I will not say in what particular year of his life the Duke of Argyle
succeeded with me. Ladies scorn dates! Dates make ladies nervous and
stories dry. Be it only known then, that it was just at the end of his
Lorne shifts and his lawn shirts. It was at that critical period of his
life, when his whole and sole possessions appeared to consist in three
dozen of ragged lawn shirts, with embroidered collars, well fringed in
his service; a threadbare suit of snuff colour, a little old hat with
very little binding left, an old horse, an old groom, an old carriage,
and an old chateau. It was to console himself for all this antiquity, I
suppose, that he fixed upon so very young a mistress as myself. Thus,
after having gone through all the routine of sighs, vows, and rural
walks, he at last saw me blooming and safe in his dismal _château_ in
Argyle-street.
A late hour in the morning blushed to find us in the arms of each other,
as Monk Lewis or somebody else says; but the morning was pale when
compared with the red on my cheek when I, the very next day, acquainted
Fred Lamb with my adventure!
Fred was absolutely dumb from astonishment, and half choked with rage
and pride. I would not plead my poverty; for I conceived that common
sense and common humanity ought to have made this a subject of attention
and inquiry to him.
"You told me, he was, when he pleased, irresistible," said I.
"Yes, yes, yes," muttered Fred Lamb, between his closed teeth; "but a
woman who loves a man is blind to the perfections of every other. No
matter, no matter, I am glad it has happened. I wish you joy. I----"
"Did I ever tell you I was in love with you?" said I, interrupting him.
"Indeed it was your vanity deceived you, not I. You caused me to lose
Lord Craven's protection, and, therefore, loving no man at the time,
having never loved any, to you I went. I should have felt the affection
of a sister for you, but that you made no sacrifices, no single attempt
to contribute to my comfort or happiness. I will be the mere instrument
of pleasure to no man. He must make a friend and companion of me, or he
will lose me."
Fred Lamb left me in madness and fury; but I knew him selfish, and that
he could dine on every imagined luxury, and drink his champagne, without
a thought or care whether I had bread and cheese to satisfy hunger. Then
who, with love, first love! beating in their hearts, could think of
Frederick Lamb?
I immediately changed my lodgings for a furnished house at the west end
of the town, better calculated to receive my new lover, whose passion
knew no bounds. He often told me how much more beautiful I was than he
had ever expected to find me.
"I cannot," he wrote to me, during a short absence from town, "I cannot,
for circumstances prevent my being entirely yours"--I fancied he alluded
to his old flame, Lady W----, with whom, the world said he had been
intriguing nineteen years, "but nothing can, nor shall, prevent my
being, for ever, your friend, &c. &c. &c."
"If," thought I, "this man is not to be entirely mine, perhaps I shall
not be entirely his." I could have been--but this nasty Lady W----
destroys half my illusion. He used to sit with her, in her box at the
Opera, and wear a chain which I believed to be hers. He often came to
me from the Opera, with just such a rose in his bosom as I had seen in
hers. All this was a dead bore. One night I plucked the rose from his
breast, another time I hid the chain, and all this to him seemed the
effect of pure accident: for who, with pride, and youth, and beauty,
would admit they were jealous?
One night, I am sure he will recollect that night, when he thought me
mad, one night I say, I could not endure the idea of Lady W----. That
night we were at Argyle House, and he really seemed most passionately
fond of me. The idea suddenly crossed my mind that all the tenderness
and passion he seemed to feel for me was shared between myself and Lady
W----.
I could not bear it.
"I shall go home," I said, suddenly.
"Going home!" said the duke. "Why my dear little Harriette, you are
walking in your sleep"; and he threw on his dressing-gown, and took hold
of my hand.
"I am not asleep," said I; "but I will not stay here; I cannot. I would
rather die:" and I burst into tears.
"My dear, dear Harriette," continued Argyle, in great alarm, "for God's
sake, tell me what on earth I have done to offend you?"
"Nothing--nothing," said I, drying my tears. "I have but one favour
to ask: let me alone, instead of persecuting me with all this show of
tenderness."
"Gracious God!" said Argyle, "how you torment me! If," he proceeded,
after pausing, "if you have ceased to love me,--if--if you are
disgusted----"
I was silent.
"Do speak! pray, pray!" said he.
His agitation astonished me. It almost stopped his breathing. "This
man," thought I, "is either very nervous or he loves me just as I want
to be loved." I had my hand on the door, to leave him. He took hold of
me, and threw me from it with some violence; locked it and snatched the
key out; took me in his arms and pressed me with almost savage violence
against his breast.
"By heavens!" said he, "you shall not torture me so another moment."
This wildness frightened me. "He is going to kill me," thought I. I
fixed my eyes on his face, to try and read my doom. Our eyes met, he
pushed me gently from him, and burst into tears.
My jealousy was at an end, _au moins pour le moment._
"I am not tired of you, dear Lorne," said I, kissing him eagerly. "How
is it possible to be so? Dear Lorne, forgive me?"
Nothing was so bright nor so brilliant as Lorne's smile through a tear.
In short, Lorne's expression of countenance, I say it now, when I
neither esteem, nor love, nor like him, his expression, I say, is one of
the finest things in nature.
Our reconciliation was completed, in the usual way.
* * * * *
The next morning, I was greatly surprised by a visit from my dear,
lively sister Fanny, on her arrival from the country. Fanny was the most
popular woman I ever met with. The most ill-natured and spiteful of
her sex could never find it in their hearts to abuse one who, in their
absence, warmly fought all their battles, whenever anybody complained of
them where she was.
I often asked her why she defended, in society, certain unamiable
persons.
"Merely because they are not here to defend themselves, and therefore it
is two to one against them," said Fanny.
Fanny, as the Marquis of Hertford uniformly insisted, was the most
beautiful of all our family. He was very desirous of having her portrait
painted by Lawrence, to place it in his own apartment. "That laughing
dark blue eye of hers," he would say, "is unusually beautiful." His
lordship, by the bye, whatever people may say of the coldness of his
heart, entertained a real friendship for poor Fanny; and proved it by
every kind attention to her, during her last illness. He was the only
man she admitted into her room to take leave of her before she died,
although hundreds, and those of the first rank and character, were
sincerely desirous of doing so. I remember Lord Yarmouth's last visit
to Brompton, where my poor sister died after an illness of three weeks.
"Can I, or my cook, do anything in the world to be useful to her?" said
he. I repeated that it was all too late--that she would never desire
anything more, and all I wanted for her was plenty of Eau de Cologne to
wash her temples with; that being all she asked for. He did not send his
groom for it; but galloped to town himself, and was back immediately.
This was something for Lord Yarmouth.
But to proceed, Fanny was certainly very beautiful; she had led a most
retired, steady life for seven years, and was the mother of three
children at the death of their father, Mr. Woodcock, to whom Fanny
would have been married could he have obtained a divorce from his
wife. Everybody was mad about Fanny, and so they had been during Mr.
Woodcock's life; but it was all in vain. Now there was a better chance
for them perhaps.
Fanny and our new acquaintance Julia soon became sworn friends. Most
people believed that we were three sisters. Many called us the Three
Graces. It was a pity that there were only three Graces!--and that is
the reason, I suppose, why my eldest sister Amy was cut out of this
ring, and often surnamed one of the Furies. She was a fine dark woman
too. Why she hated me all her life I cannot conceive; nor why she
invariably tried to injure me in the opinion of all those who liked me,
I know not: but I can easily divine why she made love to my favourites;
for they were the handsomest she could find. It was Amy, my eldest
sister, who had been the first to set us a bad example. We were all
virtuous girls when Amy, one fine afternoon, left her father's house
and sallied forth, like Don Quixote, in quest of adventures. The first
person who addressed her was one Mr. Trench; a certain short-sighted,
pedantic man, whom most people know about town. I believe she told him
that she was running away from her father. All I know for certain is
that, when Fanny and I discovered her abode, we went to visit her, and
when we asked her what on earth had induced her to throw herself away
on an entire stranger whom she had never seen before, her answer was,
"I refused him the whole of the first day; had I done so the second he
would have been in a fever."
Amy was really very funny, however spitefully disposed towards me. To be
brief with her history. Trench put her to school again, from motives of
virtue and economy. From that school she eloped with General Maddan.
Amy's virtue was something like the nine lives of a cat.
With General Maddan she, for several years, professed constancy; indeed
I am not quite certain that she was otherwise. I never in my occasional
visits saw anything suspicious except once, a pair of breeches!
It was one day when I went to call on her with my brother. General
Maddan was not in town. She wanted to go to the Opera. The fit had
only just seized her, at past nine o'clock. She begged me to make her
brother's excuse at home as, she said, he must accompany her.
"What, in those dirty boots?" I asked.
"I have got both dress-stockings and breeches upstairs, of Maddan's,"
replied Amy; and I assisted at the boy's toilette.
In handing him the black pair of breeches, which Amy had presented
me with, I saw marked, in Indian ink, what, being in the inside, had
probably escaped her attention. It was simply the name of Proby.
"How came Lord Proby's black small-clothes here?" said I.
Amy snatched them out of my hand in a fury; and desired me to go out of
the house. _Au reste_, she had often, at that time, three hundred pounds
in her pocket at once, and poor Maddan had not a shilling. All this
happened before I had left my home.
At the period I now write about I believe that Maddan was abroad, and
Amy lived in York Place, where she used to give gay evening parties to
half the fashionable men in town, after the Opera. She never came to
me but from interested motives. Sometimes she forced herself into my
private box, or teased me to make her known to the Duke of Argyle.
This year we three graces, as we were called, hired an opera box for
the season together. Amy had another, near us, for herself and her host
of beaux. Her suppers on Saturday nights were very gay. Julia and Fanny
were always invited; but she was puzzled what to do with me. If I was
present, at least half the men were on my side of the room; if I stayed
away, so did all those who went only on my account.
This difficulty became a real privation to such men as delighted in us
both together. Among these was Luttrell; everybody knows Luttrell; or
if they do not, I will tell them more about him by-and-by. Luttrell, I
say, undertook to draw up a little agreement, stating that, since public
parties ought not to suffer from private differences, we were thereby
requested to engage ourselves to bow to each other in all societies,
going through the forms of good breeding even with more ceremony than if
we had liked each other, on pain of being voted public nuisances, and
private enemies to all wit and humour.
Signed with our hands and seals....
"Now," said Fanny one day to Julia, soon after our first opera season
had begun, "Harriette and I propose cutting you Mrs. Julia altogether,
if you do not, this very evening, give us a full and true account of
yourself, from the day you were born and the date thereof up to this
hour."
"No dates! no dates! I pray!" said Julia.
"Well, waive dates," added I, "and begin."
Julia then related, in her shy, quiet way, what I will communicate as
briefly as possible.
Julia's real name was Storer. She was the daughter of the Honourable
Mrs. Storer, who was one of the maids of honour to our present king's
royal mother, and the sister of Lord Carysfort.
Julia received part of her education in France, and finished it at the
palace of Hampton Court, where her mother sent her on a visit to the
wife of Colonel Cotton, who was an officer in the 10th Dragoons.
Mrs. Cotton had a family of nine children, and very little fortune to
support them. Julia had been, from her earliest youth, encouraging the
most romantic passions which ever fired a youthful breast. With all this
her heart, unlike mine, was as cold as her imagination was warm. What
were parents, what were friends to her? What was anything on earth to
love?
The first night Colonel Cotton danced with her she was mad! In four
months more she was pregnant. In nine months more, having concealed her
situation, she was seized with the pangs of labour, while in the act of
paying her respects to Her Majesty in court! And all was consternation
in the _beau château de Hampton!_
Mrs. Cotton, instead of sending for the accoucheur, with extreme
propriety, though somewhat _mal-apropos_, loaded poor Julia with abuse!
"Have yet a little mercy," said Julia, "and send for assistance."
"Never, never, you monster! you wretch! will I so disgrace your family,"
exclaimed Mrs. Cotton.
Poor Julia's sufferings were short, but dreadfully severe. In about five
hours, unassisted, she became the mother of a fine boy.
Julia could not attempt to describe the rage and fury either of her
mother or brother. It was harsh, it was shocking, even as applied to the
most hardened sinner, in such a state of mental and bodily suffering.
Julia was, with her infant, by her noble relatives hurried into the
country, almost at the risk of her life, and Colonel Cotton was called
out by young Storer, Julia's brother, and, I believe, wounded.
From her retirement, Julia had contrived to write to Colonel Cotton, by
means of Colonel Thomas, to declare to him that, if they were to meet no
more, she would immediately destroy herself. In short, Cotton was raving
mad for Julia, and Julia was wild for Cotton--_le moyen de les séparer?_
A very retired cottage near town was hired by Cotton for Julia, who
inherited a small fortune over which her parents had no control; and on
that she had supported herself in the closest retirement for more than
eight years, when I accidentally became acquainted with her. Cotton was
dismissed from his regiment by his royal commander.
I never saw such romantic people, after nine years and five children!
"Julia! adored Julia!" so he would write to her, "if you love but as
I do, we shall, to-morrow at eight in the evening, enjoy another hour
of perfect bliss! Julia! angel Julia! my certain death would be the
consequence of your inconstancy, &c. &c."
Julia used to show me these rhapsodies from Cotton, at which I always
laughed heartily, and thus I used to put her in a passion continually.
At the opera I learned to be a complete flirt; for there I saw Argyle
incessantly with Lady W----, and there it became incumbent on me
either to laugh or cry. I let him see me flirt and look tender on Lord
Burghersh one night on purpose, and the next day, when we three graces
met him in the park, I placed in his hand a letter, which he was hastily
concealing in his pocket with a look of gratified vanity, believing no
doubt that it was one of my soft effusions on the beauty of his eyes.
"For the post," said I, nodding as we were turning to leave him, and we
all three burst into a loud laugh together.
The letter was addressed to Lord Burghersh, merely to tell him to join
us at Amy's after the next opera.
The next opera was unusually brilliant. Amy's box was close to ours, and
almost as soon as we were seated she entered, dressed in the foreign
style, which became her, accompanied by Counts Woronzow, Beckendorff and
Orloff. Beckendorf was half mad for her and wanted to marry her with his
left hand.
"Why not with the right?" said Amy.
"I dare not," answered Beckendorff, "without the consent of the Emperor
of Russia."
Amy had desired him to go to Russia and obtain this consent from the
Emperor more than a month before; but still he lingered!
Our box was soon so crowded that I was obliged to turn one out as fast
as a new face appeared. Julia and Fanny left me, to pay a visit to the
"enemy," as Luttrell used to call Amy. Observing me for an instant
alone, the Duke of Devonshire came into my box, believing that he did me
honour.
"Duke," said I, "you cut me in Piccadilly to-day."
"Don't you know," said thickhead, "don't you know, _Belle Harriette_,
that I am blind as well as deaf, and a little absent too?"
"My good young man," said I, out of all patience, "_allez donc à
l'hôpital des invalides:_ for really, if God has made you blind and
deaf, you must be absolutely insufferable when you presume to be absent
too. The least you can do, as a blind, deaf man, is surely to pay
attention to those who address you."
"I never heard anything half so severe as _la belle Harriette_," drawled
out the duke.
Luttrell now peeped his nose into my box, and said, dragging in his
better half, half-brother I mean, fat Nugent, "A vacancy for two! How
happens this? You'll lose your character, Harriette."
"I'm growing stupid, from sympathy, I suppose," I observed, glancing at
his grace, who, being as deaf as a post, poor fellow, bowed to me for
the supposed compliment.
"You sup with Amy, I hope?" said I to Luttrell. "And you?" turning to
Nugent.
"There's a princess in the way," replied Nugent, alluding to the late
Queen.
"Nonsense," said Luttrell, "Her Royal Highness has allowed me to be off."
"You can take liberties with her," Nugent remarked. "You great wits can
do what you please. She would take it very ill of me; besides, I wish
Amy would send some of those dirty Russians away. Count Orloff is the
greatest beast in nature."
Lord Alvanly now entered my box.
"_Place pour un_," said I, taking hold of the back of the Duke of
Devonshire's chair.
"I am going," said his grace; "but seriously, Harriette, I want to
accomplish dining alone some evening, on purpose to pay you a visit."
"There will be no harm in that," said I.
"None! None!" answered Luttrell, who took my allusion.
Alvanly brought me a tall, well-dressed foreigner, whom he was waiting
to present to me as "his friend."
"That won't do, Lord Alvanly," said I; "really, that is no introduction,
and less recommendation. Name your friend, or away with him."
"_Ma foi, madame_," said the foreigner, "_un nom ne fait rien du tout.
Vous me voyez là, madame, honnête homme, de cinq pieds et neuf pouces._"
"_Madame est persuadé de vos cinq pieds, mais elle n'est pas si sure de
vos neuf pouces_," Alvanly observed.
"Adieu, _ma belle Harriette_," said the duke, at last taking my hint and
rising to depart.
Julia and Fanny now returned: the latter as usual was delighted to meet
Alvanly.
"Do you come from the 'enemy'?" Luttrell inquired of them.
"Yes," replied Fanny, laughing.
"My dear Fanny," said Luttrell, in his comical, earnest, methodistical
manner, "my dear Fanny, this will never do!"
"What won't do?" inquired Fanny.
"These Russians, my dear."
"She has got a little Portuguese, besides the Russians, coming to her
to-night," said I; "the Count Palmella."
"The ambassador?" Nugent asked.
"God bless my soul!" said Luttrell, looking up to the ceiling with such
a face! Tom Sheridan would have liked to have copied it, when he played
the methodist in a tub, at Mrs. Beaumont's masquerade.
"They are only all brought up upon trial," I observed; "she will cut the
rest as soon as she has fixed on one of them."
"Yes; but you see, coming after these Cossacks is the devil!" lisped
Alvanly, with his usual comical expression. "God bless your soul, we
have no chance after these fellows."
"There is Argyle looking at you, from Lady W----'s box," Nugent said.
The remark put me out of humour, although I did observe that, though he
sat in her ladyship's box, he was thinking most of me. Nevertheless it
was abominably provoking.
Lord Frederick Bentinck next paid me his usual visit.
"Everybody is talking about you," said his lordship. "Two men,
downstairs, have been laying a bet that you are Lady Tavistock. Mrs.
Orby Hunter says you are the handsomest woman in the house."
Poor Julia, all this time, did not receive the slightest compliment or
attention from anybody. At last she kissed her hand to some one in a
neighbouring box.
"Whom are you bowing to?" I inquired.
"An old flame of mine, who was violently in love with me when I was a
girl at Hampton Court," whispered Julia. "I have never seen him since I
knew Cotton."
"What is his name?" I asked.
"George Brummell," answered Julia.
I had never, at that time, heard of George Brummell.
"Do you know a Mr. George Brummell?" said I to Lord Alvanly.
Before his lordship could answer my question, Brummell entered the
box; and, addressing himself to Julia, expressed his surprise, joy and
astonishment at meeting with her.
Julia was now all smiles and sweetness. Just before Brummell's arrival
she was growing a little sulky. Indeed she had reason, for in vain
did we cry her up and puff her off, as Lord Carysfort's niece, or as
an accomplished, elegant, charming creature, daughter of a maid of
honour: she did not take. The men were so rude as often to suffer her to
follow us by herself, without offering their arms to conduct her to the
carriage. She was, in fact, so reserved, so shy, and so short-sighted,
that, not being very young, nobody would be at the trouble of finding
out what she was.
In the round room we held separate levées. Amy always fixed herself near
enough to me to see what I was about, and try to charm away some of my
admirers. Heaven knows Fanny and I had plenty to spare her, for they did
so flock about us they scarcely left us breathing room. Argyle looked as
if he wanted to join us, but was afraid of Lady W----.
"Are you not going home, pretty?" he would say to me, between his teeth,
passing close to my ear.
"Do speak louder, marquis," I answered, provoked that he should be
afraid of any woman but myself. "I am not going home these three hours.
I am going first to Amy's party."
Lorne looked, not sulky, nor cross, as Fred Lamb would have done; but
smiled beautifully, and said: "At three, then, may I go to you?"
"Yes," answered I, putting my hand into his, and again I contrived to
forget Lady W----.
There was all the world at Amy's, and not half room enough for
them. Some were in the passage and some in the parlour, and in the
drawing-room one could scarcely breathe. At the top of it, Amy sat
coquetting with her tall Russians. The poor Count Palmella stood gazing
on her at an humble distance.
The little delicate, weak, gentlemanlike Portuguese was no match for
the three Cossacks. I do not believe he got in a single word the whole
evening; but once, when Amy remarked that she should go the next evening
to see the tragedy of _Omeo._
"What tragedy is that, pray?" drawled out the Honourable John William
Ward, starting from a fit of the dismals, just as if some one had gone
behind him and, with a flapper, reminded him that he was at a party, and
ought to _faire l'aimable aux dames._
"You may laugh at me as much as you please," answered Amy, "and I must
have patience and bear it, ight or ong; for I cannot pronounce the
letter _r_."
"How very odd!" I remarked. "Why, you could pronounce it well enough at
home!" I really did not mean this to tease her; for I thought, perhaps,
lisping might grow upon us as we got older; but I soon guessed it was
all sham, by the gathering storm on Amy's countenance. The struggle
between the wish to show off effeminate softness to her lovers, and her
ardent desire to knock me down, I could see by an arch glance at me,
from Fanny's laughing eye and a shrug of her shoulder, was understood by
that sister as well as by myself. Fanny's glance was the slyest thing in
nature, and was given in perfect fear and trembling.
"Harriette's correctness may be, I am sorry to say,"--and she paused to
endeavour to twist her upper lip, trembling with fury, into the shape
and form of what might be most pure and innocent in virtuous indignation!
Count Beckendorff eyed me with a look of pity and noble contempt, and
then fixed his eyes with rapture on his angel's face!
Joking apart he was a monstrous fool, that same Count Beckendorff, in
the shape of a very handsome young Cossack.
"Where's the treaty of peace?" said Nugent, dreading a rupture, which
should deaden half the spirit of the little pleasant suppers he wished
to give us at his own rooms in the Albany. "No infringement, we beg,
ladies. We have the treaty, under your pretty hands and seals."
"Peace be to France, if France, in peace, permit it!" said I, holding
out my hand to Amy in burlesque majesty.
Amy could not, for the life of her, laugh with the rest; because she saw
that they thought me pleasant. She, however, put out her hand hastily,
to have done with what was bringing me into notice: and, that the
subject might be entirely changed, and I as much forgotten, she must
waltz that instant with Beckendorff.
"Sydenham!" said Amy, to one of her new admirers, who, being flute-mad
and a beautiful flute-player was always ready.
"The flute does not mark the time enough for waltzing," said he, taking
it out of a drawer; "but I shall be happy to accompany Harriette's waltz
on the pianoforte, because she always plays in good time."
"Do not play, Harriette," said Amy; for fear it should strike any one
that I played well; "if I had wished her to be troubled I should have
asked her myself. The flute is quite enough;" and she began twirling her
tall Cossack round the room. He appeared charmed to obey her commands
and sport his really graceful waltzing.
"I do not think it a trouble, in the least," I observed, opening the
instrument, without malice or vanity. I was never vain of music; and, at
that early age, so much envy never entered my head. I hated playing too;
but fancied that I was civil, in catching up the air and accompanying
Colonel Sydenham.
"Harriette puts me out," said Amy, stopping, and she refused to stand up
again, in spite of all Sydenham could say about my very excellent ear
for music.
"_Madame a donc le projet d'aller à Drury-Lane, demain?_" said the Count
Palmella at last, having been waiting, with his mouth open, ever since
Amy mentioned _Omeo_, for an opportunity of following up the subject.
Amy darted her bright black eyes upon him, as though she had said,
"_Ah! te voilà! d'où viens tu?_" but without answering him or perhaps
understanding what he said.
"_Si madame me permettera_," continued the count, "_j'aurai l'honneur de
lui engager une loge._"
"_Oui s'il vous plait, je vous en serai obligé_," said Amy, though in
somewhat worse French.
The celebrated beau, George Brummell, who had been presented to Amy by
Julia in the round room at the opera, now entered and put poor Julia
in high spirits. Brummell, as Julia always declared, was, when in the
10th Dragoons, a very handsome young man. However that might have been,
nobody could have mistaken him for anything like handsome at the moment
she presented him to us. Julia assured me that he had, by some accident,
broken the bridge of his nose, and which said broken bridge had lost him
a lady and her fortune of twenty thousand pounds. This, from the extreme
flatness of it, his nose, I mean, not the fortune, appeared probable.
He was extremely fair, and the expression of his countenance far from
disagreeable. His person too was rather good; nor could anybody find
fault with the taste of all those who for years had made it a rule to
copy the cut of Brummell's coat, the shape of his hat, or the tie of his
neckcloth: for all this was in the very best possible style.
"No perfumes," Brummell used to say, "but very fine linen, plenty of it,
and country washing."
"If John Bull turns round to look after you, you are not well dressed:
but either too stiff, too tight, or too fashionable."
"Do not ride in ladies' gloves; particularly with leather breeches."
In short, his maxims on dress were excellent. Besides this, he was
neither uneducated nor deficient. He possessed also a sort of quaint,
dry humour, not amounting to anything like wit; indeed, he said nothing
which would bear repetition; but his affected manners and little
absurdities amused for the moment. Then it became the fashion to court
Brummell's society, which was enough to make many seek it who cared not
for it; and many more wished to be well with him through fear, for all
knew him to be cold, heartless, and satirical.
It appeared plain and evident to me that his attention to Julia was no
longer the effect of love. Piqued at the idea of having been refused
marriage by a woman with whom Cotton had so easily succeeded, _sans
cérémonie_, he determined in his own mind soon to be even with his late
brother officer.
And pray, madam, the reader may ask; how came you to be thus early
acquainted with George Brummell's inmost soul?
A mere guess. I will tell you why.
Brummell talked to Julia while he looked at me; and as soon as he could
manage it with decency, he contrived to place himself by my side.
"What do you think of Colonel Cotton?" said he, when I mentioned Julia.
"A very fine dark man," I answered, "though not at all to my taste, for
I never admire dark men."
"No man in England stinks like Cotton," said Brummell.
"Ah! ah!" thought I, "_me voilà au fait!_"
"A little Eau de Portugal would do no harm in that quarter, at all
events," I remarked laughing, while alluding to his dislike of perfumery.
Amy gave us merely a tray-supper in one corner of the drawing-room, with
plenty of champagne and claret. Brummell, in his zeal for cold chicken,
soon appeared to forget everybody in the room. A loud discordant laugh
from the Honourable John Ward, who was addressing something to Luttrell
at the other end of the table, led me to understand that he had just,
in his own opinion, said a very good thing; yet I saw his corner of the
room full of serious faces.
"Do you keep a valet, sir?" said I.
"I believe I have a rascal of that kind at home," said the learned, ugly
scion of nobility, with disgusting affectation.
"Then," I retorted, "do, in God's name, bring him next Saturday to stand
behind your chair."
"For what, I pray?"
"Merely to laugh at your jokes," I rejoined. "It is such hard work for
you, sir, who have both to cut the jokes and to laugh at them too!"
"Do pray show him up, there's a dear creature, whenever you have an
opportunity," whispered Brummell in my ear, with his mouth full of
chicken.
"Is he not an odious little monster of ill-nature, take him altogether?"
I asked.
"And look at that tie?" said Brummell, shrugging up his shoulders and
fixing his eyes on Ward's neck-cloth.
Ward was so frightened at this commencement of hostilities from me, that
he immediately began to pay his court to me, and engaged me to take a
drive with him the next morning in his curricle.
"Go with him," whispered Brummell in my ear. "Keep on terms with him, on
purpose to laugh at him." And then he turned round to Fanny, to ask her
who her man of that morning was.
"You allude to the gentleman I was riding with in the park?" answered
Fanny.
"I know who he is," said Alvanly. "Fanny is a very nice girl, and I wish
she would not encourage such people. Upon my word it is quite shocking."
"Whom did you ride with to-day, Fanny?" I inquired.
"A d----n sugar baker," said Alvanly.
"I rode out to-day," replied Fanny, reddening, "with a very respectable
man of large fortune."
"Oh yes!" said Alvanly, "there is a good deal of money to be got in the
sugar line."
"Why do not you article yourself then to a baker of it," I observed,
"and so pay some of your debts?"
This was followed by a laugh, which Alvanly joined in with great good
humour.
"What is his name?" inquired Luttrell.
"Mr. John Mitchel," answered Fanny. "He received his education at a
public school, with Lord Alvanly."
"I do not recollect Mitchel," retorted Alvanly; "but I believe there
were a good many grocers admitted at that time."
Fanny liked Lord Alvanly of all things, and knew very little of Mr.
Mitchel, except that he professed to be her very ardent admirer; yet her
defence of the absent was ever made with all the warmth and energy her
shyness would permit.
"Now, gentlemen," said Fanny, "have the goodness to listen to the facts
as they really are."
Everybody was silent; for everybody delighted to hear Fanny talk.
"That little fat gentleman there," looking at Lord Alvanly, "whom you
all suppose a mere idle, lazy man of genius, I am told studies _bon
mots_ all night in his bed." (A laugh.) "Further, I have been led to
understand, that being much lower down in the class than Mitchel, though
of the same age, his lordship in the year eighteen hundred and something
or other was chosen, raised, and selected, for his civil behaviour,
to the situation of prime and first fag to Mr. Mitchel, in which said
department, his lordship distinguished himself much, by the very high
polish he put upon Mr. J. Mitchel's boots and shoes."
There was not a word of truth in this story, the mere creation of
Fanny's brain; yet still there was a probability about it, as they had
been at school together, and which, added to Fanny's very pleasing, odd
mode of expression, set the whole room in a roar of laughter. Alvanly
was just as much amused as the rest; for Fanny's humour had no real
severity in it at any time.
"But, Fanny, you will make a point of cutting this grocer, I hope?"
observed Brummell, as soon as the laugh had a little subsided.
"Do pray, Fanny," said I, "cut your Mitchels. I vote for cutting all the
grocers and valets who intrude themselves into good society."
"My father was a very superior valet," Brummell quickly observed, "and
kept his place all his life, and that is more than Palmerston will do,"
he continued, observing Lord Palmerston, who was in the act of making
his bow to Amy, having just looked in on her from Lady Castlereagh's.
"I don't want any of Lady Castlereagh's men," said Amy. "Let all those
who prefer her Saturday-night to mine, stay with her."
"Who on earth," said Luttrell, with his usual earnestness--"who on earth
would think of Lady Castlereagh when they might be here?"
"Why Brummell went there for an hour before he came here," said Alvanly.
"Mr. Brummell had better go and pass a second hour with her ladyship,"
retorted Amy, "for we are really too full here."
"I am going for one," I said, putting on my shawl; for I began to think
it would not do to neglect Argyle altogether. I made use of one of the
Russian's carriages, to which Brummell handed me.
"To Argyle House, I suppose?" said Brummell, and then whispered in my
ear, "You will be Duchess of Argyle, Harriette."
I found Argyle at his door, with his key, a little impatient. I asked
him why he did not go to Amy's.
"I don't know your sister," answered his grace, "and I dislike what I
have seen of her. She makes so many advances to me!"
I defended my sister as warmly as though she had really treated me
with kindness, and felt at that time seriously angry with the duke for
abusing her.
The next morning from my window I saw Amy drive up to my door, in the
Count Palmella's barouche. "She wants me to write a copy of a letter for
some of her men," thought I, well knowing that affection never brought
Amy to visit me.
"Are you alone?" asked Amy, bouncing into the room.
"Then tell that count, downstairs, he may go home," addressing my
servant.
"Poor little man!" I remarked, "how terribly rude! I could not be rude
to such a very timid, gentlemanly man as that!"
"Oh, he makes me sick," said Amy, "and I am come to consult you as to
what I had better do. I like liberty best. If I put myself under the
protection of anybody, I shall not be allowed to give parties and sit up
all night; but then I have my desk full of long bills, without receipts!"
"I thought you were to marry Beckendorff and go to Russia," I observed.
"Oh true, I have come to tell you about Beckendorff. He is off for
Russia this morning, to try to obtain the consent of the Emperor and
that of his his own family. There was no harm in sending him there you
know; for I can easily change my mind when he comes back, if anything
which I like better occurs. He wished George to be his aide-de-camp; but
George would not go."
"Is not Beckendorff a general in the service of the Emperor?" I asked.
"Yes, yes! but never mind Beckendorff," answered Amy impatiently. "I
want two hundred pounds directly. It spoils all one's independence and
one's consequence, to ask Englishmen for money. Palmella wishes to have
me altogether under his protection. He is rich; but--but I like Colonel
Sydenham best."
"Sydenham has no money," said I. "Palmella seems disposed to do a great
deal for you and he is very gentlemanlike; therefore, if a man you must
have, my voice is for Palmella!"
"Well," said Amy, "I cannot stop! I do not much care. Palmella makes
me sick too. It cannot be helped. You write me a copy directly, to
say I consent to enter into the arrangement, as he calls it, which he
proposed; namely, two hundred pounds a month paid in advance, and the
use of his horses and carriage." This letter was soon despatched to his
Excellency Palmella; and Amy shortly afterwards took her leave.
The next day as I was returning home from my solitary walk, reflections,
the most despondingly melancholy, crowded on my mind. I thought of the
youth I was passing away in passions wild and ungovernable, and, though
ever ready to sacrifice more than life for those I have loved, with real
genuine warmth and tenderness of heart, yet I had perhaps deserved that
none should hereafter remember me with affection; for my actions had
been regulated by the impulse and feelings of that heart alone, void
of any other principle than what it had dictated. I was roused by a
sudden tap on the shoulder from the coarse, red, ungloved hand of my old
friend, Lord Frederick Bentinck.
"My lord, I was just going to drown myself, therefore pray do not leave
me here alone."
"I must," said his lordship, panting, "for I have a great deal to do. I
ought to be at the Horse Guards at this moment."
"Nonsense! But if you really can do anything, I wish to heaven you would
put on a pair of gloves."
"I only wish," answered his lordship, speaking loud, in a good-natured
passion, "I only wish that you were compelled to listen to the sort of
things I am obliged to attend to daily. Everybody wants promotion. No
man will be satisfied with an answer. For my part, I have got into a way
of writing my letters as soon as I have stated all that is to be said. I
hate talking, many people expose themselves in that way, so, adio!"
It occurred to me as soon as his lordship had left me how unfortunate
for his taciturn disposition was the meeting of Sir Murray Maxwell's
friends, which took place some time ago, to commemorate that highly
respected gentleman's broken pate. The noble lord was chosen steward
of the feast and, whatever might be the exposure, either in the way or
lack of intellect, Lord Frederick must inevitably come forward with
a maiden-speech. The said discourse however would, no doubt, have
redounded to the credit and glory of his lordship's able attorney,
in spite of the many restrictions he had received not to put in any
break-teeth long words; but, alas! his lordship was not aware of the
defect of a memory which had never been so exerted, and, at the very
critical moment, after he had risen to address the attentive assembly,
he discovered with dismay that he had forgotten every word of his
speech. What was to be done? He resolved to address them in detached
sentences, delivered in a voice of thunder; such as, "my principles,
gentlemen--likewise--observe--my friends--but I therefore--being, as I
say--a man of few words, gentlemen." The intervals being filled up with
much gesticulation, everybody advanced their heads and redoubled their
attention, to try to hear what could not be heard. Those who were at a
distance said "we are too far off," and those immediately next to him
thought themselves too near, or suspected the wine had taken an unusual
effect, owing to the heated atmosphere of the crowded apartment. All
resolved to secure better situations on the next meeting, that they
might profit by so fine and affecting a discourse.
The season for Argyle's departure from London for the North was now
drawing very near. He often spoke of it with regret, and sometimes he
talked about my accompanying him.
"Not I, indeed!" was my answer; for I was an unsettled sort of being;
and nothing but the whole heart of the man I loved could settle me.
Lorne had fascinated me and was the first man for whom I had felt the
least passion; but his age made him fitter to be my father than my
friend and companion: and then this Lady W----! How could I fix my
affections on a man whom I knew to be attached still to another woman!
Indeed, even his inconstancy to Lady W---- often disgusted me.
"You will not accompany me to Scotland then?" said the duke.
"No!"
"_Cela, donc, est décidé._"
"_Oui._"
I was getting into debt, as well as my sister Amy, when it so came to
pass, as I have since heard say, that the--immortal!
No; that's common; a very outlandish distinction, fitter for a lady in a
balloon.
The terrific! that will do better. I have seen his grace in his cotton
nightcap. Well then; the terrific Duke of Wellington! the wonder of the
world! Having six feet from the tail to the head, and--but there is
a certain technicality in the expressions of the gentleman at Exeter
Change, when he has occasion to show off a wild beast, which it would
be vanity in me to presume to imitate; so leaving out his dimensions,
&c. &c., it was even the Duke of Wellington, whose laurels, like those
of the giant in _The Vicar of Wakefield_, had been hardly earned by
the sweat of his little dwarf's brows, and the loss of their little
legs, arms and eyes; who, feeling himself amorously given--it was in
summer--one sultry evening, ordered his coachman to set him down at the
White Horse Cellar in Piccadilly, whence he sallied forth on foot to
No. 2 or 3 in Berkeley Street, and rapped hastily at the door, which
was immediately opened by the tawdry, well-rouged housekeeper of Mrs.
Porter, who, with a significant nod of recognition, led him into her
mistress's boudoir and then hurried away, simpering, to acquaint the
good Mrs. Porter with the arrival of one of her oldest customers.
Mrs. Porter, on entering her boudoir, bowed low; but she had bowed
lower still to his grace, who had paid but shabbily for the last _bonne
fortune_ she had contrived to procure him.
"Is it not charming weather?" said Mrs. Porter, by way of managing
business with something like decency.
"There is a beautiful girl just come out," said his grace, without
answering her question, "a very fine creature; they call her Harriette,
and----"
"My lord," exclaimed Mrs. Porter, interrupting him; "I have had three
applications this very month for the girl they call Harriette, and I
have already introduced myself to her."
This was a fact, which happened while I was in Somers-town, and which I
have forgotten to relate.
"It was," continued Mrs. Porter, "at the very earnest request of General
Walpole. She is the wildest creature I ever saw. She did not affect
modesty, nor appear in the least offended at my intrusion. Her first
question was 'Is your man handsome?' I answered, frankly, that the
general was more than sixty years of age; at which account she laughed
heartily; and then, seeming to recollect herself, she said she really
was over head and ears in debt; and therefore must muster up courage to
receive one visit from her antiquated admirer at my house."
"Well?" interrupted Wellington, half jealous, half disgusted.
"Well, my lord," continued Mrs. Porter, "the appointment was made for
eight o'clock on the following evening, at which hour the old general
was punctual and fidgeted about the room over this, my lord, for more
than three-quarters of an hour. At last he rung the bell violently. I
answered it; and he told me in a fury he would not thus be trifled with.
I was beginning very earnest protestations when we heard a loud rap at
the street door, and immediately afterwards my housekeeper entered, to
inform me that a lady whose face was covered with a thick black veil,
had just arrived in a hackney-coach, and she had shown her into the best
room."
"She came then?" inquired Wellington, impatiently, and blowing his nose.
"You shall hear, my lord," continued Mrs. Porter. "The old general, in a
state of perfect ecstasy, took me by the hand, and begged me to pardon
his testy humour, assuring me that he had been for more than a year
following Harriette, and therefore that this disappointment had been too
much for his stock of patience.
"I led the way to the room, where we expected to find Harriette. The
black veil did not surprise us. She was too young to be expected to
enter my house void of shame. Judge our astonishment, my lord, when the
_incognita_, throwing back her veil with much affectation, discovered
a wrinkled face, which had weathered at least sixty summers, aye and
winters, too!"
"'The Lord defend me!' said I.
"'Who the devil are you?' said the general.
"'A charming creature,' replied the hag, 'if you did but know me. A
widow, too, dear general, very much at your disposal; for my dear good
man has been dead these thirty years.'
"'You are a set of----'
"The general was interrupted by his fair _incognita_, with--'Here is
gallantry! here is treatment of the soft sex! No, Mr. General, not the
worst of your insinuations shall ever make me think the less of myself!'
"The general, at this moment, beginning to feel a little ashamed,
and completely furious, contrived to gain the street, declaring that
he would never enter my vile house again. His fair one insisted on
following him; and all I could say or do would not prevent her. I know
not what became of them both."
"My good woman," said Wellington, without making any remarks on her
story, "my time is precious. One hundred guineas are yours, and as much
Harriette's, if you can induce her to give me the meeting."
"My dear lord," said Mrs. Porter, quite subdued, "what would I not do
to serve you! I will pay Harriette a visit early to-morrow morning;
although my lord, to tell you the truth, I was never half so afraid
of any woman in my life. She is so wild, and appears so perfectly
independent, and so careless of her own interests and welfare, that I
really do not know what is likely to move her."
"Nonsense!" said Wellington, "it is very well known that the Marquis of
Lorne is her lover."
"Lord Lorne may have gained Harriette's heart," said Mrs. Porter, just
as if she understood the game of hearts! "However," added she, "I will
not give up the business till I have had an interview with Harriette."
"And make haste about it," said Wellington taking up his hat, "I shall
call for your answer in two days. In the meantime, if you have anything
like good news to communicate, address a line to Thomas's Hotel,
Berkeley-square."
These two respectable friends now took leave of each other, as we will
of the subject, _pour le moment, au moins._
I rather think it must have been on the very day the above scene took
place that Fanny, Julia, and myself dined together at my house, and Amy
unasked joined us after dinner; because she had nothing better to do.
"You are welcome," said I to Amy, "so that you bring me no men; but men
I will not admit."
"Why not?" Amy inquired.
"Why? because I am not a coquette like you, and it fatigues me to death
to be eternally making the agreeable to a set of men who might be all
buried and nobody would miss them. Besides, I have seen such a man!"
"What manner of man have you seen?" asked Fanny.
"A very god!" retorted I.
"Who is he?" inquired Amy.
"I do not know," was my answer.
"What is his name?"
"I cannot tell."
"Where did you see him?"
"In Sloane Street, riding on horseback, and followed by a large dog."
"What a simpleton you are," observed Amy.
"I never made myself so ridiculous about any man yet," I observed, "as
you have done about that frightful, pale, William Ponsonby."
"Oh, he is indeed a most adorable heavenly creature," rejoined Amy,
turning up her eyes in a fit of heroics.
"Good gracious! how can people be so blind," exclaimed I. "Why he has
not a single point of beauty about him."
"And what," I continued, "have you done with Palmella?"
"Oh!" replied Amy, in some little confusion, "I have never seen him
since."
"Did you send the letter I wrote for you?"
"Yes," answered Amy.
"And did he send you the two hundred pounds?"
"Directly," rejoined Amy, "with a letter full of professions of the
deepest gratitude."
"And where is that poor dear little man now?" inquired I.
"God knows!" replied Amy. "I have been denied to him ever since.
Sydenham has been telling me that I am too beautiful, and it would
really be too great a sacrifice for me to throw myself away on Palmella."
"Did Sydenham say your returning the two hundred pounds would be too
great a sacrifice also?"
"No! but I have spent it."
It was now growing late, and we separated.