Pelham, Volume 4.

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VOLUME IV.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia et spes.
--Horace.

And look always that they be shape,
What garment that thou shalt make
Of him that can best do
With all that pertaineth thereto.
--Romaunt of the Rose

How well I can remember the feelings with which I entered London, and
took possession of the apartments prepared for me at Mivart's. A year had
made a vast alteration in my mind; I had ceased to regard pleasure for
its own sake, I rather coveted its enjoyments, as the great sources of
worldly distinction. I was not the less a coxcomb than heretofore, nor
the less a voluptuary, nor the less choice in my perfumes, nor the less
fastidious in my horses and my dress; but I viewed these matters in a
light wholly different from that in which I had hitherto regarded them.
Beneath all the carelessness of my exterior, my mind was close, keen, and
inquiring; and under the affectations of foppery, and the levity of a
manner almost unique, for the effeminacy of its tone, I veiled an
ambition the most extensive in its object, and a resolution the most
daring in the accomplishment of its means.

I was still lounging over my breakfast, on the second morning of my
arrival, when Mr. N--, the tailor, was announced.

"Good morning, Mr. Pelham; happy to see you returned. Do I disturb you
too early? shall I wait on you again?"

"No, Mr. N--, I am ready to receive you; you may renew my measure."

"We are a very good figure, Mr. Pelham; very good figure," replied the
Schneider, surveying me from head to foot, while he was preparing his
measure; "we want a little assistance though; we must be padded well
here; we must have our chest thrown out, and have an additional inch
across the shoulders; we must live for effect in this world, Mr. Pelham;
a leetle tighter round the waist, eh?"

"Mr. N--," said I, "you will take, first, my exact measure, and,
secondly, my exact instructions. Have you done the first?"

"We are done now, Mr. Pelham," replied my man-maker, in a slow, solemn
tone.

"You will have the goodness then to put no stuffing of any description in
my coat; you will not pinch me an iota tighter across the waist than is
natural to that part of my body, and you will please, in your infinite
mercy, to leave me as much after the fashion in which God made me, as you
possibly can."

"But, Sir, we must be padded; we are much too thin; all the gentlemen in
the Life Guards are padded, Sir."

"Mr. N--," answered I, "you will please to speak of us, with a separate,
and not a collective pronoun; and you will let me for once have my
clothes such as a gentleman, who, I beg of you to understand, is not a
Life Guardsman, can wear without being mistaken for a Guy Fawkes on a
fifth of November."

Mr. N--looked very discomfited: "We shall not be liked, Sir, when we are
made--we sha'n't, I assure you. I will call on Saturday at 11 o'clock.
Good morning, Mr. Pelham; we shall never be done justice to, if we do not
live for effect; good morning, Mr. Pelham."

Scarcely had Mr. N--retired, before Mr.--, his rival, appeared. The
silence and austerity of this importation from Austria, were very
refreshing after the orations of Mr. N--.

"Two frock-coats, Mr.--," said I, "one of them brown, velvet collar same
colour; the other, dark grey, no stuffing, and finished by Wednesday.
Good morning, Mr.--."

"Monsieur B--, un autre tailleur," said Bedos, opening the door after Mr.
S.'s departure.

"Admit him," said I. "Now for the most difficult article of dress--the
waistcoat."

And here, as I am weary of tailors, let me reflect a little upon that
divine art of which they are the professors. Alas, for the instability of
all human sciences! A few short months ago, in the first edition of this
memorable Work, I laid down rules for costume, the value of which,
Fashion begins already to destroy. The thoughts which I shall now embody,
shall be out of the reach of that great innovator, and applicable not to
one age, but to all. To the sagacious reader, who has already discovered
what portions of this work are writ in irony--what in earnest--I
fearlessly commit these maxims; beseeching him to believe, with Sterne,
that "every thing is big with jest, and has wit in it, and instruction
too, if we can but find it out!"

MAXIMS.

1. Do not require your dress so much to fit, as to adorn you. Nature is
not to be copied, but to be exalted by art. Apelles blamed Protogenes for
being too natural.

2. Never in your dress altogether desert that taste which is general. The
world considers eccentricity in great things, genius; in small things,
folly.

3. Always remember that you dress to fascinate others, not yourself.

4. Keep your mind free from all violent affections at the hour of the
toilet. A philosophical serenity is perfectly necessary to success.
Helvetius says justly, that our errors arise from our passions.

5. Remember that none but those whose courage is unquestionable, can
venture to be effeminate. It was only in the field that the Lacedemonians
were accustomed to use perfumes and curl their hair.

6. Never let the finery of chains and rings seem your own choice; that
which naturally belongs to women should appear only worn for their sake.
We dignify foppery, when we invest it with a sentiment.

7. To win the affection of your mistress, appear negligent in your
costume--to preserve it, assiduous: the first is a sign of the passion of
love; the second, of its respect.

8. A man must be a profound calculator to be a consummate dresser. One
must not dress the same, whether one goes to a minister or a mistress; an
avaricious uncle, or an ostentatious cousin: there is no diplomacy more
subtle than that of dress.

9. Is the great man whom you would conciliate a coxcomb?--go to him in a
waistcoat like his own. "Imitation," says the author of Lacon, "is the
sincerest flattery."

10. The handsome may be shewy in dress, the plain should study to be
unexceptionable; just as in great men we look for something to admire--in
ordinary men we ask for nothing to forgive.

11. There is a study of dress for the aged, as well as for the young.
Inattention is no less indecorous in one than in the other; we may
distinguish the taste appropriate to each, by the reflection that youth
is made to be loved--age, to be respected.

12. A fool may dress gaudily, but a fool cannot dress well--for to dress
well requires judgment; and Rochefaucault says with truth, "On est
quelquefois un sot avec de l'esprit, mais on ne lest jamais avec du
jugement."

13. There may be more pathos in the fall of a collar, or the curl of a
lock, than the shallow think for. Should we be so apt as we are now to
compassionate the misfortunes, and to forgive the insincerity of Charles
I., if his pictures had pourtrayed him in a bob wig and a pigtail?
Vandyke was a greater sophist than Hume.

14. The most graceful principle of dress is neatness--the most vulgar is
preciseness.

15. Dress contains the two codes of morality--private and public.
Attention is the duty we owe to others--cleanliness that which we owe to
ourselves.

16. Dress so that it may never be said of you "What a well dressed man!"-
-but, "What a gentlemanlike man!"

17. Avoid many colours; and seek, by some one prevalent and quiet tint,
to sober down the others. Apelles used only four colours, and always
subdued those which were more florid, by a darkening varnish.

18. Nothing is superficial to a deep observer! It is in trifles that the
mind betrays itself. "In what part of that letter," said a king to the
wisest of living diplomatists, "did you discover irresolution?"--"In its
ns and gs!" was the answer.

19. A very benevolent man will never shock the feelings of others, by an
excess either of inattention or display; you may doubt, therefore, the
philanthropy both of a sloven and a fop.

20. There is an indifference to please in a stocking down at heel--but
there may be a malevolence in a diamond ring.

21. Inventions in dressing should resemble Addison's definition of fine
writing, and consists of "refinements which are natural, without being
obvious."

22. He who esteems trifles for themselves, is a trifler--he who esteems
them for the conclusions to be drawn from them, or the advantage to which
they can be put, is a philosopher.

CHAPTER XLV.

Tantot, Monseigneur le Marquis a cheval--
Tantot, Monsieur du Mazin de bout!
--L'Art de se Promener a Cheval.

My cabriolet was at the door, and I was preparing to enter, when I saw a
groom managing, with difficulty, a remarkably fine and spirited horse.
As, at that time, I was chiefly occupied with the desire of making as
perfect an equine collection as my fortune would allow, I sent my cab boy
(vulgo Tiger) to inquire of the groom, whether the horse was to be sold,
and to whom it belonged.

"It was not to be disposed of," was the answer, "and it belonged to Sir
Reginald Glanville."

The name thrilled through me: I drove after the groom, and inquired Sir
Reginald Glanville's address. His house, the groom (whose dark coloured
livery was the very perfection of a right judgment) informed me, was at
No.--Pall Mall. I resolved to call that morning, but first I drove to
Lady Roseville's to talk about Almack's and the beau monde, and be
initiated into the newest scandal and satire of the day.

Lady Roseville was at home; I found the room half full of women: the
beautiful countess was one of the few persons extant who admit people of
a morning. She received me with marked kindness. Seeing that--, who was
esteemed, among his friends, the handsomest man of the day, had risen
from his seat, next to Lady Roseville, in order to make room for me, I
negligently and quietly dropped into it, and answered his grave and angry
stare at my presumption, with my very sweetest and most condescending
smile. Heaven be praised, the handsomest man of the day is never the
chief object in the room, when Henry Pelham and his guardian angel,
termed by his enemies, his self-esteem, once enter it.

"Charming collection you have here, dear Lady Roseville," said I, looking
round the room; "quite a museum! But who is that very polite,
gentlemanlike young man, who has so kindly relinquished his seat to me,--
though it quite grieves me to take it from him?" added I: at the same
time leaning back, with a comfortable projection of the feet, and
establishing myself more securely in my usurped chair. "Pour l'amour de
Dieu, tell me the on dits of the day. Good Heavens! what an unbecoming
glass that is! placed just opposite to me, too! Could it not be removed
while I stay here? Oh! by the by, Lady Roseville, do you patronize the
Bohemian glasses? For my part, I have one which I only look at when I am
out of humour; it throws such a lovely flush upon the complexion, that it
revives my spirits for the rest of the day. Alas! Lady Roseville, I am
looking much paler than when I saw you at Garrett Park; but you--you are
like one of those beautiful flowers which bloom the brightest in the
winter."

"Thank Heaven, Mr. Pelham," said Lady Roseville, laughing, "that you
allow me at last to say one word. You have learned, at least, the art of
making the frais of the conversation since your visit to Paris."

"I understand you," answered I; "you mean that I talk too much; it is
true--I own the offence--nothing is so unpopular! Even I, the civilest,
best natured, most unaffected person in all Europe, am almost disliked,
positively disliked, for that sole and simple crime. Ah! the most beloved
man in society is that deaf and dumb person, comment s'appelle-t-il?"

"Yes," said Lady Roseville, "Popularity is a goddess best worshipped by
negatives; and the fewer claims one has to be admired, the more
pretensions one has to be beloved."

"Perfectly true, in general," said I--"for instance, I make the rule, and
you the exception. I, a perfect paragon, am hated because I am one; you,
a perfect paragon, are idolized in spite of it. But tell me what literary
news is there. I am tired of the trouble of idleness, and in order to
enjoy a little dignified leisure, intend to set up as a savant."

"Oh, Lady C--B--is going to write a Commentary on Ude; and Madame de
Genlis a Proof of the Apocrypha. The Duke of N--e is publishing a
Treatise on 'Toleration;'and Lord L--y an Essay on 'Self-knowledge.'As
for news more remote, I hear that the Dey of Algiers is finishing an 'Ode
to Liberty,'and the College of Caffraria preparing a volume of voyages to
the North Pole!"

"Now," said I, "if I retail this information with a serious air, I will
lay a wager that I find plenty of believers; for falsehood, uttered
solemnly, is much more like probability than truth uttered doubtingly:
else how do the priests of Brama and Mahomet live?"

"Ah! now you grow too profound, Mr. Pelham!"

"C'est vrai--but--"

"Tell me," interrupted Lady Roseville, "how it happens that you, who talk
eruditely enough upon matters of erudition, should talk so lightly upon
matters of levity?"

"Why," said I, rising to depart, "very great minds are apt to think that
all which they set any value upon, is of equal importance. Thus Hesiod,
who, you know, was a capital poet, though rather an imitator of
Shenstone, tells us that God bestowed valour on some men, and on others a
genius for dancing. It was reserved for me, Lady Roseville, to unite the
two perfections. Adieu!"

"Thus," said I, when I was once more alone--"thus do we 'play the fools
with the time,'until Fate brings that which is better than folly; and,
standing idly upon the sea-shore, till we can catch the favouring wind
which is to waft the vessel of our destiny to enterprise and fortune,
amuse ourselves with the weeds and the pebbles which are within our
reach!"

CHAPTER XLVI.

There was a youth who, as with toil and travel,
Had grown quite weak and grey before his time;
Nor any could the restless grief unravel,
Which burned within him, withering up his prime,
And goading him, like fiends, from land to land.
--P. B. Shelley.

From Lady Roseville's I went to Glanville's house. He was at home. I was
ushered into a beautiful apartment, hung with rich damask, and
interspersed with a profusion of mirrors, which enchanted me to the
heart. Beyond, to the right of this room, was a small boudoir, fitted up
with books, and having, instead of carpets, soft cushions of dark green
velvet, so as to supersede the necessity of chairs. This room, evidently
a favourite retreat, was adorned at close intervals with girandoles of
silver and mother-of-pearl; and the interstices of the book-cases were
filled with mirrors, set in silver: the handles of the doors were of the
same metal.

Beyond this library (if such it might be called), and only divided from
it by half-drawn curtains of the same colour and material as the cushion,
was a bath room. The decorations of this room were of a delicate rose
colour: the bath, which was of the most elaborate workmanship,
represented, in the whitest marble, a shell, supported by two Tritons.
There was, as Glanville afterwards explained to me, a machine in this
room which kept up a faint but perpetual breeze, and the light curtains,
waving to and fro, scattered about perfumes of the most exquisite odour.

Through this luxurious chamber I was led, by the obsequious and bowing
valet, into a fourth room, in which, opposite to a toilet of massive
gold, and negligently robed in his dressing-gown, sate Reginald
Glanville:--"Good Heavens," thought I, as I approached him, "can this be
the man who made his residence par choix, in a miserable hovel, exposed
to all the damps, winds, and vapours, that the prolific generosity of an
English Heaven ever begot?"

Our meeting was cordial in the extreme. Glanville, though still pale and
thin, appeared in much better health than I had yet seen him since our
boyhood. He was, or affected to be, in the most joyous spirits; and when
his dark blue eye lighted up, in answer to the merriment of his lips, and
his noble and glorious cast of countenance shone out, as if it had never
been clouded by grief or passion, I thought, as I looked at him, that I
had never seen so perfect a specimen of masculine beauty, at once
physical and intellectual.

"My dear Pelham," said Glanville, "let us see a great deal of each other:
I live very much alone: I have an excellent cook, sent me over from
France, by the celebrated gourmand Marechal de--. I dine every day
exactly at eight, and never accept an invitation to dine elsewhere. My
table is always laid for three, and you will, therefore, be sure of
finding a dinner here every day you have no better engagement. What think
you of my taste in furnishing?"

"I have only to say," answered I, "that since I am so often to dine with
you, I hope your taste in wines will be one half as good."

"We are all," said Glanville, with a faint smile, "we are all, in the
words of the true old proverb, 'children of a larger growth.'Our first
toy is love--our second, display, according as our ambition prompts us to
exert it. Some place it in horses--some in honours, some in feasts, and
some--voici un exemple--in furniture. So true it is, Pelham, that our
earliest longings are the purest: in love, we covet goods for the sake of
the one beloved; in display, for our own: thus, our first stratum of mind
produces fruit for others; our second becomes niggardly, and bears only
sufficient for ourselves. But enough of my morals--will you drive me out,
if I dress quicker than you ever saw man dress before?"

"No," said I; "for I make it a rule never to drive out a badly dressed
friend; take time, and I will let you accompany me."

"So be it then. Do you ever read? If so, my books are made to be opened,
and you may toss them over while I am at my toilet."

"You are very good," said I, "but I never do read."

"Look--here," said Glanville, "are two works, one of poetry--one on the
Catholic Question--both dedicated to me. Seymour--my waistcoat. See what
it is to furnish a house differently from other people; one becomes a bel
esprit, and a Mecaenas, immediately. Believe me, if you are rich enough
to afford it, that there is no passport to fame like eccentricity.
Seymour--my coat. I am at your service, Pelham. Believe hereafter that
one may dress well in a short time?"

"One may do it, but not two--allons!"

I observed that Glanville was dressed in the deepest mourning, and
imagined, from that circumstance, and his accession to the title I heard
applied to him for the first time, that his father was only just dead. In
this opinion I was soon undeceived. He had been dead for some years.
Glanville spoke to me of his family;--"To my mother," said he, "I am
particularly anxious to introduce you--of my sister, I say nothing; I
expect you to be surprised with her. I love her more than any thing on
earth now," and as Glanville said this, a paler shade passed over his
face.

We were in the Park--Lady Roseville passed us--we both bowed to her; as
she returned our greeting, I was struck with the deep and sudden blush
which overspread her countenance. "Can that be for me?" thought I. I
looked towards Glanville: his countenance had recovered its serenity, and
was settled into its usual proud, but not displeasing, calmness of
expression.

"Do you know Lady Roseville well?" said I. "Very," answered Glanville,
laconically, and changed the conversation. As we were leaving the Park,
through Cumberland Gate, we were stopped by a blockade of carriages; a
voice, loud, harsh, and vulgarly accented, called out to Glanville by his
name. I turned, and saw Thornton.

"For God's sake, Pelham, drive on," cried Glanville; "let me, for once,
escape that atrocious plebeian."

Thornton was crossing the road towards us; I waved my hand to him civilly
enough (for I never cut any body), and drove rapidly through the other
gate, without appearing to notice his design of speaking to us.

"Thank Heaven!" said Glanville, and sunk back in a reverie, from which I
could not awaken him, till he was set down at his own door.

When I returned to Mivart's, I found a card from Lord Dawton, and a
letter from my mother.

"My Dear Henry, (began the letter,)

"Lord Dawton having kindly promised to call upon you, personally, with
this note, I cannot resist the opportunity that promise affords me, of
saying how desirous I am that you should cultivate his acquaintance. He
is, you know, among the most prominent leaders of the Opposition; and
should the Whigs, by any possible chance, ever come into power, he would
have a great chance of becoming prime minister. I trust, however, that
you will not adopt that side of the question. The Whigs are a horrid set
of people (politically speaking), vote for the Roman Catholics, and never
get into place; they give very good dinners, however, and till you have
decided upon your politics, you may as well make the most of them. I
hope, by the by, that you see a great deal of Lord Vincent: every one
speaks highly of his talents; and only two weeks ago, he said, publicly,
that he thought you the most promising young man, and the most naturally
clever person, he had ever met. I hope that you will be attentive to your
parliamentary duties; and, oh, Henry, be sure that you see Cartwright,
the dentist, as soon as possible.

"I intend hastening to London three weeks earlier than I had intended, in
order to be useful to you. I have written already to dear Lady Roseville,
begging her to introduce you at Lady C.'s, and Lady--; the only places
worth going to at present. They tell me there is a horrid, vulgar,
ignorant book come out, about--. As you ought to be well versed in modern
literature, I hope you will read it, and give me your opinion. Adieu, my
dear Henry, ever your affectionate mother,

"Frances Pelham."

I was still at my solitary dinner, when the following note was brought me
from Lady Roseville:--

"Dear Mr. Pelham,

"Lady Frances wishes Lady C--to be made acquainted with you; this is her
night, and I therefore enclose you a card. As I dine at--House, I shall
have an opportunity of making your eloge before your arrival. Your's
sincerely,

"C. Roseville."

I wonder, thought I, as I made my toilet, whether or not Lady Roseville
is enamoured with her new correspondent? I went very early, and before I
retired, my vanity was undeceived. Lady Roseville was playing at ecarte,
when I entered. She beckoned to me to approach. I did. Her antagonist was
Mr. Bedford, a natural son of the Duke of Shrewsbury, and one of the best
natured and best looking dandies about town: there was, of course, a
great crowd round the table. Lady Roseville played incomparably; bets
were high in her favour. Suddenly her countenance changed--her hand
trembled--her presence of mind forsook her. She lost the game. I looked
up and saw just opposite to her, but apparently quite careless and
unmoved, Reginald Glanville. We had only time to exchange nods, for Lady
Roseville rose from the table, took my arm, and walked to the other end
of the room, in order to introduce me to my hostess.

I spoke to her a few words, but she was absent and inattentive; my
penetration required no farther proof to convince me that she was not
wholly insensible to the attentions of Glanville. Lady--was as civil and
silly as the generality of Lady Blanks are: and feeling very much bored,
I soon retired to an obscurer corner of the room. Here Glanville joined
me.

"It is but seldom," said he, "that I come to these places; to-night my
sister persuaded me to venture forth."

"Is she here?" said I.

"She is," answered he; "she has just gone into the refreshment room with
my mother, and when she returns, I will introduce you."

While Glanville was yet speaking, three middle-aged ladies, who had been
talking together with great vehemence for the last ten minutes,
approached us.

"Which is he?--which is he?" said two of them, in no inaudible accents.

"This," replied the third; and coming up to Glanville, she addressed him,
to my great astonishment, in terms of the most hyperbolical panegyric.

"Your work is wonderful! wonderful!" said she.

"Oh! quite--quite!" echoed the other two.

"I can't say," recommenced the Coryphoea, "that I like the moral--at
least not quite; no, not quite."

"Not quite," repeated her coadjutrices.

Glanville drew himself up with his most stately air, and after three
profound bows, accompanied by a smile of the most unequivocal contempt,
he turned on his heel, and sauntered away.

"Did your grace ever see such a bear?" said one of the echoes.

"Never," said the duchess, with a mortified air; "but I will have him
yet. How handsome he is for an author!"

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