_ CHAPTER XXVIII
The theatre at Falconer-court was not very spacious, but it was elegantly fitted up, extremely well lighted, and had a good effect. There was a brilliant audience, an excellent band of music, and the whole had a gay and festive appearance.
The Percy family, as they came from a great distance, were late. The house was crowded. Mrs. Falconer was obliged to seat Mrs. Percy and her daughters with the Lady Arlingtons on a bench upon the stage: a conspicuous situation, which had been reserved for their ladyships.
Every eye instantly turned upon the beautiful Caroline. She bore the gaze of public admiration with a blushing dignity, which interested every body in her favour. Count Altenberg, who had anxiously expected the moment of her arrival, was, however, upon his guard. Knowing that he was watched by Mrs. Falconer's friends, he was determined that his secret thoughts should not be seen. One involuntary glance he gave, but immediately withdrew his eye, and continued his conversation with the gentleman next to him. After a few moments had elapsed, he could indulge himself in looking at Caroline unobserved, for the gaze of public admiration is as transient as it is eager. It is surprising how short a time any face, however beautiful, engages numbers who meet together to be seen.
The audience were now happily full of themselves, arranging their seats, and doing civilities to those of their friends who were worthy of notice.
"Lady Trant! won't your ladyship sit in the front row?"
"I'm vastly well, thank you."
"Lady Kew, I am afraid you won't see over my head."
"Oh! I assure you--perfectly--perfectly."
"Colonel Spandrill, I'll trouble you--my shawl."
"Clay, lend me your opera-glass.--How did you leave all at Bath?"
"I'm so glad that General Petcalf's gout in his stomach did not carry him off--for young Petcalf could not have acted, you know, to-night.--Mrs. Harcourt is trying to catch your eye, Lady Kew."
All those who were new to the theatre at Falconer-court, or who were not intimate with the family, were in great anxiety to inform themselves on one important point, before the prologue should begin. Stretching to those who were, or had the reputation of being, good authorities, they asked in whispers, "Do you know if there is to be any clapping of hands?--Can you tell me whether it is allowable to say any thing?"
It seems that at some private theatres loud demonstrations of applause were forbidden. It was thought more genteel to approve and admire in silence,--thus to draw the line between professional actors and actresses, and gentlemen and lady performers. Upon trial, however, in some instances, it had been found that the difference was sufficiently obvious, without marking it by any invidious distinction. Young and old amateurs have acknowledged, that the silence, however genteel, was so dreadfully awful, that they preferred even the noise of vulgar acclamations.
The cup of flattery was found so sweet, that objections were no longer made to swallowing it in public.
The overture finished, the prologue, which was written by Mr. Seebright, was received with merited applause. And, after a buzz of requests and promises for copies, the house was silent--the curtain drew up, and the first appearance of Zara, in the delicate sentimental blue satin, was hailed with plaudits, long and loud--plaudits which were reiterated at the end of her first speech, which was, indeed, extremely well recited. Count Altenberg leaned forward, and seemed to listen with delight; then stood up, and several times renewed his plaudits; at first, with an appearance of timidity, afterwards, with decision and energy. Miss Georgiana Falconer really acted uncommonly well, so that he could without flattery applaud; and if he did exaggerate a little in the expression of his admiration, he deemed it allowable. He had another object: he was absolutely determined to see whether or not Caroline was capable of the mean passions which had disgusted him in her rival. He reflected that he had seen her only when she was triumphant; and he was anxious to know how she would appear in different circumstances. Of her high intellectual endowments he could not doubt; but temper is not always a blessing given to the fair, or even to the wise. It may seem strange that a gallant man should think of a beauty's temper; and, probably, if Count Altenberg had considered Caroline only as a beauty, he would not have troubled himself to make, on this point, any severe and dangerous scrutiny.
The play went on--Zara sustaining the interest of the scene. She was but feebly supported by the sulky Selima, and the other parts were but ill performed. The faults common to unpractised actors occurred: one of Osman's arms never moved, and the other sawed the air perpetually, as if in pure despite of Hamlet's prohibition. Then, in crossing over, Osman was continually entangled in Zara's robe; or, when standing still, she was obliged to twitch her train thrice before she could get it from beneath his leaden feet. When confident that he could repeat a speech fluently, he was apt to turn his back upon his mistress; or, when he felt himself called upon to listen to his mistress, he would regularly turn his back upon the audience. But all these are defects permitted by the licence of a private theatre, allowable by courtesy to gentlemen-actors; and things went on as well as could be expected. Osman had not his part by heart, but still Zara covered all deficiencies: and Osman did no worse than other Osmans had done before him, till he came to the long speech, beginning with,
"The sultans, my great ancestors, bequeath'd
Their empire to me, but their tastes they gave not."
Powerful prompting got him through the first six lines decently enough, till he came to
--"wasting tenderness in wild profusion,
I might look down to my surrounded feet,
And bless contending beauties,"
At this he bungled sadly--his hearing suddenly failing as well as his memory, there was a dead stop. In vain the prompter, the scene-shifter, the candle-snuffer, as loud as they could, and much louder than they ought, reiterated the next sentence,
"I might speak,
Serenely slothful."
It was plain that Osman could not speak, nor was he "serene." He had begun, as in dangers great he was wont, to kick his left ankle-bone rapidly with his right heel; and through the pomp of Osman's oriental robes and turban young Petcalf stood confessed. He threw back an angry look at the prompter--Zara terrified, gave up all for lost--the two Lady Arlingtons retreated behind the scenes to laugh--the polite audience struggled not to smile. Count Altenberg at this moment looked at Caroline, who, instead of joining in the laugh, showed by her countenance and manner the most good-natured sympathy.
Zara, recovering her presence of mind, swept across the stage in such a manner as to hide from view her kicking sultan; and as she passed, she whispered the line to him so distinctly, that he caught the sound, left off kicking, went on with his speech, and all was well again. Count Altenberg forgot to join in the cheering plaudits, he was so much charmed at that instant by Caroline's smile.
Fortunately for Zara, and for the audience, in the next scenes the part of Lusignan was performed by a gentleman who had been well used to acting--though he was not a man of any extraordinary capacity, yet, from his
habit of the boards, and his being perfect in his part, he now seemed quite a superior person. It was found unaccountably easier to act with this son of labour than with any other of the gentlemen-performers, though they were all natural geniuses.
The moment Zara appeared with Lusignan, her powers shone forth--nothing spoiled the illusion, the attention of the audience was fixed, their interest was sustained, their feelings touched. The exercise of the fan ceased in the front rows, glasses of lemonade were held untasted, and nobody consulted the play-bill. Excited by success, sympathy, and applause the most flattering, Zara went on with increasing eclat.
Meanwhile the Percy family, who were quite intent upon the play, began to find their situation disagreeable from some noise behind the scenes. A party of ladies, among whom was Lady Frances Arlington, stood whispering so loud close to Caroline that their voices were heard by her more distinctly than those of the actors. Lady Frances stood half hid between the side scenes, holding a little white dog in her arms.
"Hush!" cried her ladyship, putting her fingers on her lips--her companions became silent instantly. The house was now in profound attention. Zara was in the midst of her favourite speech,
"Would you learn more, and open all my heart?
Know then that, spite of this renew'd injustice,
I do not--cannot--wish to love you less;
--That long before you look'd so low as Zara,
She gave her heart to Osman."
At the name of
Osman, the dog started and struggled--Lady Frances appeared to restrain him, but he ran on the stage--leaped up on Zara--and at the repetition of the name of
Osman sat down on his hind legs, begged with his fore-paws, and began to whine in such a piteous manner that the whole audience were on the brink of laughter--Zara, and all her attendants and friends, lost their presence of mind.
Caroline sprang forward quite across the stage, caught the dog in her arms, and carried him off. Count Altenberg, no longer master of himself, clapped his hands, and the whole house resounded with applause.
Miss Georgiana Falconer misunderstood the cause of the plaudits, imagined that she was
encored, cast down her eyes, and, as soon as there was silence, advanced and recommenced her speech, of which Count Altenberg did not hear one word.
This malicious trick had been contrived by Lady Frances Arlington, to revenge herself on Miss Georgiana Falconer for having prevented her from taking a part in the play. Her ladyship had, in the course of the rehearsals, privately drilled her dog to answer to the name of Osman, when that name was pronounced in Zara's tragic tone. The dog had been kept out of the way till Zara was in the midst of that speech in which she calls repeatedly on the name of Osman. This trick had been so well contrived, that all but those who were in the secret imagined that the appearance of the dog at this unlucky moment had been accidental. The truth began indeed to be soon whispered in confidence.
But to return to Count Altenberg. At the commencement of the play, when the idea of trying Caroline's temper had occurred to him, he had felt some anxiety lest all the high expectations he had formed, all the bright enchantment, should vanish. In the first act, he had begun by joining timidly in the general applause of Zara, dreading lest Caroline should not be blessed with that temper which could bear the praises of a rival "with unwounded ear." But the count applauded with more confidence in the second act; during the third was quite at his ease; and in the fifth could not forgive himself for having supposed it possible that Caroline could be liable to any of the foibles of her sex.
In the mean time Miss Georgiana Falconer, in high spirits, intoxicated with vanity, was persuaded that the Count had returned to his senses; and so little did she know of his character, or of the human heart, as to expect that a declaration of love would soon follow this public profession of admiration. Such was the confusion of her ideas, that she was confident Zara was on the point of becoming Countess of Altenberg.
After the play was over, and a thousand compliments had been paid and received, most of the company called for their carriages. The house emptied fast: there remained only a select party, who were to stay supper. They soon adjourned to the green-room to repeat their tribute of applause to the actors. High in the midst stood Miss Georgiana Falconer, receiving incense from & crowd of adorers. As Count Altenberg approached, she assumed a languishing air of softness and sensibility. The Count said all that could reasonably be expected, but his compliments did not seem quite to satisfy the lady. She was in hopes that he was going to say something more to her taste, when French Clay pressed forward, which he did with an air neither French nor English. He protested that he could not have conceived it possible for the powers of any actress upon earth to interest him for the English Zara; "but you, madam," said he, "have done the impossible; and now I should die content, if I could see your genius do justice to Zaire. How you would shine in the divine original, when you could do such wonders for a miserable translation!"
Several gentlemen, and among others Mr. Percy, would not allow that the English translation deserved to be called miserable. "The wrong side of the tapestry we cannot expect should be quite equal to the right side." said he: "Voltaire pointed out a few odds and ends here and there, which disfigured the work, and required to be cut off; but upon the whole, if I recollect, he was satisfied with the piece, and complimented Mr. Hill upon having preserved the general design, spirit, and simplicity of the original."
"Mere politeness in M. de Voltaire!" replied French Clay; "but, in effect, Zaire is absolutely incapable of any thing more than being
done into English. For example, will any body have the goodness to tell me," said he, looking round, and fixing his look of appeal on Miss Caroline Percy, "how would you translate the famous '
Zaire!--vous pleurez!"
"Is not it translated," said Caroline, "by 'Zara! you weep?'"
"Ah!
pardonnez moi!" cried French Clay, with a shrug meant to be French, but which English shoulders could not cleverly execute--"
Ah! pardonnez! to my ears now that says nothing."
"To our feelings it said a great deal just now," said Caroline, looking at Zara in a manner which was lost upon her feelings, but not upon Count Altenberg's.
"Ah! indubitably I admit," cried Mr. Clay, "
la beaute est toujours dans son pays, and tears fortunately need no translation; but when we come to words, you will allow me, ma'am, that the language of fine feeling is absolutely untranslateable,
untransfusible."
Caroline seemed to wish to avoid being drawn forward to farther discussion, but Mr. Clay repeated, in a tone of soft condescension, "Your silence flatters me with the hope, ma'am, that we agree?"
Caroline could not submit to this interpretation of her silence, and blushing, but without being disconcerted, she answered, that she had always heard, and believed, it was the test of true feeling, as of true wit, that it can be easily understood, and that its language is universal.
"If I had ever doubted that truth," said Count Altenberg, "I should have been convinced of it by what I have seen and heard this night."
Miss Georgiana Falconer bowed her head graciously to the Count, and smiled, and sighed. Lady Frances Arlington and Rosamond smiled at the same moment, for they perceived by the universal language of the eye, that what Count Altenberg said was not intended for the lady who took it so decidedly to herself. This was the second time this night that Miss Georgiana Falconer's vanity had appropriated to herself a compliment in which she had no share. Yet, even at this moment, which, as she conceived, was a moment of triumph, while she was encircled by adorers, while the voice of praise yet vibrated in her ears, she felt anguish at perceiving the serenity of her rival's countenance; and, however strange it may appear, actually envied Caroline for not being envious.
Mrs. Falconer, skilled in every turn of her daughter's temper, which she was now obliged to follow and humour, or dexterously to counteract, lest it should ruin all schemes for her establishment, saw the cloud gathering on Zara's brow, and immediately fixed the attention of the company upon the beauty of her dress and the fine folds of her velvet train. She commenced lamentations on the difference between English and French velvets. French Clay, as she had foreseen, took up the word, and talked of
velvets till supper was announced.
When Mrs. Falconer attended Lady Trant and Lady Kew to their rooms, a nocturnal conference was held in Lady Trant's apartment, where, of course, in the most confidential manner, their ladyships sat talking over the events of the day, and of some matters too interesting to be spoken of in general society. They began to congratulate Mrs. Falconer upon the impression which Zara had made on Count Altenberg; but the wily mother repressed their premature felicitations. She protested she was positively certain that the person in question had
now no thoughts of Georgiana, such as their ladyships' partiality to her might lead them to suppose; and now, when the business was over, she might venture to declare that nothing could have persuaded her to let a daughter of hers marry a foreigner. She should have been sorry to give offence to such an amiable and well-informed young nobleman; and she really rejoiced that, if her sentiments had been, as no doubt by a person of his penetration they must have been, discovered, Count Altenberg had taken the hint without being offended: indeed, she had felt it a point of conscience to let the truth be seen time enough, to prevent his coming to a downright proposal, and having the mortification of an absolute refusal. Other mothers, she knew, might feel differently about giving a daughter to a foreigner, and other young ladies might feel differently from her Georgiana. Where there was so great an establishment in prospect, and rank, and fashion, and figure, to say nothing of talents, it could hardly be expected that such temptations should be resisted in a
certain family, where it was so very desirable, and indeed necessary, to get a daughter married without a portion. Mrs. Falconer declared that on every account she should rejoice, if things should happen to turn out so. The present object was every way worthy, and charming. She was a young lady for whom, even from the little she had seen of her, she confessed she felt uncommonly interested--putting relationship out of the question.
Thus having with able generalship secured a retreat for herself and for her daughter, Mrs. Falconer retired to rest.
Early the next morning one of Lord Oldborough's grooms brought a note for Mr. Percy. Commissioner Falconer's confidential servant took the note immediately up to his master's bedchamber, to inquire whether it would be proper to waken Mr. Percy to give it to him, or to make the groom wait till Mr. Percy should come down to breakfast.
The commissioner sat up in his bed, rubbed his eyes, read the direction of the note, many times turned and returned it, and desired to see the man who brought it. The groom was shown in.
"How is my lord's gout?"
"Quite well, sir: my lord was out yesterday in the park--both a horseback and afoot."
"I am very happy to hear it. And pray, did any despatches come last night from town, can you tell, sir?"
"I really can't particularly say, sir--I was out with the horses."
"But about this note?" said the commissioner.
The result of the cross-examination that followed gave reason to believe that the note contained an invitation to breakfast, because he had heard Mr. Rodney, my lord's own gentleman, tell the man whose business it was to attend at breakfast, that my lord would breakfast in his own room, and expected a friend to breakfast with him.
"A friend--Hum! Was there no note to me?--no message?"
"None, sir--as I know."
"Very extraordinary." Mr. Falconer inclined to keep the man till breakfast-time, but he would not be kept--he had orders to return with an answer immediately; and he had been on the fidgets all the time the commissioner had been detaining him; for Lord Oldborough's messengers could nut venture to delay. The note was consequently delivered to Mr. Percy immediately, and Mr. Percy went to breakfast at Clermont-park. The commissioner's breakfast was spoiled by the curiosity this invitation excited, and he was obliged to chew green tea for the heartburn with great diligence. Meantime the company were all talking the play over and over again, till at last, when even Zara appeared satiated with the subject, the conversation diverged a little to other topics. Unluckily French Clay usurped so large a portion of attention, that Count Altenberg's voice was for some time scarcely heard--the contrast was striking between a really well-bred polished foreigner, and a man who, having kept bad company abroad, and having formed himself on a few bad models, presented an exaggerated imitation of those who were ridiculous, detested, or unknown, in good society at Paris; and whom the nation would utterly disclaim as representatives of their morals or manners. At this period of their acquaintance with Count Altenberg, every circumstance which drew out his character, tastes, and opinions, was interesting to the Percy family in general, and in particular to Caroline. The most commonplace and disagreeable characters often promoted this purpose, and thus afforded means of amusement, and materials for reflection. Towards the end of breakfast, the newspapers were brought in--the commissioner, who had wondered frequently what could make them so late, seized upon the government-paper directly, which he pocketed, and retired, after handing other newspapers to Count Altenberg and to the Mr. Clays. English Clay, setting down his well-sugared cup of tea, leaving a happily-prepared morsel of ham and bread and butter on his plate, turned his back upon the ladies; and comfortably settling himself with his arm over his chair, and the light full upon London news, began to read to himself. Count Altenberg glanced at
Continental News, as he unfolded his paper, but instantly turned to
Gazette Extraordinary, which he laid before Mrs. Falconer. She requested him, if it was not too much trouble, to read it aloud. "I hope my foreign accent will not make it unintelligible," said he; and without farther preface, or considering how he was to appear himself, he obeyed. Though he had not a perfectly English accent, he showed that he had a thoroughly English heart, by the joy and pride he took in reading an account of a great victory.
English Clay turned round upon his chair, and setting his arms a-kimbo, with the newspaper still fast in his hand, and his elbow sticking out across Lady Anne Arlington, sat facing the count, and listening to him With a look of surprise. "Why, d----m'me, but you're a good fellow, after all!" exclaimed he, "though you are not an Englishman!"
"By the mother's side I am, sir," replied Count Altenberg. "I may boast that I am at least half an Englishman."
"Half is better than the whole," said French Clay, scornfully.
"By the Lord, I could have sworn his mother, or some of his blood, was English!" cried English Clay. "I beg your pardon, ma'am--'fraid I annoy your ladyship?" added he, perceiving that the Lady Anne haughtily retreated from his offending elbow.
Then sensible of having committed himself by his sudden burst of feeling, he coloured all over, took up his tea, drank as if he wished to hide his face for ever in the cup, recovered his head with mighty effort, turned round again to his newspaper, and was cold and silent as before. His brother meanwhile was, or affected to be, more intent upon some
eau sucree, that he was preparing for himself, than upon the fate of the army and navy of Spain or England. Rising from the breakfast table, he went into the adjoining room, and threw himself at full length upon a sofa; Lady Frances Arlington, who detested politics, immediately followed, and led the way to a work-table, round which the ladies gathered, and formed themselves in a few minutes into a committee of dress, all speaking at once; Count Altenberg went with the ladies out of the breakfast-room, where English Clay would have been happy to have remained alone; but being interrupted by the entrance of the servants, he could not enjoy peaceable possession, and he was compelled also to follow:--getting as far as he could from the female committee, he took Petcalf into a window to talk of horses, and commenced a history of the colts of Regulus, and of the plates they had won.
French Clay, rising from the sofa, and adjusting his cravat at a looking-glass, carelessly said, addressing himself to Count Altenberg, "I think, M. le Comte, I heard you say something about public feelings. Now, I do not comprehend precisely what is meant by public feelings; for my part, I am free to confess that I have none."
"I certainly must have expressed myself ill," replied Count Altenberg; "I should have said, love of our country."
Mrs. Percy, Rosamond, and Caroline, escaped from the committee of dress, were now eagerly listening to this conversation.
"And if you had, M. le Comte, I might,
en philosophe, have been permitted to ask," replied French Clay, "what is love of our country, but a mere
prejudice? and to a person of an
emancipated mind, that word prejudice says volumes. Assuredly M. le Comte will allow, and must
feel well, that no prejudice ever was or can be useful to mankind."
The Count fully admitted that utility is the best human test by which all sentiment, as well as every thing else, can be tried: but he observed that Mr. Clay had not yet proved love of our country to be a useless or pernicious principle of action: and by his own argument, if it can be proved to be useful, it should not be called, in the invidious sense of the word, a prejudice.
"True--but the labour of the proof fortunately rests with you, M. le Comte."
Count Altenberg answered in French, speaking very rapidly. "It is a labour saved me fortunately, by the recorded experience of all history, by the testimony of the wisest and the best in all, countries, ancient and modern--all agree in proclaiming love of our country to be one of the most powerful, most permanent motives to good and great actions; the most expansive, elevating principle--elevating without danger--expansive without waste; the principle to which the legislator looks for the preservative against corruption in states--to which the moralist turns for the antidote against selfishness in individuals. Recollect, name any great character, ancient or modern--is not love of his country one of his virtues? Can you draw--can you conceive a great character--a great or a good character, or even a safe member of society without it? A man hangs loose upon society, as your own Burke says--"
"Ah! M. le Comte!" cried Clay, shrinking with affected horror, "I repent--I see what I have brought upon myself; after Burke will come Cicero; and after Cicero all Rome, Carthage, Athens, Lacedemon. Oh! spare me! since I was a schoolboy, I could never
suffer those names. Ah! M. le Comte, de grace!--I know I have put myself
in the case to be buried alive under a load of quotations."
The Count, with that good humour which disappoints ridicule, smiled, and checked his enthusiasm.
"Is there not a kind of enthusiasm," said Mrs. Percy, "which is as necessary to virtue as to genius?"
French Clay shook his head. He was sorry to differ from a lady; as a gallant man, he knew he was wrong, but as a philosopher he could not patronize enthusiasm. It was the business, he apprehended, of philosophy to correct and extinguish it.
"I have heard it said," interposed Rosamond, "that it is a favourite maxim of law, that the extreme of justice is the extreme of injustice--perhaps this maxim may be applied to philosophy as well as to law."
"Why extinguish enthusiasm?" cried Caroline. "It is not surely the business of philosophy to extinguish, but to direct it. Does not enthusiasm, well directed, give life and energy to all that is good and great?"
There was so much life and energy in Caroline's beautiful countenance, that French Clay was for a moment silenced by admiration.
"After all," resumed he, "there is one slight circumstance, which persons of feeling should consider, that the evils and horrors of war are produced by this very principle, which some people think so useful to mankind, this famous love of our country."
Count Altenberg asked, whether wars had not more frequently arisen from the unlawful fancies which princes and conquerors are apt to take for the territories of their neighbours, than from the legitimate love of their own country?
French Clay, hurried by a smile he saw on Rosamond's lips, changed his ground again for the worse, and said he was not speaking of wars, of foreign conquests, but of defensive wars, where foolish people, from an absurd love of their own country, that is, of certain barren mountains, of
a few acres of snow, or of collections of old houses and churches, called capital cities, will expose themselves to fire, flame, and famine, and will stand to be cut to pieces inchmeal, rather than to submit to a conqueror, who might, ten to one, be a more civilized or cleverer sort of a person than their own rulers; and under whom they might enjoy all the luxuries of life--changing only the name of their country for some other equally well-sounding name; and perhaps adopting a few new laws, instead of what they might have been in the habit from their childhood of worshipping, as a wittenagemote, or a diet, or a constitution. "For my part," continued French Clay, "I have accustomed myself to go to the bottom of things. I have
approfondied. I have not suffered my understanding to be paralysed--I have made my own analysis of happiness, and find that your legislators, and moralists, and patriots, would juggle me out of many solid physical comforts, by engaging me to fight for enthusiasms which do me no manner of good."
Count Altenberg's countenance had flushed with indignation, and cooled with contempt, several times during Mr. Clay's Speech. Beginning in a low composed voice, he first answered, whatever pretence to reason it contained, in the analysis of human happiness, he observed, Mr. Clay had bounded his to physical comforts--this was reducing civilized man below even the savage, and nearly to the state of brutes. Did Mr. Clay choose to leave out all intellectual pleasures--all the pleasures of self-complacency, self-approbation, and sympathy? But, supposing that he was content to bound his happiness, inelegant and low, to such narrow limits, Count Altenberg observed, he did not provide for the security even of that poor portion. If he were ready to give up the liberty or the free constitution of the country in which he resided, ready to live under tyrants and tyranny, how could he be secure for a year, a day, even an hour, of his epicurean paradise?
Mr. Clay acknowledged, that, "in this point of view, it might be awkward to live in a conquered country; but if a man has talents to make himself agreeable to the powers that be, and money in his purse,
that can never touch him,
chacun pour soi--et honi soit qui mal y pense."
"Is it in England!--Oh! can it be in England, and from an Englishman, that I hear such sentiments!" exclaimed Count Altenberg. "Such I have heard on the continent--such we have heard the precursors of the ruin, disgrace, destruction of the princes and nations of Europe!"
Some painful reflections or recollections seemed to absorb the Count for a few moments.
"
Foi d'honnete homme et de philosophe," French Clay declared, that, for his own part, he cared not who ruled or how, who was conqueror, or what was conquered, provided champagne and burgundy were left to him by the conqueror.
Rosamond thought it was a pity Mr. Clay was not married to the lady who said she did not care what revolutions happened, as long as she had her roast chicken, and her little game at cards.
"Happen what will," continued French Clay, "I have two hundred thousand pounds, well counted--as to the rest, it is quite indifferent to me, whether England be called England or France; for," concluded he, walking off to the committee of dress, "after all I have heard, I recur to my first question, what is country--or, as people term it,
their native land?"
The following lines came full into Caroline's recollection as French Clay spoke:
"Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself has said,
This is my own, my native land?
Whose heart has ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there he, go, mark him well;
High though his titles, proud his fame,
Boundless his wealth, as wish can claim,
Despite these titles, power and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living shall forfeit fair renown,
And doubly dying shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung.
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung."
Caroline asked Count Altenberg, who seemed well acquainted with English literature, if he had ever read Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel?
The Count smiled, and replied,
"'Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself has said'
any of those beautiful lines?"
Caroline, surprised that the Count knew so well what had passed in her mind, blushed.
At this moment Mrs. Falconer returned, and throwing a reconnoitring glance round the room to see how the company had disposed of themselves, was well pleased to observe French Clay leaning on the back of Georgiana's chair, and giving her his opinion about some artificial flowers. The ladies had been consulting upon the manner in which the characters in "Love in a Village,"--or, "The Lord of the Manor," should be dressed, and Miss Arabella Falconer had not yet completely determined which piece or which dress she preferred. She was glad that the Percys had been kept from this committee, because, as they were not to be asked to the entertainment, it was a subject she could not discuss before them. Whenever they had approached the table, the young ladies had talked only of fashions in general; and now, as Mrs. Percy and Caroline, followed by Count Altenberg, joined them, Mrs. Falconer put aside a volume of plays, containing "The Lord of the Manor," &c.; and, taking up another book, said something about the immortal bard to English Clay, who happened to be near her. He replied, "I have every edition of Shakspeare that ever was printed or published, and every thing that ever was written about him, good, bad, or indifferent, at Clay-hall. I made this a principle, and I think every Englishman should do the same.
Your Mr. Voltaire," added this polite Englishman, turning to Count Altenberg, "made a fine example of himself by
dashing at
our Shakspeare?"
"Undoubtedly, Voltaire showed he did not understand Shakspeare, and therefore did not do him justice," replied Count Altenberg. "Even Voltaire had some tinge of national prejudice, as well as other men. It was reserved for women to set us, in this instance, as in many others, an example at once of superior candour and superior talent."
English Clay pulled up his boots, and, with a look of cool contempt, said, "I see you are a lady's man, monsieur."
Count Altenberg replied, that if a lady's man means an admirer of the fair sex, he was proud to feel that he deserved that compliment; and with much warmth he pronounced such a panegyric upon that sex, without whom "
le commencement de la vie est sans secours, le milieu sans plaisir, et la fin sans consolation," that even Lady Anne Arlington raised her head from the hand on which it reclined, and every female eye turned upon him with approbation.
"Oh! what a lover he will make, if ever he is in love," cried Lady Frances Arlington, who never scrupled saying any thing that came into her head. "I beg pardon, I believe I have said something very shocking. Georgiana, my dear, I protest I was not thinking of--But what a disturbance I have made amongst all your faces, ladies--and
gentlemen," repeated her ladyship, looking archly at the Count, whose face at this moment glowed manifestly; "and all because gentlemen and ladies don't mind their grammar and their tenses. Now don't you recollect--I call upon Mrs. Falconer, who really has some presence of--countenance--I call upon Mrs. Falconer to witness that I said 'if;' and, pray comprehend me, M. le Comte, else I must appear excessively rude, I did not mean to say any thing of the present or the past, but only of the future."
The Count, recovering his presence of mind, and
presence of
countenance, turned to a little Cupid on the mantel-piece; and, playfully doing homage before it, repeated,
"Qui que tu sois voici ton maitre,
Il l'est, le fut--ou le doit etre."
"Oh! charming--oh! for a translation!" cried Mrs. Falconer, glad to turn the attention from Georgiana:--"Lady Frances--ladies some of you, Miss Percy, here's my pencil."
Here they were interrupted by Mr. Percy's return from Lord Oldborough's.
The commissioner followed Mr. Percy into the room, and asked, and was answered, a variety of questions about despatches from town; trying, but, in vain, to find out what had been going forward. At last he ended with a look of absence, and a declaration that he was quite happy to hear that Lord Oldborough had
so completely got rid of his gout.
"Completely," said Mr. Percy; "and he desires me to tell you, that it will be necessary for him to return to town in a few days."
"In a few days!" cried the commissioner.
"In a few days!" repeated several voices, in different tones.
"In a few days!--Gracious Heaven! and what will become of 'the Lord of the Manor!'" cried Miss Falconer.
"Gently, my Arabella! never raise your voice so high--you, who are a musician," said Mrs. Falconer, "and so sweet a voice as you have--in general. Besides," added she, drawing her apart, "you forget that you should not speak of 'the Lord of the Manor' before the Percys, as they are not to be asked."
"To be sure. Pray keep your temper, Bell, if you can, for a minute," whispered Miss Georgiana; "you see they have rung for the carriage."
Mrs. Falconer began to entreat Mrs. Percy would not be in a hurry to run away; but to her great joy the carriage came to the door.
At parting with Count Altenberg, Mr. Percy said that he regretted that they were so soon to lose his company in this part of the world. "We, who live so much retired, shall feel the loss particularly."
The Count, evidently agitated, only said, in a low voice, "We are not parting yet--we shall meet again--I hope--do you ever go to London?"
"Never."
"At all events, we
must meet again," said the Count.
The ladies had all collected at the open windows, to see the departure of the Percys; but Miss Georgiana Falconer could learn nothing from the manner in which the Count handed Caroline into the carriage. It did not appear even that he spoke to her.
On his return, the Miss Falconers, and the Lady Arlingtons, were of course talking of those who had just left the house. There was at first but one voice in praise of Caroline's beauty and talents, elegance, and simplicity of manner. Mrs. Falconer set the example; Lady Frances Arlington and Miss Georgiana Falconer extolled her in the highest terms--one to provoke, the other not to appear provoked.
"La!" said Lady Frances, "how we may mistake even the people we know best--Georgiana, can you conceive it? I never should have guessed, if you had not told me, that Miss Caroline Percy was such a favourite of yours. Do you know now, so little penetration have I, I should have thought that you rather disliked her?"
"You are quite right, my dear Lady Frances," cried Mrs. Falconer; "I give you credit for your penetration:
entre nous, Miss Caroline Percy is no favourite of Georgiana."
Georgiana actually opened her eyes with astonishment, and thought her mother did not know what she was saying, and that she certainly did not perceive that Count Altenberg was in the room.
"Count Altenberg, is this the book you are looking for?" said the young lady, pronouncing Count Altenberg's name very distinctly, to put her mother on her guard.
Mrs. Falconer continued precisely in the same tone. "Georgiana does justice, I am sure, to Miss Percy's merit and charms; but the truth is, she does not like her, and Georgiana has too much frankness to conceal it; and now come here, and I will tell you the reason." In a half whisper, but perfectly intelligible to every one in the room, Mrs. Falconer went on--"Georgiana's favourite brother, Buckhurst--did you never hear it? In days of yore, there was an attachment--Buckhurst, you know, is very ardent in his attachments--desperately in love he was--and no wonder. But at that time he was nobody--he was unprovided for, and the young lady had a good fortune then--her father would have him go to the bar--against the commissioner's wishes. You know a young man will do any thing if he is in love, and is encouraged--I don't know how the thing went on, or off, but Buckhurst found himself disappointed at last, and was so miserable about it! ready to break his heart! you would have pitied him! Georgiana was so sorry for him, that she never could forgive the young lady--though I really don't imagine, after all, she was to blame. But sisters will feel for their brothers."
Georgiana, charmed to find this amiable mode of accounting for her dislike to Caroline, instantly pursued her mother's hint, and frankly declared that she never could conceal either her likings or dislikings--that Miss Caroline Percy might have all the merit upon earth, and she did not doubt but she had; yet she never could forgive her for jilting Buckhurst--no, never! never! It might be unjust, but she owned that it was a prepossession she could not conquer.
"Why, indeed, my dear young lady, I hardly know how to blame you," cried Lady Trant; "for certainly a jilt is not a very amiable character."
"Oh! my dear Lady Trant, don't use such a word--Georgiana!--Why will you be so warm, so very unguarded, where that darling brother is concerned? You really--Oh! my dear Lady Trant, this must not go farther--and positively the word jilt must never be used again; for I'm confident it is quite inapplicable."
"I'd not swear for that," cried Lady Trant; "for, now I recollect, at Lady Angelica Headingham's, what was it we heard, my dear Lady Kew, about her coquetting with that Mr. Barclay, who is now going to be married to Lady Mary Pembroke, you know?"
"Oh! yes, I did hear something, I recollect--but, at the time, I never minded, because I did not know, then, who that Miss Caroline Percy was-- true, true, I recollect it now. And all, you know, we heard about her and Sir James Harcourt--was there not something there? By all accounts, it is plain she is not the simple country beauty she looks--practised!-- practised! you see."
Miss Georgiana Falconer's only fear was, that Count Altenberg might not hear Lady Kew, who had lowered her voice to the note of mystery. Mrs. Falconer, who had accomplished her own judicious purpose, of accounting for Georgiana's dislike of Miss Caroline Percy, was now afraid that her dear friends would overdo the business; she made many efforts to stop them, but once upon the scent of scandal, it was no easy matter to change the pursuit.
"You seem to have found something that has caught your attention delightfully, Count Altenberg," said Mrs. Falconer; "how I envy any one who is completely
in a book--what is it?"
"Johnson's preface to Shakspeare."
Miss Georgiana Falconer was vexed, for she recollected that Miss Caroline Percy had just been speaking of it with admiration.
Mrs. Falconer wondered how it could have happened that she had never read it.
Lady Kew persevered in her story. "Sir James Harcourt, I know, who is the most polite creature in the whole world, and who never speaks an ill word of any body, I assure you, said of Miss Caroline Percy in my hearing--what I shall not repeat. Only this much I must tell you, Mrs. Falconer--Mrs. Falconer!--She won't listen because the young lady is a relation of her own--and we are very rude; but truth is truth, notwithstanding, you know. Well, well, she may talk of Miss Percy's beauty and abilities--very clever she is, I don't dispute; but this I may say, that Mrs. Falconer must never praise her to me for simplicity of character."
"Why, no," said Miss Georgiana; "one is apt to suppose that a person who has lived all her life in the country must, of course, have great simplicity. But there is a simplicity of character, and a simplicity of manner, and they don't always go together. Caroline Percy's manner is fascinating, because, you know, it is what one does not meet with every day in town--that was what struck my poor brother--that and her great talents, which can make her whatever she pleases to be: but I am greatly afraid she is not quite the
ingenuous person she looks."
Count Altenberg changed colour, and was putting down his book suddenly, when Mrs. Falconer caught it, and stopping him, asked how far he had read.
Whilst he was turning over the leaves, Lady Trant went on, in her turn--"With all her
practice, or her
simplicity, whichever it may be--far be it from me to decide which--I fancy she has met with her match, and has been disappointed in her turn."
"Really!" cried Georgiana, eagerly: "How! What! When!--Are you certain?"
"Last summer--Oh! I have it from those who know the gentleman well. Only an affair of the heart that did not end happily: but I am told she was very much in love. The family would not hear of it--the mother, especially, was averse: so the young gentleman ended by marrying--exceedingly well--and the young lady by wearing the willow, you know, a decent time."
"Oh! why did you never tell me this before?" said Miss Georgiana.
"I protest I never thought of it, till Lady Kew brought it to my recollection, by talking of Lady Angelica Headingham, and Sir James Harcourt, and all that."
"But who was the gentleman?"
"That's a secret," replied Lady Trant.
"A secret!--A secret!--What is it? What is it?" cried Lady Frances Arlington, pressing into the midst of the party; for she was the most curious person imaginable.
Then heads joined, and Lady Trant whispered, and Lady Frances exclaimed aloud, "Hungerford?--Colonel Hungerford!"
"Fie! fie! Lady Frances," cried Georgiana--and "Fie! fie! you are a pretty person to keep a secret," cried Lady Trant: "I vow I'll never trust your ladyship with a secret again--when you publish it in this way."
"I vow you will," said Lady Frances. "Why, you all know, in your hearts, you wish to publish it--else why tell it--especially to me? But all this time I am not thinking in the least about the matter, nor was I when I said
Hungerford--I was and am thinking of my own affairs. What did I do with the letter I received this morning? I had it here--no, I hadn't it--yes, I had--Anne!--Anne!--Lady Anne! the duchess's letter: I gave it to you; what did you do with it?"
"La! it is somewhere, I suppose," said Lady Anne, raising her head, and giving a vague look round the room.
Lady Frances made every one search their work-boxes, writing-boxes, and reticules; then went from table to table, opening and shutting all the drawers.
"Frances!--If you would not fly about so! What can it signify?" expostulated Lady Anne. But in vain; her sister went on, moving every thing and every body in the room, displacing all the cushions of all the chairs in her progress, and, at last, approached Lady Anne's sofa, with intent to invade her repose.
"Ah! Frances!" cried Lady Anne, in a deprecating tone, with a gesture of supplication and anguish in her eyes, "do let me rest!"
"Never, till I have the letter."
With the energy of anger and despair Lady Anne made an effort to reach the bell-cord--but it missed--the cord swung--Petcalf ran to catch it, and stumbled over a stool--English Clay stood still and laughed--French Clay exclaimed, "
Ah! mon Dieu! Cupidon!"
Count Altenberg saved Cupid from falling, and rang the bell.
"Sir," said Lady Anne to the footman, "I had a letter--some time this morning, in my hand."
"Yes, my lady."
"I want it."
"Yes, my lady."
"Pray, sir, tell somebody to tell Pritchard, to tell Flora, to go up stairs to my dressing-room, sir, to look every where for't; and let it be brought to my sister, Lady Frances, if you please, sir."
"No, no, sir, don't do any thing about the matter, if you please--I will go myself," said Lady Frances.
Away the lady ran up stairs, and down again, with the letter in her hand.
"Yes! exactly as I thought," cried she; "my aunt does say, that Mrs. Hungerford is to be down to-day--I thought so."
"Very likely," said Lady Anne; "I never thought about it."
"But, Anne, you must think about it, for my aunt desires we should go and see her directly."
"I can't go," said Lady Anne--"I've a cold--your going will do."
"Mrs. Falconer, my dear Mrs. Falconer, will you go with me to-morrow to Hungerford Castle?" cried Lady Frances, eagerly.
"Impossible! my dear Lady Frances, unfortunately quite impossible. The Hungerfords and we have no connexion--there was an old family quarrel--"
"Oh! never mind family quarrels and connexions--you can go, and I am sure it will be taken very well--and you know you only go with me. Oh! positively you must--now there's my good dear Mrs. Falconer--yes, and order the carriage this minute for to-morrow early," said Lady Frances, in a coaxing yet impatient tone.
Mrs. Falconer adhered to its being absolutely impossible.
"Then, Anne, you must go."
No--Anne was impenetrable.
"Then I'll go by myself," cried Lady Frances, pettishly--"I'll take Pritchard with me, in our own carriage, and I'll speak about it directly--for go I must and will."
"Now, Frances, what new fancy is this for Mrs. Hungerford? I am sure you used not to care about her," said Lady Anne.
"And I dare say I should not care about her now," replied Lady Frances, "but that I am dying to see an old pair of shoes she has."
"An old pair of shoes!" repeated Lady Anne, with a look of unutterable disdain.
"An old pair of shoes!" cried Mrs. Falconer, laughing.
"Yes, a pair of blue damask shoes as old as Edward the Fourth's time--with chains from the toe to the knee, you know--or do you know, Count Altenberg? Miss Percy was describing them--she saw Colonel Hungerford put them on--Oh! he must put them on for me--I'll make him put them on, chains and all, to-morrow."
"Colonel Hungerford is on his way to India by this time," said Georgiana Falconer, drily.
"May I ask," said Count Altenberg, taking advantage of the first pause in the conversation--"may I ask if I understood rightly, that Mrs. Hungerford, mother of Colonel Hungerford, lives in this neighbourhood, and is coming into the country to-morrow?"
"Yes--just so," said Lady Frances.
What concern can it be of his? thought Miss Georgiana Falconer, fixing her eyes upon the Count with alarmed curiosity.
"I knew Colonel Hungerford abroad," continued the Count, "and have a great regard for him."
Lady Kew, Lady Trant, and Miss Georgiana Falconer, exchanged looks.
"I am sorry that he is gone to India," said Mrs. Falconer, in a sentimental tone; "it would have been so pleasant to you to have renewed an acquaintance with him in England."
Count Altenberg regretted the absence of his friend, the colonel; but, turning to Lady Frances, he congratulated himself upon having an opportunity of presenting his letters of introduction, and paying his respects to Mrs. Hungerford, of whom he had heard much from foreigners who had visited England, and who had been charmed with her, and with her daughter, Mrs. Mortimer--his letters of introduction had been addressed to her town residence, but she was not in London when he was there.
"No, she was at Pembroke," said Lady Kew.
I'm sure I wish she were there still, thought Miss Georgiana.
"But, after all, Lady Frances, is the duchess sure that Mrs. Hungerford is actually come to the country?--May be, she is still in town."
"I shall have the honour of letting your ladyship know; for, if Lord Oldborough will permit, I shall certainly go, very soon, to pay my respects at Hungerford Castle," said Count Altenberg.
The prescient jealousy of Miss Georgiana Falconer boded ill of this visit to Hungerford Castle. A few days afterwards a note was received from Count Altenberg, returning many thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Falconer for the civilities he had received from them, paying all proper compliments to Zara, announcing his intention of accepting an invitation to stay some time at Mrs. Hungerford's, and taking a polite leave of the Falconer family.
Here was a death-blow to all Georgiana's hopes! But we shall not stay to describe her disappointment, or the art of her mother in concealing it; nor shall we accompany Mrs. Falconer to town, to see how her designs upon the Clays or Petcalf prospered. We must follow Count Altenberg to Hungerford Castle. _