A History of Pendennis, Volume 1

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  ALMA MATER.

  Every man, however brief or inglorious may have been his academicalcareer, must remember with kindness and tenderness the old universitycomrades and days. The young man's life is just beginning: the boy'sleading-strings are cut, and he has all the novel delights and dignitiesof freedom. He has no idea of cares yet, or of bad health, or ofroguery, or poverty, or to-morrow's disappointment. The play has notbeen acted so often as to make him tired. Though the after-drink, aswe mechanically go on repeating it, is stale and bitter, how pure andbrilliant was that first sparkling draught of pleasure!--How the boyrushes at the cup, and with what a wild eagerness he drains it! Butold epicures who are cut off from the delights of the table, and arerestricted to a poached egg and a glass of water, like to see peoplewith good appetites; and, as the next best thing to being amused at apantomime one's self is to see one's children enjoy it, I hope there maybe no degree of age or experience to which mortal may attain, when heshall become such a glum philosopher, as not to be pleased by the sightof happy youth. Coming back a few weeks since from a brief visit to theold University of Oxbridge, where my friend Mr. Arthur Pendennis passedsome period of his life, I made the journey in the railroad by the sideof a young fellow at present a student of Saint Boniface. He had gotan _excat_ somehow, and was bent on a day's lark in London: he neverstopped rattling and talking from the commencement of the journey untilits close (which was a great deal too soon for me, for I never was tiredof listening to the honest young fellow's jokes and cheery laughter);and when we arrived at the terminus nothing would satisfy him but aHansom cab, so that he might get into town the quicker, and plunge intothe pleasures awaiting him there. Away the young lad went whirling, withjoy lighting up his honest face; and as for the reader's humble servant,having but a small carpet-bag, I got up on the outside of the omnibus,and sate there very contentedly between a Jew-pedlar smoking bad cigars,and a gentleman's servant taking care of a poodle-dog, until we gotour fated complement of passengers and boxes, when the coachman droveleisurely away. _We_ weren't in a hurry to get to town. Neither one ofus was particularly eager about rushing into that near smoking Babylon,or thought of dining at the club that night, or dancing at the Casino.Yet a few years more, and my young friend of the railroad will be nota whit more eager.

  There were no railroads made when Arthur Pendennis went to the famousUniversity of Oxbridge; but he drove thither in a well appointed coach,filled inside and out with dons, gownsmen, young freshmen about toenter, and their guardians, who were conducting them to the University.A fat old gentleman, in gray stockings, from the City, who sate by MajorPendennis inside the coach, having his pale-faced son opposite, wasfrightened beyond measure, when he heard that the coach had been drivenfor a couple of stages by young Mr. Foker, of Saint Boniface College,who was the friend of all men, including coachmen, and could drive aswell as Tom Hicks himself. Pen sate on the roof, examining coach,passengers, and country, with great delight and curiosity. His heartjumped with pleasure as the famous University came in view, and themagnificent prospect of venerable towers and pinnacles, tall elms andshining river, spread before him.

  Pen had passed a few days with his uncle at the major's lodgings,in Bury-street, before they set out for Oxbridge. Major Pendennisthought that the lad's wardrobe wanted renewal; and Arthur was byno means averse to any plan which was to bring him new coats andwaistcoats. There was no end to the sacrifices which the self-denyinguncle made in the youth's behalf. London was awfully lonely. The PallMall pavement was deserted; the very red jackets had gone out of town.There was scarce a face to be seen in the bow windows of the clubs.The major conducted his nephew into one or two of those desertmansions, and wrote down the lad's name on the candidate-list of oneof them; and Arthur's pleasure at this compliment on his guardian'spart was excessive. He read in the parchment volume his name and titles,as "Arthur Pendennis, Esquire, of Fairoaks Lodge, --shire, and SaintBoniface College, Oxbridge; proposed by Major Pendennis, and seconded byViscount Colchicum," with a thrill of intense gratification. "You willcome in for ballot in about three years, by which time you will havetaken your degree," the guardian said. Pen longed for the three years tobe over, and surveyed the stucco-halls, and vast libraries, and drawingrooms, as already his own property. The major laughed slily to see thepompous airs of the simple young fellow, as he strutted out of thebuilding. He and Foker drove down in the latter's cab one day to theGray Friars, and renewed acquaintance with some of their old comradesthere. The boys came crowding up to the cab as it stood by the GrayFriars gates, where they were entering, and admired the chestnut horse,and the tights and livery and gravity of Stoopid, the tiger. The bellfor afternoon-school rang as they were swaggering about the play groundtalking to their old cronies. The awful doctor passed into school withhis grammar in his hand. Foker slunk away uneasily at his presence, butPen went up blushing, and shook the dignitary by the hand. He laughed ashe thought that well-remembered Latin Grammar had boxed his ears many atime. He was generous, good-natured, and, in a word, perfectly conceitedand satisfied with himself.

  Then they drove to the parental brew-house. Foker's Entire is composedin an enormous pile of buildings, not far from the Gray Friars, and thename of that well known firm is gilded upon innumerable public-housesigns, tenanted by its vassals in the neighborhood; and the venerablejunior partner and manager did honor to the young lord of the vats,and his friend, and served them with silver flagons of brown stout, sostrong, that you would have thought, not only the young men, but thevery horse Mr. Harry Foker drove, was affected by the potency of thedrink, for he rushed home to the west-end of the town at a rapid pace,which endangered the pie-stalls and the women on the crossings, andbrought the cab-steps into collision with the posts at the streetcorners, and caused Stoopid to swing fearfully on his board behind.

  The major was quite pleased when Pen was with his young acquaintance;listened to Mr. Foker's artless stories with the greatest interest,gave the two boys a fine dinner at a Covent Garden Coffee-house, whencethey proceeded to the play; but was above all happy when Mr. andLady Agnes Foker, who happened to be in London, requested the pleasureof Major Pendennis and Mr. Arthur Pendennis's company at dinner inGrosvenor-street. "Having obtained the _entree_ into Lady Agnes Foker'shouse," he said to Pen with an affectionate solemnity which befitted theimportance of the occasion, "it behoves you, my dear boy, to keep it.You must mind and _never_ neglect to call in Grosvenor-street when youcome to London. I recommend you to read up carefully, in Debrett, thealliances and genealogy of the Earls of Rosherville, and if you can, tomake some trifling allusions to the family, something historical, neat,and complimentary, and that sort of thing, which you, who have a poeticfancy, can do pretty well. Mr. Foker himself is a worthy man, though notof high extraction or indeed much education. He always makes a point ofhaving some of the family porter served round after dinner, which youwill on no account refuse, and which I shall drink myself, though allbeer disagrees with me confoundedly." And the heroic martyr did actuallysacrifice himself, as he said he would, on the day when the dinner tookplace, and old Mr. Foker at the head of his table, made his usual jokeabout Foker's Entire. We should all of us, I am sure, have liked to seethe major's grin, when the worthy old gentleman made his time-honoredjoke.

  Lady Agnes, who, wrapped up in Harry, was the fondest of mothers, andone of the most good-natured though not the wisest of women, receivedher son's friend with great cordiality: and astonished Pen by accountsof the severe course of studies which her darling boy was pursuing, andwhich she feared might injure his dear health. Foker the elder burstinto a horse-laugh at some of these speeches, and the heir of the housewinked his eye very knowingly at his friend. And Lady Agnes then goingthrough her son's history from the earliest time, and recounting hismiraculous sufferings in the measles and whooping-cough, his escapefrom drowning, the shocking tyrannies practiced upon him at that horridschool, whither Mr. Foker would send him because he had been brought upthere himself, and
she never would forgive that disagreeable doctor, nonever--Lady Agnes, we say, having prattled away for an hour incessantlyabout her son, voted the two Messieurs Pendennis most agreeable men; andwhen the pheasants came with the second course, which the major praisedas the very finest birds he ever saw, her ladyship said they came fromLogwood (as the major knew perfectly well) and hoped that they wouldboth pay her a visit there--at Christmas, or when dear Harry was athome for the vacations.

  "God bless you, my dear boy," Pendennis said to Arthur, as they werelighting their candles in Bury-street afterward to go to bed. "Youmade that little allusion to Agincourt, where one of the Roshervillesdistinguished himself, very neatly and well, although Lady Agnes did notquite understand it; but it was exceedingly well for a beginner--thoughyou oughtn't to blush so, by the way--and I beseech you, my dear Arthur,to remember through life, that with an _entree_--with a good _entree_,mind--it is just as easy for you to have good society as bad, and thatit costs a man, when properly introduced, no more trouble or _soins_ tokeep a good footing in the best houses in London than to dine with alawyer in Bedford-square. Mind this when you are at Oxbridge pursuingyour studies, and for Heaven's sake be _very_ particular in theacquaintances which you make. The _premier pas_ in life is the mostimportant of all--did you write to your mother to-day?--No?--well, do,before you go, and call and ask Mr. Foker for a frank.--They likeit.--Good night. God bless you."

  Pen wrote a droll account of his doings in London, and the play, and thevisit to the old Friars, and the brewery, and the party at Mr. Foker's,to his dearest mother, who was saying her prayers at home in the lonelyhouse at Fairoaks, her heart full of love and tenderness unutterable forthe boy: and she and Laura read that letter and those which followed,many, many times, and brooded over them as women do. It was the firststep in life that Pen was making--Ah! what a dangerous journey itis, and how the bravest may stumble and the strongest fail. Brotherwayfarer! may you have a kind arm to support you on the path, and afriendly hand to succor those who fall beside you. May truth guide,mercy forgive at the end, and love accompany always. Without thatlamp how blind the traveler would be, and how black and cheerlessthe journey!

  So the coach drove up to that ancient and comfortable inn theTrencher, which stands in Main-street Oxbridge, and Pen with delightand eagerness remarked, for the first time, gownsmen going about,chapel bells clinking (bells in Oxbridge are ringing from morning-tidetill even-song)--towers and pinnacles rising calm and stately overthe gables and antique house-roofs of the homely, busy city. Previouscommunications had taken place between Dr. Portman on Pen's part, andMr. Buck, Tutor of Boniface, on whose side Pen was entered; and as soonas Major Pendennis had arranged his personal appearance, so that itshould make a satisfactory impression upon Pen's tutor, the pair walkeddown Main-street, and passed the great gate and belfry-tower of SaintGeorge's College, and so came, as they were directed, to Saint Boniface:where again Pen's heart began to beat as they entered at the wicket ofthe venerable ivy-mantled gate of the college. It is surmounted with anancient dome almost covered with creepers, and adorned with the effigyof the saint from whom the house takes its name, and many coats-of-armsof its royal and noble benefactors.

  The porter pointed out a queer old tower at the corner of thequadrangle, by which Mr. Buck's rooms were approached, and the twogentlemen walked across the square, the main features of which, wereat once and forever stamped in Pen's mind--the pretty fountain playingin the center of the fair grass plats; the tall chapel windows andbuttresses rising to the right; the hall with its tapering lantern andoriel window; the lodge, from the doors of which the master issuedawfully in rustling silks; the lines of the surrounding rooms pleasantlybroken by carved chimneys, gray turrets, and quaint gables--all theseMr. Pen's eyes drank in with an eagerness which belongs to firstimpressions; and Major Pendennis surveyed with that calmness whichbelongs to a gentleman who does not care for the picturesque, and whoseeyes have been somewhat dimmed by the constant glare of the pavement ofPall Mall.

  Saint George's is the great college of the University of Oxbridge, withits four vast quadrangles, and its beautiful hall and gardens, and theGeorgians, as the men are called, wear gowns of a peculiar cut, and givethemselves no small airs of superiority over all other young men. LittleSaint Boniface is but a petty hermitage in comparison of the hugeconsecrated pile alongside of which it lies. But considering its size ithas always kept an excellent name in the University. Its _ton_ is verygood; the best families of certain counties have time out of mind sentup their young men to Saint Boniface; the college livings are remarkablygood, the fellowships easy; the Boniface men had had more than theirfair share of University honors; their boat was third upon the river:their chapel-choir is not inferior to Saint George's itself; and theBoniface ale the best in Oxbridge. In the comfortable old wainscotedCollege-Hall, and round about Roubilliac's statue of Saint Boniface (whostands in an attitude of seraphic benediction over the uncommonly goodcheer of the fellows' table) there are portraits of many most eminentBonifacians. There is the learned Dr. Griddle, who suffered in HenryVIII.'s time, and Archbishop Bush who roasted him--there is LordChief Justice Hicks--the Duke of St. David's, K. G., Chancellor of theUniversity and member of this College--Sprott, the poet, of whose famethe college is justly proud--Doctor Blogg, the late master and friendof Doctor Johnson, who visited him at St. Boniface--and other lawyers,scholars, and divines, whose portraitures look from the walls, or whosecoats-of-arms shine in emerald and ruby, gold and azure, in the tallwindows of the refectory. The venerable cook of the college is one ofthe best artists in Oxbridge (his son took the highest honors in theother University of Camford) and the wine in the fellows' room has longbeen famed for its excellence and abundance.

  Into this certainly not the least snugly sheltered arbor among thegroves of Academe, Pen now found his way, leaning on his uncle's arm,and they speedily reached Mr. Buck's rooms, and were conducted into theapartment of that courteous gentleman.

  He had received previous information from Dr. Portman regarding Pen,with respect to whose family, fortune, and personal merits the honestdoctor had spoken with no small enthusiasm. Indeed Portman had describedArthur to the tutor "as a young gentleman of some fortune and landedestate, of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, andpossessing such a character and genius as were sure, under the properguidance, to make him a credit to the college and the University." Undersuch recommendations the tutor was, of course, most cordial to the youngfreshman and his guardian, invited the latter to dine in hall, where hewould have the satisfaction of seeing his nephew wear his gown and eathis dinner for the first time, and requested the pair to take wine athis rooms after hall, and in consequence of the highly favorable reporthe had received of Mr. Arthur Pendennis, said he should be happy to givehim the best set of rooms to be had in college--a gentleman-pensioner'sset, indeed, which were just luckily vacant. So they parted untildinner-time, which was very near at hand, and Major Pendennis pronouncedMr. Buck to be uncommonly civil indeed. Indeed when a college magnatetakes the trouble to be polite, there is no man more splendidlycourteous. Immersed in their books and excluded from the world by thegravity of their occupations, these reverend men assume a solemnmagnificence of compliment in which they rustle and swell as in theirgrand robes of state. Those silks and brocades are not put on for allcomers or every day.

  When the two gentlemen had taken leave of the tutor in his study, andhad returned to Mr. Buck's ante-room, or lecture-room, a very handsomeapartment, turkey-carpeted, and hung with excellent prints and richlyframed pictures, they found the tutor's servant already in waitingthere, accompanied by a man with a bag full of caps and a number ofgowns, from which Pen might select a cap and gown for himself, and theservant, no doubt, would get a commission proportionable to the servicedone by him. Mr. Pen was all in a tremor of pleasure as the bustlingtailor tried on a gown and pronounced that it was an excellent fit; andthen he put the pretty college cap on, in rather a dandified manner andsomewhat on one side, as he had s
een Fiddicombe, the youngest master atGray Friars, wear it. And he inspected the entire costume with a greatdeal of satisfaction in one of the great gilt mirrors which ornamentedMr. Buck's lecture-room: for some of these college divines are no moreabove looking-glasses than a lady is, and look to the set of their gownsand caps quite as anxiously as folks do of the lovelier sex. The majorsmiled as he saw the boy dandifying himself in the glass: the oldgentleman was not displeased with the appearance of the comely lad.

  Then Davis, the skip or attendant, led the way, keys in hand, across thequadrangle, the major and Pen following him, the latter blushing, andpleased with his new academical habiliments, across the quadrangle tothe rooms which were destined for the freshman; and which were vacatedby the retreat of the gentleman-pensioner, Mr. Spicer. The rooms werevery comfortable, with large cross beams, high wainscots and smallwindows in deep embrasures. Mr. Spicer's furniture was there, and to besold at a valuation, and Major Pendennis agreed on his nephew's behalfto take the available part of it, laughingly, however, declining (as,indeed, Pen did for his own part), six sporting prints, and four groupsof opera-dancers with gauze draperies, which formed the late occupant'spictorial collection.

  Then they went to hall, where Pen sate down and ate his commons with hisbrother freshmen, and the major took his place at the high-table alongwith the college dignitaries and other fathers or guardians of youth,who had come up with their sons to Oxbridge; and after hall they wentto Mr. Buck's to take wine: and after wine to chapel, where the majorsate with great gravity in the upper place, having a fine view of theMaster in his carved throne or stall under the organ-loft, where thatgentleman, the learned Doctor Donne, sate magnificent, with his greatprayer-book before him, an image of statuesque piety and rigid devotion.All the young freshmen behaved with gravity and decorum, but Pen wasshocked to see that atrocious little Foker, who came in very late,and half-a-dozen of his comrades in the gentlemen-pensioners' seats,giggling and talking as if they had been in so many stalls at the opera.But these circumstances, it must be remembered, took place some yearsback, when William the Fourth was king. Young men are much betterbehaved now, and besides, Saint Boniface was rather a fast college.

  Pen could hardly sleep at night in his bed-room at the Trencher: soanxious was he to begin his college life, and to get into his ownapartments. What did he think about, as he lay tossing and awake?Was it about his mother at home; the pious soul whose life was bound upin his? Yes, let us hope he thought of her a little. Was it about MissFotheringay, and his eternal passion, which had kept him awake so manynights, and created such wretchedness and such longing? He had a trickof blushing, and if you had been in the room, and the candle had notbeen out, you might have seen the youth's countenance redden more thanonce, as he broke out into passionate incoherent exclamations regardingthat luckless event of his life. His uncle's lessons had not been thrownaway upon him; the mist of passion had passed from his eyes now, and hesaw her as she was. To think that he, Pendennis, had been enslaved bysuch a woman, and then jilted by her! that he should have stooped solow, to be trampled on in the mire! that there was a time in his life,and that but a few months back, when he was willing to take Costiganfor his father-in-law!--

  "Poor old Smirke!" Pen presently laughed out--"well, I'll write and tryand console the poor old boy. He won't die of his passion, ha, ha!" Themajor, had he been awake, might have heard a score of such ejaculationsuttered by Pen as he lay awake and restless through the first night ofhis residence at Oxbridge.

  It would, perhaps, have been better for a youth, the battle of whoselife was going to begin on the morrow, to have passed the eve in adifferent sort of vigil: but the world had got hold of Pen in theshape of his selfish old Mentor; and those who have any interest inhis character, must have perceived ere now, that this lad was veryweak as well as very impetuous, very vain as well as very frank, andif of a generous disposition, not a little selfish in the midst ofhis profuseness, and also rather fickle, as all eager pursuers ofself-gratification are.

  The six months' passion had aged him very considerably. There wasan immense gulf between Pen the victim of love, and Pen the innocentboy of eighteen, sighing after it: and so Arthur Pendennis had all theexperience and superiority, besides that command which afterward conceitand imperiousness of disposition gave him over the young men with whomhe now began to live.

  He and his uncle passed the morning with great satisfaction in makingpurchases for the better comfort of the apartments which the lad wasabout to occupy. Mr. Spicer's china and glass was in a dreadfullydismantled condition, his lamps smashed, and his book cases by no meansso spacious as those shelves which would be requisite to receive thecontents of the boxes which were lying in the hall at Fairoaks, andwhich were addressed to Arthur in the hand of poor Helen.

  The boxes arrived in a few days, that his mother had packed with somuch care. Pen was touched as he read the superscriptions in the dearwell-known hand, and he arranged in their proper places all the books,his old friends, and all the linen and table-cloths which Helen hadselected from the family stock, and all the jam-pots which little Laurahad bound in straw, and the hundred simple gifts of home. Pen hadanother Alma Mater now. But it is not all children who take to herkindly.