"I -or you are," said Lord St. George, with a laugh. "Precisely," replied the baronet. "Well, then, I take your recommendation: send him to me to-morrow at twelve." "I will," said Sir Christopher. My dear Findlater," cried Clarence, when Lord St. George was gone, "did you not tell me, some time ago, that Collard was a great rascal, and closely lié with Jefferies? and now you recommend him to Lord St. George!" 66 Hush, hush, hush!" said the baronet: "he was a great rogue to be sure; but, poor fellow, he came to me yesterday, with tears in his eyes, and said he should starve if I would not give him a character; so what could I do?" "At least, tell Lord St. George the truth," observed Clarence. re "But then Lord St. George would not take him!" joined the good-hearted Sir Christopher, with forcible naïveté. "No, no, Linden, we must not be so hard-hearted; we must forgive and forget;" and so saying, the baronet threw out his chest, with the conscious exultation of a man who has uttered a noble sentiment. The moral of this little history is, that Lord St. George, having been pillaged through thick and thin," as the proverb has it, for two years, at last missed a gold watch, and Monsieur Collard finished his career, as his exemplary tutor, Mr. John Jefferies, had done before him. Ah! what a fine thing it is to have a good heart. But to return, just as our wanderers had arrived at the farther end of the park, Lady Westborough and her daughter passed them. Clarence, excusing himself to his friend, hastened toward them, and was soon occupied in saying the prettiest things in the world to the prettiest person, at least in his eyes; while Sir Christopher, having done as much mischief as a good heart well can do in a walk of an hour, returned home to write a long letter to his mother, against "learning, and all such nonsense, which only served to blunt the affections and harden the heart." "Admirable young man!" cried the mother, with tears in her 66 eyes: a good heart is better than all the heads in the world." Amen! CHAPTER XXXIV. Arbaces. Why now you flatter. A King and no King. PUNCTUALLY at the appointed dinner hour, did Clarence find himself at the house of Lord Holdenworth. Two persons only had yet arrived. The one was Mr. Trollolop, the other Lord Aspeden; Lady Holdenworth, a meek, mild, matronly woman, was sitting by the window, and his lordship standing, à l'Anglais, with his back to the grate, even though there was no fire from which to exclude the rest of the party. In all houses, was Clarence's great rule, for which he was indebted to the precepts of Talbot, to make friends with the mistress, cost what it might with the rest. Accordingly, he lost no time in paying his court to Lady Holdenworth, a person who, being neither young, handsome, nor greatly à la mode, was very little accustomed to such attention, and par conséquence, very easily pleased. Just as Clarence had succeeded in winning his way into the good graces of the countess, the door was thrown open, and Lord Quintown entered. Then came another nobleman,then another, then a lady, then another; the party increased, the daylight waned,-the number was completed, and the dinner began. - Lord Aspeden sat next to Madame de Crumenbach, one of the plumpest (plumpness is a beauty) women in all Austria, and wife of one of the thinnest men in the same empire; les éxtrêmes se touchent; below him, though not immediately, sat Clarence; and opposite to Clarence, Mr. Henry Trollolop, a person whom Callythorpe, rather humorously than (according to Cicero's and Berkeley's application of the epithet) justly, designated by the title of the "Minute Philosopher." "Were you at Lady T.'s ball last night?" said Lord Aspeden to Madame de Crumenbach, with his most insinuating air. "Yes," replied madame, in French, "what a charming ball it was! VOL. I. 15 "Ah," observed Lord Aspeden, inclining his face closely to Madame de Crumenbach, with the air of one going to make a charming remark, "I knew you would think so, you must be very fond of dancing." It was with the greatest difficulty poor Madame de Crumenbach could descend the stairs; judge then of the peculiar appositeness of the diplomatist's polite observation. "Lord Aspeden," said the handsome Lord Quintown, "suffer me to take wine with you!" What the diplomatist replied escaped every ear but that for which it was intended; but, by the courtly bow and smile which accompanied his words, and the hurried look of discomfiture with which Quintown turned to renew his conversation with his next neighbour, we imagine that Lord Aspeden's answer was made with his usual happiness of expression. the Duchess The dinner past, the dessert appeared, of Cosmowell sat opposite to Lord Aspeden, she painted more systematically than any woman in London, since the death of Lady E- who kept a "repairer." Lord Aspeden, who took every thing for la belle nature, and particularly admired a fine complexion, had long watched his opportunity. It came,- he seized it. "Your grace must allow me," said he, with his sweetest smile," to send you a peach." The duchess shook her head,- (you may be sure it was very gently," for gentle motions are required by art.”) "No! well, then," said Lord Aspeden, with a sentimental sigh, "I must take one for your sake." 66 "And why for my sake?" asked the duchess, smiling. "" Because, answered Lord Aspeden, with a profound bow, "it reminds me of your grace's complexion; for, as the dramatist has said, - "In her cheek the hues Were painted in the fashion of a peach." The duchess drew back,- and Lord Aspeden looked the picture of vanity at a dinner table, smiling on itself. The ladies withdrew, - the men drew nearer to each other; presently all was silence, and then the great deeps were broken up, and all was the "flow of soul." Sir John Seaford, a prodigious cater, and a particularly good fellow, found himself next to Lord Aspeden — "Mantua væ miseræ nimium Vicina Cremona." Now, all the world knows that Sir John Seaford had, in 17-, one of the prettiest wives possible. We say all the world knows, for it was not poor Lady Seaford's fault, if all the world did not know it; and at that particular time, Mr. Tarleton, the Grammont of the day, flattered himself that he knew more about the matter than all the rest. "A splendid woman, the Duchess of Cosmowell," said Lord Aspeden, emphatically, to Sir John. "Humph! a miserable confiture this!" said the particularly good fellow. "And what is more," resumed Lord Aspeden, with a confidential air, "I think she is very much like Lady Seaford." "You do, do you, my lord," said Sir John. "May I request you to pass the wine." "I do declare," resumed the flattering diplomatist, "that Lady Seaford is the paragon' of London; and when I told Mr. Tarleton so, the other night, he said, very prettily, that then you were the 'crescent; meaning suppose, that you were always coupled together." My dear lord," cried Sir John, across the table," just make room for me beside you. I have something to speak to you about." And the baronet rising with a most unwonted celerity, Lord Aspeden was "left alone in his glory." "How rude some people are," said he to Clarence, sotto voce. "It's only we of the corps diplomatique who know any thing des petites mœurs et des grâces de la cour." Politics were now touched upon. A severe attack had been made on the administration about three nights ago, and Lord Quintown was a little sore on the subject. "We must depend on your vote to-morrow night," said he to Lord Aspeden, "for it 's absolutely necessary that we should muster strong, and set a good face on the matter." "True, my lord," said Lord Aspeden, en souriant aimablement, "for Machiavel well observes that a good face is thought the sign of a good conscience,' and I may, therefore well say to your lordship, in the beautiful lines of Pope : "That's thy wall of brass Compared to this a minister 's an ass! There was a general smile. Lord Aspeden smiled more than all the rest. It was the sweetest compliment he had ever paid, and two quotations into the bargain. "Few people,' ," said he, in a whisper to Clarence, " combine wit and learning: that union is reserved for us." But if Lord Aspeden had so well availed himself of his opportunities, his attaché had been no less on the alert. He had quoted Swift to a Whig who had ratted, and his own speeches to the handsome minister. He had talked without ceasing to the silent Mr. Mumford, and listened without speaking to the loquacious Earl of Chatterton. The party rose, and Clarence left the room first. "What a wonderful young man!" said Lord Quin town. "Wonderful!" said the Whig who had ratted. "So modest," said Mr. Mumford. "And so eloquent," added the Earl of Chatterton. "He is indeed prodigiously clever," observed Lord Aspeden, "and very musical too. You must hear him play the flute." "While his minister plays the fool," muttered Lord Quintown. "Chacun à son métier!" answered Lord Holdenworth, who overheard him. "Will your lordship join the ladies?"* CHAPTER XXXV. What say you to men of wit? I hope their conversation is of a higher degree in your esteem. The Humors and Conversations of the Town. "My dear Linden," said Mr. Trollolop (how the name glides off my pen !) "this is unworthy a philosopher. We are both asked to Mrs. Mossop's, all the literati will be *It has been objected to the character of Lord Aspeden, that no English diplomatist could be such a fool; yet my Lord Lwas ambassador at Vienna. |