Chapter 15

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　I PAY COURT TO MY LADY LYNDON.As my uncle's attainder was not reversed for being out with thePretender in 1745, it would have been inconvenient for him toaccompany his nephew to the land of our ancestors; where, if nothanging, at least a tedious process of imprisonment, and a doubtfulpardon, would have awaited the good old gentleman. In any importantcrisis of my life, his advice was always of advantage to me, and Idid not fail to seek it at this juncture, and to implore his counselas regarded my pursuit of the widow. I told him the situation of herheart, as I have described it in the last chapter; of the progressthat young Poynings had made in her affections, and of herforgetfulness of her old admirer; and I got a letter, in reply, fullof excellent suggestions, by which I did not fail to profit. Thekind Chevalier prefaced it by saying, that he was for the presentboarding in the Minorite convent at Brussels; that he had thoughtsof making his salut there, and retiring for ever from the world,devoting himself to the severest practices of religion. Meanwhile hewrote with regard to the lovely widow: it was natural that a personof her vast wealth and not disagreeable person should have manyadorers about her; and that, as in her husband's lifetime she hadshown herself not at all disinclined to receive my addresses, I mustmake no manner of doubt I was not the first person whom she had sofavoured; nor was I likely to be the last.'I would, my dear child,' he added, 'that the ugly attainder roundmy neck, and the resolution I have formed of retiring from a worldof sin and vanity altogether, did not prevent me from comingpersonally to your aid in this delicate crisis of your affairs; for,to lead them to a good end, it requires not only the indomitablecourage, swagger, and audacity, which you possess beyond any youngman I have ever known' (as for the 'swagger,' as the Chevalier callsit, I deny it in toto, being always most modest in my demeanour);'but though you have the vigour to execute, you have not theingenuity to suggest plans of conduct for the following out of ascheme that is likely to be long and difficult of execution. Wouldyou have ever thought of the brilliant scheme of the Countess Ida,which so nearly made you the greatest fortune in Europe, but for theadvice and experience of a poor old man, now making up his accountswith the world, and about to retire from it for good and all?'Well, with regard to the Countess of Lyndon, your manner of winningher is quite en l'air at present to me; nor can I advise day by day,as I would I could, according to circumstances as they arise. Butyour general scheme should be this. If I remember the letters youused to have from her during the period of the correspondence whichthe silly woman entertained you with, much high-flown sentimentpassed between you; and especially was written by her Ladyshipherself: she is a blue-stocking, and fond of writing; she used tomake her griefs with her husband the continual theme of hercorrespondence (as women will do). I recollect several passages inher letters bitterly deploring her fate in being united to one sounworthy of her.'Surely, in the mass of billets you possess from her, there must beenough to compromise her. Look them well over; select passages, andthreaten to do so. Write to her at first in the undoubting tone of alover who has every claim upon her. Then, if she is silent,remonstrate, alluding to former promises from her; producing proofsof her former regard for you; vowing despair, destruction, revenge,if she prove unfaithful. Frighten her--astonish her by some daringfeat, which will let her see your indomitable resolution: you arethe man to do it. Your sword has a reputation in Europe, and youhave a character for boldness; which was the first thing that causedmy Lady Lyndon to turn her eyes upon you. Make the people talk aboutyou at Dublin. Be as splendid, and as brave, and as odd as possible.How I wish I were near you! You have no imagination to invent such acharacter as I would make for you--but why speak; have I not hadenough of the world and its vanities?'There was much practical good sense in this advice; which I quote,unaccompanied with the lengthened description of his mortificationsand devotions which my uncle indulged in, finishing his letter, asusual, with earnest prayers for my conversion to the true faith. Buthe was constant to his form of worship; and I, as a man of honourand principle, was resolute to mine; and have no doubt that the one,in this respect, will be as acceptable as the other.Under these directions it was, then, I wrote to Lady Lyndon, to askon my arrival when the most respectful of her admirers might bepermitted to intrude upon her grief? Then, as her Ladyship wassilent, I demanded, Had she forgotten old times, and one whom shehad favoured with her intimacy at a very happy period? Had Calistaforgotten Eugenio? At the same time I sent down by my servant withthis letter a present of a little sword for Lord Bullingdon, and aprivate note to his governor; whose note of hand, by the way, Ipossessed for a sum--I forget what--but such as the poor fellowwould have been very unwilling to pay. To this an answer came fromher Ladyship's amanuensis, stating that Lady Lyndon was too muchdisturbed by grief at her recent dreadful calamity to see any onebut her own relations; and advices from my friend, the boy'sgovernor, stating that my Lord George Poynings was the young kinsmanwho was about to console her.This caused the quarrel between me and the young nobleman; whom Itook care to challenge on his first arrival at Dublin.When the news of the duel was brought to the widow at Castle Lyndon,my informant wrote me that Lady Lyndon shrieked and flung down thejournal, and said, 'The horrible monster! He would not shrink frommurder, I believe;' and little Lord Bullingdon, drawing his sword--the sword I had given him, the rascal!--declared he would kill withit the man who had hurt Cousin George. On Mr. Runt telling him thatI was the donor of the weapon, the little rogue still vowed that hewould kill me all the same! Indeed, in spite of my kindness to him,that boy always seemed to detest me.Her Ladyship sent up daily couriers to inquire after the health ofLord George; and, thinking to myself that she would probably beinduced to come to Dublin if she were to hear that he was in danger,I managed to have her informed that he was in a precarious state;that he grew worse; that Redmond Barry had fled in consequence: ofthis flight I caused the Mercury newspaper to give notice also, butindeed it did not carry me beyond the town of Bray, where my poormother dwelt; and where, under the difficulties of a duel, I mightbe sure of having a welcome.Those readers who have the sentiment of filial duty strong in theirmind, will wonder that I have not yet described my interview withthat kind mother whose sacrifices for me in youth had been soconsiderable, and for whom a man of my warm and affectionate naturecould not but feel the most enduring and sincere regard.But a man, moving in the exalted sphere of society in which I nowstood, has his public duties to perform before he consults hisprivate affections; and so, upon my first arrival, I despatched amessenger to Mrs. Barry, stating my arrival, conveying to her mysentiments of respect and duty, and promising to pay them to herpersonally so soon as my business in Dublin would leave me free.This, I need not say, was very considerable. I had my horses to buy,my establishment to arrange, my entree into the genteel world tomake; and, having announced my intention to purchase horses and livein a genteel style, was in a couple of days so pestered by visits ofthe nobility and gentry, and so hampered by invitations to dinnersand suppers, that it became exceedingly difficult for me during somedays to manage my anxiously desired visit to Mrs. Barry.It appears that the good soul provided an entertainment as soon asshe heard of my arrival, and invited all her humble acquaintances ofBray to be present: but I was engaged subsequently to my LordBallyragget on the day appointed, and was, of course, obliged tobreak the promise that I had made to Mrs. Barry to attend her humblefestival.I endeavoured to sweeten the disappointment by sending my mother ahandsome satin sack and velvet robe, which I purchased for her atthe best mercers in Dublin (and indeed told her I had brought fromParis expressly for her); but the messenger whom I despatched withthe presents brought back the parcels, with the piece of satin tornhalf way up the middle: and I did not need his descriptions to beaware that something had offended the good lady; who came out, hesaid, and abused him at the door, and would have boxed his cars, butthat she was restrained by a gentleman in black; who I concluded,with justice, was her clerical friend Mr. Jowls.This reception of my presents made me rather dread than hope for aninterview with Mrs. Barry, and delayed my visit to her for some daysfurther. I wrote her a dutiful and soothing letter, to which therewas no answer returned; although I mentioned that on my way to thecapital I had been at Barryville, and revisited the old haunts of myyouth.I don't care to own that she is the only human being whom I amafraid to face. I can recollect her fits of anger as a child, andthe reconciliations, which used to be still more violent andpainful: and so, instead of going myself, I sent my factotum, UlickBrady, to her; who rode back, saying that he had met with areception he would not again undergo for twenty guineas; that he hadbeen dismissed the house, with strict injunctions to inform me thatmy mother disowned me for ever. This parental anathema, as it were,affected me much, for I was always the most dutiful of sons; and Idetermined to go as soon as possible, and brave what I knew must bean inevitable scene of reproach and anger, for the sake, as I hoped,of as certain a reconciliation.I had been giving one night an entertainment to some of thegenteelest company in Dublin, and was showing my Lord Marquessdownstairs with a pair of wax tapers, when I found a woman in a greycoat seated at my doorsteps: to whom, taking her for a beggar, Itendered a piece of money, and whom my noble friends, who wererather hot with wine, began to joke, as my door closed and I badethem all good-night.I was rather surprised and affected to find afterwards that thehooded woman was no other than my mother; whose pride had made hervow that she would not enter my doors, but whose natural maternalyearnings had made her long to see her son's face once again, andwho had thus planted herself in disguise at my gate. Indeed, I havefound in my experience that these are the only women who neverdeceive a man, and whose affection remains constant through alltrials. Think of the hours that the kind soul must have passed,lonely in the street, listening to the din and merriment within myapartments, the clinking of the glasses, the laughing, the choruses,and the cheering.When my affair with Lord George happened, and it became necessary tome, for the reasons I have stated, to be out of the way; now,thought I, is the time to make my peace with my good mother: shewill never refuse me an asylum now that I seem in distress. Sosending to her a notice that I was coming, that I had had a duelwhich had brought me into trouble, and required I should go intohiding, I followed my messenger half-an-hour afterwards: and, Iwarrant me, there was no want of a good reception, for presently,being introduced into an empty room by the barefooted maid whowaited upon Mrs. Barry, the door was opened, and the poor motherflung herself into my arms with a scream, and with transports of joywhich I shall not attempt to describe--they are but to becomprehended by women who have held in their arms an only childafter a twelve years' absence from him.The Reverend Mr. Jowls, my mother's director, was the only person towhom the door of her habitation was opened during my sojourn; and hewould take no denial. He mixed for himself a glass of rum-punch,which he seemed in the habit of drinking at my good mother's charge,groaned aloud, and forthwith began reading me a lecture upon thesinfulness of my past courses, and especially of the last horribleaction I had been committing.'Sinful!' said my mother, bristling up when her son was attacked;'sure we're all sinners; and it's you, Mr. Jowls, who have given methe inexpressible blessing to let me know that. But how else wouldyou have had the poor child behave?''I would have had the gentleman avoid the drink, and the quarrel,and this wicked duel altogether,' answered the clergyman.But my mother cut him short, by saying such sort of conduct might bevery well in a person of his cloth and his birth, but it neitherbecame a Brady nor a Barry. In fact, she was quite delighted withthe thought that I had pinked an English marquis's son in a duel;and so, to console her, I told her of a score more in which I hadbeen engaged, and of some of which I have already informed thereader.As my late antagonist was in no sort of danger when I spread thatreport of his perilous situation, there was no particular call thatmy hiding should be very close. But the widow did not know the factas well as I did: and caused her house to be barricaded, and Becky,her barefooted serving-wench, to be a perpetual sentinel to givealarm, lest the officers should be in search of me.The only person I expected, however, was my cousin Ulick, who was tobring me the welcome intelligence of Lady Lyndon's arrival; and Iown, after two days' close confinement at Bray, in which I narratedall the adventures of my life to my mother, and succeeded in makingher accept the dresses she had formerly refused, and a considerableaddition to her income which I was glad to make, I was very gladwhen I saw that reprobate Ulick Brady, as my mother called him, rideup to the door in my carriage with the welcome intelligence for mymother, that the young lord was out of danger; and for me, that theCountess of Lyndon had arrived in Dublin.'And I wish, Redmond, that the young gentleman had been in danger alittle longer,' said the widow, her eyes filling with tears, 'andyou'd have stayed so much the more with your poor old mother.' But Idried her tears, embracing her warmly, and promised to see heroften; and hinted I would have, mayhap, a house of my own and anoble daughter to welcome her.'Who is she, Redmond dear?' said the old lady.'One of the noblest and richest women in the empire, mother,'answered I. 'No mere Brady this time,' I added, laughing: with whichhopes I left Mrs. Barry in the best of tempers.No man can bear less malice than I do; and, when I have once carriedmy point, I am one of the most placable creatures in the world. Iwas a week in Dublin before I thought it necessary to quit thatcapital. I had become quite reconciled to my rival in that time;made a point of calling at his lodgings, and speedily became anintimate consoler of his bed-side. He had a gentleman to whom I didnot neglect to be civil, and towards whom I ordered my people to beparticular in their attentions; for I was naturally anxious to learnwhat my Lord George's position with the lady of Castle Lyndon hadreally been, whether other suitors were about the widow, and how shewould bear the news of his wound.The young nobleman himself enlightened me somewhat upon the subjectsI was most desirous to inquire into.'Chevalier,' said he to me one morning when I went to pay him mycompliments, 'I find you are an old acquaintance with my kinswoman,the Countess of Lyndon. She writes me a page of abuse of you in aletter here; and the strange part of the story is this, that one daywhen there was talk about you at Castle Lyndon, and the splendidequipage you were exhibiting in Dublin, the fair widow vowed andprotested she never had heard of you.'"Oh yes, mamma," said the little Bullingdon, "the tall dark man atSpa with the cast in his eye, who used to make my governor tipsy andsent me the sword: his name is Mr. Barry."'But my Lady ordered the boy out of the room, and persisted inknowing nothing about you.''And are you a kinsman and acquaintance of my Lady Lyndon, my Lord?'said I, in a tone of grave surprise.'Yes, indeed,' answered the young gentleman. 'I left her house butto get this ugly wound from you. And it came at a most unlucky timetoo.''Why more unlucky now than at another moment?''Why, look you, Chevalier, I think the widow was not unpartial tome. I think I might have induced her to make our connection a littlecloser: and faith, though she is older than I am, she is the richestparty now in England.''My Lord George,' said I, 'will you let me ask you a frank but anodd question?--will you show me her letters?''Indeed I'll do no such thing,' replied he, in a rage.'Nay, don't be angry. If I show you letters of Lady Lyndon's tome, will you let me see hers to you?''What, in Heaven's name, do you mean, Mr. Barry?' said the younggentleman.'I mean that I passionately loved Lady Lyndon. I mean that I am a--that I rather was not indifferent to her. I mean that I love herto distraction at this present moment, and will die myself, or killthe man who possesses her before me.''You marry the greatest heiress and the noblest blood in England?'said Lord George haughtily.'There's no nobler blood in Europe than mine,' answered I: 'and Itell you I don't know whether to hope or not. But this I know, thatthere were days in which, poor as I am, the great heiress did notdisdain to look down upon my poverty: and that any man who marriesher passes over my dead body to do it. It's lucky for you,' I addedgloomily, 'that on the occasion of my engagement with you, I did notknow what were your views regarding my Lady Lyndon. My poor boy, youare a lad of courage and I love you. Mine is the first sword inEurope, and you would have been lying in a narrower bed than thatyou now occupy.''Boy!' said Lord George: 'I am not four years younger than you are.''You are forty years younger than I am in experience. I have passedthrough every grade of life. With my own skill and daring I havemade my own fortune. I have been in fourteen pitched battles as aprivate soldier, and have been twenty-three times on the ground, andnever was touched but once; and that was by the sword of a Frenchmaitre-d'armes, Whom I killed. I started in life at seventeen, abeggar, and am now at seven-and-twenty, with twenty thousandguineas. Do you suppose a man of my courage and energy can't attainanything that he dares, and that having claims upon the widow, Iwill not press them?'This speech was not exactly true to the letter (for I had multipliedmy pitched battles, my duels, and my wealth somewhat); but I sawthat it made the impression I desired to effect upon the younggentleman's mind, who listened to my statement with peculiarseriousness, and whom I presently left to digest it.A couple of days afterwards I called to see him again, when Ibrought with me some of the letters that had passed between me andmy Lady Lyndon. 'Here,' said I, 'look--I show it you in confidence--it is a lock of her Ladyship's hair; here are her letters signedCalista, and addressed to Eugenio. Here is a poem, "When Sol bedecksthe mead with light, And pallid Cynthia sheds her ray," addressed byher Ladyship to your humble servant.''Calista! Eugenio! Sol bedecks the mead with light?' cried the younglord. 'Am I dreaming? Why, my dear Barry, the widow has sent me thevery poem herself! "Rejoicing in the sunshine bright, Or musing inthe evening grey."'I could not help laughing as he made the quotation. They were, infact, the very words my Calista had addressed to me. And we found,upon comparing letters, that whole passages of eloquence figured inthe one correspondence which appeared in the other. See what it isto be a blue-stocking and have a love of letter-writing!The young man put down the papers in great perturbation. 'Well,thank Heaven!' said he, after a pause of some duration,--'thankHeaven for a good riddance! Ah, Mr. Barry, what a woman I might havemarried had these lucky papers not come in my way! I thought my LadyLyndon had a heart, sir, I must confess, though not a very warm one;and that, at least, one could trust her. But marry her now! I wouldas lief send my servant into the street to get me a wife, as put upwith such an Ephesian matron as that.''My Lord George,' said I, 'you little know the world. Remember whata bad husband Lady Lyndon had, and don't be astonished that she, onher side, should be indifferent. Nor has she, I will dare to wager,ever passed beyond the bounds of harmless gallantry, or sinnedbeyond the composing of a sonnet or a billet-doux.''My wife,' said the little lord, 'shall write no sonnets or billets-doux; and I'm heartily glad to think I have obtained, in good time,a knowledge of the heartless vixen with whom I thought myself for amoment in love.'The wounded young nobleman was either, as I have said, very youngand green in matters of the world--for to suppose that a man wouldgive up forty thousand a year, because, forsooth, the lady connectedwith it had written a few sentimental letters to a young fellow, istoo absurd--or, as I am inclined to believe, he was glad of anexcuse to quit the field altogether, being by no means anxious tomeet the victorious sword of Redmond Barry a second time.When the idea of Poynings' danger, or the reproaches probablyaddressed by him to the widow regarding myself, had brought thisexceedingly weak and feeble woman up to Dublin, as I expected, andmy worthy Ulick had informed me of her arrival, I quitted my goodmother, who was quite reconciled to me (indeed the duel had donethat), and found the disconsolate Calista was in the habit of payingvisits to the wounded swain; much to the annoyance, the servantstold me, of that gentleman. The English are often absurdly high andhaughty upon a point of punctilio; and, after his kinswoman'sconduct, Lord Poynings swore he would have no more to do with her.I had this information from his Lordship's gentleman; with whom, asI have said, I took particular care to be friends; nor was I deniedadmission by his porter, when I chose to call, as before.Her Ladyship had most likely bribed that person, as I had; for shehad found her way up, though denied admission; and, in fact, I hadwatched her from her own house to Lord George Poynings' lodgings,and seen her descend from her chair there and enter, before I myselffollowed her. I proposed to await her quietly in the ante-room, tomake a scene there, and reproach her with infidelity, if necessary;but matters were, as it happened, arranged much more convenientlyfor me; and walking, unannounced, into the outer room of hisLordship's apartments, I had the felicity of hearing in the nextchamber, of which the door was partially open, the voice of myCalista. She was in full cry, appealing to the poor patient, as helay confined in his bed, and speaking in the most passionate manner.'What can lead you, George,' she said, 'to doubt of my faith? Howcan you break my heart by casting me off in this monstrous manner?Do you wish to drive your poor Calista to the grave? Well, well, Ishall join there the dear departed angel.''Who entered it three months since,' said Lord George, with a sneer.'It's a wonder you have survived so long.''Don't treat your poor Calista in this cruel cruel manner, Antonio!'cried the widow.'Bah!' said Lord George, 'my wound is bad. My doctors forbid me muchtalk. Suppose your Antonio tired, my dear. Can't you consoleyourself with somebody else?''Heavens, Lord George! Antonio!''Console yourself with Eugenio,' said the young nobleman bitterly,and began ringing his bell; on which his valet, who was in an innerroom, came out, and he bade him show her Ladyship downstairs.Lady Lyndon issued from the room in the greatest flurry. She wasdressed in deep weeds, with a veil over her face, and did notrecognise the person waiting in the outer apartment. As she wentdown the stairs, I stepped lightly after her, and as her chairmanopened her door, sprang forward, and took her hand to place her inthe vehicle. 'Dearest widow,' said I, 'his Lordship spoke correctly.Console yourself with Eugenio!' She was too frightened even toscream, as her chairman carried her away. She was set down at herhouse, and you may be sure that I was at the chair-door, as before,to help her out.'Monstrous man!' said she, 'I desire you to leave me.''Madam, it would be against my oath,' replied I; 'recollect the vowEugenio sent to Calista.''If you do not quit me, I will call for the domestics to turn youfrom the door.''What! when I am come with my Calista's letters in my pocket, toreturn them mayhap? You can soothe, madam, but you cannot frightenRedmond Barry.''What is it you would have of me, sir?' said the widow, ratheragitated.'Let me come upstairs, and I will tell you all,' I replied; and shecondescended to give me her hand, and to permit me to lead her fromher chair to her drawing-room.When we were alone I opened my mind honourably to her.'Dearest madam,' said I, 'do not let your cruelty drive a desperateslave to fatal measures. I adore you. In former days you allowed meto whisper my passion to you unrestrained; at present you drive mefrom your door, leave my letters unanswered, and prefer another tome. My flesh and blood cannot bear such treatment. Look upon thepunishment I have been obliged to inflict; tremble at that which Imay be compelled to administer to that unfortunate young man: sosure as he marries you, madam, he dies.''I do not recognise,' said the widow, 'the least right you have togive the law to the Countess of Lyndon: I do not in the leastunderstand your threats, or heed them. What has passed between meand an Irish adventurer that should authorise this impertinentintrusion?''These have passed, madam,' said I,--'Calista's letters to Eugenio.They may have been very innocent; but will the world believe it? Youmay have only intended to play with the heart of the poor artlessIrish gentleman who adored and confided in you. But who will believethe stories of your innocence, against the irrefragable testimony ofyour own handwriting? Who will believe that you could write theseletters in the mere wantonness of coquetry, and not under theinfluence of affection?''Villain!' cried my Lady Lyndon, 'could you dare to construe out ofthose idle letters of mine any other meaning than that which theyreally bear?''I will construe anything out of them,' said I; 'such is the passionwhich animates me towards you. I have sworn it--you must and shallbe mine! Did you ever know me promise to accomplish a thing andfail? Which will you prefer to have from me--a love such as womannever knew from man before, or a hatred to which there exists noparallel?''A woman of my rank, sir, can fear nothing from the hatred of anadventurer like yourself,' replied the lady, drawing up stately.'Look at your Poynings--was he of your rank? You are the cause ofthat young man's wound, madam; and, but that the instrument of yoursavage cruelty relented, would have been the author of his murder--yes, of his murder; for, if a wife is faithless, does not she armthe husband who punishes the seducer! And I look upon you, HonoriaLyndon, as my wife.''Husband? wife, sir!' cried the widow, quite astonished.'Yes, wife! husband! I am not one of those poor souls with whomcoquettes can play, and who may afterwards throw them aside. Youwould forget what passed between us at Spa: Calista would forgetEugenio; but I will not let you forget me. You thought to triflewith my heart, did you? When once moved, Honoria, it is moved forever. I love you--love as passionately now as I did when my passionwas hopeless; and, now that I can win you, do you think I willforego you? Cruel cruel Calista! you little know the power of yourown charms if you think their effect is so easily obliterated--youlittle know the constancy of this pure and noble heart if you thinkthat, having once loved, it can ever cease to adore you. No! I swearby your cruelty that I will revenge it; by your wonderful beautythat I will win it, and be worthy to win it. Lovely, fascinating,fickle, cruel woman! you shall be mine--I swear it! Your wealth maybe great; but am I not of a generous nature enough to use itworthily? Your rank is lofty; but not so lofty as my ambition. Youthrew yourself away once on a cold and spiritless debauchee: giveyourself now, Honoria, to a man; and one who, however lofty yourrank may be, will enhance it and become it!'As I poured words to this effect out on the astonished widow, Istood over her, and fascinated her with the glance of my eye; sawher turn red and pale with fear and wonder; saw that my praise ofher charms and the exposition of my passion were not unwelcome toher, and witnessed with triumphant composure the mastery I wasgaining over her. Terror, be sure of that, is not a bad ingredientof love. A man who wills fiercely to win the heart of a weak andvapourish woman MUST succeed, if he have opportunity enough.'Terrible man!' said Lady Lyndon, shrinking from me as soon as I haddone speaking (indeed, I was at a loss for words, and thinking ofanother speech to make to her)--'terrible man! leave me.'I saw that I had made an impression on her, from those very words.'If she lets me into the house to-morrow,' said I, 'she is mine.'As I went downstairs I put ten guineas into the hand of the hall-porter, who looked quite astonished at such a gift.'It is to repay you for the trouble of opening the door to me,' saidI; 'you will have to do so often.'