whilst Jacob, his papa, is beheld eating prawns, and
devouring the Times for breakfast, at the window below.
Yonder are the Misses Leery, who are looking out for the
young officers of the Heavies, who are pretty sure to be
pacing the cliff; or again it is a City man, with a nautical
turn, and a telescope, the size of a six-pounder, who has
his instrument pointed seawards, so as to command every
pleasure-boat, herring-boat, or bathing-machine that
comes to, or quits, the shore, &c., &c. But have we any
leisure for a description of Brighton?--for Brighton, a
clean Naples with genteel lazzaroni--for Brighton, that
always looks brisk, gay, and gaudy, like a harlequin's
jacket--for Brighton, which used to be seven hours
distant from London at the time of our story; which is now
only a hundred minutes off; and which may approach
who knows how much nearer, unless Joinville comes and
untimely bombards it?
"What a monstrous fine girl that is in the lodgings
over the milliner's," one of these three promenaders
remarked to the other; "Gad, Crawley, did you see what a
wink she gave me as I passed?"
"Don't break her heart, Jos, you rascal," said another.
"Don't trifle with her affections, you Don Juan!"
"Get away," said Jos Sedley, quite pleased, and leering up
at the maid-servant in question with a most killing
ogle. Jos was even more splendid at Brighton than he had
been at his sister's marriage. He had brilliant under-waistcoats,
any one of which would have set up a moderate buck.
He sported a military frock-coat, ornamented with
frogs, knobs, black buttons, and meandering embroidery.
He had affected a military appearance and habits of late;
and he walked with his two friends, who were of that
profession, clinking his boot-spurs, swaggering prodigiously,
and shooting death-glances at all the servant girls
who were worthy to be slain.
"What shall we do, boys, till the ladies return?" the
buck asked. The ladies were out to Rottingdean in his
carriage on a drive.
"Let's have a game at billiards," one of his friends
said--the tall one, with lacquered mustachios.
"No, dammy; no, Captain," Jos replied, rather
alarmed. "No billiards to-day, Crawley, my boy;
yesterday was enough."
"You play very well," said Crawley, laughing. "Don't
he, Osborne? How well he made that-five stroke, eh?"
"Famous," Osborne said. "Jos is a devil of a fellow
at billiards, and at everything else, too. I wish there were
any tiger-hunting about here! we might go and kill a few
before dinner. (There goes a fine girl! what an ankle, eh,
Jos?) Tell us that story about the tiger-hunt, and the
way you did for him in the jungle--it's a wonderful story
that, Crawley." Here George Osborne gave a yawn. "It's
rather slow work," said he, "down here; what shall we
do?"
"Shall we go and look at some horses that Snaffler's
just brought from Lewes fair?" Crawley said.
"Suppose we go and have some jellies at Dutton's,"
and the rogue Jos, willing to kill two birds with one
stone. "Devilish fine gal at Dutton's."
"Suppose we go and see the Lightning come in, it's
just about time?" George said. This advice prevailing
over the stables and the jelly, they turned towards the
coach-office to witness the Lightning's arrival.
As they passed, they met the carriage--Jos Sedley's
open carriage, with its magnificent armorial bearings--
that splendid conveyance in which he used to drive, about
at Cheltonham, majestic and solitary, with his arms
folded, and his hat cocked; or, more happy, with ladies
by his side.
Two were in the carriage now: one a little person, with
light hair, and dressed in the height of the fashion; the
other in a brown silk pelisse, and a straw bonnet with
pink ribbons, with a rosy, round, happy face, that did
you good to behold. She checked the carriage as it
neared the three gentlemen, after which exercise of
authority she looked rather nervous, and then began to
blush most absurdly. "We have had a delightful drive,
George," she said, "and--and we're so glad to come back;
and, Joseph, don't let him be late."
"Don't be leading our husbands into mischief, Mr.
Sedley, you wicked, wicked man you," Rebecca said,
shaking at Jos a pretty little finger covered with the
neatest French kid glove. "No billiards, no smoking, no
naughtiness!"
"My dear Mrs. Crawley--Ah now! upon my honour!"
was all Jos could ejaculate by way of reply; but he managed
to fall into a tolerable attitude, with his head lying
on his shoulder, grinning upwards at his victim, with one
hand at his back, which he supported on his cane, and
the other hand (the one with the diamond ring) fumbling
in his shirt-frill and among his under-waistcoats. As the
carriage drove off he kissed the diamond hand to the fair
ladies within. He wished all Cheltenham, all Chowringhee,
all Calcutta, could see him in that position, waving his
hand to such a beauty, and in company with such a
famous buck as Rawdon Crawley of the Guards.
Our young bride and bridegroom had chosen Brighton
as the place where they would pass the first few days after
their marriage; and having engaged apartments at the
Ship Inn, enjoyed themselves there in great comfort and
quietude, until Jos presently joined them. Nor was he
the only companion they found there. As they were
coming into the hotel from a sea-side walk one afternoon,
on whom should they light but Rebecca and her
husband. The recognition was immediate. Rebecca flew
into the arms of her dearest friend. Crawley and Osborne
shook hands together cordially enough: and Becky, in
the course of a very few hours, found means to make the
latter forget that little unpleasant passage of words which
had happened between them. "Do you remember the last
time we met at Miss Crawley's, when I was so rude to
you, dear Captain Osborne? I thought you seemed careless
about dear Amelia. It was that made me angry: and
so pert: and so unkind: and so ungrateful. Do forgive
me!" Rebecca said, and she held out her hand with so
frank and winning a grace, that Osborne could not but
take it. By humbly and frankly acknowledging yourself to
be in the wrong, there is no knowing, my son, what good
you may do. I knew once a gentleman and very worthy
practitioner in Vanity Fair, who used to do little wrongs
to his neighbours on purpose, and in order to apologise
for them in an open and manly way afterwards--and
what ensued? My friend Crocky Doyle was liked everywhere,
and deemed to be rather impetuous--but the honestest
fellow. Becky's humility passed for sincerity with
George Osborne.
These two young couples had plenty of tales to relate
to each other. The marriages of either were discussed;
and their prospects in life canvassed with the greatest
frankness and interest on both sides. George's marriage
was to be made known to his father by his friend
Captain Dobbin; and young Osborne trembled rather for the
result of that communication. Miss Crawley, on whom
all Rawdon's hopes depended, still held out. Unable to
make an entry into her house in Park Lane, her
affectionate nephew and niece had followed her to
Brighton, where they had emissaries continually planted
at her door.
"I wish you could see some of Rawdon's friends who
are always about our door," Rebecca said, laughing. "Did
you ever see a dun, my dear; or a bailiff and his man?
Two of the abominable wretches watched all last week
at the greengrocer's opposite, and we could not get away
until Sunday. If Aunty does not relent, what shall we
do?"
Rawdon, with roars of laughter, related a dozen amusing
anecdotes of his duns, and Rebecca's adroit treatment
of them. He vowed with a great oath that there was
no woman in Europe who could talk a creditor over as
she could. Almost immediately after their marriage, her
practice had begun, and her husband found the immense
value of such a wife. They had credit in plenty, but they
had bills also in abundance, and laboured under a scarcity
of ready money. Did these debt-difficulties affect Rawdon's
good spirits? No. Everybody in Vanity Fair must
have remarked how well those live who are comfortably
and thoroughly in debt: how they deny themselves nothing;
how jolly and easy they are in their minds. Rawdon
and his wife had the very best apartments at the inn at
Brighton; the landlord, as he brought in the first dish,
bowed before them as to his greatest customers: and
Rawdon abused the dinners and wine with an audacity
which no grandee in the land could surpass. Long custom,
a manly appearance, faultless boots and clothes,
and a happy fierceness of manner, will often help a man
as much as a great balance at the banker's.
The two wedding parties met constantly in each other's
apartments. After two or three nights the gentlemen of an
evening had a little piquet, as their wives sate and chatted
apart. This pastime, and the arrival of Jos Sedley, who
made his appearance in his grand open carriage, and who
played a few games at billiards with Captain Crawley,
replenished Rawdon's purse somewhat, and gave him the
benefit of that ready money for which the greatest spirits
are sometimes at a stand-still.
So the three gentlemen walked down to see the Lightning
coach come in. Punctual to the minute, the coach
crowded inside and out, the guard blowing his accustomed
tune on the horn--the Lightning came tearing
down the street, and pulled up at the coach-office.
"Hullo! there's old Dobbin," George cried, quite delighted
to see his old friend perched on the roof; and
whose promised visit to Brighton had been delayed until
now. "How are you, old fellow? Glad you're come down.
Emmy'll be delighted to see you," Osborne said, shaking
his comrade warmly by the hand as soon as his descent
from the vehicle was effected--and then he added, in a
lower and agitated voice, "What's the news? Have you
been in Russell Square? What does the governor say?
Tell me everything."
Dobbin looked very pale and grave. "I've seen your
father," said he. "How's Amelia--Mrs. George? I'll tell
you all the news presently: but I've brought the great
news of all: and that is--"
"Out with it, old fellow," George said.
"We're ordered to Belgium. All the army goes--guards
and all. Heavytop's got the gout, and is mad at not being
able to move. O'Dowd goes in command, and we embark
from Chatham next week." This news of war could
not but come with a shock upon our lovers, and caused
all these gentlemen to look very serious.
CHAPTER XXIII
Captain Dobbin Proceeds on His Canvass
What is the secret mesmerism which friendship
possesses, and under the operation of which a person
ordinarily sluggish, or cold, or timid, becomes wise,
active, and resolute, in another's behalf? As Alexis,
after a few passes from Dr. Elliotson, despises pain,
reads with the back of his head, sees miles off,
looks into next week, and performs other wonders,
of which, in his own private normal condition, he is
quite incapable; so you see, in the affairs of the world
and under the magnetism of friendships, the modest
man becomes bold, the shy confident, the lazy active, or
the impetuous prudent and peaceful. What is it, on the
other hand, that makes the lawyer eschew his own cause,
and call in his learned brother as an adviser? And what causes
the doctor, when ailing, to send for his rival, and not sit
down and examine his own tongue in the chimney Bass,
or write his own prescription at his study-table? I throw
out these queries for intelligent readers to answer, who
know, at once, how credulous we are, and how sceptical,
how soft and how obstinate, how firm for others and how
diffident about ourselves: meanwhile, it is certain that
our friend William Dobbin, who was personally of so
complying a disposition that if his parents had pressed
him much, it is probable he would have stepped down
into the kitchen and married the cook, and who, to further
his own interests, would have found the most insuperable
difficulty in walking across the street, found himself as
busy and eager in the conduct of George Osborne's
affairs, as the most selfish tactician could be in the pursuit
of his own.
Whilst our friend George and his young wife were
enjoying the first blushing days of the honeymoon at
Brighton, honest William was left as George's plenipotentiary
in London, to transact all the business part of the marriage.
His duty it was to call upon old Sedley and his
wife, and to keep the former in good humour: to draw Jos
and his brother-in-law nearer together, so that Jos's position
and dignity, as collector of Boggley Wollah, might
compensate for his father's loss of station, and tend to
reconcile old Osborne to the alliance: and finally, to
communicate it to the latter in such a way as should least
irritate the old gentleman.
Now, before he faced the head of the Osborne house
with the news which it was his duty to tell, Dobbin bethought
him that it would be politic to make friends of the
rest of the family, and, if possible, have the ladies on his
side. They can't be angry in their hearts, thought he. No
woman ever was really angry at a romantic marriage. A
little crying out, and they must come round to their
brother; when the three of us will lay siege to old Mr.
Osborne. So this Machiavellian captain of infantry cast
about him for some happy means or stratagem by which
