The Pensioner by
(From The Graphic)
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.
When Edward was six, Miss Crewe came back, to be his governess. Four
years later he went to school and Miss Crewe went away to be the
governess of somebody else. She was now forty-two years old.
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
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 were gradually stripped bare of
their valid toilers, the Fathers of each village assumed, at good
wages, the burden of agriculture. From their offices the juniors
departed or were torn; the senior clerks carried on desperately until
the Girls were introduced. No man was any longer too old at forty.
Octogenarians could command a salary. The very cinemas were glad to
dress up ancient fellows in uniform and post them on their doorsteps.
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
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 L4
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
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.
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.