William Makepeace Thackeray

“ A governess is not a lady—a governess is but a servant—a governess is to work and walk all day with the children, dine in the school-room, and come to the drawing-room to play the man of the house to sleep. A governess is a domestic, only her place is not the servants' hall, and she is paid not quite so well as the butler who serves her her glass of wine. Odious! George! Arabella! ”

“ LADY K.—And like him, I'm sure, Captain Touchit! Everybody does like Clarence Kicklebury.
TOUCHIT.—The confounded young scamp! I say, Horace, do you like your brother-in-law?
MILLIKEN.—Well—I—I can't say—I—like him—in fact, I don't. But that's no reason why his mother shouldn't. [During this, HOWELL, preceded by BULKELEY, hands round coffee. The garden without has darkened, as if evening. BULKELEY is going away without offering coffee to Miss PRIOR. JOHN stamps on his foot, and points to her. Captain TOUCHIT, laughing, goes up and talks to her now the servants are gone.] ”

“ JOHN.—I beg your pardon, Miss.
MISS P.— [sarcastically.] Do I disturb you, Howell?
JOHN.—Disturb! I have no right to say—a servant has no right to be disturbed, but I hope I may be pardoned for venturing to look at a volume in the libery, Miss, just in reference to a newspaper harticle—that's all, Miss.
MISS P.—You are very fortunate in finding anything to interest you in the paper, I'm sure.
JOHN.—Perhaps, Miss, you are not accustomed to political discussion, and ignorant of—ah—I beg your pardon: a servant, I know, has no right to speak. [Exit into dining-room, making a low bow.] ”

“ MARY.—Not in a free country, I should hope, John Howell—no such a thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and am content with the spear of life in which it pleases heaven to place me, John: and I wish you were, and remembered what we learned from our parson when we went to school together in dear old Pigeoncot, John—when you used to help little Mary with her lessons, John, and fought Bob Brown, the big butcher's boy, because he was rude to me, John, and he gave you that black hi. ”

“ GEORGE.—My mamma was a Kicklebury. The Kickleburys are the oldest family in all the world. My name is George Kicklebury Milliken, of Pigeoncot, Hants; the Grove, Richmond, Surrey; and Portland Place, London, Esquire—my name is.
TOUCHIT.—You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow merchant.
GEORGE.—Oh, bother! I don't care about that. I shall leave that when I'm a man: when I'm a man and come into my property. ”

“ K.—I say—why the doose do you have such old women to dinner here? Why don't you get some pretty girls? Such a set of confounded old frumps as eat Milliken's mutton I never saw. There's you, and his old mother Mrs. Bonnington, and old Mrs. Fogram, and old Miss What's-her-name, the woman with the squint eye, and that immense Mrs. Crowder. It's so stoopid, that if it weren't for Touchit coming down sometimes, and the billiards and boatin', I should die here—expire, by gad! Why don't you have some pretty women into the house, Lady Kicklebury? ”

“ MILLIKEN.—DON'T, Touchit! Don't laugh at Mr. Bonnington! he is as good a fellow as ever breathed. Between you and me, as my half brothers and sisters increased and multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather lonely, rather bowled out, you understand. ”

“ An old man, who loves us all, and has nothing but our pay to live on?
ARABELLA.—Oh, you naughty boy!
GEORGE.—I ain't a naughty boy.
ARABELLA.—You are a naughty boy.
GEORGE.—He! he! he! he! [Grins at her.]
MILLIKEN.—Hush, children! Here, Arabella darling, here is a book for you. Look—aren't they pretty pictures?
ARABELLA.—Is it a story, Papa? I don't care for stories in general. I like something instructive and serious. Grandmamma Bonnington and grandpapa say—
GEORGE.—He's NOT your grandpapa.
ARABELLA.—He IS my grandpapa.
GEORGE.—Oh, you great story! Look! look! there's a cab. ”

“ MRS. B.—Oh, it's the whist, the whist! Why did I ever play at whist, Edward? My poor Mr. Milliken used to like his rubber.
TOUCHIT.—Since he has been a widower—
LADY K.—A widower of that angel! [Points to picture.]
TOUCHIT.—Pooh, pooh, angel! You two ladies have never given the poor fellow any peace. You were always quarrelling over him. You took possession of his house, bullied his servants, spoiled his children; you did, Lady Kicklebury.
LADY K.—Sir, you are a rude, low, presuming, vulgar man. Clarence! beat this rude man! ”

“ JOHN.—I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining-room.]
MRS. PRIOR.—Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner! He quite shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. What's here? Invitations—ho! Bills for Lady Kicklebury! THEY are not paid. Where is Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder? Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, request the pleasure. Request the pleasure! Of course they do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner. They have daughters to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thousand a year, every shilling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. ”

“ MRS. P.—Oh, then! we can live in the house, you know: what's the use of payin' lodgin', my dear?
MISS P.—The house is going to be painted. You had best live in your own house, mamma; and if you want anything, Horace, Mr. Milliken, I am sure, will make it comfortable for you. He has had too many visitors of late, and will like a more quiet life, I think. Will you not?
MILLIKEN.—I shall like a life with YOU, Julia.
JOHN.—Cab, sir, for her ladyship!
LADY K.—This instant let me go! Call my people. Clarence, your arm! Bulkeley, Pinhorn! Mrs. Bonnington, I wish you good-morning! ”

“ Milliken, will quit a house—
JOHN.—Shall I call your ladyship a carriage?
LADY K.—Where I have met with rudeness, cruelty, and fiendish [to Miss P., who smiles and curtsies] —yes, fiendish ingratitude. I will go, I say, as soon as I have made arrangements for taking other lodgings. You cannot expect a lady of fashion to turn out like a servant.
JOHN.—Hire the "Star and Garter" for her, sir. Send down to the "Castle;" anything to get rid of her. I'll tell her maid to pack her traps. Pinhorn! [Beckons maid and gives orders.]
TOUCHIT.—You had better go at once, my dear Lady Kicklebury. ”

“ TOUCHIT.—From what I have heard of your amiable son, he is not in the warlike line, I think. My dear Julia, I am delighted with all my heart that my old friend should have found a woman of sense, good conduct, good temper—a woman who has had many trials, and borne them with great patience—to take charge of him and make him happy. ”

“ Do you know, madam, that my little Adolphus, for whom your son's bounty procured his place at Christ's Hospital, was very much touched indeed, the dear child, with Mr. Bonnington's discourse last Sunday three weeks, and refused to play marbles afterwards at school? The wicked, naughty boys beat the poor child; but Adolphus has his consolation! Is Master Edward well, ma'am, and Master Robert, and Master Frederick, and dear little funny Master William? ”

“ Bonnington, sent me. [Exit ARABELLA.]
MISS P.—How those children are spoilt! Goodness; what can I do? If I correct one, he flies to grandmamma Kicklebury; if I speak to another, she appeals to grandmamma Bonnington. When I was alone with them, I had them in something like order. Now, between the one grandmother and the other, the children are going to ruin, and so would the house too, but that Howell—that odd, rude, but honest and intelligent creature, I must say—keeps it up. It is wonderful how a person in his rank of life should have instructed himself so. ”

“ Bonnington was my son's private tutor, and greatly valued by the late Mr. Milliken? Is she not making constant allusions to old women marrying young men, because Mr. Bonnington happens to be younger than me? I have no words to express my indignation respecting Lady Kicklebury. She never pays any one, and runs up debts in the whole town. Her man Bulkeley's conduct in the neighborhood is quite—quite—
MRS. P.—Gracious goodness, ma'am, you don't say so! And then what an appetite the gormandizing monster has! Mary tells me that what he eats in the servants' hall is something perfectly frightful. ”

“ JULIA.—And you were always our best friend, Captain Touchit. When our misfortunes came, you got me this situation with Mrs. Milliken—and, and—don't you see?—
TOUCHIT.—Well—what?
JULIA [laughing] .—I think it is best, under the circumstances, that the ladies here should suppose I am engaged to be married—or or, they might be—might be jealous, you understand. Women are sometimes jealous of others,—especially mothers and mothers-in-law. ”

“ Prior? [During this time MRS. PRIOR has been peering into a parcel which MRS. BONNINGTON brought in her hand.] I brought it with me across the Park. I could not walk through the Park in my cap. Isn't it a pretty ribbon, Mrs. Prior?
MRS. P.—Beautiful! beautiful? How blue becomes you! Who would think you were the mother of Mr. Milliken and seven other darling children? You can afford what Lady Kicklebury cannot.
MRS. B.—And what is that, Prior? A poor clergyman's wife, with a large family, cannot afford much.
MRS. P.—He! he! You can afford to be seen as you are, which Lady K. cannot. ”

“ A house without a mistress, with two mothers-in-law reigning over it—one worldly and aristocratic, another what you call serious, though she don't mind a rubber of whist: I give you my honor my mother plays a game at whist, and an uncommonly good game too—each woman dragging over a child to her side: of course such a family cannot be comfortable. ”

“ You can't learn. You never can learn. Your ideers ain't no good. You never can hinterchange em with mine. Conversation between us is impossible. It's not your fault. Some people are born clever; some are born tall, I ain't tall.
MARY.—Ho! you're big enough for me, John. [Offers to take his hand.]
JOHN.—Let go my 'and—my a-hand, Mary! I say, some people are born with brains, and some with big figures. Look at that great ass, Bulkeley, Lady K.'s man—the besotted, stupid beast! He's as big as a life-guardsman, but he ain't no more education nor ideers than the ox he feeds on. ”

“ Milliken? Wisehead! If Horace married again, would he be your banker, and keep this house, now that ungrateful son of mine has turned me out of his? No pretty woman shall come into the house whilst I am here.
K.—Governess seems a pretty woman: weak eyes, bad figure, poky, badly dressed, but doosid pretty woman. ”

“ Bonnington, if you will receive as a daughter one who has always had a sincere regard for you, I think you will aid in making your son happy, as I promise you with all my heart and all my life to endeavor to do. ”

“ MRS. P.—Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, Julia dear, and poor Adolphus's shoes are quite worn out.
MISS P.—I thought so; I have given you all I could, mamma.
MRS. P.—Yes, my love! you are a good love, and generous, heaven knows, to your poor old mother who has seen better days. If we had not wanted, would I have ever allowed you to be a governess—a poor degraded governess? ”

“ TOUCHIT.—Why dress? There is no company!
MILLIKEN.—Why? ah! her ladyship likes it, you see. And it costs nothing to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be kept waiting.
TOUCHIT.—Horace Milliken! what a pity it is the law declares a widower shall not marry his wife's mother! She would marry you else,—she would, on my word.
Enter JOHN.
JOHN.—I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, sir. [Exeunt gentlemen, JOHN arranges tables, &c.]
Ha! Mrs. Prior! I ain't partial to Mrs. Prior. I think she's an artful old dodger, Mrs. Prior. ”

“ Come, Adolphus, Amelia, Charlotte—kiss your dear brother, children. What, my dears! How do you do, dears? [to MILLIKEN'S children] . Have they heard the news? And do you know that my daughter is going to be your mamma? There—there—go and play with your little uncles and aunts, that's good children! [She motions off the Children, who retire towards garden. Her manner changes to one of great patronage and intense satisfaction.] Most hot weather, your ladyship, I'm sure. Mr. Bonnington, you must find it hot weather for preachin'! Lor'! there's that little wretch beatin' Adolphus! George, sir! ”

“ Let them have an easy life. Time enough for trouble when age comes.
Enter John.
JOHN.—Dinner, sir. [And exit.]
MILLIKEN.—Dinner, ladies. My Lady Kicklebury (gives arm to Lady K) .
LADY K.—My dear Horace, you SHOULDN'T shake hands with Miss Prior. You should keep people of that class at a distance, my dear creature. [They go in to dinner, Captain TOUCHIT following with Mrs. BONNINGTON. As they go out, enter MARY with children's tea-tray, &c., children following, and after them Mrs. PRIOR. MARY gives her tea.]
MRS. PRIOR.—Thank you, Mary! You are so very kind! Oh, what delicious tea! ”

“ There's the hup-stairs bell. [She starts, changing her manner as she hears the bell, and exit.]
JOHN [looking after her] .—It's all true. Gospel-true. We were children in the same village—sat on the same form at school. And it was for her sake that Bob Brown the butcher's boy whopped me. A black eye! I'm not handsome. But if I were ugly, ugly as the Saracen's 'Ead, ugly as that beast Bulkeley, I know it would be all the same to Mary. ”

“ Not often—such a good master as that is pretty sure of getting a good servant—that is, if a man has a heart in his bosom; and these things are found both in and out of livery. Yes, I have been a honest servant to him,—haven't I, Mr. Milliken?
MILLIKEN.—Indeed, yes, John.
JOHN.—And so has Mary Barlow. Mary, my dear! [Mary comes forward.] Will you allow me to introduce you, sir, to the futur' Mrs. Howell?—if Mr. Bonnington does YOUR little business for you, as I dare say [turning to Mr. B.] , hold gov'nor, you will!—Make it up with your poor son, Mrs. Bonnington, ma'am. ”