Chapter XXI: A Quarrel About an Heiress

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　Love may be felt for any young lady endowed with suchqualities as Miss Swartz possessed; and a great dream ofambition entered into old Mr. Osborne's soul, which shewas to realize. He encouraged, with the utmost enthusiasmand friendliness, his daughters' amiable attachment to theyoung heiress, and protested that it gave him the sincerestpleasure as a father to see the love of his girls so well disposed.

　　"You won't find," he would say to Miss Rhoda, "thatsplendour and rank to which you are accustomed at theWest End, my dear Miss, at our humble mansion in RussellSquare. My daughters are plain, disinterested girls, buttheir hearts are in the right place, and they've conceivedan attachment for you which does them honour--I say,which does them honour. I'm a plain, simple, humbleBritish merchant--an honest one, as my respected friendsHulker and Bullock will vouch, who were the correspondentsof your late lamented father. You'll find us aunited, simple, happy, and I think I may say respected,family--a plain table, a plain people, but a warm welcome,my dear Miss Rhoda--Rhoda, let me say, for myheart warms to you, it does really. I'm a frank man, andI like you. A glass of Champagne! Hicks, Champagne toMiss Swartz."

　　There is little doubt that old Osborne believed all hesaid, and that the girls were quite earnest in theirprotestations of affection for Miss Swartz. People in VanityFair fasten on to rich folks quite naturally. If the simplestpeople are disposed to look not a little kindly ongreat Prosperity (for I defy any member of the Britishpublic to say that the notion of Wealth has not somethingawful and pleasing to him; and you, if you are told thatthe man next you at dinner has got half a million, not tolook at him with a certain interest)--if the simple lookbenevolently on money, how much more do your oldworldlings regard it! Their affections rush out to meet andwelcome money. Their kind sentiments awaken spontaneously towards the interesting possessors of it. I knowsome respectable people who don't consider themselvesat liberty to indulge in friendship for any individual whohas not a certain competency, or place in society. Theygive a loose to their feelings on proper occasions. Andthe proof is, that the major part of the Osborne family,who had not, in fifteen years, been able to get up ahearty regard for Amelia Sedley, became as fond of MissSwartz in the course of a single evening as the mostromantic advocate of friendship at first sight could desire.

　　What a match for George she'd be (the sisters andMiss Wirt agreed), and how much better than thatinsignificant little Amelia! Such a dashing young fellow ashe is, with his good looks, rank, and accomplishments,would be the very husband for her. Visions of balls inPortland Place, presentations at Court, and introductionsto half the peerage, filled the minds of the young ladies;who talked of nothing but George and his grandacquaintances to their beloved new friend.

　　Old Osborne thought she would be a great match, too,for his son. He should leave the army; he should go intoParliament; he should cut a figure in the fashion and inthe state. His blood boiled with honest British exultation,as he saw the name of Osborne ennobled in the personof his son, and thought that he might be the progenitor ofa glorious line of baronets. He worked in the City and on'Change, until he knew everything relating to the fortuneof the heiress, how her money was placed, and where herestates lay. Young Fred Bullock, one of his chief informants,would have liked to make a bid for her himself(it was so the young banker expressed it), only he wasbooked to Maria Osborne. But not being able to secureher as a wife, the disinterested Fred quite approved of heras a sister-in-law. "Let George cut in directly and winher," was his advice. "Strike while the iron's hot, youknow--while she's fresh to the town: in a few weekssome d-- fellow from the West End will come in with atitle and a rotten rent-roll and cut all us City men out, asLord Fitzrufus did last year with Miss Grogram, who wasactually engaged to Podder, of Podder & Brown's. Thesooner it is done the better, Mr. Osborne; them's mysentiments," the wag said; though, when Osborne had leftthe bank parlour, Mr. Bullock remembered Amelia, andwhat a pretty girl she was, and how attached to GeorgeOsborne; and he gave up at least ten seconds of hisvaluable time to regretting the misfortune which hadbefallen that unlucky young woman.

　　While thus George Osborne's good feelings, and hisgood friend and genius, Dobbin, were carrying back thetruant to Amelia's feet, George's parent and sisters werearranging this splendid match for him, which they neverdreamed he would resist.

　　When the elder Osborne gave what he called "a hint,"there was no possibility for the most obtuse to mistakehis meaning. He called kicking a footman downstairs ahint to the latter to leave his service. With his usualfrankness and delicacy he told Mrs. Haggistoun that hewould give her a cheque for five thousand pounds on theday his son was married to her ward; and called thatproposal a hint, and considered it a very dexterous pieceof diplomacy. He gave George finally such another hintregarding the heiress; and ordered him to marry her outof hand, as he would have ordered his butler to draw acork, or his clerk to write a letter.

　　This imperative hint disturbed George a good deal. Hewas in the very first enthusiasm and delight of his secondcourtship of Amelia, which was inexpressibly sweetto him. The contrast of her manners and appearance withthose of the heiress, made the idea of a union with thelatter appear doubly ludicrous and odious. Carriages andopera-boxes, thought he; fancy being seen in them by theside of such a mahogany charmer as that! Add to allthat the junior Osborne was quite as obstinate as thesenior: when he wanted a thing, quite as firm in hisresolution to get it; and quite as violent when angered,as his father in his most stern moments.

　　On the first day when his father formally gave him thehint that he was to place his affections at Miss Swartz'sfeet, George temporised with the old gentleman. "Youshould have thought of the matter sooner, sir," he said."It can't be done now, when we're expecting every dayto go on foreign service. Wait till my return, if I doreturn"; and then he represented, that the time when theregiment was daily expecting to quit England, wasexceedingly ill-chosen: that the few days or weeks duringwhich they were still to remain at home, must bedevoted to business and not to love-making: time enoughfor that when he came home with his majority; "for, Ipromise you," said he, with a satisfied air, "that oneway or other you shall read the name of George Osbornein the Gazette."

　　The father's reply to this was founded upon theinformation which he had got in the City: that the WestEnd chaps would infallibly catch hold of the heiress ifany delay took place: that if he didn't marry Miss S., hemight at least have an engagement in writing, to comeinto effect when he returned to England; and that a manwho could get ten thousand a year by staying at home,was a fool to risk his life abroad.

　　"So that you would have me shown up as a coward, sir,and our name dishonoured for the sake of Miss Swartz'smoney," George interposed.

　　This remark staggered the old gentleman; but as hehad to reply to it, and as his mind was neverthelessmade up, he said, "You will dine here to-morrow, sir,and every day Miss Swartz comes, you will be here topay your respects to her. If you want for money, callupon Mr. Chopper." Thus a new obstacle was in George'sway, to interfere with his plans regarding Amelia; andabout which he and Dobbin had more than one confidential consultation. His friend's opinion respecting theline of conduct which he ought to pursue, we knowalready. And as for Osborne, when he was once bent on athing, a fresh obstacle or two only rendered him themore resolute.

　　The dark object of the conspiracy into which the chiefsof the Osborne family had entered, was quite ignorant ofall their plans regarding her (which, strange to say, herfriend and chaperon did not divulge), and, taking all theyoung ladies' flattery for genuine sentiment, and being,as we have before had occasion to show, of a verywarm and impetuous nature, responded to their affectionwith quite a tropical ardour. And if the truth may be told,I dare say that she too had some selfish attraction in theRussell Square house; and in a word, thought GeorgeOsborne a very nice young man. His whiskers had madean impression upon her, on the very first night shebeheld them at the ball at Messrs. Hulkers; and, as weknow, she was not the first woman who had beencharmed by them. George had an air at once swaggeringand melancholy, languid and fierce. He looked like aman who had passions, secrets, and private harrowinggriefs and adventures. His voice was rich and deep. Hewould say it was a warm evening, or ask his partner totake an ice, with a tone as sad and confidential as if hewere breaking her mother's death to her, or preluding adeclaration of love. He trampled over all the young bucksof his father's circle, and was the hero among thosethird-rate men. Some few sneered at him and hated him.Some, like Dobbin, fanatically admired him. And his whiskershad begun to do their work, and to curl themselvesround the affections of Miss Swartz.

　　Whenever there was a chance of meeting him in RussellSquare, that simple and good-natured young womanwas quite in a flurry to see her dear Misses Osborne. Shewent to great expenses in new gowns, and bracelets, andbonnets, and in prodigious feathers. She adorned herperson with her utmost skill to please the Conqueror,and exhibited all her simple accomplishments to win hisfavour. The girls would ask her, with the greatestgravity, for a little music, and she would sing her threesongs and play her two little pieces as often as everthey asked, and with an always increasing pleasure toherself. During these delectable entertainments, MissWirt and the chaperon sate by, and conned over thepeerage, and talked about the nobility.

　　The day after George had his hint from his father, anda short time before the hour of dinner, he was lollingupon a sofa in the drawing-room in a very becomingand perfectly natural attitude of melancholy. He hadbeen, at his father's request, to Mr. Chopper in the City(the old-gentleman, though he gave great sums to hisson, would never specify any fixed allowance for him,and rewarded him only as he was in the humour). Hehad then been to pass three hours with Amelia, hisdear little Amelia, at Fulham; and he came home tofind his sisters spread in starched muslin in the drawing-room, the dowagers cackling in the background, andhonest Swartz in her favourite amber-coloured satin, withturquoise bracelets, countless rings, flowers, feathers, andall sorts of tags and gimcracks, about as elegantlydecorated as a she chimney-sweep on May-day.

　　The girls, after vain attempts to engage him in conversation,talked about fashions and the last drawing-roomuntil he was perfectly sick of their chatter. Hecontrasted their behaviour with little Emmy's--theirshrill voices with her tender ringing tones; their attitudesand their elbows and their starch, with her humble softmovements and modest graces. Poor Swartz was seatedin a place where Emmy had been accustomed to sit.Her bejewelled hands lay sprawling in her amber satinlap. Her tags and ear-rings twinkled, and her big eyesrolled about. She was doing nothing with perfect contentment,and thinking herself charming. Anything so becomingas the satin the sisters had never seen.

　　"Dammy," George said to a confidential friend, "shelooked like a China doll, which has nothing to do all daybut to grin and wag its head. By Jove, Will, it was all II could do to prevent myself from throwing the sofa-cushion at her." He restrained that exhibition ofsentiment, however.

　　The sisters began to play the Battle of Prague. "Stopthat d-- thing," George howled out in a fury from thesofa. "It makes me mad. You play us something, MissSwartz, do. Sing something, anything but the Battle ofPrague."

　　"Shall I sing 'Blue Eyed Mary' or the air from theCabinet?" Miss Swartz asked.

　　"That sweet thing from the Cabinet," the sisters said.

　　"We've had that," replied the misanthrope on the sofa

　　"I can sing 'Fluvy du Tajy,' " Swartz said, in a meekvoice, "if I had the words." It was the last of the worthyyoung woman's collection.

　　"O, 'Fleuve du Tage,' " Miss Maria cried; "we have thesong," and went off to fetch the book in which it was.

　　Now it happened that this song, then in the height ofthe fashion, had been given to the young ladies by a youngfriend of theirs, whose name was on the title, and MissSwartz, having concluded the ditty with George's applause(for he remembered that it was a favourite of Amelia's),was hoping for an encore perhaps, and fiddling with theleaves of the music, when her eye fell upon the title, andshe saw "Amelia Sedley" written in the comer.

　　"Lor!" cried Miss Swartz, spinning swiftly round onthe music-stool, "is it my Amelia? Amelia that was atMiss P.'s at Hammersmith? I know it is. It's her. and--Tell me about her--where is she?"

　　"Don't mention her," Miss Maria Osborne saidhastily. "Her family has disgraced itself. Her fathercheated Papa, and as for her, she is never to be mentionedhere." This was Miss Maria's return for George'srudeness about the Battle of Prague.

　　"Are you a friend of Amelia's?" George said, bouncingup. "God bless you for it, Miss Swartz. Don't believewhat,the girls say. She's not to blame at any rate.She's the best--"

　　"You know you're not to speak about her, George,"cried Jane. "Papa forbids it."

　　"Who's to prevent me?" George cried out. "I will speakof her. I say she's the best, the kindest, the gentlest, thesweetest girl in England; and that, bankrupt or no, mysisters are not fit to hold candles to her. If you like her,go and see her, Miss Swartz; she wants friends now; andI say, God bless everybody who befriends her. Anybodywho speaks kindly of her is my friend; anybody whospeaks against her is my enemy. Thank you, Miss Swartz";and he went up and wrung her hand.

　　"George! George!" one of the sisters cried imploringly.

　　"I say," George said fiercely, "I thank everybody wholoves Amelia Sed--" He stopped. Old Osborne was inthe room with a face livid with rage, and eyes like hotcoals.

　　Though George had stopped in his sentence, yet, hisblood being up, he was not to be cowed by all thegenerations of Osborne; rallying instantly, he replied tothe bullying look of his father, with another so indicativeof resolution and defiance that the elder man quailed inhis turn, and looked away. He felt that the tussle wascoming. "Mrs. Haggistoun, let me take you down to dinner,"he said. "Give your arm to Miss Swartz, George,"and they marched.

　　"Miss Swartz, I love Amelia, and we've been engagedalmost all our lives," Osborne said to his partner; andduring all the dinner, George rattled on with a volubilitywhich surprised himself, and made his father doublynervous for the fight which was to take place as soon asthe ladies were gone.

　　The difference between the pair was, that while thefather was violent and a bully, the son had thrice thenerve and courage of the parent, and could not merelymake an attack, but resist it; and finding that the momentwas now come when the contest between him andhis father was to be decided, he took his dinner withperfect coolness and appetite before the engagementbegan. Old Osborne, on the contrary, was nervous, anddrank much. He floundered in his conversation with theladies, his neighbours: George's coolness only renderinghim more angry. It made him half mad to see the calmway in which George, flapping his napkin, and with aswaggering bow, opened the door for the ladies to leavethe room; and filling himself a glass of wine, smacked it,and looked his father full in the face, as if to say,"Gentlemen of the Guard, fire first." The old man also took asupply of ammunition, but his decanter clinked againstthe glass as he tried to fill it.

　　After giving a great heave, and with a purple chokingface, he then began. "How dare you, sir, mention thatperson's name before Miss Swartz to-day, in my drawing-room? I ask you, sir, how dare you do it?"

　　"Stop, sir," says George, "don't say dare, sir. Dareisn't a word to be used to a Captain in the British Army."

　　"I shall say what I like to my son, sir. I can cut him offwith a shilling if I like. I can make him a beggar if I like.I will say what I like," the elder said.

　　"I'm a gentleman though I am your son, sir," Georgeanswered haughtily. "Any communications which youhave to make to me, or any orders which you mayplease to give, I beg may be couched in that kind oflanguage which I am accustomed to hear."

　　Whenever the lad assumed his haughty manner, italways created either great awe or great irritation in theparent. Old Osborne stood in secret terror of his son as abetter gentleman than himself; and perhaps my readersmay have remarked in their experience of this Vanity Fairof ours, that there is no character which a low-mindedman so much mistrusts as that of a gentleman.

　　"My father didn't give me the education you have had,nor the advantages you have had, nor the money youhave had. If I had kept the company some folks havehad through my means, perhaps my son wouldn't haveany reason to brag, sir, of his superiority and West Endairs (these words were uttered in the elder Osborne'smost sarcastic tones). But it wasn't considered the partof a gentleman, in my time, for a man to insult his father.If I'd done any such thing, mine would have kicked medownstairs, sir."

　　"I never insulted you, sir. I said I begged you toremember your son was a gentleman as well as yourself.I know very well that you give me plenty of money,"said George (fingering a bundle of notes which he hadgot in the morning from Mr. Chopper). "You tell it meoften enough, sir. There's no fear of my forgetting it."

　　"I wish you'd remember other things as well, sir," thesire answered. "I wish you'd remember that in this house--so long as you choose to honour it with your company,Captain--I'm the master, and that name, and thatthat--that you--that I say--"

　　"That what, sir?" George asked, with scarcely a sneer,filling another glass of claret.

　　"--!" burst out his father with a screaming oath--"that the name of those Sedleys never be mentionedhere, sir--not one of the whole damned lot of 'em, sir."

　　"It wasn't I, sir, that introduced Miss Sedley's name. Itwas my sisters who spoke ill of her to Miss Swartz; andby Jove I'll defend her wherever I go. Nobody shallspeak lightly of that name in my presence. Our familyhas done her quite enough injury already, I think, andmay leave off reviling her now she's down. I'll shoot anyman but you who says a word against her."

　　"Go on, sir, go on," the old gentleman said, his eyesstarting out of his head.

　　"Go on about what, sir? about the way in which we'vetreated that angel of a girl? Who told me to love her? Itwas your doing. I might have chosen elsewhere, andlooked higher, perhaps, than your society: but I obeyedyou. And now that her heart's mine you give me ordersto fling it away, and punish her, kill her perhaps--forthe faults of other people. It's a shame, by Heavens,"said George, working himself up into passion andenthusiasm as he proceeded, "to play at fast and loose witha young girl's affections--and with such an angel as that--one so superior to the people amongst whom she lived,that she might have excited envy, only she was so goodand gentle, that it's a wonder anybody dared to hate her.If I desert her, sir, do you suppose she forgets me?"

　　"I ain't going to have any of this dam sentimental nonsenseand humbug here, sir," the father cried out. "Thereshall be no beggar-marriages in my family. If you chooseto fling away eight thousand a year, which you may havefor the asking, you may do it: but by Jove you take yourpack and walk out of this house, sir. Will you do as I tellyou, once for all, sir, or will you not?"

　　"Marry that mulatto woman?" George said, pulling uphis shirt-collars. "I don't like the colour, sir. Ask theblack that sweeps opposite Fleet Market, sir. I'm notgoing to marry a Hottentot Venus."

　　Mr. Osborne pulled frantically at the cord by which hewas accustomed to summon the butler when he wantedwine--and almost black in the face, ordered that functionaryto call a coach for Captain Osborne.

　　"I've done it," said George, coming into the Slaughters'an hour afterwards, looking very pale.

　　"What, my boy?" says Dobbin.

　　George told what had passed between his father andhimself.

　　"I'll marry her to-morrow," he said with an oath. "Ilove her more every day, Dobbin."