The next morning Lord Ebrington called on me in his cabriolet. Meyler,
who had just left me, was watching my house from his own window opposite.
Meyler was man of the world enough to subdue his feelings so far as
to treat Ebrington with something like civility. Not that he feared
fighting; ridicule alone was the bugbear, which made him smother his
rising anger till he had quite subdued it. My two beaux seemed bent on
sitting each other out; the difficulty was to hit upon subjects for
conversation. We had gone over that lame one, the weather, at least
three times, and the dirty streets of Paris, the French cookery, &c.
Ebrington now tried Bonaparte, then pictures, next statues: but Meyler
knew no more about them all than the man in the moon, even if he had
been disposed to converse, which was seldom the case at any time. At
last, luckily for me, they both recollected that they were invited to
a large dinner with some of the French royal family, and had only just
time to dress. Meyler called me aside to entreat that I would receive
him after dinner. I refused. Meyler was in a passion. I declared we must
part, since those Frenchwomen had for ever spoiled the pleasure I used
to feel in his society.
"Then I'll cut the dinner, and stay here all my life," said Meyler,
quietly seating himself.
"We shall be too late, Meyler," called out Ebrington from the
drawing-room.
Dreading some difference between these two gentlemen, I at length
promised to receive Meyler in the evening, since that appeared to be
my only chance of getting rid of him. I had this day invited a new and
very pleasing female acquaintance to dine with me. She was an Italian
widow, of exactly my own age, with the true, soft, Italian expression
of countenance. A native of Naples, she had accompanied her son to
Paris for the purpose of placing him in a celebrated college. He was a
delicate, bilious-looking, interesting child of eleven years of age,
with large, pensive black eyes, and thick black fringes to them. He
wore, in common with all the youths of that institution, a large cocked
hat, with a tight, military blue coat, faced with a lighter shade of the
same colour. His appearance formed an odd contrast to that of my young
nephew, George Woodcock, whom I had brought to Paris with me. George
was a fair, fresh-coloured, remarkably strong, active boy, with white,
thick curly hair, dressed in a light blue jacket and trousers, with a
small ruff round his throat. He did not know one single word of French:
nay, more, was such a complete John Bull as to declare upon his word and
honour that he would take all the care he possibly could not to learn
it. All he feared and dreaded was that the vile jargon should come to
him by itself, in spite of all he could do to prevent it.
My Italian friend, whose Christian name was Rosabella, inhabited
the same hotel with me. Her constant visitor was a most sanguine
Bonapartist, who had formerly been employed by that emperor as
ambassador to the court of Naples. I forget this man's name; but I
remember he treated Rosabella with the affectionate kindness of a
father. His manners were very refined; but so excessively formal and
ceremonious that he used to put me into a fever. If he came up to a
carriage during a heavy fall of rain, nothing we could say would induce
him to put on his hat, and as to putting on his great coat in a room
where I happened to be sitting, even at Rosabella's own house, he could
not endure such an idea.
Rosabella was naturally as frank as myself. In our second or third
interview, she informed me that she had married at the age of thirteen,
by her parents' commands, an old Frenchman whom she hated, and who
might, in point of years, have been her grandfather; that her disgust
and dislike towards her better half was at its height when she was
accidentally thrown into the society of Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, who, in
the course of due time--in one, two or three years, I forget which--had
completely won her heart, and the result and pledge of their love was
her only son, the young Carlo, who, having been presented in form to
young George Woodcock, was no doubt remarkably communicative, seeing
that he knew but little French, which language he spoke with a strong
Italian accent, while George Woodcock vowed and declared he would sooner
do anything than understand one word of their vile lingo.
Carlo was a prodigy of learning for his age. No expense, which could be
imagined by fond parents as likely to forward or facilitate his studies,
was spared or ever neglected. He had a private tutor kept for him at the
college, and whom Rosabella would constantly invite to her table. All
her hopes on earth were centred in her child, who slept on a bed of down
and drank only of the most delicate wines. He was already a good poet,
and rhymed in four different languages; but the poor child appeared to
me to be actually dying a victim to severe study, combined with want of
exercise. His mother indeed took him home every Saturday night, and he
remained with her till the following Monday; but she made him draw plans
by way of recreation, with his tutor, almost the whole of the day.
At the time we became acquainted, poor Carlo was afflicted with an
oppression on the chest, attended with a cough, and Rosabella, having
remarked the bright bloom on George's cheeks, snatched her poor little,
interesting skeleton of a child to her heart, and half smothered him
with the ardour of her kisses, and then burst into tears. I endeavoured
to console her with the assurance I felt, that Carlo only required air
and relaxation in order to recover his health.
"He shall have a week's holiday," said poor Rosabella, "and play with
your nephew all day long, merely to try its effect."
I interpreted what she said to my nephew, who immediately seized hold of
the delicate Carlo, saying, "Come along with me, little Boney. There's a
castor for you," taking up the child's large cocked hat, which was full
half as big as himself, and, pressing it down on his head by main force,
"one may see you're a Boney in a minute. Never mind. I won't be such a
coward as to leather you till you get stronger, for fear I should kill
you; so come with me my little fellow, and I will teach you to swim and
play at cricket."
"_Plait-t'il?_" said Carlo, raising his large languid eyes to George's
face from the pencil he was cutting.
"_Veux-tu jouer avec le petit Anglais, mon enfant?_" inquired Rosabella.
"_Volontiers,_" answered Carlo, throwing aside his pencil and gracefully
bowing to George, as he took off the huge military cocked hat, which
George had fastened tight on his head by dint of hard thumps on the top
of it with his fist.
"Come along," said George, dragging Carlo forward to the spacious
courtyard below.
The contrast which these two children of exactly the same age exhibited,
both in their characters and persons, was too striking to have been
overlooked, even by the most careless observer: for my part, it
furnished me with no inconsiderable source of amusement.
Rosabella and I were quietly taking our dessert together immediately
after our early dinner, when I was astonished by the re-appearance of
Meyler.
"What, returned already?" I exclaimed. "Why, I scarcely imagined that
you had sat down to table."
"I shall get into a nice scrape," answered Meyler. "Only fancy me, while
two of the royal family were present, jumping up actually in the middle
of dinner, merely using the words, 'a pain here,' and with my hand to my
head bolting out of the room?"
"What could induce you to be so very rude?" I inquired.
"Why, Lord Ebrington, who was to have dressed and met me at the door,
never made his appearance at dinner; I therefore took it for granted he
was coming here instead."
"You will have enough to do," said I, "if you have determined to turn
spy on either of our actions, after I have told you that I never shall
wish to live with you again. Now that you have thus insulted and
publicly neglected me, I must choose of two things, either to hate you
and be eternally in a passion with you, or to avoid your society. I
know you now, and your tastes and pursuits. Still we may continue on
friendly, good terms; but all illusion is destroyed."
This growing indifference on my part served to rouse the sluggish
disposition of Meyler. He was all attention and, what is still more
astonishing, he was now in high spirits.
Competition with a rival was what inspired him with most passion and
energy, he said, and nothing on earth made him half so much in love. He
loved to feel himself in a fever of doubt and agitation about a woman.
It was the only thing which kept him awake, made his blood circulate,
and did him good.
Rosabella took her leave soon after the return of Meyler, who was
so afraid of Ebrington making his appearance, that he feigned being
extremely indisposed, an excuse for inducing me to retire to rest
and shut up my doors for the night. The next morning I received the
following letter from my sister Fanny;
"MY DEAR HARRIETTE,--My journey to Paris is put off for the
present, and our dear mother will arrive without me, accompanied by
our brothers, George and Charles, with Jane, Charlotte and Rose.
My spirits are not at present equal to any sort of exertion. Parker
has inquired often, and kindly, after his child, and has twice been
to visit me; but I will not dwell on this melancholy subject. I am
writing in Parker's old bedroom. Methinks, the bed looks like a
tomb. However, reflection is all nonsense. I would fain tell you
something in the shape of news, but really, I scarcely ever leave
the house. Brummell's sun, they say, is setting, which, you'll
answer, was the story long ago; but, since that, I am told Brummell
won twenty thousand pounds, that is too now gone, and he is greatly
embarrassed. Poor Lord Alvanly they say is just in the same plight.
Napier's passion for Julia continues to increase. I will not call
it love or affection, else why does he with his twenty thousand a
year suffer her to be so shockingly distressed? On the very day you
left England, Julia had an execution in her house and the whole of
her furniture was seized. I really thought she would have destroyed
herself. I insisted on her going down to Mr. Napier at Melton by
that very night's mail, to whom I wrote, earnestly entreating him
to receive her with tenderness, such as the wretched state of her
mind required. A man of Mr. Napier's sanguine temperament was sure
to receive any fine woman with rapture, who came to him at Melton
Mowbray, where petticoats are so scarce and so dirty; but, if he
had really loved her, he surely would have immediately paid all her
debts, which do not amount to a thousand pounds, as well as ordered
her upholsterer to new-furnish her house.
"Would you believe it? Julia has returned with merely cash or
credit enough to procure little elegant necessaries for Napier's
dressing-room, and, for the rest, her drawing-room is covered
with a piece of green baize, and, in lieu of all her beautiful
little knick-knacks and elegant furniture, she has two chairs, an
old second-hand sofa, and a scanty, yellow cotton curtain. Her
own bed was not seized. It is now the only creditable piece of
furniture in the house of Napier's adored mistress, one of the
richest commoners in England, who is the father of her infant. I
except my own room of course, which has not been disturbed. Amy
thinks of going to Paris almost directly. Paget, as Lord of the
Treasury, must remain in London, and only pay her flying visits.
Nugent and Luttrell are also going. I suppose you know that your
prime favourite, Ward, went to the continent with Ebrington, and, I
understand, they go on to Italy together: that is to say, if they
continue to agree. Ward has been making love to me lately. The
other day, he said something to me which I fancied so truly harsh,
coarse, and indelicate, that it produced a violent hysterical
affection, which I found it impossible to subdue. The remarks I
made were certainly, as I conceive, what every female with the
least decency or delicacy must have made, _en pareil cas._
"Ward wanted me to submit to something I conceived improper.
When I refused, he said, with much fierceness of manner, such as
my present weak state of nerves made me ill able to bear, 'D----d
affectation.' I afterwards repeated every particular of what had
occurred to Ward's friend Luttrell, who frankly answered, with
his earnest serious face, 'It looks bad! 'tis a bad story. 'Twas
coarse and brutal! There's no excuse for inhumanity of manner or
expression, when applied to a woman!' Nugent tried to excuse him.
"'Ward,' said Nugent, 'is so clever that I respect him. He has
a bad temper, I confess: but for this there would be nothing to say
against him.'
"Sophia and Lord Berwick appear to go on in the old humdrum
way. Nobody visits them in their opera box, except our brother
John. In fact, I believe Lord Berwick will not permit them. Harry
De Roos declares Sophia to be most ridiculously jealous of her
sister Charlotte's beauty.
"'True,' said De Roos to me the other day, 'true, I fancy I
ought to have offered my arm to her ladyship one night, instead of
to Charlotte; but the latter was really so much handsomer, I could
not resist. The next day, I dined with Lord Berwick, and, after
dinner, placed myself by the side of her sister Charlotte, with
whom I took pleasure in conversing, of course, on common subjects.
Your mild sister Sophia fell into a violent rage, and began to blow
like a kitchen-maid. I was amused at this, and induced to increase
my attention to Charlotte. At length, Sophia's blood boiled over
all at once, and, bouncing towards me, she said, "Mr. De Roos, if
this is the kind of conduct, you mean to observe, we had better see
no more of you."
"'I answered very calmly, that her ladyship was certainly at
liberty to choose her own society, and requested she would permit
me to ring for a hackney-coach, since my own carriage was not
coming till late. Sophia's footman was a long while gone in search
of the coach, during which time I commenced a dead flirtation with
Charlotte on purpose to mortify her sister.'
"I must now conclude, my dear Harriette, whose happiness, I
sincerely pray for. Apropos, I had almost forgotten to tell you of
my new conquest of Lord Bective, who is really very humble, civil,
and attentive to me. I know you will arraign my taste, when I say I
rather like him: but then, you recollect, I always hated handsome
men.
"God bless you. I enclose a few lines for my poor boy, George,
and beg you to believe in the lasting affection of
"Your sister
"FANNY."
I had scarcely finished reading my letter when Lord Ebrington called on
me.
"You have behaved very ill to me," said his lordship.
I assured him it was not my fault; that I had frankly assured Meyler
that it would no longer suit me to continue on the same terms with him
in which we had formerly lived.
"But still you admit him, just as usual," retorted Ebrington.
"Because Meyler is so violent in his temper, and, just now, so uneasy in
his mind, which, added to his indifferent state of health, is more than
I can resist. Meyler will not remain long in France; but, while he is
here, my heart fails me when I attempt to turn him out of my house, and
he must be permitted to visit me; neither will I shock nor disgust him,
while he is in this constant and penitent humour, by allowing him to
find you so often here."
Ebrington, being very proud, did not show half the disappointment he
really felt. I refused to tell his lordship to which theatre I was going
in the evening, lest his visit to our private box should annoy poor
Meyler, for I still felt something like affection for him, although
I could never speak to him, or think of him, without getting into a
passion.
I was agreeably interrupted by a visit from my dear mother, accompanied
by my eldest sister, who was, I will not say, an old maid, and yet
she certainly was not a very young one. They had left my brothers and
sisters at their hotel, where they had arrived from England late the
night before. My poor mother looked remarkably well, and I was delighted
to have her in the same country with me. She had brought George
Woodcock's young sister, little Anney, with her. She was a fine healthy
child, of about eight years of age. Lord Ebrington was not presented
to them, and took his leave. I insisted on their bringing the whole
family to dinner, which they did. In the evening, they retired early.
I accompanied Meyler to a private box, which he had engaged for me, at
the French Opera House, where we had scarcely been seated half an hour,
when Lord Ebrington made his appearance, to the very evident annoyance
of Meyler, who looked at me reproachfully, as though he imagined his
lordship was there by my desire. I determined to set him right.
"Does your lordship always attend the French Opera?" I inquired, and I
was answered in the negative, and he frankly assured me that his visit
to that theatre was expressly to look for me. I asked him how he could
possibly know I was there.
"I have already visited almost all the theatres to-night," answered
Ebrington.
Meyler's feelings were for once stronger than even his fear of ridicule,
and he bounced out of my box, banging the door loudly after him.
Ebrington, instead of taking notice of this, took the opportunity of
our being _tête-à-tête_, to press me eagerly to appoint a time for his
seeing me again.
"How is it possible," I replied, "even if I wished it, since Meyler
will not absent himself an hour from me, unless it is to accompany you
somewhere? Meyler is very unhappy at your appearance in his box this
evening, which was certainly rather bold of you; and, further, I am
sorry, very sorry; for I know not how it is, but you certainly remind
me of Lord Ponsonby, in voice in manner and in person. Notwithstanding,
I positively mean to promise Meyler, this very evening, that, while he
continues faithful, and so attentive to me, as he has been for the last
few days, he shall not have his feelings and pride wounded by being
intruded upon by you."
Lord Ebrington reddened from mortified pride, as he said, with some
little affectation of indifference, while taking up his hat to depart,
"_Tu fera ce que tu voudra, ma belle Harriette,_" and he bowed himself
out of the box.
Little Meyler's very expressive face brightened into a glowing blush,
when I made a sign to him that Ebrington was gone; for he had placed
himself in an empty box on my left side, where he was watching me in a
very melancholy attitude, and whence he immediately joined me.
"Lord Ebrington shall not tease you any more," said I to him. "No
matter what my feelings may be, I prefer anything to giving pain to
the persons who appear to feel the least regard for me. Now the high
and mighty don, my Lord Ebrington, if he does feel for anything, or
anybody, conceals it so well by dint of sheer pride, that he seems a
very statue when he likes, although he certainly likes to be just the
reverse of this, when one gives him due encouragement. As for you, my
little honest sugar-baker, you are not ashamed of shedding tears and
acknowledging yourself unhappy about a woman; therefore I repeat you
shall be annoyed no more. I felt indignant at Lord Ebrington taking the
liberty of intruding himself into the private box you had hired for me,
and therefore took that opportunity to give him his _congé_."
Meyler seemed very grateful and excessively delighted.
"How did Ebrington like being _congédié?_" he inquired.
"Why, to tell the truth, I don't think he will die of it," I replied.
For another fortnight, during which I had not once heard of Ebrington
everything went on smoothly and charmingly. I could indeed never feel
what I had felt for Meyler; but his attentions were received with
gratitude, and I fancied that, if it were possible for him to continue
in good temper, I could yet make myself tolerably happy with him, as
often as I could drive his late, low and bare-faced intrigues out of my
head.
Ebrington, for what I knew, had again forgotten me; therefore, why in
the name of common sense should I remember one who, though handsome and
talented, proved himself at all times so very heartless.