"Yes, Lady Glenmore! most new! most wonderful! But I do not think it is a fashion that will generally take. But here is a table with some seats unoccupied. Will you allow me to recommend your availing yourself of it? It seems to be the choice of the chosen; here is Lady Hamlet Vernon, and Lord D'Esterre, and the Boileaus, and the Ellersbys, and Mr. Spencer Newcomb; do take this seat, and I will go in quest of your lord and master. But see, he has not fallen into any of the whirlpools or quicksands that you seem to apprehend for him in these dangerous regions, for by all that is fortunate there he is next to Lady Tenderden."
"Where?" cried Lady Glenmore, looking eagerly around.
"The third table from us, just behind Lady Baskerville; however, if you are still uneasy, you have only to command me."
"No, it is his intention to remain for supper, and all is well, for if he had wanted me he would have sought for me."
"Always depend upon that. And now what shall I help you to?" Lady Glenmore, in her own mind, was not at all satisfied as to the danger of whirlpools and quicksands, though they were of another sort from those Mr. Winyard had passed his jokes on; but again Lady Tenderden's advice recurred to her, which had acquired consequence from Lord Glenmore's opinion of that lady, and she endeavoured to enter into the conversation of those around her. It was a sort of dead language as yet to her ears, but she could perceive that, under disguise, many allusions were made to herself, and to her untutored behaviour, which checked her natural flow of spirits, and she gradually became silent, and could no longer conceal her anxious impatience to be once more safe under her husband's wing. The very first person that arose afforded her an opportunity of doing so likewise, and making a sign to Lord Glenmore, she waited for him in the door-way. He was not long before he joined her, and with apparently mutual satisfaction they once more found themselves together. This difference, however, existed in their feelings, that Lord Glenmore, though honourable himself, and incapable of thinking really ill of others, however he might consider them trifling, yet from habit and the manners of the world, had not an idea of watching his wife's conduct in public.
Lord Glenmore's character has been already described; but it has not perhaps been sufficiently explained how very much his guileless unsuspecting nature laid him open to become the prey of others who were the reverse. Let no man cast a young wife (unprepared for the dangers she will meet with) upon the licentious intercourse of the world of ton, nor leave her, unguarded by his presence and authority, to stem the tide of vice which may steal in upon her unawares. It is a husband's duty to be the guide and support of his wife; and, without tyranny, but with the determined rectitude of tender solicitude, to watch over their mutual interests. The maxim so often quoted, that "the wife whom a man can doubt is not worthy of his regard," is not always a true one. Every mortal is liable to err—and why should woman, the weaker sex, be cast upon the world, and committed to its dangers, without stay or support from her natural guardian and protector?
The fact is, it is a maxim often resorted to in idleness or indifference, and is more frequently an apology for bad conduct in those who make it, than arising from any true nobility of soul or any moral or religious principle. Lord Glenmore, from living in the midst of the world of fashion, and from never having (a rare instance) been spoiled by such a life, was less aware than any human being perhaps of the danger to which he was exposing his young wife. Had any body told him the terms upon which she was to be admitted as one of the élite of ton, in plain language, he would have started with disgust and horror from all such association; but, like some few, deceived as he was by specious appearances, he saw nothing in the set but the airiness of fashion, and the folly, at worst, of a few months during the London season; whereas the truth stood thus.—
The husband of an Exclusive must be exclusively given to his own devices, without ever making his wife a party at all concerned in them; unless, indeed, they arrive at that acmé of exclusive perfection when they boast to each other of the degrading license of their lives, and tell of their different favourites, comparing the relative merits of these with that of others of the same society. Into the mysteries of an exclusive coterie no unmarried woman, that is to say, no girls, are to be admitted—in order that the conversation may be unchecked. The more admirers a married woman has, the higher her reputation amongst them; and it is never quite complete till some one adorateur moving in the same circle is the ami preféré. If the cavalier be a man of title, power, and wealth, then the lady has the world—their world—at her feet. This arrangement ensures the latter (whatever her husband's fortune may be) the advantages of dress and equipage, from which expense he is then exonerated; and while he has the credit of keeping up a tasteful establishment, he is exempted from all trouble or thought as to the means by which it is so kept. But as in all communities there are different degrees of distinction, so in this,—those who commence their career have a certain rubicon to pass through before they arrive at such a height of perfection.
The first requisite for a newly-initiated member to know is, how to cut all friends and relations who are not deemed worthy of being of a certain coterie;—the next, is to dress after a particular fashion, talk a particular species of language, not know any thing or any person that does not carry the mark of the coterie, and speak in a peculiar tone of voice. To hold any conversation which deserves that name is called being prosy;—to understand any thing beyond the costume of life, pedantic.
Whatever vice or demoralization may exist in character, providing it exist with what they call good taste (that idol of their idolatry), is varnished over. If not approved openly, it is tacitly assented to, and allowed to pass as a venial error; whereas whatever takes place contrary to this good taste, though in itself perfectly innocent, tending it may be to virtue rather than vice, is insufferable—not to be named among them; and unfits the offending parties from communication with the Exclusives. Indignation expressed at crime is voted vulgar; any natural expression of the feelings, ill-breeding; and right and wrong, in short, consists in being, or not being, one of the set. To their choice meetings children dare not invite parents, or brothers and sisters of one another, except under their seal and sign-manual. The husbands and wives, who are members of the association, are invariably persons who have separate interests, separate views, and agree only in this one point, namely, in being a cloak for each other's follies or vices.