been reading."

" I don't remember it," said he reflectively. " But I
don't know Dr. Johnson's poems well. I must read them."
5 As we were getting into the fly to return, I heard Mr.
Holbrook say he should call on the ladies soon, and
inquire how they got home ; and this evidently pleased
and fluttered Miss Matty at the time he said it ; but after
we had lost sight of the old house among the trees, her

10 sentiments towards the master of it were gradually ab-
sorbed into a distressing wonder as to whether Martha
had broken her word, and seized on the opportunity of
her mistress's absence to have a " follower." Martha
looked good, and steady, and composed enough, as she

15 came to help us out; she was /ilways careful of Miss
Matty, and to-night she made use of this unlucky
speech —

" Eh ! dear ma'am, to think of your going out in an
evening in such a thin shawl ! It's no better than muslin.

20 At your age, ma'am, you should be careful."

" My age ! " said Miss Matty, almost speaking crossly,
for her, for she was usually gentle — " My age ! Why,
how old do you think I am, that you talk about my
age?"

25 " Well, ma'am, I should say you were not far short of
sixty : but folks' looks is often against them — and Tra
sure I meant no harm."

"Martha, I'm not yet fifty-two ! " said Miss Matty, with
grave emphasis ; for probably the remembrance of her

30 youth had come very vividly before her this day, and she

Cranford 85

was annoyed at finding that golden time so far away in
the past.

But she never spoke of any former and more intimate
acquaintance with Mr. Holbrook. She had probably met
with so little sympathy in her early love, that she had shut 5
it up close in her heart ; and it was only by a sort of
watching, which I could hardly avoid since Miss Pole's
confidence, that I saw how faithful her poor heart had
been in its sorrow and its silence.

She gave me some good reason for wearing her best 10
cap every day, and sat near the window, in spite of her
rheumatism, in order to see, without being seen, down
into the street.

He came. He put his open palms upon his knees,
which were far apart, as he sat with his head bent down, 15
whistling, after we had replied to his inquiries about our
safe return. Suddenly he jumped up —

"Well, madam! have you any commands for Paris?
I am going there in a week or two."

" To Paris ! " we both exclaimed. 20

" Yes, madam ! I've never been there, and always
had a wish to go ; and I think if I don't go soon, I
mayn't go at all ; so as soon as the hay is got in I shall
go, before harvest-time."

We were so much astonished that we had no commis- 25
sions.

Just as he was going out of the room, he turned back,
with his favourite exclamation —

" God bless my soul, madam ! but I nearly forgot half
cny errand. Here are the poems for you you admired so 30

86 Cranford

much the other evening at my house." He tugged away
at a parcel in his coat-pocket. " Good-bye, miss," said
he ; " good-bye, Matty 1 take care of yourself." And he
was gone. But he had given her a book, and he had

5 called her Matty, just as he used to do thirty years ago.
" I wish he would not go to Paris," said Miss Matilda
anxiously. " I don't believe frogs will agree with him ;
he used to have to be very careful what he ate, which
was curious in so strong- looking a young man."

10 Soon after this I took my leave, giving many an injunc-
tion to Martha to look after her mistress, and to let me
know if she thought that Miss Matilda was not so well ;
in which case I would volunteer a visit to my old friend,
without noticing Martha's intelligence to her.

15 Accordingly I received a line or two from Martha
every now and then; and, about November, I had a
note to say her mistress was " very low and sadly off her
food " ; ^ and the account made me so uneasy that,
although Martha did not decidedly summon me, I

20 packed up my things and went.

I received a warm welcome, in spite of the little flurry
produced by my impromptu visit, for I had only been
able to give a day's notice. Miss Matilda looked mis-
erably ill ; and I prepared to comfort and cosset * her.

25 I went down to have a private talk with Martha.

"How long has your mistress been so poorly?" I
asked, as I stood by the kitchen fire.

"Well! I think it's better than a fortnight; it is, I
know; it was one Tuesday, after Miss Pole had been,
1 Without appetite. * Fondle.

Cranford 87

that she went into this moping way. I thought she was
tired, and it would go off with a night's rest ; but no I
she has gone on and on ever since, till I thought it my
duty to write to you, ma'am."

" You did quite right, Martha. It is a comfort to think 5
she has so faithful a servant about her. And I hope you
find your place comfortable?"

" Well, ma'am, missus is very kind, and there's plenty
to eat and drink, and no more work but what I can
do easily — but " Martha hesitated. 10

"But what, Martha?"

" Why, it seems so hard of missus not to let me have
any followers ; there's such lots of young fellows in the
town ; and many a one has as much as offered to keep
company with me ; and I may never be in such a likely 15
place again, and it's like wasting an opportunity. Many
a girl as I know would have 'em unbeknownst to missus ;
but I've given my word, and I'll stick to it ; or else this
is just the house for missus never to be the wiser if they
did come : and it's such a capable kitchen — there's »o
such good dark corners in it — I'd be bound to hide any
one. I counted up last Sunday night — for I'll not deny
I was crying because I had to shut the door in Jem
Ream's face, and he's a steady young man, fit for any
girl ; only I had given missus my word." Martha was all 25
but crying again ; and I had little comfort to give her, for
I knew, from old experience, of the horror with which
both the Miss Jenkynses looked upon " followers " ; and
in Miss Matty's present nervous state this dread was not
likely to be lessened. 30

88 Cranford

I went to see Miss Pole the next day, and took her
completely by surprise, for she had not been to see Miss
Matilda for two days.

" And now I must go back with you, my dear, for I
5 promised to let her know how Thomas Holbrook went
on ; and, I'm sorry to say, his housekeeper has sent me
word to-day that he hasn't long to live. Poor Thomas !
that journey to Paris was quite too much for him. His
housekeeper says he has hardly ever been round his

10 fields since, but just sits with his hands on his knees in
the counting-house, not reading or anything, but only
saying what a wonderful city Paris was ! Paris has much
to answer for if it's killed my cousin Thomas, for a better
man never lived."

15 "Does Miss Matilda know of his illness?" asked I —
a new light as to the cause of her indisposition dawning
upon me.

" Dear I to be sure, yes ! Has not she told you ? I let
her know a fortnight ago, or more, when first I heard of

20 it. How odd she shouldn't have told you! "

Not at all, I thought ; but I did not say anything. I
felt almost guilty of having spied too curiously into that
tender heart, and I was not going to speak of its secrets —
hidden, Miss Matty believed, from all the world. I

25 ushered Miss Pole into Miss Matilda's little drawing-room,
and then left them alone. But I was not surprised when
Martha came to my bedroom door, to ask me to go down
to dinner alone, for that missus had one of her bad head-
aches. She came into the drawing-room at tea-time, but

30 it was evidently an effort to her ; and, as if to make up

Cranford 89

for some reproachful feeling against her late sister, Miss
Jenkyns, which had been troubling her all the afternoon, and
for which she now felt penitent, she kept telling me how
good and how clever Deborah was in her youth ; how she
used to settle what gowns they were to wear at all the 5
parties (faint, ghostly ideas of grim parties, far away in
the distance, when Miss Matty and Miss Pole were
young ! ) ; and how Deborah and her mother had started
the benefit society for the poor, and taught girls cooking
and plain sewing ; and how Deborah had once danced 10
with a lord ; and how she used to visit at Sir Peter Arley's,
and try to remodel the quiet rectory establishment on the
plans of Arley Hall, where they kept thirty servants ; and
how she had nursed Miss Matty through a long, long ill-
ness, of which I had never heard before, but which I now 15
dated in my own mind as following the dismissal of the
suit of Mr. Holbrook. So we talked softly and quietly of
old times through the long November evening.

The next day Miss Pole brought us word that Mr.
Holbrook was dead. Miss Matty heard the news in 20
silence; in fact, from the account of the previous day, it
was only what we had to expect. Miss Pole kept calling
upon us for some expression of regret, by asking if it was
not sad that he was gone, and saying —

"To think of that pleasant day last June, when he 25
seemed so well I And he might have lived this dozen
years if he had not gone to that wicked Paris, where they
are always having revolutions."

She paused for some demonstration on our part. I saw
Miss Matty could not speak, she was trembling so ner-30

90 Cranford

vously ; so I said what I really felt ; and after a call of
some duration — all the time of which I have no doubt
Miss Pole thought Miss Matty received the news very
calmly — our visitor took her leave.
5 Miss Matty made a strong effort to conceal her feel-
ings — a concealment she practised even with me, for she
has never alluded to Mr. Holbrook again, although the
book he gave her lies with her Bible on the little table by
her bedside. She did not think I heard her when she
10 asked the little milliner of Cranford to make her caps
something like the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson's, or that I
noticed the reply —

" But she wears widows* caps, ma'am? "
" Oh ? I only meant something in that style ; not
15 widows,* of course, but rather like Mrs. Jamieson's."

This effort at concealment was the beginning of the
tremulous motion of head and hands which I have seen
ever since in Miss Matty.
The evening of the day on which we heard of Mr.
20 Holbrookes death, Miss Matilda was very silent and
thoughtful ; after prayers she called Martha back, and
then she stood uncertain what to say.

" Martha I " she said, at last, " you are young " — and
then she made so long a pause that Martha, to remind
25 her of her half-finished sentence, dropped a curtsey, and
said —

" Yes, please, ma* am ; two-and-twenty last third of
October, please, ma'am."

" And, perhaps, Martha, you may some time meet with
30 a young man you like, and who likes you. I did say you

Cranford 9 1

were not to have followers ; but if you meet with such a
young man, and tell me, and I find he is respectable, I
have no objection to his coming to see you once a week.
God forbid ! " said she in a low voice, " that I should
grieve any young hearts." She spoke as if she were pro- 5
viding for some distant contingency,^ and was rather
startled when Martha made her ready eager answer —

" Please, ma*am, there's Jem Heam, and he's a joiner
making three-and-sixpence a day, and six foot one in his
stocking feet, please, ma'am ; and if you'll ask about him 10
to-morrow morning, every one will give him a character
for steadiness ; and he'll be glad enough to come to-
morrow night, ril be bound."

Though Miss Matty was startled, she submitted to Fate
and Love. 'S

^ Possibility.

CHAPTER V

OLD LETTERS

I HAVE often noticed that almost every one has his
own individual small economies — careful habits of sav-
ing fractions of pennies in some one peculiar direction
— any disturbance of which annoys him more than
5 spending shillings or pounds on some real extravagance.
An old gentleman of my acquaintance, who took the in-
telligence of the failure of a Joint-Stock Bank, in which
some of his money was invested, with stoical ^ mildness,
worried his family all through a long summer's day be-

10 cause one of them had torn (instead of cutting) out the
written leaves of his now useless bank-book ; of course,
the corresponding pages at the other end came out as
well, and this little unnecessary waste of paper (his pri-
vate economy) chafed him more than all the loss of his

15 money. Envelopes fretted his soul terribly when they
first came in ; the only way in which he could reconcile
himself to such waste of his cherished article was by
patiently turning inside out all that were sent to him, and
so making them serve again. Even now, though tamed

20 by age, I see him casting wistful glances at his daughters
when they send a whole inside of a half-sheet of note-
paper, with the three lines of acceptance to an invitation,

^ Unfeeling. (See note on Epictetus, p. 300.)

92

Cranford 93

written on only one of the sides. I am not above owning
that I have this human weakness myself. String is my
foible. My pockets get full of little hanks * of it, picked
up and twisted together, ready for uses that never come.
I am seriously annoyed if any one cuts the string of a 5
parcel instead of patiently and faithfully undoing it fold
by fold. How people can bring themselves to use india-
rubber rings,^ which are a sort of deification ^ of string,
as lightly as they do, I cannot imagine. To me an india-
rubber ring is a precious treasure. I have one which is 10
not new — one that I picked up off the floor nearly six
years ago. I have really tried to use it, but my heart
failed me, and I could not commit the extravagance.

Small pieces of butter grieve others. They cannot
attend to conversation because of the annoyance occa- 15
sioned by the habit which some people have of invariably
taking more butter than they want. Have you not seen
the anxious look (almost mesmeric) which such persons
fix on the article? They would feel it a relief if they
might bury it out of their sight by popping it into their 20
own mouths and swallowing it down ; and they are really
made happy if the person on whose plate it lies unused
suddenly breaks oflf a piece of toast (which he does not
want at all) and eats up his butter. They think that this
is not waste. 25

Now Miss Matty Jenkyns was chary * of candles. We
had many devices to use as few as possible. In the win-
ter afternoons she would sit knitting for two or three

1 Two or more skeins of yarn tied together. ^ Bands.

^ Making a god of. * Economical to point of miserliness.

94 Cranford

hours — she could do this in the dark, or by firelight —
and when I asked if I might not ring for candles to finish
stitching my wristbands, she told me to " keep blind man's
holiday." They were usually brought in with tea ; but

5 we only burnt one at a time. As we lived in constant
preparation for a fi*iend who might come in any evening
(but who never did), it required some contrivance to keep
our two candles of the same length, ready to be lighted,
and to look as if we burnt two always. The candles took

10 it in turns ; and, whatever we might be talking about or
doing, Miss Matty's eyes were habitually fixed upon the
candle, ready to jump up and extinguish it and to light
the other before they had become too uneven in length
to be restored to equality in the course of the evening.

15 One night, I remember this candle economy particu-
larly annoyed me. I had been very much tired of my
compulsory " blind man's hoHday," especially as Miss
Matty had fallen asleep, and I did not like to stir the fire
and run the risk of awakening her ; so I could not even sit

20 on the rug, and scorch myself with sewing by firelight, ac-
cording to my usual custom. I fancied Miss Matty must
be dreaming of her early life ; for she spoke one or two
words in her uneasy sleep bearing reference to persons
who were dead long before. When Martha brought in

25 the lighted candle and tea. Miss Matty started into wake-
fulness, with a strange, bewildered look around, as if we
were not the people she expected to see about her.
There was a little sad expression that shadowed her face
as she recognized me; but immediately afterwards she

30 tried to give me her usual smileo All through tea-time

Cranford 95

her talk ran upon the days of her childhood and youth.
Perhaps this reminded her of the desirableness of looking
over all the old family letters, and destroying such as
ought not be allowed to fall into the hands of strangers ;
or she had often spoken of the necessity of this task, but 5
had always shrunk from it, with a timid dread of some-
thing painful. To-night, however, she rose up after tea
and went for them — in the dark ; for she piqued ^ her-
self on the precise neatness of all her chamber arrange-
ments, and used to look uneasily at me when I lighted a lo
bed-candle to go to another room for anything. When
she returned there was a faint, pleasant smell of Tonquin
beans in the room. I had always noticed this scent about
any of the things which had belonged to her mother ; and
many of the letters were addressed to her — yellow 15
bundles of love-letters, sixty or seventy years old.

Miss Matty undid the packet with a sigh ; but she
stifled it directly, as if it were hardly right to regret the
flight of time, or of life either. We agreed to look them
over separately, each taking a different letter out of the 20
same bundle and describing its contents to the other be-
fore destroying it. I never knew what sad work the read-
ing of old letters was before that evening, though I could
hardly tell why. The letters were as happy as letters
could be — Jat least those early letters were. There was 25
in them a vivid and intense sense of the present time,
which seemed so strong and full, as if it could never pass
away, and as if the warm, living hearts that so expressed
themselves could never die, and be as nothing to the

1 Prided.

96 Cranford

sunny earth. I should have felt less melancholy, I believe,
if the letters had been more so. I saw the tears stealing
down the well-worn furrows of Miss Matty's cheeks, and
her spectacles often wanted wiping. I trusted at last
5 that she would light the other candle, for my own eyes
were rather dim, and I wanted more light to see the pale,'
faded ink ; but no, even through her tears, she saw and
remembered her little economical ways.

The earHest set of letters were two bundles tied to-

logether, and ticketed (in Miss Jenkyns's handwriting)
" Letters interchanged between my ever-honoured father
and my dearly- beloved mother, prior to their marriage,
in July 1774." I should guess that the rector of Cran-
ford was about twenty-seven years of age when he wrote

15 those letters ; and Miss Matty told me that her mother
was just eighteen at the time of her wedding. With my
idea of the rector, derived from a picture in the dining-
parlour, stiff and stately, in a huge full-bottomed wig,^ with
gown, cassock,^ and bands, and his hand upon a copy of

20 the only sermon he ever published — it was strange to
read these letters. They were full of eager, passionate
ardour; short homely sentences, right fresh from the
heart (very different from the grand Latinized, Johnsonian
style of the printed sermon, preached before some judge

25 at assize time). His letters were a curious contrast to
those of his girl-bride. She was evidently rather annoyed
at his demands upon her for expressions of love, and
could not quite understand what he meant by repeating

1 Distinguishing it from flat and broad-bottomed wigs.
'^ Long black gown worn under surplice of clergyman.

Cranford 97

the same thing over in so many different ways ; but what
she was quite clear about was a longing for a white
" Paduasoy "^ — whatever that might be ; and six or seven
letters were principally occupied in asking her lover to
use his influence with her parents (who evidently kept 5
her in good order) to obtain this or that article of dress,
more especially the white " Paduasoy." He cared noth-
ing how she was dressed ; she was always lovely enough
for him, as he took pains to assure her, when she begged
him to express in his answers a predilection for particular 10
pieces of finery, in order that she might show what he
said to her parents. But at length he seemed to find out
that she would not be married till she had a" trousseau"^
to her mind ; and then he sent her a letter, which had
evidently accompanied a whole box full of finery, and in 15
which he requested that she might be dressed in every-
thing her heart desired. This was the first letter, tick-
eted in a frail, delicate hand, " From my dearest John."
Shortly afterwards they were married, I suppose, from
the intermission in their correspondence. 20

" We must burn them, I think," said Miss Matty, look-
ing doubtfully at me. " No one will care for them when I
am gone." And one by one she dropped them into the
middle of the fire, watching each blaze up, die out, and
rise away, in faint, white, ghostly semblance, up the chim- 25
ney, before she gave another to the same fate. The
room was light enough now ; but I, like her, was fascinated

^ A garment made of smooth, strong, and rich silk; used in the
eighteenth century.

2 A bride's equipment of clothing.

CRANFORD — 7

98 Cranford

into watching the destruction of those letters, into which
the honest warmth of a manly heart had been poured
forth.

The next letter, likewise docketed ^ by Miss Jenkyns,
5 was endorsed, " Letter of pious congratulation and ex-
hortation from my venerable grandfather to my beloved
mother, on occasion of my own birth. Also some
practical remarks on the desirability of keeping warm
the extremities of infants, from my excellent grand-

10 mother."

The first part was, indeed, a severe and forcible picture
of the responsibilities of mothers, and a warning against
the evils that were in the world, and lying in ghastly wait
for the little baby of two days old. His wife did not write,

15 said the old gentleman, because he had forbidden it, she
being indisposed with a sprained ankle, which (he said)
quite incapacitated her fi-om holding a pen. However,
at the foot of the page was a small " t.c," and on turn-
ing it over, sure enough, there was a letter to " my dear,

20 dearest Molly," begging her, when she left her room,
whatever she did, to go up stairs before going down :
and telling her to wrap her baby's feet up in flannel, and
keep it warm by the fire, although it was summer, for
babies were so tender.

25 It was pretty to see from the letters, which were evi-
dently exchanged with some frequency between the yoimg
mother and the grandmother, how the girlish vanity was
being weeded out of her heart by love for her baby.
The white " Paduasoy " figured again in the letters, with

^ Contents marked on back.

Cranford 99

almost as much vigour as before. In one, it was being
made into a christening cloak for the baby. It decked
it when it went with its parents to spend a day or two at
Arley Hall. It added to its charms, when it was " the
prettiest little baby that ever was seen. Dear mother, 1 5
wish you could see her I Without any parshality, I do
think she will grow up a regular bewty I " I thought of
Miss Jenkyns, grey, withered, and wrinkled, and I won-
dered if her mother had known her in the courts of
heaven : and then I knew that she had, and that they 10
stood there in angelic guise.

There was a great gap before any of the rector's letters
appeared. And then his wife had changed her mode of
endorsement. It was no longer from " My dearest John" ;
it was from " My honoured Husband." The letters were 15
written on occasion of the publication of the same sermon
which was represented in the picture. The preaching
before " My Lord Judge," and the " publishing by re-
quest," was evidently the culminating point — the event
of his life. It had been necessary for him to go up to 20
London to superintend it through the press. Many
friends had to be called upon, and consulted, before he
could decide on any printer fit for so onerous a task;
and at length it was arranged that J. and J. Rivingtons
were to have the honourable responsibility. The worthy 25
rector seemed to be strung up by the occasion to a high
literary pitch, for he could hardly write a letter to his
wife without cropping out into Latin. I remember the
end of one of his letters ran thus : " I shall ever hold
the virtuous qualities of my Molly in remembrance, dum 30

lOO Cranford

memory ipse mei^ dutn spiritus regit artus^^ which, con-
sidering that the English of his correspondent was some-
times at fault in grammar, and often in spelling, might be
taken as a proof of how much he " idealized his Molly" ;
5 and, as Miss Jenkyns used to say, " People talk a great
deal about idealizing nowadays, whatever that may mean."
But this was nothing to a fit of writing classical poetry
which soon seized him, in which his Molly figured away
as " Maria." The letter containing the carmen ^ was en-

lo dorsed by her, " Hebrew verses sent me by my honoured
husband. I thowt to have had a letter about killing the
pig, but must wait. Mem., to send the poetry to Sir
Peter Arley, as my husband desires." And in a post-
scriptum note in his handwriting it was stated that the

15 Ode had appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine^ Decem-
ber 1782.

Her letters back to her husband (treasured as fondly
by him as if they had been M. T. Ciceronis Epistolce) ^
were more satisfactory to an absent husband and father

20 than his could ever have been to her. She told him how
Deborah sewed her seam very neatly every day, and read
to her in the books he had set her ; how she was a very
" forrard, " good child, but would ask questions her
mother could not answer, but how she did not let herself

25 down by saying she did not know, but took to stirring the
fire, or sending the " forrard " child on an errand. Matty
was now the mother's darling, and promised (like her
sister at her age) to be a great beauty. I was reading

1 Song or verse.

2 Letters of Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Cranford loi

this aloud to Miss Matty, who smiled and sighed a little
at the hope, so fondly expressed, that " little Matty might
not be vain, even if she were a bewty."

" I had very pretty hair, my dear," said Miss Matilda ;
" and not a bad mouth." And I saw her soon afterwards 5
adjust her cap and draw herself up.

But to return to Mrs. Jenkyns's letters. She told her
husband about the poor in the parish ; what homely
domestic medicines she had administered ; what kitchen
physic she had sent. She had evidently held his displeas- 10
ure as a rod in pickle ^ over the heads of all the ne'er-do-
wells.^ She asked for his directions about the cows and
pigs ; and did not always obtain them, as I have shown
before.

The kind old grandmother was dead when a Httle boy 15
was born, soon after the publication of the sermon ; but
there was another letter of exhortation from the grand-
father, more stringent and admonitory^ than ever, now
that there was a boy to be guarded from the snares of the
world. He described all the various sins into which men 20
might fall, until I wondered how any man ever came to a
natural death. The gallows seemed as if it must have
been the termination of the lives of most of the grand-
father's friends and acquaintance ; and I was not surprised
at the way in which he spoke of this Hfe being " a vale of 25
tears."

It seemed curious that I should never have heard of
this brother before ; but I concluded that he had died

1 A flogging awaiting one (colloquial).
2 Good-for-nothings. 8 puH of advice.

I02 Cranford

young, or else surely his name would have been alluded
to by his sisters.

By-and-by we came to packets of Miss Jenkyns's letters.
These Miss Matty did regret to burn. She said all the

5 others had been only interesting to those who loved the
writers, and that it seemed as if it would have hurt her to
allow them to fall into the hands of strangers, who had
not known her dear mother, and how good she was, al-
though she did not always spell quite in the modern fash-

10 ion ; but Deborah's letters were so very superior ! Any one
might profit by reading them. It was a long time since
she had read Mrs. Chapone, but she knew she used to
think that Deborah could have said the same things quite
as well ; and as for Mrs. Carter ! people thought a deal

15 of her letters, just because she had written " Epictetus,"
but she was quite sure Deborah would never have made
use of such a common expression as *' I canna be
fashed ! "

Miss Matty did grudge burning these letters, it was evi-

20 dent. She would not let them be carelessly passed over
with any quiet reading, and skipping, to myself. She
took them from me, and even lighted the second candle
in order to read them aloud with a proper emphasis,
and without stumbling over the big words. Oh dear 1

25 how I wanted facts instead of reflections, before those
letters were concluded ! They lasted us two nights ;
and I won't deny that I made use of the time to think of
many other things, and yet I was always at my post at
the end of each sentence.

30 The rector's letters, and those of his wife and mother-

Cranford 103

in-law, had all been tolerably short and pithy, written in a
straight hand, ^ with the lines very close together. Some-
times the whole letter was contained on a mere scrap of
paper. The paper was very yellow, and the ink very
brown ; some of the sheets were (as Miss Matty made me 5
observe) the original post, with the stamp in the corner
representing a post-boy riding for life and twanging his
horn. The letters of Mrs. Jenkyns and her mother were
fastened with a great round red wafer ; for it was before Miss
Edgeworth's " Patronage " had banished wafers from po- 10
lite society. It was evident, from the tenor of what was
said, that franks were in great request, and were even
used as a means of paying debts by needy members of
Parliament. The rector sealed his epistles with an im-
mense coat of arms, and showed by the care with which 15
he had performed this ceremony that he expected they
should be cut open, not broken by any thoughtless or im-
patient hand. Now, Miss Jenkyns*s letters were of a later
date in form and writing. She wrote on the square sheet
which we have learned to call old-fashioned. Her hand 20
was admirably calculated, together with her use of many-
syllabled words, to fill up a sheet, and then came the
pride and delight of crossing. Poor Miss Matty got sadly
puzzled with this, for the words gathered size like snow-
balls, and towards the end of her letter Miss Jenkyns 25
used to become quite sesquipedalian.^ In one to her fa-
ther, slightly theological and controversial in its tone, she
had spoken of Herod, Tetrarch of Idumea. Miss Matty

^ Now called perpendicular hand.

2 Applied to one who uses long words.

I04 Cranford

read it " Herod Petrarch of Etruria, " and was just as
well pleased as if she had been right.

I can't quite remember the date, but I think it was in
1805 that Miss Jenkyns wrote the longest series of letters
5 — on occasion of her absence on a visit to some friends
near Newcastle-upon-Tyne. These friends were intimate
with the commandant ^ of the garrison there, and heard
from him of all the preparations that were being made to
repel the invasion of Buonaparte, which some people im-

10 agined might take place at the mouth of the Tyne. Miss
Jenkyns was evidently very much alarmed ; and the first
part of her letters was often written in pretty intelHgible
English, conveying particulars of the preparations which

. were made in the family with whom she was residing

15 against the dreaded event ; the bundles of clothes that
were packed up ready for a flight to Alston Moor (a wild
hilly piece of ground between Northumberland and Cum-
berland) ; the signal that was to be given for this flight,
and for the simultaneous turning out of the volunteers

20 under arms — which said signal was to consist (if I re-
member rightly) in ringing the church bells in a particu-
lar and ominous^ manner. One day, when Miss Jenkyns
and her hosts were at a dinner-party in Newcastle, this
warning summons was actually given (not a very wise

25 proceeding, if there be any truth in the moral attached
to the fable of the Boy and the Wolf; but so it was),
and Miss Jenkyns, hardly recovered from her fright,
wrote the next day to describe the sound, the breathless
shock, the hurry and alarm ; and then, taking breath,
1 G)mmander. ^ Foretelling disaster.

Cranford 105

she added, " How. trivial, my dear father, do all our
apphensions of the last evening appear, at the present
moment, to calm and inquiring minds ! " And here
Miss Matty broke in with —

" But, indeed, my dear, they were not at all trivial or 5
trifling at the time. I know I used to wake up in the
night many a time and think I heard the tramp of the
French entering Cranford. Many people talked of hiding
themselves in the salt mines — and meat would have kept
capitally down there, only perhaps we should have been 10
thirsty. And my father preached a whole set of sermons
on the occasion ; one set in the mornings, all about David
and Goliath, to spirit up the people to fighting with spades
or bricks, if need were ; and the other set in the after-
noons, proving that Napoleon (that was another name for ^5
Bony, as we used to call him) was all the same as an
Apollyon and Abaddon. I remember my father rather
thought he should be asked to print this last set ; but the
parish had, perhaps, had enough of them with hearing."

Peter Marmaduke Arley Jenkyns (" Poor Peter!" as 20
Miss Matty began to call him) was at school at Shrews-
bury by this time. The rector took up his pen, and
rubbed up his Latin once more, to correspond with his
boy. It was very clear that the lad's were what are
called show letters. They were of a highly mental 25
description, giving an account of his studies, and his
intellectual hopes of various kinds, with an occasional
quotation from the classics ; but, now and then, the
animal nature broke out in such a little sentence as this,
evidently written in a trembling hurry, after the letter 30

io6 Cranford

had been inspected : " Mother dear, do send me a cake,
and put plenty of citron in." The " mother dear " prob-
ably answered her boy in the form of cakes and " goody," ^
for there were none of her letters among this set ; but a
5 whole collection of the rector's, to whom the Latin in his
boy's letters was like a trumpet to the old war-horse. I
do not know much about Latin, certainly, and it is, per-
haps, an ornamental language, but not very useful, I think
— at least to judge from the bits I remember out of the

10 rector's letters. One was, " You have not got that town
in your map of Ireland ; but Bonus Bernardus non videt
omnia, as the Proverbia say." Presently it became very
evident that " poor Peter " got himself into many scrapes.
There were letters of stilted ^ penitence to his father, for

15 some wrong-doing; and among them all was a badly-
written, badly-sealed, badly-directed, blotted note — "My
dear, dear, dear, dearest mother, I will be a better boy ; I
will, indeed ; but don't, please, be ill for me, I am not
worth it ; but I will be good, darling mother."

20 Miss Matty could not speak for crying, after she had
read this note. She gave it to me in silence, and then
got up and took it to her sacred recesses in her own
room, for fear, by any chance, it might get burnt. " Poor
Peter ! " she said ; " he was always in scrapes ; he was too

25 easy. They led him wrong, and then left him in the
lurch. But he was too fond of mischief. He could
never resist a joke. Poor Peter ! "

^ Bonbons. *^ Artificially or formally elevated in style.

CHAPTER VI

POOR PETER

Poor Peter's career lay before him rather pleasantly
mapped out by kind friends, but Bonus Bemardus non
videt omnia, in this map too. He was to win honours
at Shrewsbury School, and carry them thick to Cam-
bridge, and after that, a living^ awaited him, the gift of 5
his godfather, Sir Peter Arley. Poor Peter ! his lot in
life was very different to what his friends had hoped and
planned. Miss Matty told me all about it, and I think it
was a relief to her when she had done so.

He was the darling of his mother, who seemed to dote 10
on all her children, though she was, perhaps, a little
afraid of Deborah's superior acquirements. Deborah was
the favourite of her father, and when Peter disappointed
him, she became his pride. The sole honour Peter
brought away from Shrewsbury was the reputation of 15
being the best good fellow that ever was, and of being the
captain of the school in the art of practical joking. His
father was disappointed, but set about remedying the
matter in a manly way. He could not afford to send
Peter to read with any tutor, but he could read with him 20
himself; and Miss Matty told me much of the awful prep-
arations in the way of dictionaries and lexicons that

1 « The benifice of a clergyman," i,e. settled income from the
state.

107

io8 Cranford

were made in her father's study the morning Peter
began.

" My poor mother ! " said she. *• I remember how

she used to stand in the hall, just near enough the study-

5 door, to catch the tone of my father's voice. I could tell

in a moment if all was going right, by her face. And it

did go right for a long time."

" What went wrong at last? " said I. " That tiresome
Latin, I dare say."

10 " No ! it was not the Latin. Peter was in high favour
with my father, for he worked up well for him. But he
seemed to think that the Cranford people might be joked
about, and made fun of, and they did not like it ; nobody
does. He was always hoaxing them ; * hoaxing ' ^ is not

15 a pretty word, my dear, and I hope you won't tell your
father I used it, for I should not like him to think that I
was not choice in my language, after living with such a
woman as Deborah. And be sure you never use it your-
self I don't know how it slipi>ed out of my mouth,

20 except it was that I was thinking of poor Peter, and it
was always his expression. But he was a very gentle-
manly boy in many things. He was like dear Captain
Brown in always being ready to help any old person or a
child. Still, he did like joking and making fun ; and he

25 seemed to think the old ladies in Cranford would believe
anything. There were many old ladies living here then ;
we are principally ladies now, I know, but we are not so
old as the ladies used to be when I was a girl. I could
laugh to think of some of Peter's jokes. No, my dear, I

1 Playing practical jokes.

Cranford 1 09

won't tell you of them, because they might not shock you
as they ought to do, and they were very shocking. He
even took in my father once, by dressing himself up as a
lady that was passing through the town and wished to
see the Rector of Cranford, * who had published that 5
admirable Assize Sermon.* Peter said he was awfully
frightened himself when he saw how my father took it
all in, and even offered to copy out all his Napoleon
Buonaparte sermons for her — him, I mean — no, her,
for Peter was a lady then. He told me he was more 10
terrified than he ever was before, all the time my father
was speaking. He did not think my father would have
believed him ; and yet if he had not, it would have been
a sad thing for Peter. As it was, he was none so glad of
it, for my father kept him hard at work copying out all 15
those twelve Buonaparte sermons for the lady — that was
for Peter himself, you know. He was the lady. And
once when he wanted to go fishing, Peter said, * Confound
the woman ! * — very bad language, my dear, but Peter
was not always so guarded as he should have been; my 20
father was so angry with him, it nearly frightened me out
of my wits ; and yet I could hardly keep from laughing
at the little curtseys Peter kept making, quite slyly, when-
ever my father spoke of the lady's excellent taste and
sound discrimination." 25

" Did Miss Jenkyns know of these tricks ? " said I.

" Oh, no ! Deborah would have been too much
shocked. No, no one knew but me. I wish I had
always known of Peter's plans ; but sometimes he did
not tell me. He used to say the old ladies in the town 30

no Cranford

wanted something to talk about ; but I don't think they
did. They had the S/. Jameses Chronicle three times a
week, just as we have now, and we have plenty to say ;
and I remember the clacking noise there always was when

5 some of the ladies got together. But, probably, school-
boys talk more than ladies. At last there was a terrible,
sad thing happened." Miss Matty got up, went to the
door, and opened it; no one was there. She rang the
bell for Martha, and when Martha came, her mistress

lo told her to go for eggs to a farm at the other end of the
town.

" I will lock the door after you, Martha. You are not
afraid to go, are you? "

" No, ma'am, not. at all; Jem Hearn will be only too

15 proud to go with me."

Miss Matty drew herself up, and as soon as we were
alone, she wished that Martha had more maidenly
reserve.

" We'll put out the candle, my dear. We can talk just

20 as well by firelight, you know. There ! Well, you see,
Deborah had gone from home for a fortnight or so ; it
was a very still, quiet day, I remember, overhead ; and
the lilacs were all in flower, so I suppose it was spring.
My father had gone out to see some sick people in the

25 parish ; I recollect seeing him leave the house with his
wig and shovel-hat ^ and cane. What possessed our poor
Peter I don't know ; he had the sweetest temper, and yet
he always seemed to like to plague Deborah. She never

^ A broad-brimmed hat, turned up at the sides, and projecting in
front like a shovel; — worn by clergymen of the J^nglish church*

Cranford 1 1 1

laughed at his jokes, and thought him ungenteel, and not
careful enough about improving his mind ; and that vexed
him.

" Well 1 he went to her room, it seems, and dressed
himself in her old gown, and shawl, and bonnet ; just the 5
things she used to wear in Cranford, and was known by
everywhere ; and he made the pillow into a little — you
are sure you locked the door, my dear? for I should not
like any one to hear — into — into a little baby, with
white long clothes. It was only, as he told me after- 10
wards, to make something to talk about in town ; he
never thought of it as affecting Deborah. And he went
and walked up and down in the Filbert walk — just half-
hidden by the rails, and half-seen; and he cuddled his
pillow, just like a baby, and talked to it all the nonsense 15
people do. Oh dear 1 and my father came stepping
stately up the street, as he always did ; and what should
he see but a little black crowd of people — I dare say as
many as twenty — all peeping through his garden rails.
So he thought, at first, they were only looking at a new 20
rhododendron ^ that was in full bloom, and that he was
very proud of; and he walked slower, that they might
have more time to admire. And he wondered if he could
make out a sermon from the occasion, and thought, per-
haps, there was some relation between the rhododendrons 25
and the lilies of the field. My poor father I When he
came nearer, he began to wonder that they did not see
him ; but their heads were all so close together, peeping
and peeping ! My father was amongst them, meaning,

^ Shrub or small tree having rose-coloured or purple flowers.

112 Cranford

he said, to ask them to walk into the garden with him,
and admire the beautiful vegetable production, when

— oh, my dear 1 I tremble to think of it — he looked
through the rails himself, and saw — I don't know what

5 he thought he saw, but old Clare told me his face went
quite grey- white with anger, and his eyes blazed out un-
der his frowning black brows; and he spoke out — oh
so terribly ! — and bade them all stop where they were

— not one of them to go, not one to stir a step ; and,
lo swift as light, he was in at the garden door, and down the

Filbert walk, and seized hold of poor Peter, and tore his
clothes off his back — bonnet, shawl, gown, and all —
and threw the pillow among the people over the railings :
and then he was very, very angry indeed, and before all

15 the people he lifted up his cane and flogged Peter !

" My dear, that boy's trick on that sunny day, when all
seemed going straight and well, broke my mother's heart,
and changed my father for Hfe. It did, indeed. Old
Clare said, Peter looked as white as my father ; and stood

20 as still as a statue to be flogged ; and my father struck
hard ! When my father stopped to take breath, Peter
said, * Have you done enough, sir?' quite hoarsely, and still
standing quite quiet. I don't know what my father said

— or if he said anything. But old Clare said, Peter
25 turned to where the people outside the railing were, and

made them a low bow, as grand and as grave as any gentle-
man ; and then walked slowly into the house. I was in the
store-room helping my mother to make cowsHp wine.i
I cannot abide the wine now, nor the scent of the flowers ;

^ A drink made by fermenting cowslips and sugar.

Cranford 1 1 3

they turn me sick and faint, as they did that day, when
Peter came in, looking as haughty as any man — indeed,
looking like a man, not like a boy. * Mother 1* he said, * I
am come to say, God bless you for ever.* I saw his lips
quiver as he spoke ; and I think he durst not say any- 5
thing more loving, for the purpose that was in his heart.
She looked at him rather frightened, and wondering, and
asked him what was to do. He did not smile nor speak,
but put his arms round her and kissed her as if he did
not know how to leave off; and before she could speak 10
again, he was gone. We talked it over, and could not
understand it, and she bade me go and seek -my father,
and ask what it was all about. I found him walking up
and down, looking very highly displeased.

" * Tell your mother I have flogged Peter, and that he 15
richly deserved it.'

" I durst not ask any more questions. When I told
my mother, she sat down, quite faint, for a minute. I
remember, a few days after, I saw the poor, withered
cowslip flowers thrown out to the leaf heap, to decay and 20
die there. There was no making of cowslip wine that year
at the rectory — nor, indeed, ever after.

" Presently my mother went to my father. I know I
thought of Queen Esther and King Ahasuerus ; for my
mother was very pretty and delicate-looking, and my 25
father looked as terrible as King Ahasuerus. Some time
after they came out together; and then my mother told
me what had happened, and that she was going up to
Peter's room at my father's desire — though she was not
to tell Peter this — to talk the matter over with him. 30

CRANFORD — 8

114 Cranford

But no Peter was there. We looked over the house ; no
Peter was there ! Even my father, who had not Hked to
join in the search at first, helped us before long. The
rectory was a very old house — steps up into a room,

5 steps down into a room, all through. At first, my mother
went calling low and soft, as if to reassure the poor boy,
* Peter ! Peter, dear 1 it*s only me * ; but, by-and-by, as
the servants came back from the errands my father had
sent them, in different directions, to find where Peter was

10 — as we found he was not in the garden, nor the hayloft
nor anywhere about — my mother's cry grew louder and
wilder, * Peter 1 Peter, my darling ! where are you ? ' for
then she felt and understood that that long kiss meant
some sad kind of ' good-bye.' The afternoon went on —

15 my mother never resting, but seeking again and again in
every possible place that had been looked into twenty
times before, nay, that she had looked into over and over
again herself. My father sat with his head in his hands,
not speaking except when his messengers came in, bring-

20 ing no tidings, then he lifted up his face, so strong and sad,
and told them to go again in some new direction. My
mother kept passing from room to room, in and out of the
house, moving noiselessly, but never ceasing. Neither
she nor my father durst leave the house, which was the

25 meeting-place for all the messengers. At last (and it was
nearly dark), my father rose up. He took hold of my
mother's arm as she came with wild, sad pace through
one door, and quickly towards another. She started at
the touch of his hand, for she had forgotten all in the

30 world but Peter.

Cranford 1 1 5

" * Molly ! ' said he, ' I did not think all this would
happen.' He looked into her face for comfort — her
poor face, all wild and white ; for neither she nor my
father had dared to acknowledge — n?uch less act upon
— the terror that was in their hearts, lest Peter should 5
have made away with himself. My father saw no con-
scious look in his wife's hot, dreary eyes, and he missed
the sympathy that she had always been ready to give
him, strong man as he was, and at the dumb despair in
her face his tears began to flow. But when she saw this, 10
a gentle sorrow came over her countenance, and she
said, * Dearest John ! don't cry ; come with me, and we'll
find him,' almost as cheerfully as if she knew where he
was. And she took my father's great hand in her little
soft one and led him along, the tears dropping as he 15
walked on that same unceasing, weary walk, from room
to room, through house and garden.

" Oh, how I wished for Deborah ! I had no time for
crying, for now all seemed to depend on me. I wrote
for Deborah to come home. I sent a message privately 20
to that same Mr. Holbrook's house — poor Mr. Hol-
brook ; — you know who I mean. ' I don't mean I sent a
message to him, but I sent one that I could trust to
know if Peter was at his house. For at one time Mr.
Holbrook was an occasional visitor at the rectory — you 25
know he was Miss Pole's cousin — and he had been very
kind to Peter, and taught him how to fish — he was very
kind to everybody, and I thought Peter might have gone
off there. But Mr. Holbrook was from home, and Peter
had never been §een. It was night now ; but the doors 30

1 1 6 Cranford

were all wide open, and my father and mother walked on
and on ; it was more than an hour since he had joined
her, and I don't believe they had ever spoken all that
time. I was getting the parlour fire lighted, and one of
5 the servants was preparing tea, for I wanted them to
have something to eat and drink and warm them, when
old Clare asked to speak to me.

" ' I have borrowed the nets from the weir,^ Miss
Matty. Shall we drag the ponds to-night, or wait for the

lo morning ? '

" I remember staring in his face to gather his mean-
ing ; and when I did, I laughed out loud. The horror
of that new thought — our bright, darling Peter, cold,
and stark,^ and dead ! I remember the ring of my own

15 laugh now.

" The next day Deborah was at home before I was
myself again. She would not have been so weak as to
give way as I had done ; but my screams (my horrible
laughter had ended in crying) had roused my sweet dear

20 mother, whose poor wandering wits were called back and
collected as soon as a child needed her care. She and
Deborah 9at by my bedside; I knew by the looks of
each that there had been no news of Peter — no awful,
ghastly news, which was what I most had dreaded in my

25 dull state between sleeping and waking.

"The same result of all the searching had brought

something of the same relief to my mother, to whom, I

am sure, the thought that Peter might even then be

hanging dead in some of the familiar home places had

^ A fence of stakes in a stream for taking fish. ^ Stiff.

Cranford 1 1 7

caused that never-ending walk of yesterday. Her soft
eyes never were the same again after that ; they had
always a restless, craving look, as if seeking for what they
could not find. Oh ! it was an awful time ; coming
down like a thunderbolt on the still sunny day when the 5
lilacs were all in bloom."

"Where was Mr. Peter?" said I.

" He had made his way to Liverpool ; and there was
war then ; and some of the king's ships lay off the mouth
of the Mersey ; and they were only too glad to have a 10
fine hkely boy such as him (five foot nine he was) come
to offer himself. The captain wrote to my father, and
Peter wrote to my mother. Stay ! those letters will be
somewhere here."

We lighted the candle, and found the captain's letter 15
and Peter's too. And we also found a little simple begging
letter from Mrs. Jenkyns to Peter, addressed to him at
the house of an old school- fellow, whither she fancied he
might have gone. They had returned it unopened ; and
unopened it had remained ever since, having been 20
inadvertently put by among the other letters of that time.
This is it : —

"My dearest Peter, — You did not think we should
be so sorry as we are, I know, or you would never have
gone away. You are too good. Your father sits and 25
sighs till my heart aches to hear him. He cannot hold
up his head for grief; and yet he only did what he
thought was right. Perhaps he has been too severe, and
perhaps I have not been kind enough ; but God knows

1 1 8 Cranford

how we love you, my dear only boy. Don looks so
sorry you are gone. Come back, and make us happy,
who love you so much. I know you will come back."

But Peter did not come back. That spring day was
5 the last time he ever saw his mother's face. The writer
of the letter — the last — the only person who had ever
seen what was written in it, was dead long ago ; and I, a
stranger, not born at the time when this occurrence took
place, was the one to open it.
10 The captain's letter summoned the father and mother
to Liverpool instantly, if they wished to see their boy ;
and, by some of the wild chances of life, the captain's
letter had been detained somewhere, somehow.

Miss Matty went on, " And it was race-time, and all

15 the post-horses at Cranford were gone to the races ; but

my father and mother set off in our own gig ^ — and oh !

my dear, they were too late — the ship was gone ! And

now read Peter's letter to my mother ! "

It was full of love, and sorrow, and pride in his new
20 profession, and a sore sense of his disgrace in the eyes
of the people at Cranford ; but ending with a passionate
entreaty that she would come and see him before he left
the Mersey : " Mother, we may go into battle. I hope
we shall, and lick those French; but I must see you
25 again before that time."

** And she was too late," said Miss Matty ; " too
late ! "

We sat in silence, pondering on the full meaning of

^ A light two -wheeled carriage.

Cranford 119

those sad, sad words. At length I asked Miss Matty to
tell me how her mother bore it.

" Oh ! " she said, " she was patience itself. She had
never been strong, and this weakened her terribly. My
father used to sit looking at her : far more sad than she 5
was. He seemed as if he could look at nothing else
when she was by ; and he was so humble — so very gentle
now. He would, perhaps, speak in his old way — laying
down the law, as it were — and then, in a minute or two,
he would come round and put his hand on our shoulders, 10
and ask us in a low voice, if he had said anything to hurt
us. I did not wonder at his speaking so to Deborah, for
she was so clever ; but I could not bear to hear him talk-
ing so to me.

" But, you see, he saw what we did not — that it was 15
killing ray mother. Yes ! killing her (put out the candle,
my dear; I can talk better in the dark), for she was but
a frail woman, and ill-fitted to stand the fright and shock
she had gone through ; and she would smile at him and
comfort him, not in words, but in her looks and tones, 20
which were always cheerful when he was there. And she
would speak of how she thought Peter stood a good
chance of being admiral very soon — he was so brave and
clever ; and how she thought of seeing him in his navy
uniform, and what sort of hats admirals wore; and how 25
much more fit he was to be a sailor than a clergyman ;
and all in that way, just to make my father think she was
quite glad of what came of that unlucky morning's work,
and the flogging which was always in his mind, as we all
knew. But oh, my dear ! the bitter, bitter crying she had 30

1 20 Cranford

when she was alone ; and at last, as she grew weaker, she
could not keep her tears in when Deborah or me ^ was by,
and would give us message after message for Peter (his
ship had gone to the Mediterranean, or somewhere down
5 there, and then he was ordered off to India, and there
was no overland route then) ; but she still said that no
one knew where their death lay in wait, and that we were
not to think hers was near. We did not think it, but we
knew it, as we saw her fading away.

10 " Well, my dear, it's very foolish of me, I know, when
in all likelihood I am so near seeing her again.

" And only think, love ! the very day after her death —
for she did not liv^ quite a twelvemonth after Peter went
away — the very day after — came a parcel for her from

15 India — from her poor boy. It was a large, soft, white
India shawl, with just a little narrow border all round ;
just what my mother would have liked.

" We thought it might rouse my father, for he had sat
with her hand in his all night long ; so Deborah took it

20 in to him, and Peter's letter to her, and all. At first he
took no notice; and we tried to make a kind of light
careless talk about the shawl, opening it out and admir-
ing it. Then, suddenly, he got up, and spoke : ' She
shall be buried in it,' he said ; ' Peter shall have that

25 comfort ; and she would have liked it.'

" Well, perhaps it was not reasonable, but what could
we do or say? One gives people in grief their own way.
He took it up and felt it : * It is just such a shawl as she
wished for when she was married, and her mother did

II.

Cranford 121

not give it her. I did not know of it till after, or she
should have had it — she should ; but she shall have it
now.'

" My mother looked so lovely in her death ! She was
always pretty, and now she looked fair, and waxen, and 5
young — younger than Deborah, as she stood trembling
and shivering by her. We decked her in the long soft
folds ; she lay smiling, as if pleased ; and people came —
all Cranford came — to beg to see her, for they had loved
her dearly, as well they might ; and the countrywomen i©
brought posies; old Clare*s wife brought some white
violets, and begged they might lie on her breast.

" Deborah said to me, the day of my mother's funeral,
that if she had a hundred offers she never would marry
and leave my father. It was not very likely she would 15
have so many — I don't know that she had one ; but it
was not less to her credit to say so. She was such a
daughter to my father as I think there never was before
or since. His eyes failed him, and she read book after
book, and wrote, and copied, and was always at his service 20
in any parish business. She could do many more things
than my poor mother could ; she even once wrote a letter
to the bishop for my father. But he missed my mother
sorely ; the whole parish noticed it. Not that he was less
active ; I think he was more so, and more patient in help- 25
ing every one. I did all I could to set Deborah at liberty
to be with him ; for I knew I was good for little, and that
my best work in the world was to do odd jobs quietly,
and set others at liberty. But my father was a changed
man." 30

122 Cranford

" Did Mr. Peter ever come home ? "

" Yes, once. He came home a lieutenant ; he did not
get to be admiral. And he and my father were such
friends I My father took him into every house in the
5 parish, he was so proud of him. He never walked out
without Peter's arm to lean upon. Deborah used to smile
(I don't think we ever laughed again after my mother's
death), and say she was quite put in a corner. Not but
what my father always wanted her when there was letter-
10 writing or reading to be done, or anything to be settled."

" And then ? " said I, after a pause.

" Then Peter went to sea again ; and, by-and-by, my
father died, blessing us both, and thanking Deborah for
all she had been to him ; and, of course, our circum-
15 stances were changed ; and, instead of living at the rec-
tory, and keeping three maids and a man, we had to come
to this small house, and be content with a servant-of-
all-work ; but, as Deborah used to say, we have always
lived genteelly, even if circumstances have compelled us
20 to simplicity. Poor Deborah 1 "

"And Mr. Peter?" asked I.

" Oh, there was some great war in India — I forget
what they call it — and we have never heard of Peter
since then. I believe he is dead myself; and it sometimes
35 fidgets me that we have never put on mourning for him.
And then again, when I sit by myself, and all the house is
still, I think I hear his step coming up the street, and my
heart begins to flutter and beat ; but the sound alwajrs
goes past — and Peter never comes.
30 "That's Martha back? No! 7*11 go, my dear; I

Cranford 1 23

can always find my way in the dark, you know. And
a blow of fresh air at the door will do my head good,
and it's rather got a trick of aching."

So she pattered off. I had lighted the candle, to
give the room a cheerful appearance against her return. 5

" Was it Martha? " asked I.

"Yes. And I am rather uncomfortable, for I heard
such a strange noise, just as I was opening the door."

"Where?" I asked, for her eyes were round with
affright. 10

" In the street — just outside — it sounded like "

"Talking? " I put in, as she hesitated a little.

" No ! kissing "

CHAPTER VII

VISITING

One morning, as Miss Matty and I sat at our work
— it was before twelve o'clock, and Miss Matty had
not changed the cap with yellow ribbons that had
been Miss Jenkyns's best, and which Miss Matty was
snow wearing out in private, putting on the one made
in imitation of Mrs. Jamieson's at all times when she
expected to be seen — Martha came up, and asked
if Miss Betty Barker might speak to her mistress. Miss
Matty assented, and quickly disappeared to change the

10 yellow ribbons, while Miss Barker came upstairs ; but,
as she had forgotten her spectacles, and was rather
flurried by the unusual time of the visit, I was not
surprised to see her return with one cap on the top of
the other. She was quite unconscious of it herself,

15 and looked at us with bland ^ satisfaction. Nor do I
think Miss Barker perceived it; for, putting aside the
little circumstance that she was not so young as she
had been, she was very much absorbed in her errand,
which she delivered herself of with an oppressive mod-

20 esty that found vent in endless apologies.

Miss Betty Barker was the daughter of the old clerk
at Cranford who had officiated in Mr. Jenkyns's time.

1 Mild.
124

Cranford 125

She and her sister had had pretty good situations as
ladies' maids, and had saved money enough to set up
a milliner's shop, which had been patronized by the
ladies in the neighbourhood. Lady Arley, for instance,
would occasionally give Miss Barkers the pattern of an 5
old cap of hers, which they immediately copied and
circulated among the elite ^ of Cranford. I say the elitey
for Miss Barkers had caught the trick of the place, and
piqued themselves upon their " aristocratic connexion."
They would not sell their caps and ribbons to any one 10
without a pedigree.^ Many a farmer's wife or daughter
turned away huffed ' from Miss Barkers' select millinery,
and went rather to the universal shop, where the profits
of brown soap and moist sugar enabled the proprietor
to. go straight to (Paris, he said, until he found his 15
customers too patriotic and John Bullish to wear what
the Mounseers* wore) London, where, as he often told
his customers, Queen Adelaide had appeared, only the
very week before, in a cap exactly like the one he
showed them, trimmed with yellow and blue ribbons, 20
and had been complimented by King William on the
becoming nature of her head-dress.

Miss Barkers, who confined themselves to truth, and
did not approve of miscellaneous customers, throve not-
withstanding. They were self-denying, good people. 25
Many a time have I seen the eldest of them (she that
had been maid to Mrs. Jamieson) carrying out some
delicate mess to a poor person. They only aped their

' Select and choice society. ^ Line of ancestors.

8 Angered. * Monsieurs.

126 Cranford

betters in having "nothing to do" with the class im-
mediately below theirs. And when Miss Barker died,
their profits and income were found to be such that
Miss Betty was justified in shutting up shop and retiring
5 from business. She also (as I think I have before said)
set up her cow; a mark of respectabiUty in Cranford
almost as decided as setting up a gig is among some
people. She dressed finer than any lady in Cranford ;
and we did not wonder at it ; for it was understood

10 that she was wearing out all the bonnets and caps and
outrageous ribbons which had once formed her stock-in-
trade. It was five or six years since she had given up
shop, so in any other place than Cranford her dress might
have been considered passee}

15 And now Miss Betty Barker had called to invite Miss
Matty to tea at her house on the following Tuesday. She
gave me also an impromptu ^ invitation, as I happened
to be a visitor — though I could see she had a little fear
lest, since my father had gone to live in Drumble, he

20 might have engaged in that " horrid cotton trade," and
so dragged his family down out of "aristocratic society."
She prefaced this invitation with so many apologies that
she quite excited my curiosity. " Her presumption "
was to be excused. What had she been doing? She

25 seemed so overpowered by it, I could only think that
she had been writing to Queen Adelaide to ask for a
receipt for washing lace ; but the act which she so char-
acterized was only an invitation she had carried to her
sister's former mistress, Mrs. Jamieson. " Her former
1 Out of date. 2 Off-hand; on the spur of the moment.

Cranford 127

occupation considered, could Miss Matty excuse the
liberty ? " Ah ! thought I, she has found out that double
cap, and is going to rectify Miss Matty's head-dress.
No ! it was simply to extend her invitation to Miss Matty
and to me. Miss Matty bowed acceptance ; and I won- 5
dered that, in the graceful action, she did not feel the
unusual weight and extraordinary height of her head-
dress. But I do not think she did, for she recovered her
balance, and went on talking to Miss Betty in a kind, con-
descending manner, very different from the fidgety way 10
she would have had if she had suspected how singular her
appearance was.

''Mrs. Jamieson is coming, I think you said?'' asked
Miss Matty.

" Yes. Mrs. Jamieson most kindly and condescend- 15
ingly said she would be happy to come. One little
stipulation^ she made, that she should bring Carlo. I
told her that if I had a weakness, it was for dogs."

"And Miss Pole?" questioned Miss Matty, who was
thinking of her pool at Preference, in which Carlo would 20
not be available as a partner.

" I am going to ask Miss Pole. Of course, I could not
think of asking her until I had asked you, madam — the
rector's daughter, madam. Believe me, I do not forget
the situation my father held under yours." 25

"And Mrs. Forrester, of course ? "

" And Mrs. Forrester. I thought, in fact, of going to
her before I went to Miss Pole. Although her circum-
stances are changed, madam, she was bom at Tyrrell, and

^ Condition.

128 Cranford

we can never forget her alliance to the Bigges, of Bigelow
Hall."

Miss Matty cared much more for the little circum-
stance of her being a very good card-player.
5 " Mrs. Fitz-Adam — I suppose "

" No, madam. I must draw a line somewhere. Mrs.
Jamieson would not, I think, like to meet Mrs. Fitz-
Adam. I have the greatest respect for Mrs. Fitz-Adam
— but I cannot think her fit society for such ladies as
10 Mrs. Jamieson and Miss Matilda Jenkyns."*

Miss Betty Barker bowed low to Miss Matty, and

pursed up her mouth. She looked at me with sidelong

dignity, as much as to say, although a retired milliner,

she was no democrat, and understood the difference of

15 ranks.

" May I beg you to come as near half-past six to my
little dwelling, as possible. Miss Matilda? Mrs. Jamie-
son dines at five, but has kindly promised not to delay
her visit beyond that time — half-past six." And with
20 a swimming curtsey Miss Betty Barker took her leave.

My prophetic soul foretold a visit that afternoon from
Miss Pole, who usually came to call on Miss Matilda after
any event — or indeed in sight of any event — to talk it
over with her.
25 " Miss Betty told me it was to be a choice and select
few," said Miss Pole, as she and Miss Matty compared
notes.

" Yes, so she said. Not even Mrs. Fitz-Adam."

Now Mrs. Fitz-Adam was the widowed sister of the
30 Cranford surgeon, whom I have named before. Their

Cranford 129

parents were respectable farmers, content with their sta-
tion. The name of these good people was Hoggins.
Mr. Hoggins was the Cranford doctor now ; we disliked
the name and considered it coarse ; but, as Miss Jenkyns
said, if he changed it to "Piggins it would not be much 5
better. We had hoped to discover a relationship between
him and that Marchioness of Exeter whose name was
Molly Hoggins ; but the man, careless of his own inter-
ests, utterly ignored and denied any such relationship,
although, as dear Miss Jenkyns had said, he had a sister 10
called Mary, and the same Christian names were very
apt to run in families.

Soon after Miss Mary Hoggins married Mr. Fitz-Adam
she disappeared frop the neighbourhood for many years.
She did not move in a sphere in Cranford society suffi- 15
ciently high to make any of us care to know what Mr.
Fitz-Adam was. He died and was gathered to his fathers
without our ever having thought about him at all. And
then Mrs. Fitz-Adam reappeared in Cranford (" as bold
as a Hon," Miss Pole said), a well-to-do widow, dressed in 20
rustling black silk, so soon after her husband's death that
poor Miss Jenkyns was justified in the remark she made,
that " bombazine * would have shown a deeper sense of
her loss."

I remember the convocation of ladies who assembled 25
to decide whether or not Mrs. Fitz-Adam should be
called upon by the old blue-blooded^ inhabitants of
Cranford. She had taken a large rambling house, which

^ A fabric of silk and worsted, formerly black only, and used for
mourning. '^ Aristocratic.

CRANFORD — 9

130 Cranford

had been usually considered to confer a patent* of
gentility upon its tenant, because, once upon a time,
seventy or eighty years before, the spinster daughter of
an earl had resided in it. I am not sure if the inhabiting

5 this house was not also believed to convey some unusual
power of intellect ; for the earl's daughter. Lady Jane,
had a sister, Lady Anne, who had married a general
officer in the time of the American war, and this general
officer had written one or two comedies, which were still

10 acted on the London boards,* and which, when we saw
them advertised, made us all draw up, and feel that Drury
Lane was paying a very pretty compliment to Cranford.
Still, it was not at all a settled thing that Mrs. Fitz-Adam
was to be visited, when dear Miss Jenkyns died ; and,

15 with her, something of the clear knowledge of the strict
code ^ of gentility went out too. As Miss Pole observed,
" As most of the ladies of good family in Cranford were
elderly spinsters, or widows without children, if we did
not relax a little, and become less exclusive, by-and-by

20 we should have no society at all. "

Mrs. Forrester continued on the same side.
" She had always understood that Fitz meant something
aristocratic ; there was Fitz-Roy — she thought that some
of the King's children had been called Fitz-Roy ; and

25 there was Fitz-Clarence now — they were the children
of dear good King William the Fourth. Fitz-Adam I —
it was a pretty name, and she thought it very probably
meant ' Child of Adam.' No one, who had not some good

1 Document conferring a title. ^Theatreat

^ Systematized laws of gentility.

Cranford 131

blood in their ^ veins, would dare to be called Fitz ; there
was a deal in a name — she had had a cousin who spelt
his nam^ with two little ffs — ffoulkes — and he always
looked down upon capital letters, and said they belonged
to lately-invented families. She had been afraid he 5
would die a bachelor, he was so very choice. When he
met with a Mrs. ffarringdon, at a watering-place, he took
to her immediately; and a very pretty genteel woman
she was — a widow, with a very good fortune ; and * my
cousin,' Mr. ffoulkes, married her ; and it was all owing to 10
her two little ffs."

Mrs. Fitz- Adam did not stand a chance of meeting with
a Mr. Fitz-anything in Cranford, so that could not have
been her motive for settling there. Miss Matty thought
it might have been the hope of being admitted into the 15
society of the place, which would certainly be a very
agreeable rise for ci-devant * Miss Hoggins ; and if this
had been her hope it would be cruel to disappoint her.

So everybody called upon Mrs. Fitz- Adam — everybody
but Mrs. Jamieson, who used to show how honourable she 20
was by never seeing Mrs. Fitz-Adam when they met at the
Cranford parties. There would be only eight or ten
ladies in the room, and Mrs. Fitz-Adam was the largest of
all, and she invariably used to stand up when Mrs. Jamieson
came in, and curtsey very low to her whenever she turned 25
in her direction — so low, in fact, that I think Mrs.
Jamieson must have looked at the wall above her, for she
never moved a muscle of her face, no more than if she had
not seen her. Still Mrs. Fitz-Adam persevered.
1 His. 2 Former.

132 Cranford

The spring evenings were getting bright and long when
three or four ladies in calashes met at Miss Barker's door.
Do you know what a calash is ? It is a covering worn
over caps, not unlike the heads fastened on old-fashioned
5 gigs ; but sometimes it is not quite so large. This kind
of head-gear always made an awful impression on the
children in Cranford ; and now two or three left off their
play in the quiet sunny little street, and gathered in won-
dering silence round Miss Pole, Miss Matty, and myself.

10 We were silent too, so that we could hear loud, suppressed
whispers inside Miss Barker's house : " Wait, Peggy !
wait till IVe run upstairs and washed my hands. When I
cough, open the door ; I'll not be a minute."

And, true enough it was not a minute before we heard a

15 noise, between a sneeze and a crow ; on which the door
flew open. Behind it stood a round-eyed maiden, all
aghast at the honourable company of calashes, who
marched in without a word. She recovered presence of
mind enough to usher us into a small room, which had

20 been the shop, but was now converted into a temporary
dressing-room. There we unpinned and shook ourselves,
and arranged our features before the glass into a sweet and
gracious company- face ; and then, bowing backwards with
" After you, ma'am," we allowed Mrs. Forrester to take

25 precedence up the narrow staircase that led to Miss
Barker's drawing-room. There she sat, as stately and
composed as though we had never heard that odd-sound-
ing cough, from which her throat must have been even
then sore and rough. Kind, gentle, shabbily-dressed

30 Mrs. Forrester was immediately conducted to the second

Cranford tjj

place of honour — a seat arranged something like Prince
Albert's near the Queen's — good, but not so good. The
place of pre-eminence was, of course, reserved for the
Honourable Mrs. Jamieson, who presently came panting
up the stairs — Carlo rushing round on her progress, as if 5
he meant to trip her up.

And now Miss Betty Barker was a proud and happy
woman ! She stirred the fire, and shut the door, and sat
as near to it as she could, quite on the edge of her chair.
When Peggy came in, tottering under the weight of the 10
tea-tray, I noticed that Miss Barker was sadly afraid lest
Peggy should not keep her distance sufficiently. She and
her mistress were on very familiar terms in their every-day
intercourse, and Peggy wanted now to make several little
confidences to her, which Miss Barker was on thorns to 15
hear, but which she thought it her duty, as a lady, to re-
press. So she turned away from all Peggy's asid es and signs ;
but she made one or two very mal-^propos ^ answers to
what was said ; and at last, seized with a bright idea, she
exclaimed, " Poor, sweet Carlo ! I'm forgetting him. 20
Come downstairs with me, poor ittie doggie, and it shall
have its tea, it shall I "

In a few minutes she returned, bland and benignant ^ as
before ; but I thought she had forgotten to give the " poor
ittie doggie" anything to eat, judging by the avidity ^ with 25
which he swallowed down chance pieces of cake. The
tea-tray was abundantly loaded — I was pleased to see
it, I was so hungry ; but I was afraid the ladies present
might think it vulgarly heaped up. I know they would
1 Ill-timed. 2 Happy. ^ Eagerness.

134 Cranford

have done at their own houses ; but somehow the heaps
disappeared here. 1 saw Mrs. Jamieson eating seed-
cake, slowly and considerately, as she did everything;
and I was rather surprised, for I knew she had told us,
5 on the occasion of her last party, that she never had it
in her house, it reminded her so much of scented soap.
She always gave us Savoy biscuits. However, Mrs.
Jamieson was kindly indulgent to Miss Barker's want of
knowledge of the customs of high life ; and, to spare her

10 feelings, ate three large pieces of seed-cake, with a
placid, ruminating expression of countenance, not unlike
a cow*s.

After tea there was some little demur and difficulty.
We were six in number ; four could play at Preference,

15 and for the other two there was Cribbage.^ But all, ex-
cept myself (I was rather afraid of the Cranford ladies at
cards, for it was the most earnest and serious business
they ever engaged in), were anxious to be of the "pool."
Even Miss Barker, while declaring she did not know

20 Spadille from Manille, was evidently hankering to take a
hand. The dilemma was soon put an end to by a sin-
gular kind of noise. If a baron's daughter-in-law could
ever be supposed to snore, I should have said Mrs. Jam-
ieson did so then; for, overcome by the heat of the

25 room, and inclined to doze by nature, the temptation of
that very comfortable arm-chair had been too much for
her, and Mrs. Jamieson was nodding. Once or twice
she opened her eyes with an effort, and calmly but
unconsciously smiled upon us ; but by-and-by, even her

1 A game of cards.

Cranford 135

benevolence was not equal to this exertion, and she was
sound asleep.

" It is very gratifying to me," whispered Miss Barker at
the card-table to her three opponents, whom, notwith-
standing her ignorance of the game, she was " basting " ^ 5
most unmercifully — "very gratifying indeed, to see how
completely Mrs. Jamieson feels at home in my poor
little dwelling; she could not have paid me a greater
compliment."

Miss Barker provided me with some literature in the 10
shape of three or four handsomely- bound fashion-books
ten or twelve years old, observing, as she put a Httle
table and a candle for my especial benefit, that she knew
young people liked to look at pictures. Carlo lay and
snorted, and started at his mistress's feet. He, too, was 15
quite at home.

The card-table was an animated scene to watch ; four
ladies' heads, with niddle-nodding^ caps, all nearly meet-
ing over the middle of the table in their eagerness to
whisper quick enough and loud enough : and every now 20
and then came Miss Barker's " Hush, ladies ! if you
please, hush ! Mrs. Jamieson is asleep."

It was very difficult to steer clear between Mrs. For-
rester's deafness and Mrs. Jamieson's sleepiness. But
Miss Barker managed her arduous task well. She re- 25
peated the whisper to Mrs. Forrester, distorting her face
considerably, in order to show, by the motions of her
lips, what was said ; and then she smiled kindly all
round at us, and murmured to herself, " Very gratifying,

1 Beating. 2 slightly shaking.

136 Cranford

indeed; I wish my poor sister had been alive to see
this day."

Presently the door was thrown wide open; Carlo
started to his feet, with a loud snapping bark, and Mrs.
5 Jamieson awoke : or, perhaps, she had not been asleep —
as she said almost directly, the room had been so light
she had been glad to keep her eyes shut, but had been
listening with great interest to all our amusing and agree-
able conversation. Peggy came in once more, red with

10 importance. Another tray ! " Oh, gentility ! " thought I,
"can you endure this last shock?" For Miss Barker had
ordered (nay, I doubt not, prepared, although she did
say, "Why, Peggy, what have you brought us?" and
looked pleasantly surprised at the unexpected pleasure)

15 all sorts of good things for supper — scalloped oysters,
potted lobsters, jelly, a dish called " little Cupids "
(which was in great favour with the Cranford ladies,
although too expensive to be given, except on solemn
and state ocfcasions — macaroons sopped in brandy, I

20 should have called it, if I had not known its more refined
and classical name). In short, we were evidently to be
feasted with all that was sweetest and best; and we
thought it better to submit graciously, even at the cost
of our gentility — which never ate suppers in general, but

25 which, like most non-supper-eaters, was particularly hun-
gry on all special occasions.

Miss Barker, in her former sphere, had, I dare say,
been made acquainted with the beverage they call
cherry-brandy. We none of us had ever seen such a

30 thing, and rather shrank back when she proffered it us —

Cranford 137

"just a little, leetle glass, ladies; after the oysters and
lobsters, you know. Shell-fish are sometimes thought
not very wholesome." We all shook our heads like
female mandarins ; ^ but, at last, Mrs. Jamieson suffered
herself to be persuaded, and we followed her lead. It 5
was not exactly unpalatable, though so hot and so strong
that we thought ourselves bound to give evidence that
we were not accustomed to such things by coughing ter-
ribly — almost as strangely as Miss Barker had done,
before we were admitted by Peggy. 10

"It's very strong," said Miss Pole, as she put down
her empty glass ; " I do believe there's spirit in it."

"Only a little drop — just necessary to make it keep,"
said Miss Barker. "You know we put brandy-paper
over preserves to make them keep. I often feel tipsy 15
myself from eating damson^ tart."

I question whether damson tart would have opened
Mrs. Jamieson's heart as the cherry-brandy did ; but she
told us of a coming event, respecting which she had been
quite silent till that moment. 20

"My sister-in-law, Lady Glenmire, is coming to stay
with me.'*

There was a chorus of " Indeed ! " and then a pause.
Each one rapidly reviewed her wardrobe, as to its fitness
to appear in the presence of a baron's widow; for, of 25
course, a series of small festivals were always held in
Cranford on the arrival of a visitor at any of our fi*iends'
houses. We felt very pleasantly excited on the present
occasion.

^ Chinese public officers. ^ A small black plum.

1 3 8 Cranford

Not long after this the maids and the lanterns were
announced. Mrs. Jamieson had the sedan-chair, * which
had squeezed itself into Miss Barker's narrow lobby with
some difficulty, and most literally "stopped the way."
5 It required some skilful manoeuvring ^ on the part of the
old chairmen (shoemakers by day, but when summoned to
carry the sedan dressed up in a strange old livery — long
greatcoats, with small capes, coeval^ with the sedan, and
similar to the dress of the class in Hogarth's pictures) to

10 edge, and back, and try at it again, and finally to succeed
in carrying their burden out of Miss Barker's front door.
Then we heard their quick pit-a-pat along the quiet little
street as we put on our calashes and pinned up our
gowns ; Miss Barker hovering about us with offers of help,

15 which, if she had not remembered her former occupation,
and wished us to forget it, would have been much more
pressing.

1 A covered chair borne on poles by two men.
2 Managing with art. ^ Of the same age

CHAPTER VIII

"your ladyship"

Early the next morning — directly after twelve —
Miss Pole made her appearance at Miss Matty's. Some
very trifling piece of business was alleged as a reason for
the call ; but there was evidently something behind. At
last out it came. 5

" By the way, you'll think Fm strangely ignorant ; but,
do you really know, I am puzzled how we ought to ad-
dress Lady Glenmire. Do you say 'Your ladyship,' where
you would say ' you ' to a common person ? I have been
puzzling all morning; and are we to say ' My lady,' instead "
of * Ma'am ' ? Now you knew Lady Arley — will you
kindly tell me the most correct way of speaking to the
peerage?"^

Poor Miss Matty ! she took off her spectacles and she
put them on again — but how Lady Arley was addressed, 15
she could not remember.

" It is so long ago," she said. " Dear ! dear ! how
stupid I am ! I don't think I ever saw her more than
twice. I know we used to call Sir Peter, * Sir Peter ' —
but he came much oftener to see us than Lady Arley did. 20
Deborah would have known in a minute. * My lady ' —
*your ladyship.' It sounds very strange, and as if it was

1 Nobility.
139

140 Cranford

not natural. I never thought of it before ; but, now you
have named it, I am all in a puzzle."

It was very certain Miss Pole would obtain no wise
decision from Miss Matty, who got more bewildered
5 every moment, and more perplexed as to etiquettes of
address.

" Well, I really think," said Miss Pole, " I had better

just go and tell Mrs. Forrester about our little difficulty.

One sometimes grows nervous; and yet one would not

10 have I^dy Glenmire think we were quite ignorant of the

etiquettes of high Ufe in Cranford."

" And will you just step in here, dear Miss Pole, as you
come back, please, and tell me what you decide upon?
Whatever you and Mrs. Forrester fix upon will be
15 quite right, I'm sure. ' Lady Arley,* ' Sir Peter,' " said
Miss Matty to herself, trying to recall the old forms of
words.

" Who is Lady Glenmire? " asked I.

" Oh, she's the widow of Mr. Jamieson — that's Mrs.
20 Jamieson's late husband, you know — widow of his eldest
brother. Mrs. Jamieson was a Miss Walker, daughter of
Governor Walker. ' Your ladyship.' My dear, if they fix
on that way of speaking, you must just let me practise a
little on you first, for I shall feel so foolish and hot saying
25 it the first time to Lady Glenmire."

It was really a relief to Miss Matty when Mrs. Jamieson

came on a very unpolite errand. I notice that apathetic ^

people have more quiet impertinence than others ; and

Mrs. Jamieson came now to insinuate ^ pretty plainly that

1 Without much feeling. ^ Hint.

Cranford 141

she did not particularly wish that the Cranford ladies
should call upon her sister-in-law. I can hardly say how
she made this clear ; for I grew very indignant and warm,
while with slow deliberation she was explaining her wishes
to Miss Matty, who, a true lady herself, could hardly 5
understand the feeling which made Mrs. Jamieson wish
to appear to her noble sister-in-law as if she only visited
" county " famiUes. Miss Matty remained puzzled and
perplexed long after I had found out the object of Mrs.
Jamieson 's visit. 10

When she did understand the drift of the honourable
lady's call, it was pretty to see with what quiet dignity she
received the intimation thus uncourteously given. She
was not in the least hurt — she was of too gentle a spirit
for that ; nor was she exactly conscious of disapproving 15
of Mrs. Jamieson's conduct ; but there was something of
this feeling in her mind, I am sure, which made her pass
from the subject to others in a less flurried and more
composed manner than usual. Mrs. Jamieson was, in-
deed, the more flurried of the two, and I could see she 20
was glad to take her leave.

A little while afterwards Miss Pole returned, red and
indignant. " Well ! to be sure ! YouVe had Mrs. Jamie-
son here, I find from Martha ; and we are not to call on
Lady Glenmire. Yes ! I met Mrs. Jamieson, half-way 25
between here and Mrs. Forrester's, and she told me ; she
took me so by surprise, I had nothing to say. I wish I
had thought of something very sharp and sarcastic; I
dare say I shall to-night. And Lady Glenmire is but the
widow of a Scotch baron after all ! I went on to look at 30

142 Cranford

Mrs. Forrester's Peerage,^ to see who this lady was, that
is to be kept under a glass case : widow of a Scotch peer
— never sat in the House of Lords — and as poor as Job,
I dare say ; and she — fifth daughter of some Mr. Camp-

5 bell or other. You are the daughter of a rector, at any
rate, and related to the Arleys ; and Sir Peter might have
been Viscount^ Arley, every one says."

Miss Matty tried to soothe Miss Pole, but in vain.
That lady, usually so kind and good-humoured, was now

10 in a full flow of anger.

" And I went and ordered a cap this morning, to be
quite ready," said she at last, letting out the secret which
gave sting to Mrs. Jamieson*s intimation. " Mrs. Jamie-
son shall see if it is so easy to get me to make fourth at a

15 pool when she has, none of her fine Scotch relations with
her ! "

In coming out of church, the first Sunday on which
Lady Glenmire appeared in Cranford, we sedulously^
talked together, and turned our backs on Mrs. Jamieson

20 and her guest. If we might not call on her, we would
not even look at her, though we were dying with curiosity
to know what she was like. We had the comfort of ques-
tioning Martha in the afternoon. Martha did not belong
to a sphere of society whose observation could be an

25 implied compliment to Lady Glenmire, and Martha had
made good use of her eyes.

" Well, ma*am ! is it the little lady with Mrs. Jamie-
son, you mean ? I thought you would like more to know

^ List of all belonging to the first five degrees of nobility.
2 Nobleman next below an earl in rank. ' Diligently.

Cranford 1 43

how young Mrs. Smith was dressed, her being a bride."
(Mrs. Smith was the butcher's wife.)

Miss Pole said, " Good gracious me ! as if we cared
about a Mrs. Smith ; " but was silent as Martha resumed
her speech. 5

"The little lady in Mrs. Jamieson's pew had on,
ma'am, rather an old black silk, and a shepherd's plaid
cloak, ma'am, and very bright black eyes she had, ma'am,
and a pleasant, sharp face ; not over young, ma'am, but
yet, I should guess, younger than Mrs. Jamieson herself. 10
She looked up and down the church, like a bird, and
nipped up her petticoats, when she came out, as quick
and sharp as ever I see. I'll tell you what, ma'am, she's
more like Mrs. Deacon, at the 'Coach and Horses,' nor
any one." 15

" Hush, Martha ! " said Miss Matty, " that's not respect-
ful."

" Isn't it, ma'am? I beg pardon, I'm sure; but Jem
Hearn said so as well. He said, she was just such a sharp,
stirring sort of a body " 20

"Lady," said Miss Pole.

"Lady — as Mrs. Deacon."

Another Sunday passed away, and we still averted our
eyes from Mrs. Jamieson and her guest, and made
remarks to ourselves that we thought were very severe — 25
almost too much so. Miss Matty was evidently uneasy
at our sarcastic manner of speaking.

Perhaps by this time Lady Glenmire had found out
that Mrs. Jamieson's was not the gayest, liveliest house in
the world; perhaps Mrs. Jamieson had found out that 30

144 » Cranford

most of the county families were in LxDndon, and that
those who remained in the country were not so alive as
they might have been to the circumstance of Lady Glen-
mire being in their neighbourhood. Great events spring
5 out of small causes ; so I will not pretend to say what
induced Mrs. Jamieson to alter her determination of
excluding the Cranford ladies, and send notes of invita-
tion all round for a small party on the following Tuesday.
Mr. Mulliner himself brought them round. He would

10 always ignore the fact of there being a back-door to any
house, and gave a louder rat-tat than his mistress, Mrs.
Jamieson. He had three little notes, which he carried
in a large basket, in order to impress his mistress with an
idea of their great weight, though they might easily have

15 gone into his waistcoat pocket.

Miss Matty and I quietly decided we would have a
previous engagement at home : it was the evening on
which Miss Matty usually made candle-lighters of all the
notes and letters of the week; for on Mondays her

20 accounts were always made straight — not a penny owing
from the week before; so, by a natural arrangement,
making candle- lighters fell upon a Tuesday evening, and
gave us a legitimate excuse for declining Mrs. Jamieson's
invitation. But before our answer was written, in came

25 Miss Pole, with an open note in her hand.

" So ! '* she said. " Ah ! I see you have got your note,
too. Better late than never. I could have told my
Lady Glenmire she would be glad enough of our society
before a fortnight was over."

30 "Yes," said Miss Matty, "we*re asked for Tuesday

Cranford 145

evening. And perhaps you would just kindly bring your
work across and drink tea with us that night. It is my
usual regular time for looking over the last week's bills,
and notes, and letters, and making candle-lighters of
them ; but that does not seem quite reason enough for 5
saying I have a previous engagement at home, though I
meant to make it do. Now, if you would come, my
conscience would be quite at ease, and luckily the note
is not written yet."

I saw Miss Pole's countenance change while Miss 10
Matty was speaking.

" Don't you mean to go then ? " asked she.

" Oh no ! " said Miss Matty quietly. " You don't
either, I suppose? "

" I don't know," replied Miss Pole. " Yes, I think 1 15
do," said she rather briskly ; and on seeing Miss Matty
looked surprised, she added, " You see, one would not
like Mrs. Jamieson to think that anything she could do,
or say, was of consequence enough to give offence ; it
would be a kind of letting down of ourselves, that 1, 20
for one, should not like. It would be too flattering to
Mrs. Jamieson if we allowed her to suppose that what
she had said affected us a week, nay, ten days after-
wards." .

" Well ! I suppose it is wrong to be hurt and annoyed 25
so long about anything ; and, perhaps, after all, she did
not mean to vex us. But I must say, I could not have
brought myself to say the things Mrs. Jamieson did about
our not calling. I really don't think I shall go."

" Oh, come ! Miss Matty, you must go ; you know our 30

CRANFORD — lO

1 46 Cranford

friend Mrs. Jamieson is much more phlegmatic ^ than most
people, and does not enter into the little delicacies of
feeling which you possess in so remarkable a degree."
" I thought you possessed them, too, that day Mrs.
5 Jamieson called to tell us not to go," said Miss Matty
innocently.

But Miss Pole, in addition to her delicacies of feeling,
possessed a very smart cap, which she was anxious to
show to an admiring world ; and so she seemed to forget

10 all her angry words uttered not a fortnight before, and to
be ready to act on what she called the great Christian
principle of " Forgive and forget " ; and she lectured
dear Miss Matty so long on this head that she absolutely
ended by assuring her it was her duty, as a deceased

15 rector's daughter, to buy a new cap and go to the party

at Mrs. Jamieson's. So " we were most happy to accept,"

instead of "regretting that we were obhged to decline."

The expenditure on dress in Cranford was principally

in that one article referred to. If the heads were buried

20 in smart new caps, the ladies were like ostriches, * and
cared not what became of their bodies. Old gowns,
white and venerable collars, any number of brooches, up
and down and everywhere (some with dog's eyes painted
in them ; some that were like small picture -frames with

25 mausoleums ^ and weeping willows neatly executed in
hair inside ; some, again, with miniatures of ladies and
gentlemen sweetly smiHng out of a nest of stiff muslin),

1 Sluggish.

2 Ostriches are said to bury their heads in the sand for safety,
forgetting their bodies are exposed. ^ Magnificent tombs.

Cranford 1 47

old brooches for a permanent ornament, and new caps
to suit the fashion of the day — the ladies of Cranford
always dressed with chaste elegance and propriety, as
Miss Barker once prettily expressed it.

And with three new caps, and a greater array of 5
brooches than had ever been seen together at one time
since Cranford was a town, did Mrs. Forrester, and Miss
Matty, and Miss Pole appear on that memorable Tuesday
evening. I counted seven brooches myself on Miss Pole's
dress. Two were fixed negligently in her cap (one was 10
a butterfly made of Scotch pebbles, which a vivid imagi-
nation might believe to be the real insect) ; one fastened
her net neckerchief; ^ one her collar ; one ornamented the
front of her gown, midway between her throat and waist ;
and another adorned the point of her stomacher.^ 15
Where the seventh was I have forgotten, but it was some-
where about her, I am sure.

But I am getting on too fast, in describing the dresses
of the company. I should first relate the gathering on
the way to Mrs. Jamieson*s. That lady lived in a large 20
house just outside the town. A road which had known
what it was to be a street ran right before the house,
which opened out upon it without any intervening
garden or court. Whatever the sun was about, he
never shone on the front of that house. To be sure, the 25
living-rooms were at the back, looking on to a pleas-
ant garden ; the front windows only belonged to kitchens

1 Kerchief for neck, called also neck handkerchief.

2 A part of the dress forming the lower part of the bodice and
lapping over the skirt.

148 Cranford

and housekeepers* rooms, and pantries, and in one of
them Mr. Mulliner was reported to sit. Indeed, looking
askance, we often saw the back of a head covered with
hair powder, which also extended itself over his coat-
5 collar down to his very waist ; and this imposing back
was always engaged in reading the S/. Jameses Chronicle^
opened wide, which, in some degree, accounted for the
length of time the said newspaper was in reaching us —
equal subscribers with Mrs. Jamieson, though, in right of

10 her honourableness, she always had the reading of it first.
This very Tuesday, the delay in forwarding the last num-
ber had been particularly aggravating; just when both
Miss Pole and Miss Matty, the former more especially,
had been wanting to see it, in order to coach up the

15 Court news ready for the evening's interview with aris-
tocracy. Miss Pole told us she had absolutely taken time
by the forelock, and been dressed by five o'clock, in
order to be ready if the St. James's Chronicle should
come in at the last moment — the very St, James's

20 Chronicle which the powdered head was tranquilly and
composedly reading as we passed the accustomed win-
dow this evening.

" The impudence of the man ! " said Miss Pole, in a
low indignant whisper. " I should like to ask him

25 whether his mistress pays her quarter-share for his
exclusive use."

We looked at her in adpiiration of the courage of her
thought ; for Mr. Mulliner was an object of great awe to
all of us. He seemed never to have forgotten his con-

30 descension in coming to live at Cranford. Miss Jenkyns,

Cranford 149

at times, had stood forth as the undaunted champion of
her sex, and spoken to him on terms of equality ; but
even Miss Jenkyns could get no higher. In his pleasant-
est and most gracious moods he looked like a sulky
cockatoo.^ He did not speak except in gruff monosyl- 5
lables. He would wait in the hall when we begged him
not to wait, and then look deeply offended because we
had kept him there, while, with trembhng, hasty hands, we
prepared ourselves for appearing in company.

Miss Pole ventured on a small joke as we went 10
upstairs, intended, though addressed to us, to afford
Mr. MuUiner some slight amusement. We all smiled,
in order to seem as if we felt at our ease, and timidly
looked for Mr. Mulliner's sympathy. Not a muscle of
that wooden face had relaxed ; and we were grave in 15
an instant.

Mrs. Jamieson's drawing-room was cheerful; the
evening sun came streaming into it, and the large square
window was clustered round with flowers. The furniture
was white and gold ; not the later style, Louis Quatorze, 20
I think they call it, all shells and twirls ; no, Mrs.
Jamieson's chairs and tables had not a curve or bend
about them. The chair and table legs diminished as
they neared the ground, and were straight and square in
all their comers. The chairs were all a-row against the 25
walls, with the exception of four or five which stood in a
circle round the fire. They were railed with white bars
across the back, and knobbed with gold ; neither the
railings nor the knobs invited to ease. There was a

^ A parrot-like bird.

1 50 Cranford

jappanned ^ table devoted to literature, on which lay a
Bible, a Peerage, and a Prayer- Book. There was another
square Pembroke table dedicated to the Fine Arts, on
which were a kaleidoscope, conversation-cards, puzzle-
5 cards (tied together to an interminable length with faded
pink satin ribbon), and a box painted in fond imitation
of the drawings which decorate tea-chests. Carlo lay on
the worsted-worked rug, and ungraciously barked at us
as we entered. Mrs. Jamieson stood up, giving us each

10 a torpid smile of welcome, and looking helplessly beyond
us at Mr. MuUiner, as if she hoped he would place us in
chairs, for, if he did not, she never could. I suppose he
thought we could find our way to the circle round the
fire, which reminded me of Stonehenge, I don't know

15 why. Lady Glenmire came to the rescue of our hostess,
and, somehow or other, we found ourselves for the first
time placed agreeably and not formally, in Mrs. Jamie-
son's house. Lady Glenmire, now we had time to look
at her, proved to be a bright little woman of middle age,

20 who had been very pretty in the days of her youth, and
who was even yet very pleasant-looking. I saw Miss
Pole appraising her dress in the first five minutes, and I
take her word when she said the next day —

" My dear ! ten pounds would have purchased every

25 stitch she had on — lace and all."

It was pleasant to suspect that a peeress could be poor,
and partly reconciled us to the fact that her husband had
never sat in the House of Lords ; which, when we first

^ Covered with a thick coat of varnish, after the Japanese
custom.

Cranford 151

heard of it, seemed a kind of swindling us out of our
respect on false pretences ; a sort of " A Lord, and No
Lord " business.

We were all very silent at first. We were thinking
what we could talk about, that should be high enough to 5
interest My Lady. There had been a rise in the price of
sugar, which, as preserving-time was near, was a piece of
intelligence to all our housekeeping hearts, and would
have been the natural topic if Lady Glenmire had not
been by. But we were not sure if the peerage ate pre- 10
serves — much less knew how they were made. At last,
Miss Pole, who had always a great deal of courage and
savoir faire * spoke to Lady Glenmire, who on her part
had seemed just as much puzzled to know how to break
the silence as we were. 15

" Has your ladyship been to Court lately? " asked she ;
and then gave a little glance round at us, half timid and
half triumphant, as much as to say, " See how judiciously
I have chosen a subject befitting the rank of the
stranger." 20

" I never was there in my life," said Lady Glenmire,
with a broad Scotch accent, but in a very sweet voice.
And then, as if she had been too abrupt, she added :
" We very seldom went to London — only twice, in fact,
during all my married life ; and before I was married ray 25
father had far too large a family " (fifth daughter of Mr.
Campbell was in all our minds, I am sure) " to take us
often from our home, even to Edinburgh. Ye*ll have
been in Edinburgh, maybe?" said she, suddenly bright-

1 Ability.

152 Cranford

ening up with the hope of a common interest. We had
none of us been there ; but Miss Pole had an uncle
who once had passed a night there, which was very
pleasant.
5 Mrs. Jamieson, meanwhile, was absorbed in wonder
why Mr. MuUiner did not bring the tea ; and at length
the wonder oozed out of her mouth.

" I had better ring the bell, my dear, had not I ? " said
Lady Glenmire briskly.

10 "No — I think not — Mulliner does not like to be
hurried."

We should have liked our tea, for we dined at an earlier
hour than Mrs. Jamieson. I suspect Mr. Mulliner had to
finish the Sf. Jameses Chronicle before he chose to trouble

15 himself about tea. His mistress fidgeted and fidgeted,
and kept saying, " I can't think why Mulliner does not
bring tea. I can't think what he can be about."
And Lady Glenmire at last grew quite impatient, but it
was a pretty kind of impatience after all ; and she rang

20 the bell rather sharply, on receiving a half-permission
firom her sister-in-law to do so. Mr. Mulliner appeared
in dignified surprise. " Oh ! " said Mrs. Jamieson,
"Lady Glenmire rang the bell; I believe it was for
tea."

25 In a few minutes tea was brought. Very delicate was
the china, very old the plate, very thin the bread and
butter, and very small the lumps of sugar. Sugar was
evidently Mrs. Jamieson's favourite economy. I question
if the little filigree sugar-tongs, made something like

30 scissors, could have opened themselves wide enough to

Cranford 153

take up an honest, vulgar, good-sized piece ; and when I
tried to seize two little minnikin ^ pieces at once, so as not
to be detected in too many returns to the sugar-basin,
they absolutely dropped one, with a little sharp clatter,
quite in a malicious and unnatural manner. But before 5
this happened, we had had a slight disappointment. In the
little silver jug was cream, in the larger one was milk.
As soon as Mr. MuUiner came in. Carlo began to beg,
which was a thing our manners forbade us to do, though
I am sure we were just as hungry ; and Mrs. Jamieson 10
said she was certain we would excuse her if she gave her
poor dumb Carlo his tea first. She accordingly mixed a
saucerful for him, and put it down for him to lap ; and
then she told us how intelligent and sensible the dear
little fellow was ; he knew cream quite well, and con- 15
stantly refused tea with only milk in it : so the milk was
left for us ; but we silently thought we were quite as
intelligent and sensible as Carlo, and felt as if insult were
added to injury when we were called upon to admire the
gratitude evinced by his wagging his tail for the cream 20
which should have been ours.

After tea we thawed down into common-life subjects.
We were thankful to Lady Glenmire for having proposed
some more bread and butter, and this mutual want made
us better acquainted with her than we should ever have 25
been with talking about the Court, though Miss Pole did say
she had hoped to know how the dear Queen was from
some one who had seen her.

The friendship begun over bread and butter extended

^ Dainty, tiny.

1 54 Cranford

on to cards. Lady Glenmire played Preference to
admiration, and was a complete authority as to Ombre
and Quadrille. Even Miss Pole quite forgot to say " my
lady," and " your ladyship," and said " Basto ! ma*am ; "
5 " you have Spadille, I believe," just as quietly as if we
had never held the great Cranford parliament on the
subject of the proper mode of addressing a peeress.

As a proof of how thoroughly we had forgotten that we
were in the presence of one who might have sat down to

10 tea with a coronet, instead of a cap, on her head, Mrs.
Forrester related a curious little fact to Lady Glenmire —
an anecdote known to the circle of her intimate friends,
but of which even Mrs. Jamieson was not aware. It
related to some fine old lace, the sole relic of better days,

15 which Lady Glenmire was admiring on Mrs. Forrester's
collar.

" Yes," said that lady, " such lace cannot be got now for
either love or money ; made by the nuns abroad, they tell
me. They say that they can't make it now, even there.

20 But perhaps they can now they've passed the Catholic
Emancipation Bill. I should not wonder. But, in the
meantime, I treasure up my lace very much. I daren't
even trust the washing of it to my maid " (the little
charity schoolgirl I have named before, but who sounded

25 well as "my maid"). "I always wash it myself. And
once it had a narrow escape. Of course, your ladyship
knows that such lace must never be starched or ironed.
Some people wash it in sugar and water, and some in
coffee, to make it the right yellow colour ; but I myself

30 have a very good receipt for washing it in milk, which

Cranford 155

stiffens it enough, and gives it a very good creamy
colour. Well, ma'am, I had tacked it together (and the
beauty of this fine lace is that, when it is wet, it goes into
a very little space), and put it to soak in milk, when, un-
fortunately, I left the room ; on my return, I found pussy 5
on the table, looking very like a thief, but gulping very
uncomfortably, as if she was half choked with something
she wanted to swallow and could not. And, would you
believe it ? At first I pitied her, and said, * Poor pussy !
poor pussy ! * till, all at once, I looked and saw the cup 10
of milk empty — cleaned out ! ' You naughty cat ! * said
I ; and I believe I was provoked enough to give her a
slap, which did no good, but only helped the lace down —
just as one slaps a choking child on the back. I could
have cried, I was so vexed ; but I determined I would 15
not give the lace up without a struggle for it. I hoped
the lace might disagree with her, at any rate ; but it
would have been too much for Job,^ if he had seen, as I
did, that cat come in, quite placid and purring, not a
quarter of an hour after, and almost expecting to be 20
stroked. * No, pussy ! ' said I, ' if you have any
conscience you ought not to expect that ! ' And then a
thought struck me ; and I rang the bell for my maid,
and sent her to Mr. Hoggins, with my compliments, and
would he be kind enough to lend me one of his top-boots,* 25
for an hour? I did not think there was anything odd
in the message ; but Jenny said the young men in the

^ I,e, too much for the patience of Job.

2 High boots with a band of bright-coloured leather around the
top.

156 Cranford

surgery ^ laughed as if they would be ill at my wanting a
top-boot. When it came, Jenny and I put pussy in, with
her fore-feet straight down, so that they were fastened,
and could not scratch, and we gave her a teaspoonful of

5 currant-jelly in which (your ladyship must excuse me) I
had mixed some tartar emetic. I shall never forget how
anxious I was for the next half-hour. I took pussy to my
own room, and spread a clean towel on the floor. I
could have kissed her when she returned the lace to

10 sight, very much as it had gone down. Jenny had
boiling water ready, and we soaked it and soaked it, and
spread it on the lavender-bush in the sun before I could
touch it again, even to put it in milk. But now your
ladyship would never guess that it had been in pussy's

15 inside."

We found out, in the course of the evening, that Lady
Glenmire was going to pay Mrs. Jamieson a long visit, as
she had given up her apartments in Edinburgh, and had
no ties to take her back there in a hurry. On the

20 whole, we were rather glad to hear this, for she had made
a pleasant impression upon us ; and it was also very com-
fortable to find, from things which dropped out in the
course of conversation, that, in addition to many other
genteel qualities, she was far removed from the " vulgarity

25 of wealth."

"Don't you find it very unpleasant walking?" asked
Mrs. Jamieson, as our respective servants were an-
nounced. It was a pretty regular question from Mrs.
Jamieson, who had her own carriage in the coach-house,
^ Consulting office and dispensary of a general practitioner.

Cranford 1 57

and always went out in a sedan-chair to the very shortest
distances. The answers were nearly as much a matter of
course.

" Oh dear, no ! it is so pleasant and still at night ! "
" Such a refreshment after the excitement of a party ! " 5
" The stars are so beautiful ! " This last was from Miss
Matty.

" Are you fond of astronomy ? " Lady Glenmire asked.

" Not very," replied Miss Matty, rather confused at the
moment to remember which was astronomy and which 10
was astrology — but the answer was true under either cir-
cumstance, for she read, and was slightly alarmed at
Francis Moore's astrological predictions ; and, as to as-
tronomy, in a private and confidential conversation, she
had told me she never could believe that the earth was 15
moving constantly, and that she would not believe it if
she could, it made her feel so tired and dizzy whenever she
thought about it.

In our pattens we picked our way home with extra care
that night, so refined and delicate were our perceptions 20
after drinking tea with " my lady."

CHAPTER IX

SIGNOR BRUNONI

Soon after the events of which I gave an account in my
last paper, I was summoned home by my father's illness ;
and for a time I forgot, in anxiety about him, to wonder
how my dear friends at Cranford were getting on, or how

5 Lady Glenmire could reconcile herself to the dullness of
the long visit which she was still paying to her sister-in-
law, Mrs. Jamieson. When my father grew a little stronger
I accompanied him to the seaside, so that altogether I
seemed banished from Cranford, and was deprived of the

10 opportunity of hearing any chance intelligence of the dear
little town for the greater part of that year.

Late in November — when we had returned home
again, and my father was once more in good health — I
received a letter from Miss Matty ; and a very mysterious

15 letter it was. She began many sentences without ending
them, running them one into another, in much the same
confused sort of way in which written words run together
on blotting-paper. All I could make out was that, if my
father was better (which she hoped he was), and would

20 take warning and wear a greatcoat from Michaelmas to
Ladyday, if turbans were in fashion, could I tell her?
Such a piece of gaiety was going to happen as had not
been seen or known of since Wombwell's lions came, when
one of them ate a little child's arm ; and she was, perhaps,

158

Cranford 159

too old to care about dress, but a new cap she must have ;
and, having heard that turbans were worn, and some of
the county famiUes hkely to come, she would like to look
tidy, if I would bring her a cap from the milliner I em-
ployed ; and oh dear ! how careless of her to forget that 5
she wrote to beg I would come and pay her a visit next
Tuesday ; when she hoped to have something to offer me in
the way of amusement, which she would not now more
particularly describe, only sea-green was her favourite
colour. So she ended her letter ; but in a P.S. she added, 10
she thought she might as well tell me what was the pecul-
iar attraction to Cranford just now ; Signor Brunoni was
going to exhibit his wonderful magic in the Cranford
Assembly Rooms on Wednesday and Friday evenings in
the following week. 15

I was very glad to accept the invitation from my dear
Miss Matty, independently of the conjurer, and most par-
ticularly anxious to prevent her from disfiguring her small,
gentle, mousey face with a great Saracen's ^ head turban ;
and accordingly, I bought her a pretty, neat, middle-aged 20
cap, which, however, was rather a disappointment to her
when, on my arrival, she followed me into my bedroom,
ostensibly to poke the fire, but in reality, I do believe, to
see if the sea-green turban was not inside the cap-box
with which I had travelled. It was in vain that I twirled 25
the cap round on my hand to exhibit back and side
fronts : her heart had been set upon a turban, and all she
could do was to say, with resignation in her look and
voice —

^ Arabian, Mohammedan.

1 60 Cranford

■

" I am sure you did your best, my dear. It is just like
the caps all the ladies in Cranford are wearing, and they
have had theirs for a year, I dare say. I should have
liked something newer, I confess — something more like
5 the turbans Miss Betty Barker tells me Queen Adelaide
wears ; but it is very pretty, my dear. And I dare say
lavender will wear better than sea-green. Well, after all,
what is dress, that we should care about it? You'll tell
me if you want anything, my dear. Here is the bell. I

10 suppose turbans have not got down to Drumble yet?*'

So saying, the dear old lady gently bemoaned herself

out of the room, leaving me to dress for the evening

when, as she informed me, she expected Miss Pole and

Mrs. Forrester, and she hoped I should not feel myself

15 too much tired to join the party. Of course I should
not ; and I made some haste to unpack and arrange my
dress ; but, with all my speed, I heard the arrivals and
the buzz of conversation in the next room before I was
ready. Just as I opened the door, I caught the words,

20 " I was foolish to expect anything very genteel out of the

Drumble shops ; poor girl ! she did her best, Fve no

doubt." But, for all that, I had rather that she blamed

Drumble and me than disfigured herself with a turban.

Miss Pole was always the person, in the trio of Cran-

25 ford ladies now assembled, to have had adventures. She
was in the habit of spending the morning in rambling
from shop to shop, not to purchase anything (except an
occasional reel of cotton, or a piece of tape), but to see
the new articles and report upon them, and to collect all

30 the stray pieces of intelligence in the town. She had a

Cranford 1 6 1

way, too, of demurely popping hither and thither into all
sorts of places to gratify her curiosity on any point — a
way which, if she had not looked so very genteel and
prim, might have been considered impertinent. And
now, by the expressive way in which she cleared hers
throat, and waited for all minor subjects (such as caps
and turbans) to be cleared off the course, we knew she
had something very particular to relate, when the due
pause came — and I defy any people possessed of com-
mon modesty to keep up a conversation long, where one lo
among them sits up aloft in silence, looking down upon
all the things they chance to say as trivial and contempt-
ible compared to what they could disclose, if properly
entreated. Miss Pole began —

" As I was stepping out of Gordon's shop to-day, 1 15
chanced to go into the ' George * (my Betty has a
second-cousin who is chambermaid there, and I thought
Betty would like to hear how she was), and, not seeing
any one about, I strolled up the staircase, and found my-
self in the passage leading to the Assembly Room (you 20
and I remember the Assembly Room, I am sure, Miss
Matty! and the menuets de la courl); so I went on,
not thinking of what I was about, when, all at once, I
perceived that I was in the middle of the preparations
for to-morrow night — the room being divided with great 25
clothes-maids,^ over which Crosby's men were tacking
red flannel ; very dark and odd it seemed ; it quite be-
wildered me, and I was going on behind the screens, in
my absence of mind, when a gentleman (quite the gentle-

^ Same as clothes-horses.

CRANFORD — II

1 62 Cranford

man, I can assure you) stepped forwards and asked if I
had any business he could arrange for me. He spoke
such pretty broken English, I could not help thinking of
Thaddeus of Warsaw, and the Hungarian Brothers, and
5 Santo Sebastiani ; and while I was busy picturing his past
life to myself, he had bowed me out of the room. But
wait a minute ! You have not heard half my story yet !
I was going downstairs, when who^ should I meet but
Betty's second-cousin. So, of course, I stopped to speak

10 to her for Betty's sake ; and she told me that I had really
seen the conjurer — the gentleman who spoke broken
English was Signor Brunoni himself. Just at this moment
he passed us on the stairs, making such a graceful bow !
in reply to which I dropped a curtsey — all foreigners

15 have such polite manners, one catches something of it.
But, when he had gone downstairs, I bethought me that
I had dropped my glove in the Assembly Room (it was
safe in my muff all the time, but I never found it till
afterwards) ; so I went back, and, just as I was creeping

20 up the passage left on one side of the great screen that
goes nearly across the room, who ^ should I see but the
very same gentleman that had met me before, and passed
me on the stairs, coming now forwards from the inner
part of the room, to which there is no entrance — you

25 remember, Miss Matty — and just repeating, in his pretty
broken English, the inquiry if I had any business there?
— I don't mean that he put it quite so bluntly, but he
seemed very determined that I should not pass the
screen — so, of course, I explained about my glove,

1 Whom.

Cranford 1 63

which, curiously enough, I found at that very mo-
ment."

Miss Pole, then, had seen the conjurer — the real, live
conjurer ! and numerous were the questions we all asked
her. "Had he a beard?" "Was he young, or old?" 5
"Fair, or dark?" "Did he look" — (unable to shape
my question prudently, I put it in another form) —
"How did he look?" In short. Miss Pole was the
heroine of the evening, owing to her morning's en-
counter. If she was not the rose (that is to say, the con- 10
jurer), she had been near it.

Conjuration, sleight of hand, magic, witchcraft, were
the subjects of the evening. Miss Pole was slighdy
sceptical, and inclined to think there might be a scien-
tific solution found for even the proceedings of the Witch 15
of Endor. Mrs. Forrester believed everything, from
ghosts to death-watches. Miss Matty ranged between
the two — always convinced by the last speaker. I think
she was naturally more inclined to Mrs. Forrester's side,
but a desire of proving herself a worthy sister to Miss 20
Jenkyns kept her equally balanced — Miss Jenkyns, who
would never allow a servant to call the little rolls of
tallow that formed themselves round candles " winding-
sheets," but insisted on their being spoken of as
" roley-poleys ! " ^ A sister of hers to be superstitious ! 25
It would never do.

After tea, I was dispatched downstairs into the dining-
parlour for that volume of the old Encyclopaedia which
contained the nouns beginning with C, in order that Miss

1 Because it made them thicker.

1 64 Cranford

Pole might prime herself with scientific explanations for
the tricks of the following evening. It spoilt the pool at
Preference which Miss Matty and Mrs. Forrester had been
looking fon^'ard to, for Miss Pole became so much absorbed

5 in her subject, and the plates by which it was illustrated,
that we felt it would be cruel to disturb her otherwise
than by one or two well-timed yawns, which I threw in
now and then, for I was really touched by the meek way
in which the two ladies were bearing their disappointment.

10 But Miss Pole only read the more zealously, imparting to
us no more interesting information than this : —

" Ah ! I see ; I comprehend perfectly. A represents
the ball. Put A between B and D — no 1 between C and
F, and turn the second joint of the third finger of your left

15 hand over the wrist of your right H. Very clear indeed!
My dear Mrs. Forrester, conjuring and witchcraft is a mere
affair of the alphabet. Do let me read you this one
passage ? "

Mrs. Forrester implored Miss Pole to spare her, saying,
. 20 from a child upwards, she never could understand being
read aloud to ; and I dropped the pack of cards, which I
had been shuffling very audibly, and by this discreet
movement I obliged Miss Pole to perceive that Preference
was to have been the order of the evening, and to pro-

25 pose, rather unwillingly, that the pool should commence.
The pleasant brightness that stole over the other two
ladies' faces on this I Miss Matty had one or two twinges
of self-reproach for having interrupted Miss Pole in her
studies : and did not remember her cards well, or give

30 her fiiU attention to the game, until she had soothed her

Cranford 165

conscience by offering to lend the volume of the Encyclo-
paedia to Miss Pole, who accepted it thankfully, and said
Betty should take it home when she came with the
lantern.

The next evening we were all in a little gentle flutter 5
at the idea of the gaiety before us. Miss Matty went up to
dress betimes, and hurried me until I was ready, when we
found we had an hour and a half to wait before the " doors
opened at seven precisely." And we had only twenty
yards to go ! However, as Miss Matty said, it would not 10
do to get too much absorbed in anything, and forget the
time ; so she thought we had better sit quietly, without
lighting the candles, till five minutes to seven. So Miss
Matty dozed, and I knitted.

At length we set off; and at the door, under the car- 15
riage-way at the " George," we met Mrs. Forrester and
Miss Pole : the latter was discussing the subject of the
evening with more vehemence than ever, and throwing
A's and B's at our heads like hailstones. She had even
copied one or two of the "receipts" — as she called 20
them — for the different tricks, on backs of letters, ready
to explain and to detect Signor Brunoni's arts.

We went into the cloak-room adjoining the Assembly
Room j Miss Matty gave a sigh or two to her departed
youth, and the remembrance of the last time she had 25
been there, as she adjusted her pretty new cap before the
strange, quaint old mirror in the cloak-room. The
Assembly Room had been added to the inn, about a
hundred years before, by the different county families,
who met together there once a month during the winter 30

1 66 Cranford

to dance and play at cards. Many a county beauty had
first swung through the minuet that she afterwards danced
before Queen Charlotte in this very room. It was said
that one of the Gunnings had graced the apartment with

5 her beauty ; it was certain that a rich and beautiful widow,
Lady Williams, had here been smitten with the noble figure
of a young artist, who was staying with some family in the
neighbourhood for professional purposes, and accom-
panied his patrons to the Cranford Assembly. And a

10 pretty bargain poor Lady Williams had of her handsome
husband, if all tales were true. Now, no beauty blushed
and dimpled along the sides of the Cranford Assembly
Room ; no handsome artist won hearts by his bow,
chapeau bras ^ in hand ; the old room was dingy ; the

15 salmon-coloured paint had faded into a drab ; great
pieces of plaster had chipped off from the white wreaths
and festoons on its walls ; but still a mouldy odour of
aristocracy lingered about the place, and a dusty recollec-
tion of the days that were gone made Miss Matty and

20 Mrs. Forrester bridle up as they entered, and walk min-
cingly up the room, as if there were a number of genteel
observers, instead of two little boys with a stick of toffy ^
between them with which to beguile the time.

We stopped short at the second front row ; I could

25 hardly understand why, until I heard Miss Pole ask a stray
waiter if any of the county families were expected ; and
when he shook his head, and believed not, Mrs. Forrester
and Miss Matty moved forwards, and our party repre-
sented a conversational square. The front row was soon

1 Doffed hat. 2 Tafl^.

Cranford 1 67

augmented and enriched by Lady Glenmire and Mrs.
Jamieson. We six occupied the two front rows, and our
aristocratic seclusion was respected by the groups of shop-
keepers who strayed in from time to time and huddled
together on the back benches. At least I conjectured so, 5
from the noise they made, and the sonorous bumps they
gave in sitting down ; but when, in weariness of the ob-
stinate green curtain that would not draw up, but would
stare at me with two odd eyes, seen through holes, as in
the old tapestry story, I would fain have looked round at 10
the merry chattering people behind me. Miss Pole clutched
my arm, and begged me not to turn, for "it was not the
thing." What " the thing " was, I never could find out,
but it must have been something eminently dull and tire-
some. However, we all sat eyes right, square front, gazing 15
at the tantalizing ^ curtain, and hardly speaking intelligibly
we were so afraid of being caught in the vulgarity of mak-
ing any noise in a place of public amusement. Mrs.
Jamieson was the most fortunate, for she fell asleep.

At length the eyes disappeared — the curtain quivered 20
— one side went up before the other, which stuck fast ;
it was dropped again, and with a fresh effort, and a
vigorous pull from some unseen hand, it flew up, reveal-
ing to our sight a magnificent gentleman in the Turkish
costume, seated before a little table, gazing at us (1 25
should have said with the same eyes that I had last
seen through the hole in the curtain) with calm and
condescending dignity, "like a being of another sphere,"
as I heard a sentimental voice ejaculate behind me.

^ Tormenting, or teasing.

1 68 Cranford

" That's not Signer Brunoni ! " said Miss Pole de-
cidedly : and so audibly that I am sure he heard, for
he glanced down over his flowing beard at our party
with an air of mute reproach. "Signor Brunoni had
5 no beard — but perhaps he'll come soon." So she lulled
herself into patience. Meanwhile, Miss Matty had re-
connoitred through her eye-glass, wiped it, and looked
again. Then she turned round, and said to me, in a
kind, mild, sorrowful tone —

10 " You see, my dear, turbans are worn."

But we had no time for more conversation. The
Grand Turk, as Miss Pole chose to call him, arose and
announced himself as Signor Brunoni.

" I don't believe him ! " exclaimed Miss Pole, in a

15 defiant manner. He looked at her again, with the same
dignified upbraiding in his countenance. " I don't ! "
she repeated more positively than ever. "Signor Bru-
noni had not got that muffy sort of thing about his chin,
but looked like a close-shaved Christian gentleman."

20 Miss Pole's energetic speeches had the good effect
of wakening up Mrs. Jamieson, who opened her eyes
wide, in sign of the deepest attention — a proceeding
which silenced Miss Pole and encouraged the Grand
Turk to proceed, which he did in very broken English

25 — so broken that there was no cohesion between the

parts of his sentences ; a fact which he himself perceived

at last, and so left off speaking and proceeded to action.

Now we were astonished. How he did his tricks I

could not imagine ; no, not even when Miss Pole pulled

30 out her pieces of paper and began reading aloud — or

Cranford 169

at least in a very audible whisper — the separate "re-
ceipts " for the most common of his tricks. If ever I
saw a man frown and look enraged, I saw the Grand
Turk frown at Miss Pole ; but, as she said, what could be
expected but unchristian looks from a Mussulman?^ If 5
Miss Pole was sceptical, and more engrossed with her
receipts and diagrams than with his tricks, Miss Matty
and Mrs. Forrester were mystified and perplexed to the
highest degree. Mrs. Jamieson kept taking her spec-
tacles off and' wiping them, as if she thought it was 10
something defective in them which made the leger-
demain;* and Lady Glenmire, who had seen many
curious sights in Edinburgh, was very much struck with
the tricks, and would not at all agree with Miss Pole,
who declared that anybody could do them with a little 15
practice, and that she would, herself, undertake to do all
he did, with two hours given to study the Encyclopaedia
and make her third finger flexible.

At last Miss Matty and Mrs. Forrester became per-
fectly awe-stricken. They whispered together. I sat 20
just behind them, so I could not help hearing what
they were saying. Miss Matty asked Mrs. Forrester
"if she thought it was quite right to have come to
see such things? She could not help fearing they
were lending encouragement to something that was not 25

quite " A little shake of the head filled up the

blank. Mrs. Forrester replied that the same thought
had crossed her mind ; she, too, was feeling very un-
comfortable, it was so very strange. She was quite
^ Mohammedan. '^ Sleight of hand.

1 70 Cranford

certain that it was her pocket-handkerchief which was in
that loaf just now ; and it had been in her own hand
not five minutes before. She wondered who had fur-
nished the bread? She was sure it could not be Dakin,

5 because he was the churchwarden. Suddenly Miss Matty
half turned toward me —

" Will you look, my dear — you are a stranger in the
town, and it won't give rise to unpleasant reports — will
you just look round and see if the rector is here? If

10 he is, I think we may conclude that this wonderful man
is sanctioned by the Church, and that will be a great
relief to my mind."

I looked, and I saw the tall, thin, dry, dusty rector,
sitting surrounded by National School boys, guarded

15 by troops of his own sex from any approach of the many
Cranford spinsters. His kind face was all agape with
broad smiles, and the boys around him were in chinks ^
of laughing. I told Miss Matty that the Church was
smiling approval, which set her mind at ease.

20 I have never named Mr. Hayter, the rector, because
I, as a well-to-do and happy young woman, never came
ill contact with him. He was an old bachelor, but as
afraid of matrimonial reports getting abroad about him as
any girl of eighteen : and he would rush into a shop, or

2- dive down an entry, sooner than encounter any of the
Cranford ladies in the street ; and, as for the Preference
parties, I did not wonder at his not accepting invitations
to them. To tell the truth, I always suspected Miss Pole of
having given very vigorous chase to Mr. Hayter when he

^ Convulsions.

Cranford 171

first came to Cranford ; and not the less, because now she
appeared to share so vividly in his dread lest her name
should ever be coupled with his. He found all his
interests among the poor and helpless ; he had treated
the National School boys this very night to the per- 5
formancej and virtue was for once its own reward, for
they guarded him right and left, and clung round him as
if he had been the queen -bee and they the swarm. He
felt so safe in their environment that he could even
afford to give our party a bow as we filed out. Miss 10
Pole ignored his presence, and pretended to be absorbed
in convincing us that we had been cheated, and had not
seen Signor Bruuoni after all.

CHAPTER X

THE PANIC

I THINK a series of circumstances dated from Signer
Brmioni's visit to Cranford, which seemed at the time
connected in our minds with him, though I don't know
that he had anything really to do with them. All at once
5 all sorts of uncomfortable rumours got afloat in the town.
There were one or two robberies — real bond fide ^ rob-
beries ; men had up before the magistrates and committed
for trial — and that seemed to make us all afraid of being
robbed ; and for a long time, at Miss Matty's, I know, we

10 used to make a regular expedition all round the kitchens
and cellars every night, Miss Matty leading the way,
armed with the poker, I following with the hearth-brush,
and Martha carrying the shovel and fire-irons with which
to sound the alarm ; and by the accidental hitting to-

15 gether of them she often frightened us so much that we
bolted ourselves up, all three together, in the back-
kitchen, or store-room, or wherever we happened to be,
till, when our affright was over, we recollected ourselves,
and set out afresh with double valiance. By day we heard

20 strange stories from the shopkeepers and cottagers, of
carts that went about in the dead of night, drawn by
horses shod with felt, and guarded by men in dark

^ Genuine.
172

Cranford 173

clothes, going round the town, no doubt in search of
some unwatched house or some unfastened door.

Miss Pole, who affected great bravery herself, was the
principal person to collect and arrange these reports so
as to make them assume their most fearful aspect. But 5
we discovered that she had begged one of Mr. Hoggins's
worn-out hats to hang up in her lobby, and we (at least
I) had doubts as to whether she really would enjoy the
little adventure of having her house broken into, as she
protested she should. Miss Matty made no secret of 10
being an arrant coward, but she went regularly through
her housekeeper's duty of inspection — only the hour for
this became earlier and earlier, till at last we went the
rounds at half-past six, and Miss Matty adjourned to bed
soon after seven, " in order to get the night over the 15
sooner."

Cranford had so long piqued itself on being an honest
and moral town that it had grown to fancy itself too gen-
teel and well-bred to be otherwise, and felt the stain upon
its character at this time doubly. But we comforted our- 20
selves with the assurance which we gave to each other
that the robberies could never have been committed by
any Cranford person ; it must have been a stranger, or
strangers, who brought this disgrace upon the town, and
occasioned as many precautions as if we were living 25
among the Red Indians or the French.

This last comparison of our nightly state of defence
and fortification was made by Mrs. Forrester, whose father
had served under General Burgoyne in the American
war, and whose husband had fought the French in Spain. 30

1 74 Cranford

She indeed inclined to the idea that, in some way, the
French were connected with the small thefts, which were
ascertained facts, and the burglaries and highway rob-
beries, which were rumours. She had been deeply im-

5 pressed with the idea of French spies at some time in
her life ; and the notion could never be fairly eradicated/
but sprang up again from time to time. And now her
theory was this : — The Cranford people respected them-
selves too much, and were too grateful to the aristocracy

10 who were so kind as to live near the town, ever to dis-
grace their bringing up by being dishonest or immoral ;
therefore, we must believe that the robbers were strangers
— if strangers, why not foreigners ? — if foreigners, who
so likely as the French? Signor Brunoni spoke broken

15 English like a Frenchman ; and, though he wore a turban
like a Turk, Mrs. Forrester had seen a print of Madame
de Stael with a turban on, and another of Mr. Denon in
just such a dress as that in which the conjurer had made
his appearance, showing clearly that the French, as well

20 as the Turks, wore turbans. There could be no doubt
Signor Brunoni was a Frenchman — a French spy come
to discover the weak and undefended places of England,
and doubtless he had his accomplices. For her part, she,
Mrs. Forrester, had always had her own opinion of Miss

25 Pole's adventure at the ** George Inn " — seeing two men
where only one was believed to be. French people had
ways and means which, she was thankful to say, the Eng-
lish knew nothing about ; and she had never felt quite
easy in her mind about going to see that conjurer — it

^ Rooted out.

Cranford 1 7 5

was rather too much like a forbidden thing, though the
rector was there. In short, Mrs. Forrester grew more
excited than we had ever known her before, and, being
an officer's daughter and widow, we looked up to her
opinion, of course. 5

Really I do not know how much was true or false in
the reports which flew about like wildfire just at this
time ; but it seemed to me then that there was every
reason to beHeve that at Mardon (a small town about
eight miles from Cranford) houses and shops were en- 1©
tered by holes made in the walls, the bricks being silently
carried away in the dead of the night, and all done so
quietly that no sound was heard either in or out of the
house. Miss Matty gave it up in despair when she heard
of this. "What was the use," said she, "of locks and 15
bolts, and bells to the windows, and going round the
house every night? That last trick was fit for a conjurer.
Now she did believe that Signor Brunoni was at the
bottom of it."

One afternoon, about five o'clock, we were startled by 20
a hasty knock at the door. Miss Matty bade me run and
tell Martha on no account to open the door till she (Miss
Matty) »had reconnoitred through the window ; and she
armed herself with a footstool to drop down on the head
of the visitor, in case he should show a face covered with 25
black crape, as he lookei up in answer to her inquiry of
who was there. But it was nobody but Miss Pole and
Betty. The former came upstairs, carrying a little hand-
basket, and she was evidently in a state of great agitation.

"Take care of that ! " said she to me, as I offered to 30

1 76 Cranford

relieve her of her basket. " It's my plate. ^ I am sure
there is a plan to rob my house to-night. I am come to
throw myself on your hospitality, Miss Matty. Betty is
going to sleep with her cousin at the * George.* I can sit

5 up here all night if you will allow me ; but my house is so
far from any neighbours, and I don*t believe we could be
heard if we screamed ever so I "

"But," said Miss Matty, "what has alarmed you so
much? Have you seen any men lurking about the

10 house?"

" Oh yes ! " answered Miss Pole. " Two very bad-
looking men have gone three times past the house, very
slowly ; and an Irish beggar-woman came not half-an-
hour ago, and all but forced herself in past Betty, saying

15 her children were starving, and she must speak to the
mistress. You see, she said ' mistress,* though there was
a hat hanging up in the hall, and it would have been more
natural to have said ' master.* But Betty shut the door
in her face, and came up to me, and we got the spoons

20 together, and sat in the parlour-window till we saw
Thomas Jones going from his work, when we called to
him and asked him to take care of us into the town."

We might have triumphed over Miss Pole, who had
professed such bravery until she was frightened ; but we

25 were too glad to perceive that she shared in the weak-
nesses of humanity to exult over her ; and I gave up my
room to her very willingly, and shared Miss Matty's bed
for the night. But before we retired, the two ladies
rummaged up, out of the recesses of their memory, such

^ Silverware.

Cranford 177

horrid stories of robbery and murder that I quite quaked
in my shoes. Miss Pole was evidently anxious to prove
that such terrible events had occurred within her experi-
ence that she was justified in her sudden panic ; and Miss
Matty did not like to be outdone, and capped every 5
story with one yet more horrible, till it reminded me,
oddly enough, of an old story I had read somewhere, of
a nightingale and a musician, who strove one against the
other which could produce the most admirable music, till
poor PhilomeP dropped down dead. ,0

One of the stories that haunted me for a long time after-
wards was of a girl who was left in charge of a great house
in Cumberland on some particular fair-day, when the
other servants all went off to the gaieties. The family
were away in London, and a pedlar came by, and asked 15
to leave his large and heavy pack in the kitchen, say-
ing he would call for it again at night ; and the girl (a
game-keeper's daughter), roaming about in search of
amusenient, chanced to hit upon a gun hanging up in the
hall, and took it down to look at the chasing ; and it 20
went off through the open kitchen door, hit the pack, and
a slow dark thread of blood came oozing out. (How
Miss Pole enjoyed this part of the story, dwelling on each
word as if she loved it ! ) She rather hurried over the
further account of the girPs bravery, and I have but a 25
confused idea that, somehow, she baffled the robbers
with Italian irons, heated red-hot, and then restored to
blackness by being dipped in grease.

We parted for the night with an awe-stricken wonder

^The nightingale.
CRANFORD — 12

lyS Cratiford

as to what we should hear of in the morning — and, on
my part, with a vehement desire for the night to be over
and gone : I was so afraid lest the robbers should have
seen, from some dark lurking-place, that Miss Pole had
5 carried off her plate, and thus have a double motive for
attacking our house.

But until Lady Glenmire came to call next day we
heard of nothing unusual. The kitchen fire-irons were in
exactly the same position against the back door as when

lo Martha and I had skilfully piled them up, like spillikins, ^
ready to fall with an awful clatter if only a cat had
touched the outside panels. I had wondered what we
should all do if thus awakened and alarmed, and had
proposed to Miss Matty that we should cover up our

15 faces under the bedclothes, so that there should be no
danger of the robbers thinking that we could identify
them ; but Miss Matty, who was trembling very much,
scouted this idea, and said we owed it to society to appre-
hend them, and that she should certainly do her best to

20 lay hold of them and lock them up in the garret till
morning.

When Lady Glenmire came, we almost felt jealous of
her. Mrs. Jamieson's house had really been attacked ; at
least there were men^s footsteps to be seen on the flower

25 borders, underneath the kitchen windows, " where nae
men should be " ; and Carlo had barked all through the
night as if strangers were abroad. Mrs. Jamieson had
been awakened by Lady Glenmire, and they had rung
the bell which communicated with Mr. Mulliner's
1 Sticks used in game of Spillikins.

Cranford 179

room in the third storey, and when his nightcapped
head had appeared over the banisters, in answer to
the summons, they had told him of their alarm, and
the reasons for it ; whereupon he retreated into his
bedroom, and locked the door (for fear of draughts, 5
as he informed them in the morning), and opened
the window, and called out valiantly to say, if the
supposed robbers would come to him he would fight
them; but, as Lady Glenmire observed, that was but
poor comfort, since they would have to pass by Mrs. ,©
Jamieson*s room and her own before they could reach
him, and must be of a very pugnacious disposition indeed
if they neglected the opportunities of robbery presented
by the unguarded lower storeys, to go up to a garret,
and there force a door in order to get at the champion of ,5
the house. Lady Glenmire, after waiting and listening
for some time in the drawing-room, had proposed to
Mrs. Jamieson that they should go to bed ; but that lady
said she should not feel comfortable unless she sat up and
watched; and, accordingly, she packed herself warmly ^o
up on the sofa, where she was found by the housemaid,
when she came into the room at six o'clock, fast asleep ;
but Lady Glenmire went to bed, and kept awake all
night.

When Miss Pole heard of this, she nodded her head in 25
great satisfaction. She had been sure we should hear of
something happening in Cranford that night ; and we had
heard. It was clear enough they had first proposed to
attack her house ; but when they saw that she and Betty
were on their guard, and had carried off the plate, they 30

1 80 Cranford

had changed their tactics and gone to Mrs. Jamieson's,
and no one knew what might have happened if Carlo had
not barked, like a good dog as he was !

Poor Carlo ! his barking days were nearly over.
5 Whether the gang who infested the neighbourhood were
afraid of him, or whether they were revengeful enough,
for the way in which he had baffled them on the night in
question, to poison him ; or whether, as some among the
more uneducated people thought, he died of apoplexy,

10 brought on by too much feeding and too little exercise ;
at any rate, it is certain .that, two days after this eventful
night. Carlo was found dead, with his poor httle legs
stretched out stiff in the attitude of running, as if by such
unusual exertion he could escape the sure pursuer, Death.

15 We were all sorry for Carlo, the old familiar friend who
had snapped at us for so many years ; and the mysterious
mode of his death made us very uncomfortable. Could
Signer Brunoni be at the bottom of this? He had ap-
parently killed a canary with only a word of command ;

20 his will seemed of deadly force ; who knew but what he
might yet be lingering in the neighbourhood willing all sorts
of awful things !

We whispered these fancies among ourselves in the
evenings : but in the mornings our courage came back

25 with the daylight, and in a week's time we had got over
the shock of Carlo's death ; all but Mrs. Jamieson. She,
poor thing, felt it as she had felt no event since her hus-
band's death ; indeed Miss Pole said, that as the Hon-
ourable Mr. Jamieson drank a good deal, and occasioned

30 her much uneasiness, it was possible that Carlo's death

Cranford 1 8 1

might be the greater affliction. But there was always a
tinge of cynicism in Miss Pole's remarks. However, one
thing was clear and certain — it was necessary for Mrs.
Jamieson to have some change of scene ; and Mr. Mul-
liner was very impressive on this point, shaking his head 5
whenever we inquired after his mistress, and speaking of
her loss of appetite and bad nights very ominously ; and
with justice too, for if she had two characteristics in her
natural state of health they were a facility ^ of eating and
sleeping. If she could neither eat nor sleep, she must be 10
indeed out of spirits and out of health.

Lady Glenmire (who had evidently taken very kindly
to Cranford) did not like the idea of Mrs. Jamieson's go-
ing to Cheltenham, and more than once insinuated pretty
plainly that it was Mr. Mulliner's doing, who had been 15
much alarmed on the occasion of the house being at-
tacked, and since had said, more than once, that he felt
it a very responsible charge to have to defend so many
women. Be that as it might, Mrs. Jamieson went to
Cheltenham, escorted by Mr. MuUiner ; and Lady Glen- 20
mire remained in possession of the house, her ostensible
office being to take care that the maid-servants did not
pick up followers. She made a very pleasant-looking
dragon ; and, as soon as it was arranged for her stay in
Cranford, she found out that Mrs. Jamieson's visit to 25
Cheltenham was just the best thing in the world. She
had let her house in Edinburgh, and, was for the time
houseless, so the charge of her sister-in-law's comfortable
abode was very convenient and acceptable.

1 Ease.

1 82 Cranford

Miss Pole was very much inclined to install herself as
a heroine, because of the decided steps she had taken in
flying from the two men and one woman, whom she en-
titled "that murderous gang." She described their
5 appearance in glowing colours, and I noticed that every
time she went over the story some fresh trait of villainy
was added to their appearance. One was tall — he grew
to be gigantic in height before we had done with him ;
he of course had black hair — and by-and-by it hung in

10 elf-locks^ over his forehead and down his back. The
other was short and broad — and a hump sprouted out on
his shoulder before we heard the last of him ; he had red
hair — which deepened into carroty ; and she was almost
sure he had a cast in the eye — a decided squint. As

15 for the woman, her eyes glared, and she was masculine-
looking — a perfect virago ; ^ most probably a man dressed
in woman's clothes : afterwards, we heard of a beard on
her chin, and a manly voice and a stride.

If Miss Pole was delighted to recount the events of that

20 afternoon to all inquirers, others were not so proud of
their adventures in the robbery line. Mr. Hoggins, the
surgeon, had been attacked at his own door by two
ruffians, who were concealed in the shadow of the porch,
and so effectually silenced him that he was robbed in the

25 interval between ringing his bell and the servant's an-
swering it. Miss Pole was sure it would turn out that this
robbery had been committed by " her men," and went
the very day she heard the report to have her teeth

^ Hair twisted into knots, as if by fairies.
2 A bold, impudent, turbulent woman.

Cranford 1 83

examined, and to question Mr. Hoggins. She came to us
afterwards ; so we heard what she had heard, straight and
direct from the source, while we were yet in the excite-
ment and flutter of the agitation caused by the first intel-
ligence ; for the event had only occurred the night 5
before.

" Well ! " said Miss Pole, sitting down with the decision
of a person who has made up her mind as to the nature
of life and the world (and such people never tread lightly,
or seat themselves without a bump), "well, Miss Matty ! 10
men will be men. Every mother's son of them wishes to
be considered Samson and Solomon rolled into one — too
strong ever to be beaten or discomfited — too wise ever to
be outwitted. If you will notice, they have always fore-
seen events, though they never tell one for one's warning 15
before the events happen. My father was a man, and I
know the sex pretty well."

She had talked herself out of breath, and we should
have been very glad to fill up the necessary pause as chorus,
but we did not exactly know what to say, or which man 20
had suggested this diatribe ^ against the sex ; so we only
joined in generally, with a grave shake of the head, and
a soft murmur of "They are very incomprehensible,
certainly ! "

" Now, only think," said she. " There, I have under- 25
gone the risk of having one of my remaining teeth drawn
(for one is terribly at the mercy of any surgeon- dentist ;
and I, for one, always speak them fair till I have got my
mouth out of their clutches), and, after all, Mr. Hoggins

1 Abusive speech.

1 84 Cranford

is too much of a man to own that he was robbed last
night."

" Not robbed !" exclaimed the chorus.

" Don't tell me !" Miss Pole exclaimed, angry that we

5 could be for a moment imposed upon. " I believe he
was robbed, just as Betty told me, and he is ashamed to
own it ; and, to be sure, it was very silly of him to be
robbed just at his own door; I dare say he feels that
such a thing won't raise him in the eyes of Cranford so-

10 ciety, and is anxious to conceal it — but he need not
have tried to impose upon me, by saying I must have
heard an exaggerated account of some petty theft of a
neck of mutton, which, it seems, was stolen out of the
safe ^ in his yard last week ; he had the impertinence to

15 add, he believed that that was taken by the cat. I have
no doubt, if I could get at the bottom of it, it was that
Irishman dressed up in woman's clothes, who came spy-
ing about my house, with the story about the starving
children."

20 After we had duly condemmed the want of candour^
which Mr. Hoggins had evinced, and abused men in
general, taking him for the representative and type, we
got round to the subject about which we had been talk-
ing when Miss Pole come in ; namely, how far, in the

25 present disturbed state of the country, we could venture
to accept an invitation which Miss Matty had just re-
ceived from Mrs. Forrester, to come as usual and keep
the anniversary of her wedding-day by drinking tea with
her at five o'clock, and playing a quiet pool afterwards.
^ A cupboard for meats. ^ Frankness.

Cranford 185

Mrs. Forrester had said that she asked us with some dif-
fidence, because the roads were, she feared, very unsafe.
But she suggested that perhaps one of us would not ob-
ject to take the sedan, and that the others, by walking
briskly, might keep up with the long trot of the chairmen 5
and so we might all arrive safely at Over Place, a suburb
of the town. (No ; that is too large an expression : a
small cluster of houses separated from Cranford by about
two hundred yards of a dark and lonely lane.) There
was no doubt but that a similar note was awaiting Miss io
Pole at home ; so her call was a very fortunate affair, as
it enabled us to consult together. . . . We would all much
rather have declined this invitation ; but we felt that it
would not be quite kind to Mrs. Forrester, who would
otherwise be left to a solitary retrospect of her not very 15
happy or fortunate life. Miss Matty and Miss Pole had
been visitors on this occasion for many years, and
now they gallantly determined to nail their colours ^ to
the mast, and to go through Darkness Lane rather than
fail in loyalty to their friend. 20

But when the evening came, Miss Matty ( for it was
she who was voted into the chair, as she had a cold),
before being shut down in the sedan, like Jack-in-a-box,
implored the chairmen, whatever might befall, not to run
away and leave her fastened up there, to be murdered ; 25
and even after they had promised, I saw her tighten her
features into the stem determination of a martyr, and she
gave me a melancholy and ominous shake of the head
through the glass. However, we got there safely, only
^ So they could not take them down : meaning, " No surrender !"

1 86 Cranford

rather out of breath, for it was who could trot hardest
through Darkness Lane, and I am afraid poor Miss Matty
was sadly jolted.

Mrs. Forrester had made extra preparations, in ac-
5 knowledgment of our exertion in coming to see her
through such dangers. The usual forms of genteel igno-
rance as to what her servants might send up were all
gone through ; and harmony and Preference seemed
likely to be the order of the evening, but for an inter-

ibesting conversation that began I don*t know how, but
which had relation, of course, to the robbers who infested
the neighbourhood of Cranford.

Having braved the dangers of Darkness Lane, and thus
having a little stock of reputation for courage to fall back

15 upon ; and also, I dare say, desirous of proving ourselves
superior to men (videlicet^ Mr. Hoggins) in the article of
candour, we began to relate our individual fears, and the
private precautions we each of us took. I owned that my
pet apprehension was eyes — eyes looking at me, and

20 watching me, glittering out from some dull, flat, wooden
surface ; and that if I dared to go up to my looking-glass
when I was panic-stricken, I should certainly turn it
round, with its back towards me, for fear of seeing eyes
behind me looking out of the darkness. I saw Miss Matty

25 nerving herself up for a confession ; and at last out it
came. She owned that, ever since she had been a girl,
she had dreaded being caught by her last leg, just as she
was getting into bed, by some one concealed under it.
She said, when she was younger and more active, she

^ Namely.

Cranford 187

used to take a flying leap from a distance, and so bring
both her legs up safely into bed at once ; but that this
had always annoyed Deborah, who piqued herself upon
getting into bed gracefully, and she had given it up in
consequence. But now the old terror would often come 5
over her, especially since Miss Pole*s house had been
attacked (we had got quite to believe in the fact of the
attack having taken place), and yet it was very unpleas-
ant to think of looking under a bed, and seeing a man
concealed, with a great, fierce face staring out at you ; so 10
she had bethought herself of something — perhaps I had
noticed that she had told Martha to buy her a penny ball,
such as children play with — and now she rolled this ball
under the bed every night : if it came out on the other
side, well and good ; if not, she always took care to have 15
her hand on the bell- rope, and- meant to call out John
and Harry, just as if she expected men-servants to answer
her ring.

We all applauded this ingenious contrivance, and Miss
Matty sank back into satisfied silence, with a look at Mrs. 20
Forrester as if to ask for her private weakness.

Mrs. Forrester looked askance at Miss Pole, and tried
to change the subject a Httle by telling us that she had
borrowed a boy from one of the neighbouring cottages and
promised his parents a hundredweight of coals at Christ- 25
mas, and his supper every evening, for the loan of him at
nights. She had instructed him in his possible duties
when he first came ; and, finding him sensible, she had
given him the Major's sword (the Major was her late
husband)^ and desired him to put it very carefully behind 30

^

1 8 8 Cranford

his pillow at night, turning the edge towards the head
of the pillow. He was a sharp lad, she was sure ; for,
spying out the Major's cocked hat, he had said, if he
might have that to wear, he was sure he could frighten
5 two Englishmen, or four Frenchmen, any day. But she
had impressed upon him anew that he was to lose no time
in putting on hats or anything else ; but, if he heard any
noise, he was to run at it with his drawn sword. On my
suggesting that some accident might occur from such

10 slaughterous and indiscriminate directions, and that he
might rush on Jenny getting up to wash, and have spitted ^
her before he had discovered that she was not a French-
man, Mrs. Forrester said she did not think that that was
likely, for he was a very sound sleeper, and generally had

15 to be well shaken or cold- pigged ^ in a morning before
they could rouse him. One sometimes thought such dead
sleep must be owing to the hearty suppers the poor lad
ate, for he was half-starved at home, and she told Jenny
to see that he got a good meal at night.

20 Still this was no confession of Mrs. Forrester's pecul-
iar timidity, and we urged her to tell us what she thought
would frighten her more than anything. She paused,
and stirred the fire, and snuffed the candles, and then
she said, in a sounding whisper —

25 " Ghosts ! "

She looked at Miss Pole, as much as to say, she had

declared it, and would stand by it. Such a look was a

challenge in itself. Miss Pole came down upon her with

indigestion, spectral illusions, optical delusions, and a

1 Thrust her through. ^ Doused with cold water.

Cranford 189

great deal out of Dr. Ferrier and Dr. Hibbert besides.
Miss Matty had rather a leaning to ghosts, as I have
mentioned before, and what little she did say was all on
Mrs. Forrester's side, who, emboldened by sympathy, pro-
tested that ghosts were a part of her religion ; that surely 5
she, the widow of a major in the army, knew what to be
frightened at, and what not ; in short, I never saw Mrs.
Forrester so warm either before or since, for she was a
gentle, meek, enduring old lady in most things. Not all
the elder-wine that ever was mulled ^ could this night 10
wash out the remembrance of this difference between
Miss Pole and her hostess. Indeed, when the elder-
wine was brought in, it gave rise to a new burst of dis-
cussion ; for Jenny, the little maiden who staggered under
the tray, had to give evidence of having seen a ghost with 15
her own eyes, not so many nights ago, in Darkness Lane,
the very lane we were to go through on our way home.

In spite of the uncomfortable feeling which this last
consideration gave me, I could not help being amused at
Jenny's position, which was exceedingly like that of a 20
witness being examined and cross-examined by two coun-
sel who are not at all scrupulous about asking leading
questions. The conclusion I arrived at was, that Jenny
had certainly seen something beyond what a fit of indi-
gestion would have caused. A lady all in white, and with- 25
out her head, was what she deposed and adhered to,
supported by a consciousness of the secret sympathy of
her mistress under the withering scorn with which Miss
Pole regarded her. And not only she, but many others,

^ Heated and spiced.

i

1 90 Cranford

had seen this headless lady, who sat by the roadside
wringing her hands as in deep grief. Mrs. Forrester
looked at us from time to time with an air of conscious
triumph ; but then she had not to pass through Darkness

5 Lane before she could bury herself beneath her own
familiar bedclothes.

We preserved a discreet silence as to the headless
lady while we were putting on our things to go home, for
there was no knowing how near the ghostly head and

10 ears might be, or what spiritual connexion they might be
keeping up with the unhappy body in Darkness Lane ;
and, therefore, even Miss Pole felt that it was as well not
to speak lightly on such subjects, for fear of vexing or
insulting that woebegone ^ trunk. At least, so I conjec-

15 ture ; for, instead of the busy clatter usual in the opera-
tion, we tied on our cloaks as sadly as mutes at a funeral.
Miss Matty drew the curtains round the windows of the
chair to shut out disagreeable sights, and the men (either
because they were in spirits that their labours were so

20 nearly ended, or because they were going down hill) set
off at such a round and merry pace that it was all Miss
Pole and I could do to keep up with them. She had
breath for nothing beyond an imploring" Don't leave me ! "
uttered as she clutched my arm so tightly that I could

25 not have quitted her, ghost or no ghost. What a relief it
was when the men, weary of their burden and their quick
trot, stopped just where Headingley Causeway branches
off from Darkness Lane ! Miss Pole unloosed me and
caught at one of the men —

1 Overwhelmed in woe (from loss of head).

Cranford 191

" Could not you — could not you take Miss Matty
round by Headingley Causeway? — the pavement in
Darkness Lane jolts so, and she is not very strong."

A smothered voice was heard from the inside of the
chair — 5

** Oh ! pray go on ! What is the matter ? What is the
matter? I will give you sixpence more to go on very
fast ; pray don't stop here."

" And I'll give you a shilling," said Miss Pole, with
tremulous dignity, " if you'll go by Headingley Cause- 10
way."

The two men grunted acquiescence and took up the
chair, and went along the causeway, which certainly
answered Miss Pole's kind purpose of saving Miss Matty's
bones ; for it was covered with soft, thick mud, and even 15
a fall there would have been easy till the getting-up came,
when there might have been some difficulty in extri-
cation.

CHAPTER XI

SAMUEL BROWN

The next morning I met Lady Glenmire and Miss Pole
setting out on a long walk to find some old woman who
was famous in the neighbourhood for her skill in knitting
woollen stockings. Miss Pole said to me, with a smile
5 half-kindly and half- contemptuous upon her countenance,
" I have been just telling Lady Glenmire of our poor
friend Mrs. Forrester, and her terror of ghosts. It comes
from living so much alone, and listening to the bug-a-boo
stories of that Jenny of hers." She was so calm and so

o much above superstitious fears herself that I was almost
ashamed to say how glad I had been of her Headingley
Causeway proposition the night before, and turned off the
conversation to something else.

In the afternoon Miss Pole called on Miss Matty to tell

15 her of the adventure — the real adventure they had met
with on their morning's walk. They had been perplexed
about the exact path which they were to take across the
fields in order to find the knitting old woman, and had
stopped to inquire at a little wayside public-house, stand-

20 ing on the high road to London, about three miles from
Cranford. The good woman had asked them to sit down
and rest themselves while she fetched her husband, who
could direct them better than she could ; and, while they

192

Cranford 1 93

were sitting in the sanded ^ parlour, a little girl came in.
They thought that she belonged to the landlady, and
began some trifling conversation with her ; but, on Mrs.
Roberts's return, she told them that the little thing was
the only child of a couple who were staying in the house. 5
And then she began a long story, out of which Lady Glen-
mire and Miss Pole could only gather one or two decided
facts, which were that, about six weeks ago, a light spring-
cart had broken down just before their door, in which
their were two men, one woman, and this child. One of 10
the men was seriously hurt — no bones broken, only
"shaken," the landlady called it ; but he had probably
sustained some severe internal injury, for he had lan-
guished in their house ever since, attended by his wife,
the mother of this little girl. Miss Pole had asked what 15
he was, what he looked like. And Mrs. Roberts had
made answer that he was not like a gentleman, nor yet
like a common person ; if it had not been that he and his
wife were such decent, quiet people, she could almost,
have thought he was a mountebanks^ or something of that 20
kind, for they had a great box in the cart, full of she did
not know what. She had helped to unpack it, and take
out their linen and clothes, when the other man — his
twin-brother, she believed he was — had gone off with the
horse and cart. 25

Miss Pole had begun to have her suspicions at this point,
and expressed her idea that it was rather strange that
the box and cart and horse and all should have disap-
peared ; but good Mrs. Roberts seemed to have become
1 Floor sprinkled with sand. * False pretender.

CRANFORD — 1 3

1 94 Cranford

quite indignant at Miss Pole's implied suggestion ; in
fact, Miss Pole said, she was as angry as if Miss Pole had
told her that she herself was a swindler. As the best way
of convincing the ladies, she bethought her of begging

5 them to see the wife ; and, as Miss Pole said, there was
no doubting the honest, worn, bronzed face of the
woman, who, at the first tender word from Lady Glen-
mire, burst into tears, which she was too weak to check
until some word from the landlady made her swallow down

10 her sobs, in order that she might testify to the Christian
kindness shown by Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. Miss Pole
came round with a swing to as vehement a belief in the
sorrowful tale as she had been sceptical before ; and, as
a proof of this, her energy in the poor sufferer's behalf

15 was nothing daunted when she found out that he, and no
other, was our Signor Brunoni, to whom all Cranford had
been attributing all manner of evil this six weeks past !
Yes ! his wife said his proper name was Samuel Brown
— "Sam," she called him — but to the last we pre-

20 ferred calling him " the Signor " ; it sounded so much
better.

The end of their conversation with the Signora Brunoni
was that it was agreed that he should be placed under
medical advice, and for any expense incurred in procur-

25 ing this Lady Glenmire promised to hold herself respon-
sible, and had accordingly gone to Mr. Hoggins to beg
him to ride over to the " Rising Sun " that very after-
noon, and examine -into the signor's real state; and, as
Miss Pole said, if it was desirable to remove him to Cran-

30 ford to be more immediately under Mr. Hoggins's eye, she

Cranford 195

would undertake to seek for lodgings and arrange about
the rent. Mrs. Roberts had been as kind as could be all
throughout, but it was evident that their long residence
there had been a slight inconvenience.

Before Miss Pole left us, Miss Matty and I were as full 5
of the morning's adventure as she was. We talked about
it all the evening, turning it in every possible light, and
we went to bed anxious for the morning, when we should
surely hear from some one what Mr. Hoggins thought
and recommended ; for, as Miss Matty observed, though 10
Mr. Hoggins did say " Jack's up," " a fig for his heels,"
and called Preference "Pref," she believed he was a
very worthy man and a very clever surgeon. Indeed, we
were rather proud of our doctor at Cranford, as a doctor.
We often wished, when we heard of Queen Adelaide or 15
the Duke of Wellington being ill, that they would send
for Mr. Hoggins ; but, on consideration, we were rather
glad they did not, for, if we were ailing, what should we
do if Mr. Hoggins had been appointed physician-in-ordi-
nary to the Royal Family ? As a surgeon we were proud 20
of him ; but as a man — or rather, I should say, as a
gentleman — we could only shake our heads over his
name and himself, and wished that he had read Lord
Chesterfield's Letters in the days when his manners were
susceptible of improvement. Nevertheless, we all re- 25
garded his dictum^ in the signor's case as infallible, and
when he said that with care and attention he might rally,
we had no more fear for him.

But, although we had no more fear, everybody did as

^ Authoritative statement.

196 ^ Cranford

much as if there was great cause for anxiety — as indeed
there was until Mr. Hoggins took charge of him. Miss
Pole looked out clean and comfortable, if homely, lodg-
ings; Miss Matty sent the sedan-chair for him, and

5 Martha and I aired it well before it left Cranford by
holding a warming-pan full of red-hot coals in it, and
then shutting it up close, smoke and all, until the time
when he should get into it at the " Rising Sun." Lady
Glenmire undertook the medical department under Mr.

loHoggins's directions, and rummaged up all Mrs. Jamie-
son's medicine glasses, and spoons, and bed-tables, in a
free-and-easy way, that made Miss Matty feel a little
anxious as to what that lady and Mr. MuUiner might say,
if they knew. Mrs. Forrester made some of the bread-

15 jelly, for which she was so famous, to have ready as a re-
freshment in the lodgings when he should arrive. A
present of this bread-jelly was the highest mark of favour
dear Mrs. Forrester could confer. Miss Pole had once
asked her for the receipt, but she had met with a very

20 decided rebuff; that lady told her that she could not
part with it to any one during her life, and that after her
death it was bequeathed, as her executors would find, to
Miss Matty. What Miss Matty, or, as Mrs. Forrester
called her (remembering the clause in her will and the

25 dignity of the occasion). Miss Matilda Jenkyns — might
choose to do with the receipt when it came into her
possession — whether to make it public, or to hand it
down as an heirloom — she did not know, nor would she
dictate. And a mould of this admirable, digestible,

30 unique bread-jelly was sent by Mrs. Forrester to our poor

Cranford 197

sick conjurer. Who says that the aristocracy are proud ?
Here was a lady by birth a Tyrrell, and descended from
the great Sir Walter that shot King Rufus, and in whose
veins ran the blood of him who murdered the little
princes in the Tower, going every day to see what dainty 5
dishes she could prepare for Samuel Brown, a mounte-
bank! But, indeed, it was wonderful to see what kind
feelings were called out by this poor man's coming
amongst us. And also wonderful to see how the great
Cranford panic, which had been occasioned by his first 10
coming in his Turkish dress, melted away into thin air
on his second coming — pale and feeble, and with his
heavy, filmy eyes, that only brightened a very little when
they fell upon the countenance of his faithful wife, or
their pale and sorrowful little girl. 15

Somehow we all forgot to be afraid. I dare say it was
that finding out that he, who had first excited our love
of the marvellous by his unprecedented arts, had not
sufficient every-day gifts to manage a shying horse, made
us feel as if we were ourselves again. Miss Pole came 20
with her little basket at all hours of the evening, as if
her lonely house and the unfrequented road to it had
never been infested by that " murderous gang " ; Mrs.
Forrester said she thought that neither Jenny nor she
need mind the headless lady who wept and wailed in 25
Darkness Lane, for surely the power was never given to
such beings to harm those who went about to try to do
what little good was in their power, to which Jenny
tremblingly assented; but the mistress's theory had
little effect on the maid's practice until she had sewn 30

198 Cranford

two pieces of red flannel in the shape of a cross on her
inner garment.

I found Miss Matty covering her penny ball — the ball
that she used to roll under her bed — with gay coloured
5 worsted in rainbow stripes.

" My dear," said she, " my heart is sad for that little
careworn child. Although her father is a conjurer, she
looks as if she had never had a good game of play in her
life. I used to make very pretty balls in this way when

10 1 was a girl, and I thought I would try if I could not
make this one smart and take it to Phoebe this afternoon.
I think * the gang ' must have left the neighbourhood, for
one does not hear any more of their violence and robbery
now."

15 We were all of us far too full .of the signor's precarious ^
state to talk either about robbers or ghosts. Indeed,
Lady Glenmire said she never had heard of any actual
robberies, except that two little boys had stolen some ap-
ples from Farmer Benson's orchard, and that some eggs

20 had been missed on a market-day off Widow Hayward*s
stall. But that was expecting too much of us ; we could
not acknowledge that we had only had this small founda-
tion for all our panic. Miss Pole drew herself up at this
remark of Lady Glenmire's, and said " that she wished

25 she could agree with her as to the very small reason we
had had for alarm, but with the recollection of a man dis-
guised as a woman who had endeavoured to force himself
into her house while his confederates^ waited outside;
with the knowledge gained from Lady Glenmire herself,
^ Critical. 2 Partners.

Cranford 199

of the footprints seen on Mrs. Jamieson's flower borders ;
with the fact before her of the audacious robbery com-
mitted on Mr. Hoggins at his own door " But here

Lady Glenmire broke in with a very strong expression of
doubt as to whether this last story was not an entire fab- 5
rication founded upon the theft of a cat ; she grew so red
while she was saying all this that I was not surprised at
Miss Pole's manner of bridling up, and I am certain, if
Lady Glenmire had not been " her ladyship," we should
have had a more emphatic contradiction than the " Well, 10
to be sure ! " and similar fragmentary ejaculations, which
were all that she ventured upon in my lady's presence.
But when she was gone Miss Pole began a long congratu-
lation to Miss Matty that so far they had escaped mar-
riage, which she noticed always made people credulous to 15
the last degree ; indeed, she thought it argued great nat-
ural credulity in a woman if she could not keep herself
, from being married ; and in what Lady Glenmire had
said about Mr. Hoggins's robbery we had a specimen of
what people came to if they gave way to such a weakness ; 20
evidently Lady Glenmire would swallow anything if she
could believe the poor vamped-up^ story about a neck of
mutton and a pussy with which he had tried to impose
on Miss Pole, only she had always been on her guard
against believing too much of what men said. 25

We were thankful, as Miss Pole desired us to be, that
we had never been married ; but I think, of the two, we
were even more thankful that the robbers had left Cran-
ford ; at least I judge so from a speech of Miss Matty's

^ Old story pieced out with a new one.

200 Cranford

that evening, as we sat over the fire, in which she evidently
looked 4ipon a husband as a great protector against thieves,
burglars, and ghosts ; and said that she did not think
that she should dare to be always warning young people
5 against matrimony, as Miss Pole did continually ; to be
sure, marriage was a risk, as she saw, now she had had
some experience ; but she remembered the time when
she had looked forward to being married as much as any
one.

10 " Not to any particular person, my dear," said she,
hastily checking herself up, as if she were afraid of having
admitted too much ; '* only the old story, you know, of
ladies always saying, * When I marry, ' and gentlemen,
* If I marry.* " It was a joke spoken in rather a sad

15 tone, and I doubt if either of us smiled ; but I could not
see Miss Matty's face by the flickering fire-light. In a
little while she continued —

" But, after all, I have not told you the truth. It is so
long ago, and ho one ever knew how much I thought of

20 it at the time, unless, indeed, my dear mother guessed ;
but I may say that there was a time when I did not think
I should have been only Miss Matty Jenkyns all my life ;
for even if I did meet with any one who wished to marry
me now (and, as Miss Pole says, one is never too safe),

25 1 could not take him — I hope he would not take it too
much to heart, but I could not take him — or any one but
the person I once thought I should be married to ; and he
is dead and gone, and he never knew how it all came about
that I said * No, * when I had thought many and many a

30 time — Well, it's no matter what I thought. God ordains

Cranford 201

it all, and I am very happy, my dear. No one has such
kind friends as I, " continued she, taking my hand and
holding it in hers.

If I had never known of Mr. Holbrook, I could have
said something in this pause, but as I had, I could not 5
think of anything that would come in naturally, and so
we both kept silence for a little time.

" My father once made us," she began, " keep a diary
in two columns ; on one side we were to put down in the
morning what we thought would be the course and events 10
of the coming day, and at night we were to put down on
the other side what really had happened. It would be
to some people rather a sad way of telling their lives *' (a
tear dropped upon my hand at these words) — "I don't
mean that mine has been sad, only so very different to 15
what I expected. I remember, one winter's evening, sit-
ting over our bedroom fire with Deborah — I remember
it as if it were yesterday — and we were planning our
future lives, both of us were planning, though only she
talked about it. She said she should like to marry an 20
archdeacon, and write his charges ; and you know, my
dear, she never was married, and, for aught I know, she
never spoke to an unmarried archdeacon in her life.
I never was ambitious, nor could I have written charges,
but I thought I could manage a house (my mother used 25
to call me her right hand), and I was always so fond of
little children — the shyest babies would stretch out their
little arms to come to me ; when I was a girl, I was half
my leisure time nursing in the neighbouring cottages ; but
I don't know how it was, when I grew sad and grave — 30

202 Cranford

which I did a year or two after this time — the Httle
things drew back from me, and I am afraid I lost the
knack, though I am just as fond of children as ever, and
have a strange yearning at my heart whenever I see a
5 mother with her baby in her arms. Nay, my dear " (and
by a sudden blaze which sprang up from a fall of the un-
stirred coals, I saw that her eyes were full of tears —
gazing intently on some vision of what might have been),
" do you know I dream sometimes that I have a little

10 child — always the same — a little girl of about two years
old ; she never grows older, though I have dreamt about
her for many years. I don't think I ever dream of any
words or sound she makes ; she is very noiseless and still,
but she comes to me when she is very sorry or very glad,

15 and I have wakened with the clasp of her dear little arms
round my neck. Only last night — perhaps because I
had gone to sleep thinking of this ball for Phoebe — my lit-
tle darling came in my dream, and put up her mouth to be
kissed, just as I have seen real babies do to real mothers

20 before going to bed. But all this is nonsense, dear ! only
don't be frightened by Miss Pole from being married. I
can fancy it may be a very happy state, and a little cre-
dulity helps one on through life very smoothly — better
than always doubting and doubting and seeing difficulties

25 and disagreeables in everything."

If I had been inclined to be daunted from matrimony,
it would not have been Miss Pole to do it ; it would have
been the lot of poor Signor Brunoni and his wife. And
yet again, it was an encouragement to see how, through

30 all their cares and sorrows, they thought of each other

Cranford 203

and not of themselves ; and how keen were their joys, if
they only passed through each other, or through the little
Phoebe.

The signora told me, one day, a good deal about their
lives up to this period. It began by my asking her 5
whether Miss Pole's story of the twin-brothers was true ;
it sounded so wonderful a likeness, that I should have
had my doubts, if Miss Pole had not been unmarried.
But the signora, or (as we found out she preferred to be
called) Mrs. Brown, said it was quite true ; that her 10
brother-in-law was by many taken for her husband, which
was of great assistance to them in their profession ;
"though," she continued, "how people can mistake
Thomas for the real Signor Brunoni, I can't conceive ;
but he says they do ; so I suppose I must believe him. 15
Not but what he is a very good man ; I am sure I don't
know how we should have paid our bill at the ' Rising
Sun ' but for the money he sends ; but people must know
very little about art if they can take him for my husband.
Why, miss, in the ball trick, where my husband spreads 20
his fingers wide, and throws out his little finger with
quite an air and grace, Thomas just clumps up his hand
like a fist, and might have ever so many balls hidden in
it. Besides, he has never been in India, and knows
nothing of the proper sit of a turban." 25

Have you been in India? " said I, rather astonished.

Oh yes ! many a year, ma'am. Sam was a sergeant
in the 31st ; and when the regiment was ordered to India,
I drew a lot to go, and I was more thankful than I can
tell ; for it seemed as if it would only be a slow death to 30

it

204 Cranford

me to part from my husband. But, indeed, ma'am, if I
had known all, I don't know whether I would not rather
have died there and then than gone through what I have
done since. To be sure, IVe been able to comfort Sam,
5 and to be with him ; but, ma'am, I've lost six children,"
said she, looking up at me with those strange eyes that
I've never noticed but in mothers of dead children — with
a kind of wild look in them, as if seeking for what they
never more might find. " Yes ! Six children died off,

10 like little buds nipped untimely, in that cruel India. I
thought, as each died, I never could — I never would —
love a child again ; and when the next came, it had not
only its own love, but the deeper love that came from the
thoughts of its little dead brothers and sisters. And when

15 Phoebe was coming, I said to my husband, ' Sam, when
the child is bom, and I am strong, I shall leave you ; it
will cut my heart cruel ; but if this baby dies too, I shall
go mad ; the madness is in me now ; but if you let me go
down to Calcutta, carrying my baby step by step, it will,

20 maybe, work itself off; and I will save, and I will hoard,
and I will beg — and I will die, to get a passage home to
England, where our baby may live ! * God bless him !
he said I might go ; and he saved up his pay, and I saved
every pice^ I could get for washing or any way; and

25 when Phoebe came, and I grew strong again, I set off.
It was very lonely ; through the thick forests, dark again
with their heavy trees — along by the river side (but I
had been brought up near the Avon in Warwickshire, so
that flowing noise sounded like home) — from station to
^ Small East Indian copper coin worth less than a cent.

Cranford 205

station, from Indian village to village, I went along, carry-
ing my child. I had seen one of the officers' ladies with
a little picture, ma'am — done by a Catholic foreigner,
ma'am — of the Virgin and the little Saviour, ma'am.
She had him on her arm, and her form was softly curled 5
round him, and their cheeks touched. Well, when I
went to bid good-bye to this lady, for whom I had washed,
she cried sadly ; for she, too, had lost her children, but
she had not another to save, like me ; and I was bold
enough to ask her would she give me that print. And 10
she cried the more, and said her children were with that
little blessed Jesus ; and gave it me, and told me she had
heard it had been painted on the bottom of a cask, which
made it have that round shape. And when my body was
very weary, and my heart was sick (for there were times 15
when I misdoubted if I could ever reach my home, and
there were times when I thought of my husband, and one
time when I thought my baby was dying), I took out that
picture and looked at it, till I could have thought the
mother spoke to me, and comforted me. And the na- 20
tives were very kind. We could not understand one
another ; but they saw my baby on my breast, and they
came out to me, and brought me rice and milk, and
sometimes flowers — I have got some of the flowers dried.
Then, the next morning, I was so tired ; and they wanted 25
me to stay with them — I could tell that — and tried to
frighten me from going into the deep woods, which, in-
deed, looked very strange and dark ; but it seemed to me
as if Death was following me to take my baby away from
me ; and as if I must go on, and on — and I thought how 30

2o6 Cranford

God had cared for mothers ever since the world was
made, and would care for me ; so I bade them good-bye,
and set off afresh. And once when my baby was ill, and
both she and I needed rest, He led me to a place where
5 I found a kind EngUshman lived, right in the midst of
the natives.*'

"And you reached Calcutta safely at last?"
" Yes, safely ! Oh ! when I knew I had only two days*
journey more before me, I could not help it, ma'am — it

10 might be idolatry, I cannot tell — but I was near one of the
native temples, and I went in it with my baby to thank
God for His great mercy; for it seemed to me that where
others had prayed before to their God, in their joy or in
their agony, was of itself a sacred place. And I got as

15 servant to an invalid lady, who grew quite fond of my
baby aboard-ship ; and, in two years' time, Sam earned
his discharge, and came home to me, and to our child.
Then he had to fix on a trade ; but he knew of none ; and
once, once upon a time, he had learnt some tricks from

20 an Indian juggler ; so he set up conjuring, and it answered
so well that he took Thomas to help him — as his man,
you know, not as another conjurer, though Thomas has
set it up now on his own hook. But it has been a great
help to us that likeness between the twins, and made a

25 good many tricks go off well that they made up together.

And Thomas is a good brother, only he has not the

fine carriage of my husband, so that I can't think how he

can be taken for Signor Brunoni himself, as he says he is."

" Poor little Phoebe ! " said I, my thoughts going back

30 to the baby she carried all those hundred miks*

Cranford 207

" Ah ! you may say so ! I never thought I should have
reared her, though, when she fell ill at Chunderabaddad ;
but that good, kind Aga^ Jenkyns took us in, which I
believe was the saving of her."

"Jenkyns ! " said I. 5

" Yes, Jenkyns. I shall think all people of that name
are kind ; for here is that nice old lady who comes every
day to take Phoebe a walk ! "

But an idea had flashed through my head : could the
Aga Jenkyns be the lost Peter ? True, he was reported 10
by many to be dead. But, equally true, some had said
that he had arrived at the dignity of Great Lama of
Thibet. Miss Matty thought he was alive. I would
make further inquiry.

^ A Turkish officer ; used also by courtesy to distinguish a per-
son.

CHAPTER XII

ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED

Was the " poor Peter " of Cranford the Aga Jenk)ms
of Chunderabaddad, or was he not ? As somebody says,
that was the question.

In my own home, whenever people had nothing else to
5 do, they blamed me for want of discretion. Indiscretion
was my bugbear fault. Everybody has a bugbear fault ;
a sort of standing characteristic — a piece de resistance ^
for their friends to cut at ; and in general they cut and
come again. I was tired of being called indiscreet and

10 incautious ; and I determined for once to prove myself
a model of prudence and wisdom. I would not even
hint my suspicions respecting the Aga. I would collect
evidence and carry it home to lay before my father, as
the family friend of the two Miss Jenkynses.

15 In my search after facts, I was often reminded of a
description my father had once given of a ladies' com-
mittee that he had had to preside over. He said he
could not help thinking of a passage in Dickens, which
spoke of a chorus in which every man took the tune he

20 knew best, and sang it to his own satisfaction. So, at
this charitable committee, every lady took the subject
uppermost in her mind, and talked about it to her own

^ A tough joint of meat ; hence, anything requiring resistance.

208

Cranford 209

great contentment, but not much to the advancement of
the subject they had met to discuss. But even that com-
mittee could have been nothing to the Cranford ladies
when I attempted to gain some clear and definite infor-
mation as to poor Peter^s height, appearance, and when 5
and where he was seen and heard of last. For instance,
I remember asking Miss Pole (and I thought the question
was very opportune, for I put it when I met her at a call
at Mrs. Forrester's, and both the ladies had known Peter,
and I imagined that they might refresh each other's 10
memories) — I asked Miss Pole what was the very last
thing they had ever heard about him ; and then she named
the absurd report to which I have alluded, about his
having been elected Great Lama of Thibet ; and this
was a signal for each lady to go off on her separate idea. 15
Mrs. Forrester's start was made on the veiled prophet in
Lalla Rookh — whether I thought he was meant for the
Great Lama, though Peter was not so ugly, indeed rather
handsome, if he had not been freckled. I was thankful
to see her double upon Peter ; but, in a moment, the 20
delusive lady was off upon Rowland's Kalydor, and the
merits of cosmetics ^ and hair oils in general, and holding
forth so fluently that I turned to listen to Miss Pole,
who (through the llamas, the beasts of burden) had got
to Peruvian bonds, and the share market, and her poor 25
opinion of joint-stock banks in general, and of that one
in particular in which Miss Matty's money was invested.
In vain I put in " When was it — in what year was it that
you heard that Mr. Peter was the Great Lama ? " They
1 Preparation for beautifying the complexion.

CRANFORD — 1 4

2IO Cranford

only joined issue to dispute whether llamas were carnivo-
rous^ animals or not ; in which dispute they were not quite
on fair grounds, as Mrs. Forrester (after they had grown
warm and cool again) acknowledged that she always
5 confused carnivorous and graminivorous^ together, just
as she did horizontal and perpendicular; but then she
apologized for it very prettily, by saying that in her day
the only use people made of four-syllabled words was to
teach how they should be spelt.

10 The only fact I gained from this conversation was that
certainly Peter had last been heard of in India, " or that
neighbourhood '* ; and that this scanty intelligence of
his whereabouts had reached Cranford in the year when
Miss Pole had bought her Indian muslin gown, long since

15 worn out (we washed it and mended it, and traced its
decline and fall into a window-blind ^ before we could go
on) ; and in a year when Wombwell came to Cranford,
because Miss Matty had wanted to see an elephant in
order that she might the better imagine Peter riding on

20 one ; and had seen a boa-constrictor too, which was more
than she wished to imagine in her fancy-pictures of
Peter^s locality ; and in a year when Miss Jenkyns had
learnt some piece of poetry off by heart, and used to say,
at all the Cranford parties, how Peter was " surveying

25 mankind from China to Peru," which everybody had
thought very grand, and rather appropriate, because
India was between China and Peru, if you took care to
turn the globe to the left instead of the right.

I suppose all these inquiries of mine, and the conse-
1 Flesh-eating. 2 Grass-eating. ^ Shade for a window.

Cranford 211

quent curiosity excited in the minds of my friends, made
us blind and deaf to what was going on around us. It
seemed to me as if the sun rose and shone, and as if the
rain rained on Cranford, just as usual, and I did not
notice any sign of the times that could be considered as 5
a prognostic ^ of any uncommon event ; and, to the best
of my belief, not only Miss Matty and Mrs. Forrester,
but even Miss Pole herself, whom we looked upon as a
kind of prophetess, from the knack she had of foreseeing
things before they came to pass — although she did not 10
like to disturb her friends by telling them her fore-
knowledge — even Miss Pole herself was breathless with
astonishment when she came to tell us of the astounding
piece of news. But I must recover myself; the contem-
plation of it, even at this distance of time, has taken away 15
my breath and my grammar, and unless I subdue my
emotion, my spelling will go too.

We were sitting — Miss Matty and I — much as usual,
she in the blue chintz ^ easy- chair, with her back to the
light, and her knitting in her hand, I reading aloud the 20
5/. Jameses Chronicle, A few minutes more, and we
should have gone to make the little alterations in dress
usual before calling-time (twelve o'clock) in Cranford.
I remember the scene and the date well. We had been
talking of the signor's rapid recovery since the warmer 25
weather had set in, and praising Mr. Hoggins's skill, and
lamenting his want of refinement and manner (it seems
a curious coincidence that this should have been our

1 Prophecy.

'•* Cotton cloth printed in flowers of various colours and glazed.

212 Cranford

subject, but so it was), when a knock was heard — a caller^s
knock — three distinct taps — and we were flying (that
is to say, Miss Matty could not walk very fast, having had
a touch of rheumatism) to our rooms, to change cap and

5 collars, when Miss Pole arrested us by calling out, as she
came up the stairs, " Don't go — I can't wait — it is not
twelve, I know — but never mind your dress — I must
speak to you." We did our best to look as if it was not
we who had made the hurried movement, the sound of

10 which she had heard ; for, of course, we did not like to
have it supposed that we had any old clothes that it was
convenient to wear out in the " sanctuary of home," as
Miss Jenkyns once prettily called the back parlour,
where she was tying up preserves. So we threw our

15 gentility with double force into our manners, and very
genteel we were for two minutes while Miss Pole recovered
breath, and excited our curiosity strongly by lifting up
her hands in amazement, and bringing them down in
silence, as if what she had to say was too big for words,

20 and could only be expressed by pantomime.

"What do you think, Miss Matty? What do you
think? Lady Glenmire is to marry — is to be married, I
mean — Lady Glenmire — Mr. Hoggins — Mr. Hoggins
is going to marry Lady Glenmire ! "

25 "Marry !" said we. " Marry ! Madness ! '*

"Marry! " said Miss Pole, with the decision that be-
longed to her character. " / said marry ! as you do ; and
I also said, * What a fool my lady is going to make of
herself! * I could have said 'Madness !' but I controlled

30 myself, for it was in a public shop that I heard of it.

Cranford 213

Where feminine delicacy is gone to, I don't know ! You
and I, Miss Matty, would have been ashamed to have
known that our marriage was spoken of in a grocer's
shop, in the hearing of shopmen ! "

" But," said Miss Matty, sighing as one recovering from 5
a blow, " perhaps it is not true. Perhaps we are doing
her injustice."

"No," said Miss Pole. "I have taken care to
ascertain that. I went straight to Mrs. Fitz-Adam, to
borrow a cookery-book which I knew she had ; and 1 10
introduced my congratulations a propos of the difficulty
gentlemen must have in housekeeping ; and Mrs. Fitz-
Adam bridled up, and said that she believed it was true,
though how and where I could have heard it she did not
know. She said her brother and Lady Glenmire had 15
come to an understanding at last. ' Understanding ! '
such a coarse word ! But my lady will have to come
down to many a want of refinement. I have reason to
believe Mr. Hoggins sups on bread-and-cheese and beer
every night." 20

" Marry ! " said Miss Matty once again. " Well ! I
never thought of it. Two people that we know going to
be married. It's coming very near ! "

" So near that my heart stopped beating, when I heard
of it, while you might have counted twelve," said Miss 25
Pole.

"One does not know whose turn may come next.
Here, in Cranford, poor Lady Glenmire might have
thought herself safe," said Miss Matty, with a gentle pity
in her tones. 30

214 Cranford

"Bah !" said Miss Pole, with a toss of her head.
" Don't you remember poor dear Captain Brown's song
* Tibbie Fowler/ and the line —

" * Set her on the Tintock Tap,
5 The wind will blaw a man till her.' "

" That was because Tibbie Fowler was rich, I think."
" Well ! there is a kind of attraction about Lady Glen-
mire that I, for one, should be ashamed to have."

I put in my wonder. " But how can she have fancied

10 Mr. Hoggins ? I am not surprised that Mr. Hoggins has
liked her."

" Oh ! I don't know. Mr. Hoggins is rich, and very
pleasant-looking," said Miss Matty, "and very good-
tempered and kind-hearted."

15 "She has married for an establishment, that's it. I
suppose she takes the surgery with it," said Miss Pole,
with a little dry laugh at her own joke. But, like many
people who think they have made a severe and sarcastic
speech, which yet is clever of its kind, she began to relax

20 in her grimness from the moment when she made this
allusion to the surgery ; and we turned to speculate on
the way in which Mrs. Jamieson would receive the news.
The person whom she had left in charge of her house to
keep off followers from her maids to set up a follower of

25 her own ! And that follower a man whom Mrs. Jamieson
had tabooed as vulgar, and inadmissible to Cranford
society, not merely on account of his name, but because
of his voice, his complexion, his boots, smelling of the
stable, and himself, smelHng of drugs. Had he ever

Cranford 215

been to see Lady Glenmire at Mrs. Jamieson*s ? Chloride
of lime^ would not purify the house in its owner's estima-
tion if he had. Or had their interviews been confined to
the occasional meetings in the chamber of the poor sick
conjurer, to whom, with all our sense of the mesalliance^ 5
we could not help allowing that they had both been
exceedingly kind ? And now it turned out that a servant
of Mrs. Jamieson's had been ill, and Mr. Hoggins had
been attending her for some weeks. So the wolf had got
into the fold, and now he was carrying off the shepherdess. 10
What would Mrs. Jamieson say? We looked into the
darkness of futurity as a child gazes after a rocket up in
the cloudy sky, full of wondering expectation of the
rattle, the discharge, and the brilliant shower of sparks
and light. Then we brought ourselves down to earth and 15
the present time by questioning each other (being all
equally ignorant, and all equally without the slightest
data to build any conclusions upon) as to when rr would
take place? Where? How much a year Mr. Hoggins
had? Whether she would drop her title? And how 20
Martha and the other correct servants in Cranford would
ever be brought to announce a married couple as Lady
Glenmire and Mr. Hoggins ? But would they be visited ?
Would Mrs. Jamieson let us? Or must we choose
between the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson and the degraded 25
Lady Glenmire? We all liked Lady Glenmire the best.
She was bright, and kind, and sociable, and agreeable ;
and Mrs. Jamieson was dull, and inert, and pompous, and
tiresome. But we had acknowledged the sway of the
^ A disinfectant. ^ Marriage with one of lower station.

2 1 6 Cranford

latter so long, that it seemed like a kind of disloyalty
now even to meditate disobedience to the prohibition
we anticipated.

Mrs. Forrester surprised us in our darned caps and
5 patched collars ; and we forgot all about them in our
eagerness to see how she would bear the information,
which we honourably left to Miss Pole to impart, al-
though, if we had been inclined to take unfair advantage,
we might have rushed in ourselves, for she had a most

10 out-of-place fit of coughing for five minutes after Mrs.
Forrester entered the room. I shall never forget the
imploring expression of her eyes, as she looked at us
over her pocket-handkerchief. They said, as plain as
words could speak, " Don't let Nature deprive me of the

15 treasure which is mine, although for a time I can make
no use of it." And we did not.

Mrs. Forrester's surprise was equal to ours ; and her
sense of injury rather greater, because she had to feel
for her Order, and saw more fully than we could do how

20 such conduct brought stains on the aristocracy.

When she and Miss Pole left us we endeavoured to
subside into calmness ; but Miss Matty was really upset
by the intelligence she had heard. She reckoned it up,
and it was more than fifteen years since she had heard of

25 any of her acquaintance going to be married, with the one
exception of Miss Jessie Brown ; and, as she said, it gave
her quite a shock, and made her feel as if she could not
think what would happen next.

I don't know whether it is a fancy of mine, or a real

30 fact, but I have noticed that, just after the announcement

Cranford a 1 7

of an engagement in any set, the unmarried ladies in that
set flutter out in an unusual gaiety and newness of dress, as
much as to say, in a tacit and unconscious manner, " We
also are spinsters." Miss Matty and Miss Pole talked and
thought more about bonnets, gowns, caps, and shawls, 5
during the fortnight that succeeded this call, than I had
known them to do for years before. But it might be the
spring weather, for it was a warm and pleasant March ;
and merinoes and beavers, and woollen materials of all
sorts were but ungracious receptacles of the bright sun's 10
glancing rays. It had not been Lady Glenmire's dress
that had won Mr. Hoggins's heart, for she went about
on her errands of kindness more shabby than ever.
Although in the hurried glimpses I caught of her at
church or elsewhere she appeared rather to shun meeting <5
any of her friends, her face seemed to have almost some-
thing of the flush of youth in it ; her lips looked redder
and more trembling full than in their old compressed
state, and her eyes dwelt on all things with a lingering
light, as if she was learning to love Cranford and its be- 20
longings. Mr. Hoggins looked broad and radiant, and
creaked up the middle aisle at church in a bran-new pair
of top-boots — an audible, as well as a visible, sign of
his purposed change of state ; for the tradition went, that
the boots he had worn till now were the identical pair in 25
which he first set out on his rounds in Cranford twenty-
five years ago ; only they had been new-pieced, high and
low, top and bottom, heel and sole, black leather and
brown leather, more times than any one could tell.

None of the ladies in Cranford chose to sanction the 30

2 1 8 Cranford

marriage by congratulating either of the parties. We
wished to ignore the whole affair until our liege lady,
Mrs. Jamieson, returned. Till she came back to give us
our cue/ we felt that it would be better to consider the
5 engagement in the same light as the Queen of Spain's
legs — facts which certainly existed, but the less said
about the better. This restraint upon our tongues — for
you see if we did not speak about it to any of the parties
concerned, how could we get answers to the questions

10 that we longed to ask ? — was beginning to be irksome,
and our idea of the dignity of silence was paling before
our curiosity, when another direction was given to our
thoughts, by an announcement on the part of the prin-
cipal shopkeeper of Cranford, who ranged the trades

15 from grocer and cheesemonger ^ to man-milliner, as oc-
casion required, that the spring fashions were arrived,
and would be exhibited on the following Tuesday at his
rooms in High Street. Now Miss Matty had been only
waiting for this before buying herself a new silk gown.

20 1 had offered, it is true, to send to Drumble for patterns,
but she had rejected my proposal, gently implying that
she had not forgotten her disappointment about the
sea-green turban. I was thankful that I was on the spot
now, to counteract the dazzling fascination of any yellow

25 or scarlet silk.

I must say a word or two here about myself. I have
spoken of my father's old friendship for the Jenkyns
family ; indeed, I am not sure if there was not some dis-
tant relationship. He had willingly allowed me to remain
^ Guiding suggestion. ^ Seller of cheese.

Cranford 219

all the winter at Cranford, in consideration of a letter
which Miss Matty had written to him about the time
of the panic, in which I suspect she had exaggerated my
powers and my bravery as a defender of the house. But
now that the days were longer and more cheerful, he was 5
beginning to urge the necessity of my return ; and I only
delayed in a sort of odd forlorn hope that if I could ob-
tain any clear information, I might make the account
given by the signora of the Aga Jenkyns tally with that
of " Poor Peter," his appearance and disappearance, 10
which I have winnowed out of the conversation of Miss
Pole and Mrs. Forrester.

CHAPTER XIII

STOPPED PAYMENT

The very Tuesday morning on which Mr. Johnson
was going to show the fashions, the post-woman brought
two letters to the house. I say the post-woman, but I
should say the postman's wife. He was a lame shoe-
5 maker, a very clean, honest man, much respected in the
town ; but he never brought the letters round except on
unusual occasions, such as Christmas Day or Good Fri-
day ; and on those days the letters, which should have
been delivered at eight in the morning, did not make

lo their appearance until two or three in the afternoon, for
every one liked poor Thomas, and gave him a welcome
on these festive occasions. He used to say, " He was
welly stawed wi* eating, for there were three or four
houses where nowt would serve 'em but he must share in

15 their breakfast " ; and by the time he had done his last
breakfast, he came to some other friend who was begin-
ning dinner ; but come what might in the way of tempta-
tion, Tom was always sober, civil, and smiling ; and, as
Miss Jenkyns used to say, it was a lesson in patience,

20 that she doubted not would call out that precious quality
in some minds, where, but for Thomas, it might have lain
dormant ^ and undiscovered. Patience was certainly very

^ Sleeping.
220

Cranford 221

dormant in Miss Jenkyns's mind. She was always ex-
pecting letters, and always drumming on the table till the
post-woman had called or gone past. On Christmas Day
and Good Friday she drummed from breakfast till church,
from church-time till two o'clock — unless when the fire 5
wanted stirring, when she invariably knocked down the
fire-irons, and scolded Miss Matty for it. But equally
certain was the hearty welcome and the good dinner for
Thomas ; Miss Jenkyns standing over him like a bold
dragoon, questioning him as to his children — what they 10
were doing — what school they went to ; upbraiding him
if another was likely to make its appearance, but sending
even the little babies the shilling and the mince-pie which
was her gift to all the children, with half-a-crown in addi-
tion for both father and mother. The post was not half 15
of so much consequence to dear Miss Matty ; but not for
the world would she have diminished Thomas's welcome
and his dole,^ though I could see that she felt rather shy
over the ceremony, which had been regarded by Miss
Jenkyns as a glorious opportunity for giving advice and 20
benefiting her fellow-creatures. Miss Matty would steal
the money all in a lump into his hand, as if she were
ashamed of herself. Miss Jenkyns gave him each indi-
vidual coin separate, with a " There ! that's for yourself ;
that's for Jenny," etc. Miss Matty would even beckon 25
Martha out of the kitchen while he ate his food : and
once, to my knowledge, winked at its rapid disappear-
ance into a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief. Miss Jen-
kyns almost scolded him if he did not leave a clean

^ Portion given in charity.

222 Cranford

plate, however heaped it might have been, and gave an
injunction with every mouthful.

I have wandered a long way from the two letters that
awaited us on the breakfast-table that Tuesday morning.

5 Mine was from my father. Miss Matty's was printed.
My father's was just a man's letter ; I mean it was very
dull, and gave no information beyond that he was well,
that they had had a good deal of rain, that trade was very
stagnant, and there were many disagreeable rumours

10 afloat. He then asked me if I knew whether Miss Matty
still retained her shares in the Town and County Bank,
as there were very unpleasant reports about it; though
nothing more than he had always foreseen, and had
prophesied to Miss Jenkyns years ago, when she would

15 invest their little property in it — the only unwise step
that clever woman had ever taken, to his knowledge (the
only time she ever acted against his advice, I knew).
However, if anything had gone wrong, of course I was
not to think of leaving Miss Matty while I could be of

20 any use, etc.

"Who is your letter from, my dear? Mine is a very
civil invitation, signed ' Edwin Wilson,' asking me to at-
tend an important meeting of the shareholders of the
Town and County Bank, to be held in Drumble, on

25 Thursday the twenty- first. I am sure, it is very attentive
of them to remember me."

I did not like to hear of this " important meeting,"
for, though I did not know much about business, I feared
it confirmed what my father said : however, I thought, ill

30 news always came fast enough, so I resolved to say noth-

Cranford 223

ing about ray alarm, and merely told her that my father
was well, and sent his kind regards to her. She kept
turning over and admiring her letter. At last she spoke —

" I remember their sending one to Deborah just like
this ; but that I did not wonder at, for everybody knew 5
she was so clear-headed. I am afraid I could not help
them much ; indeed, if they came to accounts, I should
be quite in the way, for I never could do sums in my
head. Deborah, I know, rather wished to go, and went
so far as to order a new bonnet for the occasion: but 10
when the time came she had a bad cold ; so they sent her
a very polite account of what they had done. Chosen a
director, I think it was. Do you think they want me to
help them to choose a director? I am sure I should
choose your father at once." 15

" My father has no shares in the bank," said I.

" Oh no ! I remember. He objected very much to
Deborah's buying any, I believe. But she was quite the
woman of business, and always judged for herself; and
here, you see, they have paid eight per cent, all these 20
years."

It was a very uncomfortable subject to me, with my
half-knowledge ; so I thought I would change the con-
versation, and I asked at what time she thought we had
better go and see the fashions. " Well, my dear," she 25
said, " the thing is this : it is not etiquette to go till after
twelve ; but then, you see, all Cranford will be there, and
one does not like to be too curious about dress and
trimmings and caps with all the world looking on. It is
never genteel to be over-curious on these occasions. 30

224 Cranford

Deborah had the knack of always looking as if the latest
fashion was nothing new to her; a manner she had caught
from Lady Arley, who did see all the new modes in Lon-
don, you know. So I thought we would just slip down
5 this morning, soon after breakfast — for I do want half-a-
pound of tea — and then we could go up and examine
the things at our leisure, and see exactly how my new
silk gown must be made ; and then, after twelve, we could
go with our minds disengaged and free from thoughts of

10 dress."

We began to talk of Miss Matty's new silk gown. I
discovered that it would be really the first time in her life
that she had had to choose anything of consequence for
herself : for Miss Jenkyns had always been the more de-

15 cided character, whatever her taste might have been ; and
it is astonishing how such people carry the world before
them by the mere force of will. Miss Matty anticipated
the sight of the glossy folds with as much delight as if the
five sovereigns, set apart for the purchase, could buy all

20 the silks in the shop ; and (remembering niy own loss of
two hours in a toy-shop before I could tell on what wonder
to spend a silver threepence) I was very glad that we were
going early, that dear Miss Matty might have leisure for
the delights of perplexity.

2$ If a happy sea-green could be met with, the gown was
to be sea-green : if not, she incUned to maize,^ and I to
silver grey; and we discussed the requisite number of
breadths until we arrived at the shop-door. We were to
buy the tea, select the silk, and then clamber up the iron

1 Reddish yellow.

Cranford 225

corkscrew stairs that led into what was once a loft, though
now a fashion show-room.

The young men at Mr. Johnson's had on their best
looks, and their best cravats, and pivoted themselves over
the counter' with surprising activity. They wanted to 5
show us upstairs at once ; but on the principle of business
first and pleasure afterwards, we stayed to purchase the
tea. Here Miss Matty's absence of mind betrayed itself.
If she was made aware that she had been drinking green
tea at any time, she always thought it her duty to lie awake 10
half through the night afterward (I have known her take
it in ignorance many a time without such effects), and
consequently green tea was prohibited the house ; yet to-
day she herself asked for the obnoxious article, under the
impression that she was talking about the silk. However, 15
the mistake was soon rectified ; and then the silks were
unrolled in good truth. By this time the shop was pretty
well filled, for it was Cranford market-day, and many of
the farmers and country people from the neighbourhood
round came in, sleeking down their hair, and glancing shyly 20
about, from under their eyelids, as anxious to take back
some notion of the unusual gaiety to the mistress or the
lasses at home, and yet feeling that they were out of place
among the smart shopmen and gay shawls and summer
prints. One honest-looking man, however, made his way 25
up to the counter at which we stood, and boldly asked to
look at a shawl or two. The other country folk confined
themselves to the grocery side; but our neighbour was
evidently too full of some kind intention towards mistress,

1 Sprang over counter using hand as a pivot.

CRANFORD — 1$

226 Cranford

wife, or daughter, to be shy ; and it soon became a ques-
tion with me, whether he or Miss Matty would keep their
shopman the longest time. He thought each shawl more
beautiful than the last; and, as for Miss Matty, she

5 smiled and sighed over each fresh bale that was brought
out ; one colour set off another, and the heap together
would, as she said, make even the rainbow look poor.

" I am afraid," said she, hesitating, " whichever I choose
I shall wish I had taken another. Look at this lovely

10 crimson ! it would be so warm in winter. But spring is
coming on, you know. I wish I could have a gown for
every season," said she, dropping her voice — as we all
did in Cranford whenever we talked of anything we wished
for but could not afford. " However," she continued, in

15 a louder and more cheerful tone, "it would give me a great
deal of trouble to take care of them if I had them ; so, I
think, Vl\ only take one. But which must it be, my
dear?"

And now she hovered over a lilac with yellow spots,

20 while I pulled out a quiet sage-green that had faded into
insignificance under the more brilliant colours, but which
was nevertheless a good silk in its humble way. Our
attention was called off to our neighbour. He had chosen
a shawl of about thirty shillings* value ; and his face

25 looked broadly happy, under the anticipation, no doubt,
of the pleasant surprise he should give to some Molly or
Jenny at home ; he had tugged a leathern purse out of
his breeches-pocket, and had offered a five-pound note in
payment for the shawl, and for some parcels which had

30 been brought round to him from the grocery counter ;

Cranford 227

and it was just at this point that he attracted our notice.
The shopman was examining the note with a puzzled,
doubtful air.

" Town and County Bank ! I am not sure, sir, but I
believe we have received a warning against notes issued 5
by this bank only this morning. I will just step and ask
Mr. Johnson, sir ; but I'm afraid I must trouble you for
payment in cash, or in a note of a different bank."

I never saw a man's countenance fall so suddenly into
dismay and bewilderment. It was almost piteous to see 10
the rapid change.

" Dang it ! " said he, striking his fist down on the
table, as if to try which was the harder, " the chap talks
as if notes and gold were to be had for the picking up."

Miss Matty had forgotten her silk gown in her interest 15
for the man. I don't think she had caught the name of
the bank, and in my nervous cowardice I was anxious
that she should not ; and so I began admiring the yellow-
spotted lilac gown that I had been utterly condemning
only a minute before. But it was of no use. 20

"What bank was it? I mean, what bank did your
note belong to ? "

" Town and County Bank."

" Let me see it," said she quietly to the shopman,
gently taking it out of his hand, as he brought it back to 25
return it to the farmer.

Mr. Johnson was very sorry, but, from information he
had received, the notes issued by that bank were little
better than waste paper.

"I don't understand it," said Miss Matty to me in a 30

228 Cranford

low voice. " That is our bank, is it not ? — the Town
and County Bank?"

" Yes," said I. " This lilac silk will just match the
ribbons in your new cap, I believe," I continued, holding
5 up the folds so as to catch the light, and wishing that
the man would make haste and be gone, and yet having
a new wonder, that had only just sprung up, how far it
was wise or right in me to allow Miss Matty to make
this expensive purchase, if the affairs of the bank were
10 really so bad as the refusal of the note implied.

But Miss Matty put on the soft dignified manner pe-
culiar to her, rarely used, and yet which became her so
well, and laying her hand gently on mine, she said —
" Never mind the silks for a few minutes, dear. I don't
15 understand you, sir," turning now to the shopman, who
had been attending to the farmer. " Is this a forged
note?"

" Oh no, ma*am. It is a true note of its kind ; but

you see, ma'am, it is a joint-stock ^ bank, and there are

20 reports out that it is Hkely to break. Mr. Johnson is

only doing his duty, ma'am, as I am sure Mr. Dobson

knows."

But Mr. Dobson could not respond to the appeaHng
bow by any answering smile. He was turning the note
25 absently over in his fingers, looking gloomily enough at
the parcel containing the lately-chosen shawl.

" It's hard upon a poor man," said he, " as earns
every farthing with the sweat of his brow. However,
there's no help for it. You must take back your shawl,

1 Capital divided into shares.

Cranford 229

my man ; Lizzie must do on with her cloak for a while.
And yon figs for the little ones — I promised them to
'em — I'll take them ; but the 'bacco, and the other
things "

" I will give you five sovereigns for your note, my good 5
man," said Miss Matty. " I think there is some great
mistake about it, for I am one of the shareholders, and
I*m sure they would have told me if things had not been
going on right."

The shopman whispered a word or two across the 10
table to Miss Matty. She looked at him with a dubious air.

" Perhaps so," said she. " But I don't pretend to
understand business ; I only know that if it is going to
fail, and if honest people are to lose their money because
they have taken our notes — I can't explain myself," 15
said she, suddenly becoming aware that she had got into
a long sentence with four people for audience ; " only I
would rather exchange my gold for the note, if you
please," turning to the farmer, " and then you can take
your wife the shawl. It is only going without my gown 20
a few days longer," she continued, speaking to me.
" Then, I have no doubt, everything will be cleared up."

" But if it is cleared up the wrong way ? " said I.

" Why, then it will only have been common honesty
in me, as a shareholder, to have given this good man the 25
money. I am quite clear about it in my own mind ; but,
you know, I can never speak quite as comprehensibly as
others can ; only you must give me your note, Mr. Dob-
son, if you please, and go on with your purchases with
these sovereigns." 30

230 Cranford

The man looked at her with silent gratitude — too
awkward to put his thanks into words ; but he hung back
for a minute or two, fumbling with his note.

" Vm loth to make another one lose instead of me, if

5 it is a loss ; but, you see, five pounds is a deal of money

to a man with a family ; and, as you say, ten to one in a

day or two the note will be as good as gold again."

" No hope of that, my friend," said the shopman.

" The more reason why I should take it," said Miss

10 Matty quietly. She pushed her sovereigns towards the
man, who slowly laid his note down in exchange.
" Thank you. I will wait a day or two before I purchase
any of these silks ; perhaps you will then have a greater
choice. My dear, will you come upstairs ? "

15 We inspected the fashions with as minute and curious
an interest as if the gown to be made after them had
been bought. I could not see that the little event in the
shop below had in the least damped Miss Matty's curi-
osity as to the make of sleeves or the sit of skirts. She

20 once or twice exchanged congratulations with me on our
private and leisurely view of the bonnets and shawls ; but
I was, all the time, not so sure that our examination was
so utterly private, for I caught glimpses of a figure dodg-
ing behind the cloaks and mantles ; and, by a dexterous

25 move, I came face to face with Miss Pole, also in morn-
ing costume (the principal feature of which was her being
without teeth, and wearing a veil to conceal the deficiency),
come on the same errand as ourselves. But she quickly
took her departure, because, as she said, she had a bad

30 headache, and did not feel herself up to conversation.

Cranford 23 1

As we came down through the shop, the civil Mr.
Johnson was awaiting us ; he had been informed of the
exchange of the note for gold, and with much good feel-
ing and real kindness, but with a little want of tact, he
wished to condole with Miss Matty, and impress upon 5
her the true state of the case. I could only hope that
he had heard an exaggerated rumour, for he said that
her shares were worse than nothing, and that the bank
could not pay a shilling in the pound. I was glad that
Miss Matty seemed still a little incredulous; but I could 10
not tell how much of this was real or assumed, with that
self-control which seemed habitual to ladies of Miss
Matty's standing in Cranford, who would have thought
their dignity compromised by the slightest expression of
surprise, dismay, or any similar feeling to an inferior in 15
station, or in a public shop. However, we walked home
very silently. I am ashamed to say, I believe I was
rather vexed and annoyed at Miss Matty's conduct in
taking the note to herself so decidedly. I had so set my
heart upon her having a new silk gown, which she wanted 20
sadly ; in general she was so undecided anybody might
turn her round ; in this case I had felt that it was no use
attempting it, but I was not the less put out at the result.

Somehow, after twelve o'clock, we both acknowledged
to a sated ^ curiosity about the fashions, and to a certain 25
fatigue of body (which was, in fact, depression of mind)
that indisposed us to go out again. But still we never
spoke of the note ; till, all at once, something possessed
me to ask Miss Matty if she would think it her duty to

^ Satisfied.

232 Cranford

offer sovereigns for all the notes of the Town and County
Bank she met with? I could have bitten my tongue out
the minute I had said it. She looked up rather sadly,
and as if I had thrown a new perplexity into her already
5 distressed mind ; and for a minute or two she did not
speak. Then she said — my own dear Miss Matty —
without a shade of reproach in her voice —

" My dear, I never feel as if my mind was what people
call very strong ; and it's often hard enough work for me

10 to settle what I ought to do with the case right before
me. I was very thankful to — I was very thankful, that
I saw my duty this morning, with the poor man standing
by me ; but it's rather a strain upon me to keep thinking
and thinking what I should do if such and such a thing

15 happened ; and, I believe, I had rather wait and see
what really does come ; and I don't doubt I shall be
helped then if I don't fidget myself, and get too anxious
beforehand. You know, love, I'm not like Deborah. If
Deborah had lived, I've no doubt she would have seen

20 after them, before they had got themselves into this
state."

We had neither of us much appetite for dinner, though
we tried to talk cheerfully about indifferent things.
When we returned into the drawing-room. Miss Matty

25 unlocked her desk and began to look over her account-
books. I was so penitent for what I had said in the
morning, that I did not choose to take upon myself the
presumption to suppose that I could assist her ; I rather
left her alone, as, with puzzled brow, her eye followed

30 her pen up and down the ruled page. By-and-by she

Cranford 233

shut the book, locked her desk, and came and drew a
chair to mine, where I sat in moody sorrow over the fire.
I stole my hand into hers ; she clasped it, but did not
speak a word. At last she said, with forced composure
in her voice, " If that bank goes wrong, I shall lose one 5
hundred and forty-nine pounds thirteen shillings and
fourpence a year; I shall only have thirteen pounds a
year left." I squeezed her hand hard and tight. I did
not know what to say. Presently (it was too dark to see
her face) I felt her fingers work convulsively in my grasp ; 10
and I knew she was going to speak again. I heard the
sobs in her voice as she said, " I hope it's not wrong —
not wicked — but, oh! I am so glad poor Deborah is
spared this. She could not have borne to come down in
the world — she had such a noble, lofty spirit." 15

This was all she said about the sister who had insisted
upon investing their little property in that unlucky bank.
We were later in lighting the candle than usual that
night, and until that light shamed us into speaking, we
sat together very silently and sadly. 20

However, we took to our work after tea with a kind of
forced cheerfiilness (which soon became real as far as it
went), talking of that never-ending wonder. Lady Glen-
mire's engagement. Miss Matty was almost coming
round to think it a good thing. 25

" I don't mean to deny that men are troublesome in a
house. I don't judge from my own experience, for my
father was neatness itself, and wiped his shoes on coming
in as carefully as any woman ; but still a man has a sort
of knowledge of what should be done in difficulties, that 30

234 Cranford

it is very pleasant to have one at hand ready to lean
upon. Now, Lady Glenmire, instead of being tossed
about, and wondering where she is to settle, will be cer-
tain of a home among pleasant and kind people, such as
5 our good Miss Pole and Mrs. Forrester. And Mr. Hoggins
is really a very personable ^ man ; and as for his manners,
why, if they are not very polished, I have known people with
very good hearts, and very clever minds too, who were
not what some people reckoned refined, but who were

10 both true and tender."

She fell off into a soft reverie about Mr. Holbrook, and
I did not interrupt her, I was so busy maturing a plan I
had had in my mind for some days, but which this
threatened failure of the bank had brought to a crisis.

15 That night, after Miss Matty went to bed, I treacherously
lighted the candle again, and sat down in the drawing-
room to compose a letter to the Aga Jenkyns, a letter
which should affect him if he were Peter, and yet seem a
mere statement of dry facts if he were a stranger. The

20 church clock pealed out two before I had done.

The next morning news came, both official and other-
wise, that the Town and County Bank had stopped
payment. Miss Matty was ruined.

She tried to speak quietly to me ; but when she came

25 to the actual fact that she would have but about five
shillings a week to live upon, she could not restrain a
few tears.

" I am not crying for myself, dear," said she, wiping
them away ; " I believe I am crying for the very silly

^ Of good appearance, presentable.

Cranford 23 5

thought of how my mother would grieve if she could
know ; she always cared for us so much more than for
herself. But many a poor person has less, and I am not
very extravagant, and, thank God, when the neck of
mutton, and Martha's wages, and the rent are paid, 1 5
have not a farthing owing. Poor Martha ! I think she'll
be sorry to leave me."

Miss Matty smiled at me through her tears, and she
would fain have had me see only the smile^ not the
tears. 10

CHAPTER XIV

FRIENDS IN NEED

It was an example to me, and I fancy it might be to
many others, to see how immediately Miss Matty set
about the retrenchment which she knew to be right
under her altered circumstances. While she went down
5 to speak to Martha, and break the intelligence to her
I stole out with my letter to the Aga Jenkyns, and went
to the signor^s lodgings to obtain the exact address. I
bound the signora to secrecy; and indeed her military
manners had a degree of shortness and reserve in them

10 which made her always say as little as possible, except
when under the pressure of strong excitement. More-
over (which made my secret doubly sure), the signor
was now so far recovered as to be looking forward to
travelling and conjuring again in the space of a few days,

15 when he, his wife, and little Phoebe would leave Cranford.
Indeed, I found him looking over a great black and red
placard, in which the Signor Brunoni*s accomplishments
were set forth, and to which only the name of the town
where he would next display them was wanting. He

20 and his wife were so much absorbed in deciding where
the red letters would come in with most effect (it might

236

Cranford 237

have been the Rubric ^ for that matter), that it was some
time before I could get my question asked privately,
and not before I had given several decisions, the wisdom
of which I questioned afterwards with equal sincerity as
soon as the signor threw in his doubts and reasons on 5
the important subject. At last I got the address, spelt
by sound, and very queer it looked. I dropped it in
the post on my way home, and then for a minute I stood
looking at the wooden pane with a gaping slit which
divided me from the letter but a moment ago in my 10
hand. It was gone from me like Ufe, never to be re-
called. It would get tossed about on the sea, and stained
with sea-waves perhaps, and be carried among palm-
trees, and scented with all tropical fragrance ; the Httle
piece of paper, but an hour ago so familiar and common- 15
place, had set out on its race to the strange wild
countries beyond the Ganges ! But I could not afford
to lose nauch time on this speculation, I hastened home,
that Miss Matty might not miss me. Martha opened
the door to me, her face swollen with crying. As soon 20
as she saw me she burst out afresh, and taking hold of
my arm she pulled me in, and banged the door to, in
order to ask me if indeed it was all true that Miss Matty
had been saying.

"I'll never leave her! No ; I won't. I telled her 25
so, and said I could not think how she could find in
her heart to give me warning. I could not have had
the face to do it, if I'd been her. I might ha' been just

^Directions in Prayer Book for conducting a religious service,
sometimes printed in red.

238 Cranford

as good for nothing as Mrs. Fitz-Adam*s Rosy, who
struck for wages after living seven years and a half in
one place. I said I was not one to go and serve Mam-
mon ^ at that rate ; that I knew when Pd got a good
5 missus, if she didn't know when she'd got a good
servant "

"But, Martha," said I, cutting in while she wiped
her eyes.

"Don't * but Martha' me," she replied to my dep-
10 recatory tone.

" Listen to reason "

" I'll not listen to reason," she said, now in full
possession of her voice, which had been rather choked
with sobbing. " Reason always means what some one
15 else has got to say. Now I think what I've got to say
is good enough reason ; but reason or not, I'll say it,
and I'll stick to it. I've money in the Savings Bank,
and I've a good stock of clothes, and I'm not going
to leave Miss Matty. No, not if she gives me warning
20 every hour in the day ! "

She put her arms akimbo,* as much as to say she

defied me ; and, indeed, I could hardly tell how to begin

to remonstrate with her so much did I feel that Miss

Matty, in her increasing infirmity, needed the. attend-

25 ance of this kind and faithful woman.

" Well " said I at last.

"I'm thankful you begin with 'well* ! If you'd ha*
begun with 'but,' as you did afore, I'd not ha' listened
to you. Now you may go on."

^ Riches. 2 Hands on hips and elbows turned outward.

Cranford 239

"I know you would be a great loss to Miss Matty,
Martha "

"I telled her so. A loss she'd never cease to be
sorry for," broke in Martha triumphantly.

" Still, she will have so little — so very little — to live 5
upon, that I don't see just now how she could find you
food — she will even be pressed for her own. I tell
you this, Martha, because I feel you are like a friend
to dear Miss Matty, but you know she might not like to
have it spoken about." 10

Apparently this was even a blacker view of the subject
than Miss Matty had presented to her, for Martha just
sat down on the first chair that came to hand, and cried
out loud (we had been standing in the kitchen) .

At last she put her apron down, and looking me 15
earnestly in the face, asked, " Was that the reason Miss
Matty wouldn't order a pudding to-day ? She said she
had no great fancy for sweet things, and you and she
would just have a mutton-chop. But I'll be up to her.
Never you tell, but I'll make her a pudding, and a 20
pudding she'll like, too, and I'll pay for it myself; so
mind you see she eats it. Many a one has been com-
forted in their sorrow by seeing a good dish come upon
the table."

I was rather glad that Martha's energy had taken 25
the immediate and practical direction of pudding-making,
for it staved off the quarrelsome discussion as to whether
she should or should not leave Miss Matty's service.
She began to tie on a clean apron, and otherwise prepare
herself for going to the shop for the butter, eggs, and 30

240 Cranford

what else she might require. She would not use a scrap
of the articles already in the house for her cookery, but
went to an old tea-pot in which her private store of
money was deposited, and took out what she wanted.
5 I found Miss Matty very quiet, and not a little sad ;
but by-and-by she tried to smile for my sake. It was
settled that I was to write to my father, and ask him to
come over and hold a consultation, and as soon as this
letter was dispatched we began to talk over future plans.

10 Miss Matty's idea was to take a single room, and retain
as much of her furniture as would be necessary to fit up
this, and sell the rest, and there to quietly exist upon
what would remain after paying the rent. For my part,
I was more ambitious and less contented. I thought of

15 all the things by which a woman, past middle age, and
with the education common to ladies fifty years ago,
could earn or add to a living without materially losing
caste ; ^ but at length I put even this last clause on one
side, and wondered what in the world Miss Matty could

20 do.

Teaching was, of course, the first thing that suggested
itself. If Miss Matty could teach children anything, it
would throw her among the little elves in whom her soul
delighted. I ran over her accomplishments. Once upon

25 a time I had heard her say she could play " Ah ! vous
dirai-je, maman ? " on the piano, but that was long, long
ago ; that faint shadow of musical acquirement had died
out years before. She had also once been able to trace
out patterns very nicely for muslin embroidery, by dint of*
1 Social standing. 2 gy means of.

Cranford 24 1

placing a piece of silver paper over the design to be
copied, and holding both against the window-pane while
she marked the scollop and eyelet-holes. But that was
her nearest approach to the accomplishment of drawing,
and I did not think it would go very far. Then again, as 5
to the branches of a solid English education — fancy
work and the use of the globes — such as the mistress
of the Indies' Seminary, to which all the tradespeople in
Cranford sent their daughters, professed to teach : Miss
Matty's eyes were failing her, and I doubted if she could 10
discover the number of threads in a worsted-work pat-
tern, or rightly appreciate the different shades required
for Queen Adelaide's face in the loyal wool-work now
fashionable in Cranford. As for the use of the globes, I
had never been able to find it out myself, so perhaps 1 15
was not a good judge of Miss Matty's capability of in-
structing in this branch of education ; but it struck me
that equators and tropics, and such mystical circles, were
very imaginary lines indeed to her, and that she looked
upon the signs of the Zodiac as so many remnants of the 20
Black Art.*

What she piqued herself upon, as arts in which she
excelled, was making candle-lighters, or " spills " (as she
preferred calling them), of coloured paper, cut so as to
resemble feathers and knitting garters in a variety of 25
dainty stitches. I had once said, on receiving a present
of an elaborate pair, that I should feel quite tempted to
drop one of them in the street, in order to have it ad-
mired ; but I found this little joke (and it was a very little

1 Magic.
CRANFORD — 1 6

242 Cranford

one) was such a distress to her sense of propriety, and
was taken with such anxious, earnest alarm, lest the temp-
tation might some day prove too strong for me, that I
quite regretted having ventured upon it. A present of
5 these delicately- wrought garters, a bunch of gay " spills,"
or a set of cards on which sewing-silk was wound in a
mystical manner, were the well-known tokens of Miss
Matty's favour. But would any one pay to have their
children taught these arts? or, indeed, would Miss Matty

10 sell, for filthy lucre,^ the knack and the skill with which
she made trifles of value to those who loved her?

I had to come down to reading, writing, and arithmetic ;
and, in reading the chapter every morning, she always
coughed before coming to long words. I doubted her

15 power of getting through a genealogical ^ chapter, with
any number of coughs. Writing she did well and deli-
cately — but spelling ! She seemed to think that the
more out-of-the-way this was, and the more trouble it
cost her, the greater the compliment she paid to her cor-

20 respondent ; and words that she would spell quite cor-
rectly in her letters to me became perfect enigmas ^ when
she wrote to my father.

No ! there was nothing she could teach to the rising
generation of Cranford, unless they had been quick learn-

25 ers and ready imitators of her patience, her humility, her
sweetness, her quiet contentment with all that she could
not do. I pondered and pondered until dinner was

1 Money.

2 Exhibiting a succession of families from a progenitor.
8 Puzzles.

Cranford 243

announced by Martha, with a face all blubbered and
swollen with crying.

Miss Matty had a few little peculiarities which Martha
was apt to regard as whims below her attention, and ap-
peared to consider as childish fancies of which an old 5
lady of fifty-eight should try and cure herself. But to-
day everything was attended to with the most careful
regard. The bread was cut to the imaginary pattern of
excellence that existed in Miss Matty *s mind, as being
the way which her mother had preferred, the curtain was 10
drawn so as to exclude the dead brick wall of a neigh-
bour's stables, and yet left so as to show every tender
leaf of the poplar which was bursting into spring beauty.
Martha's tone to Miss Matty was just such as that good,
rough-spoken servant usually kept sacred for little chil-is
dren, and which I had never heard her use to any grown-
up person.

I had forgotten to tell Miss Matty about the pudding,
and I was afraid she might not do justice to it, for she
had evidently very little appetite this day ; so I seized 20
the opportunity of letting her into the secret while Martha
took away the meat. Miss Matty's eyes filled with tears,
and she could not speak, either to express surprise or
delight, when Martha returned bearing it aloft, made in
the most wonderful representation of a lion couchant^^^
that ever was moulded. Martha's face gleamed with tri-
umph as she set it down before Miss Matty with an exult-
ant " There ! " Miss Matty wanted to speak her thanks,
but could not ; so she took Martha's hand and shook it

^ Lying down with head raised.

244 Cranford

warmly, which set Martha off crying, and I myself could
hardly keep up the necessary composure. Martha burst
out of the room, and Miss Matty had to clear her voice
once or twice before she could speak. At last she said,

5 " I should like to keep this pudding under a glass shade,
my dear ! " and the notion of the lion couchanty with his
currant eyes, being hoisted up to the place of honour on
a mantelpiece, tickled my hysterical fancy, and I began
to laugh, which rather surprised Miss Matty.

10 " I am sure, dear, I have seen uglier things under a
glass shade before now," said she.

So had I, many a time and oft, and I accordingly com-
posed my countenance (and now I could hardly keep
from crying), and we both fell to upon the pudding,

15 which was indeed excellent — only every morsel seemed
to choke us, our hearts were so full.

We had too much to think about to talk much that
afternoon. It passed over very tranquilly. But when
the tea-urn was brought in, a new thought came into my

20 head. Why should not Miss Matty sell tea — be an agent
to the East India Tea Company which then existed ? I
could see no objections to this plan, while the advantages
were many — always supposing that Miss Matty could
get over the degradation of condescending to anything

25 like trade. Tea was neither greasy nor sticky — grease
and stickiness being two of the qualities which Miss
Matty could not endure. No shop- window would be
required. A small, genteel notification of her being
licensed to sell tea would, it is true, be necessary, but I

30 hoped that it could be placed where no OUQ would see it.

Cranford 245

Neither was tea a heavy article, so as to tax Miss Matty's
fragile strength. The only thing against ray plan was the
buying and selling involved.

While I was giving but absent answers to the questions
Miss Matty was putting — almost as absently — we heard 5
a clumping sound on the stairs, and a whispering outside
the door, which indeed once opened and shut as if by
some invisible agency. After a little while Martha came
in, dragging after her a great tall young man, all crimson
with shyness, and finding his only relief in perpetually i©
sleeking down his hair.

" Please, ma'am, he's only Jem Hearn," said Martha,
by way of an introduction ; and so out of breath was she
that I imagine she had had some bodily struggle before
she could overcome his reluctance to be presented on 15
the courtly scene of Miss Matilda Jenkyns's drawing-
room.

" And please, ma'am, he wants to marry me off hand.
And please, ma'am, we want to take a lodger — just one
quiet lodger, to make our two ends meet ; and we'd 20
take any house conformable ; ^ and, oh dear Miss Matty,
if I may be so bold, would you have any objections to
lodging with us? Jem wants it as much as I do." [To
Jem:] — "You great oaf!^ why can't you back me? —
But he does want it all the same, very bad — don't you, 25
Jem ? — only, you see, he's dazed at being called on to
speak before quality."

"It's not that," broke in Jem. "It's that you've
taken me all on a sudden, and I didn't think for to get

1 Suitable. 2 Blockhead.

246 Cranford

married so soon — and such quick work does flabber-
gast^ a man. It's not that Fm against it, ma'am"
(addressing Miss Matty), " only Martha has such quick
ways with her when she once takes a thing into her
S head ; and marriage, ma'am — marriage nails a man^ as
one may say. I dare say I shan't mind it after it's once
over."

"Please, ma'am," said Martha — who had plucked at
his sleeve, and nudged him with her elbow, and other-

10 wise tried to interrupt him all the time he had been
speaking — " don't mind him, he'll come to ; 'twas only
last night he was an-axing ^ me, and an-axing me, and all
the more because I said I could not think of it for years
to come, and now he's only taken aback with the sudden-

15 ness of the joy ; but you know, Jem, you are just as full

as me about wanting a lodger." (Another great nudge.)

" Ay ! if Miss Matty would lodge with us — otherwise

I've no mind to be cumbered with strange folk in the

house," said Jem, with a want of tact which I could see

20 enraged Martha, who was trying to represent a lodger as
the great object they wished to obtain, and that, in fact.
Miss Matty would be smoothing their path and confer-
ring a favor, if she would only come and live with them.
Miss Matty herself was bewildered by the pair ; their,

25 or rather Martha's, sudden resolution in favour of matri-
mony staggered her, and stood between her and the con-
templation of the plan which Martha had at heart. Miss
Matty began —

1 To overcome with confusion, with ludicrous effect.
^ Asking.

Cranford 247

" Marriage is a very solemn thing, Martha."

" It is indeed, ma'atn," quoth Jem. " Not that IVe
no objections to Martha."

" You've never let me a-be for asking me for to fix
when I would be married," said Martha — her face alls
a-fire, and ready to cry with vexation — " and now you're
shaming me before my missus and all."

" Nay, now ! Martha, don't ee ! don't ee ! only a man
likes to have breathing-time," said Jem, trying to possess
himself of her hand, but in vain. Then seeing that 10
she was more seriously hurt than he had imagined,
he seemed to try to rally his scattered faculties, and with
more straightforward dignity than, ten minutes before, I
should have thought it possible for him to assume, he
turned to Miss Matty, and said, " I hope, ma'am, you 15
know that I am bound to respect every one who has
been kind to Martha. I always looked on her as to be
my wife — some time; and she has often and often,
spoken of you as the kindest lady that ever was ; and
though the plain truth is, I would not like to be troubled 20
with lodgers of the common run, yet if, ma'am, you'd
honour us by living with us, I'm sure Martha would do
her best to make you comfortable ; and I'd keep out of
your way as much as I could, which I reckon would be
the best kindness such an awkward chap as me could do." 25

Miss Matty had been very busy with taking off her
spectacles, wiping them, and replacing them ; but all she
could say was, " Don't let any thought of me hurry you
into marriage : pray don't ! Marriage is such a very
solemn thing ! " 30

248 Cranford

" But Miss Matilda will think of your plan, Martha,"
said I, struck with the advantages that it offered, and un-
willing to lose the opportunity of considering about it.
" And I'm sure neither she nor I can ever forget your

5 kindness ; nor yours either, Jem."

" Why, yes, ma*am ! Tm sure I mean kindly, though
Fm a bit fluttered by being pushed straight ahead into
matrimony, as it were, and mayn't express myself con-
formable. But I'm sure I'm willing enough, and give me

10 time to get accustomed ; so, Martha, wench, what's the
use of crying so, and slapping me if I come near? "

This last was sotto voce^ and had the effect of making
Martha bounce out of the room, to be followed and
soothed by her lover. Whereupon Miss Matty sat down

15 and cried very. heartily, and accounted for it by saying
that the thought of Martha being married so soon gave
her quite a shock, and that she should never forgive her-
self if she thought she was hurrying the poor creature. I
think my pity was more for Jem, of the two ; but both

20 Miss Matty and I appreciated to the full the kindness of

the honest couple, although we said little about this, and

a good deal about the chances and dangers of matrimony.

The next morning, very early, I received a note from

Miss Pole, so mysteriously wrapped up, and with so many

25 seals on it to secure secrecy, that I had to tear the paper
before I could unfold it. And when I came to the writ-
ing I could hardly understand the meaning, it was so
involved and oracular.^ I made out, however, that I was
to go to Miss Pole's at eleven o'clock ; the number eleven
1 In an undertone. '^ Obscure.

Cranford 249

being written in full length as well as in numerals, and
A.M. twice dashed under, as if I were very likely to
come at eleven at night, when all Cranford was usually
a-bed and asleep by ten. There was no signature except
Miss Pole's initials reversed, P. E. ; but as Martha had 5
given me the note, ** with Miss Pole's kind regards," it
needed no wizard to find out who sent it ; and if the
writer's name was to be kept secret, it was very well that
I was alone when Martha delivered it.

I went as requested to Miss Pole's. The door was 10
opened to me by her little maid Lizzy in Sunday trim, as
if some grand event was impending over this work-day.
And the drawing-room upstairs was arranged in accord-
ance with this idea. The table was set out with the best
green card-cloth, and writing materials upon it. On the 15
little chiffonier was a tray with a newly-decanted bottle
of cowslip wine, and some ladies'-finger biscuits. Miss
Pole herself was in solemn array, as if to receive visitors,
although it was only eleven o'clock. Mrs. Forrester was
there, crying quietly and sadly, and my arrival seemed 20
only to call forth fresh tears. Before we had finished our
greetings, performed with lugubrious ^ mystery of demean-
our, there was another rat-tat-tat, and Mrs. Fitz-Adam
appeared, crimson with walking and excitement. It
seemed as if this was all the company expected ; for 25
now Miss Pole made several demonstrations of being
about to open the business of the meeting, by stirring
the fire, opening and shutting the door, and coughing
and blowing her nose. Then she arranged us all round

1 Sombre,

250 Cranford

the table, taking care to place me opposite to her ; and
last of all, she inquired of me if the sad report was true,
as she feared it was, that Miss Matty had lost all her
fortune ?
5 Of course, I had but one answer to make ; and I never
saw more unaffected sorrow depicted on any counte-
nances than I did there on the three before nie.

" I wish Mrs. Jamieson was here ! " said Mrs. Forrester
at last; but to judge from Mrs. Fitz- Adam's face, she

10 could not second the wish.

" But without Mrs. Jamieson," said Miss Pole, with just
a sound of offended merit in her voice, " we, the ladies
of Cranford, in my drawing-room assembled, can resolve
upon something. I imagine we are none of us what may

15 be called rich, though we all possess a genteel compe-
tency, sufficient for tastes that are elegant and refined,
and would not, if they could, be vulgarly ostentatious."
(Here I observed Miss Pole refer to a small card con-
cealed in her hand, on which I imagine she had put down

20 a few notes.)

" Miss Smith," she continued, addressing me (famil-
iarly, known as " Mary " to all the company assembled,
but this was a state occasion), " I have conversed in
private — I made it my business to do so yesterday after-

25 noon — with these ladies on the misfortune which has
happened to our friend, and one and all of us have agreed
that while we have a superfluity, it is not only a duty, but
a pleasure — a true pleasure, Mary ! " — her voice was
rather choked just here, and she had to wipe her spec-

30 tacles before she could go on — " to give what we can to

Cranford 251

assist her — Miss Matilda Jenkyns. Only in considera-
tion of the feelings of delicate independence existing in
the mind of every refined female " — I was sure she had
got back to the card now — " we wish to contribute our
mites in a secret and concealed manner, so as not to 5
hurt the feelings I have referred to. And our object in
requesting you to meet us this morning is that, believing
you are the daughter — that your father is, in fact, her
confidential adviser in all pecuniary matters, we imagined
that, by consulting with him, you might devise some mode 10
in which our contribution could be made to appear the
legal due which Miss Matilda Jenkyns ought to receive
from Probably your father, knowing her invest-
ments, can fill up the blank."

Miss Pole concluded her address, and looked round 15
for approval and agreement.

" I have expressed your meaning, ladies, have I not ?
And while Miss Smith considers what reply to make,
allow me to offer you some little refreshment."

I had no great reply to make : I had more thankfulness at 20
my heart for their kind thoughts than I cared to put into
words ; and so I only mumbled out something to the
effect " that I would name what Miss Pole had said to
my father, and that if anything could be arranged for
dear Miss Matty," — and here I broke down utterly, and 25
had to be refreshed with a glass of cowslip wine before I
could check the crying which had been repressed for the
last two or three days. The worst was, all the ladies cried
in concert. Even Miss Pole cried, who had said a hun-
dred times that to betray emotion before any one was a 30

252 Cranford

sign of weakness and want of self-control. She recovered
herself into a slight degree of impatient anger, directed
against me, as having set them all off; and, moreover, I
think she was vexed that I could not make a speech back
5 in return for hers ; and if I had known beforehand what
was to be said, and had a card on which to express the
probable feelings that would rise in my heart, I would
have tried to gratify her. As it was, Mrs. Forrester was
the person to speak when we had recovered our compos-

10 ure.

" I don't mind, among friends, stating that I — no 1
I'm not poor exactly, but I don't think I'm what you may
call rich ; I wish I were, for dear Miss Matty's sake — but,
if you please, I'll write down in a sealed paper what I can

15 give. I only wish it was more : my dear Mary, I do
indeed."

Now I saw why paper, pens, and ink were provided.
Every lady wrote down the sum she could give annually,
signed the paper, and sealed it mysteriously. If their

20 proposal was acceded to, my father was to be allowed to
open the papers, under pledge of secrecy. If not, they
were to be returned to their writers.

When this ceremony had been gone through, I rose to
depart ; but each lady seemed to wish to have a private

25 conference with me. Miss Pole kept me in the drawing-
room to explain why, in Mrs. Jamieson's absence, she
had taken the lead in this " movement," as she was
pleased to call it, and also to inform me that she had
heard from good sources that Mrs. Jamieson was coming

30 home directly in a state of high displeasure against her

Cranford 253

sister-in-law, who was forthwith to leave her house, and
was, she believed, to return to Edinburgh that very
afternoon. Of course this piece of intelligence could not
be communicated before Mrs. Fitz-Adam, more especially
as Miss Pole was inclined to think that Lady Glenmire's 5
engagement to Mr. Hoggins could not possibly hold
against the blaze of Mrs. Jamieson's displeasure. A few
hearty inquiries after Miss Matty's health concluded my
interview with Miss Pole.

On coming downstairs I found Mrs. Forrester waiting 10
for me at the entrance to the dining-parlour ; she drew
me in, and when the door was shut, she tried two or
three times to begin on some subject, which was so
unapproachable apparently, that I began to despair of
our ever getting to a clear understanding. At last out it 15
came ; the poor old lady trembling all the time as if it
were a great crime which she was exposing to daylight, in
telling me how very, very little she had to live upon ; a
confession which she was brought to make from a dread
lest we should think that the small contribution named in 20
her paper bore any proportion to her love and regard for
Miss Matty. And yet that sum which she so eagerly
relinquished was, in truth, more than a twentieth part of
what she had to live upon, and keep house, and a little
serving-maid, all as became one born a Tyrrell. And when 25
the whole income does not nearly amount to a hundred
pounds, to give up a twentieth of it will necessitate many
careful economies, and many pieces of self-denial, small
and insignificant in the world's account, but bearing a
different value in another account-book that I have heard 30

254 Cranford

of. She did so wish she was rich, she said, and this wish
she kept repeating, with no thought of herself in it, only
with a longing, yearning desire to be able to heap up Miss
Matty's measure of comforts.
5 It was some time before I could console her enough to
leave her ; and then, on quitting the house, I was waylaid
by Mrs. Fitz-Adam, who had also her confidence to make
of pretty nearly the opposite description. She had not
liked to put down all that she could afford and was ready

10 to give. She told me she thought she never could look
Miss Matty in the face again if she presumed to be
giving her so much as she should like to do. " Miss
Matty ! " continued she, " that I thought was such a fine
young lady when I was nothing but a country girl, conning

15 to market with eggs and butter and such like things.
For my father, though well-to-do, would always make nie
go on as my mother had done before me, and I had to
come into Cranford every Saturday, and see after sales,
and prices, and^ what not. And one day, I remem-

20 ber, I met Miss Matty in the lane that leads to Combe-
hurst ; she was walking on the footpath, which, you know,
is raised a good way above the road, and a gentleman
rode beside her, and was talking to her, and she was
looking down at some primroses she had gathered, and

25 pulling them all to pieces, and I do believe she was cry-
ing. But after she had passed, she turned round and
ran after me to ask — oh, so kindly — about my poor
mother, who lay on her death-bed ; and when I cried
she took hold of my hand to comfort me — and the

30 gentleman waiting for her all the time — and her poor

Cranford 255

heart very full of something, I am sure ; and I thought
it such an honour to be spoken to in that pretty way by
the rector's daughter, who visited at Arley Hall. I have
loved her ever since, though perhaps I'd no right to do
it ; but if you can think of any way in which I might be 5
allowed to give .a little more without any one knowing it
I should be so much obliged to you, my dear. And my
brother would be delighted to doctor her for nothing —
medicines, leeches,^ and all. I know that he and her
ladyship (my dear, I little thought in the days I was 10
telling you of that I should ever come to be sister-in-law
to a ladyship !) would do anything for her. We all
would."

I told her I was quite sure of it, and promised all sorts
of things in my anxiety to get home to Miss Matty, who 15
might well be wondering what had become of me —
absent from her two hours without being able to account
for it. She had taken very little note of time, however,
as she had been occupied in numberless little arrange-
ments preparatory to the great step of giving up her 20
house. It was evidently a relief to her to be doing
something in the way of retrenchment, for, as she said,
whenever she paused to think, the recollection of the
poor fellow with his bad five-pound note came over her,
and she felt quite dishonest ; only if it made her so un- 25
comfortable, what must it not be doing to the directors
of the bank, who must know so much more of the misery
consequent upon this failure? She almost made me

^ Worms used for local abstracting of blood, commonly called
blood-suckers.

256 Cranford

angry by dividing her sympathy between these directors
(whom she imagined overwhelmed by self-reproach for
the mismanagement of other people's affairs) and those
who were suffering like her. Indeed, of the two, she

5 seemed to think poverty a lighter burden than self-
reproach : but I privately doubted if the directors would
agree with her.

Old hoards were taken out and examined as to their
money value, which luckily was small, or else I don't

10 know how Miss Matty would have prevailed upon her-
self to part with such things as her mother's wedding-
ring, the strange, uncouth brooch with which her father
had disfigured his shirt-frill, &c. However, we arranged
things a little in order as to their pecuniary estimation,

15 and were all ready for my father when he came the next
morning.

I am not going to weary you with the details of all the
business we went through ; and one reason for not telling
about them is, that I did not understand what we were

20 doing at the time, and cannot recollect it now. Miss
Matty and I sat assenting to accounts, and schemes, and
reports, and documents, of which I do not believe we
either of us understood a word ; for my father was clear-
headed and decisive, and a capital man of business, and

25 if we made the slightest inquiry, or expressed the slight-
est want of comprehension, he had a sharp way of
saying, " Eh? eh? it's as clear as daylight. What's your
objection ? " And as we had not comprehended anything
of what he had proposed, we found it rather difficult

30 to shape our objections ; in fact, we never were sure if

Cranford 257

we had any. So presently Miss Matty got into a ner-
vously acquiescent state, and said "Yes," and "Cer-
tainly," at every pause, whether required or not; but
when I once joined in as chorus to a " Decidedly,"
pronounced by Miss Matty in a tremblingly dubious 5
tone, my father fired round at me and asked me " What
there was to decide?" And I am sure to this day I
have never known. But, in justice to him, I must say he
had come over from Drumble to help Miss Matty when
he could ill spare the time, and when his own affairs were 10
in a very anxious state.

While Miss Matty was out of the room giving orders
for luncheon — and sadly perplexed between her desire
of honouring my father by a delicate, dainty meal, and
her conviction that she had no right, now that all hens
money was gone, to indulge this desire — I told him of
the meeting of the Cranford ladies at Miss Pole*s the day
before. He kept brushing his hand before his eyes as I
spoke — and when I went back to Martha's offer the
evening before, of receiving Miss Matty as a lodger, he 20
fairly walked away from me to the window, and began
drumming with his fingers upon it. Then he turned
abruptly round, and said, " See, Mary, how a good,
innocent life makes friends all around. Confound it !
I could make a good lesson out of it if I were a parson ; 25
but, as it is, I can*t get a tail to my sentences — only I'm
sure you feel what I want to say. You and I will have
a walk after lunch and talk a bit more about these
plans."

The lunch — a hot savoury mutton-chop, and a little 30

CRANFORD — 1 7

258 Cranford

of the cold lion sliced and fried — was now brought in.
Every morsel of this last dish was finished, to Martha's
great gratification. Then my father bluntly told Miss
Matty he wanted to talk to me alone, and that he would

3 stroll out and see some of the old places, and' then I
could tell her what plan we thought desirable. Just
before we went out, she called me back and said,
"Remember, dear, I'm the only one left — I mean,
there's no one to be hurt by what I do. I'm willing to

10 do anything that's right and honest ; and I don't think,
if Deborah knows where she is, she'll care so very much
if I'm not genteel; because, you see, she'll know all,
dear. Only let me see what I can do, and pay the poor
people as far as I'm able."

15 I gave her a hearty kiss, and ran after my father. The
result of our conversation was this. If all parties were
agreeable, Martha and Jem were to be married with as
little delay as possible, and they were to live on in Miss
Matty's present abode; the sum which the Cranford

20 ladies had agreed to contribute annually being sufficient
to meet the greater part of the rent, and leaving Martha
free to appropriate what Miss Matty should pay for her
lodgings to any little extra comforts required. About the
sale, my father was dubious at first. He said the old

25 rectory furniture, however carefully used and reverently
treated, would fetch very little ; and that little would be
but as a drop in the sea of the debts of the Town and
County Bank. But when I represented how Miss Matty's
tender conscience would be soothed by feeling that she

30 had done what she could, he gave way ; especially after

Cranford 259

I had told him the five-pound note adventure, and he
had scolded me well for allowing it. I then alluded to
my idea that she might add to her small income by sell-
ing tea ; and, to my surprise (for I had nearly given up
the plan), my father grasped at it with all the energy of a 5
tradesman. I think he reckoned his chickens before
they were hatched, for he immediately ran up the profits
of the sales that she could effect in Cranford to more
than twenty pounds a year. The small dining-parlour
was to be converted into a shop, without any of its 10
degrading characteristics ; a table was to be the counter,
one window was to be retained unaltered, and the other
changed into a glass door. I evidently rose in his esti-
mation for having made this bright suggestion. I only
hoped we should not both fall in Miss Matty's. 15

But she was patient and content with all our arrange-
ments. She knew, she said, that we should do the best
we could for her ; and she only hoped, only stipulated,
that she should pay every farthing that she could be said
to owe, for her father's sake, who had been so respected 20
in Cranford. My father and I had agreed to say as little
as possible about the bank, indeed never to mention it
again, if it could be helped. Some of the plans were
evidently a little perplexing to her ; but she had seen me
sufficiently snubbed in the morning for want of compre- 25
hension to venture on too many inquiries now ; and all
passed over well with a hope on her part that no one
would be hurried into marriage on her account. When
we came to the proposal that she should sell tea, I could
see it was rather a shock to her ; not on account of any 30

i6o Cranford

personal loss of gentility involved, but only because she
distrusted her own powers of action in a new line of life,
and would timidly have preferred a little more privation
to any exertion for which she feared she was unfitted.

5 However, when she saw my father was bent upon it, she
sighed, and said she would try ; and if she did not do
well, of course she might give it up. One good thing
about it was, she did not think men ever bought tea ;
and it was of men particularly she was afraid. They had

10 such sharp loud ways with them ; and did up accounts,
and counted their change so quickly ! Now, if she
might only sell comfits^ to children, she was sure she
could please them !

^ Sweetmeats.

CHAPTER XV

A HAPPY RETURN

Before I left Miss Matty at Cranford everything had
been comfortably arranged for her. Even Mrs. Jamie-
son's approval of her selling tea had been gained. That
oracle ^ had taken a few days to consider whether by so
doing Miss Matty would forfeit her right to the privileges 5
of society in Cranford. I think she had some little idea
of mortifying ^ Lady Glenmire by the decision she gave at
last ; which was to this effect : that whereas a married
woman takes her husband's rank by the strict laws of pre-
cedence, an unmarried woman retains the station her 10
father occupied. So Cranford was allowed to visit Miss
Matty ; and, whether allowed or not, it intended to visit
Lady Glenmire.

But what was our surprise — our dismay — when we
learnt that Mr. and Mrs. Hoggins were returning on the 15
following Tuesday. Mrs. Hoggins ! Had she absolutely
dropped her title, and so, in a spirit of bravado,^ cut the
aristocracy to become a Hoggins ! She, who might have
been called Lady Glenmire to her dying day ! Mrs.
Jamieson was pleased. She said it only convinced her 20
of what she had known from the first, that the creature had
a low taste. But " the creature " looked very happy on

1 One whose decisions are final. ^ Humiliating. ^ Boasting.

261

262 Cranford

Sunday at church ; nor did we see it necessary to keep
our veils down on that side of our bonnets on which Mr.
and Mrs. Hoggins sat, as Mrs. Jamieson did ; thereby
missing all the smiling glory of his face, and all the be-
5 coming blushes of hers. I am not sure if Martha and Jem
looked more radiant in the afternoon, when they, too,
made their first appearance. Mrs. Jamieson soothed the
turbulence of her soul by having the blinds of her windows
drawn down, as if for a funeral, on the day when Mr. and

10 Mrs. Hoggins received callers: and it was with some
difficulty that she was prevailed upon to continue the
Sf. James's Chronicle, so indignant was she with its hav-
ing inserted the announcement of the marriage.

Miss Matty's sale went off famously. She retained the

15 furniture of her sitting-room and bedroom ; the former
of which she was to occupy till Martha could meet with a
lodger who might wish to take it ; and into this sitting-
room and bedroom she had to cram all sorts of things,
which were (the auctioneer assured her) bought in for

20 her at the sale by an unknown friend. I always suspected
Mrs. Fitz-Adam of this ; but she must have had an ac-
cessory, who knew what articles were particularly regarded
by Miss Matty on account of their associations with her
early days. The rest of the house looked rather bare, to

25 be sure ; all except one tiny bedroom, of which my
father allowed me to purchase the furniture for my occa-
sional use in case of Miss Matty's illness.

I had expended my own small store in buying all man-
ner of comfits and lozenges, in order to tempt the little

30 people whom Miss Matty loved so much to come about

Cranford 263

her. Tea in bright green canisters, and comfits in tum-
blers — Miss Matty and I felt quite proud as we looked
round us on the evening before the shop was to be opened.
Martha had scoured the boarded floor to a white clean-
ness, and it was adorned with a brilliant piece of oil-cloth, 5
on which customers were to stand before the table-counter.
The wholesome smell of plaster and whitewash pervaded
the apartment. A very small " Matilda Jenkyns, licensed
to sell tea," was hidden under the lintel of the new door,
and two boxes of tea, with cabalistic inscriptions all over 10
them, stood ready to disgorge their contents into the can-
isters.

Miss Matty, as I ought to have mentioned before, had
had some scruples of conscience at selling tea when there
was already Mr. Johnson in the town, who included it 15
among his numerous commodities ; and, before she could
quite reconcile herself to the adoption of her new busi-
ness, she had trotted down to his shop, unknown to me, to
tell him of the project that was entertained, and to inquire
if it was likely to injure his business. My father called 20
this idea of hers " great nonsense," and " wondered how
tradespeople were to get on if there was to be a continual
consulting of each other's interests, which would put a
stop to all competition directly." And, perhaps, it would
not have done in Drumble, but in Cranford it answered 25
very well ; for not only did Mr. Johnson kindly put at
rest all Miss Matty's scruples and fear of injuring his busi-
ness, but I have reason to know he repeatedly sent cus-
tomers to her, saying that the teas he kept were of a
common kind, but that Miss Jenkyns had all the choice 30

264 Cranford

sorts. And expensive tea is a very favourite luxury with
well-to-do tradespeople and rich farmers* wives, who turn
up their noses at the Congou' and Souchong^ prevalent
at many tables of gentility, and will have nothing else

5 than Gunpowder' and Pekoe ^ for themselves.

But to return to Miss Matty. It was really very pleas-
ant to see how her unselfishness and simple sense of jus-
tice called out the same good qualities in others. She
never seemed to think any one would impose upon her,

10 because she should be so grieved to do it to them. I
have heard her put a stop to the asseverations of the man
who brought her coals by quietly saying, " I am sure you
would be sorry to bring me wrong weight " ; and if the
coals were short measure that time, I don't believe they

15 ever were again. People would have felt as much ashamed
of presuming on her good faith as they would have done
on that of a child. But my father says "such simplicity
might be very well in Cranford, but would never do in the
world." And I fancy the world must be very bad, for

20 with all my father's suspicion of every one with whom he

has dealings, and in spite of all his many precautions, he

lost upwards of a thousand pounds by roguery only last

year.

I just stayed long enough to establish Miss Matty in

25 her new mode of life, and to pack up the library, which

the rector had purchased. He had written a very kind

letter to Miss Matty, saying " how glad he should be to

take a library, so well selected as he knew that the late

Mr. Jenkyns's must have been, at any valuation put upon

^ Kinds of tea.

Cranford 265

them." And when she agreed to this, with a touch of
sorrowful gladness that they would go back to the rectory
and be arranged on the accustomed walls once more, he
sent word that he feared that he had not room for them
all, and perhaps Miss Matty would kindly allow him to 5
leave some volumes on her shelves. But Miss Matty said
that she had her Bible and " Johnson's Dictionary," and
should not have much time for reading, she was afraid ;
still, I retained a few books out of consideration for the
rector's kindness. 10

The money which he had paid, and that produced by
the sale, was partly expended in the stock of tea, and
part of it was invested against a rainy day — i.e. old age
or illness. It was but a small sum, it is true ; and it oc-
casioned a few evasions of truth and white lies (all of 15
which I think very wrong indeed — in theory — and
would rather not put them in practice), for we knew Miss
Matty would be perplexed as to her duty if she were
aware of any little reserve-fund being made for her while
the debts of the bank remained unpaid. Moreover, she 20
had never been told of the way in which her friends were
contributing to pay the rent. I should have liked to tell
her this, but the mystery of the affair gave a piquancy 1
to their deed of kindness which the ladies were unwilling
to give up j and at first Martha had to shirk many a per- 25
plexed question as to her ways and means of living in
such a house, but by and-by Miss Matty's prudent un-
easiness sank down into acquiescence with the existing
arrangement.

1 Pungency of flavour.

266 Cranford

I left Miss Matty with a good heart. Her sales of tea
during the first two days had surpassed my most san-
guine ^ expectations. The whole country round seemed
to be all out of tea at once. The only alteration I could

5 have desired in Miss Matty's way of doing business was,
that she should not have so plaintively entreated some
of her customers not to buy green tea — running it down
as slow poison, sure to destroy the nerves, and produce
all manner of evil. Their pertinacity^ in taking it, in

10 spite of all her warnings, distressed her so much that I
really thought she would relinquish the sale of it, and so
lose half her custom ; and I was driven to my wits* end
for instances of longevity ^ entirely attributable to a per-
severing use of green tea. But the final argument, which

15 settled the question, was a happy reference of mine to
the train-oil and tallow candles which the Esquimaux
not only enjoy but digest. After that she acknowledged
that " one man's meat might be another man's poison,"
and contented herself thenceforward with an occasional

20 remonstrance when she thought the purchaser was too
young and innocent to be acquainted with the evil effects
green tea produced on some constitutions, and an habit-
ual sigh when people old enough to choose more wisely
would prefer it.

25 I went over from Drumble once a quarter at least to
settle the accounts, and see after the necessary business
letters. And, speaking of letters, I began to be very
much ashamed of remembering my letter to the Aga
Jenkyns, and very glad I had never named my writing to
1 Hopeful. -Obstinacy. ^ Long life.

Cranford 267

any one. I only hoped the letter was lost. No answer
came. No sign was made.

About a year after Miss Matty set up shop, I received
one of Martha's hieroglyphics,* begging me to come to
Cranford very soon. I was afraid that Miss Matty was 5
ill, and went off that very afternoon, and took Martha by
surprise when she saw me on opening the door. We went
into the kitchen as usual, to have our confidential con-
ference, and then Martha told me she was expecting her
confinement very soon — in a week or two ; and she did 10
not think Miss Matty was aware of it, and she wanted me
to break the news to her, " for indeed, miss," continued
Martha, crying hysterically, " Tm afraid she won't ap-
prove of it, and I'm sure I don't know who is to take
care of her as she should be taken care of when I am 15
laid up."

I comforted Martha by telling her I would remain till
she was about again, and only wished she had told me
her reason for this sudden summons, as then I would
have brought the requisite stock of clothes. But Martha 20
was so tearful and tender-spirited, and unlike her usual
self, that I said as little as possible about myself, and en-
deavoured rather to comfort Martha under all the prob-
able and possible misfortunes which came crowding upon
her imagination. 25

I then stole out of the house door, and made my ap-
pearance as if I were a customer in the shop, just to take
Miss Matty by surprise, and gain an idea of how she

1 Marks having a mysterious signiiicance, from Egyptian picture
language.

268 Cranford

looked in her new situation. It was warm May weather,
so only the little half-door ^ was closed ; and Miss Matty
sat behind her counter, knitting an elaborate pair of gar-
ters ; elaborate they seemed to me, but the difficult stitch
5 was no weight upon her mind, for she was singing in a
low voice to herself as her needles went rapidly in and
out. I call it singing, but I dare say a musician would
not use that word to the tuneless yet sweet humming of
the low worn voice. I found out from the words, far

10 more than from the attempt at the tune, that it was the
Old Hundredth she was crooning to herself; but the quiet
continuous sound told of content, and gave me a pleas-
ant feeling, as I stood in the street just outside the door,
quite in harmony with that soft May morning. I went

15 in. At first she did not catch who it was, and stood up
as if to serve me ; but in another minute watchful pussy
had clutched her knitting, which was dropped in eager
joy at seeing me. I found, after we had had a little con-
versation, that it was as Martha said, and that Miss

20 Matty had no idea of the approaching household event.
So I thought I would let things take their course, secure
that when I went to her with the baby in my arras, I
should obtain that forgiveness for Martha which she was
needlessly frightening herself into beHeving that Miss

25 Matty would withhold, under some notion that the new
claimant would require attentions from its mother that it
would be faithless treason to Miss Matty to render.

But I was right. I think that must be an hereditary
quality, for my father says he is scarcely ever wrong.
^ Lower half of door opening in two sections.

Cranford 269

One morning, within a week after I arrived, I went to call
Miss Matty, with a little bundle of flannel in my arms.
She was very much awe- struck when I showed her what
it was, and asked for her spectacles off the dressing-table,
and looked at it curiously, with a sort of tender wonder 5
at its small perfection of parts. She could not banish
the thought of the surprise all day, but went about on
tiptoe, and was very silent. But she stole up to see Mar-
tha, and they both cried with joy, and she got into a
complimentary speech to Jem, and did not know how to 10
get out of it again, and was only extricated from her
dilemma by the sound of the shop-bell, which was an
equal relief to the shy, proud, honest Jem, who shook
my hand so vigorously when I congratulated him, that I
think I feel the pain of it yet. 15

I had a busy life while Martha was laid up. I attended
on Miss Matty, and prepared her meals ; I cast up her
accounts, and examined into the state of her canisters and
tumblers. I helped her, too, occasionally, in the shop ;
and it gave me no small amusement, and sometimes a 20
little uneasiness, to watch her ways there. If a little
child came in to ask for an ounce of almond-comfits (and
four of the large kind which Miss Matty sold weighed that
much), she always added one more by " way of make-
weight, " as she called it, although the scale was hand- 25
somely turned before ; and when I remonstrated against
this, her reply was, " The little things like it so much ! "
There was no use in telling her that the fifth comfit
weighed a quarter of an ounce, and made every sale into
a loss to her pocket. So I remembered the green tea, 30

270 Cranford

and winged my shaft with a feather out of her own plum-
age. I told her how unwholesome almond-comfits were,
and how ill excess in them might make the little chil-
dren. This argument produced some effect ; for, hence-

5 forward, instead of the fifth comfit, she always told them
to hold out their tiny palms, into which she shook either
peppermint or ginger lozenges, as a preventive to the
dangers that might arise from the previous sale. Alto-
gether the lozenge trade, conducted on these principles,

10 did not promise to be remunerative ; but I was happy to
find she had made more than twenty pounds during the
last year by her sales of tea ; and, moreover, that now
she was accustomed to it, she did not dislike the employ-
ment, which brought her into kindly intercourse with

15 many of the people round about. If she gave them good
weight, they, in their turn, brought many a little country
present to the " old rector's daughter " ; a cream cheese, a
few new-laid eggs, a little fresh ripe fruit, a bunch of
flowers. The counter was quite loaded with these offer-

20 ings sometimes, as she told me.

As for Cranford in general, it was going on much as
usual. The Jamieson and Hoggins feud still raged, if a
feud it could be called, when only one side cared much
about it. Mr. and Mrs. Hoggins were very happy to-

25 gether, and, like most very happy people, quite ready to be
friendly ; indeed, Mrs. Hoggins was really desirous to be
restored to Mrs. Jamieson's good graces, because of the
former intimacy. But Mrs. Jamieson considered their
very happiness an insult to the Glenmire family, to which

30 she had still the honour to belong, and she doggedly

Cranford 27 1

refused and rejected every advance. Mr. Mulliner, like a
faithful clansman, espoused his mistress' side with ardour.
If he saw either Mr. or Mrs. Hoggins, he would cross the
street, and appear absorbed in the contemplation of life
in general, and his own path in particular, until he had 5
passed them by. Miss Pole used to amuse herself with
wondering what in the world Mrs. Jamieson would do, if
either she, or Mr. Mulliner, or any other member of her
household was taken ill ; she could hardly have the face
to call in Mr. Hoggins after the way she had behaved to 10
them. Miss Pole grew quite impatient for some indis-
position or accident to befall Mrs. Jamieson or her de-
pendants, in order that Cranford might see how she would
act under the perplexing circumstances.

Martha was beginning to go about again, and I had al- 15
ready fixed a limit, not very far distant, to my visit, when
one afternoon, as I was sitting in the shop- parlour with
Miss Matty — I remember the weather was colder now
than it had been in May, three weeks before, and we had
a fire and kept the door fully closed — we saw a gentleman 20
go slowly past the window, and then stand opposite to the
door, as if looking out for the name which we had so
carefully hidden. He took out a double eye-glass and
peered about for some time before he could discover it.
Then he came in. And, all on a sudden, it flashed across 25
me that it was the Aga himself ! For his clothes had an
out-of-the-way foreign cut about them, and his face was
deep brown, as if tanned and re-tanned by the sun. His
complexion contrasted oddly with his plentifiil snow-white
hair^ his eyes were dark and piercing, and he had an odd 30

272 Cranford

way of contracting them and puckering up his cheeks
into innumerable wrinkles when he looked earnestly at ob-
jects. He did so to Miss Matty when he first came in.
His glance had first caught and lingered a little upon me,
5 but then turned, with the peculiar searching look I have
described, to Miss Matty. She was a little fluttered and
nervous, but no more so than she always was when any
man came into her shop. She thought that he would
probably have a note, or a sovereign at least, for which

10 she would have to give change, which was an operation
she very much disHked to perform. But the present cus-
tomer stood opposite to her, without asking for anything,
only looking fixedly at her as he drummed upon the table
with his fingers, just for all the world as Miss Jenkyns

15 used to do. Miss Matty was on the point of asking him
what he wanted (as she told me afterwards), when he
turned sharp to me : " Is your name Mary Smith? "
" Yes ! " said I.
All my doubts as to his identity were set at rest, and

20 1 only wondered what he would say or do next, and how
Miss Matty would stand the joyful shock of what he had
to reveal. Apparently he was at a loss how to announce
himself, for he looked round at last in search of some-
thing to buy, so as to gain time, and, as it happened, his

25 eye caught on the almond- comfits, and he boldly asked
for a pound of " those things. " I doubt if Miss Matty
had a whole pound in the shop, and, besides the unusual
magnitude of the order, she was distressed with the idea
of the indigestion they would produce, taken in such

30 unlimited quantities. She looked up to remonstrate.

Cranford 273

Something of tender relaxation in his face struck home to
her heart. She said, " It is — oh, sir ! can you be Peter ? "
and trembled from head to foot. In a moment he was
round the table and had her in his arms, sobbing the
tearless cries of old age. I brought her a glass of wine, 5
for indeed her colour had changed so as to alarm me and
Mr. Peter too. He kept saying, " I have been too sud-
den for you, Matty — I have, my little girl."

I proposed that she should go at once up into the
drawing-room and lie down on the sofa there. She looked i©
wistfully at her brother, whose hand she had held tight,
even when nearly fainting ; but on his assuring her that he
would not leave her, she allowed him to carry her upstairs.

I thought that the best I could do was to run and put
the kettle on the fire for early tea, and then to attend to 15
the shop, leaving the brother and sister to exchange some
of the many thousand things they must have to say. I
had also to break the news to Martha, who received it
with a burst of tears which nearly infected me. She kept
recovering herself to ask if I was sure it was indeed Miss 20
Matty's brother, for I had mentioned that he had grey
hair, and she had always heard that he was a very hand-
some young man. Something of the same kind perplexed
Miss Matty at tea-time, when she was installed in the
great easy-chair opposite to Mr. Jenkyns's in order to 25
gaze her fill. She could hardly drink for looking at him,
and as for eating, that was out of the question.

" I suppose hot climates age people very quickly,"
said she, almost to herself. " When you left Cranford
you had not a grey hair in your head." ' 30

CRANFORD — 1 8

274 Cranford

"But how many years ago is that?" said Mr. Peter,
smiling.

" Ah, true ! yes, I suppose you and I are getting old.
But still I did not think we were so very old ! But white

5 hair is very becoming to you, Peter," she continued — a
little afraid lest she had hurt him by revealing how his
appearance had impressed her.

" I suppose I forgot dates too, Matty, for what do you
think I have brought for you from India? I have an Indian

10 muslin gown and a pearl necklace for you somewhere in
my chest at Portsmouth." He smiled as if amused at
the idea of the incongruity^ of his presents with the ap-
pearance of his sister ; but this did not strike her all at
once, while the elegance of the articles did. I could see

15 that for a moment her imagination dwelt complacently
on the idea of herself thus attired ; and instinctively she
put her hand up to her throat — that little delicate
throat which (as Miss Pole had told me) had been one
of her youthful charms ; but the hand met the touch of

20 folds of soft muslin in which she was always swathed up
to her chin, and the sensation recalled a sense of the
unsuitableness of a pearl necklace to her age. She said,
"I'm afraid I'm too old ; but it was very kind of you to
think of it. They are just what I should have liked years

2$ ago — when I was young."

" So I thought, my little Matty. I remembered your
tastes; they were so like my dear mother's." At the
mention of that name the brother and sister clasped
each other's hands yet more fondly, and, although they

^ Inconsistency.

Cranford 275

were perfectly silent, I fancied they might have some-
thing to say if they were unchecked by my presence, and
I got up to arrange my room for Mr. Peter's occupation
that night, intending myself to share Miss Matty's bed.
But at my movement he started up. " I must go and 5
settle about a room at the ' George.' My carpet-bag ^ is
there too."

''No!" said Miss Matty, in great distress — "you
must not go ; please, dear Peter — pray, Mary ! — oh !
you must not go !" 10

She was so much agitated that we both promised
everything she wished. Peter sat down again and gave
her his hand, which for better security she held in both of
hers, and I left the room to accomphsh my arrangements.

Long, long into the night, far, far into the morning, did 15
Miss Matty and I talk. She had much to tell me of her
brother's life and adventures, which he had communi-
cated to her as they had sat alone. She said all was
thoroughly clear to her ; but I never quite understood
the whole story ; and when in after days I lost my awe 20
of Mr. Peter enough to question him myself, he laughed
at my curiosity, and told me stories that sounded so very
much like Baron Munchausen's, that I was sure he was
making fun of me. What I heard from Miss Matty was
that he had been a volunteer at the siege of Rangoon ; ^25
had been taken prisoner by the Burmese ; had somehow
obtained favour and eventual freedom from knowing how
to bleed the chief of the small tribe in some case of dan-
gerous illness ; that on his release from years of captivity

1 Travelling-bag made of carpet. ^ Capital of Lower Burmah.

276 Cranford

he had had his letters returned from England with the
ominous word " Dead " marked upon them ; and, believ-
ing himself to be the last of his race, he had settled down
as an indigo planter, and had proposed to spend the re-
5 mainder of his life in the country to whose inhabitants
and modes of life he had become habituated, when my
letter had reached him ; and, with the odd vehemence
which characterized him in age as it had 'done in youth,
he had sold his land and all his possessions to the first

10 purchaser, and come home to the poor old sister, who
was more glad and rich than any princess when she
looked at him. She talked me to sleep at last, and then
I was awakened by a slight sound at the door, for which
she begged my pardon as she crept penitently into bed ;

15 but it seems that when I could no longer confirm her
belief that the long-lost was really here — under the same
roof — she had begun to fear lest it was only a waking
dream of hers ; that there never had been a Peter sitting
by her all that blessed evening — but that the real Peter

20 lay dead far away beneath some wild sea-wave, or under
some strange eastern tree. And so strong had this nervous
feeling of hers become, that she was fain to get up
and go and convince herself that he was really there by
Ustening through the door to his even, regular breathing

25 — I don't like to call it snoring, but I heard it myself
through two closed doors — and by-and-by it soothed
Miss Matty to sleep.

I don't believe Mr. Peter came home from India as
rich as a nabob ; ^ he even considered himself poor, but
1 One returning from India with great wealths

Cranford 277

neither he nor Miss Matty cared much about that.
At any rate, he had enough to live upon " very gen-
teelly " at Cranford ; he and Miss Matty together.
And a day or two after his arrival, the shop was closed
while troops of little urchins gleefully awaited the shower 5
of comfits and lozenges that came from time to time
down upon their faces as they stood up-gazing at Miss
Matty's drawing-room windows. Occasionally Miss Matty
would say to them (half hidden behind the curtains),
" My dear children, don't make yourselves ill " ; but a 10
strong arm pulled her back, and a more rattling shower
than ever succeeded. A part of the tea was sent in
presents to the Cranford ladies ; and some of it was
distributed among the old people who remembered
Mr. Peter in the days of his frolicsome youth. The 15
Indian muslin gown was reserved for darling Flora Gor-
don (Miss Jessie Brown's daughter). The Gordons had
been on the Continent for the last few years, but were
now expected to return very soon ; and Miss Matty, in
her sisterly pride, anticipated great delight in the joy 20
of showing them Mr. Peter. The pearl necklace dis-
appeared : and about that time many handsome and
useful presents made their appearance in the households
of Miss Pole and Mrs. Forrester ; and some rare and
delicate Indian ornaments graced the drawing-rooms 25
of Mrs. Jamieson and Mrs. Fitz-Adam. I myself was
not forgotten. Among other things, I had the hand-
somest-bound and best edition of Dr. Johnson's works
that could be procured ; and dear Miss Matty, with tears
in her eyes, begged me to consider it as a present from 30

278 Cranford

her sister as well as herself. In short, no one was
forgotten ; and, what was more, every one, however
insignificant, who had shown kindness to Miss Matty
at any time, was sure of Mr. Peter's cordial regard.

CHAPTER XVI

PEACE TO CRANFORD

It was not surprising that Mr. Peter became such a
favourite at Cranford. The ladies vied with each other
who should admire him most ; and no wonder, for their
quiet lives were astonishingly stirred up by the arrival
from India — especially as the person arrived told more 5
wonderful stories than Sindbad the Sailor ; and, as Miss
Pole said, was quite as good as an Arabian Night any
evening. For my own part, I had vibrated all my life
between Drumble and Cranford, and I thought it was
quite possible that all Mr. Peter's stories might be true, ,0
although wonderful; but when I found that, if we
swallowed an anecdote of tolerable magnitude one week,
we had the dose considerably increased the next, I
began to have my doubts ; especially as I noticed that
when his sister was present the accounts of Indian life ,5
were comparatively tame ; not that she knew more than
we did, perhaps less. I noticed also that when the
rector came to call, Mr. Peter talked in a different way
about the countries he had been in. But I don't think
the ladies in Cranford would have considered him such 20
a wonderful traveller if they had only heard him talk
in the quiet way he did to him. They liked him the
better, indeed, for being what they called him " so very
Oriental."

279

28o Cranford

One day, at a select party in his honour, which Miss
Pole gave, and from which, as Mrs. Jamieson honoured
it with her presence,, and had even offered to send Mr.
Mulliner to wait, Mr. and Mrs. Hoggins and Mrs. Fitz-

5 Adam were necessarily excluded — one day at Miss Pole's,
Mr. Peter said he was tired of sitting upright against
the hard-backed uneasy chairs, and asked if he might
not indulge himself in sitting cross-legged. Miss Pole's
consent was eagerly given, and down he went with the

10 utmost gravity. But when Miss Pole asked me, in an
audible whisper, " if he did not remind me of the Father
of the Faithful?" I could not help thinking of poor
Simon Jones, the lame tailor, and while Mrs. Jamieson
slowly commented on the elegance and convenience of

15 the attitude, I remembered how we had all followed that
lady's lead in condemning Mr. Hoggins for vulgarity
because he simply crossed his legs as he sat still on his
chair. Many of Mr. Peter's ways of eating were a little
strange amongst such ladies as Miss Pole, and Miss

20 Matty, and Mrs. Jamieson, especially when I recollected
the untasted green peas and two-pronged forks at poor
Mr. Holbrook's dinner.

The mention of that gentleman's name recalls to my
mind a conversation between Mr. Peter and Miss Matty

25 one evening in the summer after he returned to Cran-
ford. The day had been very hot, and Miss Matty had
been much oppressed by the weather, in the heat of
which her brother revelled. I remember that she had
been unable to nurse Martha's baby, which had become

30 her favourite employment of late, and which was as much

Cranford 281

at home in her arms as in its mother's, as long as it
remained a light-weight, portable by one so fragile as
Miss Matty. This day to which I refer, Miss Matty
had seemed more than usually feeble and languid, and
only revived when the sun went down, and her sofa was 5
wheeled to the open window, through which, although
it looked into the principal street of Cranford, the
fragrant smell of the neighbouring hayfields came in
every now and then, borne by the soft breezes that
stirred the dull air of the summer twilight, and then died 10
away. The silence of the sultry atmosphere was lost in
the murmuring noises which came in from many an open
window and door ; even the children were abroad in the
street, late as it was (between ten and eleven), enjo5ring
the game of play for which they had not had spirits 15
during the heat of the day. It was a source of satis-
faction to Miss Matty to see how few candles were
lighted, even in the apartments of those houses from
which issued the greatest signs of life. Mr. Peter, Miss
Matty, and I had all been quiet, each with a separate 20
reverie, for some httle time, when Mr. Peter broke in —

" Do you know, little Matty, I could have sworn you
were on the high-road to matrimony when I left England
that last time ! If anybody had told me you would have
Hved and died an old maid then, I should have laughed 25
in their faces."

Miss Matty made no reply, and I tried in vain to think
of some subject which should effectually turn the conver-
sation ; but I was very stupid ; and before I spoke he
went on — ^o

282 Cranford

" It was Holbrook, that fine manly fellow who lived at
Woodley, that I used to think would carry off my little
Matty. You would not think it now, I dare say, Mary ;
but this sister of mine was once a very pretty girl — at
5 least, I thought so, and so I've a notion did poor Hol-
brook. What business had he to die before I came home
to thank him for all his kindness to a good-for-nothing
cub as I was? It was that that made me first think he
cared for you ; for in all our fishing expeditions it was

10 Matty, Matty, we talked about. Poor Deborah ! What
a lecture she read me on having asked him home to lunch
one day, when she had seen the Arley carriage in the
town, and thought that my lady might call. Well, that's
long years ago ; more than half a Hfe-tirae, and yet it

15 seems like yesterday ! I don't know a fellow I should
have liked better as a brother-in-law. You must have
played your cards badly, my little Matty, somehow or
another — wanted your brother to be a good go-between,
eh, Uttle one?" said he, putting out his hand to take hold

20 of hers as she lay on the sofa. " Why, what's this ? you're
shivering and shaking, Matty, with that confounded open
window. Shut it,. Mary, this minute ! "

I did so, and then stooped down to kiss Miss Matty,
and see if she really were chilled. She caught at my

25 hand, and gave it a hard squeeze — but unconsciously, I
think — for in a minute or two she spoke to us quite in
her usual voice, and smiled our uneasiness away, although
she patiently submitted to the prescriptions we enforced
of a warm bed and a glass of weak negus.^ I was to
^ Mixture of wine, water, sugar, nutmeg, and lemon-juice.

Cranford 283

leave Cranford the next day, and before I went I saw that
all the effects of the open window had quite vanished.
I had superintended most of the alterations necessary in
the house and household during the latter weeks of my
stay. • The shop was once more a parlour ; the empty 5
resounding rooms again furnished up to the very
garrets.

There had been some talk of establishing Martha and
Jem in another house, but Miss Matty would not hear of
this. Indeed I never saw her so much roused as when Miss 10
Pole had assumed it to be the most desirable arrangement.
As long as Martha would remain with Miss Matty, Miss
Matty was only too thankful to have her about her ; yes,
and Jem too, who was a very pleasant man to have in the
house^ for she never saw him from week's end to week's 15
end. And as for the probable children, if they would all
turn out such little darlings as her god-daughter, Matilda,
she should not mind the number, if Martha didn't. Be-
sides, the next was to be called Deborah — a point
which Miss Matty had reluctantly yielded to Martha's 20
stubborn determination that her first-bom was to be
Matilda. So Miss Pole had to lower her colours, and
even her voice, as she said to me that, as Mr. and Mrs.
Heam were still to go on living in the same house with
Miss Matty, we had certainly done a wise thing in hiring 25
Martha's niece as an auxiliary.

I left Miss Matty and Mr. Peter most comfortable and
contented ; the only subject for regret to the tender heart
of the one, and the social friendly nature of the other,
being the unfortimate quarrel between Mrs. Jamieson and 30

284 Cranford

the plebeian ^ Hogginses and their following. In joke, I
prophesied one day that this would only last until Mrs.
Jamieson or Mr. MuUiner were ill, in which case they
would only be too glad to be friends with Mr. Hoggins ;
5 but Miss Matty did not like my looking forward to any-
thing like illness in so light a manner, and before the year
was out all had come round in a far more satisfactory
way.

I received two Cranford letters on one auspicious

10 October morning. Both Miss Pole and Miss Matty
wrote to ask me to come over and meet the Gordons,
who had returned to England alive and well with their
two children, now almost grown up. Dear Jessie Brown
had kept her old kind nature, although she had changed

15 her name and station ; and she wrote to say that she
and Major Gordon expected to be in Cranford on the
fourteenth, and she hoped and begged to be remem-
bered to Mrs. Jamieson (named first, as became her
honourable station), Miss Pole, and Miss Matty — could

20 she ever forget their kindness to her poor father and
sister? — Mrs. Forrester, Mr. Hoggins (and here again
came in an allusion to kindness shown to the dead long
ago), his new wife, who as such must allow Mrs. Gordon
to desire to make her acquaintance, and who was, more-

25 over, an old Scotch friend of her husband's. In short,
every one was named, from the rector — who had been
appointed to Cranford in the interim ^ between Captain
Brown's death and Miss Jessie's marriage, and was now
associated with the latter event — down to Miss Betty
1 Common. ^ 1 Interval.

Cranford 285

Barker. All were asked to the luncheon; all except
Mrs. Fitz-Adam, who had come to live in Cranford since
Miss Jessie Brown's days, and whom I found rather mop-
ing on account of the omission. People wondered at
Miss Betty Barker's being included in the honourable 5
list ; but, then, as Miss Pole said, we must remember the
disregard of the genteel proprieties of life in which the
poor captain had educated his girls, and for his sake we
swallowed our pride. Indeed, Mrs. Jamieson rather
took it as a compliment, as putting Miss Betty (formerly i©
her maid) on a level with " those Hogginses."

But when I arrived in Cranford, nothing was as yet
ascertained of Mrs. Jamieson's own intentions ; would the
honourable lady go, or would she not ? Mr. Peter de-
clared that she should and she would ; Miss Pole shook *5
her head and desponded. But Mr. Peter was a man of
resources. In the first place, he persuaded Miss Matty
to write to Mrs. Gordon, and to tell her of Mrs. Fitz-
Adam's existence, and to beg that one so kind, and cor-
dial, and generous, might be included in the pleasant in- 20
vitation. An answer came back by return of post, with a
pretty little note for Mrs. Fitz-Adam, and a request that
Miss Matty would deliver it herself and explain the pre-
vious omission. Mrs. Fitz-Adam was as pleased as
could be, and thanked Miss Matty over and over again. 25
Mr. Peter had said, " Leave Mrs. Jamieson to me " ; so
we did ; especially as we knew nothing that we could do
to alter her determination if once formed.

I did not know, nor did Miss Matty, how things were
going on, until Miss Pole asked me, just the day before 30

286 Cranford

Mrs. Gordon came, if I thought there was anything be-
tween Mr. Peter and Mrs. Jamieson in the matrimonial
line, for that Mrs. Jamieson was really going to the lunch
at the "George." She had sent Mr. Mulliner down to
5 desire that there might be a footstool put to the warmest
seat in the room, as she meant to come, and knew that
their chairs were very high. Miss Pole had picked this
piece of news up, and from it she conjectured all sorts
of things, and bemoaned yet more. "If Peter should

10 marry, what would become of poor dear Miss Matty?
And Mrs. Jamieson, of all people ! " Miss Pole seemed
to think there were other ladies in Cranford who would
have done more credit to his choice, and I think she
must have had some one who was unmarried in her head,

15 for she kept saying, " It was so wanting in delicacy in a
widow to think of such a thing."

When I got back to Miss Matty's I really did begin to
think that Mr. Peter might be thinking of Mrs. Jamieson
for a wife, and I was as unhappy as Miss Pole about it.

20 He had the proof sheet of a great placard in his hand.
"Signor Brunoni, Magician to the King of Delhi, the
Rajah of Oude, and the great Lama of Thibet," etc., etc.,
was going to " perform in Cranford for one night only,"
the very next night ; and Miss Matty, exultant, showed

25 me a letter from the Gordons, promising to remain over
this gaiety, which Miss Matty said was entirely Peter's
doing. He had written to ask the signor to come, and
was to be at all the expenses of the affair. Tickets were
to be sent gratis ^ to as many as the room would hold.

^ Free of charge.

Cranford 287

In shorty Miss Matty was charmed with the plan, and
said that to-morrow Cranford would remind her of the
Preston Guild, to which she had been in her youth — a
luncheon at the " George," with the dear Gordons, and
the signor in the Assembly Room in the evening. But 5
I — I looked only at the fatal words : —

€(

Under the Patronage of the Honourable
Mrs. Jamieson."

She, then, was chosen to preside over this entertain-
ment of Mr. Peter's ; she was perhaps going to displace 10
my dear Miss Matty in his heart, and make her life
lonely once more ! I could not look forward to the
morrow with any pleasure ; and every innocent anticipa-
tion of Miss Matty's only served to add to my annoy-
ance. 15

So, angry and irritated, and exaggerating every little
incident which could add to my irritation, I went on till
we were all assembled in the great parlour at the
" George." Major and Mrs. Gordon and pretty Flora
and Mr. Ludovic were all as bright and handsome and 20
friendly as could be ; but I could hardly attend to them
for watching Mr. Peter, and I saw that Miss Pole was
equally busy. I had never seen Mrs. Jamieson so roused
and animated before ; her face looked full of interest in
what Mr. Peter was saying. I drew near to listen. My 25
relief was great when I caught that his words were not
words of love, but that, for all his grave face, he was at
his old tricks. He was telling her of his travels in India,
and describing the wonderful height of the Himalaya

288 Cranford

mountains ; one touch after another added to their size,
and each exceeded the former in absurdity ; but Mrs.
Jamieson really enjoyed all in perfect good faith. I sup-
posed she required strong stimulants to excite her to
5 come out of her apathy. Mr. Peter wound up his account
by saying that, of course, at that altitude there were none
of the animals to be found that existed in the lower re-
gions ; the game — everything was different. Firing one
day at some flying creature, he was very much dismayed

10 when it fell, to find that he had shot a cherubim ! Mr.
Peter caught my eye at this moment, and gave me such a
funny twinkle, that I felt sure he had no thoughts of Mrs.
Jamieson as a wife from that time. She looked uncom-
fortably amazed —

15 " But, Mr. Peter, shooting a cherubim — don't you
think — I am afraid that was sacrilege ! "

Mr. Peter composed his countenance in a moment,
and appeared shocked at the idea, which, as he said
truly enough, was now presented to him for the first

20 time ; but then Mrs. Jamieson must remember that he
had been living for a long time among savages — all of
whom were heathens — some of them, he was afraid,
were downright Dissenters.^ Then, seeing Miss Matty
draw near, he hastily changed the conversation, and after

25 a little while, turning to me, he said, " Don't be shocked,
prim little Mary, at all my wonderful stories. I consider
Mrs. Jamieson fair game, and besides I am bent on pro-
pitiating * her, and the first step towards it is keeping her

^ Those who withdraw from the Church of England, or do not
unite with it. 2 Conciliating.

Cranford 289

veil awake. I bribed her here by asking her to let me
have her name as patroness for my poor conjurer this
evening ; and I don't want to give her time enough to
get up her rancour ^ against the Hogginses, who are just
coming in. I want everybody to be friends, for it har- 5
asses Matty so much to hear of these quarrels. I shall
go at it again by-and-by, so you need not look shocked.
I intend to enter the Assembly Room to-night with Mrs.
Jamieson on one side, and my lady, Mrs. Hoggins, on
the other. You see if I don't." ,0

Somehow or another he did ; and fairly got them into
conversation together. Major and Mrs. Gordon helped
at the good work with their perfect ignorance of any
existing coolness between any of the inhabitants of
Cranford. ,5

Ever since that day there has been the old friendly
sociability in Cranford society ; which I am thankful for,
because of my dear Miss Matty's love of peace and kind-
liness. We all love Miss Matty, and I somehow think
we are all of us better when she is near us. 20

^ £iimity.

CRANFORD — 19

APPENDIX

(A quotation from Mrs. Anne Thackeray Ritchie)

Knutsford itself is a little town of many oak beams and solid
brick walls; there are so many slanting gables left, and lattices and
corners, that the High Street has something the look of a mediaeval
street. " *Tis an old ancient place," said the shopwoman, stand-
ing by her slanting counter, where Shakespeare himself might have
purchased hardware. From the main street several narrow courts
and passages lead to the other side of the little town, the aristo-
cratic quarter, where are the old houses with their walled gardens.
One of these passages runs right through the Royal George Hotel,
itself leading from the shadow into the sunshine, where a goat dis-
ports itself, and one or two ladies seem always passing with quiet
yet rapid steps, — the inhabitants of Knutsford do not saunter. My
friend the shopwoman told us she had a beautiful garden at the
back of her " old ancient place " ; all the houses in Knutsford have
gardens, with parterres beautifully kept, and flowers in abundance.
It was autumn, but everything was swept and tidy. Straggling
branches, plants overgrown and run to seed, do not seem to be
known in Knutsford amidst its heathy open spaces. There is
something so spirited and fresh and methodical in the place that I
can understand how even the flower-beds have a certain self-re-
spect, and grow trim and straight, instead of straggling about in
lazy abandon, as mine do at home.

As we entered the Royal George Hotel out of the dark street, we
came upon a delightful broadside of shining oak staircase and
panelled wainscot; old oak settles and cupboards stood upon the
landings. On the walls hung pictures, one was of Lord Beacons-
field, one was a fine print of George IV., and others, again, of
that denuded classic school of art which seems to have taken a last

290

Appendix 29 1

refuge in old English Inns. There were Giippendale cabinets, old
bits of china, and above all there were the beautiful oak banisters
to admire. But these handsome staircases, the china, the wood
carvings are all about the place, to which the great traffic of the
coaches from Liverpool and Manchester brought real prosperity for
many years, so that the modest little houses are full of worthy
things, of pretty doorways, arched corners, carved landings and
mahogany doors, to make the fortune of a dealer in bric-a-brac,
only that these are not bric-a-brac, and this is their charm. The
staircases and chimney-pieces are their own original selves, the
cupboards were made to dwell in their own particular niches, and it
is the passing generations who turn and unturn the keys as they go
by. Our kind Interpreter at Knutsford patiently led us from one
place to another; sometimes we seemed to be in Cranford, greeting
our visionary friends ; sometimes we were back in Knutsford again,
looking at the homes of the people we had known in the fact rather
than in the fancy. And just as one sometimes sees traces of an-
other place and time still showing in the streets of some new and
busy town, so every here and there seemed isolated signs and
tokens of the visionary familiar city as it has been raised by
the genius of its founder. . . .

Knutsford likes to associate itself with Cranford in a desultory,
visionary sort of way. One house claims Miss Matty^s tea-shop.
The owner was standing in the doorway, and he kindly brought us
into the little wainscoted parlour, with the window on the street
through which Aga Jenkyns may have dispensed Miss Matty's stock
of sugar plums. . . .

The house where Mrs. Gaskell lived as a little girl with her aunt
is on the Heath, a tall red house, with a wide-spreading view, and
with a pretty carved staircase and many light windows both back
and front.

NOTES

The heavy marginal figures stand for page, and the lighter ones for line.

27 : 2. Amazons. According to Greek legend a race of women
supposed to have dwelt on the coast of the Black Sea and in the
Caucasus Mountains. The Amazons and their doings were favourite
themes in Grecian art and story. The tradition is that they formed
a state from which they excluded men, and where they devoted
themselves to war and hunting. They were among the enemies of
the Greeks of the heroic age.

The fabled tribe of female warriors said to have existed in South
America is really not another race, but the same, for their relation
to the old-world myth can be traced.

The use of the old fable in Cranford is not strictly correct, but it is
easily explained by the fact that Mrs. Gaskell was satirizing the
Cranford ladies, who were far from warlike, and would have re-
sented being thought masculine.

29 : II. Manx laws . . . Tynewald Mount. Tynewald, on
the Isle of Man, is derived from Thing, the ancient Manx parlia-
ment and court of justice, which was removed to this site, near the
centre of the island, in 1577. The ancient custom is still observed
of publicly announcing the laws passed during the year, on Tyne-
wald Hill, July 5, called Tynewald Day. After divine service the
procession is formed. First come the coroners, who are followed
by the lieutenant governor, the " Keys," the deemsters, and other
dignitaries. They march to the hill, where the programme of read-
ing the laws is carried out in the presence of all who care to attend.
The laws are read in Manx and in English, after which they are
in force. This ceremony is followed by a fair.

293

294 Notes

30 : 6. Spartans, . . . concealed their smart. The Spartans
were trained to endure all sorts of hardship and to suffer pain with-
out a murmur. The allusion here is to one who carried a fox under
his garments, and showed no signs of suffering even when the fox
tore out his entrails.

31 : 20. Sour-grapeism. The calling of things worthless only
because they are beyond our reach, in allusion to the fable of the
fox and the grapes. The fox, having tried in vain to reach some
grapes which hung on a high vine, went away disgusted, saying :
" I don't care ; they are sour, anyway."

32 : 6. Sent to Coventry. The expression means to exclude
from society. The phrase is traced back to the time of Charles I.
Gjventry was a stronghold of the Puritans, where many went, after
leaving their homes, when the troubles began and they were forced
by the royalists to seek some refuge. The royalists used to speak
contemptuously of the Puritans, and everything pertaining to them.
Hence, from the royalists' viewpoint, to send one where the Puritans
went was to exclude him from poHte society.

37 : 5. " Preference." Called also Swedish whist. A game of
cards in which the trump is named by bidding. The highest suit
bid is taken for trump, unless some one bids " Preference " or says :

I prefer," when the game must be played without a trump.
Preference " is the highest bid, and when it is bid the game
begins.

38 : 4. " Jock of Hazeldean." " Jock o' Hazeldean," a ballad
by Sir Walter Scott. It is a modernized version of an ancient
ballad called " Jock o' Hazelgreen," the first stanza of which Scott
left unchanged. The air to which it was sung is traced back to " In
January Last," a song in the play, The Fond Husband^ or the Plot-
ting Sisters f acted in 1676.

This is the story : Jock o' Hazeldean was loved by a " ladye fair."
The lady's father wanted her to marry Frank, " the chief of Erring-
ton and laird of Langley Dale," rich, brave, and gallant ; but " aye
she let the tears down fa' for Jock o' Hazeldean." At length the
wedding mom arrived, the kirk was gayly decked, the priest and

Notes 295

bridegroom, with dame and knight, were duly assembled, but no
l)ride was to be seen ; she had crossed the border, and given her
hand to Jock o' Hazeldean.

39 : 4. * The Pickwick Papers.' The Pickivick Papers were a
series of humorous sketches depicting the adventures and misad-
ventures of some cockney sportsmen. Charles Dickens published
them serially under the pen name of Mr. Boz. They excited the
laughter of the world, and encouraged Dickens to continue writing.
Sam Waller, whose " swarry " at Bath is referred to," was the in-
imitable servant of Mr. Pickwick.

39 : 18. Dr. Johnson. Samuel Johnson ( 1 709-1 784) was a famous
moralist and critic ; he compiled the first great English dictionary,
wrote numerous poems, stories, and essays in the Rambler and the
Idler^ which were periodicals somewhat like Addison's Spectator^
but heavier. He was the literary dictator of his age, but was "pon-
derous, sententious, irascible and domineering." Hence he was
the very opposite of Dickens.

40 : 10. * Rasselas,' written by Johnson to defray his mother's
funeral expenses, reflects his melancholy and suggests that there is
no happiness to be found in this world. The literary tilt between
Miss Deborah Jenkyns and genial Captain Brown capitally reveals
the characteristics of both, while the latter's rejoinder, concerning
the Rambler i to Miss Jenkyns' statement that it was " vulgar and
beneath the dignity of literature to publish in numbers," is decidedly
to the point.

44 : 9. Brutus wig. A former mode of dressing the hair, in
which it was brushed back from the forehead, and worn at first in
disorder, afterward in close curls. The style originated in Paris
at the time of the Revolution (i 793-1 794), when it was the fashion
to imitate the contemporary conception of Roman antiquity. (The
busts of Brutus showed this arrangement of hair.) This method of
hair-dressing was sometimes called Brutus and sometimes Brutus wig.

45 : 18. Deborah, . . . the Hebrew prophetess. A famous
prophetess and judge of Israel who summoned Barak to deliver the
tribes under her jurisdiction from the tyranny of Jabin, promised

296

Notes

him success, and sang the great song of triumph after the victory,
one of the oldest pieces of Old Testament literature (^Judges v) .

46: II. 'Plumed wars.' A misquotation from Oihello/va., 3,
349 : " Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars."

46 : 14. Misnomered Cape of Good Hope. Called misnomered
because it was first named, in 1487, by Bartholomew Dias, the Cape
of Storms, a name which is more truly descriptive.

47 : I. *The feast of reason and the flow of soul.' Quoted
from Pope's Second Book of Horace^ Satire I.

47: 3. 'The pure wells of English undefiled.' Not exactly
quoted. An echo of Spenser's line : " Dan Chaucer, well of English
undefyled " ( The Faerie Queened Book iv. canto ii. stanza 32) .

60 : 28. Galignani; GalignanVs Afessenger, a periodical,
founded by William Galignani and circulated widely among Eng-
lish residents on the Continent.

62 : 10. 'Old Poz.' Miss Jenkyns is evidently misled by the
name Boz, which she confuses with Poz in Miss Edgeworth's " Old
Poz," a play of four short scenes in her book, 7 he Parenfs Assist-
antj a collection of short stories for children, published in 1796.
The chief character is Justice Headstrong who, because of his
obstinacy, is nicknamed " Old Positive " and called ** Old Poz " for
short.

62 : 13. "Christmas Carol." One of Dickens' Christmas Tales
which appeared in 1843.

68 : II. Nothing for dessert in summertime. Should prob-
ably read " winter time," or, perhaps, Miss Jenkyns misspoke.

69 : 25. " Army List." An English publication containing the
names of the officers of the English army, and the stations of the
regiments.

71 : 27. Blue Beard. The nickname of chevalier Raoul (an
imaginary person) celebrated for his cruelty. The historic original
was, perhaps, Gilles de Laval, Baron de Retz (1396- 1 440). He is
the subject of works by Perrault, Gretry, Offenbach, Tieck, etc.
According to Perrault he is a rich man with a hideous blue beard,
who has had six wives, and marries a young girl named Fatima for

Notes 297

his seventh. Upon departing for a journey, he leaves with her
the keys of the castle, and tells her she may enter every room but
one. Curiosity overcomes her, and she enters the forbidden cham-
ber, where she discovers the bodies of her husband's six former
wives. Her disobedience is discovered by means of a blood stain
on the key, and she is given five minutes in which to prepare for
death. Just as Blue Beard is about to dispatch her, her brothers
arrive and kill him.

7a : 7. Scandinayian prophetess. The author probably had
in mind Frederika Bremer (iSoi-1865), a noted and very prolific
Swedish writer. Several of her works appeared simultaneously
in Swedish and English, while numerous others have been
translated.

7a : 14. Yeoman. The yeoman is a small landowner who works
his own land, and is a grade lower than the squire, who owns more
land and rents some of it to tenants. It is an evidence of the
honesty of Mr. Holbrook, one of the finest character creations in
Cran/ordy that he would not use the squire's title, to which he knew
he had no claim.

72 : 15. "Pride which apes htimility." From Coleridge's
DeviPs ThovgktSf stanza 6 : —

" He saw a cottage with a double coach-house,
A cottage of gentility !
And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin
Is pride that apes humility."

74 : 13. Don Quixote-looking. A Spanish romance by Cer-
vantes, printed at Madrid in two parts, the first in 1605, and the
second in 1 61 5. Translations of Don Quixote have appeared in
every European language, including the Turkish. The book is
named from its hero, Don Quixote de la Mancha, a Spanish coun-
try gentleman, who is so imbued with the tales of chivalry that he
sets forth with his squire, Sancho Panza, in search of knightly ad-
venture, with very amusing results. Cervantes said that he " had no
other desire than to render abhorred of men the false and absurd

298 Notes

stories contained in books of chivalry." How he succeeded, his
readers well know.

78 : 7. George Herbert. A seventeenth-century poet, whom
Izaak Walton called " Holy George Herbert." He was much like
Milton in seriousness of tone and in character, and most of his
poetry is religious. He was born at Montgomery Castle, Wales, in
1593, and died at Bemerton, England, in 1633.

78 : II. Byron. George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron. Born in
London in 1788; died in Greece in 1824. A celebrated English poet,
of a roving disposition and wild character. His poetry is of great
beauty and interest, but lacks high moral tone. In 1823 he joined
the Greek insurgents at Cephalonia, and in the following year be-
came the commander-in-chief at Missolonghi, where he died of
a fever. Among his best-known poems are Childe Harold^s Pit-
grimaggy The Giaour ^ and Don Juan,

78 : 1 2. Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. Born at Frankfort-on-
the-Main, August 28, 1749; died at Weimar, March 22, 1832. A
famous German poet, dramatist, and prose writer. His is the
greatest name in German literature. The quotation is from Faust,
Part i. sc. xxi. I. 3944 : " Ewig griine Palaste."

80 : 18. Ainin6. Amine is the wife of Sidi Nouman in the
story of " Sidi Nouman " in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments.
She was in the habit of eating only a few grains of rice at table,
and this aroused the suspicions of her husband who, upon investi-
gation, discovered that she feasted at night with a ghoul.

80 : 24. I saw, I imitated, I survived ! Suggested by Caesar's
laconic report : " I came, I saw, I conquered " (venit vidi,
vici)f in reference to the war in Asia with Pharnaces, son of
Mithridates.

82 : 12. "The cedar spreads," etc. Slightly misquoted from
Tennyson's 7 he Gardener's Daughter , 1. 116.

82: 19. Blackwood. Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine,
founded by V/illiam Blackwood in 1817.

83 : I. This young man. The reference is to Tennyson, who
was then writing his early poems and was comparatively unknown.

Notes 299

None of his masterpieces appeared till much later. Mrs. Gaskell
makes Mr. Holbrook's literary discernment very great in having
him so early discern some of Tennyson's poetic qualities. Note
also Mr. Holbrook's own powers of observation and the practical
use to which he puts his reading of poetry.

83 : 2. Black as ashbuds in March. From Tennyson's poem
above referred to, The Gardener's Daughter, 1. 28.

83 : 16. "Locksley Hall." One of Tennyson's early poems.

83 : 24. So like that beautiful poem of Dr. Johnson's. The
poem was probably The Vanity of Human Wishes, which is about
as unlike Tennyson's Locksley Hall as can well be. Miss Matty's
clinging to her sister's strange admiration of Dr. Johnson's writings
would be amusing if it were not so pathetic.

86 : 7. "I don't belieye frogs will agree with him." The
Parisians were contemptuously called "frog-eaters," and Miss
Matty, in her simplicity, took the saying literally. Whether the
term is derived from the fact that Paris once had a heraldic em-
blem with three frogs on it, or from the fact that the site of the
city was once a marsh, is uncertain. It is nevertheless true that the
Parisians are fond of eating frogs' legs.

93 : 18. Mesmeric. Franz Mesmer (1733-1815) was a German
doctor who claimed to have a secret magnetic force by which he
could throw his patients into a trance and control their thoughts
and actions.

94 : 17. "Blind man's holiday." The time just before lamps
are lighted, when it is too dark to work and one is obUged to
rest.

95 : 12. Tonquin beans. Called also Tonka beans. Large
beans of a peculiarly agreeable smell used for scenting snuff and in
sachet bags.

96 : 25. Assize time. The time of the regular session of the
country court, a great event in rural England.

97 : 3. ** Paduasoy." A garment made of Paduasoy silk, a rich,
smooth, and strong variety much used in the eighteenth century
and originally manufactured in Padua, Italy.

300 Notes

99 : 30. Dam memor, ipse mei, dum spiritus regit artus.

Quoted from Virgirs ^neid. Book iv. 1. 433. " As long as I am
conscious, as long as spirit rules my members."

102 : 12. Mrs. Chapone. An eighteenth-century moral writer,
best known for her Letters on the Jmprovemefit of the Mind.

102 : 14. Mrs. Carter. . . "Epictetus." The Mrs. Carter
mentioned is doubtless Mrs. Elizabeth Carter (1717-1806), who
was a poet, translator, and miscellaneous writer.

Epictetus was a celebrated Stoic philosopher who taught at
Rome during the latter part of the first century, till banished by
the edict of Domitian expelling philosophers from Rome. Though
he left no written works, his essential doctrines are preserved by
his pupil Arrian, He taught that the sum of wisdom is to desire
nothing but freedom and contentment, and to bear and forbear;
that all unavoidable evil in the world is only apparent and external;
and that our happiness depends upon our own will, which even
Zeus cannot break.

103 : 10. Miss Edgeworth's ** Patronage." Maria Edgeworth
was one of the first writers to bring dialect and quaint local por-
traiture into the English novel. Her Patronage (1814) was a
book in which, with a moral purpose in view, she sought to re-
produce certain types of fashionable life in "an artificial and
recklessly frivolous age."

104 : 6. Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The chief town of Northum-
berland, England.

104 : 9. Buonaparte. Napoleon Bonaparte,* born at Corsica,
August 15, 1769 ; died at St. Helena, May 5, 1821, the great
French general and conqueror. He made himself emperor of the
French from 1804 to 1814. He threatened to invade England, and
the people all along the south coast were in constant terror of "Bony,"
as they called him. (Read Thomas Hardy's Trumpet Major S)

104 : 26. The fable of the Boy and the Wolf. The well-
known fable of the boy who cried " Wolf ! wolf ! " when there
was no wolf, so that when the wolf really came, people would not
heed his cries.

Notes 301

Z05 : 17. Apollyon and Abaddon. The Greek and Hebrew
names, respectively, of the Angel of the bottomless pit. (See
Revelation ix. 11.)

105 : 21. School at Shrewsbury. A famous grammar school
on the Severn.

106: II. Bonus Bemardus non yidet omnia. "Good Bernard
does not see all things."

107 : 4. Cambridge. Cambridge University.

107 : 22. Dictionaries and lexicons. A dictionary is a list of
words with their meanings in the same language ; a lexicon is a list
of words with their meanings in another language.

no : 2. St. James's Chronicle. An old English paper now
called The Press and St. James's Chronicle,

113 : 24. Queen Esther and King Ahasuerus. Esther was the
Persian name of Hadassah, cousin and adopted daughter of Mor-
decai of the tribe of Benjamin. She was made queen in the
place of Vashti by King Ahasuerus (Xerxes, who ruled 486-465 b.c.)
and in this position was able to protect her people against the hostile
contrivances of Haman, in memory of which deliverance the feast
of Purim is still celebrated. One of the books of the Old Testa-
ment is named from her.

1x6 : 23. No news of Peter. Note the simplicity of the pathos
in the narrative here.

lao : 3. Message after message. In those days the means of
communication were entirely different from those of to-day. It
took months to get an answer to a letter sent to India.

122 : 22. Some great war in India. As no date is given, it is
impossible to say positively what war is alluded to, but it was
probably one of the three great Mahratta wars. The Mahrattas,
who numbered twelve millions, inhabited central and western
India, and were defeated by the British in the third war (1816-
1818).

125 : 5. Miss Barkers. This expression was allowed in the
period of which the book treats ; we would, of course, say " The
Misses Barker."

302 Notes

125 : 1 8. Queen Adelaide. (Amelia Adelaide Louise Theresa
Caroline.) Born 1792; died 1849. A princess of Saxe-Coburg-
Meiningen, and queen of England, wife of William IV., whom
she married in 181 8.

lag : 7. Exeter. A cathedral city and the capital of Devon-
shire. It is on the Exe, near its mouth, and is a seaport town.
It is said to be the oldest English city having a continuous
existence.

130 : 8. Officer . . . American war. General John Burgoyne,
who was defeated at the battle of Saratoga. He made a runaway
marriage with a daughter of the Earl of Derby, and was the author
of several comedies, one of which, The Heiress^ held the stage for
many years.

X30 : II. Drury Lane. One of the principal theatres of Lon-
don, situated on Russell Street, near Drury Lane. It was opened
in 1663.

131 : I. Fitz. Fitz does not mean, as Mrs. Forrester thought,
something aristocratic ; it is derived from the French " fils," and
means " son." In England it was used to designate the illegitimate
sons of kings and princes, hence Fitz-Roy and Fitz-Qarence,
while they meant " son of the king " and " son of Clarence," were
nothing to be proud of.

131 : 4. Looked down upon capital letters. Mr. ffoulkes
(as he insisted on spelling his name) was in error in thinking capi-
tal letters something new, for our capital letters are taken from the
ancient Roman inscriptions, while our small letters are from later
mediaeval modifications of them.

133 : I. Seat . . . like Prince Albert^s near the Queen's.
Referring to Prince Albert, Prince Consort of Queen Victoria, who,
though husband of the queen, held second place of honour.

134 : 20. Spadille from Hanille. Spadille, the ace of spades, is
the highest card in the games of ombre and quadrille. Manille is the
highest card but one in the same games, being the two of clubs
or spades, or the seven of diamonds or hearts, according as the one
or the other of these suits is trumps, the manille always being a

Notes 303

tramp. These two cards are personified in the following lines
of Pope : —

" Spadillio first, unconquerable lord !
Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board.
As many more Maniliio forced to yield,
And marched a victor from the verdant field."

T?u Rape of the Lock, III. 1. 49.

138 : 9. Hogarth^s pictures. William Hogarth (i 697-1 764), a
celebrated English painter and engraver.

*' Hogarth is essentially a comic painter; his pictures are not
indifferent, unimpassioned descriptions of human nature, but rich,
exuberant satires upon it. He is carried away by a passion for the
ridiculous. His object is * to show Vice her own feature, Scorn her
own image.* He is so far from contenting himself with still life
that he is always on the verge of caricature, though without ever
falling into it." — Hazlitt, English Poets y p. 190.

His most celebrated works are The Harlofs Progress^ The Rak^s
Progress^ The Good Samaritan^ The Pool of Bethesda^ The Dis-
tressed Poety The Enraged Musican, and The Marriage a la Mode,

149 : 20. Louis Quatorze. Louis XIV., surnamed " Le Grand,"
born, 1638 ; died at Versailles, France, September i, 1715. His
reign, because of its magnificence, has been called the Augustan
Age of France. Luxury in mode of living increased enormously,
and certain artists devoted themselves to designing beautiful furni-
ture and interior decorations of all kinds, creating a style which
took its name from the reigning monarch.

150 : 3. Pembroke table. A card table popular in England.
Pembroke tables were made round, oval, and square and were
inlaid, painted, or varnished. Under the top there was a drawer,
and there were leaves at the sides of the drawer.

150 : 14. Stonehenge. A celebrated prehistoric monument on
Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire, England, eight miles north of Salisbury.
It is thought that Stonehenge was built not later than 1500 B.C.,
and it has not been settled with satisfaction whether it was a tem-

304 Notes

pie or an observatory. It may have been both. Future research
will have to decide whether the Celtic Zeus, or Apollo, or the sun
and moon were worshipped there, and whether or not it is a monu-
ment of the Druids.

154 : 2. Ombre and Quadrille. Two games of cards. Ombre is
borrowed from the Spaniards and usually played with three players,
though sometimes by two, four, or five, with a pack of forty cards,
the eights, nines, and tens being thrown out. The fascination the
game had for some is expressed in the following couplet from
Pope's The Rape of the Lock : —

•' Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive,
And love oi ombre ^ after death survive." — 1. 1. 55.

Quadrille is much like ombre, the same pack being used, but
this game is always played by four persons.

154 : 20. The Catholic Emancipation Bill. An act of Parlia-
ment passed in 1829 repealing former laws which imposed political
disabilities upon Roman Catholics, and allowing them, except
priests, to sit in Parliament and to hold civil and military offices,
with certain exceptions. The bill grew out of the agitation in Ire-
land, was introduced by Sir Robert Peel, and led to other Catholic
relief acts.

157 : 13. Moore's . . . predictions. Francis Moore was a
London physician and astrologer who founded Old Moore^s Astro-
logical Almanack. Astrology is a science which claims to show the
influence of the heavenly bodies upon human destiny.

158 : 20. From Michaelmas to Ladyday. Michaelmas is the
Feast of the Archangel Michael, celebrated in Roman Catholic and
Episcopal churches September 29. The word is used colloquially*
for autumn.

Ladyday is the day of the annunciation of the Virgin Mary,
March 25.

162 : 4. Thaddeus of Warsaw, and the Hungarian Brothers,
and Santo Sebastiani. Thaddeus of Warsaw and The Hungarian
Brothers are both novels by Miss Jane Porter. Santo Sebastian!

Notes 305

probably refers to the St, Sebastian who was a Roman soldier and
Christian martyr, and whom Domitian ordered shot in the ye;ar 288.
He was revered as the protector against pestilence.

163 : 15. Witch of Endor. A woman soothsayer of Endor, near
Tabor, in Palestine, not far from the Sea of Galilee. Saul consulted
her on the eve of his last engagement with the Philistines.

163 : 1 7. Death-watches. The name given to a small kind of
beetle, whose call to his mate has been supposed by superstitious
and ignorant people to foretell a death.

164 : 12. I comprehend perfectly. Miss Pole here shows how
easily those who have too high an estimate of their abilities may go
wrong, and proves once more that " A little knowledge is a danger-
ous thing."

166 : 3. Queen Charlotte. Charlotte Sophia of Mecklenburg-
Strelitz, wife of George III. of England. She died in 1818.

166 : 4. The Gunnings. Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry,
and her sister Elizabeth, Duchess of Hamilton and Argyll, are here
referred to. When they left Castle Coote, County Roscommon,
Ireland, and went to London in 1751, they were at once pronounced
" the handsomest women alive." Crowds followed them wherever
they went. Maria, the better looking of the two, was once mobbed,
and the king gave her a guard for protection. She once walked in
the park for two hours with two sergeants of the guard before her
and twelve soldiers following her. " The beautiful Misses Gunning "
were painted a number of times, and there are many engravings
from these portraits. One of these beautiful girls, rumour had it,
once graced the Assembly Room at Cranford.

174 : 16. Madame de Stael. Anne Louise Germaine Necker,
Baronne de Stael- Holstein. She was the daughter of Necker, the
minister of finance under Louis XVI., and was born in Paris in
1 766. She was a voluminous writer, among her best known works
being De rAllemagne and the novel Corinne.

174: 17. Mr. Denon. Probably the French artist and archae-
ologist who wrote a book on travels in Egypt.

177 : 7. An old story ... of a nightingale and a musician.

CRANFORD — 20

3o6 Notes

An allusion to what was called a musical duel between a nightingale
and a lutist. A lute master challenged a nightingale in song, so
the story goes, and the bird, after sustaining the contest for some
time, feeling itself outdone, fell on the lute and died broken-hearted.
The story is from the Latin of Strada. Richard Crashaw translated
it in 1650. The same story is also told in The Lover's Melancholy
(1628) by John Ford.

188 : 29. Spectral illasions, optical delusions. 'An illusion
is an unreal image presented to the bodily or mental vision. Mil-
ton says : " To cheat the eye with blear illusions." Spectral illu-
sions are, then, illusions of things which do not exist — mere
spectres.

A delusion differs from an illusion in being an erroneous and
usually permanent view of something which really exists, but does
not have the qualities or attributes ascribed to it. Delusions are
often evidences of insanity. Strictly speaking, there are optical illu-
sions but not optical delusions.

189 : I. Dr. Ferrier and Dr. Hibbert. James Frederick Ferrier
(1808- 1 864), a Scottish metaphysician who was professor of
moral philosophy and political economy at the University of St.
Andrews.

Henry Hibbert (i 600-1 678), a noted English theologian, whose
Body of Divinity was published in 1662.

194 : 27. " Rising Sun. " While many of the old tavern signs are
old " family arms " which have lost their heraldic significance, most
of them are relics of the time when people, with few exceptions,
could not read and depended upon such signs as the one here
referred to, " The Rising Sun," where the rising sun was painted
upon a board hung in a conspicuous place. So it was with "The
Blue Lion," "The Fox and Grapes," "The Black Bull," and others.

195:16. Duke of Wellington. Arthur Wellesley (i 769-1852),
a famous British general and statesman; the victor over Napoleon
at Waterloo.

195 : 23. Lord Chesterfield's Letters. Philip Dormer Stan-
hope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield (1694-1773). An English

Notes 307

politician, orator, and writer; celebrated as a man of fashion. His
most famous work is his Letters to his Sotiy which were not written
for publication, but were published in 1774, the year after his
death. These letters, which give instruction in manners and morals
and the method of "uniting wickedness with the graces," were
written by a man who of all others in England desired to be con-
sidered the mirror of politeness.

197 : 3. The great Sir Walter that shot King Rnfus. Sir
Walter Tyrrell is generally believed to have shot the fatal arrow
killing King William II., known as King Rufus, while he was hunt-
ing in the New Forest. It was another Tyrrell who was employed
by King Richard III. to murder the little princes in the Tower.

204 : 28. The Avon in Warwickshire. There are three rivers
in England by the name of Avon, which means " water." The
three are sometimes distinguished as the East, Lower, and Upper.
The latter is the largest and the one referred to as that " in War-
wickshire." It empties into the Severn. On it are Rugby,
Warwick, Stratford, and Evesham.

205 : 3. Little picture ... of the Virgin and the little Say-
iour. The Madonna delle Sedia or Seggiola ("chair, or little
chair"); a famous painting by Raphael, in the Pitti Gallery,
Florence, perhaps the master's most popular work. The picture
is circular. The young mother, a beautiful peasant girl, sits in an
armchair pressing her child to her bosom with an air of calm happi-
ness.

207 : 12. Great Lama of Thibet. The Grand Lama, or
Delai-Lama, is the Buddhist pontiff of Thil^et, and is supreme ruler
in ecclesiastical and secular affairs. He is regarded by his followers
as a divine being dwelling in the flesh and worshipped accordingly.
That such an honour should fall to Peter Jenkyns, a foreigner, is
another absurd report circulated by Miss Pole.

208 : 3. The question. Allusion to Hamlet, iii. i, 56.

208 : 19. A chorus in which every man took the tune he
knew best. From Pickwick Papers, Chapter XXXI, near the end,
where Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen entertain company. " The chorus

3o8 Notes

was the essence of the song, and as each gentleman sang it to the
tune he knew best, the effect was very striking indeed."

209 : 16. The veiled prophet in Lalla Rookh. Mokanna, the
hero of the first part of Moore's LaUa Rookh^ is the " Veiled
Prophet of Khorassan."

209 : 21. Rowland's Kalydor. A toilet article, probably a
perfumery, as the word means " beautiful (or sweet) water."

210 : 24. " Surveying mankind from China to Peru." The
quotation is from Miss Jenkyns' favourite writer, Dr. Johnson, in
The Vanity of Human Wishes; —

" Let observation with extensive view,
Survey mankind, from China to Peru."

214 : 3. 'Tibbie Fowler.' An old Scotch song by an unknown
author. Miss Pole would have given a more forcible argument if
she had quoted the whole stanza and then added the chorus : —

** Be a lassie e'er sae black,
If she hae the name o ' siller,
Set her on the Tintock Tap
The wind will blaw a man till her."

CHORUS

" Wooin' at her, pu' in' at her,
Courtin' at her, canna get her ;
Filthy elf, it's for her pelf.
That a' the lads are wooin' at her."

218 : 5. The Queen of Spain's legs. When Princess Maria
Anna of Austria was going to Spain as the bride of Philip IV., she
was presented with a quantity of the finest silk stockings as they
passed through a place where such articles were made. The
major-domo of the future queen, however, threw them back indig-
nantly, saying: "Know that the queens of Spain have no legs,"
whereupon the princess cried bitterly and said she would return to
Vienna and that she never would have set foot in Spain if she had

Notes 309

known her legs were to be cut off. She had yet to learn of the
niceties of Spanish court etiquette.

240 : 25. " Ah ! Yous dirai-je, maman ? " Ah, shall I tell you,
mamma?

248 : 10. Wench. A word of many shades of meaning. It
originally meant simply a girl or young woman and, though now
obsolete, was so used by the ignorant Jem. The most common
use in this country is to designate a negress, but elsewhere it means
a woman of low character.

258 : I. The cold lion sliced and fried. In most recent edi-
tions the word " lion " has been changed to loin, and at first thought
the change seems warranted: how could poor Miss Matty Serve
lion on her table ! The truth is she did serve it, or Martha did.
When Miss Matty learned of the bank failure, she at once thought
she must economize and did not order a pudding. But Martha
said : " 1*11 make a pudding, and a pudding she'll like, too, and
I'll pay for it myself." And then, a little further on, we read :
"Martha returned bearing it (the pudding) aloft, made in the most
wonderful representation of a lion couchant that was ever moulded."
That was the lion served cold a little later, and it would be unjust
to the author of Cranford to substitute loin for that famous pudding
moulded into the form of a lion by the faithful Martha. Besides,
two kinds of meat then would have been an extravagance.

263 : 10. Cabalistic. From the Cabala or mystic philosophy of
the Jews, dealing with the Supreme Being, the creation of man and
his destiny, psychology, and the revealed laws. The adjective came
to be used in connection with anything obscure, puzzling, or mysti-
fying.

266 : 18. Meat . . . poison. Quoted from Bailey's Lov^s
Care, iii. 2.

275 : 23. Baron Munchausen. A German soldier who lived in
the eighteenth century and was in the Russian service against the
Turks. A collection of stories, ascribed to him, was written by R.
E. Raspe and published in English in 1795 under the title of
Baron Munchausen's Narrative of his Marvellous Travels and

3IO Notes

Campaigns in Russia. His name is proverbially associated with
absurdly exaggerated stories of adventure.

279 : 6. Told more wonderful stories than Sindbad the sailor.
Peter's stories must have been wonderful, indeed. Sinbad (also
spelled Sindbad) the Sailor is the leading character in the story by
that name in the Arabian Nights^ Entertainments. He is a
wealthy citizen of Bagdad, called the " sailor " because of his seven
wonderful voyages, in which he discovers a roc's egg and the
valley of diamonds, escapes twice from the Anthropophagi, is
buried alive, kills the Old Man of the Sea (a monster which got on
his back and refused to get off), bears gifts to the famous Harun-al-
Rashid, Calif of Bagdad, and on his way back finds a valley filled
with the dead bodies of elephants, from which he obtains ivory
enough to enrich him for the rest of his life.

280 : II. Father of the Faithful. Abraham.

Special Note for Teacher

I have not tried to correct the English in the numerous instances
where the wrong pronoun is used and where such expressions as
" different to " are used, for it is best for the pupils to find these
errors themselves or to have the teacher call attention to them and
then let the pupils correct them. While Mrs. Gaskell is sometimes
careless in the use of pronouns, it is only just to her to say that
most mistakes are in the dialogue, mostly in the sayings of Miss
Matty, and may have been intentionally made to show that the
Cranford people did not always use correct English.

Notes 3 1 1

TEST QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW

1. Describe the personal appearance of Mrs. Gaskell. What
does it indicate as to her character ?

2. Write on Mrs. Gaskell*s early life and her education.

3. What do you know of her married life ?

4. Why did she begin writing, and what did she do to prepare
herself for authorship?

5. What were some of her early books, and what was their
character?

6. Who were some of her literary friends, and what grew out
of these friendships?

7. Write on Mrs. Gaskell as a social reformer, telling of some
of her practical work and what grew out of it.

8. How was 6rt?»/Z7r^ written, and why was Mrs. Gaskell well
qualified to produce such a book?

9. W^here would you place Mrs. Gaskell among the writers of
English fiction?

10. Would your estimate of her be higher or lower if based upon
Cranford 9\onQt and why?

1 1 . Give several characteristics of Cranford society.

12. Write on the literary differences of Miss Jenkyns and Cap-
tain Brown, defending the side of one or the other.

13. What was the effect of the coming of the Browns to Cran-
ford? Was it what the Cranford ladies thought it would be?

14. What do you think of the way Mrs. Gaskell handles the
troubles in the Brown family?

15. Write on Miss Matty as a hostess.

16. Write on Mr. Holbrook, touching upon his appearance, his
habits, his literary tastes, and his powers of observation. Give also
an estimate of his character.

17. Why did Mr. Holbrook and Miss Matty never marry?

18. What do we learn about the earlier history of the Jenkyns
family from the " Old Letters " ?

19. Give an estimate of the Rev. John Jenk3ms.

312 Notes

20. Why did Peter leave home? Where did he go? W^hat
effect did his going have upon his father? upon his mother? upon
himself ?

21. Write a brief descriptive essay on " Miss Betty Barker's Tea
Party."

22. Write a paragraph on Mrs. Forrester.

23. Contrast Mr. Mulliner with Sir Roger de Coverley's servants.

24. Why should the circle of chairs around the fire remind Miss
Smith of Stonehenge?

25. What is your opinion of Mrs. Jamieson? Give reasons.

26. Write on Signor Brunoni at Cranford.

27. Discuss the character of Miss Pole.

28. Tell the story of " The Panic " at Cranford in your own way.

29. What do we learn about the Cranford people from the chap-
ter on Samuel Brown?

30. Write on Dr. Hoggins.

31. What new light is thrown upon the character of Miss Matty
in the chapter called " Stopped Payment " ?

32. Write a narrative on the way Miss Matty's friends came
to her assistance.

33. Write on Peter, after his return to Cranford.

34. How does Cran/ord end?

35. What kind of a story is Cranford?

36. How does the author describe the characters?

37. To what extent does she use dialogue?

38. Who is the heroine, and why?

39. Write an essay on the heroine, showing her influence upon
the life of the Cranford people.

40. What do you consider the subject of the book?

41. What are the advantages of such books?

42. Give three examples of humour from Cranford,

43. Give three examples of pathos from Cranford.

44. What kind of allusions does the author most often make?

45. Discuss this statement : " Cranford is true to life."

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