Vanity Fair (102 page)

Amelia seeing this propensity, laughingly encouraged it and looked
exceedingly roguish as she administered to him cup after cup. It is
true she did not know that the Major had had no dinner and that the
cloth was laid for him at the Slaughters', and a plate laid thereon
to mark that the table was retained, in that very box in which the
Major and George had sat many a time carousing, when she was a child
just come home from Miss Pinkerton's school.

The first thing Mrs. Osborne showed the Major was Georgy's
miniature, for which she ran upstairs on her arrival at home. It
was not half handsome enough of course for the boy, but wasn't it
noble of him to think of bringing it to his mother? Whilst her papa
was awake she did not talk much about Georgy. To hear about Mr.
Osborne and Russell Square was not agreeable to the old man, who
very likely was unconscious that he had been living for some months
past mainly on the bounty of his richer rival, and lost his temper
if allusion was made to the other.

Dobbin told him all, and a little more perhaps than all, that had
happened on board the Ramchunder, and exaggerated Jos's benevolent
dispositions towards his father and resolution to make him
comfortable in his old days. The truth is that during the voyage
the Major had impressed this duty most strongly upon his fellow-
passenger and extorted promises from him that he would take charge
of his sister and her child. He soothed Jos's irritation with
regard to the bills which the old gentleman had drawn upon him, gave
a laughing account of his own sufferings on the same score and of
the famous consignment of wine with which the old man had favoured
him, and brought Mr. Jos, who was by no means an ill-natured person
when well-pleased and moderately flattered, to a very good state of
feeling regarding his relatives in Europe.

And in fine I am ashamed to say that the Major stretched the truth
so far as to tell old Mr. Sedley that it was mainly a desire to see
his parent which brought Jos once more to Europe.

At his accustomed hour Mr. Sedley began to doze in his chair, and
then it was Amelia's opportunity to commence her conversation, which
she did with great eagerness—it related exclusively to Georgy. She
did not talk at all about her own sufferings at breaking from him,
for indeed, this worthy woman, though she was half-killed by the
separation from the child, yet thought it was very wicked in her to
repine at losing him; but everything concerning him, his virtues,
talents, and prospects, she poured out. She described his angelic
beauty; narrated a hundred instances of his generosity and greatness
of mind whilst living with her; how a Royal Duchess had stopped and
admired him in Kensington Gardens; how splendidly he was cared for
now, and how he had a groom and a pony; what quickness and
cleverness he had, and what a prodigiously well-read and delightful
person the Reverend Lawrence Veal was, George's master. "He knows
EVERYTHING," Amelia said. "He has the most delightful parties. You
who are so learned yourself, and have read so much, and are so
clever and accomplished—don't shake your head and say no—HE always
used to say you were—you will be charmed with Mr. Veal's parties.
The last Tuesday in every month. He says there is no place in the
bar or the senate that Georgy may not aspire to. Look here," and
she went to the piano-drawer and drew out a theme of Georgy's
composition. This great effort of genius, which is still in the
possession of George's mother, is as follows:

On Selfishness—Of all the vices which degrade the human character,
Selfishness is the most odious and contemptible. An undue love of
Self leads to the most monstrous crimes and occasions the greatest
misfortunes both in States and Families. As a selfish man will
impoverish his family and often bring them to ruin, so a selfish
king brings ruin on his people and often plunges them into war.

Example: The selfishness of Achilles, as remarked by the poet
Homer, occasioned a thousand woes to the Greeks—muri Achaiois alge
etheke—(Hom. Il. A. 2). The selfishness of the late Napoleon
Bonaparte occasioned innumerable wars in Europe and caused him to
perish, himself, in a miserable island—that of Saint Helena in the
Atlantic Ocean.

We see by these examples that we are not to consult our own interest
and ambition, but that we are to consider the interests of others as
well as our own.

George S. Osborne Athene House, 24 April, 1827

"Think of him writing such a hand, and quoting Greek too, at his
age," the delighted mother said. "Oh, William," she added, holding
out her hand to the Major, "what a treasure Heaven has given me in
that boy! He is the comfort of my life—and he is the image of—of
him that's gone!"

"Ought I to be angry with her for being faithful to him?" William
thought. "Ought I to be jealous of my friend in the grave, or hurt
that such a heart as Amelia's can love only once and for ever? Oh,
George, George, how little you knew the prize you had, though." This
sentiment passed rapidly through William's mind as he was holding
Amelia's hand, whilst the handkerchief was veiling her eyes.

"Dear friend," she said, pressing the hand which held hers, "how
good, how kind you always have been to me! See! Papa is stirring.
You will go and see Georgy tomorrow, won't you?"

"Not to-morrow," said poor old Dobbin. "I have business." He did
not like to own that he had not as yet been to his parents' and his
dear sister Anne—a remissness for which I am sure every well-
regulated person will blame the Major. And presently he took his
leave, leaving his address behind him for Jos, against the latter's
arrival. And so the first day was over, and he had seen her.

When he got back to the Slaughters', the roast fowl was of course
cold, in which condition he ate it for supper. And knowing what
early hours his family kept, and that it would be needless to
disturb their slumbers at so late an hour, it is on record, that
Major Dobbin treated himself to half-price at the Haymarket Theatre
that evening, where let us hope he enjoyed himself.

The Old Piano

The Major's visit left old John Sedley in a great state of agitation
and excitement. His daughter could not induce him to settle down to
his customary occupations or amusements that night. He passed the
evening fumbling amongst his boxes and desks, untying his papers
with trembling hands, and sorting and arranging them against Jos's
arrival. He had them in the greatest order—his tapes and his
files, his receipts, and his letters with lawyers and
correspondents; the documents relative to the wine project (which
failed from a most unaccountable accident, after commencing with the
most splendid prospects), the coal project (which only a want of
capital prevented from becoming the most successful scheme ever put
before the public), the patent saw-mills and sawdust consolidation
project, &c., &c. All night, until a very late hour, he passed in
the preparation of these documents, trembling about from one room to
another, with a quivering candle and shaky hands. Here's the wine
papers, here's the sawdust, here's the coals; here's my letters to
Calcutta and Madras, and replies from Major Dobbin, C.B., and Mr.
Joseph Sedley to the same. "He shall find no irregularity about ME,
Emmy," the old gentleman said.

Emmy smiled. "I don't think Jos will care about seeing those
papers, Papa," she said.

"You don't know anything about business, my dear," answered the
sire, shaking his head with an important air. And it must be
confessed that on this point Emmy was very ignorant, and that is a
pity some people are so knowing. All these twopenny documents
arranged on a side table, old Sedley covered them carefully over
with a clean bandanna handkerchief (one out of Major Dobbin's lot)
and enjoined the maid and landlady of the house, in the most solemn
way, not to disturb those papers, which were arranged for the
arrival of Mr. Joseph Sedley the next morning, "Mr. Joseph Sedley of
the Honourable East India Company's Bengal Civil Service."

Amelia found him up very early the next morning, more eager, more
hectic, and more shaky than ever. "I didn't sleep much, Emmy, my
dear," he said. "I was thinking of my poor Bessy. I wish she was
alive, to ride in Jos's carriage once again. She kept her own and
became it very well." And his eyes filled with tears, which trickled
down his furrowed old face. Amelia wiped them away, and smilingly
kissed him, and tied the old man's neckcloth in a smart bow, and put
his brooch into his best shirt frill, in which, in his Sunday suit
of mourning, he sat from six o'clock in the morning awaiting the
arrival of his son.

However, when the postman made his appearance, the little party were
put out of suspense by the receipt of a letter from Jos to his
sister, who announced that he felt a little fatigued after his
voyage, and should not be able to move on that day, but that he
would leave Southampton early the next morning and be with his
father and mother at evening. Amelia, as she read out the letter to
her father, paused over the latter word; her brother, it was clear,
did not know what had happened in the family. Nor could he, for the
fact is that, though the Major rightly suspected that his travelling
companion never would be got into motion in so short a space as
twenty-four hours, and would find some excuse for delaying, yet
Dobbin had not written to Jos to inform him of the calamity which
had befallen the Sedley family, being occupied in talking with
Amelia until long after post-hour.

There are some splendid tailors' shops in the High Street of
Southampton, in the fine plate-glass windows of which hang gorgeous
waistcoats of all sorts, of silk and velvet, and gold and crimson,
and pictures of the last new fashions, in which those wonderful
gentlemen with quizzing glasses, and holding on to little boys with
the exceeding large eyes and curly hair, ogle ladies in riding
habits prancing by the Statue of Achilles at Apsley House. Jos,
although provided with some of the most splendid vests that Calcutta
could furnish, thought he could not go to town until he was supplied
with one or two of these garments, and selected a crimson satin,
embroidered with gold butterflies, and a black and red velvet tartan
with white stripes and a rolling collar, with which, and a rich blue
satin stock and a gold pin, consisting of a five-barred gate with a
horseman in pink enamel jumping over it, he thought he might make
his entry into London with some dignity. For Jos's former shyness
and blundering blushing timidity had given way to a more candid and
courageous self-assertion of his worth. "I don't care about owning
it," Waterloo Sedley would say to his friends, "I am a dressy man";
and though rather uneasy if the ladies looked at him at the
Government House balls, and though he blushed and turned away
alarmed under their glances, it was chiefly from a dread lest they
should make love to him that he avoided them, being averse to
marriage altogether. But there was no such swell in Calcutta as
Waterloo Sedley, I have heard say, and he had the handsomest turn-
out, gave the best bachelor dinners, and had the finest plate in the
whole place.

To make these waistcoats for a man of his size and dignity took at
least a day, part of which he employed in hiring a servant to wait
upon him and his native and in instructing the agent who cleared his
baggage, his boxes, his books, which he never read, his chests of
mangoes, chutney, and curry-powders, his shawls for presents to
people whom he didn't know as yet, and the rest of his Persicos
apparatus.

At length, he drove leisurely to London on the third day and in the
new waistcoat, the native, with chattering teeth, shuddering in a
shawl on the box by the side of the new European servant; Jos
puffing his pipe at intervals within and looking so majestic that
the little boys cried Hooray, and many people thought he must be a
Governor-General. HE, I promise, did not decline the obsequious
invitation of the landlords to alight and refresh himself in the
neat country towns. Having partaken of a copious breakfast, with
fish, and rice, and hard eggs, at Southampton, he had so far rallied
at Winchester as to think a glass of sherry necessary. At Alton he
stepped out of the carriage at his servant's request and imbibed
some of the ale for which the place is famous. At Farnham he
stopped to view the Bishop's Castle and to partake of a light dinner
of stewed eels, veal cutlets, and French beans, with a bottle of
claret. He was cold over Bagshot Heath, where the native chattered
more and more, and Jos Sahib took some brandy-and-water; in fact,
when he drove into town he was as full of wine, beer, meat, pickles,
cherry-brandy, and tobacco as the steward's cabin of a steam-packet.
It was evening when his carriage thundered up to the little door in
Brompton, whither the affectionate fellow drove first, and before
hieing to the apartments secured for him by Mr. Dobbin at the
Slaughters'.

All the faces in the street were in the windows; the little
maidservant flew to the wicket-gate; the Mesdames Clapp looked out
from the casement of the ornamented kitchen; Emmy, in a great
flutter, was in the passage among the hats and coats; and old Sedley
in the parlour inside, shaking all over. Jos descended from the
post-chaise and down the creaking swaying steps in awful state,
supported by the new valet from Southampton and the shuddering
native, whose brown face was now livid with cold and of the colour
of a turkey's gizzard. He created an immense sensation in the
passage presently, where Mrs. and Miss Clapp, coming perhaps to
listen at the parlour door, found Loll Jewab shaking upon the hall-
bench under the coats, moaning in a strange piteous way, and showing
his yellow eyeballs and white teeth.

For, you see, we have adroitly shut the door upon the meeting
between Jos and the old father and the poor little gentle sister
inside. The old man was very much affected; so, of course, was his
daughter; nor was Jos without feeling. In that long absence of ten
years, the most selfish will think about home and early ties.
Distance sanctifies both. Long brooding over those lost pleasures
exaggerates their charm and sweetness. Jos was unaffectedly glad to
see and shake the hand of his father, between whom and himself there
had been a coolness—glad to see his little sister, whom he
remembered so pretty and smiling, and pained at the alteration which
time, grief, and misfortune had made in the shattered old man. Emmy
had come out to the door in her black clothes and whispered to him
of her mother's death, and not to speak of it to their father.
There was no need of this caution, for the elder Sedley himself
began immediately to speak of the event, and prattled about it, and
wept over it plenteously. It shocked the Indian not a little and
made him think of himself less than the poor fellow was accustomed
to do.