Chapter XLIX: In Which We Enjoy Three Courses and a Dessert

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　When the ladies of Gaunt House were at breakfast thatmorning, Lord Steyne (who took his chocolate in privateand seldom disturbed the females of his household,or saw them except upon public days, or when theycrossed each other in the hall, or when from hispit-box at the opera he surveyed them in their box on thegrand tier) his lordship, we say, appeared among theladies and the children who were assembled over thetea and toast, and a battle royal ensued apropos ofRebecca.

　　"My Lady Steyne," he said, "I want to see the listfor your dinner on Friday; and I want you, if you please,to write a card for Colonel and Mrs. Crawley."

　　"Blanche writes them," Lady Steyne said in a flutter."Lady Gaunt writes them."

　　"I will not write to that person," Lady Gaunt said,a tall and stately lady, who looked up for an instantand then down again after she had spoken. It was notgood to meet Lord Steyne's eyes for those who hadoffended him.

　　"Send the children out of the room. Go!" said hepulling at the bell-rope. The urchins, always frightenedbefore him, retired: their mother would have followedtoo. "Not you," he said. "You stop."

　　"My Lady Steyne," he said, "once more will you havethe goodness to go to the desk and write that card foryour dinner on Friday?"

　　"My Lord, I will not be present at it," Lady Gauntsaid; "I will go home."

　　"I wish you would, and stay there. You will findthe bailiffs at Bareacres very pleasant company, and Ishall be freed from lending money to your relations andfrom your own damned tragedy airs. Who are you togive orders here? You have no money. You've got nobrains. You were here to have children, and you havenot had any. Gaunt's tired of you, and George's wifeis the only person in the family who doesn't wish youwere dead. Gaunt would marry again if you were."

　　"I wish I were," her Ladyship answered with tearsand rage in her eyes.

　　"You, forsooth, must give yourself airs of virtue, whilemy wife, who is an immaculate saint, as everybody knows,and never did wrong in her life, has no objection to meetmy young friend Mrs. Crawley. My Lady Steyne knowsthat appearances are sometimes against the best ofwomen; that lies are often told about the most innocentof them. Pray, madam, shall I tell you some littleanecdotes about my Lady Bareacres, your mamma?"

　　"You may strike me if you like, sir, or hit any cruelblow," Lady Gaunt said. To see his wife and daughtersuffering always put his Lordship into a good humour.

　　"My sweet Blanche," he said, "I am a gentleman, andnever lay my hand upon a woman, save in the way ofkindness. I only wish to correct little faults in yourcharacter. You women are too proud, and sadly lackhumility, as Father Mole, I'm sure, would tell my LadySteyne if he were here. You mustn't give yourselves airs;you must be meek and humble, my blessings. For allLady Steyne knows, this calumniated, simple, good-humoured Mrs. Crawley is quite innocent--even moreinnocent than herself. Her husband's character is notgood, but it is as good as Bareacres', who has playeda little and not paid a great deal, who cheated you outof the only legacy you ever had and left you a pauperon my hands. And Mrs. Crawley is not very well-born,but she is not worse than Fanny's illustrious ancestor,the first de la Jones."

　　"The money which I brought into the family, sir," LadyGeorge cried out--

　　"You purchased a contingent reversion with it," theMarquis said darkly. "If Gaunt dies, your husband maycome to his honours; your little boys may inherit them,and who knows what besides? In the meanwhile, ladies,be as proud and virtuous as you like abroad, but don'tgive me any airs. As for Mrs. Crawley's character, Ishan't demean myself or that most spotless and perfectlyirreproachable lady by even hinting that it requires adefence. You will be pleased to receive her with theutmost cordiality, as you will receive all persons whomI present in this house. This house?" He broke out witha laugh. "Who is the master of it? and what is it?This Temple of Virtue belongs to me. And if I invite allNewgate or all Bedlam here, by -- they shall bewelcome."

　　After this vigorous allocution, to one of which sortLord Steyne treated his "Hareem" whenever symptomsof insubordination appeared in his household, thecrestfallen women had nothing for it but to obey. Lady Gauntwrote the invitation which his Lordship required, andshe and her mother-in-law drove in person, and withbitter and humiliated hearts, to leave the cards on Mrs.Rawdon, the reception of which caused that innocentwoman so much pleasure.

　　There were families in London who would havesacrificed a year's income to receive such an honour at thehands of those great ladies. Mrs. Frederick Bullock, forinstance, would have gone on her knees from May Fairto Lombard Street, if Lady Steyne and Lady Gaunt hadbeen waiting in the City to raise her up and say, "Cometo us next Friday"--not to one of the great crushes andgrand balls of Gaunt House, whither everybody went, butto the sacred, unapproachable, mysterious, deliciousentertainments, to be admitted to one of which was aprivilege, and an honour, and a blessing indeed.

　　Severe, spotless, and beautiful, Lady Gaunt held thevery highest rank in Vanity Fair. The distinguishedcourtesy with which Lord Steyne treated her charmedeverybody who witnessed his behaviour, caused the severestcritics to admit how perfect a gentleman he was, and toown that his Lordship's heart at least was in the rightplace.

　　The ladies of Gaunt House called Lady Bareacres in totheir aid, in order to repulse the common enemy. Oneof Lady Gaunt's carriages went to Hill Street for herLadyship's mother, all whose equipages were in the handsof the bailiffs, whose very jewels and wardrobe, it wassaid, had been seized by those inexorable Israelites.Bareacres Castle was theirs, too, with all its costlypictures, furniture, and articles of vertu--the magnificentVandykes; the noble Reynolds pictures; the Lawrenceportraits, tawdry and beautiful, and, thirty years ago,deemed as precious as works of real genius; the matchlessDancing Nymph of Canova, for which Lady Bareacreshad sat in her youth--Lady Bareacres splendid then,and radiant in wealth, rank, and beauty--a toothless,bald, old woman now--a mere rag of a former robe ofstate. Her lord, painted at the same time by Lawrence,as waving his sabre in front of Bareacres Castle, andclothed in his uniform as Colonel of the ThistlewoodYeomanry, was a withered, old, lean man in agreatcoat and a Brutus wig, slinking about Gray's Inn ofmornings chiefly and dining alone at clubs. He did notlike to dine with Steyne now. They had run races ofpleasure together in youth when Bareacres was thewinner. But Steyne had more bottom than he and had lastedhim out. The Marquis was ten times a greater man nowthan the young Lord Gaunt of '85, and Bareacresnowhere in the race--old, beaten, bankrupt, and brokendown. He had borrowed too much money of Steyne tofind it pleasant to meet his old comrade often. The latter,whenever he wished to be merry, used jeeringly to askLady Gaunt why her father had not come to see her."He has not been here for four months," Lord Steynewould say. "I can always tell by my cheque-bookafterwards, when I get a visit from Bareacres. What acomfort it is, my ladies, I bank with one of my sons'fathers-in-law, and the other banks with me!"

　　Of the other illustrious persons whom Becky had thehonour to encounter on this her first presentation to thegrand world, it does not become the present historianto say much. There was his Excellency the Prince ofPeterwaradin, with his Princess--a nobleman tightlygirthed, with a large military chest, on which the plaqueof his order shone magnificently, and wearing the redcollar of the Golden Fleece round his neck. He was theowner of countless flocks. "Look at his face. I think hemust be descended from a sheep," Becky whispered toLord Steyne. Indeed, his Excellency's countenance, long,solemn, and white, with the ornament round his neck,.bore some resemblance to that of a venerable bell-wether.

　　There was Mr. John Paul Jefferson Jones, titularlyattached to the American Embassy and correspondentof the New York Demagogue, who, by way of makinghimself agreeable to the company, asked Lady Steyne,during a pause in the conversation at dinner, how hisdear friend, George Gaunt, liked the Brazils? He andGeorge had been most intimate at Naples and had goneup Vesuvius together. Mr. Jones wrote a full andparticular account of the dinner, which appeared duly inthe Demagogue. He mentioned the names and titles ofall the guests, giving biographical sketches of the principalpeople. He described the persons of the ladies withgreat eloquence; the service of the table; the size andcostume of the servants; enumerated the dishes and winesserved; the ornaments of the sideboard; and the probablevalue of the plate. Such a dinner he calculated could notbe dished up under fifteen or eighteen dollars per head.And he was in the habit, until very lately, of sendingover proteges, with letters of recommendation to thepresent Marquis of Steyne, encouraged to do so by theintimate terms on which he had lived with his dearfriend, the late lord. He was most indignant that ayoung and insignificant aristocrat, the Earl of Southdown,should have taken the pas of him in their procession tothe dining-room. "Just as I was stepping up to offer myhand to a very pleasing and witty fashionable, thebrilliant and exclusive Mrs. Rawdon Crawley,"--he wrote--"the young patrician interposed between me and thelady and whisked my Helen off without a word of apology.I was fain to bring up the rear with the Colonel, thelady's husband, a stout red-faced warrior whodistinguished himself at Waterloo, where he had better luckthan befell some of his brother redcoats at New Orleans."

　　The Colonel's countenance on coming into this politesociety wore as many blushes as the face of a boy ofsixteen assumes when he is confronted with his sister'sschoolfellows. It has been told before that honest Rawdonhad not been much used at any period of his life toladies' company. With the men at the Club or the messroom, he was well enough; and could ride, bet, smoke,or play at billiards with the boldest of them. He had hadhis time for female friendships too, but that was twentyyears ago, and the ladies were of the rank of those withwhom Young Marlow in the comedy is represented ashaving been familiar before he became abashed in thepresence of Miss Hardcastle. The times are such thatone scarcely dares to allude to that kind of companywhich thousands of our young men in Vanity Fair arefrequenting every day, which nightly fills casinos anddancing-rooms, which is known to exist as well as theRing in Hyde Park or the Congregation at St. James's--but which the most squeamish if not the most moralof societies is determined to ignore. In a word, althoughColonel Crawley was now five-and-forty years of age,it had not been his lot in life to meet with a half dozengood women, besides his paragon of a wife. All excepther and his kind sister Lady Jane, whose gentle naturehad tamed and won him, scared the worthy Colonel,and on occasion of his first dinner at Gaunt House hewas not heard to make a single remark except to statethat the weather was very hot. Indeed Becky would haveleft him at home, but that virtue ordained that herhusband should be by her side to protect the timid andfluttering little creature on her first appearance in politesociety.

　　On her first appearance Lord Steyne stepped forward,taking her hand, and greeting her with great courtesy,and presenting her to Lady Steyne, and their ladyships,her daughters. Their ladyships made three stately curtsies,and the elder lady to be sure gave her hand to thenewcomer, but it was as cold and lifeless as marble.

　　Becky took it, however, with grateful humility, andperforming a reverence which would have done creditto the best dancer-master, put herself at Lady Steyne'sfeet, as it were, by saying that his Lordship had beenher father's earliest friend and patron, and that she,Becky, had learned to honour and respect the Steynefamily from the days of her childhood. The fact is that LordSteyne had once purchased a couple of pictures of thelate Sharp, and the affectionate orphan could neverforget her gratitude for that favour.

　　The Lady Bareacres then came under Becky's cognizance--to whom the Colonel's lady made also a most respectfulobeisance: it was returned with severe dignity by theexalted person in question.

　　"I had the pleasure of making your Ladyship'sacquaintance at Brussels, ten years ago," Becky said inthe most winning manner. "I had the good fortune tomeet Lady Bareacres at the Duchess of Richmond's ball,the night before the Battle of Waterloo. And I recollectyour Ladyship, and my Lady Blanche, your daughter,sitting in the carriage in the porte-cochere at the Inn,waiting for horses. I hope your Ladyship's diamonds aresafe."

　　Everybody's eyes looked into their neighbour's. Thefamous diamonds had undergone a famous seizure, itappears, about which Becky, of course, knew nothing.Rawdon Crawley retreated with Lord Southdown into awindow, where the latter was heard to laugh immoderately,as Rawdon told him the story of Lady Bareacreswanting horses and "knuckling down by Jove," to Mrs.Crawley. "I think I needn't be afraid of that woman,"Becky thought. Indeed, Lady Bareacres exchangedterrified and angry looks with her daughter and retreatedto a table, where she began to look at pictures withgreat energy.

　　When the Potentate from the Danube made his appearance,the conversation was carried on in the French language,and the Lady Bareacres and the younger ladiesfound, to their farther mortification, that Mrs. Crawleywas much better acquainted with that tongue, and spokeit with a much better accent than they. Becky had metother Hungarian magnates with the army in France in1816-17. She asked after her friends with great interestThe foreign personages thought that she was a lady ofgreat distinction, and the Prince and the Princess askedseverally of Lord Steyne and the Marchioness, whomthey conducted to dinner, who was that petite dame whospoke so well?

　　Finally, the procession being formed in the orderdescribed by the American diplomatist, they marched intothe apartment where the banquet was served, and which,as I have promised the reader he shall enjoy it, he shallhave the liberty of ordering himself so as to suit hisfancy.

　　But it was when the ladies were alone that Beckyknew the tug of war would come. And then indeed thelittle woman found herself in such a situation as madeher acknowledge the correctness of Lord Steyne'scaution to her to beware of the society of ladies above herown sphere. As they say, the persons who hate Irishmenmost are Irishmen; so, assuredly, the greatest tyrantsover women are women. When poor little Becky,alone with the ladies, went up to the fire-place whitherthe great ladies had repaired, the great ladies marchedaway and took possession of a table of drawings. WhenBecky followed them to the table of drawings, theydropped off one by one to the fire again. She tried tospeak to one of the children (of whom she wascommonly fond in public places), but Master George Gauntwas called away by his mamma; and the stranger wastreated with such cruelty finally, that even Lady Steyneherself pitied her and went up to speak to the friendlesslittle woman.

　　"Lord Steyne," said her Ladyship, as her wan cheeksglowed with a blush, "says you sing and play verybeautifully, Mrs. Crawley--I wish you would do me thekindness to sing to me."

　　"I will do anything that may give pleasure to my LordSteyne or to you," said Rebecca, sincerely grateful, andseating herself at the piano, began to sing.

　　She sang religious songs of Mozart, which had beenearly favourites of Lady Steyne, and with such sweetnessand tenderness that the lady, lingering round the piano,sat down by its side and listened until the tears rolleddown her eyes. It is true that the opposition ladies atthe other end of the room kept up a loud and ceaselessbuzzing and talking, but the Lady Steyne did not hearthose rumours. She was a child again--and hadwandered back through a forty years' wilderness to herconvent garden. The chapel organ had pealed the same tones,the organist, the sister whom she loved best of thecommunity, had taught them to her in those early happydays. She was a girl once more, and the brief period ofher happiness bloomed out again for an hour--shestarted when the jarring doors were flung open, and witha loud laugh from Lord Steyne, the men of the partyentered full of gaiety.

　　He saw at a glance what had happened in his absence,and was grateful to his wife for once. He wentand spoke to her, and called her by her Christian name,so as again to bring blushes to her pale face--"My wifesays you have been singing like an angel," he said toBecky. Now there are angels of two kinds, and both sorts,it is said, are charming in their way.

　　Whatever the previous portion of the evening hadbeen, the rest of that night was a great triumph forBecky. She sang her very best, and it was so good thatevery one of the men came and crowded round thepiano. The women, her enemies, were left quite alone.And Mr. Paul Jefferson Jones thought he had made aconquest of Lady Gaunt by going up to her Ladyshipand praising her delightful friend's first-rate singing.