Chapter XX: In Which Captain Dobbin Acts as the Messenger of Hymen -

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　Without knowing how, Captain William Dobbin foundhimself the great promoter, arranger, and manager of thematch between George Osborne and Amelia. But for himit never would have taken place: he could not butconfess as much to himself, and smiled rather bitterly as hethought that he of all men in the world should be theperson upon whom the care of this marriage had fallen.But though indeed the conducting of this negotiation wasabout as painful a task as could be set to him, yet whenhe had a duty to perform, Captain Dobbin was accustomedto go through it without many words or muchhesitation: and, having made up his mind completely,that if Miss Sedley was balked of her husband she woulddie of the disappointment, he was determined to use allhis best endeavours to keep her alive.

　　I forbear to enter into minute particulars of the interviewbetween George and Amelia, when the former wasbrought back to the feet (or should we venture to say thearms?) of his young mistress by the intervention of hisfriend honest William. A much harder heart thanGeorge's would have melted at the sight of that sweetface so sadly ravaged by grief and despair, and at thesimple tender accents in which she told her little broken-hearted story: but as she did not faint when her mother,trembling, brought Osborne to her; and as she only gaverelief to her overcharged grief, by laying her head onher lover's shoulder and there weeping for a while themost tender, copious, and refreshing tears--old Mrs.Sedley, too greatly relieved, thought it was best to leavethe young persons to themselves; and so quitted Emmycrying over George's hand, and kissing it humbly, as if hewere her supreme chief and master, and as if she werequite a guilty and unworthy person needing every favourand grace from him.

　　This prostration and sweet unrepining obedienceexquisitely touched and flattered George Osborne. He saw aslave before him in that simple yielding faithful creature,and his soul within him thrilled secretly somehowat the knowledge of his power. He would be generous-minded, Sultan as he was, and raise up this kneelingEsther and make a queen of her: besides, her sadnessand beauty touched him as much as her submission, andso he cheered her, and raised her up and forgave her, soto speak. All her hopes and feelings, which were dyingand withering, this her sun having been removed fromher, bloomed again and at once, its light being restored.You would scarcely have recognised the beaming littleface upon Amelia's pillow that night as the one that waslaid there the night before, so wan, so lifeless, socareless of all round about. The honest Irish maid-servant,delighted with the change, asked leave to kiss the facethat had grown all of a sudden so rosy. Amelia put herarms round the girl's neck and kissed her with all herheart, like a child. She was little more. She had that nighta sweet refreshing sleep, like one--and what a spring ofinexpressible happiness as she woke in the morning sunshine!

　　"He will be here again to-day," Amelia thought. "He isthe greatest and best of men." And the fact is, thatGeorge thought he was one of the generousest creaturesalive: and that he was making a tremendous sacrifice inmarrying this young creature.

　　While she and Osborne were having their delightfultete-a-tete above stairs, old Mrs. Sedley and CaptainDobbin were conversing below upon the state of theaffairs, and the chances and future arrangements of theyoung people. Mrs. Sedley having brought the two loverstogether and left them embracing each other with all theirmight, like a true woman, was of opinion that no poweron earth would induce Mr. Sedley to consent to the matchbetween his daughter and the son of a man who had soshamefully, wickedly, and monstrously treated him. Andshe told a long story about happier days and their earliersplendours, when Osborne lived in a very humble way inthe New Road, and his wife was too glad to receive someof Jos's little baby things, with which Mrs. Sedleyaccommodated her at the birth of one of Osborne's ownchildren. The fiendish ingratitude of that man, she wassure, had broken Mr. S.'s heart: and as for a marriage,he would never, never, never, never consent.

　　"They must run away together, Ma'am," Dobbin said,laughing, "and follow the example of Captain RawdonCrawley, and Miss Emmy's friend the little governess."Was it possible? Well she never! Mrs. Sedley was allexcitement about this news. She wished that Blenkinsop werehere to hear it: Blenkinsop always mistrusted that MissSharp.--What an escape Jos had had! and she describedthe already well-known love-passages between Rebecca andthe Collector of Boggley Wollah.

　　It was not, however, Mr. Sedley's wrath which Dobbinfeared, so much as that of the other parent concerned,and he owned that he had a very considerable doubtand anxiety respecting the behaviour of the black-browedold tyrant of a Russia merchant in Russell Square. Hehas forbidden the match peremptorily, Dobbin thought.He knew what a savage determined man Osborne was, andhow he stuck by his word. The only chance George hasof reconcilement," argued his friend, "is by distinguishinghimself in the coming campaign. If he dies they both gotogether. If he fails in distinction--what then? He hassome money from his mother, I have heard enough topurchase his majority--or he must sell out and go anddig in Canada, or rough it in a cottage in the country."With such a partner Dobbin thought he would not mindSiberia--and, strange to say, this absurd and utterlyimprudent young fellow never for a moment considered thatthe want of means to keep a nice carriage and horses,and of an income which should enable its possessors toentertain their friends genteelly, ought to operate as barsto the union of George and Miss Sedley.

　　It was these weighty considerations which made himthink too that the marriage should take place as quicklyas possible. Was he anxious himself, I wonder, to have itover.?--as people, when death has occurred, like to pressforward the funeral, or when a parting is resolved upon,hasten it. It is certain that Mr. Dobbin, having taken thematter in hand, was most extraordinarily eager in theconduct of it. He urged on George the necessity of immediateaction: he showed the chances of reconciliation withhis father, which a favourable mention of his name in theGazette must bring about. If need were he would go himselfand brave both the fathers in the business. At allevents, he besought George to go through with it beforethe orders came, which everybody expected, for thedeparture of the regiment from England on foreign service.

　　Bent upon these hymeneal projects, and with the applauseand consent of Mrs. Sedley, who did not care tobreak the matter personally to her husband, Mr. Dobbinwent to seek John Sedley at his house of call in the City,the Tapioca Coffee-house, where, since his own officeswere shut up, and fate had overtaken him, the poorbroken-down old gentleman used to betake himself daily,and write letters and receive them, and tie them up intomysterious bundles, several of which he carried in theflaps of his coat. I don't know anything more dismal thanthat business and bustle and mystery of a ruined man: thoseletters from the wealthy which he shows you: those worngreasy documents promising support and offeringcondolence which he places wistfully before you, and onwhich he builds his hopes of restoration and future fortune.My beloved reader has no doubt in the course ofhis experience been waylaid by many such a lucklesscompanion. He takes you into the corner; he has his bundleof papers out of his gaping coat pocket; and the tape off,and the string in his mouth, and the favourite lettersselected and laid before you; and who does not know thesad eager half-crazy look which he fixes on you with hishopeless eyes?

　　Changed into a man of this sort, Dobbin found theonce florid, jovial, and prosperous John Sedley. Hiscoat, that used to be so glossy and trim, was white at theseams, and the buttons showed the copper. His face hadfallen in, and was unshorn; his frill and neckcloth hunglimp under his bagging waistcoat. When he used to treatthe boys in old days at a coffee-house, he would shoutand laugh louder than anybody there, and have all thewaiters skipping round him; it was quite painful to seehow humble and civil he was to John of the Tapioca, ablear-eyed old attendant in dingy stockings and crackedpumps, whose business it was to serve glasses of wafers,and bumpers of ink in pewter, and slices of paper to thefrequenters of this dreary house of entertainment, wherenothing else seemed to be consumed. As for WilliamDobbin, whom he had tipped repeatedly in his youth, andwho had been the old gentleman's butt on a thousandoccasions, old Sedley gave his hand to him in a veryhesitating humble manner now, and called him "Sir." Afeeling of shame and remorse took possession of WilliamDobbin as the broken old man so received and addressedhim, as if he himself had been somehow guilty of themisfortunes which had brought Sedley so low.

　　"I am very glad to see you, Captain Dobbin, sir," sayshe, after a skulking look or two at his visitor (whose lankyfigure and military appearance caused some excitementlikewise to twinkle in the blear eyes of the waiter in thecracked dancing pumps, and awakened the old lady inblack, who dozed among the mouldy old coffee-cups in thebar). "How is the worthy alderman, and my lady, yourexcellent mother, sir?" He looked round at the waiter ashe said, "My lady," as much as to say, "Hark ye, John, Ihave friends still, and persons of rank and reputation,too." "Are you come to do anything in my way, sir? Myyoung friends Dale and Spiggot do all my business for menow, until my new offices are ready; for I'm only heretemporarily, you know, Captain. What can we do for you.sir? Will you like to take anything?"

　　Dobbin, with a great deal of hesitation and stuttering,protested that he was not in the least hungry or thirsty;that he had no business to transact; that he only cameto ask if Mr. Sedley was well, and to shake hands withan old friend; and, he added, with a desperate perversionof truth, "My mother is very well--that is, she's been veryunwell, and is only waiting for the first fine day to go outand call upon Mrs. Sedley. How is Mrs. Sedley, sir? Ihope she's quite well." And here he paused, reflecting onhis own consummate hypocrisy; for the day was as fine,and the sunshine as bright as it ever is in Coffin Court,where the Tapioca Coffee-house is situated: and Mr.Dobbin remembered that he had seen Mrs. Sedley himselfonly an hour before, having driven Osborne down to Fulhamin his gig, and left him there tete-a-tete with Miss Amelia.

　　"My wife will be very happy to see her ladyship,"Sedley replied, pulling out his papers. "I've a very kindletter here from your father, sir, and beg my respectfulcompliments to him. Lady D. will find us in rather asmaller house than we were accustomed to receive ourfriends in; but it's snug, and the change of air does goodto my daughter, who was suffering in town rather--youremember little Emmy, sir?--yes, suffering a good deal."The old gentleman's eyes were wandering as he spoke, andhe was thinking of something else, as he sate thrummingon his papers and fumbling at the worn red tape.

　　"You're a military man," he went on; "I ask you, BillDobbin, could any man ever have speculated upon thereturn of that Corsican scoundrel from Elba? When theallied sovereigns were here last year, and we gave 'emthat dinner in the City, sir, and we saw the Temple ofConcord, and the fireworks, and the Chinese bridge inSt. James's Park, could any sensible man suppose thatpeace wasn't really concluded, after we'd actually sung TeDeum for it, sir? I ask you, William, could I suppose thatthe Emperor of Austria was a damned traitor--a traitor,and nothing more? I don't mince words--a double-facedinfernal traitor and schemer, who meant to have his son-in-law back all along. And I say that the escape of Boneyfrom Elba was a damned imposition and plot, sir, inwhich half the powers of Europe were concerned, tobring the funds down, and to ruin this country. That'swhy I'm here, William. That's why my name's in theGazette. Why, sir?--because I trusted the Emperor ofRussia and the Prince Regent. Look here. Look at mypapers. Look what the funds were on the 1st of March--what the French fives were when I bought for thecount. And what they're at now. There was collusion, sir,or that villain never would have escaped. Where was theEnglish Commissioner who allowed him to get away? Heought to be shot, sir--brought to a court-martial, andshot, by Jove."

　　"We're going to hunt Boney out, sir," Dobbin said,rather alarmed at the fury of the old man, the veins ofwhose forehead began to swell, and who sate drumminghis papers with his clenched fist. "We are going to hunthim out, sir--the Duke's in Belgium already, and weexpect marching orders every day."

　　"Give him no quarter. Bring back the villain's head, sir.Shoot the coward down, sir," Sedley roared. "I'd enlistmyself, by--; but I'm a broken old man--ruined bythat damned scoundrel--and by a parcel of swindlingthieves in this country whom I made, sir, and who arerolling in their carriages now," he added, with a break inhis voice.

　　Dobbin was not a little affected by the sight of this oncekind old friend, crazed almost with misfortune and ravingwith senile anger. Pity the fallen gentleman: you to whommoney and fair repute are the chiefest good; and so,surely, are they in Vanity Fair.

　　"Yes," he continued, "there are some vipers that youwarm, and they sting you afterwards. There are somebeggars that you put on horseback, and they're the firstto ride you down. You know whom I mean, WilliamDobbin, my boy. I mean a purse-proud villain in RussellSquare, whom I knew without a shilling, and whom Ipray and hope to see a beggar as he was when Ibefriended him."

　　"I have heard something of this, sir, from my friendGeorge," Dobbin said, anxious to come to his point. "Thequarrel between you and his father has cut him up a greatdeal, sir. Indeed, I'm the bearer of a message from him."

　　"O, that's your errand, is it?" cried the old man,jumping up. "What! perhaps he condoles with me, does he?Very kind of him, the stiff-backed prig, with his dandifiedairs and West End swagger. He's hankering about myhouse, is he still? If my son had the courage of a man,he'd shoot him. He's as big a villain as his father. I won'thave his name mentioned in my house. I curse the daythat ever I let him into it; and I'd rather see my daughterdead at my feet than married to him."

　　"His father's harshness is not George's fault, sir. Yourdaughter's love for him is as much your doing as his. Whoare you, that you are to play with two young people'saffections and break their hearts at your will?"

　　"Recollect it's not his father that breaks the match off,"old Sedley cried out. "It's I that forbid it. That family andmine are separated for ever. I'm fallen low, but not solow as that: no, no. And so you may tell the whole race--son, and father and sisters, and all."

　　"It's my belief, sir, that you have not the power or theright to separate those two," Dobbin answered in a lowvoice; "and that if you don't give your daughter yourconsent it will be her duty to marry without it. There's noreason she should die or live miserably because youare wrong-headed. To my thinking, she's just as muchmarried as if the banns had been read in all the churches inLondon. And what better answer can there be to Osborne'scharges against you, as charges there are, thanthat his son claims to enter your family and marry yourdaughter?"

　　A light of something like satisfaction seemed to breakover old Sedley as this point was put to him: but he stillpersisted that with his consent the marriage betweenAmelia and George should never take place.

　　"We must do it without," Dobbin said, smiling, and toldMr. Sedley, as he had told Mrs. Sedley in the day, before,the story of Rebecca's elopement with Captain Crawley. Itevidently amused the old gentleman. "You're terriblefellows, you Captains," said he, tying up his papers; and hisface wore something like a smile upon it, to the astonishmentof the blear-eyed waiter who now entered, and hadnever seen such an expression upon Sedley's countenancesince he had used the dismal coffee-house.

　　The idea of hitting his enemy Osborne such a blowsoothed, perhaps, the old gentleman: and, their colloquypresently ending, he and Dobbin parted pretty good friends.

　　"My sisters say she has diamonds as big as pigeons'eggs," George said, laughing. "How they must set off hercomplexion! A perfect illumination it must be when herjewels are on her neck. Her jet-black hair is as curly asSambo's. I dare say she wore a nose ring when she wentto court; and with a plume of feathers in her top-knotshe would look a perfect Belle Sauvage."

　　George, in conversation with Amelia, was rallying theappearance of a young lady of whom his father and sistershad lately made the acquaintance, and who was an objectof vast respect to the Russell Square family. She was reportedto have I don't know how many plantations in theWest Indies; a deal of money in the funds; and threestars to her name in the East India stockholders' list. Shehad a mansion in Surrey, and a house in Portland Place.The name of the rich West India heiress had been mentionedwith applause in the Morning Post. Mrs. Haggistoun,Colonel Haggistoun's widow, her relative, "chaperoned"her, and kept her house. She was just from school, whereshe had completed her education, and George and hissisters had met her at an evening party at old Hulker'shouse, Devonshire Place (Hulker, Bullock, and Co. werelong the correspondents of her house in the West Indies),and the girls had made the most cordial advances to her,which the heiress had received with great good humour.An orphan in her position--with her money--so interesting!the Misses Osborne said. They were full of their newfriend when they returned from the Hulker ball to MissWirt, their companion; they had made arrangements forcontinually meeting, and had the carriage and drove to seeher the very next day. Mrs. Haggistoun, Colonel Haggistoun'swidow, a relation of Lord Binkie, and always talkingof him, struck the dear unsophisticated girls as ratherhaughty, and too much inclined to talk about her greatrelations: but Rhoda was everything they could wish--the frankest, kindest, most agreeable creature--wanting alittle polish, but so good-natured. The girls Christian-named each other at once.

　　"You should have seen her dress for court, Emmy,"Osborne cried, laughing. "She came to my sisters to showit off, before she was presented in state by my LadyBinkie, the Haggistoun's kinswoman. She's related to everyone, that Haggistoun. Her diamonds blazed out likeVauxhall on the night we were there. (Do you rememberVauxhall, Emmy, and Jos singing to his dearest diddlediddle darling?) Diamonds and mahogany, my dear!think what an advantageous contrast--and the whitefeathers in her hair--I mean in her wool. She hadearrings like chandeliers; you might have lighted 'emup, by Jove--and a yellow satin train that streeled afterher like the tail of a cornet."

　　"How old is she?" asked Emmy, to whom George wasrattling away regarding this dark paragon, on the morningof their reunion--rattling away as no other man in theworld surely could.

　　"Why the Black Princess, though she has only just leftschool, must be two or three and twenty. And you shouldsee the hand she writes! Mrs. Colonel Haggistoun usuallywrites her letters, but in a moment of confidence, she putpen to paper for my sisters; she spelt satin satting, andSaint James's, Saint Jams."

　　"Why, surely it must be Miss Swartz, the parlourboarder," Emmy said, remembering that good-naturedyoung mulatto girl, who had been so hysterically affectedwhen Amelia left Miss Pinkerton's academy

　　"The very name," George said. "Her father was a GermanJew--a slave-owner they say--connected with theCannibal Islands in some way or other. He died last year,and Miss Pinkerton has finished her education. She canplay two pieces on the piano; she knows three songs;she can write when Mrs. Haggistoun is by to spell for her;and Jane and Maria already have got to love her as asister."

　　"I wish they would have loved me," said Emmy, wistfully."They were always very cold to me."

　　"My dear child, they would have loved you if you hadhad two hundred thousand pounds," George replied. "Thatis the way in which they have been brought up. Ours isa ready-money society. We live among bankers and Citybig-wigs, and be hanged to them, and every man, as hetalks to you, is jingling his guineas in his pocket. There isthat jackass Fred Bullock is going to marry Maria--there's Goldmore, the East India Director, there's Dipley,in the tallow trade--our trade," George said, with anuneasy laugh and a blush. "Curse the whole pack of money-grubbing vulgarians! I fall asleep at their great heavydinners. I feel ashamed in my father's great stupidparties. I've been accustomed to live with gentlemen, andmen of the world and fashion, Emmy, not with a parcelof turtle-fed tradesmen. Dear little woman, you are the onlyperson of our set who ever looked, or thought, or spokelike a lady: and you do it because you're an angel andcan't help it. Don't remonstrate. You are the only lady.Didn't Miss Crawley remark it, who has lived in thebest company in Europe? And as for Crawley, of the LifeGuards, hang it, he's a fine fellow: and I like him formarrying the girl he had chosen."

　　Amelia admired Mr. Crawley very much, too, for this;and trusted Rebecca would be happy with him, and hoped(with a laugh) Jos would be consoled. And so the pairwent on prattling, as in quite early days. Amelia'sconfidence being perfectly restored to her, though sheexpressed a great deal of pretty jealousy about Miss Swartz,and professed to be dreadfully frightened--like a hypocriteas she was--lest George should forget her for theheiress and her money and her estates in Saint Kitt's. Butthe fact is, she was a great deal too happy to have fearsor doubts or misgivings of any sort: and having Georgeat her side again, was not afraid of any heiress or beauty,or indeed of any sort of danger.

　　When Captain Dobbin came back in the afternoon tothese people--which he did with a great deal of sympathyfor them--it did his heart good to see how Amelia hadgrown young again--how she laughed, and chirped, andsang familiar old songs at the piano, which were onlyinterrupted by the bell from without proclaiming Mr.Sedley's return from the City, before whom George received asignal to retreat.

　　Beyond the first smile of recognition--and even that wasan hypocrisy, for she thought his arrival rather provoking--Miss Sedley did not once notice Dobbin during hisvisit. But he was content, so that he saw her happy; andthankful to have been the means of making her so.