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.”