The History of Pendennis, Volume 2

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  IN WHICH PEN BEGINS HIS CANVASS.

  Melancholy as the great house at Clavering Park had been in the daysbefore his marriage, when its bankrupt proprietor was a refugee inforeign lands, it was not much more cheerful now when Sir FrancisClavering came to inhabit it. The greater part of the mansion was shutup, and the baronet only occupied a few of the rooms on the groundfloor, where his housekeeper and her assistant from the lodge gatewaited upon the luckless gentleman in his forced retreat, and cooked apart of the game which he spent the dreary mornings in shooting.Lightfoot, his man, had passed over to my lady's service; and, as Penwas informed in a letter from Mr. Smirke, who performed the ceremony,had executed his prudent intention of marrying Mrs. Bonner, my lady'swoman, who, in her mature years, was stricken with the charms of theyouth, and endowed him with her savings and her mature person. To belandlord and landlady of the Clavering Arms was the ambition of bothof them; and it was agreed that they were to remain in LadyClavering's service until quarter-day arrived, when they were to takepossession of their hotel. Pen graciously promised that he would givehis election dinner there, when the baronet should vacate his seat inthe young man's favor; and, as it had been agreed by his uncle, towhom Clavering seemed to be able to refuse nothing, Arthur came downin September on a visit to Clavering Park, the owner of which was veryglad to have a companion who would relieve his loneliness, and perhapswould lend him a little ready money.

  Pen furnished his host with the desirable supplies a couple of daysafter he had made his appearance at Clavering: and no sooner werethese small funds in Sir Francis's pocket, than the latter found hehad business at Chatteris and at the neighboring watering-places, ofwhich----shire boasts many, and went off to see to his affairs, whichwere transacted, as might be supposed, at the county race-grounds andbilliard-rooms. Arthur could live alone well enough, having manymental resources and amusements which did not require other persons'company: he could walk with the game-keeper of a morning, and for theevenings there was a plenty of books and occupation for a literarygenius like Mr. Arthur, and who required but a cigar and a sheet ofpaper or two to make the night pass away pleasantly. In truth, in twoor three days he had found the society of Sir Francis Claveringperfectly intolerable; and it was with a mischievous eagerness andsatisfaction that he offered Clavering the little pecuniary aid whichthe latter according to his custom solicited; and supplied him withthe means of taking flight from his own house.

  Besides, our ingenious friend had to ingratiate himself with thetownspeople of Clavering, and with the voters of the borough which hehoped to represent; and he set himself to this task with only the moreeagerness, remembering how unpopular he had before been in Clavering,and determined to vanquish the odium which he had inspired among thesimple people there. His sense of humor made him delight in this task.Naturally rather reserved and silent in public, he became on a suddenas frank, easy, and jovial, as Captain Strong. He laughed with everybody who would exchange a laugh with him, shook hands right and left,with what may be certainly called a dexterous cordiality; made hisappearance at the market-day and the farmers' ordinary; and, in fine,acted like a consummate hypocrite, and as gentlemen of the highestbirth and most spotless integrity act when they wish to makethemselves agreeable to their constituents, and have some end to gainof the country folks. How is it that we allow ourselves not to bedeceived, but to be ingratiated so readily by a glib tongue, a readylaugh, and a frank manner? We know, for the most part, that it isfalse coin, and we take it: we know that it is flattery, which itcosts nothing to distribute to every body, and we had rather have itthan be without it. Friend Pen went about at Clavering, laboriouslysimple and adroitly pleased, and quite a different being from thescornful and rather sulky young dandy whom the inhabitants rememberedten years ago.

  The Rectory was shut up. Doctor Portman was gone, with his gout andhis family, to Harrowgate--an event which Pen deplored very much in aletter to the doctor, in which, in a few kind and simple words, heexpressed his regret at not seeing his old friend, whose advice hewanted and whose aid he might require some day: but Pen consoledhimself for the doctor's absence by making acquaintance with Mr.Simcoe, the opposition preacher, and with the two partners of thecloth-factory at Chatteris, and with the Independent preacher there, allof whom he met at the Clavering Athenaeum, which the Liberal party hadset up in accordance with the advanced spirit of the age, and perhapsin opposition to the aristocratic old reading-room, into which theEdinburgh Review had once scarcely got an admission, and where notradesmen were allowed an entrance He propitiated the youngerpartner of the cloth-factory, by asking him to dine in a friendlyway at the Park; he complimented the Honorable Mrs. Simcoe with haresand partridges from the same quarter, and a request to read herhusband's last sermon; and being a little unwell one day, the rascaltook advantage of the circumstance to show his tongue to Mr. Huxter,who sent him medicines and called the next morning. How delighted oldPendennis would have been with his pupil! Pen himself was amused withthe sport in which he was engaged, and his success inspired him with awicked good-humor.

  And yet, as he walked out of Clavering of a night, after "presiding"at a meeting of the Athenaeum, or working through an evening with Mrs.Simcoe, who, with her husband, was awed by the young Londoner'sreputation, and had heard of his social successes; as he passed overthe old familiar bridge of the rushing Brawl, and heard thatwell-remembered sound of waters beneath, and saw his own cottage ofFairoaks among the trees, their darkling outlines clear against thestarlit sky, different thoughts no doubt came to the young man's mind,and awakened pangs of grief and shame there. There still used to be alight in the windows of the room which he remembered so well, and inwhich the saint who loved him had passed so many hours of care andyearning and prayer. He turned away his gaze from the faint lightwhich seemed to pursue him with its wan reproachful gaze, as though itwas his mother's spirit watching and warning. How clear the night was!How keen the stars shone; how ceaseless the rush of the flowingwaters; the old home trees whispered, and waved gently their darkheads and branches over the cottage roof. Yonder, in the faintstarlight glimmer, was the terrace where, as a boy, he walked ofsummer evenings, ardent and trustful, unspotted, untried, ignorant ofdoubts or passions; sheltered as yet from the world's contamination inthe pure and anxious bosom of love.... The clock of the near towntolling midnight, with a clang disturbs our wanderer's reverie, andsends him onward toward his night's resting-place, through the lodgeinto Clavering avenue, and under the dark arcades of therustling limes.

  When he sees the cottage the next time, it is smiling in sunset; thosebedroom windows are open where the light was burning the night before;and Pen's tenant, Captain Stokes, of the Bombay Artillery, (whosemother, old Mrs. Stokes, lives in Clavering), receives his landlord'svisit with great cordiality: shows him over the grounds and the newpond he has made in the back-garden from the stables; talks to himconfidentially about the roof and chimneys, and begs Mr. Pendennis toname a day when he will do himself and Mrs. Stokes the pleasure to,&c. Pen, who has been a fortnight in the country, excuses himself fornot having called sooner upon the captain by frankly owning that hehad not the heart to do it. "I understand you, sir," the captain says;and Mrs. Stokes who had slipped away at the ring of the bell (how oddit seemed to Pen to ring the bell!) comes down in her best gown,surrounded by her children. The young ones clamber about Stokes: theboy jumps into an arm-chair. It was Pen's father's arm-chair;and Arthur remembers the days when he would as soon have thought ofmounting the king's throne as of seating himself in that arm-chair. Heasks if Miss Stokes--she is the very image of her mamma--if she canplay? He should like to hear a tune on that piano. She plays. He hearsthe notes of the old piano once more, enfeebled by age, but he doesnot listen to the player. He is listening to Laura singing as in thedays of their youth, and sees his mother bending and beating time overthe shoulder of the girl.

  The dinner at Fairoaks given in Pen's honor by his tenant, and atwhich old Mrs. Stokes, Captain Gl
anders, Squire Hobnell, and theclergyman and his lady, from Tinckleton, were present, was very stupidand melancholy for Pen, until the waiter from Clavering (who aided thecaptain's stable-boy and Mrs. Stokes's butler) whom Pen remembered asa street boy, and who was now indeed barber in that place, dropped aplate over Pen's shoulder, on which Mr. Hobnell (who also employedhim) remarked, "I suppose, Hodson, your hands are slippery withbear's-grease. He's always dropping the crockery about, that Hodsonis--haw, haw!" On which Hodson blushed, and looked so disconcerted,that Pen burst out laughing; and good humor and hilarity were theorder of the evening. For the second course there was a hare andpartridges top and bottom, and when after the withdrawal of theservants, Pen said to the Vicar of Tinckleton, "I think, Mr. Stooks,you should have asked Hodson to _cut the hare_," the joke was takeninstantly by the clergyman, who was followed in the course of a fewminutes by Captains Stokes and Glanders, and by Mr. Hobnell, whoarrived rather late, but with an immense guffaw.

  While Mr. Pen was engaged in the country in the above schemes, ithappened that the lady of his choice, if not of his affections, cameup to London from the Tunbridge villa, bound upon shopping expeditionsor important business, and in company of old Mrs. Bonner, her mother'smaid, who had lived and quarreled with Blanche many times since shewas an infant, and who now being about to quit Lady Clavering'sservice for the hymeneal state, was anxious like a good soul to bestowsome token of respectful kindness upon her old and young mistressbefore she quitted them altogether, to take her post as the wife ofLightfoot, and landlady of the Clavering Arms.

  The honest woman took the benefit of Miss Amory's taste to make thepurchase which she intended to offer her ladyship; and requested thefair Blanche to choose something for herself that should be to herliking, and remind her of her old nurse who had attended her throughmany a wakeful night, and eventful teething, and childish fever, andwho loved her like a child of her own a'most. These purchases weremade, and as the nurse insisted on buying an immense Bible forBlanche, the young lady suggested that Bonner should purchase a largeJohnson's Dictionary for her mamma. Each of the two women mightcertainly profit by the present made to her.

  Then Mrs. Bonner invested money in some bargains in linendrapery,which might be useful at the Clavering Arms, and bought a redand yellow neck-handkerchief, which Blanche could see at once wasintended for Mr. Lightfoot. Younger than herself by at leastfive-and-twenty years, Mrs. Bonner regarded that youth with a fondnessat once parental and conjugal, and loved to lavish ornaments on hisperson, which already glittered with pins, rings, shirt-studs, and chainsand seals, purchased at the good creature's expense.

  It was in the Strand that Mrs. Bonner made her purchases, aided byMiss Blanche, who liked the fun very well, and when the old lady hadbought every thing that she desired, and was leaving the shop,Blanche, with a smiling face, and a sweet bow to one of the shop,said, "Pray, sir, will you have the kindness to show us the way toShepherd's Inn."

  Shepherd's Inn was but a few score of yards off, Old Castle Street wasclose by, the elegant young shopman pointed out the turning which theyoung lady was to take, and she and her companion walked offtogether. "Shepherd's Inn! what can you want in Shepherd's Inn, MissBlanche?" Bonner inquired. "Mr. Strong lives there. Do you want to goand see the captain?"

  "I should like to see the captain very well. I like the captain; butit is not him I want. I want to see a dear little good girl, who wasvery kind to--to Mr. Arthur when he was so ill last year, and savedhis life almost; and I want to thank her, and ask her if she wouldlike any thing. I looked out several of my dresses on purpose thismorning, Bonner!" and she looked at Bonner as if she had a right toadmiration, and had performed an act of remarkable virtue. Blanche,indeed, was very fond of sugar-plums; she would have fed the poor uponthem, when she had had enough, and given a country girl a ball dresswhen she had worn it and was tired of it.

  "Pretty girl, pretty young woman!" mumbled Mrs. Bonner. "I know _I_want no pretty young women come about Lightfoot," and in imaginationshe peopled the Clavering Arms with a Harem of the most hideouschambermaids and barmaids.

  Blanche, with pink and blue, and feathers, and flowers, and trinkets(that wondrous invention, a chatelaine, was not extant yet, or shewould have had one, we may be sure), and a shot silk dress, and awonderful mantle, and a charming parasol, presented a vision ofelegance and beauty such as bewildered the eyes of Mrs. Bolton, whowas scrubbing the lodge-floor of Shepherd's Inn, and causedBetsy-Jane, and Ameliar-Ann to look with delight.

  Blanche looked on them with a smile of ineffable sweetness andprotection; like Rowena going to see Ivanhoe; like Marie Antoinettevisiting the poor in the famine; like the Marchioness of Carabasalighting from her carriage and four at a pauper-tenant's door, andtaking from John No. II., the packet of Epsom salts for the invalid'sbenefit, carrying it with her own imperial hand into the sickroom--Blanche felt a queen stepping down from her throne to visit asubject, and enjoyed all the bland consciousness of doing agood action.

  "My good woman! I want to see Fanny--Fanny Bolton; is she here?"

  Mrs. Bolton had a sudden suspicion, from the splendor of Blanche'sappearance, that it must be a play-actor, or something worse.

  "What do you want with Fanny, pray?" she asked.

  "I am Lady Clavering's daughter--you have heard of Sir FrancisClavering? And I wish very much indeed to see Fanny Bolton."

  "Pray step in, Miss--Betsy-Jane, where's Fanny?"

  Betsy-Jane said Fanny had gone into No. 3 staircase, on which Mrs.Bolton said she was probably in Strong's rooms, and bade the child goand see if she was there.

  "In Captain Strong's rooms! oh, let us go to Captain Strong's rooms,"cried out Miss Blanche. "I know him very well. You dearest littlegirl, show us the way to Captain Strong!" cried out Miss Blanche, forthe floor reeked with the recent scrubbing, and the goddess did notlike the smell of brown soap. And as they passed up the stairs, agentleman by the name of Costigan, who happened to be swaggering aboutthe court, and gave a very knowing look with his "oi" under Blanche'sbonnet, remarked to himself, "That's a devilish foine gyurll, bedad,goan up to Sthrong and Altamont: they're always having foine gyurllsup their stairs."

  "Halloo--hwhat's that?" he presently said, looking up at the windows:from which some piercing shrieks issued.

  At the sound of the voice of a distressed female the intrepid Cosrushed up the stairs as fast as his old legs would carry him, beingnearly overthrown by Strong's servant, who was descending the stair.Cos found the outer door of Strong's chambers opened, and began tothunder at the knocker. After many and fierce knocks, the inner doorwas partially unclosed, and Strong's head appeared.

  "It's oi, me boy. Hwhat's that noise, Sthrong?" asked Costigan.

  "Go to the d--" was the only answer, and the door was shut on Cos'svenerable red nose, and he went down stairs muttering threats at theindignity offered to him, and vowing that he would have satisfaction.In the meanwhile the reader, more lucky than Captain Costigan, willhave the privilege of being made acquainted with the secret which waswithheld from that officer.

  It has been said of how generous a disposition Mr. Altamont was, andwhen he was well supplied with funds, how liberally he spent them. Ofa hospitable turn, he had no greater pleasure than drinking in companywith other people; so that there was no man more welcome at Greenwichand Richmond than the Emissary of the Nawaub of Lucknow.

  Now it chanced that on the day when Blanche and Mrs. Bonner ascendedthe staircase to Strong's room in Shepherd's Inn, the colonel hadinvited Miss Delaval of the----Theatre Royal, and her mother, Mrs.Hodge, to a little party down the river, and it had been agreed thatthey were to meet at Chambers, and thence walk down to a port in theneighboring Strand to take water. So that when Mrs. Bonner and MesLarmes came to the door, where Grady, Altamont's servant, wasstanding, the domestic said, "Walk in, ladies," with the utmostaffability, and led them into the room, which was arranged as if theyhad been expected there. Indeed, two bouquets of flowers, bought atCovent Garden that morning, a
nd instances of the tender gallantry ofAltamont, were awaiting his guests upon the table. Blanche smelt atthe bouquet, and put her pretty little dainty nose into it, andtripped about the room, and looked behind the curtains, and at thebooks and prints, and at the plan of Clavering estate hanging up onthe wall; and had asked the servant for Captain Strong, and had almostforgotten his existence and the errand about which she had come,namely, to visit Fanny Bolton; so pleased was she with the newadventure, and the odd, strange, delightful, droll little idea ofbeing in a bachelor's chambers in a queer old place in the city!

  Grady meanwhile, with a pair of ample varnished boots, haddisappeared into his master's room. Blanche had hardly the leisureto remark how big the boots were, and how unlike Mr. Strong's.

  "The women's come," said Grady, helping his master to the boots.

  "Did you ask 'em if they would take a glass of any thing?" askedAltamont.

  Grady came out--"He says, will you take any thing to drink?" thedomestic asked of them; at which Blanche, amused with the artlessquestion, broke out into a pretty little laugh, and asked of Mrs.Bonner, "Shall we take any thing to drink?"

  "Well, you may take it or lave it," said Mr. Grady, who thought hisoffer slighted, and did not like the contemptuous manners of thenewcomers, and so left them.

  "Will we take any thing to drink?" Blanche asked again: and againbegan to laugh.

  "Grady," bawled out a voice from the chamber within:--a voice thatmade Mrs. Bonner start.

  Grady did not answer: his song was heard from afar off, from thekitchen, his upper room, where Grady was singing at his work.

  "Grady, my coat!" again roared the voice from within.

  "Why, that is not Mr. Strong's voice," said the Sylphide, still halflaughing. "Grady my coat!--Bonner, who is Grady my coat? We oughtto go away."

  Bonner still looked quite puzzled at the sound of the voice which shehad heard.

  The bedroom door here opened and the individual who had called out"Grady, my coat," appeared without the garment in question.

  He nodded to the women, and walked across the room. "I beg yourpardon, ladies. Grady, bring my coat down, sir! Well, my dears, it's afine day, and we'll have a jolly lark at----"

  He said no more; for here Mrs. Bonner, who had been looking at himwith scared eyes, suddenly shrieked out, "Amory! Amory!" and fell backscreaming and fainting in her chair.

  The man, so apostrophized, looked at the woman an instant, and,rushing up to Blanche, seized her and kissed her. "Yes, Betsy," hesaid, "by G--it is me. Mary Bonner knew me. What a fine gal we'vegrown! But it's a secret, mind. I'm dead, though I'm your father. Yourpoor mother don't know it. What a pretty gal we've grown! Kissme--kiss me close, my Betsy! D--it, I love you: I'm your old father."

  Betsy or Blanche looked quite bewildered, and began to scream too--once, twice, thrice; and it was her piercing shrieks which CaptainCostigan heard as he walked the court below.

  At the sound of these shrieks the perplexed parent clasped his hands(his wristbands were open, and on one brawny arm you could see letterstattooed in blue), and, rushing to his apartment, came back with aneau de Cologne bottle from his grand silver dressing-case, with thefragrant contents of which he began liberally to sprinkle Bonnerand Blanche.

  The screams of these women brought the other occupants of the chamberinto the room: Grady from his kitchen, and Strong from his apartmentin the upper story. The latter at once saw from the aspect of the twowomen what had occurred.

  "Grady, go and wait in the court," he said, "and if any body comes--you understand me."

  "Is it the play-actress and her mother?" said Grady.

  "Yes--confound you--say that there's nobody in Chambers, and theparty's off for to-day."

  "Shall I say that, sir? and after I bought them bokays?" asked Gradyof his master.

  "Yes," said Amory, with a stamp of his foot; and Strong going to thedoor, too, reached it just in time to prevent the entrance of CaptainCostigan, who had mounted the stair.

  The ladies from the theatre did not have their treat to Greenwich, nordid Blanche pay her visit to Fanny Bolton on that day. And Cos, whotook occasion majestically to inquire of Grady what the mischief was,and who was crying?--had for answer that 'twas a woman, another ofthem, and that they were, in Grady's opinion, the cause of 'most allthe mischief in the world.