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@@ -0,0 +1,1195 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of James Pethel, by Max Beerbohm + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: James Pethel + +Author: Max Beerbohm + +Posting Date: July 23, 2008 [EBook #759] +Release Date: December, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES PETHEL *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss. + + + + + + + + +James Pethel + + +By + +MAX BEERBOHM + + + +I was shocked this morning when I saw in my newspaper a paragraph +announcing his sudden death. I do not say that the shock was very +disagreeable. One reads a newspaper for the sake of news. Had I never +met James Pethel, belike I should never have heard of him: and my +knowledge of his death, coincident with my knowledge that he had +existed, would have meant nothing at all to me. If you learn suddenly +that one of your friends is dead, you are wholly distressed. If the +death is that of a mere acquaintance whom you have recently seen, you +are disconcerted, pricked is your sense of mortality; but you do find +great solace in telling other people that you met "the poor fellow" +only the other day, and that he was "so full of life and spirits," and +that you remember he said--whatever you may remember of his sayings. +If the death is that of a mere acquaintance whom you have not seen for +years, you are touched so lightly as to find solace enough in even such +faded reminiscence as is yours to offer. Seven years have passed since +the day when last I saw James Pethel, and that day was the morrow of my +first meeting with him. + +I had formed the habit of spending August in Dieppe. The place was +then less overrun by trippers than it is now. Some pleasant English +people shared it with some pleasant French people. We used rather to +resent the race-week--the third week of the month--as an intrusion on +our privacy. We sneered as we read in the Paris edition of "The New +York Herald" the names of the intruders, though by some of these we +were secretly impressed. We disliked the nightly crush in the +baccarat-room of the casino, and the croupiers' obvious excitement at +the high play. I made a point of avoiding that room during that week, +for the special reason that the sight of serious, habitual gamblers has +always filled me with a depression bordering on disgust. Most of the +men, by some subtle stress of their ruling passion, have grown so +monstrously fat, and most of the women so harrowingly thin. The rest +of the women seem to be marked out for apoplexy, and the rest of the +men to be wasting away. One feels that anything thrown at them would +be either embedded or shattered, and looks vainly among them for one +person furnished with a normal amount of flesh. Monsters they are, all +of them, to the eye, though I believe that many of them have excellent +moral qualities in private life; but just as in an American town one +goes sooner or later--goes against one's finer judgment, but somehow +goes--into the dime-museum, so year by year, in Dieppe's race-week, +there would be always one evening when I drifted into the +baccarat-room. It was on such an evening that I first saw the man +whose memory I here celebrate. My gaze was held by him for the very +reason that he would have passed unnoticed elsewhere. He was +conspicuous not in virtue of the mere fact that he was taking the bank +at the principal table, but because there was nothing at all odd about +him. + +He alone, among his fellow-players, looked as if he were not to die +before the year was out. Of him alone I said to myself that he was +destined to die normally at a ripe old age. Next day, certainly, I +would not have made this prediction, would not have "given" him the +seven years that were still in store for him, nor the comparatively +normal death that has been his. But now, as I stood opposite to him, +behind the croupier, I was refreshed by my sense of his wholesome +durability. Everything about him, except the amount of money he had +been winning, seemed moderate. Just as he was neither fat nor thin, so +had his face neither that extreme pallor nor that extreme redness which +belongs to the faces of seasoned gamblers: it was just a clear pink. +And his eyes had neither the unnatural brightness nor the unnatural +dullness of the eyes about him: they were ordinarily clear eyes, of an +ordinary gray. His very age was moderate: a putative thirty-six, not +more. ("Not less," I would have said in those days.) He assumed no air +of nonchalance. He did not deal out the cards as though they bored +him, but he had no look of grim concentration. I noticed that the +removal of his cigar from his mouth made never the least difference to +his face, for he kept his lips pursed out as steadily as ever when he +was not smoking. And this constant pursing of his lips seemed to +denote just a pensive interest. + +His bank was nearly done now; there were only a few cards left. +Opposite to him was a welter of party-colored counters that the +croupier had not yet had time to sort out and add to the rouleaux +already made; there were also a fair accumulation of notes and several +little stacks of gold--in all, not less than five-hundred pounds, +certainly. Happy banker! How easily had he won in a few minutes more +than I, with utmost pains, could win in many months! I wished I were +he. His lucre seemed to insult me personally. I disliked him, and yet +I hoped he would not take another bank. I hoped he would have the good +sense to pocket his winnings and go home. Deliberately to risk the +loss of all those riches would intensify the insult to me. + +"Messieurs, la banque est aux encheres." There was some brisk bidding +while the croupier tore open and shuffled two new packs. But it was as +I feared: the gentleman whom I resented kept his place. + +"Messieurs, la banque est faite. Quinze-mille francs a la banque. +Messieurs, les cartes passent. Messieurs, les cartes passent." + +Turning to go, I encountered a friend, one of the race-weekers, but in +a sense a friend. + +"Going to play?" I asked. + +"Not while Jimmy Pethel's taking the bank," he answered, with a laugh. + +"Is that the man's name?" + +"Yes. Don't you know him? I thought every one knew old Jimmy Pethel." + +I asked what there was so wonderful about "old Jimmy Pethel" that every +one should be supposed to know him. + +"Oh, he's a great character. Has extraordinary luck--always." + +I do not think my friend was versed in the pretty theory that good luck +is the subconscious wisdom of them who in previous incarnations have +been consciously wise. He was a member of the stock exchange, and I +smiled as at a certain quaintness in his remark. I asked in what ways +besides luck the "great character" was manifested. Oh, well, Pethel +had made a huge "scoop" on the stock exchange when he was only +twenty-three, and very soon had doubled that and doubled it again; then +retired. He wasn't more than thirty-five now, And then? Oh, well, he +was a regular all-round sportsman; had gone after big game all over the +world and had a good many narrow shaves. Great steeple-chaser, too. +Rather settled down now. Lived in Leicestershire mostly. Had a big +place there. Hunted five times a week. Still did an occasional +flutter, though. Cleared eighty-thousand in Mexicans last February. +Wife had been a barmaid at Cambridge; married her when he was nineteen. +Thing seemed to have turned out quite well. Altogether, a great +character. + +Possibly, thought I. But my cursory friend, accustomed to quick +transactions and to things accepted "on the nod," had not proved his +case to my slower, more literary intelligence. It was to him, though, +that I owed, some minutes later, a chance of testing his opinion. At +the cry of "Messieurs, la banque est aux encheres," we looked round and +saw that the subject of our talk was preparing to rise from his place. +"Now one can punt," said Grierson (this was my friend's name), and +turned to the bureau at which counters are for sale. "If old Jimmy +Pethel punts," he added, "I shall just follow his luck." But this +lode-star was not to be. While my friend was buying his counters, and +I was wondering whether I, too, could buy some, Pethel himself came up +to the bureau. With his lips no longer pursed, he had lost his air of +gravity, and looked younger. Behind him was an attendant bearing a big +wooden bowl--that plain, but romantic, bowl supplied by the +establishment to a banker whose gains are too great to be pocketed. He +and Grierson greeted each other. He said he had arrived in Dieppe this +afternoon, was here for a day or two. We were introduced. He spoke to +me with empressement, saying he was a "very great admirer" of my work. +I no longer disliked him. Grierson, armed with counters, had now +darted away to secure a place that had just been vacated. Pethel, with +a wave of his hand toward the tables, said: + +"I suppose you never condescend to this sort of thing." + +"Well--" I smiled indulgently. + +"Awful waste of time," he admitted. + +I glanced down at the splendid mess of counters and gold and notes that +were now becoming, under the swift fingers of the little man at the +bureau, an orderly array. I did not say aloud that it pleased me to +be, and to be seen, talking on terms of equality to a man who had won +so much. I did not say how wonderful it seemed to me that he, whom I +had watched just now with awe and with aversion, had all the while been +a great admirer of my work. I did but say, again indulgently, that I +supposed baccarat to be as good a way of wasting time as another. + +"Ah, but you despise us all the same." He added that he always envied +men who had resources within themselves. I laughed lightly, to imply +that it WAS very pleasant to have such resources, but that I didn't +want to boast. And, indeed, I had never felt humbler, flimsier, than +when the little man at the bureau, naming a fabulous sum, asked its +owner whether he would take the main part in notes of mille francs, +cinq-mille, dix-mille--quoi? Had it been mine, I should have asked to +have it all in five-franc pieces. Pethel took it in the most +compendious form, and crumpled it into his pocket. I asked if he were +going to play any more to-night. + +"Oh, later on," he said. "I want to get a little sea air into my lungs +now." He asked, with a sort of breezy diffidence, if I would go with +him. I was glad to do so. It flashed across my mind that yonder on +the terrace he might suddenly blurt out: "I say, look here, don't think +me awfully impertinent, but this money's no earthly use to me. I do +wish you'd accept it as a very small return for all the pleasure your +work has given me, and-- There, PLEASE! Not another word!"--all with +such candor, delicacy, and genuine zeal that I should be unable to +refuse. But I must not raise false hopes in my reader. Nothing of the +sort happened. Nothing of that sort ever does happen. + +We were not long on the terrace. It was not a night on which you could +stroll and talk; there was a wind against which you had to stagger, +holding your hat on tightly, and shouting such remarks as might occur +to you. Against that wind acquaintance could make no headway. Yet I +see now that despite that wind, or, rather, because of it, I ought +already to have known Pethel a little better than I did when we +presently sat down together inside the cafe of the casino. There had +been a point in our walk, or our stagger, when we paused to lean over +the parapet, looking down at the black and driven sea. And Pethel had +shouted that it would be great fun to be out in a sailing-boat +to-night, and that at one time he had been very fond of sailing. + +As we took our seats in the cafe, he looked about him with boyish +interest and pleasure; then squaring his arms on the little table, he +asked me what I would drink. I protested that I was the host, a +position which he, with the quick courtesy of the very rich, yielded to +me at once. I feared he would ask for champagne, and was gladdened by +his demand for water. + +"Apollinaris, St. Galmier, or what?" I asked. He preferred plain +water. I ventured to warn him that such water was never "safe" in +these places. He said he had often heard that, but would risk it. I +remonstrated, but he was firm. "Alors," I told the waiter, "pour +Monsieur un verre de l'eau fraiche, et pour moi un demi blonde." + +Pethel asked me to tell him who every one was. I told him no one was +any one in particular, and suggested that we should talk about +ourselves. + +"You mean," he laughed, "that you want to know who the devil I am?" + +I assured him that I had often heard of him. At this he was +unaffectedly pleased. + +"But," I added, "it's always more interesting to hear a man talked +about by himself." And indeed, since he had NOT handed his winnings +over to me, I did hope he would at any rate give me some glimpses into +that "great character" of his. Full though his life had been, he +seemed but like a rather clever schoolboy out on a holiday. I wanted +to know more. + +"That beer looks good," he admitted when the waiter came back. I asked +him to change his mind, but he shook his head, raised to his lips the +tumbler of water that had been placed before him, and meditatively +drank a deep draft. "I never," he then said, "touch alcohol of any +sort." He looked solemn; but all men do look solemn when they speak of +their own habits, whether positive or negative, and no matter how +trivial; and so, though I had really no warrant for not supposing him a +reclaimed drunkard, I dared ask him for what reason he abstained. + +"When I say I NEVER touch alcohol," he said hastily, in a tone as of +self-defense, "I mean that I don't touch it often, or, at any +rate--well, I never touch it when I'm gambling, you know. It--it takes +the edge off." + +His tone did make me suspicious. For a moment I wondered whether he +had married the barmaid rather for what she symbolized than for what in +herself she was. But no, surely not; he had been only nineteen years +old. Nor in any way had he now, this steady, brisk, clear-eyed fellow, +the aspect of one who had since fallen. + +"The edge off the excitement?" I asked. + +"Rather. Of course that sort of excitement seems awfully stupid to +YOU; but--no use denying it--I do like a bit of a flutter, just +occasionally, you know. And one has to be in trim for it. Suppose a +man sat down dead-drunk to a game of chance, what fun would it be for +him? None. And it's only a question of degree. Soothe yourself ever +so little with alcohol, and you don't get QUITE the full sensation of +gambling. You do lose just a little something of the proper tremors +before a coup, the proper throes during a coup, the proper thrill of +joy or anguish after a coup. You're bound to, you know," he added, +purposely making this bathos when he saw me smiling at the heights to +which he had risen. + +"And to-night," I asked, remembering his prosaically pensive demeanor +in taking the bank, "were you feeling these throes and thrills to the +utmost?" + + +He nodded. + +"And you'll feel them again to-night?" + +"I hope so." + +"I wonder you can stay away." + +"Oh, one gets a bit deadened after an hour or so. One needs to be +freshened up. So long as I don't bore you--" + +I laughed, and held out my cigarette-case. + +"I rather wonder you smoke," I murmured, after giving him a light. +"Nicotine's a sort of drug. Doesn't it soothe you? Don't you lose +just a little something of the tremors and things?" + +He looked at me gravely. + +"By Jove!" he ejaculated, "I never thought of that. Perhaps you're +right. 'Pon my word, I must think that over." + +I wondered whether he were secretly laughing at me. Here was a man to +whom--so I conceived, with an effort of the imagination--the loss or +gain of a few hundred pounds could hardly matter. I told him I had +spoken in jest. "To give up tobacco might," I said, "intensify the +pleasant agonies of a gambler staking his little all. But in your +case--well, I don't see where the pleasant agonies come in." + +"You mean because I'm beastly rich?" + +"Rich," I amended. + +"All depends on what you call rich. Besides, I'm not the sort of +fellow who's content with three per cent. A couple of months ago--I +tell you this in confidence--I risked virtually all I had in an +Argentine deal." + +"And lost it?" + +"No; as a matter of fact, I made rather a good thing out of it. I did +rather well last February, too. But there's no knowing the future. A +few errors of judgment, a war here, a revolution there, a big strike +somewhere else, and--" He blew a jet of smoke from his lips, and then +looked at me as at one whom he could trust to feel for him in a crash +already come. + +My sympathy lagged, and I stuck to the point of my inquiry. + +"Meanwhile," I suggested, "and all the more because you aren't merely a +rich man, but also an active taker of big risks, how can these tiny +little baccarat risks give you so much emotion?" + +"There you rather have me," he laughed. "I've often wondered at that +myself. I suppose," he puzzled it out, "I do a good lot of +make-believe. While I'm playing a game like this game to-night, I +IMAGINE the stakes are huge. And I IMAGINE I haven't another penny in +the world." + +"Ah, so that with you it's always a life-and-death affair?" + +He looked away. + +"Oh, no, I don't say that." + +"Stupid phrase," I admitted. "But"--there was yet one point I would +put to him--"if you have extraordinary luck always--" + +"There's no such thing as luck." + +"No, strictly, I suppose, there isn't. But if in point of fact you +always do win, then--well, surely, perfect luck driveth out fear." + +"Who ever said I always won?" he asked sharply. + +I waved my hands and said, "Oh, you have the reputation, you know, for +extraordinary luck." + +"That isn't the same thing as always winning. Besides, I HAVEN'T +extraordinary luck, never HAVE had. Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "if I +thought I had any more chance of winning than of losing, I'd--I'd--" + +"Never again set foot in that baccarat-room to-night," I soothingly +suggested. + +"Oh, baccarat be blowed! I wasn't thinking of baccarat. I was +thinking of--oh, lots of things; baccarat included, yes." + +"What things?" I ventured to ask. + +"What things?" He pushed back his chair. "Look here," he said with a +laugh, "don't pretend I haven't been boring your head off with all this +talk about myself. You've been too patient. I'm off. Shall I see you +to-morrow? Perhaps you'd lunch with us to-morrow? It would be a great +pleasure for my wife. We're at the Grand Hotel." + +I said I should be most happy, and called the waiter; at sight of whom +my friend said he had talked himself thirsty, and asked for another +glass of water. He mentioned that he had brought his car over with +him: his little daughter (by the news of whose existence I felt +idiotically surprised) was very keen on motoring, and they were all +three starting the day after to-morrow on a little tour through France. +Afterward they were going on to Switzerland "for some climbing." Did I +care about motoring? If so, we might go for a spin after luncheon, to +Rouen or somewhere. He drank his glass of water, and, linking a +friendly arm in mine, passed out with me into the corridor. He asked +what I was writing now, and said that he looked to me to "do something +big one of these days," and that he was sure I had it in me. This +remark, though of course I pretended to be pleased by it, irritated me +very much. It was destined, as you shall see, to irritate me very much +more in recollection. + +Yet I was glad he had asked me to luncheon--glad because I liked him +and glad because I dislike mysteries. Though you may think me very +dense for not having thoroughly understood Pethel in the course of my +first meeting with him, the fact is that I was only aware, and that +dimly, of something more in him than he had cared to reveal--some veil +behind which perhaps lurked his right to the title so airily bestowed +on him by Grierson. I assured myself, as I walked home, that if veil +there was, I should to-morrow find an eyelet. But one's intuition when +it is off duty seems always a much more powerful engine than it does on +active service; and next day, at sight of Pethel awaiting me outside +his hotel, I became less confident. His, thought I, was a face which, +for all its animation, would tell nothing--nothing, at any rate, that +mattered. It expressed well enough that he was pleased to see me; but +for the rest I was reminded that it had a sort of frank inscrutability. +Besides, it was at all points so very usual a face--a face that +couldn't (so I then thought), even if it had leave to, betray +connection with a "great character." It was a strong face, certainly; +but so are yours and mine. + +And very fresh it looked, though, as he confessed, Pethel had sat up in +"that beastly baccarat-room" till five A.M. I asked, had he lost? +Yes, he had lost steadily for four hours (proudly he laid stress on +this), but in the end--well, he had won it all back "and a bit more." +"By the way," he murmured as we were about to enter the hall, "don't +ever happen to mention to my wife what I told you about that Argentine +deal. She's always rather nervous about--investments. I don't tell +her about them. She's rather a nervous woman altogether, I'm sorry to +say." + +This did not square with my preconception of her. Slave that I am to +traditional imagery, I had figured her as "flaunting," as +golden-haired, as haughty to most men, but with a provocative smile +across the shoulder for some. Nor, indeed, did her husband's words +save me the suspicion that my eyes deceived me when anon I was +presented to a very pale, small lady whose hair was rather white than +gray. And the "little daughter!" This prodigy's hair was as yet +"down," but looked as if it might be up at any moment: she was nearly +as tall as her father, whom she very much resembled in face and figure +and heartiness of hand-shake. Only after a rapid mental calculation +could I account for her. + +"I must warn you, she's in a great rage this morning," said her father. +"Do try to soothe her." She blushed, laughed, and bade her father not +be so silly. I asked her the cause of her great rage. She said: + +"He only means I was disappointed. And he was just as disappointed as +I was. WEREN'T you, now, Father?" + +"I suppose they meant well, Peggy," he laughed. + +"They were QUITE right," said Mrs. Pethel, evidently not for the first +time. + +"They," as I presently learned, were the authorities of the +bathing-establishment. Pethel had promised his daughter he would take +her for a swim; but on their arrival at the bathing-cabins they were +ruthlessly told that bathing was defendu a cause du mauvais temps. +This embargo was our theme as we sat down to luncheon. Miss Peggy was +of opinion that the French were cowards. I pleaded for them that even +in English watering-places bathing was forbidden when the sea was VERY +rough. She did not admit that the sea was very rough to-day. Besides, +she appealed to me, where was the fun of swimming in absolutely calm +water? I dared not say that this was the only sort of water I liked to +swim in. + +"They were QUITE right," said Mrs. Pethel again. + +"Yes, but, darling Mother, you can't swim. Father and I are both +splendid swimmers." + +To gloss over the mother's disability, I looked brightly at Pethel, as +though in ardent recognition of his prowess among waves. With a +movement of his head he indicated his daughter--indicated that there +was no one like her in the whole world. I beamed agreement. Indeed, I +did think her rather nice. If one liked the father (and I liked Pethel +all the more in that capacity), one couldn't help liking the daughter, +the two were so absurdly alike. Whenever he was looking at her (and it +was seldom that he looked away from her), the effect, if you cared to +be fantastic, was that of a very vain man before a mirror. It might +have occurred to me that, if there was any mystery in him, I could +solve it through her. But, in point of fact, I had forgotten all about +that possible mystery. The amateur detective was lost in the +sympathetic observer of a father's love. That Pethel did love his +daughter I have never doubted. One passion is not less true because +another predominates. No one who ever saw that father with that +daughter could doubt that he loved her intensely. And this intensity +gages for me the strength of what else was in him. + +Mrs. Pethel's love, though less explicit, was not less evidently +profound. But the maternal instinct is less attractive to an onlooker, +because he takes it more for granted than the paternal. What endeared +poor Mrs. Pethel to me was--well, the inevitability of the epithet I +give her. She seemed, poor thing, so essentially out of it; and by +"it" is meant the glowing mutual affinity of husband and child. Not +that she didn't, in her little way, assert herself during the meal. +But she did so, I thought, with the knowledge that she didn't count, +and never would count. I wondered how it was that she had, in that +Cambridge bar-room long ago, counted for Pethel to the extent of +matrimony. But from any such room she seemed so utterly remote that +she might well be in all respects now an utterly changed woman. She +did preeminently look as if much had by some means been taken out of +her, with no compensatory process of putting in. Pethel looked so very +young for his age, whereas she would have had to be really old to look +young for hers. I pitied her as one might a governess with two charges +who were hopelessly out of hand. But a governess, I reflected, can +always give notice. Love tied poor Mrs. Pethel fast to her present +situation. + +As the three of them were to start next day on their tour through +France, and as the four of us were to make a tour to Rouen this +afternoon, the talk was much about motoring, a theme which Miss Peggy's +enthusiasm made almost tolerable. I said to Mrs. Pethel, with more +good-will than truth, that I supposed she was "very keen on it." She +replied that she was. + +"But, darling Mother, you aren't. I believe you hate it. You're +ALWAYS asking father to go slower. And what IS the fun of just +crawling along?" + +"Oh, come, Peggy, we never crawl!" said her father. + +"No, indeed," said her mother in a tone of which Pethel laughingly said +it would put me off coming out with them this afternoon. I said, with +an expert air to reassure Mrs. Pethel, that it wasn't fast driving, but +only bad driving, that was a danger. + +"There, Mother!" cried Peggy. "Isn't that what we're always telling +you?" + +I felt that they were always either telling Mrs. Pethel something or, +as in the matter of that intended bath, not telling her something. It +seemed to me possible that Peggy advised her father about his +"investments." I wondered whether they had yet told Mrs. Pethel of +their intention to go on to Switzerland for some climbing. + +Of his secretiveness for his wife's sake I had a touching little +instance after luncheon. We had adjourned to have coffee in front of +the hotel. The car was already in attendance, and Peggy had darted off +to make her daily inspection of it. Pethel had given me a cigar, and +his wife presently noticed that he himself was not smoking. He +explained to her that he thought he had smoked too much lately, and +that he was going to "knock it off" for a while. I would not have +smiled if he had met my eye, but his avoidance of it made me quite sure +that he really had been "thinking over" what I had said last night +about nicotine and its possibly deleterious action on the gambling +thrill. + +Mrs. Pethel saw the smile that I could not repress. I explained that I +was wishing _I_ could knock off tobacco, and envying her husband's +strength of character. She smiled, too, but wanly, with her eyes on +him. + +"Nobody has so much strength of character as he has," she said. + +"Nonsense!" he laughed. "I'm the weakest of men." + +"Yes," she said quietly; "that's true, too, James." + +Again he laughed, but he flushed. I saw that Mrs. Pethel also had +faintly flushed, and I became horribly aware of following suit. In the +sudden glow and silence created by Mrs. Pethel's paradox, I was +grateful to the daughter for bouncing back among us, and asking how +soon we should be ready to start. + +Pethel looked at his wife, who looked at me and rather strangely asked +if I was sure I wanted to go with them. I protested that of course I +did. Pethel asked her if SHE really wanted to come. + +"You see, dear, there was the run yesterday from Calais. And to-morrow +you'll be on the road again, and all the days after." + +"Yes," said Peggy; "I'm SURE you'd much rather stay at home, darling +Mother, and have a good rest." + +"Shall we go and put on our things, Peggy?" replied Mrs. Pethel, rising +from her chair. She asked her husband whether he was taking the +chauffeur with him. He said he thought not. + +"Oh, hurrah!" cried Peggy. "Then I can be on the front seat!" + +"No, dear," said her mother. "I am sure Mr. Beerbohms would like to be +on the front seat." + +"You'd like to be with mother, wouldn't you?" the girl appealed. I +replied with all possible emphasis that I should like to be with Mrs. +Pethel. But presently, when the mother and daughter reappeared in the +guise of motorists, it became clear that my aspiration had been set +aside. "I am to be with mother," said Peggy. + +I was inwardly glad that Mrs. Pethel could, after all, assert herself +to some purpose. Had I thought she disliked me, I should have been +hurt; but I was sure her desire that I should not sit with her was due +merely to a belief that, in case of accident, a person on the front +seat was less safe than a person behind. And of course I did not +expect her to prefer my life to her daughter's. Poor lady! My heart +was with her. As the car glided along the sea-front and then under the +Norman archway, through the town, and past the environs, I wished that +her husband inspired in her as much confidence as he did in me. For me +the sight of his clear, firm profile (he did not wear motor-goggles) +was an assurance in itself. From time to time (for I, too, was +ungoggled) I looked round to nod and smile cheerfully at his wife. She +always returned the nod, but left the smile to be returned by the +daughter. + +Pethel, like the good driver he was, did not talk; just drove. But as +we came out on to the Rouen road he did say that in France he always +rather missed the British police-traps. "Not," he added, "that I've +ever fallen into one. But the chance that a policeman MAY at any +moment dart out, and land you in a bit of a scrape does rather add to +the excitement, don't you think?" Though I answered in the tone of one +to whom the chance of a police-trap is the very salt of life, I did not +inwardly like the spirit of his remark. However, I dismissed it from +my mind. The sun was shining, and the wind had dropped: it was an +ideal day for motoring, and the Norman landscape had never looked +lovelier to me in its width of sober and silvery grace. + + +*The other names in this memoir are, for good reason, pseudonyms. + + +I presently felt that this landscape was not, after all, doing itself +full justice. Was it not rushing rather too quickly past? "James!" +said a shrill, faint voice from behind, and gradually--"Oh, darling +Mother, really!" protested another voice--the landscape slackened pace. +But after a while, little by little, the landscape lost patience, +forgot its good manners, and flew faster and faster than before. The +road rushed furiously beneath us, like a river in spate. Avenues of +poplars flashed past us, every tree of them on each side hissing and +swishing angrily in the draft we made. Motors going Rouen-ward seemed +to be past as quickly as motors that bore down on us. Hardly had I +espied in the landscape ahead a chateau or other object of interest +before I was craning my neck round for a final glimpse of it as it +faded on the backward horizon. An endless uphill road was breasted and +crested in a twinkling and transformed into a decline near the end of +which our car leaped straight across to the opposite ascent, +and--"James!" again, and again by degrees the laws of nature were +reestablished, but again by degrees revoked. I did not doubt that +speed in itself was no danger; but, when the road was about to make a +sharp curve, why shouldn't Pethel, just as a matter of form, slow down +slightly, and sound a note or two of the hooter? Suppose another car +were--well, that was all right: the road was clear; but at the next +turning, when our car neither slackened nor hooted and WAS for an +instant full on the wrong side of the road, I had within me a +contraction which (at thought of what must have been if--) lasted +though all was well. Loath to betray fear, I hadn't turned my face to +Pethel. Eyes front! And how about that wagon ahead, huge hay-wagon +plodding with its back to us, seeming to occupy whole road? Surely +Pethel would slacken, hoot. No. Imagine a needle threaded with one +swift gesture from afar. Even so was it that we shot, between wagon +and road's-edge, through; whereon, confronting us within a few +yards--inches now, but we swerved--was a cart that incredibly we grazed +not as we rushed on, on. Now indeed I had turned my eyes on Pethel's +profile; and my eyes saw there that which stilled, with a greater +emotion, all fear and wonder in me. + +I think that for the first instant, oddly, what I felt was merely +satisfaction, not hatred; for I all but asked him whether, by not +smoking to-day, he had got a keener edge to his thrills. I understood +him, and for an instant this sufficed me. Those pursed-out lips, so +queerly different from the compressed lips of the normal motorist, and +seeming, as elsewhere last night, to denote no more than pensive +interest, had told me suddenly all that I needed to know about Pethel. +Here, as there,--and, oh, ever so much better here than there!--he +could gratify the passion that was in him. No need of any +"make-believe" here. I remembered the queer look he had given when I +asked if his gambling were always "a life-and-death affair." Here was +the real thing, the authentic game, for the highest stakes. And here +was I, a little extra stake tossed on to the board. He had vowed I had +it in me to do "something big." Perhaps, though, there had been a +touch of make-believe about that. I am afraid it was not before my +thought about myself that my moral sense began to operate and my hatred +of Pethel set in. Put it to my credit that I did see myself as a mere +detail in his villainy. You deprecate the word "villainy"? Understand +all, forgive all? No doubt. But between the acts of understanding and +forgiving an interval may sometimes be condoned. Condone it in this +instance. Even at the time I gave Pethel due credit for risking his +own life, for having doubtless risked it--it and none other--again and +again in the course of his adventurous (and abstemious) life by field +and flood. I was even rather touched by memory of his insistence last +night on another glass of that water which just MIGHT give him typhoid; +rather touched by memory of his unsaying that he "never" touched +alcohol--he who, in point of fact, had to be ALWAYS gambling on +something or other. I gave him due credit, too, for his devotion to +his daughter. But his use of that devotion, his cold use of it to +secure for himself the utmost thrill of hazard, did seem utterly +abominable to me. + +And it was even more for the mother than for the daughter that I was +incensed. That daughter did not know him, did but innocently share his +damnable love of chances; but that wife had for years known him at +least as well as I knew him now. Here again I gave him credit for +wishing, though he didn't love her, to spare her what he could. That +he didn't love her I presumed from his indubitable willingness not to +stake her in this afternoon's game. That he never had loved her--had +taken her in his precocious youth simply as a gigantic chance against +him, was likely enough. So much the more credit to him for such +consideration as he showed her, though this was little enough. He +could wish to save her from being a looker-on at his game, but he +could--he couldn't not--go on playing. Assuredly she was right in +deeming him at once the strongest and the weakest of men. "Rather a +nervous woman!" I remembered an engraving that had hung in my room at +Oxford, and in scores of other rooms there: a presentment by Sir Marcus +(then Mr.) Stone of a very pretty young person in a Gainsborough hat, +seated beneath an ancestral elm, looking as though she were about to +cry, and entitled "A Gambler's Wife." Mrs. Pethel was not like that. +Of her there were no engravings for undergraduate hearts to melt at. +But there was one man, certainly, whose compassion was very much at her +service. How was he going to help her? + +I know not how many hair's-breadth escapes we may have had while these +thoughts passed through my brain. I had closed my eyes. So +preoccupied was I that but for the constant rush of air against my face +I might, for aught I knew, have been sitting ensconced in an armchair +at home. After a while I was aware that this rush had abated; I opened +my eyes to the old familiar streets of Rouen. We were to have tea at +the Hotel d'Angleterre. What was to be my line of action? Should I +take Pethel aside and say: "Swear to me, on your word of honor as a +gentleman, that you will never again touch the driving-gear, or +whatever you call it, of a motor-car. Otherwise, I shall expose you to +the world. Meanwhile, we shall return to Dieppe by train"? He might +flush (for I knew him capable of flushing) as he asked me to explain. +And after? He would laugh in my face. He would advise me not to go +motoring any more. He might even warn me not to go back to Dieppe in +one of those dangerous railway-trains. He might even urge me to wait +until a nice Bath chair had been sent out for me from England. + +I heard a voice (mine, alas!) saying brightly, "Well, here we are!" I +helped the ladies to descend. Tea was ordered. Pethel refused that +stimulant and had a glass of water. I had a liqueur brandy. It was +evident to me that tea meant much to Mrs. Pethel. She looked stronger +after her second cup, and younger after her third. Still, it was my +duty to help her if I could. While I talked and laughed, I did not +forget that. But what on earth was I to do? I am no hero. I hate to +be ridiculous. I am inveterately averse to any sort of fuss. Besides, +how was I to be sure that my own personal dread of the return journey +hadn't something to do with my intention of tackling Pethel? I rather +thought it had. What this woman would dare daily because she was a +mother could not I dare once? I reminded myself of this man's +reputation for invariable luck. I reminded myself that he was an +extraordinarily skilful driver. To that skill and luck I would pin my +faith. + +What I seem to myself, do you ask of me? + +But I answered your question a few lines back. Enough that my faith +was rewarded: we did arrive safely in Dieppe. I still marvel that we +did. + +That evening, in the vestibule of the casino, Grierson came up to me. + +"Seen Jimmy Pethel?" he asked. "He was asking for you. Wants to see +you particularly. He's in the baccarat-room, punting, winning hand +over fist, OF course. Said he'd seldom met a man he liked more than +you. Great character, what?" + +One is always glad to be liked, and I pleaded guilty to a moment's +gratification at the announcement that Pethel liked me. But I did not +go and seek him in the baccarat-room. A great character assuredly he +was, but of a kind with which (I say it at the risk of seeming +priggish) I prefer not to associate. + +Why he had particularly wanted to see me was made clear in a note sent +by him to my room early next morning. He wondered if I could be +induced to join them in their little tour. He hoped I wouldn't think +it great cheek, his asking me. He thought it might rather amuse me to +come. It would be a very great pleasure to his wife. He hoped I +wouldn't say no. Would I send a line by bearer? They would be +starting at three o'clock. He was mine sincerely. + +It was not too late to tackle him even now. Should I go round to his +hotel? I hesitated and--well, I told you at the outset that my last +meeting with him was on the morrow of my first. I forget what I wrote +to him, but am sure that the excuse I made for myself was a good and +graceful one, and that I sent my kindest regards to Mrs. Pethel. She +had not (I am sure of that, too) authorized her husband to say she +would like me to come with them. Else would not the thought of her, +the pity of her, have haunted me, as it did for a very long time. I do +not know whether she is still alive. No mention is made of her in the +obituary notice which awoke these memories in me. This notice I will, +however, transcribe, because it is, for all its crudeness of +phraseology, rather interesting both as an echo and as an +amplification. Its title is "Death of Wealthy Aviator," and its text +is: + + +Wide-spread regret will be felt in Leicestershire at the tragic death +of Mr. James Pethel, who had long resided there and was very popular as +an all-round sportsman. In recent years he had been much interested in +aviation, and had had a private aerodrome erected on his property. +Yesterday afternoon he fell down dead quite suddenly as he was +returning to his house, apparently in his usual health and spirits, +after descending from a short flight which despite a strong wind he had +made on a new type of aeroplane, and on which he was accompanied by his +married daughter and her infant son. It is not expected that an +inquest will be necessary, as his physician, Dr. Saunders, has +certified death to be due to heart-disease, from which, it appears, the +deceased gentleman had been suffering for many years. Dr. Saunders +adds that he had repeatedly warned deceased that any strain on the +nervous system might prove fatal. + + +Thus--for I presume that his ailment had its origin in his +habits--James Pethel did not, despite that merely pensive look of his, +live his life with impunity. And by reason of that life he died. As +for the manner of his death, enough that he did die. Let not our +hearts be vexed that his great luck was with him to the end. + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: I have closed contractions in the text; e.g., +"does n't" has become "doesn't" etc.] + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of James Pethel, by Max Beerbohm + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAMES PETHEL *** + +***** This file should be named 759.txt or 759.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/5/759/ + +Produced by Judith Boss. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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