And with this advice, and an additional compensation for his confidence, we left the innocent assistant of Mr. Powell, and marched into the puppet-show, by the sound of the very bells the perversion of which the good sexton had so pathetically lamented.
The first person I saw at the show, and indeed the express person I came to see, was the Lady Hasselton. Tarleton and myself separated for the present, and I repaired to the coquette. “Angels of grace!” said I, approaching; “and, by the by, before I proceed another word, observe, Lady Hasselton, how appropriate the exclamation is to you! Angels of grace! why, you have moved all your patches—one—two—three—six— eight—as I am a gentleman, from the left side of your cheek to the right! What is the reason of so sudden an emigration?”
“I have changed my politics, Count,* that is all, and have resolved to lose no time in proclaiming the change. But is it true that you are going to be married?”
* Whig ladies patched on one side of the cheek, Tories on the other.
“Married! Heaven forbid! which of my enemies spread so cruel a report?”
“Oh, the report is universal!” and the Lady Hasselton flirted her fan with the most flattering violence.
“It is false, nevertheless; I cannot afford to buy a wife at present, for, thanks to jointures and pin-money, these things are all matters of commerce; and (see how closely civilized life resembles the savage!) the English, like the Tartar gentleman, obtains his wife only by purchase! But who is the bride?”
“The Duke of Newcastle’s rich daughter, Lady Henrietta Pelham.”
“What, Harley’s object of ambition!* Faith, Madam, the report is not so cruel as I thought for!”
* Lord Bolingbroke tells us that it was the main end of Harley’s administration to marry his son to this lady. Thus is the fate of nations a bundle made up of a thousand little private schemes.