The History of Pendennis, Volume 2

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  TEMPTATION

  Easy and frank-spoken as Pendennis commonly was with Warrington, howcame it that Arthur did not inform the friend and depository of allhis secrets, of the little circumstances which had taken place at thevilla near Tunbridge Wells? He talked about the discovery of his oldtutor Smirke, freely enough, and of his wife, and of his Anglo-Normanchurch, and of his departure from Clapham to Rome; but, when askedabout Blanche, his answers were evasive or general; he said she was agood-natured, clever little thing--that, rightly guided, she mightmake no such bad wife after all; but that he had for the moment nointention of marriage, that his days of romance were over, that he wascontented with his present lot, and so forth.

  In the mean time there came occasionally to Lamb Court, Temple, prettylittle satin envelopes, superscribed in the neatest handwriting, andsealed with one of those admirable ciphers, which, if Warrington hadbeen curious enough to watch his friend's letters, or indeed if thecipher had been decipherable, would have shown George that Mr. Arthurwas in correspondence with a young lady whose initials were B. A. Tothese pretty little compositions Mr. Pen replied in his best andgallantest manner; with jokes, with news of the town, with points ofwit, nay, with pretty little verses very likely, in reply to theversicles of the Muse of "Mes Larmes." Blanche we know rhymes with"branch," and "stanch," and "launch," and no doubt a gentleman ofPen's ingenuity would not forego these advantages of position, andwould ring the pretty little changes upon these pleasing notes. Indeedwe believe that those love-verses of Mr. Pen's, which had sucha pleasing success in the "Roseleaves," that charming Annual edited byLady Violet Lebas, and illustrated by portraits of the female nobilityby the famous artist Pinkney, were composed at this period of ourhero's life; and were first addressed to Blanche, per post, beforethey figured in print, _cornets_ as it were to Pinkney'spictorial garland.

  "Verses are all very well," the elder Pendennis said, who found Penscratching down one of these artless effusions at the Club as he waswaiting for his dinner; "and letter-writing if mamma allows it, andbetween such old country friends of course there may be acorrespondence, and that sort of thing--but mind, Pen, and don'tcommit yourself, my boy. For who knows what the doose may happen? Thebest way is to make your letters safe. I never wrote a letter in allmy life that would commit me, and demmy, sir, I have had someexperience of women." And the worthy gentleman, growing more garrulousand confidential with his nephew as he grew older, told many affectinginstances of the evil results consequent upon this want of caution tomany persons in "society;"--how from using too ardent expressions insome poetical notes to the widow Naylor, young Spoony had subjectedhimself to a visit of remonstrance from the widow's brother, ColonelFlint; and thus had been forced into a marriage with a woman oldenough to be his mother: how when Louisa Salter had at lengthsucceeded in securing young Sir John Bird, Hopwood, of the Blues,produced some letters which Miss S. had written to him, and caused awithdrawal on Bird's part, who afterward was united to Miss Stickney,of Lyme Regis, &c. The major, if he had not reading, had plenty ofobservation, and could back his wise saws with a multitude of moderninstances, which he had acquired in a long and careful perusal of thegreat book of the world.

  Pen laughed at the examples, and blushing a little at his uncle'sremonstrances, said that he would bear them in mind and be cautious.He blushed, perhaps, because he _had_ borne them in mind; because he_was_ cautious: because in his letters to Miss Blanche he had frominstinct or honesty perhaps refrained from any avowals which mightcompromise him. "Don't you remember the lesson I had, sir, in LadyMirabel's--Miss Fotheringay's affair? I am not to be caught again,uncle," Arthur said with mock frankness and humility. Old Pendenniscongratulated himself and his nephew heartily on the latter's prudenceand progress, and was pleased at the position which Arthur was takingas a man of the world.

  No doubt, if Warrington had been consulted, his opinion would havebeen different; and he would have told Pen that the boy's foolishletters were better than the man's adroit compliments and slipperygallantries; that to win the woman he loves, only a knave or a cowardadvances under cover, with subterfuges, and a retreat secured behindhim: but Pen spoke not on this matter to Mr. Warrington, knowingpretty well that he was guilty, and what his friend's verdictwould be.

  Colonel Altamont had not been for many weeks absent on his foreigntour, Sir Francis Clavering having retired meanwhile into thecountry pursuant to his agreement with Major Pendennis, when the illsof fate began to fall rather suddenly and heavily upon the soleremaining partner of the little firm of Shepherd's Inn. When Strong,at parting with Altamont, refused the loan proffered by the latter inthe fullness of his purse and the generosity of his heart, he madesuch a sacrifice to conscience and delicacy as caused him many anafter-twinge and pang; and he felt--it was not very many hours in hislife he had experienced the feeling--that in this juncture of hisaffairs he had been too delicate and too scrupulous. Why should afellow in want refuse a kind offer kindly made? Why should a thirstyman decline a pitcher of water from a friendly hand, because it was alittle soiled? Strong's conscience smote him for refusing what theother had fairly come by, and generously proffered: and he thoughtruefully, now it was too late, that Altamont's cash would have been aswell in his pocket as in that of the gambling-house proprietor atBaden or Ems, with whom his Excellency would infallibly leave hisDerby winnings. It was whispered among the tradesmen,bill-discounters, and others who had commercial dealings with CaptainStrong, that he and the baronet had parted company, and that thecaptain's "paper" was henceforth of no value. The tradesmen,who had put a wonderful confidence in him hitherto--for who couldresist Strong's jolly face and frank and honest demeanor?--now beganto pour in their bills with a cowardly mistrust and unanimity. Theknocks at the Shepherd's Inn Chambers' door were constant, andtailors, bootmakers, pastrycooks who had furnished dinners, in theirown persons, or by the boys their representatives, held levees onStrong's stairs. To these were added one or two persons of a lessclamorous but far more sly and dangerous sort--the young clerks oflawyers, namely, who lurked about the Inn, or concerted with Mr.Campion's young man in the chambers hard by, having in their dismalpocketbooks copies of writs to be served on Edward Strong, requiringhim to appear on an early day next term before our Sovereign Lady theQueen, and answer to, &c., &c.

  From this invasion of creditors, poor Strong, who had not a guinea inhis pocket, had, of course, no refuge but that of the Englishman'scastle, into which he retired, shutting the outer and inner door uponthe enemy, and not quitting his stronghold until after nightfall.Against this outer barrier the foe used to come and knock and curse invain, while the chevalier peeped at them from behind the littlecurtain which he had put over the orifice of his letter-box; and hadthe dismal satisfaction of seeing the faces of furious clerk and fierydun, as they dashed up against the door and retreated from it. But asthey could not be always at his gate, or sleep on his staircase, theenemies of the chevalier sometimes left him free.

  Strong, when so pressed by his commercial antagonists, was not quitealone in his defense against them, but had secured for himself an allyor two. His friends were instructed to communicate with him by asystem of private signals: and they thus kept the garrison fromstarving by bringing in necessary supplies, and kept up Strong's heartand prevented him from surrendering, by visiting him and cheering himin his retreat. Two of Ned's most faithful allies were Huxter and MissFanny Bolton: when hostile visitors were prowling about the Inn,Fanny's little sisters were taught a particular cry or _joedel_, whichthey innocently whooped in the court: when Fanny and Huxter came up tovisit Strong, they archly sang this same note at his door; when thatbarrier was straightway opened, the honest garrison came out smiling,the provisions and the pot of porter were brought in, and, in thesociety of his faithful friends, the beleaguered one passed acomfortable night. There are some men who could not live under thisexcitement, but Strong was a brave man, as we have said, who had seenservice and never lost heart in peril.

  B
ut besides allies, our general had secured for himself, underdifficulties, that still more necessary aid--a retreat. It has beenmentioned in a former part of this history, how Messrs. Costigan andBows lived in the house next door to Captain Strong, and that thewindow of one of their rooms was not very far off the kitchen-windowwhich was situated in the upper story of Strong's chambers. A leadenwater-pipe and gutter served for the two; and Strong, looking out fromhis kitchen one day, saw that he could spring with great ease up tothe sill of his neighbor's window, and clamber up the pipe whichcommunicated from one to the other. He had laughingly shown thisrefuge to his chum, Altamont; and they had agreed that it would be aswell not to mention the circumstance to Captain Costigan, whose dunswere numerous, and who would be constantly flying down the pipe intotheir apartments if this way of escape were shown to him.

  But now that the evil days were come, Strong made use of the passage,and one afternoon burst in upon Bows and Costigan with his jolly face,and explained that the enemy was in waiting on his staircase, and thathe had taken this means of giving them the slip. So while Mr. Marks'said-de-camps were in waiting in the passage of No. 3, Strong walkeddown the steps of No. 4, dined at the Albion, went to the play, andreturned home at midnight, to the astonishment of Mrs. Bolton andFanny, who had not seen him quit his chambers and could not conceivehow he could have passed the line of sentries.

  Strong bore this siege for some weeks with admirable spirit andresolution, and as only such an old and brave soldier would, for thepains and privations which he had to endure were enough to depress anyman of ordinary courage; and what vexed and "riled" him (to use hisown expression) was the infernal indifference and cowardly ingratitudeof Clavering, to whom he wrote letter after letter, which the baronetnever acknowledged by a single word, or by the smallest remittance,though a five-pound note, as Strong said, at that time would have beena fortune to him.

  But better days were in store for the chevalier, and in the midst ofhis despondency and perplexities there came to him a most welcome aid,"Yes, if it hadn't been for this good fellow here," said Strong; "fora good fellow you are, Altamont, my boy, and hang me if I don't standby you as long as I live; I think, Pendennis, it would have been allup with Ned Strong. It was the fifth week of my being kept a prisoner,for I couldn't be always risking my neck across that water-pipe, andtaking my walks abroad through poor old Cos's window, and my spiritwas quite broken, sir--dammy, quite beat, and I was thinking ofputting an end to myself, and should have done it in another week,when who should drop down from heaven but Altamont!"

  "Heaven ain't exactly the place, Ned," said Altamont. "I came fromBaden-Baden," said he, "and I'd had a deuced lucky month there,that's all."

  "Well, sir, he took up Marks's bill, and he paid the other fellowsthat were upon me, like a man, sir, that he did," said Strong,enthusiastically.

  "And I shall be very happy to stand a bottle of claret for thiscompany, and as many more as the company chooses," said Mr. Altamont,with a blush. "Hallo! waiter, bring us a magnum of the right sort, doyou hear? And we'll drink our healths all round, sir--and may everygood fellow like Strong find another good fellow to stand by him at apinch. That's _my_ sentiment, Mr. Pendennis, though I don't like yourname." "No! And why?" asked Arthur.

  Strong pressed the colonel's foot under the table here; and Altamont,rather excited, filled up another bumper, nodded to Pen, drank off hiswine, and said, "_He_ was a gentleman, and that was sufficient, andthey were all gentlemen."

  The meeting between these "all gentlemen" took place at Richmond,whither Pendennis had gone to dinner, and where he found the chevalierand his friend at table in the coffee-room. Both of the latter wereexceedingly hilarious, talkative, and excited by wine; and Strong, whowas an admirable story-teller, told the story of his own siege, andadventures, and escapes with great liveliness and humor, and describedthe talk of the sheriff's officers at his door, the pretty littlesignals of Fanny, the grotesque exclamations of Costigan when thechevalier burst in at his window, and his final rescue by Altamont, ina most graphic manner, and so as greatly to interest his hearers.

  "As for me, it's nothing," Altamont said. "When a ship's paid off, achap spends his money, you know. And it's the fellers at the black andred at Baden-Baden that did it. I won a good bit of money there, andintend to win a good bit more, don't I, Strong? I'm going to take himwith me. I've got a system. I'll make his fortune, I tell you. I'llmake your fortune, if you like--dammy, every body's fortune. But whatI'll do, and no mistake, boys, I promise you. I'll put in for thatlittle Fanny. Dammy, sir, what do you think she did? She had twopound, and I'm blest if she didn't go and lend it to Ned Strong!Didn't she, Ned? Let's drink her health."

  "With all my heart," said Arthur, and pledged this toast with thegreatest cordiality.

  Mr. Altamont then began, with the greatest volubility, and at greatlength, to describe his system. He said that it was infallible, ifplayed with coolness; that he had it from a chap at Baden, who hadlost by it, it was true, but because he had not capital enough; if hecould have stood one more turn of the wheel, he would have all hismoney back; that he and several more chaps were going to make a bank,and try it; and that he would put every shilling he was worth into it,and had come back to this country for the express purpose of fetchingaway his money, and Captain Strong; that Strong should play for him;that he could trust Strong and his temper much better than he couldhis own, and much better than Bloundell-Bloundell or the Italian that"stood in." As he emptied his bottle, the colonel described at fulllength all his plans and prospects to Pen, who was interested inlistening to his story, and the confessions of his daring and lawlessgood-humor.

  "I met that queer fellow Altamont the other day," Pen said to hisuncle, a day or two afterward.

  "Altamont? What Altamont? There's Lord Westport's son," said themajor.

  "No, no; the fellow who came tipsy into Clavering's dining-room oneday when we were there," said the nephew, laughing; "and he said hedid not like the name of Pendennis, though he did me the honor tothink that I was a good fellow."

  "I don't know any man of the name of Altamont, I give you my honor,"said the impenetrable major; "and as for your acquaintance, I thinkthe less you have to do with him the better, Arthur."

  Arthur laughed again. "He is going to quit the country, and make hisfortune by a gambling system. He and my amiable college acquaintance,Bloundell, are partners, and the colonel takes out Strong with him asaid-de-camp. What is it that binds the chevalier and Clavering,I wonder?"

  "I should think, mind you, Pen, I should think, but of course I haveonly the idea, that there has been something in Clavering's previouslife which gives these fellows, and some others, a certain power overhim; and if there should be such a secret, which is no affair of ours,my boy, dammy, I say, it ought to be a lesson to a man to keep himselfstraight in life, and not to give any man a chance over him."

  "Why, I think _you_ have some means of persuasion over Clavering,uncle, or why should he give me that seat in Parliament?"

  "Clavering thinks he ain't fit for Parliament!" the major answered."No more he is. What's to prevent him from putting you or any bodyelse into his place if he likes? Do you think that the Government orthe Opposition would make any bones about accepting the seat if heoffered it to them? Why should you be more squeamish than the firstmen, and the most honorable men, and men of the highest birth andposition in the country, begad?" The major had an answer of this kindto most of Pen's objections, and Pen accepted his uncle's replies, notso much because he believed them, but because he wished to believethem. We do a thing--which of us has not? not because "every body doesit," but because we like it; and our acquiescence, alas! proves notthat every body is right, but that we and the rest of the world arepoor creatures alike.

  At his next visit to Tunbridge, Mr. Pen did not forget to amuse MissBlanche with the history which he had learned at Richmond of thechevalier's imprisonment, and of Altamont's gallant rescue. And afterhe had told his tale in his usual satirical way, he m
entioned withpraise and emotion little Fanny's generous behavior to the chevalier,and Altamont's enthusiasm in her behalf.

  Miss Blanche was somewhat jealous, and a good deal piqued and curiousabout Fanny. Among the many confidential little communications whichArthur made to Miss Amory in the course of their delightful ruraldrives and their sweet evening walks, it may be supposed that our herowould not forget a story so interesting to himself and so likely to beinteresting to her, as that of the passion and care of the poor littleAriadne of Shepherd's Inn. His own part in that drama he described, todo him justice, with becoming modesty; the moral which he wished todraw from the tale being one in accordance with his usual satiricalmood, viz., that women get over their first loves quite as easily asmen do (for the fair Blanche, in their _intimes_ conversations, didnot cease to twit Mr. Pen about his notorious failure in his ownvirgin attachment to the Fotheringay), and, number one beingwithdrawn, transfer themselves to number two without much difficulty.And poor little Fanny was offered up in sacrifice as an instance toprove this theory. What griefs she had endured and surmounted, whatbitter pangs of hopeless attachment she had gone through, what time ithad taken to heal those wounds of the tender little bleeding heart,Mr. Pen did not know, or perhaps did not choose to know; for he was atonce modest and doubtful about his capabilities as a conqueror ofhearts, and averse to believe that he had executed any dangerousravages on that particular one, though his own instance and argumenttold against himself in this case; for if, as he said, Miss Fanny wasby this time in love with her surgical adorer, who had neither goodlooks, nor good manners, nor wit, nor any thing but ardor and fidelityto recommend him, must she not in her first sickness of thelove-complaint, have had a serious attack, and suffered keenly for aman, who had certainly a number of the showy qualities which Mr.Huxter wanted?

  "You wicked, odious creature," Miss Blanche said, "I believe that youare enraged with Fanny for being so impudent as to forget you, andthat you are actually jealous of Mr. Huxter." Perhaps Miss Amory wasright, as the blush which came in spite of himself and tingled uponPendennis's cheek (one of those blows with which a man's vanity isconstantly slapping his face), proved to Pen that he was angry tothink he had been superseded by such a rival. By such a fellow asthat! without any conceivable good quality! Oh, Mr. Pendennis!(although this remark does not apply to such a smart fellow as you) ifNature had not made that provision for each sex in the credulity ofthe other, which sees good qualities where none exist, good looks indonkeys' ears, wit in their numskulls, and music in their bray, therewould not have been near so much marrying and giving in marriage asnow obtains, and as is necessary for the due propagation andcontinuance of the noble race to which we belong!

  "Jealous or not," Pen said, "and, Blanche, I don't say no, I shouldhave liked Fanny to have come to a better end than that. I don't likehistories that end in that cynical way; and when we arrive at theconclusion of the story of a pretty girl's passion, to find such afigure as Huxter's at the last page of the tale. Is all life acompromise, my lady fair, and the end of the battle of love an ignoblesurrender? Is the search for the Cupid which my poor little Psychepursued in the darkness--the god of her soul's longing--the God of theblooming cheek and rainbow pinions--to result in Huxter, smelling oftobacco and gallypots? I wish, though I don't see it in life, thatpeople could be like Jenny and Jessamy, or my lord and lady Clementinain the storybook and fashionable novels, and at once under theceremony, and, as it were, at the parson's benediction, becomeperfectly handsome and good and happy ever after."

  "And don't you intend to be good and happy, pray, Monsieurle Misanthrope--and are you very discontented with your lot--and willyour marriage be a compromise "--(asked the author of "Mes Larmes,"with a charming _moue_)--"and is your Psyche an odious vulgar wretch?You wicked, satirical creature, I can't abide you! You take the heartsof young things, play with them, and fling them away with scorn. Youask for love and trample on it. You--you make me cry, that you do,Arthur, and--and don't--and I _won't_ be consoled in that way--and Ithink Fanny was quite right in leaving such a heartless creature."

  "Again, I don't say no," said Pen, looking very gloomily at Blanche,and not offering by any means to repeat the attempt at consolation,which had elicited that sweet monosyllable "don't" from the younglady. "I don't think I have much of what people call heart; but Idon't profess it. I made my venture when I was eighteen, and lightedmy lamp and went in search of Cupid. And what was my discovery oflove!--a vulgar dancing woman. I failed, as every body does, almostevery body; only it is luckier to fail before marriage than after."

  _"Merci du choix, Monsieur"_ said the Sylphide, making a courtesy.

  "Look, my little Blanche," said Pen, taking her hand, and with hisvoice of sad good-humor; "at least I stoop to no flatteries."

  "Quite the contrary," said Miss Blanche.

  "And tell you no foolish lies, as vulgar men do. Why should you and I,with our experience, ape romance and dissemble passion? I do notbelieve Miss Blanche Amory to be peerless among the beautiful, nor thegreatest poetess, nor the most surpassing musician, any more than Ibelieve you to be the tallest woman in the whole world--like thegiantess whose picture we saw as we rode through the fair yesterday.But if I don't set you up as a heroine, neither do I offer you yourvery humble servant as a hero. But I think you are--well, there, Ithink you are very sufficiently good-looking."

  _"Merci,"_ Miss Blanche said, with another courtesy.

  "I think you sing charmingly. I'm sure you're clever. I hope andbelieve that you are good-natured, and that you will becompanionable."

  "And so, provided I bring you a certain sum of money and a seat inParliament, you condescend to fling to me your royalpocket-handkerchief," said Blanche. _"Que dhonneur!_ We used to callyour Highness the Prince of Fairoaks. What an honor to think that I amto be elevated to the throne, and to bring the seat in Parliament asbacksheesh to the sultan! I am glad I am clever, and that I can playand sing to your liking; my songs will amuse my lord's leisure."

  "And if thieves are about the house," said Pen, grimly pursuing thesimile, "forty besetting thieves in the shape of lurking cares andenemies in ambush and passions in arms, my Morgiana will dance roundme with a tambourine, and kill all my rogues and thieves with a smile.Won't she?" But Pen looked as if he did not believe that she would."Ah, Blanche," he continued after a pause, "don't be angry; don't behurt at my truth-telling. Don't you see that I always take you at yourword? You say you will be a slave and dance--I say, dance. You say, 'Itake you with what you bring;' I say, 'I take you with what youbring.' To the necessary deceits and hypocrisies of our life, why addany that are useless and unnecessary? If I offer myself to you becauseI think we have a fair chance of being happy together, and because byyour help I may get for both of us a good place and a notundistinguished name, why ask me to feign raptures and counterfeitromance, in which neither of us believe? Do you want me to come wooingin a Prince Prettyman's dress from the masquerade warehouse, and topay you compliments like Sir Charles Grandison? Do you want me to makeyou verses as in the days when we were--when we were children? I willif you like, and sell them to Bacon and Bungay afterward. Shall I feedmy pretty princess with _bonbons_."

  "_Mais j'adore les bonbons, moi_," said the little Sylphide, with aqueer, piteous look.

  "I can buy a hatful at Fortnum and Mason's for a guinea. And it shallhave its bonbons, its pootty little sugar-plums, that it shall," Pensaid, with a bitter smile. "Nay, my dear, nay my dearest littleBlanche, don't cry. Dry the pretty eyes, I can't bear that;" and heproceeded to offer that consolation which the circumstance required,and which the tears, the genuine tears of vexation, which now sprangfrom the angry eyes of the author of "Mes Larmes" demanded.

  The scornful and sarcastic tone of Pendennis quite frightened andovercame the girl. "I--I don't want your consolation. I--I neverwas--so--spoken to bef--by any of my--my--by any body"--she sobbedout, with much simplicity.

  "_Any body!_" shouted out Pen, with a savage burst of laughter, andBlanch
e blushed one of the most genuine blushes which her cheek hadever exhibited, and she cried out, "O, Arthur, _vous etes un hommeterrible!_" She felt bewildered, frightened, oppressed, the worldlylittle flirt who had been playing at love for the last dozen years ofher life, and yet not displeased at meeting a master.

  "Tell me, Arthur," she said, after a pause in this strangelove-making. "Why does Sir Francis Clavering give up his seat inParliament?"

  "_Au fait_, why does he give it to me?" asked Arthur, now blushing inhis turn.

  "You always mock me, sir," she said. "If it is good to be inParliament, why does Sir Francis go out?"

  "My uncle has talked him over. He always said that you were notsufficiently provided for. In the--the family disputes, when yourmamma paid his debts so liberally, it was stipulated, I suppose, thatyou--that is, that I--that is, upon my word, I don't know why he goesout of Parliament," Pen said, with rather a forced laugh. "You see,Blanche, that you and I are two good little children, and that thismarriage has been arranged for us by our mammas and uncles, and thatwe must be obedient, like a good little boy and girl."

  So, when Pen went to London, he sent Blanche a box of bonbons, eachsugar plum of which was wrapped up in ready-made French verses, of themost tender kind; and, besides, dispatched to her some poems of hisown manufacture, quite as artless and authentic; and it was no wonderthat he did not tell Warrington what his conversations with Miss Amoryhad been, of so delicate a sentiment were they, and of a nature sonecessarily private.

  And if, like many a worse and better man, Arthur Pendennis, thewidow's son, was meditating an apostasy, and going to sell himselfto--we all know whom--at least the renegade did not pretend to be abeliever in the creed to which he was ready to swear. And if everywoman and man in this kingdom, who has sold her or himself for moneyor position, as Mr. Pendennis was about to do, would but purchase acopy of his memoirs, what tons of volumes the Publishers wouldsell!