I had acted my part well, and satisfied my pride, but not my heart. No
matter. It won't do to play the game of hearts in Paris, and, wherever
we may be, we must take the world as we find it.
At this French party, I expected that the men would be tumbling
over each other in their too great zeal to show me their national
politeness. Quite the contrary, the young Frenchmen were as indifferent
as even Brummell himself, to every woman turned of twenty; but the old
high-bred, high-born Frenchmen were all remarkably intelligent, polite
and agreeable. There was present among the company, a French naval
officer, who had passed two months of his life in London, and would
insist on boring me with his bad English.
"It may be all vare fine, fore to go to Inglant, fore vat I do know;
but, fore my part, in de short time I vas dare I had not de goot fortune
to fine out de fine at all. Vare is de most fine pictures? I ask--and
dey tell me to go to Somaresetous, an to Pell Mell, vat you call. I go,
an dey make me pay fore von book, vish I read. Von vare fine orishinal
of dis, von fine copee of dat, an dis ting, an oter ting, and I den vos
pay agen: an ven I go in, dese ting are all exécrable! Ven at de Louvre
I pay noting, to see avari ting vat is good.
"'Vot is next?' I ask. 'De Tower' day say vare fine indeed. _Oui_,
certainly. I do remembare everybody do tell to me, in France, de Tower
is de most fine of all de spectacle in London. But den I most pay for
dese sight too. It is no dis vay in Paris I say; but, _n'importe:_ it
is mean of de na-ti-on to make pay for everyting von can see, but never
mind; an I do pay. Vot do dey show to me fore all dis money?... Muskets!
I don't vont fore to see de muskets! Vot for should any man vont fore
to see great many muskets, all put straight togeter fore to do noting?
My Inglese frend tell to me afterwards dat Inglant is most célébere fore
her agriculture! I haf de great disposition fore dat science myself, I
repond. Vel den de Ingleeshman tell to me, I shall gif you von lettare
of introduction to de chef of de Agricultural Société, who leef near
Carmarthen en Vales. Oh my goot leetil man, I say. But it is so long vay
off, my frent tell to me. Never mind, I tell to him, I com to Inglant
fore to see all, and I love de most of all dis science, vich is so
parfait, I do know, in your contree. Vel, so I gif de lettare, an I take
my place in de mail coche. Ah! for example! vare nice horse and travail
indeet; bote it rain all de vay, an I vos two nights on my voyage. At
last, I arrive and pracent my lettare.
"Vot you tink vos in this man's garten?
"Noting, I gif you my honour, boate some cabage and some myrtle, and
great mosh tornep tops, and soam leettil pot of de sweet pea.
"'Vot den for Got, devil he send me here to learn agriculture?' I ask.
"An dis man say stop a minute, an aftare he take me to a société, vare
von old man make vare large discours for rule of agriculture, in de
velsh langage, vich vos, I vos assure, de most fine langage in de vorlt
fore de expression. Ma foi! An I am retours agen to Londres. I take my
logement in your best quartare, vare, I vos tel, is all de beau monde,
bote, certainement, I cannot see mush vare particulare beauté in vot ees
call de _beaux jardins_ of Laistare Square."
I did not see Meyler again till the following evening at the opera,
when, being both tired of shamming more indifference than we really
felt, we went home together. Meyler was looking remarkably handsome and
well. He told me that Lord Ebrington was in Paris, and had promised to
present him at court the next day.
"What do you think of his lordship?" I inquired.
"He is one of the handsomest, most sensible, and distinguished looking
young noblemen in Europe," Meyler replied.
"Very well, I am glad you like him, and I am glad he is here; because,
if you treat me too ill, or again mortify me by saying you are sick of
my constancy, and wish nobody was constant in the world, _alors, vois
tu, on peut se consoler._"
"_Point du tout,_" answered Meyler, "for, of course, if Lord Ebrington
had any fancy for you he would prove it. I am not such a vain fool as to
believe any woman breathing would have me, or remain an hour with me, if
she could be even tolerated by Lord Ebrington."
"Now Meyler, pray don't go out of your way to provoke me. You cannot,
nobody can, or ever did imagine I would stay with a man whom I disliked,
merely for his money: and further, what pleasure do you find in striving
to wound and humble my vanity thus, as if I was and had been constant to
you from necessity alone?"
"I did not say you could not get others. I know to the contrary. I only
said what I firmly believe, which is that, were you, this very night, to
send a note to Lord Ebrington, inviting him to your bed even, he would
not come."
Thus did this provoking creature delight in teasing me, and the next
half-hour he would seem passionately devoted to me.
For the first month, Meyler went everywhere, and I led a very gay life:
that is, with regard to going every night to parties, masquerades,
balls, and other amusements. One day, a friend of Meyler's, Bradshaw,
told me that Meyler led a most dissipated life, and made up to at least
half a dozen Frenchwomen in a week. The idea had not struck me with
such force of truth before, and I was suddenly oppressed with very low
spirits; so writing an excuse to the party where I was expected to sup,
I sat down at my window to watch the door of Meyler's hotel, which was
opposite to mine, for the arrival of his well-known, little, elegant
chariot. The moment it caught my eye, I despatched my servant with a
note begging him to come over to me immediately. He obeyed my summons in
very ill humour, declaring that I made him feel as though he had a net
thrown over him, and that it was impossible to be happy without perfect
liberty. This harshness to one like me, who had been hitherto so spoiled
and indulged, affected me with the deepest melancholy. I felt it the
more too from being in a foreign country. Meyler had wounded my pride
in a way I should have resented at another moment; but I was in Paris
alone, my mother and her family not having yet joined me. Meyler was my
only friend, and, but for Meyler, I might probably have been now married
to Worcester, whose tender care of me and devoted attentions could
scarcely be understood or described.
"Meyler," said I, almost in tears, "I wish all the world to enjoy
perfect liberty, and you must admit that, generally speaking, it has
been my request that you only remain with me while my society is
pleasant to you; but this night I am unwell, and my spirits are greatly
depressed by what Mr. Bradshaw has told me. You know I am not a likely
person to wear the willow, or be long unhappy, if you have ceased to
prefer me to all other women; but, this night I would entreat, and
consider it as a favour, if you would remain with me for an hour."
"Can't you enter into the secret of my temper," said this most provoking
little man, in his usual impressive, slow way. "Can't you understand
that, were you to make it your particular request that I should sit down
on that chair, at the very moment when I was about to do so, it would be
the very reason why I should determine against it?"
"Common delicacy, such as is due to yourself as a gentleman," I
continued, "might induce you not to wound my pride, or insult me by
leaving me, at the moment when I have every reason to believe it is for
the purpose of visiting another woman; one too of that class, which is
even unsought by any Englishman who may fall in their way. This has been
told me by your friend; but if you will give me your honour that such is
not the case I will believe you."
"You are not my father confessor," answered Meyler roughly, and then
ran downstairs, got into his carriage, and drove off without farther
ceremony.
If I had bowed in meek submission to Meyler's will, and endured all this
unfeeling, insulting treatment in humble silence, wetting my solitary
pillow with my tears, perhaps some might have voted me a saint, from
which opinion I take the liberty to differ. We must, as I think, treat
those capricious men as we find them. Meyler's affections were not to
be so preserved, even if it had not been contrary to my nature and my
spirit to submit to undeserved insult without offering _la pareille_.
Had I been a wife or a mother, I might have thought differently, as
it was, anger now took the place of tenderness. I dried up my tears,
settled my disordered curls by the glass, and, being fixed as a rock
in my determination to leave Meyler at once and immediately, I was
undecided as to my choice of doing so. I wanted to convince him of my
perfect contempt and indifference. I should have preferred being pointed
at by the whole world, as one of the most profligate women breathing,
rather than that any one should imagine me capable of wearing the willow
for a mere sugar-baker, who could forsake me and openly seek the society
of the lowest women, in preference to mine.
At this moment, choosing whom I might prefer myself, as an instrument
to execute my proposed vengeance, was quite a secondary consideration.
I thought only on the person who might be most likely to inspire Meyler
with jealous rage and envy. Such is poor human nature; and I have said
before that I am but a mere woman, with at least as many imperfections
on my head as women usually have to answer for. I allude only to
handsome women, who have been as much tempted as I have.
I very soon decided upon Lord Ebrington, as being the man Meyler
professed to think most desirable, and, at the same time, whose
attention he conceived it would be most difficult for me to obtain, and
I wrote as follows:
"MY DEAR LORD EBRINGTON,--You and I made each other's
acquaintance when I was very young, and soon parted. By mutual
consent we cut each other's acquaintance. Yesterday I saw you
looking remarkably well. You were in Meyler's barouche. You have
sense enough to love candour, and, when women mean the same thing,
you have the same respect for them, whether they go a roundabout
way to work, or straight forward. In a word then, I am willing to
renew our acquaintance, believing it just possible, that, if you
were tired of me long ago, when I was quite a different sort of
person, you may like me now; while, at the same time, I may be less
afraid of you than I was formerly. _Qu'en pensez vous?_
"H.W."
Answer:
"Will ten o'clock this evening suit you? If so, I shall have
much pleasure in visiting you.
"E."
Revenge is sometimes sweet, even to the most forgiving lady, when
the manner of it is not too desperate. Ebrington came. He was then
particularly handsome and sensible, and his manners were as gentle,
shy, and graceful almost as those of Lord Ponsonby himself. Few woman
could have disliked a _tête-à-tête_ with Lord Ebrington. The thing was
scarcely possible, supposing he had been in the humour to make them
like it. The fact is I gloried in being a match for Meyler's vile
impertinence. Naturally frank, I did not conceal the real state of
things from Ebrington. I paid his vanity a wretched compliment, he said;
but still he should have been proud to have accepted my invitation under
any circumstances.
Ebrington was not a new lover. I had known him long before I ever saw
Meyler; but he was proud, and reserved, and shy, and he had not taken
the trouble to draw me out, or discover that I professed any more
quickness than girls in general. I always thought the expression of his
countenance remarkably fine, and now that we conversed more freely and
I had an opportunity of judging of his very agreeable qualities, from
his lively pleasant conversation, it was impossible to avoid drawing
comparisons by no means favourable to Meyler, who, though perfectly
graceful and gentlemanlike, was far from well read, and, as for
conversation, he seldom spoke at all. Moreover, at this instant, I had
good reason to believe the provoking little reptile was actually in the
arms of some frail, very frail, French woman.
I asked Ebrington, while we were taking our chocolate the next morning,
in my very gay, luxurious dressing-room, how he came to be so cold a
lover at a time when I was certainly handsomer and in the very first
bloom of my youth?
"I cannot account for it," answered Ebrington; "but, since you love
candour, I will tell you that you did not then inspire me with any
warmer sentiment than such general admiration as one cannot help feeling
towards any fine girl. We met by accident, and soon parted I believe,
without much regret on either side."
"_Quant à moi, je vous en répond, mon ami,_" said I, determined not to
be behind on the score of indifference.
"Since that," continued Ebrington, "I have heard of nothing but
Harriette Wilson wherever I went. I could not help wondering what
Ponsonby or Worcester had discovered in you that was so very charming,
and yet could so entirely have escaped my observation."
"You vile, impertinent monster!" interrupted I.
"Never mind, dear Harry," continued Ebrington, "for I love you dearly
now."
"And I like you twice as well as I did six or seven years ago," I
retorted.
"Very complimentary to us both," said Ebrington. "In fact, you are now
exactly what I always liked. Formerly, you were too shy for my taste. I
would have given anything that you had sent for me merely because you
fancied me. Nothing can be so gratifying and delightful to my feelings,
as the idea of having inspired a fine woman with a strong, irresistible
desire to make me her lover, whenever the desire is not a general one.
"I remember having once made the acquaintance of a woman who was greatly
to my taste, and who, as I almost fancied, was disposed to favour me in
return. After much difficulty I obtained her consent to indulge me with
a private meeting, and she agreed to come into my chariot, in which I
took her up at the end of a retired lane at the back of her father's
house. She was a young widow. We were scarcely seated, when her very
natural, frank, and flattering exclamation of 'Oh how very happy I am,
to find myself at last here alone with you,' produced such a pleasant
effect on me that I have never forgotten it."
Ebrington did not leave me till past two o'clock in the day, having
obtained my permission to return to me early on the same evening. About
half an hour after his departure Meyler entered my room, and, as was
invariably the case, after he had used me harshly, was all smiles and
tenderness. "My dearest Harriette," said he, "I confess Bradshaw told
you the truth. I have been intriguing, since I came to Paris, with
almost every Frenchwoman I could find. _Que voulez-vous?_ It is the
nature of the animal. I am not naturally sentimental. Frenchwomen, being
a great novelty to me, inspired me for the moment; but I could never
visit any one of them a second time. So much the contrary, that I ran
away from any one I had once visited, when I met them in the streets,
with feelings of the strongest disgust. Last night has cured me of
intriguing with Frenchwomen. I returned home, more in love with you,
dearest Harriette, than ever. In short, I was dying to see you, to kiss
you, and ask your forgiveness on my knees: but it was too late, your
house was shut up, and I dared not disturb you."
"You will never disturb me again," answered I, very quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"I have seen Lord Ebrington."
"What! When we passed your house in my barouche."
"I am not so platonic as to have been satisfied with that. No, I sent
for him: but you know, you affirmed that I might do this with safety,
since you were sure he would not obey my summons. _Qu'en pensez-vous
actuellement?_"
"Pray," said Meyler, trembling from head to foot, "put me out of
suspense."
"_Je ne demande pas mieux, je t'en répond,_" answered I, "only," and I
looked at him as I advanced towards the door for safety, "only promise
not to beat me nor break my head."
"Nonsense! Pray, pray don't torment me."
"Why not? You felt no remorse in vexing me, last night."
"Yes, indeed I did, after I had left you."
"And of what service was that to me, think you? However, I never wished
to deceive you nor any man. Briefly then, I beg to inform you that I
sympathise with you in your love of variety, and you will, I am sure,
give me credit for excellent taste, when I inform you that I have made
a transfer of my affections from you to Lord Ebrington, who passed the
night here, _et qui doit faire autant ce soir._"
I expected abuse; but, at all events, something like coldness of manner
from Meyler. _Oh! que les hommes sont bizarres._ Quite the contrary.
Meyler's spirits sunk into despondency: he actually shed tears, which,
with him, was a very unusual event. He was now at my feet, the humble
sighing, adoring, suppliant lover again.
"You have a good heart, Harriette," said he, "and, whatever my faults
may have been, I am now sufficiently punished. My health, as you know,
has been seriously affected lately. I therefore implore you to send away
Lord Ebrington and give me one more trial. I will be as constant and as
attentive to you as you can possibly wish."
The little interesting sugar-baker looked very pale; but always very
handsome. I say little, from the mere habit I had acquired, with more
of his friends, of calling him little Meyler; for his person was very
well proportioned, and altogether of the full middle size; but then the
expression of his features possessed that soft style of beauty which
would have been suitable to a woman.
To proceed, Meyler remained with me without his dinner till past eight
o'clock. He would not eat, and could not leave me. At nine, I expected
Lord Ebrington, who believed me watching for him with tender anxiety.
By this time, fasting and fretting had made poor Meyler seriously
unwell. I was not destitute of humanity towards even the worst of my
fellow creatures; but it is not, was not, and never will be in my nature
to forget insult, nor to love any man, after he has practised open
infidelity towards me.
"Meyler," said I to him at last, just as the clock was about to strike
the hour of nine, and I was in momentary expectation of seeing Lord
Ebrington enter the room, "since you have stayed here so long, and
appear really annoyed, I will not turn you out of the room to admit
another man."
I then hastily scribbled a few lines of apology to Lord Ebrington and
handed it to my woman, requesting her to carry the letter down to the
porter's lodge to be delivered to his lordship as soon as he should
enter. Meyler was all joy and wild rapture: more in love, perhaps, even,
than on the day I first went to him, after he had been pining for one
whole year and a quarter. For my part, the idea that so many of the
lowest women had lately been favoured with his smiles entirely prevented
my sympathising in his feeling. Ebrington seemed at least to respect and
love me. He was handsome, accomplished, of high birth, and not quite
turned of thirty.
I was already beginning to prefer his lordship, and was it to be
wondered at, all the circumstances considered? Meyler wanted me to
promise never to see nor speak to Ebrington again; but, as it was
contrary to my taste and principles to leave any man I had once
favoured, as long as he gave me no cause to complain of him, I told
Meyler he had better waive the subject, for I would positively make no
promise, one way or the other. With this answer he was obliged to be
content.