possible that the stranger would not be very talkative and
by no means interesting or interested.
And it must be remembered that this poor lady had
never met a gentleman in her life until this present
moment. Perhaps these are rarer personages than some of
us think for. Which of us can point out many such in his
circle--men whose aims are generous, whose truth is
constant, and not only constant in its kind but elevated
in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them
simple; who can look the world honestly in the face with
an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small?
We all know a hundred whose coats are very well made,
and a score who have excellent manners, and one or two
happy beings who are what they call in the inner circles,
and have shot into the very centre and bull's-eye of the
fashion; but of gentlemen how many? Let us take a little
scrap of paper and each make out his list.
My friend the Major I write, without any doubt, in
mine. He had very long legs, a yellow face, and a slight
lisp, which at first was rather ridiculous. But his thoughts
were just, his brains were fairly good, his life was honest
and pure, and his heart warm and humble. He certainly
had very large hands and feet, which the two George
Osbornes used to caricature and laugh at; and their jeers
and laughter perhaps led poor little Emmy astray as to
his worth. But have we not all been misled about our
heroes and changed our opinions a hundred times? Emmy,
in this happy time, found that hers underwent a very great
change in respect of the merits of the Major.
Perhaps it was the happiest time of both their lives,
indeed, if they did but know it--and who does? Which
of us can point out and say that was the culmination--
that was the summit of human joy? But at all events,
this couple were very decently contented, and enjoyed
as pleasant a summer tour as any pair that left England
that year. Georgy was always present at the play, but
it was the Major who put Emmy's shawl on after the
entertainment; and in the walks and excursions the young
lad would be on ahead, and up a tower-stair or a tree,
whilst the soberer couple were below, the Major smoking
his cigar with great placidity and constancy, whilst Emmy
sketched the site or the ruin. It was on this very tour that
I, the present writer of a history of which every word is
true, had the pleasure to see them first and to make their
acquaintance.
It was at the little comfortable Ducal town of
Pumpernickel (that very place where Sir Pitt Crawley
had been so distinguished as an attache; but that was in
early early days, and before the news of the Battle of
Austerlitz sent all the English diplomatists in Germany to
the right about) that I first saw Colonel Dobbin and
his party. They had arrived with the carriage and courier
at the Erbprinz Hotel, the best of the town, and the whole
party dined at the table d'hote. Everybody remarked
the majesty of Jos and the knowing way in which he
sipped, or rather sucked, the Johannisberger, which he
ordered for dinner. The little boy, too, we observed, had
a famous appetite, and consumed schinken, and braten,
and kartoffeln, and cranberry jam, and salad, and
pudding, and roast fowls, and sweetmeats, with a gallantry
that did honour to his nation. After about fifteen dishes,
he concluded the repast with dessert, some of which he
even carried out of doors, for some young gentlemen at
table, amused with his coolness and gallant free-and-easy
manner, induced him to pocket a handful of macaroons,
which he discussed on his way to the theatre, whither
everybody went in the cheery social little German place.
The lady in black, the boy's mamma, laughed and blushed,
and looked exceedingly pleased and shy as the dinner
went on, and at the various feats and instances of
espieglerie on the part of her son. The Colonel--
for so he became very soon afterwards--I remember
joked the boy with a great deal of grave fun, pointing
out dishes which he hadn't tried, and entreating him not
to baulk his appetite, but to have a second supply of
this or that.
It was what they call a gast-rolle night at the Royal
Grand Ducal Pumpernickelisch Hof--or Court theatre--
and Madame Schroeder Devrient, then in the bloom of
her beauty and genius, performed the part of the heroine
in the wonderful opera of Fidelio. From our places in the
stalls we could see our four friends of the table d'hote
in the loge which Schwendler of the Erbprinz kept for his
best guests, and I could not help remarking the effect
which the magnificent actress and music produced upon
Mrs. Osborne, for so we heard the stout gentleman in
the mustachios call her. During the astonishing Chorus
of the Prisoners, over which the delightful voice of the
actress rose and soared in the most ravishing harmony,
the English lady's face wore such an expression of wonder
and delight that it struck even little Fipps, the blase
attache, who drawled out, as he fixed his glass upon her,
"Gayd, it really does one good to see a woman caypable
of that stayt of excaytement." And in the Prison Scene,
where Fidelio, rushing to her husband, cries, "Nichts,
nichts, mein Florestan," she fairly lost herself and
covered her face with her handkerchief. Every woman in the
house was snivelling at the time, but I suppose it was
because it was predestined that I was to write this
particular lady's memoirs that I remarked her.
The next day they gave another piece of Beethoven,
Die Schlacht bei Vittoria. Malbrook is introduced at the
beginning of the performance, as indicative of the brisk
advance of the French army. Then come drums, trumpets,
thunders of artillery, and groans of the dying, and at last,
in a grand triumphal swell, "God Save the King" is
performed.
There may have been a score of Englishmen in the
house, but at the burst of that beloved and well-known
music, every one of them, we young fellows in the stalls,
Sir John and Lady Bullminster (who had taken a house
at Pumpernickel for the education of their nine
children), the fat gentleman with the mustachios, the long
Major in white duck trousers, and the lady with the little
boy upon whom he was so sweet, even Kirsch, the courier
in the gallery, stood bolt upright in their places and
proclaimed themselves to be members of the dear old British
nation. As for Tapeworm, the Charge d'Affaires, he rose
up in his box and bowed and simpered, as if he would
represent the whole empire. Tapeworm was nephew and
heir of old Marshal Tiptoff, who has been introduced in
this story as General Tiptoff, just before Waterloo, who
was Colonel of the --th regiment in which Major Dobbin
served, and who died in this year full of honours, and of
an aspic of plovers' eggs; when the regiment was graciously
given by his Majesty to Colonel Sir Michael O'Dowd,
K.C.B. who had commanded it in many glorious fields.
Tapeworm must have met with Colonel Dobbin at the
house of the Colonel's Colonel, the Marshal, for he
recognized him on this night at the theatre, and with the
utmost condescension, his Majesty's minister came over
from his own box and publicly shook hands with his
new-found friend.
"Look at that infernal sly-boots of a Tapeworm,"
Fipps whispered, examining his chief from the stalls.
"Wherever there's a pretty woman he always twists
himself in." And I wonder what were diplomatists made for
but for that?
"Have I the honour of addressing myself to Mrs.
Dobbin?" asked the Secretary with a most insinuating grin.
Georgy burst out laughing and said, "By Jove, that was
a good 'un." Emmy and the Major blushed: we saw them
from the stalls.
"This lady is Mrs. George Osborne," said the Major,
"and this is her brother, Mr. Sedley, a distinguished
officer of the Bengal Civil Service: permit me to introduce
him to your lordship."
My lord nearly sent Jos off his legs with the most
fascinating smile. "Are you going to stop in Pumpernickel?"
he said. "It is a dull place, but we want some nice people,
and we would try and make it SO agreeable to you. Mr.--
Ahum--Mrs.--Oho. I shall do myself the honour of calling
upon you to-morrow at your inn." And he went away
with a Parthian grin and glance which he thought must
finish Mrs. Osborne completely.
The performance over, the young fellows lounged about
the lobbies, and we saw the society take its departure.
The Duchess Dowager went off in her jingling old coach,
attended by two faithful and withered old maids of
honour, and a little snuffy spindle-shanked gentleman in
waiting, in a brown jasey and a green coat covered with
orders--of which the star and the grand yellow cordon of
the order of St. Michael of Pumpernickel were most
conspicuous. The drums rolled, the guards saluted, and the
old carriage drove away.
Then came his Transparency the Duke and Transparent
family, with his great officers of state and household. He
bowed serenely to everybody. And amid the saluting of
the guards and the flaring of the torches of the running
footmen, clad in scarlet, the Transparent carriages drove
away to the old Ducal schloss, with its towers and
pinacles standing on the schlossberg. Everybody in
Pumpernickel knew everybody. No sooner was a foreigner seen
there than the Minister of Foreign Affairs, or some other
great or small officer of state, went round to the Erbprinz
and found out the name of the new arrival.
We watched them, too, out of the theatre. Tapeworm
had just walked off, enveloped in his cloak, with which
his gigantic chasseur was always in attendance, and
looking as much as possible like Don Juan. The Prime
Minister's lady had just squeezed herself into her sedan,
and her daughter, the charming Ida, had put on her
calash and clogs; when the English party came out, the
boy yawning drearily, the Major taking great pains in
keeping the shawl over Mrs. Osborne's head, and Mr.
Sedley looking grand, with a crush opera-hat on one side
of his head and his hand in the stomach of a voluminous
white waistcoat. We took off our hats to our acquaintances
of the table d'hote, and the lady, in return, presented us
with a little smile and a curtsey, for which
everybody might be thankful.
The carriage from the inn, under the superintendence
of the bustling Mr. Kirsch, was in waiting to convey the
party; but the fat man said he would walk and smoke his
cigar on his way homewards, so the other three, with
nods and smiles to us, went without Mr. Sedley, Kirsch,
with the cigar case, following in his master's wake.
We all walked together and talked to the stout gentleman
about the agremens of the place. It was very agreeable
for the English. There were shooting-parties and
battues; there was a plenty of balls and entertainments at
the hospitable Court; the society was generally good; the
theatre excellent; and the living cheap.
"And our Minister seems a most delightful and affable
person," our new friend said. '~With such a representative,
and--and a good medical man, I can fancy the place to
be most eligible. Good-night, gentlemen." And Jos
creaked up the stairs to bedward, followed by Kirsch with
a flambeau. We rather hoped that nice-looking woman
would be induced to stay some time in the town.
CHAPTER LXIII
In Which We Meet an Old Acquaintance
Such polite behaviour as that of Lord Tapeworm did
not fail to have the most favourable effect upon Mr.
Sedley's mind, and the very next morning, at breakfast, he
pronounced his opinion that Pumpernickel was the
pleasantest little place of any which he had visited on their
tour. Jos's motives and artifices were not very difficult
of comprehension, and Dobbin laughed in his sleeve, like
a hypocrite as he was, when he found, by the knowing air
of the civilian and the offhand manner in which the
latter talked about Tapeworm Castle and the other members
of the family, that Jos had been up already in the morning,
consulting his travelling Peerage. Yes, he had seen
the Right Honourable the Earl of Bagwig, his lordship's
father; he was sure he had, he had met him at--at the
Levee--didn't Dob remember? and when the Diplomatist
called on the party, faithful to his promise, Jos received
him with such a salute and honours as were seldom
accorded to the little Envoy. He winked at Kirsch on his
Excellency's arrival, and that emissary, instructed before-
hand, went out and superintended an entertainment of
cold meats, jellies, and other delicacies, brought in upon
trays, and of which Mr. Jos absolutely insisted that his
noble guest should partake.
Tapeworm, so long as he could have an opportunity of
admiring the bright eyes of Mrs. Osborne (whose freshness
of complexion bore daylight remarkably well) was
not ill pleased to accept any invitation to stay in Mr.
Sedley's lodgings; he put one or two dexterous questions
to him about India and the dancing-girls there; asked
Amelia about that beautiful boy who had been with her;
and complimented the astonished little woman upon the
prodigious sensation which she had made in the house;
and tried to fascinate Dobbin by talking of the late war
and the exploits of the Pumpernickel contingent under the
command of the Hereditary Prince, now Duke of
Pumpernickel.
Lord Tapeworm inherited no little portion of the family
gallantry, and it was his happy belief that almost every
woman upon whom he himself cast friendly eyes was in
love with him. He left Emmy under the persuasion that
she was slain by his wit and attractions and went home to
his lodgings to write a pretty little note to her. She was
not fascinated, only puzzled, by his grinning, his simpering,
his scented cambric handkerchief, and his high-heeled
