Produced by Al Haines.
Cover]
Denry the Audacious
By
Arnold Bennett
Author of "Clayhanger"
NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 31 West Twenty-Third Street
THE DEEDS OF DENRY THE AUDACIOUS
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY
DENRY THE AUDACIOUS
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. The Dance II. The Widow Hullins's House III. The Pantechnicon IV. Wrecking of a Life V. The Mercantile Marine VI. His Burglary VII. The Rescuer of Dames VIII. Raising a Wigwam IX. The Great Newspaper War X. His Infamy XI. In the Alps XII. The Supreme Honour
Denry the Audacious
CHAPTER I. THE DANCE
II
Edward Henry Machin first saw the smoke on the 27th May, 1867, inBrougham Street, Bursley, the most ancient of the Five Towns. BroughamStreet runs down from St. Luke's Square straight into the ShropshireUnion Canal, and consists partly of buildings known as "potbanks" (untilthey come to be sold by auction, when auctioneers describe them as"extensive earthenware manufactories") and partly of cottages whosehighest rent is four-and-six a week. In such surroundings was anextraordinary man born. He was the only anxiety of a widowed mother,who gained her livelihood and his by making up "ladies' own materials"in ladies' own houses. Mrs. Machin, however, had a specialty apart fromher vocation; she could wash flannel with less shrinking than any otherwoman in the district, and she could wash fine lace without ruining it;thus often she came to sew and remained to wash. A somewhat gloomywoman; thin, with a tongue! But I liked her. She saved a certainamount of time every day by addressing her son as Denry instead ofEdward Henry.
Not intellectual, not industrious, Denry would have maintained theaverage dignity of labour on a potbank had he not at the age of twelvewon a scholarship from the Board School to the Endowed School. He owedhis triumph to audacity rather than learning, and to chance rather thandesign. On the second day of the examination he happened to arrive inthe examination room ten minutes too soon for the afternoon sitting. Hewandered about the place exercising his curiosity, and reached themaster's desk. On the desk was a tabulated form with names ofcandidates and the number of marks achieved by each in each subject ofthe previous day. He had done badly in Geography, and saw seven marksagainst his name in the geographical column, out of a possible thirty.The figures had been written in pencil. The very pencil lay on thedesk. He picked it up, glanced at the door and at the rows of emptydesks, and wrote a neat "2" in front of the 7; then he strolledinnocently forth and came back late. His trick ought to have been foundout--the odds were against him--but it was not found out. Of course itwas dishonest. Yes, but I will not agree that Denry was uncommonlyvicious. Every schoolboy is dishonest, by the adult standard. If Iknew an honest schoolboy I would begin to count my silver spoons as hegrew up. All is fair between schoolboys and schoolmasters.
This dazzling feat seemed to influence not only Denry's career but alsohis character. He gradually came to believe that he had won thescholarship by genuine merit, and that he was a remarkable boy anddestined to great ends. His new companions, whose mothers employedDenry's mother, also believed that he was a remarkable boy; but they didnot forget, in their cheerful gentlemanly way, to call him"washer-woman." Happily Denry did not mind. He had a thick skin, andfair hair and bright eyes and broad shoulders, and the jolly gaiety ofhis disposition developed daily. He did not shine at the school; hefailed to fulfil the rosy promise of the scholarship; but he was notstupider than the majority; and his opinion of himself, having oncerisen, remained at "set fair." It was inconceivable that he should workin clay with his hands.
When he was sixteen his mother, by operations on a yard and a half ofBrussels point lace, put Mrs. Emery under an obligation. Mrs. Emery wasthe sister of Mr. Duncalf. Mr. Duncalf was the Town Clerk of Bursley,and a solicitor. It is well known that all bureaucracies arehoneycombed with intrigue. Denry Machin left school to be clerk to Mr.Duncalf, on the condition that within a year he should be able to writeshorthand at the rate of a hundred and fifty words a minute. In thosedays mediocre and incorrect shorthand was not a drug in the market. Hecomplied (more or less, and decidedly less than more) with thecondition. And for several years he really thought that he had nothingfurther to hope for. Then he met the Countess.
II
The Countess of Chell was born of poor but picturesque parents, and shecould put her finger on her great-grandfather's grandfather. Her mothergained her livelihood and her daughter's by allowing herself to be seena great deal with humbler but richer people's daughters. The Countesswas brought up to matrimony. She was aimed and timed to hit a givenmark at a given moment. She succeeded. She married the Earl of Chell.She also married about twenty thousand acres in England, about a fifthof Scotland, a house in Picadilly, seven country seats (includingSneyd), a steam-yacht, and five hundred thousand pounds' worth of sharesin the Midland Railway. She was young and pretty. She had travelled inChina and written a book about China. She sang at charity concerts andacted in private theatricals. She sketched from nature. She was one ofthe great hostesses of London. And she had not the slightest tendencyto stoutness. All this did not satisfy her. She was ambitious! Shewanted to be taken seriously. She wanted to enter into the life of thepeople. She saw in the quarter of a million souls that constitute theFive Towns a unique means to her end, an unrivalled toy. And shedetermined to be identified with all that was most serious in the socialprogress of the Five Towns. Hence some fifteen thousand pounds werespent in refurbishing Sneyd Hall, which lies on the edge of the FiveTowns, and the Earl and Countess passed four months of the year there.Hence the Earl, a mild, retiring man, when invited by the Town Councilto be the ornamental Mayor of Bursley, accepted the invitation. Hencethe Mayor and Mayoress gave an immense afternoon reception, topractically the entire roll of burgesses. And hence, a little later, theMayoress let it be known that she meant to give a municipal ball. Thenews of the ball thrilled Bursley more than anything had thrilledBursley since the signing of Magna Charta. Nevertheless municipal ballshad been offered by previous mayoresses. One can only suppose that inBursley there remains a peculiar respect for land, railway stock,steam-yachts, and great-grandfather's grandfathers.
Now everybody of account had been asked to the reception. But everybodycould not be asked to the ball, because not more than two hundred peoplecould dance in the Town Hall. There were nearly thirty-five thousandinhabitants in Bursley, of whom quite two thousand "counted," eventhough they did not dance.
III
Three weeks and three days before the ball, Denry Machin was seated oneMonday alone in Mr. Duncalf's private offices in Duck Square (where hecarried on his practice as a solicitor) when in stepped a tall andpretty young woman dressed very smartly but soberly in dark green. Onthe desk in front of Denry were several wide sheets of "abstract" paper,concealed by a copy of that morning's _Athletic News_. Before Denrycould even think of reversing the positions of the abstract paper andthe _Athletic News_, the young woman said, "Good morning," in a veryf
riendly style. She had a shrill voice and an efficient smile.
"Good morning, Madam," said Denry.
"Mr. Duncalf in?" asked the young woman.
(Why should Denry have slipped off his stool? It is utterly againstetiquette for solicitors' clerks to slip off their stools whileanswering enquiries.)
"No, Madam; he 's across at the Town Hall," said Denry.
The young lady shook her head playfully, with a faint smile.
"I 've just been there," she said. "They said he was here."
"I daresay I could find him, Madam--if you would----"
She now smiled broadly. "Conservative Club, I suppose?" she said, withan air deliciously confidential.
He too smiled.
"Oh, no," she said, after a little pause, "just tell him I 've called."
"Certainly, Madam. Nothing I can do?"
She was already turning away, but she turned back and scrutinised hisface, as Denry thought, roguishly.
"You might just give him this list," she said, taking a paper from hersatchel and spreading it. She had come to the desk; their elbowstouched. "He is n't to take any notice of the crossings-out in redink--you understand. Of course I 'm relying on him for the other lists,and I expect all the invitations to be out on Wednesday. Good morning."
She was gone. He sprang to the grimy window. Outside, in the snow,were a brougham, twin horses, twin men in yellow, and a little crowd ofyoungsters and oldsters. She flashed across the footpath, and vanished;the door of the carriage banged, one of the twins in yellow leaped up tohis brother, and the whole affair dashed dangerously away. The face ofthe leaping twin was familiar to Denry. The man had indeed onceinhabited Brougham Street, being known to the street as Jock, and hismother had for long years been a friend of Mrs. Machin's.
It was the first time Denry had seen the Countess, save at a distance.Assuredly she was finer even than her photographs. Entirely differentfrom what one would have expected! So easy to talk to! (Yet what hadhe said to her? Nothing--and everything.)
He nodded his head, and murmured, "No mistake about that lot!" Meaning,presumably, that all that one had read about the brilliance of thearistocracy was true, and more than true.
"She's the finest woman that ever came into this town," he murmured.
The truth was that she surpassed his dreams of womanhood. At twoo'clock she had been a name to him. At five minutes past two he was inlove with her. He felt profoundly thankful that, for a churchtea-meeting that evening, he happened to be wearing his best clothes.
It was while looking at her list of invitations to the ball that hefirst conceived the fantastic scheme of attending the ball himself. Mr.Duncalf was, fussily and deferentially, managing the machinery of theball for the Countess. He had prepared a little list of his own, ofpeople who ought to be invited. Several aldermen had been requested todo the same. There were thus about a dozen lists to be combined intoone. Denry did the combining. Nothing was easier than to insert thename of E. H. Machin inconspicuously towards the centre of the list!Nothing was easier than to lose the original lists, inadvertently, sothat if a question arose as to any particular name the responsibilityfor it could not be ascertained without enquiries too delicate to bemade. On Wednesday Denry received a lovely Bristol board stating incopper plate that the Countess desired the pleasure of his company atthe ball; and on Thursday his name was ticked off on the list as one whohad accepted.
IV
He had never been to a dance. He had no dress-suit, and no notion ofdancing.
He was a strange inconsequent mixture of courage and timidity. You andI are consistent in character; we are either one thing or the other; butDenry Machin had no consistency.
For three days he hesitated, and then, secretly trembling, he slippedinto Sillitoe's the young tailor who had recently set up and who wasgathering together the _jeunesse doree_ of the town.
"I want a dress-suit," he said.
Sillitoe, who knew that Denry only earned eighteen shilling a week,replied with only superficial politeness that a dress-suit was out ofthe question; he had already taken more orders than he could executewithout killing himself. The whole town had uprisen as one man anddemanded a dress-suit.
"So you 're going to the ball, are you?" said Sillitoe, trying tocondescend, but in fact slightly impressed.
"Yes," said Denry, "are you?"
Sillitoe started and then shook his head. "No time for balls," said he.
"I can get you an invitation, if you like," said Denry, glancing at thedoor precisely as he had glanced at the door before adding 2 to 7.
"Oh!" Sillitoe cocked his ears. He was not a native of the town, andhad no alderman to protect his legitimate interests.
To cut a shameful story short, in a week Denry was being tried on.Sillitoe allowed him two years' credit.
The prospect of the ball gave an immense impetus to the study of the artof dancing in Bursley, and so put quite a nice sum of money into thepocket of Miss Earp, a young mistress in that art. She was the daughterof a furniture dealer with a passion for the bankruptcy court. MissEarp's evening classes were attended by Denry, but none of his moneywent into her pocket. She was compensated by an expression of theCountess's desire for the pleasure of her company at the ball.
The Countess had aroused Denry's interest in women as a sex. Ruth Earpquickened the interest. She was plain, but she was only twenty-four,and very graceful on her feet. Denry had one or two strictly privatelessons from her in reversing. She said to him one evening, when he waspractising reversing and they were entwined in the attitude prescribedby the latest fashion: "Never mind me! Think about yourself. It's thesame in dancing as it is in life--the woman's duty is to adapt herselfto the man." He did think about himself. He was thinking about himselfin the middle of the night, and about her too. There had been somethingin her tone ... her eye...! At the final lesson he enquired if shewould give him the first waltz at the ball. She paused, then said yes.
V
On the evening of the ball, Denry spent at least two hours in theoperation which was necessary before he could give the Countess thepleasure of his company. This operation took place in his minutebedroom at the back of the cottage in Brougham Street, and it was of acomplex nature. Three weeks ago he had innocently thought that you hadonly to order a dress-suit and there you were! He now knew that adress-suit is merely the beginning of anxiety. Shirt! Collar! Tie!Studs! Cuff-links! Gloves! Handkerchief! (He was very glad to learnauthoritatively from Sillitoe that handkerchiefs were no longer worn inthe waistcoat opening, and that men who so wore them were barbarians andthe truth was not in them. Thus, an everyday handkerchief would do.)Boots!... Boots were the rock on which he had struck. Sillitoe, inaddition to being a tailor, was a hosier, but by some flaw in the schemeof the universe hosiers do not sell boots. Except boots Denry could getall he needed on credit; boots he could not get on credit, and he couldnot pay cash for them. Eventually he decided that his church boots mustbe dazzled up to the level of this great secular occasion. The pity wasthat he forgot--not that he was of a forgetful disposition in greatmatters; he was simply over-excited--he forgot to dazzle them up untilafter he had fairly put his collar on and his necktie in a bow. It isimprudent to touch blacking in a dress-shirt. So Denry had to undo thepast and begin again. This hurried him. He was not afraid of beinglate for the first waltz with Miss Ruth Earp, but he was afraid of notbeing out of the house before his mother returned. Mrs. Machin had beenmaking up a lady's own materials all day, naturally--the day being whatit was! If she had had twelve hands instead of two, she might have madeup the own materials of half a dozen ladies instead of one, and earnedtwenty-four shillings instead of four. Denry did not want his mother tosee him ere he departed. He had lavished an enormous amount of brainsand energy to the end of displaying himself in this refined and novelattire to the gaze of two hundred persons, and yet his secret wish wast
o deprive his mother of the beautiful spectacle!
However, she slipped in, with her bag and her seamy fingers and herrather sardonic expression, at the very moment when Denry was putting onhis overcoat in the kitchen (there being insufficient room in thepassage). He did what he could to hide his shirt-front (though she knewall about it) and failed.
"Bless us!" she exclaimed briefly, going to the fire to warm her hands.
A harmless remark. But her tone seemed to strip bare the vanity ofhuman greatness.
"I 'm in a hurry," said Denry importantly, as if he was going forth tosign a treaty involving the welfare of nations.
"Well," said she, "happen ye are, Denry. But the kitchen table's noplace for boot-brushes."
He had one piece of luck. It froze. Therefore, no anxiety about thecondition of boots!
VI
The Countess was late; some trouble with a horse. Happily the Earl hadbeen in Bursley all day and had dressed at the Conservative Club; andhis lordship had ordered that the programme of dances should be begun.Denry learned this as soon as he emerged, effulgent, from thegentlemen's cloak-room into the broad red-carpeted corridor which runsfrom end to end of the ground-floor of the Town Hall. Many importanttownspeople were chatting in the corridor--the innumerable Sweetnamfamily, the Stanways, the great Etches, the Fearnses, Mrs. ClaytonVernon, the Suttons, including Beatrice Sutton. Of course everybodyknew him for Duncalf's shorthand clerk and the son of the incomparableflannel-washer; but universal white kid gloves constitute a democracy,and Sillitoe could put more style into a suit than any other tailor inthe Five Towns.