CHARACTERISTICS.
Of Lady Tilney's character a hasty outline has been attempted in the
preceding chapter; falling short, however, as it is confessed every
attempt must do, to delineate all its varied features. Something,
however, may have been gathered, by viewing her in the midst of the
group assembled in her boudoir; and the portraiture will be rendered
still more distinct, as the character of her associates are further
developed.
Of Lady Tilney herself it may be said, that that real or pretended
contempt of rank which she affected to entertain, arose from the
circumstances of her own parentage, which, on her mother's side
at least, was not noble; to the same cause, also, may perhaps be
attributed her anxious irritability, ill concealed under a forced
gaiety, lest the respect and homage which she considered to be her
due, should not be paid her. There was a restlessness in her assumed
tranquillity, wholly unlike the easy natural languor of her friend Lady
Ellersby, to which she would gladly have attained, and which it was
always the object of her ambition to imitate; but she never reached
that perfectibility of _insouciance_, which marks a superiority of
birth and station.
Notwithstanding the part which she consequently was obliged to play,
there was still a good deal of nature in her composition; much more
than in that of the person whose demeanour she envied;--and had not her
character been influenced by a life of dissipation, she seemed designed
to have passed through existence diffusing usefulness and cheerfulness
around her. Much might be said in extenuation of Lady Tilney's faults
and follies, courted and caressed as she was; as indeed there is
ever much indulgence to be extended to all who, in situations of
power and of temptation (however many their foibles) remain free from
positive vice. The voice of censure should be guarded therefore in its
condemnation; remembering that the inability to do wrong, or the want
of allurement to yield to it, are often the sole preservatives against
similar errors.
In commenting upon such characters as Lady Tilney's, it is not for the
purpose therefore of attaching blame to the defects of the individual,
so much as to point out the dangers attendant on their peculiar
stations, and to shew how far even noble natures are liable to be
debased by constant exposure to a baneful influence. Were not this the
object of a writer, idle and contemptible indeed would be the pen,
which could waste its powers in tracing the vanities and follies of a
race which always has existed in some shape or other, and possibly will
always continue to do so.
There is an indulgence of spleen, a silly gossiping espionage, which
delights in prying into the faults of others, without any motive but
that of the gratification of its own mean nature--but there is an
investigation into the habits and manners of the actors in the scene
of fashionable folly, which, by dispelling the illusion, may preserve
others from being heedlessly drawn into the vortex of so dangerous
a career. A sermon would not, could not, descend from its sacred
dignity, to effect this--a philosophical or moral discourse, would have
as little chance of working such an end;--but a narrative of actual
occurrences may perhaps give warning of a peril, which is the greater
because it bears outwardly, and on a cursory view, no appearance of
future evil; for to the young, and indeed to all, there is a charm,
and a very great charm too, in being something superior, something
that others are not, or cannot be. No one acquainted with human
nature will ever contradict this. The question of vital importance
to be asked is--In what ought this distinction to consist? and what
will really give it? Certainly _not_ a life of dissipation, in which
the affectation of new modes and manners constitute the business of
existence; certainly _not_ the sacrifice of moral and religious duty,
to a courting of frivolous homage and the pursuit of an empty _éclat_.
These, however, it is to be feared, are more generally the spurious
objects of ambition with persons in fashionable life, than the solid
advantages, and lasting fame, which their situations afford them the
means of securing. And if it is thus with the world of fashion in
general, how much more was it the case in the circle in which Lady
Tilney reigned! Herself and her friends had no thought that tended to
any specific moral purpose, in the strict sense of the word. The duties
that were performed, were such only in a negative sense; they went to
church, they lived with their husbands; some of them, but not all, had
escaped scandal; they were fond mothers, at least in the eye of _their_
world; they were alive to their offsprings' interests, at least their
worldly interests; and beyond this, it is to be feared, neither for
them, or for themselves, did their views extend.
Here may be closed the catalogue of their moral possessions. Of their
outward shew of manner and courtesy, where so much in a _soi-disant_
empire of ton might be expected, perhaps, there was still less to
praise: a _brusquerie_ of address took place of polished breeding,
where intimacy permitted any address at all; and where none was
allowable, an insolent carelessness marked the behaviour, instead of
that polite courtesy which is ever the distinguishing mark of really
good manners.
Lady Tilney, had she not stood on the 'vantage ground of _ton_, might
have been called vulgar: the loud and incessant talking, the abrupt and
supercilious glance and motion, had it not been backed by title and an
assumed superiority, would have been designated by a very different
name from that under which her manners passed current; and even as
it was, they sometimes received a reproof which, however affectedly
scorned, was deeply felt. An instance of this occurred on the occasion
of her receiving the homage of a distinguished foreigner; when, in the
intoxication of the moment's vanity, Lady Tilney forgot the respect
due to one of exalted station, rudely turning her back, and brushing
past him in the dance, a disregard of etiquette which he whose manners
are all elegance and condescension, would never in his station have
shewn to the meanest of his subjects, and whose sense of delicacy and
propriety is so acute, that wherever female manners are concerned, none
could better know how to condemn whatever derogated in the slightest
degree from them.
It was to the displeasure incurred by this circumstance, and to the
loss of favour which all who have ever lived in its sunshine cannot
fail to lament when withdrawn, that allusion was made, in speaking of
Lady Tilney's contempt of sovereigns and courts. Here was to be found
one bad effect of a system which, while false in every sense, arrogated
to itself perfection in all.
There was no immorality to rebuke in this instance of Lady Tilney's
conduct; but it proceeded from a source, which if not in her, in others
at least, might be productive of serious consequences; namely, from a
contempt of established rules and received opinions; and if, in the
midst of this arrogance there was a redeeming spirit of occasional
kindness,--a smile which took the heart captive for the moment, and
gave promise of better things,--it only caused a regret that the good
which was there should be thus choaked by the noxious weeds of vanity.
Some of Lady Tilney's companions in _ton_ had not, like her, escaped
the breath of slander; one or more were supposed to have listened,
at least, to that corruptive voice of gallantry, which withers the
bloom and freshness of a married woman's reputation; whose error is
remembered long after its cause has passed away--let it have been real
or imaginary;--in either case the effect on a woman's character is
the same. It is in vain that in a certain sphere there exists a tacit
agreement to pass by, and gloss over such defamatory tales; the persons
coming under their degrading mark have a seal set upon them, which,
in spite of themselves, and maugre the usage of _their_ world, is
nevertheless destructive of peace; and it requires little penetration
to see beneath the forced smiles which are put on with the adornments
of the toilette, the gnawing worm that preys upon the heart.
The fatal effects of such errors attach only to those guilty of
them; the feeling inspired for their situation would be one of pure
commiseration; but, alas! the influence of example is contagious,
and whatever is felt for the individual who thus errs, the sentence
of condemnation must go forth against the crime. In regard to the
other members who formed Lady Tilney's intimate circle, the Countess
Tenderden, Princesse de la Grange, Lady de Chere, and Lady Boileau,
for instance, there was equal matter for remark, varying with the
character of each. The first of these, possessing nothing decided in
her composition, had been, from the commencement, a follower in the
track of others, and it was owing to this laziness of disposition that
she became the ready and obedient slave of fashionable command, as well
as from her early initiation into the secrets of _ton_, rather than
from any other cause, that she held the place she did in Lady Tilney's
estimation.
Lady Tenderden's unsatisfactory and frivolous existence had thus
been passed without any decided plan, except that of being generally
impertinent, and of courting personal admiration; which, when it is
paid to beauty alone, ceases with the first cessation of youth: the
consciousness of which fact added no genuine sweetness to the smile of
Lady Tenderden; but left her, although in the possession of most of the
outward circumstances which could grace existence, with a fading person
and a dissatisfied mind.
Princesse de la Grange was a star in the midst of this false galaxy
of _ton_, in as much as a strict regard to married duty, and a
preservation of moral and religious principle, gave to her character
a superior brightness; but whether from the taint of the poisonous
air she breathed, or from a defect of strength of mind, or from the
situation she filled, or from all these circumstances combined, the
Princesse de la Grange did not escape entirely the pollution of folly,
and she too delighted in the vanity of being exclusive.
In the love of being distinguished above her compeers, Lady de Chere,
however, far excelled; attaining a perfection which her exceedingly
clever and powerful understanding, together with the management of her
conduct, and an appearance of general decorum, enabled her to preserve.
Nor were her moral qualities alone conducive to her success: she had
besides the advantage of being able to set her face like a flint
(which indeed it resembled physically), and she deemed all emotion or
all expression of natural feeling (even that of bodily kind) to be a
weakness unworthy of a woman of fashion. Lady de Chere was once known
on an occasion of personal suffering, when a few tears actually escaped
her, to have exclaimed to her attendant: "You are the first person in
the world who have ever seen me guilty of such weakness." Nay, she even
carried this perfection of induration so far, as to boast of having cut
her own mother.
In this last instance of the perfectibility of _ton_, Lady Boileau
yielded not the palm--she had remained a good many more years than she
had bargained for, unmarried--she had studied under a mother, whose
lessons eventually were but too well rewarded in kind. This mother,
however, had loved _her_; and with much and unremitting labour, had
effected for her an alliance of title--of wealth. What more could
either of them with their views desire?
Lady Marchmont had established her daughter greatly, and the daughter
had accepted the marriage upon certain calculations: such as being
her own mistress, independent of her husband, or her mother; who knew
too well _de quel bois elle se chauffoit_, for Lady Boileau to like
her surveillance. Lady Boileau had then made no scruple of swearing
to love, honour, and obey him whom she loved _not_, held _cheap_, and
determined to _resist_. But these words, and too many more, bear a
totally different signification, it is well known, in the language of
_ton_, from what they do in their common acceptation.
One of the first steps of Lady Boileau after her marriage, was to
gain admission into the circle of Lady Tilney on a footing of intimacy;
for although she had been on visiting terms with her, yet she was aware
that the mere interchange of cards did not constitute her the friend
or protégé of Lady Tilney, to which distinction she aspired. There
were one or two circumstances, however, which rendered the attainment
of this object rather difficult. In the first place, Lady Boileau had
a mother whom it would require more decided measures to detach from
her than, as it has been seen, Lady Tilney chose to countenance. The
general tenour of her conduct, too, was a thing yet unproved, and
it was, therefore, still unascertained how far she might be true to
their _esprit du corps_, and be worthy of admission into this circle.
Lady Boileau was considered, notwithstanding these impediments, to
be a person of promise, and she was accordingly admitted, with the
tacit understanding, however, that she was not to push Lady Marchmont
indiscreetly on the scene; where her wit and plain speaking might break
forth in corruscations too potent for the _tendre demi-jour_, or rather
darkness, in which the proceedings of the _ton par excellence_ were
invariably to be veiled.
There was, however, one person whose name has not yet figured in the
catalogue, but whose character of mixed good and evil, would require
a powerful pencil to delineate; for the many amalgamating tints which
united and harmonised its opposing lights and shades were any thing
but an easy task to give--divested of these, the portrait would become
caricature. How often does marriage, especially in early life, give a
colour to the future conduct of women. Had Lady Hamlet Vernon married
differently, she was possessed of qualities which would have rendered
her estimable as well as amiable; and was mistress of talents which,
if properly directed and matured, would have rendered her a being
distinguished above her sex. But this was not so; she had married for
situation, and soon found the burthen she had imposed upon herself far
outweighed the advantages she had contemplated in the step she had
taken. Unhappiness was the first natural result; and in the absence of
religious principle, young, beauteous, and fascinating, she soon found
in the universal admiration paid her, a delusive balm to alleviate
the society of a husband considerably older than herself, and who had
married her from the pride of calling a person so admired his own.
Under these circumstances, Lady Hamlet Vernon could not remain without
the stigma of slander attaching to her.
The early demise, however, of Lord Hamlet Vernon liberated her from
the hazard of her situation, and at five-and-twenty she found herself
again free. Titled, and with great wealth at her command, she was
too clever for the empty votaries of folly, but too clever also to
be entirely set aside by them. She was, at the same time, too much
_sujetté à caution_ to be admitted on terms of unguarded intimacy
amongst those in her own sphere who were observers of religious and
moral conduct, and who happily form the aggregate of distinguished
society in England. Left without choice, therefore, as to who should
be her associates, Lady Hamlet Vernon was drawn into a society where
the errors of her early conduct were, by the contagion of example, sure
to be confirmed, and the remainder of any good principles that she
might have possessed, in danger of being subverted; for it was not the
least evil arising out of the system of the society alluded to, that
the persons composing it were under a compact of exclusion of all who
differed from them in habit and opinions; and, thus deprived of the
power of comparison, their own conduct wanted that useful touchstone of
its rectitude.
We are all alive to impressions daily made upon us; and if a life of
carelessness and dissipation is not to be checked by an occasional
example of what is truly excellent and worthy in character, the moral
perception between right and wrong of its mistaken votaries will soon
be blunted, till at last both their ears and eyes are closed to all
remonstrance. The riper in years, therefore, were sure to have their
false estimate of life confirmed; _they_ could not return on their
steps, even if they wished it; while the young and the inconsiderate
were taught to believe, that those who had so long followed in that
destructive but glittering career, were the only objects worthy of
imitation, and in their turn became hardened actors in the scene.
Although the characters hitherto produced as slaves to this system
have been of the weaker sex alone, still let it not be imagined that
they were its only victims, or that they alone played their part in
upholding it.
If possible, the men of the society were many of them as frivolous, and
more vicious; and, though here and there might be found a character
that, from family connection or ignorance of the tendency of the
society, mingled in its contamination without infection, or making a
wreck of principle, yet, far from these solitary instances detracting
from the general truth of what has been said, it will be found that
such persons, the moment they became aware of the lurking evil, broke
from it abruptly; though perhaps, saving themselves with difficulty
from the entanglement.
In the members, however, which swelled the list of the male part
of this circle, few indeed were there who ever made an effort to
withdraw from it. Vice and folly, in manners and in dress--male
coquetry--ineffable impertinence--ignorance--detraction of virtue
which might have resisted, or talents which eclipsed them--insipidity
in mind, and effeminacy in person--devotion to luxury,--these, and
more than these, if such could be catalogued, of the immoralities
and follies of man, were all to be found here, in degree and kind,
revolving in their different orbits--and fulfilling their allotted
parts in the system, till their existence closed. What though wit
might sometimes play around their board, or the quick repartee enliven
the monotonous circle of the evening--what though talent might be
allowed, for a brief season, to expatiate on higher topics, and the
deep discourse of great human learning might be suffered to dwell at
intervals on subjects more intellectual--yet what profited this to
those who listened or to those who spoke?--The moment's amusement, the
indulgence of mere curiosity, the establishing of some political tenet
or philosophical dogma, were alone the objects looked to. Talents, when
found in this society, were in fact directed to none but _worldly_
views; and the feeling which should have guided their possessors to
acknowledge the bounty of the Author who bestowed them, and a faithful
employment of his gifts, was not only wanting, but the sacred religion
of that very Author was too frequently made an exercise for them--a
subject of their scorn or cavil.
Though untitled, yet of noble family, there was one, who figured
first as most licentious and unprincipled among the devotees of _ton_.
He was handsome, winning, specious; but he concealed under this
attractive exterior a heart of the blackest dye; no sense of right or
wrong checked its impulses. All to him was lawful that was attainable.
Pleasure was his object; and he had sailed down the short voyage of
his life unchecked by any of those reverses, unscared by any of those
feelings of shame or compunction, which would have operated on a weaker
mind; and if, for a moment, some enormity of conduct made the more
timid--they could not be called the more virtuous--of his associates
recoil, the hardened face, the laugh of carelessness, the ready excuse,
soon dissipated these transient feelings of shame; and patronized,
courted, upheld, in that true _esprit de corps_ which bound each member
of the society to protect the other, his youthful career had been run
from excess to excess.
Although a person whose weight and influence in themselves were not
great, yet he formed from his habits and opinions, and the talents
which (though perverted) he really possessed, one of those ties in
a fabric, which being multiplied, keep the whole body compact; and,
having once obtained a footing in Lady Tilney's circle, it followed,
as a matter of course, that he should be employed in that remodelling
of her society, which it has been seen Lady Tilney was so anxious
to effect, and his name therefore was not forgotten in the list,
concerning which she intended to consult Prince Luttermanne.
It is well for human nature, that many characters such as have been
just described are not often found; it certainly had no compeer in the
circle in which it moved. And though the folly of dress--the waste of
time--the uselessness of life--indulgence in the excess of luxury, are
errors and faults that cannot be too strongly held up to animadversion,
yet they are, by comparison, of a venial kind. Their effects, however,
ultimately do not prove such; for degradation of intellect must
follow a course of indolence, and an obtuseness of conscience must
be the consequence of long-neglected duties. Let it not be supposed,
therefore, that because Lord Boileau, Lord Baskerville, Lord Marchmont,
or Lord Tonnerre, were younger and less matured in a vicious course
than another, that therefore their conduct was less deserving of moral
censure--the seed that is sown in spring time will grow up to the
harvest, and it must be reaped accordingly. The pursuits of a careless
life of pleasure, the gaming-table, the society of opera dancers, the
intrigues of _ton_, are not preparations for the maintenance of family
consequence and wealth, still less for the fulfilment of the duties of
married life, the protection of a wife's conduct, or the education of
their offspring. Yet these, it is to be feared, were the sole objects
of Lord Boileau, of his companions, and of many others.
Besides these, however, there were characters intended to be included
in Lady Tilney's arrangements of a far different complexion, and the
very reverse of their inexistence--there were noble politicians, whose
lives were passed in any thing but inactivity; there were titled wits,
whose places were any thing but sinecures; poets, whose lays found
frequent subjects in the galaxy of beauty that surrounded them; and
painters, whose talents and winning flatteries constituted their patent
of nobility. The admission of all the latter personages was a decided
evidence of Lady Tilney's supremacy; for, with few exceptions, she
alone considered that to be surrounded by talents was essential to high
station, since with the generality of her coterie, the idea of mingling
intellect in their pleasures, was rather to destroy than heighten them.
Lady Tilney, however, in the end prevailed, and no society of _ton_
was in future considered complete without those appendages. But even
Lady Tilney's command of the suffrage of talents was not always
absolute; and once, it is said, a man of holy profession, whose
celebrity in his calling had led the London world in crowds to be his
auditors, though thrice bidden to the shrine of fashion, declined, with
steady consistency, to form one of a circle whose conduct in life it
was his duty to reprove.
It is not to be supposed that the list of cavaliers is yet full with
the names of the persons just alluded to; there were many others too
insignificant to bear designation--and enough of portraits. Catalogues
of these can only be interesting to a few curious collectors, and are
very unsatisfactory to the generality of persons. It is living with the
actors on the shifting scene, which can alone, for any length of time,
engage the attention, or be productive of any just understanding of the
character. To note down their actions as they occur, and to develope
the system by which their lives are regulated, will be the easiest, as
well as the most profitable task; for although there may be something
which at first appears unnatural, and scarcely to be recognised as
truth, in the idea that there exists a regular and defined system in
lives, which at a hasty glance seem spent in the careless manner of
the persons represented, nevertheless it is so--and there is a depth
in their folly, which requires to be sounded,--there is a mischief
in their apparent carelessness, which it is wise to detect--there is
a principle of latent evil under this seeming incipiency of conduct,
which requires to be unfolded, and shewn in its true colours.