The History of Pendennis, Volume 2

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER VI.

  A CHAPTER OF CONVERSATIONS.

  Every day, after the entertainments at Grosvenor-place and Greenwich,of which we have seen Major Pendennis partake, the worthy gentleman'sfriendship and cordiality for the Clavering family seemed to increase.His calls were frequent; his attentions to the lady of the houseunremitting. An old man about town, he had the good fortune to bereceived in many houses, at which a lady of Lady Clavering'sdistinction ought also to be seen. Would her ladyship not like to bepresent at the grand entertainment at Gaunt House? There was to be avery pretty breakfast ball at Viscount Marrowfat's, at Fulham. Everybody was to be there (including august personages of the highestrank), and there was to be a Watteau quadrille, in which Miss Amorywould surely look charming. To these and other amusements theobsequious old gentleman kindly offered to conduct Lady Clavering, andwas also ready to make himself useful to the baronet in any wayagreeable to the latter.

  In spite of his present station and fortune, the world persisted inlooking rather coldly upon Clavering, and strange suspicious rumorsfollowed him about. He was blackballed at two clubs in succession. Inthe house of commons, he only conversed with a few of the mostdisreputable members of that famous body, having a happy knack ofchoosing bad society, and adapting himself naturally to it, as otherpeople do to the company of their betters. To name all the senatorswith whom Clavering consorted, would be invidious. We may mentiononly a few. There was Captain Raff, the honorable member for Epsom,who retired after the last Goodwood races, having accepted, as Mr.Hotspur, the whip of the party, said, a mission to the Levant; therewas Hustingson, the patriotic member for Islington, whose voice isnever heard now denunciating corruption, since his appointment to theGovernorship of Coventry Island; there was Bob Freeny, of theBooterstown Freenys, who is a dead shot, and of whom we therefore wishto speak with every respect; and of all these gentlemen, with whom inthe course of his professional duty Mr. Hotspur had to confer, therewas none for whom he had a more thorough contempt and dislike than forSir Francis Clavering, the representative of an ancient race, who hadsat for their own borough of Clavering time out of mind in the house."If that man is wanted for a division," Hotspur said, "ten to one heis to be found in a hell. He was educated in the Fleet, and he has notheard the end of Newgate yet, take my word for it. He'll muddle awaythe Begum's fortune at thimble-rig, be caught picking pockets, andfinish on board the hulks." And if the high-born Hotspur, with such anopinion of Clavering, could yet from professional reasons be civil tohim, why should not Major Pendennis also have reasons of his own forbeing attentive to this unlucky gentleman?

  "He has a very good cellar and a very good cook," the major said; "aslong as he is silent he is not offensive, and he very seldom speaks.If he chooses to frequent gambling-tables, and lose his money toblacklegs, what matters to me? Don't look too curiously into any man'saffairs, Pen, my boy; every fellow has some cupboard in his house,begad, which he would not like you and me to peep into. Why should wetry, when the rest of the house is open to us? And a devilish goodhouse, too, as you and I know. And if the man of the family is not allone could wish, the women are excellent. The Begum is notover-refined, but as kind a woman as ever lived, and devilish clevertoo; and as for the little Blanche, you know my opinion about her, yourogue; you know my belief is that she is sweet on you, and would haveyou for the asking. But you are growing such a great man, that Isuppose you won't be content under a duke's daughter--Hey, sir? Irecommend you to ask one of them, and try."

  Perhaps Pen was somewhat intoxicated by his success in the world; andit may also have entered into the young man's mind (his uncle'sperpetual hints serving not a little to encourage the notion) thatMiss Amory was tolerably well disposed to renew the little flirtationwhich had been carried on in the early days of both of them, by thebanks of the rural Brawl. But he was little disposed to marriage, hesaid, at that moment, and, adopting some of his uncle's worldly tone,spoke rather contemptuously of the institution, and in favor of abachelor life.

  "You are very happy, sir," said he, "and you get on very well alone,and so do I. With a wife at my side, I should lose my place insociety; and I don't, for my part, much fancy retiring into thecountry with a Mrs. Pendennis; or taking my wife into lodgings to bewaited upon by the servant-of-all-work. The period of my littleillusions is over. You cured me of my first love, who certainly wasa fool, and would have had a fool for her husband, and a very sulky,discontented husband, too, if she had taken me. We young fellows livefast, sir; and I feel as old at five-and-twenty as many of the oldfo--, the old bachelors--whom I see in the bay-window at Bays's. Don'tlook offended, I only mean that I am _blase_ about love matters, andthat I could no more fan myself into a flame for Miss Amory now, thanI could adore Lady Mirabel over again. I wish I could; I rather likeold Mirabel for his infatuation about her, and think his passion isthe most respectable part of his life."

  "Sir Charles Mirabel was always a theatrical man, sir," the majorsaid, annoyed that his nephew should speak flippantly of any person ofSir Charles's rank and station. "He has been occupied with theatricalssince his early days. He acted at Carlton House when he was page tothe prince; he has been mixed up with that sort of thing; he couldafford to marry whom he chooses; and Lady Mirabel is a mostrespectable woman, received every where--every where, mind. TheDuchess of Connaught receives her, Lady Rockminster receives her--itdoesn't become young fellows to speak lightly of people in thatstation. There's not a more respectable woman in England than LadyMirabel: and the old fogies, as you call them at Bays's, are some ofthe first gentlemen in England, of whom you youngsters had best learna little manners, and a little breeding, and a little modesty." Andthe major began to think that Pen was growing exceedingly pert andconceited, and that the world made a great deal too much of him.

  The major's anger amused Pen. He studied his uncle's peculiaritieswith a constant relish, and was always in a good humor with hisworldly old Mentor. "I am a youngster of fifteen years standing, sir,"he said, adroitly, "and if you think that _we_ are disrespectful, youshould see those of the present generation. A protege of yours came tobreakfast with me the other day. You told me to ask him, and I did itto please you. We had a day's sights together, and dined at the club,and went to the play. He said the wine at the Polyanthus was not sogood as Ellis's wine at Richmond, smoked Warrington's cavendish afterbreakfast, and when I gave him a sovereign as a farewell token, saidhe had plenty of them, but would take it to show he wasn't proud."

  "Did he?--did you ask young Clavering?" cried the major, appeased atonce, "fine boy, rather wild, but a fine boy--parents like that sortof attention, and you can't do better than pay it to our worthyfriends of Grosvenor-place. And so you took him to the play and tippedhim? That was right, sir, that was right;" with which Mentor quittedTelemachus, thinking that the young men were not so very bad, and thathe should make something of that fellow yet.

  As Master Clavering grew into years and stature, he became too strongfor the authority of his fond parents and governess; and rathergoverned them than permitted himself to be led by their orders. Withhis papa he was silent and sulky, seldom making his appearance,however, in the neighborhood of that gentleman; with his mamma heroared and fought when any contest between them arose as to thegratification of his appetite, or other wish of his heart; and in hisdisputes with his governess over his book, he kicked that quietcreature's shins so fiercely, that she was entirely overmastered andsubdued by him. And he would have so treated his sister Blanche, too,and did on one or two occasions attempt to prevail over her; but sheshowed an immense resolution and spirit on her part, and boxed hisears so soundly, that he forebore from molesting Miss Amory, as he didthe governess and his mamma, and his mamma's maid.

  At length, when the family came to London, Sir Francis gave forth hisopinion that "the little beggar had best be sent to school."Accordingly, the young son and heir of the house of Clavering wasdispatched to the Rev. Otto Rose's establishment at Twickenham, whereyoung noblemen and gentlemen were receive
d preparatory to theirintroduction to the great English public schools.

  It is not our intention to follow Master Clavering in his scholasticcareer; the paths to the Temple of learning were made more easy to himthan they were to some of us of earlier generations. He advancedtoward that fane in a carriage-and-four, so to speak, and might haltand take refreshments almost whenever he pleased. He wore varnishedboots from the earliest period of youth, and had cambric handkerchiefsand lemon-colored kid gloves of the smallest size ever manufactured byPrivat. They dressed regularly at Mr. Rose's to come down to dinner;the young gentlemen had shawl dressing-gowns, fires in their bedrooms;horse and carriage exercise occasionally, and oil for their hair.Corporal punishment was altogether dispensed with by the principal,who thought that moral discipline was entirely sufficient to leadyouth; and the boys were so rapidly advanced in many branches oflearning, that they acquired the art of drinking spirits and smokingcigars, even before they were old enough to enter a public school.Young Frank Clavering stole his father's Havannas, and conveyed themto school, or smoked them in the stables, at a surprisingly earlyperiod of life, and at ten years old drank his Champagne almost asstoutly as any whiskered cornet of dragoons could do.

  When this interesting youth came home for his vacations, MajorPendennis was as laboriously civil and gracious to him as he was tothe rest of the family; although the boy had rather a contempt for oldWigsby, as the major was denominated, mimicked him behind his back, asthe polite major bowed and smirked with Lady Clavering or Miss Amory;and drew rude caricatures, such as are designed by ingenious youths,in which the major's wig, his nose, his tie, &c., were representedwith artless exaggeration. Untiring in his efforts to be agreeable,the major wished that Pen, too, should take particular notice of thischild; incited Arthur to invite him to his chambers, to give him adinner at the club, to take him to Madame Tussaud's, the Tower, theplay, and so forth, and to tip him, as the phrase is, at the end ofthe day's pleasures. Arthur, who was good-natured and fond ofchildren, went through all these ceremonies one day; had the boy tobreakfast at the Temple, where he made the most contemptuous remarksregarding the furniture, the crockery, and the tattered state ofWarrington's dressing-gown; and smoked a short pipe, and recounted thehistory of a fight between Tuffy and Long Biggings, at Rose's, greatlyto the edification of the two gentlemen his hosts.

  As the major rightly predicted, Lady Clavering was very grateful forArthur's attention to the boy; more grateful than the lad himself, whotook attentions as a matter of course, and very likely had moresovereigns in his pocket than poor Pen, who generously gave him one ofhis own slender stock of those coins.

  The major, with the sharp eyes with which nature endowed him, and withthe glasses of age and experience, watched this boy, and surveyed hisposition in the family without seeming to be rudely curious abouttheir affairs. But, as a country neighbor, one who had many familyobligations to the Claverings, an old man of the world, he tookoccasion to find out what Lady Clavering's means were, how her capitalwas disposed, and what the boy was to inherit. And setting himself towork, for what purposes will appear, no doubt, ulteriorly, he soon hadgot a pretty accurate knowledge of Lady Clavering's affairs andfortune, and of the prospects of her daughter and son. The daughterwas to have but a slender provision; the bulk of the property was, asbefore has been said, to go to the son, his father did not care forhim or any body else, his mother was dotingly fond of him as the childof her latter days, his sister disliked him. Such may be stated, inround numbers, to be the result of the information which MajorPendennis got. "Ah! my dear madam," he would say, patting the head ofthe boy, "this boy may wear a baron's coronet on his head on somefuture coronation, if matters are but managed rightly, and if SirFrancis Clavering would but play his cards well."

  At this the widow Amory heaved a deep sigh. "He plays only too much ofhis cards, major, I'm afraid," she said. The major owned that he knewas much; did not disguise that he had heard of Sir Francis Clavering'sunfortunate propensity to play; pitied Lady Clavering sincerely; butspoke with such genuine sentiment and sense, that her ladyship, gladto find a person of experience to whom she could confide her grief andher condition, talked about them pretty unreservedly to MajorPendennis, and was eager to have his advice and consolation. MajorPendennis became the Begum's confidante and house-friend, and as amother, a wife, and a capitalist, she consulted him.

  He gave her to understand (showing at the same time a great deal ofrespectful sympathy) that he was acquainted with some of thecircumstances of her first unfortunate marriage, and with even theperson of her late husband, whom he remembered in Calcutta--when shewas living in seclusion with her father. The poor lady, with tears ofshame more than of grief in her eyes, told her version of her story.Going back a child to India after two years at a European school, shehad met Amory, and foolishly married him. "O, you don't know howmiserable that man made me," she said, "or what a life I passedbetween him and my father. Before I saw him I had never seen a manexcept my father's clerks and native servants. You know we didn't gointo society in India on account of--" ("I know," said Major Pendennis,with a bow). "I was a wild romantic child, my head was full of novelswhich I'd read at school--I listened to his wild stories and adventures,for he was a daring fellow, and I thought he talked beautifully of thosecalm nights on the passage out, when he used to... Well, I married him,and was wretched from that day--wretched with my father, whose characteryou know, Major Pendennis, and I won't speak of: but he wasn't a goodman, sir--neither to my poor mother, nor to me, except that he left mehis money--nor to no one else that I ever heard of: and he didn't domany kind actions in his lifetime, I'm afraid. And as for Amory he wasalmost worse; he was a spendthrift, when my father was close: he drankdreadfully, and was furious when in that way. He wasn't in any way agood or a faithful husband to me, Major Pendennis; and if he'd died inthe jail before his trial, instead of afterward, he would have savedme a deal of shame and unhappiness since, sir." Lady Clavering added:"For perhaps I should not have married at all if I had not been soanxious to change his horrid name, and I have not been happy in mysecond husband, as I suppose you know, sir. Ah, Major Pendennis, I'vegot money to be sure, and I'm a lady, and people fancy I'm very happy,but I ain't. We all have our cares, and griefs, and troubles: andmany's the day that I sit down to one of my grand dinners with anaching heart, and many a night do I lay awake on my fine bed, a greatdeal more unhappy than the maid that makes it. For I'm not a happywoman, major, for all the world says; and envies the Begum herdiamonds, and carriages, and the great company that comes to my house.I'm not happy in my husband; I'm not happy in my daughter. She ain't agood girl like that dear Laura Bell at Fairoaks. She's cost me many atear though you don't see 'em; and she sneers at her mother because Ihaven't had learning and that. How should I? I was brought up amongnatives till I was twelve, and went back to India when I was fourteen.Ah, major I should have been a good woman if I had had a good husband.And now I must go up-stairs and wipe my eyes, for they're red withcryin'. And Lady Rockminster's a-comin, and we're goin to 'ave a drivein the Park. And when Lady Rockminster made her appearance, there wasnot a trace of tears or vexation on Lady Clavering's face, but she wasfull of spirits, and bounced out with her blunders and talk, andmurdered the king's English, with the utmost liveliness andgood humor.

  "Begad, she is not such a bad woman!" the major thought withinhimself. "She is not refined, certainly, and calls 'Apollo' 'Apoller;'but she has some heart, and I like that sort of thing, and a devilishdeal of money, too. Three stars in India Stock to her name, begad!which that young cub is to have--is he?" And he thought how he shouldlike to see a little of the money transferred to Miss Blanche, and,better still, one of those stars shining in the name of Mr. ArthurPendennis.

  Still bent upon pursuing his schemes, whatsoever they might be, theold negotiator took the privilege of his intimacy and age, to talk ina kindly and fatherly manner to Miss Blanche, when he found occasionto see her alone. He came in so frequently at luncheon-time, andbecame so
familiar with the ladies, that they did not even hesitate toquarrel before him: and Lady Clavering, whose tongue was loud, andtemper brusk, had many a battle with the Sylphide in the familyfriend's presence. Blanche's wit seldom failed to have the mastery inthese encounters, and the keen barbs of her arrows drove her adversarydiscomfited away. "I am an old fellow," the major said; "I havenothing to do in life. I have my eyes open. I keep good counsel. I amthe friend of both of you; and if you choose to quarrel before me,why I shan't tell any one. But you are two good people, and I intendto make it up between you. I have between lots of people--husbands andwives, fathers and sons, daughters and mammas, before this. I like it;I've nothing else to do."

  One day, then, the old diplomatist entered Lady Clavering's drawing-room,just as the latter quitted it, evidently in a high state ofindignation, and ran past him up the stairs to her own apartments."She couldn't speak to him now," she said; "she was a great deal tooangry with that--that--that little, wicked"--anger choked the rest ofthe words, or prevented their utterance until Lady Clavering hadpassed out of hearing.

  "My dear, good Miss Amory," the major said, entering the drawing-room,"I see what is happening. You and mamma have been disagreeing.Mothers and daughters disagree in the best families. It was but lastweek that I healed up a quarrel between Lady Clapperton and herdaughter Lady Claudia. Lady Lear and her eldest daughter have notspoken for fourteen years. Kinder and more worthy people than these Inever knew in the whole course of my life; for every body but eachother admirable. But they can't live together: they oughtn't to livetogether: and I wish, my dear creature, with all my soul, that I couldsee you with an establishment of your own--for there is no woman inLondon who could conduct one better--with your own establishment,making your own home happy."

  "I am not very happy in this one," said the Sylphide; "and thestupidity of mamma is enough to provoke a saint."

  "Precisely so; you are not suited to one another. Your mothercommitted one fault in early life--or was it Nature, my dear, in yourcase?--she ought not to have educated you. You ought not to have beenbred up to become the refined and intellectual being you are,surrounded, as I own you are, by those who have not your genius oryour refinement. Your place would be to lead in the most brilliantcircles, not to follow, and take a second place in any society. I havewatched you, Miss Amory: you are ambitious; and your proper sphere iscommand. You ought to shine; and you never can in this house, I knowit. I hope I shall see you in another and a happier one, some day, andthe mistress of it."

  The Sylphide shrugged her lily shoulders with a look of scorn "Whereis the prince, and where is the palace, Major Pendennis?" she said. "Iam ready. But there is no romance in the world now, no realaffection."

  "No, indeed," said the major, with the most sentimental and simple airwhich he could muster.

  "Not that I know any thing about it," said Blanche, casting her eyesdown, "except what I have read in novels."

  "Of course not," Major Pendennis cried; "how should you, my dear younglady? and novels ain't true, as you remark admirably, and there is noromance left in the world. Begad, I wish I was a young fellow, like mynephew." "And what," continued Miss Amory, musing, "what are the menwhom we see about at the balls every night--dancing guardsmen,penniless treasury clerks--boobies! If I had my brother's fortune, Imight have such an establishment as you promise me--but with my name,and with my little means, what am I to look to? A country parson, or abarrister in a street near Russell-square, or a captain in adragoon-regiment, who will take lodgings for me, and come home fromthe mess tipsy and smelling of smoke like Sir Francis Clavering. Thatis how we girls are destined to end life. O Major Pendennis, I am sickof London, and of balls, and of young dandies with their chin-tips,and of the insolent great ladies who know us one day and cut us thenext--and of the world altogether. I should like to leave it and to gointo a convent, that I should. I shall never find any body tounderstand me. And I live here as much alone in my family and in theworld, as if I were in a cell locked up for ever. I wish there wereSisters of Charity here, and that I could be one, and catch theplague, and die of it--I wish to quit the world. I am not very old:but I am tired, I have suffered so much--I've been sodisillusionated--I'm weary, I'm weary--O that the Angel of Death wouldcome and beckon me away!"

  This speech may be interpreted as follows. A few nights since a greatlady, Lady Flamingo, had cut Miss Amory and Lady Clavering. She wasquite mad because she could not get an invitation to Lady Drum's ball:it was the end of the season and nobody had proposed to her: she hadmade no sensation at all, she who was so much cleverer than any girlof the year, and of the young ladies forming her special circle. Dorawho had but five thousand pounds, Flora who had nothing, and Leonorawho had red hair, were going to be married, and nobody had come forBlanche Amory.

  "You judge wisely about the world, and about your position, my dearMiss Blanche," the major said. "The prince don't marry nowadays, asyou say: unless the princess has a doosid deal of money in the funds,or is a lady of his own rank. The young folks of the great familiesmarry into the great families: if they haven't fortune they have eachother's shoulders, to push on in the world, which is pretty nearly asgood. A girl with your fortune can scarcely hope for a great match:but a girl with your genius and your admirable tact and fine manners,with a clever husband by her side, may make _any_ place for herself inthe world. We are grown doosid republican. Talent ranks with birth andwealth now, begad: and a clever man with a clever wife, may take anyplace they please."

  Miss Amory did not of course in the least understand what MajorPendennis meant. Perhaps she thought over circumstances in her mind,and asked herself, could he be a negotiator for a former suitor ofhers, and could he mean Pen? No, it was impossible; he had been civil,but nothing more. So she said, laughing, "Who is the clever man, andwhen will you bring him to me, Major Pendennis? I am dying to seehim." At this moment a servant threw open the door, and announcedMr. Henry Foker: at which name, and at the appearance of our friendboth the lady and the gentleman burst out laughing.

  "That is not the man," Major Pendennis said. "He is engaged to hiscousin, Lord Gravesend's daughter. Good-by, my dear Miss Amory."

  Was Pen growing worldly, and should a man not get the experience ofthe world and lay it to his account? "He felt, for his part," as hesaid, "that he was growing very old very soon. How this town forms andchanges us," he said once to Warrington. Each had come in from hisnight's amusement; and Pen was smoking his pipe, and recounting, ashis habit was, to his friend the observations and adventures of theevening just past. "How I am changed," he said, "from the simpletonboy at Fairoaks, who was fit to break his heart about his first love?Lady Mirabel had a reception to-night, and was as grave and collectedas if she had been born a duchess, and had never seen a trap-door inher life. She gave me the honor of a conversation, and patronized meabout Walter Lorraine, quite kindly."

  "What condescension," broke in Warrington.

  "Wasn't it?" Pen said, simply; at which the other burst out laughingaccording to his wont. "Is it possible," he said, "that any bodyshould think of patronizing the eminent author of Walter Lorraine?"

  "You laugh at both of us," Pen said, blushing a little: "I was comingto that myself. She told me that she had not read the book (as indeedI believe she never read a book in her life), but that LadyRockminster had, and that the Duchess of Connaught pronounced it to bevery clever. In that case, I said I should die happy, for that toplease those two ladies was in fact the great aim of my existence, andhaving their approbation, of course I need look for no other. LadyMirabel looked at me solemnly out of her fine eyes, and said, 'Oindeed,' as if she understood me, and then she asked me whether I wentto the duchess's Thursdays; and when I said no, hoped she should seeme there, and that I must try and get there, every body went there--every body who was in society: and then we talked of the newembassador from Timbuctoo, and how he was better than the old one; andhow Lady Mary Billington was going to marry a clergyman quite belowher in rank; and how Lord and Lady Ri
ngdove had fallen out threemonths after their marriage about Tom Pouter of the Blues, LadyRingdove's cousin, and so forth. From the gravity of that woman youwould have fancied she had been born in a palace, and lived all theseasons of her life in Belgrave-square."

  "And you, I suppose you took your part in the conversation prettywell, as the descendant of the earl your father, and the heir ofFairoaks Castle?" Warrington said. "Yes, I remember reading of thefestivities which occurred when you came of age. The countess gave abrilliant tea soiree to the neighboring nobility; and the tenantrywere regaled in the kitchen with a leg of mutton and a quart of ale.The remains of the banquet were distributed among the poor of thevillage, and the entrance to the park was illuminated until old Johnput the candle out on retiring to rest at his usual hour."

  "My mother is not a countess," said Pen, "though she has very goodblood in her veins, too; but commoner as she is, I have never met apeeress who was more than her peer, Mr. George; and if you will cometo Fairoaks Castle you shall judge for yourself of her and of mycousin too. They are not so witty as the London women, but theycertainly are as well bred. The thoughts of women in the country areturned to other objects than those which occupy your London ladies. Inthe country a woman has her household and her poor, her long calm daysand long calm evenings."

  "Devilish long," Warrington said, "and a great deal too calm; I'vetried 'em." "The monotony of that existence must be to a certaindegree melancholy--like the tune of a long ballad; and its harmonygrave and gentle, sad and tender: it would be unendurable else. Theloneliness of women in the country makes them of necessity soft andsentimental. Leading a life of calm duty, constant routine, mysticreverie--a sort of nuns at large--too much gayety or laughter wouldjar upon their almost sacred quiet, and would be as out of place thereas in a church."

  "Where you go to sleep over the sermon," Warrington said.

  "You are a professed misogynist, and hate the sex because, I suspect,you know very little about them," Mr. Pen continued, with an air ofconsiderable self-complacency. "If you dislike the women in thecountry for being too slow, surely the London women ought to be fastenough for you. The pace of London life is enormous: how do peoplelast at it, I wonder--male and female? Take a woman of the world:follow her course through the season; one asks how she can survive it?or if she tumbles into a sleep at the end of August, and lies torpiduntil the spring? She goes into the world every night, and sitswatching her marriageable daughters dancing till long after dawn. Shehas a nursery of little ones, very likely, at home, to whom sheadministers example and affection; having an eye likewise tobread-and-milk, catechism, music and French, and roast leg of muttonat one o'clock; she has to call upon ladies of her own station, eitherdomestically or in her public character, in which she sits uponCharity Committees, or Ball Committees, or Emigration Committees, orQueen's College Committees, and discharges I don't know what moreduties of British stateswomanship. She very likely keeps a poorvisiting list; has combinations with the clergyman about soup orflannel, or proper religious teaching for the parish; and (if shelives in certain districts) probably attends early church. She has thenewspapers to read, and, at least, must know what her husband's partyis about, so as to be able to talk to her neighbor at dinner; and itis a fact that she reads every new book that comes out; for she cantalk, and very smartly and well, about them all, and you see them allupon her drawing-room table. She has the cares of her householdbesides: to make both ends meet; to make the girl's milliner's billsappear not too dreadful to the father and paymaster of the family; tosnip off, in secret, a little extra article of expenditure here andthere, and convey it, in the shape of a bank-note, to the boys atcollege or at sea; to check the encroachments of tradesmen, andhousekeepers' financial fallacies; to keep upper and lower servantsfrom jangling with one another, and the household in order. Add tothis, that she has a secret taste for some art or science, models inclay, makes experiments in chemistry, or plays in private on thevioloncello,--and I say, without exaggeration, many London ladies aredoing this--and you have a character before you such as our ancestorsnever heard of, and such as belongs entirely to our era and period ofcivilization. Ye gods! how rapidly we live and grow! In nine months,Mr. Paxton grows you a pine apple as large as a portmanteau, whereas alittle one, no bigger than a Dutch cheese, took three years to attain his majority in old times; and as the race of pine-apples so is therace of man. Hoiaper--what's the Greek for a pine-apple, Warrington?"

  "Stop, for mercy's sake, stop with the English and before you come tothe Greek," Warrington cried out, laughing. "I never heard you makesuch a long speech, or was aware that you had penetrated so deeplyinto the female mysteries. Who taught you all this, and into whoseboudoirs and nurseries have you been peeping, while I was smoking mypipe, and reading my book, lying on my straw bed?"

  "You are on the bank, old boy, content to watch the waves tossing inthe winds, and the struggles of others at sea," Pen said. "I am in thestream now, and, by Jove, I like it. How rapidly we go down it, hey?--strong and feeble, old and young--the metal pitchers and the earthenpitchers--the pretty little china boat swims gayly till the bigbruised brazen one bumps him and sends him down--eh, vogue lagalere!--you see a man sink in the race, and say good-by to him--look,he has only dived under the other fellow's legs, and comes up shakinghis pole, and striking out ever so far ahead. Eh, vogue la galere, Isay. It's good sport, Warrington--not winning merely, but playing."

  "Well, go in and win, young 'un. I'll sit and mark the game,"Warrington said, surveying the ardent young fellow with an almostfatherly pleasure. "A generous fellow plays for the play, a sordid onefor the stake; an old fogy sits by and smokes the pipe oftranquillity, while Jack and Tom are pommeling each other inthe ring."

  "Why don't you come in, George, and have a turn with the gloves? Youare big enough and strong enough," Pen said. "Dear old boy, you areworth ten of me."

  "You are not quite as tall as Goliath, certainly," the other answered,with a laugh that was rough and yet tender. "And as for me, I amdisabled. I had a fatal hit in early life. I will tell you about itsome day. You may, too, meet with your master. Don't be too eager, ortoo confident, or too worldly, my boy."

  Was Pendennis becoming worldly, or only seeing the world, or both? andis a man very wrong for being after all only a man? Which is the mostreasonable, and does his duty best: he who stands aloof from thestruggle of life, calmly contemplating it, or he who descends to theground, and takes his part in the contest? "That philosopher," Pensaid, "had held a great place among the leaders of the world, andenjoyed to the full what it had to give of rank and riches, renown andpleasure, who came, weary-hearted, out of it, and said that all wasvanity and vexation of spirit. Many a teacher of those whom wereverence, and who steps out of his carriage up to his carvedcathedral place, shakes his lawn ruffles over the velvet cushion, andcries out, that the whole struggle is an accursed one, and the worksof the world are evil. Many a conscience-striken mystic flies from italtogether, and shuts himself out from it within convent walls (realor spiritual), whence he can only look up to the sky, and contemplatethe heaven out of which there is no rest, and no good. But theearth, where our feet are, is the work of the same Power as theimmeasurable blue yonder, in which the future lies into which we wouldpeer. Who ordered toil as the condition of life, ordered weariness,ordered sickness, ordered poverty, failure, success--to this man aforemost place, to the other a nameless struggle with the crowd--tothat a shameful fall, or paralyzed limb, or sudden accident--to eachsome work upon the ground he stands on, until he is laid beneath it."While they were talking, the dawn came shining through the windows ofthe room, and Pen threw them open to receive the fresh morning air."Look, George," said he; "look and see the sun rise: he sees thelaborer on his way a-field, the work-girl plying her poor needle; thelawyer at his desk, perhaps; the beauty smiling asleep upon her pillowof down; or the jaded reveler reeling to bed; or the fevered patienttossing on it; or the doctor watching by it, over the throes of themother for the child that is to be b
orn into the world; to be born andto take his part in the suffering and struggling, the tears andlaughter, the crime, remorse, love, folly, sorrow, rest."