Chapter XXVI: Between London and Chatham

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　On quitting Brighton, our friend George, as became aperson of rank and fashion travelling in a barouche withfour horses, drove in state to a fine hotel in CavendishSquare, where a suite of splendid rooms, and a tablemagnificently furnished with plate and surrounded by ahalf-dozen of black and silent waiters, was ready toreceive the young gentleman and his bride. George did thehonours of the place with a princely air to Jos andDobbin; and Amelia, for the first time, and with exceedingshyness and timidity, presided at what George called herown table.

　　George pooh-poohed the wine and bullied the waitersroyally, and Jos gobbled the turtle with immense satisfaction.Dobbin helped him to it; for the lady of the house,before whom the tureen was placed, was so ignorant ofthe contents, that she was going to help Mr. Sedley withoutbestowing upon him either calipash or calipee.

　　The splendour of the entertainment, and the apartmentsin which it was given, alarmed Mr. Dobbin, whoremonstrated after dinner, when Jos was asleep in the greatchair. But in vain he cried out against the enormity ofturtle and champagne that was fit for an archbishop."I've always been accustomed to travel like a gentleman,"George said, "and, damme, my wife shall travel like alady. As long as there's a shot in the locker, she shallwant for nothing," said the generous fellow, quite pleasedwith himself for his magnificence of spirit. Nor didDobbin try and convince him that Amelia's happiness was notcentred in turtle-soup.

　　A while after dinner, Amelia timidly expressed a wishto go and see her mamma, at Fulham: which permissionGeorge granted her with some grumbling. And she trippedaway to her enormous bedroom, in the centre of whichstood the enormous funereal bed, "that the EmperorHalixander's sister slep in when the allied sufferings washere," and put on her little bonnet and shawl with theutmost eagerness and pleasure. George was still drinkingclaret when she returned to the dining-room, and madeno signs of moving. "Ar'n't you coming with me, dearest?"she asked him. No; the "dearest" had "business"that night. His man should get her a coach and go withher. And the coach being at the door of the hotel, Ameliamade George a little disappointed curtsey after lookingvainly into his face once or twice, and went sadly downthe great staircase, Captain Dobbin after, who handed herinto the vehicle, and saw it drive away to its destination.The very valet was ashamed of mentioning the address tothe hackney-coachman before the hotel waiters, andpromised to instruct him when they got further on.

　　Dobbin walked home to his old quarters and theSlaughters', thinking very likely that it would be delightfulto be in that hackney-coach, along with Mrs. Osborne.George was evidently of quite a different taste; for whenhe had taken wine enough, he went off to half-price atthe play, to see Mr. Kean perform in Shylock. CaptainOsborne was a great lover of the drama, and had himselfperformed high-comedy characters with great distinctionin several garrison theatrical entertainments. Jos slept onuntil long after dark, when he woke up with a start atthe motions of his servant, who was removing andemptying the decanters on the table; and the hackney-coachstand was again put into requisition for a carriage toconvey this stout hero to his lodgings and bed.

　　Mrs. Sedley, you may be sure, clasped her daughter toher heart with all maternal eagerness and affection,running out of the door as the carriage drew up before thelittle garden-gate, to welcome the weeping, trembling,young bride. Old Mr. Clapp, who was in his shirt-sleeves,trimming the garden-plot, shrank back alarmed. The Irishservant-lass rushed up from the kitchen and smiled a"God bless you." Amelia could hardly walk along theflags and up the steps into the parlour.

　　How the floodgates were opened, and mother anddaughter wept, when they were together embracing eachother in this sanctuary, may readily be imagined by everyreader who possesses the least sentimental turn. Whendon't ladies weep? At what occasion of joy, sorrow, orother business of life, and, after such an event as amarriage, mother and daughter were surely at liberty to giveway to a sensibility which is as tender as it is refreshing.About a question of marriage I have seen womenwho hate each other kiss and cry together quite fondly.How much more do they feel when they love! Good mothersare married over again at their daughters' weddings:and as for subsequent events, who does not know howultra-maternal grandmothers are?--in fact a woman, untilshe is a grandmother, does not often really know what tobe a mother is. Let us respect Amelia and her mammawhispering and whimpering and laughing and crying inthe parlour and the twilight. Old Mr. Sedley did. He hadnot divined who was in the carriage when it drove up. Hehad not flown out to meet his daughter, though he kissedher very warmly when she entered the room (where hewas occupied, as usual, with his papers and tapes andstatements of accounts), and after sitting with the motherand daughter for a short time, he very wisely left thelittle apartment in their possession.

　　George's valet was looking on in a very superciliousmanner at Mr. Clapp in his shirt-sleeves, watering hisrose-bushes. He took off his hat, however, with muchcondescension to Mr. Sedley, who asked news abouthis son-in-law, and about Jos's carriage, and whether hishorses had been down to Brighton, and about thatinfernal traitor Bonaparty, and the war; until the Irishmaid-servant came with a plate and a bottle of wine,from which the old gentleman insisted upon helping thevalet. He gave him a half-guinea too, which the servantpocketed with a mixture of wonder and contempt. "Tothe health of your master and mistress, Trotter," Mr.Sedley said, "and here's something to drink your healthwhen you get home, Trotter."

　　There were but nine days past since Amelia had leftthat little cottage and home--and yet how far off thetime seemed since she had bidden it farewell. What agulf lay between her and that past life. She could lookback to it from her present standing-place, and contemplate,almost as another being, the young unmarried girlabsorbed in her love, having no eyes but for one specialobject, receiving parental affection if not ungratefully,at least indifferently, and as if it were her due--herwhole heart and thoughts bent on the accomplishment ofone desire. The review of those days, so lately gone yetso far away, touched her with shame; and the aspect ofthe kind parents filled her with tender remorse. Was theprize gained--the heaven of life--and the winner stilldoubtful and unsatisfied? As his hero and heroine passthe matrimonial barrier, the novelist generally drops thecurtain, as if the drama were over then: the doubts andstruggles of life ended: as if, once landed in the marriagecountry, all were green and pleasant there: and wifeand husband had nothing to do but to link each other'sarms together, and wander gently downwards towardsold age in happy and perfect fruition. But our littleAmelia was just on the bank of her new country, and wasalready looking anxiously back towards the sad friendlyfigures waving farewell to her across the stream, from theother distant shore.

　　In honour of the young bride's arrival, her motherthought it necessary to prepare I don't know what festiveentertainment, and after the first ebullition of talk, tookleave of Mrs. George Osborne for a while, and diveddown to the lower regions of the house to a sort ofkitchen-parlour (occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Clapp, andin the evening, when her dishes were washed and hercurl-papers removed, by Miss Flannigan, the Irish servant),there to take measures for the preparing of a magnificent ornamented tea. All people have their ways ofexpressing kindness, and it seemed to Mrs. Sedley that amuffin and a quantity of orange marmalade spread outin a little cut-glass saucer would be peculiarly agreeablerefreshments to Amelia in her most interesting situation.

　　While these delicacies were being transacted below,Amelia, leaving the drawing-room, walked upstairs andfound herself, she scarce knew how, in the little roomwhich she had occupied before her marriage, and in thatvery chair in which she had passed so many bitter hours.She sank back in its arms as if it were an old friend;and fell to thinking over the past week, and the lifebeyond it. Already to be looking sadly and vaguely back:always to be pining for something which, when obtained,brought doubt and sadness rather than pleasure; herewas the lot of our poor little creature and harmless lostwanderer in the great struggling crowds of Vanity Fair.

　　Here she sate, and recalled to herself fondly that imageof George to which she had knelt before marriage. Didshe own to herself how different the real man was fromthat superb young hero whom she had worshipped? Itrequires many, many years--and a man must be very badindeed--before a woman's pride and vanity will let herown to such a confession. Then Rebecca's twinklinggreen eyes and baleful smile lighted upon her, and filledher with dismay. And so she sate for awhile indulgingin her usual mood of selfish brooding, in that verylistless melancholy attitude in which the honest maid-servanthad found her, on the day when she brought up theletter in which George renewed his offer of marriage.

　　She looked at the little white bed, which had been hersa few days before, and thought she would like to sleepin it that night, and wake, as formerly, with her mothersmiling over her in the morning: Then she thought withterror of the great funereal damask pavilion in the vastand dingy state bedroom, which was awaiting her at thegrand hotel in Cavendish Square. Dear little white bed!how many a long night had she wept on its pillow!How she had despaired and hoped to die there; and nowwere not all her wishes accomplished, and the lover ofwhom she had despaired her own for ever? Kind mother!how patiently and tenderly she had watched round thatbed! She went and knelt down by the bedside; and therethis wounded and timorous, but gentle and loving soul,sought for consolation, where as yet, it must be owned,our little girl had but seldom looked for it. Love hadbeen her faith hitherto; and the sad, bleeding disappointedheart began to feel the want of another consoler.

　　Have we a right to repeat or to overhear her prayers?These, brother, are secrets, and out of the domain ofVanity Fair, in which our story lies.

　　But this may be said, that when the tea was finallyannounced, our young lady came downstairs a great dealmore cheerful; that she did not despond, or deplore herfate, or think about George's coldness, or Rebecca's eyes,as she had been wont to do of late. She went downstairs,and kissed her father and mother, and talked tothe old gentleman, and made him more merry than hehad been for many a day. She sate down at the pianowhich Dobbin had bought for her, and sang over all herfather's favourite old songs. She pronounced the tea tobe excellent, and praised the exquisite taste in whichthe marmalade was arranged in the saucers. And indetermining to make everybody else happy, she foundherself so; and was sound asleep in the great funerealpavilion, and only woke up with a smile when Georgearrived from the theatre.

　　For the next day, George had more important "business"to transact than that which took him to see Mr.Kean in Shylock. Immediately on his arrival in Londonhe had written off to his father's solicitors, signifying hisroyal pleasure that an interview should take place betweenthem on the morrow. His hotel bill, losses atbilliards and cards to Captain Crawley had almost drainedthe young man's purse, which wanted replenishing beforehe set out on his travels, and he had no resource butto infringe upon the two thousand pounds which theattorneys were commissioned to pay over to him. Hehad a perfect belief in his own mind that his fatherwould relent before very long. How could any parentbe obdurate for a length of time against such aparagon as he was? If his mere past and personal merits didnot succeed in mollifying his father, George determinedthat he would distinguish himself so prodigiously in theensuing campaign that the old gentleman must give in tohim. And if not? Bah! the world was before him. Hisluck might change at cards, and there was a deal ofspending in two thousand pounds.

　　So he sent off Amelia once more in a carriage to hermamma, with strict orders and carte blanche to the twoladies to purchase everything requisite for a lady of Mrs.George Osborne's fashion, who was going on a foreigntour. They had but one day to complete the outfit, andit may be imagined that their business therefore occupiedthem pretty fully. In a carriage once more, bustlingabout from milliner to linen-draper, escorted back to thecarriage by obsequious shopmen or polite owners, Mrs.Sedley was herself again almost, and sincerely happy forthe first time since their misfortunes. Nor was Mrs.Amelia at all above the pleasure of shopping, andbargaining, and seeing and buying pretty things. (Wouldany man, the most philosophic, give twopence for awoman who was?) She gave herself a little treat,obedient to her husband's orders, and purchased aquantity of lady's gear, showing a great deal of taste andelegant discernment, as all the shopfolks said.

　　And about the war that was ensuing, Mrs. Osbornewas not much alarmed; Bonaparty was to be crushedalmost without a struggle. Margate packets were sailingevery day, filled with men of fashion and ladies of note,on their way to Brussels and Ghent. People were goingnot so much to a war as to a fashionable tour. Thenewspapers laughed the wretched upstart and swindler toscorn. Such a Corsican wretch as that withstand thearmies of Europe and the genius of the immortalWellington! Amelia held him in utter contempt; for it needsnot to be said that this soft and gentle creature took heropinions from those people who surrounded her, suchfidelity being much too humble-minded to think for itself.Well, in a word, she and her mother performed agreat day's shopping, and she acquitted herself withconsiderable liveliness and credit on this her firstappearance in the genteel world of London.

　　George meanwhile, with his hat on one side, his elbowssquared, and his swaggering martial air, made forBedford Row, and stalked into the attorney's offices as ifhe was lord of every pale-faced clerk who was scribblingthere. He ordered somebody to inform Mr. Higgs thatCaptain Osborne was waiting, in a fierce and patronizingway, as if the pekin of an attorney, who had thrice hisbrains, fifty times his money, and a thousand times hisexperience, was a wretched underling who shouldinstantly leave all his business in life to attend on theCaptain's pleasure. He did not see the sneer of contemptwhich passed all round the room, from the firstclerk to the articled gents, from the articled gents to theragged writers and white-faced runners, in clothes tootight for them, as he sate there tapping his boot with hiscane, and thinking what a parcel of miserable poor devilsthese were. The miserable poor devils knew all about hisaffairs. They talked about them over their pints of beerat their public-house clubs to other clerks of a night.Ye gods, what do not attorneys and attorneys' clerksknow in London! Nothing is hidden from theirinquisition, and their families mutely rule our city.

　　Perhaps George expected, when he entered Mr. Higgs'sapartment, to find that gentleman commissioned to givehim some message of compromise or conciliation fromhis father; perhaps his haughty and cold demeanourwas adopted as a sign of his spirit and resolution: but ifso, his fierceness was met by a chilling coolness andindifference on the attorney's part, that renderedswaggering absurd. He pretended to be writing at a paper,when the Captain entered. "Pray, sit down, sir," said he,"and I will attend to your little affair in a moment. Mr.Poe, get the release papers, if you please"; and then hefell to writing again.

　　Poe having produced those papers, his chief calculatedthe amount of two thousand pounds stock at the rate ofthe day; and asked Captain Osborne whether he wouldtake the sum in a cheque upon the bankers, or whetherhe should direct the latter to purchase stock to thatamount. "One of the late Mrs. Osborne's trustees is outof town," he said indifferently, "but my client wishes tomeet your wishes, and have done with the business asquick as possible."

　　"Give me a cheque, sir," said the Captain very surlily."Damn the shillings and halfpence, sir," he added, as thelawyer was making out the amount of the draft; and,flattering himself that by this stroke of magnanimity hehad put the old quiz to the blush, he stalked out ofthe office with the paper in his pocket.

　　"That chap will be in gaol in two years," Mr. Higgs saidto Mr. Poe.

　　"Won't O. come round, sir, don't you think?"

　　"Won't the monument come round," Mr. Higgs replied.

　　"He's going it pretty fast," said the clerk. "He's onlymarried a week, and I saw him and some other militarychaps handing Mrs. Highflyer to her carriage after theplay." And then another case was called, and Mr. GeorgeOsborne thenceforth dismissed from these worthygentlemen's memory.

　　The draft was upon our friends Hulker and Bullock ofLombard Street, to whose house, still thinking he wasdoing business, George bent his way, and from whom hereceived his money. Frederick Bullock, Esq., whoseyellow face was over a ledger, at which sate a demure clerk,happened to be in the banking-room when George entered.His yellow face turned to a more deadly colourwhen he saw the Captain, and he slunk back guiltily intothe inmost parlour. George was too busy gloating overthe money (for he had never had such a sum before), tomark the countenance or flight of the cadaverous suitorof his sister.

　　Fred Bullock told old Osborne of his son's appearanceand conduct. "He came in as bold as brass," saidFrederick. "He has drawn out every shilling. How longwill a few hundred pounds last such a chap as that?"Osborne swore with a great oath that he little cared when orhow soon he spent it. Fred dined every day in RussellSquare now. But altogether, George was highly pleasedwith his day's business. All his own baggage and outfitwas put into a state of speedy preparation, and he paidAmelia's purchases with cheques on his agents, and withthe splendour of a lord.