“Does our quadrille come next?”
Some gentleman, an abstract admirer of beauty, perhaps, asked the honour of her hand—to dance; but there the abstraction generally ended. A few, indeed, went farther, and swore that she was a fine girl, prophesied that she would take, and declared they would be d——d if they would not think of her, if they could afford it.
From their prophecies or their oaths nothing ensued, and even the civilities and compliments she received from Lady Jane’s particular friends and acquaintance, though in a more polite style, were equally unmeaning and unproductive. Days passed without leaving a trace behind.
Unluckily for Caroline, her brother Alfred was about this time obliged to leave town. He was summoned to the country by Dr. Leicester. Dr. Percy was so continually employed, that she could scarcely have a few minutes in a week of his company, now that Lady Jane’s health no longer required his professional attendance. Caroline, who had always been used to domestic society and conversation, was thus compelled to live completely in public, without the pleasures of home, and without the amusement young people generally enjoy in company, when they are with those of their own age to whom they can communicate their thoughts. Lady Jane Granville was so much afraid of Caroline’s not appearing fashionable, that she continually cautioned her against expressing her natural feelings at the sight of any thing new and surprising, or at the perception of the tiresome or ridiculous. Her ladyship would never permit her protégée to ask the name of any person in public places or at private parties—because not to know certain people “argues yourself unknown.”
“I’ll tell you who every body is when we go home;” but when she was at home, Lady Jane was generally too much tired to explain or to comprehend the description of these nameless bodies; and even when her ladyship was able to satisfy her curiosity, Caroline was apt to mistake afterwards the titles and histories of the personages, and by the misnomers of which she was guilty, provoked Lady Jane past endurance. Whether it was from want of natural genius in the scholar, or interest in the study, or from the teacher’s thus unphilosophically separating the name and the idea, it is certain that Caroline made but slow progress in acquiring her fashionable nomenclature. She was nearly in despair at her own want of memory, when fortunately a new instructress fell in her way, who was delighted with her ignorance, and desired nothing better than to tell her who was who; in every private party and public place to point out the ridiculous or notorious, and at the moment the figures were passing, whether they heard or not, to relate anecdotes characteristic and illustrative: this new, entertaining preceptress was Lady Frances Arlington. Her ladyship having quarrelled with Miss Georgiana Falconer, hated to go out with Mrs. Falconer, hated still more to stay at home with the old tapestry-working duchess her aunt, and was delighted to have Lady Jane Granville to take her every where. She cared little what any person thought of herself, much less what they thought of Caroline: therefore, free from all the delicacies and anxieties of Lady Jane’s friendship and systems, Lady Frances, though from different premises coming to the same conclusion, agreed that thinking of Caroline’s advantage was stuff! and that all she had to do was to amuse herself in town. Caroline was the most convenient companion to go out with, for she never crossed her ladyship about partners, or admirers, never vied with her for admiration, or seemed to mind her flirtations; but quietly suffering her to draw off all the fashionable beaux, whom Lady Jane stationed upon duty, she let Lady Frances Arlington talk, or dance, to her heart’s content, and was satisfied often to sit still and be silent. The variety of words and ideas, facts and remarks, which her lively and practised companion poured into her mind, Caroline was left to class for herself, to generalize, and to make her own conclusions. Now she had means of amusement, she took pleasure in observing all that was going on, and she knew something of the characters and motives of the actors in such different scenes. As a spectator, she was particularly struck by the eagerness of all the players, at their different games of love, interest, or ambition; and in various sets of company, she was diverted by observing how each thought themselves the whole world: here a party of young ladies and gentlemen, practising, morning, noon, and night, steps for their quadrille; and while they are dancing the quadrille, jockey gentlemen ranged against the wall in the ball-room, talking of their horses; grave heads and snuff-boxes in a corner settling the fate of Europe, proving that, they were, are, or ought to be, behind the scenes; at the card-tables, sharpened faces seeing nothing in the universe but their cards; and at the piano-forte a set of signers and signoras, and ladies of quality, mingled together, full of duets, solos, overtures, cavatinas, expression, execution, and thorough bass—mothers in agonies, daughters pressed or pressing forward—some young and trembling with shame—more, though young, yet confident of applause—others, and these the saddest among the gay, veteran female exhibitors, tired to death, yet forced to continue the unfruitful glories. In one grand party, silence and state; in another group, rival matrons chasing round the room the heir presumptive to a dukedom, or wedging their daughters closer and closer to that door-way through which Lord William * * * * * must pass. Here a poet acting enthusiasm with a chapeau bras—there another dying of ennui to admiration; here a wit cutting and slashing right or wrong; there a man of judgment standing by, silent as the grave—all for notoriety. Whilst others of high rank, birth, or wealth, without effort or merit, secure of distinction, looked down with sober contempt upon the poor stragglers and wranglers for fame.
Caroline had as yet seen but few of the literary candidates for celebrity; only those privileged few, who, combining the pretensions of rank and talent, had a natural right to be in certain circles; or those who, uniting superior address to superior abilities, had risen or forced their way into fine company. Added to these were two or three, who were invited to parties as being the wonder and show of the season—persons whom the pride of rank found it gratifying to have at command, and who afforded to them a most happy relief from the dulness of their habitual existence. Caroline, though pitying the exhibitors, whenever she met any of this description, had great curiosity, to see more of literary society; but Lady Jane systematically hung back on this point, and evaded her promises.
“Yes, my dear, I did promise to take you to Lady Angelica Headingham’s, and Lady Spilsbury’s, but there’s time enough—not yet—not till I have established you in a higher society: not for your advantage to get among the blue-stockings—the blue rubs off—and the least shade might ruin you with some people. If you were married, I should introduce you to that set with pleasure, for they entertain me vastly, and it is a great privation to me this winter—a long fast; but even this abstinence from wit I can endure for your sake, my dear Caroline—you are my first object. If you would take the bel esprit line decidedly—Talents you have, but not courage sufficient; and even if you had, you are scarce old enough: with your beauty and grace, you have a better chance in the circle you are in, my dear.”
But Lady Frances Arlington, who thought only of her own chance of amusement, seconded Caroline’s wish to see the literary set. Nothing could be more stupid, her ladyship said, than running round always in the same circle; for her part, she loved to see clever odd people, and though her aunt-duchess would not let her go to Lady Spilsbury’s, yet Lady Frances was sure that, with Lady Jane Granville for her chaperon, she could get a passport for Lady Angelica Headingham’s, “because Lady Angelica is a sort of cousin, I can’t tell you how many times removed, but just as many as will serve my present purpose—a connexion quite near enough to prove her fashionable, and respectable, and all that: so, my dear Lady Jane—I’ll ask leave,” concluded Lady Frances, “and we will go next conversazione day.”
No—Lady Jane was firm to what she believed to be for Caroline’s interest, and she refused to take her into that set, and therefore declined the honour of chaperoning her ladyship to Lady Angelica Headingham’s.
“Oh! my dear Lady Jane, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel! When I am dying with impatience to see my cousin make herself ridiculous, as I hear she does more and more every day with that Baron Wilhelmberg—Wilhelmberg, I said, not Altenberg—Miss Caroline Percy need not have turned her head so quickly. Lady Angelica’s man is a German, and yours was a Pole, or Prussian, was not he?—Do you know, the ugliest man I ever saw in my life, and the handsomest, were both Poles—but they are all well-bred.”