Chapter XXVIII. The Ironmaster

by Charles Dickens

　　Sir Leicester Dedlock has got the better, for the time being, ofthe family gout and is once more, in a literal no less than in afigurative point of view, upon his legs. He is at his place inLincolnshire; but the waters are out again on the low-lyinggrounds, and the cold and damp steal into Chesney Wold, though welldefended, and eke into Sir Leicester's bones. The blazing fires offaggot and coal--Dedlock timber and antediluvian forest--that blazeupon the broad wide hearths and wink in the twilight on thefrowning woods, sullen to see how trees are sacrificed, do notexclude the enemy. The hot-water pipes that trail themselves allover the house, the cushioned doors and windows, and the screensand curtains fail to supply the fires' deficiencies and to satisfySir Leicester's need. Hence the fashionable intelligence proclaimsone morning to the listening earth that Lady Dedlock is expectedshortly to return to town for a few weeks.It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poorrelations. Indeed great men have often more than their fair shareof poor relations, inasmuch as very red blood of the superiorquality, like inferior blood unlawfully shed, will cry aloud andwill be heard. Sir Leicester's cousins, in the remotest degree,are so many murders in the respect that they "will out." Amongwhom there are cousins who are so poor that one might almost dareto think it would have been the happier for them never to have beenplated links upon the Dedlock chain of gold, but to have been madeof common iron at first and done base service.Service, however (with a few limited reservations, genteel but notprofitable), they may not do, being of the Dedlock dignity. Sothey visit their richer cousins, and get into debt when they can,and live but shabbily when they can't, and find--the women nohusbands, and the men no wives--and ride in borrowed carriages, andsit at feasts that are never of their own making, and so go throughhigh life. The rich family sum has been divided by so manyfigures, and they are the something over that nobody knows what todo with.Everybody on Sir Leicester Dedlock's side of the question and ofhis way of thinking would appear to be his cousin more or less.From my Lord Boodle, through the Duke of Foodle, down to Noodle,Sir Leicester, like a glorious spider, stretches his threads ofrelationship. But while he is stately in the cousinship of theEverybodys, he is a kind and generous man, according to hisdignified way, in the cousinship of the Nobodys; and at the presenttime, in despite of the damp, he stays out the visit of severalsuch cousins at Chesney Wold with the constancy of a martyr.Of these, foremost in the front rank stands Volumnia Dedlock, ayoung lady (of sixty) who is doubly highly related, having thehonour to be a poor relation, by the mother's side, to anothergreat family. Miss Volumnia, displaying in early life a prettytalent for cutting ornaments out of coloured paper, and also forsinging to the guitar in the Spanish tongue, and propounding Frenchconundrums in country houses, passed the twenty years of herexistence between twenty and forty in a sufficiently agreeablemanner. Lapsing then out of date and being considered to boremankind by her vocal performances in the Spanish language, sheretired to Bath, where she lives slenderly on an annual presentfrom Sir Leicester and whence she makes occasional resurrections inthe country houses of her cousins. She has an extensiveacquaintance at Bath among appalling old gentlemen with thin legsand nankeen trousers, and is of high standing in that dreary city.But she is a little dreaded elsewhere in consequence of anindiscreet profusion in the article of rouge and persistency in anobsolete pearl necklace like a rosary of little bird's-eggs.In any country in a wholesome state, Volumnia would be a clear casefor the pension list. Efforts have been made to get her on it, andwhen William Buffy came in, it was fully expected that her namewould be put down for a couple of hundred a year. But WilliamBuffy somehow discovered, contrary to all expectation, that thesewere not the times when it could be done, and this was the firstclear indication Sir Leicester Dedlock had conveyed to him that thecountry was going to pieces.There is likewise the Honourable Bob Stables, who can make warmmashes with the skill of a veterinary surgeon and is a better shotthan most gamekeepers. He has been for some time particularlydesirous to serve his country in a post of good emoluments,unaccompanied by any trouble or responsibility. In a well-regulated body politic this natural desire on the part of aspirited young gentleman so highly connected would be speedilyrecognized, but somehow William Buffy found when he came in thatthese were not times in which he could manage that little mattereither, and this was the second indication Sir Leicester Dedlockhad conveyed to him that the country was going to pieces.The rest of the cousins are ladies and gentlemen of various agesand capacities, the major part amiable and sensible and likely tohave done well enough in life if they could have overcome theircousinship; as it is, they are almost all a little worsted by it,and lounge in purposeless and listless paths, and seem to be quiteas much at a loss how to dispose of themselves as anybody else canbe how to dispose of them.In this society, and where not, my Lady Dedlock reigns supreme.Beautiful, elegant, accomplished, and powerful in her little world(for the world of fashion does not stretch all the way from pole topole), her influence in Sir Leicester's house, however haughty andindifferent her manner, is greatly to improve it and refine it.The cousins, even those older cousins who were paralysed when SirLeicester married her, do her feudal homage; and the Honourable BobStables daily repeats to some chosen person between breakfast andlunch his favourite original remark, that she is the best-groomedwoman in the whole stud.Such the guests in the long drawing-room at Chesney Wold thisdismal night when the step on the Ghost's Walk (inaudible here,however) might be the step of a deceased cousin shut out in thecold. It is near bed-time. Bedroom fires blaze brightly all overthe house, raising ghosts of grim furniture on wall and ceiling.Bedroom candlesticks bristle on the distant table by the door, andcousins yawn on ottomans. Cousins at the piano, cousins at thesoda-water tray, cousins rising from the card-table, cousinsgathered round the fire. Standing on one side of his own peculiarfire (for there are two), Sir Leicester. On the opposite side ofthe broad hearth, my Lady at her table. Volumnia, as one of themore privileged cousins, in a luxurious chair between them. SirLeicester glancing, with magnificent displeasure, at the rouge andthe pearl necklace."I occasionally meet on my staircase here," drawls Volumnia, whosethoughts perhaps are already hopping up it to bed, after a longevening of very desultory talk, "one of the prettiest girls, Ithink, that I ever saw in my life.""A protegee of my Lady's," observes Sir Leicester."I thought so. I felt sure that some uncommon eye must have pickedthat girl out. She really is a marvel. A dolly sort of beautyperhaps," says Miss Volumnia, reserving her own sort, "but in itsway, perfect; such bloom I never saw!"Sir Leicester, with his magnificent glance of displeasure at therouge, appears to say so too."Indeed," remarks my Lady languidly, "if there is any uncommon eyein the case, it is Mrs. Rouncewell's, and not mine. Rosa is herdiscovery.""Your maid, I suppose?""No. My anything; pet--secretary--messenger--I don't know what.""You like to have her about you, as you would like to have aflower, or a bird, or a picture, or a poodle--no, not a poodle,though--or anything else that was equally pretty?" says Volumnia,sympathizing. "Yes, how charming now! And how well thatdelightful old soul Mrs. Rouncewell is looking. She must be animmense age, and yet she is as active and handsome! She is thedearest friend I have, positively!"Sir Leicester feels it to be right and fitting that the housekeeperof Chesney Wold should be a remarkable person. Apart from that, hehas a real regard for Mrs. Rouncewell and likes to hear herpraised. So he says, "You are right, Volumnia," which Volumnia isextremely glad to hear."She has no daughter of her own, has she?""Mrs. Rouncewell? No, Volumnia. She has a son. Indeed, she hadtwo."My Lady, whose chronic malady of boredom has been sadly aggravatedby Volumnia this evening, glances wearily towards the candlesticksand heaves a noiseless sigh."And it is a remarkable example of the confusion into which thepresent age has fallen; of the obliteration of landmarks, theopening of floodgates, and the uprooting of distinctions," says SirLeicester with stately gloom, "that I have been informed by Mr.Tulkinghorn that Mrs. Rouncewell's son has been invited to go intoParliament."Miss Volumnia utters a little sharp scream."Yes, indeed," repeats Sir Leicester. "Into Parliament.""I never heard of such a thing! Good gracious, what is the man?"exclaims Volumnia."He is called, I believe--an--ironmaster." Sir Leicester says itslowly and with gravity and doubt, as not being sure but that he iscalled a lead-mistress or that the right word may be some otherword expressive of some other relationship to some other metal.Volumnia utters another little scream."He has declined the proposal, if my information from Mr.Tulkinghorn be correct, as I have no doubt it is. Mr. Tulkinghornbeing always correct and exact; still that does not," says SirLeicester, "that does not lessen the anomaly, which is fraught withstrange considerations--startling considerations, as it appears tome."Miss Volumnia rising with a look candlestick-wards, Sir Leicesterpolitely performs the grand tour of the drawing-room, brings one,and lights it at my Lady's shaded lamp."I must beg you, my Lady," he says while doing so, "to remain a fewmoments, for this individual of whom I speak arrived this eveningshortly before dinner and requested in a very becoming note"--SirLeicester, with his habitual regard to truth, dwells upon it--"I ambound to say, in a very becoming and well-expressed note, thefavour of a short interview with yourself and myself on the subjectof this young girl. As it appeared that he wished to depart to-night, I replied that we would see him before retiring."Miss Volumnia with a third little scream takes flight, wishing herhosts--O Ludwhat is it?--ironmaster!The other cousins soon disperse, to the last cousin there. SirLeicester rings the bell, "Make my compliments to Mr. Rouncewell,in the housekeeper's apartments, and say I can receive him now."My Lady, who has beard all this with slight attention outwardly,looks towards Mr. Rouncewell as he comes in. He is a little overfifty perhaps, of a good figure, like his mother, and has a clearvoice, a broad forehead from which his dark hair has retired, and ashrewd though open face. He is a responsible-looking gentlemandressed in black, portly enough, but strong and active. Has aperfectly natural and easy air and is not in the least embarrassedby the great presence into which he comes."Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, as I have already apologized forintruding on you, I cannot do better than be very brief. I thankyou, Sir Leicester."The head of the Dedlocks has motioned towards a sofa betweenhimself and my Lady. Mr. Rouncewell quietly takes his seat there."In these busy times, when so many great undertakings are inprogress, people like myself have so many workmen in so many placesthat we are always on the flight."Sir Leicester is content enough that the ironmaster should feelthat there is no hurry there; there, in that ancient house, rootedin that quiet park, where the ivy and the moss have had time tomature, and the gnarled and warted elms and the umbrageous oaksstand deep in the fern and leaves of a hundred years; and where thesun-dial on the terrace has dumbly recorded for centuries that timewhich was as much the property of every Dedlock--while he lasted--as the house and lands. Sir Leicester sits down in an easy-chair,opposing his repose and that of Chesney Wold to the restlessflights of ironmasters."Lady Dedlock has been so kind," proceeds Mr. Rouncewell with arespectful glance and a bow that way, "as to place near her a youngbeauty of the name of Rosa. Now, my son has fallen in love withRosa and has asked my consent to his proposing marriage to her andto their becoming engaged if she will take him--which I suppose shewill. I have never seen Rosa until to-day, but I have someconfidence in my son's good sense--even in love. I find her whathe represents her, to the best of my judgment; and my mother speaksof her with great commendation.""She in all respects deserves it," says my Lady."I am happy, Lady Dedlock, that you say so, and I need not commenton the value to me of your kind opinion of her.""That," observes Sir Leicester with unspeakable grandeur, for hethinks the ironmaster a little too glib, "must be quiteunnecessary.""Quite unnecessary, Sir Leicester. Now, my son is a very youngman, and Rosa is a very young woman. As I made my way, so my sonmust make his; and his being married at present is out of thequestion. But supposing I gave my consent to his engaging himselfto this pretty girl, if this pretty girl will engage herself tohim, I think it a piece of candour to say at once--I am sure, SirLeicester and Lady Dedlock, you will understand and excuse me--Ishould make it a condition that she did not remain at Chesney Wold.Therefore, before communicating further with my son, I take theliberty of saying that if her removal would be in any wayinconvenient or objectionable, I will hold the matter over with himfor any reasonable time and leave it precisely where it is."Not remain at Chesney Wold! Make it a condition! All SirLeicester's old misgivings relative to Wat Tyler and the people inthe iron districts who do nothing but turn out by torchlight comein a shower upon his head, the fine grey hair of which, as well asof his whiskers, actually stirs with indignation."Am I to understand, sir," says Sir Leicester, "and is my Lady tounderstand"--he brings her in thus specially, first as a point ofgallantry, and next as a point of prudence, having great relianceon her sense--"am I to understand, Mr. Rouncewell, and is my Ladyto understand, sir, that you consider this young woman too good forChesney Wold or likely to be injured by remaining here?""Certainly not, Sir Leicester,""I am glad to hear it." Sir Leicester very lofty indeed."Pray, Mr. Rouncewell," says my Lady, warning Sir Leicester offwith the slightest gesture of her pretty hand, as if he were a fly,"explain to me what you mean.""Willingly, Lady Dedlock. There is nothing I could desire more."Addressing her composed face, whose intelligence, however, is tooquick and active to be concealed by any studied impassiveness,however habitual, to the strong Saxon face of the visitor, apicture of resolution and perseverance, my Lady listens withattention, occasionally slightly bending her head."I am the son of your housekeeper, Lady Dedlock, and passed mychildhood about this house. My mother has lived here half acentury and will die here I have no doubt. She is one of thoseexamples--perhaps as good a one as there is--of love, andattachment, and fidelity in such a nation, which England may wellbe proud of, but of which no order can appropriate the whole prideor the whole merit, because such an instance bespeaks high worth ontwo sides--on the great side assuredly, on the small one no lessassuredly."Sir Leicester snorts a little to hear the law laid down in thisway, but in his honour and his love of truth, he freely, thoughsilently, admits the justice of the ironmaster's proposition."Pardon me for saying what is so obvious, but I wouldn't have ithastily supposed," with the least turn of his eyes towards SirLeicester, "that I am ashamed of my mother's position here, orwanting in all just respect for Chesney Wold and the family. Icertainly may have desired--I certainly have desired, Lady Dedlock--that my mother should retire after so many years and end her dayswith me. But as I have found that to sever this strong bond wouldbe to break her heart, I have long abandoned that idea."Sir Leicester very magnificent again at the notion of Mrs.Rouncewell being spirited off from her natural home to end her dayswith an ironmaster."I have been," proceeds the visitor in a modest, clear way, "anapprentice and a workman. I have lived on workman's wages, yearsand years, and beyond a certain point have had to educate myself.My wife was a foreman's daughter, and plainly brought up. We havethree daughters besides this son of whom I have spoken, and beingfortunately able to give them greater advantages than we have hadourselves, we have educated them well, very well. It has been oneof our great cares and pleasures to make them worthy of anystation."A little boastfulness in his fatherly tone here, as if he added inhis heart, "even of the Chesney Wold station." Not a little moremagnificence, therefore, on the part of Sir Leicester."All this is so frequent, Lady Dedlock, where I live, and among theclass to which I belong, that what would be generally calledunequal marriages are not of such rare occurrence with us aselsewhere. A son will sometimes make it known to his father thathe has fallen in love, say, with a young woman in the factory. Thefather, who once worked in a factory himself, will be a littledisappointed at first very possibly. It may be that he had otherviews for his son. However, the chances are that havingascertained the young woman to be of unblemished character, he willsay to his son, 'I must be quite sure you are in earnest here.This is a serious matter for both of you. Therefore I shall havethis girl educated for two years,' or it may be, 'I shall placethis girl at the same school with your sisters for such a time,during which you will give me your word and honour to see her onlyso often. If at the expiration of that time, when she has so farprofited by her advantages as that you may be upon a fair equality,you are both in the same mind, I will do my part to make youhappy.' I know of several cases such as I describe, my Lady, and Ithink they indicate to me my own course now."Sir Leicester's magnificence explodes. Calmly, but terribly."Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester with his right hand in thebreast of his blue coat, the attitude of state in which he ispainted in the gallery, "do you draw a parallel between ChesneyWold and a--" Here he resists a disposition to choke, "a factory?""I need not reply, Sir Leicester, that the two places are verydifferent; but for the purposes of this case, I think a parallelmay be justly drawn between them."Sir Leicester directs his majestic glance down one side of the longdrawing-room and up the other before he can believe that he isawake."Are you aware, sir, that this young woman whom my Lady--my Lady--has placed near her person was brought up at the village schooloutside the gates?""Sir Leicester, I am quite aware of it. A very good school it is,and handsomely supported by this family.""Then, Mr. Rouncewell," returns Sir Leicester, "the application ofwhat you have said is, to me, incomprehensible.""Will it be more comprehensible, Sir Leicester, if I say," theironmaster is reddening a little, "that I do not regard the villageschool as teaching everything desirable to be known by my son'swife?"From the village school of Chesney Wold, intact as it is thisminute, to the whole framework of society; from the whole frameworkof society, to the aforesaid framework receiving tremendous cracksin consequence of people (iron-masters, lead-mistresses, and whatnot) not minding their catechism, and getting out of the stationunto which they are called--necessarily and for ever, according toSir Leicester's rapid logic, the first station in which they happento find themselves; and from that, to their educating other peopleout of their stations, and so obliterating the landmarks, andopening the floodgates, and all the rest of it; this is the swiftprogress of the Dedlock mind."My Lady, I beg your pardon. Permit me, for one moment!" She hasgiven a faint indication of intending to speak. "Mr. Rouncewell,our views of duty, and our views of station, and our views ofeducation, and our views of--in short, all our views--are sodiametrically opposed, that to prolong this discussion must berepellent to your feelings and repellent to my own. This youngwoman is honoured with my Lady's notice and favour. If she wishesto withdraw herself from that notice and favour or if she choosesto place herself under the influence of any one who may in hispeculiar opinions--you will allow me to say, in his peculiaropinions, though I readily admit that he is not accountable forthem to me--who may, in his peculiar opinions, withdraw her fromthat notice and favour, she is at any time at liberty to do so. Weare obliged to you for the plainness with which you have spoken.It will have no effect of itself, one way or other, on the youngwoman's position here. Beyond this, we can make no terms; and herewe beg--if you will be so good--to leave the subject."The visitor pauses a moment to give my Lady an opportunity, but shesays nothing. He then rises and replies, "Sir Leicester and LadyDedlock, allow me to thank you for your attention and only toobserve that I shall very seriously recommend my son to conquer hispresent inclinations. Good night!""Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester with all the nature of agentleman shining in him, "it is late, and the roads are dark. Ihope your time is not so precious but that you will allow my Ladyand myself to offer you the hospitality of Chesney Wold, for to-night at least.""I hope so," adds my Lady."I am much obliged to you, but I have to travel all night in orderto reach a distant part of the country punctually at an appointedtime in the morning."Therewith the ironmaster takes his departure, Sir Leicester ringingthe bell and my Lady rising as he leaves the room.When my Lady goes to her boudoir, she sits down thoughtfully by thefire, and inattentive to the Ghost's Walk, looks at Rosa, writingin an inner room. Presently my Lady calls her."Come to me, child. Tell me the truth. Are you in love?""Oh! My Lady!"My Lady, looking at the downcast and blushing face, says smiling,"Who is it? Is it Mrs. Rouncewell's grandson?""Yes, if you please, my Lady. But I don't know that I am in lovewith him--yet.""Yet, you silly little thing! Do you know that he loves you, yet?""I think he likes me a little, my Lady." And Rosa bursts intotears.Is this Lady Dedlock standing beside the village beauty, smoothingher dark hair with that motherly touch, and watching her with eyesso full of musing interest? Aye, indeed it is!"Listen to me, child. You are young and true, and I believe youare attached to me.""Indeed I am, my Lady. Indeed there is nothing in the world Iwouldn't do to show how much.""And I don't think you would wish to leave me just yet, Rosa, evenfor a lover?""No, my Lady! Oh, no!" Rosa looks up for the first time, quitefrightened at the thought."Confide in me, my child. Don't fear me. I wish you to be happy,and will make you so--if I can make anybody happy on this earth."Rosa, with fresh tears, kneels at her feet and kisses her hand. MyLady takes the hand with which she has caught it, and standing withher eyes fixed on the fire, puts it about and about between her owntwo hands, and gradually lets it fall. Seeing her so absorbed,Rosa softly withdraws; but still my Lady's eyes are on the fire.In search of what? Of any hand that is no more, of any hand thatnever was, of any touch that might have magically changed her life?Or does she listen to the Ghost's Walk and think what step does itmost resemble? A man's? A woman's? The pattering of a littlechild's feet, ever coming on--on--on? Some melancholy influence isupon her, or why should so proud a lady close the doors and sitalone upon the hearth so desolate?Volumnia is away next day, and all the cousins are scattered beforedinner. Not a cousin of the batch but is amazed to hear from SirLeicester at breakfast-time of the obliteration of landmarks, andopening of floodgates, and cracking of the framework of society,manifested through Mrs. Rouncewell's son. Not a cousin of thebatch but is really indignant, and connects it with the feeblenessof William Buffy when in office, and really does feel deprived of astake in the country--or the pension list--or something--by fraudand wrong. As to Volumnia, she is handed down the great staircaseby Sir Leicester, as eloquent upon the theme as if there were ageneral rising in the north of England to obtain her rouge-pot andpearl necklace. And thus, with a clatter of maids and valets--forit is one appurtenance of their cousinship that however difficultthey may find it to keep themselves, they must keep maids andvalets--the cousins disperse to the four winds of heaven; and theone wintry wind that blows to-day shakes a shower from the treesnear the deserted house, as if all the cousins had been changedinto leaves.