Erin my country! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
But, alas! in a far, foreign land I waken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
CAMPBELL.
The apartments at the hotel _Du Flanders_ were not only roomy and
commodious, but were likewise fitted up with a considerable degree of
elegance. However, depressed by fatigue of body, as likewise overpowered
by anxiety of mind, the duchess and her fair and lovely daughter retired
at an early hour to repose, which example was as immediately followed by
the retiring of Ladies Letitia and Lucy, and Sir Patricius Placebo, to
their respective dormitories.
The duchess and Lady Adelaide had two beds stationed in the same
chamber, which always, during the absence of the duke, was invariably
the custom; and in the adjoining bed-chamber reposed the Ladies Letitia
and Lucy.
Sir Patricius was not neglectful of his personal comforts upon any
occasion, at least that has been recorded, and happy to find himself
once more stationary for a determinate time at Brussels, he emphatically
ejaculated his favourite sentence--
DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!
and soon was enfolded in the silken fetters of Morpheus.
The duchess usually sat up an hour or two in her chamber previous to her
retiring to repose, her time being occupied in reading, writing, or
entering memoranda in her common-place book; but her Grace always
finished with her devotions. When these were duly performed, slowly
advancing to the bedside of her beloved daughter, she already beheld
her in a profound sleep. "Happy state of youth!" thought the duchess,
"Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men:
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound."
"Oh, my darling daughter, may care, anxiety, and sorrow, ever be
strangers to thy dwelling! and, oh heaven grant, that thy bosom, and thy
peace of mind, may be ever calm and serene as at this present moment
they are!"
Having mentally expressed this fervent prayer, the duchess retired to
her pillow, mournfully revolving upon the past, and deeply meditating
upon the future; much wearied both from mental, as well as bodily
fatigue, she fell into a deep slumber. But her sleep was restless and
perturbed, she went back to the days of her youth. For as Milton finely
expresses,
"When nature rests,
Oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes,
To imitate her."
The duchess again beheld her early friends, once more she partook of
their juvenile pastimes. Time advances--her courtship with the duke
proceeds--her consent to the marriage given--the wedding takes
place--the birth of Adelaide--the duke's increased favour with his
sovereign--his several appointments--his promotion--the introduction of
the duchess at court--the duke presented with the order of the garter,
and appointed viceroy of Ireland--the scenes attendant thereon--Adelaide
the admiration of every eye, and the praise of every tongue. All these
events, conjured up by deceptive vision, passed in rapid succession,
seen through the _camera obscura_ of the past. Now floats before her
tortured fancy the obverse of the medal:--The battle of the Boyne is
fought and lost--King James is forced to make a precipitate flight--the
Duke of Tyrconnel accompanies his deposed sovereign--the duke is
outlawed by King William, who passes an act of attainder against
him--the duchess is compelled to depart from Ireland--Adelaide
accompanies her mother in her voyage. The dream continues:--The duchess
much perturbed--at sea they encounter a violent storm--she and Adelaide
are about to perish in a watery grave. The duchess moans, and becomes
deeply depressed, which awakened Adelaide, who arose, and gently opening
the shutter, the rays of a summer sun glanced in at the casement. Then
putting on her attire with great caution and silence Adelaide seated
herself by her mother's side. The duchess greatly disturbed in her
sleep, with a deep moan and restless motion turned around in the bed; in
doing so her arm fell next Adelaide; who gently, but affectionately,
kissed her mother's hand, and while in the act the duchess awoke.
"Oh! _this_, at least, is no vision to mock my misery!--I am
awake--_this_ is no dream! Oh, my dear, dear Adelaide!--my darling child
is it you?"
The duchess sat up in her bed, and warmly embracing Adelaide, while the
fond, maternal tear moistened as it fell upon her daughter's cheek, she
said:--"May heaven ever bless and protect thee, my dear and duteous
daughter, and its gracious mercy be always thine! for thou hast ever
been dutiful to thy parents, and obedient to thy Creator!"
The duchess now arose, and as neither her Grace nor Adelaide expended
any unnecessary waste of time at their toilette, they were soon at their
post at the breakfast table. Sir Patricius rung, and desired the waiter
to place a Malines ham and a bottle of Louvain beer on the side-table,
both of which he declared were excellent in their kind; some of the
ladies tasted the ham, but the Louvain beer remained untasted except by
the provident Baronet himself, who smacked his lips, and observed that
it was passing good; and then noticed that there were three kinds of it,
that which lay upon the table was of the weakest sort; the next was
called Caniac, which was to be met with at the tables of the noblesse
and the wealthier bourgeois; the strongest kind is called Peterman,
which, he observed, was sold at the coffee-houses in the evening; and in
such repute is Louvain beer held, he said, that annually one hundred and
fifty thousand tuns are brewed for exportation; "but for my poor part,"
next continued Sir Patricius, (filling out a second glass,) "I have
slight objection to quaff it at the fountain head!--"_Satius est petere
fontes, quam sectari rivulos._"--Ha, ha, ha!
Breakfast having terminated, and the practical panegyric of Sir
Patricius on Louvain beer and Malines ham being duly exemplified and
concluded, the duchess sallied forth in search of a furnished house,
which her Grace intended to engage for a term not less than that of a
year. Three or four houses were inspected, but they were found not to
answer; one was too small to accommodate the family, another was
indifferently furnished, a third was objected to from its unpleasantness
of situation; a fourth was examined, which was agreeably situated in the
Rue Ducale, opposite to the park; this seemed to promise well, Sir
Patricius rang the hall bell, and a tall, meagre figure, in a rich
flowered silk robe _de chambre_, and his head enveloped in a red
night-cap, opened the door; it was Monsieur Passemier, the proprietor of
the house, who grinned and bowed most obsequiously; he was about
sixty-five years of age, but seemed in spirits, and also in activity, to
enjoy all the vigour of youth. He now proceeded to show the house: the
hall, or vestibule, was spacious, and very handsomely ornamented with
marble tables, bronze busts on brackets, and a statue of white marble of
the god of silence. The garden, which adjoined the hall, was very
tastefully laid out; a corridore of trellis work, entwined with parasite
plants, led from the hall to the garden, where several walks, arched
above, formed pleasant arbours, through and around which the clustering
vines had entwined themselves, and now displayed their luxuriant bunches
of red and white grapes.
The duchess ascended to the drawing-rooms, which were hung with rich
Brussels' tapestry, and hangings of Arras; the subjects represented were
woven from designs of Teniërs, Snyders, and Rubens; the different
compartments represented village fairs, rural merry-makings, and boar
hunts.
The sofas, or settees rather we should say, the rude, gothic
predecessors of the present modern sofa, were extremely long and
extremely low, and yet withal of an enormous size; they were covered
with blue velvet, and fringed with gold lace; the chairs, which
corresponded, were on castors, and were of that formidable space and
magnitude to have afforded seats to the two redoubtable city giants of
Guild-Hall, Messieurs Gog and Magog, who, if hither transported, might
have held thereon a seeming _tête-à-tête_, without any diminution or
disparagement of their gravity and greatness.
Monsieur Passemier, (for to the lank gentleman in the red night-cap the
said mansion appertained,) ever and anon was restlessly employed in
raising or lowering the red cap on his forehead, and with continued and
extravagant grin, grimace, and gesticulation, became exceedingly
loquacious, his teeth chattering most monkey-like. He dwelt much on the
commodiousness of his house, the fine view of the park which it
commanded, the fashionableness of the situation, the salubrity of the
air, the convenience of his _jardin ornè_; and rung various changes on
the fine furniture of his mansion, so superior, he insisted, to _les
miserablés meubles garnis_ of Paris; he once indeed (_malheureux!_) had,
in an evil hour, let lodgings, but he would never do so again--_jamais!_
He once, _pardiè_, had set these apartments (_en haut_) to Monsieur Le
Compte d'Egmont and Madame la Comptesse, _et quatres petites diables des
enfants_; the lower (_en bas_) apartments were set to le bon Evêque de
Bruges. But, _une jour_, Le Compte et Madam la Comptesse were abroad
_pour faire visite_, when _les quatres petites diables des enfants_
made, _mon Dieu!_ such a _grand bouleversement_, you never did hear--no
persone did ever see de like.
Here Monsieur Passemier acted to the life _encore le tres grande
bouleversement_, flinging down, with great force, fire, fury, and
energy, stool, tripod, candelabra, chairs, &c., and scattering around
the broken fragments of marble tables. He then, with the agility of a
Shamois goat, bounded from stool to chair and settee, indeed he seemed
as if recently escaped from Bedlam; he jumped, he stamped, he danced,
he laughed, he chattered, racing round the room, jumping on chairs and
settees, and violently stamping and kicking thereon, and by practical
illustrations demonstrating how _les quatres petites diables des enfants
d'Egmont_ had accomplished _cet horrible bouleversement_! and all dat in
defiance of _le petite dieu de silence, dans le grande vestibule_, who,
_avec le main droite_, to his lip does (_tout le gentilhomme_) impose
silence, and _avec le main gauche_, does vid _beaucoup de politesse_
point de way _en haut! pour vous montez. Le bon Evêque de Bruges_ left
me _au désespoir! pauvre homme, car, malheureux_,
_Il ne pouvoit pas_,
_ni lirè_,
_ni dirè_,
_ni rirè_,
_ni prièr_,
_ni ecrirè_,
_et mon Dieu! quelle horrible, il ne pouvoit pas dormire!_
The duchess came in for more of the _bouleversement_ than her Grace had
calculated upon; and having concluded her bargain, hastened to depart
before the lank landlord in the red night-cap could, by possibility, be
seized with another fit of _la maladè du bouleversement_.
Sir Patricius was extremely diverted with the eccentricities of this
original, and declared that the Monsieur was wondrous comical--most
amusingly facetious.
The duchess and Lady Adelaide, &c. drove through the squares and
principal streets of Brussels, they visited the park l'Alle Verte, &c.;
and then drove to Soignies Forest: Adelaide was highly delighted, and
with much liveliness and enthusiasm, she said:--"Fair Brussels! renowned
in days of ancient chivalry, aye, full many a joust, tilt, and
tournament, hast thou witnessed within thine princely walls, when kings
and mighty paladines sought valour's prize and beauty's smile, while
trumpets brayed the victor's fame, and damsels gave the guerdon to the
brave! Nor, Soignies, ever be thy dark forest forgot, here many a chase
has re-echoed throughout thy woodland waste, led on by prince and peer,
what time the savage boar of the forest, roused from his lair, started
forth on the hunter's path, and sunk beneath his valiant spear, while
blithely the bugle reckless rung his requiem!"
"My dear daughter, you are the child of romance, and you should have
been born in the days of chivalry, for our own days are too tame and
common-place for thee withal!"
"I do commend, my lady duchess," said Sir Patricius, "the enthusiasm of
the Lady Adelaide; and I must take occasion to observe, that although
there is much liveliness, there is likewise much historical truth in the
young lady's remarks. _Certes_ Brussels is a fine city; in many respects
it may vie with Paris. Look at the park, at the promenades, the palaces,
the mansions, churches, fountains, &c.; and I will be bold to say that
in healthfulness of its climate, the beauty of its local situation, the
spaciousness of its streets, the abundance and cheapness of its
provisions, that at this period Brussels is probably second to no city
in Europe. It is proverbial for the luxuriance of its fruits and
vegetables.--And now, my Lady Duchess, I do remember me that Anne of
Cleves, the consort of King Henry VIII. of England, whom he somewhat
ungallantly called a Flanders mare"----
"It was indeed," observed the duchess, "not only an uncourtly, but it
was an unkinglike phrase!"
"I was about to observe, my Lady Duchess, that Anne of Cleves used
frequently to send to the _Pays Bas_ for a sallad! and I dare be sworn,
my lady, that if her Majesty had only known what a luxurious fruit
Flemish cherries and strawberries were, which latter they call here
_fraisés l'Anglaises_, and in size are as large as the largest walnut,
and their exquisite flavour quite unparalleled--no doubt, I think, but
that the queen would have despatched a special messenger to procure a
dessert of those delicious fruits of Flanders, provided they would have
borne the carriage. Ay, though even her royal head were to pay the
forfeit I' faith!--ha, ha, ha!"
"To lose one's head were rather an unseemly joke for a bunch of Flemish
fruit; besides, methinks it were rather too dear a purchase even in the
decapitating days of bluff Harry Tudor!" observed Lady Adelaide.
"Commend me the spirit," said her Grace, "of the Duchess of Milan, who,
when Henry had sent an ambassador demanding her hand in marriage, she
boldly desired the ambassador to tell his master that she must decline
the honour which his Majesty had so graciously intended, as she had but
one head: if she had had two indeed, one of them should certainly be at
the disposal of his Majesty of England!"
"Ha, ha, ha,--'fore Jupiter," exclaimed Sir Patricius, "her Highness was
as witty as she was spirited!--Ha, ha, ha."
The duchess now deemed it full time for her Grace to send a despatch to
the palace of d'Aremberg, addressed to her old friend,--her once
youthful, lovely friend--the kind associate of her early years, the
Duchess d'Aremberg, notifying her arrival at Brussels, and likewise,
meanwhile, expressing the cogent reasons which had rendered such a step
necessary, if not imperative; at the same time also intimating her
intention of calling upon the following day at an early hour specified,
to pay her demonstrations of love, regard, and respect.
Accordingly, upon the following day, and at the appointed time, the
duchess, accompanied solely by Lady Adelaide, waited upon her Grace
d'Aremberg at the ducal palace.
Our readers no doubt possibly may recollect the relationship in which
the Duchess d'Aremberg stood to the Lady Adelaide, that her Grace was
Lady Adelaide's _marrainè_, or godmother. They too may perchance
recollect the princely baptismal presents given on the august occasion,
and long since narrated in our story, all of which have been duly
detailed in the second chapter of the first volume of this romance.
The meeting was of the tenderest and most affecting description. The
Duchess d'Aremberg had been for some years a widow, but she was not
childless, she had an only son, the present Duke d'Aremberg. Her sight
was much impaired, being obliged to wear spectacles; but notwithstanding
this, her countenance still bore striking traits that she had once been
beautiful. Her constitution had been so much impaired by ill-health,
caused by paralysis, and not by years, that her Grace had nearly lost
the powers of locomotion: she moved on crutches. But still her brilliant
eye beamed forth intelligence; and still warm and true to all its fires,
her generous and expanded heart was alive to every social tie, to every
noble impulse, and every endearing feeling. While, meantime, every
object around bore strong indications of mortality; in one station was
placed her once favourite paroquet, that had gaily talked in its cage,
and had each successive morning duly greeted its mistress's
approach.--There now it stood a stiff and motionless mummy, a mere
mockery of what it once had been! The cherished and favourite lapdog too
had undergone a similar transformation, and starchly stuffed, and
studded with its glaring eye-balls, unspeculatingly stared from its
glassy cabinet.
The Duchess of Tyrconnel warmly embraced with tender and intense
affection her old, her once young, her still kind-hearted friend, while
their tears, united, trickled down in comminglement on the cheeks of
each beloved friend; while Adelaide, whose heart was ever responsive to
every impulse of affection or affliction, wept a flood of tears. This
transport of joy and tears having passed the Duchess d'Aremberg strongly
pressed, with the kindest and most affectionate solicitation, that her
early friend and her goddaughter should, during their sojourn at
Brussels, make the palace d'Aremberg their home, where they would be as
free from restraint as if the residence were their own. But the Duchess
of Tyrconnel declined in terms of the deepest gratitude, at the same
time in the tone of firm determination. Her Grace said that they should
be often together, and that every day, if possible, during her stay,
accompanied by Adelaide, they would have the pleasure of passing a large
portion of their time with the Duchess d'Aremberg.
Upon being made acquainted that the duchess had taken a house in the
_Rue Ducale_, and that the Ladies Letitia and Lucy, and Sir Patricius
Placebo, had accompanied her in her journey, matters were so far
compromised by an invitation being made and accepted of, that on that
same day the entire party should dine within the hospitable walls of the
palace d'Aremberg.
While the two old friends were in deep converse the young Duke
d'Aremberg entered the apartment, and was formally introduced by his
amiable mother to the Duchess of Tyrconnel and to Lady Adelaide.
The Duke d'Aremberg was a few years elder than our heroine. He was
remarkably handsome, tall in person, and martial in appearance, well
made, and much admired for the symmetry of his form. His deportment was
dignified and graceful, as free from _hauteur_ as it was devoid of
conceit and affectation. His eye-brows were dark, his eyes hazel, which
sparkled with intelligence. His complexion was, however, rather
saturnine; and in person as well as in visage, he much resembled the
portrait of his illustrious grandfather, which hung in the d'Aremberg
palace, as drawn by the inimitable hand of Vandyke, of which a fine
engraving by Earlom has been handed down to posterity. The same
characteristic melancholy too which had predominated in the expression
of countenance in his grandsire prevailed likewise in the lineaments of
the grandson; but withal mildness and intelligence of expression gave an
intense tone of interest to the manly and open expression of his visage,
which was in sooth the index of his truly noble heart. He was generous,
he was brave, and accomplished as he was learned: hence it is
unnecessary to say that he was most agreeable and affable in his
manners. He was truly beloved by all his dependants, as he was courted
by his associates, and respected and adored by his friends.
The duchess and Lady Adelaide remained about two hours at the palace
d'Aremberg, and then returned to their house in the _Rue Ducale_ to
attire for dinner. At a few moments before three o'clock punctually they
returned to the palace. Two, or even so early as one o'clock, was then
the usual hour of dinner upon the continent; but in compliment to her
friends it was postponed until the third hour. The Earl of Aylesbury and
his countess, who was his second wife, and his son, Lord Eyrecourt, were
the only guests invited, and they had first arrived.
We must here trespass a few words on our reader, briefly to say what he
may perchance not be already acquainted with. The noble peer here
noticed was Thomas, the second Earl of Aylesbury. He had rallied around
King James upon the event of the Prince of Orange having embarked troops
for England. But when King James withdrew himself from Whitehall, in
order to embark for France, Lord Aylesbury was one of the twenty-five
peers who signed the declaration applying to the Prince of Orange to
rescue the country from "popery and slavery." He subsequently, however,
took a different part, having been implicated or accused in an attempt
to restore the abdicated monarch to his throne and realm, in consequence
of which accusation his Lordship was committed a prisoner to the tower
of London by order of Queen Mary, the consort of William III., at the
time that William was in Ireland. The charge or accusation was for
having consulted and conspired how to restore King James. His countess,
the Lady Elizabeth, was so afflicted at her lord's confinement, that she
died in childbirth, when the month following her husband, the Earl, was
admitted to bail.
His Lordship afterwards obtained leave of King William to reside at
Brussels; and a year or two previous to this period he secondly married
Charlotte, Countess of Sannü, of the ancient and noble house of
Argenteau, in the Duchy of Brabant, by whom he had a daughter, Charlotte
Maria,[32] an infant at this time of about twelve months old.
[32] Lady Charlotte Maria Bruce was married to the Prince of
Houre, one of the princes of the empire, by whom she had a large
progeny.
The Earl of Aylesbury[33] was a nobleman _de La Vieille cour_ of the
most polished manners. Every thing he said or did was done with a
peculiar grace and ease. He had read much, and remembered with judicious
advantage what he had read. He abounded in amusing anecdotes, had seen
much of the world, and had read men as well as books.
[33] One of the handsomest fountains in Brussels, which stands in
_le grand Sablon_, was erected by the munificence of the
above-mentioned Earl of Aylesbury. Its appearance is that of a
Sarcophagus, ascended by three steps; the water flows from a
brazen head, surmounted by the arms and coronet, into a marble
bason beneath. It is surmounted by a figure of Minerva, bearing a
medallion containing the busts of Lord Aylesbury and his countess,
with three figures, one supporting the medallion, one as a river
god, and the third blowing the trumpet of fame. The following is
the inscription:--"_Cette fontaine a été construite par les
liberalités du Comte d'Aylesbury, pair de la Grande Bretagne, et
reconnoissance du long et agreable sejour qu'il a fit dans cette
ville_," &c. The figures are executed by Jacques Bergè, a
celebrated sculptor.
However, it cannot be denied that he was at times stately in his
deportment; and he never appeared at his own dinner-table, even when
none were present but his own family, unless in a full court-dress
costume, with the appendices of star and ribbon, which made many to
suspect that a deep affection for aristocracy was rooted in his breast.
The countess was low in stature as she was in mind. Her figure, however,
though small, was passing well; her complexion sallow; her eyes dark and
lively. She possessed more envy than good-nature, more passion than
sense, and more pertness than pride. Her chief, and probably only
recommendations, were the ancient nobility of her family and the
largeness of her fortune, two qualifications that rarely, if ever,
bestow happiness upon the marriage state.
Lord Eyrecourt was the only surviving offspring of the deceased
countess, and heir apparent to the earldom of Aylesbury. He was
confessedly a finished _petite maitré_--the daily slave of his barber,
perfumer, tailor, and looking-glass. To Monsieur Jasmin, his perfumer,
in the _Rue Madelaine_, he had lately paid the enormous sum of six
hundred ducats, being his bill for the last year for lotions, perfumes,
cosmetics, &c.
His Lordship never appeared abroad until close upon the hour of dinner,
"for," he averred, "it would be vastly supersingular, and besides
extremely vulgar in him, to be seen abroad before the sun had fully
mounted the meridian, and the world had become well warmed!"
Lord Eyrecourt was, in verity, a strange and singular model of a man,
and, to use his own favourite expression--"Odds my life, my person and
accomplishments are supersingular, and not to be matched!" His Lordship
was in height about five feet five, with brawny shoulders and arms, a
bronzed visage, that seemed resolved to outstare the world in
confidence; his cheeks were meantime of that roseate hue that the
scandalous chronicle of the times reported that they fully owed their
blooming radiance to the cosmetics of Monsieur Jasmin. His neck was
short, and bull-modelled; and this self-supposed Adonis finished his
form by thighs and legs of elephantine shape and form. In London he had
obtained the _soubriquèt_, or nick-name, of "The Pocket Hercules," which
title followed him to Brussels. "_Voilà, mi Lor Herculè, de la
poche!--bah! ha, ha!_" has been often repeated within his Lordship's
hearing.
When this _great_ man in his own eyes, did condescend to speak, he
lisped most miraculously; and his whole mien and manner were in complete
variance with nature and simplicity.
It was marvellous strange, but true, that this misshapen model of
mortality in his own eyes really fancied himself the handsomest man of
the day, whether in England, France, or Belgium, the true and most
redoubtable Antinous of the age! and he fondly fancied that every dame
who set eye upon his irresistible charms, immediately became
irretrievably enamoured! so prepossessing and fascinating did he behold
himself reflected in the mirror of egotism and vanity. His lordship was
peculiarly fond of repeating this, his much favourite passage, from
Massinger:
"I re-refine the court, and civilize
Their barbarous natures. I have in a table,
With curious punctuality set down,
To a hair's breadth, how low a new stamped courtier
May vail[34] to a country gentleman, and by
Gradation, to his merchant, mercer, draper, &c."
[34] "May vail," that is, "May bow."
The dinner at the palace d'Aremberg was magnificent, and passed off with
a good deal of good-humour, and some laughter at the expense of Lord
Eyrecourt. The Lady Adelaide this day made a double conquest,--of the
Duke d'Aremberg, who became deeply captivated with her beauty and
accomplishments; and of Lord Eyrecourt, who declared that it was vastly
supersingular that at last the barb of Cupid rankled in his bosom, and
that he was in a fair way of being caught in the toils of matrimony!
The ensuing morning, at an early hour, Lord Eyrecourt presented himself
in the _Rue Ducale_, where the love-struck Lord loud and lustily rang at
the door of the palace of Tyrconnel. The duchess happened at the time to
be looking out from the front window, and observed to Lady Adelaide,
"See, my love, who now approaches this mansion; I foresaw, my dear
daughter, all this, and that during his presence the last evening, that
you had made a deep and firm impression, aye, and conquest to boot, of
this self-sick Adonis. So I pray that you see him, and hearken to his
most precious proposals, for such you will find to be the object of this
his matutinal visit; which said intended proposals I know to a certainty
thou wilt reject. Hence I entertain no apprehensions whatever, sweet
daughter of mine, in this perilous _rencontre_," said the duchess,
smiling; "for I well know that all his matrimonial propositions thou
wilt firmly reject. I shall just in due and stately form receive him,
and then retire to my cabinet, whence I can with facility overhear all
the ridiculous rhapsodical speeches of this painted popinjay. Do you,
notwithstanding, my dear daughter, hear him with a sufficient sum of due
patience, meet respect, and with all becoming attention and gratitude;
for any man offering his hand to a fair lady is entitled, by all the
rules and achievements of the courts of chivalry, love, and courtesy, to
a meet and becoming audience. But be brief as thou canst; and the
sooner that with due distant and becoming politeness, he were despatched
it were all so much the better, and then we shall fully have an end to
all his _faribolès mal appliquès_."
"Fear not," said the Lady Adelaide, "my dearest mother, my fullest
obedience."
Here another loud and lusty pull at the hall-bell announced an arrival,
when almost immediately Lord Eyrecourt was announced, and ushered in by
the footman in waiting. His Lordship, with much grimace, and a smirking
visage withal, made two low bows on his _entrè_, and advanced with a
gait which was a halting attempt between a _chassè_ and a _pirouëtte_.
But although this was all self sufficiently done, it was truly and
practically the tramp and gait of an elephant, if indeed we could for a
moment suppose that mighty creature could stalk on his hind legs; but in
other respects "the half-reasoning" quadruped of Africa was every way
the superior of the animal who now made his approach.
"Good-morrow to your Grace," lisped forth this conceited popinjay.
"Good-morrow too, sweet and most lovely Lady Adelaide; permit, fairest
lady, your lowly servant a _béso las mános_!"
Here the duchess thought it decorous to withdraw, and her Grace retired
to her cabinet.
"Hail, fairest gem of Erin, bright star of Belgium, and the brilliant
sun of Brussels! at sight of thee every eye is enamoured, and every
heart takes fire; in witness whereof behold me your lowly servant abroad
at this most unfashionable hour, thus prevailing upon myself to come
forth and throw my person and my fortunes at your feet, even before that
Phoebus hath mounted his meridian car, and the world has become well
warmed, to place myself and coronet thus lowly at your feet!"
"Oh rise, my Lord, from that----what, kneel to a mere mortal! I pray
you be seated, and I shall endeavour to reply to all the compliments
with which your Lordship is so prodigally pleased to overpower me. I
must, my Lord, acknowledge, that your Lordship indulges somewhat too
freely in mixed metaphor; and I must needs add, you deal somewhat too
superabundantly in rhapsodies.--Well, my Lord, let us see what I am like
unto? 'A gem of Erin!' pray what is that? Oh, no doubt whatever but it
must mean a simple piece of Kerry crystal!--oh, vastly pretty indeed;
and almost as nearly transparent as your Lordship's flattery. Well,
good, my Lord! what comparison comes next?--Oh, I am 'a Star!' in this I
cannot confess that your Lordship's wit shines superlatively.--Pshaw, my
Lord, a star is merely a minor light, and visible only at night! Nay
now, after all, this simile is only but just so, so. However, I am amply
repaid by that which so brilliantly succeeds, 'the Sun of Brussels!'
Well, come, that I must needs admit is a resplendent metaphor; but the
sun of Brussels I must fain likewise confess I have found too often to
my cost, to be a very warm and burning sun. What comes next?--Oh, quite
portentous!--I blaze, burn, and destroy, setting eyes in a flame, and
hearts on fire, and so forth, in a most formidable comet-like fashion!
What this can actually mean, unless it prove a sort of periphrasis, and
be slyly intended for a Salamander, I cannot indeed divine. Then if my
conjectures prove correct, only think, O glorious Apollo, after the
complete extinction of all the tropes, figures, flowers, and poesies,
culled from amid the verdant valleys of thine own lofty Parnassus, for
thy votary-like Icarus to tumble from the Olympian sky, and to suffer
his divine goddess, the object of his idolatrous veneration, to
degenerate into a fire-loving earthly Salamander! Oh, by prose and
verse, but this is vastly funny!"
"Ah, cruel, cruel, remorseless Lady Adelaide, is it thus you sportively
jest at my pains, and mock my misery!--I die for you!"
"Really, my Lord, this is all so very sudden--the symptoms too so very
alarming, I feel quite agitated--dejected! Pray, let me advise you, my
Lord, to call in the advice of Sir Patricius Placebo, whose skill is
undisputed!"
"No, fair torturer! you, Lady, and you alone, who caused the malady, can
cure it!"
"My Lord, seek out one more deserving of the honour which you so nobly
proffer me, but I never can be yours; nor shall I ever give my hand
unless I also can give my heart. And now, my Lord, farewell, accept my
humble gratitude and sincerest thanks for the high distinction which you
have so graciously paid me, and which I shall ever remember with the
utmost respect and gratitude."
Having so said, Lady Adelaide deeply courtesied, and withdrew.
"Odds my life now," exclaimed the disappointed peer, "but this is most
passing strange, supersingular, and not to be matched! What, refuse the
heir apparent of an earldom, (and with modesty let me express it,) with
my person and qualifications! Insufferable! It is not to be endured!"
As Lord Eyrecourt, much discomfitted, departed from the _Rue Ducale_, he
met the Duke d'Aremberg going in that direction; they saluted as they
passed, while he continued his sorrowful soliloquy:--
"The Lady Adelaide is downright mad to refuse me; but it seems she
soars at higher game, and looks to 'the pride of place.' She said she
would never give her hand without bestowing her heart, doubtless then
this honour she has already conferred upon the youthful d'Aremberg.--It
is but too fatally evident! Oh, woe is me to come out in the cold air of
the morn, before the world had become well warmed; and finally thus to
be so totally eclipsed! Oh, some ominous morning I shall be found
hanging from the top of Saint Michael's Tower, or my unfortunate corpse
be seen floating in the Antwerp canal!
Ne'er gallant peer more miserable was undone,
Like extinguish'd star I set 'fore the rise of sun!"