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The History of Pendennis, Vol. 2

W >> William Makepeace Thackeray >> The History of Pendennis, Vol. 2




While the major was absent from his lodgings, Morgan had been seated
in the landlady's parlor, drinking freely of hot brandy-and-water,
and pouring out on Mrs. Brixham some of the abuse which he had
received from his master up-stairs. Mrs. Brixham was Morgan's slave.
He was his landlady's landlord. He had bought the lease of the house
which she rented; he had got her name and her son's to acceptances,
and a bill of sale which made him master of the luckless widow's
furniture. The young Brixham was a clerk in an insurance office, and
Morgan could put him into what he called quod any day. Mrs. Brixham
was a clergyman's widow, and Mr. Morgan, after performing his duties
on the first floor, had a pleasure in making the old lady fetch him
his boot-jack and his slippers. She was his slave. The little black
profiles of her son and daughter; the very picture of Tiddlecot
church, where she was married, and her poor dear Brixham lived and
died, was now Morgan's property, as it hung there over the
mantle-piece of his back-parlor. Morgan sate in the widow's back-room,
in the ex-curate's old horse-hair study-chair, making Mrs. Brixham
bring supper for him, and fill his glass again and again.

The liquor was bought with the poor woman's own coin, and hence Morgan
indulged in it only the more freely; and he had eaten his supper and
was drinking a third tumbler, when old Pendennis returned from the
Club, and went up-stairs to his rooms. Mr. Morgan swore very savagely
at him and his bell, when he heard the latter, and finished his
tumbler of brandy before he went up to answer the summons.

He received the abuse consequent on this delay in silence, nor did the
major condescend to read in the flushed face and glaring eyes of the
man, the anger under which he was laboring. The old gentleman's
foot-bath was at the fire; his gown and slippers awaiting him there.
Morgan knelt down to take his boots off with due subordination: and as
the major abused him from above, kept up a growl of maledictions below
at his feet. Thus, when Pendennis was crying "Confound you, sir; mind
that strap--curse you, don't wrench my foot off," Morgan _sotto voce_
below was expressing a wish to strangle him, drown him, and punch
his head off.

The boots removed, it became necessary to divest Mr. Pendennis of his
coat: and for this purpose the valet had necessarily to approach very
near to his employer; so near that Pendennis could not but perceive
what Mr. Morgan's late occupation had been; to which he adverted in
that simple and forcible phraseology which men are sometimes in the
habit of using to their domestics; informing Morgan that he was a
drunken beast, and that he smelt of brandy.

At this the man broke out, losing patience, and flinging up all
subordination? "I'm drunk, am I? I'm a beast, am I? I'm d----d, am I?
you infernal old miscreant. Shall I wring your old head off, and
drownd yer in that pail of water? Do you think I'm a-goin' to bear
your confounded old harrogance, you old Wigsby! Chatter your old
hivories at me, do you, you grinning old baboon! Come on, if you are a
man, and can stand to a man. Ha! you coward, knives, knives!"

"If you advance a step, I'll send it into you," said the major,
seizing up a knife that was on the table near him. "Go down stairs,
you drunken brute, and leave the house; send for your book and your
wages in the morning, and never let me see your insolent face again.
This d----d impertinence of yours has been growing for some months
past. You have been growing too rich. You are not fit for service. Get
out of it, and out of the house."

"And where would you wish me to go, pray, out of the ouse?" asked the
man, "and won't it be equal convenient to-morrow mornin'?--_tooty-fay
mame shose, sivvaplay, munseer?_"

"Silence, you beast, and go!" cried out the major.

[Illustration]

Morgan began to laugh, with rather a sinister laugh. "Look yere,
Pendennis," he said, seating himself; "since I've been in this room
you've called me beast, brute, dog: and d----d me, haven't you? How do
you suppose one man likes that sort of talk from another? How many
years have I waited on you, and how many damns and cusses have you
given me, along with my wages? Do you think a man's a dog, that you
can talk to him in this way? If I choose to drink a little, why
shouldn't I? I've seen many a gentleman drunk formly, and peraps have
the abit from them. I ain't a-goin' to leave this house, old feller,
and shall I tell you why? The house is my house, every stick of
furnitur' in it is mine, excep' _your_ old traps, and your
shower-bath, and your wig-box. I've bought the place, I tell you, with
my own industry and perseverance. I can show a hundred pound, where
you can show a fifty, or your damned supersellious nephew either. I've
served you honorable, done every thing for you these dozen years, and
I'm a dog, am I? I'm a beast, am I? That's the language for gentlemen,
not for our rank. But I'll bear it no more. I throw up your service;
I'm tired on it; I've combed your old wig and buckled your old girths
and waistbands long enough, I tell you. Don't look savage at me, I'm
sitting in my own chair, in my own room, a-telling the truth to
you. I'll be your beast, and your brute, and your dog, no more, Major
Pendennis AlfPay."

The fury of the old gentleman, met by the servant's abrupt revolt, had
been shocked and cooled by the concussion, as much as if a sudden
shower-bath or a pail of cold water had been flung upon him. That
effect produced, and his anger calmed, Morgan's speech had interested
him, and he rather respected his adversary, and his courage in facing
him, as of old days, in the fencing-room, he would have admired the
opponent who hit him.

"You are no longer my servant," the major said, "and the house may be
yours; but the lodgings are mine, and you will have the goodness to
leave them. To-morrow morning, when we have settled our accounts, I
shall remove into other quarters. In the mean time, I desire to go to
bed, and have not the slightest wish for your farther company."

"_We'll_ have a settlement, don't you be afraid," Morgan said, getting
up from his chair. "I ain't done with you yet; nor with your family,
nor with the Clavering family, Major Pendennis; and that you
shall know."

"Have the goodness to leave the room, sir;--I'm tired," said the
major.

"Hah! you'll be more tired of me afore you've done," answered the man,
with a sneer, and walked out of the room; leaving the major to compose
himself, as best he might, after the agitation of this extraordinary
scene.

He sate and mused by his fire-side over the past events, and the
confounded impudence and ingratitude of servants; and thought how he
should get a new man: how devilish unpleasant it was for a man of his
age, and with his habits, to part with a fellow to whom he had been
accustomed: how Morgan had a receipt for boot-varnish, which was
incomparably better and more comfortable to the feet than any he had
ever tried; how very well he made mutton-broth, and tended him when he
was unwell. "Gad, it's a hard thine: to lose a fellow of that sort:
but he must go," thought the major. "He has grown rich, and impudent
since he has grown rich. He was horribly tipsy and abusive tonight. We
must part, and I must go out of the lodgings. Dammy, I like the
lodgings; I'm used to 'em. It's very unpleasant, at my time of life,
to change my quarters." And so on, mused the old gentleman. The
shower-bath had done him good: the testiness was gone: the loss of the
umbrella, the smell of paint at the Club, were forgotten under the
superior excitement. "Confound the insolent villain!" thought the old
gentleman. "He understood my wants to a nicety: he was the best
servant in England." He thought about his servant as a man thinks of a
horse that has carried him long and well, and that has come down with
him, and is safe no longer. How the deuce to replace him? Where can he
get such another animal?

In these melancholy cogitations the major, who had donned his own
dressing gown and replaced his head of hair (a little gray had been
introduced into the _coiffure_ of late by Mr. Truefitt, which had
given the major's head the most artless and respectable appearance);
in these cogitations, we say, the major, who had taken off his wig and
put on his night-handkerchief, sate absorbed by the fire-side, when a
feeble knock came at his door, which was presently opened by the
landlady of the lodgings.

"God bless my soul, Mrs. Brixham!" cried out the major, startled that
a lady should behold him in the _simple appareil_ of his night-toilet.
"It--it's very late, Mrs. Brixham."

[Illustration]

"I wish I might speak to you, sir," said the landlady, very piteously.
"About Morgan, I suppose? He has cooled himself at the pump. Can't
take him back, Mrs. Brixham. Impossible. I'd determined to part with
him before, when I heard of his dealings in the discount business--I
suppose you've heard of them, Mrs. Brixham? My servant's a
capitalist, begad."

"O sir," said Mrs. Brixham, "I know it to my cost. I borrowed from him
a little money five years ago; and though I have paid him many times
over, I am entirely in his power. I am ruined by him, sir. Every thing
I had is his. He's a dreadful man." "Eh, Mrs. Brixham? _tant
pis_--dev'lish sorry for you, and that I must quit your house after
lodging here so long: there's no help for it. I must go."

"He says we must all go, sir," sobbed out the luckless widow. "He came
down stairs from you just now--he had been drinking, and it always
makes him very wicked--and he said that you had insulted him, sir, and
treated him like a dog, and spoken to him unkindly; and he swore he
would be revenged, and--and I owe him a hundred and twenty pounds,
sir--and he has a bill of sale of all my furniture--and says he will
turn me out of my house, and send my poor George to prison. He has
been the ruin of my family, that man."

"Dev'lish sorry, Mrs. Brixham; pray take a chair. What can I do?"

"Could you not intercede with him for us? George will give half his
allowance; my daughter can send something. If you will but stay on,
sir, and pay a quarter's rent in advance--"

"My good madam, I would as soon give you a quarter in advance as not,
if I were going to stay in the lodgings. But I can't; and I can't
afford to fling away twenty pounds, my good madam. I'm a poor half-pay
officer, and want every shilling I have, begad. As far as a few pounds
goes--say five pounds--I don't say--and shall be most happy, and that
sort of thing: and I'll give it you in the morning with pleasure:
but--but it's getting late, and I have made a railroad journey."

"God's will be done, sir," said the poor woman, drying her tears. "I
must bear my fate."

"And a dev'lish hard one it is, and most sincerely I pity you, Mrs.
Brixham. I--I'll say ten pounds, if you will permit me. Good night."

"Mr. Morgan, sir, when he came down stairs, and when--when I besought
him to have pity on me, and told him he had been the ruin of my
family, said something which I did not well understand--that he would
ruin every family in the house--that he knew something would bring you
down too--and that you should pay him for your--your insolence to him.
I--I must own to you, that I went down on my knees to him, sir; and he
said, with a dreadful oath against you, that he would have you on
your knees."

"Me?--by Gad, that is too pleasant! Where is the confounded fellow?"

"He went away, sir. He said he should see you in the morning. O, pray
try and pacify him, and save me and my poor boy." And the widow went
away with this prayer, to pass her night as she might, and look for
the dreadful morrow.

The last words about himself excited Major Pendennis so much, that his
compassion for Mrs. Brixham's misfortunes was quite forgotten in the
consideration of his own case.

"Me on my knees?" thought he, as he got into bed: "confound his
impudence. Who ever saw me on my knees? What the devil does the fellow
know? Gad, I've not had an affair these twenty years. I defy him." And
the old campaigner turned round and slept pretty sound, being rather
excited and amused by the events of the day--the last day in
Bury-street, he was determined it should be. "For it's impossible to
stay on with a valet over me and a bankrupt landlady. What good can I
do this poor devil of a woman? I'll give her twenty pound--there's
Warrington's twenty pound, which he has just paid--but what's the
use? She'll want more, and more, and more, and that cormorant Morgan
will swallow all. No, dammy, I can't afford to know poor people; and
to-morrow I'll say good-by--to Mrs. Brixham and Mr. Morgan."





CHAPTER XXX.

IN WHICH THE MAJOR NEITHER YIELDS HIS MONEY NOR HIS LIFE.


[Illustration]

Early next morning Pendennis's shutters were opened by Morgan, who
appeared as usual, with a face perfectly grave and respectful, bearing
with him the old gentleman's clothes, cans of water, and elaborate
toilet requisites.

"It's you, is it?" said the old fellow from his bed. "I shan't take
you back again, you understand."

"I ave not the least wish to be took back agin, Major Pendennis," Mr.
Morgan said, with grave dignity, "nor to serve you nor hany man. But
as I wish you to be comftable as long as you stay in my house, I came
up to do what's nessary." And once more, and for the last time, Mr.
James Morgan laid out the silver dressing-case, and strapped the
shining razor.

These offices concluded, he addressed himself to the major with an
indescribable solemnity, and said: "Thinkin' that you would most
likely be in want of a respectable pusson, until you suited yourself,
I spoke to a young man last night, who is 'ere."

"Indeed," said the warrior in the tent-bed.

"He ave lived in the fust families, and I can vouch for his
respectability."

"You are monstrous polite," grinned the old major. And the truth is
that after the occurrences of the previous evening, Morgan had gone
out to his own Club at the Wheel of Fortune, and there finding Frosch,
a courier and valet just returned from a foreign tour with young Lord
Cubley, and for the present disposable, had represented to Mr.
Frosch, that he, Morgan, had "a devil of a blow hup with his own
Gov'ner and was goin' to retire from the business haltogether, and
that if Frosch wanted a tempory job, he might probbly have it by
applying in Bury street."

"You are very polite," said the major, "and your recommendation, I am
sure, will have every weight."

Morgan blushed, he felt his master was "a-chaffin' of him." "The man
have waited on you before, sir," he said with great dignity. "Lord De
la Pole, sir, gave him to his nephew young Lord Cubley, and he have
been with him on his foring tour, and not wishing to go to Fitzurse
Castle, which Frosch's chest is delicate, and he can not bear the cold
in Scotland, he is free to serve you or not, as you choose."

"I repeat, sir, that you are exceedingly polite," said the major.
"Come in, Frosch--you will do very well--Mr. Morgan, will you have the
great kindness to--"

"I shall show him what is nessary, sir, and what is customry for you
to wish to ave done. Will you please to take breakfast 'ere or at the
Club, Major Pendennis?"

"With your kind permission, I will breakfast here, and afterward we
will make our little arrangements."

"If you please, sir."

"Will you now oblige me by leaving the room?"

Morgan withdrew; the excessive politeness of his ex-employer made him
almost as angry as the major's bitterest words. And while the old
gentleman is making his mysterious toilet, we will also
modestly retire.

After breakfast, Major Pendennis and his new aid-de-camp occupied
themselves in preparing for their departure. The establishment of the
old bachelor was not very complicated. He encumbered himself with no
useless wardrobe. A Bible (his mother's), a road-book, Pen's novel
(calf elegant), and the Duke of Wellington's Dispatches, with a few
prints, maps, and portraits of that illustrious general, and of
various sovereigns and consorts of this country, and of the general
under whom Major Pendennis had served in India, formed his literary
and artistical collection; he was always ready to march at a few
hours' notice, and the cases in which he had brought his property into
his lodgings some fifteen years before, were still in the lofts amply
sufficient to receive all his goods. These, the young woman who did
the work of the house, and who was known by the name of Betty to her
mistress, and of 'Slavey' to Mr. Morgan, brought down from their
resting place, and obediently dusted and cleaned under the eyes of the
terrible Morgan. His demeanor was guarded and solemn; he had spoken no
word as yet to Mrs. Brixham respecting his threats of the past night,
but he looked as if he would execute them, and the poor widow
tremblingly awaited her fate.

Old Pendennis, armed with his cane, superintended the package of his
goods and chattels under the hands of Mr. Frosch, and the Slavey
burned such of his papers as he did not care to keep; flung open
doors and closets until they were all empty; and now all boxes and
chests were closed, except his desk, which was ready to receive the
final accounts of Mr. Morgan.

That individual now made his appearance, and brought his books. "As I
wish to speak to you in privick, peraps you will ave the kindness to
request Frosch to step down stairs," he said, on entering.

"Bring a couple of cabs, Frosch, if you please--and wait down stairs
until I ring for you," said the major. Morgan saw Frosch down stairs,
watched him go along the street upon his errand and produced his books
and accounts, which were simple and very easily settled.

"And now, sir," said he, having pocketed the check which his
ex-employer gave him, and signed his name to his book with a flourish,
"and now that accounts is closed between us, sir," he said, "I porpose
to speak to you as one man to another" (Morgan liked the sound of his
own voice; and, as an individual, indulged in public speaking whenever
he could get an opportunity, at the Club, or the housekeeper's room),
"and I must tell you, that I'm in _possussion of certing
information._"

"And may I inquire of what nature, pray?" asked the major.

"It's valuble information, Major Pendennis, as you know very well I
know of a marriage as is no marriage--of a honorable baronet as is no
more married than I am; and which his wife is married to somebody
else, as you know too, sir."

Pendennis at once understood all. "Ha! this accounts for your
behavior. You have been listening at the door, sir, I suppose," said
the major, looking very haughty; "I forgot to look at the key-hole
when I went to that public-house, or I might have suspected what sort
of person was behind it."

"I may have my schemes as you may have yours, I suppose," answered
Morgan. "I may get my information, and I may act on that information,
and I may find that information valuble as any body else may. A poor
servant may have a bit of luck as well as a gentleman, mayn't he?
Don't you be putting on your aughty looks, sir, and comin' the
aristocrat over me. That's all gammon with me. I'm an Englishman, I
am, and as good as you."

"To what the devil does this tend, sir? and how does the secret which
you have surprised concern me, I should like to know?" asked Major
Pendennis, with great majesty.

"How does it concern me, indeed? how grand we are! how does it concern
my nephew, I wonder? How does it concern my nephew's seat in
Parlyment: and to subornation of bigamy? How does it concern that?
What, are you to be the only man to have a secret, and to trade on it?
Why shouldn't I go halves, Major Pendennis? I've found it out too.
Look here! I ain't goin' to be unreasonable with you. Make it worth my
while, and I'll keep the thing close. Let Mr. Arthur take his seat,
and his rich wife, if you like; I don't want to marry her. But I will
have my share as sure as my name's James Morgan. And if I don't--"

"And if you don't, sir--what?" Pendennis asked. "If I don't, I split,
and tell all. I smash Clavering, and have him and his wife up for
bigamy--so help me, I will! I smash young Hopeful's marriage, and I
show up you and him as makin' use of this secret, in order to squeeze
a seat in Parlyment out of Sir Francis, and a fortune out of
his wife."

"Mr. Pendennis knows no more of this business than the babe unborn,
sir," cried the major, aghast. "No more than Lady Clavering, than Miss
Amory does."

"Tell that to the marines, major," replied the valet; "that cock won't
fight with me."

"Do you doubt my word, you villain?"

"No bad language. I don't care one twopence'a'p'ny whether your word's
true or not. I tell you, I intend this to be a nice little annuity to
me, major: for I have every one of you; and I ain't such a fool as to
let you go. I should say that you might make it five hundred a year to
me among you, easy. Pay me down the first quarter now, and I'm as mum
as a mouse. Just give me a note for one twenty-five. There's your
check-book on your desk."

"And there's this, too, you villain," cried the old gentleman. In the
desk to which the valet pointed was a little double-barreled pistol,
which had belonged to Pendennis's old patron, the Indian
commander-in-chief, and which had accompanied him in many a campaign.
"One more word, you scoundrel, and I'll shoot you, like a mad dog.
Stop--by Jove, I'll do it now. You'll assault me will you? You'll
strike at an old man, will you, you lying coward? Kneel down and say
your prayers, sir, for by the Lord you shall die."

The major's face glared with rage at his adversary, who looked
terrified before him for a moment, and at the next, with a shriek of
"Murder," sprang toward the open window, under which a policeman
happened to be on his beat. "Murder! Police!" bellowed Mr. Morgan. To
his surprise, Major Pendennis wheeled away the table and walked to the
other window, which was also open. He beckoned the policeman. "Come up
here, policeman," he said, and then went and placed himself
against the door.

"You miserable sneak," he said to Morgan; "the pistol hasn't been
loaded these fifteen years as you have known very well: if you had not
been such a coward. That policeman is coming, and I will have him up,
and have your trunks searched; I have reason to believe that you are a
thief, sir. I know you are. I'll swear to the things."

"You gave 'em to me--you gave 'em to me!" cried Morgan.

The major laughed. "We'll see," he said; and the guilty valet
remembered some fine lawn-fronted shirts--a certain gold-headed cane--
an opera-glass, which he had forgotten to bring down, and of which he
had assumed the use along with certain articles of his master's
clothes, which the old dandy neither wore nor asked for.

Policeman X entered; followed by the scared Mrs. Brixham and her
maid-of-all-work, who had been at the door and found some
difficulty in closing it against the street amateurs, who wished to
see the row. The major began instantly to speak.

"I have had occasion to discharge this drunken scoundrel," he said,
"Both last night and this morning he insulted and assaulted me. I am
an old man and took up a pistol. You see it is not loaded, and this
coward cried out before he was hurt. I am glad you are come. I was
charging him with taking my property, and desired to examine his
trunks and his room."

"The velvet cloak you ain't worn these three years, nor the weskits,
and I thought I might take the shirts, and I--I take my hoath I
intended to put back the hopera-glass," roared Morgan, writhing with
rage and terror.

"The man acknowledges that he is a thief," the major said, calmly, "He
has been in my service for years, and I have treated him with every
kindness and confidence. We will go up-stairs and examine his trunks."
In those trunks Mr. Morgan had things which he would fain keep from
public eyes. Mr. Morgan, the bill discounter, gave goods as well as
money to his customers. He provided young spendthrifts with
snuff-boxes and pins and jewels and pictures and cigars, and of a very
doubtful quality those cigars and jewels and pictures were. Their
display at a police-office, the discovery of his occult profession,
and the exposure of the major's property, which he had appropriated,
indeed, rather than stolen--would not have added to the reputation of
Mr. Morgan. He looked a piteous image of terror and discomfiture.

"He'll smash me, will he?" thought the major. "I'll crush him now, and
finish with him."

But he paused. He looked at poor Mrs. Brixham's scared face; and he
thought for a moment to himself that the man brought to bay and in
prison might make disclosures which had best be kept secret, and that
it was best not to deal too fiercely with a desperate man.

"Stop," he said, "policeman. I'll speak with this man by himself." "Do
you give Mr. Morgan in charge?" said the policeman.

"I have brought no charge as yet," the major said, with a significant
look at his man.

"Thank you sir," whispered Morgan, very low.

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