Chapter XLVIII: In Which the Reader Is Introduced to the Very Best of Company

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　At last Becky's kindness and attention to the chief ofher husband's family were destined to meet with anexceeding great reward, a reward which, though certainlysomewhat unsubstantial, the little woman coveted withgreater eagerness than more positive benefits. If she didnot wish to lead a virtuous life, at least she desired toenjoy a character for virtue, and we know that no ladyin the genteel world can possess this desideratum, untilshe has put on a train and feathers and has beenpresented to her Sovereign at Court. From that augustinterview they come out stamped as honest women. TheLord Chamberlain gives them a certificate of virtue. Andas dubious goods or letters are passed through an ovenat quarantine, sprinkled with aromatic vinegar, and thenpronounced clean, many a lady, whose reputation wouldbe doubtful otherwise and liable to give infection, passesthrough the wholesome ordeal of the Royal presence andissues from it free from all taint.

　　It might be very well for my Lady Bareacres, myLady Tufto, Mrs. Bute Crawley in the country, and otherladies who had come into contact with Mrs. RawdonCrawley to cry fie at the idea of the odious littleadventuress making her curtsey before the Sovereign, andto declare that, if dear good Queen Charlotte had beenalive, she never would have admitted such an extremelyill-regulated personage into her chaste drawing-room. Butwhen we consider that it was the First Gentleman inEurope in whose high presence Mrs. Rawdon passed herexamination, and as it were, took her degree in reputation,it surely must be flat disloyalty to doubt any moreabout her virtue. I, for my part, look back with love andawe to that Great Character in history. Ah, what a highand noble appreciation of Gentlewomanhood there musthave been in Vanity Fair, when that revered and augustbeing was invested, by the universal acclaim of therefined and educated portion of this empire, with the titleof Premier Gentilhomme of his Kingdom. Do youremember, dear M--, oh friend of my youth, how oneblissful night five-and-twenty years since, the "Hypocrite"being acted, Elliston being manager, Dowton and Listonperformers, two boys had leave from their loyal mastersto go out from Slaughter-House School where they wereeducated and to appear on Drury Lane stage, amongst acrowd which assembled there to greet the king. Theking? There he was. Beefeaters were before theaugust box; the Marquis of Steyne (Lord of the PowderCloset) and other great officers of state were behind thechair on which he sat, he sat--florid of face, portly ofperson, covered with orders, and in a rich curling head ofhair--how we sang God save him! How the house rockedand shouted with that magnificent music. How theycheered, and cried, and waved handkerchiefs. Ladieswept; mothers clasped their children; some fainted withemotion. People were suffocated in the pit, shrieks andgroans rising up amidst the writhing and shouting massthere of his people who were, and indeed showed them-selves almost to be, ready to die for him. Yes, we sawhim. Fate cannot deprive us of that. Others have seenNapoleon. Some few still exist who have beheld Frederickthe Great, Doctor Johnson, Marie Antoinette, &c.--be itour reasonable boast to our children, that we saw Georgethe Good, the Magnificent, the Great.

　　Well, there came a happy day in Mrs. Rawdon Crawley'sexistence when this angel was admitted into theparadise of a Court which she coveted, her sister-in-lawacting as her godmother. On the appointed day, Sir Pittand his lady, in their great family carriage (just newlybuilt, and ready for the Baronet's assumption of theoffice of High Sheriff of his county), drove up to the littlehouse in Curzon Street, to the edification of Raggles, whowas watching from his greengrocer's shop, and saw fineplumes within, and enormous bunches of flowers in thebreasts of the new livery-coats of the footmen.

　　Sir Pitt, in a glittering uniform, descended and wentinto Curzon Street, his sword between his legs. LittleRawdon stood with his face against the parlour window-panes, smiling and nodding with all his might to his auntin the carriage within; and presently Sir Pitt issued forthfrom the house again, leading forth a lady with grandfeathers, covered in a white shawl, and holding updaintily a train of magnificent brocade. She stepped into thevehicle as if she were a princess and accustomed all herlife to go to Court, smiling graciously on the footman atthe door and on Sir Pitt, who followed her into thecarriage.

　　Then Rawdon followed in his old Guards' uniform,which had grown woefully shabby, and was much tootight. He was to have followed the procession and waitedupon his sovereign in a cab, but that his good-naturedsister-in-law insisted that they should be a family party.The coach was large, the ladies not very big, they wouldhold their trains in their laps--finally, the four wentfraternally together, and their carriage presently joinedthe line of royal equipages which was making its waydown Piccadilly and St. James's Street, towards the oldbrick palace where the Star of Brunswick was in waitingto receive his nobles and gentlefolks.

　　Becky felt as if she could bless the people out of thecarriage windows, so elated was she in spirit, and sostrong a sense had she of the dignified position whichshe had at last attained in life. Even our Becky had herweaknesses, and as one often sees how men pridethemselves upon excellences which others are slow toperceive: how, for instance, Comus firmly believes that heis the greatest tragic actor in England; how Brown, thefamous novelist, longs to be considered, not a man ofgenius, but a man of fashion; while Robinson, the greatlawyer, does not in the least care about his reputation inWestminster Hall, but believes himself incomparableacross country and at a five-barred gate--so to be, andto be thought, a respectable woman was Becky's aim inlife, and she got up the genteel with amazing assiduity,readiness, and success. We have said, there were timeswhen she believed herself to be a fine lady and forgotthat there was no money in the chest at home--dunsround the gate, tradesmen to coax and wheedle--noground to walk upon, in a word. And as she went toCourt in the carriage, the family carriage, she adopted ademeanour so grand, self-satisfied, deliberate, andimposing that it made even Lady Jane laugh. She walkedinto the royal apartments with a toss of the head whichwould have befitted an empress, and I have no doubt hadshe been one, she would have become the characterperfectly.

　　We are authorized to state that Mrs. Rawdon Crawley'scostume de cour on the occasion of her presentationto the Sovereign was of the most elegant and brilliantdescription. Some ladies we may have seen--wewho wear stars and cordons and attend the St. James'sassemblies, or we, who, in muddy boots, dawdle up anddown Pall Mall and peep into the coaches as they driveup with the great folks in their feathers--some ladies offashion, I say, we may have seen, about two o'clock ofthe forenoon of a levee day, as the laced-jacketed bandof the Life Guards are blowing triumphal marches seatedon those prancing music-stools, their cream-colouredchargers--who are by no means lovely and enticingobjects at that early period of noon. A stout countess ofsixty, decolletee, painted, wrinkled with rouge up to herdrooping eyelids, and diamonds twinkling in her wig, is awholesome and edifying, but not a pleasant sight. Shehas the faded look of a St. James's Street illumination, asit may be seen of an early morning, when half the lampsare out, and the others are blinking wanly, as if theywere about to vanish like ghosts before the dawn. Suchcharms as those of which we catch glimpses while herladyship's carriage passes should appear abroad at nightalone. If even Cynthia looks haggard of an afternoon, aswe may see her sometimes in the present winter season,with Phoebus staring her out of countenance from theopposite side of the heavens, how much more can oldLady Castlemouldy keep her head up when the sun isshining full upon it through the chariot windows, andshowing all the chinks and crannies with which time hasmarked her face! No. Drawing-rooms should beannounced for November, or the first foggy day, or theelderly sultanas of our Vanity Fair should drive up inclosed litters, descend in a covered way, and make theircurtsey to the Sovereign under the protection of lamplight.

　　Our beloved Rebecca had no need, however, of anysuch a friendly halo to set off her beauty. Her complexioncould bear any sunshine as yet, and her dress, though ifyou were to see it now, any present lady of Vanity Fairwould pronounce it to be the most foolish and preposterousattire ever worn, was as handsome in her eyesand those of the public, some five-and-twenty years since,as the most brilliant costume of the most famous beautyof the present season. A score of years hence that too,that milliner's wonder, will have passed into the domainof the absurd, along with all previous vanities. But weare wandering too much. Mrs. Rawdon's dress waspronounced to be charmante on the eventful day of herpresentation. Even good little Lady Jane was forced toacknowledge this effect, as she looked at her kinswoman,and owned sorrowfully to herself that she was quiteinferior in taste to Mrs. Becky.

　　She did not know how much care, thought, and geniusMrs. Rawdon had bestowed upon that garment. Rebeccahad as good taste as any milliner in Europe, and such aclever way of doing things as Lady Jane little understood.The latter quickly spied out the magnificence of thebrocade of Becky's train, and the splendour of the lace onher dress.

　　The brocade was an old remnant, Becky said; and asfor the lace, it was a great bargain. She had had it thesehundred years.

　　"My dear Mrs. Crawley, it must have cost a littlefortune," Lady Jane said, looking down at her own lace,which was not nearly so good; and then examining thequality of the ancient brocade which formed thematerial of Mrs. Rawdon's Court dress, she felt inclined tosay that she could not afford such fine clothing, butchecked that speech, with an effort, as one uncharitableto her kinswoman.

　　And yet, if Lady Jane had known all, I think even herkindly temper would have failed her. The fact is, whenshe was putting Sir Pitt's house in order, Mrs. Rawdonhad found the lace and the brocade in old wardrobes,the property of the former ladies of the house, and hadquietly carried the goods home, and had suited them toher own little person. Briggs saw her take them, askedno questions, told no stories; but I believe quitesympathised with her on this matter, and so wouldmany another honest woman.

　　And the diamonds--"Where the doose did you get thediamonds, Becky?" said her husband, admiring somejewels which he had never seen before and which sparkledin her ears and on her neck with brilliance and profusion.

　　Becky blushed a little and looked at him hard for amoment. Pitt Crawley blushed a little too, and lookedout of window. The fact is, he had given her a verysmall portion of the brilliants; a pretty diamond clasp,which confined a pearl necklace which she wore- and theBaronet had omitted to mention the circumstance tohis lady.

　　Becky looked at her husband, and then at Sir Pitt,with an air of saucy triumph--as much as to say, "ShallI betray you?"

　　"Guess!" she said to her husband. "Why, you sillyman," she continued, "where do you suppose I got them?--all except the little clasp, which a dear friend of minegave me long ago. I hired them, to be sure. I hired themat Mr. Polonius's, in Coventry Street. You don't supposethat all the diamonds which go to Court belong to thewearers; like those beautiful stones which Lady Jane has,and which are much handsomer than any which I have,I am certain."

　　"They are family jewels," said Sir Pitt, again lookinguneasy. And in this family conversation the carriagerolled down the street, until its cargo was finallydischarged at the gates of the palace where the Sovereignwas sitting in state.

　　The diamonds, which had created Rawdon's admiration,never went back to Mr. Polonius, of Coventry Street, andthat gentleman never applied for their restoration, butthey retired into a little private repository, in an old desk,which Amelia Sedley had given her years and years ago,and in which Becky kept a number of useful and,perhaps, valuable things, about which her husbandknew nothing. To know nothing, or little, is in thenature of some husbands. To hide, in the nature of howmany women? Oh, ladies! how many of you havesurreptitious milliners' bills? How many of you have gownsand bracelets which you daren't show, or which you weartrembling?--trembling, and coaxing with smiles thehusband by your side, who does not know the new velvetgown from the old one, or the new bracelet from lastyear's, or has any notion that the ragged-looking yellowlace scarf cost forty guineas and that Madame Bobinot iswriting dunning letters every week for the money!

　　Thus Rawdon knew nothing about the brilliant diamondear-rings, or the superb brilliant ornament whichdecorated the fair bosom of his lady; but Lord Steyne,who was in his place at Court, as Lord of the PowderCloset, and one of the great dignitaries and illustriousdefences of the throne of England, and came up with allhis stars, garters, collars, and cordons, and paid particularattention to the little woman, knew whence the jewelscame and who paid for them.

　　As he bowed over her he smiled, and quoted thehackneyed and beautiful lines from The Rape of the Lockabout Belinda's diamonds, "which Jews might kiss andinfidels adore."

　　"But I hope your lordship is orthodox," said the littlelady with a toss of her head. And many ladies roundabout whispered and talked, and many gentlemen noddedand whispered, as they saw what marked attention thegreat nobleman was paying to the little adventuress.

　　What were the circumstances of the interview betweenRebecca Crawley, nee Sharp, and her Imperial Master,it does not become such a feeble and inexperienced penas mine to attempt to relate. The dazzled eyes closebefore that Magnificent Idea. Loyal respect and decency telleven the imagination not to look too keenly and audaciouslyabout the sacred audience-chamber, but to back awayrapidly, silently, and respectfully, making profoundbows out of the August Presence.

　　This may be said, that in all London there was nomore loyal heart than Becky's after this interview. Thename of her king was always on her lips, and he wasproclaimed by her to be the most charming of men. Shewent to Colnaghi's and ordered the finest portrait of himthat art had produced, and credit could supply. She chosethat famous one in which the best of monarchs isrepresented in a frock-coat with a fur collar, and breechesand silk stockings, simpering on a sofa from under hiscurly brown wig. She had him painted in a brooch andwore it--indeed she amused and somewhat pestered heracquaintance with her perpetual talk about his urbanityand beauty. Who knows! Perhaps the little womanthought she might play the part of a Maintenon or aPompadour.

　　But the finest sport of all after her presentation was tohear her talk virtuously. She had a few female acquaintances,not, it must be owned, of the very highest reputationin Vanity Fair. But being made an honest woman of,so to speak, Becky would not consort any longer withthese dubious ones, and cut Lady Crackenbury when thelatter nodded to her from her opera-box, and gave Mrs.Washington White the go-by in the Ring. "One must, mydear, show one is somebody," she said. "One mustn't beseen with doubtful people. I pity Lady Crackenbury frommy heart, and Mrs. Washington White may be a verygood-natured person. You may go and dine with them,as you like your rubber. But I mustn't, and won't; andyou will have the goodness to tell Smith to say I am notat home when either of them calls."

　　The particulars of Becky's costume were in the newspapers--feathers, lappets, superb diamonds, and all therest. Lady Crackenbury read the paragraph in bitternessof spirit and discoursed to her followers about the airswhich that woman was giving herself. Mrs. Bute Crawleyand her young ladies in the country had a copy of theMorning Post from town, and gave a vent to their honestindignation. "If you had been sandy-haired, green-eyed,and a French rope-dancer's daughter," Mrs. Bute saidto her eldest girl (who, on the contrary, was a veryswarthy, short, and snub-nosed young lady), "You mighthave had superb diamonds forsooth, and have beenpresented at Court by your cousin, the Lady Jane. But you'reonly a gentlewoman, my poor dear child. You have onlysome of the best blood in England in your veins, andgood principles and piety for your portion. I, myself,the wife of a Baronet's younger brother, too, neverthought of such a thing as going to Court--nor wouldother people, if good Queen Charlotte had been alive."In this way the worthy Rectoress consoled herself, andher daughters sighed and sat over the Peerage all night.

　　A few days after the famous presentation, anothergreat and exceeding honour was vouchsafed to thevirtuous Becky. Lady Steyne's carriage drove up to Mr.Rawdon Crawley's door, and the footman, instead of drivingdown the front of the house, as by his tremendousknocking he appeared to be inclined to do, relented and onlydelivered in a couple of cards, on which were engraventhe names of the Marchioness of Steyne and theCountess of Gaunt. If these bits of pasteboard had beenbeautiful pictures, or had had a hundred yards of Malines lacerolled round them, worth twice the number of guineas,Becky could not have regarded them with more pleasure.You may be sure they occupied a conspicuous place inthe china bowl on the drawing-room table, where Beckykept the cards of her visitors. Lord! lord! how poorMrs. Washington White's card and Lady Crackenbury'scard--which our little friend had been glad enough toget a few months back, and of which the silly littlecreature was rather proud once--Lord! lord! I say, how soonat the appearance of these grand court cards, did thosepoor little neglected deuces sink down to the bottom ofthe pack. Steyne! Bareacres, Johnes of Helvellyn! andCaerylon of Camelot! we may be sure that Becky andBriggs looked out those august names in the Peerage,and followed the noble races up through all theramifications of the family tree.

　　My Lord Steyne coming to call a couple of hoursafterwards, and looking about him, and observingeverything as was his wont, found his ladies' cards alreadyranged as the trumps of Becky's hand, and grinned, asthis old cynic always did at any naive display of humanweakness. Becky came down to him presently; wheneverthe dear girl expected his lordship, her toilette wasprepared, her hair in perfect order, her mouchoirs, aprons,scarfs, little morocco slippers, and other femalegimcracks arranged, and she seated in some artless andagreeable posture ready to receive him--whenever shewas surprised, of course, she had to fly to her apartmentto take a rapid survey of matters in the glass, andto trip down again to wait upon the great peer.

　　She found him grinning over the bowl. She wasdiscovered, and she blushed a little. "Thank you,Monseigneur," she said. "You see your ladies havebeen here. How good of you! I couldn't come before--I was in the kitchen making a pudding."

　　"I know you were, I saw you through the area-railingsas I drove up," replied the old gentleman.

　　"You see everything," she replied.

　　"A few things, but not that, my pretty lady," he saidgood-naturedly. "You silly little fibster! I heard you inthe room overhead, where I have no doubt you wereputting a little rouge on--you must give some of yours tomy Lady Gaunt, whose complexion is quite preposterous--and I heard the bedroom door open, and then youcame downstairs."

　　"Is it a crime to try and look my best when you comehere?" answered Mrs. Rawdon plaintively, and she rubbedher cheek with her handkerchief as if to show there wasno rouge at all, only genuine blushes and modesty in hercase. About this who can tell? I know there is somerouge that won't come off on a pocket-handkerchief,and some so good that even tears will not disturb it.

　　"Well," said the old gentleman, twiddling round hiswife's card, "you are bent on becoming a fine lady.You pester my poor old life out to get you into theworld. You won't be able to hold your own there, yousilly little fool. You've got no money."

　　"You will get us a place," interposed Becky, "as quickas possible."

　　"You've got no money, and you want to compete withthose who have. You poor little earthenware pipkin, youwant to swim down the stream along with the great cop-per kettles. All women are alike. Everybody is strivingfor what is not worth the having! Gad! I dined with theKing yesterday, and we had neck of mutton and turnips.A dinner of herbs is better than a stalled ox very often.You will go to Gaunt House. You give an old fellow norest until you get there. It's not half so nice as here.You'll be bored there. I am. My wife is as gay as LadyMacbeth, and my daughters as cheerful as Regan andGoneril. I daren't sleep in what they call my bedroom.The bed is like the baldaquin of St. Peter's, and thepictures frighten me. I have a little brass bed in adressing-room, and a little hair mattress like an anchorite.I am an anchorite. Ho! ho! You'll be asked to dinner nextweek. And gare aux femmes, look out and hold yourown! How the women will bully you!" This was a verylong speech for a man of few words like my Lord Steyne;nor was it the first which he uttered for Becky's benefiton that day.

　　Briggs looked up from the work-table at which shewas seated in the farther room and gave a deep sighas she heard the great Marquis speak so lightly of her sex.

　　"If you don't turn off that abominable sheep-dog," saidLord Steyne, with a savage look over his shoulder ather, "I will have her poisoned."

　　"I always give my dog dinner from my own plate,"said Rebecca, laughing mischievously; and havingenjoyed for some time the discomfiture of my lord, whohated poor Briggs for interrupting his tete-a-tetewith the fair Colonel's wife, Mrs. Rawdon at length hadpity upon her admirer, and calling to Briggs, praised thefineness of the weather to her and bade her to take outthe child for a walk.

　　"I can't send her away," Becky said presently, aftera pause, and in a very sad voice. Her eyes filled withtears as she spoke, and she turned away her head.

　　"You owe her her wages, I suppose?" said the Peer.

　　"Worse than that," said Becky, still casting down hereyes; "I have ruined her."

　　"Ruined her? Then why don't you turn her out?" thegentleman asked.

　　"Men do that," Becky answered bitterly. "Women arenot so bad as you. Last year, when we were reducedto our last guinea, she gave us everything. She shallnever leave me, until we are ruined utterly ourselves,which does not seem far off, or until I can pay her theutmost farthing."

　　--it, how much is it?" said the Peer with an oath.And Becky, reflecting on the largeness of his means,mentioned not only the sum which she had borrowed fromMiss Briggs, but one of nearly double the amount.

　　This caused the Lord Steyne to break out in anotherbrief and energetic expression of anger, at which Rebeccaheld down her head the more and cried bitterly. "I couldnot help it. It was my only chance. I dare not tell myhusband. He would kill me if I told him what I havedone. I have kept it a secret from everybody but you--and you forced it from me. Ah, what shall I do, LordSteyne? for I am very, very unhappy!"

　　Lord Steyne made no reply except by beating thedevil's tattoo and biting his nails. At last he clappedhis hat on his head and flung out of the room. Rebeccadid not rise from her attitude of misery until the doorslammed upon him and his carriage whirled away. Thenshe rose up with the queerest expression of victoriousmischief glittering in her green eyes. She burst out laughingonce or twice to herself, as she sat at work, andsitting down to the piano, she rattled away a triumphantvoluntary on the keys, which made the people pauseunder her window to listen to her brilliant music.

　　That night, there came two notes from Gaunt Housefor the little woman, the one containing a card ofinvitation from Lord and Lady Steyne to a dinner at GauntHouse next Friday, while the other enclosed a slip ofgray paper bearing Lord Steyne's signature and theaddress of Messrs. Jones, Brown, and Robinson, LombardStreet.

　　Rawdon heard Becky laughing in the night once ortwice. It was only her delight at going to Gaunt Houseand facing the ladies there, she said, which amused herso. But the truth was that she was occupied with a greatnumber of other thoughts. Should she pay off old Briggsand give her her conge? Should she astonish Ragglesby settling his account? She turned over all these thoughtson her pillow, and on the next day, when Rawdon wentout to pay his morning visit to the Club, Mrs. Crawley(in a modest dress with a veil on) whipped off in ahackney-coach to the City: and being landed at Messrs.Jones and Robinson's bank, presented a document thereto the authority at the desk, who, in reply, asked her"How she would take it?"

　　She gently said "she would take a hundred and fiftypounds in small notes and the remainder in one note":and passing through St. Paul's Churchyard stopped thereand bought the handsomest black silk gown for Briggswhich money could buy; and which, with a kiss and thekindest speeches, she presented to the simple oldspinster.

　　Then she walked to Mr. Raggles, inquired about hischildren affectionately, and gave him fifty pounds onaccount. Then she went to the livery-man from whomshe jobbed her carriages and gratified him with a similarsum. "And I hope this will be a lesson to you, Spavin,"she said, "and that on the next drawing-room day mybrother, Sir Pitt, will not be inconvenienced by beingobliged to take four of us in his carriage to wait uponHis Majesty, because my own carriage is not forthcoming."It appears there had been a difference on the lastdrawing-room day. Hence the degradation which theColonel had almost suffered, of being obliged to enterthe presence of his Sovereign in a hack cab.

　　These arrangements concluded, Becky paid a visitupstairs to the before-mentioned desk, which AmeliaSedley had given her years and years ago, and whichcontained a number of useful and valuable little things--inwhich private museum she placed the one note whichMessrs. Jones and Robinson's cashier had given her.