the North Road hurried out to look at his cavalcade: the
people in London streets even stopped as his procession
passed them. The present lord travels with five bagmen in a
railway carriage, and sneaks away from the station, smoking
a cigar in a Brougham. The late lord in autumn filled Castle-
wood with company, who drank claret till midnight: the pre-
sent man buries himself in a hut on a Scotch mountain, and
passes November in two or three closets in an entresol at
Paris, where his amusements are a dinner at a caf^ and a box
at a little theatre. What a contrast there is between his Lady
Lorraine, the Regent's Lady Lorraine , and her little ladyship
of the present era! He figures to himself the first, beautiful,
gorgeous, magnificent in diamonds and velvets, daring in
rouge, the wits of the world (the old wits, the old polished
gentlemen â not the canaille of to-day with their language of
the cab-stand , and their coats smelling of smoke) bowing at
her feet ; and then thinks of to-day's Lady Lorraine â a little
woman in a black silk gown, like a governess, who talks astro-
nomy, and labouring classes, and emigration , and the deuce
knows what, and lurks to church at eight o'clock in the morn-
ing. Abbots-Lorraine, that used to be the noblest house in
the county , is turned into a monastery â a regular La Trappe.
They don't drink two glasses of wine after dinner, and every
other man at table is a country curate, with a white neckcloth,
whose talk is about Polly Higson's progress at school, or
widow Watkins's lumbago. "And the other young men, those
lounging guardsmen and great lazy dandies â sprawling over
sofas and billiard-tables, and stealing off to smoke pipes in
each other's bed-rooms, caring for nothing, reverencing
nothing, not even an old gentleman who has known their
fathers and their betters, not even a pretty woman â what a
difference there is between these men who poison the very
turnips and stubble-fields with their tobacco, and the gentle-
men of our time I " thinks the Major; "the breed is gone â
there 's no use for 'em ; they 're replaced by a parcel of
damned cotton-spinners and utilitarians, and young sprigs of
parsons with their hair combed down their backs. I 'm get-
ting old : they 're getting past me : they laugh at us old boys,"
thought old Pendennis. And he was not far wrong ; the times
and manners which he admired were pretty nearly gone â the
gay young men * larked' him irreverently, whilst the serious
youth had a grave pity and wonder at him, which would have
been even more painful to bear, had the old gentleman been
aware of its extent. But he was rather simple: his exami-
nation of moral questions had never been very deep ; it had
never struck him perhaps, until very lately, that he was other-
wise than a most respectable and rather fortunate man. Is
there no old age but his without reverence? Did youthful
folly never jeer at other bald pates? For the past two or three
years , he had begun to perceive that his day was well nigh
over, and that the men of the new time had begun to reign.
After a rather unsuccessful autumn season, then, during
which he was faithfully followed by Mr. Morgan , his nephew
Arthur being engaged, as we have seen, at Clavering, it hap-
pened that Major Pendennis came back for awhile to London,
at the dismal end of October, when the fogs and the lawyers
come to town. Who has not looked with interest at those
loaded cabs, piled boxes, and crowded children, rattling
through the streets on the dun October evenings ; stopping at
the dark houses, where they discharge nurse and infant, girls,
matron and father, whose holidays are over? Yesterday it
was France and sunshine, or Broadstairs and liberty; to-day
comes work and a yellow fog; and , ye gods I what a heap of
bills there lies in Master's study. And the clerk has brought
the lawyer's papers from Chambers ; and in half an hour the
literary man knows that the printer's boy will be in the pas-
sage ; and Mr. Smith with that little account (that particular
little account) has called presentient of your arrival, and has
left word that he will call to-morrow morning at ten. Who
amongst us has not said Good bye to his holiday; returned to
dun London , and his fate; surveyed his labours and liabilities
laid out before him, and been aware of that inevitable little
account to settle? Smith and his little account, in the morning,
symbolise duty, difficulty, struggle, which you will meet, let us
hope, friend, with a manly and honest heart. â And you think
of him, as the children are slumbering once more in their own
beds, and the watchful housewife tenderly pretends to sleep.
Old Pendennis had no special labours or bills to encounter
on the morrow, as he had no affection at home to soothe him.
He had always money in his desk sufficient for his wants; and
being by nature and habit tolerably indifferent to the wants of
other people, these latter were not likely to disturb him. But
a gentleman may be out of temper though he does not owe a
shilling: and though he may be ever so selfish, he must oc-
casionally feel dispirited and lonely. He had had two or three
twinges of gout in the country-house where he had been stay-
ing: the birds were wild and shy, and the walking over the
ploughed fields had fatigued him deucedly: the young men
had laughed at him, and he had been peevish at table once or
twice: he had not been able to get his whist of an evening:
and , in fine , was glad to come away. In all his dealings with
Morgan, his valet, he had been exceedingly sulky and dis-
contented. He had sworn at him and abused him for many
days past. He had scalded his mouth with bad soup at Swin-
don. He had, left his umbrella in the rail-road carriage: at
which piece of forgetfulness , he was in such a rage, that he
cursed Morgan more freely than ever. Both the chimneys
smoked furiously in his lodgings; and when he caused the
windows to be flung open, he swore so acrimoniously, that
Morgan was inclined to fling him out of window, too , through
that opened casement. The valet swore after his master, as
Pendennis went down the street on his way to the Club.
Bays's was not at all pleasant. The house had been new
painted, and smelt of varnish and turpentine, and a large
streak of white paint inflicted itself on the back of the old
boy's fur-collared surtout. The dinner was not good: and
the three most odious men in all London â old Hawkshaw,
whose cough and accompaniments are fit to make any man un-
comfortable; old Colonel Gripley, who seizes on all the news-
papers; and that irreclaimable old bore Jawkins, who would
come and dine at the next table to Pendennis , and describe to
him every inn-bill which he had paid in his foreign tour: each
and all of these disagreeable personages and incidents had
contributed to make Major Pendennis miserable; and the
Club waiter trod on his toe as he brought him his coffee.
Never alone appear the Immortals. The Furies always hunt
in company: they pursued Pendennis from home to the Club,
and from the Club home.
Whilst the Major wasabsent from his lodgings, Morgan
had been seated in the landlady's parlour, 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 land-
lady'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 wi-
dow's furniture. The young Brixham was a clerk in an in-
surance 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
mantel-piece of his back-parlour. 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, wten 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 labour-
ing. The old gentleman's foot-bath was at the fire; his gown
and slippers awaiting him there. Morgan knelt down to take
his boots ofi* 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 â 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 ne-
cessarily to approach very near to his employer; so near that
Pendennis could not but perceive what Mr. Morgan's late oc-
cupation 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, ami? I 'ma beast, ami?
I'mdâ d, ami? 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 harro-
gance , you old VVigsby ! 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 'II send it into you," said the
Major, seizing up a knife that was on the table near him. "Go
doAvn 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 â d impertinence of
yotirs 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'? â tootyfay mame shose, sivvaplay , mun-
"Silence, you beast, and go!" cried out the Major.
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 â 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 , ex-
cep' 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 supersellions nephew either.
I 've served you honourable, done everythink for you these
dozen years, and I'm a dog, am I? I 'm a beast, ami?
That's the language for gentlemen, not for our rank. But
I '11 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 '11 be your beast, and your brute, and your
dog, no more, Major Pendennis Alf Pay."
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 op-
ponent 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 meantime, I desire to go to bed, and have
not the slightest wish for your farther company."
"^e 7/ 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; â I 'm tired,"
said the Major.
"Hahl you '11 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 un-
pleasant 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 incompara-
bly 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 thing 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 to-night. We must part, and
I must go out of the lodgings. Daramy, 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 in-
solent 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 grey had been introduced Into the coiffure of late by
Mr. Truefitt, which had given the Major's head the most art-
less 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-toilette. "It â It 's very late, Mrs. Brixham."
"I wish I might speak to you, Sir," said the landlady,
"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 â 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. Everything I had is his* He 's a dread-
"Eh, Mrs. Brixham? tant pis â 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 â he had
been drinking, and it always makes him very wicked â 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 â and I owe him a hundred and twenty pounds.
Sir â and he has a bill of sale of all my furniture â 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 ad-
vance â "
"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 â say
five pounds â I don't say â and shall be most happy, and that
sort of thing: and I '11 give it you in the morning with plea-
Pendennis. III. 22
sure : but â but it 's getting late , and I have made a railroad
"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 â I '11 say ten pounds , if you will per-
mit me . Good night. ' '
"Mr. Morgan, Sir, when he came down stairs, and when
â 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 â that he would ruin every family in the
house â that he knew something would bring you down too â
and that you should pay him for your â your insolence to him.
I â 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 ? â by Gad, that is too pleasant ! Where is the con-
founded 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 cam-
paigner turned round and slept pretty sound, being rather ex-
cited and amused by the events of the day â the last day in
Bury Street, he was determined it should be. "For it 's im-
possible to stay on with a valet over me and a bankrupt
landlady. What good can I do this poor devil of a woman?
I '11 give her twenty pound â there 's Warrington's twenty
pound , which he has just paid â but what 's the use ? She '11
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 '11 say Good bye â to Mrs. Brixham
and Mr. Morgan."
In which the Major neither yields his money nor his life.
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 toilette 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
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 famlies, and I can wouch for his
"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'nor,
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 recom-
mendation, I am sure, will have every weight."
Morgan blushed, he felt his master was "a chaffin' of him."
"The man have awaited 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 cannot 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 â you will do very well â Mr.
Morgan, will you have the great kindness to â "
"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
afterwards 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-em-
ployer made him almost as angry as the Major's bitterest
words. And whilst the old gentleman Is making his mysterious
toilet, we will also modestly retire.
After breakfast, Major Pendennis and his new ald-de-
camp occupied themselves in preparing for their departure.
The establishment of the old bachelor was not very com-
plicated. He encumbered himself with no useless wardrobe.
A bible (his mother's), a road book, Pen's novel (calf ele-
gant), and the Duke of Wellington's Despatches, 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 demeanour 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