The Way We Live Now - 41

friend;--but he could not answer for his followers. There was, he
admitted, a strong feeling among the leaders of the Conservative
party of distrust in Melmotte. He considered it probable that among
his friends who had been invited there would be some who would be
unwilling to meet even the Emperor of China on the existing terms.
"They should remember," said the Prime Minister, "that they are also
to meet their own Prince, and that empty seats on such an occasion
will be a dishonour to him."

"Just at present I can only answer for myself," said the leader of
the Opposition.--At that moment even the Prime Minister was much
disturbed in his mind; but in such emergencies a Prime Minister can
only choose the least of two evils. To have taken the Emperor to dine
with a swindler would be very bad; but to desert him, and to stop the
coming of the Emperor and all the Princes on a false rumour, would be
worse.




CHAPTER LIX.

THE DINNER.


It does sometimes occur in life that an unambitious man, who is in no
degree given to enterprises, who would fain be safe, is driven by the
cruelty of circumstances into a position in which he must choose a
side, and in which, though he has no certain guide as to which side
he should choose, he is aware that he will be disgraced if he should
take the wrong side. This was felt as a hardship by many who were
quite suddenly forced to make up their mind whether they would go to
Melmotte's dinner, or join themselves to the faction of those who had
determined to stay away although they had accepted invitations. Some
there were not without a suspicion that the story against Melmotte
had been got up simply as an electioneering trick,--so that Mr. Alf
might carry the borough on the next day. As a dodge for an election
this might be very well, but any who might be deterred by such
a manoeuvre from meeting the Emperor and supporting the Prince
would surely be marked men. And none of the wives, when they were
consulted, seemed to care a straw whether Melmotte was a swindler or
not. Would the Emperor and the Princes and Princesses be there? This
was the only question which concerned them. They did not care whether
Melmotte was arrested at the dinner or after the dinner, so long
as they, with others, could show their diamonds in the presence of
eastern and western royalty. But yet,--what a fiasco would it be,
if at this very instant of time the host should be apprehended for
common forgery! The great thing was to ascertain whether others were
going. If a hundred or more out of the two hundred were to be absent
how dreadful would be the position of those who were present! And how
would the thing go if at the last moment the Emperor should be kept
away? The Prime Minister had decided that the Emperor and the Prince
should remain altogether in ignorance of the charges which were
preferred against the man; but of that these doubters were unaware.
There was but little time for a man to go about town and pick up the
truth from those who were really informed; and questions were asked
in an uncomfortable and restless manner. "Is your Grace going?" said
Lionel Lupton to the Duchess of Stevenage,--having left the House
and gone into the park between six and seven to pick up some hints
among those who were known to have been invited. The Duchess was
Lord Alfred's sister, and of course she was going. "I usually keep
engagements when I make them, Mr. Lupton," said the Duchess. She had
been assured by Lord Alfred not a quarter of an hour before that
everything was as straight as a die. Lord Alfred had not then even
heard of the rumour. But ultimately both Lionel Lupton and Beauchamp
Beauclerk attended the dinner. They had received special tickets as
supporters of Mr. Melmotte at the election,--out of the scanty number
allotted to that gentleman himself,--and they thought themselves
bound in honour to be there. But they, with their leader, and one
other influential member of the party, were all who at last came as
the political friends of the candidate for Westminster. The existing
ministers were bound to attend to the Emperor and the Prince. But
members of the Opposition, by their presence, would support the man
and the politician, and both as a man and as a politician they were
ashamed of him.

When Melmotte arrived at his own door with his wife and daughter he
had heard nothing of the matter. That a man so vexed with affairs of
money, so laden with cares, encompassed by such dangers, should be
free from suspicion and fear it is impossible to imagine. That such
burdens should be borne at all is a wonder to those whose shoulders
have never been broadened for such work;--as is the strength of the
blacksmith's arm to men who have never wielded a hammer. Surely his
whole life must have been a life of terrors! But of any special peril
to which he was at that moment subject, or of any embarrassment which
might affect the work of the evening, he knew nothing. He placed his
wife in the drawing-room and himself in the hall, and arranged his
immediate satellites around him,--among whom were included the two
Grendalls, young Nidderdale, and Mr. Cohenlupe,--with a feeling of
gratified glory. Nidderdale down at the House had heard the rumour,
but had determined that he would not as yet fly from his colours.
Cohenlupe had also come up from the House, where no one had spoken to
him. Though grievously frightened during the last fortnight, he had
not dared to be on the wing as yet. And, indeed, to what clime could
such a bird as he fly in safety? He had not only heard,--but also
knew very much, and was not prepared to enjoy the feast. Since they
had been in the hall Miles had spoken dreadful words to his father.
"You've heard about it; haven't you?" whispered Miles. Lord Alfred,
remembering his sister's question, became almost pale, but declared
that he had heard nothing. "They're saying all manner of things in
the City;--forgery and heaven knows what. The Lord Mayor is not
coming." Lord Alfred made no reply. It was the philosophy of his
life that misfortunes when they came should be allowed to settle
themselves. But he was unhappy.

The grand arrivals were fairly punctual, and the very grand people
all came. The unfortunate Emperor,--we must consider a man to be
unfortunate who is compelled to go through such work as this,--with
impassible and awful dignity, was marshalled into the room on the
ground floor, whence he and other royalties were to be marshalled
back into the banqueting hall. Melmotte, bowing to the ground, walked
backwards before him, and was probably taken by the Emperor for some
Court Master of the Ceremonies especially selected to walk backwards
on this occasion. The Princes had all shaken hands with their host,
and the Princesses had bowed graciously. Nothing of the rumour had
as yet been whispered in royal palaces. Besides royalty the company
allowed to enter the room downstairs was very select. The Prime
Minister, one archbishop, two duchesses, and an ex-governor of
India with whose features the Emperor was supposed to be peculiarly
familiar, were alone there. The remainder of the company, under the
superintendence of Lord Alfred, were received in the drawing-room
above. Everything was going on well, and they who had come and had
thought of not coming were proud of their wisdom.

But when the company was seated at dinner the deficiencies were
visible enough, and were unfortunate. Who does not know the effect
made by the absence of one or two from a table intended for ten
or twelve,--how grievous are the empty places, how destructive of
the outward harmony and grace which the hostess has endeavoured to
preserve are these interstices, how the lady in her wrath declares to
herself that those guilty ones shall never have another opportunity
of filling a seat at her table? Some twenty, most of whom had been
asked to bring their wives, had slunk from their engagements, and
the empty spaces were sufficient to declare a united purpose. A week
since it had been understood that admission for the evening could not
be had for love or money, and that a seat at the dinner-table was as
a seat at some banquet of the gods! Now it looked as though the room
were but half-filled. There were six absences from the City. Another
six of Mr. Melmotte's own political party were away. The archbishops
and the bishop were there, because bishops never hear worldly tidings
till after other people;--but that very Master of the Buckhounds for
whom so much pressure had been made did not come. Two or three peers
were absent, and so also was that editor who had been chosen to
fill Mr. Alf's place. One poet, two painters, and a philosopher had
received timely notice at their clubs, and had gone home. The three
independent members of the House of Commons for once agreed in their
policy, and would not lend the encouragement of their presence to a
man suspected of forgery. Nearly forty places were vacant when the
business of the dinner commenced.

Melmotte had insisted that Lord Alfred should sit next to himself at
the big table, and having had the objectionable bar removed, and
his own chair shoved one step nearer to the centre, had carried his.
point. With the anxiety natural to such an occasion, he glanced
repeatedly round the hall, and of course became aware that many were
absent. "How is it that there are so many places empty?" he said to
his faithful Achates.

"Don't know," said Achates, shaking his head, steadfastly refusing to
look round upon the hall.

Melmotte waited awhile, then looked round again, and asked the
question in another shape: "Hasn't there been some mistake about the
numbers? There's room for ever so many more."

"Don't know," said Lord Alfred, who was unhappy in his mind, and
repenting himself that he had ever seen Mr. Melmotte.

"What the deuce do you mean?" whispered Melmotte. "You've been at it
from the beginning and ought to know. When I wanted to ask Brehgert,
you swore that you couldn't squeeze a place."

"Can't say anything about it," said Lord Alfred, with his eyes fixed
upon his plate.

"I'll be d---- if I don't find out," said Melmotte. "There's either
some horrible blunder, or else there's been imposition. I don't see
quite clearly. Where's Sir Gregory Gribe?"

"Hasn't come, I suppose."

"And where's the Lord Mayor?" Melmotte, in spite of royalty, was now
sitting with his face turned round upon the hall. "I know all their
places, and I know where they were put. Have you seen the Lord
Mayor?"

"No; I haven't seen him at all."

"But he was to come. What's the meaning of it, Alfred?"

"Don't know anything about it." He shook his head but would not, for
even a moment, look round upon the room.

"And where's Mr. Killegrew,--and Sir David Boss?" Mr. Killegrew and
Sir David were gentlemen of high standing, and destined for important
offices in the Conservative party. "There are ever so many people not
here. Why, there's not above half of them down the room. What's up,
Alfred? I must know."

"I tell you I know nothing. I could not make them come." Lord
Alfred's answers were made not only with a surly voice, but also with
a surly heart. He was keenly alive to the failure, and alive also to
the feeling that the failure would partly be attached to himself.
At the present moment he was anxious to avoid observation, and it
seemed to him that Melmotte, by the frequency and impetuosity of his
questions, was drawing special attention to him. "If you go on making
a row," he said, "I shall go away." Melmotte looked at him with all
his eyes. "Just sit quiet and let the thing go on. You'll know all
about it soon enough." This was hardly the way to give Mr. Melmotte
peace of mind. For a few minutes he did sit quiet. Then he got up and
moved down the hall behind the guests.

In the meantime, Imperial Majesty and Royalties of various
denominations ate their dinner, without probably observing those
Banquo's seats. As the Emperor talked Manchoo only, and as there was
no one present who could even interpret Manchoo into English,--the
imperial interpreter condescending only to interpret Manchoo into
ordinary Chinese which had to be reinterpreted,--it was not within
his Imperial Majesty's power to have much conversation with his
neighbours. And as his neighbours on each side of him were all
cousins and husbands, and brothers and wives, who saw each constantly
under, let us presume, more comfortable circumstances, they had not
very much to say to each other. Like most of us, they had their
duties to do, and, like most of us, probably found their duties
irksome. The brothers and sisters and cousins were used to it; but
that awful Emperor, solid, solemn, and silent, must, if the spirit of
an Eastern Emperor be at all like that of a Western man, have had a
weary time of it. He sat there for more than two hours, awful, solid,
solemn, and silent, not eating very much,--for this was not his
manner of eating; nor drinking very much,--for this was not his
manner of drinking; but wondering, no doubt, within his own awful
bosom, at the changes which were coming when an Emperor of China was
forced, by outward circumstances, to sit and hear this buzz of voices
and this clatter of knives and forks. "And this," he must have said
to himself, "is what they call royalty in the West!" If a prince of
our own was forced, for the good of the country, to go among some far
distant outlandish people, and there to be poked in the ribs, and
slapped on the back all round, the change to him could hardly be so
great.

"Where's Sir Gregory?" said Melmotte, in a hoarse whisper, bending
over the chair of a City friend. It was old Todd, the senior partner
of Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner. Mr. Todd was a very wealthy man,
and had a considerable following in the City.

"Ain't he here?" said Todd,--knowing very well who had come from the
City and who had declined.

"No;--and the Lord Mayor's not come;--nor Postlethwaite, nor Bunter.
What's the meaning of it?"

Todd looked first at one neighbour and then at another before he
answered. "I'm here, that's all I can say, Mr. Melmotte; and I've
had a very good dinner. They who haven't come, have lost a very good
dinner."

There was a weight upon Melmotte's mind of which he could not rid
himself. He knew from the old man's manner, and he knew also from
Lord Alfred's manner, that there was something which each of them
could tell him if he would. But he was unable to make the men open
their mouths. And yet it might be so important to him that he should
know! "It's very odd," he said, "that gentlemen should promise to
come and then stay away. There were hundreds anxious to be present
whom I should have been glad to welcome, if I had known that there
would be room. I think it is very odd."

"It is odd," said Mr. Todd, turning his attention to the plate before
him.

Melmotte had lately seen much of Beauchamp Beauclerk, in reference
to the coming election. Passing back up the table, he found the
gentleman with a vacant seat on one side of him. There were many
vacant seats in this part of the room, as the places for the
Conservative gentlemen had been set apart together. There Mr.
Melmotte seated himself for a minute, thinking that he might get the
truth from his new ally. Prudence should have kept him silent. Let
the cause of these desertions have been what it might, it ought to
have been clear to him that he could apply no remedy to it now. But
he was bewildered and dismayed, and his mind within him was changing
at every moment. He was now striving to trust to his arrogance and
declaring that nothing should cow him. And then again he was so cowed
that he was ready to creep to any one for assistance. Personally,
Mr. Beauclerk had disliked the man greatly. Among the vulgar, loud
upstarts whom he had known, Melmotte was the vulgarest, the loudest,
and the most arrogant. But he had taken the business of Melmotte's
election in hand, and considered himself bound to stand by Melmotte
till that was over; and he was now the guest of the man in his own
house, and was therefore constrained to courtesy. His wife was
sitting by him, and he at once introduced her to Mr. Melmotte. "You
have a wonderful assemblage here, Mr. Melmotte," said the lady,
looking up at the royal table.

"Yes, ma'am, yes. His Majesty the Emperor has been pleased to
intimate that he has been much gratified."--Had the Emperor in truth
said so, no one who looked at him could have believed his imperial
word.--"Can you tell me, Mr. Beauclerk, why those other gentlemen are
not here? It looks very odd; does it not?"

"Ah; you mean Killegrew."

"Yes; Mr. Killegrew and Sir David Boss, and the whole lot. I made a
particular point of their coming. I said I wouldn't have the dinner
at all unless they were to be asked. They were going to make it a
Government thing; but I said no. I insisted on the leaders of our own
party; and now they're not here. I know the cards were sent;--and, by
George, I have their answers, saying they'd come."

"I suppose some of them are engaged," said Mr. Beauclerk.

"Engaged! What business has a man to accept one engagement and
then take another? And, if so, why shouldn't he write and make his
excuses? No, Mr. Beauclerk, that won't go down."

"I'm here, at any rate," said Beauclerk, making the very answer that
had occurred to Mr. Todd.

"Oh, yes, you're here. You're all right. But what is it, Mr.
Beauclerk? There's something up, and you must have heard." And so
it was clear to Mr. Beauclerk that the man knew nothing about it
himself. If there was anything wrong, Melmotte was not aware that
the wrong had been discovered. "Is it anything about the election
to-morrow?"

"One never can tell what is actuating people," said Mr. Beauclerk.

"If you know anything about the matter I think you ought to tell me."

"I know nothing except that the ballot will be taken to-morrow. You
and I have got nothing more to do in the matter except to wait the
result."

"Well; I suppose it's all right," said Melmotte, rising and going
back to his seat. But he knew that things were not all right. Had his
political friends only been absent, he might have attributed their
absence to some political cause which would not have touched him
deeply. But the treachery of the Lord Mayor and of Sir Gregory Gribe
was a blow. For another hour after he had returned to his place, the
Emperor sat solemn in his chair; and then, at some signal given by
some one, he was withdrawn. The ladies had already left the room
about half an hour. According to the programme arranged for the
evening, the royal guests were to return to the smaller room for
a cup of coffee, and were then to be paraded upstairs before the
multitude who would by that time have arrived, and to remain there
long enough to justify the invited ones in saying that they had spent
the evening with the Emperor and the Princes and the Princesses. The
plan was carried out perfectly. At half-past ten the Emperor was made
to walk upstairs, and for half an hour sat awful and composed in an
arm-chair that had been prepared for him. How one would wish to see
the inside of the mind of the Emperor as it worked on that occasion!

Melmotte, when his guests ascended his stairs, went back into the
banqueting-room and through to the hall, and wandered about till he
found Miles Grendall. "Miles," he said, "tell me what the row is."

"How row?" asked Miles.

"There's something wrong, and you know all about it. Why didn't the
people come?" Miles, looking guilty, did not even attempt to deny his
knowledge. "Come; what is it? We might as well know all about it at
once." Miles looked down on the ground, and grunted something. "Is it
about the election?"

"No, it's not that," said Miles.

"Then what is it?"

"They got hold of something to-day in the City--about Pickering."

"They did, did they? And what were they saying about Pickering? Come;
you might as well out with it. You don't suppose that I care what
lies they tell."

"They say there's been something--forged. Title-deeds, I think they
say."

"Title-deeds! that I have forged title-deeds. Well; that's beginning
well. And his lordship has stayed away from my house after accepting
my invitation because he has heard that story! All right, Miles;
that will do." And the Great Financier went upstairs into his own
drawing-room.




CHAPTER LX.

MISS LONGESTAFFE'S LOVER.


A few days before that period in our story which we have now reached,
Miss Longestaffe was seated in Lady Monogram's back drawing-room,
discussing the terms on which the two tickets for Madame Melmotte's
grand reception had been transferred to Lady Monogram,--the place on
the cards for the names of the friends whom Madame Melmotte had the
honour of inviting to meet the Emperor and the Princes, having been
left blank; and the terms also on which Miss Longestaffe had been
asked to spend two or three days with her dear friend Lady Monogram.
Each lady was disposed to get as much and to give as little as
possible,--in which desire the ladies carried out the ordinary
practice of all parties to a bargain. It had of course been settled
that Lady Monogram was to have the two tickets,--for herself and
her husband,--such tickets at that moment standing very high in the
market. In payment for these valuable considerations, Lady Monogram
was to undertake to chaperon Miss Longestaffe at the entertainment,
to take Miss Longestaffe as a visitor for three days, and to have one
party at her own house during the time, so that it might be seen that
Miss Longestaffe had other friends in London besides the Melmotte's
on whom to depend for her London gaieties. At this moment Miss
Longestaffe felt herself justified in treating the matter as though
she were hardly receiving a fair equivalent. The Melmotte tickets
were certainly ruling very high. They had just culminated. They
fell a little soon afterwards, and at ten P.M. on the night of the
entertainment were hardly worth anything. At the moment which we have
now in hand, there was a rush for them. Lady Monogram had already
secured the tickets. They were in her desk. But, as will sometimes
be the case in a bargain, the seller was complaining that as she had
parted with her goods too cheap, some make-weight should be added to
the stipulated price.

"As for that, my dear," said Miss Longestaffe, who, since the rise in
Melmotte stock generally, had endeavoured to resume something of her
old manners, "I don't see what you mean at all. You meet Lady Julia
Goldsheiner everywhere, and her father-in-law is Mr. Brehgert's
junior partner."

"Lady Julia is Lady Julia, my dear, and young Mr. Goldsheiner has,
in some sort of way, got himself in. He hunts, and Damask says
that he is one of the best shots at Hurlingham. I never met old Mr.
Goldsheiner anywhere."

"I have."

"Oh, yes, I dare say. Mr. Melmotte, of course, entertains all the
City people. I don't think Sir Damask would like me to ask Mr.
Brehgert to dine here." Lady Monogram managed everything herself with
reference to her own parties; invited all her own guests, and never
troubled Sir Damask,--who, again, on his side, had his own set of
friends; but she was very clever in the use which she made of her
husband. There were some aspirants who really were taught to think
that Sir Damask was very particular as to the guests whom he welcomed
to his own house.

"May I speak to Sir Damask about it?" asked Miss Longestaffe, who was
very urgent on the occasion.

"Well, my dear, I really don't think you ought to do that. There are
little things which a man and his wife must manage together without
interference."

"Nobody can ever say that I interfered in any family. But really,
Julia, when you tell me that Sir Damask cannot receive Mr. Brehgert,
it does sound odd. As for City people, you know as well as I do, that
that kind of thing is all over now. City people are just as good as
West-end people."

"A great deal better, I dare say. I'm not arguing about that. I don't
make the lines; but there they are; and one gets to know in a sort
of way what they are. I don't pretend to be a bit better than my
neighbours. I like to see people come here whom other people who come
here will like to meet. I'm big enough to hold my own, and so is Sir
Damask. But we ain't big enough to introduce new-comers. I don't
suppose there's anybody in London understands it better than you do,
Georgiana, and therefore it's absurd my pretending to teach you. I
go pretty well everywhere, as you are aware; and I shouldn't know Mr.
Brehgert if I were to see him."

"You'll meet him at the Melmottes', and, in spite of all you said
once, you're glad enough to go there."

"Quite true, my dear. I don't think that you are just the person to
throw that in my teeth; but never mind that. There's the butcher
round the corner in Bond Street, or the man who comes to do my hair.
I don't at all think of asking them to my house. But if they were
suddenly to turn out wonderful men, and go everywhere, no doubt I
should be glad to have them here. That's the way we live, and you are
as well used to it as I am. Mr. Brehgert at present to me is like the
butcher round the corner." Lady Monogram had the tickets safe under
lock and key, or I think she would hardly have said this.

"He is not a bit like a butcher," said Miss Longestaffe, blazing up
in real wrath.

"I did not say that he was."

"Yes, you did; and it was the unkindest thing you could possibly say.
It was meant to be unkind. It was monstrous. How would you like it if
I said that Sir Damask was like a hair-dresser?"

"You can say so if you please. Sir Damask drives four in hand, rides
as though he meant to break his neck every winter, is one of the best
shots going, and is supposed to understand a yacht as well as any
other gentleman out. And I'm rather afraid that before he was married
he used to box with all the prize-fighters, and to be a little too
free behind the scenes. If that makes a man like a hair-dresser,
well, there he is."

"How proud you are of his vices."

"He's very good-natured, my dear, and as he does not interfere with
me, I don't interfere with him. I hope you'll do as well. I dare say
Mr. Brehgert is good-natured."

"He's an excellent man of business, and is making a very large
fortune."

"And has five or six grown-up children, who, no doubt, will be a
comfort."

"If I don't mind them, why need you? You have none at all, and you
find it lonely enough."

"Not at all lonely. I have everything that I desire. How hard you are
trying to be ill-natured, Georgiana."

"Why did you say that he was a--butcher?"

"I said nothing of the kind. I didn't even say that he was like a
butcher. What I did say was this,--that I don't feel inclined to risk
my own reputation on the appearance of new people at my table. Of
course, I go in for what you call fashion. Some people can dare to
ask anybody they meet in the streets. I can't. I've my own line, and
I mean to follow it. It's hard work, I can tell you; and it would
be harder still if I wasn't particular. If you like Mr. Brehgert to
come here on Tuesday evening, when the rooms will be full, you can
ask him; but as for having him to dinner, I--won't--do--it." So the
matter was at last settled. Miss Longestaffe did ask Mr. Brehgert for
the Tuesday evening, and the two ladies were again friends.

Perhaps Lady Monogram, when she illustrated her position by an
allusion to a butcher and a hair-dresser, had been unaware that Mr.
Brehgert had some resemblance to the form which men in that trade
are supposed to bear. Let us at least hope that she was so. He was a
fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about fifty, with
hair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark purple colour.
The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very bright black eyes,
which were, however, set too near together in his face for the