Chapter 13

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　I CONTINUE MY CAREER AS A MAN OF FASHION.I find I have already filled up many scores of pages, and yet a vastdeal of the most interesting portion of my history remains to betold, viz. that which describes my sojourn in the kingdoms ofEngland and Ireland, and the great part I played there; moving amongthe most illustrious of the land, myself not the least distinguishedof the brilliant circle. In order to give due justice to thisportion of my Memoirs, then,--which is more important than myforeign adventures can be (though I could fill volumes withinteresting descriptions of the latter),--I shall cut short theaccount of my travels in Europe, and of my success at theContinental Courts, in order to speak of what befell me at home.Suffice it to say that there is not a capital in Europe, except thebeggarly one of Berlin, where the young Chevalier de Balibari wasnot known and admired; and where he has not made the brave, thehigh-born, and the beautiful talk of him. I won 80,000 roubles fromPotemkin at the Winter Palace at Petersburg, which the scoundrellyfavourite never paid me; I have had the honour of seeing his RoyalHighness the Chevalier Charles Edward as drunk as any porter atRome; my uncle played several matches at billiards against thecelebrated Lord C----at Spa, and I promise you did not come off aloser. In fact, by a neat stratagem of ours, we raised the laughagainst his Lordship, and something a great deal more substantial.My Lord did not know that the Chevalier Barry had a useless eye; andwhen, one day, my uncle playfully bet him odds at billiards that hewould play him with a patch over one eye, the noble lord, thinkingto bite us (he was one of the most desperate gamblers that everlived), accepted the bet, and we won a very considerable amount ofhim.Nor need I mention my successes among the fairer portion of thecreation. One of the most accomplished, the tallest, the mostathletic, and the handsomest gentlemen of Europe, as I was then, ayoung fellow of my figure could not fail of having advantages, whicha person of my spirit knew very well how to use. But upon thesesubjects I am dumb. Charming Schuvaloff, black-eyed Sczotarska, darkValdez, tender Hegenheim, brilliant Langeac!--ye gentle hearts thatknew how to beat in old times for the warm young Irish gentleman,where are you now? Though my hair has grown grey now, and my sightdim, and my heart cold with years, and ennui, and disappointment,and the treachery of friends, yet I have but to lean back in my arm-chair and think, and those sweet figures come rising up before meout of the past, with their smiles, and their kindnesses, and theirbright tender eyes! There are no women like them now--no mannerslike theirs! Look you at a bevy of women at the Prince's, stitchedup in tight white satin sacks, with their waists under their arms,and compare them to the graceful figures of the old time! Why, whenI danced with Coralie de Langeac at the fetes on the birth of thefirst Dauphin at Versailles, her hoop was eighteen feet incircumference, and the heels of her lovely little mules were threeinches from the ground; the lace of my jabot was worth a thousandcrowns, and the buttons of my amaranth velvet coat alone cost eightythousand livres. Look at the difference now! The gentlemen aredressed like boxers, Quakers, or hackney-coachmen; and the ladiesare not dressed at all. There is no elegance, no refinement; none ofthe chivalry of the old world, of which I form a portion. Think ofthe fashion of London being led by a Br-mm-!--[Footnote: Thismanuscript must have been written at the time when Mr. Brummel wasthe leader of the London fashion.]--a nobody's son: a low creature,who can no more dance a minuet than I can talk Cherokee; who cannoteven crack a bottle like a gentleman; who never showed himself to bea man with his sword in his hand: as we used to approve ourselves inthe good old times, before that vulgar Corsican upset the gentry ofthe world! Oh, to see the Valdez once again, as on that day I mether first driving in state, with her eight mules and her retinue ofgentlemen, by the side of yellow Mancanares! Oh, for another drivewith Hegenheim, in the gilded sledge, over the Saxon snow! False asSchuvaloff was, 'twas better to be jilted by her than to be adoredby any other woman. I can't think of any one of them withouttenderness. I have ringlets of all their hair in my poor littlemuseum of recollections. Do you keep mine, you dear souls thatsurvive the turmoils and troubles of near half a hundred years? Howchanged its colour is now, since the day Sczotarska wore it roundher neck, after my duel with Count Bjernaski, at Warsaw.I never kept any beggarly books of accounts in those days. I had nodebts. I paid royally for everything I took; and I took everything Iwanted. My income must have been very large. My entertainments andequipages were those of a gentleman of the highest distinction; norlet any scoundrel presume to sneer because I carried off and marriedmy Lady Lyndon (as you shall presently hear), and call me anadventurer, or say I was penniless, or the match unequal. Penniless!I had the wealth of Europe at my command. Adventurer! So is ameritorious lawyer or a gallant soldier; so is every man who makeshis own fortune an adventurer. My profession was play: in which Iwas then unrivalled. No man could play with me through Europe, onthe square; and my income was just as certain (during health and theexercise of my profession) as that of a man who draws on his Three-per-cents., or any fat squire whose acres bring him revenue. Harvestis not more certain than the effect of skill is: a crop is a chance,as much as a game of cards greatly played by a fine player: theremay be a drought, or a frost, or a hail-storm, and your stake islost; but one man is just as much an adventurer as another.In evoking the recollection of these kind and fair creatures I havenothing but pleasure. I would I could say as much of the memory ofanother lady, who will henceforth play a considerable part in thedrama of my life,--I mean the Countess of Lyndon; whose fatalacquaintance I made at Spa, very soon after the events described inthe last chapter had caused me to quit Germany.Honoria, Countess of Lyndon, Viscountess Bullingdon in England,Baroness Castle Lyndon of the kingdom of Ireland, was so well knownto the great world in her day, that I have little need to enter intoher family history; which is to be had in any peerage that thereader may lay his hand on. She was, as I need not say, a countess,viscountess, and baroness in her own right. Her estates in Devon andCornwall were among the most extensive in those parts; her Irishpossessions not less magnificent; and they have been alluded to, ina very early part of these Memoirs, as lying near to my own paternalproperty in the kingdom of Ireland: indeed, unjust confiscations inthe time of Elizabeth and her father went to diminish my acres,while they added to the already vast possessions of the Lyndonfamily.The Countess, when I first saw her at the assembly at Spa, was thewife of her cousin, the Right Honourable Sir Charles ReginaldLyndon, Knight of the Bath, and Minister to George II. and GeorgeIII. at several of the smaller Courts of Europe. Sir Charles Lyndonwas celebrated as a wit and bon vivant: he could write love-versesagainst Hanbury Williams, and make jokes with George Selwyn; he wasa man of vertu like Harry Walpole, with whom and Mr. Grey he hadmade a part of the grand tour; and was cited, in a word, as one ofthe most elegant and accomplished men of his time.I made this gentleman's acquaintance as usual at the play-table, ofwhich he was a constant frequenter. Indeed, one could not but admirethe spirit and gallantry with which he pursued his favouritepastime; for, though worn out by gout and a myriad of diseases, acripple wheeled about in a chair, and suffering pangs of agony, yetyou would see him every morning and every evening at his post behindthe delightful green cloth: and if, as it would often happen, hisown hands were too feeble or inflamed to hold the box, he would callthe mains, nevertheless, and have his valet or a friend to throw forhim. I like this courageous spirit in a man; the greatest successesin life have been won by such indomitable perseverance.I was by this time one of the best-known characters in Europe; andthe fame of my exploits, my duels, my courage at play, would bringcrowds around me in any public society where I appeared. I couldshow reams of scented paper, to prove that this eagerness to make myacquaintance was not confined to the gentlemen only; but that I hateboasting, and only talk of myself in so far as it is necessary torelate myself's adventures: the most singular of any man's inEurope. Well, Sir Charles Lyndon's first acquaintance with meoriginated in the right honourable knight's winning 700 pieces of meat picquet (for which he was almost my match); and I lost them withmuch good-humour, and paid them: and paid them, you may be sure,punctually. Indeed, I will say this for myself, that losing money atplay never in the least put me out of good-humour with the winner,and that wherever I found a superior, I was always ready toacknowledge and hail him.Lyndon was very proud of winning from so celebrated a person, and wecontracted a kind of intimacy; which, however, did not for a whilego beyond pump-room attentions, and conversations over the supper-table at play: but which gradually increased, until I was admittedinto his more private friendship. He was a very free-spoken man (thegentry of those days were much prouder than at present), and used tosay to me in his haughty easy way, 'Hang it, Mr. Barry, you have nomore manners than a barber, and I think my black footman has beenbetter educated than you; but you are a young fellow of originalityand pluck, and I like you, sir, because you seem determined to go tothe deuce by a way of your own.' I would thank him laughingly forthis compliment, and say, that as he was bound to the next worldmuch sooner than I was, I would be obliged to him to get comfortablequarters arranged there for me. He used also to be immensely amusedwith my stories about the splendour of my family and themagnificence of Castle Brady: he would never tire of listening orlaughing at those histories.'Stick to the trumps, however, my lad,' he would say, when I toldhim of my misfortunes in the conjugal line, and how near I had beenwinning the greatest fortune in Germany. 'Do anything but marry, myartless Irish rustic' (he called me by a multiplicity of queernames). 'Cultivate your great talents in the gambling line; but mindthis, that a woman will beat you.'That I denied; mentioning several instances in which I had conqueredthe most intractable tempers among the sex.'They will beat you in the long run, my Tipperary Alcibiades. Assoon as you are married, take my word of it, you are conquered. Lookat me. I married my cousin, the noblest and greatest heiress inEngland--married her in spite of herself almost' (here a dark shadepassed over Sir Charles Lyndon's countenance). 'She is a weak woman.You shall see her, sir, HOW weak she is; but she is my mistress. Shehas embittered my whole life. She is a fool; but she has got thebetter of one of the best heads in Christendom. She is enormouslyrich; but somehow I have never been so poor as since I married her.I thought to better myself; and she has made me miserable and killedme. And she will do as much for my successor, when I am gone.''Has her Ladyship a very large income?' said I. At which Sir Charlesburst out into a yelling laugh, and made me blush not a little at mygaucherie; for the fact is, seeing him in the condition in which hewas, I could not help speculating upon the chance a man of spiritmight have with his widow.'No, no!' said he, laughing. 'Waugh hawk, Mr. Barry; don't think, ifyou value your peace of mind, to stand in my shoes when they arevacant. Besides, I don't think my Lady Lyndon would quite condescendto marry a'----'Marry a what, sir?' said I, in a rage."Never mind what: but the man who gets her will rue it, take my wordon't. A plague on her! had it not been for my father's ambition andmine (he was her uncle and guardian, and we wouldn't let such aprize out of the family), I might have died peaceably, at least;carried my gout down to my grave in quiet, lived in my modesttenement in Mayfair, had every house in England open to me; and now,now I have six of my own, and every one of them is a hell to me.Beware of greatness, Mr. Barry. Take warning by me. Ever since Ihave been married and have been rich, I have been the most miserablewretch in the world. Look at me. I am dying a worn-out cripple atthe age of fifty. Marriage has added forty years to my life. When Itook off Lady Lyndon, there was no man of my years who looked soyoung as myself. Fool that I was! I had enough with my pensions,perfect freedom, the best society in Europe; and I gave up allthese, and married, and was miserable. Take a warning by me, CaptainBarry, and stick to the trumps."Though my intimacy with the knight was considerable, for a long timeI never penetrated into any other apartments of his hotel but thosewhich he himself occupied. His lady lived entirely apart from him;and it is only curious how they came to travel together at all. Shewas a goddaughter of old Mary Wortley Montagu: and, like that famousold woman of the last century, made considerable pretensions to be ablue-stocking and a bel esprit. Lady Lyndon wrote poems in Englishand Italian, which still may be read by the curious in the pages ofthe magazines of the day. She entertained a correspondence withseveral of the European savans upon history, science, and ancientlanguages, and especially theology. Her pleasure was to disputecontroversial points with abbes and bishops; and her flatterers saidshe rivalled Madam Dacier in learning. Every adventurer who had adiscovery in chemistry, a new antique bust, or a plan fordiscovering the philosopher's stone, was sure to find a patroness inher. She had numberless works dedicated to her, and sonnets withoutend addressed to her by all the poetasters of Europe, under the nameof Lindonira or Calista. Her rooms were crowded with hideous Chinamagots, and all sorts of objects of vertu.No woman piqued herself more upon her principles, or allowed love tobe made to her more profusely. There was a habit of courtshippractised by the fine gentlemen of those days, which is littleunderstood in our coarse downright times: and young and old fellowswould pour out floods of compliments in letters and madrigals, suchas would make a sober lady stare were they addressed to hernowadays: so entirely has the gallantry of the last centurydisappeared out of our manners.Lady Lyndon moved about with a little court of her own. She hadhalf-a-dozen carriages in her progresses. In her own she wouldtravel with her companion (some shabby lady of quality), her birds,and poodles, and the favourite savant for the time being. In anotherwould be her female secretary and her waiting-women; who, in spiteof their care, never could make their mistress look much better thana slattern. Sir Charles Lyndon had his own chariot, and thedomestics of the establishment would follow in other vehicles.Also must be mentioned the carriage in which rode her Ladyship'schaplain, Mr. Runt, who acted in capacity of governor to her son,the little Viscount Bullingdon,--a melancholy deserted little boy,about whom his father was more than indifferent, and whom his mothernever saw, except for two minutes at her levee, when she would putto him a few questions of history or Latin grammar; after which hewas consigned to his own amusements, or the care of his governor,for the rest of the day.The notion of such a Minerva as this, whom I saw in the publicplaces now and then, surrounded by swarms of needy abbes andschoolmasters, who flattered her, frightened me for some time, and Ihad not the least desire to make her acquaintance. I had no desireto be one of the beggarly adorers in the great lady's train,--fellows, half friend, half lacquey, who made verses, and wroteletters, and ran errands, content to be paid by a seat in herLadyship's box at the comedy, or a cover at her dinner-table atnoon. 'Don't be afraid,' Sir Charles Lyndon would say, whose greatsubject of conversation and abuse was his lady: 'my Lindonira willhave nothing to do with you. She likes the Tuscan brogue, not thatof Kerry. She says you smell too much of the stable to be admittedto ladies' society; and last Sunday fortnight, when she did me thehonour to speak to me last, said, "I wonder, Sir Charles Lyndon, agentleman who has been the King's ambassador can demean himself bygambling and boozing with low Irish blacklegs!" Don't fly in a fury!I'm a cripple, and it was Lindonira said it, not I.'This piqued me, and I resolved to become acquainted with LadyLyndon; if it were but to show her Ladyship that the descendant ofthose Barrys, whose property she unjustly held, was not an unworthycompanion for any lady, were she ever so high. Besides, my friendthe knight was dying: his widow would be the richest prize in thethree kingdoms. Why should I not win her, and, with her, the meansof making in the world that figure which my genius and inclinationdesired? I felt I was equal in blood and breeding to any Lyndon inChristendom, and determined to bend this haughty lady. When Idetermine, I look upon the thing as done.My uncle and I talked the matter over, and speedily settled upon amethod for making our approaches upon this stately lady of CastleLyndon. Mr. Runt, young Lord Bullingdon's governor, was fond ofpleasure, of a glass of Rhenish in the garden-houses in the summerevenings, and of a sly throw of the dice when the occasion offered;and I took care to make friends with this person, who, being acollege tutor and an Englishman, was ready to go on his knees to anyone who resembled a man of fashion. Seeing me with my retinue ofservants, my vis-a-vis and chariots, my valets, my hussar, andhorses, dressed in gold, and velvet, and sables, saluting thegreatest people in Europe as we met on the course, or at the Spas,Runt was dazzled by my advances, and was mine by a beckoning of thefinger. I shall never forget the poor wretch's astonishment when Iasked him to dine, with two counts, off gold plate, at the littleroom in the casino: he was made happy by being allowed to win a fewpieces of us, became exceedingly tipsy, sang Cambridge songs, andrecreated the company by telling us, in his horrid Yorkshire French,stories about the gyps, and all the lords that had ever been in hiscollege. I encouraged him to come and see me oftener, and bring withhim his little viscount; for whom, though the boy always detestedme, I took care to have a good stock of sweetmeats, toys, andpicture-books when he came.I then began to enter into a controversy with Mr. Runt, and confidedto him some doubts which I had, and a very very earnest leaningtowards the Church of Rome. I made a certain abbe whom I knew writeme letters upon transubstantiation, &c., which the honest tutor wasrather puzzled to answer. I knew that they would be communicated tohis lady, as they were; for, asking leave to attend the Englishservice which was celebrated in her apartments, and frequented bythe best English then at the Spa, on the second Sunday shecondescended to look at me; on the third she was pleased to reply tomy profound bow by a curtsey; the next day I followed up theacquaintance by another obeisance in the public walk; and, to make along story short, her Ladyship and I were in full correspondence ontransubstantiation before six weeks were over. My Lady came to theaid of her chaplain; and then I began to see the prodigious weightof his arguments: as was to be expected. The progress of thisharmless little intrigue need not be detailed. I make no doubt everyone of my readers has practised similar stratagems when a fair ladywas in the case.I shall never forget the astonishment of Sir Charles Lyndon when, onone summer evening, as he was issuing out to the play-table in hissedan-chair, according to his wont, her Ladyship's barouche andfour, with her outriders in the tawny livery of the Lyndon family,came driving into the courtyard of the house which they inhabited;and in that carriage, by her Ladyship's side, sat no other than the'vulgar Irish adventurer,' as she was pleased to call him: I meanRedmond Barry, Esquire. He made the most courtly of his bows, andgrinned and waved his hat in as graceful a manner as the goutpermitted; and her Ladyship and I replied to the salutation with theutmost politeness and elegance on our parts.I could not go to the play-table for some time afterwards for LadyLyndon and I had an argument on transubstantiation, which lasted forthree hours; in which she was, as usual, victorious, and, in whichher companion, the Honourable Miss Flint Skinner, fell asleep; butwhen, at last, I joined Sir Charles at the casino, he received mewith a yell of laughter, as his wont was, and introduced me to allthe company as Lady Lyndon's interesting young convert. This was hisway. He laughed and sneered at everything. He laughed when he was ina paroxysm of pain; he laughed when he won money, or when he lostit: his laugh was not jovial or agreeable, but rather painful andsardonic.'Gentlemen,' said he to Punter, Colonel Loder, Count du Carreau, andseveral jovial fellows with whom he used to discuss a flask ofchampagne and a Rhenish trout or two after play, 'see this amiableyouth! He has been troubled by religious scruples, and has flown forrefuge to my chaplain, Mr. Runt, who has asked for advice from mywife, Lady Lyndon; and, between them both, they are confirming myingenious young friend in his faith. Did you ever hear of suchdoctors, and such a disciple?'''Faith, sir,' said I, 'if I want to learn good principles, it'ssurely better I should apply for them to your lady and your chaplainthan to you!''He wants to step into my shoes!' continued the knight.'The man would be happy who did so,' responded I, 'provided therewere no chalk-stones included!' At which reply Sir Charles was notvery well pleased, and went on with increased rancour. He was alwaysfree-spoken in his cups; and, to say the truth, he was in his cupsmany more times in a week than his doctors allowed.'Is it not a pleasure, gentlemen,' said he, 'for me, as I am drawingnear the goal, to find my home such a happy one; my wife so fond ofme, that she is even now thinking of appointing a successor? (Idon't mean you precisely, Mr. Barry; you are only taking your chancewith a score of others whom I could mention.) Isn't it a comfort tosee her, like a prudent housewife, getting everything ready for herhusband's departure?''I hope you are not thinking of leaving us soon, knight?' said I,with perfect sincerity; for I liked him, as a most amusingcompanion. 'Not so soon, my dear, as you may fancy, perhaps,'continued he. 'Why, man, I have been given over any time these fouryears; and there was always a candidate or two waiting to apply forthe situation. Who knows how long I may keep you waiting?' and hedid keep me waiting some little time longer than at that periodthere was any reason to suspect.As I declared myself pretty openly, according to my usual way, andauthors are accustomed to describe the persons of the ladies withwhom their heroes fall in love; in compliance with this fashion, Iperhaps should say a word or two respecting the charms of my LadyLyndon. But though I celebrated them in many copies of verses, of myown and other persons' writing; and though I filled reams of paperin the passionate style of those days with compliments to every oneof her beauties and smiles, in which I compared her to every flower,goddess, or famous heroine ever heard of,--truth compels me to saythat there was nothing divine about her at all. She was very well;but no more. Her shape was fine, her hair dark, her eyes good, andexceedingly active; she loved singing, but performed it as so greata lady should, very much out of tune. She had a smattering of half-a-dozen modern languages, and, as I have said before, of many moresciences than I even knew the names of. She piqued herself onknowing Greek and Latin; but the truth is, that Mr. Runt, used tosupply her with the quotations which she introduced into hervoluminous correspondence. She had as much love of admiration, asstrong, uneasy a vanity, and as little heart, as any woman I everknew. Otherwise, when her son, Lord Bullingdon, on account of hisdifferences with me, ran--but that matter shall be told in itsproper time. Finally, my Lady Lyndon was about a year older thanmyself; though, of course, she would take her Bible oath that shewas three years younger.Few men are so honest as I am; for few will own to their realmotives, and I don't care a button about confessing mine. What SirCharles Lyndon said was perfectly true. I made the acquaintance ofLady Lyndon with ulterior views. 'Sir,' said I to him, when, afterthe scene described and the jokes he made upon me, we met alone,'let those laugh that win. You were very pleasant upon me a fewnights since, and on my intentions regarding your lady. Well, ifthey are what you think they are,--if I do wish to step into yourshoes, what then? I have no other intentions than you had yourself.I'll be sworn to muster just as much regard for my Lady Lyndon asyou ever showed her; and if I win her and wear her when you are deadand gone, corbleu, knight, do you think it will be the fear of yourghost will deter me?'Lyndon laughed as usual; but somewhat disconcertedly: indeed I hadclearly the best of him in the argument, and had just as much rightto hunt my fortune as he had.But one day he said, 'If you marry such a woman as my Lady Lyndon,mark my words, you will regret it. You will pine after the libertyyou once enjoyed. By George! Captain Barry,' he added, with a sigh,'the thing that I regret most in life--perhaps it is because I amold, blase, and dying--is, that I never had a virtuous attachment.''Ha! ha! a milkmaid's daughter!' said I, laughing at the absurdity.'Well, why not a milkmaid's daughter? My good fellow, I WAS in lovein youth, as most gentlemen are, with my tutor's daughter, Helena, abouncing girl; of course older than myself' (this made me remembermy own little love-passages with Nora Brady in the days of my earlylife), 'and do you know, sir, I heartily regret I didn't marry her?There's nothing like having a virtuous drudge at home, sir; dependupon that. It gives a zest to one's enjoyments in the world, take myword for it. No man of sense need restrict himself, or deny himselfa single amusement for his wife's sake: on the contrary, if heselect the animal properly, he will choose such a one as shall be nobar to his pleasure, but a comfort in his hours of annoyance. Forinstance, I have got the gout: who tends me? A hired valet, who robsme whenever he has the power. My wife never comes near me. Whatfriend have I? None in the wide world. Men of the world, as you andI are, don't make friends; and we are fools for our pains. Get afriend, sir, and that friend a woman--a good household drudge, wholoves you. That is the most precious sort of friendship; for theexpense of it is all on the woman's side. The man needn't contributeanything. If he's a rogue, she'll vow he's an angel; if he's abrute, she will like him all the better for his ill-treatment ofher. They like it, sir, these women. They are born to be ourgreatest comforts and conveniences; our--our moral bootjacks, as itwere; and to men in your way of life, believe me such a person wouldbe invaluable. I am only speaking for your bodily and mentalcomfort's sake, mind. Why didn't I marry poor Helena Flower, thecurate's daughter?'I thought these speeches the remarks of a weakly disappointed man;although since, perhaps, I have had reason to find the truth of SirCharles Lyndon's statements. The fact is, in my opinion, that weoften buy money very much too dear. To purchase a few thousands ayear at the expense of an odious wife, is very bad economy for ayoung fellow of any talent and spirit; and there have been momentsof my life when, in the midst of my greatest splendour and opulence,with half-a-dozen lords at my levee, with the finest horses in mystables, the grandest house over my head, with unlimited credit atmy banker's, and--Lady Lyndon to boot, I have wished myself back aprivate of Bulow's, or anything, so as to get rid of her. To return,however, to the story. Sir Charles, with his complication of ills,was dying before us by inches! and I've no doubt it could not havebeen very pleasant to him to see a young handsome fellow payingcourt to his widow before his own face as it were. After I once gotinto the house on the transubstantiation dispute, I found a dozenmore occasions to improve my intimacy, and was scarcely ever out ofher Ladyship's doors. The world talked and blustered; but what caredI? The men cried fie upon the shameless Irish adventurer; but I havetold my way of silencing such envious people: and my sword had bythis time got such a reputation through Europe, that few peoplecared to encounter it. If I can once get my hold of a place, I keepit. Many's the house I have been to where I have seen the men avoidme. 'Faugh! the low Irishman,' they would say. 'Bah! the coarseadventurer!' 'Out on the insufferable blackleg and puppy!' and soforth. This hatred has been of no inconsiderable service to me inthe world; for when I fasten on a man, nothing can induce me torelease my hold: and I am left to myself, which is all the better.As I told Lady Lyndon in those days, with perfect sincerity,'Calista' (I used to call her Calista in my correspondence)--'Calista, I swear to thee, by the spotlessness of thy own soul, bythe brilliancy of thy immitigable eyes, by everything pure andchaste in heaven and in thy own heart, that I will never cease fromfollowing thee! Scorn I can bear, and have borne at thy hands.Indifference I can surmount; 'tis a rock which my energy will climbover, a magnet which attracts the dauntless iron of my soul!' And itwas true, I wouldn't have left her--no, though they had kicked medownstairs every day I presented myself at her door.That is my way of fascinating women. Let the man who has to make hisfortune in life remember this maxim. Attacking is his only secret.Dare, and the world always yields: or, if it beat you sometimes,dare again, and it will succumb. In those days my spirit was sogreat, that if I had set my heart upon marrying a princess of theblood, I would have had her!I told Calista my story, and altered very very little of the truth.My object was to frighten her: to show her that what I wanted, thatI dared; that what I dared, that I won; and there were strikingpassages enough in my history to convince her of my iron will andindomitable courage. 'Never hope to escape me, madam,' I would say:'offer to marry another man, and he dies upon this sword, whichnever yet met its master. Fly from me, and I will follow you, thoughit were to the gates of Hades.' I promise you this was verydifferent language to that she had been in the habit of hearing fromher Jemmy-Jessamy adorers. You should have seen how I scared thefellows from her.When I said in this energetic way that I would follow Lady Lyndonacross the Styx if necessary, of course I meant that I would do so,provided nothing more suitable presented itself in the interim. IfLyndon would not die, where was the use of my pursuing the Countess?And somehow, towards the end of the Spa season, very much to mymortification I do confess, the knight made another rally: it seemedas if nothing would kill him. 'I am sorry for you, Captain Barry,'he would say, laughing as usual. 'I'm grieved to keep you, or anygentleman, waiting. Had you not better arrange with my doctor, orget the cook to flavour my omelette with arsenic? What are the odds,gentlemen,' he would add, 'that I don't live to see Captain Barryhanged yet?'In fact, the doctors tinkered him up for a year. 'It's my usualluck,' I could not help saying to my uncle, who was my confidentialand most excellent adviser in all matters of the heart. 'I've beenwasting the treasures of my affections upon that flirt of acountess, and here's her husband restored to health and likely tolive I don't know how many years!' And, as if to add to mymortification, there came just at this period to Spa an Englishtallow-chandler's heiress, with a plum to her fortune; and MadameCornu, the widow of a Norman cattle-dealer and farmer-general, witha dropsy and two hundred thousand livres a year.'What's the use of my following the Lyndons to England,' says I, 'ifthe knight won't die?''Don't follow them, my dear simple child,' replied my uncle. 'Stophere and pay court to the new arrivals.''Yes, and lose Calista for ever, and the greatest estate in allEngland.''Pooh, pooh! youths like you easily fire and easily despond. Keep upa correspondence with Lady Lyndon. You know there's nothing shelikes so much. There's the Irish abbe, who will write you the mostcharming letters for a crown apiece. Let her go; write to her, andmeanwhile look out for anything else which may turn up. Who knows?you might marry the Norman widow, bury her, take her money, and beready for the Countess against the knight's death.'And so, with vows of the most profound respectful attachment, andhaving given twenty louis to Lady Lyndon's waiting-woman for a lockof her hair (of which fact, of course, the woman informed hermistress), I took leave of the Countess, when it became necessaryfor her return to her estates in England; swearing I would followher as soon as an affair of honour I had on my hands could bebrought to an end.I shall pass over the events of the year that ensued before I againsaw her. She wrote to me according to promise; with much regularityat first, with somewhat less frequency afterwards. My affairs,meanwhile, at the play-table went on not unprosperously, and I wasjust on the point of marrying the widow Cornu (we were at Brusselsby this time, and the poor soul was madly in love with me,) when theLondon Gazette was put into my hands, and I read the followingannouncement:--'Died at Castle-Lyndon, in the kingdom of Ireland, the RightHonourable Sir Charles Lyndon, Knight of the Bath, member ofParliament for Lyndon in Devonshire, and many years His Majesty'srepresentative at various European Courts. He hath left behind him aname which is endeared to all his friends for his manifold virtuesand talents, a reputation justly acquired in the service of HisMajesty, and an inconsolable widow to deplore his loss. HerLadyship, the bereaved Countess of Lyndon, was at the Bath when thehorrid intelligence reached her of her husband's demise, andhastened to Ireland immediately in order to pay her last sad dutiesto his beloved remains.'That very night I ordered my chariot and posted to Ostend, whence Ifreighted a vessel to Dover, and travelling rapidly into the West,reached Bristol; from which port I embarked for Waterford, and foundmyself, after an absence of eleven years, in my native country.