Chapter XL: In Which Becky Is Recognized by the Family

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　The heir of Crawley arrived at home, in due time, afterthis catastrophe, and henceforth may be said to havereigned in Queen's Crawley. For though the old Baronetsurvived many months, he never recovered the use ofhis intellect or his speech completely, and the governmentof the estate devolved upon his elder son. In astrange condition Pitt found it. Sir Pitt was always buyingand mortgaging; he had twenty men of business, andquarrels with each; quarrels with all his tenants, andlawsuits with them; lawsuits with the lawyers; lawsuitswith the Mining and Dock Companies in which he wasproprietor; and with every person with whom he hadbusiness. To unravel these difficulties and to set theestate clear was a task worthy of the orderly andpersevering diplomatist of Pumpernickel, and he sethimself to work with prodigious assiduity. His whole family,of course, was transported to Queen's Crawley, whitherLady Southdown, of course, came too; and she set aboutconverting the parish under the Rector's nose, andbrought down her irregular clergy to the dismay of theangry Mrs Bute. Sir Pitt had concluded no bargain forthe sale of the living of Queen's Crawley; when it shoulddrop, her Ladyship proposed to take the patronage intoher own hands and present a young protege to theRectory, on which subject the diplomatic Pitt saidnothing.

　　Mrs. Bute's intentions with regard to Miss BetsyHorrocks were not carried into effect, and she paid no visitto Southampton Gaol. She and her father left the Hallwhen the latter took possession of the Crawley Arms inthe village, of which he had got a lease from Sir Pitt.The ex-butler had obtained a small freehold therelikewise, which gave him a vote for the borough. The Rectorhad another of these votes, and these and four othersformed the representative body which returned the twomembers for Queen's Crawley.

　　There was a show of courtesy kept up between theRectory and the Hall ladies, between the younger ones atleast, for Mrs. Bute and Lady Southdown never couldmeet without battles, and gradually ceased seeing eachother. Her Ladyship kept her room when the ladies fromthe Rectory visited their cousins at the Hall. Perhaps Mr.Pitt was not very much displeased at these occasionalabsences of his mamma-in-law. He believed the Binkiefamily to be the greatest and wisest and most interestingin the world, and her Ladyship and his aunt had long heldascendency over him; but sometimes he felt that shecommanded him too much. To be considered young wascomplimentary, doubtless, but at six-and-forty to betreated as a boy was sometimes mortifying. Lady Janeyielded up everything, however, to her mother. She wasonly fond of her children in private, and it was luckyfor her that Lady Southdown's multifarious business, herconferences with ministers, and her correspondence withall the missionaries of Africa, Asia, aud Australasia, &c.,occupied the venerable Countess a great deal, so thatshe had but little time to devote to her granddaughter,the little Matilda, and her grandson, Master Pitt Crawley.The latter was a feeble child, and it was only byprodigious quantities of calomel that Lady Southdown wasable to keep him in life at all.

　　As for Sir Pitt he retired into those very apartmentswhere Lady Crawley had been previously extinguished,and here was tended by Miss Hester, the girl upon herpromotion, with constant care and assiduity. What love,what fidelity, what constancy is there equal to that of anurse with good wages? They smooth pillows; and makearrowroot; they get up at nights; they bear complaintsand querulousness; they see the sun shining out of doorsand don't want to go abroad; they sleep on arm-chairsand eat their meals in solitude; they pass long longevenings doing nothing, watching the embers, and thepatient's drink simmering in the jug; they read the weeklypaper the whole week through; and Law's Serious Call orthe Whole Duty of Man suffices them for literature forthe year--and we quarrel with them because, when theirrelations come to see them once a week, a little ginis smuggled in in their linen basket. Ladies, what man'slove is there that would stand a year's nursing of theobject of his affection? Whereas a nurse will stand by youfor ten pounds a quarter, and we think her too highlypaid. At least Mr. Crawley grumbled a good deal aboutpaying half as much to Miss Hester for her constantattendance upon the Baronet his father.

　　Of sunshiny days this old gentleman was taken out in achair on the terrace--the very chair which Miss Crawleyhad had at Brighton, and which had been transportedthence with a number of Lady Southdown's effects toQueen's Crawley. Lady Jane always walked by the oldman, and was an evident favourite with him. He used tonod many times to her and smile when she came in, andutter inarticulate deprecatory moans when she was goingaway. When the door shut upon her he would cry andsob--whereupon Hester's face and manner, which wasalways exceedingly bland and gentle while her lady waspresent, would change at once, and she would make facesat him and clench her fist and scream out "Hold yourtongue, you stoopid old fool," and twirl away his chairfrom the fire which he loved to look at--at which hewould cry more. For this was all that was left after morethan seventy years of cunning, and struggling, anddrinking, and scheming, and sin and selfishness--awhimpering old idiot put in and out of bed and cleanedand fed like a baby.

　　At last a day came when the nurse's occupation wasover. Early one morning, as Pitt Crawley was at hissteward's and bailiff's books in the study, a knock cameto the door, and Hester presented herself, dropping acurtsey, and said,

　　"If you please, Sir Pitt, Sir Pitt died this morning, SirPitt. I was a-making of his toast, Sir Pitt, for his gruel,Sir Pitt, which he took every morning regular at six, SirPitt, and--I thought I heard a moan-like, Sir Pitt--and--and--and--" She dropped another curtsey.

　　What was it that made Pitt's pale face flush quitered? Was it because he was Sir Pitt at last, with a seatin Parliament, and perhaps future honours in prospect?"I'll clear the estate now with the ready money," hethought and rapidly calculated its incumbrances and theimprovements which he would make. He would not use hisaunt's money previously lest Sir Pitt should recover andhis outlay be in vain.

　　All the blinds were pulled down at the Hall and Rectory:the church bell was tolled, and the chancel hung inblack; and Bute Crawley didn't go to a coursing meeting,but went and dined quietly at Fuddleston, wherethey talked about his deceased brother and young SirPitt over their port. Miss Betsy, who was by this timemarried to a saddler at Mudbury, cried a good deal.The family surgeon rode over and paid his respectfulcompliments, and inquiries for the health of theirladyships. The death was talked about at Mudbury and atthe Crawley Arms, the landlord whereof had becomereconciled with the Rector of late, who was occasionallyknown to step into the parlour and taste Mr. Horrocks'mild beer.

　　"Shall I write to your brother--or will you?" askedLady Jane of her husband, Sir Pitt.

　　"I will write, of course," Sir Pitt said, "and invite himto the funeral: it will be but becoming."

　　"And--and--Mrs. Rawdon," said Lady Jane timidly.

　　"Jane!" said Lady Southdown, "how can you think ofsuch a thing?"

　　"Mrs. Rawdon must of course be asked," said Sir Pitt,resolutely.

　　"Not whilst I am in the house!" said Lady Southdown.

　　"Your Ladyship will be pleased to recollect that I amthe head of this family," Sir Pitt replied. "If you please,Lady Jane, you will write a letter to Mrs. RawdonCrawley, requesting her presence upon this melancholyoccasion."

　　"Jane, I forbid you to put pen to paper!" cried theCountess.

　　"I believe I am the head of this family," Sir Pittrepeated; "and however much I may regret anycircumstance which may lead to your Ladyship quitting thishouse, must, if you please, continue to govern it as I seefit."

　　Lady Southdown rose up as magnificent as Mrs. Siddonsin Lady Macbeth and ordered that horses might be putto her carriage. If her son and daughter turned her outof their house, she would hide her sorrows somewhere inloneliness and pray for their conversion to betterthoughts.

　　"We don't turn you out of our house, Mamma," saidthe timid Lady Jane imploringly.

　　"You invite such company to it as no Christian ladyshould meet, and I will have my horses to-morrowmorning."

　　"Have the goodness to write, Jane, under my dictation,"said Sir Pitt, rising and throwing himself into an attitudeof command, like the portrait of a Gentleman in theExhibition, "and begin. 'Queen's Crawley, September 14,1822.--My dear brother--' "

　　Hearing these decisive and terrible words, Lady Macbeth,who had been waiting for a sign of weakness orvacillation on the part of her son-in-law, rose and, with ascared look, left the library. Lady Jane looked up toher husband as if she would fain follow and soothe hermamma, but Pitt forbade his wife to move.

　　"She won't go away," he said. "She has let her houseat Brighton and has spent her last half-year's dividends.A Countess living at an inn is a ruined woman. I havebeen waiting long for an opportunity--to take this--thisdecisive step, my love; for, as you must perceive, it isimpossible that there should be two chiefs in a family:and now, if you please, we will resume the dictation. 'Mydear brother, the melancholy intelligence which it is myduty to convey to my family must have been longanticipated by,' " &c.

　　In a word, Pitt having come to his kingdom, and havingby good luck, or desert rather, as he considered, assumedalmost all the fortune which his other relativeshad expected, was determined to treat his family kindlyand respectably and make a house of Queen's Crawleyonce more. It pleased him to think that he should be itschief. He proposed to use the vast influence that hiscommanding talents and position must speedily acquirefor him in the county to get his brother placed and hiscousins decently provided for, and perhaps had a littlesting of repentance as he thought that he was theproprietor of all that they had hoped for. In the course ofthree or four days' reign his bearing was changed andhis plans quite fixed: he determined to rule justly andhonestly, to depose Lady Southdown, and to be on thefriendliest possible terms with all the relations of hisblood.

　　So he dictated a letter to his brother Rawdon--a solemnand elaborate letter, containing the profoundestobservations, couched in the longest words, and filling withwonder the simple little secretary, who wrote under herhusband's order. "What an orator this will be," thoughtshe, "when he enters the House of Commons" (on whichpoint, and on the tyranny of Lady Southdown, Pitt hadsometimes dropped hints to his wife in bed); "how wiseand good, and what a genius my husband is! I fanciedhim a little cold; but how good, and what a genius!"

　　The fact is, Pitt Crawley had got every word of theletter by heart and had studied it, with diplomaticsecrecy, deeply and perfectly, long before he thought fit tocommunicate it to his astonished wife.

　　This letter, with a huge black border and seal, wasaccordingly despatched by Sir Pitt Crawley to his brotherthe Colonel, in London. Rawdon Crawley was buthalf-pleased at the receipt of it. "What's the use of goingdown to that stupid place?" thought he. "I can't standbeing alone with Pitt after dinner, and horses thereand back will cost us twenty pound."

　　He carried the letter, as he did all difficulties, to Becky,upstairs in her bedroom--with her chocolate, which healways made and took to her of a morning.

　　He put the tray with the breakfast and the letter onthe dressing-table, before which Becky sat combing heryellow hair. She took up the black-edged missive, andhaving read it, she jumped up from the chair, crying"Hurray!" and waving the note round her head.

　　"Hurray?" said Rawdon, wondering at the little figurecapering about in a streaming flannel dressing-gown, withtawny locks dishevelled. "He's not left us anything,Becky. I had my share when I came of age."

　　"You'll never be of age, you silly old man," Beckyreplied. "Run out now to Madam Brunoy's, for I musthave some mourning: and get a crape on your hat, and ablack waistcoat--I don't think you've got one; order itto be brought home to-morrow, so that we may be ableto start on Thursday."

　　"You don't mean to go?" Rawdon interposed.

　　"Of course I mean to go. I mean that Lady Jane shallpresent me at Court next year. I mean that your brothershall give you a seat in Parliament, you stupid oldcreature. I mean that Lord Steyne shall have your vote andhis, my dear, old silly man; and that you shall be an IrishSecretary, or a West Indian Governor: or a Treasurer,or a Consul, or some such thing."

　　"Posting will cost a dooce of a lot of money," grumbledRawdon.

　　"We might take Southdown's carriage, which ought tobe present at the funeral, as he is a relation of thefamily: but, no--I intend that we shall go by the coach.They'll like it better. It seems more humble--"

　　"Rawdy goes, of course?" the Colonel asked.

　　"No such thing; why pay an extra place? He's too big totravel bodkin between you and me. Let him stay here inthe nursery, and Briggs can make him a black frock. Goyou, and do as I bid you. And you had best tell Sparks,your man, that old Sir Pitt is dead and that you willcome in for something considerable when the affairs arearranged. He'll tell this to Raggles, who has been pressingfor money, and it will console poor Raggles." And soBecky began sipping her chocolate.

　　When the faithful Lord Steyne arrived in the evening,he found Becky and her companion, who was no otherthan our friend Briggs, busy cutting, ripping, snipping,and tearing all sorts of black stuffs available for themelancholy occasion.

　　"Miss Briggs and I are plunged in grief and despondencyfor the death of our Papa," Rebecca said. "Sir PittCrawley is dead, my lord. We have been tearing our hairall the morning, and now we are tearing up our oldclothes."

　　"Oh, Rebecca, how can you--" was all that Briggs couldsay as she turned up her eyes.

　　"Oh, Rebecca, how can you--" echoed my Lord. "Sothat old scoundrel's dead, is he? He might have been aPeer if he had played his cards better. Mr. Pitt had verynearly made him; but he ratted always at the wrongtime. What an old Silenus it was!"

　　"I might have been Silenus's widow," said Rebecca."Don't you remember, Miss Briggs, how you peeped inat the door and saw old Sir Pitt on his knees to me?"Miss Briggs, our old friend, blushed very much at thisreminiscence, and was glad when Lord Steyne orderedher to go downstairs and make him a cup of tea.

　　Briggs was the house-dog whom Rebecca had providedas guardian of her innocence and reputation. Miss Crawleyhad left her a little annuity. She would have beencontent to remain in the Crawley family with Lady Jane,who was good to her and to everybody; but LadySouthdown dismissed poor Briggs as quickly as decencypermitted; and Mr. Pitt (who thought himself much injuredby the uncalled-for generosity of his deceased relativetowards a lady who had only been Miss Crawley'sfaithful retainer a score of years) made no objection to thatexercise of the dowager's authority. Bowls and Firkinlikewise received their legacies and their dismissals, andmarried and set up a lodging-house, according to thecustom of their kind.

　　Briggs tried to live with her relations in the country,but found that attempt was vain after the better societyto which she had been accustomed. Briggs's friends, smalltradesmen, in a country town, quarrelled over MissBriggs's forty pounds a year as eagerly and more openlythan Miss Crawley's kinsfolk had for that lady'sinheritance. Briggs's brother, a radical hatter and grocer, calledhis sister a purse-proud aristocrat, because she would notadvance a part of her capital to stock his shop; and shewould have done so most likely, but that their sister, adissenting shoemaker's lady, at variance with the hatterand grocer, who went to another chapel, showed howtheir brother was on the verge of bankruptcy, and tookpossession of Briggs for a while. The dissentingshoemaker wanted Miss Briggs to send his son to collegeand make a gentleman of him. Between them the twofamilies got a great portion of her private savings out ofher, and finally she fled to London followed by theanathemas of both, and determined to seek for servitudeagain as infinitely less onerous than liberty. And advertisingin the papers that a "Gentlewoman of agreeablemanners, and accustomed to the best society, was anxiousto," &c., she took up her residence with Mr. Bowlsin Half Moon Street, and waited the result of theadvertisement.

　　So it was that she fell in with Rebecca. Mrs. Rawdon'sdashing little carriage and ponies was whirling down thestreet one day, just as Miss Briggs, fatigued, hadreached Mr. Bowls's door, after a weary walk to theTimes Office in the City to insert her advertisement forthe sixth time. Rebecca was driving, and at oncerecognized the gentlewoman with agreeable manners, andbeing a perfectly good-humoured woman, as we haveseen, and having a regard for Briggs, she pulled up theponies at the doorsteps, gave the reins to the groom,and jumping out, had hold of both Briggs's hands, beforeshe of the agreeable manners had recovered from theshock of seeing an old friend.

　　Briggs cried, and Becky laughed a great deal andkissed the gentlewoman as soon as they got into thepassage; and thence into Mrs. Bowls's front parlour, withthe red moreen curtains, and the round looking-glass,with the chained eagle above, gazing upon the back ofthe ticket in the window which announced "Apartmentsto Let."

　　Briggs told all her history amidst those perfectlyuncalled-for sobs and ejaculations of wonder with whichwomen of her soft nature salute an old acquaintance, orregard a rencontre in the street; for though people meetother people every day, yet some there are who insistupon discovering miracles; and women, even though theyhave disliked each other, begin to cry when they meet,deploring and remembering the time when they lastquarrelled. So, in a word, Briggs told all her history, andBecky gave a narrative of her own life, with her usualartlessness and candour.

　　Mrs. Bowls, late Firkin, came and listened grimly inthe passage to the hysterical sniffling and giggling whichwent on in the front parlour. Becky had never been afavourite of hers. Since the establishment of the marriedcouple in London they had frequented their formerfriends of the house of Raggles, and did not like thelatter's account of the Colonel's menage. "I wouldn't trusthim, Ragg, my boy," Bowls remarked; and his wife,when Mrs. Rawdon issued from the parlour, only salutedthe lady with a very sour curtsey; and her fingerswere like so many sausages, cold and lifeless, when sheheld them out in deference to Mrs. Rawdon, who persistedin shaking hands with the retired lady's maid. She whirledaway into Piccadilly, nodding with the sweetest of smilestowards Miss Briggs, who hung nodding at the windowclose under the advertisement-card, and at the nextmoment was in the park with a half-dozen of dandiescantering after her carriage.

　　When she found how her friend was situated, and howhaving a snug legacy from Miss Crawley, salary was noobject to our gentlewoman, Becky instantly formed somebenevolent little domestic plans concerning her. Thiswas just such a companion as would suit her establishment,and she invited Briggs to come to dinner with herthat very evening, when she should see Becky's dear littledarling Rawdon.

　　Mrs. Bowls cautioned her lodger against venturing intothe lion's den, "wherein you will rue it, Miss B., mark mywords, and as sure as my name is Bowls." And Briggspromised to be very cautious. The upshot of whichcaution was that she went to live with Mrs. Rawdon the nextweek, and had lent Rawdon Crawley six hundred poundsupon annuity before six months were over.