attempt to renew them? 'tis but taking a walk backwards; and though it
is very early in life for Mr Arnott to sigh for that retrograde motion,
which, in the regular course of things, we shall all in our turns
desire, yet with such a motive as recovering Miss Beverley for a
playfellow, who can wonder that he anticipates in youth the hopeless
wishes of age?”
Here Miss Larolles, who was one of that numerous tribe of young ladies
to whom all conversation is irksome in which they are not themselves
engaged, quitted her place, of which Mr Gosport, Cecilia's new
acquaintance, immediately took possession.
“Is it utterly impossible,” continued this gentleman, “that I should
assist in procuring Mr Arnott such a renovation? Is there no subaltern
part I can perform to facilitate the project? for I will either _hide_
or _seek_ with any boy in the parish; and for a _Q in the corner_, there
is none more celebrated.”
“I have no doubt, sir,” answered Cecilia, “of your accomplishments; and
I should be not a little entertained with the surprize of the company
if you could persuade yourself to display them.”
“And what,” cried he, “could the company do half so well as to rise
also, and join in the sport? it would but interrupt some tale of
scandal, or some description of a _toupee_. Active wit, however
despicable when compared with intellectual, is yet surely better than
the insignificant click-clack of modish conversation,” casting his eyes
towards Miss Larolles, “or even the pensive dullness of affected
silence,” changing their direction towards Miss Leeson.
Cecilia, though surprised at an attack upon the society her friend had
selected, by one who was admitted to make a part of it, felt its justice
too strongly to be offended at its severity.
“I have often wished,” he continued, “that when large parties are
collected, as here, without any possible reason why they might not as
well be separated, something could be proposed in which each person
might innocently take a share: for surely after the first half-hour,
they can find little new to observe in the dress of their neighbours,
or to display in their own; and with whatever seeming gaiety they may
contrive to fill up the middle and end of the evening, by wire-drawing
the comments afforded by the beginning, they are yet so miserably
fatigued, that if they have not four or five places to run to every
night, they suffer nearly as much from weariness of their friends in
company, as they would do from weariness of themselves in solitude.”
Here, by the general breaking up of the party, the conversation was
interrupted, and Mr Gosport was obliged to make his exit; not much to
the regret of Cecilia, who was impatient to be alone with Mrs Harrel.
The rest of the evening, therefore, was spent much more to her
satisfaction; it was devoted to friendship, to mutual enquiries, to kind
congratulations, and endearing recollections; and though it was late
when she retired, she retired with reluctance.
CHAPTER iv
A SKETCH OF HIGH LIFE.
Eager to renew a conversation which had afforded her so much pleasure,
Cecilia, neither sensible of fatigue from her change of hours nor her
journey, arose with the light, and as soon as she was dressed, hastened
to the breakfast apartment.
She had not, however, been more impatient to enter than she soon became
to quit it; for though not much surprized to find herself there before
her friend, her ardour for waiting her arrival was somewhat chilled,
upon finding the fire but just lighted, the room cold, and the servants
still employed in putting it in order.
At 10 o'clock she made another attempt: the room was then better
prepared for her reception, but still it was empty. Again she was
retiring, when the appearance of Mr Arnott stopped her.
He expressed his surprize at her early rising, in a manner that marked
the pleasure it gave to him; and then, returning to the conversation of
the preceding evening, he expatiated with warmth and feeling upon the
happiness of his boyish days, remembered every circumstance belonging
to the plays in which they had formerly been companions, and dwelt
upon every incident with a minuteness of delight that shewed his
unwillingness ever to have done with the subject.
This discourse detained her till they were joined by Mrs Harrel, and
then another, more gay and more general succeeded to it.
During their breakfast, Miss Larolles was announced as a visitor to
Cecilia, to whom she immediately advanced with the intimacy of an old
acquaintance, taking her hand, and assuring her she could no longer
defer the honour of waiting upon her.
Cecilia, much amazed at this warmth of civility from one to whom she
was almost a stranger, received her compliment rather coldly; but Miss
Larolles, without consulting her looks, or attending to her manner,
proceeded to express the earnest desire she had long had to be known to
her; to hope they should meet very often; to declare nothing could
make her so happy; and to beg leave to recommend to her notice her own
milliner.
“I assure you,” she continued, “she has all Paris in her disposal; the
sweetest caps! the most beautiful trimmings! and her ribbons are quite
divine! It is the most dangerous thing you can conceive to go near her;
I never trust myself in her room but I am sure to be ruined. If you
please, I'll take you to her this morning.”
“If her acquaintance is so ruinous,” said Cecilia, “I think I had better
avoid it.”
“Oh, impossible! there's no such thing as living without her. To be sure
she's shockingly dear, that I must own; but then who can wonder? She
makes such sweet things, 'tis impossible to pay her too much for them.”
Mrs Harrel now joining in the recommendation, the party was agreed upon,
and accompanied by Mr Arnott, the ladies proceeded to the house of the
milliner.
Here the raptures of Miss Larolles were again excited: she viewed the
finery displayed with delight inexpressible, enquired who were the
intended possessors, heard their names with envy, and sighed with all
the bitterness of mortification that she was unable to order home almost
everything she looked at.
Having finished their business here, they proceeded to various other
dress manufacturers, in whose praises Miss Larolles was almost equally
eloquent, and to appropriate whose goods she was almost equally earnest:
and then, after attending this loquacious young lady to her father's
house, Mrs Harrel and Cecilia returned to their own.
Cecilia rejoiced at the separation, and congratulated herself that the
rest of the day might be spent alone with her friend.
“Why, no,” said Mrs Harrel, “not absolutely alone, for I expect some
company at night.”
“Company again to-night?”
“Nay, don't be frightened, for it will be a very small party; not more
than fifteen or twenty in all.”
“Is that so small a party?” said Cecilia, smiling; “and how short a time
since would you, as well as I, have reckoned it a large one!”
“Oh, you mean when I lived in the country,” returned Mrs Harrel; “but
what in the world could I know of parties or company then?”
“Not much, indeed,” said Cecilia, “as my present ignorance shews.”
They then parted to dress for dinner.
The company of this evening were again all strangers to Cecilia, except
Miss Leeson, who was seated next to her, and whose frigid looks again
compelled her to observe the same silence she so resolutely practised
herself. Yet not the less was her internal surprise that a lady who
seemed determined neither to give nor receive any entertainment, should
repeatedly chuse to show herself in a company with no part of which she
associated.
Mr Arnott, who contrived to occupy the seat on her other side, suffered
not the silence with which her fair neighbour had infected her to spread
any further: he talked, indeed, upon no new subject; and upon the old
one, of their former sports and amusements, he had already exhausted
all that was worth being mentioned; but not yet had he exhausted the
pleasure he received from the theme; it seemed always fresh and always
enchanting to him; it employed his thoughts, regaled his imagination,
and enlivened his discourse. Cecilia in vain tried to change it for
another; he quitted it only by compulsion, and returned to it with
redoubled eagerness.
When the company was retired, and Mr Arnott only remained with the
ladies, Cecilia, with no little surprise, inquired for Mr Harrel,
observing that she had not seen him the whole day.
“O!” cried his lady, “don't think of wondering at that, for it happens
continually. He dines at home, indeed, in general, but otherwise I
should see nothing of him at all.”
“Indeed? why, how does he fill up his time?”
“That I am sure I cannot tell, for he never consults me about it; but I
suppose much in the same way that other people do.”
“Ah, Priscilla!” cried Cecilia, with some earnestness, “how little did I
ever expect to see you so much a fine lady!”
“A fine lady?” repeated Mrs Harrel; “why, what is it I do? Don't I live
exactly like every body else that mixes at all with the world?”
“You, Miss Beverley,” said Mr Arnott in a low voice, “will I hope give
to the world an example, not take one from it.”
Soon after, they separated for the night.
The next morning, Cecilia took care to fill up her time more
advantageously, than in wandering about the house in search of a
companion she now expected not to find: she got together her books,
arranged them to her fancy, and secured to herself for the future
occupation of her leisure hours, the exhaustless fund of entertainment
which reading, that richest, highest, and noblest source of intellectual
enjoyment, perpetually affords.
While they were yet at breakfast, they were again visited by Miss
Larolles. “I am come,” cried she, eagerly, “to run away with you both to
my Lord Belgrade's sale. All the world will be there; and we shall go in
with tickets, and you have no notion how it will be crowded.”
“What is to be sold there?” said Cecilia.
“Oh, every thing you can conceive; house, stables, china, laces, horses,
caps, everything in the world.”
“And do you intend to buy any thing?”
“Lord, no; but one likes to see the people's things.”
Cecilia then begged they would excuse her attendance.
“O, by no means!” cried Miss Larolles; “you must go, I assure you;
there'll be such a monstrous crowd as you never saw in your life. I dare
say we shall be half squeezed to death.”
“That,” said Cecilia, “is an inducement which you must not expect will
have much weight with a poor rustic just out of the country: it must
require all the polish of a long residence in the metropolis to make it
attractive.”
“O but do go, for I assure you it will be the best sale we shall have
this season. I can't imagine, Mrs Harrel, what poor Lady Belgrade will
do with herself; I hear the creditors have seized every thing; I really
believe creditors are the cruelest set of people in the world! they have
taken those beautiful buckles out of her shoes! Poor soul! I declare it
will make my heart ache to see them put up. It's quite shocking, upon
my word. I wonder who'll buy them. I assure you they were the prettiest
fancied I ever saw. But come, if we don't go directly, there will be no
getting in.”
Cecilia again desired to be excused accompanying them, adding that she
wished to spend the day at home.
“At home, my dear?” cried Mrs Harrel; “why we have been engaged to Mrs
Mears this month, and she begged me to prevail with you to be of the
party. I expect she'll call, or send you a ticket, every moment.”
“How unlucky for me,” said Cecilia, “that you should happen to have so
many engagements just at this time! I hope, at least, there will not be
any for to-morrow.”
“O yes; to-morrow we go to Mrs Elton's.”
“Again to-morrow? and how long is this to last?”
“O, heaven knows; I'll shew you my catalogue.”
She then produced a book which contained a list of engagements for more
than three weeks. “And as these,” she said, “are struck off, new ones
are made; and so it is we go on till after the birth-day.”
When this list had been examined and commented upon by Miss Larolles,
and viewed and wondered at by Cecilia, it was restored to its place,
the two ladies went together to the auction, permitting Cecilia, at her
repeated request, to return to her own apartment.
She returned, however, neither satisfied with the behaviour of her
friend, nor pleased with her own situation: the sobriety of her
education, as it had early instilled into her mind the pure dictates of
religion, and strict principles of honour, had also taught her to
regard continual dissipation as an introduction to vice, and unbounded
extravagance as the harbinger of injustice. Long accustomed to see Mrs
Harrel in the same retirement in which she had hitherto lived herself,
when books were their first amusement, and the society of each other
was their chief happiness, the change she now perceived in her mind and
manners equally concerned and surprised her. She found her insensible
to friendship, indifferent to her husband, and negligent of all social
felicity. Dress, company, parties of pleasure, and public places,
seemed not merely to occupy all her time; but to gratify all her wishes.
Cecilia, in whose heart glowed the warmest affections and most generous
virtue, was cruelly depressed and mortified by this disappointment; yet
she had the good sense to determine against upbraiding her, well aware
that if reproach has any power over indifference, it is only that of
changing it into aversion.
Mrs Harrel, in truth, was innocent of heart, though dissipated in life;
married very young, she had made an immediate transition from living in
a private family and a country town, to becoming mistress of one of
the most elegant houses in Portman-square, at the head of a splendid
fortune, and wife to a man whose own pursuits soon showed her the
little value he himself set upon domestic happiness. Immersed in
the fashionable round of company and diversions, her understanding,
naturally weak, was easily dazzled by the brilliancy of her situation;
greedily, therefore, sucking in air impregnated with luxury and
extravagance, she had soon no pleasure but to vie with some rival in
elegance, and no ambition but to exceed some superior in expence.
The Dean of----in naming Mr Harrel for one of the guardians of his
niece, had no other view than that of indulging her wishes by allowing
her to reside in the house of her friend: he had little personal
knowledge of him, but was satisfied with the nomination, because
acquainted with his family, fortune, and connections, all which
persuaded him to believe without further enquiry, that it was more
peculiarly proper for his niece than any other he could make.
In his choice of the other two trustees he had been more prudent; the
first of these, the honourable Mr Delvile, was a man of high birth and
character; the second, Mr Briggs, had spent his whole life in business,
in which he had already amassed an immense fortune, and had still no
greater pleasure than that of encreasing it. From the high honour,
therefore, of Mr Delvile, he expected the most scrupulous watchfulness
that his niece should in nothing be injured, and from the experience of
Mr Briggs in money matters, and his diligence in transacting business,
he hoped for the most vigilant observance that her fortune, while under
his care, should be turned to the best account. And thus, as far as he
was able, he had equally consulted her pleasure, her security, and her
pecuniary advantage.
Mrs Harrel returned home only in time to dress for the rest of the day.
When Cecilia was summoned to dinner, she found, besides her host and
hostess and Mr Arnott, a gentleman she had not before seen, but who as
soon as she entered the parlour, Mr Harrel presented to her, saying at
the same time he was one of the most intimate of his friends.
This gentleman, Sir Robert Floyer, was about thirty years of age;
his face was neither remarkable for its beauty nor its ugliness, but
sufficiently distinguished by its expression of invincible assurance;
his person, too, though neither striking for its grace nor its
deformity, attracted notice from the insolence of his deportment. His
manners, haughty and supercilious, marked the high opinion he cherished
of his own importance; and his air and address, at once bold and
negligent, announced his happy perfection in the character at which he
aimed, that of an accomplished man of the town.
The moment Cecilia appeared, she became the object of his attention,
though neither with the look of admiration due to her beauty, nor yet
with that of curiosity excited by her novelty, but with the scrutinizing
observation of a man on the point of making a bargain, who views with
fault-seeking eyes the property he means to cheapen.
Cecilia, wholly unused to an examination so little ceremonious, shrunk
abashed from his regards: but his conversation was not less displeasing
to her than his looks; his principal subjects, which were horse-racing,
losses at play, and disputes at gaming-tables, could afford her but
little amusement, because she could not understand them; and the
episodes with which they were occasionally interspersed, consisting
chiefly of comparative strictures upon celebrated beauties, hints of
impending bankruptcies, and witticisms upon recent divorces, were yet
more disagreeable to her, because more intelligible. Wearied, therefore,
with uninteresting anecdotes, and offended with injudicious subjects of
pleasantry, she waited with impatience for the moment of retiring; but
Mrs Harrel, less eager, because better entertained, was in no haste to
remove, and therefore she was compelled to remain quiet, till they were
both obliged to arise, in order to fulfil their engagement with Mrs
Mears.
As they went together to the house of that lady, in Mrs Harrel's
vis-a-vis, Cecilia, not doubting but their opinions concerning the
Baronet would accord, instantly and openly declared her disapprobation
of every thing he had uttered; but Mrs Harrel, far from confirming
her expectations, only said, “I am sorry you don't like him, for he is
almost always with us?”
“Do you like him, then, yourself?”
“Extremely; he is very entertaining and clever, and knows the world.”
“How judiciously do you praise him!” cried Cecilia; “and how long might
you deliberate before you could add another word to his panegyric!”
Mrs Harrel, satisfied to commend, without even attempting to vindicate
him, was soon content to change the subject; and Cecilia, though much
concerned that the husband of her friend had made so disgraceful
an election of a favourite, yet hoped that the lenity of Mrs Harrel
resulted from her desire to excuse his choice, not from her own
approbation.
CHAPTER v
AN ASSEMBLY.
Mrs Mears, whose character was of that common sort which renders
delineation superfluous, received them with the customary forms of good
breeding.
Mrs Harrel soon engaged herself at a card-table; and Cecilia, who
declined playing, was seated next to Miss Leeson, who arose to return
the courtesy she made in advancing to her, but that past, did not again
even look at her.
Cecilia, though fond of conversation and formed for society, was too
diffident to attempt speaking where so little encouraged; they both,
therefore, continued silent, till Sir Robert Floyer, Mr Harrel, and Mr
Arnott entered the room together, and all at the same time advanced to
Cecilia.
“What,” cried Mr Harrel, “don't you chuse to play, Miss Beverley?”
“I flatter myself,” cried Mr Arnott, “that Miss Beverley never plays at
all, for then, in one thing, I shall have the honour to resemble her.”
“Very seldom, indeed,” answered Cecilia, “and consequently very ill.”
“O, you must take a few lessons,” said Mr Harrel, “Sir Robert Floyer, I
am sure, will be proud to instruct you.”
Sir Robert, who had placed himself opposite to her, and was staring
full in her face, made a slight inclination of his head, and said,
“Certainly.”
“I should be a very unpromising pupil,” returned Cecilia, “for I fear I
should not only want diligence to improve, but desire.”
“Oh, you will learn better things,” said Mr Harrel; “we have had you
yet but three days amongst us,--in three months we shall see the
difference.”
“I hope not,” cried Mr Arnott, “I earnestly hope there will be none!”
Mr Harrel now joined another party; and Mr Arnott seeing no seat vacant
near that of Cecilia, moved round to the back of her chair, where he
patiently stood for the rest of the evening. But Sir Robert still kept
his post, and still, without troubling himself to speak, kept his eyes
fixed upon the same object.
Cecilia, offended by his boldness, looked a thousand ways to avoid him;
but her embarrassment, by giving greater play to her features, served
only to keep awake an attention which might otherwise have wearied.
She was almost tempted to move her chair round and face Mr Arnott, but
though she wished to shew her disapprobation of the Baronet, she had not
yet been reconciled by fashion to turning her back upon the company at
large, for the indulgence of conversing with some particular person: a
fashion which to unaccustomed observers seems rude and repulsive,
but which, when once adopted, carries with it imperceptibly its own
recommendation, in the ease, convenience and freedom it promotes.
Thus disagreeably stationed, she found but little assistance from the
neighbourhood of Mr Arnott, since even his own desire of conversing with
her, was swallowed up by an anxious and involuntary impulse to watch the
looks and motions of Sir Robert.
At length, quite tired of sitting as if merely an object to be gazed at,
she determined to attempt entering into conversation with Miss Leeson.
The difficulty, however, was not inconsiderable how to make the attack;
she was unacquainted with her friends and connections, uninformed of her
way of thinking, or her way of life, ignorant even of the sound of her
voice, and chilled by the coldness of her aspect: yet, having no other
alternative, she was more willing to encounter the forbidding looks of
this lady, than to continue silently abashed under the scrutinizing eyes
of Sir Robert.
After much deliberation with what subject to begin, she remembered that
Miss Larolles had been present the first time they had met, and thought
it probable they might be acquainted with each other; and therefore,
bending forward, she ventured to enquire if she had lately seen that
young lady?
Miss Leeson, in a voice alike inexpressive of satisfaction or
displeasure, quietly answered, “No, ma'am.”
Cecilia, discouraged by this conciseness, was a few minutes silent; but
the perseverance of Sir Robert in staring at her, exciting her own in
trying to avoid his eyes, she exerted herself so far as to add, “Does
Mrs Mears expect Miss Larolles here this evening?”
Miss Leeson, without raising her head, gravely replied, “I don't know,
ma'am.”
All was now to be done over again, and a new subject to be started, for
she could suggest nothing further to ask concerning Miss Larolles.
Cecilia had seen, little of life, but that little she had well marked,
and her observation had taught her, that among fashionable people,
public places seemed a never-failing source of conversation and
entertainment: upon this topic, therefore, she hoped for better success;
and as to those who have spent more time in the country than in London,
no place of amusement is so interesting as a theatre, she opened the
subject she had so happily suggested, by an enquiry whether any new play
had lately come out?
Miss Leeson, with the same dryness, only answered, “Indeed, I can't
tell.”
Another pause now followed, and the spirits of Cecilia were considerably
dampt; but happening accidentally to recollect the name of Almack, she
presently revived, and, congratulating herself that she should now be
able to speak of a place too fashionable for disdain, she asked her,
in a manner somewhat more assured, if she was a subscriber to his
assemblies?
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Do you go to them constantly?”
“No, ma'am.”
Again they were both silent. And now, tired of finding the ill-success
of each particular enquiry, she thought a more general one might obtain
an answer less laconic, and therefore begged she would inform her what
was the most fashionable place of diversion for the present season?
This question, however, cost Miss Leeson no more trouble than any which
had preceded it, for she only replied, “Indeed I don't know.”