The Newcomes

by William Makepeace Thackeray

But what need for all this splendour? this wonderful toilette? this

  dazzling neck and shoulders, whereof the brightness and beauty blinded

  the eyes of lookers-on? She was dressed as gaudily as an actress of the

  Varietes going to a supper at Trois Freres. "It was Mademoiselle Mabille

  en habit de coeur," Madame d'Ivry remarked to Madame Schlangenbad.

  Barnes, who with his bride-elect for a partner made a vis-a-vis for his

  sister and the admiring Lord Rooster, was puzzled likewise by Ethel's

  countenance and appearance. Little Lady Clara looked like a little

  schoolgirl dancing before her.

  One, two, three, of the attendants of her Majesty the Queen of Scots were

  carried off in the course of the evening by the victorious young beauty,

  whose triumph had the effect, which the headstrong girl perhaps herself

  anticipated, of mortifying the Duchesse d'Ivry, of exasperating old Lady

  Kew, and of annoying the young nobleman to whom Miss Ethel was engaged.

  The girl seemed to take a pleasure in defying all three, a something

  embittered her, alike against her friends and her enemies. The old

  dowager chaffed and vented her wrath upon Lady Anne and Barnes. Ethel

  kept the ball alive by herself almost. She refused to go home, declining

  hints and commands alike. She was engaged for ever so many dances more.

  Not dance with Count Punter? it would be rude to leave him after

  promising him. Not waltz with Captain Blackball? He was not a proper

  partner for her? Why then did Kew know him? Lord Kew walked and talked

  with Captain Blackball every day. Was she to be so proud as not to know

  Lord Kew's friends? She greeted the Captain with a most fascinating smile

  as he came up whilst the controversy was pending, and ended it by

  whirling round the room in his arms.

  Madame d'Ivry viewed with such pleasure as might be expected the

  defection of her adherents, and the triumph of her youthful rival, who

  seemed to grow more beautiful with each waltz, so that the other dancers

  paused to look at her, the men breaking out in enthusiasm, the reluctant

  women being forced to join in the applause. Angry as she was, and knowing

  how Ethel's conduct angered her grandson, old Lady Kew could not help

  admiring the rebellious beauty, whose girlish spirit was more than a

  match for the imperious dowager's tough old resolution. As for Mr.

  Barnes's displeasure, the girl tossed her saucy head, shrugged her fair

  shoulders, and passed on with a scornful laugh. In a word, Miss Ethel

  conducted herself as a most reckless and intrepid young flirt, using her

  eyes with the most consummate effect, chattering with astounding gaiety,

  prodigal of smiles, gracious thanks and killing glances. What wicked

  spirit moved her? Perhaps had she known the mischief she was doing, she

  would have continued it still.

  The sight of this wilfulness and levity smote poor Lord Kew's honest

  heart with cruel pangs of mortification. The easy young nobleman had

  passed many a year of his life in all sorts of wild company. The

  chaumiere knew him, and the balls of Parisian actresses, the coulisses of

  the opera at home and abroad. Those pretty heads of ladies whom nobody

  knows, used to nod their shining ringlets at Kew, from private boxes at

  theatres, or dubious Park broughams. He had run the career of young men

  of pleasure, and laughed and feasted with jolly prodigals and their

  company. He was tired of it: perhaps he remembered an earlier and purer

  life, and was sighing to return to it. Living as he had done amongst the

  outcasts, his ideal of domestic virtue was high and pure. He chose to

  believe that good women were entirely good. Duplicity he could not

  understand; ill-temper shocked him: wilfulness he seemed to fancy

  belonged only to the profane and wicked; not to good girls, with good

  mothers, in honest homes. Their nature was to love their families; to

  obey their parents; to tend their poor; to honour their husbands; to

  cherish their children. Ethel's laugh woke him up from one of these

  simple reveries very likely, and then she swept round the ballroom

  rapidly, to the brazen notes of the orchestra. He never offered to dance

  with her more than once in the evening; went away to play, and returned

  to find her still whirling to the music. Madame d'Ivry remarked his

  tribulation and gloomy face, though she took no pleasure at his

  discomfiture, knowing that Ethel's behaviour caused it.

  In plays and novels, and I dare say in real life too sometimes, when the

  wanton heroine chooses to exert her powers of fascination, and to flirt

  with Sir Harry or the Captain, the hero, in a pique, goes off and makes

  love to somebody else: both acknowledge their folly after a while, shake

  hands, and are reconciled, and the curtain drops, or the volume ends. But

  there are some people too noble and simple for these amorous scenes and

  smirking artifices. When Kew was pleased he laughed, when he was grieved

  he was silent. He did not deign to hide his grief or pleasure under

  disguises. His error, perhaps, was in forgetting that Ethel was very

  young; that her conduct was not design so much as girlish mischief and

  high spirits; and that if young men have their frolics, sow their wild

  oats, and enjoy their pleasure, young women may be permitted sometimes

  their more harmless vagaries of gaiety, and sportive outbreaks of wilful

  humour.

  When she consented to go home at length, Lord Kew brought Miss Newcome's

  little white cloak for her (under the hood of which her glossy curls, her

  blushing cheeks, and bright eyes looked provokingly handsome), and

  encased her in this pretty garment without uttering one single word. She

  made him a saucy curtsey in return for this act of politeness, which

  salutation he received with a grave bow; and then he proceeded to cover

  up old Lady Kew, and to conduct her ladyship to her chariot. Miss Ethel

  chose to be displeased at her cousin's displeasure. What were balls made

  for but that people should dance? She a flirt? She displease Lord Kew? If

  she chose to dance, she would dance; she had no idea of his giving

  himself airs; besides it was such fun taking away the gentlemen of Mary

  Queen of Scots' court from her; such capital fun! So she went to bed,

  singing and performing wonderful roulades as she lighted her candle and

  retired to her room. She had had such a jolly evening!! such famous fun,

  and, I dare say (but how shall a novelist penetrate these mysteries?),

  when her chamber door was closed, she scolded her maid and was as cross

  as two sticks. You see there come moments of sorrow after the most

  brilliant victories; and you conquer and rout the enemy utterly, and then

  regret that you fought.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  The End of the Congress of Baden

  Mention has been made of an elderly young person from Ireland, engaged by

  Madame la Duchesse d'Ivry, as companion and teacher of English for her

  little daughter. When Miss O'Grady, as she did some time afterwards,

  quitted Madame d'Ivry's family, she spoke with great freedom regarding

  the behaviour of that duchess, and recounted horrors which she, the

  latter,
had committed. A number of the most terrific anecdotes issued

  from the lips of the indignant Miss, whose volubility Lord Kew was

  obliged to check, not choosing that his countess, with whom he was paying

  a bridal visit to Paris, should hear such dreadful legends. It was there

  that Miss O'Grady, finding herself in misfortune, and reading of Lord

  Kew's arrival at the Hotel Bristol, waited upon his lordship and the

  Countess of Kew, begging them to take tickets in a raffle for an

  invaluable ivory writing-desk, sole relic of her former prosperity, which

  she proposed to give her friends the chance of acquiring: in fact, Miss

  O'Grady lived for some years on the produce of repeated raffles for this

  beautiful desk: many religious ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain taking

  an interest in her misfortunes, and alleviating them by the simple

  lottery system. Protestants as well as Catholics were permitted to take

  shares in Miss O'Grady's raffles; and Lord Kew, good-natured then as

  always, purchased so many tickets, that the contrite O'Grady informed him

  of a transaction which had nearly affected his happiness, and in which

  she took a not very creditable share. "Had I known your lordship's real

  character," Miss O'G was pleased to say, "no tortures would have induced

  me to do an act for which I have undergone penance. It was that

  black-hearted woman, my lord, who maligned your lordship to me: that

  woman whom I called friend once, but who is the most false, depraved, and

  dangerous of her sex." In this way do ladies' companions sometimes speak

  of ladies when quarrels separate them, when confidential attendants are

  dismissed, bearing away family secrets in their minds, and revenge in

  their hearts.

  The day after Miss Ethel's feats at the assembly, old Lady Kew went over

  to advise her granddaughter, and to give her a little timely warning

  about the impropriety of flirtations; above all, with such men as are to

  be found at watering-places, persons who are never seen elsewhere in

  society. "Remark the peculiarities of Kew's temper, who never flies into

  a passion like you and me, my dear," said the old lady (being determined

  to be particularly gracious and cautious); "when once angry he remains

  so, and is so obstinate that it is almost impossible to coax him into

  good-humour. It is much better, my love, to be like us," continued the

  old lady, "to fly out in a rage and have it over; but que voulez-vous?

  such is Frank's temper, and we must manage him." So she went on, backing

  her advice by a crowd of examples drawn from the family history; showing

  how Kew was like his grandfather, her own poor husband; still more like

  his late father, Lord Walham; between whom and his mother there had been

  differences, chiefly brought on by my Lady Walham, of course, which had

  ended in the almost total estrangement of mother and son. Lady Kew then

  administered her advice, and told her stories with Ethel alone for a

  listener; and in a most edifying manner, she besought Miss Newcome to

  menager Lord Kew's susceptibilities, as she valued her own future comfort

  in life, as well as the happiness of a most amiable man, of whom, if

  properly managed, Ethel might make what she pleased. We have said Lady

  Kew managed everybody, and that most of the members of her family allowed

  themselves to be managed by her ladyship.

  Ethel, who had permitted her grandmother to continue her sententious

  advice, while she herself sat tapping her feet on the floor, and

  performing the most rapid variations of that air which is called the

  Devil's Tattoo, burst out, at length, to the elder lady's surprise, with

  an outbreak of indignation, a flushing face, and a voice quivering with

  anger.

  "This most amiable man," she cried out, "that you design for me, I know

  everything about this most amiable man, and thank you and my family for

  the present you make me! For the past year, what have you been doing?

  Every one of you! my father, my brother, and you yourself, have been

  filling my ears wit cruel reports against a poor boy, whom you chose to

  depict as everything that was dissolute and wicked, when there was nothing

  against him; nothing, but that he was poor. Yes, you yourself,

  grandmamma, have told me many and many a time, that Clive Newcome was not

  a fit companion for us; warned me against his bad courses, and painted

  him as extravagant, unprincipled, I don't know how bad. How bad! I know

  how good he is; how upright, generous, and truth-telling: though there

  was not a day until lately, that Barnes did not make some wicked story

  against him,--Barnes, who, I believe, is bad himself, like--like other

  young men. Yes, I am sure there was something about Barnes in that

  newspaper which my father took away from me. And you come, and you lift

  up your hands, and shake your head, because I dance with one gentleman or

  another. You tell me I am wrong; mamma has told me so this morning.

  Barnes, of course, has told me so, and you bring me Frank as a pattern,

  and tell me to love and honour and obey him! Look here," and she drew out

  a paper and put it into Lady Kew's hands. "Here is Kew's history, and I

  believe it is true; yes, I am sure it is true."

  The old dowager lifted her eyeglass to her black eyebrow, and read a

  paper written in English, and bearing no signature, in which many

  circumstances of Lord Kew's life were narrated for poor Ethel's benefit.

  It was not a worse life than that of a thousand young men of pleasure,

  but there were Kew's many misdeeds set down in order: such a catalogue as

  we laugh at when Leporello trolls it, and sings his master's victories in

  France, Italy, and Spain. Madame d'Ivry's name was not mentioned in this

  list, and Lady Kew felt sure that the outrage came from her.

  With real ardour Lady Kew sought to defend her grandson from some of the

  attacks here made against him; and showed Ethel that the person who could

  use such means of calumniating him, would not scruple to resort to

  falsehood in order to effect her purpose.

  "Her purpose!" cries Ethel. "How do you know it is a woman?" Lady Kew

  lapsed into generalities. She thought the handwriting was a woman's--at

  least it was not likely that a man should think of addressing an

  anonymous letter to a young lady, and so wreaking his hatred upon Lord

  Kew. "Besides, Frank has had no rivals--except--except one young

  gentleman who has carried his paint-boxes to Italy," says Lady Kew. "You

  don't think your dear Colonel's son would leave such a piece of mischief

  behind him? You must act, my dear," continued her ladyship, "as if this

  letter had never been written at all; the person who wrote it no doubt

  will watch you. Of course we are too proud to allow him to see that we

  are wounded; and pray, pray do not think of letting poor Frank know a

  word about this horrid transaction."

  "Then the letter is true?" burst out Ethel. "You know it is true,

  grandmamma, and that is why you would have me keep it a secret from my

  cousin; besides," she added, with a little hesitation, "your caution

  comes too late, Lord Kew has seen the letter."

  "You fool!" scr
eamed the old lady, "you were not so mad as to show it to

  him?"

  "I am sure the letter is true," Ethel said, rising up very haughtily. "It

  is not by calling me bad names that your ladyship will disprove it. Keep

  them, if you please, for my Aunt Julia; she is sick and weak, and can't

  defend herself. I do not choose to bear abuse from you, or lectures from

  Lord Kew. He happened to be here a short while since, when the letter

  arrived. He had been good enough to come to preach me a sermon on his own

  account. He to find fault with my actions!" cried Miss Ethel, quivering

  with wrath and clenching the luckless paper in her hand. "He to accuse me

  of levity, and to warn me against making improper acquaintances! He began

  his lectures too soon. I am not a lawful slave yet, and prefer to remain

  unmolested, at least as long as I am free."

  "And you told Frank all this, Miss Newcome, and you showed him that

  letter?" said the old lady.

  "The letter was actually brought to me whilst his lordship was in the

  midst of his sermon," Ethel replied. "I read it as he was making his

  speech," she continued, gathering anger and scorn as she recalled the

  circumstances of the interview. "He was perfectly polite in his language.

  He did not call me a fool or use a single other bad name. He was good

  enough to advise me and to make such virtuous pretty speeches, that if he

  had been a bishop he could not have spoken better; and as I thought the

  letter was a nice commentary on his lordship's sermon, I gave it to him.

  I gave it to him," cried the young woman, "and much good may it do him. I

  don't think my Lord Kew will preach to me again for some time."

  "I don't think he will indeed," said Lady Kew, in a hard dry voice. "You

  don't know what you may have done. Will you be pleased to ring the bell

  and order my carriage? I congratulate you on having performed a most

  charming morning's work."

  Ethel made her grandmother a very stately curtsey. I pity Lady Julia's

  condition when her mother reached home.

  All who know Lord Kew may be pretty sure that in that unlucky interview

  with Ethel, to which the young lady has alluded, he just said no single

  word to her that was not kind, and just, and gentle. Considering the

  relation between them, he thought himself justified in remonstrating with

  her as to the conduct which she chose to pursue, and in warning her

  against acquaintances of whom his own experience had taught him the

  dangerous character. He knew Madame d'Ivry and her friends so well that

  he would not have his wife-elect a member of their circle. He could not

  tell Ethel what he knew of those women and their history. She chose not

  to understand his hints--did not, very likely, comprehend them. She was

  quite young, and the stories of such lives as theirs had never been told

  before her. She was indignant at the surveillance which Lord Kew exerted

  over her, and the authority which he began to assume. At another moment

  and in a better frame of mind she would have been thankful for his care,

  and very soon and ever after she did justice to his many admirable

  qualities--his frankness, honesty, and sweet temper. Only her high spirit

  was in perpetual revolt at this time against the bondage in which her

  family strove to keep her. The very worldly advantages of the position

  which they offered her served but to chafe her the more. Had her proposed

  husband been a young prince with a crown to lay at her feet, she had been

  yet more indignant very likely, and more rebellious. Had Kew's younger

  brother been her suitor, or Kew in his place, she had been not unwilling

  to follow her parents' wishes. Hence the revolt in which she was engaged

  --the wayward freaks and outbreaks her haughty temper indulged in. No

  doubt she saw the justice of Lord Kew's reproofs. That self-consciousness

  was not likely to add to her good-humour. No doubt she was sorry for