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Barry Lyndon

W >> William Makepeace Thackeray >> Barry Lyndon




This, I need not say, was very considerable. I had my horses to buy,
my establishment to arrange, my entree into the genteel world to
make; and, having announced my intention to purchase horses and live
in a genteel style, was in a couple of days so pestered by visits of
the nobility and gentry, and so hampered by invitations to dinners
and suppers, that it became exceedingly difficult for me during some
days to manage my anxiously desired visit to Mrs. Barry.

It appears that the good soul provided an entertainment as soon as
she heard of my arrival, and invited all her humble acquaintances of
Bray to be present: but I was engaged subsequently to my Lord
Ballyragget on the day appointed, and was, of course, obliged to
break the promise that I had made to Mrs. Barry to attend her humble
festival.

I endeavoured to sweeten the disappointment by sending my mother a
handsome satin sack and velvet robe, which I purchased for her at
the best mercers in Dublin (and indeed told her I had brought from
Paris expressly for her); but the messenger whom I despatched with
the presents brought back the parcels, with the piece of satin torn
half way up the middle: and I did not need his descriptions to be
aware that something had offended the good lady; who came out, he
said, and abused him at the door, and would have boxed his cars, but
that she was restrained by a gentleman in black; who I concluded,
with justice, was her clerical friend Mr. Jowls.

This reception of my presents made me rather dread than hope for an
interview with Mrs. Barry, and delayed my visit to her for some days
further. I wrote her a dutiful and soothing letter, to which there
was no answer returned; although I mentioned that on my way to the
capital I had been at Barryville, and revisited the old haunts of my
youth.

I don't care to own that she is the only human being whom I am
afraid to face. I can recollect her fits of anger as a child, and
the reconciliations, which used to be still more violent and
painful: and so, instead of going myself, I sent my factotum, Ulick
Brady, to her; who rode back, saying that he had met with a
reception he would not again undergo for twenty guineas; that he had
been dismissed the house, with strict injunctions to inform me that
my mother disowned me for ever. This parental anathema, as it were,
affected me much, for I was always the most dutiful of sons; and I
determined to go as soon as possible, and brave what I knew must be
an inevitable scene of reproach and anger, for the sake, as I hoped,
of as certain a reconciliation.

I had been giving one night an entertainment to some of the
genteelest company in Dublin, and was showing my Lord Marquess
downstairs with a pair of wax tapers, when I found a woman in a grey
coat seated at my doorsteps: to whom, taking her for a beggar, I
tendered a piece of money, and whom my noble friends, who were
rather hot with wine, began to joke, as my door closed and I bade
them all good-night.

I was rather surprised and affected to find afterwards that the
hooded woman was no other than my mother; whose pride had made her
vow that she would not enter my doors, but whose natural maternal
yearnings had made her long to see her son's face once again, and
who had thus planted herself in disguise at my gate. Indeed, I have
found in my experience that these are the only women who never
deceive a man, and whose affection remains constant through all
trials. Think of the hours that the kind soul must have passed,
lonely in the street, listening to the din and merriment within my
apartments, the clinking of the glasses, the laughing, the choruses,
and the cheering.

When my affair with Lord George happened, and it became necessary to
me, for the reasons I have stated, to be out of the way; now,
thought I, is the time to make my peace with my good mother: she
will never refuse me an asylum now that I seem in distress. So
sending to her a notice that I was coming, that I had had a duel
which had brought me into trouble, and required I should go into
hiding, I followed my messenger half-an-hour afterwards: and, I
warrant me, there was no want of a good reception, for presently,
being introduced into an empty room by the barefooted maid who
waited upon Mrs. Barry, the door was opened, and the poor mother
flung herself into my arms with a scream, and with transports of joy
which I shall not attempt to describe--they are but to be
comprehended by women who have held in their arms an only child
after a twelve years' absence from him.

The Reverend Mr. Jowls, my mother's director, was the only person to
whom the door of her habitation was opened during my sojourn; and he
would take no denial. He mixed for himself a glass of rum-punch,
which he seemed in the habit of drinking at my good mother's charge,
groaned aloud, and forthwith began reading me a lecture upon the
sinfulness of my past courses, and especially of the last horrible
action I had been committing.

'Sinful!' said my mother, bristling up when her son was attacked;
'sure we're all sinners; and it's you, Mr. Jowls, who have given me
the inexpressible blessing to let me know THAT. But how else would
you have had the poor child behave?'

'I would have had the gentleman avoid the drink, and the quarrel,
and this wicked duel altogether,' answered the clergyman.

But my mother cut him short, by saying such sort of conduct might be
very well in a person of his cloth and his birth, but it neither
became a Brady nor a Barry. In fact, she was quite delighted with
the thought that I had pinked an English marquis's son in a duel;
and so, to console her, I told her of a score more in which I had
been engaged, and of some of which I have already informed the
reader.

As my late antagonist was in no sort of danger when I spread that
report of his perilous situation, there was no particular call that
my hiding should be very close. But the widow did not know the fact
as well as I did: and caused her house to be barricaded, and Becky,
her barefooted serving-wench, to be a perpetual sentinel to give
alarm, lest the officers should be in search of me.

The only person I expected, however, was my cousin Ulick, who was to
bring me the welcome intelligence of Lady Lyndon's arrival; and I
own, after two days' close confinement at Bray, in which I narrated
all the adventures of my life to my mother, and succeeded in making
her accept the dresses she had formerly refused, and a considerable
addition to her income which I was glad to make, I was very glad
when I saw that reprobate Ulick Brady, as my mother called him, ride
up to the door in my carriage with the welcome intelligence for my
mother, that the young lord was out of danger; and for me, that the
Countess of Lyndon had arrived in Dublin.

'And I wish, Redmond, that the young gentleman had been in danger a
little longer,' said the widow, her eyes filling with tears, 'and
you'd have stayed so much the more with your poor old mother.' But I
dried her tears, embracing her warmly, and promised to see her
often; and hinted I would have, mayhap, a house of my own and a
noble daughter to welcome her.

'Who is she, Redmond dear?' said the old lady.

'One of the noblest and richest women in the empire, mother,'
answered I. 'No mere Brady this time,' I added, laughing: with which
hopes I left Mrs. Barry in the best of tempers.

No man can bear less malice than I do; and, when I have once carried
my point, I am one of the most placable creatures in the world. I
was a week in Dublin before I thought it necessary to quit that
capital. I had become quite reconciled to my rival in that time;
made a point of calling at his lodgings, and speedily became an
intimate consoler of his bed-side. He had a gentleman to whom I did
not neglect to be civil, and towards whom I ordered my people to be
particular in their attentions; for I was naturally anxious to learn
what my Lord George's position with the lady of Castle Lyndon had
really been, whether other suitors were about the widow, and how she
would bear the news of his wound.

The young nobleman himself enlightened me somewhat upon the subjects
I was most desirous to inquire into.

'Chevalier,' said he to me one morning when I went to pay him my
compliments, 'I find you are an old acquaintance with my kinswoman,
the Countess of Lyndon. She writes me a page of abuse of you in a
letter here; and the strange part of the story is this, that one day
when there was talk about you at Castle Lyndon, and the splendid
equipage you were exhibiting in Dublin, the fair widow vowed and
protested she never had heard of you.

'"Oh yes, mamma," said the little Bullingdon, "the tall dark man at
Spa with the cast in his eye, who used to make my governor tipsy and
sent me the sword: his name is Mr. Barry."

'But my Lady ordered the boy out of the room, and persisted in
knowing nothing about you.'

'And are you a kinsman and acquaintance of my Lady Lyndon, my Lord?'
said I, in a tone of grave surprise.

'Yes, indeed,' answered the young gentleman. 'I left her house but
to get this ugly wound from you. And it came at a most unlucky time
too.'

'Why more unlucky now than at another moment?'

'Why, look you, Chevalier, I think the widow was not unpartial to
me. I think I might have induced her to make our connection a little
closer: and faith, though she is older than I am, she is the richest
party now in England.'

'My Lord George,' said I, 'will you let me ask you a frank but an
odd question?--will you show me her letters?'

'Indeed I'll do no such thing,' replied he, in a rage.

'Nay, don't be angry. If _I_ show you letters of Lady Lyndon's to
me, will you let me see hers to you?'

'What, in Heaven's name, do you mean, Mr. Barry?' said the young
gentleman.

'_I_ mean that I passionately loved Lady Lyndon. I mean that I am a
--that I rather was not indifferent to her. I mean that I love her
to distraction at this present moment, and will die myself, or kill
the man who possesses her before me.'

'YOU marry the greatest heiress and the noblest blood in England?'
said Lord George haughtily.

'There's no nobler blood in Europe than mine,' answered I: 'and I
tell you I don't know whether to hope or not. But this I know, that
there were days in which, poor as I am, the great heiress did not
disdain to look down upon my poverty: and that any man who marries
her passes over my dead body to do it. It's lucky for you,' I added
gloomily, 'that on the occasion of my engagement with you, I did not
know what were your views regarding my Lady Lyndon. My poor boy, you
are a lad of courage and I love you. Mine is the first sword in
Europe, and you would have been lying in a narrower bed than that
you now occupy.'

'Boy!' said Lord George: 'I am not four years younger than you are.'

'You are forty years younger than I am in experience. I have passed
through every grade of life. With my own skill and daring I have
made my own fortune. I have been in fourteen pitched battles as a
private soldier, and have been twenty-three times on the ground, and
never was touched but once; and that was by the sword of a French
maitre-d'armes, Whom I killed. I started in life at seventeen, a
beggar, and am now at seven-and-twenty, with twenty thousand
guineas. Do you suppose a man of my courage and energy can't attain
anything that he dares, and that having claims upon the widow, I
will not press them?'

This speech was not exactly true to the letter (for I had multiplied
my pitched battles, my duels, and my wealth somewhat); but I saw
that it made the impression I desired to effect upon the young
gentleman's mind, who listened to my statement with peculiar
seriousness, and whom I presently left to digest it.

A couple of days afterwards I called to see him again, when I
brought with me some of the letters that had passed between me and
my Lady Lyndon. 'Here,' said I, 'look--I show it you in confidence--
it is a lock of her Ladyship's hair; here are her letters signed
Calista, and addressed to Eugenio. Here is a poem, "When Sol bedecks
the mead with light, And pallid Cynthia sheds her ray," addressed by
her Ladyship to your humble servant.'

'Calista! Eugenio! Sol bedecks the mead with light?' cried the young
lord. 'Am I dreaming? Why, my dear Barry, the widow has sent me the
very poem herself! "Rejoicing in the sunshine bright, Or musing in
the evening grey."'

I could not help laughing as he made the quotation. They were, in
fact, the very words MY Calista had addressed to me. And we found,
upon comparing letters, that whole passages of eloquence figured in
the one correspondence which appeared in the other. See what it is
to be a blue-stocking and have a love of letter-writing!

The young man put down the papers in great perturbation. 'Well,
thank Heaven!' said he, after a pause of some duration,--'thank
Heaven for a good riddance! Ah, Mr. Barry, what a woman I MIGHT have
married had these lucky papers not come in my way! I thought my Lady
Lyndon had a heart, sir, I must confess, though not a very warm one;
and that, at least, one could TRUST her. But marry her now! I would
as lief send my servant into the street to get me a wife, as put up
with such an Ephesian matron as that.'

'My Lord George,' said I, 'you little know the world. Remember what
a bad husband Lady Lyndon had, and don't be astonished that she, on
her side, should be indifferent. Nor has she, I will dare to wager,
ever passed beyond the bounds of harmless gallantry, or sinned
beyond the composing of a sonnet or a billet-doux.'

'My wife,' said the little lord, 'shall write no sonnets or billets-
doux; and I'm heartily glad to think I have obtained, in good time,
a knowledge of the heartless vixen with whom I thought myself for a
moment in love.'

The wounded young nobleman was either, as I have said, very young
and green in matters of the world--for to suppose that a man would
give up forty thousand a year, because, forsooth, the lady connected
with it had written a few sentimental letters to a young fellow, is
too absurd--or, as I am inclined to believe, he was glad of an
excuse to quit the field altogether, being by no means anxious to
meet the victorious sword of Redmond Barry a second time.

When the idea of Poynings' danger, or the reproaches probably
addressed by him to the widow regarding myself, had brought this
exceedingly weak and feeble woman up to Dublin, as I expected, and
my worthy Ulick had informed me of her arrival, I quitted my good
mother, who was quite reconciled to me (indeed the duel had done
that), and found the disconsolate Calista was in the habit of paying
visits to the wounded swain; much to the annoyance, the servants
told me, of that gentleman. The English are often absurdly high and
haughty upon a point of punctilio; and, after his kinswoman's
conduct, Lord Poynings swore he would have no more to do with her.

I had this information from his Lordship's gentleman; with whom, as
I have said, I took particular care to be friends; nor was I denied
admission by his porter, when I chose to call, as before.

Her Ladyship had most likely bribed that person, as I had; for she
had found her way up, though denied admission; and, in fact, I had
watched her from her own house to Lord George Poynings' lodgings,
and seen her descend from her chair there and enter, before I myself
followed her. I proposed to await her quietly in the ante-room, to
make a scene there, and reproach her with infidelity, if necessary;
but matters were, as it happened, arranged much more conveniently
for me; and walking, unannounced, into the outer room of his
Lordship's apartments, I had the felicity of hearing in the next
chamber, of which the door was partially open, the voice of my
Calista. She was in full cry, appealing to the poor patient, as he
lay confined in his bed, and speaking in the most passionate manner.
'What can lead you, George,' she said, 'to doubt of my faith? How
can you break my heart by casting me off in this monstrous manner?
Do you wish to drive your poor Calista to the grave? Well, well, I
shall join there the dear departed angel.'

'Who entered it three months since,' said Lord George, with a sneer.
'It's a wonder you have survived so long.'

'Don't treat your poor Calista in this cruel cruel manner, Antonio!'
cried the widow.

'Bah!' said Lord George, 'my wound is bad. My doctors forbid me much
talk. Suppose your Antonio tired, my dear. Can't you console
yourself with somebody else?'

'Heavens, Lord George! Antonio!'

'Console yourself with Eugenio,' said the young nobleman bitterly,
and began ringing his bell; on which his valet, who was in an inner
room, came out, and he bade him show her Ladyship downstairs.

Lady Lyndon issued from the room in the greatest flurry. She was
dressed in deep weeds, with a veil over her face, and did not
recognise the person waiting in the outer apartment. As she went
down the stairs, I stepped lightly after her, and as her chairman
opened her door, sprang forward, and took her hand to place her in
the vehicle. 'Dearest widow,' said I, 'his Lordship spoke correctly.
Console yourself with Eugenio!' She was too frightened even to
scream, as her chairman carried her away. She was set down at her
house, and you may be sure that I was at the chair-door, as before,
to help her out.

'Monstrous man!' said she, 'I desire you to leave me.'

'Madam, it would be against my oath,' replied I; 'recollect the vow
Eugenio sent to Calista.'

'If you do not quit me, I will call for the domestics to turn you
from the door.'

'What! when I am come with my Calista's letters in my pocket, to
return them mayhap? You can soothe, madam, but you cannot frighten
Redmond Barry.'

'What is it you would have of me, sir?' said the widow, rather
agitated.

'Let me come upstairs, and I will tell you all,' I replied; and she
condescended to give me her hand, and to permit me to lead her from
her chair to her drawing-room.

When we were alone I opened my mind honourably to her.

'Dearest madam,' said I, 'do not let your cruelty drive a desperate
slave to fatal measures. I adore you. In former days you allowed me
to whisper my passion to you unrestrained; at present you drive me
from your door, leave my letters unanswered, and prefer another to
me. My flesh and blood cannot bear such treatment. Look upon the
punishment I have been obliged to inflict; tremble at that which I
may be compelled to administer to that unfortunate young man: so
sure as he marries you, madam, he dies.'

'I do not recognise,' said the widow, 'the least right you have to
give the law to the Countess of Lyndon: I do not in the least
understand your threats, or heed them. What has passed between me
and an Irish adventurer that should authorise this impertinent
intrusion?'

'THESE have passed, madam,' said I,--'Calista's letters to Eugenio.
They may have been very innocent; but will the world believe it? You
may have only intended to play with the heart of the poor artless
Irish gentleman who adored and confided in you. But who will believe
the stories of your innocence, against the irrefragable testimony of
your own handwriting? Who will believe that you could write these
letters in the mere wantonness of coquetry, and not under the
influence of affection?'

'Villain!' cried my Lady Lyndon, 'could you dare to construe out of
those idle letters of mine any other meaning than that which they
really bear?'

'I will construe anything out of them,' said I; 'such is the passion
which animates me towards you. I have sworn it--you must and shall
be mine! Did you ever know me promise to accomplish a thing and
fail? Which will you prefer to have from me--a love such as woman
never knew from man before, or a hatred to which there exists no
parallel?'

'A woman of my rank, sir, can fear nothing from the hatred of an
adventurer like yourself,' replied the lady, drawing up stately.

'Look at your Poynings--was HE of your rank? You are the cause of
that young man's wound, madam; and, but that the instrument of your
savage cruelty relented, would have been the author of his murder--
yes, of his murder; for, if a wife is faithless, does not she arm
the husband who punishes the seducer! And I look upon you, Honoria
Lyndon, as my wife.'

'Husband? wife, sir!' cried the widow, quite astonished.

'Yes, wife! husband! I am not one of those poor souls with whom
coquettes can play, and who may afterwards throw them aside. You
would forget what passed between us at Spa: Calista would forget
Eugenio; but I will not let you forget me. You thought to trifle
with my heart, did you? When once moved, Honoria, it is moved for
ever. I love you--love as passionately now as I did when my passion
was hopeless; and, now that I can win you, do you think I will
forego you? Cruel cruel Calista! you little know the power of your
own charms if you think their effect is so easily obliterated--you
little know the constancy of this pure and noble heart if you think
that, having once loved, it can ever cease to adore you. No! I swear
by your cruelty that I will revenge it; by your wonderful beauty
that I will win it, and be worthy to win it. Lovely, fascinating,
fickle, cruel woman! you shall be mine--I swear it! Your wealth may
be great; but am I not of a generous nature enough to use it
worthily? Your rank is lofty; but not so lofty as my ambition. You
threw yourself away once on a cold and spiritless debauchee: give
yourself now, Honoria, to a MAN; and one who, however lofty your
rank may be, will enhance it and become it!'

As I poured words to this effect out on the astonished widow, I
stood over her, and fascinated her with the glance of my eye; saw
her turn red and pale with fear and wonder; saw that my praise of
her charms and the exposition of my passion were not unwelcome to
her, and witnessed with triumphant composure the mastery I was
gaining over her. Terror, be sure of that, is not a bad ingredient
of love. A man who wills fiercely to win the heart of a weak and
vapourish woman MUST succeed, if he have opportunity enough.

'Terrible man!' said Lady Lyndon, shrinking from me as soon as I had
done speaking (indeed, I was at a loss for words, and thinking of
another speech to make to her)--'terrible man! leave me.'

I saw that I had made an impression on her, from those very words.
'If she lets me into the house to-morrow,' said I, 'she is mine.'

As I went downstairs I put ten guineas into the hand of the hall-
porter, who looked quite astonished at such a gift.

'It is to repay you for the trouble of opening the door to me,' said
I; 'you will have to do so often.'

CHAPTER XVI

I PROVIDE NOBLY FOR MY FAMILY

The next day when I went back, my fears were realised: the door was
refused to me--my Lady was not at home. This I knew to be false: I
had watched the door the whole morning from a lodging I took at a
house opposite.

'Your lady is not out,' said I: 'she has denied me, and I can't, of
course, force my way to her. But listen: you are an Englishman?'
'That I am,' said the fellow, with an air of the utmost superiority.
'Your honour could tell that by my HACCENT.'

I knew he was, and might therefore offer him a bribe. An Irish
family servant in rags, and though his wages were never paid him,
would probably fling the money in your face.

'Listen, then,' said I. 'Your lady's letters pass through your
hands, don't they? A crown for every one that you bring me to read.
There is a whisky-shop in the next street; bring them there when you
go to drink, and call for me by the name of Dermot.'

'I recollect your honour at SPAR,' says the fellow, grinning:
'seven's the main, hey?' and being exceedingly proud of this
reminiscence, I bade my inferior adieu.

I do not defend this practice of letter-opening in private life,
except in cases of the most urgent necessity: when we must follow
the examples of our betters, the statesmen of all Europe, and, for
the sake of a great good, infringe a little matter of ceremony. My
Lady Lyndon's letters were none the worse for being opened, and a
great deal the better; the knowledge obtained from the perusal of
some of her multifarious epistles enabling me to become intimate
with her character in a hundred ways, and obtain a power over her by
which I was not slow to profit. By the aid of the letters and of my
English friend, whom I always regaled with the best of liquor, and
satisfied with presents of money still more agreeable (I used to put
on a livery in order to meet him, and a red wig, in which it was
impossible to know the dashing and elegant Redmond Barry), I got
such an insight into the widow's movements as astonished her. I knew
beforehand to what public places she would go; they were, on account
of her widowhood, but few: and wherever she appeared, at church or
in the park, I was always ready to offer her her book, or to canter
on horseback by the side of her chariot.

Many of her Ladyship's letters were the most whimsical rodomontades
that ever blue-stocking penned. She was a woman who took up and
threw off a greater number of dear friends than any one I ever knew.
To some of these female darlings she began presently to write about
my unworthy self, and it was with a sentiment of extreme
satisfaction I found at length that the widow was growing dreadfully
afraid of me; calling me her bete noire, her dark spirit, her
murderous adorer, and a thousand other names indicative of her
extreme disquietude and terror. It was: 'The wretch has been dogging
my chariot through the park,' or, 'my fate pursued me at church,'
and 'my inevitable adorer handed me out of my chair at the
mercer's,' or what not. My wish was to increase this sentiment of
awe in her bosom, and to make her believe that I was a person from
whom escape was impossible.

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