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Demetrius Charles Boulger - "China"

Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell - "Cranford"

George Gissing - "The Crown of Life"

Gilbert Parker - "A Lover's Diary, Volume 2."

Barry Lyndon

W >> William Makepeace Thackeray >> Barry Lyndon




I interrupted this neat speech by sending a water-bottle at the
young gentleman's head, which felled him to the ground; and then I
went to meditate upon what he had said to me. It was true the fellow
had saved poor little Bryan's life, and the boy to his dying day was
tenderly attached to him. 'Be good to Redmond, papa,' were almost
the last words he spoke; and I promised the poor child, on his
death-bed, that I would do as he asked. It was also true, that rough
usage of him would be little liked by my people, with whom he had
managed to become a great favourite: for, somehow, though I got
drunk with the rascals often, and was much more familiar with them
than a man of my rank commonly is, yet I knew I was by no means
liked by them; and the scoundrels were murmuring against me
perpetually.

But I might have spared myself the trouble of debating what his fate
should be, for the young gentleman took the disposal of it out of my
hands in the simplest way in the world: viz. by washing and binding
up his head so soon as he came to himself: by taking his horse from
the stables; and, as he was quite free to go in and out of the house
and park as he liked, he disappeared without the least let or
hindrance; and leaving the horse behind him at the ferry, went off
in the very post-chaise which was waiting for Lady Lyndon. I saw and
heard no more of him for a considerable time; and now that he was
out of the house, did not consider him a very troublesome enemy.

But the cunning artifice of woman is such that, I think, in the long
run, no man, were he Machiavel himself, could escape from it; and
though I had ample proofs in the above transaction (in which my
wife's perfidious designs were frustrated by my foresight), and
under her own handwriting, of the deceitfulness of her character and
her hatred for me, yet she actually managed to deceive me, in spite
of all my precautions and the vigilance of my mother in my behalf.
Had I followed that good lady's advice, who scented the danger from
afar off, as it were, I should never have fallen into the snare
prepared for me; and which was laid in a way that was as successful
as it was simple.

My Lady Lyndon's relation with me was a singular one. Her life was
passed in a crack-brained sort of alternation between love and
hatred for me. If I was in a good-humour with her (as occurred
sometimes) there was nothing she would not do to propitiate me
further; and she would be as absurd and violent in her expressions
of fondness as, at other moments, she would be in her demonstrations
of hatred. It is not your feeble easy husbands who are loved best in
the world; according to my experience of it. I do think the women
like a little violence of temper, and think no worse of a husband
who exercises his authority pretty smartly. I had got my Lady into
such a terror about me, that when I smiled, it was quite an era of
happiness to her; and if I beckoned to her, she would come fawning
up to me like a dog. I recollect how, for the few days I was at
school, the cowardly mean-spirited fellows would laugh if ever our
schoolmaster made a joke. It was the same in the regiment whenever
the bully of a sergeant was disposed to be jocular--not a recruit
but was on the broad grin. Well, a wise and determined husband will
get his wife into this condition of discipline; and I brought my
high-born wife to kiss my hand, to pull off my boots, to fetch and
carry for me like a servant, and always to make it a holiday, too,
when I was in good-humour. I confided perhaps too much in the
duration of this disciplined obedience, and forgot that the very
hypocrisy which forms a part of it (all timid people are liars in
their hearts) may be exerted in a way that may be far from
agreeable, in order to deceive you.

After the ill-success of her last adventure, which gave me endless
opportunities to banter her, one would have thought I might have
been on my guard as to what her real intentions were; but she
managed to mislead me with an art of dissimulation quite admirable,
and lulled me into a fatal security with regard to her intentions:
for, one day, as I was joking her, and asking her whether she would
take the water again, whether she had found another lover, and so
forth, she suddenly burst into tears, and, seizing hold of my hand,
cried passionately out,--

'Ah, Barry, you know well enough that I have never loved but you!
Was I ever so wretched that a kind word from you did not make me
happy! ever so angry, but the least offer of goodwill on your part
did not bring me to your side? Did I not give a sufficient proof of
my affection for you, in bestowing one of the first fortunes in
England upon you? Have I repined or rebuked you for the way you have
wasted it? No, I loved you too much and too fondly; I have always
loved you. From the first moment I saw you, I felt irresistibly
attracted towards you. I saw your bad qualities, and trembled at
your violence; but I could not help loving you. I married you,
though I knew I was sealing my own fate in doing so; and in spite of
reason and duty. What sacrifice do you want from me? I am ready to
make any, so you will but love me; or, if not, that at least you
will gently use me.'

I was in a particularly good humour that day, and we had a sort of
reconciliation: though my mother, when she heard the speech, and saw
me softening towards her Ladyship, warned me solemnly, and said,
'Depend on it, the artful hussy has some other scheme in her head
now.' The old lady was right; and I swallowed the bait which her
Ladyship had prepared to entrap me as simply as any gudgeon takes a
hook.

I had been trying to negotiate with a man for some money, for which
I had pressing occasion; but since our dispute regarding the affair
of the succession, my Lady had resolutely refused to sign any papers
for my advantage: and without her name, I am sorry to say, my own
was of little value in the market, and I could not get a guinea from
any money-dealer in London or Dublin. Nor could I get the rascals
from the latter place to visit me at Castle Lyndon: owing to that
unlucky affair I had with Lawyer Sharp when I made him lend me the
money he brought down, and old Salmon the Jew being robbed of the
bond I gave him after leaving my house, [Footnote: These exploits of
Mr. Lyndon are not related in the narrative. He probably, in the
cases above alluded to, took the law into his own hands.] the people
would not trust themselves within my walls any more. Our rents, too,
were in the hands of receivers by this time, and it was as much as I
could do to get enough money from the rascals to pay my wine-
merchants their bills. Our English property, as I have said, was
equally hampered; and, as often as I applied to my lawyers and
agents for money, would come a reply demanding money of me, for
debts and pretended claims which the rapacious rascals said they had
on me.

It was, then, with some feelings of pleasure that I got a letter
from my confidential man in Gray's Inn, London, saying (in reply to
some ninety-ninth demand of mine) that he thought he could get me
some money; and inclosing a letter from a respectable firm in the
city of London, connected with the mining interest, which offered to
redeem the incumbrance in taking a long lease of certain property of
ours, which was still pretty free, upon the Countess's signature;
and provided they could be assured of her free will in giving it.
They said they heard she lived in terror of her life from me, and
meditated a separation, in which case she might repudiate any deeds
signed by her while in durance, and subject them, at any rate, to a
doubtful and expensive litigation; and demanded to be made assured
of her Ladyship's perfect free will in the transaction before they
advanced a shilling of their capital.

Their terms were so exorbitant, that I saw at once their offer must
be sincere; and, as my Lady was in her gracious mood, had no
difficulty in persuading her to write a letter, in her own hand,
declaring that the accounts of our misunderstandings were utter
calumnies; that we lived in perfect union, and that she was quite
ready to execute any deed which her husband might desire her to
sign.

This proposal was a very timely one, and filled me with great hopes.
I have not pestered my readers with many accounts of my debts and
law affairs; which were by this time so vast and complicated that I
never thoroughly knew them myself, and was rendered half wild by
their urgency. Suffice it to say, my money was gone--my credit was
done. I was living at Castle Lyndon off my own beef and mutton, and
the bread, turf, and potatoes off my own estate: I had to watch Lady
Lyndon within, and the bailiffs without. For the last two years,
since I went to Dublin to receive money (which I unluckily lost at
play there, to the disappointment of my creditors), I did not
venture to show in that city: and could only appear at our own
county town at rare intervals, and because I knew the sheriffs: whom
I swore I would murder if any ill chance happened to me. A chance of
a good loan, then, was the most welcome prospect possible to me, and
I hailed it with all the eagerness imaginable.

In reply to Lady Lyndon's letter, came, in course of time, an answer
from the confounded London merchants, stating that if her Ladyship
would confirm by word of mouth, at their counting-house in Birchin
Lane, London, the statement of her letter, they, having surveyed her
property, would no doubt come to terms; but they declined incurring
the risk of a visit to Castle Lyndon to negotiate, as they were
aware how other respectable parties, such as Messrs. Sharp and
Salmon of Dublin, had been treated there. This was a hit at me; but
there are certain situations in which people can't dictate their own
terms: and, 'faith, I was so pressed now for money, that I could
have signed a bond with Old Nick himself, if he had come provided
with a good round sum.

I resolved to go and take the Countess to London. It was in vain
that my mother prayed and warned me. 'Depend on it,' says she,
'there is some artifice. When once you get into that wicked town,
you are not safe. Here you may live for years and years, in luxury
and splendour, barring claret and all the windows broken; but as
soon as they have you in London, they'll get the better of my poor
innocent lad; and the first thing I shall hear of you will be, that
you are in trouble.'

'Why go, Redmond?' said my wife. 'I am happy here, as long as you
are kind to me, as you are now. We can't appear in London as we
ought; the little money you will get will be spent, like all the
rest has been. Let us turn shepherd and shepherdess, and look to our
flocks and be content.' And she took my hand and kissed it; while my
mother only said, 'Humph! I believe she's at the bottom of it--the
wicked SCHAMER!'

I told my wife she was a fool; bade Mrs. Barry not be uneasy, and
was hot upon going: I would take no denial from either party. How I
was to get the money to go was the question; but that was solved by
my good mother, who was always ready to help me on a pinch, and who
produced sixty guineas from a stocking. This was all the ready money
that Barry Lyndon, of Castle Lyndon, and married to a fortune of
forty thousand a year, could command: such had been the havoc made
in this fine fortune by my own extravagance (as I must confess), but
chiefly by my misplaced confidence and the rascality of others.

We did not start in state, you may be sure. We did not let the
country know we were going, or leave notice of adieu with our
neighbours. The famous Mr. Barry Lyndon and his noble wife travelled
in a hack-chaise and pair to Waterford, under the name of Mr. and
Mrs. Jones, and thence took shipping for Bristol, where we arrived
quite without accident. When a man is going to the deuce, how easy
and pleasant the journey is! The thought of the money quite put me
in a good humour, and my wife, as she lay on my shoulder in the
post-chaise going to London, said it was the happiest ride she had
taken since our marriage.

One night we stayed at Reading, whence I despatched a note to my
agent at Gray's Inn, saying I would be with him during the day, and
begging him to procure me a lodging, and to hasten the preparations
for the loan. My Lady and I agreed that we would go to France, and
wait there for better times; and that night, over our supper, formed
a score of plans both for pleasure and retrenchment. You would have
thought it was Darby and Joan together over their supper. O woman!
woman! when I recollect Lady Lyndon's smiles and blandishments--how
happy she seemed to be on that night! what an air of innocent
confidence appeared in her behaviour, and what affectionate names
she called me!--I am lost in wonder at the depth of her hypocrisy.
Who can be surprised that an unsuspecting person like myself should
have been a victim to such a consummate deceiver!

We were in London at three o'clock, and half-an-hour before the time
appointed our chaise drove to Gray's Inn. I easily found out Mr.
Tapewell's apartments--a gloomy den it was, and in an unlucky hour I
entered it! As we went up the dirty back-stair, lighted by a feeble
lamp and the dim sky of a dismal London afternoon, my wife seemed
agitated and faint.

'Redmond,' said she, as we got up to the door, 'don't go in: I am
sure there is danger. There's time yet; let us go back--to Ireland--
anywhere!' And she put herself before the door, in one of her
theatrical attitudes, and took my hand.

I just pushed her away to one side. 'Lady Lyndon,' said I, 'you are
an old fool!'

'Old fool!' said she; and she jumped at the bell, which was quickly
answered by a mouldy-looking gentleman in an unpowdered wig, to whom
she cried, 'Say Lady Lyndon is here;' and stalked down the passage
muttering 'Old fool.' It was 'OLD' which was the epithet that
touched her. I might call her anything but that.

Mr. Tapewell was in his musty room, surrounded by his parchments and
tin boxes. He advanced and bowed; begged her Ladyship to be seated;
pointed towards a chair for me, which I took, rather wondering at
his insolence; and then retreated to a side-door, saying he would be
back in one moment.

And back he DID come in one moment, bringing with him--whom do you
think? Another lawyer, six constables in red waistcoats with
bludgeons and pistols, my Lord George Poynings, and his aunt Lady
Jane Peckover.

When my Lady Lyndon saw her old flame, she flung herself into his
arms in an hysterical passion. She called him her saviour, her
preserver, her gallant knight; and then, turning round to me, poured
out a flood of invective which quite astonished me.

'Old fool as I am,' said she, 'I have outwitted the most crafty and
treacherous monster under the sun. Yes, I WAS a fool when I married
you, and gave up other and nobler hearts for your sake--yes, I was a
fool when I forgot my name and lineage to unite myself with a base-
born adventurer--a fool to bear, without repining, the most
monstrous tyranny that ever woman suffered; to allow my property to
be squandered; to see women, as base and low-born as yourself'--

'For Heaven's sake, be calm!' cries the lawyer; and then bounded
back behind the constables, seeing a threatening look in my eye
which the rascal did not like. Indeed. I could have torn him to
pieces, had he come near me. Meanwhile, my Lady continued in a
strain of incoherent fury; screaming against me, and against my
mother especially, upon whom she heaped abuse worthy of
Billingsgate, and always beginning and ending the sentence with the
word fool.

'You don't tell all, my Lady,' says I bitterly; 'I said OLD fool.'

'I have no doubt you said and did, sir, everything that a blackguard
could say or do,' interposed little Poynings. 'This lady is now safe
under the protection of her relations and the law, and need fear
your infamous persecutions no longer.'

'But YOU are not safe,' roared I; 'and, as sure as I am a man of
honour, and have tasted your blood once, I will have your heart's
blood now.'

'Take down his words, constables: swear the peace against him!'
screamed the little lawyer, from behind his tipstaffs.

'I would not sully my sword with the blood of such a ruffian,' cried
my Lord, relying on the same doughty protection. 'If the scoundrel
remains in London another day, he will be seized as a common
swindler.' And this threat indeed made me wince; for I knew that
there were scores of writs out against me in town, and that once in
prison my case was hopeless.

'Where's the man will seize me!' shouted I, drawing my sword, and
placing my back to the door. 'Let the scoundrel come. You--you
cowardly braggart, come first, if you have the soul of a man!'

'We're not going to seize you!' said the lawyer; my Ladyship, her
aunt, and a division of the bailiffs moving off as he spoke. 'My
dear sir, we don't wish to seize you: we will give you a handsome
sum to leave the country; only leave her Ladyship in peace!'

'And the country will be well rid of such a villain!' says my Lord,
retreating too, and not sorry to get out of my reach: and the
scoundrel of a lawyer followed him, leaving me in possession of the
apartment, and in company of the bullies from the police-office, who
were all armed to the teeth. I was no longer the man I was at
twenty, when I should have charged the ruffians sword in hand, and
have sent at least one of them to his account. I was broken in
spirit; regularly caught in the toils: utterly baffled and beaten by
that woman. Was she relenting at the door, when she paused and
begged me turn back? Had she not a lingering love for me still? Her
conduct showed it, as I came to reflect on it. It was my only chance
now left in the world, so I put down my sword upon the lawyer's
desk.

'Gentlemen,' said I, 'I shall use no violence; you may tell Mr.
Tapewell I am quite ready to speak with him when he is at leisure!'
and I sat down and folded my arms quite peaceably. What a change
from the Barry Lyndon of old days! but, as I have read in an old
book about Hannibal the Carthaginian general, when he invaded the
Romans, his troops, which were the most gallant in the world, and
carried all before them, went into cantonments in some city where
they were so sated with the luxuries and pleasures of life, that
they were easily beaten in the next campaign. It was so with me now.
My strength of mind and body were no longer those of the brave youth
who shot his man at fifteen, and fought a score of battles within
six years afterwards. Now, in the Fleet Prison, where I write this,
there is a small man who is always jeering me and making game of me;
who asks me to fight, and I haven't the courage to touch him. But I
am anticipating the gloomy and wretched events of my history of
humiliation, and had better proceed in order.

I took a lodging in a coffee-house near Gray's Inn; taking care to
inform Mr. Tapewell of my whereabouts, and anxiously expecting a
visit from him. He came and brought me the terms which Lady Lyndon's
friends proposed-a paltry annuity of L300 a year; to be paid on the
condition of my remaining abroad out of the three kingdoms, and to
be stopped on the instant of my return. He told me what I very well
knew, that my stay in London would infallibly plunge me in gaol;
that there were writs innumerable taken out against me here, and in
the West of England; that my credit was so blown upon that I could
not hope to raise a shilling; and he left me a night to consider of
his proposal; saying that, if I refused it, the family would
proceed: if I acceded, a quarter's salary should be paid to me at
any foreign port I should prefer.

What was the poor, lonely, and broken-hearted man to do? I took the
annuity, and was declared outlaw in the course of next week. The
rascal Quin had, I found, been, after all, the cause of my undoing.
It was he devised the scheme for bringing me up to London; sealing
the attorney's letter with a seal which had been agreed upon between
him and the Countess formerly: indeed he had always been for trying
the plan, and had proposed it at first; but her Ladyship, with her
inordinate love of romance, preferred the project of elopement. Of
these points my mother wrote me word in my lonely exile, offering at
the same time to come over and share it with me; which proposal I
declined. She left Castle Lyndon a very short time after I had
quitted it; and there was silence in that hall where, under my
authority, had been exhibited so much hospitality and splendour. She
thought she would never see me again, and bitterly reproached me for
neglecting her; but she was mistaken in that, and in her estimate of
me. She is very old, and is sitting by my side at this moment in the
prison, working: she has a bedroom in Fleet Market over the way;
and, with the fifty-pound annuity, which she has kept with a wise
prudence, we manage to eke out a miserable existence, quite unworthy
of the famous and fashionable Barry Lyndon.

Mr. Barry Lyndon's personal narrative finishes here, for the hand
of death interrupted the ingenious author soon after the period at
which the Memoir was compiled; after he had lived nineteen years an
inmate of the Fleet Prison, where the prison records state he died
of delirium tremens. His mother attained a prodigious old age, and
the inhabitants of the place in her time can record with accuracy
the daily disputes which used to take place between mother and son;
until the latter, from habits of intoxication, falling into a state
of almost imbecility, was tended by his tough old parent as a baby
almost, and would cry if deprived of his necessary glass of brandy.

His life on the Continent we have not the means of following
accurately; but he appears to have resumed his former profession of
a gambler, without his former success.

He returned secretly to England, after some time, and made an
abortive attempt to extort money from Lord George Poynings, under a
threat of publishing his correspondence with Lady Lyndon, and so
preventing his Lordship's match with Miss Driver, a great heiress,
of strict principles, and immense property in slaves in the West
Indies. Barry narrowly escaped being taken prisoner by the bailiffs
who were despatched after him by his lordship, who would have
stopped his pension; but Lady Lyndon would never consent to that act
of justice, and, indeed, broke with my Lord George the very moment
he married the West India lady.

The fact is, the old Countess thought her charms were perennial, and
was never out of love with her husband. She was living at Bath; her
property being carefully nursed by her noble relatives the Tiptoffs,
who were to succeed to it in default of direct heirs: and such was
the address of Barry, and the sway he still held over the woman,
that he actually had almost persuaded her to go and live with him
again; when his plan and hers was interrupted by the appearance of a
person who had been deemed dead for several years.

This was no other than Viscount Bullingdon, who started up to the
surprise of all; and especially to that of his kinsman of the house
of Tiptoff. This young nobleman made his appearance at Bath, with
the letter from Barry to Lord George in his hand; in which the
former threatened to expose his connection with Lady Lyndon--a
connection, we need not state, which did not reflect the slightest
dishonour upon either party, and only showed that her Ladyship was
in the habit of writing exceedingly foolish letters; as many ladies,
nay gentlemen, have done ere this. For calling the honour of his
mother in question, Lord Bullingdon assaulted his stepfather (living
at Bath under the name of Mr. Jones), and administered to him a
tremendous castigation in the Pump-Room.

His Lordship's history, since his departure, was a romantic one,
which we do not feel bound to narrate. He had been wounded in the
American War, reported dead, left prisoner, and escaped. The
remittances which were promised him were never sent; the thought of
the neglect almost broke the heart of the wild and romantic young
man, and he determined to remain dead to the world at least, and to
the mother who had denied him. It was in the woods of Canada, and
three years after the event had occurred, that he saw the death of
his half-brother chronicled in the Gentleman's Magazine, under the
title of 'Fatal Accident to Lord Viscount Castle Lyndon;' on which
he determined to return to England: where, though he made himself
known, it was with very great difficulty indeed that he satisfied
Lord Tiptoff of the authenticity of his claim. He was about to pay a
visit to his lady mother at Bath, when he recognised the well-known
face of Mr. Barry Lyndon, in spite of the modest disguise which that
gentleman wore, and revenged upon his person the insults of former
days.

Lady Lyndon was furious when she heard of the rencounter; declined
to see her son, and was for rushing at once to the arms of her
adored Barry; but that gentleman had been carried off, meanwhile,
from gaol to gaol, until he was lodged in the hands of Mr. Bendigo,
of Chancery Lane, an assistant to the Sheriff of Middlesex; from
whose house he went to the Fleet Prison. The Sheriff and his
assistant, the prisoner, nay, the prison itself, are now no more.

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