The arrival of the St. Aubyns in London opened a wide field for
conjecture and conversation in the fashionable world. It was known, for
St. Aubyn's haughty relations had not failed to publish it, that he had
married a young woman far inferior to him in rank, and absolutely
without fortune. It was also known that she was uncommonly beautiful;
and great anxiety, mixed with no small share of ridicule, was excited by
her expected _debut_; but the modest Ellen was in no haste to afford the
starers and sneerers so rich a treat: she merely went to a few morning
exhibitions, attended only by her Lord, for the first fortnight of her
stay in town; and indeed St. Aubyn hoped, notwithstanding her present
distance and displeasure, to induce his aunt, Lady Juliana Mordaunt, to
chaperon Ellen to some of the public places, being fully sensible what
an advantage it would be to her to be so supported: he therefore
acquiesced in her wishes, till he could bring about this desirable
arrangement, and allowed his wife to spend most of her evenings at home.
Several ladies had however called on Lady St. Aubyn, some of whom had
left their cards, and others she had seen. Most of these visits she had
returned; but one of those, who had shewn the greatest desire to see
more of Lady St. Aubyn--indeed, a distant relation of the Earl's, she
had not been yet to see.
One morning Lord St. Aubyn said he would go with her to see the museum
of an old friend of his, who lived at Knightsbridge, who was a great
collector of every thing rare and curious, particularly shells,
pictures, and gems. "He is quite a character," added he: "but I will not
anticipate your surprize: we can go there early. I told him we would go
to-day, or to-morrow; and after we have been there, you can call on Lady
Meredith, who gave herself a trouble so extraordinary, as actually to
alight from her carriage and make you a personal visit."
"You will go with me?"
"Pardon me, my love, that is not necessary, and you really must learn to
_go alone_, and not depend so much on me."
"I hope her Ladyship may not be at home."
"Indeed, my love, I hope she may; for dissimilar as they are in every
respect, my aunt, Lady Juliana, spends a great deal of her time there.
She is so fond of finding fault, and differing in opinion from others,
that I really believe she goes to Lady Meredith's chiefly for the
pleasure of lecturing her, who is so indifferent to the opinion of any
one, that she does not think it worth while to be at the trouble of
resenting the sharp things Lady Juliana says to her."
"What a strange motive for being intimate with any one."
"Strange enough: but when you see more of the world, you will discern
that affection is not the only bond of union between those who call
themselves friends."
"I think I have seen that already in Mrs. Dawkins and Miss Alton."
"True: convenience, the wish of finding a patient _hearer_, accident,
the want of a more pleasing companion, are amongst the numerous
inducements which form what we are pleased to call friendship. Nay, I
once heard a good lady say she was sure a family she mentioned had
proved themselves _real friends_ to her, for they had sent her a _large
plumcake_[A]."
[A] A fact.
Ellen laughed at this curious definition of friendship.
"Well," said St. Aubyn: "but to return to Lady Meredith. I hope she may,
by reporting well of you to Lady Juliana, induce her to become more
friendly towards us: you know how anxious I am to have you in her good
graces--not, believe me, on account of her immense fortune, but because,
with all her pride and stiffness, she has a warm heart and excellent
qualities, and would be to you a most valuable friend; so pray do your
best to please Lady Meredith."
"Very well: but will you tell me the most likely way to succeed?"
"I am afraid it will be difficult: she will think you too handsome,
unless indeed she intends soon to have a large party."
"How is it possible _that_ should have any thing to do with the matter?"
"Why, Lady Meredith's great ambition is to outshine all her competitors
in the number and fashion of those collected at her routes; and as
sometimes, in spite of her charms, and the lustre of her abundant
jewels, there are some obstinate animals who will be uncivil enough to
recollect they '_have seen them before_,' consequently become rather
weary of them, and desert her for some newer belle. Lady Meredith may
think you (so new to the world, and so beautiful) a desirable
reinforcement, and may therefore honour you with an invitation: pray
accept it, if she does, and take great pains at your toilette to-day:
for my friend, Mr. Dorrington, is a great admirer of beauty, and will
shew you his fine collection a great deal more readily if he admire
your's, particularly if he should fancy you like a bust he has of the
_bona Dea_ (at least he gives it that name, though it is so mutilated,
he confesses he does not exactly know for what or whom it was designed),
which he almost idolizes."
Ellen hastened to obey, but she wished herself at Castle St. Aubyn, for
she had not liked the little she had seen of Lady Meredith, and she
shrunk from the idea of this formidable morning visit. Conquering her
fears, however, as well as she could, and looking uncommonly beautiful,
she rejoined her Lord. Her milliner had just sent home a most elegant
and expensive morning dress, bonnet, and cloak, all of the finest
materials, and in that delicate modest style, which she always chose,
and was to her peculiarly becoming. St. Aubyn thought he had never seen
her look so well, and gave great credit to Madame de ---- for consulting
so admirably the natural style of her beauty, as to embellish, without
overloading it. The barouche was at the door: she had therefore only
time to say "farewell" to Laura, and stepping hastily in, half an hour
brought them to Mr. Dorrington's.
As the carriage stopt at the house, the figure of a fine old man with
grey hair caught the eye of Lady St. Aubyn: he was at the instant
ascending the steps to knock at the door, and was so meanly dressed,
that she supposed him a mendicant, or at least extremely poor, and her
ready hand sought her purse, intending to give relief to the infirm
looking old man. What then was her surprize, when, just as she stretched
out her hand for that purpose, the old man, looking into the carriage,
and seeing Lord St. Aubyn, advanced, and taking off his hat with the
most courtly air imaginable, displayed a fine commanding forehead,
expressive eyes, and a contour of countenance so admirable, as, once
seen, could never be forgotten.
"Ah! my dear St. Aubyn," he exclaimed, "how rejoiced I am to see you! I
am really happy that I returned in time to receive you: as you did not
say positively you would come to-day, it was all a chance; but come, do
me the favour to alight: I have just succeeded in making the finest
purchase--a shell, a unique: you shall see it."
By this time St. Aubyn had alighted, and giving his hand to Ellen,
introduced her to this extraordinary man. Nothing could be more polished
than his address, nothing more elegant than the grace with which he
received her, or more spirited than the little compliment he made St.
Aubyn on his happiness, and the beauty of his lady.
Whoever looked at Mr. Dorrington, when his shabby old hat was removed,
must instantly see the man of sense and superior information: whoever
heard him speak, heard instantly that it was the voice and enunciation
not only of a gentleman, but of one who had lived in the very highest
circles; and yet his appearance, at first, would have led any one to
suppose him, as Ellen did, in absolute poverty. He led the way into his
favourite apartment, indeed the only one he ever inhabited, except his
bed-chamber; and into neither would he ever suffer any one to enter
unless he was with them. No broom, nor brush of any kind, ever disturbed
the sacred dust of this hallowed retirement: in the grate, the
accumulated ashes of _many months_ remained; the windows were dimmed
with the untouched dirt of years: and nothing but the table on which his
slender meals were spread (for his temperance in eating and drinking
were as remarkable as his singular neglect of personal attire), and two
or three chairs for the reception of occasional visitors, were ever
wiped. In one of these he seated the astonished Ellen, who gazed around
her at treasures, the value of which exceeded her utmost guess. A
handsome cabinet with glass doors contained a variety of curious gems,
vases, and specimens of minerals: some invaluable pictures stood leaning
against the walls: heaps of books in rich bindings, which Ellen
afterwards found were either remarkable for their scarceness, or full of
fine prints, lay scattered around.
"Now, my Lord," said Mr. Dorrington, "I will shew you and Lady St. Aubyn
my new purchase: I said it was unique, but it is not exactly so: I have
another of the same sort; but these are the only two in the world: I
think this is a little, a very little finer than that I had before; I
bought it at ****'s sale, and gave a monstrous price for it; but I was
determined to have it: it was the only thing in his collection I
coveted."
He then displayed his new purchase, and descanted for some time on its
various beauties; and seeing Ellen really admired it, pleased also with
her beauty and sweetness, he proceeded to shew her his collection, and
even those rare articles which never appeared but to particular
favourites, saying she was "_worthy to admire them_." Some beautiful
miniatures particularly pleased her, and he was delighted that she
seemed to understand their value. He also produced some fine illuminated
missals, and explained every thing with so much grace and perspicuity as
quite delighted her.
Two hours fled swiftly in examining these wonders, and even then they
had not seen half, but promised to visit him another day. He told Lady
St. Aubyn he should be at her command at any time; and then most
politely attending her to her carriage, he with a courteous bow took his
leave.
On their way home, St. Aubyn told Ellen that the extraordinary man they
had just left had for many years led a life of dissipation, by which he
reduced a large fortune almost to nothing; but that having once, in
consequence of his extravagance, been obliged to sell a collection
still finer than that he now had, he had determined to gratify his
passion for _virtu_, without the risk of again ruining himself, and
therefore denied himself every thing but the bare necessaries of life;
and was, consequently, enabled to purchase rare articles at any price,
and to outbid other collectors, who had different demands on part of
their incomes. He kept no man, and but one female servant; and St. Aubyn
said, that when he had called on him a few days before, he found him in
a storm of rage with this poor servant-girl, for having dared, while he
was engaged with some company in his sitting-room, to brush out his
bed-chamber, in the door of which he had, _par miracle_, left the
key.--"And I am sure, Sir," said the girl, crying, "I never touched
nothing but that great wooden man" (meaning a layman which always stands
in Mr. Dorrington's room), "that's enough to frighten a body; and he I
only just moved, for master never won't have nothing like other people;
and I thought if he brought the gentlefolks in his bed-room, as he
sometimes will, it was a shame to see such a place, and such a dirty
table cover; so I was only just going to make it a little tidy, and I
never broke nothing at all."
"I comforted the poor girl," said St. Aubyn, "by giving her a trifle,
and advised her by no means to provoke her master, by presuming to touch
a brush in his rooms again without order: and she promised me she would
in future be contented with cleaning her own kitchen and passages--'And
never touch nothing belonging to master's rooms, nor any of them
outlandish things, that be all full of dust, and enough to breed moths
and all manner of flies all over the house.'----And I think," said he,
laughing, "she appears to have kept her promise very exactly."