Half the world was at Elliston's masquerade, given at his place, as he
calls the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane; therefore all I shall say about it
is, that I never saw anything of the kind better conducted and I wish he
would give another in honour of my arrival the moment I go to London.
During supper, somebody recognised Elliston as he passed through the
room, and he was immediately hailed with three cheers.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Elliston, who was as tipsy as usual, or
rather more so perhaps,--"Ladies and gentlemen, I did not expect to
have been observed in passing through the crowd. I am very grateful,
gentlemen,--very happy, gentlemen,--quite overjoyed, gentlemen,--that
any efforts of mine to please and amuse you have been crowned with
success----"
At this critical moment, somebody broke some dishes and upset a bottle
of champagne.
"Easy! easy! quiet--quiet there--pray! pray!" said Elliston, addressing
them by way of parenthesis.
He then continued his speech,--"Yes, gentlemen, you shall have more
masquerades! And what's more, ladies and gentlemen----"
Elliston's lame speech by this time had excited some laughter.
"I never knew him quite so bad as this," said a gentleman on my left.
"As I was saying, gentlemen," Elliston proceeded, "I mean, my kind
friends, it has ever been my ambition to give you pleasure, and,
gentlemen, masquerades are pleasant, merry, spirited things,
particularly when the occasion is, like this, to celebrate the birthday
of our august--oh! gentlemen and ladies, apropos, I had forgotten,--but
I now, though last not least, beg to propose a toast, in which every one
of you will join me in your heart of hearts!"
Elliston filled a bumper, and drank--"His Majesty!"
We were all stunned with the loud cheers, three times three repeated,
which followed. He then passed round the tables, and stopped to speak to
several of his friends, one of whom drank off one bottle of champagne
with him, and then called for another.
"No more--no more," said Elliston.
"Why man, one would think you were Cardinal Wolsey."
In about a fortnight after the Opera had closed we all arrived at
Brighton.
Leinster gave way to his feelings, on the day I left town, by putting
more wine into his glass than usual.
"Only say you like me better than Worcester," said His Grace, "and I
shall go to Ireland in some comfort."
"I have forgotten Lord Worcester," said I.
"And you will be glad to see me on my return then?" asked Leinster.
"Certainly," I answered, "and particularly if you will leave off playing
the hundred and fourth psalm on the big fiddle. I really am tired of it."
Leinster proposed giving me _Rule Britannia_ on my arrival, and promised
everything I could wish.
Fred Bentinck rode by the side of my carriage for the first ten miles.
He offered to drive me down all the way with his own horses; but on
certain conditions, which I declined.
"Well!" said Frederick, in his loud, odd voice, as he took leave of me,
at _The Cock_ at Sutton, "well, I really do hope you will soon come
back. I don't, as you know, make speeches or pretend to be in love with
you. I might have been perhaps; but, the fact is, you are a loose woman
rather, and you know I hate anything immoral. However, you may believe
me when I say, that I am sorry you are leaving London."
"And what becomes of you?" I asked. "Do you mean to remain all your life
in town?"
"Oh! I have too a great deal to do, and my business, you know, is at the
Horse Guards."
"God bless you, Frederick Bentinck," said I, as my carriage was driving
off. "_Portez vous bien_, although you certainly are enough to make me
die of laughter."
"And do," said his lordship, with his half laughing, half cross, but
very odd countenance, "pray do conduct yourself with some small degree
of propriety at Brighton: and take care of your health. I have, by this
day's post, written to my friend Doctor Bankhead about you. I think
him clever; and I know he will do what he can to be of service to any
favourite of mine."
We had already hired a good house on the Marine Parade. Amy's admirer,
Boultby, was one of our first visitors, and then Lords Hertford and
Lowther, who were both on a visit at the pavilion. For three whole days
Amy sickened us by the tenderness of her flirtation with Boultby, who
sat lounging on her sofa as though he had been a first-rate man. At last
Amy grew tired of him all at once.
"Get up," said she, rudely pushing her _inamorato_ off the sofa.
Boultby refused like a spoiled child, and insisted on another kiss.
"Good heavens, get up then," said Amy, "and don't tumble my ruff. I came
down to Brighton for the fresh air, and for three days I have inhaled
none of it; and I am not sure that I shall like you. Here put your head
on this pillow," added Amy, putting down his head, and rolling a thick
table-napkin about it. "So let me fancy you my husband, and in your
night-cap. There," said Amy, holding her head first on one side, then on
the other, in order to take a full view of his little, black, ugly face,
which examination was not favourable to her lover.
[Illustration: Amy]
"Get up this instant!" said she, with such fierceness as immediately set
him on his legs.
"I told you so," said I, "but you would not believe me."
Boultby hoped his sweet Amy was joking; and he did well to make the most
and best he could of the evening: for he was never admitted afterwards.
Lord Robert Manners, whose regiment was stationed in that neighbourhood,
was very attentive to me. His lordship is one of the most amiable young
men I ever met with. His finely turned head might be copied for that
of the Apollo Belvidere, and yet he has no vanity. In short a more
manly, honourable, unaffected being does not exist; and much I regret
the ill-health under which he has always suffered. His lordship was
kind enough to give me my first lesson in riding; often accompanied
by the French Duc de Guiche, who was in the Prince Regent's Regiment,
and Colonel Palmer. The latter invited me to accompany Lord Robert to
the mess-dinner at Lewes. It must more resemble a small select private
party than a mess-room, as they seldom mustered more than seven or eight
persons together at table.
Bob Manners, as Lord Robert is universally called, was remarkably
absent, and spoke but little, yet he possessed a certain degree of
quaint, odd humour.
"Those leaders are not bad: who made them?" asked George Brummell, one
day of his lordship.
"Why, the breeches-maker," said Bob Manners, speaking very slow.
I accidentally had some conversation with an old infantry officer,
belonging to a regiment which had fought some very hard battles, I think
it was the 50th, and nick-named the Dirty Half-hundred; but I know their
courage was in high repute, although the officers were not polished men
by any means.
Speaking of Lord Robert, my new acquaintance remarked that he was a
fine, high-bred looking fellow.
"The Tenth are a very fine looking regiment, take them altogether,"
continued he, "and they wear very fine laced jackets; but what service
have they seen? And yet they hold us poor fellows very cheap, I dare
say. The anniversary dinner, by which we are to celebrate the battle
where our officers are allowed to have particularly distinguished
themselves, happens next Monday: but I suppose your dandies of the Tenth
will not condescend to join our humble mess!"
I afterwards repeated this conversation to Lord Robert in the presence
of Colonel Palmer.
"Indeed," said his lordship, "the regiment do us great injustice in
saying we hold them cheap: on the contrary, while answering for myself,
who hold their courage in the highest respect and estimation, I think I
may, at the same time, answer for the whole of my regiment."
Colonel Palmer readily joined Lord Robert in his unequivocal expressions
of approbation.
"For my part," continued Lord Robert, "I shall not only be happy in
such an opportunity of becoming personally acquainted with the brave
officers of the 50th regiment; but I shall feel hurt and astonished if
a single officer of the Tenth, now at Lewes, who may be favoured with
an invitation to their dinner, should fail to attend to it. At the same
time, I wish you would tell your new acquaintance that while, perhaps,
we envy the laurels they have been allowed to gather, they are bound to
believe in our readiness to lose our best blood in the service of our
country, whenever we are permitted so to prove our courage; but it would
be illiberal to blame us for the freshness of our jackets."
Every officer in the Tenth Hussars who happened to be quartered at
Lewes, made it a point, stimulated perhaps by what Lord Robert had said
on the subject, to hold himself disengaged for the day, on which they
all fully expected to receive an invitation from the officers of the
50th regiment, when, lo!--not one of them was asked!
* * * * *
Lords Hertford and Lowther were our constant visitors at Brighton.
One evening, when His Majesty had a party of ladies and gentlemen at the
pavilion, we concluded that Lord Hertford would not be able to leave it.
However, at nine his lordship arrived, accompanied by a hamper of claret.
"Much as I respect His Majesty," said Lord Hertford, "I cannot stand the
old women at Brighton."
We received letters from Julia and Sophia, declaring they had changed
their minds and would not join us.
I saw a great deal of the Duc de Guiche, who used to be called, while
in the Tenth Hussars, the Count de Grammont, during my short stay at
Brighton. He was very handsome, possessed a quick sense of honour, and
ever avoided even the shadow of an obligation: I need not add that he,
through strict economy, kept himself at all times out of debt. As an
officer he was severe and ill-tempered, but well versed in military
business: as a Frenchman he was fonder of flirting than loving; and,
with regard to his being a fop, what could a handsome young Frenchman do
less?
I refused to see Dr. Bankhead, who had left his card by Lord Frederick
Bentinck's desire; because the world said he was a terrible fellow.
However, being afterwards afflicted with an attack of inflammation in
my chest, I ventured to send for this Herculean Beauty! "He cannot,"
thought I, "be so very impudent as he has been represented to me by
many, and particularly by Mr. Hoare the banker, who declared that
maids, wives, and widows were often obliged to pull their bells for
protection. Then Lord Castlereagh has too much good taste to encourage
and patronise him as he does, and has done for years, if he were so very
bad."
Dr. Bankhead came into my bedroom with the air and freedom of a very old
acquaintance.
"What is the matter, my sweet young lady?" said he, "and what can I do
for you?"
"I see! I hear!" said he, interrupting me, observing that I spoke with
difficulty. "Fever? Yes," feeling my pulse. "Oppression? ah! Cough? hey?
Do not speak, my sweet creature. Do not speak! You have been exposing
that sweet bosom!" endeavouring to lay his hand upon it, which I
resisted with all my strength of hand.
"Nay! nay! nay! stop! stop! stop! hush! hush! You'll increase your
fever, my charming young lady; and then what will your friend Fred
Bentinck say? quiet! There, don't speak, can you swallow a saline
draught? and I'm thinking too of James's powders; but it is absolutely
necessary for me to press my hand on that part of your chest or side
which is most painful to you."
"Doctor Bankhead, excuse me. This is by no means my first attack of the
kind, and I know pretty well how to treat it."
"There! there! then! be quiet my dear young lady. I give you my honour
you have already increased your fever. Hush! you will take your draught
to-night?"
"Doctor Bankhead, I must----"
"Nay! nay! there! keep yourself quiet, I entreat. Quietness is
everything in these inflammatory fevers, you know, my sweet."
"Doctor Bankhead, I must ring the bell."
"Hush! there! there then! I would not frighten you for the world: and
I am apt to frighten ladies, I am indeed! hush! Be quiet! there then!
hush! I am indeed, as you may have heard, a most terrible fellow! Be
quiet, my sweet lady! Swallow this glass of lemonade! There! now lie
very still. In short, so terrible am I, that I frighten every woman on
earth, except Mrs. Bankhead and my Lady Heathcote! hush!"
"Doctor Bankhead! this is an unmanly advantage of----"
"Oh, you naughty creature, to flurry yourself! I would not frighten you
for the world! And, since I am so terrifying, take me altogether----"
"Doctor Bankhead, I'll ring the bell," and I tried to reach it.
"You shall have just as much or as little of me as you please. Be still,
pray! pray! and this is an offer I never before made to any woman, not
even to my dear friend Lady Heathcote."
Dr. Bankhead laid his giant hand on my bosom to demonstrate one of
his former feats. My passions were now roused in a peculiar manner,
and, catching hold of my bell, I never ceased ringing it till my maid
appeared.
I desired her to show Dr. Bankhead out of my house, "And, above all
things, do not leave my room without him."
"Good morning, to you, my sweet, comical lady," said Bankhead, and left
the house.
In about two months we all grew tired of Brighton, except Fanny, who had
never been happier than while galloping over the Downs with the first
man she had really loved; perhaps the first who had treated her with the
respect and kindness her very excellent and benevolent qualities so well
deserved.
I often heard from Fred Bentinck, as well as from His Grace of Leinster.
The latter joined me in London towards the end of November. I had only
been settled there a few days, when I was surprised by a visit from the
young Marquis of Worcester, whose very existence I had almost forgotten.
He expressed his gratitude for being admitted and sat with me for two
hours, when our _tête-à-tête_ was interrupted by Leinster. He then took
his leave, having conversed only on indifferent subjects, without once
touching on the passion Lord Deerhurst and several others had assured me
that he entertained for me.
Leinster appeared much annoyed at the reappearance of Worcester and
talked of going to Spain.
"I am a great fool," said His Grace, "and travelling may make me wiser."
I shook my head.
"At all events," continued His Grace, "I shall be out of the way of
seeing Worcester make love to you. I am no match for him, being of a
colder and less romantic turn. Worcester would go to the devil for you,
and will make you love him, sooner or later. I cannot contend with him,
and therefore I have almost decided to go with my brother, Lord Henry,
and young FitzGibbon to the Continent."
"In the meantime," said I, "you really are wrong to tease yourself about
Lord Worcester, who never makes love to me: and this morning he talked
of nothing but riding and Lord Byron's poetry and music. He did not even
offer to shake hands with me, and, when I held out my hand for that
purpose, he seemed to shake and tremble, as though it had been something
quite unnatural."
"When are you to see him again?"
I assured His Grace that nothing like an appointment had been made; and
all Lord Worcester had said on the subject, was a request to be allowed
to call sometimes to pay his respects and make his bow.
I went to call on Fanny, after His Grace left me. Lord Alvanly and Amy
were with her, and her eternal admirer, Baron Tuille, who told us that
Lord Worcester did nothing but inquire of every man he met, whether they
had heard anything relative to the departure of Leinster for Spain.
"That's a very fine young man, that Marquis of Worcester," said Amy. "I
should like to be introduced to him, only I suppose Harriette, with her
usual jealousy, will prevent me."
"On the contrary," said I, "Fanny heard me invite him to your party
after the Opera, the very evening he was presented to me, and he refused
to go."
"What a rude way of putting it," said Baron Tuille. "Why not say he was
obliged to return to Oxford, and was _en désespoir!_"
"_De tout mon coeur!_ Put it how you please," said I.
"I've some news for you," said Fanny. "Sophia has made a new conquest
of an elderly gentleman in a curricle, with a coronet on it. He does
nothing on earth from morning till night but drive up and down before
Julia's door. Julia is quite in a passion about it, and says it looks so
very odd."
"Talk of the devil," said Alvanly, as Julia and Sophia entered the room.
"Of fair Hebe rather," Baron Tuille observed.
"Well Miss Sophia, so you've made a new conquest?" said Fanny.
"Yes," answered Sophia: "but it is of a very dowdy, dry-looking man."
"But then his curricle!" I interrupted.
"Yes, to be sure, I should like to drive out in his curricle, of all
things."
"It is very odious of the fright to beset my door as he does," Julia
said.
"So it is, quite abominable; and, for my part, I hate him, and his
curricle too," good-natured Sophia replied.
"But answer me," said Baron Tuille, addressing himself to me, "does the
Duke of Leinster go to the continent this year?"
"What is that to you?" I asked.
"Only to satisfy poor Worcester, who is so miserable about him. For my
part, I asked him why he did not run away with you by force. But he
said, that force was good for nothing; and that while you permitted
Leinster to visit you he was perfectly wretched. Suspense was the devil,
and he could not think why Leinster bothered at all about going to Spain
unless he really had some such intention."
"I believe you are all laughing at me," said I, "and I don't deserve it;
for no one can say I am vain: but if I were, no vanity, not even that of
the Honourable John William Ward, could construe Lord Worcester's prim
conversation into love for me. True, he blushes and trembles, which, in
a lad of such mature worldly manners, who has already been so much in
society, does look a little like love; but this is the only sign I have
witnessed."
"Depend upon it, he is in a desperate, bad way," lisped out Alvanly.
"Were you ever seriously in love, my lord?" I asked.
"Oh, tremendously, last year," answered his lordship; "but then I
fancied it was with a woman of fashion. God bless your soul, a fine
carriage, on a perch, with scarlet blinds! Could you have imagined she
would ever have asked me for money?"
"And what answer did you make?"
"Answer! Why I told her I would have preferred death to even the risk of
insulting her; but, since she had destroyed all my illusion, I now was
disposed to look upon her in a different light, and pay her accordingly,
at the rate of five hundred a year; which was handsome for the time I
should continue in her company, which, by the bye, would not have been
longer than five minutes! However she refused to have anything more to
do with me; and I have now, thank God, entirely recovered my peace of
mind."
* * * * *
Worcester was riding near my door as I drove up to it. I stopped to ask
him if he liked to join me at Astley's, where I proposed going with the
Duke of Leinster. He hesitated, and seemed really annoyed at the idea of
Leinster being of the party.
"If you really wish it," said his lordship, reddening.
"Oh, I shall not break my heart," I answered, "only it has struck me,
and has struck others, that you liked me, therefore I conceived the
proposal might be agreeable."
"I am afraid," said Lord Worcester, "that I shall be thought very
intrusive and impertinent; but I am most anxious and desirous to be
allowed to say one word to you before you go to Astley's to-night."
"Leinster comes for me at half-past seven," I replied, "so call at
seven."
Worcester rode off, all gratitude.
I was surprised to find Leinster sitting at my pianoforte, in my
drawing-room, when I got upstairs. "What again at your hundred and
fourth psalm?" said I, "after all the promises you have made to become
less righteous?"
"I have a favour to ask," said Leinster, and the boy's usual open smile
was fled, and he looked infinitely more interesting; because he was
paler, and there was an air of sensibility about him, which was seldom
the case.
"My dear little Harry," said he, passing his hand across his
curly locks, "I am annoyed and bothered to death with Worcester's
perseverance. I am going to Spain. I shall stay perhaps several years,
and you and I may never meet again. I know you are going to remind me
that you never professed any particular love for me and that you never
deceived me as to your love of liberty; but I am not asking anything of
you as a right: I am only making an appeal to your good-nature, when I
entreat you not to receive Worcester's visits till I am gone, which will
be, I hope, in less than six weeks. It should be sooner, but that I have
many things to arrange relative to my coming of age."
The simplicity and feeling manner in which Leinster delivered his little
speech affected me a good deal. No one, not even Fred Bentinck, could
ever attach himself to me, without inspiring me with such friendship as
results from a grateful heart. I believe all who know me will admit,
what I certainly can affirm to be true, namely, that no success of mine
ever once led me to fancy a single heart had been mine by right, or
_à cause de mon propre mérite_, nor was I coquette enough to desire
general admiration. On the contrary, I thought it hard, and often a
bore, that my gratitude should so frequently be taxed, for what gave me
no pleasure.
"Do not go, Leinster," said I, kissing his eye, where a tear was
glistening; "and, as long as you will stay, I will tell Worcester I must
decline receiving his visits."
"When?" said Leinster, with a bright smile which was very pretty.
"His lordship is coming here at seven, and I will then give him his
_congé tout de bon_," said I.
Leinster hurried off in high spirits, that he might get back in time to
take me to Astley's.
Lord Worcester came to me before I had finished my dinner. He assured
me that he now proposed to accompany me, if I still would permit him,
to Astley's. "But," said Lord Worcester, after some hesitation, "you
are, I am sure you must be, aware that my being present to see the Duke
of Leinster, or indeed any man on earth, conduct you home, is very hard
upon me."
"I hope not," said I, "and certainly I am not aware of any such
thing. You are neither my husband, nor my lover, and you never made
any professions of love to me; I hope you felt none; because--" and I
hesitated in my turn.
"Because what?" said Lord Worcester, in almost breathless anxiety.
"Because my old friend, the Duke of Leinster, feels much annoyed at your
visits, and----"
"And you assured me he was indifferent to you," interrupted Worcester.
"I said I was not in love with him, neither am I; but I cannot bear
teasing him; so, to be frank with you, and one must be frank when one is
in such a hurry," continued I, laughing, "I have promised to beg of you
as a favour not to come here any more."
Lord Worcester's face was scarlet first and then pale as death: he took
up his hat, half in indignation, and then put it down in despair! Had I
been more humble than I really am, I could not, with common sense, have
doubted the deep impression I had made on Worcester.
"_Ecoutez, mon ami_," said I, holding out my hand to him. "I cannot
account for the prejudice which runs high in my favour among you young
men of rank. I am inclined rather to attribute it to fashion or some odd
accident, than to any peculiar merit on my part: still, flattered as I
ought to be, and deeply grateful as I always am, it will yet be paying
very dear for the impression which is excited in my favour, if, while my
own heart happens to be free as air and my fancy ever laughter-loving, I
am to condole all the morning with one fool, and sympathise the blessed
long evening with another; neither can I be tender and true to a dozen
of you at a time."
"I did not," said Worcester, half indignantly, "I did not know that I
was quite a fool; and at all events, I shall not intrude my folly on you
if I am."
In vain he tried to pull his hat completely over his eyes. The tears did
not glisten there, as they did in Leinster's; but they fell in torrents
as he attempted to take leave of me.
"Oh dear me!" said I, as I sighed an inward good-bye to the self-same
harlequin-farces, at which I had laughed so heartily many years before,
when I accompanied poor Tom Sheridan to Astley's.
"What am I to do, Lord Worcester?" I asked. "Upon my word I would rather
suffer anything myself, than cause unhappiness to those that love me. I
don't care a bit about myself. Only tell me what I can do for you and
Leinster and my sister Fanny? For all who love me in short; for I would
make all happy if I could, provided they don't grow too pathetic."
"My dear, dearest Harriette," said Lord Worcester, "no man on earth,
feeling as I have done, could have been less pathetic, as you call it,
than I have been, for more than six months, that all my prayers, my
hopes, and my wishes, have been for you, and your love and happiness. I
have seldom visited you, and never, at least till to-day, done any one
thing that could possibly bore or offend you."
I could not but acknowledge this to be true.
"Well then," continued Worcester, "I will throw myself on my knees----"
"No, pray don't," I exclaimed, "I really must go to Astley's, I have not
a moment to lose. My word is pledged to Leinster: but I believe that you
love me better than he is capable of loving anything, and, since you
are good enough to value my friendship, I will not cut you, indeed I
will not," and I gave him my hand, which he covered with warm kisses and
warmer tears.
"You must go now," I added; "I never break my word, and Leinster will be
here directly; but, when he goes to Spain,----"
"Does he go?" interrupted Worcester eagerly.
"Everything is settled," answered I, "and, in less than six weeks
Leinster can torment you no more."
Worcester appeared to be overjoyed.
"And, when he is gone, there will be no man you care about left in
England?"
"None: except indeed a sort of tenderness, not amounting to anything
like passion, for Lord Robert Manners: and then I have a great respect
for Lord Frederick's morals, and that is all! So now, my lord, you must
set off, and do be merry. You shall hear from me often, and as soon as
Leinster is gone you are welcome to try to make me in love with you. If
you fail, so much the worse for us both; since I hold everything which
is not love, to be mere dull intervals in life."
"I may not call on you then?" asked Worcester.
"I will write, and tell you all about it."
There was now a loud rap at the door.
"I am off," said Worcester. "I cannot bear to sit here a single instant
with Leinster. _En grace je te prie, mon ange, ayez pitié de moi et ne
m'oubliez pas._"
He dropped on one knee to kiss my hand, like a knight of old, and the
next instant he was out of sight.
"Was that the Marquis of Worcester who ran out of your home in such
a hurry, as I was getting out of my carriage?" asked Leinster, as he
entered the room, full dressed, his handsome leg, _en gros_, set off to
the best advantage by a fine silk stocking.
"Yes," said I, "but I have desired him not to come again; so pray don't
be sentimental. I have had enough of that, this day, to last me my life."
"You are very cold and heartless, which is what, from the expression of
your eyes, I had never suspected," remarked Leinster.
"I was in love enough once," I rejoined, "God knows, and what good did
it do me?"
After all, I arrived at Astley's just in time for my favourite
harlequinade. The house was well attended. I thought that I observed the
Marquis of Worcester, slyly glancing at us through the trelliswork of a
stage-box; but I was not quite certain. After the piece was finished, I
wanted to set Leinster down at his own door; but he declared himself so
hungry, that he could not get further than Westminster-bridge without a
slice of bread and butter, quite as thick as those his tutor Mr. Smith
used to provide him with. This luxury his footman procured, together
with a tankard of ale from a pothouse in the immediate vicinity of the
theatre.
The next morning Fanny came to take leave of me. Colonel Parker could no
longer be absent from his regiment, which was stationed at Portsmouth,
therefore they proposed leaving London for that place on the following
day.
"Remember me kindly to Lord Worcester, when you see him," said Fanny.
"There is something in that young man's countenance I like so much,
and his manners are so excessively high bred and gentlemanlike, that I
cannot think how you can resist him and treat him so very coldly as you
do. As to Amy, she is going stark mad to be introduced to him."
"With all my heart," said I.
We were now interrupted by the Prince Esterhazy, who entered all over
mud, saying, "_Comment ça va?_" without taking off his hat.
"We are discussing the merits of the young Marquis of Worcester,
Prince," Fanny observed to him.
"A very fine young man to be sure, certainly," said Esterhazy; "but good
mine God, can you not take him one to yourself, instead of all these
young fellows running, _toujours_, after you. I could not come near you
for a mile the other night, you have so many people round about you."
"That was because you did not take off your hat," I said.
"It is my way," answered the prince; "and I do the same to the queen."
"_Ca se peut_," said I, "_mais, moi, je prétends que vous ne le ferez
pas ici: ainsi votre seigneurie aura la bonté, ou, d'oter votre chapeau,
ou de vous en aller toute suite._"
"_Je prendrai la dernière partie_," answered the prince, putting on his
great coat and retiring.
"You have been too severe, Harriette," said Fanny, after Prince
Esterhazy had taken his departure.
"I would not have been so to a poor man; but really, I have no idea of
having one's house mistaken for a cabaret by a nasty coarse German, who,
with all his impudence, is, as I am informed, the meanest man alive;
besides he always stands with his back to the fire, without paying the
least attention when the ladies shiver and shake and vow and declare
they are dying with cold!"
Fanny told me, calling another subject, that Julia had not only
surmounted her reluctance to Napier, but had become almost as fond of
him as she had been of Sir Harry Mildmay; and that was the reason why
she refused to join us at Brighton.
I inquired whether he seemed disposed to behave well to Julia and her
family.
"Oh, he is horribly stingy," answered Fanny, "and Julia is obliged to
affect coldness and refuse him the slightest favour, till he brings her
money; otherwise she would get nothing out of him. Yet he seems to be
passionately fond of her, and writes sonnets on her beauty, styling her,
at forty, although the mother of nine children, 'his beautiful maid.'"
Fanny having her carriage at the door I proposed our calling on Julia.
"I am going to take my leave of her," Fanny replied, and we drove
immediately to her residence.
Julia, whose health had been very delicate since her last premature
confinement, was gracefully reclining on her _chaise longue_, in a most
elegant morning-dress. She expected Napier to dine with her. Sophia was
hammering at a little country dance on the pianoforte.
To our inquiry how her curricle-beau went on, she answered, "Oh! he is
always driving about this neighbourhood, and I think I have discovered
who he is. I believe it to be Lord Berwick; but I am not quite certain.
However we are to be introduced to him to-morrow by Lord William
Somerset, who has been here this morning, to ask Julia's permission to
present a friend. He did not name him, but assured us he was a nobleman
of fortune and of great respectability."
We wished her joy and kissed her, and took our leave of Julia, as I
afterwards did of Fanny, whose departure made me very melancholy. She
was the only sister who cared about me, and we had very seldom, in the
course of our lives, been separated from each other. We promised to
correspond regularly, and I assured her that when she should be settled
at Portsmouth, if she acquainted me that she had a spare bed for me, I
would certainly pay her a visit.
"Tell me all about Lord Worcester," said Fanny, "and you may say to him
that it is lucky for Colonel Parker his lordship never turned an eye of
love on me."
I came home very dull indeed, and was informed that Leinster, who had
been waiting for me more than an hour, had just left the house; but a
genteel young Frenchwoman was still in my dressing-room. She came to
offer herself in the place of my late _dame de compagnie_, Miss Eliza
Higgins.
"_Je vous salue, mademoiselle,_" said I, as I entered my little boudoir.
"_D'où venez vous?_"
She informed me that she had been living with Lady Caroline Lamb.
I liked her appearance very much: it was modest, quiet, and unaffected.
What a contrast to that Miss Eliza Higgins! She did not look as if
she was twenty; but she assured me, _sur son honneur_, she was in her
twenty-sixth year. I engaged her at once, declined to inquire her
character of Lady Caroline, and requested her to come to me the next day.
I never talk much to servants or companions when they come to be hired.
If I dislike their faces I tell them I am engaged: if the contrary is
the case I desire them to come to me on trial. Wherefore should one
ask them, "Can you dress hair?" "Are you quick, good-tempered, honest,
handy," &c. &c, when one can as well answer all these questions in their
name, oneself, with a single yes?
I passed a restless night. No woman ever felt _le besoin d'aimer_ with
greater ardour than I. What could I not have been, what could I not have
undertaken for the friend, the companion, the husband of my choice?
_En attendant_, methought, Lord Worcester knew how to love: that was
something; but then, where was the power of thought, the magic of the
mind, which alone could ensure my respect and veneration?
The next morning my new French maid, who had just arrived, brought me
not a letter but a volume, from Lord Worcester: it was not a bad letter.
No letter is uninteresting which is written naturally and feelingly.
"Does this young man love me?" I asked of Luttrell, who called on me
before I had finished my breakfast, as I presented to him the young
marquis's effusion.
"With all his soul, his heart, and his strength," answered Luttrell.
Leinster was my next visitor, and then Lord Robert Manners, dressed in
a red waistcoat, corduroy breeches, worsted stockings, and thick shoes,
which, I think, had nails in them; yet, in spite of all this, he looked
very handsome. The Duke of Wellington came next.
"Why the devil did not your servant tell me that all these people were
here?" whispered the merely mortal hero, as he bolted downstairs, and
ran foul of Lord William Russell in the passage.
"When do you mean to come and pass a month at Lewes?" asked Lord Robert
Manners.
"Your application comes too late, Master Bob," said George Brummell, who
had just entered the room. "Harriette is about to bestow her fair hand
on the young Marquis of Worcester. But your fingers are covered with
ink, man! How happened that?" continued the beau, eyeing his lordship's
hands with a look of undisguised horror.
"Franking a letter for some fool or another: such a nuisance!" answered
Bob Manners, looking at his fingers pettishly.
These men talked a great deal more nonsense, only I have forgotten it.
After they were gone, I made my young Frenchwoman bring her work into my
dressing-room for an hour.
"How did you like Lady Caroline Lamb?" I asked her, and, when she had
answered all my questions, I sat down to scribble the following letter
to my sister Fanny at Portsmouth.
"MY DEAREST FANNY,--The frank Lord William has left for you
must not be lost, although I really have as yet nothing new or
lively to communicate. Your favourite, Lord Worcester, has not been
admitted since you were in town, notwithstanding he writes me such
letters! but I will enclose one of them to save trouble, for one
grows tired of all this nonsense. Poor Leinster is infinitely more
attentive and amiable, since this powerful rival has put him upon
his mettle. For my part, since the hope of mutual mind is over, I
try and make the best of this life, by laughing at it and all its
cares.
"My new French maid has just been telling me a great deal
about her late mistress, Lady Caroline Lamb. Her ladyship's only
son is, I understand, in a very bad state of health. Lady Caroline
has therefore hired a stout young doctor to attend on him: and the
servants at Melbourne House have the impudence to call him Bergami!
He does not dine or breakfast with Lady Caroline or her husband,
who, you know, is Fred Lamb's brother, the Honourable William
Lamb; but he is served in his own room, and her ladyship pays
great attention to the nature and quality of his repasts. The poor
child, being subject to violent attacks in the night, Lady Caroline
is often to be found after midnight in the doctor's bedchamber,
consulting him about her son. I do not mean you to understand
this ironically, as the young Frenchwoman says herself there very
likely is nothing in it, although the servants tell a story about a
little silk stocking, very like her ladyship's, having been found
one morning quite at the bottom of the Doctor's bed. This doctor,
as Thérèse tells me, is a coarse, stupid-looking, ugly fellow; but
then Lady Caroline declares to her, _que monsieur le docteur a du
fond!_
"She is always trying to persuade her servants that sleep is
unnecessary, being _une affaire d'habitude seulement_. She often
called up Thérèse in the middle of the night, and made her listen
while she touched the organ in a very masterly style.
"Her ladyship's poetry," says Thérèse, "is equally good, in
French, in English, or in Italian; and I have seen some excellent
specimens of her talents for caricatures. She sometimes hires
a servant, and sends him off the next day for the most absurd
reasons: such as, 'Thomas! you look as if you required a dose of
salts; and altogether you do not suit me,' &c. She is the meanest
woman on earth, and the greatest tyrant generally speaking,
_quoiqu'elle a ses moments de bonté;_ but as to her husband, he is
at all times proud, severe, and altogether disagreeable."
"Lady Caroline ate and drank enough for a porter, and, when
the doctor forbade wine, she was in the habit of running into her
dressing-room to _dédommager_ herself, with a glass or two of _eau
de vie vieille, de cognac!_! One day, Thérèse, whose bed-chamber
adjoined that of William Lamb, overheard the following conversation
between them.
"LADY C. 'I must and will come into your room. I am your
lawful wife. Why am I to sleep alone?'
"WILLIAM. 'I'll be hang'd if you come into my room, Caroline;
so you may as well go quietly into your own.'
"Lady Caroline persevered.
"'Get along you little drunken----,' said William Lamb.
"The gentle Caroline wept at this outrage.
"'_Mais où est, donc, ce petit coquin de docteur?_' said
William, in a conciliatory tone.
"'Ah! _il a du fond, ce docteur là_,' answered Caroline, with
a sigh.
"Mind I don't give you all this nonsense for truth; I merely
repeat the stories of my young Frenchwoman: and Lady Caroline
has assured her housekeeper that Thérèse abhors a lie. Take her
ladyship altogether, this comical woman must be excellent company.
I only wish I had the honour of being of her acquaintance. Not that
I think much of her first novel, _Glenarvon;_ and she is really not
quite mad enough to excuse her writing in her husband's lifetime,
while under his roof, the history of her love and intrigue with
Lord Byron! The letters are really his lordship's, for he told
me so himself. I once asked Luttrell, who was a particular
acquaintance of William Lamb, why that gentleman permitted his wife
to publish such a work.
"'I have already put the very same question to William,
myself,' answered Luttrell, 'and this was his reply: "I give you my
word and honour, Luttrell, that I never heard one single word about
_Glenarvon_ until Caroline put her book into my own hands herself
on the day it was published."'
"Lady Caroline, I am told, always speaks of her husband with
much respect, and describes her anxiety about his maiden speech in
the House of Commons, to witness which she had in the disguise of a
boy contrived to pass into the gallery. But enough of her ladyship,
of whose nonsense the world is tired. I admire her talents, and
wish she would make a better use of them.
"Poor Alvanly's carriage-horses have, I fancy, been taken in
execution. However, he said last night at Amy's, that he had a
carriage at the ladies' service, only he had got no horses; so we
set him down.
"'I cannot find any knocker, my lord,' said the footman, at
our carriage-door, after fumbling about for some time.
"'Knock with your stick,' said Alvanly, and then continued his
conversation to us, 'my d--n duns made such a noise every morning,
I could not get a moment's rest, till I ordered the knocker to be
taken off my street-door.'
"Lord Worcester has been making up to Julia, who has promised
to be his friend with me, I mean to a certain extent; but, when he
teases her to tell him whether he has any chance of ever having me
under his protection, she declares she knows nothing about me or
my plans, except that I am always the most determined, obstinate
woman in Europe. Brummell they say is entirely ruined. In short,
everybody is astonished, and puzzled to guess how he has gone on so
long! God bless you, my dearest Fanny. I meant only to write three
lines, and here is a volume for you. Remember me kindly to Colonel
Parker, and believe me ever,
"Your affectionate sister,
"HARRIETTE.
"P.S.--Do pray, keep yourself warm: particularly your
chest. Dr. Bain says your little cough is chiefly nervous; but
I am anxious to hear how the air of Portsmouth agrees with you;
therefore write soon all about it."