A History of Pendennis Volume II Part 9

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The exertions of that last night at Gaunt House had proved almost too much for Major Pendennis; and as soon as he could move his weary old body with safety, he transported himself groaning to Buxton, and sought relief in the healing waters of that place. Parliament broke up. Sir Francis Clavering and family left town, and the affairs which we have just mentioned to the reader were not advanced, in the brief interval of a few days or weeks which have occurred between this and the last chapter. The town was, however, emptied since then. The season was now come to a conclusion: Pen's neighbors, the lawyers, were gone upon circuit: and his more fas.h.i.+onable friends had taken their pa.s.sports for the Continent, or had fled for health or excitement to the Scotch moors. Scarce a man was to be seen in the bay-windows of the Clubs, or on the solitary Pall-Mall pavement. The red jackets had disappeared from before the Palace-gate: the tradesmen of St. James's were abroad taking their pleasure: the tailors had grown mustaches, and were gone up the Rhine: the bootmakers were at Ems or Baden, blus.h.i.+ng when they met their customers at those places of recreation, or punting beside their creditors at the gambling tables: the clergymen of St. James's only preached to half a congregation, in which there was not a single sinner of distinction: the band in Kensington Gardens had shut up their instruments of bra.s.s and trumpets of silver: only two or three old flies and chaises crawled by the banks of the Serpentine, and Clarence Bulbul, who was retained in town by his arduous duties as a Treasury clerk, when he took his afternoon ride in Rotten Row, compared its loneliness to the vastness of the Arabian desert, and himself to a Bedouin wending his way through that dusty solitude. Warrington stowed away a quant.i.ty of Cavendish tobacco in his carpet bag, and betook himself, as his custom was, in the vacation to his brother's house in Norfolk. Pen was left alone in chambers for a while, for this man of fas.h.i.+on could not quit the metropolis when he chose always: and was at present detained by the affairs of his newspaper, the Pall Mall Gazette, of which he acted as the editor and charge d'affaires during the temporary absence of the chief, Captain Shandon, who was with his family at the salutary watering-place of Boulogne sur Mer.

Although, as we have seen, Mr. Pen had p.r.o.nounced himself for years past to be a man perfectly _blase_ and wearied of life, yet the truth is that he was an exceedingly healthy young fellow; still with a fine appet.i.te, which he satisfied with the greatest relish and satisfaction at least once a day; and a constant desire for society, which showed him to be any thing but misanthropical. If he could not get a good dinner he sat down to a bad one with perfect contentment; if he could not procure the company of witty, or great, or beautiful persons, he put up with any society that came to hand; and was perfectly satisfied in a tavern-parlor or on board a Greenwich steam-boat, or in a jaunt to Hampstead with Mr. Finucane, his colleague at the Pall Mall Gazette; or in a visit to the summer theaters across the river; or to the Royal Gardens of Vauxhall, where he was on terms of friends.h.i.+p with the great Simpson, and where he shook the princ.i.p.al comic singer or the lovely equestrian of the arena by the hand. And while he could watch the grimaces or the graces of these with a satiric humor that was not deprived of sympathy, he could look on with an eye of kindness at the lookers on too; at the roystering youth bent upon enjoyment, and here taking it: at the honest parents, with their delighted children laughing and clapping their hands at the show: at the poor outcasts, whose laughter was less innocent, though perhaps louder, and who brought their shame and their youth here, to dance and be merry till the dawn at least; and to get bread and drown care. Of this sympathy with all conditions of men Arthur often boasted: he was pleased to possess it: and said that he hoped thus to the last he should retain it. As another man has an ardor for art or music, or natural science, Mr. Pen said that anthropology was his favorite pursuit; and had his eyes always eagerly open to its infinite varieties and beauties: contemplating with an unfailing delight all specimens of it in all places to which he resorted, whether it was the coqueting of a wrinkled dowager in a ball-room, or a high-bred young beauty blus.h.i.+ng in her prime there; whether it was a hulking guardsman coaxing a servant-girl in the Park, or innocent little Tommy that was feeding the ducks while the nurse listened. And indeed a man whose heart is pretty clean, can indulge in this pursuit with an enjoyment that never ceases, and is only perhaps the more keen because it is secret, and has a touch of sadness in it: because he is of his mood and humor lonely, and apart although not alone.

Yes, Pen used to brag and talk in his impetuous way to Warrington. "I was in love so fiercely in my youth, that I have burned out that flame forever, I think, and if ever I marry, it will be a marriage of reason that I will make, with a well-bred, good-tempered, good-looking person who has a little money, and so forth, that will cus.h.i.+on our carriage in its course through life. As for romance, it is all done; I have spent that out, and am old before my time--I'm proud of it."

"Stuff!" growled the other, "you fancied you were getting bald the other day, and bragged about it, as you do about every thing. But you began to use the bear's-grease pot directly the hair-dresser told you; and are scented like a barber ever since."

"You are Diogenes," the other answered, "and you want every man to live in a tub like yourself. Violets smell better than stale tobacco, you grizzly old cynic." But Mr. Pen was blus.h.i.+ng while he made this reply to his unromantical friend, and indeed cared a great deal more about himself still than such a philosopher perhaps should have done.

Indeed, considering that he was careless about the world, Mr. Pen ornamented his person with no small pains in order to make himself agreeable to it, and for a weary pilgrim as he was, wore very tight boots and bright varnish.

It was in this dull season of the year then, of a s.h.i.+ning Friday night in autumn, that Mr. Pendennis, having completed at his newspaper office a brilliant leading article--such as Captain Shandon himself might have written, had the captain been in good humor, and inclined to work, which he never would do except under compulsion--that Mr.

Arthur Pendennis having written his article, and reviewed it approvingly as it lay before him in its wet proof-sheet at the office of the paper, bethought him that he would cross the water, and regale himself with the fire-works and other amus.e.m.e.nts of Vauxhall. So he affably put in his pocket the order which admitted "Editor of Pall Mall Gazette and friend" to that place of recreation, and paid with the coin of the realm a sufficient sum to enable him to cross Waterloo Bridge. The walk thence to the Gardens was pleasant, the stars were s.h.i.+ning in the skies above, looking down upon the royal property, whence the rockets and Roman candles had not yet ascended to outs.h.i.+ne the stars.

Before you enter the enchanted ground, where twenty thousand additional lamps are burned every night as usual, most of us have pa.s.sed through the black and dreary pa.s.sage and wickets which hide the splendors of Vauxhall from uninitiated men. In the walls of this pa.s.sage are two holes strongly illuminated, in the midst of which you see two gentlemen at desks, where they will take either your money as a private individual, or your order of admission if you are provided with that pa.s.sport to the Gardens. Pen went to exhibit his ticket at the last-named orifice, where, however, a gentleman and two ladies were already in parley before him.

The gentleman, whose hat was very much on one side, and who wore a short and shabby cloak in an excessively smart manner, was crying out in a voice which Pen at once recognized, "Bedad, sir, if ye doubt me honor, will ye obleege me by stipping out of that box, and--"

"Lor, Capting!" cried the elder lady.

"Don't bother me," said the man in the box.

"And ask Mr. Hodgen himself, who's in the gyardens, to let these leedies pa.s.s. Don't be froightened, me dear madam, I'm not going to quarl with this gintleman, at any reet before leedies. Will ye go, sir, and desoire Mr. Hodgen (whose orther I keem in with, and he's me most intemate friend, and I know he's goan to sing the 'Body s.n.a.t.c.her'

here to-noight), with Captain Costigan's compliments, to stip out and let in the leedies; for meself, sir, oi've seen Vauxhall, and I scawrun any interfayrance on moi account: but for these leedies, one of them has never been there, and oi should think ye'd harly take advantage of me misfartune in losing the tickut, to deproive her of her pleasure."

"It ain't no use, captain. I can't go about your business," the checktaker said; on which the captain swore an oath, and the elder lady said, "Lor, ow provokin!"

As for the young one, she looked up at the captain, and said, "Never mind, Captain Costigan, I'm sure I don't want to go at all. Come away, mamma." And with this, although she did not want to go at all, her feelings overcame her, and she began to cry.

"Me poor child!" the captain said. "Can ye see that, sir, and will ye not let this innocent creature in?"

"It ain't my business," cried the door-keeper, peevishly, out of the illuminated box. And at this minute Arthur came up, and recognizing Costigan, said, "Don't you know me, captain? Pendennis!" And he took off his hat and made a bow to the two ladies. "Me dear boy! Me dear friend!" cried the captain, extending toward Pendennis the grasp of friends.h.i.+p; and he rapidly explained to the other what he called "a most unluckee conthratong." He had an order for Vauxhall, admitting two, from Mr. Hodgen, then within the Gardens, and singing (as he did at the Back Kitchen and the n.o.bility's concerts the "Body s.n.a.t.c.her,"

the "Death of General Wolfe," the "Banner of Blood," and other favorite melodies); and, having this order for the admission of two persons, he thought that it would admit three, and had come accordingly to the Gardens with his friends. But, on his way, Captain Costigan had lost the paper of admission--it was not forthcoming at all; and the leedies must go back again, to the great disappointment of one of them, as Pendennis saw.

Arthur had a great deal of good nature for everybody, and sympathized with the misfortunes of all sorts of people: how could he refuse his sympathy in such a case as this? He had seen the innocent face as it looked up to the captain, the appealing look of the girl, the piteous quiver of the mouth, and the final outburst of tears. If it had been his last guinea in the world, he must have paid it to have given the poor little thing pleasure. She turned the sad imploring eyes away directly they lighted upon a stranger, and began to wipe them with her handkerchief. Arthur looked very handsome and kind as he stood before the women, with his hat off, blus.h.i.+ng, bowing, generous, a gentleman. "Who are they?" he asked of himself. He thought he had seen the elder lady before.

"If I can be of any service to you, Captain Costigan," the young man said, "I hope you will command me; is there any difficulty about taking these ladies into the garden? Will you kindly make use of my purse? And--I have a ticket myself which will admit two--I hope, ma'am, you will permit me?"

The first impulse of the Prince of Fairoaks was to pay for the whole party, and to make away with his newspaper order as poor Costigan had done with his own ticket. But his instinct, and the appearance of the two women told him that they would be better pleased if he did not give himself the airs of a _grand seigneur_, and he handed his purse to Costigan, and laughingly pulled out his ticket with one hand, as he offered the other to the elder of the ladies--ladies was not the word--they had bonnets and shawls, and collars and ribbons, and the youngest showed a pretty little foot and boot under her modest gray gown, but his Highness of Fairoaks was courteous to every person who wore a petticoat, whatever its texture was, and the humbler the wearer, only the more stately and polite in his demeanor.

"f.a.n.n.y, take the gentleman's arm," the elder said; "since you will be so very kind; I've seen you often come in at our gate, sir, and go in to Captain Strong's, at No. 4."

f.a.n.n.y made a little courtesy, and put her hand under Arthur's arm. It had on a shabby little glove, but it was pretty and small. She was not a child, but she was scarcely a woman as yet; her tears had dried up, and her cheek mantled with youthful blushes, and her eyes glistened with pleasure and grat.i.tude, as she looked up into Arthur's kind face.

Arthur, in a protecting way, put his other hand upon the little one resting on his arm. "f.a.n.n.y's a very pretty little name," he said, "and so you know me, do you?"

"We keep the lodge, sir, at Shepherd's Inn," f.a.n.n.y said, with a courtesy; "and I've never been at Vauxhall, sir, and Pa didn't like me to go--and--and--O--O--law, how beautiful!" She shrank back as she spoke, starting with wonder and delight as she saw the Royal Gardens blaze before her with a hundred million of lamps, with a splendor such as the finest fairy tale, the finest pantomime she had ever witnessed at the theater, had never realized. Pen was pleased with her pleasure, and pressed to his side the little hand which clung so kindly to him.

"What would I not give for a little of this pleasure?" said the _blase_ young man.

"Your purse, Pendennis, me dear boy," said the captain's voice behind him. "Will ye count it? it's all roight--no--ye thrust in old Jack Costigan (he thrusts me, ye see, madam). Ye've been me preserver, Pen (I've known um since choildhood, Mrs. Bolton; he's the proproietor of Fairoaks Castle, and many's the cooper of clart I've dthrunk there with the first n.o.bilitee of his native countee)--Mr. Pendennis, ye've been me preserver, and oi thank ye; me daughtther will thank ye: Mr. Simpson, your humble servant, sir."

If Pen was magnificent in his courtesy to the ladies, what was his splendor in comparison to Captain Costigan's bowing here and there, and crying bravo to the singers?

A man, descended like Costigan, from a long line of Hibernian kings, chieftains, and other magnates and sheriffs of the county, had of course too much dignity and self-respect to walk arrum-in-arrum (as the captain phrased it) with a lady who occasionally swept his room out, and cooked his mutton chops. In the course of their journey from Shepherd's Inn to Vauxhall Gardens, Captain Costigan had walked by the side of the two ladies, in a patronizing and affable manner pointing out to them the edifices worthy of note, and discoursing, according to his wont, about other cities and countries which he had visited, and the people of rank and fas.h.i.+on with whom he had the honor of an acquaintance. Nor could it be expected, nor, indeed, did Mrs. Bolton expect, that, arrived in the royal property, and strongly illuminated by the flare of the twenty thousand additional lamps, the captain would relax from his dignity, and give an arm to a lady who was, in fact, little better than a housekeeper or charwoman.

But Pen, on his part, had no such scruples. Miss f.a.n.n.y Bolton did not make his bed nor sweep his chambers; and he did not choose to let go his pretty little partner. As for f.a.n.n.y, her color heightened, and her bright eyes shone the brighter with pleasure, as she leaned for protection on the arm of such a fine gentleman as Mr. Pen. And she looked at numbers of other ladies in the place, and at scores of other gentlemen under whose protection they were walking here and there; and she thought that her gentleman was handsomer and grander looking than any other gent in the place. Of course there were votaries of pleasure of all ranks there--rakish young surgeons, fast young clerks and commercialists, occasional dandies of the guard regiments, and the rest. Old Lord Colchic.u.m was there in attendance upon Mademoiselle Caracoline, who had been riding in the ring; and who talked her native French very loud, and used idiomatic expressions of exceeding strength as she walked about, leaning on the arm of his lords.h.i.+p.

Colchic.u.m was in attendance upon Mademoiselle Caracoline, little Tom Tufthunt was in attendance upon Lord Colchic.u.m; and rather pleased, too, with his position. When Don Juan scales the wall, there's never a want of a Leporello to hold the ladder. Tom Tufthunt was quite happy to act as friend to the elderly viscount, and to carve the fowl, and to make the salad at supper. When Pen and his young lady met the viscount's party, that n.o.ble peer only gave Arthur a pa.s.sing leer of recognition as his lords.h.i.+p's eyes pa.s.sed from Pen's face under the bonnet of Pen's companion. But Tom Tufthunt wagged his head very good-naturedly at Mr. Arthur, and said, "How are you, old boy?" and looked extremely knowing at the G.o.d-father of this history.

"That is the great rider at Astley's; I have seen her there," Miss Bolton said, looking after Mademoiselle Caracoline; "and who is that old man? is it not the gentleman in the ring?"

"That is Lord Viscount Colchic.u.m, Miss f.a.n.n.y," said Pen, with an air of protection. He meant no harm; he was pleased to patronize the young girl, and he was not displeased that she should be so pretty, and that she should be hanging upon his arm, and that yonder elderly Don Juan should have seen her there.

f.a.n.n.y was very pretty; her eyes were dark and brilliant; her teeth were like little pearls; her mouth was almost as red as Mademoiselle Caracoline's when the latter had put on her vermilion. And what a difference there was between the one's voice and the other's, between the girl's laugh and the woman's! It was only very lately, indeed, that f.a.n.n.y, when looking in the little gla.s.s over the Bows-Costigan mantle-piece as she was dusting it, had begun to suspect that she was a beauty. But a year ago, she was a clumsy, gawky girl, at whom her father sneered, and of whom the girls at the day-school (Miss Minifer's, Newcastle-street, Strand; Miss M., the younger sister, took the leading business at the Norwich circuit in 182-; and she herself had played for two seasons with some credit T.R.E.O., T.R.S.W., until she fell down a trap-door and broke her leg); the girls at f.a.n.n.y's school, we say, took no account of her, and thought her a dowdy little creature as long as she remained under Miss Minifer's instruction. And it was unremarked and almost unseen in the dark porter's lodge of Shepherd's Inn, that this little flower bloomed into beauty.

So this young person hung upon Mr. Pen's arm, and they paced the gardens together. Empty as London was, there were still some two millions of people left lingering about it, and among them, one or two of the acquaintances of Mr. Arthur Pendennis.

Among them, silent and alone, pale, with his hands in his pockets, and a rueful nod of the head to Arthur as they met, pa.s.sed Henry Foker, Esq. Young Henry was trying to ease his mind by moving from place to place, and from excitement to excitement. But he thought about Blanche as he sauntered in the dark walks; he thought about Blanche as he looked at the devices of the lamps. He consulted the fortune-teller about her, and was disappointed when that gipsy told him that he was in love with a dark lady who would make him happy; and at the concert, though Mr. Momus sang his most stunning comic songs, and asked his most astonis.h.i.+ng riddles, never did a kind smile come to visit Foker's lips. In fact he never heard Mr. Momus at all.

Pen and Miss Bolton were hard by listening to the same concert, and the latter remarked, and Pen laughed at, Mr. Foker's woe-begone face.

f.a.n.n.y asked what it was that made that odd-looking little man so dismal? "I think he is crossed in love!" Pen said. "Isn't that enough to make any man dismal, f.a.n.n.y?" And he looked down at her, splendidly protecting her, like Egmont at Clara in Goethe's play, or Leicester at Amy in Scott's novel.

"Crossed in love is he? poor gentleman," said f.a.n.n.y with a sigh, and her eyes turned round toward him with no little kindness and pity--but Harry did not see the beautiful dark eyes.

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"How-dy-do, Mr. Pendennis!"--a voice broke in here--it was that of a young man in a large white coat with a red neckcloth, over which a dingy short collar was turned, so as to exhibit a dubious neck--with a large pin of bullion or other metal, and an imaginative waistcoat with exceedingly fanciful gla.s.s b.u.t.tons, and trowsers that cried with a loud voice, "Come look at me and see how cheap and tawdry I am; my master, what a dirty buck!" and a little stick in one pocket of his coat, and a lady in pink satin on the other arm--"How-dy-do--Forget me, I dare say? Huxter--Clavering."

"How do you do, Mr. Huxter," the Prince of Fairoaks said, in his most princely manner, "I hope you are very well." "Pretty bobbish, thanky." And Mr. Huxter wagged his head. "I say, Pendennis, you've been coming it uncommon strong since we had the row at Wapshot's, don't you remember. Great author, hay? Go about with the swells. Saw your name in the Morning Post. I suppose you're too much of a swell to come and have a bit of supper with an old friend?--Charterhouse-lane to-morrow night--some devilish good fellows from Bartholomew's, and some stunning gin punch. Here's my card." And with this Mr. Huxter released his hand from the pocket where his cane was, and pulling off the top of his card case with his teeth produced thence a visiting ticket, which he handed to Pen.

"You are exceedingly kind, I am sure," said Pen: "but I regret that I have an engagement which will take me out of town to-morrow night."

And the Marquis of Fairoaks wondering that such a creature as this could have the audacity to give him a card, put Mr. Huxter's card into his waistcoat pocket with a lofty courtesy. Possibly Mr. Samuel Huxter was not aware that there was any great social difference between Mr.

Arthur Pendennis and himself. Mr. Huxter's father was a surgeon and apothecary at Clavering, just as Mr. Pendennis's papa had been a surgeon and apothecary at Bath. But the impudence of some men is beyond all calculation.

"Well, old fellow, never mind," said Mr. Huxter, who, always frank and familiar, was from vinous excitement even more affable than usual. "If ever you are pa.s.sing, look up at our place--I'm mostly at home Sat.u.r.days; and there's generally a cheese in the cupboard. Ta, Ta.

There's the bell for the fire-works ringing. Come along, Mary." And he set off running with the rest of the crowd in the direction of the fireworks.

So did Pen presently, when this agreeable youth was out of sight, begin to run with his little companion; Mrs. Bolton following after them, with Captain Costigan at her side. But the captain was too majestic and dignified in his movements to run for friend or enemy, and he pursued his course with the usual jaunty swagger which distinguished his steps, so that he and his companion were speedily distanced by Pen and Miss f.a.n.n.y.

Perhaps Arthur forgot, or perhaps he did not choose to remember, that the elder couple had no money in their pockets, as had been proved by their adventure at the entrance of the gardens; howbeit, Pen paid a couple of s.h.i.+llings for himself and his partner, and with her hanging close on his arm, scaled the staircase which leads to the fire-work gallery. The captain and mamma might have followed them if they liked, but Arthur and f.a.n.n.y were too busy to look back. People were pus.h.i.+ng and squeezing there beside and behind them. One eager individual rushed by f.a.n.n.y, and elbowed her so, that she fell back with a little cry, upon which, of course, Arthur caught her adroitly in his arms, and, just for protection, kept her so defended until they mounted the stair, and took their places.

Poor Foker sate alone on one of the highest benches, his face illuminated by the fire-works, or in their absence by the moon. Arthur saw him, and laughed, but did not occupy himself about his friend much. He was engaged with f.a.n.n.y. How she wondered! how happy she was!

how she cried O, O, O, as the rockets soared into the air, and showered down in azure, and emerald, and vermilion. As these wonders blazed and disappeared before her, the little girl thrilled and trembled with delight at Arthur's side--her hand was under his arm still, he felt it pressing him as she looked up delighted.

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"How beautiful they are, sir!" she cried.