"NEWSPAPERS"--"THE PARK."
The newspapers of the following morning had devoted columns to the
description of Lady Borrowdale's entertainment, and the numbering of
the distinguished persons assembled there; the dresses, the apartments,
the decorations, the viands, and every minute arrangement, were all
detailed with an accuracy which an eye-witness of the scene would
readily have acknowledged, and which none but an eye-witness could
possibly have succeeded in giving.
In a far less conspicuous and pretending manner, did the announcement
figure in the same paper, that "Lady Tilney yesterday evening received
a select circle of her friends at her house in ---- Street, where
the Sontag gave several specimens of her unrivalled talents." An
uninstructed reader would have been misled by these harbingers of
public events; and from the tone of the respective _affichés_ feel
justified in the conclusion, that the one must have been the production
of Lady Borrowdale's own pen, or at least from her dictation, while the
other appeared naturally as the result of that publicity, to which the
actions of the great are always subjected. But this would have been
far from the fact, or rather the very opposite to it; it was to the
milliners, the confectioners, the musicians, the _maître d'hotel_, and
the other individuals interested in affording publicity to the dresses
and entertainments of their employers, that the long and circumstantial
details of Lady Borrowdale's, or any other great assembly, are to be
attributed; free from any petty interference, or the gratification of a
silly vanity on the part of the principals themselves.
That this was the fact, was a circumstance which could not escape Lady
Tilney; and aware that such evidence, if it reached the public eye,
would destroy at once all the sacredness of her select _coteries_,
and the charms of the _société choisie_ which she was labouring to
form, she determined on suppressing it, and issued orders, not to
be disobeyed with impunity, for the effectual prevention of any
announcement of whom the circle consisted of on the evening in
question, and of its proceedings, with the exception that it excelled
all other of the same date, by the possession of Sontag's inimitable
powers. A mystery, which suited well with the ideas of Lady Tilney
and of her friends on the subject of exclusive _ton_, would thus, she
conceived, be thrown over their actions, and the rites of the supreme
deity of fashion impenetrably veiled from the prying, inquisitive eye,
and vulgar imitation of its pretending votaries.
Humility is a duty of as especial injunction in the sacred volume,
as its opposite is of strict prohibition; and let it not surprise,
therefore, that Lord Albert D'Esterre, young in the world's masquerade,
and imbued with feelings, which if not religiously grounded, were
at least, from their purity, analogous to the moral doctrine which
religion teaches, should be struck, as he perused the two paragraphs,
by the apparent vanity of the one compared with the unostentatious
wording of the other, and drew his inferences accordingly.
"What silly pomp in Lady Borrowdale; how unworthy her rank--how
positively little, thus to set forth the splendour of her
entertainment, which is worth nothing when it loses the character of
being a natural consequence of her station in society. What could
be more brilliant than Lady Tilney's assembly; and yet there is no
parade--no _catalogue raisonnée_ of all that was seen, done, or said in
her drawing-rooms--how much more like a woman of real fashion."
Had Lord Albert D'Esterre been acquainted with the actual truth,
in all probability the opinion which he passed on this trivial
circumstance, as he took his breakfast, would have been the very
reverse of what it was; and, however he might hold cheap any silly
ostentatious display of wealth or rank, he would certainly have been
more ready to overlook Lady Borrowdale's carelessness whether her
assembly was reported accurately, or not at all, than he would have
been to forgive Lady Tilney's over-anxiety and ultra, _ton_ism (if such
a word may be coined), to screen the names and numbers of her guests,
and give celebrity to the coterie by making it a matter of secrecy and
of injunction to her domestics.
The mornings of Lord Albert, however, were generally passed in
reflections of much more use and importance than such as newspaper
subjects could furnish. During the whole of his residence abroad, his
time had been employed in acquirements of a solid kind. He had studied
men and things--had made himself acquainted with the constitutions,
governments, resources, and political importance of all the great
European states; had lived amongst their inhabitants for the purpose
of acquiring that accurate knowledge of their habits and dispositions,
which tends so much to a just appreciation of the line of policy to
be observed towards them, and which must ever be influenced by an
acquaintance with national character.
While receiving their instructions he had formed friendships with
some of their most distinguished literati in all the different
branches of knowledge, and had returned to England fully prepared for
the commencement of that public career to which his inclination led
him; and in which, amongst those who knew him intimately, and could
appreciate his abilities, he was justly expected to shine.
The habit of occupation which he had formed whilst thus pursuing his
studies on the Continent, did not desert Lord Albert D'Esterre, even
in the noise and bustle of London society, in the midst of which he
now found himself; but in the mass of business which now fell upon
him in consequence of his taking possession of his large estates, in
the conferences of lawyers and agents, in the answering of letters on
these matters of varied interest which now occupied him, and in the
attentions to those minor cases of life, the etiquettes and forms of
the world, he still found leisure for serious and studious application;
nor indulged in the idleness of fashion till the duties of the morning
had been performed, when alone he availed himself of them, for the
purpose of relaxation and the unbending of his mind.
It was the morning after Lady Tilney's soirée, and when he had gone
through his usual course of occupations, that Lord Albert recollected,
with what would be called old-fashioned politeness, "the propriety of
leaving his cards with the persons to whom he had been presented the
preceding evening, and more particularly with Lady Tilney herself; and
he determined to do so on his way to the Park. On arriving at Lady
Tilney's door he was informed that she was at home (for his name was
already on the list of those who had the entrée), and he was preparing
to dismount when he saw the carriage of the Countess Leinsengen
drive up. She bowed to him, and he was presently at the _portière_
to hand her out; and offering her his arm, conducted her to Lady
Tilney's boudoir. "Comment ça va-t-il chère Comtesse," said the former
addressing her; "I congratulate you on possessing de acquaintance of
de only polite Englishman I have ever known--Dare is milor Albert
D'Esterre had vraiement de galanterie to get off his horse and conduct
me from my carriage. N'est-ce pas merveilleux in dis country!"
Lord Albert bowed to the compliment; but added: "I am sure Lady
Tilney will not allow such a cruel sentence on our nation to pass even
your lips, Comtesse; and will agree with me, that though a few may
have taken up a false system, and assumed an air of disregard to the
courtesies of life, yet it is only such as seek for distinction by
false means, and by doing the reverse of what others do: we cannot,
therefore, allow the censure to be general on us all; indeed, I do
my sex but justice I hope, when I say, that they are in this country
invariably the friends and supporters of women, and--" "Oh yes; perhaps
if one tumble down, or break one's leg, or meet vid any personal danger
or affront, dis may be so; but dese affairs do not arise every day: and
for de little cares of de men, _les petits soins_, I never knew one of
your country men who knew vat dey meant."
Lord Albert smiled at the manner in which the argument in favour of
his politeness was maintained; but perceiving Lady Tilney little
inclined to keep up a conversation on the subject of national manners,
he refrained from drawing the comparison, which would have been just,
between a natural politeness, arising as much from feeling and imbued
delicacy of sentiment, as from habit, and the mere outward forms of
courtesy and etiquette, which in those most profuse of them have seldom
any thing of sincerity.
"Well, I suppose ve must go to dat tiresome Almack dis evening. You
go?" said the Comtesse Leinsengen, addressing Lady Tilney; "for my part
I tink I shall viddraw my name."
"Oh, certainly I shall go," replied the latter, "for it is absolutely
necessary you know, my dear Comtesse, that some of us should be there;
and besides I am of opinion that as people must have something to keep
them quiet, and which _they think recherché_, Almack's is as good
as any thing else, and therefore I shall support it--In regard to
_us_, I agree perfectly with you, it is _passée_, and no longer what
was intended." The Comtesse shrugged her shoulders: "You will be at
Almack's to-night," said Lady Tilney, turning to Lord Albert D'Esterre,
"although we are giving it such a bad name, will you not?"
"Your hours of admission are limited you know, and I scarcely think I
can get away in time from ----"
"There is no debate of consequence, is there?" rejoined Lady Tilney
with earnestness--"I may forget, but should there be, of course----"
"I did not mean from the house," continued Lord Albert, "but I am
going to dine where I shall meet Baron H.; I have known him on the
continent, and his conversation is so very interesting."--"And so very
long," added the Comtesse Leinsengen, interrupting him, and with a look
which was intended to repay many discussions she had been constrained
to endure at Lady Tilney's hands; "I wonder he ever finds people to
listen to him."--"But where do you dine," said Lady Tilney, seeming to
disregard the opinion just uttered. "I know Barnette, and he is very
agreeable, very clever, but I wonder he allows himself to be so _fétéd_
by people so little known in the world. I shall be happy, I am sure--"
"I am to meet him at the Miss D.'s," replied Lord Albert, interrupting
her, and who felt that _this_ was the point he was called upon to
answer, and not that of who were or who were not known in Lady Tilney's
estimation.
"And do you really visit them?" said the latter with great surprise,
"are you not _ennuyé_ to death at their parties?"
"_Ennuyé!_ no--but then I must premise that I never am so under any
circumstances."
"Ah, _bon!_ do tell me how that is, Milor," said the Comtesse
Leinsengen, "precisely, do tell me how you avoid infection from dat
prevalent disease of your island, dat _bore_ you call it."
"Oh, I always do what I like," replied Lord Albert with a smile.
"Cela ne fait rien à l'affaire, one do not always know vat von like."
"I have nothing to reply to that; but for myself, if I do not find
exactly what I like I always endeavour to extract entertainment from
the persons or place, where, or with whom I may chance to be."
"Par exemple, at the Miss D.'s, what can you find at their horrible
conversaziones to keep you awake," asked Lady Tilney, "c'est un ennui à
périr, it makes me yawn to think of it."
"Oh, he goes to do penance for his sins, and purchase indulgence for
dose to come, n'est ce pas, Milor?"
"Neither, I assure you; I was really more entertained during a _soirée_
there last week than I have been since my return to England."
"Ah, le beau compliment! de grâce do not avow it," said the Comtesse.
Lady Tilney looked amazed at these opinions, like one in doubt if she
had not with too much precipitation admitted an enemy within the camp,
in the person of Lord Albert; and whilst canvassing the necessity of
retrieving her error, by his future exclusion, and at the same time
the policy of retaining one of his interest and promise in her circle,
with a view to his reform, she directed her enquiries to him in a tone
almost dictatorial, as to the ground of his faith in the merits of
the society he had been extolling. "Will you tell me, Lord Albert, of
whom are these parties generally composed? I have yet to learn that
there are distinguished individuals capable of creating such great
interest apart from what is generally termed the society of London;
or, I must conclude--but I will not do that hastily--that you yourself
have imbibed ideas quite foreign to propriety, and have given way to
associations quite unfitting your situation in the world."
Lord Albert in his turn seemed astonished at these categories, but
answered with perfect ease: "I have found at the Miss D.'s many whom I
meet elsewhere and, every where; but my chief attraction is the number
of talented persons who are often assembled in the circle, and whose
conversation affords me the greatest interest, and much instruction."
"One do not go into society to be instructed," said the Comtesse
Leinsengen with a sneer.
"Surely not," added Lady Tilney, "clever people are well in their
way,--I mean your really learned persons--men who have read, travelled,
written all their lives, but then it is in one's own apartment in the
morning that they are sufferable. I know but very few indeed, who are
presentable, or who have the true talent of turning their powers to
account, without torturing one to death with their learning; and then
without great circumspection they become familiar, and one is obliged
to take so much trouble, and be so much on one's guard, to keep them
in their place. Be assured, Lord Albert, you will find this to be the
case," continued Lady Tilney, "if you give unlimited encouragement to
_gens de ce grade_--There is but one subject on which you may listen
to them, I mean politics; but how few there are of the class who are
enlightened enough to speak on that subject. We have, it is true, D--
and B-- C--, and the Count K--, sometimes with us; and among our own
countrymen, we have M-- and a few others, but--"
The Countess Leinsengen's impatience was here manifested by the usual
shrug of her shoulders, and as she perceived Lady Tilney embarking on
the interminable ocean of politics, turning quickly to Lord Albert she
enquired,
"But who may be de very clever persons, Milor, who give you so much
amusement in dis very charming society?"
"Where there are so many to name, it is hard to select," replied
Lord Albert; "but there was the great traveller, who has been further
into the interior of Africa than any one has yet penetrated. His
descriptions of deserts, and skies, and camels, conveyed me beside
him in his pilgrimage; the trackless sands in which no insect can
find subsistence; the well by which the caravan halted, the only
visible friend of the traveller throughout the vast desert; the wide
canopy of starry heavens, spread out above; those heavens and those
stars, of whose clear brightness we in these cloudy regions have but a
faint idea; the varied and picturesque garb of guides and guards; the
meekness of the patient camel; the silence of the march, unless some
alarm from the fierce and wandering tribes of the country disturbed
its tranquillity; and then the noise, and gesticulation, and activity,
which accompanied the pitching of the tents for the night's or noon's
repose, were circumstances all described and dwelt upon by the
traveller, with a nervous strength and accuracy of delineation which
nothing but original description can give, and which came to me with so
much force and truth, and such beauty of imagery, that I thought, as he
spoke, travelling was the only delightful way of passing one's life."
Lady Tilney and the Comtesse Leinsengen exchanged looks, while Lord
Albert was thus giving way to the natural feelings of a mind yet
untinctured with the follies of fashion, and which saw no degradation
to his rank in seeking and finding amusement in the society of
enlightened persons.
"Tell me," at length asked Lady Tilney, with an expression something
like contempt, "had you no _changement de décoration_; was all your
talk about camels, and deserts, and wells, and stars?"--"Ah," cried the
Comtesse Leinsengen, "_avouez moi, Milor, que la nouvelle du jour vaut
been mieux_." Lord Albert smiled, and allowed that this was amusing too
in its way; but he added,
"We had a change of divertissement I assure you, after dinner; _Il
cantar che nel' anima si sente_ took the place of conversation for a
time, and Mr. M--"
"Oh he is well enough," said Lady Tilney, "in his place, and sings
charmingly;" (for the person in question was the Anacreon of her party,
and sometimes tuned his lays to subjects on which party feeling and
political animosity loved to cast derision)--"he is well enough."--"And
sings, do you not think," rejoined Lord Albert, "divinely? I have heard
others sing finely--sweetly--scientifically--even feelingly; but such
lightness, such magic bursts of imagery, such painting of sounds, I
never heard but in his song."
"And you have heard de Sontag: you heard her dis last evening?"
"Oh yes, often; I heard her at Vienna before she came to England."
"Well, and you prefer dis little gentleman--_tout les gens sont
respectables_;" and she sneered, as if in contradiction to the words.
"Perhaps the parties will not bear a comparison," added Lady Tilney,
jealous of one whom she patronized, and whose merits she had in a
measure acknowledged; and then, turning to Lord Albert, she continued--
"You must not mistake me, my dear lord; I have no objection to the
_sort of thing_ you have been describing. I honour talent, and delight
in conversation; but then it must be on a proper footing; in circles
where those persons who talk, and talk very well I dare say, should be
under restraint; where they would feel themselves debarred entirely
from _undue_ license, and a consideration that they formed part of
the society, and where they would appear in their true characters--to
direct and amuse others when called upon; just as actors and singers
come upon the stage to play their parts, and then retire. Now in the
circle you allude to all this necessary distinction is overthrown at
once--every one there, from the nature of things, considers himself
_pair et compagnon_ of the company, and behaves accordingly. In small
rooms--"
"_On meurt de chaud au de froid, par parenthèse_," interrupted the
Comtesse, who dreaded one of Lady Tilney's long discussions; "for
dere is one moment a thorough air, and de next all is shut up, and
one fries vid de fire; but dat is always de case where dere is no
_poêle_ stove--However, adieu ma belle; I must go and leave you and
Milor dere to settle all de points about dat société which he likes so
much--adieu--_au revoir, Milor, je vous salue_."
Lord Albert would have followed his natural impulse of politeness, and
handed the Comtesse Leinsengen to her carriage; disposed, perhaps, also
to escape further conversation with Lady Tilney on topics where they
seemed to hold no ideas in common. This, however, he was not permitted
to do, the Comtesse declining his offered arm, saying she should never
be forgiven if Lady Tilney were deprived of the triumph of converting
him from his errors;--and closing the door, as she insisted on his
remaining, Lord Albert was left tête-à-tête with Lady Tilney.
"Do you not think she is terribly gone off this year?" said the latter.
"I do not know if I understand you. If it be that her beauty is gone
off, I should say yes--but I never heard she _was_ handsome."
"No?" asked Lady Tilney, with an expression of satisfaction; "but she
is surely very _distingué_ looking."--"She has the advantage of that
species of polish which the world gives," was Lord Albert's reply; "but
this often covers an unpolished mind--and I am not sure it is the first
thing I should look for."
"I like nature as much as you can do, my dear lord; I ever stood up for
that liberty and freedom attendant on persons not quite _fait au feu_;
but I must confess that I like to have them a little dressed, _not
perfectly raw_."
How far Lord Albert might have found it possible to agree with Lady
Tilney in this new question, so suddenly started, it was not left him
to discover; for at that moment fresh visitors were announced--and, as
they entered, Lord Albert prepared to depart. Not, however, till Lady
Tilney--who, spite of what she called his false theories, saw he was a
person by no means to be hastily rejected--had bidden him to her box at
the Opera on Saturday evening. "I am determined to be at the rising of
the curtain," she said, "to hear the Sontag--only it is so difficult to
be in time. Were you ever in time in your life?"--
"Yes, I have," answered Lord Albert, smiling.
"Then be at the very _premier congé d'arche_ on Saturday," added Lady
Tilney, as he bowed to her and left the apartment; glad to have gotten
over a visit of ceremony, where, from the tone of conversation which
had passed, he augured that little in future would be found consonant
to his ideas or his tastes.
As he rode from the door, Lord Albert turned his horse towards the
Park. It was one of the first Spring days that had shone in the early
year, and all the gayest of London seemed hastening to enjoy its genial
influence.--Yes, even the weary and the _blazé_ in life's crooked paths
appeared for a moment to acknowledge the charm which the brilliancy of
the scene and the brightness of the atmosphere combined to form. Smiles
were in every face and cheerfulness in every movement.
Than the throng of Hyde Park there is perhaps no promenade in Europe
more dazzling; none where more magnificence of equipage, or more beauty
of human form is displayed; and it is difficult for the young, and the
handsome more particularly, not to feel intoxicated as they enter on a
stage where the whole appearance is so fair, and where a consciousness
of personal charms assures them they must themselves shine.--It is
not probable that Lord Albert D'Esterre, philosophical as he has just
appeared while discoursing with Lady Tilney, was altogether free from
feelings so natural to his years, or from that species of vanity which
seeks a display of personal beauty, or whatever other quality may best
glitter in such a scene.
He was young, strikingly handsome, possessing a form of perfect
symmetry, and moreover one of the finest horsemen of his time. What
wonder then if, as he sought the crowded road of the Park, something
like self-love had a share in the direction which he took, and the
choice made of the spot where he might breathe the balmy air of such a
day. As he joined some of his acquaintances in the Ride, and stopped to
speak to others, passing from right to left and from north to south in
the gay and splendid crowd, his recollections were naturally turned to
similar parades in other countries, and he felt pride as an Englishman
in considering how far our national display of beauty and of wealth
outshone that of other capitals.
"Neither Vienna, nor Paris, nor St. Petersburgh, can rival this,
Glenmore," he said, in the buoyancy of his gratification at the
scene--"nothing that we ever beheld there is comparable with this--now
is it?"
"You have chosen your day well," replied the latter, "because, if it
had been one of those three hundred and sixty-five days of mist which
we generally enjoy in this metropolis, I should be disposed to dispute
the point with you, and set the sunshine of a Parisian Spring against
the brilliancy of our ladies' eyes and the splendour of their retinues.
And would you not agree with me?"
"Why, as a mere animal, I might, perhaps--climate does affect our
_physique_, I will allow; but the national pride--"
"Oh, bah! my dear D'Esterre your national pride in this instance has
nothing to do with the matter;--and if the belles of Paris, or Vienna,
or the Calmuck beauties of St. Petersburgh, could rival ours, their
horses and coach-makers surpass what you see before you, and their
summers be eternal, your _amour de la patrie_, I fear, would not long
continue _to bias_ your judgment. No, no, D'Esterre, that feeling does
not live on food like this; but we have other and better sources for
it, as you well know and feel."
Lord Albert's face shewed, in the generous glow which suffused it,
a sense of his friend's appreciation of his sounder judgment; but he
added, with a smile, "if you will not allow my present admiration
to proceed from such a noble spring, at least do not accuse me of a
reverse of sentiment, if I draw a comparison, in another respect, not
at all favourable to my countrymen. Do you observe that line of men
drawn up in battle array, and with impertinent nonchalance passing
judgment on the women who drive before them? It must, or ought to be,
at least, offensive to the pride and delicacy of the former; it would
shock any European, and is a custom more suited to eastern despotism,
and to the rules of an Asiatic slave mart, than to a civilized nation."
"But do you conclude, therefore, that the men are alone to blame in
this?" asked Lord Glenmore; "and is it to be presumed that they would
have forgotten the courtesies and respect due from them, if women in
general had been more true to the delicacies and decencies of their own
sex. Do justice to the men while you blame the practice of the day, and
acknowledge, that if the nod, or motion of the hand, or impertinent
glance of recognition now takes place of the bow and respectful
salutation of other times, yet that there must have been a sufferance
of the change, if not an encouragement of it, and an equal alteration
of manners on the other hand, or it would never have been."
"I dare say you are right, Glenmore; and if so the more the pity. But
although custom sanctions all change in reciprocal demeanour between
men and women, yet because the stiff and _manière_ address of the last
century was laid aside with the silk coat, and bag-wig, and sword, I do
not see why courtly manners should have been exiled at the same time.
So long as society is to exist on a proper footing, there must be an
outward shew of proper feelings; and when all deference in minor points
ceases, it is quite certain that all consideration of respect in more
serious matters will cease too."--"What is that I hear?" cried Leslie
Winyard, riding up to Lord Glenmore's side, and nodding familiarly to
his companion;--"what is that I hear about proper feelings, and all
consideration of respect? You are not moralizing in Hyde Park I hope."
"D'Esterre says that you men do very wrong to sit on your horses, rank
and file, and let the ladies parade before you; and I think what he
says is true."
"Indeed!" replied Mr. Leslie Winyard, and looking round in Lord Albert
D'Esterre's face with a sneer, "I believe if we were not to do so,
you would have very few beauties to admire in your ride,--the women
only come here to see us."--"And what do _you_ come for?" asked Lord
Glenmore smiling.--"Oh, to shew ourselves, certainly: to _be_ admired."
Before he could reply to the insufferable impertinence of this
speech--if indeed he would have deemed it worthy any reply--an equipage
caught the eye of Lord Glenmore as it entered the gate, and putting
spurs to his horse he was at its side in a moment and speaking to the
ladies in it. "Whose carriage is that?" asked Lord Albert of Leslie
Winyard, who continued to saunter his horse in company with him.
"It's the Melcombe's," he replied, after a pause, and having put the
handle of his whip, which contained a glass, to his eye--"it's the
Melcombe's: Georgina is a d--d fine girl. Don't you know Georgina? they
say Glenmore is smitten,--I'll go and see the fun;" and, with these
words, this model of the gallantry of the nineteenth century rode off.
"What can he mean," said Lord Albert to himself, "by calling any woman
familiarly by her name in that manner, unless she be his sister or near
relative; but to me, a stranger almost to himself, and to the party
utterly unknown, what abominable vulgarity, what detestable insolence!"
There is no saying how far Lord Albert might have gone on in his
animadversions on the manners of his sex, if he had been left quite
to himself, for there was enough around him, and before his eyes, to
provoke remark even in a mind less alive to the niceties and decorum
of polished life. But his attention was called another way, and he
in turn was to become a subject of flippant ridicule; to be set down
as a person _à prétension_, by the young men whose manners he had
very justly condemned, and who chose to attribute to coxcombry and to
affectation, a demeanour and a bearing which they had not the power to
imitate.
A graceful inclination of the head from some lady passing in the
throng, and whose feathers waved in unison with the movement, as she
bowed to Lord Albert, caught his eye. He gazed for a moment, not
recognizing the party, but lifted his hat courteously from his head,
and as he looked back to ascertain better who it was, perceived the
carriage had stopped near the gate. Turning his horse, therefore, he
rode in the direction, and discovered that it was Lady Hamlet Vernon
who had saluted him. He approached the carriage, with all the air and
gallantry of a really high bred person, thanked Lady Hamlet Vernon
for the honour she had done him, in recognizing him in the crowd;
apologized for his own blindness, and continued for some minutes in
conversation with her on the beauty and gaiety of the scene, and on
the current topics of the day. His back was turned at the time to the
phalanx of horsemen, whose ranks, and avowed occupation, had given
occasion to his remarks on the bad manners of the age; and who now,
assembled in closer body by the gate, were ready to give their last
glance of scrutiny or recognition to the departing carriages.
"That's a fine horse that man is upon," said Lord Tonnerre, pointing to
Lord Albert; "who the devil is he?"
"Oh! its D'Esterre," said Leslie Winyard, "do you not know him a mile
off, by all his bows and grimaces: for me, I could 'wind him i' the
lobby, any where.'"
"Damn the fellow, what business has he with such a horse--can he ride?"
"I should think not," drawled out Lord Baskerville; "he is the most
conceited animal London has boasted for some centuries. I heard him
talk last night about that dear Sontag, till I was sick."--"And, my
lords and gentlemen," said Leslie Winyard, in mock solemnity, "he
talked not only most fancifully, as my Lord Baskerville avers, last
night, but on this morning too: and upon what? Divine, O ye augurs!
declare it, ye soothsayers!--Why he discovered, in the very age and
body of the time--its forms and its complexion, and pronounced our
manners, rude; our bearing, unlike gentlemen; our noble array here,
barbaric and uncivilized;--in short, [assuming his natural tone] he
is a d--d puppy. I caught him, but now, preaching in this strain to
Glenmore, who, like a fool, said he agreed with him!"--A general
murmur burst from the circle which had listened to Leslie Winyard,
and the words coxcomb, ass, puppy, poppinjay, and jackanapes, issued
simultaneously from the lips of these polished ultras of ton.
Lord Tonnerre alone was silent, but his features shewed him to be as
little in a mood for gentleness as any of them. When having grasped
his rein, and put his horse on his haunches, he glanced a look of
intelligence to those around him, and was off at full speed towards the
spot where Lord Albert, leaning from his horse, was still conversing
with Lady Hamlet Vernon. Regardless of courtesy, or the consequences of
his impetuosity, he kept his violent course till within half a neck of
the carriage, and then suddenly endeavoured to wheel round, and pass on
the other side. Lord Albert's horse, startled at this close and sudden
approach, plunged, and alarmed at the carriages and noise, became, for
a moment, unmanageable, and broke away. His rider's admirable dexterity
and coolness, however, soon enabled him to rein in this movement,
and return towards the spot from which he had started, and where his
preoccupation had prevented his observing that a crowd of horsemen had
gathered, who partially stood round, or were dismounting, seemingly to
assist in some accident. He moved at a quicker pace, and found that
Lord Tonnerre's horse, on being so roughly checked, had reared, and
fallen back on his rider.
Lord Albert was on his feet in an instant, and making his way through
the throng was as eager in his inquiries, and prompt to render
assistance to the sufferer, as if he had been personally interested
in him. He found, however, no serious mischief had occurred. Lord
Tonnerre, with the exception of having been stunned with the fall, and
not yet able to rise, seemed perfectly himself, and careless of what
had happened.
His first inquiries were for his horse; and having been assured by
several of his friends that no injury had been sustained in that
quarter, he swore loudly against the animal for a fault which had been
entirely his own, gave way to the most violent gesticulations of angry
passion against the curiosity (as he called it) of the by-standers, and
so disgusted Lord Albert D'Esterre by his want of proper feeling under
an accident that might have ended fatally, that the latter mounted his
horse once more, rode round to the other side of Lady Hamlet Vernon's
carriage to assure her that she need be under no apprehension for
Lord Tonnerre's safety, and continuing by her side as she proceeded
out of the Park, left the actors of this paltry scene to bear their
discomfiture as they best could.