There was no immorality to rebuke in this instance of Lady Tilney's conduct; but it proceeded from a source, which if not in her, in others at least, might be productive of serious consequences; namely, from a contempt of established rules and received opinions; and if, in the midst of this arrogance there was a redeeming spirit of occasional kindness,—a smile which took the heart captive for the moment, and gave promise of better things,—it only caused a regret that the good which was there should be thus choaked by the noxious weeds of vanity.
Some of Lady Tilney's companions in ton had not, like her, escaped the breath of slander; one or more were supposed to have listened, at least, to that corruptive voice of gallantry, which withers the bloom and freshness of a married woman's reputation; whose error is remembered long after its cause has passed away—let it have been real or imaginary;—in either case the effect on a woman's character is the same. It is in vain that in a certain sphere there exists a tacit agreement to pass by, and gloss over such defamatory tales; the persons coming under their degrading mark have a seal set upon them, which, in spite of themselves, and maugre the usage of their world, is nevertheless destructive of peace; and it requires little penetration to see beneath the forced smiles which are put on with the adornments of the toilette, the gnawing worm that preys upon the heart.
The fatal effects of such errors attach only to those guilty of them; the feeling inspired for their situation would be one of pure commiseration; but, alas! the influence of example is contagious, and whatever is felt for the individual who thus errs, the sentence of condemnation must go forth against the crime. In regard to the other members who formed Lady Tilney's intimate circle, the Countess Tenderden, Princesse de la Grange, Lady de Chere, and Lady Boileau, for instance, there was equal matter for remark, varying with the character of each. The first of these, possessing nothing decided in her composition, had been, from the commencement, a follower in the track of others, and it was owing to this laziness of disposition that she became the ready and obedient slave of fashionable command, as well as from her early initiation into the secrets of ton, rather than from any other cause, that she held the place she did in Lady Tilney's estimation.
Lady Tenderden's unsatisfactory and frivolous existence had thus been passed without any decided plan, except that of being generally impertinent, and of courting personal admiration; which, when it is paid to beauty alone, ceases with the first cessation of youth: the consciousness of which fact added no genuine sweetness to the smile of Lady Tenderden; but left her, although in the possession of most of the outward circumstances which could grace existence, with a fading person and a dissatisfied mind.
Princesse de la Grange was a star in the midst of this false galaxy of ton, in as much as a strict regard to married duty, and a preservation of moral and religious principle, gave to her character a superior brightness; but whether from the taint of the poisonous air she breathed, or from a defect of strength of mind, or from the situation she filled, or from all these circumstances combined, the Princesse de la Grange did not escape entirely the pollution of folly, and she too delighted in the vanity of being exclusive.
In the love of being distinguished above her compeers, Lady de Chere, however, far excelled; attaining a perfection which her exceedingly clever and powerful understanding, together with the management of her conduct, and an appearance of general decorum, enabled her to preserve. Nor were her moral qualities alone conducive to her success: she had besides the advantage of being able to set her face like a flint (which indeed it resembled physically), and she deemed all emotion or all expression of natural feeling (even that of bodily kind) to be a weakness unworthy of a woman of fashion. Lady de Chere was once known on an occasion of personal suffering, when a few tears actually escaped her, to have exclaimed to her attendant: "You are the first person in the world who have ever seen me guilty of such weakness." Nay, she even carried this perfection of induration so far, as to boast of having cut her own mother.
In this last instance of the perfectibility of ton, Lady Boileau yielded not the palm—she had remained a good many more years than she had bargained for, unmarried—she had studied under a mother, whose lessons eventually were but too well rewarded in kind. This mother, however, had loved her; and with much and unremitting labour, had effected for her an alliance of title—of wealth. What more could either of them with their views desire?
Lady Marchmont had established her daughter greatly, and the daughter had accepted the marriage upon certain calculations: such as being her own mistress, independent of her husband, or her mother; who knew too well de quel bois elle se chauffoit, for Lady Boileau to like her surveillance. Lady Boileau had then made no scruple of swearing to love, honour, and obey him whom she loved not, held cheap, and determined to resist. But these words, and too many more, bear a totally different signification, it is well known, in the language of ton, from what they do in their common acceptation.
One of the first steps of Lady Boileau after her marriage, was to gain admission into the circle of Lady Tilney on a footing of intimacy; for although she had been on visiting terms with her, yet she was aware that the mere interchange of cards did not constitute her the friend or protégé of Lady Tilney, to which distinction she aspired. There were one or two circumstances, however, which rendered the attainment of this object rather difficult. In the first place, Lady Boileau had a mother whom it would require more decided measures to detach from her than, as it has been seen, Lady Tilney chose to countenance. The general tenour of her conduct, too, was a thing yet unproved, and it was, therefore, still unascertained how far she might be true to their esprit du corps, and be worthy of admission into this circle. Lady Boileau was considered, notwithstanding these impediments, to be a person of promise, and she was accordingly admitted, with the tacit understanding, however, that she was not to push Lady Marchmont indiscreetly on the scene; where her wit and plain speaking might break forth in corruscations too potent for the tendre demi-jour, or rather darkness, in which the proceedings of the ton par excellence were invariably to be veiled.