Now for the visit to Hungerford Castle--a fine old place in a beautiful
park, which excelled many parks of greater extent by the uncommon size
of its venerable oaks. In the castle, which was sufficiently spacious to
accommodate with ease and perfect comfort the _troops of friends_ which
its owner’s beneficent character drew round her, there were apartments
that usually bore the name of some of those persons who were considered
as the most intimate friends of the family. The Percys were of this
number. They found their own rooms ready, the old servants of the house
rejoicing to see them again, and eager in offering their services. Many
things showed that they had been thought of, and expected; yet there was
nothing that could remind them that any change had taken place in their
fortune: no formal or peculiar civilities from the mistress of the
house, from her daughter, or nieces--neither more nor less attention
than usual; but by every thing that marked old habits of intimacy
and confidence, the Percys were, as if undesignedly and necessarily,
distinguished from other guests.
Of these the most conspicuous was the Lady Angelica Headingham.--Her
ladyship had lately come to a large estate, and had consequently
produced a great sensation in the fashionable world. During the early
part of her life she had been much and injudiciously restrained. The
moment the pressure was taken off, the spirit boiled with surprising
rapidity: immediately Lady Angelica Headingham shone forth a beauty,
a bel-esprit, and a patroness; and though she appeared as it were
_impromptu_ in these characters, yet, to do her justice, she supported
them with as much spirit, truth, and confidence, as if she had been
in the habit of playing them all her life, and as if she had trod the
fashionable stage from her teens. There was only one point in which,
perhaps, she erred: from not having been early accustomed to flattery,
she did not receive it with quite sufficient _nonchalance_. The
adoration paid to her in her triple capacity by crowds of worshippers
only increased the avidity of her taste for incense, to receive which
she would now and then stoop lower than became a goddess. She had not
yet been suspected of a real partiality for any of her admirers,
though she was accused of giving each just as much encouragement as was
necessary to turn his head. Of these admirers, two, the most eager and
earnest in the pursuit, had followed her ladyship to the country, and
were now at Hungerford Castle--Sir James Harcourt and Mr. Barclay.
Sir James Harcourt was remarkably handsome and fashionable--completely
a man of the world, and a courtier: who, after having ruined his fortune
by standing for government two contested county elections, had dangled
year after year at court, living upon the hope and promise of a pension
or a place, till his creditors warning him that they could wait no
longer, he had fallen in love with Lady Angelica Headingham. Her
ladyship’s other admirer, Mr. Barclay, was a man of considerable
fortune, of good family, and of excellent sense and character. He had
arrived at that time of life when he wished to settle to the quiet
enjoyment of domestic happiness; but he had seen so much misery arise
from unfortunate marriages among some of his particular friends, that he
had been afraid of forming any attachment, or, at least, engagement. His
acquaintance with fashionable life had still further rendered him averse
from matrimony; and from love he had defended himself with infinite
caution, and escaped, till in an unlucky moment he had met with Lady
Angelica. Against his better judgment, he had been captivated by her
charms and talents: his reason, however, still struggled with his
passion--he had never actually declared his love; but the lady knew it
probably better than he did, and her caprice and coquetry cost him many
an agonizing hour. All which he bore with the silence and patience of a
martyr.
When the Percy family saw Lady Angelica for the first time, she was in
all her glory--fresh from a successful toilette, conscious of renovated
powers, with an accumulated spirit of animation, and inspired by the
ambition to charm a new audience. Though past the bloom of youth,
she was a handsome showy woman, with the air of one who requires
and receives admiration. Her attitudes, her action, and the varied
expression she threw into her countenance, were more than the occasion
required, and rather too evidently designed to interest or to fascinate.
She was surrounded by a group of gentlemen; Sir James Harcourt, Mr.
Barclay, Mr. Seebright, a young poet; Mr. Grey, a man of science; and
others--_personnages muets_. Arduous as was the task, Lady Angelica’s
various powers and indefatigable exertion proved capable of keeping each
of these different minds in full play, and in high admiration.
Beauties are always curious about beauties, and wits about wits. Lady
Angelica had heard that one of the Miss Percys was uncommonly handsome.
Quick as eye could glance, her ladyship’s passed by Mrs. Percy and
Rosamond as they entered the room, fixed upon Caroline, and was
satisfied. There was beauty enough to alarm, but simplicity sufficient
to remove all fears of rivalship. Caroline entered, without any prepared
grace or practised smile, but merely as if she were coming into a room.
Her two friends, the Lady Pembrokes, instantly placed her between them,
her countenance expressing just what she felt, affectionate pleasure at
seeing them.
“A sweet pretty creature, really!” whispered Lady Angelica, to her
admirer in waiting, Sir James Harcourt.
“Ye--ye--yes; but nothing _marquante_,” replied Sir James.
Mr. Barclay’s eye followed, and fixed upon Caroline, with a degree of
interest. The room was so large, and they were at such a distance from
Caroline, who was now occupied in listening to her friends, that
Lady Angelica could continue her observations without fear of being
overheard.
“There is something so interesting in that air of simplicity!” pursued
her ladyship, addressing herself to Mr. Barclay. “Don’t you think there
is a wonderful charm in simplicity? ‘Tis a pity it can’t last: it is
like those delicate colours which always catch the eye the moment they
are seen, by which I’ve been taken in a hundred times, and have now
forsworn for ever--treacherous colours that fade, and fly even while you
look at them.”
“That is a pity,” said Mr. Barclay, withdrawing his eyes from Caroline.
“A thousand pities,” said Lady Angelica. “Perhaps, in the country, this
delicate charm might possibly, and with infinite care and caution, last
a few years, but in town it would not last a season.”
“True--too true,” said Mr. Barclay.
“For which reason,” pursued Lady Angelica, “give me something a little
more durable, something that can stand what it must meet with in the
world: fashion, for instance, though not half so charming till we are
used to it; or knowledge, though often dearly bought; or genius, though
doubly taxed with censure; or wit, though so hard to be had genuine--any
thing is better than a faded charm, a has-been-pretty simplicity.”
“When it comes to _that_, it is lamentable, indeed,” said Mr. Barclay.
He seemed to wish to say something more in favour of simplicity, but to
be overpowered by wit.
Sir James shrugged his shoulders, and protested that simplicity had
something too _fade_ in it, to suit his taste.
All this time, where was Colonel Hungerford? He had been expected to
arrive this day; but a letter came to tell his mother, that he was
detained by indispensable military business, and that, he feared, he
could not for some weeks have the pleasure of being at home. Every one
looked and felt disappointed.
“So,” thought Rosamond, “we shall be gone before he comes, and he will
not see Caroline!”
“So!” said Lady Angelica, to herself, “he will not see me.”
Rosamond was somewhat comforted for her disappointment, by observing
that Caroline was not quite lost upon Mr. Barclay, pre-occupied though
he was with his brilliant mistress. She thought he seemed to notice the
marked difference there was in their manner of passing the day.
Lady Angelica, though she would sometimes handle a pencil, touch the
harp, or take up a book, yet never was really employed. Caroline was
continually occupied. In the morning, she usually sat with Rosamond
and the two Lady Pembrokes, in a little room called _the Oriel_, which
opened into the great library. Here in happy retirement Caroline and
Rosamond looked over Mrs. Hungerford’s select library, and delighted
to read the passages which had been marked with approbation. At other
times, without disturbing the rest of the company, or being disturbed
by them, Caroline enjoyed the opportunity of cultivating her talents
for music and painting, with the assistance of her two friends, who
eminently excelled in these accomplishments.
All this time Lady Angelica spent in talking to show her wit, or
lounging to show her grace. Now and then her ladyship condescended to
join the young people, when they went out to walk, but never unless
they were attended by gentlemen. The beauties of nature have come
into fashion of late, and Lady Angelica Headingham could talk of bold
outlines, and sublime mountains, the charming effects of light and
shade, fine _accidents_, and rich foliage, spring verdure and autumnal
tints,--whilst Caroline could enjoy all these things, without expecting
to be admired for admiring them. Mrs. Mortimer was planting a new
shrubbery, and laying out a ride through the park. Caroline took
an unaffected interest in all her plans, whilst Lady Angelica was
interested only in showing how much she remembered of Price, and Repton,
and Knight. She became too hot or too cold, or she was tired to death,
the moment she ceased to be the principal object of attention. But
though her ladyship was thus idle by day, she sometimes worked hard by
night--hard as Butler is said to have toiled in secret, to support the
character of an idle universal genius, who knows every thing without
studying any thing. From dictionaries and extracts, abridgments and
_beauties_ of various authors, here, and there, and every where, she
picked up shining scraps, and often by an ostentation of superficial
knowledge succeeded in appearing in conversation to possess a vast
extent of literature, and to be deeply skilled in matters of science, of
which she knew nothing, and for which she had no taste.
Mr. Seebright, the poet, was easily duped by this display: he expressed
the most flattering astonishment, and pronounced her ladyship to be an
universal genius. He looked up to Lady Angelica for patronage. He was so
weak, or so ignorant of the world, as to imagine that the patronage of
a fashionable literary lady of high rank would immediately guide the
opinion of the public, and bring a poet forward to fortune and fame.
With these hopes he performed his daily, hourly duty of admiration to
his fair patroness, with all possible zeal and assiduity; but it was
observed by Rosamond that, in conversation, whenever Mr. Seebright had
a new idea or a favourite allusion to produce, his eye involuntarily
turned first to Caroline; and though he professed, on all points
of taste and criticism, to be implicitly governed by Lady Angelica
Headingham, there was “a small still voice” to which he more anxiously
listened.
As to Mr. Grey, the roan of science--he soon detected Lady Angelica’s
ignorance; smiled in silence at her blunders, and despised her for
her _arts of pretence_. In vain, to win his suffrage, she produced
the letters of various men of note and talent with whom she was in
correspondence; in vain she talked of all the persons of rank who were
her relations or dear friends:--she should be so happy to introduce him
to this great man, or to mention him to that great lady; she should
be so proud, on her return to town, to have Mr. Grey at her _esprit
parties_; she would have such and such celebrated characters to meet
him, and would have the pleasure and honour of introducing him to every
person worth knowing in town.
With all due civility Mr. Grey declined these offers. There were few
persons the pleasure or honour of whose company could compensate to
him for the loss of his time, or equal the enjoyment he had in his own
occupations; and those few he was so happy to have for his friends,
he did not wish to form new acquaintance--he never went to
_conversaziones_--he was much obliged to her ladyship, but he did not
want to be _mentioned_ to great men or great women. The nature of his
fame was quite independent of fashion.--In this respect men of science
have much the advantage of men of taste. Works of taste may, to
a certain degree, be _cried up_ or _cried down_ by fashion. The
full-fledged bard soars superior, and looks down at once upon the great
and little world; but the young poet, in his first attempts to rise, is
often obliged, or thinks himself obliged, to have his wing impelled by
patronage.
With all her resources, however, both of patronage and of _bel-esprit_,
Lady Angelica was equally surprised and mortified to find herself
foiled at her own arms, by a girl whom nobody knew. She changed her
manoeuvres--she thought she could show Miss Caroline Percy, that,
whatever might be her abilities, her knowledge, or her charms, these
must all submit to the superior power of fashion. Caroline having lived
in the country, could not know much of the world of fashion. This was a
world from which she thought she could move every other at pleasure. Her
conversation was no longer of books, of which all of equal talents were
competent to form a judgment; but her _talk_ was now of persons, with
whom no one who had not lived in the great world could pretend to be
acquainted, of whom they could not presume to judge. Her ladyship tried
in vain to draw Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. Mortimer to her aid; they were
too well-bred to encourage this exclusive and unprofitable conversation.
But her ladyship knew that she could be sufficiently supported by Sir
James Harcourt! He prided himself upon knowing and being known to _every
body_, that is, _any body_, in London; he had an inexhaustible fund of
town and court anecdote. What an auxiliary for Lady Angelica! But though
their combined operations were carried on with consummate skill, and
though the league offensive was strictly kept with every demonstration
of mutual amity that could excite jealousy or express contempt for
rival powers; yet the ultimate purpose was not gained--Caroline was
not mortified, and Mr. Barclay was not jealous; at least, he was not
sufficiently jealous to afford a clear triumph.
One morning, when she had been playing off all her graces, while Sir
James admired her in every Proteus form of affectation, Mr. Barclay, as
she thought, evidently pained by her coquetry, retired from the sofa,
where she sat, and went to Mrs. Hungerford’s table, where he took up
a book and began to read. Lady Angelica spared no art to distract his
attention: she contrived for herself an employment, which called forth
continual exclamations of admiration, joy, despair, which at first made
Mr. Barclay turn to see by what they could be caused; but when he found
that they were occasioned only by the rise or fall of a house of cards
which she was building, he internally said, “Pshaw!” and afterwards
kept his eyes fixed upon his book. Sir James continued to serve the fair
architect with the frail materials for her building--her _Folly_, as
she called it--and for his services he received much encouragement of
smiles, and many marked commendations. Mrs. Hungerford called upon Mr.
Barclay to read a favourite poem.
Mr. Barclay read remarkably well, and soon fixed the attention of all
the company, except that of Lady Angelica and her knight, Sir James
Harcourt, whom she detained in her service. She could not be so
flagrantly rude as to interrupt the reader by audible exclamations, but
by dumb-show, by a variety of gestures and pretty looks of delight at
every fresh story added to her card edifice, and at every motion of
terror lest her tower should fall, her ladyship showed Mr. Barclay
that she was not listening to that which she knew he was particularly
desirous that she should hear.
The moment the reader’s voice ceased, Lady Angelica approached the
table. “Ten millions of pardons!” said she, drawing some cards from
beneath Miss Caroline Percy’s elbow, which rested on them. “Unpardonable
wretch that I am, to have disturbed such a reverie--and such an
attitude! Mr. Barclay,” continued her ladyship, “now if you have leisure
to think of me, may I trouble you for some of your little cards for the
attic of my dear Folly?”
Mr. Barclay coolly presented the cards to her ladyship: then looked
out of the window, observed that his horse was at the door, and was
following Mr. Percy out of the room, when Lady Angelica, just as Mr.
Barclay passed, blew down her tower, and exclaimed, “There’s an end of
my folly--of one of my follies, I mean: I wish I could blow them all
away so easily.”
The sigh and look of penitence with which she pronounced these words
were accepted as expiation--Mr. Barclay stopped and returned; while
sweeping the wreck of her tower from the table, she repeated,
“Easy, as when ashore an infant stands,
And draws imagined houses on the sands,
The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play,
Sweeps the slight works and fancied domes away:
Thus vanish at thy touch the tow’rs and walls,
The toil of _mornings_ in a moment falls.”
“Beautiful lines!” said Mr. Barclay.
“And charmingly repeated,” said Sir James Harcourt: “are they your
ladyship’s own?”
“No; Homer’s,” said she, smiling; “Pope’s Homer’s, I mean.”
To cover his blunder as fast as possible, Sir James went on to something
else, and asked what her ladyship thought of Flaxman’s sketches from
the Iliad and Odyssey? He had seen the book lying on the library
table yesterday: indeed, his eye had been caught, as it lay open, by
a striking resemblance--he knew it was very rude to talk of
likenesses--but, really, the resemblance was striking between a lady
he had in his view, and one of the figures in Flaxman, of Venus, or
Penelope, he could not say which, but he would look for the book and see
in a moment.
The book was not to be found on the library table; Mrs. Hungerford said
she believed it was in the Oriel: Sir James went to look--Miss Caroline
Percy was drawing from it--that was unlucky, for Mr. Barclay followed,
stayed to admire Miss Percy’s drawings, which he had never seen before,
and in looking over these sketches of hers from Flaxman’s Homer, and
from Euripides and Æschylus, which the Lady Pembrokes showed him, and
in speaking of these, he discovered so much of Caroline’s taste,
literature, and feeling, that he could not quit the Oriel. Lady Angelica
had followed to prevent mischief, and Mrs. Hungerford had followed to
enjoy the pleasure of seeing Caroline’s modest merit appreciated. Whilst
Mr. Barclay admired in silence, Sir James Harcourt, not with his usual
politeness, exclaimed, “I protest I had no notion that Miss Caroline
Percy drew in this style!”
“That’s possible,” cried Lady Mary Pembroke, colouring with that prompt
indignation which she was prone to feel when any thing was said that
seemed derogatory to her friends, “that’s possible, Sir James; and yet
you find Miss Caroline Percy does draw in this very superior style--yes,
and it is the perfection of her accomplishments, that they are never
exhibited.”
“You have always the pleasure of discovering them,” said Mrs.
Hungerford; “they are as a woman’s accomplishments and acquirements
ought to be, more retiring than obtrusive; or as my old friend, Dr.
South, quaintly but aptly expresses it--more in intaglio than in cameo.”
At this instant a sudden scream was heard from Lady Angelica Headingham,
who caught hold of Mr. Barclay’s arm, and writhed as if in agony.
“Good Heavens! What is the matter?” cried Mr. Barclay.
“Oh! cramp! cramp! horrid cramp! in my foot--in my leg!”
“Rest upon me,” said Mr. Barclay, “and stretch your foot out.”
“Torture!--I can’t.” It was impossible that she could stand without the
support of both gentlemen.
“Carry me to the sofa--there!”
When they had carried her out of the Oriel to the sofa in the library,
and when her ladyship found that she had excited sufficient interest,
and drawn the attention of Mr. Barclay away from Caroline, her ladyship
began to grow a little better, and by graceful degrees recovered the use
of her pretty limbs. And now, as she had reason to be satisfied with the
degree of feeling which Mr. Barclay had involuntarily shown for her
when he thought she was suffering, if her vanity had had any touch of
gratitude or affection mixed with it, she would not have taken this
moment to torment the heart of the man--the only man who ever really
loved her; but all in her was vanity: she began to coquet with Sir James
Harcourt--she let him put on her sandal and tie its strings--she sent
him for her shawl, for she had a mind to walk in the park--and when Mr.
Barclay offered to attend her, and when she found that Caroline and the
Lady Pembrokes were going, she had a mind not to go, and she resolved to
detain them all in admiration of her. She took her shawl from Sir James,
and throwing it round her in graceful drapery, she asked him if he
had ever seen any of Lady Hamilton’s attitudes, or rather scenic
representations with shawl drapery.
Yes, he had; but he should be charmed to see them in perfection from her
ladyship.
Notwithstanding the hint Mrs. Hungerford had given about _exhibiting_,
and notwithstanding Mr. Barclay’s grave looks, Lady Angelica, avowedly
to please Sir James Harcourt, consented to give the exhibition of the
passions. She ran into the Oriel--attired herself in a most appropriate
manner, and appeared first in the character of Fear--then of Hope: she
acted admirably, but just as
“Hope enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair,”
her ladyship’s auburn tresses caught on some ornament in the room. The
whole fabric was raised a little from the fair head on which it
seemed to grow--Caroline sprang forward instantly, and dexterously
disentangling the accomplished actress, relieved her from this imminent
and awkward peril.
“I am sure I’m exceedingly obliged to Miss Caroline Percy,” said
her ladyship, adjusting her head-dress. “There, now, all’s right
again--thank you, Miss Percy--don’t trouble yourself, pray.”
The heartless manner of these thanks, and her ladyship’s preparing to go
on again with her exhibition, so displeased and disgusted Mr. Barclay,
that he left her to the flattery of Sir James Harcourt, and, sighing
deeply, quitted the room.
Lady Angelica, proud of showing her power of tormenting a man of
his sense, smiled victorious; and, in a half whisper, said to Mrs.
Hungerford, “Exit Mr. Barclay, jealous, because he thinks I did the
shawl attitudes for Sir James, and not for him--Poor man! he’s very
angry; but he’ll ride it off--or I’ll smile it off.”
Mrs. Hungerford shook her head. When her ladyship’s exhibition had
finished, and when Sir James had continued repeating, either with his
words or his looks, “Charming! Is not she charming?” till the time of
dressing, an hour to which he was always punctual, he retired to his
toilette, and Lady Angelica found herself alone with Mrs. Hungerford.
“Oh! how tired I am!” cried her ladyship, throwing herself on a sofa
beside her. “My spirits do so wear me out! I am sure I’m too much for
you, Mrs. Hungerford; I am afraid you think me a strange wild creature:
but, dear madam, why do you look so grave?”
“My dear Lady Angelica Headingham,” said Mrs. Hungerford, in a serious
but affectionate tone, laying her hand upon Lady Angelica’s as she
spoke, “I was, you know, your mother’s most intimate friend--I wish to
be yours. Considering this and my age, I think I may venture to speak
to you with more freedom than any one else now living could with
propriety--it grieves me to see such a woman as you are, being spoiled
by adulation.”
“Thank you, my dear Mrs. Hungerford! and now do tell me all my faults,”
said Lady Angelica: “only first let me just say, that if you are going
to tell me that I am a coquette, and a fool, I know I am--both--and I
can’t help it; and I know I am what some people call _odd_--but I would
not for the world be a common character.”
“Then you must not be a coquette,” said Mrs. Hungerford, “for that _is_
common character--the hackneyed character of every play, of every novel.
And whatever is common is vulgar, you know: airs and affectation are
common and paltry--throw them aside, my dear Lady Angelica; disdain
flattery, prove that you value your own esteem above vulgar admiration,
and then, with such beauty and talents as you possess, you may be what
you admire, an uncommon character.”
“_May_be!” repeated Lady Angelica in a voice of vexation. “Well, I know
I have a hundred faults; but I never before heard any body, friend or
enemy, deny that I _am_ an uncommon character. Now, Mrs. Hungerford, do
you know any one of a more uncommon character?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling, “I know the thing that’s most
uncommon,
‘I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.’”
“Oh! your friend, Miss Caroline Percy, I suppose. Well! though she is
so great a favourite of yours, I must say that, to my fancy, she is as
little of an uncommon character as any girl I ever saw--uncommon beauty,
I acknowledge, she has, though not the style of face I like.”
“And an uncommonly good understanding, without one grain of envy,
affectation, or vanity,” said Mrs. Hungerford.
“Vanity!--Stay till you see her tried,” said Lady Angelica; “stay till
she has gone through one winter’s campaign in London; stay till she has
as many admirers as--”
“As you have,” said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling. “She seems to be in a fair
way of soon trying that experiment to your satisfaction.”
A considerable pause ensued; during which many conflicting passions
appeared in Lady Angelica’s countenance.
“After all, Mrs. Hungerford,” resumed she, “do you think Mr. Barclay is
really attached to me?”
“I think he _was_ really attached to you, and strongly: but you have
been doing all you can to weaken and destroy his attachment, I fear.”
“Fear nothing! I fear nothing,” exclaimed Lady Angelica, “now you tell
me, dear Mrs. Hungerford, that you do not doubt the _reality_ of his
love: all the rest I will answer for--trust to me, I know my game.”
Mrs. Hungerford sighed; and replied, “I am old, have stood by, and
seen this game played and lost so often, and by as able players as Lady
Angelica Headingham--take care--remember I warn you.”
Miss Caroline Percy came into the room at this instant--Lady Angelica
went to her toilette to repair her charms.