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.