Chapter XXXIV: James Crawley's Pipe Is Put Out

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　The amiable behaviour of Mr. Crawley, and Lady Jane'skind reception of her, highly flattered Miss Briggs, whowas enabled to speak a good word for the latter, afterthe cards of the Southdown family had been presented toMiss Crawley. A Countess's card left personally too forher, Briggs, was not a little pleasing to the poor friendlesscompanion. "What could Lady Southdown mean byleaving a card upon you, I wonder, Miss Briggs?" saidthe republican Miss Crawley; upon which the companionmeekly said "that she hoped there could be no harm in alady of rank taking notice of a poor gentlewoman," andshe put away this card in her work-box amongst her mostcherished personal treasures. Furthermore, Miss Briggsexplained how she had met Mr. Crawley walking with hiscousin and long affianced bride the day before: and shetold how kind and gentle-looking the lady was, and whata plain, not to say common, dress she had, all the articlesof which, from the bonnet down to the boots, shedescribed and estimated with female accuracy.

　　Miss Crawley allowed Briggs to prattle on withoutinterrupting her too much. As she got well, she was piningfor society. Mr. Creamer, her medical man, would nothear of her returning to her old haunts and dissipation inLondon. The old spinster was too glad to find anycompanionship at Brighton, and not only were the cardsacknowledged the very next day, but Pitt Crawley wasgraciously invited to come and see his aunt. He came,bringing with him Lady Southdown and her daughter. Thedowager did not say a word about the state of MissCrawley's soul; but talked with much discretion about theweather: about the war and the downfall of the monsterBonaparte: and above all, about doctors, quacks, and theparticular merits of Dr. Podgers, whom she thenpatronised.

　　During their interview Pitt Crawley made a greatstroke, and one which showed that, had his diplomaticcareer not been blighted by early neglect, he might haverisen to a high rank in his profession. When the CountessDowager of Southdown fell foul of the Corsican upstart,as the fashion was in those days, and showed that he wasa monster stained with every conceivable crime, a cowardand a tyrant not fit to live, one whose fall was predicted,&c., Pitt Crawley suddenly took up the cudgels in favourof the man of Destiny. He described the First Consul ashe saw him at Paris at the peace of Amiens; when he, PittCrawley, had the gratification of making the acquaintanceof the great and good Mr. Fox, a statesman whom,however much he might differ with him, it was impossible notto admire fervently--a statesman who had always hadthe highest opinion of the Emperor Napoleon. And hespoke in terms of the strongest indignation of the faithlessconduct of the allies towards this dethroned monarch,who, after giving himself generously up to their mercy,was consigned to an ignoble and cruel banishment, whilea bigoted Popish rabble was tyrannising over France inhis stead.

　　This orthodox horror of Romish superstition savedPitt Crawley in Lady Southdown's opinion, whilst hisadmiration for Fox and Napoleon raised him immeasurablyin Miss Crawley's eyes. Her friendship with thatdefunct British statesman was mentioned when we firstintroduced her in this history. A true Whig, Miss Crawleyhad been in opposition all through the war, and though, tobe sure, the downfall of the Emperor did not very muchagitate the old lady, or his ill-treatment tend to shortenher life or natural rest, yet Pitt spoke to her heart whenhe lauded both her idols; and by that single speech madeimmense progress in her favour.

　　"And what do you think, my dear?" Miss Crawley saidto the young lady, for whom she had taken a liking atfirst sight, as she always did for pretty and modest youngpeople; though it must be owned her affections cooled asrapidly as they rose.

　　Lady Jane blushed very much, and said "that she didnot understand politics, which she left to wiser headsthan hers; but though Mamma was, no doubt, correct,Mr. Crawley had spoken beautifully." And when the ladieswere retiring at the conclusion of their visit, Miss Crawleyhoped "Lady Southdown would be so kind as to sendher Lady Jane sometimes, if she could be spared to comedown and console a poor sick lonely old woman." Thispromise was graciously accorded, and they separatedupon great terms of amity.

　　"Don't let Lady Southdown come again, Pitt," said theold lady. "She is stupid and pompous, like all your mother'sfamily, whom I never could endure. But bring that nicegood-natured little Jane as often as ever you please." Pittpromised that he would do so. He did not tell the Countessof Southdown what opinion his aunt had formed ofher Ladyship, who, on the contrary, thought that she hadmade a most delightful and majestic impression on MissCrawley.

　　And so, nothing loth to comfort a sick lady, andperhaps not sorry in her heart to be freed now and againfrom the dreary spouting of the Reverend BartholomewIrons, and the serious toadies who gathered round thefootstool of the pompous Countess, her mamma, LadyJane became a pretty constant visitor to Miss Crawley,accompanied her in her drives, and solaced many of herevenings. She was so naturally good and soft, that evenFirkin was not jealous of her; and the gentle Briggsthought her friend was less cruel to her when kind LadyJane was by. Towards her Ladyship Miss Crawley'smanners were charming. The old spinster told her a thousandanecdotes about her youth, talking to her in a verydifferent strain from that in which she had been accustomedto converse with the godless little Rebecca; for there wasthat in Lady Jane's innocence which rendered light talking impertinence before her, and Miss Crawley was toomuch of a gentlewoman to offend such purity. The younglady herself had never received kindness except from thisold spinster, and her brother and father: and she repaidMiss Crawley's engoument by artless sweetness andfriendship.

　　In the autumn evenings (when Rebecca was flauntingat Paris, the gayest among the gay conquerors there, andour Amelia, our dear wounded Amelia, ah! where wasshe?) Lady Jane would be sitting in Miss Crawley'sdrawing-room singing sweetly to her, in the twilight, herlittle simple songs and hymns, while the sun was settingand the sea was roaring on the beach. The old spinsterused to wake up when these ditties ceased, and ask formore. As for Briggs, and the quantity of tears of happinesswhich she now shed as she pretended to knit, andlooked out at the splendid ocean darkling before thewindows, and the lamps of heaven beginning more brightly toshine--who, I say can measure the happiness andsensibility of Briggs?

　　Pitt meanwhile in the dining-room, with a pamphlet onthe Corn Laws or a Missionary Register by his side, tookthat kind of recreation which suits romantic and unromanticmen after dinner. He sipped Madeira: built castlesin the air: thought himself a fine fellow: felt himself muchmore in love with Jane than he had been any time theseseven years, during which their liaison had lasted withoutthe slightest impatience on Pitt's part--and slept a gooddeal. When the time for coffee came, Mr. Bowls used toenter in a noisy manner, and summon Squire Pitt, whowould be found in the dark very busy with his pamphlet.

　　"I wish, my love, I could get somebody to play piquetwith me," Miss Crawley said one night when this functionarymade his appearance with the candles and the coffee."Poor Briggs can no more play than an owl, she is sostupid" (the spinster always took an opportunity of abusingBriggs before the servants); "and I think I shouldsleep better if I had my game."

　　At this Lady Jane blushed to the tips of her little ears,and down to the ends of her pretty fingers; and when Mr.Bowls had quitted the room, and the door was quite shut,she said:

　　"Miss Crawley, I can play a little. I used to--to playa little with poor dear papa."

　　"Come and kiss me. Come and kiss me this instant,you dear good little soul," cried Miss Crawley in an ecstasy:and in this picturesque and friendly occupation Mr. Pittfound the old lady and the young one, when he cameupstairs with him pamphlet in his hand. How she did blushall the evening, that poor Lady Jane!

　　It must not be imagined that Mr. Pitt Crawley's artificesescaped the attention of his dear relations at theRectory at Queen's Crawley. Hampshire and Sussex lievery close together, and Mrs. Bute had friends in thelatter county who took care to inform her of all, and a greatdeal more than all, that passed at Miss Crawley's houseat Brighton. Pitt was there more and more. He did notcome for months together to the Hall, where his abominableold father abandoned himself completely to rum-and-water, and the odious society of the Horrocks family.Pitt's success rendered the Rector's family furious, andMrs. Bute regretted more (though she confessed less)than ever her monstrous fault in so insulting Miss Briggs,and in being so haughty and parsimonious to Bowls andFirkin, that she had not a single person left in Miss Crawley's household to give her information of what took placethere. "It was all Bute's collar-bone," she persisted insaying; "if that had not broke, I never would have left her. Iam a martyr to duty and to your odious unclerical habitof hunting, Bute."

　　"Hunting; nonsense! It was you that frightened her,Barbara," the divine interposed. "You're a clever woman,but you've got a devil of a temper; and you're a screwwith your money, Barbara."

　　"You'd have been screwed in gaol, Bute, if I had notkept your money."

　　"I know I would, my dear," said the Rector, good-naturedly."You are a clever woman, but you manage toowell, you know": and the pious man consoled himselfwith a big glass of port.

　　"What the deuce can she find in that spooney of a PittCrawley?" he continued. "The fellow has not pluck enoughto say Bo to a goose. I remember when Rawdon, who is aman, and be hanged to him, used to flog him round thestables as if he was a whipping-top: and Pitt would gohowling home to his ma--ha, ha! Why, either of my boyswould whop him with one hand. Jim says he'sremembered at Oxford as Miss Crawley still--the spooney.

　　"I say, Barbara," his reverence continued, after a pause.

　　"What?" said Barbara, who was biting her nails, anddrumming the table.

　　"I say, why not send Jim over to Brighton to see if hecan do anything with the old lady. He's very near gettinghis degree, you know. He's only been plucked twice--sowas I--but he's had the advantages of Oxford and auniversity education. He knows some of the best chaps there.He pulls stroke in the Boniface boat. He's a handsomefeller. D-- it, ma'am, let's put him on the old woman,hey, and tell him to thrash Pitt if he says anything.Ha, ha, ha!

　　"Jim might go down and see her, certainly," the housewifesaid; adding with a sigh, "If we could but get one ofthe girls into the house; but she could never endure them,because they are not pretty!" Those unfortunate andwell-educated women made themselves heard from theneighbouring drawing-room, where they were thrummingaway, with hard fingers, an elaborate music-piece on thepiano-forte, as their mother spoke; and indeed, they were atmusic, or at backboard, or at geography, or at history,the whole day long. But what avail all these accomplishments,in Vanity Fair, to girls who are short, poor, plain,and have a bad complexion? Mrs. Bute could think ofnobody but the Curate to take one of them off her hands;and Jim coming in from the stable at this minute, throughthe parlour window, with a short pipe stuck in hisoilskin cap, he and his father fell to talking about odds onthe St. Leger, and the colloquy between the Rector and hiswife ended.

　　Mrs. Bute did not augur much good to the cause fromthe sending of her son James as an ambassador, and sawhim depart in rather a despairing mood. Nor did theyoung fellow himself, when told what his mission was tobe, expect much pleasure or benefit from it; but he wasconsoled by the thought that possibly the old lady wouldgive him some handsome remembrance of her, whichwould pay a few of his most pressing bills at thecommencement of the ensuing Oxford term, and so took hisplace by the coach from Southampton, and was safelylanded at Brighton on the same evening? with hisportmanteau, his favourite bull-dog Towzer, and animmense basket of farm and garden produce, from the dearRectory folks to the dear Miss Crawley. Considering itwas too late to disturb the invalid lady on the first nightof his arrival, he put up at an inn, and did not wait uponMiss Crawley until a late hour in the noon of next day.

　　James Crawley, when his aunt had last beheld him, wasa gawky lad, at that uncomfortable age when the voicevaries between an unearthly treble and a preternaturalbass; when the face not uncommonly blooms out withappearances for which Rowland's Kalydor is said to act asa cure; when boys are seen to shave furtively with theirsister's scissors, and the sight of other young womenproduces intolerable sensations of terror in them; when thegreat hands and ankles protrude a long way fromgarments which have grown too tight for them; when theirpresence after dinner is at once frightful to the ladies, whoare whispering in the twilight in the drawing-room, andinexpressibly odious to the gentlemen over the mahogany,who are restrained from freedom of intercourse anddelightful interchange of wit by the presence of that gawkyinnocence; when, at the conclusion of the second glass,papa says, "Jack, my boy, go out and see if the eveningholds up," and the youth, willing to be free, yet hurt atnot being yet a man, quits the incomplete banquet. James,then a hobbadehoy, was now become a young man,having had the benefits of a university education, andacquired the inestimable polish which is gained by living in afast set at a small college, and contracting debts, andbeing rusticated, and being plucked.

　　He was a handsome lad, however, when he came topresent himself to his aunt at Brighton, and good lookswere always a title to the fickle old lady's favour. Nor didhis blushes and awkwardness take away from it: shewas pleased with these healthy tokens of the younggentleman's ingenuousness.

　　He said "he had come down for a couple of days to seea man of his college, and--and to pay my respects to you,Ma'am, and my father's and mother's, who hope you arewell."

　　Pitt was in the room with Miss Crawley when the ladwas announced, and looked very blank when his namewas mentioned. The old lady had plenty of humour, andenjoyed her correct nephew's perplexity. She asked afterall the people at the Rectory with great interest; and saidshe was thinking of paying them a visit. She praised thelad to his face, and said he was well-grown and very muchimproved, and that it was a pity his sisters had not someof his good looks; and finding, on inquiry, that he hadtaken up his quarters at an hotel, would not hear of hisstopping there, but bade Mr. Bowls send for Mr. JamesCrawley's things instantly; "and hark ye, Bowls," sheadded, with great graciousness, "you will have thegoodness to pay Mr. James's bill."

　　She flung Pitt a look of arch triumph, which causedthat diplomatist almost to choke with envy. Much as hehad ingratiated himself with his aunt, she had never yetinvited him to stay under her roof, and here was a youngwhipper-snapper, who at first sight was made welcomethere.

　　"I beg your pardon, sir," says Bowls, advancing with aprofound bow; "what otel, sir, shall Thomas fetch theluggage from?"

　　"O, dam," said young James, starting up, as if in somealarm, "I'll go."

　　"What!" said Miss Crawley.

　　"The Tom Cribb's Arms," said James, blushing deeply.

　　Miss Crawley burst out laughing at this title. Mr.Bowls gave one abrupt guffaw, as a confidential servantof the family, but choked the rest of the volley; thediplomatist only smiled.

　　"I--I didn't know any better," said James, looking down."I've never been here before; it was the coachman toldme." The young story-teller! The fact is, that on theSouthampton coach, the day previous, James Crawley hadmet the Tutbury Pet, who was coming to Brighton tomake a match with the Rottingdean Fibber; and enchantedby the Pet's conversation, had passed the evening incompany with that scientific man and his friends, at the innin question.

　　"I--I'd best go and settle the score," James continued."Couldn't think of asking you, Ma'am," he added,generously.

　　This delicacy made his aunt laugh the more.

　　"Go and settle the bill, Bowls," she said, with a wave ofher hand, "and bring it to me."

　　Poor lady, she did not know what she had done! "There--there's a little dawg," said James, looking frightfullyguilty. "I'd best go for him. He bites footmen's calves."

　　All the party cried out with laughing at this description;even Briggs and Lady Jane, who was sitting muteduring the interview between Miss Crawley and hernephew: and Bowls, without a word, quitted the room.

　　Still, by way of punishing her elder nephew, MissCrawley persisted in being gracious to the young Oxonian.There were no limits to her kindness or her complimentswhen they once began. She told Pitt he might come todinner, and insisted that James should accompany herin her drive, and paraded him solemnly up and down thecliff, on the back seat of the barouche. During all thisexcursion, she condescended to say civil things to him:she quoted Italian and French poetry to the poorbewildered lad, and persisted that he was a fine scholar,and was perfectly sure he would gain a gold medal, andbe a Senior Wrangler.

　　"Haw, haw," laughed James, encouraged by thesecompliments; "Senior Wrangler, indeed; that's at the othershop."

　　"What is the other shop, my dear child?" said the lady.

　　"Senior Wranglers at Cambridge, not Oxford," said thescholar, with a knowing air; and would probably havebeen more confidential, but that suddenly thereappeared on the cliff in a tax-cart, drawn by a bang-uppony, dressed in white flannel coats, with mother-of-pearlbuttons, his friends the Tutbury Pet and the RottingdeanFibber, with three other gentlemen of their acquaintance,who all saluted poor James there in the carriage as hesate. This incident damped the ingenuous youth's spirits,and no word of yea or nay could he be induced to utterduring the rest of the drive.

　　On his return he found his room prepared, and hisportmanteau ready, and might have remarked that Mr.Bowls's countenance, when the latter conducted him tohis apartments, wore a look of gravity, wonder, andcompassion. But the thought of Mr. Bowls did not enterhis head. He was deploring the dreadful predicamentin which he found himself, in a house full of old women,jabbering French and Italian, and talking poetry to him."Reglarly up a tree, by jingo!" exclaimed the modestboy, who could not face the gentlest of her sex--noteven Briggs--when she began to talk to him; whereas,put him at Iffley Lock, and he could out-slang theboldest bargeman.

　　At dinner, James appeared choking in a whiteneckcloth, and had the honour of handing my Lady Janedownstairs, while Briggs and Mr. Crawley followedafterwards, conducting the old lady, with her apparatus ofbundles, and shawls, and cushions. Half of Briggs's timeat dinner was spent in superintending the invalid'scomfort, and in cutting up chicken for her fat spaniel. Jamesdid not talk much, but he made a point of asking allthe ladies to drink wine, and accepted Mr. Crawley'schallenge, and consumed the greater part of a bottle ofchampagne which Mr. Bowls was ordered to produce inhis honour. The ladies having withdrawn, and the twocousins being left together, Pitt, the ex-diplomatist, became very communicative and friendly. He asked afterJames's career at college--what his prospects in lifewere--hoped heartily he would get on; and, in a word,was frank and amiable. James's tongue unloosed withthe port, and he told his cousin his life, his prospects,his debts, his troubles at the little-go, and his rows withthe proctors, filling rapidly from the bottles before him,and flying from Port to Madeira with joyous activity.

　　"The chief pleasure which my aunt has," said Mr.Crawley, filling his glass, "is that people should do as theylike in her house. This is Liberty Hall, James, and youcan't do Miss Crawley a greater kindness than to doas you please, and ask for what you will. I know youhave all sneered at me in the country for being a Tory.Miss Crawley is liberal enough to suit any fancy. Sheis a Republican in principle, and despises everything likerank or title."

　　"Why are you going to marry an Earl's daughter?"said James.

　　"My dear friend, remember it is not poor Lady Jane'sfault that she is well born," Pitt replied, with a courtlyair. "She cannot help being a lady. Besides, I am aTory, you know."

　　"Oh, as for that," said Jim, "there's nothing like oldblood; no, dammy, nothing like it. I'm none of yourradicals. I know what it is to be a gentleman, dammy.See the chaps in a boat-race; look at the fellers in afight; aye, look at a dawg killing rats--which is it wins?the good-blooded ones. Get some more port, Bowls, oldboy, whilst I buzz this bottle-here. What was I asaying?"

　　"I think you were speaking of dogs killing rats," Pittremarked mildly, handing his cousin the decanter to"buzz.~

　　"Killing rats was I? Well, Pitt, are you a sportingman? Do you want to see a dawg as can kill a rat?If you do, come down with me to Tom Corduroy's, inCastle Street Mews, and I'll show you such a bull-terrieras--Pooh! gammon," cried James, bursting out laughingat his own absurdity--"you don't care about a dawgor rat; it's all nonsense. I'm blest if I think you knowthe difference between a dog and a duck."

　　"No; by the way," Pitt continued with increased blandness,"it was about blood you were talking, and thepersonal advantages which people derive from patricianbirth. Here's the fresh bottle."

　　"Blood's the word," said James, gulping the ruby fluiddown. "Nothing like blood, sir, in hosses, dawgs, andmen. Why, only last term, just before I was rusticated,that is, I mean just before I had the measles, ha, ha--therewas me and Ringwood of Christchurch, Bob Ringwood,Lord Cinqbars' son, having our beer at the Bell atBlenheim, when the Banbury bargeman offered to fight eitherof us for a bowl of punch. I couldn't. My arm was in asling; couldn't even take the drag down--a brute of amare of mine had fell with me only two days before,out with the Abingdon, and I thought my arm was broke.Well, sir, I couldn't finish him, but Bob had his coatoff at once--he stood up to the Banbury man for threeminutes, and polished him off in four rounds easy. Gad,how he did drop, sir, and what was it? Blood, sir, allblood."

　　"You don't drink, James," the ex-attache continued."In my time at Oxford, the men passed round the bottlea little quicker than you young fellows seem to do."

　　"Come, come," said James, putting his hand to hisnose and winking at his cousin with a pair of vinouseyes, "no jokes, old boy; no trying it on on me. Youwant to trot me out, but it's no go. In vino veritas, oldboy. Mars, Bacchus, Apollo virorum, hey? I wish myaunt would send down some of this to the governor; it'sa precious good tap."

　　"You had better ask her," Machiavel continued, "ormake the best of your time now. What says the bard?'Nunc vino pellite curas, Cras ingens iterabimus aequor,' "and the Bacchanalian, quoting the above with a Houseof Commons air, tossed off nearly a thimbleful of winewith an immense flourish of his glass.

　　At the Rectory, when the bottle of port wine wasopened after dinner, the young ladies had each a glassfrom a bottle of currant wine. Mrs. Bute took one glassof port, honest James had a couple commonly, but ashis father grew very sulky if he made further inroadson the bottle, the good lad generally refrained fromtrying for more, and subsided either into the currant wine,or to some private gin-and-water in the stables, whichhe enjoyed in the company of the coachman and hispipe. At Oxford, the quantity of wine was unlimited,but the quality was inferior: but when quantity andquality united as at his aunt's house, James showed thathe could appreciate them indeed; and hardly needed anyof his cousin's encouragement in draining off thesecond bottle supplied by Mr. Bowls.

　　When the time for coffee came, however, and for areturn to the ladies, of whom he stood in awe, the younggentleman's agreeable frankness left him, and he relapsedinto his usual surly timidity; contenting himself bysaying yes and no, by scowling at Lady Jane, and byupsetting one cup of coffee during the evening.

　　If he did not speak he yawned in a pitiable manner,and his presence threw a damp upon the modestproceedings of the evening, for Miss Crawley and Lady Janeat their piquet, and Miss Briggs at her work, felt thathis eyes were wildly fixed on them, and were uneasyunder that maudlin look.

　　"He seems a very silent, awkward, bashful lad," saidMiss Crawley to Mr. Pitt.

　　"He is more communicative in men's society than withladies," Machiavel dryly replied: perhaps ratherdisappointed that the port wine had not made Jimspeak more.

　　He had spent the early part of the next morning inwriting home to his mother a most flourishing accountof his reception by Miss Crawley. But ah! he little knewwhat evils the day was bringing for him, and how short hisreign of favour was destined to be. A circumstancewhich Jim had forgotten--a trivial but fatal circumstance--had taken place at the Cribb's Arms on the nightbefore he had come to his aunt's house. It was no otherthan this--Jim, who was always of a generous disposition,and when in his cups especially hospitable, had in thecourse of the night treated the Tutbury champion andthe Rottingdean man, and their friends, twice or thriceto the refreshment of gin-and-water--so that no less thaneighteen glasses of that fluid at eightpence per glass werecharged in Mr. James Crawley's bill. It was not theamount of eightpences, but the quantity of gin whichtold fatally against poor James's character, when hisaunt's butler, Mr. Bowls, went down at his mistress'srequest to pay the young gentleman's bill. The landlord,fearing lest the account should be refused altogether,swore solemnly that the young gent had consumedpersonally every farthing's worth of the liquor: and Bowlspaid the bill finally, and showed it on his return hometo Mrs. Firkin, who was shocked at the frightfulprodigality of gin; and took the bill to Miss Briggs asaccountant-general; who thought it her duty to mentionthe circumstance to her principal, Miss Crawley.

　　Had he drunk a dozen bottles of claret, the oldspinster could have pardoned him. Mr. Fox and Mr.Sheridan drank claret. Gentlemen drank claret. But eighteenglasses of gin consumed among boxers in an ignoblepot-house--it was an odious crime and not to bepardoned readily. Everything went against the lad: he camehome perfumed from the stables, whither he had beento pay his dog Towzer a visit--and whence he wasgoing to take his friend out for an airing, when he metMiss Crawley and her wheezy Blenheim spaniel, whichTowzer would have eaten up had not the Blenheim fledsquealing to the protection of Miss Briggs, while theatrocious master of the bull-dog stood laughing at thehorrible persecution.

　　This day too the unlucky boy's modesty had likewiseforsaken him. He was lively and facetious at dinner.During the repast he levelled one or two jokes against PittCrawley: he drank as much wine as upon the previousday; and going quite unsuspiciously to the drawing-room,began to entertain the ladies there with some choiceOxford stories. He described the different pugilistic qualitiesof Molyneux and Dutch Sam, offered playfully to giveLady Jane the odds upon the Tutbury Pet against theRottingdean man, or take them, as her Ladyship chose:and crowned the pleasantry by proposing to backhimself against his cousin Pitt Crawley, either with or withoutthe gloves. "And that's a fair offer, my buck," he said,with a loud laugh, slapping Pitt on the shoulder, "andmy father told me to make it too, and he'll go halvesin the bet, ha, ha!" So saying, the engaging youth noddedknowingly at poor Miss Briggs, and pointed his thumbover his shoulder at Pitt Crawley in a jocular andexulting manner.

　　Pitt was not pleased altogether perhaps, but still notunhappy in the main. Poor Jim had his laugh out: andstaggered across the room with his aunt's candle, whenthe old lady moved to retire, and offered to salute herwith the blandest tipsy smile: and he took his own leaveand went upstairs to his bedroom perfectly satisfied withhimself, and with a pleased notion that his aunt's moneywould be left to him in preference to his father and allthe rest of the family.

　　Once up in the bedroom, one would have thought hecould not make matters worse; and yet this unlucky boydid. The moon was shining very pleasantly out on thesea, and Jim, attracted to the window by the romanticappearance of the ocean and the heavens, thought hewould further enjoy them while smoking. Nobody wouldsmell the tobacco, he thought, if he cunningly openedthe window and kept his head and pipe in the fresh air.This he did: but being in an excited state, poor Jimhad forgotten that his door was open all this time, sothat the breeze blowing inwards and a fine thoroughdraught being established, the clouds of tobacco werecarried downstairs, and arrived with quite undiminishedfragrance to Miss Crawley and Miss Briggs.

　　The pipe of tobacco finished the business: and theBute-Crawleys never knew how many thousand poundsit cost them. Firkin rushed downstairs to Bowls whowas reading out the "Fire and the Frying Pan" to hisaide-de-camp in a loud and ghostly voice. The dreadfulsecret was told to him by Firkin with so frightened a look,that for the first moment Mr. Bowls and his young manthought that robbers were in the house, the legs of whomhad probably been discovered by the woman under MissCrawley's bed. When made aware of the fact, however--to rush upstairs at three steps at a time to enterthe unconscious James's apartment, calling out, "Mr.James," in a voice stifled with alarm, and to cry, "ForGawd's sake, sir, stop that 'ere pipe," was the work ofa minute with Mr. Bowls. "O, Mr. James, what 'ave youdone!" he said in a voice of the deepest pathos, as hethrew the implement out of the window. "What 'ave youdone, sir! Missis can't abide 'em."

　　"Missis needn't smoke," said James with a franticmisplaced laugh, and thought the whole matter an excellentjoke. But his feelings were very different in the morning,when Mr. Bowls's young man, who operated upon Mr.James's boots, and brought him his hot water to shavethat beard which he was so anxiously expecting, handeda note in to Mr. James in bed, in the handwriting ofMiss Briggs.

　　"Dear sir," it said, "Miss Crawley has passed anexceedingly disturbed night, owing to the shocking mannerin which the house has been polluted by tobacco; MissCrawley bids me say she regrets that she is too unwellto see you before you go--and above all that she everinduced you to remove from the ale-house, where she issure you will be much more comfortable during the restof your stay at Brighton."

　　And herewith honest James's career as a candidate forhis aunt's favour ended. He had in fact, and withoutknowing it, done what he menaced to do. He had foughthis cousin Pitt with the gloves.

　　Where meanwhile was he who had been once firstfavourite for this race for money? Becky and Rawdon,as we have seen, were come together after Waterloo,and were passing the winter of 1815 at Paris in greatsplendour and gaiety. Rebecca was a good economist,and the price poor Jos Sedley had paid for her twohorses was in itself sufficient to keep their littleestablishment afloat for a year, at the least; there was nooccasion to turn into money "my pistols, the same whichI shot Captain Marker," or the gold dressing-case, orthe cloak lined with sable. Becky had it made into apelisse for herself, in which she rode in the Bois deBoulogne to the admiration of all: and you should haveseen the scene between her and her delighted husband,whom she rejoined after the army had entered Cambray,and when she unsewed herself, and let out of her dressall those watches, knick-knacks, bank-notes, cheques, andvaluables, which she had secreted in the wadding, previousto her meditated flight from Brussels! Tufto was charmed,and Rawdon roared with delighted laughter, and sworethat she was better than any play he ever saw, by Jove.And the way in which she jockeyed Jos, and whichshe described with infinite fun, carried up his delight toa pitch of quite insane enthusiasm. He believed in hiswife as much as the French soldiers in Napoleon.

　　Her success in Paris was remarkable. All the Frenchladies voted her charming. She spoke their languageadmirably. She adopted at once their grace, their liveliness,their manner. Her husband was stupid certainly--allEnglish are stupid--and, besides, a dull husband at Paris isalways a point in a lady's favour. He was the heir of therich and spirituelle Miss Crawley, whose house had beenopen to so many of the French noblesse during theemigration. They received the colonel's wife in their ownhotels--"Why," wrote a great lady to Miss Crawley, whohad bought her lace and trinkets at the Duchess's ownprice, and given her many a dinner during the pinchingtimes after the Revolution--"Why does not our dear Misscome to her nephew and niece, and her attached friendsin Paris? All the world raffoles of the charming Mistressand her espiegle beauty. Yes, we see in her the grace,the charm, the wit of our dear friend Miss Crawley!The King took notice of her yesterday at the Tuileries,and we are all jealous of the attention which Monsieurpays her. If you could have seen the spite of a certainstupid Miladi Bareacres (whose eagle-beak and toqueand feat,hers may be seen peering over the heads of allassemblies) when Madame, the Duchess of Angouleme,the august daughter and companion of kings, desiredespecially to be presented to Mrs. Crawley, as your deardaughter and protegee, and thanked her in the nameof France, for all your benevolence towards ourunfortunates during their exile! She is of all the societies,of all the balls--of the balls--yes--of the dances, no;and yet how interesting and pretty this fair creature lookssurrounded by the homage of the men, and so soon tobe a mother! To hear her speak of you, her protectress,her mother, would bring tears to the eyes of ogres. Howshe loves you! how we all love our admirable, ourrespectable Miss Crawley!"

　　It is to be feared that this letter of the Parisian greatlady did not by any means advance Mrs. Becky's interestwith her admirable, her respectable, relative. On thecontrary, the fury of the old spinster was beyond bounds,when she found what was Rebecca's situation, and howaudaciously she had made use of Miss Crawley's name,to get an entree into Parisian society. Too much shakenin mind and body to compose a letter in the Frenchlanguage in reply to that of her correspondent, shedictated to Briggs a furious answer in her own native tongue,repudiating Mrs. Rawdon Crawley altogether, and warningthe public to beware of her as a most artful anddangerous person. But as Madame the Duchess of X--had only been twenty years in England, she did notunderstand a single word of the language, and contentedherself by informing Mrs. Rawdon Crawley at their nextmeeting, that she had received a charming letter fromthat chere Mees, and that it was full of benevolentthings for Mrs. Crawley, who began seriously to havehopes that the spinster would relent.

　　Meanwhile, she was the gayest and most admired ofEnglishwomen: and had a little European congress on herreception-night. Prussians and Cossacks, Spanish andEnglish--all the world was at Paris during this famouswinter: to have seen the stars and cordons in Rebecca'shumble saloon would have made all Baker Street palewith envy. Famous warriors rode by her carriage inthe Bois, or crowded her modest little box at the Opera.Rawdon was in the highest spirits. There were no dunsin Paris as yet: there were parties every day at Very'sor Beauvilliers'; play was plentiful and his luck good.Tufto perhaps was sulky. Mrs. Tufto had come over toParis at her own invitation, and besides thiscontretemps, there were a score of generals now roundBecky's chair, and she might take her choice of a dozenbouquets when she went to the play. Lady Bareacresand the chiefs of the English society, stupid andirreproachable females, writhed with anguish at thesuccess of the little upstart Becky, whose poisoned jokesquivered and rankled in their chaste breasts. But shehad all the men on her side. She fought the womenwith indomitable courage, and they could not talkscandal in any tongue but their own.

　　So in fetes, pleasures, and prosperity, the winter of1815-16 passed away with Mrs. Rawdon Crawley,who accommodated herself to polite life as if herancestors had been people of fashion for centuries past--and who from her wit, talent, and energy, indeed meriteda place of honour in Vanity Fair. In the early spring of1816, Galignani's Journal contained the followingannouncement in an interesting corner of the paper: "Onthe 26th of March--the Lady of Lieutenant-ColonelCrawley, of the Life Guards Green--of a son and heir."

　　This event was copied into the London papers, out ofwhich Miss Briggs read the statement to Miss Crawley,at breakfast, at Brighton. The intelligence, expected asit might have been, caused a crisis in the affairs ofthe Crawley family. The spinster's rage rose to its height,and sending instantly for Pitt, her nephew, and for theLady Southdown, from Brunswick Square, she requestedan immediate celebration of the marriage which had beenso long pending between the two families. And sheannounced that it was her intention to allow the youngcouple a thousand a year during her lifetime, at theexpiration of which the bulk of her property would besettled upon her nephew and her dear niece, Lady JaneCrawley. Waxy came down to ratify the deeds--LordSouthdown gave away his sister--she was married by aBishop, and not by the Rev. Bartholomew Irons--to thedisappointment of the irregular prelate.

　　When they were married, Pitt would have liked totake a hymeneal tour with his bride, as became peopleof their condition. But the affection of the old ladytowards Lady Jane had grown so strong, that she fairlyowned she could not part with her favourite. Pitt andhis wife came therefore and lived with Miss Crawley:and (greatly to the annoyance of poor Pitt, whoconceived himself a most injured character--being subjectto the humours of his aunt on one side, and of hismother-in-law on the other) Lady Southdown, from herneighbouring house, reigned over the whole family--Pitt, Lady Jane, Miss Crawley, Briggs, Bowls, Firkin, andall. She pitilessly dosed them with her tracts and hermedicine, she dismissed Creamer, she installed Rodgers,and soon stripped Miss Crawley of even the semblanceof authority. The poor soul grew so timid that sheactually left off bullying Briggs any more, and clung toher niece, more fond and terrified every day. Peace tothee, kind and selfish, vain and generous old heathen!--We shall see thee no more. Let us hope that Lady Janesupported her kindly, and led her with gentle hand outof the busy struggle of Vanity Fair.