Cranford

Peter’s Planned Future

Peter’s friends and family had carefully mapped out his life: he was to distinguish himself at Shrewsbury School, carry his honours onward to Cambridge, and ultimately receive a church living from his godfather, Sir Peter Arley. This pleasant and orderly plan, however, was not what destiny had in store, as the Latin epigraph “Bonus Bernardus non videt omnia” hints—good intentions cannot foresee everything.

Peter’s Family and Character

Within the Jenkyns household, Peter’s mother adored all her children but was somewhat intimidated by Deborah’s superior learning, while their father favoured Deborah, making her his pride after Peter disappointed him. Peter himself had a sweet temper, was gentlemanly in many ways—always ready to help the elderly or children—and resembled Captain Brown in his kindness, even though he indulged in mischievous joking that his family found troubling.

Peter’s School Pranking Reputation

The sole honour Peter brought back from Shrewsbury School was a reputation as the best good fellow who ever lived and the school’s acknowledged captain of practical joking. His father, though disappointed, responded manfully by personally tutoring him in Latin, setting out formidable dictionaries and lexicons in his study each morning. For a long time Peter’s earnest work kept him in his father’s good graces.

Pranks on Cranford Residents

Peter developed a habit of playing practical jokes on the Cranford residents, particularly the elderly ladies, who he believed would believe anything. Miss Matty finds the word “hoaxing” slips out because it was always Peter’s own expression. While she refuses to recount most of his shocking pranks, she notes that the townspeople already had plenty to talk about with the St James’s Chronicle three times a week, and didn’t need Peter’s help making conversation.

The Deborah Disguise Incident

Peter once took in his own father by disguising himself as a passing lady who wished to meet the Rector about his published Assize Sermon. The rector, flattered by her praise, offered to copy out his twelve Napoleon Buonaparte sermons for her. Terrified as he was during the encounter, Peter could not unmask himself and was forced to actually copy out all twelve sermons. The story includes a particularly amusing moment when, frustrated during a fishing trip, Peter muttered “Confound the woman!” and was nearly undone trying to suppress curtseys as his father praised the imaginary lady’s excellent taste.

Peter’s Public Flogging

On a still, quiet spring day when lilacs were in bloom and Deborah was away from home, Peter dressed in her old gown, shawl, and bonnet and fashioned a pillow into a fake baby. He paraded up and down the Filbert walk, half-hidden by the garden rails, cuddling the “baby” and cooing to it. When his father approached and saw the crowd of about twenty onlookers, he assumed they were admiring his prized rhododendron, but on looking through the rails himself, his face turned grey-white with rage. He seized Peter, tore off the disguise, threw the pillow over the railings, and flogged the boy publicly and severely with his cane before the assembled crowd.

Peter’s Disappearance

After the flogging, Peter returned to the house where his mother and Miss Matty were making cowslip wine. Pale and haughty, looking more like a man than a boy, Peter said a solemn “God bless you for ever” to his mother, kissed her lingeringly as if he could not bear to stop, and then disappeared. The family discovered his room empty and the house was searched thoroughly, but Peter was nowhere to be found. The unfinished cowslip wine that day symbolized the brokenness that descended on the rectory.

Family Search for Peter

The family mounted a frantic search, with Mr Jenkyns sending servants in all directions and the parents walking endlessly from room to room, calling for Peter. Miss Matty sent word to Mr Holbrook, who had been kind to Peter and taught him to fish, but he was away and had not seen the boy. Old Clare’s grim suggestion of dragging the ponds from the weir nearly broke Miss Matty with horror. Mr Jenkyns wept openly when his wife could not comfort him, and her soft eyes never recovered, taking on a permanently restless, searching look. Miss Matty wrote for Deborah to come home, and when she arrived she took charge.