_Strictures upon the Ton_
The next day was appointed for the master of the ceremonies' ball; which
proved a general rendezvous of all parties, and almost all classes of
company.
Mrs. Mittin, in a morning visit to Camilla, found out that she had only
the same cap for this occasion that she had worn upon every other; and,
assuring her it was grown so old-fashioned, that not a lady's maid in
Tunbridge would now be seen in it, she offered to pin her up a turban,
which should come to next to nothing, yet should be the prettiest, and
simplest, and cheapest thing that ever was seen.
Camilla, though a stranger to vanity, and without any natural turn to
extravagance, was neither of an age, nor a philosophy, to be unmoved by
the apprehension of being exposed to ridicule from her dress: she
thankfully, therefore, accepted the proposal; and Mrs. Mittin, taking a
guinea, said, she would pay Mrs. Tillden for the hat, at the same time
that she bought a new handkerchief for the turban.
When she came back, however, she had only laid out a few shillings at
another shop, for some articles, so cheap, she said it would have been a
shame not to buy them; but without paying the bill, Mrs. Tillden having
desired it might not be discharged till the young lady was leaving the
Wells.
As the turban was made up from a pattern of one prepared for Mrs.
Berlinton, Camilla had every reason to be satisfied of its elegance. Nor
did Mrs. Mittin involve her in much distress how her own trouble might
be recompensed; the cap she found unfit for Camilla, she could contrive,
she said, to alter for herself; and as a friend had given her a ticket
for the ball, it would be mighty convenient to her, as she had nothing
of the kind ready.
* * * * *
Far different were the sensations with which Edgar and Camilla saw each
other this night, from those with which, so lately they had met in the
same apartment. Edgar thought her degenerating into the character of a
coquette, and Camilla, in his intended tour, anticipated a period to all
their intercourse.
She was received, meanwhile, in general, with peculiar and flattering
attention. Sir Sedley Clarendel made up to her, with public smiles and
courtesy; even Lord Newford and Sir Theophilus Jarard, though they
passed by Mrs. Arlbery without speaking to her, singled out Camilla for
their devoirs. The distinction paid her by the admired Mrs. Berlinton
had now not only marked her as an object whom it would not be derogatory
to treat with civility, but as one who might, hence-forward, be regarded
herself as admitted into _certain circles_.
Mrs. Arlbery, though every way a woman of fashion, they conceived to be
somewhat wanting in _ton_, since she presided in no party, was unnoticed
by Lady Alithea Selmore, and unknown to Mrs. Berlinton.
_Ton_, in the scale of connoisseurs in the _certain circles_, is as much
above fashion, as fashion is above fortune: for though the latter is an
ingredient that all alike covet to possess, it is courted without being
respected, and desired without being honoured, except only by those who,
from earliest life, have been taught to earn it as a business. _Ton_,
meanwhile, is as attainable without birth as without understanding,
though in all the _certain circles_ it takes place of either. To define
what it is, would be as difficult to the most renowned of its votaries,
as to an utter stranger to its attributes. That those who call
themselves of the _ton_ either lead, or hold cheap all others, is
obtrusively evident: but how and by what art they attain such
pre-eminence, they would be perplexed to explain. That some whim has
happily called forth imitators; that some strange phrase has been
adopted; that something odd in dress has become popular; that some
beauty, or some deformity, no matter which, has found annotators; may
commonly be traced as the origin of their first public notice. But to
whichever of these accidents their early fame may be attributed, its
establishment and its glory is built upon vanity that knows no
deficiency, or insolence that knows no blush.
Notwithstanding her high superiority both in capacity and knowledge,
Mrs. Arlbery felt piqued by this behaviour, though she laughed at
herself for heeding it. 'Nevertheless,' cried she, 'those who shew
contempt, even though themselves are the most contemptible, always seem
on the higher ground. Yet 'tis only, with regard to these animals of the
_ton_, that nobody combats them. Their presumption is so notorious,
that, either by disgust or alarm, it keeps off reprehension. Let anyone
boldly, and face to face, venture to be more uncivil than themselves,
and they would be overpowered at once. Their valour is no better than
that of a barking cur, who affrights all that go on without looking at
him, but who, the moment he is turned upon with a stamp and a fierce
look, retreats himself, amazed, afraid, and ashamed.'
'If you, Mrs. Arlbery,' said the General, 'would undertake to tutor
them, what good you might do!'
'O, Heavens, General, suspect me not of such reforming Quixotism! I have
not the smallest desire to do them any good, believe me! If nature has
given them no sense of propriety, why should I be more liberal? I only
want to punish them; and that not, alas! from virtue, but from spite!'
The conversation of the two men of the _ton_ with Camilla was soon over.
It was made up of a few disjointed sentences, abusing Tunbridge, and
praising the German Spa, in cant words, emphatically and conceitedly
pronounced, and brought round upon every occasion, and in every speech,
with so precise an exclusion of all other terms, that their vocabulary
scarce consisted of forty words in totality.
Edgar occupied the space they vacated the moment of their departure; but
not alone; Mrs. Mittin came into it with him, eager to tell Camilla how
everybody had admired her turban; how sweetly she looked in it; how
everybody said, they should not have known her again, it became her so;
and how they all agreed her head had never been so well dressed before.
Edgar, when he could be heard, began speaking of Sir Sedley Clarendel;
he felt miserable in what he thought her inconsiderate encouragement of
such impertinence; and the delicacy which restrained him from expressing
his opinion of the Major, had no weight with him here, as jealousy had
no share in his dislike to the acquaintance: he believed the young
Baronet incapable of all love but for himself, and a decidedly destined
bachelor: without, therefore, the smallest hesitation, he plainly avowed
that he had never met with a more thoroughly conceited fop, a more
elaborate and self-sufficient coxcomb.
'You see him only,' said Camilla, 'with the impression made by his
general appearance; and that is all against him: I always look for his
better qualities and rejoice in finding them. His very sight fills me
with grateful pleasure, by reminding me of the deliverance I owe to
him.'
Edgar, amazed, intreated an explanation; and, when she had given it,
struck and affected, clasped his hands, and exclaimed: 'How providential
such a rescue! and how differently shall I henceforth behold him!' And,
almost involuntarily turning to Mrs. Arlbery, he intreated to be
presented to the young Baronet.
Sir Sedley received his overtures with some surprise, but great
civility; and then went on with a ludicrous account he was giving to
Lord Newford and Sir Theophilus, of the quarrel of Macdersey with Mr.
Dubster.
'How awake thou art grown, Clary?' cried Sir Theophilus; 'A little while
ago thou wast all hip and vapour; and now thou dost nothing but
patronise fun.'
'Why, yes,' answered the Baronet, 'I begin to tire of _ennui_. 'Tis
grown so common. I saw my footman beginning it but last week.'
'O, hang it! O, curse it!' cried Lord Newford, 'your footman!'
'Yes, the rogue is not without parts. I don't know if I shan't give him
some lessons, upon leaving it off myself. The only difficulty is to find
out what, in this nether world, to do without it. How can one fill up
one's time? Stretching, yawning, and all that, are such delicious
ingredients for coaxing on the lazy hours!'
'O, hang it, O, curse it,' cried Lord Newford; 'who can exist without
them? I would not be bound to pass half an hour without yawning and
stretching for the Mogul's empire. I'd rather snap short at once.'
'No, no, don't snap short yet, little Newy,' cried Sir Sedley. 'As to
me, I am never at a loss for an expedient. I am not without some
thoughts of falling in love.'
He looked at Edgar; who, not aware this was designed to catch his
attention, naturally exclaimed: 'Thoughts! can you choose, or avoid at
pleasure?'
'Most certainly. After four-and-twenty a man is seldom taken by
surprise; at least, not till he is past forty: and then, the fear of
being too late, sometimes renovates the eagerness of the first youth.
But, in general, your willing slaves are boys.'
Edgar, laughing, begged a little information, how he meant to put his
thoughts in execution.
'Nothing so facile! 'Tis but to look at some fair object attentively, to
follow her with your eyes when she quits the room; never to let them
rest without watching for her return; filling up the interval with a few
sighs; to which, in a short time, you grow so habituated, that they
become natural; and then, before you are aware, a certain solicitude and
restlessness arise, which the connoisseurs in natural history dub
falling in love.'
'These would be good hints,' said Edgar, 'to urge on waverers, who wish
to persuade themselves to marry.'
'O no, my dear sir! no! that's a mistake of the first magnitude; no man
is in love when he marries. He may have loved before; I have even heard
he has sometimes loved after: but at the time never. There is something
in the formalities of the matrimonial preparations that drive away all
the little cupidons. They rarely stand even a demand of consent--unless
they doubt obtaining it; but a settlement! Parchments! Lawyers!--No!
there is not a little Love in the Island of Cyprus, that is not ready to
lend a wing to set passion, inspiration, and tenderness to flight, from
such excruciating legalities.'
'Don't prose, Clary; don't prose,' cried Sir Theophilus, gaping till his
mouth was almost distorted.
'O, killing! O, murder!' cried Lord Newford; 'what dost talk of marriage
for?'
'It seems, then,' said Edgar, 'to be much the same thing what sort of
wife falls to a man's lot; whether the woman of his choice, or a person
he should blush to own?'
'Blush!' repeated Sir Sedley, smiling; 'no! no! A man of any fashion
never blushes for his wife, whatever she may be. For his mistress,
indeed, he may blush: for if there are any small failings there, his
taste may be called in question.'
'Blush about a wife!' exclaimed Lord Newford; 'O, hang it! O, curse it!
that's too bad!'
'Too bad, indeed,' cried Sir Theophilus; 'I can't possibly patronise
blushing for a wife.'
''Tis the same, then, also,' said Edgar, 'how she turns out when the
knot is tied, whether well or ill?'
'To exactitude! If he marry her for beauty, let her prove what she may,
her face offers his apology. If for money, he needs none. But if,
indeed, by some queer chance, he marries with a view of living with her,
then, indeed, if his particularity gets wind, he may grow a little
anxious for the acquittal of his oddity, in seeing her approved.'
'Approved! Ha! ha!' cried Lord Newford; 'a wife approved! That's too
bad, Clary; that's too bad!'
'Poor Clary, what art prosing about?' cried Sir Theophilus. 'I can't
possibly patronise this prosing.'
The entrance of the beautiful Mrs. Berlinton and her train now
interrupted this conversation; the young Baronet immediately joined her;
though not till he had given his hand to Edgar, in token of his
willingness to cultivate his acquaintance.
Edgar, returning to Camilla, confessed he had too hastily judged Sir
Sedley, when he concluded him a fool, as well as a fop; 'For,' added he,
with a smile, 'I see, now, one of those epithets is all he merits. He is
certainly far from deficient in parts, though he abuses the good gifts
of nature with such pedantry of affectation and conceit.'
Camilla was now intent to clear the history of the cotillon; when Mrs.
Berlinton approaching, and, with graceful fondness, taking her hand,
entreated to be indulged with her society: and, since she meant not to
dance, for Edgar had not asked her, and the Major she had refused, she
could not resist her invitation. She had lost her fear of displeasing
Mrs. Arlbery by quitting her, from conceiving a still greater, of
wearying by remaining with her.
Edgar, anxious both to understand and to discuss this new connexion,
hovered about the party with unremitting vigilance. But, though he could
not either look at or listen to Mrs. Berlinton, without admiring her,
his admiration was neither free from censure of herself, nor terrour
for her companion: he saw her far more beautiful than prudent, more
amiable than dignified. The females in her group were few, and little
worthy notice; the males appeared, to a man, without disguise, though
not without restraint, her lovers. And though no one seemed selected, no
one seemed despised; she appeared to admit their devoirs with little
consideration; neither modestly retiring from power, nor vainly
displaying it.
Camilla quitted not this enchantress till summoned by Mrs. Arlbery; who,
seeing herself again, from the arrival of Lady Alithea Selmore, without
any distinguished party, that lady drawing into her circle all people of
any consequence not already attracted by Mrs. Berlinton, grew sick of
the ball and the rooms, and impatient to return home. Camilla, in
retiring, presented, folded in a paper, the guinea, half-guinea, and
silver, she had borrowed of Sir Sedley; who received it without
presuming at any contest; though not, after what he had heard from Mrs.
Arlbery, without reluctance.
Edgar watched the instant when Camilla moved from the gay group; but
Mrs. Mittin watched it also; and, approaching her more speedily, because
with less embarrassment, seized her arm before he could reach her: and
before he could, with any discretion, glide to her other side, Miss
Dennel was there.
'Well now, young ladies,' said Mrs. Mittin, 'I'm going to tell you a
secret. Do you know, for all I call myself Mrs. I'm single?'
'Dear, la!' exclaimed Miss Dennel; 'and for all you're so old!'
'So old, Miss! Who told you I was so old? I'm not so very old as you may
think me. I'm no particular age, I assure you. Why, what made you think
of that?'
'La, I don't know; only you don't look very young.'
'I can't help that, Miss Dennel. Perhaps you mayn't look young yourself
one of these days. People can't always stand still just at a particular
minute. Why, how old, now, do you take me to be? Come, be sincere.'
'La! I'm sure I can't tell; only I thought you was an old woman.'
'An old woman! Lord, my dear, people would laugh to hear you. You don't
know what an old woman is. Why it's being a cripple, and blind, and
deaf, and dumb, and slavering, and without a tooth. Pray, how am I like
all that?'
'Nay, I'm sure I don't know; only I thought, by the look of your face,
you must be monstrous old.'
'Lord, I can't think what you've got in your head, Miss Dennel! I never
heard as much before, since I was born. Why the reason I'm called Mrs.
is not because of that, I assure you; but because I'd a mind to be taken
for a young widow, on account everybody likes a young widow; and if one
is called Miss, people being so soon to think one an old maid, that it's
quite disagreeable.'
This discourse brought them to the carriage.