Chapter XXIII: Captain Dobbin Proceeds on His Canvass

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　What is the secret mesmerism which friendshippossesses, and under the operation of which a personordinarily sluggish, or cold, or timid, becomes wise,active, and resolute, in another's behalf? As Alexis,after a few passes from Dr. Elliotson, despises pain,reads with the back of his head, sees miles off,looks into next week, and performs other wonders,of which, in his own private normal condition, he isquite incapable; so you see, in the affairs of the worldand under the magnetism of friendships, the modestman becomes bold, the shy confident, the lazy active, orthe impetuous prudent and peaceful. What is it, on theother hand, that makes the lawyer eschew his own cause,and call in his learned brother as an adviser? And what causesthe doctor, when ailing, to send for his rival, and not sitdown and examine his own tongue in the chimney Bass,or write his own prescription at his study-table? I throwout these queries for intelligent readers to answer, whoknow, at once, how credulous we are, and how sceptical,how soft and how obstinate, how firm for others and howdiffident about ourselves: meanwhile, it is certain thatour friend William Dobbin, who was personally of socomplying a disposition that if his parents had pressedhim much, it is probable he would have stepped downinto the kitchen and married the cook, and who, to furtherhis own interests, would have found the most insuperabledifficulty in walking across the street, found himself asbusy and eager in the conduct of George Osborne'saffairs, as the most selfish tactician could be in the pursuitof his own.

　　Whilst our friend George and his young wife wereenjoying the first blushing days of the honeymoon atBrighton, honest William was left as George's plenipotentiaryin London, to transact all the business part of the marriage.His duty it was to call upon old Sedley and hiswife, and to keep the former in good humour: to draw Josand his brother-in-law nearer together, so that Jos's positionand dignity, as collector of Boggley Wollah, mightcompensate for his father's loss of station, and tend toreconcile old Osborne to the alliance: and finally, tocommunicate it to the latter in such a way as should leastirritate the old gentleman.

　　Now, before he faced the head of the Osborne housewith the news which it was his duty to tell, Dobbin bethoughthim that it would be politic to make friends of therest of the family, and, if possible, have the ladies on hisside. They can't be angry in their hearts, thought he. Nowoman ever was really angry at a romantic marriage. Alittle crying out, and they must come round to theirbrother; when the three of us will lay siege to old Mr.Osborne. So this Machiavellian captain of infantry castabout him for some happy means or stratagem by whichhe could gently and gradually bring the Misses Osborneto a knowledge of their brother's secret.

　　By a little inquiry regarding his mother's engagements,he was pretty soon able to find out by whom of her ladyship'sfriends parties were given at that season; wherehe would be likely to meet Osborne's sisters; and, thoughhe had that abhorrence of routs and evening partieswhich many sensible men, alas! entertain, he soon foundone where the Misses Osborne were to be present.Making his appearance at the ball, where he danced a coupleof sets with both of them, and was prodigiously polite, heactually had the courage to ask Miss Osborne for a fewminutes' conversation at an early hour the next day, whenhe had, he said, to communicate to her news of thevery greatest interest.

　　What was it that made her start back, and gaze uponhim for a moment, and then on the ground at her feet,and make as if she would faint on his arm, had he not byopportunely treading on her toes, brought the young ladyback to self-control? Why was she so violently agitatedat Dobbin's request? This can never be known. But whenhe came the next day, Maria was not in the drawing-roomwith her sister, and Miss Wirt went off for the purposeof fetching the latter, and the Captain and Miss Osbornewere left together. They were both so silent that the ticktockof the Sacrifice of Iphigenia clock on the mantelpiecebecame quite rudely audible.

　　"What a nice party it was last night," Miss Osborne atlength began, encouragingly; "and--and how you'reimproved in your dancing, Captain Dobbin. Surely somebodyhas taught you," she added, with amiable archness.

　　"You should see me dance a reel with Mrs. MajorO'Dowd of ours; and a jig--did you ever see a jig? ButI think anybody could dance with you, Miss Osborne,who dance so well."

　　"Is the Major's lady young and beautiful, Captain?" thefair questioner continued. "Ah, what a terrible thing itmust be to be a soldier's wife! I wonder they have anyspirits to dance, and in these dreadful times of war, too!O Captain Dobbin, I tremble sometimes when I think ofour dearest George, and the dangers of the poor soldier.Are there many married officers of the --th, CaptainDobbin?"

　　"Upon my word, she's playing her hand rather tooopenly," Miss Wirt thought; but this observation is merely parenthetic, and was not heard through the crevice ofthe door at which the governess uttered it.

　　"One of our young men is just married," Dobbin said,now coming to the point. "It was a very old attachment,and the young couple are as poor as church mice.""O, how delightful! O, how romantic!" Miss Osbornecried, as the Captain said "old attachment" and "poor."Her sympathy encouraged him.

　　"The finest young fellow in the regiment," he continued."Not a braver or handsomer officer in the army; andsuch a charming wife! How you would like her! howyou will like her when you know her, Miss Osborne." Theyoung lady thought the actual moment had arrived, andthat Dobbin's nervousness which now came on and wasvisible in many twitchings of his face, in his manner ofbeating the ground with his great feet, in the rapidbuttoning and unbuttoning of his frock-coat, &c.--MissOsborne, I say, thought that when he had given himself alittle air, he would unbosom himself entirely, andprepared eagerly to listen. And the clock, in the altar onwhich Iphigenia was situated, beginning, after a preparatory convulsion, to toll twelve, the mere tolling seemedas if it would last until one--so prolonged was the knellto the anxious spinster.

　　"But it's not about marriage that I came to speak--that is that marriage--that is--no, I mean--my dearMiss Osborne, it's about our dear friend George,"Dobbin said.

　　"About George?" she said in a tone so discomfitedthat Maria and Miss Wirt laughed at the other side ofthe door, and even that abandoned wretch of a Dobbinfelt inclined to smile himself; for he was not altogetherunconscious of the state of affairs: George having oftenbantered him gracefully and said, "Hang it, Will, whydon't you take old Jane? She'll have you if you ask her.I'll bet you five to two she will."

　　"Yes, about George, then," he continued. "There hasbeen a difference between him and Mr. Osborne. And Iregard him so much--for you know we have been likebrothers--that I hope and pray the quarrel may besettled. We must go abroad, Miss Osborne. We may beordered off at a day's warning. Who knows what mayhappen in the campaign? Don't be agitated, dear MissOsborne; and those two at least should part friends."

　　"There has been no quarrel, Captain Dobbin, excepta little usual scene with Papa," the lady said. "We areexpecting George back daily. What Papa wanted was onlyfor his good. He has but to come back, and I'm sure allwill be well; and dear Rhoda, who went away from herein sad sad anger, I know will forgive him. Woman forgivesbut too readily, Captain."

　　"Such an angel as you I am sure would," Mr. Dobbinsaid, with atrocious astuteness. "And no man can pardonhimself for giving a woman pain. What would you feel,if a man were faithless to you?"

　　"I should perish--I should throw myself out of window--I should take poison--I should pine and die. Iknow I should," Miss cried, who had nevertheless gonethrough one or two affairs of the heart without any ideaof suicide.

　　"And there are others," Dobbin continued, "as trueand as kind-hearted as yourself. I'm not speaking aboutthe West Indian heiress, Miss Osborne, but about a poorgirl whom George once loved, and who was bred fromher childhood to think of nobody but him. I've seen herin her poverty uncomplaining, broken-hearted, without afault. It is of Miss Sedley I speak. Dear Miss Osborne,can your generous heart quarrel with your brother forbeing faithful to her? Could his own conscience everforgive him if he deserted her? Be her friend--she alwaysloved you--and--and I am come here charged by Georgeto tell you that he holds his engagement to her as themost sacred duty he has; and to entreat you, at least,to be on his side."

　　When any strong emotion took possession of Mr. Dobbin,and after the first word or two of hesitation, he couldspeak with perfect fluency, and it was evident that hiseloquence on this occasion made some impression uponthe lady whom he addressed.

　　"Well," said she, "this is--most surprising--most painful--most extraordinary--what will Papa say?--thatGeorge should fling away such a superb establishment aswas offered to himbut at any rate he has found a verybrave champion in you, Captain Dobbin. It is of no use,however," she continued, after a pause; "I feel for poorMiss Sedley, most certainly--most sincerely, you know.We never thought the match a good one, though we werealways very kind to her here--very. But Papa will neverconsent, I am sure. And a well brought up young woman,you know--with a well-regulated mind, must--Georgemust give her up, dear Captain Dobbin, indeed he must."

　　"Ought a man to give up the woman he loved, justwhen misfortune befell her?" Dobbin said, holding outhis hand. "Dear Miss Osborne, is this the counsel I hearfrom you? My dear young lady! you must befriend her.He can't give her up. He must not give her up. Would aman, think you, give you up if you were poor?"

　　This adroit question touched the heart of Miss JaneOsborne not a little. "I don't know whether we poor girlsought to believe what you men say, Captain," she said."There is that in woman's tenderness which induces herto believe too easily. I'm afraid you are cruel, crueldeceivers,"--and Dobbin certainly thought he felt apressure of the hand which Miss Osborne had extendedto him.

　　He dropped it in some alarm. "Deceivers!" said he."No, dear Miss Osborne, all men are not; your brotheris not; George has loved Amelia Sedley ever since theywere children; no wealth would make him marry any buther. Ought he to forsake her? Would you counsel him todo so?"

　　What could Miss Jane say to such a question, and withher own peculiar views? She could not answer it, so sheparried it by saying, "Well, if you are not a deceiver, atleast you are very romantic"; and Captain William letthis observation pass without challenge.

　　At length when, by the help of farther polite speeches,he deemed that Miss Osborne was sufficiently prepared toreceive the whole news, he poured it into her ear."George could not give up Amelia--George was marriedto her"--and then he related the circumstances of themarriage as we know them already: how the poor girlwould have died had not her lover kept his faith: howOld Sedley had refused all consent to the match, and alicence had been got: and Jos Sedley had come fromCheltenham to give away the bride: how they had goneto Brighton in Jos's chariot-and-four to pass the honeymoon:and how George counted on his dear kind sisters tobefriend him with their father, as women--so trueand tender as they were--assuredly would do. And so,asking permission (readily granted) to see her again, andrightly conjecturing that the news he had brought wouldbe told in the next five minutes to the other ladies,Captain Dobbin made his bow and took his leave.

　　He was scarcely out of the house, when Miss Mariaand Miss Wirt rushed in to Miss Osborne, and thewhole wonderful secret was imparted to them by thatlady. To do them justice, neither of the sisters was verymuch displeased. There is something about a runawaymatch with which few ladies can be seriously angry, andAmelia rather rose in their estimation, from the spiritwhich she had displayed in consenting to the union. Asthey debated the story, and prattled about it, and wonderedwhat Papa would do and say, came a loud knock,as of an avenging thunder-clap, at the door, which madethese conspirators start. It must be Papa, they thought.But it was not he. It was only Mr. Frederick Bullock,who had come from the City according to appointment,to conduct the ladies to a flower-show.

　　This gentleman, as may be imagined, was not keptlong in ignorance of the secret. But his face, when heheard it, showed an amazement which was very differentto that look of sentimental wonder which the countenancesof the sisters wore. Mr. Bullock was a man of the world,and a junior partner of a wealthy firm. He knew whatmoney was, and the value of it: and a delightful throbof expectation lighted up his little eyes, and caused himto smile on his Maria, as he thought that by this pieceof folly of Mr. George's she might be worth thirtythousand pounds more than he had ever hoped toget with her.

　　"Gad! Jane," said he, surveying even the elder sisterwith some interest, "Eels will be sorry he cried off. Youmay be a fifty thousand pounder yet."

　　The sisters had never thought of the money questionup to that moment, but Fred Bullock bantered themwith graceful gaiety about it during their forenoon'sexcursion; and they had risen not a little in their ownesteem by the time when, the morning amusement over,they drove back to dinner. And do not let my respectedreader exclaim against this selfishness as unnatural. Itwas but this present morning, as he rode on the omnibusfrom Richmond; while it changed horses, this presentchronicler, being on the roof, marked three little childrenplaying in a puddle below, very dirty, and friendly, andhappy. To these three presently came another little one."Polly," says she, "your sister's got a penny." At whichthe children got up from the puddle instantly, and ranoff to pay their court to Peggy. And as the omnibus droveoff I saw Peggy with the infantine procession at hertail, marching with great dignity towards the stall of aneighbouring lollipop-woman.