Paul Clifford — Complete
Wolfort. What are you, sirrah?
Beggar's Bush.
O thou divine spirit that burnest in every breast, inciting each with
the sublime desire to be fine; that stirrest up the great to become
little in order to seem greater, and that makest a duchess woo insult
for a voucher,--thou that delightest in so many shapes, multifarious yet
the same; spirit that makest the high despicable, and the lord meaner
than his valet; equally great whether thou cheatest a friend or cuttest
a father; lacquering all thou touchest with a bright vulgarity that thy
votaries imagine to be gold,--thou that sendest the few to fashionable
balls and the many to fashionable novels; that smitest even Genius as
well as Folly, making the favourites of the gods boast an acquaintance
they have not with the graces of a mushroom peerage rather than the
knowledge they have of the Muses of an eternal Helicon,--thou that
leavest in the great ocean of our manners no dry spot for the foot of
independence; that pallest on the jaded eye with a moving and girdling
panorama of daubed vilenesses, and fritterest away the souls of
free-born Britons into a powder smaller than the angels which dance
in myriads on a pin's point,--whether, O spirit! thou callest thyself
Fashion or Ton, or Ambition or Vanity or Cringing or Cant or any title
equally lofty and sublime,--would that from thy wings we could gain
but a single plume! Fain would we, in fitting strain, describe the
festivities of that memorable day when the benevolent Lord Mauleverer
received and blessed the admiring universe of Bath.
But to be less poetical, as certain writers say, when they have been
writing nonsense,--but to be less poetical and more exact, the morning,
though in the depth of winter, was bright and clear, and Lord Mauleverer
found himself in particularly good health. Nothing could be better
planned than the whole of his arrangements. Unlike those which are
ordinarily chosen for the express reason of being as foreign as possible
to the nature of our climate, all at Lord Mauleverer's were made
suitable to a Greenland atmosphere. The temples and summer-houses,
interspersed through the grounds, were fitted up, some as Esquimaux
huts, others as Russian pavilions; fires were carefully kept up; the
musicians Mauleverer took care should have as much wine as they pleased;
they were set skilfully in places where they were unseen, but where they
could be heard. One or two temporary buildings were erected for those
who loved dancing; and as Mauleverer, miscalculating on the principles
of human nature, thought gentlemen might be averse from ostentatious
exhibition, he had hired persons to skate minuets and figures of eight
upon his lakes, for the amusement of those who were fond of skating. All
people who would be kind enough to dress in strange costumes and make
odd noises, which they called singing, the earl had carefully engaged,
and planted in the best places for making them look still stranger than
they were.
There was also plenty to eat, and more than plenty to drink. Mauleverer
knew well that our countrymen and countrywomen, whatever be their rank,
like to have their spirits exalted. In short, the whole dejeuner was so
admirably contrived that it was probable the guests would not look much
more melancholy during the amusements than they would have done had they
been otherwise engaged at a funeral.
Lucy and the squire were among the first arrivals. Mauleverer,
approaching the father and daughter with his most courtly manner,
insisted on taking the latter under his own escort, and being her
cicerone through the round of preparations.
As the crowd thickened, and it was observed how gallant were the
attentions testified towards Lucy by the host, many and envious were
the whispers of the guests! Those good people, naturally angry at the
thought that two individuals should be married, divided themselves into
two parties: one abused Lucy, and the other Lord Mauleverer; the former
vituperated her art, the latter his folly. “I thought she would play
her cards well, deceitful creature!” said the one. “January and May,”
muttered the other; “the man's sixty!” It was noticeable that the party
against Lucy was chiefly composed of ladies, that against Mauleverer
of men; that conduct must indeed be heinous which draws down the
indignation of one's own sex!
Unconscious of her crimes, Lucy moved along, leaning on the arm of the
gallant earl, and languidly smiling, with her heart far away, at his
endeavours to amuse her. There was something interesting in the mere
contrast of the pair; so touching seemed the beauty of the young
girl, with her delicate cheek, maiden form, drooping eyelid, and
quiet simplicity of air, in comparison to the worldly countenance and
artificial grace of her companion.
After some time, when they were in a sequestered part of the grounds,
Mauleverer, observing that none were near, entered a rude hut; and so
fascinated was he at that moment by the beauty of his guest, and so meet
to him seemed the opportunity of his confession, that he with difficulty
suppressed the avowal rising to his lips, and took the more prudent plan
of first sounding and preparing as it were the way.
“I cannot tell you, my dear Miss Brandon,” said he, slightly pressing
the beautiful hand leaning on his arm, “how happy I am to see you the
guest--the queen, rather--of my house! Ah! could the bloom of youth
return with its feelings! Time is never so cruel as when, while stealing
from us the power to please, he leaves us in full vigour the unhappy
privilege to be charmed!”
Mauleverer expected at least a blushing contradiction to the
implied application of a sentiment so affectingly expressed: he was
disappointed. Lucy, less alive than usual to the sentimental, or its
reverse, scarcely perceived his meaning, and answered simply that it was
very true. “This comes of being, like my friend Burke, too refined
for one's audience,” thought Mauleverer, wincing a little from the
unexpected reply. “And yet!” he resumed, “I would not forego my power to
admire, futile, nay, painful as it is. Even now, while I gaze on you, my
heart tells me that the pleasure I enjoy, it is at your command at once
and forever to blight into misery; but while it tells me, I gaze on!”
Lucy raised her eyes, and something of her natural archness played in
their expression.
“I believe, my lord,” said she, moving from the hut, “that it would be
better to join your guests: walls have ears; and what would be the
gay Lord Mauleverer's self-reproach if he heard again of his fine
compliments to--”
“The most charming person in Europe!” cried Mauleverer, vehemently; and
the hand which he before touched he now clasped. At that instant Lucy
saw opposite to her, half hid by a copse of evergreens, the figure of
Clifford. His face, which seemed pale and wan, was not directed towards
the place where she stood, and he evidently did not perceive Mauleverer
or herself; yet so great was the effect that this glimpse of him
produced on Lucy, that she trembled violently, and, unconsciously
uttering a faint cry, snatched her hand from Mauleverer.
The earl started, and catching the expression of her eyes, turned
instantly towards the spot to which her gaze seemed riveted. He had
not heard the rustling of the boughs, but he saw, with his habitual
quickness of remark, that they still trembled, as if lately displaced;
and he caught through their interstices the glimpse of a receding
figure. He sprang forward with an agility very uncommon to his usual
movements; but before he gained the copse, every vestige of the intruder
had vanished.
What slaves we are to the moment! As Mauleverer turned back to rejoin
Lucy, who, agitated almost to fainting, leaned against the rude wall
of the hut, he would as soon have thought of flying as of making that
generous offer of self, etc., which the instant before he had been
burning to render Lucy. The vain are always sensitively jealous; and
Mauleverer, remembering Clifford, and Lucy's blushes in dancing with
him, instantly accounted for her agitation and its cause. With a very
grave air he approached the object of his late adoration, and requested
to know if it were not some abrupt intruder that had occasioned her
alarm. Lucy, scarcely knowing what she said, answered in a low voice
that it was, indeed, and begged instantly to rejoin her father.
Mauleverer offered his arm with great dignity; and the pair passed
into the frequented part of the grounds, where Mauleverer once more
brightened into smiles and courtesy to all around him.
“He is certainly accepted!” said Mr. Shrewd to Lady Simper.
“What an immense match for the girl!” was Lady Simper's reply.
Amidst the music, the dancing, the throng, the noise, Lucy found it easy
to recover herself; and disengaging her arm from Lord Mauleverer, as she
perceived her father, she rejoined the squire, and remained a patient
listener to his remarks till late in the noon it became an understood
matter that people were expected to go into a long room in order to eat
and drink. Mauleverer, now alive to the duties of his situation,
and feeling exceedingly angry with Lucy, was more reconciled than he
otherwise might have been to the etiquette which obliged him to select
for the object of his hospitable cares an old dowager duchess instead of
the beauty of the fete; but he took care to point out to the squire the
places appointed for himself and daughter, which were, though at some
distance from the earl, under the providence of his vigilant survey.
While Mauleverer was deifying the dowager duchess, and refreshing
his spirits with a chicken and a medicinal glass of madeira, the
conversation near Lucy turned, to her infinite dismay, upon Clifford.
Some one had seen him in the grounds, booted and in a riding undress
(in that day people seldom rode and danced in the same conformation of
coat); and as Mauleverer was a precise person about those little matters
of etiquette, this negligence of Clifford's made quite a subject of
discussion. By degrees the conversation changed into the old inquiry as
to who this Captain Clifford was; and just as it had reached that point,
it reached also the gently deafened ears of Lord Mauleverer.
“Pray, my lord,” said the old duchess, “since he is one of your guests,
you, who know who and what every one is, can possibly inform us of the
real family of this beautiful Mr. Clifford?”
“One of my guests, did you say?” answered Mauleverer, irritated greatly
beyond his usual quietness of manner. “Really, your grace does me wrong.
He may be a guest of my valet, but he assuredly is not mine; and should
I encounter him, I shall leave it to my valet to give him his conge as
well as his invitation!”
Mauleverer, heightening his voice as he observed athwart the table
an alternate paleness and flush upon Lucy's face, which stung all the
angrier passions, generally torpid in him, into venom, looked round, on
concluding, with a haughty and sarcastic air. So loud had been his tone,
so pointed the insult, and so dead the silence at the table while
he spoke, that every one felt the affront must be carried at once to
Clifford's hearing, should he be in the room. And after Mauleverer had
ceased, there was a universal nervous and indistinct expectation of
an answer and a scene; all was still, and it soon became certain that
Clifford was not in the apartment. When Mr. Shrewd had fully convinced
himself of this fact,--for there was a daring spirit about Clifford
which few wished to draw upon themselves,--that personage broke the
pause by observing that no man who pretended to be a gentleman
would intrude himself, unasked and unwelcome, into any society; and