A MODERN COTERIE.
If any circumstance had been wanting to give strength to Lady Tilney's
resolves on the momentous question of social reform, the occurrences
at Lady Feuillemerte's were in themselves sufficient--at least, they
formed an addition to that kind of plausible excuse, sought for on all
occasions where the will is previously set on a particular line of
conduct, but which, without a pretext, it would hardly be safe for the
individual to adopt.
The motley and unkindred assemblage of the previous evening, with its
royal restraints, its want of organization in its inferior members, and
the consequent offences experienced by those of higher order--for Lady
Tilney, although she did not divulge the stain inflicted by Colonel
Temple's assiduities, yet felt it deeply,--were points she dwelt upon
to her colleagues in the following morning with that extreme pathos and
eloquence which the sufferings of self never fail to produce, and which
could not but enforce on her auditors conviction of the necessity of
the measures she proposed.
Closeted, therefore, with the leading characters in her own peculiar
circle, the final arrangements for that _société choisie_ which was
to eclipse courts and banish sovereigns, to school rank, and bring to
maturity all the yet unripened follies of a _soi-disant ton_, were at
length concluded. The lists were full--the doors were closed to all but
the secret representatives of the system, and the anathema went forth.
Strange that St. James's did not shake from its foundation, England's
sovereign resign his sceptre, and her lengthened line of nobility
crouch in the dust, under the awful denunciation of such an ascendancy.
But though this were not so--yet must the loyalty of many a high-born
subject, and the purity of many a noble and virtuous mind, have been
outraged, when the results of a system at once so contemptuous and
immoral began to be developed.
It will be remembered that Lady Tilney had already fixed on the evening
of Lady Borrowdale's assembly as a fitting occasion for the display of
her own undivided rule in the empire of fashion. Her cards had been
issued for that purpose, and these were now followed by injunctions
through various channels, requiring an early attendance--since the two
syrens of the day, Pasta and Sontag, it was whispered, were engaged
to give additional effect to the opening charms of exclusiveness,
and render the blow struck at the existing state of society at once
decisive.
Lady Borrowdale's apartments, it was decreed, should possess only
the _canaille_ of the fashionable world, and royalty be doomed to
oblivion there, in the surpassing lustre which Lady Tilney's circle
would display. To the authority that called for this ready obedience,
none of the satellites of Lady Tilney's court were ever known to offer
resistance;--and though the chiefs of her party alone knew the real
object of the summons, yet the uninitiated hastened to obey it with the
same alacrity as their superiors, satisfied that in so doing they were
best consulting their views of advancement to the distinction courted
by them, as well as securing a greater license in the indulgence of
those follies and errors which made the sum of their daily occupation.
To tell of the decoration of the apartments, of the splendour and
luxury which reigned around the mansion of Lady Tilney, to dwell on
externals, would be to repeat descriptions a thousand times given, and
tend to no developement of import. A plant, under the fairest guise of
colour or of form, sometimes contains within its fibres the deadliest
poison; and in the scorching plains of the East, the upas-tree extends
an alluring shade over the exhausted and unconscious traveller, who is
soon to sink beneath its deadly atmosphere. But what would it profit
were the naturalist to dwell only on the pencilling and texture of the
one, or the traveller describe vaguely the outspreading branches and
inviting coolness of the other, and yet neglect to record the noxious
qualities and inherent dangers of each. The plant and its virtues, not
the scene in which it is to be found, must first be recognised and
known, if escape from its contagion be intended;--and it is to the
habits and system of a people, not to the country they inhabit, that we
must look, rightly to understand the manner in which their lives are
passed.
To a casual observer, Lady Tilney's assembly presented no
distinguishing external marks at variance with received habits or
customs. The rooms were not darkened, the servants passed through the
apartments at intervals in the performance of their respective duties
without constraint: the company, however, was less numerous, and more
scattered and divided into detached parties. The conversation, with
the exception of Lady Tilney herself, was carried on in a low tone,
scarcely audible but to the individual addressed; the different members
of the coterie, when they moved about, seemed to do so under certain
measured and stated paces.
It was not, however, the step and air of real dignity of fashion, but
rather the mincing _minauderie_ of _des petites maîtresses_. Whatever
was done or spoken (when for a moment some general observation was
hazarded), appeared as if performed by rule, and under apprehension
of drawing down ridicule, which at once went to destroy all natural
grace of speech or demeanour. This sentiment attached more particularly
to the younger and newer noviciates, who felt that an unguarded
expression, or a movement at variance with the prescribed forms of
the circle, would render them the objects of the malicious remarks
and sneers of the more experienced--an uneasy restraint, therefore,
was often the consequence; and had it not been, that to form part
of so chosen a society, and under Lady Tilney's roof, was in itself
an indescribable satisfaction--some who were there might have been
suspected of suffering considerable _ennui_, and of being ready to
admit, by the suppressed and ill-concealed yawn, that although the
honour of exclusiveness was great, the pleasure was certainly small.
Not so, however, with the more initiated--these appeared by habit to
take the part at once most to their tastes; to select the companion
most agreeable to them; to remain under the eye of observation, or
retire from it, as they chose, with indifference;--for it was not
only in _what_ was done or said, but in the _manner_, also, that the
distinguishing characteristics of this coterie were to be detected.
All things were lawful--but then under outward forms (not however of
propriety always, or of morality), but of convention; and whoever
attained fulfilment of these, had the privilege, the _indulgentia
plenaria_, as proposed by Lord Rainham, to sin with impunity.
When it was said, therefore, that an assembly composed as the present
differed not in its appearance from others passing under the same
generic name, it was premised to be only under the impression of a
first view;--a more intimate acquaintance with many of its laws and
practices, so opposed to received customs in the world, could not in
the end fail to astonish! And first the observer (the moral observer
is meant) would have been struck by the discovery, that the young and
beautiful in this magic circle were all married women, and that the
person who individually (for the number was rarely more than singular)
paid his assiduous court, leant over the chair, and whispered into the
ear of the fair whom he selected or was selected by, was no aspirant to
her hand in marriage, no relative--neither was he her husband--but a
member of the privileged society, which was alone sufficient.
His astonishment would have been yet stronger on discovering that for
a season, till mutual convenience, or disagreement dissolved their
familiar acquaintance, each party, similarly paired, invariably met,
conversed, and retired at the same time, when the circle broke up, or
when they quitted it, apparently on the same footing of intimacy which
the most holy ties could have sanctioned; while those whom such a tie
actually bound to them were themselves pursuing a similar career.
Had the conversation which for the most part occupied this portion of
the _société choisie_ been reported, or reached the ear, it is possible
a considerate mind might have thought, notwithstanding the singularity
of a system which excluded the unmarried from scenes of amusement, that
it was well they formed no portion of it; but still, in an escape from
its early influence, enjoyed the opportunity of attaining to a degree
of moral principle, and feminine decorum, which must otherwise have
been swept away in the general license.
This, however, can unfortunately be said only of the one sex--the
unmarried in the other, provided their attainments were of the kind
to authorize admission, were not on the excluded list; and the young,
well-principled, and ingenuous perhaps at their outset, might, in the
examples constantly before them, have found incentive to conduct,
which at a future day they would discover to have been the great bane
and poison of their existence.--Of these the person who entered Lady
Tilney's apartments when the coterie had nearly assembled, and who was
new to most of them, offered an instance, for whom the liveliest fears
with justice might have been entertained.
Young, strikingly handsome, talented, of high rank, of widely extended
interest, and possessing all the means of gratifying every wish, to
what dangers was not Lord Albert D'Esterre exposed, in such a scene as
has been described, and on which he was from that evening to play a
part! He seemed, with the impulse of natural politeness, to look around
for Lady Tilney, as he entered, as if he would pay his first homage to
her, whose self and not her house he visited; in a manner directly the
reverse of that false refinement of modern _ton_, which seeks a display
of its _savoir vivre_, in a pointed indifference to all the received
forms of society.
Before he had reached the second room he was met by Lady Tilney, with
a greater degree of courtesy and _empressement_ than was usual in her
receptions; and his address was listened to with more complacency and
patience than generally marked her manner towards any one.--"Who is
he?" passed in whispers round the circle amongst those to whom he was
unknown.--"Did you hear his name announced?"--"No! I have seen him
somewhere before, I think--is it not Lord Albert D'Esterre, Lord ----'s
son?"
"Ah true, it is! but what an extraordinary lengthy speech he is
making--surely Lady Tilney must be ready to expire under its
duration."--"Not under its dulness, I am certain," said Lord Glenmore,
as he caught Lady Baskerville's remark to Lord Rainham, "for, D'Esterre
is too clever ever to say a dull thing." "Or ever do a wise one,
perhaps," added Lord Rainham in his most caustic manner.
"Did you hear Rainham?" whispered Spencer Newcombe to Ombre; "there was
no time for gestation there--it was really well said."--"Then, if so,"
replied his neighbour, "we may 'for once a miracle accept instead of
wit.'"
"No; I do not allow of miracles now a days," said Lord Rainham,
turning sharply round, having overheard the remark applied to him: "I
do not believe in miracles--not even in the resurrection of the Glacier
man--do you, Ombre?" The laugh was with the latter speaker; but Mr.
Ombre thought that, in fact, miracles had not ceased when Lord Rainham
could thus improvise two good things without incubation; and so he
whispered into the ear of his friend Spencer Newcombe, as Lord Rainham
moved away.
While Lord Albert D'Esterre was thus affording subject of remark to
the coterie, and their observations in turn made matter of ill-natured
review among themselves, he was addressing his courteous excuse to Lady
Tilney for having disobeyed her commands, in arriving so late. Lady
Baskerville was probably right in her conjecture, that Lady Tilney felt
considerably bored by his doing so, and making reference to injunctions
which she had forgotten the moment they were given, because certain
they would be generally obeyed, and Lady Borrowdale's assembly be left
untenanted by all her early visitors.
She heard him, however, with smiles and outward complaisance; for Lord
Albert was of consequence enough in a political way, at least, for Lady
Tilney to court; and as she assured him that he was still in good time,
and that the Sontag had not yet sung, presented him to several persons,
whom, she remarked, would be almost strangers to him after so long an
absence from England.
In all, however, that Lord Albert had said, he had been sincere; and in
his manner towards the different persons he was made known to, there
was a genuine distinguished air of high breeding and politeness, as
much at variance with the manners, as his ingenuousness was with the
minds and dispositions of those who figured in the moral masquerade
before him. Although fresh in this scene, and therefore without
contamination, he was powerful, and, therefore, worth appropriation;
and what was considered _outré_ and too _manière_ in his address, was
partially overlooked at the moment, as certain to give way under the
powerful influence of better examples.
The Sontag now came forward and poured her liquid notes mellifluous
through the assembly. Every body was in raptures--indiscriminate
raptures;--for though raptures were generally obsolete, there were a
few short seasons for a few new things in which it was permitted to
be rapturous; but woe to the unhappy individual who, ignorant of the
mark, gave way to these ebullitions at unallowed times, or beyond the
peculiar limits prescribed by _ton_.
When the _aria_ was concluded, however, the remarks among the
younger votaries of fashion were principally directed to the figure
and appearance of the singer, rather than to her performance. Leslie
Winyard admired her foot; Lady Boileau her eyes; Lord Gascoyne saw
indescribable beauty in the delicacy of her waist; and Lord Tonnerre
declared her neck to be as fine drawn and as perfect as that of a
race-horse--a simile which was perhaps the only figure of speech the
latter lord could have hazarded, consistently with his knowledge of any
subject. These by turns approached the singer, and as they addressed
her with an air of familiar condescension, seemed in their ungentle
gaze to seek an opportunity of confirming their previous judgments;
which, according to the result, were signified in the presence of the
persons by a look, or a whisper, to one another.
If a few ventured an observation on what they had been listening to, it
was in a tone either of indiscriminate praise, founded on some one's
opinion in their own circle from whose decree there was no appeal;
or else, measuring things in themselves admitting not of parallel,
by one another, they drew an unfair comparison between the powers of
Sontag and of Pasta; just in the same way as a pseudo connoisseur would
measure the merits of Paul Veronese or Tintoretto by those of Raphael.
"I am surprised you waste so much time in this discussion," said Mr.
Ombre, who was standing near the parties debating on the latter point;
"there can be no question as to the merits of the case--Sontag is new."
"Is she not enchanting?" asked Lady Tilney, addressing Lord Albert
D'Esterre, who had been listening with the utmost attention--"quite
perfection!" He smiled; "I do not know that I ever heard or saw any
thing _quite perfect_; at all events, I prefer Pasta."
"Well, you surprise me!" replied Lady Baskerville; "there is such
brilliancy--such lightness, such fluency in the Sontag."
"But there is more depth, more pathos, more poetry in Pasta.
Nevertheless I admire Mademoiselle Sontag; and because I prefer one, I
am not deaf to the powers of another singer--a feeling of the sublime
does not exclude the lesser sense of the beautiful."--"What a prosing,
sententious popinjay; ay!" whispered Lord Baskerville to Lady Ellersby.
"But he is very handsome," she answered.
"I know not what you ladies may esteem handsome" (and here Lord
Baskerville put himself in his best possible form, and bent his cane
against the ground); "but I can see nothing in that stiff conceited
face and figure to call handsome; and I would not be doomed to
listen to his affected pretensions for half an hour together on
any condition whatever--no, not to hear Sontag sing three songs
consecutively--beautiful, charming, dear as she is!"
"Does beauty enter in at the ears?" asked Spencer Newcombe.
"Not exactly; but it goes a great way towards making what does enter
there agreeable," replied Lord Baskerville.
"What do you say, Sir Henry D'Aubigne," addressing that celebrated
artist: "is not the Sontag exceedingly lovely?"
"Indeed I have not yet had an opportunity of judging," was Sir Henry's
discreet reply; for he gave offence to none. "There is considerable
grace and play of countenance certainly; a fine-cut eye; and on the
whole I should say she was a very pretty creature. But really, in this
land of beauty, (looking round him as he spoke), one may be allowed to
be difficult, and where there is so much to dazzle, confess oneself
unable to decide."
"Sir Henry is almost as graceful in his speech as in his portraits; I
wish I were such a poet!" sighed Mr. Ombre, "and then I might hope to
turn all the ladies' hearts, for they accept your homage, but will not
mine, although I never flatter."
Thus did the poet and the painter mutually pay their allotted fealties
to the sovereigns of _ton_, when the whisper ran round the room that
the Sontag was again about to sing.
During the performance, Lord Albert D'Esterre was standing at the back
of Lady Hamlet Vernon's chair, addressing to her, at intervals, his
conversation on the merits of the singer.
"I am told," said Lady Hamlet Vernon, when the music ceased, "that the
Sontag is very like Lady Adeline Seymour. You will know, Lord Albert
D'Esterre?" Lord Albert coloured.
"I do not see the least resemblance to my cousin;" and then he
added: "I was not aware that Lady Adeline had the advantage of your
acquaintance."
"I have not the pleasure of her's neither--I hear she is a most
delightful person!" Lord Albert again coloured, and felt his heart beat
quicker at the mention of a name so dear to him.
"Is Lady Dunmelraise expected in town this year?" continued Lady Hamlet
Vernon; "I understand she has very bad health. A very intimate friend
of mine, from whom I sometimes receive a letter, Mr. George Foley--you
may perhaps know him--and who is at present staying at Dunmelraise,
informs me that she is far from well."
Lord Albert D'Esterre found himself irresistibly drawn towards Lady
Hamlet Vernon, by the circumstance of her knowledge of Lady Adeline
Seymour, and they continued for a long while in conversation--till
interrupted by Lord Rainham, who, quitting the circle of the political
characters of the day, with whom he had been in apparently close
discussion, addressed Lady Hamlet Vernon on some other topic, and Lord
Albert turned aside.
"Tell me what is your real opinion of the person you have been
conversing with?" said Lord Rainham, in a low voice, while his small
quick eye followed Lord Albert; "is he clever? has he talent--tact, or
any other serviceable quality?"--"I hardly know how to answer inquiries
of such depth," answered Lady Hamlet Vernon, smiling; "had you asked me
if he were agreeable, I could have answered yes. But to what do your
questions tend--are they general or particular; or are they political,
or what?"
"Oh, I mean, is he like other people, like other young men--empty--and
conceited?--or has he wherewithal to make his conversation
endurable--worth listening to--point--repartee--subject--does he talk
of people or of things?"
"Of both. But shall I add another to your list of inquiries--To what
side of the question does he lean? Does not this sum up all you would
know from me? And what if I should tell you--I know nothing about the
matter?"
"Psha! well: that may be too--what _do_ you think--?"
"Why I think him very handsome."
"Aye, may be so; I dare say he is--but--"
"But has he avowed his political creed? will he support your favourite
measures, or oppose them? I know that is all you wish me to say,"
replied Lady Hamlet Vernon.
"Why, to be sure, one judges in these days of a man's sense a little
by his politics--one learns whether he thinks at all, or follows his
interests."
"Oh, you all do that, my dear lord. But come; I will tell you what I
think of Lord Albert D'Esterre: I think he is worth winning--and--"
"You will try," said Lord Rainham.
"Fi donc!--now I will tell you no more." And Lady Hamlet Vernon left
the foiled diplomatist to lament the failure of his mission, and learn
to play his part better for the future.
The evening, or rather the night, was wearing fast away; the Sontag
had sung three times, and those who had formed part of Lady Tilney's
first _soirée choisie_ were soon to be left in possession only of the
recollections--no--not the recollections--the life of the aggregate
assembled there would banish such an exercise of mental powers--but in
possession of the fact, that they had been of the chosen number; that
they _had_ heard the favourite of the hour, _not_ in the too-frequented
Opera, but in the privacy of the drawing-room; and that they alone
could justly, therefore, weigh her merits, and determine her defects.
In follies such as these a large portion of Lady Tilney's associates
were sure to find gratification on the morrow. And it might have
been well had all contented themselves with these, so comparatively
harmless, although such worthless, fruits of _exclusive ton_; but it
may be feared that, with some, the result of that evening, and the
prospect of others to succeed it of the same kind, held out objects of
a far different complexion, which a sure immunity from censure, and a
complete freedom from obnoxious comparisons, successfully tended to
promote.
Lord Albert D'Esterre had turned away from a group of young men with
whom he had been conversing, and whose discourse, assuming a tone and
character equally indelicate and revolting to his feelings, he thus
endeavoured to avoid, when he found himself near Lady Boileau.
"Lord Albert D'Esterre," she said, addressing him, "if you will excuse
an invitation so destitute of form, will you do Lord Boileau and myself
the pleasure of dining with us on Saturday--I will send you a card."
Lord Albert bowed with courtesy, and expressed himself sorry that he
was already engaged, and, after some conversation of little interest,
as Lady Boileau's carriage was announced, she left the room. Leslie
Winyard, with the familiarity of one well acquainted, whispered in Lord
Albert's ear--
"You have _échappéd belle_ from that."
"What do you mean?" asked the latter.
"Why, I mean that you have escaped a most uncomfortable concern by just
refusing the invitation to the Boileaus."
"I thought I heard you say to Lady Boileau but now that you would be
delighted to wait upon her."
"Oh yes, certainly, one _says_ those sort of things; and if nothing
better occurs, one _does_ them;--but it does not always follow: for
instance, if any one were to ask me whom I liked better, or if you, or
some equally pleasant person, were to propose our dining together at
Crockford's--"
"I am not a member of Crockford's," said Lord Albert D'Esterre, gravely.
"Oh! but your name is down, and _you_ are certain of being admitted
on the next ballot, and--" Lord Albert attempted to reply, but Leslie
Winyard continued, "and, as I was telling you, if a pleasant dinner was
prepared at Crockey's, I should, of course, not starve myself at the
Boileaus."
"I confess myself at a loss to comprehend what you mean."
"Well then, some day go and try; find yourself frozen in rooms where
the fire is lit only five minutes before the hour of your expected
arrival--starve at the hands of the very worst cook in England,--and
then, when you hear that my Lady spends twelve guineas on a new bonnet,
squanders thousands on her journies to Paris, and ruins Boileau in
articles for her toilette, _marvel_--but the thing is so."
"Is it possible?" Lord Albert continued saying to himself; as the
person who had been talking to him turned away, half in derision of his
unsophisticated expressions and manner of receiving what he said,--"is
it possible that so much refinement of duplicity can exist, for an end
so trivial--where the gratification of the spirit of falsehood, or the
indulgence of an ill-bred impertinence, is the only object?"
Whilst thus musing, and preparing to leave a scene which, as he became
more acquainted with the actors, appeared little suited to his tastes
or modes of thinking, he saw Lady Hamlet Vernon approach the door
unattended. A recollection that she alone, in the manner she spoke of
Lady Adeline Seymour, had seemed to have any sentiment in common with
himself, made him move towards her, and inquire if he could be of any
service in seeing her to her carriage.
"I do not know if it is up," was her reply, "but perhaps you will have
the goodness to ask." He did so, and in the interval, before it was
announced, they continued conversing. "_Je vous félicite_," said Lord
Rainham, addressing Lady Hamlet Vernon in a low tone as he passed, and
looking significantly at the same time at Lord Albert D'Esterre.
"There is no cause," she replied, "I am waiting for my carriage, and I
think it will never come."
"_Discrète_," answered Lord Rainham, as he moved towards the door, and
signalled what he had observed to Leslie Winyard, whose answering nod
expressed concurrence in his suspicions.
It was long before Lady Hamlet Vernon's carriage arrived, and she
continued talking with Lord Albert on various topics; the societies of
Paris and Vienna, compared with that of London; the state of the Opera,
and the prevalent bad taste of music on the Continent. She inquired
for many who in their exile in this country had been known to her, and
with whom, in the splendour of restored rank and fortunes, she found
Lord Albert had lived on terms of close intimacy. In speaking of them
he seemed to dwell with pleasure on their recollection of the services
rendered them in England, as a bright trait in the human character,
which betokened feelings that it was plain to see were in accordance
with his own generous and noble nature--and which had formed the basis
of that familiar intercourse in which he had lived with them. Although
the reverse of this picture has been ascribed to too many foreigners,
who have with justice been accused of ingratitude, it ought not
therefore to be recorded that all were subject to such condemnation.
Lord Albert knew otherwise.
As he extolled their characters and perfections, and spoke of the
charms which their society had always possessed for him, Lady Hamlet
Vernon listened with increased attention, as if she would have gathered
from his discourse the individual sources of that satisfaction, which
he professed in so lively a manner to have found. "You are warm and
enthusiastic in your eulogiums," she said: "I hope that in England,
also, you may find those whom, with the same reasons, and an equal
ardour of attachment, you will be disposed to admit to your friendship."
There was something in the tone in which these words were addressed
to him, that made Lord Albert D'Esterre for a moment fix his eyes on
the speaker; but they were as quickly withdrawn, when he saw Lady
Hamlet Vernon blush, apparently confused, and then pluck a flower from
a vase near her, while she endeavoured to hide her face by inhaling
the perfume. There was an awkwardness in the pause which ensued, which
neither seemed at the moment able to surmount; when fortunately Lady
Hamlet Vernon's carriage was called, and as Lord Albert handed her to
it, he received an invitation to her house in the evening, when Lady
Tilney's _coterie_ were to assemble there.