Pelham — Complete
Page 71
CHAPTER LXXI.
Nocet empta dolore voluptas.--Ovid.
The FIRST person I saw at the Duke of--'s was Mr. Mivart--he officiatedas gentleman usher: the SECOND was my mother--she was, as usual,surrounded by men, "the shades of heroes that have been," remnants ofa former day, when the feet of the young and fair Lady Frances wereas light as her head, and she might have rivalled in the science de ladanse, even the graceful Duchess of B--d. Over the dandies of her owntime she still preserved her ancient empire; and it was amusing enoughto hear the address of the ci-devant jeunes hommes, who continued,through habit, the compliments began thirty years since, throughadmiration.
My mother was, indeed, what the world calls a very charming, agreeablewoman. Few persons were more popular in society; her manners wereperfection--her smile enchantment; she lived, moved, breathed, only forthe world, and the world was not ungrateful for the constancy of herdevotion. Yet, if her letters have given my readers any idea of hercharacter, they will perceive that the very desire of supremacy in ton,gave (God forgive my filial impiety!) a sort of demi-vulgarism to herideas; for they who live wholly for the opinion of others, always wantthat self-dignity which alone confers a high cast to the sentiments;and the most really unexceptionable in mode, are frequently the leastgenuinely patrician in mind.
I joined the maternal party, and Lady Frances soon took an opportunityof whispering, "You are looking very well, and very handsome; I declareyou are not unlike me, especially about the eyes. I have just heard thatMiss Glanville will be a great heiress, for poor Sir Reginaldcannot live much longer. She is here to-night; pray do not lose theopportunity."
My cheek burnt like fire at this speech, and my mother, quietlyobserving that I had a beautiful colour, and ought therefore immediatelyto find out Miss Glanville, lest it should vanish by the least delay,turned from me to speak of a public breakfast about shortly to begiven. I passed into the dancing-room; there I found Vincent; he was inunusually good spirits.
"Well," said he, with a sneer, "you have not taken your seat yet. Isuppose Lord Dawton's representative, whose place you are to supply, islike Theseus, sedet eternumque sedebit. A thousand pities you can'tcome in before next week; we shall then have fiery motions in the LowerHouse, as the astrologers say."
I smiled. "Ah, mon cher!" said I, "Sparta hath many a worthier son thanme! Meanwhile, how get on the noble Lords Lesborough and Lincoln? 'suresuch a pair were never seen, so justly formed to meet by nature!'"
"Pooh!" said Vincent, coarsely, "they shall get on well enough, beforeyou get in. Look to yourself, and remember that 'Caesar plays theingrate.'"
Vincent turned away; my eyes were rivetted on the ground; the beautifulLady--passed by me; "What, you in a reverie?" said she, laughing; "ourvery host will turn thoughtful next!"
"Nay," said I, "in your absence would you have me glad? However, ifMoore's mythology be true--Beauty loves Folly the better for borrowingsomething from Reason; but, come, this is a place not for the grave, butthe giddy. Let us join the waltzers."
"I am engaged."
"I know it! do you think I would dance with any woman who was notengaged?--there would be no triumph to one's vanity in that case.Allons, ma belle, you must prefer me to an engagement;" and so saying, Iled off my prize.
Her intended partner was Mr. V--; just as we had joined the dancers, hespied us out, and approached with his long, serious, respectful face;the music struck up, and the next moment poor V. was very nearly struckdown. Fraught with the most political spite, I whirled up against him;apologized with my blandest smile, and left him wiping his mouth, andrubbing his shoulder, the most forlorn picture of Hope in adversity,that can possibly be conceived.
I soon grew wearied of my partner, and leaving her to fate, rambled intoanother room. There, seated alone, was Lady Roseville. I placed myselfbeside her; there was a sort of freemasonry between her and myself; eachknew something more of the other than the world did, and we read hisor her heart, by other signs than words. I soon saw that she was in nomirthful mood; so much the better--she was the fitter companion for abaffled aspirant like me.
The room we were in was almost deserted, and finding ourselvesuninterrupted, the stream of our conversation flowed into sentiment.
"How little," said Lady Roseville, "can the crowd know of theindividuals who compose it. As the most opposite colours may be blendedinto one, and so lose their individual hues, and be classed under asingle name, so every one here will go home, and speak of the 'gayscene,' without thinking for a moment how many breaking hearts may havecomposed it."
"I have often thought," said I, "how harsh we are in our judgments ofothers--how often we accuse those persons of being worldly, who merelyseem so to the world; who, for instance, that saw you in your brightestmoments, would ever suppose that you could make the confession you havejust made?"
"I would not make such a confession to many beside yourself," answeredLady Roseville; "nay, you need not thank me. I am some years older thanyou; I have lived longer in the world; I have seen much of its variouscharacters; and my experience has taught me to penetrate and prize acharacter like yours. While you seem frivolous to the superficial, Iknow you to have a mind not only capable of the most solid and importantaffairs, but habituated by reflection to consider them. You appeareffeminate, I know that none are more daring--indolent, none are moreactively ambitious--utterly selfish, and I know that no earthly interestcould bribe you into meanness or injustice--no, nor even into a venialdereliction of principle. It is from this estimate of your character,that I am frank and open to you. Besides, I recognize something in thecareful pride with which you conceal your higher and deeper feelings,resembling the strongest actuating principle in my own mind. Allthis interests me warmly in your fate; may it be as bright as mypresentiments forebode."
I looked into the beautiful face of the speaker as she concluded;perhaps, at that solitary moment, my heart was unfaithful to Ellen; butthe infidelity passed away like the breath from the mirror. Coxcomb asI was, I knew well how passionless was the interest expressed for me.Libertine as I had been, I knew, also, how pure may be the friendship ofa woman, provided she loves another.
I thanked Lady Roseville, warmly, for her opinion, "Perhaps," I added,"dared I solicit your advice, you would not find me wholly undeservingof your esteem."
"My advice," answered Lady Roseville, "would be, indeed, worse thanuseless, were it not regulated by a certain knowledge which, perhaps,you do not possess. You seem surprised. Eh bien; listen to me--areyou not in no small degree lie with Lord Dawton?--do you not expectsomething from him worthy of your rank and merit?"
"You do, indeed, surprise me," said I. "However close my connection withLord Dawton may be, I thought it much more secret than it appears tobe. However, I own that I have a right to expect from Lord Dawton,not, perhaps, a recompense of service, but, at least, a fulfilment ofpromises. In this expectation I begin to believe I shall be deceived."
"You will!" answered Lady Roseville. "Bend your head lower--the wallshave ears. You have a friend, an unwearied and earnest friend, withthose now in power; directly he heard that Mr. V--was promised theborough, which he knew had been long engaged to you, he went straight toLord Dawton. He found him with Lord Clandonald; however, he opened thematter immediately. He spoke with great warmth of your claims--he didmore--he incorporated them with his own, which are of no mean order, andasked no other recompense for himself than the fulfilment of a longmade promise to you. Dawton was greatly confused, and Lord Clandonaldreplied, for him, that certainly there was no denying your talents--thatthey were very great--that you had, unquestionably, been of much serviceto their party, and that, consequently, it must be politic to attach youto their interests; but that there was a certain fierte, and assumption,and he might say (mark the climax) independence about you, which couldnot but be highly displeasing in one so young; moreover, that it wasimpossible to trust to you--that you pledged yourself to no party--thatyou spoke only of conditions and terms--that you treated
the proposalof placing you in parliament rather as a matter of favour on your part,than on Lord Dawton's--and, in a word, that there was no relying uponyou. Lord Dawton then took courage, and chimed in with a long panegyricon V--, and a long account of what was due to him, and to the zealof his family, adding, that in a crisis like this, it was absolutelynecessary to engage a certain, rather than a doubtful and undecidedsupport; that, for his part, if he placed you in parliament, he thoughtyou quite as likely to prove a foe as a friend; that, owing to themarriage of your uncle, your expectations were by no means commensuratewith your presumption, and that the same talents which made your claimsto favour, as an ally, created also no small danger in placing you inany situation where you could become hurtful as an enemy. All this,and much more to the same purpose, was strenuously insisted upon by theworthy pair; and your friend was obliged to take his leave, perfectlyconvinced that, unless you assumed a more complaisant bearing, or gavea more decided pledge, to the new minister, it was hopeless for you toexpect any thing from him, at least, for the present. The fact is, hestands too much in awe of you, and would rather keep you out of theHouse than contribute an iota towards obtaining you a seat. Upon allthis, you may rely as certain."
"I thank you from my heart," said I, warmly, seizing and pressing LadyRoseville's hand. "You tell me what I have long suspected; I am now uponmy guard, and they shall find that I can offend as well as defend. Butit is no time for me to boast; oblige me by informing me of the name ofmy unknown friend; I little thought there was a being in the world whowould stir three steps for Henry Pelham."
"'That friend," replied Lady Roseville, with a faltering voice and aglowing cheek, "was Sir Reginald Glanville."
"What!" cried I, "repeat the name to me again, or--" I paused, andrecovered myself. "Sir Reginald Glanville," I resumed haughtily, "is toogracious to enter into my affairs. I must be strangely altered if I needthe officious zeal of any intermeddler to redress my wrongs."
"Nay, Mr. Pelham," said the countess, hastily, "you do Glanville--you doyourself injustice. For him, there never passes a day in which he doesnot mention you with the highest encomiums and the most affectionateregard. He says, of late, that you have altered towards him, but that hedoes not blame you--he never mentions the cause; if I am not intruding,suffer me to inquire into it; perhaps (oh! how happy it would make me)I may be able to reconcile you; if you knew--if you could but guess halfof the noble and lofty character of Reginald Glanville, you would sufferno petty difference to divide you."
"It is no petty difference," said I, rising, "nor am I permitted tomention the cause. Meanwhile, may God bless you, dearest Lady Roseville,and preserve that kind and generous heart from worse pangs than those ofdisappointed ambition, or betrayed trust."
Lady Roseville looked down--her bosom heaved violently; she felt themeaning of my words. I left her and St. J--'s Square. I returned home tocourt sleep as vainly as the monarch in the tragedy, and exclaim as idlyas the peasant in the farce, "Oh! that there were no House of Commons inthe world!"