The History of Pendennis; his fortunes and misfortunes, his friends and his greatest enemy. With illustrations on steel and wood by the author

Preface

. TF this kind of composition, of which the two years' product is now laid before the public, fail in art, as it constantly does and must, it at least has the advantage of a certain truth and honesty, which a work more elaborate might lose. In his constant communication with the reader, the writer is forced into frankness of expression, and to speak out his own mind and feelings as they urge him. Many a slip of the pen and the printer, many a word spoken in haste, he sees and would recal as he looks over his volume. It is a sort of confidential talk between writer and reader, which must often be dull, must often flag. In the course of his volubility, the perpetual speaker must of necessity lay bare his own weaknesses, vanities, peculiarities. And as we judge of a man's character, after long frequenting his society, not by one speech, or by one mood or opinion, or by one day's talk, but by the tenor of his general bearing rmd conversation; so of a writer, who delivers himself up to you perforce unreservedly, you say, Is he honest ?

Does he tell the truth in the main ? Does he seem actuated by a desire to find out and speak it ? Is he a quack, Avho shams sentiment, or mouths for effect ? Does he seek popularity by claij traps or other arts? I can no more ignore good fortune than any other chance which has befallen me. I have found many thousands more readers than I ever looked for. I have

PREFACE.

. VI no right to say to these, You shall not find fault with my art, or fall asleep over my pages; but I ask you to believe that this person writing strives to tell the truth. If there is not that, there is nothing. Perhaps the lovers of "excitement" may care to know, that this book began with a very precise plan, which was entirely put aside. Ladies and gentlemen, you were to have been treated, and the writer's and the publisher's pocket benefitted, by the recital of the most active horrors. What more exciting than a ruffian (with many admirable virtues) in St. Giles's, visited constantly by a young lady from Belgravia? What more stirring than the contrasts of society ? the mixture of slang and fashionable language ? the escapes, the battles, the murders ? Nay, up to nine o'clock this very morning, my poor friend, Colonel Altamont, was doomed to execution, and the author only relented when his victim was actually at the window.

The "exciting" plaa was laid aside (with a very [honorable forbearance on the part of the publishers), because, on attempting it, I found that I failed from want of experience of my subject; and never having been intimate with any "convict in my life, and the manners of ruffians and gaol-birds being quite unfamiliar to me, the idea of entering into competition with M. Eugene Sue was abandoned. To describe a real rascal, you must make him so horrible that he would be too hideous to show ; and unless the painter paints him fairly, I hold he has no right to show him at all. Even the gentlemen of our age — this is au attempt to describe one of them, no better nor worse than most educated men — even these we cannot show as they are, with the notorious foibles and selfishness of their lives and their education. Since

PREFACE.

. VII the author of Tom Jones was buried, no writer of fiction among us has been permitted to depict to his utmost power a Man. We must drape him, and give him a certain conventional simper. Society will not tolerate the Natural in our Art. Many ladies have remonstrated and subscribers left me, because, in the course of the story, I described a young man resisting and affected by temptation. My object was to say, that he had the passions to feel, and the manliness and generosity to overcome them. You will not hear — it is best to know it— what moves in the real world, what passes in society, in the clubs, colleges, news'-rooms, — what is the life ancl talk of your sons. A little more frankness than is customary has been attempted iu this story ; with no bad desire on the writer's part, it is hoped, and with no ill consequence to any reader.

If truth is not always pleasant ; at any rate truth is best, from whatever chair — from those whence graver writers or thinkers argue, as from that at which the story-teller sits as he concludes his labour, and bids his kind reader farewell. Kensington, Nov.lQth, 1850. CONTENTS. i — * — <HAr. PACE 1. — BELATES TO MIL HARRY FOKER'S AFFAIRS 1 2. — CARRIES THE READER BOTH TO RICHMOND AND GREENWICH . . . 13 3. — CONTAINS A NOVEL INCIDENT 22 4. — AI__ATLA 33 5. — IN WHICH THE COLONEL NARRATES SOME OF HIS ADVENTURES . . 41 8. — A CHAPTER OF CONVERSATIONS 51 7. — MISS AMORTS PARTNERS 65 8. — MONSEIGNEUR s'aMUSE 78 9.— A VISIT OF POLITENESS 92 10.— IN SHEPHERD'S INN 97 11.— IN OR NEAR THE TEMPLE GARDEN 103 12. — TIIE HAPPY VILLAGE AGAIN 112 13. — WHICH HAD VERY NEARLY BEEN THE LAST OF THE STORY . . .118 14. — A CRITICAL CHAPTER " ■ 129 15. — CONVALESCENCE 139 16.— fanny's occri' vtion's gone 151 17. — IN WHICH fanny engages a new medical man 161 18. — foreign ground 1'2 19. — " fairoaks to let " • .184 ....

X CONTENTS. CHAP. 21. — explanations 205 22. — CON VERSATIONS 2 23. — THE WAY OF THE WORLD ....••••• 225 24. — WHICH ACCOUNTS PERHAPS FOP. chapter xxiii. 239 25. — PHILLIS AND CORYDON '. 251 26. — temptations 257 27. — in which ten begins his canvass 268 2S. — in which pen begins to doubt about his election . . . . 278 29. — in which the major is bidden to stand and deliver . . . 289 30. — IN which the major neither YIELDS his money nor his life . . 30! 31. — IN which pendennis counts his eggs 308 32. — fiat justitia 314 33. — in which the decks begin to clear S21 34. — MR. AND MRS. SAM HUXTER 329 35. — SHOWS HOW ARTHUR HAD BETTER HAVE TAKEN A RETURN-TICKET . 339 36. — A CIIAI-TER OF MATCH-MAKING 346 37. — EXEUNT OMNES LIST OF PLATES. PACE Mr. Foker Preparing to Conquer .8 Almost Perfect Happiness 20 Captain in the Poster's Lodge 34 Her Ladyship's Visit 37 Captain Costigan in Perplexity 81 A Visit at Shepherd's Inn 94 On the Look-out 99 Pen's Nurse 126 Helen Installed 140 Vice Fanny Cashiered 130 The Captain won't go Home till Morning 165 Fanny's New Physician 170 Mb.

Arthur and Mr. SjlMUEL 195 Mr. Samuel asks a Question 200 Mr Hl'XTER LIKES TO BE CALLED A GOOSE 228 . iory's Interesting Employment 255 Rowena's Visit to Rebecca LIST OF TLATES. TAGE A Recognition 276 Mb. Morgan at ms Ease • • 295 A Good Shot ; 303 Mr. Huxter asks Pardon 353 A Discovert 368 As Escape . PENDENNIS.

Chapter I. To Mr

HARRY FOKERS AFFAIRS. RELATES INCE that fatal hut delightful night in Grosvenor Place, Mr. Harry Foker's heart had heeu in such a state of agitation as you would hardly have thought so great a philosopher could endure. When we rememher what good advice he had given to Pen in former days, how an early wisdom and knowledge ofthe world had manifested itself in the gifted youth; how a constant course of self-indulgence, such as becomes a gentleman of his means and expectations, ought by right to have increased his cynicism, and made him, with every succeeding day of his life, careless and less for every individual in the world, with the single exception of Mr. Harry Foker, one may wonder that he should fall into the mishap to which most of us are subject once or twice in our lives, and disquiet his great mind about a woman.

But Foker, though early wise was still a man. He could no more escape the common lot than Achilles, or Ajax, or Lord kelson, or Adam our first father, and now, his time being come, young Harry became a victim to Love, the All-conqueror. When he went to the Back Kitchen that night after quitting Arthur Pendennis at his staircase-door in Lamb Court, the gin-twist and devilled VOL. II. B PENDENNIS. turkey had no charms for him, the jokes of his companions fell flatly on his ear; and when Mr. Hodgen, the singer of "The Body Snatcher," had a new chant even more dreadful and humorous than that famous composition, Foker, although he appeared his friend, and said "Bravo Hodgen," as common politeness, and his position as one of the chiefs of the Back Kitchen bound him to do, yet never distinctly heard one word of the song, which under its title of " The Cat in the Cupboard," Hodgen has since rendered so famous.

Late and very tired, he slipped into his private apartments at home and sought the downy pillow, but his slumbers were disturbed by the fever ofhis soul, and the very instant that he woke from his agitated sleep, the image of Miss Amory presented itself to him, and said, " Here I am, I am your princess and beauty, you have discovered me, and shall care for nothing else hereafter." Heavens, how stale and distasteful his former pursuits and friend ships appeared to him ! He had not been, up to the present time, much accustomed to the society of females of his own rank in life. When he spoke of such, he called them "modest women." That virtue which, let us hope they possessed, had not hitherto compensated to Mr. Foker for the absence of more lively qualities which most of his own relatives did not enjoy, and which he found in Mesdemoiselles, the ladies of the theatre.

His mother, though good and tender, did not amuse her boy; his cousins, the daughters of his maternal uncle, the respectable Earl of Rosherville, wearied him beyond measure. One was blue, and a geologist ; one was a horsewoman, and smoked cigars ; oue was exceedingly Low Church, and had the most heterodox views on reli gious matters ; at least, so the other said, who was herself of the veiy Highest Church faction, and made the cupboard in her room into an oratory, and fasted on every Friday in the year. Their paternal house of Drummington, Foker could very seldom be got to visit. He swore he had rather go the tread-mill than stay there. He was not much beloved by the inhabitants. Lord Erith, Lord Rosherville's heir, con sidered his cousin a low person, of deplorably vulgar habits and manners ; while Foker, and with equal reason, voted Erith a prig and a dullard, the nightcap of the House of Commons, the Speaker's opprobrium, the dreariest of philanthropic spouters.

Nor could George Robert, Earl of Gravesend and Rosherville, ever forget that on one evening when he condescended to play at billiards with his nephew, that young gentleman poked his lordship in the side with his cue, aud said, " Well, old cock, I 've seen many a bad stroke in my life, but I never saw such a bad oue as that there." He played the game out with angelic sweetness of tem per, for Harry was his guest as well as his nephew ; but he was nearly having a fit in the night ; and he kept to his own rooms until young Harrv quitted Drummington on his return to Oxbridge, where the interesting youth was finishing his education at the time when the occurrence took place. It was an awful blow to the venerable earl ; the circumstance was never alluded to in the family ; he shunned Foker whenever he came to see them in London or in the country, and could hardly he PENDENNIS. 3 brought to gasp out a " How d'ye do ?

" to the young blasphemer. But he would not break his sister Agnes 's heart, by banishing Harry from the family altogether ; nor, indeed, could he afford to break with Mr. Foker, senior, between whom and his lordship there had been many private transactions, producing an exchange of bank cheques from Mr. Foker, and autographs from the earl himself, with the letters I 0 U written over his illustrious signature. Besides the four daughters of Lord Gravesend whose various qualities have been enumerated iu the former paragraph, his lordship was blessed with a fifth girl, the Lady Ann Milton, who, from her earliest years and nursery, had been destined to a peculiar position in life. It was ordained between her parents and her aunt, that when Mr. Harry Foker attained a proper age, Lady Ann should become his wife.

The idea had been b2 PENDENNIS. 4 familiar to her mind when she yet wore pinafores, and when Harry, the dirtiest of little boys, used to come back with black eyes from school to Drummington, or to his father's house of Logwood, where Lady Ann lived much with her aunt. Both of the young people coincided with the arrangement proposed by the elders, without any protests or difficulty. It no more entered Lady Ann's mind to question the order of her father, than it would have entered Esther's to dispute the commands of Ahasuerus. The heir-apparent of the house of Foker was also obedient, for when the old gentleman said, " Harry, your uncle and I have agreed that when you 're of a proper age, you '11 marry Lady Ann. She won't have any money, but she 's good blood, and a good one to look at, and I shall make you comfortable.

If you refuse, you'll have your mother's jointure, and two hundred a year during my life " — Harry, who knew that his sire, though a man of few words, was yet impli citly to be trusted, acquiesced at once in the parental decree, and said, " Well, sir, if Ann's agreeable, I say ditto. She 's not a bad looking girl." "And she has the best blood in England, sir. Your mother's blood, your own blood, sir," said the Brewer. " There 's nothing like it, sir." " Well, sir, as you like it," Harry replied. " When you want me, please ring the bell. Only there 's no hurry, and I hope you '11 give us a long day. I should like to have my fling out before I marry." "Fling away, Harry," answered the benevolent father. "Nobody prevents you, do they '? " And so very little more was said upon this subject, and Mr. Harry pursued those amusements in life which suited him best ; and hung up a little picture of his cousin in his sitting-room, amidst the French prints, the favourite actresses and dancers, the racing and coaching works of art, which suited his taste and formed his gallery.

It was an insignificant little picture, representing a simple round face with ringlets ; and it made, as it must be confessed, a very poor figure by the side of Mademoiselle Petitot, dancing over a rainbow, or Mademoiselle Redowa, grinning in red boots and a lancer's cap. Being engaged and disposed of, Lady Ann Milton did not go out so much in the world as her sisters : aud often stayed at home in London at the parental house in Gaunt Square, when her mamma with the other ladies went abroad. They talked and they danced with one man after another, and the men came and went, and the stories about them were various. But there was only this oue story about Ann : she was engaged to Harry Foker : she never was to think about anybody else. It was not a very amusing story. Well, the instant Foker awoke on the day after Lady Clavering's dinner, there was Blanche's image glaring upon him with its clear grey eyes, and winning smile.

There was her tune ringing in his ears, " Yet round about the spot, ofttimes I hover, ofttimes I hover," which poor Foker began piteously to hum, as he sat up in his bed under the crimson PENDENNIS. 5 silken coverlet. Opposite him was a French print, of a Turkish lady and her Greek lover, surprised by a venerable Ottoman, the lady's husband ; ou the other wall, was a French print of a gentleman and lady, riding and kissing each other at the full gallop; all round the chaste bed-room were more French prints, either portraits of gauzy nymphs of the Opera or lovely illustrations of the novels ; or mayhap, an English chef-d'œuvre or two, in which Miss Calverley of T. R. E. O. would be represented in tight pantaloons in her favourite page part ; or Miss Rougemont as Venus ; their value enhanced by the signatures of these ladies, Maria Calverley, or Frederica Rougemont, inscribed underneath the prints in an exquisite facsimile.

Such were the pictures in which honest Harry delighted. He was no worse thau many of his neighbours ; he was an idle jovial kindly fast man about town ; and if his rooms were rather profusely decorated with works of French art, so that simple Lady Agnes, his mamma, on entering the apartments where her darling sate enveloped in fragrant clouds of Latakia, was often bewildered by the novelties which she beheld there, why, it must be remembered, that he was richer than most young men, and could better afford to gratify his taste. A letter from Miss Calverley written in a very degage style of spelling and hand-writing, scrawling freely over the filagree paper, and commencing by calling Mr. Harry, her dear Hokey-pokey-fokey, lay ou his bed table by his side, amidst keys, sovereigns, cigar-cases, and a bit of verbena, which Miss Amory had given him, and reminding him of the arrival of the day when he was " to stand that dinner at the Elefant and Castle, at Richmond, which he had promised;" a card for a private box at Miss Rougemont's approaching benefit, a bundle of tickets for "Ben Budgeon's night, the North Lancashire Pippin, at Martin Faunce's, the Three-cornered Hat, in St. Martin's Lane ; where Conkey Sam, Dick the Nailor, and Deadman, (the Worcestershire Nobber,) would put ou the gloves, and the lovers of the good old British sport were invited to attend " — these and sundry other memoirs of Mr. Foker's pursuits and pleasure lay on the table by his side when he woke.

Ah ! how faint all these pleasures seemed now. What did he care for Conkey Sam or the Worcestershire Nobber? What for the French prints ogling him from all sides of the room ; those regular stunning slap-up out-and-outers ? And Calverley spelling bad, and calliug him Hokey-fokey, confound her impudence ! The idea of being engaged to a dinner at the Elephant and Castle at Richmond, with that old woman, (who was seven and thirty years old, if she was a day,) filled his mind with dreary disgust now, instead of that pleasure which he had only yesterday expected to find from the entertainment. When his fond mamma beheld her hoy that morning, she remarked on the pallor of his cheek, and the general gloom of his aspect. " Why do you go on playing billiards at that wicked Spratt's ? " Lady Agnes asked.

" My dearest child, those billiards will kill you, I 'm sure they will." PENDENNIS. " It isn't the billiards," Harry said, gloomily. " Then it 's the dreadful Back Kitchen," said the Lady Agnes. " I 've often thought, d'you know, Harry, of writing to the landlady, and begging that she would have the kindness to put only veiy little wine in the negus which you take, and see that you have your shawl on before you get into your Brougham." " Do, ma'am. Mrs. Cutts is a most kind motherly woman," Harry said. "But it isn't the Back Kitchen, neither," he added, with a ghastly sigh. As Lady Agnes never denied her son anything, and fell into all his ways with the fondest acquiescence, she was rewarded by a perfect con fidence on young Harry's part, who never thought to disguise from her a kuowledge of the haunts which he frequented ; and, on the contrary, brought her home choice anecdotes from the clubs and billiard-rooms, which the simple lady relished, if she did not understand.

" My son goes to Spratt s," she would say to her confidential friends. "All the youug men go to Spratt's after their balls. It is de rigueur, my dear ; and they play billiards as they used to play macao and hazard inMr. Fox's time. Yes, my dear father often told me that they sate up always until nine o'clock the next morning with Mr. Fox at Brookes's, whom I remember at Drummington, when I was a little girl, in a buff waistcoat and black satin small clothes. My brother Erith never played as a young man, nor sate up late — he had no health for it ; but my boy must do as everybody does, you know. Yes, and then he often goes to a place called the Back Kitchen, frequented by all the wits and authors, you know, whom one does not see in society, but whom it is a great privilege aud pleasure for Harry to meet, and there he hears the questions of the day discussed ; and my dear father often said that it was our duty to encourage literature, and he had hoped to see the lato Dr. Johnson at Drummington, only Dr. Johnson died.

Yes, and Mr. Sheridan came over, and drank a great deal of wine, — everybody drank a great deal of wine in those days, — and papa's wine-merchaut's bill was ten times as much as Erith 's is, who gets it as he wants it from Fortuum and Mason's, and doesn't keep any stock at all." " That was an uncommon good dinner we had yesterday, ma'am," the artful Harry broke out. " Their clear soup 's better than ours. Moufflet will put too much taragon into everything. The supreme de volaille was very good — uncommon, and the sweets were better than Moufikt's sweets. Did you taste the plombiere, ma'am, and the maraschino jelly ? Stunningly good that maraschino jelly ! " Lady Agnes expressed her agreement in these, as in almost all other sentiments of her son, who continued the artful conversation, sayiug, " Very handsome house that of the Claverings.

Furniture, I should say, got up regardless of expense. Magnificent display of plate, ma'am." The lady assented to all these propositions. " Very nice people the Claverings." " Hm!" said Lady Agnes. PENDENNIS. 7 " I know what you mean. Lady C. ain't distangy exactly, but she is very good-natured." " O very," mamma said, who was herself one of the most good natured of women. " And Sir Francis, he don't talk much before ladies ; but after dinner he comes out uncommon strong, ma'am — a highly agreeable well-informed man. When will you ask them to dinner ? Look out for an early day, ma'am ;" and looking into Lady Agnes's pocket-book, he chose a day only a fortnight hence (an age that fortnight seemed to the young gentle man), when the Claverings were to be invited to Grosvenor-street. The obedient Lady Agnes wrote the required invitation.

She was accustomed to do so without consulting her husband, who had his own society and habits, and who left his wife to see her own friends alone. Harry looked at the card ; hut there was au omission in the invitation which did not please him. " You have not asked Miss Whatdyecallem — Miss Emery, Lady Clavering's daughter." " 0 that little creature ! " Lady Agnes cried. " No, I think not, Harry." " AVe must ask Miss Amory," Foker said. " I — I want to ask Pen dennis ; and — and he 's very sweet upon her. Don't you think she sings very well, ma'am?" " I thought her rather forward, and didn't listeu to her singing. She only sang at you and Mr. Pendennis, it seemed to me. But I will ask her if you wish, Harry," aud so Miss Amory's name was written ou the card with her mother's. This piece of diplomacy being triumphantly executed, Harry embraced his fond parent with the utmost affection, and retired to his own apart ments, where he stretched himself on his ottoman, and lay brooding 6ilently, sighing for the day which was to bring the fair Miss Amory under his paternal roof, and devising a hundred wild schemes for meeting her.

On his return from making the grand tour, Mr. Foker, junior, had brought with him a polyglot valet, who took the place of Stoopid, and condescended to wait at dinner, attired in shirt fronts of worked niusliu, with many gold studs and chains, upon his master and the elders of the family. This man, who was of no particular country, and spoke all languages indifferently ill, made himself useful to Mr. Harry in a variety of ways, — read all the artless youth's correspondence, knew his favourite haunts and the addresses of his acquaintance, and officiated at the private dinners which the young gentleman gave. As Harry lay upon his sofa after his interview with his mamma, robed in a wonderful dressing-gown, and puffing his pipe iu gloomy silence, Anatole, too, must have remarked that something affected his master's spirits ; though he did not betray any ill-bred sympathy with Harry's agitation of mind.

When Harry began to dress himself in his out-of-door morning costume : he was very hard indeed to please, and particularly severe and snappish PENDENNIS. about his toilet: he tried, and cursed, pantaloons of many different stripes, checks, and colours : all the boots were villainously varnished; the shirts too " loud " in pattern. He scented his linen and person with peculiar richness this day ; and what must have been the valet's astonishment, when, after some blushing and hesitation on Harry's part, the young gentleman asked, "I say, Anatole, when I engaged you, didn't you — hem — didn't you say that you could dress — hem — dress hair ? " The valet said, " Yes, he could." " Cherchy alors une paire de tongs, — et — curly moi un pew," Mr. Foker said, in an easy manner; and the valet, -wondering whether his master was in love or was going masquerading, -went in search of the articles, — first from the old butler who waited upon Mr. Foker, senior, on whose bald pate the tongs would have scarcely found a hundred hairs to seize, and finally of the lady who had the charge of the meek auburn fronts of the Lady Agnes.

And the tongs being got, Monsieur Anatole twisted his young master's locks until he had made Harry's head as curly as a negro's ; after which the youth dressed himself with the utmost care and splendour, and proceeded to sally out. " At what dime sail I order de drag, sir, to be to Miss Calverley 's door, sir ? " the attendant whispered as his master was going forth. " Confound her ! — Put the dinner off — I can't go ! " said Foker. " No, hang it — I must go. Poyntz and Rougemont, and ever so many more are coming. The drag at Pelham Corner at six o'clock, Anatole." The drag was not one of Mr. Foker's own equipages, but was hired from a livery stable for festive purposes ; Foker, however, put his owu carriage into requisition that morning, aud for what purpose does the kind reader suppose ?

Why to drive down to Lamb Court, Temple, taking Grosvenor Place by the way (which lies in the exact direction of the Temple from Grosvenor Street, as everybody knows), where he just had the pleasure of peeping upwards at Miss Amory's pink window curtains, having achieved which satisfactory feat, he drove off to Pen's chambers. Why did he want to see his dear friend Pen so much? Why did he yearn and long after him ; and did it seem necessary to Foker's very existence that he should see Pen that morning, having parted with him in perfect health on the night previous ? Pen had lived two years in London, and Foker had not paid half-a-dozen visits to his chambers. What sent him thither now in such a hurry ? What ? — If any young ladies read this page, I have only to inform them that when the same mishap befals them, which uow had for more than twelve hours befallen Harry Foker, people will grow interesting to them for whom they did not care sixpence ou the day before ; as on the other hand persons of whom they fancied themselves fond will be found to have become insipid and disagreeable.

Then your dearest Eliza or Maria of the other day, to whom you wrote letters and sent locks of hair yards long, will on a sudden be as indifferent to you as your stupidest relation : whilst, on the contrary, about his relations vou will begin to feel such a warm interest ! such a loving desire to in^ra- ./ vama, PENDENNIS. 9 tiate yourself with his mamma ; such a liking for that dear kind old man his father ! If He is in the habit of visiting at any house, what advances you will make in order to visit there too. If He has a married sister you will like to spend long mornings with her. You will fatigue your servant by sending notes to her, for which there will be the most pressing occasion, twice or thrice in a day. You will cry if your mamma objects to your going too often to see His family.