CHAPTER XLV. A Chapter of Conversations
Every day, after the entertainment 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's distinctionought to be seen. Would her ladyship not like to be present at the grandentertainment at Gaunt House? There was to be a very pretty breakfastball at Viscount Marrowfat's, at Fulham. Everybody was to be there(including august personages of the highest rank), and there was to bea Watteau quadrille, in which Miss Amory would surely look charming. Tothese and other amusements the obsequious old gentleman kindly offeredto conduct Lady Clavering, and was also ready to make himself useful tothe Baronet in any way agreeable to the latter.
In spite of his present station and fortune, the world persisted inlooking rather coldly upon Clavering, and strange suspicious rumoursfollowed him about. He was blackballed at two clubs in succession.In the 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. The name all the senatorswith whom Clavering consorted, would be invidious. We may mention onlya few. There was Captain Raff, the honourable member for Epsom, whoretired after the last Goodwood races, having accepted, as Mr. Hotspur,the whip of the party, said, a mission to the Levant; there wasHustingson, the patriotic member for Islington, whose voice is neverheard 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, there wasnone for whom he had a more thorough contempt and dislike than for SirFrancis Clavering, the representative of an ancient race, who had satfor their own borough of Clavering time out of mind in the House. "Ifthat man is wanted for a division," Hotspur said, "ten to one he is tobe found in a hell. He was educated in the Fleet, and he has not heardthe end of Newgate yet, take my word for it. He'll muddle away theBegum's fortune at thimble-rig, be caught picking pockets, and finish onboard the hulks." And if the high-born Hotspur, with such an opinionof Clavering, could yet from professional reasons be civil to him,why should not Major Pendennis also have reasons of his own for beingattentive 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. Ifhe chooses to frequent gambling-tables, and lose his money to blacklegs,what matters to me? Don't look too curiously into any man's affairs,Pen, my boy; every fellow has some cupboard in his house, begad, whichhe would not like you and me to peep into. Why should we try, when therest of the house is open to us? And a devilish good house, too, as youand I know. And if the man of the family is not all one could wish, thewomen are excellent. The Begum is not over-refined, but as kind a womanas ever lived, and devilish clever too; and as for the little Blanche,you know my opinion about her, you rogue; you know my belief is that sheis sweet on you, and would have you for the asking. But you are growingsuch a great man, that I suppose you won't be content under a Duke'sdaughter--Hey, sir? I recommend you to ask one of them, and try."
Perhaps Pen was somewhat intoxicated by his success in the world; and itmay also have entered into the young man's mind (his uncle's perpetualhints serving not a little to encourage the notion) that Miss Amory wastolerably well disposed to renew the little flirtation which had beencarried on in the early days of both of them, by the banks of the ruralBrawl. But he was little disposed to marriage, he said, at thatmoment, and, adopting some of his uncle's worldly tone, spoke rathercontemptuously of the institution, and in favour of a bachelor life.
"You are very happy, sir," said he, "and you get on very well alone, andso do I. With a wife at my side, I should lose my place in society; andI don't, for my part, much fancy retiring into the country with a Mrs.Pendennis; or taking my wife into lodgings to be waited upon by theservant-of-all-work. The period of my little illusions is over. Youcured me of my first love who, certainly was a fool, and would have hada fool for her husband, and a very sulky discontented husband too ifshe had taken me. We young fellows live fast, sir; and I feel as old atfive-and-twenty as many of the old fo--the old bachelors--whom I seein the bow-window at Bays's. Don't look offended, I only mean that Iam blase about love matters, and that I could no more fan myself into aflame for Miss Amory now, than I could adore Lady Mirabel over again. Iwish I could; I rather like old Mirabel for his infatuation about her,and think his passion is the most respectable part of his life."
"Sir Charles Mirabel was always a theatrical man, sir," the Major said,annoyed that his nephew should speak flippantly of any person of SirCharles's rank and station. "He has been occupied with theatricalssince his early days. He acted at Carlton House when he was Page to thePrince; he has been mixed up with that sort of thing: he could affordto marry whom he chooses; and Lady Mirabel is a most respectable woman,received everywhere--everywhere, mind. The Duchess of Connaught receivesher, Lady Rockminster receives her--it doesn't become young fellows tospeak lightly of people in that station. There's not a more respectablewoman in England than Lady Mirabel:--and the old fogies, as you callthem, at Bays's, are some of the first gentlemen in England, of whom youyoungsters had best learn a little manners, and a little breeding, anda little modesty." And the Major began to think that Pen was growingexceedingly pert and conceited, and that the world made a great deal toomuch of him.
The Major's anger amused Pen. He studied his uncle's peculiarities witha constant relish, and was always in a good humour with his worldly oldMentor. "I am a youngster of fifteen years' standing, sir," he said,adroitly, "and if you think that we are disrespectful, you should seethose of the present generation. A protege of yours came to breakfastwith me the other day. You told me to ask him, and I did it to pleaseyou. We had a day's sights together, and dined at the club, and went tothe play. He said the wine at the Polyanthus was not so good as Ellis'swine at Richmond, smoked Warrington's cavendish after breakfast, andwhen I gave him a sovereign as a farewell token, said he had plenty ofthem, 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 sort ofattention, and you can't do better than pay it to our worthy friends ofGrosvenor Place. And so you took him to the play and tipped him? Thatwas right, sir, that was right:" with which Mentor quitted Telemachus,thinking that the young men were not so very bad, and that he shouldmake 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 rather governedthem than permitted himself to be led by their orders. With his papahe was silent and sulky, seldom making his appearance, however, in theneighbourhood of that gentleman; with his mamma he roared and foughtwhen any contest between them arose as to the gratification of hisappetite, or other wish of his heart; and in his disputes with hisgoverness over his book, he kicked that quiet creature's shins sofiercely, that she was entirely overmastered and subdued by him. Andhe would have so treated his sister Blanche, too, and did on one ortwo occasions attempt to prevail over her; but she showed an immenseresolution and spirit on her part, and boxed his ears so soundly, thathe forbore from molesting Miss Amory, as he did the governess and hismamma, and his mamma's maid.
At length, when the family came to London, Sir Francis gave forthhis opinion, that "the little beggar had best be sent to school."Accordingly the young son and heir of the house of Clavering wasdespatched to the Rev. Otto Rose's establishment at Twickenham,where young noblemen and gentlemen were received preparatory to theirint
roduction 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 advanced towardsthat fane in a carriage-and-four, so to speak, and might halt and takerefreshment almost whenever he pleased. He wore varnished boots fromthe earliest period of youth, and had cambric handkerchiefs andlemon-coloured kid gloves, of the smallest size ever manufactured byPrivat. They dressed regularly at Mr. Rose's to come down to dinner; theyoung gentlemen had shawl dressing-gowns, fires in their bedrooms, horseand carriage exercise occasionally, and oil for their hair. Corporalpunishment was altogether dispensed with by the Principal, who thoughtthat moral discipline was entirely sufficient to lead youth; and theboys were so rapidly advanced in many branches of learning, that theyacquired the art of drinking spirits and smoking cigars, even beforethey were old enough to enter a public school. Young Frank Claveringstole his father's Havannahs, and conveyed them to school, or smokedthem in the stables, at a surprisingly early period of life, and at tenyears old drank his champagne almost as stoutly as any whiskered cornetof dragoons could do.
When this interesting youth came home for his vacations Major Pendenniswas as laboriously civil and gracious to him as he was to the rest ofthe family; although the boy had rather a contempt for old Wigsby, asthe Major was denominated, mimicked him behind his back, as the politeMajor bowed and smirked with Lady Clavering or Miss Amory; and drewrude caricatures, such as are designed by ingenious youths, in whichthe Major's wig, his nose, his tie, etc., were represented with artlessexaggeration. Untiring in his efforts to be agreeable, the Major wishedthat Pen, too, should take particular notice of this child; incitedArthur to invite him to his chambers, to give him a dinner at the club,to take him to Madame Tussaud's, the Tower, the play, and so forth, andto tip him, as the phrase is, at the end of the day's pleastres. Arthur,who was good-natured and fond of children, went through all theseceremonies one day; had the boy to breakfast at the Temple, wherehe made the most contemptuous remarks regarding the furniture, thecrockery, and the tattered state of Warrington's dressing-gown; andsmoked a short pipe, and recounted the history of a fight between Tuffyand Long Biggings, at Rose's, greatly to the edification of the twogentlemen his hosts.
As the Major rightly predicted, Lady Clavering was very grateful forArthur's attention to the boy; more grateful than the lad himself,who took 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 neighbour, one who had many familyobligations to the Claverings, an old man of the world, he took occasionto find out what Lady Clavering's means were, how her capital wasdisposed, 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 and fortune,and of the prospects of her daughter and son. The daughter was to havebut a slender provision; the bulk of the property was, as before hasbeen said, to go to the son,--his father did not care for him or anybodyelse,--his mother was dotingly fond of him as the child of her latterdays,--his sister disliked him. Such may be stated in round numbers, tobe the result of the information which Major Pendennis got. "Ah! my dearmadam," he would say, patting the head of the boy, "this boy may weara baron's coronet on his head on some future coronation, if matters arebut managed rightly, and if Sir Francis Clavering would but play hiscards well."
At this the widow Amory heaved a deep sigh. "He plays only much of hiscards, Major, I'm afraid," she said. The Major owned that he knew asmuch; 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, glad tofind a person of experience to whom she could confide her grief and hercondition, talked about them pretty unreservedly to Major Pendennis, andwas eager to have his advice and consolation. Major Pendennis becamethe Begum's confidante and house-friend, and as a mother, a wife, and acapitalist, she consulted him.
He gave her to understand (showing at the same time a great dealof respectful 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 she wasliving in seclusion with her father. The poor lady, with tears of shamemore than of grief in her eyes, told her version of her story. Goingback a child to India after two years at a European school, she had metAmory, and foolishly married him. "Oh, you don't know how miserable thatman, made me," she said, "or what a life I passed betwixt him and myfather. Before I saw him I had never seen a man except my father'sclerks and native servants. You know we didn't go into society in Indiaon account of----" ("I know," said Major Pendennis, with a bow) "I wasa wild romantic child, my head was full of novels which I'd read atschool--I listened to his wild stories and adventures, for he was adaring fellow, and I thought he talked beautifully of those calm nightson the passage out, when he used to----. Well, I married him, and I waswretched from that day--wretched with my father, whose character youknow, Major Pendennis, and I won't speak of: but he wasn't a good man,sir,--neither to my poor mother, nor to me, except that he left me hismoney,--nor to no one else that I ever heard of: and he didn't do manykind 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 gaol before this trial, instead of afterwards he would have savedme a deal of shame and of 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: and many'sthe day that I sit down to one of my grand dinners with an aching heart,and many a night do I lay awake on my fine bed a great deal more unhappythan the maid that makes for it. I'm not a happy woman, Major, for allthe world says; and envies the Begum her diamonds, and carriages, andthe great company that comes to my house. I'm not happy in my husband;I'm not in my daughter. She ain't a good girl like that dear Laura Bellat Fairoaks. She's cost me many a tear though you don't see 'em; and shesneers at her mother because I haven't had learning and that. How shouldI? I was brought up amongst natives till I was twelve, and went back toIndia when I was fourteen. Ah, Major, I should have been a good woman ifI had had a good husband. And now I must go upstairs and wipe my eyes,for they're red with cryin. And Lady Rockminster's a comin, and we'regoin to ave a drive in the Park. And when Lady Rockminster madeher appearance, there was not a trace of tears or vexation on LadyClavering's face, but she was full of spirits, and bounced out withher blunders and talk, and murdered the king's English with the utmostliveliness and good-humour.
"Begad, she is not such a bad woman!" the Major thought within himself."She is not refined, certainly, and calls 'Apollo' 'Apoller;' but shehas some heart, and I like that sort of thing, and a devilish deal ofmoney, too. Three stars in India Stock to her name, begad! which thatyoung cub is to have--is he?" And he thought how he should like to see alittle of the money transferred to Miss Blanche, and, better still, oneof those stars shining in the name of Mr. Arthur Pendennis.
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 occasion tosee her alone. He came in so frequently at luncheon-time, and becameso familiar with
the ladies, that they did not even hesitate to quarrelbefore him; and Lady Clavering, whose tongue was loud, and temperbrusque, had many a battle with the Sylphide in the family friend'spresence. Blanche's wit seldom failed to have the mastery in theseencounters, and the keen barbs of her arrows drove her adversarydiscomfited away. "I am an old fellow," the Major said; "I have nothingto do in life. I have my eyes open. I keep good counsel. I am the friendof both of you; and if you choose to quarrel before me, why, I shan'ttell any one. But you are two good people, and I intend to make it upbetween you. I have between lots of people--husbands and wives, fathersand sons, daughters and mammas, before this. I like it; I've nothingelse to do."
One day, then, the old diplomatist entered Lady Clavering'sdrawing-room, just as the latter quitted it, evidently in a high stateof indignation, 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 had passedout 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. Mothersand daughters disagree in the best families. It was but last week thatI healed up a quarrel between Lady Clapperton and her daughter LadyClaudia. Lady Lear and her eldest daughter have not spoken for fourteenyears. Kinder and more worthy people than these I never knew in thewhole course of my life; for everybody but each other admirable. Butthey can't live together: they oughtn't to live together: and I wish,my dear creature, with all my soul, that I could see you with anestablishment of your own--for there is no woman in London who couldconduct one better--with your own establishment, making your own homehappy."
"I am not very happy in this one," said the Sylphide; "and the stupidityof mamma is enough to provoke a saint."
"Precisely so; you are not suited to one another. Your mother committedone fault in early life--or was it Nature, my dear, in your case?--sheought not to have educated you. You ought not to have been bred up tobecome the refined and intellectual being you are, surrounded, as Iown you are, by those who have not your genius or your refinement. Yourplace would be to lead in the most brilliant circles, not to follow, andtake a second place in any society. I have watched you, Miss Amory: youare ambitious; and your proper sphere is command. You ought to shine;and you never can in this house, I know it. I hope I shall see you inanother and a happier one, some day, and the mistress of it."
The Sylphide shrugged her lily shoulders with a look of scorn. "Where isthe Prince, and where is the palace, Major Pendennis?" she said. "I amready. But there is no romance in the world now, no real affection."
"No, indeed," said the Major, with the most sentimental and simple airwhich he could muster.
"Not that I know anything about it," said Blanche, casting her eyes down"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 men whom we seeabout at the balls every night--dancing guardsmen, penniless treasuryclerks--boobies! If I had my brother's fortune, I might have such anestablishment as you promise me--but with my name, and with my littlemeans, what am I to look to! A country parson, or a barrister in astreet near Russell Square, or a captain in a dragoon regiment, who willtake lodgings for me, and come home from the mess tipsy and smelling ofsmoke like Sir Francis Clavering. That is how we girls are destined toend life. O Major Pendennis, I am sick of London, and of balls, and ofyoung dandies with their chin-tips, and of the insolent great ladieswho know us one day and cut us the next--and of the world altogether. Ishould like to leave it and to go into a convent, that I should. I shallnever find anybody to understand me. And I live here as much alone inmy family and in the world, as if I were in a cell locked up for ever.I wish there were Sisters of Charity here, and that I could be one andcatch the plague, and die of it--I wish to quit the world. I am notvery 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 girl ofthe year, and of the young ladies forming her special circle. Dora whohad but five thousand pounds, Flora who had nothing, and Leonora whohad red hair, were going to be married, and nobody had come for BlancheAmory!
"You judge wisely about the world, and about your position, my dear MissBlanche," the Major said. "The Prince don't marry nowadays, as you say:unless the Princess has a doosid deal of money in the funds, or is alady of his own rank.--The young folks of the great families marryinto the great families: if they haven't fortune they have each other'sshoulders, to push on in the world, which is pretty nearly as good.--Agirl with your fortune can scarcely hope for a great match: but a girlwith your genius and your admirable tact and fine manners, with a cleverhusband by her side, may make any place for herself in the world.--Weare grown doosid republican. Talent ranks with birth and wealth now,begad: and a clever man with a clever wife, may take any place theyplease."
Miss Amory did not of course in the least understand what MajorPendennis meant.--Perhaps she thought over circumstances in her mind andasked herself, could he be a negotiator for a former suitor of hers, andcould he mean Pen? No, it was impossible--He had been civil, but nothingmore.--So she said laughing, "Who is the clever man, and when will youbring him to me, Major Pendennis? I am dying to see him."
At this moment a servant threw open the door, and announced Mr. HenryFoker: at which name, and at the appearance of our friend, both the ladyand the gentleman burst out laughing.
"That is not the man," Major Pendennis said. "He is engaged to hiscousin, Lord Gravesend's daughter.--Good-bye, my dear Miss Amory."
* * * * *
Was Pen growing worldly, and should a man not get the experience of theworld and lay it to his account? "He felt, for his part," as he said,"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, as hishabit was, to his friend the observations and adventures of the eveningjust past. "How I am changed," he said, "from the simpleton boy atFairoaks, who was fit to break his heart about his first love! LadyMirabel had a reception to-night, and was as grave and collected as ifshe had been born a Duchess, and had never seen a trap-door in herlife. She gave me the honour of a conversation, and patronised me about'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 anybody shouldthink of patronising 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 Lady Rockminsterhad, and that the Duchess of Connaught pronounced it to be very clever.In that case, I said, I should die happy, for that to please thosetwo ladies was in fact the great aim of my existence, and having theirapprobation, of course I need look for no other. Lady Mirabel lookedat me solemnly out of her fine eyes, and said, 'Oh, indeed,' as if sheunderstood me, and then she asked me whether I went to the Duchess'sThursdays, and when I said No, hoped she should see me there, and thatI must try and get there, everybody went there--everybody who was insociety: and then we talked of the new ambassador from Timbuctoo, andhow he was better than the old one; and how Lady Mary Bil
lington wasgoing to marry a clergyman quite below her in rank; and how Lord andLady Ringdove had fallen out three months after their marriage aboutTom Pouter of the Blues, Lady Ringdove's cousin--and so forth. Fromthe gravity of that woman you would have fancied she had been born in apalace, and lived all the seasons of her life in Belgrave Square."
"And you, I suppose you took your part in the conversation pretty well,as the descendant of the Earl your father, and the heir of FairoaksCastle?" Warrington said. "Yes, I remember reading of the festivitieswhich occurred when you came of age. The Countess gave a brilliant teasoiree to the neighbouring nobility; and the tenantry were regaled inthe kitchen with a leg of mutton and a quart of ale. The remains ofthe banquet were distributed amongst the poor of the village, and theentrance to the park was illuminated until old John put the candle outon retiring to rest at his usual hour."
"My mother is not a countess," said Pen, "though she has very good bloodin her veins too--but commoner as she is, I have never met a peeresswho was more than her peer, Mr. George; and if you will come to FairoaksCastle you shall judge for yourself of her and of my cousin too. Theyare not so witty as the London women, but they certainly are as wellbred. The thoughts of women in the country are turned to other objectsthan those which occupy your London ladies. In the country a woman hasher household and her poor, her long calm days and long calm evenings."
"Devilish long," Warrington said, "and a great deal too calm; I've tried'em."
"The monotony of that existence must be to a certain degreemelancholy--like the tune of a long ballad; and its harmony grave andgentle, sad and tender: it would be unendurable else. The lonelinessof women in the country makes them of necessity soft and sentimental.Leading a life of calm duty, constant routine, mystic reverie,--a sortof nuns at large--too much gaiety or laughter would jar upon theiralmost sacred quiet, and would be as out of place there as 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 the countryfor being too slow, surely the London woman ought to be fast enough foryou. The pace of London life is enormous: how do people last at it, Iwonder,--male and female? Take a woman of the world: follow her coursethrough the season; one asks how she can survive it? or if she tumblesinto a sleep at the end of August, and lies torpid until the spring?She goes into the world every night, and sits watching her marriageabledaughters dancing till long after dawn. She has a nursery of littleones, very likely, at home, to whom she administers example andaffection; having an eye likewise to bread-and-milk, catechism, musicand French, and roast leg of mutton at one o'clock; she has to callupon ladies of her own station, either domestically or in herpublic character, in which she sits upon Charity Committees, or BallCommittees, or Emigration Committees, or Queen's College Committees, anddischarges I don't know what more duties of British stateswomanship.She very likely keeps a poor-visiting list; has conversations with theclergyman about soup or flannel, or proper religious teaching for theparish; and (if she lives in certain districts) probably attends earlychurch. She has the newspapers to read, and, at least, must know whather husband's party is about, so as to be able to talk to her neighbourat dinner; and it is a fact that she reads every new book that comesout; for she can talk, and very smartly and well, about them all, andyou see them all upon her drawing-room table. She has the cares of herhousehold besides--to make both ends meet; to make the girls' milliner'sbills appear not too dreadful to the father and paymaster of the family;to snip off, in secret, a little extra article of expenditure hereand there, and convey it, in the shape of a bank-note, to the boysat college or at sea; to check the encroachments of tradesmen andhousekeepers' financial fallacies; to keep upper and lower servants fromjangling with one another, and the household in order. Add to this, thatshe has a secret taste for some art or science, models in clay, makesexperiments in chemistry, or plays in private on the violoncello,--andI say, without exaggeration, many London ladies are doing this,--and youhave a character before you such as our ancestors never heard of, andsuch as belongs entirely to our era and period of civilisation. Ye gods!how rapidly we live and grow! In nine months, Mr. Paxton grows you apineapple as large as a portmanteau, whereas a little one, no biggerthan a Dutch cheese, took three years to attain his majority inold times; and as the race of pineapples so is the race of man.Hoiaper--what's the Greek for a pineapple, Warrington?"
"Stop, for mercy's sake, stop with the English and before you come tothe Greek," Warrington cried out, laughing. "I never heard you make sucha long speech, or was aware that you had penetrated so deeply into thefemale mysteries. Who taught you all this, and into whose boudoirsand nurseries have you been peeping, whilst I was smoking my pipe, andreading 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 inthe stream 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 gaily till the big bruisedbrazen one bumps him and sends him down--eh, vogue la galere!--you seea man sink in the race, and say good-bye to him--look, he has onlydived under the other fellow's legs, and comes up shaking his pole, andstriking out ever so far ahead. Eh, vogue la galere, I say. It's goodsport, Warrington--not winning merely, but playing."
"Well, go in and win, young 'un. I'll sit and mark the game," Warringtonsaid, surveying the ardent young fellow with an almost fatherlypleasure. "A generous fellow plays for the play, a sordid one for thestake; an old fogy sits by and smokes the pipe of tranquillity, whileJack and Tom are pummelling each other in the ring."
"Why don't you come in, George, and have a turn with the gloves? You arebig enough and strong enough," Pen said. "Dear old boy, you are worthten of me."
"You are not quite as tall as Goliath, certainly," the other answered,with a laugh that was rough and yet tender. "As for me, I am disabled.I had a fatal hit in early life. I will tell you about it some day. Youmay, too, meet with your master. Don't be too eager, or too confident,or too worldly, my boy."
Was Pendennis becoming worldly, or only seeing the worldly, or both? andis a man very wrong for being after all only a man? Which is themost reasonable, and does his duty best: he who stands aloof fromthe struggle of life, calmly contemplating, or he who descends to theground, and takes his part in the contest? "That philosopher," Pen said,"had held a great place amongst the leaders of the world, and enjoyedto the full what it had to give of rank and riches, renown and pleasure,who came, weary-hearted, out of it, and said that all was vanity andvexation of spirit. Many a teacher of those whom we reverence, and whosteps out of his carriage up to his carved cathedral place, shakes hislawn ruffles over the velvet cushions, and cries out, that the wholestruggle is an accursed one, and the works of the world are evil. Manya conscience-stricken mystic flies from it altogether, and shuts himselfout from it within convent walls (real or spiritual), whence he can onlylook up to the sky, and contemplate the heaven out of which there is norest, and no good.
"But the earth, 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--to thata shameful fall, or paralysed limb, or sudden accident--to each somework upon the ground he stands on, until he is laid beneath it." Whilethey were talking, the dawn came shining through the windows of theroom, and Pen threw them open to receive the fresh morning air. "Look,George," said he; "look and see the sun rise: he sees the labourer onhis way a-field; the work-girl plying her poor needle; the lawyer at hisdesk, perhaps; the beauty smiling asleep upon her pillow of down; or thejaded reveller reeling
to bed; or the fevered patient tossing on it; orthe doctor watching by it, over the throes of the mother for the childthat is to be born into the world;--to be born and to take his partin the suffering and struggling, the tears and laughter, the crime,remorse, love, folly, sorrow, rest."
The History of Pendennis Page 47
