Miss Crewe was born in the year 1821. She
received a sort of education, and at the age of twenty became the governess of
a little girl, eight years old, called Martha Bond. She was Martha's governess
for the next ten years. Then Martha came out and Miss Crewe went to be the
governess of somebody else. Martha married Mr. William Harper. A year later she
gave birth to a son, who was named Edward. This brings us to the year 1853.
Twelve years passed and Mrs. Harper died,
recommending Miss Crewe to her husband's care, for Miss Crewe had recently been
smitten by an incurable disease which made it impossible for her to be a
governess any longer.
Mr. Harper, who had passionately loved
his wife, gave instructions to his solicitor to pay Miss Crewe the sum of one
hundred and fifty pounds annually. He had some thoughts of buying her an
annuity, but she seemed so ill that he didn't. Edward was now twenty-two.
In the year 1888, Mr. Harper died after a
very short illness. He had expected Miss Crewe to die any day during the past
thirteen years, but since she hadn't he thought it proper now to recommend her
to Edward's care. This is how he did it.
"That confounded old Crewe , Eddie. You'll have to see to her. Let her have her
money as before, but for the Lord's sake don't go and buy her an annuity now.
If you do, she'll die on your hands in a week!" Shortly afterwards the old
gentleman passed away.
Edward was now thirty-five. Miss Crewe
was sixty-seven and reported to be in an almost desperate state. Edward
followed his father's advice. He bought no annuity for Miss Crewe. Her one
hundred and fifty pounds continued to be paid each year into her bank; but by
Edward, not by his late father's solicitors.
Edward had his own ideas of managing the
considerable fortune which he had inherited. These ideas were unsound. The
first of them was that he should assume the entire direction of his own
affairs. Accordingly he instructed his solicitors to realise all the mortgages
and railway-stock and other admirable securities in which his money was
invested and hand over the cash to him. He then went in for the highest rate of
interest which anyone would promise him. The consequence was that, within
twelve years, he was almost a poor man, his annual income having dwindled from
about three thousand to about four hundred pounds.
Though he was a fool he was an honourable
man, and so he continued to pay Miss Crewe her one hundred and fifty pounds
each year. This left him about two hundred and fifty for himself. The capital
which his so reduced income represented was invested in a Mexican brewery in
which he had implicit faith. Nevertheless, he began to think that he might do
well were he to try to earn a little extra money.
The only thing he could do was to paint,
not at all well, in water-colours. He became the pupil, quite seriously, of a
young artist whom he knew. He was now forty-seven years old, while Miss Crewe was
seventy-nine. The year was 1900.
To everybody's amazement Edward soon
began to make quite good progress in his painting. Yes, his pictures were not
at all unpleasant little things. He sent one of them to the Academy. It was
accepted. It was, as I live, sold for ten pounds. Edward was an artist.
Soon he was making between thirty and
forty pounds a year. Then he was making over a hundred. Then two hundred. Then
the Mexican brewery failed, General Malefico having burned it to the ground for
a lark.
This happened in the spring of 1914 when
Edward was sixty-one and Miss Crewe was ninety-three. Edward, after paying her
money to Miss Crewe, might flatter himself on the possibility of having some
fifty pounds a year for himself, that is to say, if his picture sales did not
decline. A single man can, however, get along, more or less, on fifty pounds
more or less.
Then the Great War broke out.
It has been said that in the autumn of
1914 the Old Men came into their kingdom. As the fields of Britain
Edward could do nothing but paint rather
agreeable water-colours, and that was all. The market for his kind of work was
shut. A patriotic nation was economising in order to get five per cent on the
War Loans. People were not giving inexpensive little water-colours away to one
another as wedding gifts any longer. Only the painters of high reputation,
whose work was regarded as a real investment, could dispose of their wares.
Starvation stared Edward in the face, not
only his own starvation, you understand, but Miss Crewe's. And Edward was a man
of honour.
He hated Miss Crewe intensely, but he had
undertaken to provide for her, and provide for her he must—even if he failed to
provide for himself.
He wrapped some samples of his paintings
in brown paper, and began to seek for a job among the wholesale stationers. He
offered himself as one who was prepared to design Christmas-cards and
calendars, and things of the kind.
Adversity had sharpened his wits. Even
the wholesale stationers were not turning white-headed men from their portals.
To Edward was accorded the privilege of displaying the rather agreeable
contents of his parcel. After he had unpacked it and packed it up again some
thirty times he was offered work. His pictures were really rather agreeable. It
was piecework, and he was to do it off the premises, no matter where. By
toiling day and night he might be able to earn as much as £4 a week. He went away and toiled. His
employers were pleased with what, each Monday, he brought them. They did not
offer to increase his remuneration, but they encouraged him to produce, and
took practically everything he offered. Edward was very fortunate.
During the first year of the war he lived
like a beast, worked like a slave, and earned exactly enough to keep his soul
in his body and pay Miss Crewe her one hundred and fifty pounds. During the
second year of the war he did it again. The fourth year of the war found him
still alive and still punctual to his obligations towards Miss Crewe.
Miss Crewe, however, found one hundred
and fifty pounds no longer what it had been. Prices were rising in every
direction. She wrote to Edward pointing this out, and asking him if he couldn't
see his way to increasing her allowance. She invoked the memory of his dear
mother and father, added something about the happy hours that he and she had
spent together in the dear old school-room, and signed herself his
affectionately.
Edward petitioned for an increase of pay.
He pointed out to his firm of wholesale stationers that prices were rising in
every direction. The firm, who knew when they had a marketable thing cheap,
granted his petition. Henceforth Edward was able to earn five pounds a week. He
increased Miss Crewe's allowance by fifty pounds, and continued to live more
like a beast than ever, for the price of paper and paints was soaring. He
worked practically without ceasing, save to sleep (which he could not do) and
to eat (which he could not afford). He was now sixty-four, while Miss Crewe was
rising ninety-seven.
Edward had been ailing for a long time.
On Armistice Day he struck work for an hour in order to walk about in the streets
and share in the general rejoicing. He caught a severe cold, and the next day,
instead of staying between his blankets (he had no sheets), he went up to the
City with some designs which he had just completed. That night he was feverish.
The next night he was delirious. The third night he was dead, and there was an
end of him.
He had, however, managed, before he died
(two days before), to send to
Miss Crewe a money order for her quarter's allowance of fifty pounds.
This had left him with precisely four shillings and twopence in the
Post Office Savings Bank.
Miss Crewe a money order for her quarter's allowance of fifty pounds.
This had left him with precisely four shillings and twopence in the
Post Office Savings Bank.
He was, consequently, buried by the
parish.
Miss Crewe received her money. She was
delighted to have it, and at once wrote to Edward her customary letter of
grateful and affectionate thanks. She added in a post-script that if he could
find it in his generous heart to let her have a still little more next quarter
it would be most acceptable, because every day seemed to make it harder and
harder for her to get along.
Edward was dead when this letter was delivered.
Miss Crewe sent her money order to her
bank, asking that it might be placed to her deposit account. This she reminded
the bank, would bring up the amount of her deposit to exactly two thousand
pounds.
