How hang those trappings on thy motley gown?
They seem like garlands on the May-day queen!
DE MONTFORD.
Soon after the family at Deane Hall had lost the society of Augustus
Mordaunt, they had accepted an invitation to dine at Webberly Mouse. The
appointed day having arrived, and Cecilia Webberly, being fully attired
for the reception of the expected guests, placed herself in a negligent
attitude near one of the windows of her mother's drawing-room, with a
book in her hand, not for the purpose of reading, but for that of
tossing it into a chair, conveniently set for the occasion, as she had
seen Lady Eltondale throw her bonnet the evening of her unexpected
arrival at Deane Hall.
There could not, however, be a greater contrast, than the full-blown
Cecilia Webberly presented, to the elegant fragile Viscountess. Full one
half of her massive figure stood confessed to sight, without a single
particle of drapery. Her immense shoulders projected far above her
sleeve; in truth, her arm was bare half way to her elbow, and her back
in emulation nearly to her waist, whose circumference might well be
termed the _Arctic circle_, as it was described at that distance from
the pole, which exactly marked the boundary of those regions of eternal
snow which rose on its upper verge. Her petticoats, descending but
little below the calf of her leg, displayed its "ample round" to the
utmost advantage.
But, to counterbalance this nudity, that moiety of her terrestrial
frame, which was clothed, was loaded with ornaments and puffings of all
descriptions, with reduplicated rows of lace and riband, which most
injudiciously increased her natural bulk; and the little covering which
was above her waist, differing in colour and texture from that below,
made the apparent seem still less than the real length of her garments.
Nor did Cecilia's countenance and manner more nearly resemble Lady
Eltondale than her dress and figure, as what was quiet elegance in the
latter, might, without any great breach of Christian charity, be
mistaken for stupid insipidity in the former.
Miss Webberly had not yet finished the repetition of her anticipated
_impromptus_; and her mother had left the room to reiterate her
directions about the dinner, so that the fair attitudinist had no
spectator of her various rehearsals, except the unaffected Adelaide.
"And what was her garb?--
"I cannot well describe the fashion of it.
"She was not deck'd in any gallant trim,
"But seem'd to me clad in the usual weeds
"Of high habitual state.
"Such artless and majestic elegance,
"So exquisitely just, so nobly simple,
"Might make the gorgeous blush."
But Cecilia Webberly was quite unused to _blushing_, though she might
sometimes redden with passion, and was equally unconscious of her
striking inferiority to her unstudied companion. At last the entrance of
the Seymour family presented another contrast to the brazen Colossus in
Selina's sylph-like form, vivacious eye, and glowing cheek:--
"The one love's arrows darting round,
"The other blushing at the wound!"
Mrs. Sullivan and her eldest daughter hastened to pay their compliments
to their company, the one in the language of Cheapside, the other in all
the flowers of rhetoric; and the rest of the expected guests soon after
arriving, they all proceeded to the dining-room, Mrs. Sullivan insisting
on giving Selina "percussion," (for so she termed precedence) to the
blushing girl's infinite annoyance, who, never having dined out before,
was unaccustomed to take place of the woman whom, of all others, she
most respected: however her painful pre-eminence at the head of the
table was almost compensated by her aunt sitting next her, and thus
hedging her in from the rest of the company.
The dinner--an object of too much consequence to be passed over
unnoticed in the present state of society--was evidently dressed by a
man cook; but as Mrs. Sullivan had insisted on making her own
alterations in the bill of fare, she had put the poor man in a passion;
and, as a natural consequence, the whole was a manquÈ, no unapt model of
the family, presenting vulgarity, finery, and high seasoning out of
place.
The warmth of Mrs. Sullivan's temperature was considerably increased by
her vocal and manual exertions; whilst her son was much puzzled to
reconcile the _nonchalance_ he believed fashionable, with the desire he
had to show Selina that obsequious attention he deemed judicious. But
though his tongue was incessantly employed in Miss Seymour's service,
(for the poor girl would have died of a surfeit if she had taken a
fourth part of the eatables he pressed on her acceptance,) his eyes were
involuntarily attracted to Adelaide, who, amidst the confusion of
tongues, was keeping up a seemingly animated conversation with a very
handsome young man, the eldest son of Mr. Thornbull, who sat next her.
Of this Mr. Webberly did not approve; and therefore gave her every
possible interruption, but all in vain. For no sooner did she answer his
inquiry, or assent to his request, than she resumed her conversation,
which seemed much more to interest her; and, for the first time, he
thought the quick succession of smiles, that passed over her countenance
when she conversed, did not become her so much as its placid expression
when she was silent.
At length Selina heard the welcome sound of "Vill you like any more
vine, Miss Seymour?" and this well understood summons relieved her from
her place of penance.
Soon after the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, they separated,
some adjourning to the music-room, some to the green-house, and Miss
Seymour gladly accepted Adelaide's invitation to proceed from it to the
garden. Selina had, before dinner was half over, thought Miss Wildenheim
"the most delightful girl in the world!" But she was too diffident of
her own claims to attention to have sought her acquaintance so
immediately; though, with her usual precipitation, she felt already
convinced she should love her all her life, if she were never to see her
again. "She is too elegant, too clever, to like an unpolished girl like
me," thought Selina. But in this she was mistaken; for Adelaide
bestowed as much admiration on her untutored charms, as her own more
polished graces excited in Miss Seymour's mind, though she manifested
her approbation in a more sober manner; for, besides being three years
older than Selina, she had, unfortunately, had more opportunity of
having youth's first happy feelings chilled by the bitter blasts of
capricious fortune.
When Selina found, from Adelaide's expressive manner, that she might say
to herself, "She really does like me," her surprise and delight knew no
bounds; and, if she had before thought the object of her enthusiasm the
most charming of the daughters of Eve, she was now nothing less than an
angel. Her pleasure did not escape her new friend's notice; for Selina
was too ingenuous to conceal any thing. Adelaide's countenance was
illuminated with one of those joyful smiles, which had brightened it in
better days, as she mentally exclaimed, "Happy creature!" But she
sighed with real sorrow, as she instantaneously recollected the fleeting
nature of youthful impressions, "_when thought is speech, and speech is
truth_."
During the time Selina had employed in her own mind to sign and seal an
everlasting friendship with her new acquaintance, they visited the
pagoda and hermitage, sat under the marquÈe, where they found the novel
which had been Miss Cecilia Webberly's morning study, and had looked in
vain for the gold and silver fishes; for Mrs. Sullivan was too
fashionable to dine long before sunset, even in the height of summer.
Their fruitless search for their aqueous favourites reminded them of the
lateness of the hour; and they had begun to retrace their steps towards
the house, when a pretty rosy child, about seven years old, with dancing
eyes and disordered hair, came skipping up to them. "This sweet child,
Miss Seymour," said Adelaide, "is Caroline Sullivan, my dear little
companion." Selina kissed the child, partly for its own beauty, partly
for the sake of its patroness; and the little urchin, hearing the name
of Miss Seymour, said, in an arch tone, "I have a secret for you, Miss
Seymour--a great secret." "And what is your _great_ secret, my pretty
little love?" asked Selina. "Why, do you know, brother is going to make
love to you?--Mama bid him. And he said he would, for he thinks you have
a great deal of money; but for all that he says, my dear Adele is
handsomer than you--and I think so too--I believe," said the little
thing, stopping to look up at them both. The young ladies were so
astonished, that at first they had not power to stop the child's
harangue, but both coloured scarlet red from offended pride; and, when
their eyes met, the picture of the all-conquering hero and his mama
rising at once to Selina's mind in the most ludicrous point of view,
she burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter, in which Adelaide
could not resist joining. The child, from their mirth, thought they were
pleased with her observations; and, believing she had said something
clever, continued in the same strain; whilst, by grave faces, and knit
brows, and remonstrating, they endeavoured in vain to check her
volubility.--_Car on ne se quÈrit pas d'un dÈfaut qui plait._ "Good
Lord! what shall we do?" said Selina, half laughing, half crying; for
the little girl, in the exuberance of her mirth, seemed bent on
following them into the house, with a repetition of her information,
when luckily they thought of diverting her attention; and so taking her
one by each arm, they almost carried her completely round the
pleasure-ground; and, by chattering and running, succeeded in diverting
the channel of her thoughts, and were not a little rejoiced that, on
their entrance into the drawing-room, Miss Webberly, in a peremptory
tone of "brief authority," ordered the little troublesome urchin to bed.
The ladies were all assembled, and Miss Wildenheim thought it necessary
to apologise for their absence; and Selina, immediately walking up to
her aunt, excused herself, and wondered she had left her so long, for
the advanced state of tea and coffee told her it was late.
When Miss Wildenheim, in reply to some observation addressed to her by
Mrs. Temple, entered into general conversation, Selina was as much
surprised as delighted by the graceful ease of her manner; and, in the
simplicity of her ideas, wondered how she could be so enlivening, and at
the same time so elegant. "It is not odd," thought she, "that Lady
Eltondale is elegant, for she is so quiet, she has plenty of time to do
every thing in the most beautiful manner; but, though she is very
elegant, she is not at all entertaining, while Miss Wildenheim is
both."
Though Adelaide's character was ever the same, the style of her
conversation varied with every different person she conversed with. She
was generally _animated_, though seldom gay; and the liveliness of her
discourse was owing to her possessing not only an uncommonly clear
perception of the ideas of others, but also an equally clear arrangement
of her own, which gave her conversation a lucidity, that elicited the
thinking powers of her auditors; so that if she was not absolutely witty
herself, she was often at least "the cause of wit in others." She was
habitually cheerful, and generally self-possessed, except when her
feelings were accidentally excited, and they lay too deep to be called
forth in the common intercourse of society. In a word, her vivacity
proceeded less from the buoyancy of animal spirits, as passing as youth
itself, than from the satisfaction of a soul at peace with itself, and
of a mind amused by a constant flow of intellect.
The entrance of the gentlemen transferred Miss Cecilia Webberly, and of
course her guests, from the drawing-room to the music saloon. Here again
her fine voice, like her fine person, was spoiled by affectation, and by
an attempt at displaying a taste, of which nature had denied her mind
any just perceptions. She had acquired from her master a would-be
expression, which consisted of a regular alternation of piano and forte,
as completely distinct as the black and white squares of a chess board,
with corresponding movements of her eyes and shoulders; the _tout
ensemble_ seeming to the hearer like a succession of unprepared screams,
neither leaving him the peace of a monotonous repose, nor affording him
the charm of variety. "By heavens, I would as soon be shut up in a room
with a trumpeter; she has voice enough to blow a man's brains out!" said
young Mr. Thornbull to Mr. Temple, while his ears yet tingled with
Cecilia's last shout. "I am sure Miss Wildenheim sings in a very
different manner." "I am not sure," replied his reverend auditor,
smiling, "that she sings at all. If she does, no doubt her judgment is
as correct in music as in every thing else;--however, let us see:"--and
walking up to Mrs. Sullivan, they begged of her to procure them a
specimen of Miss Wildenheim's musical abilities. Adelaide complied with
a look and a curtsy, that bespoke the pardon of her imperfections, and
which, strange to say, procured a temporary absolution for her charms,
even from those to whom they were most obnoxious.
The young man was too much engaged in watching the playful variety of
her countenance when she sung (for she never looked half so charming as
when singing), to criticise her performance, but took for granted it
was divine, and so must
"Those who were there, and those who were not."
For though it is easy to exhibit deformity, it is impossible to describe
the nicely adjusted balance of opposite beauties, which constitutes
perfection: more especially in an art, that is often most felt when
least understood, and whose evanescent charms are passing for ever away,
whilst the mind is yet revelling in a consciousness of their existence!
When the usual routine of complimenting had been gone through by the
rest of the company, and Adelaide was disengaged, Mr. Temple, after
praising her performance, said, "Notwithstanding your delightful
singing, I must say, I think the best days of music are past." The
lovely songstress, casting her eyes on Selina and thereby applying her
words to the beautiful girl's bewitching figure, replied, "I partly
agree with you, my dear sir.--'When music, heavenly maid, was young,'
perhaps her wild graces were more captivating than her mature
elegance."--"Your simile is just, and well applied. Music certainly now
feels her decay, and seeks to hide her faded charms by profuse
ornament."
Mr. Temple not unfrequently talked _by inch of candle_, and would have
gone on, perhaps, for an hour, had not his wife, tapping him on the
shoulder, told him it was time to return home: and, as is usually the
case in parties in the country, the announcement of one carriage was the
signal for the abrupt departure of the whole company; and though Mrs.
Sullivan roared out in an audible voice, "Why, Cilly, you haven't a gone
half through the hairs you practised this morning! Where's your bravo
hair? and your polacker?" before the anxious mother had recapitulated
half the catalogue, she found, equally to her surprise and dismay, that
all her guests had disappeared, nearly as suddenly as Tam O'Shanter's
companions, before he had finished his commendatory exclamations:
"In an instant all was dark,
And,
"Out the hellish legion sallied."