Oh! la belle chose que la Poste!--Lettres de Sevigne.
Ay--but who is it?--As you Like it.
I had mentioned to my mother my intended visit to Garrett Park, and the
second day after my arrival there came the following letter:--
“My dear Henry,
“I was very glad to hear you were rather better than you had been. I
trust you will take great care of yourself. I think flannel waistcoats
might be advisable; and, by-the-by, they are very good for the
complexion. Apropos of the complexion: I did not like that green coat
you wore when I last saw you--you look best in black--which is a great
compliment, for people must be very distingue in appearance, in order to
do so.
“You know, my dear, that those Garretts are in themselves any thing but
unexceptionable; you will, therefore, take care not to be too intimate;
it is, however, a very good house: all you meet there are worth knowing,
for one thing or the other. Remember, Henry, that the acquaintance (not
the friends) of second or third-rate people are always sure to be good:
they are not independent enough to receive whom they like--their whole
rank is in their guests: you may be also sure that the menage will, in
outward appearance at least, be quite comme il faut, and for the same
reason. Gain as much knowledge de l’art culinaire as you can: it is
an accomplishment absolutely necessary. You may also pick up a little
acquaintance with metaphysics, if you have any opportunity; that sort of
thing is a good deal talked about just at present.
“I hear Lady Roseville is at Garrett Park. You must be particularly
attentive to her; you will probably now have an opportunity de faire
votre cour that may never again happen. In London, she is so much
surrounded by all, that she is quite inaccessible to one; besides, there
you will have so many rivals. Without flattery to you, I take it for
granted, that you are the best looking and most agreeable person at
Garrett Park, and it will, therefore, be a most unpardonable fault if
you do not make Lady Roseville of the same opinion. Nothing, my dear
son, is like a liaison (quite innocent of course) with a woman of
celebrity in the world. In marriage a man lowers a woman to his own
rank; in an affaire du coeur he raises himself to her’s. I need not, I
am sure, after what I have said, press this point any further.
“Write to me and inform me of all your proceedings. If you mention
the people who are at Garrett Park, I can tell you the proper line of
conduct to pursue with each.
“I am sure that I need not add that I have nothing but your real good at
heart, and that I am your very affectionate mother,
“Frances Pelham.
“P.S. Never talk much to young men--remember that it is the women who
make a reputation in society.”
“Well,” said I, when I had read this letter, and adjusted my best curl,
“my mother is very right, and so now for Lady Roseville.”
I went down stairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and Lady Nelthorpe were
in the room talking with great interest, and, on Miss Trafford’s part,
with still greater vehemence.
“So handsome,” said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached.
“Are you talking of me?” said I.
“Oh, you vanity of vanities!” was the answer. “No, we were speaking of a
very romantic adventure which has happened to Miss Trafford and myself,
and disputing about the hero of it. Miss Trafford declares he is
frightful; I say that he is beautiful. Now, you know, Mr. Pelham, as
to you--” “There can,” interrupted I, “be but one opinion--but the
adventure?”
“Is this!” cried Miss Trafford, in a great fright, lest Lady Nelthorpe
should, by speaking first, have the pleasure of the narration.--“We were
walking, two or three days ago, by the sea-side, picking up shells and
talking about the ‘Corsair,’ when a large fierce--”
“Man!” interrupted I.
“No, dog, (renewed Miss Trafford) flew suddenly out of a cave, under
a rock, and began growling at dear Lady Nelthorpe and me, in the most
savage manner imaginable. He would certainly have torn us to pieces if a
very tall--” “Not so very tall either,” said Lady Nelthorpe.
“Dear, how you interrupt one,” said Miss Trafford, pettishly; “well, a
very short man, then, wrapped up in a cloak--”
“In a great coat,” drawled Lady Nelthorpe. Miss Trafford went on without
noticing the emendation,--“had not with incredible rapidity sprung down
the rock and--”
“Called him off,” said Lady Nelthorpe.
“Yes, called him off,” pursued Miss Trafford, looking round for the
necessary symptoms of our wonder at this very extraordinary incident.
“What is the most remarkable,” said Lady Nelthorpe, “is, that though he
seemed from his dress and appearance to be really a gentleman, he never
stayed to ask if we were alarmed or hurt--scarcely even looked at us--”
(“I don’t wonder at that!” said Mr. Wormwood, who, with Lord Vincent,
had just entered the room;)--“and vanished among the rocks as suddenly
as he had appeared.”
“Oh, you’ve seen that fellow, have you?” said Lord Vincent: “so have I,
and a devilish queer looking person he is,--
“‘The balls of his broad eyes roll’d in his head, And glar’d betwixt
a yellow and a red; He looked a lion with a gloomy stare, And o’er his
eyebrows hung his matted hair.’
“Well remembered, and better applied--eh, Mr. Pelham!”
“Really,” said I, “I am not able to judge of the application, since I
have not seen the hero.”
“Oh! it’s admirable,” said Miss Trafford, “just the description I should
have given of him in prose. But pray, where, when, and how did you see
him?”
“Your question is religiously mysterious, tria juncta in uno,” replied
Vincent; “but I will answer it with the simplicity of a Quaker. The
other evening I was coming home from one of Sir Lionel’s preserves, and
had sent the keeper on before in order more undisturbedly to--”
“Con witticisms for dinner,” said Wormwood.
“To make out the meaning of Mr. Wormwood’s last work,” continued Lord
Vincent. “My shortest way lay through that churchyard about a mile
hence, which is such a lion in this ugly part of the country, because it
has three thistles and a tree. Just as I got there, I saw a man suddenly
rise from the earth, where he appeared to have been lying; he stood
still for a moment, and then (evidently not perceiving me) raised
his clasped hands to Heaven, and muttered some words I was not able
distinctly to hear. As I approached nearer to him which I did with
no very pleasant sensations, a large black dog, which, till then, had
remained couchant, sprung towards me with a loud growl,
“‘Sonat hic de nare canina Litera,’
as Persius has it. I was too terrified to move--
“‘Obstupui--steteruntque comae--’
and I should most infallibly have been converted into dog’s meat, if our
mutual acquaintance had not started from his reverie, called his dog by
the very appropriate name of Terror, and then slouching his hat over his
face, passed rapidly by me, dog and all. I did not recover the fright
for an hour and a quarter. I walked--ye gods, how I did walk--no wonder,
by the by, that I mended my pace, for as Pliny says truly: ‘Timor est
emendator asperrimus.’”
Mr. Wormwood had been very impatient during this recital, preparing an
attack upon Lord Vincent, when Mr. Davison entering suddenly, diverted
the assault.
“Good God!” said Wormwood, dropping his roll, “how very ill you look
to-day, Mr. Davison; face flushed--veins swelled--oh, those horrid
truffles! Miss Trafford, I’ll trouble you for the salt.”