This is my lady's holyday,
So pray let us be merry.
FOUR AND TWENTY FIDDLERS ALL IN A ROW.
Whilst Mordaunt was thus occupied at Oxford, Mrs. Sullivan had been
indulging in a variety of speculations, the object of which were, to
endeavour to secure to her beloved son the rich and beautiful heiress of
Deane Hall. In order to afford him a favourable opportunity of paying
his addresses to Miss Seymour, the anxious mother resolved to give the
ball, for which he had personally taken the invitation; and as soon as
Sir Henry had returned the desired answer, the preparations for the
entertainment were without delay commenced. It was agreed _nem. con._
that a _crowded_ entertainment was more fashionable than a select one;
and therefore, that every person by any excuse pronounced _visitable_,
within a circuit of twenty miles, was to be pressed into the service.
Mr. Webberly, and the gentlemen who were staying with him, proceeded to
York, to enlist as many beaux as they possibly could; whilst Mrs.
Sullivan wrote to London, to engage temporary rooms, transparencies,
coloured lamps, upholsterers, musicians, and confectioners.
For a fortnight before the important day, all was confusion at Webberly
House. The usual furniture was put to flight;--bed-rooms were converted
into tasteful card-rooms, and store-closets into beautiful boudoirs;
whilst all the various operations were accompanied by an unceasing noise
of hammering, scouring, scolding, and arguing.
Miss Webberly and her sister kept themselves aloof from the scene of
action, preferring playing billiards, or riding with Mr. Sedley and the
other gentlemen, to giving their mother the smallest assistance, who
repented of her undertaking ten times a day. But Adelaide was not so
selfish; and the moment she perceived Mrs. Sullivan's perplexity, she
left her usual occupations to offer her assistance. "Well, well,"
thought Mrs. Sullivan, "I wish Meely and Cilly were as discreet as this
poor child. But it isn't their faults, pretty dears. I never used them
to no thrift; and, I dare say, her nose has been well kept to the
grinding-stone, as the like of her ought. My daughters, God bless them,
have got a rare spirit of their own!" (Would to Heaven it were a rare
spirit!)
Miss Webberly thinking that chalking the floor of the dancing-room would
afford a good opportunity for displaying her knowledge of the fine arts,
at first joined Adelaide in the task; but quickly discovering that
kneeling on bare boards was more fatiguing than classical, left her at
the end of a quarter of an hour, to finish it alone, with a request not
to be sparing in the introduction of the Webberly arms. No mention was
made of the Sullivan honours; for, though that family traced its
pedigree _beyond the flood_, it had never been heard of in London, and,
therefore, was of no value.
At nine o'clock on the appointed evening Mrs. Sullivan entered the
reception room; and seeing Adelaide already there, said, "That's right,
Miss Wildenheim, you be's always ready. I never can get them there girls
of mine to dishevel themselves in time. Will you be so kind as to help
me to put out the lights in them there chandlers? They can stay unlit a
bit, for none of the gentlemen ban't dressed yet, and we can light 'em
again when the folk come to the door, you know--I loves to practise
genteel economy." Adelaide executed her commission; and her companion
then proceeded to examine her attire with the most minute attention;
and, as her eye was attracted by the beautiful ornaments, which confined
and were intermixed with her luxuriant hair, she exclaimed, "La! what
fine pearls you have got on--your _mother's_ I suppose, Miss." "Yes,
madam," replied Adelaide, mournfully, "she had a great quantity of
pearls, which were new set for my use," "Wery like, Miss, wery like,"
retorted the scornful lady; and, turning disdainfully from her, bustled
off to another part of the room, muttering, "Oh the vickedness of this
vorld!"
Adelaide was dressed in that last stage of _real mourning_, which, from
its chaste contrast of colour, is perhaps the most elegant attire a
beautiful female can wear, as it seems to throw a veil on the
loveliness, which, in truth, it embellishes. Her mental, as well as
personal charms, were softened by the same garb of sorrow; and perhaps
their beauty,
"Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heav'n to gaudy day denies,"
was more winning than when they shone in their original brightness. She
was roused from a train of sorrowful reflections, which the mention of
her mother had occasioned in her mind, by a sound of carriages, and by
Mrs. Sullivan exclaiming, "As sure as the devil's in Lunnon, here they
be; Miss Wildenheim, do light that there candle brass, whilst I turn the
cock of this here lamp;" and the task was but just accomplished, when a
large party entered the room.
The _coup d'oeil_ which Webberly House now presented was really
beautiful; for from London every thing in the way of decoration, even
taste, may be procured. The vestibule and apartments opening into it
were ornamented with wreaths of flowers, laurels, and coloured lamps,
and with beautifully designed and well executed transparencies. The
windows were left open, and displayed the _Chinese_ bridge splendidly
illuminated, beaming like an arch of light in the surrounding darkness.
The carved work of the porch was completely interlaced with wreaths of
colored lamps; and not less splendid were the grotto and hermitage,
which at a small distance from the house were fitted up to resemble the
rooms of rival restaurateurs. At their entrance Cecilia had placed her
own maid and footman, to distribute refreshments; and she had been
busily employed for some days, in teaching them as much French as their
capacity and her knowledge would permit them to acquire, for which the
slang of the one, and the Cockney dialect of the other, admirably
qualified them. A temporary canvass passage led to the station of these
pseudo-Parisians, which soon became the favourite lounge of the
evening, as the constant mistakes they made in the names of all the
refreshments they presented excited so much laughter, that every set of
visitors was sure to recommend another, to enjoy the bodily and mental
entertainment provided for them.
When the company first assembled, a brilliant display of fire works was
let off on the lawn, and just as the last rocket was ascending, Mrs.
Martin and her niece entered the ball room. They had met with sundry
difficulties, as to conveyances, which had delayed their arrival so
long.
Unfortunately for them, the company had, at that instant, nothing more
amusing to do, than seeking for subjects of ridicule; and in poor Lucy
Martin's dress they found an ample field. Her _ci-devant_ blue spencer
had been transformed into a fashionable body for a new pink petticoat,
under the superintendence of Miss Slater, who had informed her, that
"whole gowns were quite out, as all the ladies in London now wore
dolphin dresses," of which no two parts were of the same colour. Nearly
all the finery of Mr. Slater's shop had been deposited on her person;
and it would have been impossible for the greatest connoisseur in
tinting to have decided which was the prevailing colour in her dress:
but as she and her aunt were made happy, by the idea of her being "quite
smart," her appearing to the rest of the company in a most ludicrous
point of view would have been of no consequence, had not the unsuitable
extravagance deprived them of many almost necessary comforts for a long
time afterwards, for which the display of this evening but poorly
compensated.
Before the unfeeling crowd had more than half finished their
commentaries on the curious specimen of taste the unconscious girl
exhibited, their attention was diverted by the arrival of Sir Henry
Seymour, who with all the formality of the _vieille cour_ entered the
room, with a _chapeau de bras_ under one arm, and Mrs. Galton leaning on
the other. At her side walked Selina in unadorned loveliness, her eyes
sparkling with delight at all the wonders that were presented to her
view, and totally unsuspicious that she was herself the goddess of the
fairy scene of pleasure. All eyes were fixed on her beaming countenance
radiant in smiles; and even envy, for the moment, pardoned such
unpresuming charms. Mr. Webberly had waited to open the ball with
Selina, and immediately led her to the head of the room, where, scarcely
conscious of the pre-eminence, her attention was so completely engrossed
by all the beauty and variety of the decorations, that she neither
listened to nor understood the fulsome compliments he momentarily
addressed to her. Though little skilled in the fashionable art of
dancing, the natural grace and vivacity of all her movements, and the
uncommon loveliness of her person, more than compensated for this
deficiency; and when she happened to make any mistake in the figures she
was unaccustomed to, she laughed so innocently and so heartily at her
own blunders, and in so doing displayed such dazzling teeth and
evanescent dimples, that one more practised in the arts of coquetry
would purposely have made the same errors, thus to have atoned them.
From the moment Miss Seymour had entered the room, Mr. Sedley had
watched her every motion; and, as he happened to stand behind Webberly
in the dance, he could not help exclaiming, "By Jove, Jack, if you get
that girl you'll be a lucky dog." Webberly cast a glance on his lovely
partner, in which real exultation was ridiculously blended with affected
contempt; and shrugging his shoulders, replied, "She is half wild now,
we must give her a little fashion when she comes amongst us." Sedley
turned on his heel, and joined a groupe of young men, who were loudly
expatiating on the charms he affected to despise. Sedley also joined in
her praise; for as yet, though his warm admiration was excited, his
heart was not sufficiently interested to create a wariness in the
expression of its feelings; and as the whole party professed their
anxiety to be introduced to her, he laughingly boasted of his prior
claims, and hastened to secure her hand for the two following dances.
And now, according to a writer of the days of Queen Bess, "Some ambled,
and some skipped, and some minced it withal, and some were like the
bounding doe, and some like the majestic lion."
Adelaide alone refused every solicitation to join in the festivity; and
when Mrs. Temple urged her to accept of some of the numerous partners
who contended for her fair hand, she replied, with a mournful
expression, "Dear Mrs. Temple do not ask me; surely this dress was
never meant for _dancing_;" so saying, she cast down her eyes to conceal
their watery visitors. Sedley, who had overheard her observation, took
this opportunity of examining her perfect features. He thought he had
never seen her look so lovely as at that moment, for
"Upon her eye-lids many graces sat,
Under the shadow of her even brows;"
and mentally exclaimed, "The braid of dark hair that borders that fair
forehead, 'so calm, so pure, yet eloquent,' is indeed beautiful in
contrast! Of all dresses certainly that becomes her most, it so
harmonizes with the style of her countenance;
"One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace,
That waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face."
Sedley was proceeding to compare in thought the merits of blondine and
brunette complexions, eyes of bewitching animation or touching softness,
hair of glossy black or silken brown, and in short the various charms,
which united to form the perfect models of the opposite styles of beauty
which Selina and Adelaide presented, when he was diverted from this
agreeable occupation by Mrs. Sullivan screaming in his ear, "Law! Mr.
Sedley, I vish I vas O'fat (probably _au fait_) of what you're in such a
brown study for; there's my daughter, Cilly, keeping herself _enragÈ_
all this time to dance with you." Of course he could not refuse this
summons, and immediately led her to join the dancers, scarcely
regretting that the set was nearly finished.
When Cecilia passed by, overloaded with finery, and encumbered with
ornament, Mrs. Temple exclaimed, "Good heavens! how that handsome girl
has contrived to disfigure herself! It is no wonder her mother
complained of her being so long dressing: I hope, my dear Miss
Wildenheim, you will never give into such follies." Adelaide smilingly
replied, "I cannot invert the first axiom of mechanics, and say of the
labours of the toilet, _that we gain in power what we lose in time_."
"Never, my dear girl, as long as you live, mention the word _mechanics_
again, on pain of being pronounced a learned lady; which crime, in this
country, is punished by tortures far more severe than the _peine forte
et dure_ of the old French law. I assure you, in England, the reputation
of _femme savante_ is scarcely less odious than that of _femme galante_.
A fool with youth and beauty maybe quite _recherchÈe_, but no mental or
bodily perfection can atone for the blemish of _learning_ in a woman!"
Mrs. Temple's attention was now attracted by seeing Mrs. Sullivan doing
the honours to a _soi-disant_ beau, who scarcely heard what she said,
being intent on copying the air of real fashion so striking in Mr.
Sedley. "This here's the courting room, Sir--That there's the
refrigerating house for drinking o-shot--And that there's my daughter
Meely, and that there other one's my Cilly--we calls one Grace and
Dignity and the other Little Elegance--I'm sure you must allow we've
given them wery opprobrious names.--Look'ee here, Sir, Meely did all
this here topography herself[11], entirely from her own deceptions; I
assure you, Sir, she's pro-digiars clever." Mrs. Temple, finding Mrs.
Sullivan's discourse utterly subversive of all decorum of countenance,
left the dangerous neighbourhood, and took Adelaide to walk about the
room, for the double purpose of composing her own features, and
informing her young friend of the names and characters of such of the
guests as she was unacquainted with. "Who is that lovely innocent girl,
sitting near the transparency of Mirth and her crew, with her head on
one side, and her eyes cast down with so much modesty?" "I dare say,
Miss Wildenheim, she is at this moment, with affected _naÔvetÈ_, saying
something to the gentleman next her, which _he_ finds unanswerable. She
is a most incorrigible little flirt; and as she is no fool, her
conversation is in my mind quite reprehensible. She was the daughter of
a poor baronet of this county, and to counterbalance her want of
fortune, was brought up in the most homely manner, being, for example,
accustomed to iron her own clothes and go to market. Against the consent
of her friends, she married a _petit-maÓtre_ parson, with little except
a handsome person and agreeable manners to recommend him, and nothing
but a curacy to support him and his beautiful young wife. They now live
with his mother, who takes care of their children, the father being too
constantly occupied in fishing, hunting, and snoring, the mother in
dressing, dancing, singing, and flirting, to find time for the discharge
of their duty to their offspring. Delicate as she looks, she will go
through any fatigue to attend a ball or party: I suppose you will
scarcely believe, that she has walked eight miles this morning, carrying
her own parcel, to be here to-night." Before Adelaide could offer any
comment on this portrait, Mrs. Temple's attention was attracted by
another acquaintance: "Why, bless me, (said she) there is old Mr.
Marshall: what can have brought him here all the way from Kingston, to
night? except, perhaps, to have the pleasure of seeing his daughters
admired: and it would delight any father's heart to look at that
beautiful creature in blue, now showing the very perfection of a lady's
dancing. That little laughing girl standing beside her is her sister,
who is one of the pleasantest creatures I ever knew."--"Oh!" said
Adelaide, "I believe she is the Miss Marshall I met lately at
Huntingfield, who gave vent to as many ideas in half an hour, as would
serve an economist in speech for a week; I could not help applying to
her Mrs. Sullivan's adage, that _stores breed waste_."
[Footnote 11: Pointing to the chalking on the floor.]
"And now, my dear Miss Wildenheim," resumed Mrs. Temple, as, weary of
their promenade, they seated themselves, "if you are curious to inform
yourself as to the beaux of this assembly, you have only to keep your
eyes steadily fixed in the direction of that large mirror, and as they
pass point them out to me; for I will venture to say there is hardly a
young man in the room, who will not, in the course of the evening, stop
opposite to it, and settle his cravat. Look there now, already! observe
that youth adjusting his dress----I hope you saw the shake he gave his
head when he had done, as if to ascertain whether he had any brains in
it or not; much in the style of a thrifty housewife, who uses this
method with her eggs, when she wishes to discover if any spark of
animation lurks within. If he had applied to me," continued Mrs. Temple,
"I could have saved him the trouble he has just put himself to, and
would have solved the doubts the vacant countenance he saw in the glass
excited, by answering in the negative without hesitation. This
gentleman, at present, resides a few miles from hence, for the purpose
of canvassing the town of----, in hopes to represent it in the next
parliament. His travelling equipage is not exactly suited to the
character of a British senator. In addition to the usual establishment
of blinds, his carriage is fitted up on the outside with shades to save
his complexion, and in the barouche seat are two monkeys trained to act
as footmen. It is the received etiquette for every new candidate to make
his _dÈbut_ as _patriot_; he therefore, of course, talks loudly of
'Parliamentary reform:' perhaps he may have some ambitious views for the
ape tribe; indeed I have heard it whispered, that one or two have been
detected in both honourable houses before now."
Adelaide was much entertained by Mrs. Temple's volubility, but said she
was inclined to differ from her friend as to the conclusion to be drawn
from this singular _cortËge_. "You know, my dear Mrs. Temple, to have
'grace enough to play the fool, craves wit,' _sense_ is quite another
affair; but I think it is only those that have at least some talent, who
venture to take out this sort of temporary act of lunacy against
themselves, well knowing they can give convincing proof of sanity when
necessary. I have formed this conclusion from observing, that the
English alone ever make these eccentric exhibitions; you will readily
allow, that if any nation equals, none exceeds them in solid abilities.
If the young gentleman in question is under twenty-five, I would risk
something in favour of the contents of his head, on the strength of the
two monkeys. What a pity Dr. Gall is not here to decide for us, by means
of his soul-revealing touch; our craniologists, you know, tell us, they
have wit, memory, sense, and judgment at their fingers' ends: it is to
be hoped they have them elsewhere also." "What you say of Mr. B----,"
replied Mrs. Temple, "amazes me: I own, from you, who are one of the
most rational of human beings in your own department, I expected no
toleration of folly." "Oh, I think the case is far different in the
conduct of women," said Adelaide: "our minds have not the strong
re-active power those of men possess; they, in the regions of folly not
unfrequently 'fall so hard, they bound and rise again,' but we are not
sufficiently firm to possess such elasticity." "I believe you are right,
my dear girl: would you like to visit the other apartments? I have not
seen them yet." Miss Wildenheim consented with alacrity, and they
accordingly proceeded towards the vestibule, where numerous groupes were
promenading, as the dancing was for a time discontinued.
Adelaide, whilst amusing herself with Mrs. Temple's account of the
company, by degrees herself became an object of general admiration.
Although there were some women present of greater personal beauty than
Miss Wildenheim, yet in her "_La gr‚ce, plus belle encore que la
beautÈ_[12]," won the eye from the contemplation of more perfect
loveliness. "Who is she?" was repeated from mouth to mouth, as she
crossed the vestibule; and when nobody could answer the question, it was
asked with increased earnestness. All agreed she was foreign, and that
there was something not English in her countenance, her manner of
wearing her dress, but above all in her walk. As an epidemical mania
for every thing continental once more reigns in England, the idea that
Adelaide was a foreigner, above all things, stamped her the belle of the
night; she was followed from room to room, and wherever she turned
innumerable eye-glasses were levelled at her. The attention she excited
at last becoming perceptible even to herself, with a look of anxious
inquiry she said to Mrs. Temple, "Is there any thing remarkable in my
appearance, that those people stare so?" "Yes, my dear, something very
remarkable." "Then pray, pray tell me what it is." "Your ignorance of it
is one of your greatest charms, and I am not envious enough to wish to
deprive you of any of them." This reply covered Adelaide with blushes,
and adorned her with a hue, which was the only beauty her fine
countenance did not usually possess. For sorrow had breathed witheringly
on the roses, that once had bloomed on her soft cheek.--Will the voice
of joy ever recal them from their exile?
[Footnote 12: Grace more lovely than beauty.]
The Webberly family, finding Adelaide the admiration of the company, now
came up to her, not to show _her_ kindness, but to show _their guests_
she belonged to them; and their ostentatious civility provoked a smile
of contempt from Mrs. Temple, who had been indignant at their previous
neglect. Miss Wildenheim was soon surrounded by a crowd of beaux and
belles, who addressed her in good, bad, or indifferent French, Italian,
German, or Spanish--some from the polite wish of showing proper
attention to a stranger, others from a natural curiosity as to subjects
of foreign interest. But a large number, from the pure love of display,
gave utterance to as many scraps of any foreign language as their memory
furnished them with from books of dialogues or idioms; and, as soon as
these were exhausted, found some urgent reason for retreating to the
very opposite part of the room, taking care to keep at an awful
distance from her for the rest of the night. Many a poor girl was
brought forward by her mother, _bon grÈ, mal grÈ_, to display her
philological acquirements. Adelaide happened to overhear part of a
dialogue, preparatory to an exhibition of this sort. "Italian, mama!
Indeed, indeed, I can't: besides it is quite unnecessary, for Mrs.
Temple says she speaks English fluently." "But you know, love," replied
the matron, "it is such good breeding to address strangers in their own
language." "Yes, _dear_ mama, it is indeed; she is a German, and, I dare
say, doesn't understand Italian." "That doesn't signify, come and speak
to her directly, Miss." "Pray, pray, let it be in French then," said the
girl, half crying; "I have only learned Italian three months, and it's
ten to one if I happen to know what she says to me." "Why, you know,
Maria, when I brought Flo--Floril--(you could help me to the name if
you chose)--but, in short, that travelling Italian you had your flowers
of, to talk to you, he said he took you for a native; but you may speak
Italian first, and French afterwards, and that will be a double
practice, my dear." There was no reprieve;--and a very nice girl,
colouring crimson deep from shame and anger, stammered out a sentence of
wretched Italian, whilst the mother stood by with an air of triumph, to
see her orders obeyed, and observe who was listening. Adelaide, pitying
the poor girl's confusion, replied in French, apparently for her own
ease, and addressed to her a few sentences, which afforded an
opportunity of throwing in that everlasting self-congratulating "_oui,
oui_," which is the young linguist's best ally, even more useful than
Madame de Genlis' "_Manuel du Voyageur_," which, by the bye, an adept in
short hand might have taken down that night. The young lady and her
mother soon left Adelaide, both highly delighted; and, however
unwilling the former had been to make the experiment mama had enjoined,
she certainly thought much more highly of her own attainments after this
happy result. Adelaide was then introduced to a gentleman who spoke
French with as much fluency as herself, and they soon got into that
style of conversation, to which the term _spirituelle_ is so justly
applied, where appropriate diction and elegant idea lend charms to each
other: in the language to which she had from infancy been accustomed,
she expressed herself with peculiar felicity, and seemed to take the
same sort of pleasure in doing so one feels in meeting a long absent
friend. Mrs. Temple was now a silent and wondering spectator, vainly
endeavouring to find out how such a girl as Miss Wildenheim could have
become an inmate of Mrs. Sullivan's family; and remarked that her manner
and acquirements always rose to the level of the scene which called them
forth. At that instant she acquitted herself with as much grace of all
those dues of society, which the passing moment demanded, as she, with
cheerful sweetness, contributed to the amusement of her friends in the
quiet family circle at the parsonage. Mrs. Temple was half angry at the
ease of her manner in such a situation; but when she again looked at
Adelaide, observed her varying blushes, vainly watched for any symptom
of coquetry or attempt at display; and at last caught an imploring
glance, which seemed to say, like Sterne's starling, "I can't get
out--pray relieve me," she felt the injustice of her incipient censures.
She was for an instant prevented from obeying the summons, by an old
general officer asking her, "If that young lady was any relation of the
Baron Wildenheim, who so much distinguished himself at the battle of
Hohenlinden, and so many other desperate encounters of the same
campaign?" "Possibly his daughter," replied Mrs. Temple; "but pray
don't direct any question of that nature to her; for whenever such
subjects are alluded to, she seems deeply affected." When Mrs. Temple
again took Adelaide's arm, she found Mr. Webberly importuning her to
dance. Mrs. Sullivan had made him promise that morning not to ask
Adelaide to dance, for fear of making Miss Seymour jealous! But he could
no longer deny himself the pleasure, for which he had most looked
forward to this evening; and, in spite of his mother's frowns and signs,
(seldom indeed much attended to at Webberly House) he solicited Adelaide
with much earnestness, to dance a set with him, which he offered to
procure express before supper. But as she steadily refused, he, to
solace himself, prevailed on a city cousin, (whose wealth procured her
admittance to her aunt's house) and his sister Cecilia, to exhibit
themselves as waltzers. Cecilia's partner was the _soi-disant_ beau, who
had been so indefatigable in his polygraphie of ton; and the travesty
of Lady Eltondale and Sedley was inimitably ludicrous to those who had a
key to the libel. The company had long been tired of quizzing poor
innocent Lucy Martin; equally fatigued with the amusements provided for
them; were almost weary of admiring and comparing Selina and Adelaide,
most of the ladies by this time having discovered, that though the
latter had a certain "_je ne sais quoi_" about her that was taking, her
hair was too black, and her complexion too pale, for beauty; and that
the loveliness of the former defied criticism--an unwilling confession,
which rendered their first triumph nugatory; so that the waltzers
afforded a very seasonable diversion. Nothing could be fancied more
laughable than the undextrous twirling of the quartet; and few things
are more worthy, in every respect, to be the subject of that spirit of
ridicule which so unfortunately pervades every society, than this
anti-Anglican dance. Mrs. Temple whispered to Adelaide,
"So ill the motion with the music suits;
"Thus Orpheus play'd, and like them danc'd the brutes."
How could Mrs. Temple be so ill bred as to whisper?--The whole thing is
'_mauvais ton_' no doubt some decorous belle now exclaims. Gentle
reader, if thou hast never sacrificed thy friend or thy love of the
_exact_ truth to a joke, thou hast a right to vent thine indignation
against this breach of _etiquette_. When thine ire is exhausted, proceed
to read, and thou wilt find that the cause of thine indignation is at an
end.--Supper was at length announced; the company were conducted into
rooms laid out in the same style of ornamental profusion as those they
had already visited. After supper, dancing was resumed with increased
ardour, and continued to an early hour. When the company separated,
they exchanged the glare of candles for the light of the sun; and the
sound of the harp, tabret, and all manner of musical instruments, for
the song of birds and the whistling of the husbandman.