Chapter XLIII: In Which the Reader Has to Double the Cape

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　The astonished reader must be called upon to transporthimself ten thousand miles to the military station ofBundlegunge, in the Madras division of our Indian empire,where our gallant old friends of the --th regiment arequartered under the command of the brave Colonel,Sir Michael O'Dowd. Time has dealt kindly with thatstout officer, as it does ordinarily with men who havegood stomachs and good tempers and are not perplexedover much by fatigue of the brain. The Colonel plays agood knife and fork at tiffin and resumes those weaponswith great success at dinner. He smokes his hookah afterboth meals and puffs as quietly while his wife scoldshim as he did under the fire of the French at Waterloo. Ageand heat have not diminished the activity or the eloquenceof the descendant of the Malonys and the Molloys. HerLadyship, our old acquaintance, is as much at home atMadras as at Brussels in the cantonment as under thetents. On the march you saw her at the head of theregiment seated on a royal elephant, a noble sight.Mounted on that beast, she has been into action with tigersin the jungle, she has been received by native princes, whohave welcomed her and Glorvina into the recesses of theirzenanas and offered her shawls and jewels which it wentto her heart to refuse. The sentries of all arms salute herwherever she makes her appearance, and she touches herhat gravely to their salutation. Lady O'Dowd is one of thegreatest ladies in the Presidency of Madras--her quarrelwith Lady Smith, wife of Sir Minos Smith the puisne judge,is still remembered by some at Madras, when the Colonel'slady snapped her fingers in the Judge's lady's face and saidshe'd never walk behind ever a beggarly civilian. Evennow, though it is five-and-twenty years ago, peopleremember Lady O'Dowd performing a jig at GovernmentHouse, where she danced down two Aides-de-Camp, aMajor of Madras cavalry, and two gentlemen of the CivilService; and, persuaded by Major Dobbin, C.B., second incommand of the --th, to retire to the supper-room, lassatanondum satiata recessit.

　　Peggy O'Dowd is indeed the same as ever, kind in act andthought; impetuous in temper; eager to command; a tyrantover her Michael; a dragon amongst all the ladies of theregiment; a mother to all the young men, whom she tendsin their sickness, defends in all their scrapes, and withwhom Lady Peggy is immensely popular. But theSubalterns' and Captains' ladies (the Major is unmarried)cabal against her a good deal. They say that Glorvina givesherself airs and that Peggy herself is ill tolerablydomineering. She interfered with a little congregationwhich Mrs. Kirk had got up and laughed the young menaway from her sermons, stating that a soldier's wife had nobusiness to be a parson--that Mrs. Kirk would be muchbetter mending her husband's clothes; and, if the regimentwanted sermons, that she had the finest in the world, thoseof her uncle, the Dean. She abruptly put a termination to aflirtation which Lieutenant Stubble of the regiment hadcommenced with the Surgeon's wife, threatening to comedown upon Stubble for the money which he had borrowedfrom her (for the young fellow was still of an extravagantturn) unless he broke off at once and went to the Cape onsick leave. On the other hand, she housed and shelteredMrs. Posky, who fled from her bungalow one night,pursued by her infuriate husband, wielding his secondbrandy bottle, and actually carried Posky through thedelirium tremens and broke him of the habit of drinking,which had grown upon that officer, as all evil habits willgrow upon men. In a word, in adversity she was the bestof comforters, in good fortune the most troublesome offriends, having a perfectly good opinion of herself alwaysand an indomitable resolution to have her own way.

　　Among other points, she had made up her mind thatGlorvina should marry our old friend Dobbin. Mrs. O'Dowdknew the Major's expectations and appreciated his goodqualities and the high character which he enjoyed in hisprofession. Glorvina, a very handsome, fresh-coloured,black-haired, blue-eyed young lady, who could ride ahorse, or play a sonata with any girl out of the CountyCork, seemed to be the very person destined to insureDobbin's happiness--much more than that poor good littleweak-spur'ted Amelia, about whom he used to take on so.--"Look at Glorvina enter a room," Mrs. O'Dowd would say,"and compare her with that poor Mrs. Osborne, whocouldn't say boo to a goose. She'd be worthy of you, Major--you're a quiet man yourself, and want some one to talk forye. And though she does not come of such good blood asthe Malonys or Molloys, let me tell ye, she's of an ancientfamily that any nobleman might be proud to marry into."

　　But before she had come to such a resolution and determined tosubjugate Major Dobbin by her endearments, it must be ownedthat Glorvina had practised them a good deal elsewhere. She hadhad a season in Dublin, and who knows how many in Cork,Killarney, and Mallow? She had flirted with all the marriageableofficers whom the depots of her country afforded, and all thebachelor squires who seemed eligible. She had beenengaged to be married a half-score times in Ireland,besides the clergyman at Bath who used her so ill. She hadflirted all the way to Madras with the Captain and chiefmate of the Ramchunder East Indiaman, and had a seasonat the Presidency with her brother and Mrs. O'Dowd, whowas staying there, while the Major of the regiment was incommand at the station. Everybody admired her there;everybody danced with her; but no one proposed who wasworth the marrying--one or two exceedingly youngsubalterns sighed after her, and a beardless civilian or two,but she rejected these as beneath her pretensions--andother and younger virgins than Glorvina were marriedbefore her. There are women, and handsome women too,who have this fortune in life. They fall in love with theutmost generosity; they ride and walk with half theArmy-list, though they draw near to forty, and yet theMisses O'Grady are the Misses O'Grady still: Glorvinapersisted that but for Lady O'Dowd's unlucky quarrel withthe Judge's lady, she would have made a good match atMadras, where old Mr. Chutney, who was at the head ofthe civil service (and who afterwards married Miss Dolby,a young lady only thirteen years of age who had justarrived from school in Europe), was just at the point ofproposing to her.

　　Well, although Lady O'Dowd and Glorvina quarrelled agreat number of times every day, and upon almost everyconceivable subject--indeed, if Mick O'Dowd had notpossessed the temper of an angel two such womenconstantly about his ears would have driven him out of hissenses--yet they agreed between themselves on this point,that Glorvina should marry Major Dobbin, and weredetermined that the Major should have no rest until thearrangement was brought about. Undismayed by forty orfifty previous defeats, Glorvina laid siege to him. She sangIrish melodies at him unceasingly. She asked him sofrequently and pathetically, Will ye come to the bower?that it is a wonder how any man of feeling could haveresisted the invitation. She was never tired of inquiring, ifSorrow had his young days faded, and was ready to listenand weep like Desdemona at the stories of his dangers andhis campaigns. It has beensaid that our honest and dear old friend used to performon the flute in private; Glorvina insisted upon having duetswith him, and Lady O'Dowd would rise and artlessly quitthe room when the young couple were so engaged.Glorvina forced the Major to ride with her of mornings. Thewhole cantonment saw them set out and return. She wasconstantly writing notes over to him at his house,borrowing his books, and scoring with her greatpencil-marks such passages of sentiment or humour asawakened her sympathy. She borrowed his horses, hisservants, his spoons, and palanquin--no wonder that publicrumour assigned her to him, and that the Major's sisters inEngland should fancy they were about to have a sister-in-law.

　　Dobbin, who was thus vigorously besieged, was in themeanwhile in a state of the most odious tranquillity. Heused to laugh when the young fellows of the regimentjoked him about Glorvina's manifest attentions to him."Bah!" said he, "she is only keeping her hand in--shepractises upon me as she does upon Mrs. Tozer's piano,because it's the most handy instrument in the station. I ammuch too battered and old for such a fine young lady asGlorvina." And so he went on riding with her, and copyingmusic and verses into her albums, and playing at chesswith her very submissively; for it is with these simpleamusements that some officers in India are accustomed towhile away their leisure moments, while others of a lessdomestic turn hunt hogs, and shoot snipes, or gamble andsmoke cheroots, and betake themselves to brandy-and-water. As for Sir Michael O'Dowd, though his lady and hersister both urged him to call upon the Major to explainhimself and not keep on torturing a poor innocent girl inthat shameful way, the old soldier refused point-blank tohave anything to do with the conspiracy. "Faith, the Major'sbig enough to choose for himself," Sir Michael said; "he'llask ye when he wants ye"; or else he would turn thematter off jocularly, declaring that "Dobbin was too youngto keep house, and had written home to ask lave of hismamma." Nay, he went farther, and in privatecommunications with his Major would caution and rallyhim, crying, "Mind your oi, Dob, my boy, them girls is benton mischief--me Lady has just got a box of gowns from Europe, and there's a pink satin for Glorvina, which will finish ye, Dob, if it's in the power of woman or satin to move ye."

　　But the truth is, neither beauty nor fashion could conquerhim. Our honest friend had but one idea of a woman in hishead, and that one did not in the least resemble MissGlorvina O'Dowd in pink satin. A gentle little woman in black,with large eyes and brown hair, seldom speaking, save whenspoken to, and then in a voice not the least resemblingMiss Glorvina's--a soft young mother tending an infantand beckoning the Major up with a smile to look at him--arosy-cheeked lass coming singing into the room in RussellSquare or hanging on George Osborne's arm, happy andloving--there was but this image that filled our honestMajor's mind, by day and by night, and reigned over italways. Very likely Amelia was not like the portrait theMajor had formed of her: there was a figure in a book offashions which his sisters had in England, and with whichWilliam had made away privately, pasting it into the lidof his desk, and fancying he saw some resemblance toMrs. Osborne in the print, whereas I have seen it, andcan vouch that it is but the picture of a high-waistedgown with an impossible doll's face simpering over it--and, perhaps, Mr. Dobbin's sentimental Amelia was nomore like the real one than this absurd little print whichhe cherished. But what man in love, of us, is betterinformed?--or is he much happier when he sees and owns hisdelusion? Dobbin was under this spell. He did not botherhis friends and the public much about his feelings, orindeed lose his natural rest or appetite on accountof them. His head has grizzled since we saw him last, anda line or two of silver may be seen in the soft brown hairlikewise. But his feelings are not in the least changed oroldened, and his love remains as fresh as a man'srecollections of boyhood are.

　　We have said how the two Misses Dobbin and Amelia, theMajor's correspondents in Europe, wrote him letters fromEngland, Mrs. Osborne congratulating him with great candourand cordiality upon his approaching nuptials with Miss O'Dowd."Your sister has just kindly visited me," Amelia wrotein her letter, "and informed me of an interesting event,upon which I beg to offer my most sincere congratulations.I hope the young lady to whom I hear you are tobe united will in every respect prove worthy of one whois himself all kindness and goodness. The poor widow hasonly her prayers to offer and her cordial cordial wishesfor your prosperity! Georgy sends his love to his dear godpapaand hopes that you will not forget him. I tellhim that you are about to form other ties, with one whoI am sure merits all your affection, but that, althoughsuch ties must of course be the strongest and mostsacred, and supersede all others, yet that I am sure thewidow and the child whom you have ever protected andloved will always have a corner in your heart" The letter,which has been before alluded to, went on in thisstrain, protesting throughout as to the extreme satisfactionof the writer.

　　This letter, .which arrived by the very same ship whichbrought out Lady O'Dowd's box of millinery from London(and which you may be sure Dobbin opened before anyone of the other packets which the mail brought him),put the receiver into such a state of mind that Glorvina,and her pink satin, and everything belonging to her becameperfectly odious to him. The Major cursed the talkof women, and the sex in general. Everything annoyedhim that day--the parade was insufferably hot andwearisome. Good heavens! was a man of intellect to wastehis life, day after day, inspecting cross-belts and puttingfools through their manoeuvres? The senseless chatterof the young men at mess was more than ever jarring.What cared he, a man on the high road to forty, toknow how many snipes Lieutenant Smith had shot, orwhat were the performances of Ensign Brown's mare? Thejokes about the table filled him with shame. He was tooold to listen to the banter of the assistant surgeon andthe slang of the youngsters, at which old O'Dowd, withhis bald head and red face, laughed quite easily. Theold man had listened to those jokes any time thesethirty years--Dobbin himself had been fifteen years hearingthem. And after the boisterous dulness of the mess-table,the quarrels and scandal of the ladies of the regiment!It was unbearable, shameful. "O Amelia, Amelia,"he thought, "you to whom I have been so faithful--you reproach me! It is because you cannot feel for methat I drag on this wearisome life. And you reward meafter years of devotion by giving me your blessing uponmy marriage, forsooth, with this flaunting Irish girl!"Sick and sorry felt poor William; more than everwretched and lonely. He would like to have done withlife and its vanity altogether--so bootless and unsatisfactorythe struggle, so cheerless and dreary the prospectseemed to him. He lay all that night sleepless, andyearning to go home. Amelia's letter had fallen as ablank upon him. No fidelity, no constant truth and passion,could move her into warmth. She would not seethat he loved her. Tossing in his bed, he spoke out to her."Good God, Amelia!" he said, "don't you know that Ionly love you in the world--you, who are a stone to me--you, whom I tended through months and months ofillness and grief, and who bade me farewell with a smileon your face, and forgot me before the door shut betweenus!" The native servants lying outside his verandas beheldwith wonder the Major, so cold and quiet ordinarily,at present so passionately moved and cast down. Wouldshe have pitied him had she seen him? He read over andover all the letters which he ever had from her--lettersof business relative to the little property which he hadmade her believe her husband had left to her--brief notesof invitation--every scrap of writing that she had eversent to him--how cold, how kind, how hopeless, howselfish they were!

　　Had there been some kind gentle soul near at hand whocould read and appreciate this silent generous heart, whoknows but that the reign of Amelia might have been over,and that friend William's love might have flowed into akinder channel? But there was only Glorvina of the jettyringlets with whom his intercourse was familiar, and thisdashing young woman was not bent upon loving theMajor, but rather on making the Major admire her--amost vain and hopeless task, too, at least consideringthe means that the poor girl possessed to carryit out. She curled her hair and showed her shouldersat him, as much as to say, did ye ever see such jetringlets and such a complexion? She grinned at him sothat he might see that every tooth in her head wassound--and he never heeded all these charms. Very soonafter the arrival of the box of millinery, and perhaps indeedin honour of it, Lady O'Dowd and the ladies ofthe King's Regiment gave a ball to the Company'sRegiments and the civilians at the station. Glorvinasported the killing pink frock, and the Major, who attendedthe party and walked very ruefully up and downthe rooms, never so much as perceived the pink garment.Glorvina danced past him in a fury with all the youngsubalterns of the station, and the Major was not in theleast jealous of her performance, or angry because CaptainBangles of the Cavalry handed her to supper. It wasnot jealousy, or frocks, or shoulders that could move him,and Glorvina had nothing more.

　　So these two were each exemplifying the Vanity of thislife, and each longing for what he or she could not get.Glorvina cried with rage at the failure. She had set hermind on the Major "more than on any of the others,"she owned, sobbing. "He'll break my heart, he will,Peggy," she would whimper to her sister-in-law whenthey were good friends; "sure every one of me frocksmust be taken in--it's such a skeleton I'm growing."Fat or thin, laughing or melancholy, on horseback or themusic-stool, it was all the same to the Major. And theColonel, puffing his pipe and listening to these complaints,would suggest that Glory should have some black frocksout in the next box from London, and told a mysteriousstory of a lady in Ireland who died of grief for the loss ofher husband before she got ere a one.

　　While the Major was going on in this tantalizing way,not proposing, and declining to fall in love, there cameanother ship from Europe bringing letters on board, andamongst them some more for the heartless man. Thesewere home letters bearing an earlier postmark than thatof the former packets, and as Major Dobbin recognizedamong his the handwriting of his sister, who alwayscrossed and recrossed her letters to her brother--gatheredtogether all the possible bad news which she couldcollect, abused him and read him lectures with sisterlyfrankness, and always left him miserable for the day after"dearest William" had achieved the perusal of one of herepistles--the truth must be told that dearest William didnot hurry himself to break the seal of Miss Dobbin'sletter, but waited for a particularly favourable day andmood for doing so. A fortnight before, moreover, hehad written to scold her for telling those absurd storiesto Mrs. Osborne, and had despatched a letter in replyto that lady, undeceiving her with respect to the reportsconcerning him and assuring her that "he had no sort ofpresent intention of altering his condition."

　　Two or three nights after the arrival of the secondpackage of letters, the Major had passed the eveningpretty cheerfully at Lady O'Dowd's house, where Glorvinathought that he listened with rather more attentionthan usual to the Meeting of the Wathers, the MinsthrelBoy, and one or two other specimens of song with whichshe favoured him (the truth is, he was no more listeningto Glorvina than to the howling of the jackals in themoonlight outside, and the delusion was hers as usual),and having played his game at chess with her (cribbagewith the surgeon was Lady O'Dowd's favourite eveningpastime), Major Dobbin took leave of the Colonel's familyat his usual hour and retired to his own house.

　　There on his table, his sister's letter lay reproachinghim. He took it up, ashamed rather of his negligenceregarding it, and prepared himself for a disagreeable hour'scommuning with that crabbed-handed absent relative.. . . It may have been an hour after the Major's departurefrom the Colonel's house--Sir Michael was sleepingthe sleep of the just; Glorvina had arranged herblack ringlets in the innumerable little bits of paper, inwhich it was her habit to confine them; Lady O'Dowd,too, had gone to her bed in the nuptial chamber, on theground-floor, and had tucked her musquito curtainsround her fair form, when the guard at the gates of theCommanding-Officer's compound beheld Major Dobbin,in the moonlight, rushing towards the house with a swiftstep and a very agitated countenance, and he passed thesentinel and went up to the windows of the Colonel'sbedchamber.

　　"O'Dowd--Colonel!" said Dobbin and kept up a greatshouting.

　　"Heavens, Meejor!" said Glorvina of the curl-papers,putting out her head too, from her window.

　　"What is it, Dob, me boy?" said the Colonel, expectingthere was a fire in the station, or that the route hadcome from headquarters.

　　"I--I must have leave of absence. I must go to England--on the most urgent private affairs," Dobbin said.

　　"Good heavens, what has happened!" thought Glorvina,trembling with all the papillotes.

　　"I want to be off--now--to-night," Dobbin continued;and the Colonel getting up, came out to parley with him.

　　In the postscript of Miss Dobbin's cross-letter, theMajor had just come upon a paragraph, to the followingeffect:--"I drove yesterday to see your old acquaintance,Mrs. Osborne. The wretched place they live at, sincethey were bankrupts, you know--Mr. S., to judge froma brass plate on the door of his hut (it is little better)is a coal-merchant. The little boy, your godson, iscertainly a fine child, though forward, and inclined to besaucy and self-willed. But we have taken notice of himas you wish it, and have introduced him to his aunt,Miss O., who was rather pleased with him. Perhaps hisgrandpapa, not the bankrupt one, who is almost doting,but Mr. Osborne, of Russell Square, may be induced torelent towards the child of your friend, his erring andself-willed son. And Amelia will not be ill-disposed togive him up. The widow is consoled, and is about tomarry a reverend gentleman, the Rev. Mr. Binny, oneof the curates of Brompton. A poor match. But Mrs. O.is getting old, and I saw a great deal of grey in her hair--she was in very good spirits: and your little godson overatehimself at our house. Mamma sends her love withthat of your affectionate, Ann Dobbin."